The Quick and the Dead

by D. B. Sieders

  “That you did. I do not believe I ever thanked you for it. Delights of the flesh and spirit, darkness and light, all that I was and all that I am were your gifts to me.”

  “Were…” She paused to wipe the blood from her face—Briggs’ face. The slash was no longer gushing, but it had not fully healed.

  Darkmore sighed. “I’ve come into my own, as all acolytes do. My regard for you, and my love, has not wavered. It has changed, to be sure, as have I, but I am here now to fight at your side. And so are they.” He gestured to the guardians and freed souls.

  “What about you?” she asked Vivian. “Will you fight at my side and defy your master? Think carefully. One who betrays one’s master will surely turn on a new one…eventually.”

  Biting back ugly words that would do her no good, Vivian took a deep breath and spoke. “I do not serve Uriel. His…organization no longer serves its purpose and souls in need. Once I learned that, I worked for change from within. I have stood beside guardians,” she said, nodding at Ezra, Jeanne, and Zeke. “And your reaper. I will fight for a system that is fair and just for all souls, one that does not exploit the most vulnerable among the living to fuel the power of those in charge of their crossing. If that is what you stand for, then I’m with you. I ask only two things.”

  The creature wearing Briggs disappeared and reappeared in front of Vivian, flaming sword at her throat. Ezra’s power flowed through her body along with Mae’s. A shield. The Queen of the Underworld stopped. Whether by her own control or by the protection of Ezra and her sister, Vivian didn’t know. Or care.

  “You dare make demands of me, human?”

  When Vivian remembered to breathe, she said in a voice that shook only a little, “Not demands. Requests, on behalf of humanity and for the sake of peace as we, for lack of a better word, restructure afterlife management. You have the power to choose how we move forward, how the souls in limbo move through their penances or to their own personal paradises and from there to…wherever they go.”

  She’d never asked what was next. If her slice of enchanted woods where flowers bloomed eternal near a cool, bubbling stream would be her final resting place or a stop along the way. Once upon a time she’d visited it, her place as Ezra called it, and she’d asked Zeke to look out for it while she was busy on earth or trapped in the Darkmore’s realm. It was her paradise but not yet where she belonged. She hoped she saw it again. Someday.

  The Archangel slashed his sword through the air in what appeared very much like a fit of temper. Vivian shifted her gaze as best she could, not daring to move her neck. Damn it, why did he have to speak up now? This was not how negotiation was supposed to work. Flaming swords of eternal damnation had never been a part of her agreement with Ezra.

  If she survived, it was definitely time for contract renegotiations.

  “You would bargain with this creature, you impudent wretch. You are nothing. You have no idea what’s at stake if this malevolent so-called goddess overthrows the council. Archangels have ferried souls since your kind first stood on two legs, bowing before the sun, and you think to change it?”

  Taking a risk, Vivian snorted. The Archangel already thought she was impudent. Might as well live up to the image, and perhaps a bit of bravado would buy her more time with the Queen. “Yes, I’ll bargain with her. You and your angel buddies had your run and got greedy in the process. I’d like to see what new management can do.”

  “So would I.”

  The voice gave her more hope than she’d had all night. Marguerite appeared, taking her place next to Jeanne. Maeve appeared beside her, and shortly after, Uphir. That was a powerhouse of light and dark energy on their side. The Queen took the sword away from Vivian’s neck.

  The Archangel hissed. Maeve’s hand rose and she pointed at Uriel with an index finger. Uphir smiled, her teeth no longer human. Marguerite made a gesture unfamiliar to Vivian, but she could guess the meaning. More figures materialized. They shouldn’t have fit in Bijoux’s back yard, but the walls between this life and the afterlife had grown thin.

  All of the energy concentrated in the small area must have helped. Vivian hoped it wouldn’t cause a permanent rip. Not the solution she was seeking.

  Uphir stepped forward. “We will all bargain with you, Eloah. Before your scion’s pet speaks on our behalf,” she said, giving Vivian a sly smile. “It would be fitting for Uriel to call on his brethren so that they might also judge him for his crimes, or answer for theirs.”

