Balance (The Divine, Book One)

by M. R. Forbes

  "Speak," she said, her voice powerful in my mind. She was showing me her strength, sending me a warning.

  "The balance is tipping," I said. "The end of days are coming if it isn't restored. We should be fighting together, not fighting each other. You know, allies?"

  Her golden eyes narrowed. "Allies? Seraphim Law states that I should strike you down where you stand."

  This wasn't going well. "What benefit would that be to you? You're losing Josette. I think you need all the help you can get."

  I started inching away, closer to the sword. We both knew it wouldn't harm her, but at least I could make some kind of feeble attempt to defend myself if she decided to follow her laws. She stood motionless, undecided.

  "I can help you defeat Reyzl," I said, trying to convince her of my value, even though I knew I had none. "If he's grown beyond your control, it's only a matter of time before he comes for you."

  Our souls were still connected, and I felt her demeanor shift again. It seemed even angels had a sense of self-preservation.

  "Very well," she said. Her eyes were cautious. "There can be no alliance, our Laws forbid it, but I will not destroy you today. In return, you will seek out Reyzl and either destroy him or weaken him so that I can finish your work. I do not care if you live or die completing this task, but know that I will seek you out again one week hence to see you to your end if you do not hold up this bargain. I will not come alone."

  I didn't need to ask what the other option was. I had only bought myself a week, but a week was better than nothing.

  "We have a deal," I said.

  The feeling of heaviness in my gut was immediate. It was if a chain had been clamped down onto my soul, an awareness of the power of the contract I had just verbally signed. Josette hung up the connection, and the sudden sense of loss nearly overwhelmed me. I had been tapped into some of her power through the bond, and had drunk from it like an alcoholic. I could feel a small piece of it within me.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  "So I can find you again," she said. "Do not think to double-cross me, Landon. You will speed us closer to these end of days if you do." She had said my real name. What else did she know? Why didn't Dante put 'never touch an angel' into his short list of rules?

  "I'll see you in a week then," I said, trying to sound a lot more confident than I felt.

  With the connection broken, Josette nodded, then turned back in the direction of the Apple store, most likely to return to her friend. I was bending down to grab my iPad when a massive wave of heat crashed into my senses. My mind didn't have time to process it, but my body reacted.

  I dove to the left and rolled to my feet, somehow managing to escape the path of a black, jagged edged blade that buried itself deep in the trunk of the tree we had been sitting under. There was a growl of frustration, then the sound of pounding feet running toward me. I looked up just in time to see the demon make his leap at me, his long sinewy frame carrying him an impossible distance at an impossible speed. I moved faster than I could think, shifting my weight and dropping to the ground just underneath its outstretched limbs, escaping being raked by eight-inch claws.

  The beast landed and turned, small black eyes looking right at me, a snout full of razor teeth bared. It had a humanoid frame with grotesquely long limbs that ended in those sharp claws, leathery skin, and bones which protruded at awkward angles from various points on its body.

  "Reyzl sends his greetings, newcomer." Its voice was gravel, and its words dripped with disgust.

  I got to my feet and reached over to where the sword was leaning against the tree. My instinct seemed to be doing a good job of keeping me from being destroyed. As long as I didn't think too much maybe I could get lucky.

  I had forgotten about Josette. The demon didn't seem to have noticed her either until we both saw a white blur darting in at us. It raised its paw just in time to deflect her first strike, causing a shower of energy to reverberate against the air around us. She pressed the attack, her sword a blur of stabs and swipes that was matched by the demon's blocks.

  Their attention diverted, I took a more defensive position behind the tree and peered out from the side to watch the battle mature. I looked around and saw the area was deserted of people, as if something in their minds had told them to stay away from this part of the park. Was this how the Divine war raged on with humans none the wiser?

  The waves of energy from the clashing enemies filled my senses. Josette was a whirlwind, her down jacket flowing out behind her as she spun and twirled, the sword an extension of her arm that danced and pricked at the demon. It roared in pain and anger, lashing back but finding only empty air. She continued to press the attack, forcing the demon to retreat backward.

