Warring Angel

by Samantha L. Strong

  I helped stoke her dreams. It kept her from spiraling into despair.

  Word finally came from Heaven in the middle of the night. Two Nephilim flew in a week after we’d arrived at the camp, looking harried and uncomfortable. I never knew where Franz went after the sun set. Perhaps he didn’t need to sleep because of his pact with Osubatz, or perhaps he kept another room elsewhere.

  The shorter of the Nephilim spoke. “The Engineers have been trying to plan a way for Chana to escape, but so far they’ve been unsuccessful. The Incarnation Plans of the people here are shattered, and we have few options.”

  Swastikas covered nearly every surface in the camp, so I wasn’t surprised. “What are we going to do?”

  “Just wait,” said the taller. “They’re asking you to wait.”

  They left in a swirl of wings.

  “Serinh, please, help me.” I was speaking to thin air. “You’ve got to do something about this.” But what could she do? “Source, please! Why are you letting Asorat do this?”

  I received no answer. Are my petitions even making it out? I had no way of knowing.

  A day later, Osubatz-Franz strode into the room. “Come with me.” He pulled up Chana by the arm.

  Blearily, she stumbled after him. Every Nazi we passed made Chana shudder. I kept myself closed to receiving emotions from them, but I knew what they were thinking from the way their gazes roved across her child’s body.

  When we arrived several buildings over from where we’d begun, Bernadette and Zaponsla were waiting.

  “Enael!” Zaponsla embraced me.

  Our Ward was huddled on a bed. When Franz cracked the door open, she looked up. He shoved Chana into the room, and Bernadette was across the room in an instant.

  “My girl, you’re alive.” She pulled her close and they wept in one another’s arms.

  “Now that you know she’s alive, I expect cooperation,” said Franz.

  “What is he talking about?” I asked.

  Zaponsla’s look of disgust should have withered him where he stood. “He’s exploring love.”

  Bernadette’s haunted look told me all I needed to know.

  The dead-eyed Nazi entered the room to wrestle Chana away from her mother. “No, Mama, please, save me, please!”

  “Be good, my girl, and do as they say! It’ll keep you safe!”

  Those words, so hollow, were the only thing keeping hope alive for all of Heaven. The Nazi pulled Chana from the barracks and took her back to Franz’s room.

  “Be strong,” I said to Zaponsla and to our Ward, as I flapped after them.

  Now that I knew where Franz was keeping Bernadette, I visited Zaponsla while Chana was sleeping. It seemed a risk to leave our Ward alone, but the other Nazis never spoke to Franz and steered clear when he went into a room. But under his protection, she was safe—as safe as a Jewish girl could be in a German concentration camp.

  Most days, Zaponsla and I would embrace quickly and speak briefly of Bernadette’s welfare. She was being well-kept, though Osubatz did strange things to her, conducting what he termed his “experiments.” One day, he laid with her in the bed, snaking an arm over her to cuddle together for an hour. Another day, he fed her a delicious red wine and expensive imported cheese, watching her face as she ate.

  But not everything was so benign. I was witness to the day he brought another man in—one who seemed as frightened as his prisoner—and forced them to copulate while he watched.

  I had hurried back to Chana, sickened.

  This was wrong. The feeling of menace that had been so palpable the night Osubatz had snatched up our Wards was a constant presence in this camp. Not a single human in this place—or this country, even—was doing what they had planned. Fate was twisted and snarled so badly that the Engineers were unable to sort it out. The Orb of Seeing must have continued clouding over, the future a complete mist.

  Zaponsla was beginning to suffer, too. One morning, she didn’t notice when I arrived. I touched her arm and she startled, her eyes unfocused. “Yes? What do you want?”

  “Zaponsla, it’s me.”

  She blinked and rubbed a hand over her face. “Oh. Oh, yes. Enael! Yes, good day. Sorry, I must have drifted off.”

  “It’s all right,” I said, though it wasn’t. I didn’t know what else to do, to say, to tell her.

  That’s it. No more sitting around. Clearly help isn’t coming any time soon. I have to do something.

