The Blackbird's Song

by Billy Wong

  His simple, honest answer made Pete's eyes widen with doubt. "But we do."

  "What do you mean?"

  Grendel knew he really shouldn't. Yet he felt sorry for this man, and couldn't resist at least letting him know why he had to die. "Since you won't live to see tomorrow..." He whispered into Pete's ear.

  His captive blinked. "I was wrong—you aren't so evil after all. I understand why you do these things. But must it be this way?"

  "The world couldn't handle the truth."

  "Gah, gah!" Atticus screamed downstairs.

  "Don't tell this to Blackbird," Pete said. "She's not mature enough, we don't know how she'll react. I already sent my followers away through the tunnels, past the vault in the basement behind the wine barrels. If you catch them... can I please ask you not to kill them?"

  "I won't kill them if I can at all help it. I don't like the way things are either. If I could give up five, ten years of my life to have the world be different, I would. But since I can't and things are the way they are..."

  "She's too... invincible," Muriel gasped downstairs. "I... love you, husband."

  Pete nodded. "I understand. You won't harm my wife and child, will you?"

  "I'll make sure they aren't harmed if I'm the one to find them. If I survive this night of the Blackbird."

  "Aieeeee!"

  "Then do what you must," Pete said.

  He sank his glaive deep into the chest of Pete, who stared at him with—respect?—for seconds before his reflexive grip on the shaft loosened and he fell back. Grendel closed the dead man's eyes, feeling more sorry than ever before. He knew he did the right thing, but why did the right thing have to be so cruel? His life might have been happier if he never sought employment in the church, and he found out... but then, he'd be a self-pitying weakling to cry about that now.

  He had better get going before Blackbird came up.

  #

  "We must use... our final Combination Art," Atticus gasped as the savage got up again from one of his huge blasts. Both he and his wife were on their last legs, covered in wounds and barely able to breathe, but the monster girl showed no signs of slowing down. If they didn't stop her now, they never would.

  Muriel reached a shaking hand towards his own. "We will die young."

  "Yes, but if we don't, we'll die now. We must!"

  "All right." They clasped hands and extended their other arms towards the demon Blackbird.

  "Air plus Flame Combination Art, Maximum Solar Tornado!" they shouted in unison. A screaming whirlwind formed around Blackbird courtesy of Muriel's powers, then the air within it ignited at Atticus' behest. Blackbird shrieked and shrieked in agony as her life was surely burned away, then... stopped.

  "We've probably lost... thirty years of our lives," Muriel said, her face now wrinkled and hair gray. "But we actually killed-"

  Blackbird leaped out of the blazing inferno covered in burns, her ridiculously huge sword plunging deep into Muriel's torso. She had moments to share one last loving look with her husband before the monster twisted the blade and then ripped it out her side. Her body fell nearly torn in half, the lips whose smile had charmed Atticus upon their first meeting stilled forever. Tears sprang from his eyes and ran down his cheeks like raindrops.

  "Why won't you die?" he asked desperately.

  She locked gazes with him. "I'll die. Everyone dies. But me, my death will be after these battles are over. I'll pass away happy, surrounded by my friends who are alive and going to join those who are gone. Because I'm not a villain like you finally getting your just due."

  "I hate you self-righteous bullies... at least I get to die with my beloved..." He summoned the last of his power, hoping it would at least slow her down enough for Grendel to finish their task. His entire body glowed red with the fire gathering within, and just before her sword would have passed through his neck, he exploded.

  #

  Blackbird lowered her blade, having used it to shield her face from the brunt of the exploding man. Her forearms were badly burned, the fabric fused to her skin in some places, and it really stung. "So you'd rather kill yourself than die at her my hand?" she asked the dust drifting towards the ground that remained of him. Either way, he was out of her way. She walked deeper into the restaurant, noting it might be in danger of collapsing given how much damage her battle had done to the walls. Before the kitchen door lay Jason and Janice, bloodied and dead. She felt mad. Professional warriors killing a couple of waiters? Let's see how they handled a real opponent.