  A few more quick jabs and she was past those massive claws, her body slipping inside the demon's reach, her sword being pushed up into its chest. She yanked the weapon free and leapt backwards a good ten feet, leaving the demon on its knees, doubled over as it's body expelled a viscous mess of thick black blood.

  I stepped out from behind the tree and started moving towards them, wanting to get a closer look. Josette turned to glance at me for just an instant, then resumed her vigil of the demon's demise.

  Something happened then. Something Josette clearly hadn't expected. The demon's wound closed over, and with a razor sharp grin it pounced forward, slamming her with its hand and sending her torn body thirty feet through the air. She bounced against the ground a couple of times and came to rest against a distant tree. The demon turned to face me.

  "What are you staring at seraph?" it asked. "Have you never seen a Great Were before?"

  Never seen, never heard. I only had a second to wonder if by were it meant werewolf, when it leapt at me for a second time with a speed that I couldn't match. There was an explosion of pain that blossomed throughout my entire body when the sharp claws dug into my flesh and rended it from the bone, ripping into me like no more than a piece of meat. My vision blurred and doubled as the Were lifted me to eye level.

  "Pathetic," he said, throwing me across the lawn.

  Another round of agony greeted me as I hit the dirt and slid face down. I lifted my head just enough to see the demon. I watched it transform in the space of one step to the next, shrinking in mass and gaining hair, skin, and clothing. It became a man with long raven hair in skinny jeans and a worn t-shirt, like a werewolf for sure. He exchanged his claws for a jagged black dagger that he pulled from the back of his pants. He was walking towards Josette, who I could see was fighting to rise to her feet.

  As he approached her, he reached under his shirt and produced a necklace with a red stone. He held it up to her, showing it off. "Have you ever seen one of these seraph?" he asked. "It removes the poison from your blows. I don't suppose you have one of your own, to do the same to mine? No? A pity."

  I could feel the pain in my body subsiding as it worked to heal itself. I looked down and watched in fascination as new skin grew to replace the shredded mess above it, new muscle regenerating beneath. Fascination gave way to anger. I'd had enough of this punching bag routine.

  The Were was almost on top of Josette, his posture oozing confidence and superiority. He was oblivious to me, and to my change in health. I couldn't take him out head on, but there was more than one way to skin a big ugly monster cat.

  I got to my feet and looked for my sword, finding it a good fifty feet away. No good. I looked back at Josette and saw her weapon was on the ground next to her. Not great, but better. I took off towards the demon at a run, willing myself to be faster than I had ever been. I was rewarded with a burst of speed that left the ground no more than a blur beneath my feet. In less than a second, I was leaping towards the Were, reaching out to will the angel's sword to my hand.

  It all happened in the space of an instant. I should have been destroyed, because the sword didn't come at my call. I found myself airborne, rapidly approaching the back of the demon, and weaponless. There was no time for an alternate a
pproach. I had sunk my efforts into this one desperate move. I could see the demon's head begin to turn towards me. I could see Josette's golden eyes flare as she sensed my approach.

  The impossible happened then. The seraph took hold of her sword and threw it towards me with perfect precision, my hand caught it and my arm drew back. The Were completed his surprised turn, and I sank the weapon into his heart as I slammed into him. We both tumbled to the ground, the force of the impact throwing me away from him again. I rolled to my feet and watched him gather himself, rise to his feet, and pull out the sword a second time. He looked at me with a shocked yet satisfied smirk on his face, until he saw that I had his necklace in my hand.

  "Who are you?" he growled as he went back to his knees. "You should be dead."

  I got up and approached him. Whatever magic was in the angel's sword, it was doing its thing. The demon was disintegrating from the point of the wound outward. There was a smell of frankincense, and smoke began wafting from the hole in his chest. Where a moment ago there had been a gloating beast in man's clothing, there was now just a dying lamb.

