by Libby Doyle
“Friedrich Pellus, I would like you to meet Zan O’Gara.”
When he shook her hand he looked up to meet her gaze. He noticed how solidly she was built. Her figure was perfectly balanced. She could pass for Covalent. He was surprised to find her so aesthetically pleasing.
“Nice to meet you, Friedrich.”
“Please call me Pellus, Ms. O’Gara. No one calls me Friedrich by my own choice.”
“All right, Pellus. You should call me Zan.” She smiled, her dark blue eyes softening. She blushed slightly.
She is no doubt nervous to meet me. It is appealing.
“Well, shall we toast the occasion before we head to the restaurant?” Barakiel asked. He fetched Zan a glass of a sparkling red liquid, then opened a bottle of champagne and poured two glasses. “Here’s to an evening with my two best friends.”
Although he was almost afraid to look, Pellus adjusted his perception to take a measure of the energy he could already feel coming from the warrior. He saw dazzling power, dancing all around him and running up his limbs like fire up a vine. He had to think that even a human could feel it, such was its strength.
Guardian save me, there is no convincing him of anything now. I can only hope he does not give himself to her completely.
After a few minutes of sipping and small talk, Barakiel pulled Zan’s hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Shall we go, my love? The reservation is in half an hour.” As they went outside, they told Pellus they were headed to the same restaurant where they had their first real date.
“Rainer was worried I wouldn’t like all vegetarian food, but it was delicious,” Zan said.
“I am looking forward to it.” Pellus waved his hand to indicate that Zan should walk before him. As Barakiel watched her move, Pellus saw the hunger in his eyes, but also peace.
What is there to do but try to enjoy the evening?
The table by the front window was bathed in soft orange light from the gas lamps outside. Soon the black-clad wait staff began to arrive with small plate after small plate, all delicious. Barakiel ordered wine. He and Pellus quickly drank it and ordered another bottle. Barakiel was in high spirits, and the adept found it infectious.
Pellus asked Zan questions about her work, asking her to pardon his ignorance. She was happy to explain and told them in some detail about the RICO trial at which she had testified several weeks earlier.
“I can talk about it, now that it’s all over and done,” she said.
“Is your job dangerous?” Pellus asked.
“It can be. I’ve been lucky so far.”
“What do you mean?” Barakiel asked. “What about the time you had to subdue that criminal inside the courthouse?”
“I wouldn’t call that danger,” Zan said before she related the story for Pellus. An extremely large defendant had managed to knock out the marshal who was escorting him to his hearing through the tunnel that connected the courthouse to the Federal Detention Center a block away.
Chuckling, Zan said she wondered what the guy could have been thinking.
“The tunnel only led to one place, after all, and he didn’t have a weapon. The marshals don’t carry weapons in the tunnel or the holding area. It’s the best way to make sure defendants can’t get their hands on a gun. So this guy, he’s all shackled up, and he shuffles into a space crammed full of agents and guards. Pretty much all I had to do was walk up behind him and knock him down.” She grinned at Pellus. “Yeah, that guy was a finalist in our stupidest criminal of the year contest.”
Pellus couldn’t say he really understood the story, but the two of them were so exuberant he found it easy to go along. Zan offered more tales of stupid criminals. Soon all three of them were laughing so much they had to make an effort to keep it down. The people seated at the next small table were staring at them.
“So, Pellus, you knew little Rainer, didn’t you?” Zan asked. “You have to tell me some stories, as hard as it is to imagine Rainer ever being little.”
“I knew him before he can remember, but then I moved overseas. I did not see him again until he was an adolescent.”
“That’s too bad. I was looking forward to one of those classic childhood stories.” Zan gave Barakiel an impish look. “You know, the kind that are good and embarrassing.”
“Well, I do not know if this is embarrassing, but starting as soon as he could walk, he never listened, a condition that persists to this day.” Pellus turned to the warrior with a grave air, but the slight upturn at the corners of his mouth betrayed him. Barakiel protested that he was a perfectly well-behaved child.
“You were not,” Pellus said. “Case in point. Once I was tasked to watch him. I told him we had to stay indoors, but he crawled out the window as soon as I turned my head.”
“Ah, I remember this story. My mother told me I crawled out the window, attracted by the strands, and was soon covered in them.”
“What are strands?” Zan asked. Pellus shot Barakiel an annoyed look. Strands were energy filaments that pooled in the Covalent Realm. They would sometimes rise into the air in clouds, an activity connected to fluctuations in the Stream. The strands were not dangerous, but most Covalent avoided them. The tiny Barakiel had drawn thousands to him, the first sign among many that he could gather energy without effort.
“They are a type of gnat,” Pellus said. He could see that Barakiel was trying hard not to laugh.
“Weird name for a gnat,” Zan said. “Do they bite?”
“No, but they can get in your eyes and irritate your skin.”
“And he was covered? You remember the story, honey, but do you remember being covered?”
“No, but I probably enjoyed it.”
“Did he cry? Was he scared?”
“Not at all. I brushed them off and he was fine. In fact, the little beast was kicking and screaming as I took him back into the house. I think he wanted to play with them.”
“I imagine I was curious,” Barakiel said.
