by R. J. Blain
“Why silver? I always wanted to know why everyone wants to bring things to others on a silver platter. Why not a gold one? Or some other metal?”
“Stainless steel just seems so sterile.”
I groaned, as did everyone else in the room.
“What?”
Emmanuel grunted, dug into the pocket of his form-fitting suit, and retrieved his phone. “Do you want me to call Grandfather, or will you explain the situation to him?”
Paul sat on the edge of the couch cushion, careful to keep his wings close to his back. “He will want to remove the shroud himself should we warn him. This is not a bad thing. He would be gentle with her. I will insist I handle placing the dampeners. I have more finesse than he does. I will take care of it.”
The angel disappeared in a flash of silvery light.
“I’ll step out into the hallway for this, but they’ll show up sooner than later. They’ve been waiting for this day for a long time. Try not to worry, Layla. Everything will work out. Oh, and Dean?”
“Yes?”
“If you hurt her, I will be picking out pieces of your fur from my teeth for years.” Emmanuel left the room.
At a complete loss of what to do, I did the one thing I still knew: I painted.
Chapter Eleven
At the rate beings kept popping into the hotel room, we’d run out of room for everybody. I took over the corner to the window with my hoard of paints and canvases, creating the equivalent of a cell to keep everyone out of my space.
It seemed a lot safer to stay in my corner than mingle with others.
As though somehow sensing I’d reached my limit, Dean transformed and stood guard, blowing air and stomping his hooves whenever anyone tried to approach. His snorts, few and far between, promised violence if his warnings weren’t heeded.
Emmanuel laughed. “Well, she’s definitely tamed that stallion. He’s going to go for someone’s throat soon enough trying to keep everyone out of her territory.”
“Painting is how she copes with things,” Xena replied. “When she’s upset, she’ll go right to her art supplies and fiddle with them. And if she’s really unbalanced, she’ll start painting. She was happiest in the art store, but she was also shocked by how much we bought for her. I went a little crazy there. If she showed interest in it, I got her the best stuff I could find. I think they were using custom pigments for her paintings, as they weren’t in branded bottles or tubes. She hasn’t complained about the quality. Her sketch of Dean is incredible, though. She was going to make me pose for her, but she fixated on my brother and seems determined to use only him as her model right now.”
“That’s normal,” my uncle replied. “Succubi fixate. Young succubi who are more inclined to bond fixate the most. Normally, she would start fixating after a hundred or so, but she’s advanced for her age. If she’d been raised with us, she would have started hunting men to learn the trade at fifty, but she’d be treated as a regular woman; her full powers wouldn’t develop until a little later. That’s good, as she needs time to adjust anyway. And Elize, don’t you even think about testing that stallion. When Layla is ready to come out, she’ll come out. I know you want to go cuddle, but you’re just going to have to wait.”
A woman sniffed. “I’m satisfied he has her interests at heart.”
“You’re satisfied he has her interests at heart because you’re a shameless succubus using your empathic abilities to track him. You’re also making your shameless hussy of a husband read his thoughts and tell you what he’s thinking. You’re probably having him read your daughter, too, to keep a close eye on her.”
“As a matter of fact, yes. Privacy is an illusion when there are angels and devils around.”
I could only assume the woman was my mother, and I debated if I was ready to put away my paint brushes and face my new reality.
Yesterday, my mother had been a woman who’d wanted to drown me and had ditched me in prison for profit.
Today, my mother was a demoness who’d partnered with a devil, and I wasn’t sure what I thought about that.
In a normal person’s life, the humans would have been the better beings. In mine, the lines blurred until I couldn’t tell who belonged on which side. Even the angels seemed to have motivations beyond doing good.
“You are wise beyond your years,” Clarence said. “Angels are considered to be beings of good, but through the eyes of others, we are anything but. Two archangels wiped three cities from the world for the greater good. They saved those they could, but they brought death and grief to many. To those they hurt, angels are anything but good. Those would rather dance with the devil than see another angel. Through your eyes, no one can be trusted, except perhaps the stallion you fixate on because he has shown you justice in little ways and picked your side without knowing anything about you. His decision to spit on that attorney sealed his fate.”
“I spit on that bastard, too. He deserved it. He deserves a lot more than spit in the face.”
“There are two demons and a devil in the room who will be quite pleased to make sure he gets a lot more than spit in the face.” Clarence laughed, and I relaxed at the sound. “Justice will come, and she will witness it. I do not foresee her doing much more than witnessing what is to come, but it will work out for the best. Some things are written in the stars, and I see no other fate for those who have stirred the wraths of the many hells and even the heavens.”
“I have an extended family,” a man said, and his words rumbled in his chest. “I am debating how many of the family I should call in—or if I should reach higher.”
I could only assume the man was my father; he’d been silent since his arrival, although I’d heard Emmanuel greet him. I debated peeking, but I decided I preferred working on painting Dean’s mane. Painting the shades of pale gray and silver that brought the white of his coat to life took a great deal of concentration.
