Some pains were necessary. They strengthened us. God knew Roland had embarrassed me dozens upon dozens of times, in equally disparaging ways, over the course of my ten years of training with him. The school of hard knocks was not forgiving. A slap on the wrist was for children.
I couldn’t tell the world I was a Horseman and then cry about punishment when I had blatantly jeopardized my boss’ life. And to top it off, I’d done it in front of Alucard, another Horseman, among others.
I’d also put Ryuu’s life at risk, and he depended on me to always have his best interests at heart, not to treat him like a lowly pawn to toss to the meat grinder any time I felt like throwing a temper tantrum.
Although Nate did all sorts of wildly stupid things when angry—who didn’t?—I knew he never would have let one of his allies or guards hold a sword to my back. Not in a million years.
It was no secret that Nate’s most prized virtues were earned loyalty and trust. He gave it and demanded it in equal measure—holding himself to the same standard he expected from others. Family—not by blood, but by actions—was his bedrock. Period.
And no one fucked with the bedrock. No one. Friend or foe.
If I took out the romantic aspect of our relationship, his very direct reprimand had made perfect sense. I would’ve done the same in his shoes.
Except there had been a romantic aspect to our relationship. And reprimands did not nourish romance.
As Nate Temple, my friend and potential lover, he hadn’t wanted to do it. As the Horseman of Hope, my boss, he’d had to do it. Hell, even as an allied city, from one leader to another, he had been right to do what he’d done.
But doing the right thing was sometimes different from doing the right thing. And now, the amalgamation of events had permanently changed the dynamic of our relationship, no matter what either of us wanted. Sometimes, lightning struck. It didn’t ask your permission.
Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t trying to beat myself up over my mistake. I was trying to understand the situation so that I didn’t make the same mistake twice.
Which was why I’d spent the time since our blowout undergoing anger management therapy, searching for more productive things to do than sitting around and blaming Nate or myself for our non-existent romance.
Because I’d quickly realized that every single thing I had been blaming Nate for not doing…
I had been equally as guilty.
I hadn’t reached out to him to suggest a date. I hadn’t sent him any gifts or showed up unannounced for dinner. I hadn’t even called him to chat, other than to talk business. Instead, I’d chosen to spend my time training with Ryuu, learning the Omegabet with Sanguina, exploring Castle Dracula, spending time with Xylo and Cain, and getting to know my Greater Demon godparents, Samael and Lily.
Relationships took two people working together, not one expecting the other to do all the work to keep it functioning.
There were two types of people in this world. Those who saw a problem and immediately searched for someone or something to blame were characteristically bitter and unhappy. Self-proclaimed victims, and claiming it was virtue.
And then there were those who saw a problem and immediately searched for a solution. They were usually excited and anxious to overcome problems, treating each one as a test to become a better, stronger version of themselves.
If you weren’t part of the solution, you were part of the problem.
Assessing blame did not solve the problem. Blame was a preventative tactic—to make sure the problem didn’t happen again…in the future. It did nothing for the now.
Sitting on the side of the road with a blown-out tire sucked.
Spending thirty minutes raging about how the government hadn’t fixed the potholes, or the company who made the tire had obviously used shoddy material, or the mechanic who had put on the tire hadn’t done it properly…only resulted in an angrier person sitting on the side of the road with a blown-out tire.
The tire didn’t magically fix itself when you picked the winning number on the blame lottery.
The only way to do that was to roll up your sleeves and fix the flat tire.
Solutions came first. Assessing blame came after the problem was solved.
Which was why the event had so suddenly put things into perspective for me.
It had revealed something that I hadn’t wanted to think about, let alone admit to myself. On some level, I was not willing to put in the time for my relationship with Nate. I’d been assessing and accepting blame, waiting for it to fix itself.
And that had shaken me to my core.
I reached my mother’s lab and found Sanguina sleeping on a chair. A lone lamp burned on a stone table, illuminating the room in a romantic, calming glow. I set the parchment and wedding invitation down beside the lamp and let out an overly loud sigh to wake up the lazy Beast.
In place of eyes, she had empty eye sockets. My mother had taken them out and put them into me—via some unknown process that probably had an exponentially high ick factor. Then again, she’d been pregnant with me when she took Sanguina’s eyes, so it could have been as simple as that. They should put it on those pregnancy brochures—don’t lift anything over fifteen pounds, and don’t do battle with interstellar monsters made of raw magic. Now, Sanguina’s hollow eye sockets were crusted with molten silver, as if they had been burned out. She opened those haunting peepers and let out a cute little foxy yawn. Sanguina was the answer to the age-old question of how to make nuclear level magic more terrifying—
Put it in a cuddly, furry mammal.
It’s why I’d given her a standing order not to use her powers unless specifically requested. She could annihilate someone over the most innocent of infractions, so I was her conscience.
My relationship with Sanguina was not just master to minion, but also a shared essence. I…
I was part Beast, technically speaking. A conduit of sorts between the mysterious, elusive, cataclysmic beings from…wherever she and her ilk had lived. She powered Castle Dracula much like Falco powered Nate Temple’s mansion into a sentient being.
