Evenstar

by Darcy Town

  He held his head in his hands and screamed. The Lilliam covered their ears at the noise, even Ceres bent beneath the sound. Rock split and cracked; his fire raced along the ground, consuming everything around him. He became too bright to look upon.

  Belial scowled. She stepped into the blue fire, ignoring the pain it inflicted. She gripped Lucifer’s arm, turned him around, and backhanded him. “Calm down.”

  Lucifer lost his flame and fell back into the flesh. He reclaimed his thoughts, held the rage down, and sealed it up. He shook himself and nodded to her, his only indication of thanks. He stared at the entrance to the Old Road. “Where are Paimon and Furcas?”

  ***

  Paimon wiped his brow. He clung to the side of a building with cables looped around his arm and tools in his belt. The sun hovered low in the sky, the light cast everything in a warm orange glow. He’d lost track of time and not everything was ready, but he needed to do this before he lost daylight. He examined the speaker he’d just put up. Across the street, the Chulyin finished his work and gave Paimon a nod.

  Paimon jumped to the sidewalk and looked down the street. They had set up speakers discreetly for blocks all the way down to the water. He grinned. He pulled a wireless microphone out of his pocket and gave it a tap. The tap reverberated up and down the street causing pedestrians to stop and look around. He grinned and motioned for the Chulyin. He handed the raven soldier the remaining seedpods he had taken from his house. “Spread these over the city.”

  He turned and ran back to the front of the bookstore where Furcas waited. Furcas sat in a new wheelchair wearing only his pants. He was drenched in sweat. He stared at people as they walked by. His good arm and legs were tied to the chair with leather straps. He’d fallen out of the chair twice before Paimon had made the modification.

  Furcas looked up when Paimon stopped at his side. Paimon brushed his fingers across Furcas’ cheek. “We’ll be back in the City shortly.”

  Furcas sucked on a straw that led to a water bottle filled with ice. “Why are we going there?”

  Paimon leaned over him and shined a small flashlight in his eye. “Because you are sick.”

  Furcas grinned feebly. “Not compared to you. You stripped me and left me for the public.”

  “Not that kind of sick and no one can see you.” Paimon leaned back. “You’re very ill, you have a fever, and you’re bleeding through shirts.”

  Furcas squeezed his eye shut as Dahlia’s pain spread through his limbs. He lit up like a light bulb. Anxiety and terror squeezed on his already weak heart. He bit his lip, drawing blood. “I can’t take this. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

  Paimon got on his knees and took Furcas’ hand. “What is it now?”

  “Her fear, I can’t handle it.” Furcas opened his eye and gulped down air. “I can’t do anything for her, but I can feel her!”

  Paimon nodded grimly. “Just hold on.” He kissed Furcas’ forehead and looked for the raven. The Chulyin touched down across the street in the shape of a man. He gave them a thumbs up. Paimon forced a smile. “I’m going to roll you around for a bit so that I can keep you with me, is that okay?”

  Furcas shrugged and winced. “I can’t see how it would make this any worse.”

  “At least you’re conscious.” Paimon leaned over and touched a planter with flowers in bloom. His hand glowed green and the plants began to change.

  “I wish I weren’t. I hate this.”

  Paimon smiled. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  Furcas eyed him. “What?”

  Paimon wheeled Furcas over to a patch of grass. He touched the ground, and a wash of light moved across the lawn and into the trees and bushes. The light jumped to flower pots, patches of moss, and lichen. The wave hit rosebushes and sidewalk weeds alike. The seeds the Chulyin had dropped sprouted where they’d fallen. Paimon picked a gray rose and handed it to Furcas. “For you.”

  Furcas stared at the iridescent flower in surprise. “What are you doing? You’re using your powers? Why?”

  Paimon grinned and snapped his fingers. The beginnings of a melody started up on the speakers. He hummed.

  “No.” Furcas closed his eye. “Don’t sing. Please don’t sing. Please.”

  Paimon ignored him. He checked his microphone and gazed at the plants around him. The pedestrians stopped and did the same. All over the city, strange flowering vines and creeping groundcover grew and bloomed, the pollen neon green, pink, and silver. Paimon breathed out, and his eyes turned blue. His skin flickered bright for a second only. All around them, pollen puffed out in the air. The dust whirled around in a haze of bright colors, and the humans had no choice but to inhale.