Once I beheld my parents, everything would change again, and I would have to evaluate every day of my life and rewrite my past, identifying every lie that had led to the person I’d become.
Some mountains I didn’t want to climb. What would remain?
Paul dared to approach, and he gave Dean’s shoulder a companionable slap before stepping into my domain. I considered stabbing the angel with my paintbrush, but I realized I actually liked the angel and didn’t mind him entering my territory. He stood behind me and watched me work.
“If you reach higher, you will find things will resolve faster, and she will have more time to process everything that has happened. More importantly, she will see the true meaning of justice. Your family has already paid its dues, and she has no true idea what it means to have those who will stand with her and with you. That leads me to the matter of the shroud. Should I do the work, I can help heal some of what has been done. I will link my work to the dampeners. As her power grows, the principles and lessons she should have learned young will be absorbed and blend with all you teach her moving forward. She has lost much, and this would balance all debts owed. It is rare we can do so much direct good for a single soul, and it would be an honor to undo some of the damage done to an innocent. And that is what she is, a reality you must face. For all she has inherited many of your tendencies, she is still a creature of innocence. I am not sure how much of that will change. That is a future I have not checked, nor will I. I would rather she choose her future than try to mold her future based on one possibility.”
“Then I will reach higher. How high should I go?”
“He has already involved Himself in this, and it would do well to maintain the balance.”
Paul’s statement ushered in a deep silence, and I broke it rattling my paint brush in the cleaning tin. “I always wondered if the Devil was as scary as people seem to believe. I always wondered if God was a scary as people seem to believe, too. I could never tell which one was worse in prison. God was treated as a tool of salvation, but I never saw any god come into prison to save anybody. And they’d blame the Devil for wha
t they did, and that never seemed fair to me. And what’s this nonsense about putting the fear of the Devil—or God—into people? It’s not like either really comes to pay a visit to anybody.”
“You are much more likely to meet the Devil than you are to meet Him, truth be told,” Paul admitted, and he patted my shoulder. “You can meet both if you would like. He is willing to bear witness. He knows you will never be one of His children; you will always be what you are, no matter how pure your spirit is. But just as there have always been angels who fall from grace, there are always demons and devils who rise above their lot in life. Some might say the Devil is one of those.”
The angels snickered.
“I feel like I have missed something.”
“The relationships of the denizens of the highest heavens and the darkest depths of the hells are complicated. Angels and devils alike are capable of hatred and love of equal measure, and that colors the nature of our war, as it always has. After all, the Devil was once a beloved child of the heavens and in many ways, he still is. Ours is a strange family. You will learn this soon enough. You will find you also have a patient family. That is one of the benefits of belonging to a long-lived race. No one can return your lost childhood, but you will find your first steps into your adulthood will be full of light and love. And sulfur. An unfortunate amount of sulfur.”
Dean whipped his head around and snapped his teeth at Paul.
“Your stallion is upset that he has to share you with the rest of your family. He wants to be the one to exclusively adore you for the rest of your days. You are just going to have to accept others showing her affection. She will find your skirmishes with her parents amusing, so do posture for her enjoyment. You should be happy she has fixated enough she views you as her safe haven already.”
My mother laughed, and while she couldn’t brighten the entire room with her amusement, I found the sound to be comforting.
The woman I’d believed to be my mother had never laughed, and it offered hope that I wouldn’t make a mess of everything.
Once she finished chuckling, my mother said, “It is quite all right, Paul. We can share her with young Dean. It is good for her to have a man she can trust even though he will test her shapeshifting abilities. It is usually centuries before a young succubus masters the art of shapeshifting. She hasn’t mastered another form yet. There’s no need to rush her into anything. She’s been rushed enough. It’s enough knowing she’s safe. Removing the shroud will change everything for her.”
“It will change everything for you, too.”
“Yes,” my mother agreed. “Can I greet her grandfather with my fist?”
Paul laughed. “Of course. He’s your grandfather. You can do whatever you want to him. He has always enjoyed your rather violent greets.”
“Dean, why is everyone so weird?”
Dean whinnied and bobbed his head.
“He wishes for me to tell you that it took weird people to make someone as special as you,” Paul translated.
“You’re hopeless, Dean.”
“He certainly is. Are you ready for the shroud to be broken, Layla? When I do this, you will enter a trance. During the trance, I will revive your true memories, set the dampeners, and evaluate your life from the moment you were taken to now. It will be intrusive, but I will be able to accurately glean the identities of the guilty doing so. You will be aware of everything I see, as I will not hide my presence from you. The important things, I will disclose on your behalf, as it is probable you are unable to identify what is of importance.”
“That’s fair.”
“It will not be comfortable, but you are used to uncomfortable things. I will also help you be able to adapt to so many changes at once. These aids will fade along with the dampeners. Most importantly, you will be able to handle physical contact easier. This is a matter of your past environments. While I will not erase those memories, I will make it easier for you to identify friend from foe and react less violently towards those you wish to show affection to. Unless, of course, you wish to break your uncle’s nose upon your stallion’s head. I am sure your parents would reward you well for such things, as they are twisted people.”
