He poured Lucifer a drink, not the potent green Mantoid liquid which he preferred, but the watered-down shit he'd been using to wean the man off his alcoholism. He strode over to the swimming-pool sized bed and stood, waiting for Lucifer to shove himself upwards. No matter how drunk Lucifer got, the man had a grace about him which reminded Eligor of his mother.
Asherah…
Gods, the woman had been beautiful. Raven hair. Black-brown wings. Peaches-and-cream skin. And eyes so blue they were the color of the Haven sky. Her son looked just like her, even if his hair and wings were white, his eyes silver like his sire's, his features squared off ever since he'd passed his adolescence. Maybe that was why he'd stuck by the bastard's side long after any other man would have cut and run?
She had kissed his forehead…
'You're a good man, Eligor,' she had said. 'Lucifer's going to -need- someone like you around. Someone who sees things like they are, not as they wish that they would be.'
He pushed the image out of his mind. The next day, Hashem had breached the defenses to Tyre and blown the planet all to hell, inadvertently killing Asherah along with her husband.
Lucifer grabbed the glass and downed it in a single gulp.
"Is something bothering you, Eligor?"
"Do you trust me, Sir?"
Lucifer stared down into the amber liquid, swirling it around as he contemplated Eligor's question.
"I don't trust anybody, really," Lucifer said softly. "Any time I do, they always find some way to screw me over."
He handed Eligor the glass. Eligor refilled it.
"No more than two, Sir," Eligor said. "We don't know what reaction it might have with your medication."
Lucifer sighed.
"You're right, you know," he said. His eyes met Eligor's, red-rimmed from lack of sleep even though Eligor knew full well the man had lain here for more than sixteen hours. "Zepar always capped it off, and then tried to get me to take my medicine. But you? You always give it to me straight."
"It's your choice, Sir," Eligor said softly. "If you tell me you don't want it anymore, I'm not going to force it on you."
Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose. Already the migraine had started to press in on him, as if the evil twin was crushing his skull, screaming that he wanted to be let inside.
"It's not like I have a choice," Lucifer said. "If I don't take my medicine, it hurts so bad I can't even get out of bed."
"Maybe you should get your head examined, Sir?" Eligor said. "After you've proven that integrating humans is the best way to save our species? Won't nobody talk badly about you then, Sir."
"That would be nice," Lucifer sighed.
He turned and lowered his wing so that Eligor would have access to the place in the back of his neck which was optimal to inject the medicine into the base of his spine. Tiny track marks dotted the tissue, evidence that Lucifer had been drugged for a very long time. He waited; waited for Eligor to put him to sleep so that his evil twin personality could come to the forefront.
"Sir?" Eligor asked.
"What, Eligor."
"It wasn't just me who sprung you from your father's prison. It was Lerajie, too. If he hadn't helped me, you'd still be rotting in jail."
Lucifer twisted around so he could see him.
"What's bothering you, Eligor?"
"Zepar said you wanted me to shove Lerajie out an airlock."
Lucifer's eyebrows raised in surprise.
"What? Why would I order that? The man saved my tailfeathers!"
"Ever since he heard Abaddon's wife speak, Lerajie has gotten it into his head that some of the humans are sentient."
Lucifer's gaze drifted over to some artifacts he'd brought up from Earth. A couple of pottery vases. A spear. And a long, fringed shawl, confiscated from the black-eyed man who'd tried to kill him.
"I suspect some are sentient," Lucifer said. "Though I've yet to meet one … and remember."
Eligor knew that wasn't true. Some mornings, when Lucifer was especially disoriented, he'd cry out and ask if the black-eyed man had come to save him.
"Zepar said Lerajie is undermining the morale on this ship."
"That's no reason to kill him," Lucifer said. He waved his hand dismissively. "Zepar's just pulling your chain. If Lerajie is out of line, lock him in the brig and we'll figure out what to do with him once we get back to Alliance airspace. Alliance citizens don't execute people without a trial."
'You have no idea…' Eligor thought to himself.
"Thank you, Sir," Eligor said aloud.