  The humans stopped and smiled, euphoria gripped their bodies. The pollen, a natural ecstasy and hallucinogen, amplified colors and sensations. The humans grew docile, wrapped up in each beam of sunshine, every movement of clothes against skin. Drivers stopped their cars and gaped. Pedestrians bumped up against one another, at the sound of music people swayed.

  Paimon turned to Furcas and put a cigarette in his mouth. He walked to the beat of the song and pushed Furcas’ wheelchair as they became visible. He hummed louder as the song began.

  Furcas closed his eye as a blush crept up his skin. “I really hate you.”

  Paimon put the microphone to his lips and sang in a language that none but angels knew.

  Furcas wrinkled his nose at the words. He responded in English, “I caught you.”

  Paimon lit Furcas’ cigarette. He clapped to the beat; the humans around him did the same. He sang on, to their delight.

  Furcas muttered, “It’s never a good morning.”

  Paimon leaned into him, his voice a melodic purr.

  Furcas glared.

  Paimon took off his jacket and laid it across Furcas’ chest.

  Furcas wrinkled his nose. “Gross.”

  Paimon smiled and brushed his fingers along Furcas’ forehead. Syllables slipped from his lips like honey.

  Furcas angled away from him. “You cause my headaches!”

  Paimon’s voice was tinged with a smile.

  Furcas blushed a deeper shade of red and looked away. “If I didn’t, you’d be dead right now!”

  Paimon leaned over and plucked at a stray hair on Furcas’ head. He pointed to Furcas’ sutured wounds. He winked at him and moved away; his voice rose and fell with the melody.

  Furcas ripped through his restraints and reached for the microphone in Paimon’s hand. “Stop singing!”

  Paimon smiled at Furcas and sang on.

  Furcas snarled. “Not anymore!”

  Paimon twirled on his heels as his voice dropped to a whisper.

  Furcas hopped his wheelchair over. “You’re dead, Paimon!”

  Paimon dropped the microphone as the music played on. He retook the handles of the wheelchair as the song died. He kissed Furcas’ on the cheek. Furcas leaned away from him, pouting. Paimon smiled. “You love the attention.”

  Furcas grimaced. “No, I don’t. You’re just using this as an excuse to humiliate me.”

  Paimon shrugged. “The humans liked it, now everyone’s in the spirit.” The music faded away. The humans across Portland collapsed in heaps of elation, but some continued dancing regardless. Paimon smiled and brought the microphone to his lips. “I hope everyone is having just as lovely a time as I am. Isn’t that a beautiful sky? I love this city!”

  The humans in hearing range cheered. Paimon bent down and nibbled Furcas’ ear lightly. He spoke into the microphone, “If you all don’t have someone you adore, find someone. Have a good time, this one’s on the house, courtesy of Lucifer Morningstar and Ladriam Evenstar.” He turned the microphone off and tossed it down the street.

  Furcas looked over at him. “Besides a constant desire to embarrass me. Why are you doing this?”

  Paimon stood up straight and rolled Furcas down the street. “Trying to get attention. I think a citywide orgy of excess will get media attention don’t you? Beli
al gave them the violence. I’ll give them bliss.” He winked as humans ran by grinning, clothes half off. He glanced at the Chulyin; the soldier handed out bottles of alcohol.

  Furcas looked around at the plants growing to cover buildings and the road. “You used your gift, Paimon. Michael will know!”

  “If they’re even looking. Belial is getting more attention right now I’m sure.”

  Furcas rubbed his temples. “I don’t remember what she did.”

  Paimon patted his head. “You don’t need to think right now, you’re sick. Just relax.”

  Furcas flashed brightly and shuddered. “Dahlia’s scared and very angry.”

  “Shh.”

  Furcas’ temperature spiked, causing Paimon to jump back as Furcas’ skin lit on fire. Paimon batted at him with his jacket. He got in front of the wheelchair and put his hands on Furcas’ face despite the heat. Furcas’ bloodshot eye looked elsewhere, seeing something that was not there.

  Paimon kicked a fire hydrant, sending water shooting into the air. Humans flocked to it with giggles and cries of joy. Paimon diverted some of the cold water to Furcas.

