Sword's Blessing

by Kaitlin R. Branch

  Samantha blinked. “Cyrene?”

  “Indeed. She’s been troublesome to more than you of late.” Her gaze slid to Armand, who watched the conversation blankly, and she smiled. “Hello, child,” she said. “I do believe I recall you.”

  “Do you?” he asked softly. “I don’t.”

  “I know.”

  “Can you help him?” Samantha asked.

  “Not in the least,” she said, and took a sip of tea. “Not only is it not my specialty, it ain’t my place. He’s gotta do this one himself.”

  They looked at each other. Samantha chewed on her lip. So much for that. The old woman didn’t seem fazed though, sipping at her tea and humming. Armand was the first to speak.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “in the commotion of coming in, I didn’t actually catch your name.”

  She snorted into her glass, and slowly a roiling cackle rose from her lips like leaves underfoot. “Nah, you didn’t miss it child. I don’t offer it up. Get laughed at a lot.” She grinned. “Since you asked nicely, it’s Cassandra. Cassie, for short.”

  Samantha shook her head slowly. “I guess your mother got it right, anyway.”

  “Sho’nuff.” Cassie replied. “That’s Charlotte, my granddaughter, downstairs. Sweet thing, still a little green.”

  “Are you training her?” Eli asked. “Can your kind of art be trained?”

  “Half of my ‘art’ is just plain paying attention.” Cassie rolled her eyes. “Didn’t you listen? The rest... yeah, I’m training her best I can. She ain’t so sure ‘bout this paranormal business, but gives her old grandma the benefit of the doubt.”

  Samantha opened her mouth to comment that Charlotte had certainly known who they were the moment they walked in. Suddenly there was a wave of something. It rose and crashed through the house, without even rustling the fabric. It wasn’t physical, it was like a spirit quake, and the closest thing Samantha could equate it to was the moment she had taken on the souls wrapped up in Marie and Diego. Voices rose and fell in screams, Angels wailed in dismay, and though Armand seemed to barely even note the shift, Eli and Samantha could not help but fall to the floor, clutching at their ears. The world shifted into a new paradigm, rippling as if fit to tear apart. After nearly thirty seconds of madness inducing shivers all went quiet.

  Outwardly the world was back to normal. Or, at least it was no longer pitching and yawing, it was hard to tell if normal was precisely the word. Samantha took a moment to drag for breath, and then reached out for Eli. He was already reaching for her. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” she whispered. “What was that?”

  “That is my cue to set another glass.” Cassie replied, creaking her way up.

  Eli pulled her forward and into a bear hug, still trembling. She realized as frightened as she was, the anomaly had frightened him even more. He was still shivering half a minute later. “The Lucifer has shifted. I think. Someone killed him. I know that. The…something, was the…well... the shift of leadership. Maybe.” He was frowning.

  “How do you know?” Samantha asked, finally turning to the souls within and explaining, soothing, calming. Though she had gained a great amount of control and rapport with them, somehow the shift had awakened each and every one, and they rattled her mind.

  “Just one of those things,” he said, and pulled back with a smile. “You were never actually Damned, so you didn’t hear the words.” He frowned again. “Though, it’s weird. The couplet was disjointed. It was the end half.”

  “Is that bad?”

  He chuckled, stroking her hair. “Last Lucifer switch was four hundred years ago,” he said. “I don’t know for sure. I’m certain the previous one is dead, but nothing more.”

  “I didn’t feel much of anything,” Armand confessed from his seat across the table. “Actually, I’m confused. You say Lucifer is dead?”

  “No, child.” Cassandra set the glass at its place. He said the Lucifer is dead. That means another should have taken his place.”

  “Who?” Samantha wondered. “And why are you setting a fourth place?”

  “If she’s coming, it will be within the hour.” Cassie stated, and turned to comfort Charlotte as the door flung open and the girl ran through sobbing in terror. Samantha took a moment to be thankful for Eli, and settled closer into his arms.