Emmanuel laughed. “Every time she looks at me, she really does think about doing that, too. It amuses me. From the instant I stepped into her territory, she’s wanted to get rid of me. My sister wanted to kill me from birth, too. I have yet to figure out why the women in my life want to kill me.”
“Good sense. She recognizes an idiot when she sees one,” my mother replied.
“I’m hurt, Elize.”
“You’re incapable of being hurt. Stop being a baby. Also, if you raise a finger to my little girl, I will rip your fingers off and shove them up your ass.”
“Ouch. What did I do to deserve that?”
“You obviously annoyed my little girl, and you should suffer as a result.”
“Dean wishes me to tell you he now understands where you get some of your tendencies, and it is not from your father as he believed,” Paul said.
“I’m far more interested in actions than words, and I accept all responsibility for her inclination to beat offensive beings without warning,” my father said.
I had a family, and they were crazier than I was. That would take some getting used to. “How did you become the sane one, Dean?”
Dean whinnied, stretched towards me, and brushed his nose against my cheek.
“Hey, what about me?” Xena asked.
“You want to take over the world. You don’t get to make any claims to sanity.”
“Oh. Right. That’s fair. Can we hurry this show up? I want to see how many angels we can cram into a room at the same time. If we’re lucky, it’ll be an explosion of feathers, and that will be fucking hilarious. I’m going to record it, and I’m going to upload it to the internet, and I’m going to use all the profits to fund my world domination efforts.”
Knowing Xena, she really would. “I will break your phone on your thick skull if you take any videos with me in it.”
“I would resent that, except I would totally earn it, and you were even nice enough to warn me where the line was. I will make certain I do not record you. Dean, however, is fair game.”
While my skills with math needed a lot of work, some concepts I understood. “If you use Dean, you will pay me half of the money you earn so I can buy art supplies.”
“Wow. You’re ruthless. Fine. I accept your terms, but your angelic relatives better put on a good show.”
I would never understand Xena. “I’m technically not related to you no matter what I do with Dean, right?”
“You would become my sister.”
“But will your crazy infect me?”
Xena sighed. “No, it won’t. But Dean’s plenty crazy, and his special brand of crazy really will.”
Some prices were worth paying. I shrugged. “Okay.”
“You’ll accept his crazy but not mine? That’s not fair at all!”
“I like him more than I like you.”
“In your shoes, I’d like him more than I like me, too. Okay. You win this round, but I sure hope these angels put on a good show. I need to be entertained.”
As I had no idea what would come, how long the warned trance would last, or if chaos in the form of angels would sweep through the room, I took my time putting my art supplies away properly, and I put my painting of Dean in the corner hoping it would be spared from harm. Once I finished, I braced myself for what would come, and said, “Okay. I’m ready.”
Paul crouched in front of me and took hold of my hand. “I will take my time and be as gentle as possible, and when I am finished, you will feel much better. I promise.”
Fool that I was, I believed him.
By trance, Paul had actually meant private torture session within the confines of my own head. Somehow, the angel forced me to relive my entire life, but at a certain point, things went sideways. It didn’t hurt, not really, but confusion reigned.
Then, the chaos settled, and Paul guided me through my own life with a steadying touch.
I hadn’t been wrong. Every time I’d enjoyed a taste of freedom, I’d been paid a visit by a devil, and he’d masked his presence in my memories. In my reversing memory, the first five devils I’d met were one and the same, a dark creature enshrouded in flame with a gentle touch and a twisted sense of humor.
I hadn’t remembered, but he’d bought me tea and cake, he’d made me laugh, and he made the same promise Paul had: soon, things would become better.
Like with Paul, I’d believed that devil.
Then time turned back a little further, and a new devil took the other’s place, one who inspired fear and erased all the good things in my life with tedium, art, and a past that was nothing more than an illusion.
I’d never had a mother who’d tried to drown me. While I did receive cards, there’d been no father behind them.
Instead, I’d been fed by a devil who cared nothing for me, left with crayons and paper to amuse myself, and given the minimal care. To encourage my interest in the arts, that devil had surrounded me with pretty pictures, and the times I’d tried to mimic them with my crayons, I’d been praised.
I’d drank up that little praise, and I’d fixated on the one thing I could to do earn any approval at all.
And I’d done well at it.
Some of my memories were the truth; I’d entered the prison system at age five, but not in the way I’d believed. I’d been sequestered alone, left to paint and praised whenever I accomplished something profitable. When I’d turned eight, the earliest I could make a more permanent stay in a correctional facility for children, I’d been given a record, and I’d been set loose hungry so that record could be given weight.
The rest of my life had gone as I’d explained to the court, and my ignorance had been as much of a cage as the stone walls and cold cells of prison.
Here and there, Paul showed me a memory, but rather than leave it be, he did something, something that explained a mystery of life. Through my own struggles, he planted seeds of knowledge, ones that grew to a stronger understanding of everything I’d been denied in my youth.