  “But please, your…highness…” Vivian hoped that was the right word. “Will you release your, um, scion Waylon Briggs and allow me to heal him? I owe that debt to the loa.”

  The Queen narrowed her gaze at Vivian. Before Vivian could blink, a blast of light exploded in front of her, knocking her back from the impact.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  When she came to, Ezra stood over her with such a strange mixture of pride and fury and exasperation painted across his face that she had to laugh. Zeke and Darkmore flanked Ezra. Great. The unholy triumvirate of the dead men in her life all stood above her newly conscious body.

  “At least I know I’m not dead, or at least I’m not in hell.”

  “I’m here,” Darkmore said helpfully.

  “So am I.” Zeke wasn’t quite so chipper.

  Ezra swore—again. Twice in one night. That had to be a record. He yanked her off the ground, hard. “You’d better go take care of your leader before she changes her mind.”

  Vivian groaned, fighting the urge to stand upright as her head spun and her legs wobbled. “Why are you so testy? You didn’t get shot by the Queen of the Underworld.”

  Ezra’s grip gentled. “You gotta take care of our little doll. Miss Mae’s still with you. We need her.”

  Didn’t that just spark a million questions? She settled on, “Why?”

  Ezra grinned. “You’ll just have to trust me on that.”

  Vivian grinned, pulled back, and punched the old guardian square in the jaw. Zeke tried to stay stern, but his eyes danced with mirth. Darkmore smiled.

  “I’ve been waiting a long time to do that.”

  Before Ezra could reply, she spun on her heel, saved herself from falling by bracing her arm on one of the fallen lawn chairs, and spotted Briggs, his body a limp pile of flesh and blood on the lawn. Panic surged, but the slow rise and fall of his chest eased it. He was still breathing.

  Trying to remember the feel of the energy as it surged through her body and soul the night she revived the reaper, Vivian stumbled to the ground next to his body and placed trembling fingers on Briggs’ battered body. She thought about healing, visualizing blood flowing through intact vessels after being pumped through a strong, healthy heart. In her mind, smooth skin free of cuts, bruises, gaping wounds, and burns appeared, bones set at natural angles, tethered to solid muscles by tendons, organs working in harmony to maintain the healthy, strong man who had become a worth ally, if not a friend.

  Nothing happened.

  Crap. How could she replicate what had happened with the reaper? She didn’t care for Briggs the same way she cared for Darkmore. Briggs might be dying, but it wasn’t the same. When she’d raised the reaper, she’d been panicked, adrenaline coursing through her veins after battle—a battle in which she’d participated. Darkmore had saved her by taking the fatal energy light blow.

  Replicating those conditions didn’t seem like a good idea, but what else could she do?

  Let me help.

  Mae’s voice inside her was calming, a steadying presence in her mind and heart. She wasn’t alone. Not everyone in this crowd of gods and monsters loved her, but Mae did. So did Zeke, and Darkmore, and maybe even Ezra. It would have to be enough.

  “Okay,” she said.

  Trust me. This may feel…too much.

  Before she could ask what that meant, energy flowed through her body like an electric current, more intense, and strange, and wonderful than anything she’d ever experienced. God, she’d only had a taste of Mae’s li
ght before, back in Darkmore’s realm. This was a thousand, thousand times more brilliant. Pleasure, wonder, hope, sat on the precipice of pain and oblivion. Or eternity. How could one being encompass so much…

  Too much.

  Vivian’s eyes flashed open and her hands clutched Briggs. Rather than the burst of energy she’d expected, healing light trickled out like a gentle stream, dropping like rain and flowing over Briggs’ body. His breathing deepened, muscles tensed and relaxed, tensed and relaxed, and the low groan that escaped his throat turned into a growl.

  “Get off me, Red.” Briggs’ voice was a rumble.

  “Welcome back. Think you can sit?”

  He accepted her help as she first pulled on his broad shoulders and then pushed when she managed to lift him off the ground. He examined his hands and feet, ran a hand over his skull, and then cast his gaze all around. When it landed on the figure she hadn’t noticed before, his lips curled into a wry smile.

