“That… fucking… sucked,” was all he could manage, and Vincent’s look of worry turned into a cautious glare. “That was worse than dying.” His shaking knees buckled and he collapsed. Vincent caught him before he hit the ground and gently lowered him onto his back, resting his head on his lap. The angel worriedly checked Adrian for any signs of life. When he felt no pulse, he pulled a dagger from Adrian’s belt and held it to the assassin’s mouth. Adrian’s labored, but shallow breathing fogged the blade, and Vincent blew a heavy sigh of relief. He took a moment to compose himself and gently rested Adrian’s head on the ground. Standing, Vincent looked around for any witnesses. Finding none in view, he pulled a piece of chalk from Adrian’s belt pouch and drew a complicated runic circle. Before long, a portal opened above the chalk lines. Vincent lifted Adrian in his arms and stepped through, walking into his brother’s personal chambers in the assassin headquarters. In the room, Vincent laid Adrian on the bed and exited through the main door. In the common room, a place Vincent had become familiar with in his youth, he found the extra communication devices in one of the storage closets. He slipped the earpiece into his ear and pressed the call button. After a moment, Zhun’s voice came over the tiny speaker.
“Yes?” she asked.
“This is Vincent,” the angel answered.
There was a long pause, then, “You’re back! Where’s Adrian?”
“He’s unconscious in his room. He’s fine, but the fight with Helgrathin took a lot out of him.”
There was an audible sigh of relief and Zhun said, “Well, at least he survived. Not that death would have been permanent anyway. How are you doing, dear?”
“Aside from annoyed at the vampires for making me their puppet, I’m fantastic,” Vincent replied dryly. “I heard something about a civil war starting here. How can I help?”
“Well…” Zhun hesitated. “A lot of people are still upset that you killed Adrian, and a lot more are thinking his return means there was some sort of sinister plan set in motion by both of you to usurp the throne, and still more are convinced that all angels need to die. Things aren’t exactly looking good for you. Wait in the headquarters for Adrian to wake up and see what he can do for you in terms of lessening the severity of ire headed in your direction. Maybe if he uses his kingly power to lift your banishment, some of the people will allow you to return.”
“You know I don’t like sitting still when my home is in danger,” Vincent huffed.
“Just like your brother,” Zhun muttered. “I’ll get a feel for how much the knights miss you when I meet with them tonight. Otherwise, we’ll just have to wait and see what happens.” With that, the line went dead and Vincent removed the earpiece. He slumped into a chair in the common room and waited.
Zhun cut the conversation short as she rounded a corner on the streets of Laarsa. She was following a devil who was implicated in conspiring against the throne and rallying people to his side of the civil war. No armies clashed yet, but the time for open war was approaching quickly. Zhun’s orders were to find the leaders of the rebellion and kill them. Without strong leadership, the rebellion could be quelled without much more bloodshed. That was the goal, at least. Her progress was slowed somewhat by Vincent’s call, but the news of the angel’s return and Adrian’s safety was certainly welcome. The demoness resumed her pursuit and swiftly caught up to the devil. She overheard him mumbling something to himself about logistics and shipments before she wrapped him in a globe of silence and forcibly pulled him into an alley. Outside of the globe of silence, no one could hear him cry out for help, but inside, Zhun heard him clearly. She clamped a hand over his mouth all the same, not wanting to hear him scream. His eyes widened in fright as he looked at her, and he tried to wriggle free. With barely a thought, Zhun summoned the rope coiled at her belt and willed it to wrap the devil’s arms and legs together. Once he was adequately restrained, Zhun removed her hand from his mouth.
“HELP!” he shouted, but no help came. Zhun slapped him across the face for his efforts, and held a single finger to her lips.
“No one can hear you but me,” she purred, “and we have so much to talk about.”
The devil opened his mouth to shout again, but was silenced by Zhun’s upraised hand. The warning was clear. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said quietly, earning him another slap.
“I don’t believe you,” Zhun replied evenly. “See, I know that you’re one of the main leaders of this little rebellion trying to oust our king from his throne. You rabble rousers have been quite busy since Drae left.”
