The God of Battles

by David Menefee

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  At Dock

  Later that day, after she and Eric boarded up the broken window, Angela drove back home to the marina. When she arrived at her slip, though, the boat was gone. While Cassandra often enjoyed, as she put it, “taking the house for a spin,” she had always checked with Angela first. Coming home to find it missing jolted Angela badly.

  Angela took out her phone and dialed. The call went directly to voicemail. Cassandra had turned her phone off again. “Cassie? Call me back. Please. Just let me know you’re okay.”

  She hung up and stared into the empty space, her mind a confused welter. Then a movement caught her eye. She glanced at the breakwater and breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief upon seeing her boat’s welcome silhouette against the afternoon sun, heading for the marina entrance.

  Angela paced, waiting for the boat to arrive. It was under engine power already, and both sails had been furled. The wind must have been much stronger on the Bay. She readied the docking lines and, shading her eyes, watched for Cassandra. As the boat neared, Angela could discern her girlfriend at the helm. Something or someone was in the cockpit with her, but they were too far out to see clearly.

  The engine revved in reverse as the boat drifted toward dock. Cassandra went onto the deck and dropped the bumpers. She did not look directly at Angela, but when Angela threw her a docking line, she tied the boat fast.

  “I called. Why don’t you ever pick up?” Then Angela saw Simon in the wheelhouse. Heat rose in her face. Simon had blown off his appointment, and evidently Cassandra was party to that. And what kind of fool took a wheelchair-bound man sailing?

  She glared at Cassandra. “He had an appointment today! I waited an hour! Then we had a bomb scare, and all this time you were playing with your new friend?”

  Cassandra’s glance in return was cool and distant. “He wasn’t going to go to see you anyway.” She prepared the ramp for Simon to roll across from the dive platform, at the rear of the boat, to the dock.

  “And so you decided to help him avoid therapy.”

  Simon spoke up. “Angela. It’s not her fault.”

  Angela turned her glare on Simon. “She knows better than to interfere with one of my patients. Stay out of this.”

  “I will not.” He unlocked his chair and began rolling toward the ramp. “Cassie was trying to talk me into seeing you. She spent the last three hours yakking my ears off about how you were a miracle worker and stuff.”

  Angela crossed her arms, glowering. Cassandra shouldn’t have gone off without telling her.

  “So… I’m sorry.” Simon rolled across to shore. “I couldn’t handle what happened at the clinic. But I think she won the argument, anyway.”

  Cassandra stared at him. “What?” Then her eyes widened as she turned and looked at Angela again. “Bomb scare?”

  Angela waved her off. “I’ll tell you about it in a minute.”

  “Angela.” Simon rolled over to her. “If you’re still willing, I’d like to try again.”

  “I don’t know. I’m still angry about Cassie just running off with the boat like this.” She turned to Cassandra. “What’s with the cell phone? Why couldn’t you just call and tell me what you were up to?”

  “I was going to call.” Cassandra looked away. “I forgot to charge my phone again. And then I was trying to get this guy to go back for another try.” She turned back to Angela. “What’s this about a bomb?”

  “Okay.” Angela sighed. It sounded as though she owed Cassandra an apology for blowing up at her. The tension began to drain out of her shoulders. She bent to help tie off the boat. “Cassie, someone threw a grenade through our window.”

  “Holy shit,” said Cassandra. At almost the same moment, Simon asked, “Who did it?”

  Angela answered Simon. “I don’t know. It didn’t go off, but the fire department and police were there. The place is closed down for a while.”

  “But why would anyone do that?” Cassandra came over to crouch next to Angela.

  “Beats me.” Angela stood. “I had just gotten back from a dream-walk where I saw something really weird. Then—”

  Cassandra pointed her finger at Angela. “Let me guess. A big battle scene, some kind of giant golden star with red and white behind it, and then a huge sword and some other stuff.”

  “You saw that?” Angela recapped what she had learned. “So, the Yezidis are getting wiped out.”

  Cassandra nodded. “Yeah, it really sucks. But what’s that got to do with us here?”

  “I don’t know.” Angela turned to where Simon was waiting. “Whatever it is, it seems to be connected to you. Can we do the work at your place? The clinic’s shut down for now.”

  He loosened his shoulders and gave her a thin smile. “That’s fine with me.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The Medium

  An ally joins the raging fight

  To rid the world of ancient blight,

  Yet stronger still is angry god

  Defending vice with armored might.

  The sound of sipping tea and the sibilance of indrawn breath dampened by the fragrant liquid passing through her lips were a comfort to Nadia. She needed comforting. The earth felt hollow under her feet as if she would fall through at any moment. She set the cup down and regarded her visitor.

