When We Were Still Human

by Vaughn Foster

“Please do be careful. Everything here is unimaginably expensive.”

  At first, she couldn’t place the voice. Out past the glass terrace doors, she finally spotted the figure. When he didn’t continue speaking, she cautiously stepped closer. He didn’t seem like an immediate threat. He had his back to her and was sipping clear liquid from a glass. Even still, Val readied her claws for the slightest movement.

  “Lust is safe.”

  Val paused at the mention of Vladimir before moving beside the figure. He was taller than her, but not by much. He had a toned but wiry build like that of a runner. What struck her most was his age. Behind an exquisite dark suite and serious disposition was a teenager no more than eighteen.

  “Where is he?” Val found herself asking. In all honesty, Vladimir hadn’t been the first thing on her mind. After the betrayal in the cave, his wellbeing was by no means the most pertinent. The question was just what came out.

  “Right outside the room. I wanted to talk.” Instead of talking, however, he stared out past the balcony. Val followed his gaze. Wherever they were, the building was perched along a beach. There was no moon or starlight. Torches lit the ground level, but darkness swallowed the world past their light. Waves of an endless ocean caressed the sand as they pushed their way to shore.

  “You’re American.” When he didn’t respond, Val wondered if she had only thought the words. She was about to repeat herself when he laughed. It was a light noise that didn’t touch his face. While common sense told her his ethnicity was the least of her concerns, there was something comforting in being around someone from her own country; her own world. She’d been met with Vladimir’s blending tongue and smooth Ynsri accents since waking up in Le Ciel. The stranger was the first American she’d heard since Avia.

  “I go through all the trouble of bringing you here and that’s the first thing you notice?”

  Val flashed to her conversation with Dove. “So, you’re... Raven.” This was the creature that had been after her, even before the Mark.

  “The Angels lie,” he sang in response. “And you are their fifth transgression.” Val knew that she should be afraid but couldn’t physically conjure the fear. She was tired of being afraid. Tired of running. Whatever the demon wanted to say, there was no point in fighting now. She leaned over the railing and flexed her hand, the effort alone straining sore muscle.

  “Let’s go inside.” Raven curtly turned from the banister and stepped back into the study. Val followed him to the hearth, cringing when her eyes fell back upon the crystal balls. If he noticed her darting gaze and taut posture, he didn’t show it. Instead, he opened a glass cabinet and removed a bottle of white wine.

  “The 1811 Chateau d'Yquem,” he said with pride. He poured her a glass and refilled his own. “Worth over a hundred thousand U.S. dollars.”

  For a brief second, she hesitated, but the bottle was visibly new, and he drank first. Her better judgment still warned that he could have spelled the glass. Then again, it didn’t seem efficacious to kidnap someone, only to drug her once she woke up. Taking the glass, Val watched his movement. The careful slick of black hair fell back like a plume of feathers. Violet irises almost mirrored her own.

  Val sipped as she sat down. The wine tasted no different from the thirty-dollar bottles she’d buy at a grocery store, but she didn’t let the disappointment show. The macabre orb sat hauntingly in her peripheral. Each minute she became more aware that she was drinking with a monster. One that goaded madness and destroyed souls.

  “You wanna tell me why I’m here?” she finally asked. He’d been staring in his glass, lost somewhere else entirely.

  He blinked and seemed to return to the room. “Because you’re like me. There are people you want to protect.”

  At this, Val started. Maybe it was the wafting scent of magic paired with the mantle of some legendary fallen angel. Power radiated from him in sheets, but he didn’t have the sense of other. Whatever he was, he was still human.

  Raven suddenly turned away, interrupting her dissection.

  “Excuse me,” he spoke curtly. “I’m… getting a call.”

  Before she could respond, he held a hand to his left temple and began pacing before the hearth. He nodded a few times, then rolled his eyes.

  “Well, that sounds like your problem, Bael.” Val went rigid at the name. She strained to listen, as if she could read his mind, but was limited to a one-sided dialogue.