With a soft groan of pain, Lucifer gripped his forehead. The evil twin awaited entrance and wouldn't let Eligor deny his medicine. Lucifer lowered his wing once again, exposing his neck like a fowl which had just placed its neck down onto a chopping block. Eligor plunged the needle into Lucifer's flesh and pushed down on the syringe.
He stepped back and waited for the evil twin to make his entrance. Lucifer appeared disoriented for a moment, and then his eyes grew hard. Eligor filled his head with nonsense-thoughts, careful to hide what he and the good twin had just discussed, understanding the evil twin was a very different version of his boss than the one which had just granted Lerajie back his life.
Lucifer gave his body his morning 'circle check,' kind of like Eligor gave the shuttle each morning before he flew it, and then stretched, ready to begin his day. His cold gaze settled on Eligor.
"Good morning, Eligor. What were we just discussing?"
"Your recommendations on how to deal with Lerajie, Sir," Eligor said, forcing his expression to remain blank. "You were just telling me it wouldn't cast you in a favorable light to shoot him out the airlock."
"I see," Lucifer said. "And what did I suggest as a solution?"
"You suggested I take the man under my wing," Eligor said. "And impress upon him the necessity of his discretion in this matter. Even if it means locking him in the brig."
Lucifer paced over to him like a Leonid stalking prey. Eligor tucked his wings tightly against his back and stood stiffly as Lucifer circled around him. He knew the intrusion was coming, so he filled his mind with what he suspected the evil twin wanted to hear.
'Take the man into the back storage room and beat him within an inch of his life until the idiot learns to keep his mouth shut…'
It wasn't a lie. It was a truth the evil twin wanted to see. Lucifer's lips curved up in a malicious grin as he reached into Eligor's mind and savored the images Eligor projected of beating the pink-winged Angelic until he was bloody, screaming at him the entire time, 'what the fuck do you think you're doing, you idiot!'
"So you want me to intervene and save your friend?" Lucifer whispered almost in his ear.
"He's not my friend, Sir," Eligor said. "Not … exactly."
"That's good," Lucifer said. "Because men in our position have little use for friends."
Eligor felt him probe his mind, searching to see if his intent to spare Lerajie was anything more. Now that he knew Lucifer was equally attracted to men, he suspected that was what he searched for in his mind, but sorry, dude. He, Eligor, liked his fuck-friends to contain a cunt.
Lucifer glanced over at the Earth-artifacts decorating his wall. His silver gaze settled upon the angry young chieftain's shawl, the same one the good twin found fascinating, the one the evil twin had procured in exchange for providing the man with a brand-new knife and a full contingent of Angelic clothing.
"A pet, then, perhaps?" Lucifer smirked. "Everybody likes to have a pet. Someone you can mold into an image of yourself?"
"A pet, Sir?" Eligor said. "Yes, Sir. I guess that is kind of the way I've always felt about him. A sidekick, Sir."
Lucifer strode over to the shelf full of artifacts and pulled down a second one, a small, white shawl, beautifully decorated. He sniffed it, and then put it down, his eerie silver eyes picking up the amber reflection from the bottles of liquor in the bar so it appeared his eyes were filled with fire.
"Just remember that sometime
s a pet needs to be put down," Lucifer said. "If they're too much trouble, or you can't get them to do what you want."
"Yes, Sir," Eligor said. "Thank you, Sir. I'll make sure he doesn't do it again."
"Very well, then," Lucifer said. "Go prepare my shuttle. I have a trip to make. Tell Captain Marbas to set a course for the Tokoloshe Kingdom."
A sense of horror rustled through Eligor's feathers.
"The Tokoloshe … Kingdom," Eligor whispered.
"King Barabas wishes to discuss Tokoloshe support of our endeavors," Lucifer said. He gave him a feral grin, no doubt enjoying Eligor's fear.
'More like -we'll- be the treats,' Eligor thought to himself.
Lucifer's grin grew broader.
"Now run along," Lucifer shooed him with his hand. "Go secure your pet and put him on a leash. We have a feast to attend. King Barabas has invited us for dinner."
