by Ali Cross
“Well, quit muttering to yourself, old man,” Knowles finally said. “Did you find it or not?”
Cornelius looked up and stared at Knowles. “Yes, yes I think so. Would you tell her, please?” He gestured toward me and Knowles sighed.
“Akaros’ return portends grave danger for Earth,” he said. I didn’t bother telling him I already knew that. “It is the first time he has stood on Earth since Hitler, and even then, he did not stay long—he couldn’t get what he wanted.” Longinus looked up at that, his eyes burning into Knowles. I couldn’t figure out what I was missing, or what I saw on Longinus’ face. Sadness? Regret?
“Unfortunately, this time, it seems he is more determined than ever to reach his goal.” Knowles angled his body toward me. I squirmed under his mild blue gaze and focused on the feel of Michael’s hand on mine. “It seems he is no longer looking to incite war and destruction among humans, but is striving to break the balance between all the worlds.”
Abruptly, he stood and paced the small distance between his chair and the table.
He stopped just as suddenly and stared down at me. Try as I might I could not tear my eyes away.
“Lucifer’s plan has been set into motion. One he’s mobilized many times before without success. A plan to destroy Midgard, so no one can Ascend, not ever again.”
“Then he’ll fail again,” I shot back.
Shook my head.
Stared some more while his crazy-talk words filtered through my brain and tried to find purchase. Miri traced a finger round and round the logo on the top of her laptop, and the motion made me furious. I had an irrational desire to grab her hand and make her stop. I dug my fingernails into my palms.
“You’ve got to be joking.” A snort bubbled out of me. False and hollow, tinny-sounding, even to me. “Without Earth, Father has no power—he depends upon the Gardians failing at their quest and being denied Ascension. Destroy Midgard, and Hell’s population—Father’s kingdom—is relegated to obscurity.”
Now I stood. I walked to the door, but it was closed and didn’t offer any help. I turned around and faced them, none of whom moved, all eyes on me.
“Not obscurity, child. I believe he intends to unleash Ragnarok—the Apocalypse. Odin would be forced to open the halls of Valhalla and release the warriors and Valkyries.”
He stepped around the desk and approached me, his eyes holding mine all the while. And when he put his hands on my arms, I didn’t pull away.
“Asgard will be left unprotected—I think Lucifer plans to invade, while Odin—and most assuredly Thor—are distracted by the war on Midgard.” He squeezed, gently, and offered me a kind, if sad, smile. “Your father’s aim is not Ragnarok—he seeks to wipe out the Gardians and claim Ascension for all his followers.
I couldn’t help it, I looked at Knowles. He was already watching me—already anticipating my question.
“From the moment Odin exiled me from home, I have been trying to get back.” He spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, as if the very words themselves could be deadly. “But not like this—not as an invader. Once, I thought Ascension should be mine, as a child of Asgard. Once, I let myself believe Loki, er, Lucifer. We had a right to Ascension—all of us. But when I witnessed the brutal destruction he was willing to unleash on our friends, I began to understand, to see the fault in Loki’s plan. Still, I was young and impulsive. It wasn’t until we were forced from Asgard, the blood of fellow Gardians on my hands, that I realized what I had done, how wrong we were. I no longer deserved Ascension—none of us did.”
Knowles stood straight and raised his chin—there, I could see a hint of the proud Gardian he must once have been. “I will stop at nothing to deny Loki and his followers Ascension. They will not pervert the way of the gods. They cannot be allowed entry to Asgard—not ever again.”
And that’s when I knew that everything I’d believed up until now, was wrong. It seemed, I knew nothing at all. Without a word, I sat down.
“Hell has tried, at least three times, to start the Apocalypse. So far they’ve been unsuccessful,” Miri said. I bowed my head—I so didn’t want to hear this. Not with her voice—the voice of an innocent human girl. It wasn’t right. None of this was right. But it didn’t stop her from continuing.
“Hitler, Genghis Kahn, Emperor Qin. I suspect there’s more, but those are the only ones I’m pretty sure about.”