So being in Castle Dracula had felt strange for me, at times. Because it was almost like being inside myself. If Sanguina powered Castle Dracula, part of me did as well. We both had the Beast in us. Did Nate feel the same way inside his ancestral home? I shook off the thought.
“Anything new?” I asked her.
No, she answered, speaking directly into my mind. She’d learned how to stop shouting at my brain, diminishing the number of headaches I’d suffered in the beginning of our relationship. She could even speak out loud if she wanted to. She often preferred not to, so as not to frighten my friends with her words.
Lucky me.
“Well, a demon proposed to me a little while ago,” I growled, trying to restrain my fury.
She tensed, sitting up warily. Explain. So, I did. Quickly and focusing only on the facts. She didn’t offer comment, but she did look troubled, her tail swishing back and forth in a restless gesture.
I left her to her thoughts and began walking through the laboratory.
Qinglong—the decades-long bouncer and only other person who could enter without my express permission—wasn’t here, so I had free reign to explore my mother’s old workshop. Of course, the Azure Dragon was one of the mythical Divine Creatures, and he could Shadow Walk so fluidly that he could appear behind me without a sound and slice my throat before I even registered his presence.
It might say something about me—and my crappy night—that this thought barely registered as a concern as I continued about the room. I trailed my fingers against items laid out on the desks, stacks of books, and random collectibles, imagining my mother touching them on her own troubled nights. It was pleasant to think that Mother and daughter, although separated by death, could still touch each other through her most cherished collection of magical artifacts.
I paused beside the two tubs of black and white marbles that held my mother’s memories
, pursing my lips thoughtfully. All I had to do was place one on my tongue to hear her voice and see through her eyes.
I hadn’t come here much in recent weeks, fearing that focusing on the past would wind up consuming me. And that wasn’t even considering the marbles.
I wasn’t confident that I was strong enough to handle them yet, so I settled for touching her old possessions. It was safer.
But now that I was here, I began to wonder…
Had she left anything else out for me to find? Things I had overlooked during my first visit? Maybe the solution to some upcoming conflict I would face—like the identity of the asshole demon who thought he could claim my hand in marriage with an engagement ring of extortion? My gaze drifted back to the marbles for a brief moment. Surely, any instructions from her would be there. In fact, three marbles had been singled out from the tubs and set on their own velvet pillow, as if important.
But as much as I wanted to taste them, I was also very bitter about the whole thing. About what she had done to me. How she had used me. Even knowing it had been for my own good. She’d protected me from a demonic marriage proposal—theoretically. That protection was now gone.
I sat down in a nearby chair, pursing my lips. “I need information,” I said, seriously considering heading back to my suite at Castle Dracula for some sleep.
Sanguina remained silent.
“No. I need answers. Solutions. To problems I cannot comprehend because seeking out information on the problems will only put me into debt with the wrong people. A demon wants to marry me, and he brought his lawyer and possibly his extended family into town for the big night. He was only able to escape Hell after I sacrificed my link to Excalibur,” I mused. “Which was bonded to me to protect me from Heaven and Hell.” Excalibur’s sheath had been lying on my mother’s desk my entire life, undisturbed.
“Let me know when you have a question,” Sanguina murmured.
5
I grunted, noticing a metal box tucked under a stack of books on the table beside me. I removed them to get a better look at it. A phoenix was etched into the lid.
I studied the fiery creature warily, thinking of the Vermilion Bird, one of the four Divine Creatures like Xuanwu, the Black Tortoise, and Qinglong, the Azure Dragon. Qinglong and Xuanwu had both worked with my mother and Samael—their own private club. But no one knew where the other two were—the Vermillion Bird and the White Tiger.
I sensed no power from the box and admitted that I was letting my imagination run wild. Perhaps I was reading too much into things. Not everything was a conspiracy.
I opened the box with one finger, already funneling my power into a shield in case I unleashed a djinn or something worse. Nothing remotely magical or deadly happened, and I let out a sigh of disappointment. Then I silently admitted that I was a psychopath for secretly hoping for such a reaction. Sanguina sniffed primly, reading my thoughts.
I peered inside the box to see a fiery flower. I hissed instinctively, wondering why the box hadn’t been hot to the touch before I even thought to consider how the thing was still on fire. I stared at it for a few seconds, wondering if it would make the Super Mario Bros sound when I touched it. The petals seemed to be ever-smoldering, not actually flaming. And…it was beautiful, resembling a lotus blossom.
I held my fingers over it, surprised to feel no heat. Rather than risk touching it, I inspected the rest of the box. I saw three sets of matching metal rings—nothing fancy, just simple bands. As I focused on them, I sensed traces of power, but only when I stared at them, which was strange. Careful not to touch the fire lotus, I scooped a pair of the rings up, clinking them together thoughtfully. There was a faint magnetic attraction between them, but it wasn’t strong enough to defeat the inevitable force of gravity. Like my love life, I thought with a sullen frown. The pair was still trying, though, giving off a kindred spirit vibe. I sensed nothing malevolent about them, so I decided to keep them for myself. Maybe they would make me lucky in love. Later. I shoved them into my pocket and peered back into the box to find a note that somehow hadn’t caught fire from the flower.