“Drae? The king’s advisor?”
“The very same,” Zhun said. “Except his real name is Helgrathin and he is a vampire. Well, was. Our king killed him. Your leader is dead. Now, give me the names of the rest of the leaders of this rebellion, or you will join his soul in the Pits.”
A quiver of fear ran through the devil, but he kept his eyes locked on Zhun’s. “No,” he breathed. “I won’t give them up.”
Zhun almost smiled. “Do you know what Adrian’s favorite interrogation technique is?” she asked. After no answer came from the devil, she said, “He makes promises. He earns your trust that he will keep those promises, and he does keep them. Every. Single. Time. Would you like me to set up the meeting?”
The captive devil shook his head, having heard all about the horrors of Adrian’s interrogations. He had met those who had been given one of Adrian’s promises. Another quiver of fear ran down his spine.
“Then start giving me names, and I won’t have to personally introduce you to our king.”
The terrified devil started talking, naming demons and devils in high places within the monarchy. He named several dukes and barons, as well as knights, advisors, and some dignitaries from other regions of Hell. Zhun was hard pressed to keep up, jotting down the names she was given. She had to suppress an amused smile at the sheer success of her threat. Even she was unnerved by Adrian’s interrogation techniques, but she could not argue with the results. Also, no one ever died when Adrian questioned them. They were simply left… different.
Once the devil had spilled the beans, Zhun spilled his guts on the pavement with a dagger made from angel metal. He died without a whisper heard by anyone outside of the alley, and Zhun calmly made her way through the city with a new list of names.
When Adrian finally awoke, nearly a day had passed. He rolled over in his bed and his hand automatically reached for Zhun. His fingers caressed her side and he nearly jumped, not expecting the demoness to actually be there. She purred in her sleep at his touch and he pulled her close, burying his face in the nape of her neck. He had never given much thought to just how important she was to him, but he felt safer and happier with her nearby. In all the time he had spent either outside of Hell or on a mission at home, he did not have much time to ponder such things. Now, in his bed, with Zhun in his arms, he entertained the notion of making her his queen. He chuckled inwardly at the thought of her already claiming to be his queen. Still, it occurred to him that there would be certain expectations placed on his shoulders. He would be expected to take a queen and bear an heir to the throne. He found he actually liked the idea, and wanted to make it happen, but he knew he would need to discuss it with Zhun first. He knew that she was hesitant to have children due to their line of work, and she did not want to give it up to be a mother. The freedom present in being an assassin was too much to give up and replace with being tied to one place while a child is raised. Adrian could not argue with that logic, and it was ultimately her decision. He let the thoughts fade away as he hugged her tight and rolled out of bed. He was still dressed in his armor, which was partially covered in blood and ash, and he winced slightly. Adrian undid the buckles and slipped the armor off of his body. In the mirror, he looked over the damage done to his body. Dark, vicious scars crisscrossed his body from being torn open to expel the vampire essence. He changed into a clean set of clothes and left his room closing the door gently to allow Zhun to remain asleep
.
“Finally, you’re awake,” came Vincent’s voice from the common room. Adrian turned to see his brother sitting in his favorite chair. “I thought you didn’t sleep?”
Adrian shrugged. “Does being unconscious even count as sleeping?” he asked sarcastically. “Did Zhun fill you in on what’s going on out there?”
Vincent nodded. “She says it’s slowly getting worse, but not as slowly as last time. The groups in charge are larger than before and they’re gathering their forces outside of Laarsa. She says if we strike hard and fast, we can end this before it even begins. She got a list of their leaders.”
Adrian sat in another chair near his brother. “Alright. One problem… I don’t really want to kill entire armies of people like last time. I’d rather just kill their leaders and keep the death to a minimum.”
“Said the assassin,” Vincent muttered.
“I know, I know. But you remember how devastating the last civil war was. I don’t want to put the people through all of that again. We lost nearly half of the population of Hell. I say we just go in with small strike teams and take out their leadership. If they get new leaders, we do it again. Rinse, repeat as necessary.”