  “No, you can’t kill them!” More annoyed hand gestures. He turned to her and mouthed a groan. “I know you worked really hard on the show, but you know what, shit happens. That’s life. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m with a— Well, no, don’t just let them go. You’re a greater demon. I’m sure you can find something villainy to do.”

  The “call” ended, and Raven slumped into the armchair across from Val. He offered a sheepish grin and ran a hand through his hair.

  “Sorry,” he said, pouring a second glass. “Our king has been… indisposed this season, so I’m left shouldering many of his responsibilities.”

  Val gestured in agreement then set her wine on the end table. In the course of the call and conversation, the older visage of the man dissolved. His features seemed to soften. It was suddenly clear that despite his power, the suit, and whatever else was going on, he was still a kid.

  “Let’s get to the point, shall we?” He made a beckoning gesture and the large double doors swung open.

  Vladimir was dragged in, gagged and chained. The scene was only perfected by the sparkling onyx shackles clasped around his wrists and ankles. Completely deserved, Val thought, before her eyes flickered to his guard.

  It was him. Same dark skin, same red jacket. He was clean-shaven this time, and his eyes were calm, but it was him. The man who had stood beside Vladimir the night she was turned. The man whose screams of nosferatu echoed through hospital walls. The man who required six guards to retrain him.

  Vladimir followed Val’s gaze to his former thrall, then fought harder against his chains. The energy left him in a second and the guard steadied him from falling

  “Easy there, buddy,” the man soothed before unceremoniously tossing him onto the couch beside Val.

  It was then that Val realized her mouth was agape. She turned back to Raven.

  “Thank you, Lorne,” Raven said with a wave. The guard nodded towards the young man, then excused himself from the study.

  Vladimir made a noise through his gag and Val turned to face him. “You want me to take that thing off?” He nodded vigorously.

  She moved as if to undo the knot, then pulled back, instead claiming her glass and bringing it to her lips. She watched ruefully as confusion shifted to anger in his eyes.

  “I forgot you and Lorne had a history,” Raven finally said, cocking his head towards the doors. “Help is really hard to find, so when the Prince of Darkness threw him out, well...” A grin too wicked to properly fit his youth flickered across his face. “You can’t beat a deal like that.”

  He adjusted in his seat and stared pointedly at Vladimir. “So you’re aware, Dracule, you’re only here to relay this conversation to Michael. That is, if Valerie should decide to leave. The jewelry pieces that Lorne fitted you with are ohun. They cancel out the aether as if you were in the abyss itself.

  “You’re here,” he added to Val, “because you don’t want to be a monster, and because you want the angel’s brand off your chest. Michael’s curse binds bloodlines, not souls. Change the bloodline and the curse is void.”

  “Like… when I was turned?” Val scolded herself, unsure why she was entertaining the thought. She wasn’t going to let a demon help her. But still… Just hearing someone else say it, that there was a chance to be human again, sent a jolt through her body.

  “Nope.” Raven drained his third glass then set it down. “My apologies, changeling. You were always a ghoul. Well, maybe not always, but close enough I guess. Dracule?”

  Vladimir’s eyes were wide, face flushed as he fought again
st the bindings. Something in her chest said to ungag him, but she couldn’t. At this point, he was just as untrustworthy as Raven. So far, Raven was the only one actually offering a solution for what they’d come to do.

  “What… What’s a ‘changeling’?”

  He ignored her. “I’m sure you’ve both realized by now that I’m human.” Val blinked, not expecting the shift. She looked to Vladimir, who only scowled in response.

  “Our king killed the Raven you knew,” he continued. “He was a fiend and a traitor. The king wanted his replacement to hail from the kingdom he plans to redeem. We can make you like me. Human, but something more. Something that can actually save people.”

  The mention of Daemon snapped Val’s sanity back into formation. The demons had ravaged the earth after their fall, but many had been under Daemon’s command. The lurid painting in the former Sorcerer Supreme’s private office was proof that these guys were bad news. While angels and demons may have shared a common origin, the Sons of Daemon were sadists.