  She stepped into the kitchen. But there was no one there to fight, no one to kill. The only other person in the room was Fatim, sitting in a corner with his temple bashed in. Though her anger remained, grief took over as her primary emotion. Even though she hadn't known them long or well, they'd all been unique people who had dreams and knew joy who had been snuffed out. The twins would never celebrate each other's weddings and care for one another's children, and Fatim never find his perfect recipe for that spicy yellow chicken she would miss. Who did the church think they were, having the right to take the lives of others unprovoked? But heavy as her heart was, she had to move on. The others might still be alive. Now where should she go, upstairs or down... if anyone had escaped, it would likely be through the basement tunnel, so she decided to go up to check there first. By the time she reached the top of the stairs, she caught the scent of blood coming from Pete's bedroom. Maybe it could be that of a church knight—but in her heart, she already knew what she was likely to find. She entered the doorway.

  Pete appeared to be sleeping peacefully on his bed, the massive gash in his chest around which a dark bloodstain spread dispelling that illusion. A chill ran through Blackbird. Even though she'd been saddened about the others, only now did it really hit home now how much danger her friends were in. If the man who taught Henry and Andrew could be killed, they could very easily be too. She looked at his death wound again. It must have been made by a huge blade—she touched her stomach where she'd been impaled before. Although she couldn't be sure, she had a feeling... Grendel.

  Hot rage boiled up inside her to match the burning of her wounds. She grabbed the door frame and ripped a chunk out, walked into the room and almost flipped over Pete and Nicole's bed with one hand before vaguely remembering he was on it and punching a hole in the floor instead. Blackbird screamed long and loud, a piercing cry of sorrow and hatred. She imagined Grendel hearing it and running. Yes, run, run, run! Do it while you can, soon I'll punch through your body and rip your guts out with my teeth, all while you're still alive. A red haze began to tint her vision.

  Wait. She couldn't do this. She couldn't lose control, not when doing so might mean hurting people she didn't want to. Opening her fists, she took a deep breath. Be angry, that's fine. Just don't get consumed by the blood lust... The rising tension in her body halted for now, she stood and walked over to Pete.

  "I'm sorry I wasn't here to help you," she said softly, placing a blistered hand on his chest. "Maybe I shouldn't have gone selling... but I'll do my best to make sure everybody else stays safe, I promise." She pulled the heat-warped circlet he had recommended to her out of her belt and placed it on her head. "And I'll wear this in your honor from now on, Uncle Pete."

  Words weren't going to protect anyone, so with that she hurried downstairs. The wine barrels had been moved; they'd already discovered the escape route. She dashed down the tunnel, jumped up the open trapdoor into a back alley and looked around. It seemed like she had taken too long... but she could see faint bloody footprints on the pavement and followed after them. The backs of several church knights jogging briskly away came into view—and at their head, their leader.

  "Grendel! I knew it was you!"

  He exhaled. "Dammit." The church knights seemed to hesitate, then three of them ran to meet her. Her flying knee to one snapped his neck, and she rode his falling body down while cleaving another vertically through the skull and torso. The third stopped coming at her, turned his back and fled.
Her blade sheared him in two while she passed and barreled on towards Grendel. He shoved his last companion at her. She swatted him aside into a wall, not bothering to kill him though breaking bones could be heard, and continued forward. "Crap."

  "I'm going to cut you in pieces!" she snarled, and let loose with a flurry of slices. He blocked a few, but then the head of his glaive flew off and buried itself in a nearby brick wall. She grabbed his shaft and pulled him forward, lifted him over her head. Having a flash of inspiration, she turned and threw him into the piece of glaive imbedded in the wall. Due to his armor, it didn't penetrate deeply enough to kill him, but he yelled in pain and fell to the ground clutching his flank. Blackbird motioned for him to get up. He staggered to his feet, bared his teeth defiantly and stepped forward. She drew her fist back and put her weight into a overhand power punch, denting his breastplate and hurling him to his back. He rolled onto his side, coughing. Though she didn't normally enjoy others' suffering, right now she relished his.

