A Witch's Beauty

by A Witch's Beauty (lit)

  Pericles was right. He'd been assuming it was a sickness, a disease that wasn't truly part of her. Before his eyes was Jonah's worst-case scenario coming true. The Dark One blood was overpowering everything else. It had surged up, hot and feral, unbalanced by prolonged exposure to light energy surroundings that couldn't be stronger if he'd thrown Mina into the Lady's lap. Great Goddess, Ezekial's whole battalion had been here, meditating to raise white light for the Trumpet.

  Making it worse now was the physical threat posed by the angels. Trained to go into battle mode at the first hint of a Dark One, their senses would have already been on edge with her there.

  Now only Jonah's word was holding them back, and the commander had his own sword at the ready.

  Perhaps he should be thankful it was her dragon form, for the animal part of her seemed to have claimed most of her rational thinking. Though he knew she could cast spells in this form, he'd seen her do it when she was fully cognizant, the essence of the seawitch still blinking at him out of the serpentine eyes. He saw very little of Mina in this enraged creature's expression.

  David arrived at Jonah's side as the latest flame blast seared between two flanks of angels. They parted, then re-formed ranks again, driving her back against the spire as she tried to stretch out her wings, launch herself. Mina opened her jaws and howled, a chilling, Dark One shriek magnified into a raw scream of rage and warning.

  "Nice of you to show up."

  "I found what I needed. Just let her go."

  "What?" Jonah glanced at him. "Let her go to wreak havoc on everything in her path? She's turned, David."

  "No, she hasn't." I won't let her. "If I get her away from here, she'll be all right. But the longer she stays, the worse she'll get. I didn't know. That's one of the things I found out. It's my fault. Let me fix it."

  "She could have told you that. She didn't. I'll send a squadron with you."

  "No. She can't perceive any threat. Just me. I know what I'm doing."

  "And what will that change?" Jonah's head whipped up at a shout, but the dragon was just repositioning, the angels adjusting accordingly.

  "She can control this better. She'll be-"

  "She'll still have the blood and the power," Jonah snapped. "The two things occupying the same space, something way too damn thin in between them. She's mortal, David, invested with more power than a mortal can have, and the stronger it gets, the more fiercely that dark side of her is going to want to take control of it. It's time to end this."

  "Duck." The other angels shouted it out, and David and Jonah cut under the swath of fire the dragon spat out. It covered over a hundred yards of space. As it died back, the stone resisting the flame, her predatory gaze was darting about, calculating. An escape. David could tell she was trying to escape. Mina was in there, fighting the darkness still, trying to escape before it unleashed.

  "Feel her power, David? She's got enough of her own brain to tell her not to move, but in a moment, it will go in one of two directions. Toward the dragon, which means she'll attack indiscriminately, focused on rage, or she'll get back in touch with the witch part of herself and start retaliating with spells. And they won't be harmless bat wings. The time for this is over," Jonah repeated. "We did the best we could on her behalf. Your bringing her here was likely one of the best ways to bring it to a head."

  "No. I brought her here as a mistake. To help her." Knowing he was no match for Jonah, let alone a full battalion, David nevertheless shifted in front of his commander, meeting his gaze head-on, putting everything he had into it. "You can't kill her because of my mistake."

  "Watch out."

  The warning fired through the air like an arrow behind them. David focused, creating the shield over himself as her fire raced over and through him, engulfing him before the spray dissipated with another shriek of rage from the beast.

  "Holy Mother," Jonah muttered, and David spun, following his gaze in time to see her large, spiked tail sweep through the air, narrowly missing another handful of those circling around her. Her claws crumbled the Citadel rock as she shifted to get a better angle. David wondered if he was the only one who heard the desperation behind the shrieks. She was in there, hanging on to the reins by a thread. He had to get her out of here.

  Please don't make this decision here and now. Jonah, the last thing I would ever wish to do in this universe or any other is defy you. By the holy Goddess, I am asking for your trust on this, based on everything I am to you. Give me more time. Don't do this, not when it's because of something I did.