I couldn’t do anything to stop the chill that worked its way from the tip of my head all the way down to my toes. Michael put his hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently, calming me. Claiming me.
I knew the men Miri’d mentioned. Of course I knew. And I knew a whole lot more about them than any internet search or library book could tell. They were some of the most favored of Father’s cronies. Kahn had a high-backed, opulent chair next to Akaros, its ornate beauty nearly rivaling Father’s own.
“We’ve been able to trace Lucifer’s hand in world events all the way to the Spartans and beyond. It’s pretty fascinating. Actually—”
In a flash I stood, my face in Miri’s, forcing her to lean against the chair back. “The Spartans,” I enunciated carefully, “are Akaros’ pets. And you know nothing of Lucifer, or of Hell. You have no idea what he is capable of—nothing of Akaros’ loyalty. Nothing.” I resisted the urge to jab my finger against her chest—I wanted so badly to hit something, to hurt something. Not Miri, just . . . something.
I felt my shadow-self strain, felt the burning need to let go, but I stood straight, balled my fists and concentrated on breathing, on just being. Breathe in. Breathe out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Then Michael’s hand was on my arm, sliding up, warming me, infusing me with the oh, so sweet comfort of his presence.
I let out a long, slow breath.
“Look, Akaros is wicked. I get it. He’s been Father’s right-hand-man for like, ever. And yes, if what you say is true— about the Apocalypse and all—then Akaros would be the only one Father would trust with such a task.” I forced my body to be still, for my eyes to grow hard and my face to be a mask of strength and knowledge. “But Father’s . . . well, Satan. And in case you didn’t notice, he’s way more powerful than Akaros. Than anyone. We don’t stand a chance against him.”
I turned so I could see everyone, meet their eyes. Cornelius dropped his gaze to the table and smoothed a page in his book. “Well, except for maybe Odin,” I offered, thinking he was the only one who could defeat Father.
I collapsed into my chair, not sure what else to say.
“Desolation,” Father Cornelius said.
“Desi,” I corrected.
“Desi.” He took a deep breath and rested his hands on the table, crumpling some loose papers. He sighed, long and low. “This is our purpose. This is why we were created. It is also why you were created.”
Silence breathed like a presence.
I was created.
I had a purpose.
No one asked whose weapon I would choose to be.
Cornelius looked up at Longinus. “I think she is our best hope, my friend. Give her the spearhead—she must be the one to finish it now.”
Longinus lunged out from the wall. His hands clenched into tight hammers at his side and he raised his chin, his mouth wide in a ferocious scream. He rammed his fist into the cabinet beside him, the wood splintering and flying from the small crater he left behind. “I will die, once and for all, before I let him have it!” He stormed from the room so brusquely, the air whooshed in his wake. We listened while he stomped down the hallway until the heavy doors to the school clashed shut and we heard nothing at all.
chapter twenty-seven
“What is with him?” I asked the quiet room.
“He’s a little touchy,” Miri said, not fazed at all by Longinus’ outburst. She was back to scrolling through the screens on her computer.
Knowles cleared his voice. “In a vision, Miri saw Akaros with the intact spear—the obvious conclusion being that Lon
ginus fails in his mission to protect the spearhead, despite his vehement protestations.” Knowles was a shadow in the corner, his voice seeming to come from everywhere at once.
Miri looked up and shrugged. “I didn’t like telling Longinus about that dream, let me tell you. And I sure hope I’m wrong.” She turned back to her screen. “I hope I’m wrong about all of it.”
“So . . . Who is he, anyway?”
Cornelius opened his mouth, a stern expression directed at Miri. I thought he’d tell her off for being impertinent or something. Instead he sighed and the tiniest of smiles graced his lips. “He has the unique ability to come back from the dead. An ancient curse, I’m afraid, but a gift to us. You see, Longinus is the guardian of the spear of destiny.”
“The spear of destiny.” I’m sure my left eyebrow quirked upward and I probably wore a scornful look on my face. At least I didn’t snort.
