by T. G. Ayer
He lifted his head and smiled. A cold, calculating smile so out of place in his filth-ridden face. He hung in the middle of the room from arms raised heavenward and bound by heavy chains. The kind which held Cerberus. The chains were wrapped around his arms, lifting them upward, holding them in permanent supplication to his God. In constant begging for His forgiveness. The muscles in his arms were taut with the strain. But where was the remorse for his actions? And Evie could not find a single iota of pity for his situation. She felt no sadness at his discomfort, no pain at his agony. What should a daughter feel for a father who would let her be killed in cold-blood?
"So, Nephilim. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" His words dripped coldly from his lips, the arrogant curve of a filthy eyebrow a sad shadow of his previous glory.
"My mother. Who was she?" Evie spat the question at him.
Daniel did a double-take, startled at both her directness and at the question.
"How would I know who your mother was, Nephilim? I do not consort with your kind." He smiled, then nodded. "Except of course for all your Warriors of Irin. That was a job, really. Not a choice."
Evie stayed silent, waiting for an answer. She was not about to give up her advantage.
"Now what was this about your mother, Nephilim?" He seemed curious now.
"Who was she? I want her name, her family details. Tell me everything." Evie circled Daniel as he swayed on his chains, especially slowly when she got behind him. The coiling of the muscles in his back confirmed he disliked having her out of his view.
"How would I possibly know who the harlot was that bore you, Nephilim?" When she rounded on him she saw he was smirking again. Someone ought to tell him it's not exactly an expression you can pull off when you look like you've just been dragged through a pile of shit.
Fury surged through Evie's veins. "Because she was your wife, Archangel," she spat, reveling in the darkening of his face. His eyes themselves shifted to a demonic oiliness at her words. But he was good. He recovered well.
"I have had many females in my time, half-breed. How do you expect me to remember the names of every one of them?"
"How many of them did you pledge your vows to?" This time the skin beneath the grime blanched.
"Nephilim," Daniel roared, spittle flying. "How dare you soil the memory of my wife with these questions? My wife was pure when we married. And Sorcha had only one child. That child is dead." He stared at her, almost daring her to deny his words.
"I'm afraid that child is very much alive." Evie took a step toward him. "I know because I am that child."
Evie watched his face. She was sure that he would explode at the news, try and wrench himself from his iron fetters to get at her. But he did nothing. Just hung there, watching Evie, a look of strained grief on his face. Soon enough the expression vanished beneath his usual cool armor. And the tiny pull of empathy she'd felt for his grief disappeared like smoke on the wind.
"So who has spun this story for your benefit, Nephilim?" he asked softly. "Who has whispered little lies in your ears? You want a powerful Archangel as a father, do you?"
"I don't think anyone would manufacture such a tale because they want to be your child. Nor would anyone lie about such a thing to me. The thought that you could be my father is as abhorrent to me as the knowledge that you did nothing when the Control came for my mother," she spat, her lip curling in disdain.
"It was inevitable, you know. She knew it. I knew it. So we enjoyed what time we had together." He almost sounded wistful. Until she looked at his black eyes.
"So she survived birthing your child only for you to throw her to the wolves as soon as they came baying at the door? You have no feelings, no heart," Evie said coldly, shaking her head, unable to stomach the thought that anyone could be so callous, so unfeeling.
"Ah, but you forget, Nephilim. Angels are not meant to be emotional creatures. I took a wife, yes. That means nothing, really." If his hands were free Evie was certain he would be doing something arrogantly mundane like inspecting his fingernails or brushing non-existent lint off his shoulders. But he hung from the chains, swathed in excrement, still swaying slightly as he waited for her to respond. And he was waiting, his entire body strained and alert.
Interesting. Maybe the truth did hurt him, maybe the past still had power over him.
But she refused to allow her guard to drop just because he'd revealed a flicker of emotion. It's not as if she'd come to see him to obtain a pledge of undying love.
"I didn't expect anything less from you." She spoke the words with a little lift of her chin.
