Sword's Blessing

by Kaitlin R. Branch

  The table went dead silent for a moment. Cassandra was smiling gently, Samantha frowning. Eli was staring openly, mouth faintly agape. “You’re telling me Cyrene knows the first of the Angel’s litany?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What does that mean?” Samantha asked.

  “One of two things,” Eli replied. “Either she’s a fallen–”

  “No,” Giselle interjected. “Fallen Angels are proclaimed and kept on close watch, if they are not immediately hunted down.”

  “How would she know the first half and not the second?” Samantha asked. “I mean, you can’t interrupt an ascendency half-way through, can you?”

  The table was quiet for a few moments. Cassandra smiled. “The Angels interrupt Damnings enough, don’t they, Giselle?”

  “Yes,” she said softly. “I suppose they do.”

  “So, why not the other way around?”

  Samantha glanced at Giselle, but Giselle could hardly see. There was something chiming in her mind, something terrible. The look on her face must have been dark, everyone stopped and stared.

  Armand finally ventured. “Giselle?”

  She swallowed around a suddenly desert dry tongue. “Samael. She said, ‘The Angel Samael could not break me.’“ She looked at her hands. They were shaking. “Later, she said as Samael was her curse, someone named Aristaeus was her balm, but she had killed him herself.”

  “Do you know anything about an angel named Samael or Aristaeus?” Samantha asked softly.

  “No.” Giselle shook her head. “Nothing. She only said one was her curse and the other her balm. She said she killed Aristaeus, so maybe he was a Damned?”

  Samantha shook her head. “It’s not a Damned name I’ve heard. I’d bet it was Angelic, actually. All those vowels.”

  Eli was frowning. “Two Angels without a history, a Damned who knows the first of the Angel’s Litany, and a very strange shift of the Lucifer.”

  Samantha winced faintly.

  “What?” Giselle asked.

  “Nothing,” she said with a weary smile. “I’m a complete nerd. I just heard Fred from Scooby-doo saying ‘It’s a mystery, folks!’"

  Eli laughed. “That’s my girl.” he said, “fighting Damned with light sabers and thinking of Scooby-doo when the balance hangs in the…” he paused, then finished lamely. “Balance.”

  “How long have you been hanging on to that one, boy?” Cassie asked.

  Sheepish, Eli shrugged. “Only since I got into this mess.”

  * * * *

  They took a break for dinner, promising to reconvene in an hour. Samantha stayed back to talk to Cassandra, Eli slipped off to find a hotel. Armand offered his hand and Giselle took it, heart fluttering. He was beautiful in the evening lights, and with him at her side she barely noticed the jostle and smell of the street as evening fell and the partying began in earnest.

  “Do you remember anything?” she asked as they settled near a quartet playing the blues as smooth and sweet as honey.

  “I had a talk with Samantha and Cassandra about it,” he replied, squeezing her hand. “Samantha described her method of saving me. She said even when Cyrene had shattered my soul, my connection to you kept me together. She said it probably would have been disastrous if I’d actually died, since that connection would have just been severed.”

  Giselle nodded. “I knew I’d go mad without you anyway. That just proves it.”

  “And it means you were right to tell off the Fore,” he replied, and stroked a piece of hair behind her ear. “They said it was for your own good, but they didn’t realize how connected we were. We knew.”

  “We always knew,” she agreed. “Will the memories come back?”

  Truth be told, she didn’t think she minded either way. It would have been nice to have Armand returned to her, but in the end, she was not afraid of being forgotten. They were together and that was what mattered.

  He shrugged. “Cassandra said only very powerful events can unlock those kinds of memories in normal circumstances. Like death or ascension. Samantha added since we’ve got a connection it might be easier, and the lock might just fall apart one day.” He smiled. “I hope it does. I know things about you, but not specifics.”

  “It’s all right,” she said, and leaned up to nuzzle him. Whatever soap he’d used in the shower had scented him of myrrh and frankincense. It was an intoxicating scent, especially combined with the fine cotton of the shirt. She blinked. “Weren’t you wearing different clothes?”