  "Pathetic," I said, turning my back on him, pocketing the necklace, and walking over to Josette. I didn't watch the demon finish his final death. I didn't need to.

  Or maybe I did. I wanted to check on Josette, to see if I could help her. After all, despite her disdain for me, she had just helped me. Whether or not it was to aid her as well, that didn't matter right now.

  I had almost reached her when I felt a coldness at my back. Before I could turn around, a black cloud encircled me, whipping around like a mini-tornado, spinning tightly in a maelstrom of energy. It smelled like sulfur, and in it I felt power. It overwhelmed me, and I fell to my knees unable to breathe. I opened my mouth to gulp in air and the black cloud forced its way inside. I choked on it, my mouth filling with the acrid taste of the stuff pouring into me. As it completed its forced entry, I leaned over and vomited.

  "Diuscrucis." Josette stumbled over to stand next to me. Her clothing was hanging in shreds, and her bloody face had a deep gash across the cheek.

  "What just happened?" I asked. My stomach told me it was getting ready for round two. At the same time, I felt different in a way that permeated much more deeply into my being.

  "The demon tried to take your soul," she said, her breathing labored. "He didn’t know what you were, and has trapped himself. He can give you power, but not without cost."

  I wanted to ask her what she meant, but her golden eyes dimmed and she fell back to the ground. Not gone, but seriously injured. I couldn't leave her here. I bent down and lifted her in my arms, surprised by how light she felt. I put her over my shoulder, and then retrieved her sword and my iPad. After a small bout of indecision, I grabbed one of the demon's daggers too. There was a part of me that was sure I was making a mistake by taking Josette with me. I ignored it and made my way out of the park, willing the world around me to see a man carrying a baby on one shoulder, a folded up stroller over the other. It was a little too domesticated for me, but it would have to do.

  Chapter 6

  The punk-slash-emo guy running the front desk at the Belmont Hotel didn't even give me a second look when I lumbered in holding two large duffels. I was getting more accomplished with altering my outward appearance, and had dressed down for the occasion. My hair was long and greased, I had three days growth on my chin, and my clothes were worn and dirty. On the walk over, I had also discovered how to repair my inward appearance, fixing the rips and tears in my clothing so I could see and sense myself with some semblance of physical dignity.

  "How much for your best room?" I asked, approaching the desk.

  Punkmo shrugged. "It's twenty-five per night, all the rooms are priced the same." He reached under the desk and produced a padlock with a key. "Just find an empty room and lock the inside. When you leave, lock the outside."

  The modern world sure made being limited to cash a frustrating proposition, especially when trying to find a place to hunker down for a while. Most upscale hotels required holding a credit card on file, which meant bypassing anything a person might want to spend any amount of time in, and instead making do with something that someone could spend time in if they had to. I had to. I turned my back on him so I could count through my stash without him being able to see how much I was carrying. I handed him three hundreds.

  "Good for twelve days, right?" I asked.

  He furrowed his brow and looked at me. The math was a little too much for him. "Sure man."

  He snatched the cash a little too eagerly and pushed the lock forward. I put down the sword to pick up the lock and stuck it into my jacket pocket.

  The Belmont. The name made me laugh out loud. The place was about half of a step above the condemned projects where I had watched Rebecca drain a good guy. I was sure it had been a fine place a hundred years ago or so, but it seemed like it hadn’t been renovated since, well, ever. The interior was old, drab, and dirty, with peeling faded wallpaper and either missing or busted furniture. The rooms weren't much better, decorated with ripped sofas, old mattresses stained yellow from all kinds of bodily fluids, ancient fridges of which maybe fifty percent were functional, and a varying but always present amount of mold. Every room had roaches. Only two of the rooms I passed had people. The place was more for quickies with hookers and drug exchanges than living in, but I didn’t have too many housing options.

  I settled into 7G, a room on the top floor in the southeast corner. It gave me a decent view of the streets below through small grimy windows that would hide my own visage from anyone looking in, and a mattress that had a better than fifty percent chance of not housing an STD.