  “You’re monsters who don’t care at all about the human race!” Val blurted. “You think this thing hasn’t shown me what you’re capable of?” She pointed at the Mark. “Human sacrifices. Babies dying. Cities burned. Le Ciel may have abandoned Earth, but you guys are the ones stoking the fire.”

  Her chest heaved, the outburst coming far stronger than anticipated. She’d gotten so sick of these power-craving deities who all thought they were heroes.

  Raven stared back curiously. When she didn’t speak, he shifted to Vladimir, as if expecting a response. Between the gag, chains, and probably some wisdom, the vampire was silent.

  “Believe it or not, everything we do is for the preservation of humanity.”

  “Then what about that girl?” Val pointed accusingly at the crystal balls, and Raven turned to follow.

  “Oh, that?” He waved a hand. The flames behind him flickered to green, then pink, then slowly formed an identical image to what was in the globe.

  The wine settled like acid, and Val felt like she was going to be sick. The man holding the leash had forced the girl to stand. She now staggered across the stage displaying her wings. Tears cut rivers down her cheeks. More numbered signs shot up, and though Val couldn’t hear the dollar amounts, she knew it was an expensive auction.

  Raven glanced in the fireplace, then shrugged. “Wars don’t finance themselves. Plus, fairy wings are invaluable for higher end spellwork.”

  “She’s younger than you!” Val jumped to her feet and marched across the room. She leaned in to match his height, but he didn’t retreat. Instead, he raised a brow before turning to Vladimir.

  “Spellwork aside, fairies are still divine in bed, right? Haven’t tried one myself yet, but I can only imagine how that much pure magic feels in a body like—”

  Stifled roars tore from Vladimir’s throat as he fought harder against the bindings. He managed to get to his feet but no sooner had a deep hum sounded from the chains. He crashed back to his knees.

  “This seems to be a sensitive topic,” Raven remarked, looking back to the auction. “How about this?” He met Val’s glare with a cool smile. “Let her die, and you can walk away, free of your curse. Whether or not you join me is your decision. Request she lives and I end the auction here. You leave with nothing.”

  She straightened her posture and tried to present herself as if she knew what she was doing. This was very well her only chance to be rid of Vladimir, Michael, and everything else. But at the same time… Her eyes fell to the image in the fire. An argument had broken out in the room. A woman in white and a man in turquoise were shouting in front of the auctioneer, both pointing at the collared fairy girl.

  “End it.”

  A low growl rumbled from her throat when Raven made no move to stop the auction. She stepped closer, and he pulled his attention from the flames.

  “As you wish.” He closed his fist and the argument ceased. The tension released and blew from Val’s body like pent steam. Her shoulders fell back, but just as soon braced as another blow struck from the fireplace. The man had walked away, but the woman in white was stepping up to the stage. She shook hands with the auctioneer, and he handed her the girl’s leash.

  “Raven!” Val screeched, shoving him up against the mantle. “What did you do?!”

  He crinkled his brow in confusion, then let a wry smile pass. “I ended the auction. There was a dispute and I signaled the auctioneer to make a choice.”

  Val threw a punch, but he dodged with a tilt of his chin. She performed a flawless hook kick, but her foot impossibly slid past his face. She lashed out again, and again. Each time, he swayed and veered with arrogant ease. She jabbed to his left, and when he stepped right, she swiped at his side. Right when claws should have met flesh, a plume of black feathers fell in his wake.

  Val huffed for breath, shoulders racking. She’d expected to smell roses or the pervasive scent of something burning— the physical trails magic left behind. There was nothing. Somehow, the demon had out maneuvered her by his reflexes alone.

  She eyed Raven, incredulously collected and unconcerned, then turned her attention to Vladimir. The vampire was nearly unconscious. Whatever the chains were doing was far more than just restraint. Black veins trailed his face and pressed tightly along his neck. While his chest hadn’t necessarily risen and fallen before, he was eerily motionless.

  Without thinking, Val ran to the mantle and swiped the row of crystal spheres to the ground. Unlike the last cyclops’ eyes she’d broken, plumes of colored smoke surged from the shattered glass. At this, Raven’s face broke. Surprise cracked his calm demeanor, then turned to pure horror as he stared down at the rising clouds.