  Furcas looked up blurrily. “They’ve moved the girls closer to Andy, the fire.” He heaved. “She’s puking.”

  Paimon frowned. “You’ve never been this attuned to her before. This doesn’t make sense.”

  Furcas waved his hand. “I hope you’re not asking me.” He went unconscious. His cigarette slipped out of his mouth to the concrete.

  Paimon grabbed his chin. “No, wake up! None of this!” Furcas turned blue. A lightning bolt struck Paimon in the back. He winced. “No, no, no!” He picked Furcas up and put him directly into the cold water. “Wake up!”

  Another bolt hit ten feet away, sending humans scattering. Paimon’s hair lit on fire as Furcas shocked him. He brought Furcas out of the water and pressed their foreheads together. “Wake up, Furcas!” He kissed Furcas as another bolt hit them both.

  Furcas’ eye shot open. He gasped. “Was I doing it again? Sorry.”

  Paimon put him back in the damp chair and batted at his burning hair. “Just try and stay awake so that it doesn’t happen again.” He looked at the sky as helicopters filmed above the range of the drugged pollen. He touched a rose bush and sent the plant rocketing into the sky, creating a canopy of flowers. The cameras focused on him and the plant. He waved. “Now they’ll see us.”

  “Who?”

  “The City. They saw Belial I bet.”

  “What happened?” Furcas struggled to remember. His visions from Dahlia, her nightmares, and reality blended into one confusing memory. He looked at his hand. “I can’t remember clearly. Nothing makes sense, Paimon.”

  Paimon sent a small piece of lichen into overload, covering a brick building in seconds. “It is okay.”

  “It’s not okay! I am not okay, stop saying that! I’m not a fool.”

  Paimon took Furcas’ hand. “I know that. I didn’t say you were.”

  Furcas slumped in the wheelchair too weak to sit up straight. Paimon pushed him back into the seat. His eyes locked on to the blood dripping off the chair. “How does your back feel?”

  Furcas shrugged. “I still cannot feel anything. “

  “Do you feel weaker?” Furcas nodded. Paimon adjusted his bandages and held his hand. “It’ll be all right.”

  “It’s funny you know.” Furcas gave him a half smile, marred by the stitches on his face.

  Paimon smiled along with him. He cocked his head. “What is?”

  “All…all this time I’ve been trying to make myself look better and it’s when I’m ugly that you pay attention to me again. That’s funny I think.” He looked at the humans around them. “I’m dying and I’m finally interesting to you.”

  Paimon frowned. “Huh?”

  “Interesting.” Furcas slurred and yawned. “You find me interesting now.”

  Paimon clenched his jaw. “What do you mean now?”

  Furcas looked at the sky; fever made his vision double. “I know you’ve gotten bored of me over the last few centuries. I knew it would happen eventually, and it is okay, you’re—”

  “Shut your mouth.” Paimon paled.

  “So creative and smart.” Furcas ignored him. “How could I hold your attention anyways? I was foolish to think I could. What have I ever had to offer you besides my body?”

  Paimon clamped his hand down on Furcas’ mouth. His eyes blazed blue. “You’re speaking like this because you have a fever. Your mind is playing tricks on you. You know none of that is true. Okay?” He pulled back his hand.

  Furcas gazed at him sadly. “No, it’s allowing me to see clearly. I know you fell out of love with me some time ago. I think you only continued to see me out of boredom. Am I right?”

  “No, you’re not right! How could you—” A sonic boom rocked the sky above. Paimon looked up, and then back down. “You think that I don’t love you?”

  “I know you thought less of me when I was controlled by my lamin...the things I did to the Lilliam. That’s when it started I think.” He looked at the space beyond Paimon. “With Dahlia we were finally close again.” His eyes filled with tears. “I knew it wasn’t going to last, but I really enjoyed it while it did.”

  Paimon shook with rage. “That’s what you’ve thought this entire time? All those centuries! Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

  Furcas looked away. “I couldn’t bear to hear the truth from you, so I didn’t ask.”

  “You idiot!” Paimon pulled at his own hair. “I never thought less of you! I thought less of myself because I couldn’t do anything for you when you were controlled, I couldn’t even fucking find you for a goddamn century!” His cheeks turned red. “I was supposed to protect you and I failed. I fucked up, Furcas. How could you think that I thought less of you? That I didn’t love you. Of course I fucking love you!”