  She picked him up and lifted him into the air with one hand, punched him again and again with the other. "Die, die, die, die, die!" Her fist destroyed his face, turning flesh into pulp and breaking bones and teeth. She tossed him across the ground, making his pulverized features slide agonizingly across the hard cobbles. "On second thought, don't yet." She touched her forehead. "I'm going to kill you with this."

  "A-a circlet?"

  "I'm going to ram it through your throat!" She grasped the headpiece, and was about to pull it off when she sensed something coming at her from the right. She spun and blocked. The force was such it still bowled her off her feet, but she rolled through and flipped upright. It had been a giant axe, wielded by a very heavily armored and helmeted man nearly seven feet tall who now stood in the alley.

  "Who are you?" both she and Grendel asked, though the latter's words came out nigh unrecognizable just like his visage.

  He addressed Grendel. "Theodor Homson, Angel of Earth. I got word you might be on a collision course with this demon tonight. So I thought I'd see if you needed help. Maybe you ought to scurry along now, comrade." Looking somewhere between embarrassed and grateful, Grendel lurched up and stumbled away. Blackbird stepped towards him, but Theodor barred the way. "You'll have to deal with me first, pretty."

  She knew she didn't look pretty right now, with her face all burned, and spat. "Angel of Earth? I thought Rodrick was the Angel of Earth, and I killed him."

  "He was, and you did." His face, the only fleshy part visible, altered to reflect he would be using his stone body and regeneration from the start. "God choose me to replace him and inherit his power. As long as there are worthy faithful to take up the fight, His angels can never be defeated."

  "But what if I wipe you all out?" They charged each other, clashing like two bulls. He didn't feel as strong as Rodrick, but was faster and had that armor on top of his rock form unlike his predecessor when he'd transformed. She thought he could give her a good fight, but would rather go after Grendel right now and finish him. She got an idea. "You're smaller than Rodrick," she said while parrying a slash.

  He smiled and dodged her return blow. They danced around each other trading attacks and counters, belying their huge weapons and his bulk. They both got in their share of hits—his making her bleed, hers mostly just damaging his armor as any to his body was quickly healed. Much as she didn't want to admit it, her battered body began to wear down and her arms were growing heavier. "But I'm faster than him," he replied.

  "You're weaker too."

  "Like playing word games, huh? I'm more agile." Shockingly for his massive frame, he somersaulted over her and struck at her back. She blocked and then kicked behind her shoulder, catching him in the jaw and knocking him down.

  "You're less skilled."

  Sitting up, his eyes narrowed. "No I'm not."

  She pressed the attack, landing blow after glancing blow that did little in terms of even superficial harm. "Yes you are. Rodrick fought me as a human and held his own, he only changed when he was about to lose. Bet you wouldn't do that."

  Enraged, he lunged through one of her hits and chopped into her ribs. She staggered back, her flank gushing blood, and he took full advantage of his momentum. He cut her repeatedly with the axe, mixing in stunning punches and brain-shaking kicks. Even those strikes she defended felt ever stronger, to the point of rivaling Rodrick's. His bloodlusted eyes shone with impending triumph. Blocking the full force of his weapon one more time, her legs buckled. She dropped to a crouch, putting a hand down to catch herself. The axe swept back up...

  In a flash, she darted behind him and sliced through his spine. "What?!" he gasped as he fell to his knees—the wound in his back healing, but not fast enough.

  "I knew you wouldn't be foolish enough to change back to human form, but my challenge worked in getting you angry. I figured if you became careless enough, I could end you in one move." His spine was almost restored, so she cut it again. "And I was nowhere near as weakened as I let you think. Anything to say, quickly?"

  "You cheap... I hope you burn in hell." He held her gaze defiantly as she gripped her sword in two hands and took his head. For some reason his neck gave more resistance than expected, but she still got through it.