  With the safety of our Wards in jeopardy more each day that Bernadette was a victim to experiments and Chana was kept from following the path that was set for her in Heaven, I could no longer stand by and do nothing. Finally, an idea began to form.

  The next day, I returned, determined. “I have a plan. You know that they’re not getting out alive. If the Engineers could find a way out for her, they would have already.”

  In the time between his odd experiments, Osubatz would send Bernadette to work at the incinerators. She came back smelling of burnt flesh, the rotten, sickly-sweet odor permeating her pores and making her retch over the chamber pot after he was done with her.

  “I don’t know what we can do.” Zaponsla mirrored the faraway look in Bernadette’s eyes. “We just have to…” she trailed off, staring off into space, “… hang on. The Seraphim will stop it. They always… stop…”

  I shook her. “Zaponsla!”

  She slowly focused on my face.

  “Go to Chana,” I said. “Stay with her for a while. She’s coping better. It will help you clear your mind.”

  “No, I’m… fine… I’m…” Her jaw fell slack.

  I tugged on a handful of feathers. “Zaponsla, listen to me. I know what we have to do.”

  “What? No… It’s…”

  “Listen to me. The Source has said that we’re not allowed to kill the Nazis, right?”

  She rocked on her heels, but then her eyes flew open. “Yes. Why?” Through our bond, her confusion lessened.

  “We’re not allowed because they want to be here, doing this. It would be violating their free will, yes?”

  “Yes…” Her eyes narrowed, the scar giving her the same menacing look it always did. But she was still wavering on her feet, wings flapping absently.

  “This is very important. Listen to me. Bernadette and Chana are here against their wills. It is not part of their Incarnation Plan. And if they stay here much longer, their lives will be ended earlier anyway. Yes?”

  “Enael…”

  “Look at the death around us. None of these humans wants to be here. This is a violation of the worst sort. None of them agreed to this torment. This is not in their Incarnation Plans. They are being forced to experience these things, and none of them has consented to it.”

  She twisted her neck left and right, miming looking around, but her confusion increased again. She wasn’t able to focus. I wasn’t sure if she even understood what I was saying.

  “We have to free them. Bring them back to Heaven. Start over. Maybe we can get Chana into a new body right away. She’s been here less than a decade. It would be a setback, but it’s better than nothing.”

  “I… don’t… know. It’s not really… We’re not supposed to…”

  I’d meditated for a long stretch last night while Chana had slept, but no clear answer had come through. Source, please, tell me what to do.

  And the answer, over and over, was, You’re strong. You can decide. You know what’s right.

  I did know what was right, and this whole scenario was not it. If the Source wasn’t going to tell me what path I should take, I would forge my own.

  The door banged open, waking Bernadette from her dark-dreamed slumber. Osubatz-Franz marched into the room, dragging Chana behind him. Zaponsla held out a hand, presumably to try calling a trident, but whatever was addling her mind made her unable to do even that. She strained and looked down at her hand, but nothing appeared.

  Chana wept silent tears. A purple bruise snaked across her cheek and neck. Perhaps I shouldn’
t have left but it was too late now. Besides, my mind was made up, and his abuse would make no difference in a few moments.

  “What did you do to her?” I demanded of Osubatz.

  “What did you do to her?” Bernadette demanded of Franz.

  “I want to conduct an experiment,” he said. He reached into his belt and pulled out a long knife, with snakes twining across the blade—the knife, the actual knife, that I’d used to kill Voctic.

  “Where did you get that?” I shrieked.

  I tried to snatch it from his hands, no longer caring what might happen if a human saw me interfere with an object on Earth. Instead of closing on the handle, my hands passed through.

  Osubatz-Franz flipped the blade around and held it out, handle-first, toward Bernadette. My flailing had no effect. He gazed down at the mother clutching her daughter.

  “Take it,” he said.

  She stared at the worn handle, emotions surging through her: weariness, fright, confusion. Zaponsla rocked as the wave assaulted us, but she was now staring off into space, her mouth slightly parted. Bernadette lifted a hand and looked down at her daughter.

  If she was fast enough, she could stab Franz—for all the good it would do.