"Really? Then why did you come here then? What was it you expected me to say? Hello, my darling child, so glad you dropped by?" His eyes narrowed, growing colder and darker. The pit seemed to close in on Evie, threatening to swallow her whole. Perhaps there was a tiny bit of truth to his taunts. Perhaps a tiny splinter of her heart wanted him to accept who she was. To say she looked like her mother. To say he was sorry he didn't save her. To say he had cared. "You wasted your time, little Nephilim. To me you are nothing. You mean nothing, Half-Breed. I am an Archangel. We do not have weaknesses."
Then he began to shine.
Like a white flame flickering within his body, his skin glowed, even the dirt and grime was unable to hide the power of the light. Incongruously bright for such a black soul. Evie blinked, sure this was not supposed to happen down here. Sure his powers would have been bound before he was brought to the pit.
Something was terribly wrong.
Behind her, Evie heard the guard gasp, then whimper in the glare of the light. Something sizzled, like meat on a hot pan. The stench of cooked flesh burned Evie's nostrils. She heard shuffling, then the gate clanged opened and her guard fled, leaving her alone with the Archangel and his deadly light. A light which clearly had a terrible effect on the inhabitants of the pits. From somewhere above Evie could hear shouts ring out. The guards, seeing the light, were now fleeing.
Let's hope they are scrambling to come and help me, Evie thought wryly. It is possible they just wanted to escape being burnt?
Behind Daniel, his wings crackled, then rose high above him. Pure white and glowing with the same light that shone like a beacon. How unfair it was that this creature, with his incredibly stunning beauty, was evil personified. It didn't seem right. Chains rattled and then there were no chains at all. They lay in crumpled heaps at his sides, reminiscent of a pile of dead vipers, melting in heaps of orange-flecked iron.
Daniel was supposed to be bound by warded chains, chains that prevented his escape, chains that bound his wings.
No, somehow, he was free.
Evie forgot to breathe.
Trapped.
She was trapped.
Chapter 27
Any move toward the door would be a waste of time.
She stood in the white shadow of an Archangel who cared nothing that she was his child. A vicious iciness shone from his eyes, the only places still as black as his evil heart. They circled each other, mimicking their actions of their last meeting. This time there was no Gavriel to save her sorry hide. Back in Elysium, Gavriel would be happy with Dania while she met an insignificant death at her father's hand. It seemed macabre but she knew some animals would commit infanticide if they sensed there was something wrong with their offspring. And Daniel certainly looked upon Evie as an abomination. She didn't need reminding of it.
So she played the game, performed the steps to this pitiful death dance, keeping her distance and postponing her end mere seconds. He could have killed her by now. She was no match for him, so she hadn't bothered to shuck her wings. But now, as she moved, a foot to the left, a foot more to the left, she needed some kind of security. Just something to make her feel that much stronger. That much more in control. Besides, she would prefer to welcome her death while her wings were revealed, in all its own silver white glory.
They rustled at her back and thrust out behind her in a sudden shower of white glitter. Evie br
eathed again, releasing the tightness at her chest. Daniel watched a moment, then opened his hand and a silver sword appeared, hilt fitting into his palm like a glove. Evie tasted the malignant poison of death. Her dagger and her sword were no match for this powerful creature. But they were the only weapons she had so grabbed for them and them ready, forcing herself to become part of them, calming her racing heartbeat.
Then, as if bored with the dance, as if impatient for the next move, Daniel raced at her. His speed was phenomenal, but so was her own. As he advanced she ran to the right, using the carved out stone walls for leverage. She ran up the wall, somersaulted over his head and landed behind him. It was showmanship that she could only hope would unsettle him. It was a waste of time. Daniel smiled, then slowly began to rise off the ground.
He seemed to have a thing for fighting in the air.
Evie was tempted to keep the fight on the ground, maybe regain some advantage since he seemed to much at home fighting in the air. But the thought that he may change his mind and try to escape Tartarus made her stomach twist.
She could not let him escape his prison.
