Deliverance

by Véronique Launier

  I squint my eyes to try to spot Garnier through the fray. I can’t see him. Another decision I have to make. Another possible sacrifice. I bite my lip but nod my head. “This is important. But return their protection as soon as you can.”

  I whistle to Deleer and we run back towards the wall together. I love this dog. I send him a thread of warm essence and he returns the emotion by rubbing himself against my leg and nearly tripping me.

  We are intercepted along the way by a few Jinn and some minor stone creatures but I dispel them quickly. I remain well out of the witches’ radius and wait for the shamans to do their thing.

  I don’t have to wait long. The earthquake knocks me off my feet. As it does everyone else. The moment the wall begins to crumble, I leap up and jump on the witches. I punch a blonde girl in the face while Deleer pins another one. I recite a few spells and mantras under my breath to concentrate my magic and render them immobile. I wish I could just drain them, but they are too well protected and I have to hurry.

  Anyway, I know they’re not all evil, so they can sort it all out amongst themselves once Ramtin is no longer able to control them. Ramtin is my priority. That and saving Leyli. I grab her by the arms and she follows me in the same passive manner Aude used the previous day. Except that instead of having a few witches on my butt, this time I have about two dozen Jinn. And they have all shifted their focus to me. Luckily the good Jinn and Gargoyles have also shifted their focus.

  I pull Leyli towards Kateri and Old Man Robert, narrowly escaping several creatures. Once Leyli’s safe, I turn to face them. I keep my hands on my hips and scan the crowd to find Ramtin. I place a large essence marker on his head so everyone can find him. Then I begin to probe him with my essence, looking for any opening to let me in. But he is as solid as rock. The Gargoyles attack him but he throws them off effortlessly.

  I clench my fists tightly and try to find a weakness. In the centuries I’ve known him he’s never shown weakness. There was a long time when I thought I could be his weakness, but he dispelled that when he tried to kill me. I had loved him in the only way I had known to love, then. I had competed with him to be worthy. And he’d not only pushed me away at every turn, he’d tried to dispose of me. My anger starts bubbling to the surface, slowly simmering and turning into rage. My very essence shifts and turns. It no longer is cool and tingling, it burns like a smokeless fire.

  Every Jinn, good, bad, and those who were neither but simply wanted a fight, move away when I walk past. They move away and then disappear back to wherever Jinn go to when they no longer want to be part of our world.

  Before long, the only ones who still stand are the witches and the Gargoyles. Deleer still remains on my heel.

  I can’t control my furry. Essence blows all around me like orange flames. My hair flickers with it. Ramtin transforms to his human shape and I ignore his nakedness. His perfect body.

  His smile is sad. “I’d hoped you could find it again.”

  “Find what?”

  “The power you had before you were a Gargoyle.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You were not only the best court musician and the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, you were also the most powerful witch I had ever encountered. And you weren’t even aware of it.”

  “I …” I don’t know what to say. He’s trying to trick me. I force myself to stay steady. I force myself not to let my fury fade. I send out my essence towards him again and find him strangely vulnerable. Does he think I’m so stupid that I’ve fallen for his words? Does he think he doesn’t have to protect himself?

  I press on and find the loose place everyone has inside of them. The place you can pull and rip their soul from them. But something else gets my attention. His essence isn’t completely corrupted. Under the bad stuff, it’s pure. Are all people like this? I proceed with more caution. It has to be a trick. I unravel his essence and I see some of his soul.

  He drops to his knees but I continue.

  I find his anger. I find his thirst for power. I find his jealousy. I feel the pain he inflicts as well as the pain that has been inflicted on him. Under everything, there is fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of not being good enough. Fear of being nobody. This man wanted to end the world as we know it because he felt he had something to prove. I unravel slower and slower, letting the essence disperse in the air. It seems wrong to give it to somebody else.

  And then I see something that makes me pause. I see myself. I see me like he saw me. I kneel in front of him and try to lift his chin up to face me. I don’t understand what I see in his soul. I don’t understand how this man could have both hated me for so long and loved me so much at the same time. I place my hands on his cheeks and keep his eyes level with mine. I continue to pull away his essence. I continue to kill the monster I had created.