  Blackbird gazed towards Grendel's trail of blood. With his injuries, he probably hadn't gotten far, and she could easily catch up and kill him. But wait, her allies! Kara and Ronald must have escaped if the church knights had been chasing them, and there might be other dangers out here besides Grendel. If they lost their lives while she was busy settling a grudge... she couldn't stand herself then. She gave up the hunt in favor of searching for those she needed to protect.

  Glancing back at the stony corpse she left behind, she came up with one more good line. "You call yourselves angels?" she said under her breath. "Well, maybe I'm your angel of judgment."

  Chapter 8

  They had scarcely even entered Septapolis before Henry realized something was wrong. The streets were so empty, and those who did dare go outside hurried from point to point as if fearing the reaper might come for them at any moment. His breath quickened as he drew close to the restaurant and took in the damage to its facade. The most likely explanation was also the worse case scenario. "The church must have found us out," Andrew said, echoing his thoughts. "I hope our friends got away..."

  They asked around, and gathered that three angels had been slain a few nights ago when the "heretics' lair" had been raided. Their killer was still on the loose, and had been declared a demon by the Archcardinal. It gladdened Henry to know Blackbird was okay, and he wondered if she was with the others. But then he learned that despite the church's losses, they had gained a measure of success with the death of their targets' leader. Upon hearing it from a homeless woman sitting nearby, he turned away quickly before she could see his anguished face.

  "Goddammit, they killed Pete!" he said in the lowest voice he could manage, and punched a wall in helpless fury. Blood stained the rough gray stone, but he hardly registered it. His eyes were tearing up, and he couldn't suppress it... thankfully, the beggar didn't notice his reaction, and nobody else would know what caused it. But how could this happen, it was too soon... they'd just gotten back, and already their family was torn apart. He didn't even know if anyone besides Blackbird survived, although he tried to convince himself that since the big news was their leader being killed, that implied the rest of them hadn't been wiped out. Still, the loss of Pete alone was almost too much to bear, and he didn't even know who else had been slain. He realized he was sobbing audibly, tried to rein it in. Even if people wouldn't know why, the sight of a grown man crying openly in public might draw too much attention...

  Andrew patted his back, trying to help him calm down though he too looked obviously upset. "Get yourself under control, we have to keep our wits about us especially now. Besides, we don't even know if he's really dead. It could be that he got away and it's a ploy by the church to demoralize those of us separated from him."<
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  Henry wished he could be so optimistic, but had a terrible feeling it was true. That speech from Pete before they left... maybe he'd somehow sensed what was to come, too. Whoever did this, Henry wanted to pay dearly for it. Death might not be enough—he wanted to see them humbled, shamed with all pride and dignity stripped away before a brutal execution. He didn't want Blackbird to do the dirty deed this time, because her death-dealing would be too mercifully swift. He'd come up with every step himself and make sure the bastard suffered, but even that... wouldn't bring Pete back...

  "Come on man, please, get a hold of yourself!" He suddenly became aware he'd sunk to his knees in the street without noticing, and the few folks about were really staring at them now. He let Andrew help him up and lead him away quickly.

  "Those bastards, those fucking bastards!" he whispered. "I wish I could have Blackbird's strength and your metal arm... I'd go to the Sky Chapel right now, make the Archcardinal beg for salvation from his warped idea of God, then make him tell me who came to our restaurant before ripping his face off. And then I'd do worse to them."

  Andrew seemed unnerved, perhaps because he'd never seen Henry this angry before. He'd never felt this angry before. Before it had just been a battle of ideals, but now it became personal. He supposed he understood Andrew, who had lost his sister to the church, better now. But though Andrew's loss was greater, it had probably been dulled at least somewhat with time while Henry's was completely fresh. "Just say something, anything," Andrew said. "I know how you feel. My sister died, and I would definitely kill the man who did it if I got the chance. But you can't lose yourself in the anger. There are other things to think about. What about our friends?"

  Their friends. At least some of them were probably alive... and there was also Pete's family to think of. Henry shook his head clear. "You're right. I can't just stand there bawling like a baby. We need to meet up with whoever else is left and think of a plan."