“You were unruly.”
“This is great.” Zan rubbed her hands together. “I love hearing stories about what little pricks we all were.”
“I was not a prick! I was a perfectly delightful young fellow.”
Pellus rolled his eyes. “I do not know if delightful quite describes it.”
“All right. I will confess to a faint streak of rebellion.” Barakiel spooned up some spinach soufflé. “Now, we need a story about little Zan.”
She obliged, telling them about the time she let all the chickens go because she was horrified that her mother had killed one to eat. “Did you ever try to catch a chicken? I tell you, it’s not easy.”
Barakiel squeezed her hand. “You see, my love, deep down, you eschew the consumption of flesh.”
“Maybe I do.” She squeezed his hand in return, the gentle light revealing glances between them filled with happiness and trust. They were beautiful, and that trust tore at the adept’s heart.
Back at Barakiel’s place, they had more drinks while seated around the kitchen table. Pellus had never drunk so many human libations. He doubted they could affect him, but he was disoriented by the night in general.
Barakiel’s razor-sharp loneliness has dissipated, but I must remind myself that this is not a vision of him with a normal life.
The warrior was so radiant the adept winced to look at him.
“Pellus, you must hear Zan play the guitar,” he said. “She is a master. Zan, will you play for us?”
“Of course.” Zan got her instrument. She pulled a high stool from behind the kitchen counter and tuned up briefly. “I surprised myself when I wrote this piece. I think I was influenced by some of the medieval music Rainer’s always playing for me.” She smiled at them shyly. “Um, I’ve never written anything like this before. I’m a little nervous, but here goes.”
She began to play, quietly and simply at first. As the piece went on, she added elements. Her right hand wandered over the strings like a spider as her left hand flowed up and do
wn the neck. Soon her instrument sounded like two guitars at once. As she strummed a beat on the low strings, she played the intricate melody on the high. Her head swayed slightly in time as she lost herself in the quiet act of creation. Pellus was mesmerized.
Her physical beauty is nothing compared to this. She has the power to create beauty.
Before long, Zan began to sing, her rich voice weaving among the notes. She raised her head to gaze at Barakiel, and Pellus knew she had written this piece for him. Her voice reached for the unexplainable.
They speak this language. He can see into her. Oh, why did this have to happen?
When Zan finished playing, Barakiel went to kiss her. “That was beautiful, my love. You were keeping that piece from me.”
“Yep. Tonight was its debut.”
“Do you know how difficult it is to play something like that?” Barakiel asked, turning to Pellus. “On a normal acoustic guitar no less? Usually, something like that would be played on a classical guitar. The nylon strings make it much easier.”
“You are quite brilliant, Zan. Your piece was enthralling.”
“Thank you, Pellus.” The exertion had given her skin a slight glow.
Barakiel is right. Mountain snow at dawn. Pure and graced with energy.
“Rainer, let’s play Pellus that song we came up with the other day,” Zan said. Barakiel nodded and got his violin. They played together, Zan strumming her guitar and singing breathy, happy verses, while Barakiel skillfully harmonized his violin to her voice. Their eyes never left each other as they created a sound that grew more joyous as they progressed. On the chorus, Zan sang in a hearty voice, leaning back on her stool and rocking, smiling broadly and brightly at Barakiel, who gazed at her tenderly as he drew his bow. When Zan finished the chorus, Barakiel played a solo that made Pellus want to return to his mate.
He is expressing what it is like for him to touch her. Hunger and fulfillment.
Pellus stared at the floor until they finished. He couldn’t bear to look at them anymore. They hugged. Pellus heard the slight noise she made in his arms, at home in his arms.
I am sorry, Barakiel. If only I could save her for you.
Covalent City
As he climbed the hundreds of stone steps leading to his chambers, Pellus thought about when he had met Jeduthan. He had been enchanted by her black eyes and their bottomless wisdom. He had daydreamed of unwrapping her delicate body. He could hardly believe it when she said she returned his feelings, how unreal it seemed, how he did not know such sweet comfort was possible. His senses had amplified. He could perceive each of the billions of points of light that spread across the firmament of the Covalent Realm as distinct and separate. It made him feel limitless.
Now, the same firmament glowed overhead, but it only reminded him of the limits of Barakiel’s great love, imposed from without and inevitable.
I would save him from that grief.
When he reached his home he seized his mate and kissed her deeply.
“What has gotten into you?” Jeduthan asked.
“Barakiel played something exquisite. It made me think of you, want to be with you.”
“He should play for you more often,” Jeduthan said, hugging her mate. “So it went well?”
“Ah, no. It is a disaster.”
“What? Why?”
“Barakiel is on fire. He burns with Creation, all for her.” Pellus stood with his eyes unfocused, before snapping his head toward Jeduthan. “You should see the way he looks at her. What if he takes her as his mate?”
“Beloved, how could he do that? She is human.” Jeduthan placed a soothing hand on her mate’s shoulder. “She cannot offer him nearly enough.”
“She will give him everything, for what it is worth in her short life. In a way, I understand his choice. She is a warrior among humans and a talented artist. She is warm and funny and beautiful.”