So, Evie rose too, and met him face to face, still keeping a safe distance from the glowing sword. His laughter rang out as he thrust his sword toward Evie's chest with lightning speed. It sliced through the air, and though Evie tried to parry the blow, Daniel's sword went through her arm like butter. The power behind the sword was so powerful that it sang a song that resonated in Evie's mind. He pulled his blade free and her blood spilled from the slashed skin, dripping onto her boots and onto the ground now several feet below them. She could not risk holding her arm even if it meant she could stop the flow of the blood from the wound. So she put the icy pain and the threatening dizziness out of her mind and gripped her weapons, concentrating on battling this demon in Heaven's garb.
They fought, thrusting, parrying. A visceral battle which sent them spinning in a vortex of hate and disappointment, anger and pain. Weaker now, she had to concentrate harder as a swipe of the sword took off a chunk of her hair and almost sliced her scalp open. Somewhere in her mind Evie laughed at the picture of Ash scolding her for being so careless that she would endanger her beautiful tresses.
Another somersault over the angel landed her behind Daniel lightning fast. Quick enough to thrust her silver dagger deep between his ribs. Deep red, almost black blood spilled from the wound when she tugged her dagger from his flesh. Evie wasted no time, not trusting that the injury she caused would slow the Angel down. She swooped below him, narrowly missing the stream of still-steaming blood as it trickled to the stone floor. She was vaguely conscious of the increase in the volume of the noise around her. Vaguely aware that the fresh hot blood of her father now mingled with her own cooling droplets on the floor of the pit.
Daniel swooped down on her again. And this time she didn't have the strength to escape. She was too slow. Loosing blood had slowed her reflexes. The edge of Daniel's blade was so fine that Evie didn't feel the skin on her thigh split open. Not until her leg warmed with blood that dripped from her flesh did she register the newest injury.
Daniel smiled.
Nothing fatherly at all about his grin. Throughout the battle he'd been so silent. And Evie had played his game. Not wanting to be seen as weak, not wanting him to win the power play.
"Are you ready to give up, Daughter?" He spoke the word as if he said Demon. Perhaps to him they were not very different. Angels considered Nephilim to be the preferred species of their offspring with humans, but only a few genes away from their demon cousins.
"Not yet, Father." Evie injected as much, if not more, disdain and disgust into the word. This time taking pleasure from the scowl that darkened his face.
"Do not call me that, Half-Breed," he bellowed. It was the feather that tipped his scales.
He flew at her, in a fury that compared little to Kampe's vicious anger when Evie had stolen her little scorpion baby. Evie had no defenses now, no strength left to defend herself. She just waited for death to come.
But something large and dark swooped down on them. Evie blinked and looked up, gazing at the movement. It felt like time had slowed as she watched the progress of the dark form above. From the corner of her eye she saw Daniel was getting closer and closer, the sword shimmering in the angel light, the sharp edge drenched with her blood. Daniel's eyes swirled with black anger, so much that even the whites of them were tainted with smoky darkness. His lips curved in a vicious smile as his teeth were revealed at the corners of his mouth.
Then Gavriel swooped down at Daniel, hitting him broadside, the glowing sword glowing no longer as it left Daniel's palm, spun across the pit and clattered to the ground. Daniel was tossed against the far wall, his head bouncing off the jagged rock as he bumped to the dirt floor. Gavriel hovered between Evie and the Dark Angel, protecting her from any reprisal. Evie's head spun, but within the haze of it she recognized the sword lay unguarded on the stone below. The two angels stared at each other, neither paying attention to Evie.
Good.
She could use that to her advantage. She lowered herself to the ground, her knees crumbling beneath her, unable to hold her body weight not to mention the added weight of her wings. She let go of her own weapons and reached out her hand, curling a finger around the hilt of Daniel's sword and tugged. All the while she kept her eye on the two angels who stared each other down, both furious but for very different reasons.