  Though quite aware of Jonah's feelings toward him, David had never used that privilege as leverage. Perhaps it was a measure of how close he knew Jonah was to giving the order to take her life that he did it now. Was he prepared to fight them if they tried to harm her? Gods, he didn't want to find out, for he was fairly certain he knew the answer.

  Please, Jonah. You all are my family. Don't make me choose. I have to protect her.

  She is not your sister, David. Do you understand that?

  David froze. Despite the barely leashed chaos around them, everything disappeared for a blink except the angel in front of him, who knew more than any what those words might mean. "I know that," he said out loud. He kept his tone carefully measured, even though he himself could hear the vibrations in it that spoke of terrible, dark things.

  "I'm not sure you do. You can't save what was born by blood to be evil, David. No Dark One-"

  "She's not a Dark One." Only when it was echoing through the keep did David realize he'd thundered it as if a storm had erupted inside of him. The dragon yowled.

  Jonah's expression had gone blank. He had lost. Gods, he knew he had lost, but David wouldn't stop. He couldn't.

  "She has fought it. Despite everything, she has fought it. Fought it alone. There has to be a purpose and reason for that. She's fought them, the way we fight them. Only she never gets to leave the battlefield, because her blood is the battlefield." Her insides are like a fallow field... "She's a soldier, like any of us. Just like you, or Marcellus, or any of my platoon. I will not abandon her."

  "Even if it comes to a choice of her or us." Jonah said it flatly, his gaze assessing his lieutenant. Assessing whether an angel he'd trusted was someone whose judgment had become suspect. David couldn't dispute Jonah's concern, but it struck him hard.

  "It's not that choice." He managed, with Herculean effort, to keep his voice steady now. "It's about right and wrong. Please don't make it about that. What if you had to make a choice between Anna's well-being and this?"

  "Goddess," Jonah swore. Leaping faster than David could follow or defend, he plowed into the younger angel. David landed hard against the keep side, caving in stone, Jonah's hand fisted in his tunic. The angels cried out above as the dragon tried to leave the spire, wings slashing through the air, spitting fire.

  "Mina."

  "Be still, Lieutenant. They won't harm her. Yet."

  He couldn't move, Jonah's arm like a solid wall of rock pressed against his chest. Held there immobile, David knew his commander had made his point effectively. He could swat David aside like a fly. Take Mina's life with a word. But he hadn't yet.

  "You are not going to compare that to Anna."

  "Yes. I am." David said it through gritted teeth. "Jonah, I'm begging you."

  The commander stared at him, his expression unfathomable, battle-ready. David held that terrifying gaze, his body at respectful attention as much as possible, or so he thought. When Jonah's attention dropped, David realized he'd put his hands on the grips of two of the daggers. He made himself release them, put his hands to his sides as Jonah watched, considered. When he raised his attention to David's face again, David wondered if he'd lost, no matter what Jonah's decision was.

  "Save your strength for getting her out of here," Jonah said curtly, releasing him. "We'll be talking about this again. If she hurts anyone, David-including you-it's over."

  David took to the air almost before Jonah finished the statement, n
ot wanting to give the dragon another chance to change the commander's mind. And he couldn't spare the emotional energy to think about what he himself might have destroyed here.

  "Here." David shouted it. "Mina. Here. I'm here."

  As the angels started to back off, presumably upon Jonah's mental command, David shot up, coming in beneath the dragon's maw, narrowly missing the swipe of talons. The tail dealt him a blow in the shoulder that sent him spinning, but a rush of adrenaline took over as he envisioned Jonah taking that as a sign to attack. It galvanized him and he surged up in the sky, headed away from the Citadel.

  Mina, follow me. Please, Goddess, don't let them kill you. He fired his next thought toward his commander. I've got this. Please, Jonah. Let me do this.