  I gently slid Josette off of my shoulder, placing her on top of the bed. She was still unconscious, but her breathing was steady. Her wounds continued to ooze blood, refusing to close over, and the gash on her cheek had some nasty black spider veins reaching out across her face. I had no way to judge the effect of a demonic wound on an angel, but going by what had happened to the Were when I stabbed him, she was suffering from damage that wouldn’t heal on its own. When I put my hand to her forehead, I could feel that she was burning up, maybe literally.

  "Josette," I whispered.

  She didn't respond. That raised the question - how do you heal an angel who was wounded in a fight against a demon? Answer - holy water. Maybe it wouldn't work, but it seemed like the best option and I didn't have much to lose. I wasn't going to let her die, not like this. She had spared my life, and I was going to return the favor. Maybe she’d even be grateful. If she wouldn't let me out of our deal, the act of kindness might be enough to convince her to at least offer some measure of help in completing the task without having my soul destroyed. Not an alliance, but maybe information.

  "I'll be back," I said to her prone form as I ducked out of the room, put the padlock on the door, and headed out to find a church.

  The sun had vanished behind dark, heavy clouds, and it started pouring while I walked. I needed a vessel for the holy water, so I dropped in on a liquor store and bought the cheapest bottle of wine they had, which I dumped on the pavement outside. I got into a small argument with a passing vagrant about wasting heat, and then resumed my hunt for a house of God. When I pushed through the twin doors of Our Blessed Lady Mary RC Church I was soaked to the bone, the water dripping off of me creating a slippery mess on the cold marble floors.

  "That rain's right devilish."

  I had been hoping to avoid running into a priest, but he was already mopping the floor when I walked in. He was an older man with short reddish-white hair, a fair complexion, and a kind smile. He wore the wisdom of age on his face and the creases around his eyes. Irish, if his accent was any indication.

  "It sure is Father," I said, not making eye contact. "I'm sorry for the mess."

  There was an expanding pool of rainwater gathering at my feet. He looked down at it and chuckled.

  "Don't ye worry yerself child,” he said. “Ye look like ye could
stand bein' outta the rain."

  I had disguised the empty wine bottle as an umbrella. He looked at it, then looked at me, then looked back at the umbrella.

  "Might've helped ye a wee bit if ye had used that thing,” he said, a strange look on his face. “Then again, an empty wine bottle ain't much help in a rainstorm, is it?"

  He could see right through my glamour. Were all priests Touched? There was no point being ambiguous.

  "I need your help," I told him. "Holy water."

  "What does someone the likes of you need with holy water?" he asked. "More like to poison you than heal you crossbreed."

  I had to know. "How did you know? Are you Touched?"

  He laughed then, an old, wise, hardened laugh. "I didn't just come out of the potato field laddie," he said. "And I don't need the blessin’ of a pure angel to make my eyes work proper. Ye may fool some of ‘em, but I'm a humble servant of the Lord, and I know me own. Besides laddie, what darn fool carries an umbrella, but isn’t using it to keep himself dry?"

  Dante was proving to be a little unreliable when it came to who could and couldn't sense my true nature. Here was a self-proclaimed plain ordinary mortal, and he saw right through the glamour, past the blood and lineage, straight through to the truth.

  "It's not for me Father," I said. "I have a friend who was injured by a demon, a Great Were." I didn't know how much he knew, but I figured if he were familiar with angels and crossbreeds, he would know demons too.

  The priest rubbed his hand along his chin. "A Great Were eh? That's a nasty beastie to get into a scuffle with. How many seraph were involved?"

  "Just one," I told him. "You know about weres?"

  "Aye, of course I do laddie,” he said. “Always a treat to watch a werewolf movie, and laugh at how weak they portray those foul creatures ta be. A Great Were, now that's a hundred times nastier than your nastiest werewolf. Mean and smart, they are. Did you say one?"

  I shrugged. "Well, one and a half I guess."

  "Aye, a half," he said, his tone harsh. "The seraph was injured, and ye’re here for holy water to heal it?"