“Still, this must be a dalliance like all the others. He will come to his senses.”
Pellus walked rapidly across the room. He briefly placed his hands against the stone wall before wheeling toward Jeduthan again.
“You know what Warriors of the Rising are like! The only thing that rivals their skill in battle is the power of their passions. What if Barakiel loves like he fights? What if he gives himself to her completely? She will die, Jeduthan! In a mere fifty or sixty earthly years, she will be dead. A blink of an eye. Barakiel will be left to grieve for her as mightily as he loved her. He will grieve for her longer than she was ever alive.”
He hung his head, tears beading at the corners of his eyes. “I want more for him. Something better. I want him to come home. Be loved as he should. Lead us as he should.”
Jeduthan took his face in her hands. “I know how you love him, Pellus, but it is his life. He will do what he wants.”
The rift glowed ultraviolet as Pellus approached. He wished that he could step in and ride, the way he had in his younger days when wandering was his only responsibility. Navigen travelers explored the dimensions that had erupted from the Creative and Destructive Realms when the Guardians bonded them to halt their expansion. It was a dangerous duty from which many did not return, but Pellus missed its simplicity. He wanted to flow along, the beauty of the vast heavens spinning before him, but all he did was emerge in Barakiel’s compound to take him to battle.
The warrior came out as Pellus neared his front door. “You are early. Something you want to talk to me about?” The late afternoon sun poured down on Barakiel’s resplendent smile as he radiated the energy of a small sun himself.
He thinks I am here to give him my blessing. What a hateful business.
“You know what I want to discuss.”
“Yes. Do you understand now, Pellus? Can you not see how much we love each other?”
“I still think this relationship is a terrible idea. I do not think you have considered the consequences carefully enough, and if you did, you would see that you should not continue.”
For several seconds, Barakiel remained still, staring at Pellus, a parade of emotions marching across his eyes.
“Very well, then,” he said finally, his voice devoid of inflection. “Go inside and leave me alone. I’ll come in to prepare for battle before we leave.” He walked off toward the garden where he stood silent, surrounded by a stand of pale mauve blooms. Pellus followed and circled around to face him.
“We have to discuss this.”
“No, we do not. There is nothing to say that we haven’t said before.”
“Yes, there is. Now that I have met Zan, I understand why you are attracted to her, but have you given any thought to what this relationship will ask of her? To the choices you have made for her? You can never give her a child. You will not grow old with her. Would she make the same choices, knowing this?”
Barakiel swung his head to glare at Pellus, his fury masking something that hurt Pellus far more.
He views this as a betrayal.
“Humans do not customarily discuss children two months into their relationship, but I am truly touched by your concern for Zan. Truly.” His eyes got colder by the second.
“Eventually, these things will cause problems,” Pellus insisted. “Before long, she will notice that you do not age. You cannot even tell her what you are. Your relationship is founded upon deception.”
“Then I will tell her what I am.”
Guardian save me. I did not think he would react like this.
“You cannot mean that,” Pellus said. “If the Council were to learn of it, she would be killed. They would order someone to pay the price.”
The warrior erupted in a yell of frustration and rage that sent all the sparrows in the nearby trees wheeling into the air. Pellus was about to speak again when Barakiel raised one hand, palm out.
“No more talking!” he bellowed, his eyes boring into Pellus. “You will not say another word to me. All you will do is take me to battle. I want to kill something.”
CHAPTER 18
> Philadelphia
MEL STOOD BEHIND a tactical transport yelling into a cell phone, a finger in one ear, a line of Philadelphia police cruisers, unmarked FBI vehicles and another transport behind her. Beyond that, bright yellow crime-scene tape formed a perimeter that extended from the far curb of the street to the houses on either side of the target house.
When the tactical agents had attempted to approach the house earlier, they were forced to withdraw by a barrage of gunfire. A waiting game had begun. Uniformed officers and agents in suits stood at various spots along the perimeter, near trees or automobiles. More uniforms were posted at either end of the street, keeping the curious public at bay. Geared-up tactical agents leaned against cars or wandered in and out of the transports. Others were positioned in the surrounding yards. No one had been shot. Zan wondered how Nguyen was taking it.
Definitely FUBAR, but we can handle it.
After a minute, Mel ended the call and walked over to Zan.
“Are we going in?” Zan asked.
“We’re going in. Make sure that Kevlar is nice and snug.”
“So, does the boss want our heads?”
“Nah. He’s pissed, but really at the situation more than at us. They knew we were coming. Someone must have seen us at the staging area and tipped them off. Nguyen knows that’s always a risk. It was shitty luck.”
“The shittiest.”
The two of them walked over to the tactical commander and told him they had the go-ahead to take the house as soon as the nearby evacuations were complete. Zan used her radio to check on their progress. “Maybe ten minutes, Mel.”
“That’s pretty damn efficient.” They both leaned in to peer at the commander’s clipboard. The plan was for a group of eight tactical agents to approach the house from the front, as FBI and ATF agents positioned at the side and back laid down covering fire with non-lethal bullets. Once the front group made the porch, the covering fire would cease and another group of four would enter from the rear. Mel and Zan were to enter from the rear, behind tactical.