  But he saw the look in her eyes and smiled that manic smile. He knelt slowly, ever so slowly, and then grabbed Chana’s arm tightly. “I want you to carve a swastika into her hand. Make sure it leaves a scar. She must have it forever.”

  “What? No!” Bernadette threw the knife at his feet, wrenched her daughter free, and dragged her across the room to cower against the bed.

  “You’re sick!” I shouted, though the words were the most inadequate I’d ever spoken.

  “If you don’t,” said Osubatz-Franz, “I will kill her.”

  Chana was clinging to Bernadette’s dirty dress now, crying and whispering, “Mama, please don’t hurt me.” Her voice cracked and she renewed her grip harder, pulling Bernadette from where she was glaring at Franz.

  “You can’t do this,” I said. Asking a mother to hurt her child? Forcing her to choose between that and watching her die? “You have no right.”

  He finally looked at me, his eyes glossing over black. Osubatz’s face ghosted in front of Franz’s—he spoke only to me. “I have every right because I took the right. Asorat created this place, the Seraphim helped no matter how they deny it, but I am making it how I please. They don’t care what happens to these people. Look how they’ve used the humans for their own petty melodramas. Earth is their playground, and this little camp, so insignificant in the scheme of the war, is mine.”

  Bernadette was staring at the knife. The light in the room was dim, and she looked to be tracing the snakes with her eyes. Unaware of our dialogue, she was pondering her choice, feelings rising and falling as she weighed the decision. Her other hand was clamped around her daughter’s waist. Chana was unmoving against her mother, staring at the wall.

  Despite my barriers against the other prisoners, I couldn’t stop my bond with my Wards. Their emotions spilled over me like a waterfall, and I could no longer determine who was more frightened, mother or daughter.

  “No,” I said. “You do not have the right. This is not your playground, these are not your playthings. They are people, and they deserve better than this.”

  I needed to start trusting myself. I’d come here to tell Zaponsla what I’d decided, to beg her to see why I had to do this, but she was unable to help me. This was a decision that I had to make—me and me alone.

  I was the Cornerstone.

  I held the fate of Heaven in my hands.

  Bernadette stirred. She put a hand on Chana, as if to move her aside.

  But before she could move, I reached inside both of them and ripped their souls from their bodies.

  CHAPTER 30

  Someone screamed.

  It wasn’t me.

  The souls snapped taut and then released. Bernadette’s eyes widened and her body went rigid before she fell sideways, but Chana slumped over with a soft sigh.

  Osubatz leapt out of Franz’s body. Before I could say another word, he ran off into the night.

  Franz went down on a knee and caught himself. He stared at the two dead women, confusion screwing up his perfectly chiseled features into a skeletal mask.

  The screaming stopped.

  “Enael!” It had been Zaponsla. “What have you done?”

  “This isn’t over!” I shouted after the demon. “I’m coming for you!”

  “Where did he go? What… What happened?”

  “Everyone is all right.” They had to be. I’d made my choice.

  The souls billowed from my hands, and I lifted Bernadette toward my partner. She reached out and took it gingerly. “I was so… stuck. I couldn’t stop him. I just… I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize,” I said. “This isn’t your fault. This is Asorat’s fault and Osubatz’s fault, and you’ve done the best you could.”

  Her hand trembled, and she cupped the other one over Bernadette’s soul to still it.

  “Come along. We’re taking Harbinger and Chana to the Afterlife Ward.” We would worry about everyone’s well-being when we were out of this horrible place.

  Franz was checking for a pulse on the dead woman on the floor when we leapt into the air. Demons eyed us as we flew from the concentration camp, but none made a move to interfere. Finally, the toxic heaviness started lifting, and I guided us next to a small tree. We landed and faded from Earth, leaving behind the cloudy pall. Fading out was an effort, one that elicited a grunt from Zaponsla. The pastels of the Afterlife Ward were brilliant compared to the washed-out colors of the world we left behind.

  We faded into a spot in the corner, elbow to wing with a Reaper. “Excuse me,” she barked, cradling her soul against her chest. The receiving area of the Afterlife Ward was packed with angels of all ranks holding souls or standing with humans.