  He laughed, plucking at the button down shirt and black pants. “We got lost trying to get here and wound up asking directions at a mall. Samantha said I might as well look good when you came back.”

  “You do.” She smiled. “I’m a little jealous.”

  “I’ll let you have the shirt.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll just steal it tomorrow morning.”

  “That will look…” he trailed off, blinking faintly, and then eyed her. “Did you just imply…”

  It was a proud moment, and she grinned. “Yes.”

  The look on his face was of such perplexed happiness that she couldn’t help but laugh, knowing it would only get better from here.

  * * * *

  “Well, kids, I’m afraid your rendezvous must be postponed,” Samantha said as they returned to the small kitchen. “Cassandra and I have been talking, and it seems like the best option is to head the problems off at the pass.”

  Armand sat down and frowned. “I won’t argue with that, but how?”

  “Giselle, you said the names Cyrene said were ‘Samael’ and ‘Aristaeus’?” She nodded. Eli sighed. “No one in me has heard those names. Same with Samantha and even Cassandra.”

  “Have we heard anything about Cyrene yet?”

  “Lots of phone calls,” Cassandra hummed. “I’m certain my Damned contacts are still recovering. Word on the street is the shift hit them even harder than it hit Samantha.”

  “Where do we go?”

  Samantha and Eli glanced at each other. Then they sighed in unison.

  “How can we get a hold of the Angelic records?” Samantha asked. “If we can figure out who Samael and Aristaeus are, then maybe we can work out what happened so we know what to expect.”

  Giselle swallowed. “You don’t ask much. If no one’s ever heard of them, they’re in the sealed records.”

  “What kinds of Angels are in the sealed records?” Samantha asked, frowning. “You mentioned full-blooded Angelic children, right?”

  “Full-blooded Angels who fell under the curse, half-blooded angels to be watched, some Fallen, the original Angelic chorus, the mortal names of the Messiah, past and future…” Giselle shrugged. “A lot of miscellany. They have to be in there. It’s just getting in there.” She winced. “It’s not like I can just go ask nicely.”

  Cassandra laughed softly. “Girl, draw your sword and lay it on the table.”

  Perplexed, Giselle did so. Samantha gasped, Eli blinked.

  “Holy crap,” Samantha whispered.

  “What?” she asked, tilting her head. “I told you. The Lucifer’s blood won’t come off.”

  “Yeah, but telling and seeing are way different,” Eli said. “That blade is…frankly it terrifies me just sitting there.”

  Samantha nodded wordlessly.

  “Blood bearer,” Cassandra said in satisfaction. “It is a title granted to very few, Giselle.” She rose, groaning and humming her way through collecting their glasses before continuing. “Technically, your station is higher than the Fore you defied, and if they’ve any sense, they will see your defiance was fate leading you to the Lucifer’s destruction. I’m surprised they haven’t sought you out yet, perhaps they don’t know.” She chuckled. “So close to ending the line, too.”

  “What do you mean, so close?” Giselle asked, frowning.

  “Why, if an Angel properly kills the Lucifer without becoming a fallen themselves, then the souls of hell are released.” Cassandra nodded. “But that
inpouring of anger and greed has consumed many. I am glad you didn’t chance it.”

  “I…actually didn’t think of it.” Giselle sighed. “Is the title truly important?”

  “Oh yes.” Cassandra nodded.

  “How do you know so much about custom?” Samantha asked, frowning. “On both sides, no less.”

  Cassandra grinned and tapped her nose. “Seer’s privilege,” she said. “You two will have to stay here I’m afraid. Our boy Armand should go, though, so the proud may see what the bond they nearly destroyed has wrought.”

  Giselle glanced at Armand, who shrugged. “Well, we did want to spend the evening together,” he said with a lopsided smile.

  “Aw, remember our second date, honey?” Eli asked, elbowing Samantha.

  “You mean the six hour drive while I was going completely mad?” Samantha replied, rolling her eyes. “Thank heavens, I’ve mostly forgotten.”