Evie flinched as the sword spun on the hilt instead of sliding toward her. This weapon was gleaming silver, thin and not very long. Very different to Daniel's angelic obsidian sword. She glanced quickly at the pair. Still safe. She lunged forward and gripped the sword, curling her fingers around the hilt. She held on tightly and rose to her feet. The sword of the archangel hung heavy at her left hip, so heavy that lifting it to point upward at her side was so strenuous she saw stars at the edges of her vision and almost passed out. She'd seen Ling do that with her thin serrated blade, keep it flush against her body, to use it in a surprise attack because her opponent could not see it hidden at her side.
She had meant to fly back upward and join the fight, although she had no idea how she intended to surprise Daniel with a new opening in his flesh.
But it never happened.
He was at her right side before she blinked. Even blinking seemed to take twice the amount of time in her blood-drained state, but she tried to stay as aware as she could. Didn't want to miss the moment of her demise. She would have laughed if she'd had the strength. Daniel reached out and gripped her head in his hands, her chin lay in the palm of one hand, and she felt the strength of the other hand at the back of her head.
Lovely, how nice to die with a quick twist of the neck. Not a glamorous ripping open by a sharp blade. A twist of the neck.
He remained at her right side, unaware of the sword she held at her left shoulder. Gavriel swooped down from above but slowed in his approach when he registered the danger she was in.
"Leave her, you bastard," he shouted.
"I gave her life, and I can take it away," the dark angel yelled back, bristling with energy and anger. Daniel's fingers dug into the skin of her chin, reminding her of his deathly grip. Then he squeezed tighter and turned her face away from him, so she faced his nemesis.
Evie blinked, and even her eyelids felt too heavy for the action. She tipped her head slightly to watch them and realized too that this was the moment she'd been waiting for. With the two angels locked in a battle of anger and stares, with her life hanging in the balance, what time was better to make her move.
At her side, out of sight of Daniel, she tilted the sword backward until its tip almost touched the flesh beneath his ribs. Her arm was angled at Daniels torso behind, ready to strike. His grip tightened on her head and she knew beyond a shadow of doubt that he meant to end her life in that moment. Not to punish Gavriel for his love of her, but just for the pure satisfaction of it. She took her chance and shoved upward as hard as she could, using
all the energy left within her body, her mind and her soul.
She felt the blade sever organs as it ripped through his body, felt the slight resistance when the point reached the thicker flesh of his heart, felt the hard outside wall break in a rush of blood.
When his grip loosened on her head Evie was unaware she had succeeded. Stunned and in shock from blood-loss, she was slightly dizzy. Only when Gavriel came and grabbed her hand within his warm fingers did she blink some awareness into her mind. He gripped her hand that still held the hilt of the sword. Behind her, Daniel had fallen, his momentum freeing him from the sword, but the damage had been done. The blade had pierced his heart of hearts.
The final death blow.
Patricide.
The highest of sins. The word hit Evie like a blow to her own heart. She must have breathed the word out loud as Gavriel's face darkened. His feathers answered and darkened to almost black. "Don't you ever think that. He may have sown the seed that became you but he was no father to you."
Evie stared at Gavriel's face. The passion in his eyes glowed. He really believed those words. Words that made her feel better, that made her want to believe him. She could not agree with him yet. So she just nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She needed to work out what she felt about killing her Father, her own flesh and blood. Evie turned to stare at the shell of the Archangel.
He no longer glowed with the bright, blinding, heavenly light. The body shimmered and a shadow rose.
So Angels did have souls.
Daniels spirit rose and hovered over his body. His smile, even his demeanor was as arrogant in death as he had been in life. But his smile faltered then died when a woman appeared in the pit. She was more shadow than corporeal. White hair flowed over her shoulders, and her eyes were all white, no pupil, just pearly white. And she did not smile. She inclined her head in greeting to both Evie and Gavriel, then stood waiting. Daniel's face paled in utter horror.
Evie glanced at Gavriel. Even in her weakened state, curiosity still overcame her. He mouthed 'Fury', then turned his attention back to Daniel's spirit. The dark angel may have intended to put up a fight. Perhaps he'd intended to escape from the Fury, but he should have known it was inevitable.