  * * * *

  The ripple of hell shouting for their new leader was powerful enough to nearly take her to the ground, but Giselle stoked the fury in her bones and flew with all her might. She should have left immediately. Why hadn’t she? Had she done wrong? Had she made the world that much worse by allowing Cyrene to take on the mantle of the Lucifer? Her hands started to shake, and realized then her sword was still in hand, held with a grip which would have folded a lesser metal.

  She made to put it away, but stopped. The Lucifer’s blood still stained the lower half. She shivered. What did it mean to wound the Lucifer, much less have a direct role in killing him? Had she truly released Cyrene from her bonds? Had she killed one monster only to set another loose? Who would be worse? Surely Cyrene.

  She could not go back to them, now. Eli and Samantha…Cyrene was the Lucifer now. How could she face them, knowing it was her sword which had saved the new Lucifer, her light which had dissolved the Lucifer’s bonds? And now the Lucifer was dead, but Cyrene, a mad woman who had dangled Armand’s dying light before her, had taken the power.

  Armand! Merciful Messiah, how could she face him?

  It was only then Giselle sank to the ground, gasping in horror, clutching her sword in a desperate attempt to hold on to something familiar. How could she? Why hadn’t she just left? Surely that was just how business was conducted in the realms of the damned! Now she had nowhere to turn. She had disavowed her blessings for Armand’s sake. She had allied herself with the Damned in becoming The Lucifer’s bait rather than submitting to be returned to the fold. Then she had betrayed even Armand when she defended the very woman who had tried to kill him. She had betrayed Armand. The realization clenched her stomach and she shivered again as she had not in many years, wishing for a fire, a warmth, a touch, the sweetness of Armand’s gaze, the gentleness of his wings.

  Her toes were numb, so cold and icy they felt near to snapping off, and she hiccupped in fear. Not again, not again! This time surely she would succumb to the chill without Armand there to spur her on, to keep her believing there was more, there was always more.

  The sword clattered to the ground through numb fingers and she shivered as she sat back. Bright southern sunlight glinted off the silver, brilliantly illuminating the blood of the Lucifer. It had dried, and she could see by the way it glittered she knew would never wash it from the silver. Her eyes were drawn to the stain, the boiling hot blood of the Damned leader whom she had battled less than an hour before.

  She remembered the fury. She remembered the words he had shouted at her. You have betrayed your cause. What was her cause? The prophet woman she was supposed to be seeing now had once said she was ready for the cause. The Fore had asked which cause. Naively, she had thought it heaven’s cause.

  Illuminate the greater error

  Serve the world without your terror

  Giselle swallowed. Those were the words spoken by the angel Gabriel at her and Armand’s blessing, special because they had not ascended separately, but together, by the same words, by the same sword, in the same moment. And what had that done? She had defied her superiors for her bonded pair, just as they had feared. Perhaps she could be proud of her defiance, but to forget Armand so completely as to defend his killer?

  She had said Giselle was ready! How could this be ready? Ready for what? What had she done, as she was? Giselle gulped, squeezing her eyes shut against tears. What had she done? What would Armand say? What would Gabriel say?

  She shied away from thinking of it. What had the Lucifer said? To defy heaven and not fall was an achievement of note. It was a backhanded compliment from the leader of the Damned, but there it was. If the Lucifer
had not claimed her as a Damned, maybe she wasn’t completely without hope.

  Then again, if she had not defied the Angelic leader, would she have raised her sword in Cyrene’s defense? If she had never seen the way even those she trusted most might betray her for their cause would her heart have been strong enough to defy status quo and bring the light of justice to bear on the Lucifer?

  Illuminate the greater error

  Serve the world without your terror

  If she had not freed Cyrene, would she have ever found the strength to draw the blood which colored her sword indelibly?

  No…I have not betrayed my heart. She swallowed. Perhaps she had not lifted her sword for the sake of the greater good. To control Cyrene through such fear was a horror which could not be borne, and by God she would not be shamed for it.

  A great weight lifted from her shoulders. She had never betrayed heaven. She simply was not controlled by it. She took a breath, feeling returning to her fingers and toes. Slowly, she picked up the sword, stroking down the length and raising it high to look more carefully. The blood did not come off on her fingers, affixed to the metal. As she raised the sword, it glowed soft as it had not since she disavowed the blessings of her wings. She smiled. There was more. There was always more.