  “Long time no see, Ala. Did we win?”

  The woman, goddess, Queen of the Underworld, stood before them, a tall figure with dark, glowing skin, gossamer wings, dressed in a flowing tunic of purple and gold, brandishing her sword. This was the figure Vivian had seen in her vision from Darkmore. Reaper, warrior, justice bringer, powerful and deadly—what more, she couldn’t say.

  But Briggs clearly could.

  “We await the outcome. I believe this woman who healed you has another request before we proceed.”

  “Of course she does,” Briggs said, smiling. “It’s good to see you again.”

  Vivian stood, steady on her feet, thank goodness, and feeling more like herself. The healing mojo hadn’t only cured Briggs. She let Mae come forward in her consciousness. They looked out over the gathered beings, including a host of six glowing, winged creatures who stood near but apart from Uriel. Someone had apparently called his colleagues while she was out. Raphael and Gabriel appeared the same as they had when Vivian had been summoned before the Archangel Council. She hadn’t met the others. Darkmore told her that only Uriel, Raphael, and Gabriel had been involved in a war with Watchers, Watchers being guardians who mated with human women.

  Had their offspring become demigods, the first living soul brokers, or possibly both?

  The fact that the other four Archangels hadn’t been involved seemed important.

  Vivian and Mae took a deep breath and spoke as one. “We do not wish to destroy anyone in this place, not even Uriel.”

  Some of the parties present gasped. Others spoke loudly in a cacophony of languages, most in opposition to the plan. She didn’t understand everything, but the gist of the main argument was about justice, punishment, penance, or vengeance. Vivian gently nudged Mae to the background.

  “I got this, sis.”

  She hoped she was right.

  “I don’t mean that he should go unpunished. As far as I’m concerned, all of the establishment should spend a few millennia in whatever passes as a prison for your kind—especially those who went after the Watchers and their wives. But if we are to build a fair and just new system for ferrying souls, we can’t do it with blood.”

  The Archangels split, leaving Raphael and Gabriel standing apart, not quite beside Uriel, but away from the others.

  “What do you know of the Watchers?” Uriel spat. “They broke divine law and created abominations—”

  “Lies!” Eloah said. “You and your kind craved power and control, and you demonized those among your legions who disagreed, who shared knowledge with humanity. They and their offspring became the best of humanity. They honored all divine beings who cared for them.”

  “Until you became greedy,” said a female figure radiating power. A goddess from the Hindu tradition, Vivian thought.

  “Y’all have quite the monopoly going,” the loa said.

  One of the four Archangels, one Vivian didn’t know, stepped forward. “I am Michael, Angel of Death. On behalf of my brethren, I wish to negotiate a truce. I did not sanction Uriel’s activities, and I do not believe my brothers Raphael and Gabriel knew the full extent of his treachery.”

  It wasn’t quite a question, but Raphael and Gabriel nodded solemnly, stepping back into the fold and leaving Uriel to stand alone in his defiance. Looked like even angels threw one another under the bus to survive. They were closer to humanity than their mythos led people to believe, apparently—much more like gods from the so-called pagan traditions.

  Whatever. As long as Michael was at the table, they could salvage the situation.

  Something tickled the back of her brain, a sense of dread and the urge to act. That made no sense. They’d stopped the battle between a goddess and a rogue angel. Briggs was safe. The Archangels minus Uriel had come to the table. They were poised to negotiate instead of halting all of afterlife management. And after that, she could restore Darkmore and…well, they’d work that out later.

  So why was she on edge.

  You’ll know when to strike. You and Mae.

  Ezra’s words flashed through her mind a second before she lunged, blocking Uriel’s flaming sword strike with a blast of energy. Mae’s energy flowed through her hands, blended with her own, and struck the angel.

  Uriel fell to the ground. Vivian screamed. What had she done? What had she made Mae do?

  “Waylon? What’s happening?”