  Andrea was comfortably stout, dressed in one of her faded flowery dresses. If it weren’t for her dark Romani eyes, she would have passed for every gadjo grandmother alive. She even wore reading glasses around her neck, which Nadia decided looked silly.

  Andrea had pulled up a kitchen chair rather than take Michael’s seat or sit across the room on the couch. She picked up her own tea from the side table next to Nadia and took a sip.

  “Michael’s gone to stay with Marko,” Nadia said. “You remember Marko, Catarina’s oldest?”

  “Yes. He’s a wild boy.” Andrea chortled. “Michael’s gonna be holding an aching head every morning.”

  “He already does.” She set her teacup down. “Andrea, I’ve tried to see him, but my Sight is failing. I don’t know why. I asked you to come over to help me do a spirit working.”

  “I’ll get the space ready.” Andrea nodded, all business. She got up and went into the kitchen.

  “Don’t bother with the salt. I’ve set rock salt all around.”

  “Good. Is the bonfire ready?”

  “No bonfire.” At Andrea’s surprised expression, Nadia scowled. “Neighbors complained, and we nearly got a ticket from the fire department. So…” Her face sagged, and she sighed. “We compromise. Fetch me the incense sticks on the sill there. And the holder.”

  Andrea returned with the requested items, shaking her head but saying nothing.

  “Thank you.” Soon pungent smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling. Turning back to face Andrea, Nadia put her hands on her thighs.

  “I’ve got the wand.” Andrea pulled a decorated, ribbon-festooned wand out of her handbag and flourished it. “Where’s the drum?”

  Another thing she could not use was a drum—drat it all. “No drumming. Neighbors complained.” Nadia shrugged.

  “Really?”

  “Really.” Nadia closed her eyes and began mumbling a chant in Romani to call the spirits.

  “Spirits, angels, hear our call,

  I speak my spell, attend us now,

  Bring us wisdom.”

  As she muttered, she heard a rustle and relaxed, knowing that Andrea was gesturing to the four directions, to the sky, and to the earth. Knowing what would happen next, Nadia still jumped when she felt the wand touch her knee. A mild electric shock ran through her legs, and they quivered for a moment.

  The repeated chant drew her mind into its circular pattern, and she heard her blood singing in her ears. A comfortable, floating sensation came over her as she entered into a light trance. Her lips moved automatically, and her awareness of the chant faded, replaced by a vibration that shook her body. The drumbeat of her heart whisked her away t
o the world of the spirits.

  Her first impression was of bright light that illuminated the room. However, it seemed as if the light were somehow inside her head rather than outside. She no longer heard or felt the chant, and she no longer cared. She was there. She spoke firmly in her mind.

  —Who’s there? Tell me who you are, or my Guardian will make you go away.—

  There was a blank stillness that felt oppressive, heavy.

  Then, as if they had been present but below the threshold of hearing, the words became clear. —Who disturbs me?—

  The floating sensation of trance deepened. She replied. —Look at me. My name’s written on my forehead, spirit.—

  There was a long, drawn-out hiss. —Nadia. I know of you. What is your desire, sorceress?—

  Nadia prepared herself. No matter how many times she had done it, she had never become entirely comfortable with the work of trance mediumship.

  —Speak through me to the woman named Andrea. Come into my body.—

  There was a pause, and then the white-light sensation intensified. Nadia’s awareness frayed into nothing.

  Nadia’s awareness returned piecemeal, beginning with her sense of hearing. A vast booming sound resolved into Andrea’s voice.

  “Nadia. Nadia. Wake up. Easy there.”

  Nadia’s temples exploded with a throbbing headache. This was the part she hated the most. She imagined this was what Michael woke up to after a night of binge drinking and wondered, not for the first time, why he didn’t just stop.

  She took a breath and opened her gummy eyes. Rubbing them with leaden fingers, she groaned. “Water.”

  Bless her, Andrea was ready. She lifted a glass, and Nadia took it, sipping at first then drinking deeply. Her throat was raw as if she had been screaming. Maybe she had been. “Did you get everything?”

  Andrea held up a single sheet of paper torn from the notebook. “I hardly got anything. Something big is going down in the Otherworld. The spirits are clamming up.”

  Nadia’s head throbbed. She settled back and closed her eyes for a moment to try to ease the pounding headache. Nothing, no pain relievers or other remedies, would make it go away more quickly. She opened her eyes again and looked at Andrea. “Okay. Let’s hear it.”