  Tears roll down my cheeks but I don’t stop them. I don’t stop anything. I know he’s too far gone to save. The people he has killed to try to impress me won’t come back to life when he is gone, but no one else can be his victim again. I’m letting him go mercifully and with love.

  All these years, I had been the one with the power. When I thought he’d pushed me away, I had been the one pushing him away. When I thought he was getting rid of me, he was the one who saved me. He was the one who wanted me to find my true power again. The locket was all him. He wanted me to leave my stone restraints. Nagissa the Gargoyle had been hard.

  My strength lies in the same place as Garnier’s. It lies in my weakness.

  When I pull the last thread of power from him, I soothe him with my own as I let him go. “Thank you,” I whisper with my words and with my soul.

  Ramtin did a lot of misguided things, and most of them I may never understand. But beneath them all was love. I watch him crumble into dust. An unnatural breeze picks up and carries him away until I am kneeling in front of nothing. I stand up and face the others, not bothering to hide my tears. This is not the time to be strong. This is a time for weakness.

  I smoothed out a few wrinkles from my white dress shirt and turned to Guillaume before pressing the buzzer to be let in to the building.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  I shrugged. I didn’t know how I was feeling. A million emotions coursed through me. The main one was obvious since I was there to say goodbye.

  Aude, Kateri and Old Man Robert stayed a few steps behind, respecting my need for space. The girls held flowers while Old Man Robert was carrying a few boxes of sweets. We weren’t only there to say goodbye, we were there to help Nakissa and her family ring in the New Year. Nowruz was supposed to be about new beginnings but everything about it felt like an end.

  We were let in to the building and headed for the elevator. Aude gave me a sympathetic smile and for a moment I forgot to be bitter towards her. Everything was working out perfectly for Guillaume and her while Nakissa had refused to even talk to me until today.

  After we were let in and kissed our hosts on both cheeks, we removed our shoes and sat on the sofa. On the table in front of us was an abundance of sweets, pastries and fresh fruit. Another table in the corner of the room proudly displayed the traditional New Year elements.

  Nakissa came into the room and her presence stopped my breath. The ends of her straight hair curled and bounced. Her eyes were still wide, but they seemed more cat-shaped. Her mouth was set in a straight serious line. She was a different person. Powerful and humble. The best combination of her two incarnations. But there was sadness in her eyes. It was that sadness that softened her power. Deleer followed close on her heel. His tail wagged as if he was thrilled that today he didn’t have to be anything other than a normal dog.

  In my peripheral vision, Antoine, old Man Robert and Nakissa’s parents discussed politics, while Kateri talked to Ebi about music. Aude and Guillaume sometimes chimed in to either conversation but were much more invested into each other.

  I couldn’t hold on to the bitterness. They were happy. Simply, uncomplic
atedly happy. I couldn’t have that with Nakissa. Not now, maybe not ever. But it wasn’t their fault.

  Leyli, her brother Mehran, Davood, and the members of Farâsoo joined us for lunch. We ate from a table filled with different dishes. Many of these I’d already enjoyed during my stay in this country. The main platter was a fish traditionally prepared for the New Year. Another symbol of a new beginning.

  I looked to Nakissa and wondered if we would ever get a chance for a beginning. Everyone around me was getting just that. In a way, with Ramtin gone, the whole world was getting a new beginning. Shouldn’t that be enough to celebrate?

  After our lunch, Nakissa performed a piece on the harp and my heart threatened to break all over again. She finished her song and looked at me.

  “Can we go for a walk?” Her voice was so human. So normal. Just the Nakissa I knew.

  We walked side by side to the nearby park. Sometimes, for short moments, our hands touched. She pointed out the signs of spring blooming all over Tehran.

  “Look at this flower.” She knelt on the sidewalk next to a small shoot that grew sheltered by a garden wall.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Its life is just beginning, Garnier.”

  She stood up so she was facing me and took my hands in hers. I’d seen many couples do this here, but I also knew it could get us in trouble. I didn’t care.

  “We are just beginning too,” she said. “Just like this flower grew underground as it suffered through the winter, we have some growing to do too. But we will see the spring.”