  To illuminate the greater error. To serve her world without her terror. Yes. That was her cause, and the seer had been right. She was ready.

  Giselle took flight, and like a cloak falling away, her fear stayed to the ground. There were things to do, and she would do them. Without fear. The blessings had returned of their own accord, and for once, she was not cold.

  * * * *

  Unfortunately, Giselle thought, she did not have the benefit of an unlimited bank account, nor did she have any transportation but herself. In the end, she found downtown by the great football stadium, and the French Quarter by the river. She risked sight by landing on the river bank, but no one noted her. Smiling in triumph, Giselle hid her wings, tossed back her hair, and sheathed her sword, clamoring into the old city.

  She passed an open air coffee shop where tourists ate powdered beignets and drank deep coffee. She almost fancied stopping for the treat, but then a bell rang, and Giselle shook her head with a short laugh. No, it was time to return to Armand. Besides, Eli and Samantha needed to know about Cyrene.

  The sun was nearing set and the street buzzed to life with sweet jazz when she stepped into the voodoo shop. People pressed through the narrow aisles, talking and pointing and giggling nervously as they looked at the curiosities. The girl at the counter sat up and stared at her as if riveted. Giselle smiled. “Hello,” she said. The girl’s dark eyes were round as she covered a gasp. “Sorry. Did I do something wrong?”

  “N-no…” the girl gulped. “I just…I just never…” her voice dropped, finishing such that no one but Giselle could hear her. “Never seen the wings.”

  Giselle blinked, suddenly worried. But no one else was commenting, pointing, or even looking at them. “Are Eli and Samantha here?”

  “Upstairs.” the girl stuttered. “I’m…I’m Charlotte.”

  “Pleasure to meet you.” Giselle replied with a smile. “Giselle. Perhaps we can talk later.”

  “I’d like that.” Charlotte waved her behind the counter and pointed up a set of stairs behind the counter. “Up there. Just knock, Memaw’s been waiting for you.”

  Nodding, Giselle slipped through the curtain, leaving Charlotte gaping until a customer approached. The door opened before she could knock and she was caught up in slender arms and a cheering cry. “Giselle! Oh, Giselle, I’m so relieved.”

  “Samantha?” Giselle automatically hugged the other woman, but found herself confused. Were they such close friends that Samantha had been very worried? As she pulled back, she found Samantha crying. “Are you okay?”

  “I should be asking you that,” the Inbetweener whined between sniffs.

  “I’m afraid she took the Lucifer’s death a little hard,” Eli said with an apologetic smile, and slid an arm around Samantha’s waist. “She’s still hearing aftershocks.”

  “So I suppose you know,” Giselle hummed, distractedly searching the room for Armand. “Where’s–”

  “Taking a shower,” Samantha interrupted. “Were you there? Did you see the Lucifer? The Damned you fought said he took you.”

  An old woman ambled into the room with a wide smile and a cup of tea. “There you are, darling. It took you longer than I expected.”

  Giselle tilted her head. “Are you…”

  “Cassandra,” the woman replied. “I know. Many years have treated you well, Blood-bearer.”

  “And you as well, seer,” Giselle replied faintly, amazed. The seer had been young when they last met, nearly as tall as Giselle, with diamond black eyes and shining obsidian, tight-curled hair. The hair was white now, and less shiny, her once proud stature much more stooped, though she was more commanding for her age, almost. Still, it was a drastic change.

  The old woman laughed. “Such manners,” she hooted. “I was in my twenties when I foretold your readiness, and so it has come.” She grinned toothily. “It’s such bittersweet pride to see a prophecy unfold neatly. Why, here you are.”

  Samantha and Eli paused where they were and turned to the old woman with narrowed eyes. Samantha hesitated, and then asked, “What do you mean?”

  The old woman was sniggering to herself. “A Damned, an Angel, an Inbetweener and a Mortal under my roof at the same time, embracing and celebrating their reunion?” Cassandra cackled. “Why, my gran’ laughed herself sick when I told her that.”

  “Ada? Is that you?”