  “D- D-” Before he could finish, Val was lunging through the rainbow haze and landing a fist square on his cheek. The demon-boy flew back into a glass case with an ill thud. He laid on his knees for a moment, broken bottles spilling around him.

  Rage and loathing flared across the nerves in her fingertips. Her eyes trained upon the monster kneeling in a pool of wine. The colorful smoke had diffused into a pink mist. It filled the room and her lungs with an almost citrus quality.

  Val took a step towards him and the ground shook. The walls rippled like the waves just past the terrace. Raven was standing now, clutching a broken bottle to his chest.

  “Do you know how much authentic cyclops’ eyes cost? Do you think I can just get another? It took years to get five!”

  The room started to shake, and Val was afraid that the floor would give out. She grabbed onto a bookshelf for support, but just as quickly as it started, the quake stopped.

  Raven ran a hand down his face and sighed. It was a tired noise, like someone who’d been inconvenienced at every turn over the course of his day. He took in the wrecked study before looking her over. The manic shock and crazed expression had passed. Either that, or the mask he wore over it had simply fallen back into place.

  “I believe you’ve made your choice.”

  In the blink of an eye, Val was standing in an empty city street. White carpet was now concrete. Darkened window displays exhibited mannequins far too lifelike for her liking.

  She spun in a tight circle, ready for the next attack. Nothing came. She ran to the end of the street and looked both ways. Empty streets and flashing traffic lights.

  “He’s not here.”

  Val turned to find Vladimir sitting on the hood of a parked car, groggily rubbing his head

  “But…” Val looked around again. A soda can and crumpled newspaper lay beneath a bus stop bench. The surrounding shop signs were in English and displayed completely normal businesses: a nail salon, a coffee shop, an insurance agency, Chinese food.

  Her head was spinning. She backed into the curb and stumbled against a store window. If Raven was gone… If this was real... She inhaled, and the smell of fast food and car exhaust rushed into her lungs. The hum of electricity purred in her ear in a way she’d never noticed before; a way completely different fr
om the buzz of magic.

  Tears cut rivulets down her cheeks as she stared at the blurred traffic signal several blocks down. This was it. She was back in the real world.

  “I’m sorry.”

  The fantasy shattered. This wasn’t the real world, but just another reality. One she could never be a part of. Her hand went to her chest, fingers tracing the circles and lines of the chain that tethered her to angels. The hope that was welling in her chest collapsed. She took a step forward, and the horrors from the underground city and Raven’s study struck her at once. Her knees folded beneath as she slid dazed to the sidewalk.

  A hand fell on her shoulder. She whipped around, eyes now a venomous blaze, and pushed herself to her feet.

  “This is your fault! You did this to me!” She slammed her fists against Vladimir’s chest. “Two years! Two fucking years and you did nothing! You watched me die! You watched me kill hundreds of people and did nothing!”

  Val vented her rage onto his body. He didn’t resist her assault; instead he took it, standing as a hollow shell that looked like a corpse of an undead.

  “I—”

  “You should have killed me then!” She forced one last hit, the energy already drained from her bones. Her legs gave out and she grabbed on to Vladimir’s coat. She tried lifting her fist again, but it fell inept at her side. “You… you should have killed me.”

  For a second, everything went black. Something soft was now under her head. The sensation was followed by the weight of a heavy blanket being drawn over her shoulders. She cracked her eyes and squinted against the darkness. Light splayed from the corner, and if she focused, she could make out Vladimir’s silhouette in a door frame.

  “Rest here, okay?” His voice was lined with fatigue and something that could be taken as sorrow. “I, umm...spoke with the hotel manager. Your key is on the nightstand, along with some money. I’ll be back to check on you in a couple days. If you want to stay and figure things out on your own, then I’ll try to work something out.”

  Her dry throat tried to croak out an answer, but the door was already closed. Instead, the cords of lassitude made their final knot and her mind was pulled to numinous sleep.