I flicked it with a fingernail to discern that it was a white metal placard the size of a credit card, not paper. My breath caught, wondering if it was the equivalent to the figurines I owned for Xuanwu and Qinglong—totems with the ability to summon them. Although theirs were actually animal figures.
Still, white metal was one of the White Tiger’s aspects.
Except nothing happened. I had felt more magic from my Target credit card than I did from the metal.
But the Target card truly was magical, of course. Fight me.
I frowned as I noticed that something had been etched into the card’s surface. I picked it up, tilting it in the dim light to make out a spear broken into equal thirds. My breath caught. The Spear of Destiny had been broken exactly like the image.
Except it had been healed, and it currently resided inside my freaking soul. I called it up—something I had been working on a lot in the past few weeks—and it winked into existence in my hands. I studied the fracture lines—which were still visible, but no longer fragile. Instead, the Spear was stronger than ever. And it looked identical to the one on the card.
Archangel Michael had once wanted this Spear very, very badly. Understandably, since it was the one that had pierced Jesus’ side on the Cross.
I lifted the card closer and studied it, searching for additional clues. The broken spear appeared to be supported on either end by two triangles, making it look like a bridge between two mountain peaks.
And over the top of each mountain was an X. I angled the card, noticing a fainter marking—more like a hologram—of a sword stabbing down through the center section of the broken spear. It was barely even visible, and I wondered if I was simply imagining it.
The way the sword bisected that center section of the spear made it look like a crucifix. I touched the Spear of Destiny to the card and held my breath for the world to end. Nothing happened, and I let out a disappointed huff.
“What do you expect of me, mother?” I whispered to myself, setting the metal card back inside the box with the rings and fire lotus before carefully closing it. I let the Spear of Destiny wink out of existence—back into my body—and leaned back in the chair, interlacing my fingers, and setting them over my stomach.
Sanguina glanced up at the sound of my voice and regarded me without comment. She had taught me how to shield my thoughts from her—so she could remember what peace and quiet felt like, she’d said. I applied her teachings now, regarding her back just as snootily.
Sanguina spoke very rarely, and when she did it usually gave me chills. Like a toddler with the power of the universe, and as temperamental as a hurricane. She wasn’t evil.
She also wasn’t benevolent.
She was an emotional child, abandoned here long, long ago. Bonding to Dracula had saved her life, in a way. At the expense of his soul. He hadn’t been strong enough to sustain her, turning him into a vampire so that she could siphon off the power in the blood of his victims. It wasn’t ideal—for either of them—but it had sufficed.
Now, with me, she had found a source of power capable of keeping her in line—and we were biologically bonded as well as magically bonded. I hadn’t been turned into a vampire as a result of that connection, and I frequently found myself wondering whether that was a favorable or terrifying factor.
I was sympathetic to her situation, though. She didn’t want to destroy everything. Much like a child didn’t want to throw a temper tantrum in the middle of the grocery store.
But damn it, she would sure as hell throw one if she didn’t get her candy bar right friggin’ now.
So, we were both learning.
For her part, she seemed relieved to finally have a parental figure capable of keeping her in line. I think. It wasn’t as easy for me to read her thoughts as it was for her to read mine.
“Do you know anything about the Divine Creatures?” I asked Sanguina abs
ently.
Surprisingly, she spoke out loud this time. “I cared only for blood and affection. Not daemons of metal and fire or water and wood,” she said, referencing the elemental aspects to each Divine. We’d talked about them before—since Qinglong occasionally made appearances here in her favorite spot, and I hadn’t wanted the two of them killing each other by accident. I’d never heard her use the word daemons before, though. “Those are dangerous toys for children to play with.” Her tone let me know she was taking a shot at me. She must have sensed my thoughts from a few moments ago.
I cringed guiltily, wanting to clarify my earlier thoughts. “I care for you Sanguina, and it pains me to learn how you were treated. How you were left behind to fend for yourself. It wasn’t meant to be an accusation or a judgment, it was intended as pity and sorrow. Sympathy for someone I care about.”
She regarded me pensively, and I could tell she was blocking me from reading her thoughts.
Maybe she didn’t want my pity. I totally understood that. So, I continued. “However, like the troubled, abandoned child, your experience has transformed you into something remarkable. You are stronger as a result,” I said, smiling. “I was also abandoned as a baby. I empathize with you because my experience is similar, and it made me stronger. You have done more than any Beast I’ve heard about, and you did it all on your own, without help. That is beyond impressive, Sanguina,” I told her, meaning every word. “So, when I compare you to a troubled child, it is only an acknowledgement of my respect. I am awed by how much you accomplished despite your tribulations. It is inspiring. You are inspiring.”
Anghellic: Feathers and Fire Book 8 Page 3