“That could work, actually. I like that you’re looking out for the welfare of Hell’s people.”
“Well, if I’m going to be any kind of king, I might as well be a good one.”
“So what’s the plan, then?”
“We’re going to go down the list and remove the problems name by name. When we run out of names, we’ll reassess the situation and adjust as needed.”
“Sounds like a long process, but ultimately one that will benefit the kingdom, rather than the generals.” Vincent surmised with an approving nod. “I think you’re getting smarter, big brother.”
“Kiss my ass…” Adrian stared into space for a long moment, then said, “What do you want out of life, Vincent?”
“An odd question to ask right after inviting me to kiss your ass,” Vincent chuckled.
“I’m serious,” Adrian stated flatly.
Vincent gave Adrian a sidelong glance and said, “No more than most, I suppose. A simple, peaceful life full of happiness, joy, and someone to share it all with.”
Adrian smiled. “You know, that’s exactly what father wanted before he became king. You definitely belong in this family. Where do you want to call home, though?”
Vincent looked at Adrian again, trying to fathom the reason for the sudden seriousness. It was a little more than a little out of character for the party loving assassin. “Wherever my family is,” he replied.
“That’s multiple choice, little brother.”
By now, Vincent had his eyes locked on Adrian’s face, searching for any sign of emotion or deeper thought process. “I suppose that’s true. But why would I leave Hell? You’re here, mother is here, and I had a life here before… before.”
“But you also have a sister in Heaven, as well as a grandfather. You don’t have to be stuck here just because you were born here.”
“Where is all this coming from?” Vincent asked.
Adrian’s stare never faltered. He continued to look into the middle distance. “Hell is not the place to lead a safe, comfortable life. There’s all the infighting, the civil wars, the wars with other worlds. The people who live here are inherently chaotic by their very nature, and they’re violent, petty, heartless idiots who hate for no reason other than the fact that someone is different from them. I don’t know how you do it, little brother. You fought tooth and nail to climb through the ranks, starting as a lowly squire and rising to become the captain of the royal guard, and Hell’s highest ranking general, and still these people were too quick and eager to throw you out of your home and threaten to kill you. Then there’s me. I scrape by on my title, my blood, and nothing else. I was handed every opportunity, and I squandered almost all of it at every turn, taking advantage of my own good luck at being born a prince. You’re so much better than me, and you always have been. I can’t stand to think that you would want to live here where you’ll be harassed and threatened every day of your life. And imagine if you did settle down and start a family. Your wife would be hated for marrying an angel, your children will be ostracized for being half angel. I know this sounds horrible, but that’s the reality of Hell. This place is absolutely horrible. On the other hand, there’s Heaven. You will be welcomed there with open arms and given every opportunity I was, and for the same reasons I had. You’re just as much royalty as I am. Your father was Victor, son of Amun-Ra, king of Heaven. It doesn’t get much grander than that.”
Vincent took several minutes to process what Adrian had just said, and remained silent for a few minutes after that. He knew Adrian was right on all accounts, but was mildly shocked at how bluntly honest his brother was being. After a long silence, he said, “That’s all very true, Adrian, but there’s one thing you’re missing. I was given the same opportunities as you. The difference being, I wasn’t satisfied until I had earned what I was given. My knights did not respect my title. They respected me. And I respected them. I still do, in fact. Those men and women swore the exact same oath that I did, and that was to protect this kingdom with our lives. I did not take that oath lightly, and I still believe in my home. Yes, the general public is less than perfect, but I know that there are good people here in Hell. They are the ones who keep me fighting for their freedom. I could have left when I gained my knighthood and roamed all over Hell, Earth, or even Heaven, but I stayed. I stayed because I love my home and my family. Your father may not have been my biological father, but he was the one who raised me, and he was there for me when I needed him to be. I would be a poor knight indeed if I left my home to go where I could become some royal prince. As far as I’m concerned, Hell is, and will always be, my home. I won’t leave your side, no matter what. I know who my father was, and who I could be to the people of Heaven - I’ve always known - but I also know who my family is, and who I am to Hell. I say let the demons and devils hate me all they want. I’m right where I want to be.”