  I let go of her hands but didn’t move away. “So what happens now?” I asked.

  She smiled. “I’m not ready for a relationship but it doesn’t mean I’m not ready for a kiss.”

  And so I took her in my arms, in the middle of a street in Tehran, not giving a damn about who watched us and what they would say or do. I took her and I kissed her long and hard so that even once I returned to Canada and she stayed behind, she would still taste my feelings on her lips.

  When I finally did let go of her, I placed my hand under her chin. “You’re right. This is the beginning.”

  THE END

  Acknowledgements

  There are so many people without whom this book wouldn't be what it is.

  First, I would like to thank my sister, Eve Harvey. She has always been my first reader and most enthusiastic cheerleader. She is also the photographer extraordinaire who took my author photo and who wasted an afternoon working on a photo shoot for a gorgeous cover photo that we didn't end up using.

  This brings me to the second photographer extraordinaire in my life, my good friend Ewa Krupinska who stepped in to solve the cover photo emergency. I also have to give a special thanks to the very sweet Maryam Amiri, who is my gorgeous cover model. She answered a call I made looking for my new Nakissa and she was perfect. Her gorgeous makeup was the work of Rashin Maleki. I am lucky to know so many talented people.

  I also want to thank the people who have always jumped at any chance to help me, whether it be with beta reading, helping with research or simply being my cheerleaders when I needed it. Most specifically Dawn Miller, Jamie Blair, Kelly Scriven, and Astrid Novak.

  I have to single out Kaitlin Ward for having been my angel for the past few years. I have learned more from her than anyone else. From her wonderful yet deadly axe without which I would be even more long-winded, to her emotional support (whether it be publishing related or not), I couldn't have a better friend at my side.

  To Heather Bowie Hejduk and her daughter Ani, I have to give a special thank you. Not only are they a wonderful team of copyeditors, but Ani's energy has been one of the bright lights that has supported me through some of my darkest periods of self-doubt.

  Speaking of which, I want to thank my grandmother whose lovely handwritten note she wrote me about how she enjoyed Redemption, I keep posted at my writing desk to re-read when I need an extra push.

  I also want to give thanks to Brian Farrey at Flux. Though we have parted ways, his enthusiasm for my debut REDEMPTION (2012), and the hard work he has put on it, has taught me a lot.

  Writing a book set in a country I'd never stepped foot in was very intimidating. I want to thank all the people who helped me with research or just chatted with me about their home. There are too many people to name, but a few stand out specifically: Arya Afshar, Mostafa Razavi, Maryam Azadeh and her husband Ali Fatolahi. These people have become so, so much more to me than just research.

  Siamak Afshar, thank you for being the best research assistant and for dropping everything to answer whenever I texted you with random questions.

  I want to thank all of the Iranian musicians who attempted to communicate with me. Two specifically come to mind; Hossein Mokhte who actually video chatted with me, and Arash Kheiri from Abroft. Though the language barrier made it very difficult, I did learn a lot from our interactions. Such as how approachable these people are.

  And speaking of music, there are two bands without whom this book could not have been written, Abroft who I listened to solely while writing DELIVERANCE's outline, and Zed Bazi. Though both these bands are very different, to me, they both represented the urban feel of metropolitan Iran.

  I want to give a very special thank you to my daughters who don't always enjoy having mommy working on the computer so long, and to my readers who are the reason all this work is worth it.

  About the Author

  Photo ©Eve Harvey Photography

  If you were to look up random in the dictionary, you might find a picture of Véronique. This Montreal native is a single mother to two adorable young girls and a servant to two feline companions. She is also an avid reader, a dreamer, and a hopeless romantic. Her somewhat obsessive personality is often the subject of jokes amongst her family and friends, but it has served her well; she would never have written a book without it. She is studying everything Iranian from the language, to the history, to the cuisine – another side effect to her obsessive personality – and she likes to dance (usually in the kitchen).

  Connect with me online:

  Twitter: http://twitter.com/vlaunier

  Facebook http://facebook.com/vlaunier

  Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/vlaunier

  My website: http://www.veroniquelaunier.com

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