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck! The last thing any Alliance citizen ever wanted to hear was that the Tokoloshe had set a place for them at their table. The Tokoloshe were cannibals! Who ate their victims alive!
Eligor backed out of the room. He couldn't mean it! Lucifer wanted to fluster him, that was all.
The minute he closed the door behind him, he made a beeline for the harem. It was time to eliminate the trouble at the source. The self-proclaimed human 'healer' who'd been playing Lerajie for a fool!
~ * ~ * ~
Chapter 48
December, 3,390 BC
Zulu Sector: Prince of Tyre
Ninsianna
For almost a year the lizard-demons had inhabited Ninsianna's nightmares, but as she bit off the sticky-cloth called tape and used it to secure the soft, porous bandage covering Apausha's belly, it was hard to hate the creature. She finished up, then turned her attention to his hand.
"Let me massage your fingers."
She tried not to flinch as Apausha held out his healing fingers. Not quite talons, the creature had long, sharp nails which he could partially retract like a cat's claws. She placed his hand between her own.
"Let me know where it hurts," Ninsianna said, "and where it's merely uncomfortable."
Apausha stoically flexed each finger, and then flinched when she bent one a little further than it wanted to go. He'd barely cried out when she'd re-dislocated each broken bone in order to reset it properly, but he had fainted after the third one. Five weeks of recovery had put his bones on the mend, but she worried he might never regain full mobility of his hand.
"Does that hurt?"
"I am grateful for your efforts," Apausha said with far more hiss in his voice than usual.
Ninsianna scrutinized the lizard man's body language.
"That wasn't what I asked," Ninsianna said. "I can't tell whether it's healing properly unless you tell me where you're still in pain. My husband did that, didn't tell me that his wing still hurt, and because of it he remained flightless for months longer than was necessary."
It was an injury she now realized was a blessing. Had She-who-is not stolen his flight, Mikhail would have simply flown away rather than become entangled with her … or her primitive village.
"Tell me stories about your husband," Apausha asked. "It will distract me from the pain."
His gold-green eyes waxed greener, his expression sincere. At least she assumed it was sincere. It was hard to tell, but the longer she got to know him, the more human Apausha seemed.
Ninsianna unconsciously rubbed the swell of her abdomen.
"Mikhail is dead," she whispered. "What's the point of talking about him?"
Apausha's snout curved up in an expression of sympathy. He placed his hand over hers.
"Because you carry his child," Apausha said gently. "He would want you to sing stories of his heroism so that his son grows up knowing his father's name."
Ninsianna's lip trembled as stray tears escaped her now-ordinary tawny beige eyes. She missed him. Oh how she missed her husband! She looked away, into the midst of the women who yowled and fought like hyenas over a carcass. Primitive. In their base state, all humans were primitive. All this time she'd been pushing her husband to be more like her when, all along, it had been she who'd been unworthy!
"Mikhail hated being the center of attention," Ninsianna blurted out, half in laughter, half in tears. "The last thing he would want is for people to turn him into a hero."
"And yet the Colonel was a hero," Apausha said. He shifted his awkward bulk, grimacing as he bent his tightly bandaged ribcage. "Do you know how many planets he freed from Emperor Shay'tan?"
"No," Ninsianna sniffled.
"Dozens," Apausha said. "That we know of. And dozens more that we suspect. We don't know for certain because his Emperor never acknowledged his heroism with a public awards ceremony."
In a way she found that reassuring. At least she wasn't the only person who had ever taken Mikhail for granted. He'd freed dozens of planets? Like hers? She glanced down at her swelling abdomen, the only thing she had left of him.
"Did he … ever … take a …" She let the question trail off without speaking the word she feared, 'another wife.' With no memory of his past, had he taken a prior wife, well … she'd acted jealously before and look where it had gotten her? Widowed.
"Not that we're aware," Apausha said. He squeezed her hand. "The Colonel was secretive, just like the Cherubim who trained him. But one of the things that always made him unassailable was the fact he remained unconnected to any person or planet. So far as we know, his only allegiance was to his Emperor and god."