  Vivian turned to Bijoux Briggs, mambo asagwe, and the old woman was…herself. No longer inhabited by the loa, Mrs. Briggs focused on her grandson and Olive. Auntie Olive, who seemed to have had an epiphany, stepped back, gaze on the ground, and made room for Briggs to fall into his Gran’s embrace.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “I’ll take you back inside. It’s time for your stories and then we’ll get you in bed.”

  A beautiful smile lit the old woman’s face. Energy still swirled around her, and in a moment of clarity, she reached up and touched Briggs’ face. “I couldn’t be prouder of you, grandson. You make sure these beings do right by souls.”

  Choking on his reply, Briggs said, “Yes, ma’am.”

  He carried his Gran into the house, Olive on his heels. Vivian turned her attention back to the angel, but he was gone. Had she killed him?

  No, Sister. No destruction. It will be fine now. There will be peace.

  Vivian was about to ask what Mae meant by that, but the angel stirred and then rose. He wore the corporeal form of a small man in a tailored business suit, which seemed odd. The other Archangels kept their imposing and beautiful angelic forms, so why had he changed?

  Uriel opened his mouth to speak. Vivian expected a protest, but instead was greeted by the voice of the loa.

  “Well done,” he said, smiling at Vivian. “You kept your end of the bargain. Two lives, many souls.”

  “So this is your zombie?” A loa using Uriel’s corporeal form to control the angel was bad. Very bad. Destruction might have been kinder.

  “No, he’ll be all right and I’ll let him go…eventually. Right now, he’s leverage.”

  Okaaaaay.

  Which left two questions. What was the cost of her…service and where was the rest of the payment?

  The loa laughed. “The cost and the price are the same, child. Your sister is yours, but she’s with you.”

  Wait, Mae would possess her forever?

  “Until you make your choice, she’s yours.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Vivian stood inside the apartment she’d shared with the reaper at Briggs’ compound, empty of their belongings. After several days and nights of tense negotiations, the Archangels, members of Briggs’ living soul broker rebellion along with rebel guardians and reapers, and the many and varied divine beings with a stake in the business of ferrying souls had reached an agreement. It would take decades, maybe centuries, to fully implement. Faith traditions were slow to change.

  Immortal beings were even slower.

  In the meantime, living soul brokers would work with guardians and reapers to mediate soul crossings. Extra ene
rgy, including the huge cache the Archangel Guardian Council had stolen and squirreled away, would be turned over to powerful souls, the Others as Mae called them, for safekeeping and distribution. The souls from the asylum who’d chosen to remain, Jagun, Beulah, the boy, and the emaciated man, and Dr. LaFleur had joined them. The Blues Legend dropped by to check in, since he’d be ferrying souls for the reaper’s side.

  The reaper…

  He’d kept his distance since the night of negotiations. So had Zeke. They were waiting for her to decide.

  “You outta here, Red?”

  She grinned. Briggs, taking time out of training the remaining recruits, had come to see her off. He looked good. It would take time to recover from the trauma he’d suffered at the hands of Uriel, but he’d conquered past demons. He’d manage.

  Eloah would help.

  “I guess so,” Vivian said. “You good?”

  He laughed. “Good as I’ll get. Lot of work to do.”

  It was a jibe, but she’d take it. Briggs wasn’t the sentimental sort. It was as close to an “I’ll miss you” as she’d get.

  “Jeanne and Marguerite are worth a hundred of me,” Vivian said. “I’ll be serving elsewhere. Besides, you and I couldn’t work together. One of us would kill the other, and I sure would miss you.”

  He laughed, offering his hand. She accepted, holding his with both of hers and taking in his burdens. Breathing easier, he released her hand and said, “You take care of yourself. Keep in touch.”

  “Yeah, you’d better.” Maria Gutierrez and B came around the corner.

  After exchanging hugs, Vivian asked, “So, you never told me how to part ways with a reaper.”

  Maria smiled. “You made up your mind, then?”

  “Yes, no…oh, hell, I don’t know.”

  “Well, if you do, it’s pretty straightforward. You find someone else to give him.”

  “Or her,” Briggs said. “Eloah let Darkmore go for good. She’s got me now.”

  Vivian nodded. Good to know, on all fronts.