  * * * *

  They went across the river, Eli driving until they found a stretch of road by a levy with large abandoned houses. “Why are they abandoned like this?” Armand asked softly as the four of them crept into the front hall of one such house, with a winding, carpeted staircase and a mosaic tile floor. “It’s a beautiful house.”

  “A hurricane destroyed the levy several years ago,” Samantha looked around. “I guess these houses were just too costly to salvage.” She glanced at Giselle. “Is this a good spot?”

  She nodded. “This is perfect,” she said, and let out a slow breath. “You guys can go.”

  “You know how to get back?” Eli asked. “And you have the phone?”

  Giselle smiled. “Yes and yes. It’s a pretty straight shot.”

  “Still.” Eli grimaced, and then held out his hand. “Good luck.”

  They left. Giselle and Armand stared at each other for a moment, and then embraced. “I have faith in you, Giselle,” Armand said, and leaned down to taste her lips, caressing her cheek. “I have always had faith in you.”

  “I know,” she replied, and took his face in her hands, kissing him again, deeper, more insistent. His hands dropped to her hips and she swallowed faintly. How sweet it felt to be touched by him like this, his hands on her waist, how she longed for them lower and higher and everywhere at once. He turned his face enough to lean her to the side, hands winding around her back until they stroked the base of her wings and she gasped, renewing the kiss with a stuttering breath. He lingered for a long moment, and she shivered. Too young to discover herself as a child, and too pure as an Angel, the sensation of his hands against her wings was greater than anything she had ever experienced. It made her ache in ways she understood logically, but had never truly felt. His fingers trailed up the crest of her wings and then to her neck. She couldn’t stifle the moan, and he answered by pulling her closer.

  How long they stayed like that, him touching her, drawing thrills of sensation and slowly throbbing need she wasn’t sure. Finally she idly thought of their duty and winced. Gently, she disentangled from his arms. She was relieved to find him as flushed as she felt. “Work to do.”

  “You’re right.”

  They paused. Stared at each other another moment, and she nearly blurted she didn’t care, she wanted him there, then. Damn their duty, it could wait the hour, maybe less, it would take to shed their clothes and consummate that plunging, desperate feeling! He didn’t move, and after a moment the urge faded. She took a breath, let it out, and smiled. When she held out her hand, he took it, and its warmth and friendship had not faded in the least.

  Giselle let her eyes drift closed and she concentrated, spreading her wings wide, raising a hand. “I would speak to the Fore. Come to me.”

  This time there was no light, nor booming voices. There was a pause, and then down the stairs walked a man, tall, thin and shaved bald. His face was severe and marred by scars, and his skin was gaunt and stretched by sun and toil. Giselle watched him beneath her lashes, noting how his wings folded tight against his back. He had always been imposing, but normally his wings were out. This was the posture of meeting an enemy, meant to protect the wings from harm.

  Nonetheless, she didn’t move until he came before her, using his height to bear down on her. “Giselle,” he drawled. “You called me, and I answer. What business does an oath breaker have with her former Fore?” He eyed Armand distastefully. “And with a mortal, no less.”

  He was baiting her. Giselle thought to fashion a retort, but she kept her peace. To argue was not her aim. “I call on you to release records of Cyrene, the newly risen Lucifer, and the Angels Samael and Aristaeus.”

  The Fore stared at her for a moment, his lip lifting. “First you defy me and lay down the blessings of your wings. Then you ally yourself with the Lucifer rather than returning to us. And then you ask this boon, which would not have been granted had you stayed with us?” He snorted. “How far you have fallen, Giselle. You were so promising, too.”

  She had expected this, and shifted so Armand stood slightly behind her, easily stepped in front of. “I will ask once more. In good faith, release the records of Cyrene, Samael, and Aristaeus to me.”

  “With no reason and no call, I will do no such thing.”

  “The reason is simple enough. I was there as Cyrene ascended to the Lucifer. I spoke to her. She is in grave distress. She knows the first line of the Angel’s Litany. She spoke the names Samael and Aristaeus, and I mean to discover who they are.”

  The Fore paused. “You are telling me extremely strange things, Giselle. Perhaps you have gone mad yourself.”