  The dragon exploded off the turret, and David's heart stopped as he realized a handful of arrows had already been released. Then they veered up sharply, clattering back down to the stone floor of the keep when Jonah swept his hand before him, sending out an arc of power. David heard an inventive curse in his head, followed by a sharp command.

  Watch out.

  David spun and twisted left so sharply he thought he heard his spine crack as the dragon's claws swept down upon him, more swiftly than he'd anticipated. He slid between the front talons, which ripped a healthy piece of flesh from his shoulder as he followed the line of her belly, causing her to make an awkward somersault to reach him. It, as well as the smell of blood, served the intended purpose of enraging her further and sending her in renewed pursuit after him.

  David.

  I'll be fine. David grunted as he executed another narrow miss just over her head. Flame seared through the wounded shoulder. Will... report later. Thanks...

  Jonah sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose as the angels who had engaged made landings at various points on the keep. He noted Raphael had joined them, was standing at his shoulder.

  "That boy is going to give me gray hairs," he informed the healer.

  Raphael offered a smile that, as usual, comforted, but there was uncertainty in his own expression, which didn't comfort in the least. "No cure for that, I'm afraid."

  "I should have killed her."

  "You couldn't do it. You love him too well, perhaps."

  Jonah shifted his attention to the other angel. At Raphael's knowing look, he swore again. "You helped me with him when he first came here. What will it do to his soul if I have to kill her, which everything suggests is the way this will end? She can't control it in herself except under certain restricted conditions, and you just felt her power. We were lucky she was more animal than witch just then or she might have brought the Citadel down around us."

  He turned back to watch, grudgingly admiring when David made an elegant turn, still an evasive maneuver. It was clear he was going to keep goading her to chase him until she ran out of energy and perhaps became manageable again. For now, short of another careless move, he should be fine, for his speed far surpassed hers.

  "If it has to be done, make sure he's the one that does it." Raphael said it quietly. "He's not that boy anymore, Jonah. He's a young man, for certain. And he's in love, for the first time in his life. Being an angel, I expect that means the last time as well."

  At Jonah's stunned expression, Raphael inclined his head. "The one thing a healer recognizes is love, because there is no greater healing agent in the universe. If it must be done, it is likely to shatter him either way, but that way he will know it has been done with mercy."

  DAVID feared the conversations he'd left in the wake of their swift departure, but there was nothing he could do about that now. One focus. At this moment, that was exhausting Mina. He went up, down, and when she appeared to be giving up the chase, he'd get close enough to rake her scales with a dagger or taunt her by flying just beneath her nose. Once, he was able to yank a scale from her sensitive underbelly. She was impressively quick, enough to get in a couple swipes that raked off some more skin, divested him of a few handfuls of feathers. In the harrowingly close maneuvers, he knew he risked the potential of being knocked unconscious and having himself eaten like a bucketful of chicken. Since he was immortal, he wasn't sure how he would be digested until she got to the crucial heart organ that could end his life, but he imagined it wouldn't be pleasant.

  Thank Goddess, she was tiring. Once he fell into a rhythm of keeping her moving and chasing him, he'd worked on their destination. So now, as he maneuvered her closer and closer to the surface, they were over the Nevada desert, the long stretch of barren area Jonah and Anna had traversed on foot months before. It was unpopulated enough that an aerial display by an angel and a dragon might go largely unnoted in the fading afternoon light.

  He'd explored the area during sweeps for Dark One activity after the Canyon Battle and found himself curiously drawn to the strange land. It had hidden pocket canyons with streams and lush greenery as well as long stretches of sand and scrub, populated by various unusual animal species and only a scattering of eccentric human inhabitants and infrequent structures.

  There.

  Nevada, like a handful of the western states, had ghost towns dating back to the 1800s. One in particular he'd explored was too far off the beaten path to be a preserved historic attraction. He knew, because it had become a favored haunt for him for meditation, a familiar touchstone to the Westerns he'd preferred as a teen. The only people who'd been here recently were a lone group of hikers who'd moved on after a day, and a film crew, who'd used it for about a week to gather stock footage.