“We believe Akaros means to claim the spearhead and attach it to the staff he carries—the one Michael tells us was formed from the Tree of Knowledge, itself. A more powerful weapon would never have existed in this world before. The power to destroy, forever, any that are not ready to Ascend. Deadly to mortals, Gardians and the Fallen—that is if the two pieces are allowed to be united.”
I looked at my hands. At my hand in Michael’s. My hand that was so cold. And while I watched, black tendrils curled and snaked their way over my fingertips, across the back of my hand and up my wrist. I jerked, wanting to pull away from Michael before he saw it, or felt it, or before I infected him. If that was even possible.
But he held on more tightly, and even put his other hand on top of mine, so it was caught between both of his. He looked at me, and while I avoided meeting his gaze I felt his calling mine, demanding that I connect. Acknowledge him.
“Desi,” he said, so softly I thought no one else in the room could hear him. “We have to get the staff from Akaros. Before he has the chance to get the spearhead. If he gets it . . . ”
“Big badda boom,” Miri said, just as quietly.
“Something like that,” Michael responded. He moved his hand upward, warming my shivering arm. “Have you seen it? You know . . . the staff?” His eyes searched mine, unable to admit the truth even when it stared right back at him.
“In Hell, you mean.” He recoiled like I had slapped him. And in a way, maybe I had. I couldn’t let him forget who I was, that I wasn’t the girl he remembered, the loved-by-an-angel girl. I was Desolation. The devil’s daughter.
I looked at Father Cornelius and Longinus, who had quietly returned to the room and reclaimed his post in the corner. They didn’t know—they were human. They knew nothing.
My eyes flicked to Knowles, wondering how much he knew of Lucifer and his plans. It was Michael’s face, though, that drew me. His warm eyes and golden touch. What did he know of the evil that lurked beyond this world—beyond Asgard? The closest I thought he’d ever come was the War—but Akaros and Lucifer were Gardians back then. Golden. Shining.
Michael couldn’t even fathom how far they’d fallen.
How far I’d fallen.
He looked at me now with love and trust. Two things I feared I’d never be worthy of.
I yanked my hand from his grasp and stood, rocking my chair as I did. I clenched my fists at my side and glared at the people around me.
“You are foolish. Every one of you.” I made sure each of them knew I meant them—personally. Even Miri. “You are humans, a Fallen who had never set foot in Hell before the other day, and a Gardian who’s blinded by love.” Michael flinched, but I forced myself to turn away from him. It was better this way. Better for him to know, before he let himself believe there could ever be anything more between us—the girl he knew was gone. Long gone.
“You’ve only seen a Shadow—and maybe a Halo,” I said, glancing at Michael. Cold burned through my veins, but I wouldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. They were talking about things they knew nothing about. “You have no idea what Lucifer—the Glorious, Triumphant Devourer of Hope, the Lord of Lies, King of Injustice, Father of Horrors, my father—you have no idea what he is capable of.”
Knowles opened his mouth to protest, but I thrust my fist toward him and watched in surprise as a burst of air flowed from it and made Knowles cough, effectively cutting him off.
“No, you don’t know, whatever you might think. You saw him as a man—I know him as the Shadow he is—the demon. Don’t fool yourselves,” I said. “He is a god, and none can defy him.”
Knowles, whose eyes had grown wide, finally showing the fear that befitted the situation, pointed at my hand that I now held clenched at my side.
“What is that?” His words bit into the air, accusing.
“It’s nothing,” Michael said, jumping to his feet and blocking Knowles’ view of me.
“Let me see,” Knowles demanded, but Michael didn’t budge.
“Are you keeping secrets, little girl?” Knowles tried to shoulder Michael out of the way, but he was like a boulder, steadfast and immovable. I had a twinge of pride then, a moment of communion. And then I shoved it away.
“I have no secrets,” I said, stepping around Michael. I held my arm out in front of me for everyone to see the tendrils of inky black that curled around my forearm. “I’ve told you. I’m not what you think—I am a demon.”
“No you’re not!” Miri said, but her voice was even higher than usual, the tight strain belying the words she meant to defend me. “I’ve seen your Halo.”