  “I assure you that is not the case.”

  “Then show me proof of your presence at the Lucifer’s death.”

  Giselle did not move. “You will give me the records upon proof of my presence at the death of the previous Lucifer and ascendance of Cyrene?”

  Clearly, he did not believe her, she thought, because he waved. “Yes.”

  “Then inspect my sword.” Giselle drew her blade and leveled it at the Fore, casually so as not to be any more threatening than she had to be. At first the Fore stiffened and leaned back, but as the glow of the blessings filled the room, the Fore’s eyes widened. He looked up at her in disbelief.

  “Blood bearer,” he choked out. “You…”

  “I stared evil in the face and spoke its name,” Giselle said without lowering her sword. “I have survived a well-meaning attempt on my sanity and shed the blessings of my wings only to earn them back a hundred-fold.”

  She took a step forward, lifting her chin. What had he done for her? This man who tried to sever her from love, tried to shape her and only clipped her wings?

  “I have let the blood of the Lucifer. Look on it. This is the error I have illuminated. My terror lies crumpled with the Lucifer’s corpse.” The Fore’s eyes flew wide as she gently touched the tip of her sword to his throat. “The files.”

  To his credit, he did not back down, and his voice was even as he met her gaze. “You are threatening me for this information.”

  “It’s for your own good.” She could not keep the bitter irony from her voice. Slowly, she held out her free hand. “Now, if you please.”

  “What will you do if I do not?” he asked. “Slay me?”

  Giselle smiled faintly. “Despite your best attempts, I have not fallen. I still ascribe to heaven’s beliefs. I know you find no mercy in your heart for Cyrene. It is up to me.” She smiled. “Someone once pointed out to me we must survive hell to ascend to heaven, and if so, what must a Damned survive? I believe I have seen a piece of it now.”

  “Pity drives you.” His voice was still even.

  “No. The words I spoke upon my ascension drive me. Illuminate the greater error. Serve the world without your terror. Isn’t Cyrene a part of the world? Isn’t her pain an error we have sworn to bring to light?”

  The Fore watched her gravely for a long moment. Finally, he nodded. “Blood bearer. It is said they are always the most troublesome of Angels. You have proven to be no except
ion.” He stepped back and waved a hand through the air, collecting light until a book sat in his hand. He glanced at it, frowning. “There are no records of Samael. At least, none I may access. I swear this by my wings. But here is everything on Cyrene the Damned and Aristaeus the Mortal.”

  Giselle raised an eyebrow. “The Mortal?” she asked. “We had thought him an Angel.”

  “Not at all,” the Fore replied, and turned to the stairs, beginning to climb. “Aristaeus was Cyrene’s son. Until next we meet, Blood bearer.”

  * * * *

  “Her son,” Samantha screeched. “By who? When?”

  “It doesn’t speak of the father, but it was when she was still a mortal,” Giselle handed the book over. “I’ve already assimilated the information. You’re going to have to read the old fashioned way. It almost creates more questions than it answers.”

  “Of course it does. That’s just how it works with these things.” Eli growled. “Where is the son now?”

  Giselle tapped her fingers against her blade hilt. “According to the records, Cyrene bore the child but despised it. She became a Damned and killed him the first moment she could.”

  “That doesn’t scan,” Armand said softly. “Didn’t she tell you Aristaeus was her balm?”

  “Yes,” Giselle whispered. “Yes, she did. Why would a woman kill the child she calls her balm?” She sucked on her lip.

  “Did she say anything else?” Samantha asked, eyes scanning the pages steadily. “Anything at all?”

  Giselle closed her eyes and dredged up the memory, frowning to herself. If every word Cyrene had said was spoken with full intent, then... “Yes. She said ‘Samael must not find him’.”

  “That explains why the child had to die to some extent,” Eli said. He rubbed his temples. “If not a thousand other things. Sounds like a dead end, anyway.”

  “Yes. And we still don’t know who Samael is. Which worries me even more. If my Fore cannot access it, that means we’d need the blessings of a high order.”