Ninsianna wiped her cheek using her sleeve.
"That I can believe," she said. "It took a long time before he began to let down his guard. He trusted me because I saved his life, but everyone else?" She stared beyond Apausha's shoulder to a past which lived within her mind. "Maybe he shouldn't have trusted me so much," she mumbled. "After all, I'm the reason he got himself killed."
"In our culture," Apausha said, "it is said that so long as you remember your loved ones and never forget their deeds, they will always smile down upon you from the dreamtime."
She did not tell him about the one-and-only time that Mikhail had found her, briefly, at the moment she now suspected he had died. She had cast him off, severed all connections, not caring whether it was really him or the Evil One's illusion because she'd always viewed his need to feel connected to her with contempt. In doing so she had broken something precious which would not be so easily repaired … even if he had lived.
"I cannot see him anymore," Ninsianna wept. "Ever since the Evil One kidnapped me, I can't journey any further than the confines of this room."
"Describe this journeying that you do?" Apausha asked, intently curious. "Have you always had this gift? Or was it given to you by She-who-is?"
"I've always had the ability," Ninsianna shrugged. "When I was little, my Mama says I used to leave my body all the time. But it was never intentional. I just … did it."
Apausha leaned towards her, forgetting whatever strange social custom made him reluctant to make eye contact with a female.
"So you had this gift before She-who-is chose you?"
"Papa thinks I was always Chosen," Ninsianna said. "We just didn't realize it until Mikhail's sky canoe, uhm, I mean his ship fell down from the heavens."
"Is it possible you possess this power for yourself?" Apausha asked.
"No," Ninsianna said. "Papa says there are two sources of power, that which is a gift from the goddess, and that you steal from another living creature. And your own life-energy, of course. But using that would be stupid. If you use your own energy to heal another, you will become so depleted that you will die along with your patient."
"We know of She-who-is," Apausha said, "but Shay'tan teaches we are forbidden to ask for intervention from any god except for him."
She silently re-bandaged Apausha's hand and then went to work massaging the other one, automatically reaching upwards to find that thread which had always connected her to She-who-is. She found nothing
. Nothing at all. It was as though somebody had cut her connection to the goddess with a knife the same way she had severed all connection to her husband. She finished splinting Apausha's hand.
"I'm sorry that I no longer possess the power to alleviate your pain," Ninsianna said. She gave an exaggerated sigh. "Once upon a time, all I had to do was touch someone and they would tell me they felt much better."
Apausha's brow-ridges both rose in surprise.
"Aren't you aware of it?" Apausha asked.
"Of what?"
"Feel your hands," Apausha said.
Ninsianna felt one hand with the other. "They feel the same way they always have."
Apausha gripped her hands in his.
"Whenever you smile, your hands grow warm," Apausha said. He turned her hands over and peered at her palms. "And when you are angry," he continued, "it feels as though your hands are made of ice, as though your very mood is transmitted through your hands."
"I get that from my Mama," Ninsianna said. "She calls it a healer's touch." She thought of her Mama's brusque bedside manner. "Though Mama is often grouchy, and her patients know it."
"I thought you inherited your gift from your father?"
"I inherited the ability to see from my Papa," Ninsianna said. "It stretches through his bloodline for as far back as there are stories about his ancestors. But from Mama? Mama, she…"
Ninsianna trailed off. How many times had she looked down on Mama's gift because Mama could not see, and here she was now, every bit as blind!
Apausha blinked at her, his eyes impossibly large and green.
"I have an uncle who is a war hero," Apausha said. "One day he came up against the Alliance's fiercest general, Abaddon the Destroyer." The lizard-man shuddered. "He is the only mortal even Shay'tan fears."
"What happened?"
"Abaddon cut off my uncle's hand with his sword."
"A sword?" Ninsianna blurted out with surprise. "The only Angelic I've seen carry a sword is my husband!"
"General Abaddon is infamous for his swordplay!" The lizard-man's voice warbled with a strange mixture of hatred, fear and awe. "He is the most feared general in the Alliance. Even more feared than your husband."
Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) Page 50