“I knew you were divided—I’ve seen the proof. But that is unlike any Shadow I have ever seen,” Knowles whispered, his voice cracking just a little.
I looked at my hand, then shrugged. It seemed the least of our problems.
“Well, then,” Cornelius said, slipping the glasses that hung from a chain around his neck back onto his nose. “I think we knew when we first met in the crypt that she was not the one we sought—not the Pure.”
I wasn’t ready to give up this foolish argument that there was any hope for mankind if Father bent his will to Ragnarok. If he wanted to bring death and destruction to Earth—that’s what they’d get.
“But it has to be her,” Longinus said. Even Knowles and Michael moved to the table and watched while Cornelius found the paper he was looking for.
“A sacred weapon,” Cornelius said.
“The rod.” Longinus nodded his head, thoroughly confident. I wanted to believe I didn’t know what they were talking about, but at the mention of the spear, my skin tingled and knowing tugged at the back of my mind. The garden, the precious staff on my lap . . .
“The blood of Ascension.”
Everyone looked at Longinus whose face hardened (that’s if a stone can get stonier) under their gaze. He pulled an object from beneath his shirt. He gripped it in his hand so tightly I expected him to bleed. He finally opened his palm and held the object out for everyone to see.
In his hand, he clasped a spearhead, the center point about four inches long and deadly, its surface mottled with the patina of age. “I vow to you, the devil himself would have to pry this from my cold, dead hands to rid me of the weight of this burden. And that cannot happen.” The fire I’d seen when we first came into the room flashed in Longinus’ eyes.
His passion was admirable, but pointless. I grunted and rolled my eyes.
“Yes?” Cornelius asked me, while Longinus’ clenched his jaw.
“You can’t be serious.” I paused long enough to get that they really were. Not one looked away. Even Miri glanced up from her laptop with wide, questioning eyes. I gestured to the thing in Longinus’ hand. “That wouldn’t stop Michael, let alone Lucifer.” I resisted looking at Michael, asking him to forgive me. And I resisted the shiver that worked its way through my body—I didn’t want to admit to anyone, least of all myself, that even I didn’t know what could stop Father. I couldn’t even stand against Akaros—he was far too powerful. Certainly for any of them.
No one said anything, but it was obvious f
rom the looks on their faces that it was me they thought was nuts.
Miri cleared her throat and when I met her eyes, she held her laptop up. “Here,” she said. Michael and I switched seats so I could dutifully look at the screen she turned toward me. “See this?” She showed me a painting I recognized, as it was from the post-Raphaelite era I loved and featured prominently in the tapestries I had in my rooms in Hell. This picture showed Christ on the cross while a Roman centurion pierced his side with a spear.
“So?”
“Look closely,” Miri urged.
She double clicked on the image. It filled the screen and I leaned forward—and recognized the tip of the spear. It was the relic Longinus still clung to as if it were his very purpose for existing.
I searched his face but while he met my gaze, he gave nothing away.
And then it hit me.
Longinus, a man who felt as timeless as the Earth itself, a man who I couldn’t get any kind of read on. Clutching the object in his hands like it was the Holy Grail itself.
“Oh, hell no.”
No one spoke. No one even seemed to breathe for the space of one, two, three seconds.
And then Miri sighed. And Knowles cleared his throat.
Michael took my hand and squeezed it.
Longinus didn’t move. He didn’t even blink.
“Yes,” Cornelius said. “The spearhead is bathed in the blood of Christ—the blood of an Ascending Gardian. No Gardian could stand against such a weapon. And, with it, Heimdall will fall. He is the god who guards the Bifrost—the Bridge between all the worlds. With such a weapon, all the gods could fall.”
I glanced at the tapestry on the wall—the one of the Tree of Life, really a depiction of Ygdrasyll, the tree of worlds. If Heimdall fell, if Asgard . . .
I looked at my hand in Michael’s, and Remembered how we dreamed of Ascension and creating a world of our own. I looked at Miri, who stared at her computer screen, unmoving, not reading. Tears glistened on her cheeks.