  Giselle forwent the rest of the conversation in favor of the voice from the hallway, striding across the living room to meet him face to face once again. She caught her breath. Dressed in just his pants, his dark hair blended into the darkness of the hall, his skin seemed to gather what light was there and burnish it bronze. He smiled, dark eyes crinkling. “I knew you would come, Ada.”

  “Giselle,” she said suddenly. “I am Giselle.” He cocked his head, but his face did not fall, nor did he balk at her words. She reached out, stroked his face. “I’m sorry, Manas. Ada died in the snows of our homeland.”

  He nodded. “If what I am told is right, Armand died at Cyrene’s hands.”

  “He did.” She took his hand. “Could you love the Angel who loved Armand?”

  “If you can love the man who loved Ada.”

  Her throat tightened in relief and joy. It was so good to shed her fear, and when she leaned to kiss him for the first time, he bent as well, and yet their lips met with the softness of a summer breeze, warm and fulfilling. She stroked his face and he broke the kiss after a touch, but his smile was full of promise and gentle acceptance.

  “Was it very hard for you, those hours you were gone?”

  “Impossible and yet as natural as breathing,” she replied, and looped her arm in his. “Come on, I have a story to tell.”

  “He won’t be coming to the table without a shirt,” Cassandra called. “And I hope your Damned friend is willing to put up for accommodation elsewhere. This is an old woman’s house, you know.”

  “In other words,” Eli called, “Get a room you two!”

  “Don’t worry, we’ve got you covered,” Samantha added from the kitchen.

  Armand glanced at her. Giselle couldn’t help but giggle. “Find your shirt,” she said, and kissed his cheek. “Then come.”

  Returning the kiss, Armand turned, and Giselle savored the ribbing she received as she sat at the kitchen table with sweet tea, friends, and the murmur of Bourbon Street below.

  * * * *

  Despite her new found courage, Giselle was still surprised when no one criticized her actions upon recounting her story, even when she left out the proper reason she had gone to Cyrene’s defense. They didn’t need to know why surely. Even with all they’d been through together, she was reluctant to divulge that secret, and merely said Cyrene’s piteous cri
es had swayed her. Cassandra nodded her way through it, Eli and Samantha did no more than glance at each other. Armand took her hand as she choked on the words Cyrene had wept.

  “So Cyrene is the new Lucifer.” Samantha said. “That’s going to go south quickly, so to speak.”

  “Especially if the Lucifer was telling the truth about Cyrene’s madness,” Eli mused, his hands steepled in front of him. “And that makes my confusion about the Lucifer much more confusing.” He frowned.

  “How do you mean?” Giselle asked.

  Eli sighed. “When the Lucifer died…” He eyed Giselle. “This is sort of a delicate question, but when you ascend, are there certain words spoken? Words no one else would know, unless they had ascended as well? Words which echo in your soul?”

  “Yes.” Giselle said. “We call it The Litany.”

  “As there is a Litany of the Angels, so there is a Litany of the Damned.” He tapped his nose with a finger. “I heard the second line of it loud and clear, the first was…garbled. Unintelligible, as if someone were throwing hands out to muffle it, or struggling not to speak.”

  Giselle swallowed. So much for not needing to know why she’d defended Cyrene.

  “Perhaps that’s normal?” Samantha ventured. “Do we have anyone who saw the previous Lucifer’s death?” Samantha asked, frowning. “Diego might have.”

  “Francis maybe,” Eli mused. “I’m not sure. I never asked how old he was.”

  Samantha shook her head. “I doubt it. He didn’t use any weird words or syntax, he was probably not much older than you.”

  “Don’t bother,” Giselle shook her head. “I may know why.”

  They turned to her. Giselle smiled apologetically. “Eli, you know the power in those words, so I hope you’ll understand why I didn’t speak the whole truth before.” He nodded, frowning, and Giselle set herself. “Our litany is two lines.”

  “Ours as well.” Eli replied.

  She nodded. “It was not Cyrene’s pleading which bade me raise my sword against the Lucifer,” she said softly, “But the first line of the Angel’s Litany. She could not finish it, but she cried the first line, over and over.”