  Furcas’ eye met his. “You disappeared after you freed me from the lamin. You didn’t speak to me, didn’t stay with me. I had no idea where you were, who you were staying with, if you were even alive. You left me—”

  “I was ashamed of myself, you stupid, irrational, fool! You have no idea what it was like for me to have to see you like that and know that I couldn’t do anything!”

  Furcas looked at him blankly, and then over his shoulder. “Is that Barachiel? He brought a mace. You know I never thought he was a mace man.”

  Paimon snarled and whirled around. Barachiel hovered above the city. Paimon looked back at Furcas. “We aren’t done with this conversation.” He turned to Barachiel and shouted, “I didn’t know secretaries fought. Everyone must be busy for them to send you.”

  Barachiel looked uncomfortable and annoyed. Humans stopped their dancing, drinking, and lovemaking to look at the Archangel. They pointed and grinned. Barachiel tucked his pendant into his shirt. “Michael, Raphael, and Uriel are occupied.”

  “And my brother couldn’t even make an appearance?”

  “Gabriel refuses to acknowledge you.” Barachiel spotted Furcas. “He is still alive? Michael thought he was dead.”

  Paimon put himself between Furcas and Barachiel. He shook his shoulders out. “So.”

  Barachiel touched down on the concrete. “Yes, so.”

  Furcas wheeled himself to Paimon’s side. “Two against one.”

  Paimon kicked Furcas’ chair so that it rolled backwards. He kept his eyes on Barachiel. “I see you have a pendant.”

  “Yes.” Barachiel looked around nervously. “Where are the others?”

  “Just me.”

  Furcas tried to wheel himself back. “And me.”

  “Stay out of this, Furcas!” Paimon grabbed a car and pulled it in-between himself and Furcas. He looked at the Archangel. “So do we fight or do you stand around looking nervous?”

  Barachiel’s face was grim. He raised his mace. “I still know how to fight you, Paimon.”

  Paimon grinned. “Let’s see.” He held his fists up. “Can you box?”

  B
arachiel took a step forward. “What is box?”

  Paimon smiled. He flicked his fingers. A vine erupted out of the ground, wrapped around Barachiel, and threw him towards Paimon. Paimon hit him with a right hook, then a jab with his left. “Boxing, dickface!”

  Barachiel snarled. He pumped his wings and flew out of the embrace of the vine. He whirled around and dove at Paimon. Paimon expected an attack and dodged, but Barachiel soared over his head and went for Furcas.

  “No!” Paimon dashed after the angel. He caught Barachiel’s foot with a branch and brought him to the concrete. He kicked the angel away from Furcas.

  Furcas’ body erupted in light. He clutched at his throat. “Dahlia!”

  Barachiel shook himself off and stared at Furcas, his eyes greedy. “He knows where she is?”

  Paimon tackled the Archangel. “Leave him out of this!”

  Barachiel threw Paimon off. He made contact with his mace, hitting Paimon square in the chest. The blow sent Paimon tumbling away down the street. Barachiel leapt at Furcas. “Tell me where she is!”

  Paimon got to his feet in time to see Barachiel grab hold of Furcas by his shoulders. He charged. “Get away from him!”

  Barachiel lifted Furcas out of his chair. Furcas screamed in pain. The Chulyin landed on Barachiel’s back, sending both to the ground. Barachiel tossed the Lilliam away and crawled for Furcas. “Tell me where she is now!”

  Paimon reached Furcas first. He kicked Barachiel in the face. Barachiel bounced down the street.

  Furcas coughed. “I felt that, that is a good sign right?”

  Paimon put Furcas back in his chair and spared him a glance. His sutures had ripped open along his chest. Paimon flinched. “Try and hold yourself together, please.”

  Furcas smiled. “All right.”

  Paimon ran after the dazed Archangel. Vines swept alongside him, the two reaching Barachiel at the same time.

  Barachiel swung the mace, sending light out from him. The light threw Paimon down the street. Paimon rolled to his feet as Barachiel hit him with a second wave, sending him down another block. The light scored Paimon’s flesh to the bone, burning as it cut. He went unconscious in the air and landed on his neck, snapping his spine. The Chulyin landed in front of Paimon with blades drawn.