  “Ah, apologies,” I said for both of us. Zaponsla was still wearing a haunted look and clutching Bernadette tightly. “Let’s go the Comfort Ward. It’s where they’ll end up anyway.”

  After the trauma of the concentration camp, the machinations of a demon, and the abrupt and unseen death, our Wards would need time to recover. I wove my way through the crowd, past a group of Nephilim holding a specially designed pouch for holding dozens of souls after a battle, past a Keeper and an Attendant anxiously fidgeting with the two souls they each carried, past the many Guardians wearing looks of relief.

  We hurried down a long corridor. Chana’s soul was twitching in my hands, the sign she was ready to come back to herself here, but I wanted to get her in a safe place before she started to stretch into human shape again. When we rounded the corner, we discovered that the Comfort Ward, too, spilled out of the entryway. A Keeper—why a Keeper?—gave us a long look as we strode up to the line.

  “What are we going to do?” asked Zaponsla.

  I surveyed the crowd. This many souls meant no privacy, even if we waited our turn. They were likely filling rooms with multiple humans, as they did in hospitals on Earth, and that was not what my human needed at the moment.

  “We’re going to Serinh’s.”

  Serinh took one look at us standing on her landing and hurried us inside, flaring her wings as though Heaven’s sunlight would disturb the now rocking and swaying soul in my hands. “Let’s go over here.” She hurried to her couches.

  I set Chana down. Bernadette seemed content with her current form. She lay still in Zaponsla’s hand.

  Chana’s soul twitched and jerked upright, turning into her human form. She rose to my knee, then my waist, then stopped at the same height she’d been when I’d pulled her soul out, at seven years old. Her features resolved, her eyes opened, and she threw herself into my arms.

  I squeezed her tightly. “It’s all right, my dear. You’re safe now. I rescued you from that awful place.”

  She pulled back. Her features were aging bit by bit, her body growing. “I’m sorry I couldn’t d
o what I was supposed to.” She looked up at Serinh and then Zaponsla. “I’m so sorry. I failed. I’m so sorry.”

  “No,” I said as she buried her head in my arm. “I failed. I couldn’t keep you safe. I couldn’t stop that demon from stealing you away. You were supposed to escape the city, and you were caught. That was my fault.”

  She hugged me, crying.

  Zaponsla knelt to place Bernadette on the floor, but as she did so, Chana’s body went rigid. I pulled away to see what was wrong, and then she went slack.

  “Chana?” I cradled her lolling head. She’d fainted: I could no longer feel any emotions. Her features were now older, wiser, looking more like the grown woman who’d proceeded to Earth. But her skin was flushed, her features delicate. She’ll be okay. Don’t worry. She’s going to be fine! I tamped down the panic growing in my belly.

  Serinh knelt over her.

  “What’s happening? Is she going to be all right?” I asked.

  She passed a hand over Chana’s face, inspected her mind, and drew back. “She seems to be reliving some of what happened in the death camp.”

  Chana’s eyes opened and she gasped. “… have to stop it!”

  “You’re safe now, Chana. You’re here with us. You’re in Heaven in Serinh’s apartment. Don’t worry. You’re safe with us.”

  Chana tried to push me away. Her eye color was shifting, brown to silver to orange to iridescent, before resolving back to brown again. She twitched. “No, listen. I remember—”

  She fainted again.

  “This is why she should be in the Comfort Ward!” I shouted.

  I was furious, but at whom, I didn’t know. It wasn’t the fault of the Tenders, who were dealing with myriad war casualties. This was Osubatz’s fault. This was Asorat’s fault. This was the Aleph’s fault.

  Serinh put a hand on my shoulder.

  Zaponsla set Bernadette’s soul on the floor. The mass shuddered and then it stretched and lengthened. It started tan, the same shade from when she was Bernadette, and then darkened to black-skinned, the rich color from when she was last embodied. Her clothing morphed and changed until she was wearing the voluminous dress from Cistena’s brothel. Finally, Harbinger—looking every inch the twenty-year-old I’d known when Voctic died—was standing before us.