  As he landed on the ground on the main road through the town, he watched the dragon circle. At a certain point, she'd stopped trying to kill him and just followed. A hopeful sign that she was back in control. She hadn't spoken to him, though, and he hadn't pressed it, knowing her remaining energy was being put into flight.

  Mina. All angels had the power to speak within the mortal mind, though he'd always found Mina's a very difficult mind to navigate. While the blood link helped, he still couldn't hear her thoughts unless she spoke to him directly. But he was hoping... Mina, are you with me?

  The dragon came down on top of the building that had been the saloon, then made a quick but clumsy leap to the sandy main strip as the roof groaned alarmingly. They faced each other, about sixty feet between them. All they needed were six-shooters, he thought.

  Her sides were heaving, mouth foam- and blood-flecked. However, in a surge of relief so fierce it seized his heart in a squeezing grip, he saw that the dragon's eyes were once again bicolored. One red. One blue.

  "Mina, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me for not understanding."

  The jaws pulled back in a bitter snarl that was disconcerting, but she didn't move.

  How could you understand? You're an angel. You know nothing of my kind of darkness. The only ones that understand my true nature are those you revile. Those you will destroy, as you'll have to destroy me in the end.

  "No."

  You can't understand unless you are evil. Even in her thoughts, he could hear how tired she was. Soul sick. Stretching out her long neck, she laid her large head on the sand. Her body rolled to the side, like an animal hit by a car.

  "You're not evil." He surged across the ground to her, heedless now of any potential danger, but even as he began to move, she was metamorphosing, diminishing. When she was done, her hair stuck to her face and bare body, slick with sweat. Her cloak was probably lying on the ground at the Citadel like some dark tarantula, the angels poking their blades at it to figure out what it was.

  She was the human Mina again, lying crumpled in the dirt, so small and deceptively defenseless compared to the dragon form. Only at this moment, he suspected she was defenseless. Or rather, past caring.

  He was wrong. When she registered his advance, by some miracle she struggled to her feet, swaying, and backed away from him. Her eyes were still wild, hands clenched for battle, even though she was staggering. She made a noise of protest. "No, don't touch me. I can't bear it."

  He stopped, his he
art in his throat. As she stumbled and fell, he wanted nothing more than to move forward, but he saw the flash in her mind, a rough concept she was still too disoriented to put into words. Even his muddled light was too much for her raw senses right now.

  So he stopped, spread his hands to show her he understood and would come no farther. Taking a cross-legged position on the ground, he put his hands on his knees, though meditating was the last thing on his mind. Goddess, had he screwed up. Nearly gotten her killed by the only ones with any motive to protect her. The condition she was in was because of him.

  But he'd been an angel long enough to know self-flagellation was pointless. It was done. Savagely, he told himself he'd gained invaluable knowledge she wouldn't have shared with him. He could use it to keep from making a mistake that would be fatal next time. Then he watched her, his heart breaking.

  Letting her body sink to the ground again, she put her cheek to the dirt, lips clotting with sand she didn't bother to wipe away. She'd lain on her unmarked side, tucking it beneath her so he had an eerie impression of what she might have looked like embedded in the rock in the Abyss. She appeared to be struggling with something going on within her, and he couldn't think of how to help her.

  Or could he? Slowly, he drew the dagger, studied the blade. Not going to her and pulling her into his lap, cosseting her, was against everything he was. Just like it was to give her an object that could cause her further pain.

  You don't know me...

  Knowing someone meant not denying the truth of who they were. Which dovetailed into the corollary of being what she needed him to be. He looked toward her, a disfigured woman coated in dirt, gasping like a horse down with a broken leg. Suffering.

  Tossing the dagger with an oath, he embedded it in the dirt above where her hand curled and uncurled.

  At first, he thought she hadn't seen it, for she didn't flinch. But then, her hand moved forward. An inch, then another as he waited, all muscles tense, fighting the overwhelming urge to take it back.