Adrian finally blinked and let his eyes wander to his little brother, a greater man than he could have ever hoped to be, and smiled. “Good answer.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Adrian and Vincent donned their armor in the common room of the assassin headquarters. Zhun came out of Adrian’s room wearing her usual fitted clothing and purred at the sight of Adrian getting ready.
“You make one fine killer,” she grinned. Adrian rolled his eyes, but could not hide his smile.
“I’m sure if I still had blood flow, I’d be blushing,” he quipped.
“I’d pay to see you blush,” Zhun replied with an arched eyebrow. “Seriously, I’ve actually never seen it.”
“Ugh…” Vincent sighed. “I’d say get a room, but it’s close by and I don’t want to have to wait on you all over again.”
“Where are you boys off to?” Zhun asked, ignoring the angel’s disgust. “Do I sense imminent death?”
Adrian slid the long glove up his skeletal arm and clipped the cuff to a hook on the shoulder of his leather armor. “We’re off to announce Vincent’s return to Hell, and my lifting of his banishment. Then, we’re going to see to that list you got us.”
“Sounds fun,” Zhun purred.
“By the way, how did your meeting with the knights go?” Adrian asked. “Vincent told me you were going to meet with them last night.”
Zhun shrugged and moved to the couch. As she lay on it, lounging and stretching, she said, “It was nothing special. I was briefing them on the situation and left it to Doran to give the orders of troop placement. I was certain to tell him that there would be a special need to place extra knights in the tower, and to make sure they were loyal to the throne. It seems they all wanted to volunteer for the post. Some of them even mentioned missing our little angel friend here.” As she spoke, her words were punctuated by faint pops from her joints while she stretched her limbs. She leaned on the back of the c
ouch languidly, watching the brothers finish putting on their armor.
With a final tug, Adrian tightened his belt around his waist and clipped his sword to it. He clapped Vincent on the armored shoulder and said, “I win again, brother.”
“Because you’re wearing leather, you ass,” Vincent huffed. “I’m in plate. It takes longer.” He spent another moment adjusting the gleaming silver armor and stretched his wings. There was barely enough room for it, though, but he was satisfied with how his armor sat. He strapped his sword on and followed Adrian out of the headquarters.
“Later, boys,” Zhun called after them. “Have fun storming the tower.”
The assassin and the knight walked through the tower halls side by side, as they had countless times before. If Adrian’s trek to the throne before turned heads, there were audible gasps as people saw both Adrian and Vincent walk by. There were many hushed voices going on about how the angel’s return would lead to his execution, but more voices shushed them as the king and his brother strode by.
“How many do you suppose want to kill us?” Adrian asked quietly.
“Too damn many,” Vincent replied under his breath.
“How many do you think might actually try it?”
“Not enough to take us down.”
“Cowards.”
When they finally came to the main audience hall, a group had gathered to see what the commotion was about. It reminded Adrian of when he came to claim the throne. Not every face in the crowd was pleased to see the two of them. They pushed through the crowd and entered the audience hall the sounds of cheers mixed with angry yelling. It was hard to hear much of anything else as they approached the throne. Adrian sat, while Vincent stood at his right hand. After a moment of Adrian staring out at the gathering, things quieted down. As the crowd quieted, Adrian felt a tingling wave of energy wash over him. He realized it was the rush of power granted to whoever claimed the throne. The feeling was warm and almost giddy, but also heavy with the weight of responsibility. Adrian humbly accepted it and instinctively knew that any abuse would result in the power being revoked. Bright red energy crackled through the obsidian throne, as it had every time a king claimed the power of his rightful place as ruler of Hell. It was well known throughout the kingdom what that sparking energy meant, and Adrian watched in amusement as those who shouted angrily were stunned to fearful silence.
The Assassin and the Knight Page 36