  Andrea pulled up her reading glasses from around her neck and peered at the paper. She frowned. “You—I mean the spirit—said this.” She pointed at the paper and cleared her throat. “The Eagle tears you with iron claws.” She glanced at Nadia, a worried expression warring with puzzlement.

  “Go on,” Nadia said. “Maybe the whole thing will make sense.”

  Andrea resumed reading. “The dreamer holds the key to power.”

  Nadia was puzzled. Dreamer? “I don’t know. Maybe it’s Angela. Go on.”

  “Then there’s some mumble mumble. I couldn’t catch it all, Nadia! Then you got all glittery eyed. You—the spirit—said, ‘An angel wakes at the touch of war.’ That has to mean Angela.”

  Nadia grunted. “Then who’s the dreamer?” She scratched her chin. “I was right. There is a war in heaven, Andrea. And we’re right in the middle of it.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  War in Heaven: Another Attack

  Root Hexagon, Bald Eagle

  Two angels stood guard near the Root Hexagon, facing outward, while others were arrayed at the perimeter of the crater. The commander of the team was stationed at the edge of the pool, monitoring the crystalline power source as it continued to pump energy in a steady pulsation along the connecting cables.

  Another angel appeared at the lip of the crater between two at the perimeter. The two nearer the pool immediately raised their weapons, alert to danger. The commander prepared to reach for his own weapon. However, the new arrival wore the livery of Bald Eagle and calmly descended into the crater. Its movements were soothing in their familiarity, and the guards returned to attention, having dismissed its presence from their minds as they watched for intruders from other Egregores.

  The commander monitoring the flow glanced again at the newcomer and felt a shudder of recognition. Something was wrong with its appearance. Perhaps its color was subtly wrong, but he could not determine this without a closer examination, and the work of monitoring power flows was all consuming. The newcomer assumed a guard position, and the commander resumed his work.

  The intruder burst with a deafening roar, knocking the commander to his knees. Brilliant shards of all colors scattered about the crater. Where each shard landed, an enemy angel materialized, weapon ready. The commander got to his feet. There was no sign of the guards who were nearest the explosion.

  “Iron Star!” With that shout, the commander unsheathed a many-bladed sword glowing with power. He rushed to engage the dark-eyed attackers. Others of his surviving cohort were already struggling with the enemy.

  Iron Star materialized near the Root Hexagon and, with an irritated growl, leaped into the fray. Powerful swipes of his iron claw-like weapon dispatched several of the enemy immediately. Those that remained concentrated their efforts on him. The commander collapsed, exhausted, and watched the battle. A shimmer in the air near the Root Hexagon betrayed the presence of Diamond Angel. Bands of force entangling it proved that the entity was still enmeshed in the isolation trap.

  Iron Star’s wily foe stabbed at him skillfully with its sword, forcing him to retreat a few steps. Then, with renewed vigor, Iron Star beat his enemy back, dispatching him. More of Bald Eagle’s defenders appeared, and the remaining attackers retreated hastily. Diamond Angel began to fade, apparently unable to remain in proximity to the Root Hexagon now that the Dark Eyes contingent was in retreat.

  The enemy portal was nowhere near the crater, preventing a speedy escape. Iron Star exulted. This was his chance to put a stop to Dark Eyes’s interference. “After them!”

  Growling racial slurs, several of the defending angels leaped over the edge of the crater, Iron Star following. They sprinted among towering organic shapes and geometric solids, vaulting piles of debris and the detritus of warfare. Soon Iron Star had pulled ahead of the rest of his warrior angels as they raced along the avenues of Bald Eagle.

  Frustratingly, the enemy angels stayed just ahead of Iron Star’s contingent. They rounded a corner, and the portal came into view on the outskirts of the Mothers’ District. Iron Star and his band redoubled their efforts and nearly caught up with their foes. They hurled themselves through the portal after the enemy.

  The landscape blurred around them. Iron Star felt a tug in the center of his being as he departed the realm of Bald Eagle. The sky had darkened, and the landscape was not nearly so cluttered with the features of a complex Egregore. Wild grass and low shrubbery, rather than pavement, made the footing treacherous as Iron Star led his force in pursuit. The chase continued through a lightly forested area under glowering clouds. The smells of fresh rain and ozone permeated the air.

  Ahead, the contingent from Dark Eyes entered a clearing dotted with cyclopean statues, weathered by the passing eons. Iron Star, having pulled ahead of his fellow warriors, dodged around a monument carved in the form of an old woman bent over a staff. The next moment, he was sailing backward, and he landed on his back, stunned. He had slammed into a barrier of some sort. Iron Star looked up. That old woman was no statue but a Guardian possessing great power. He had never penetrated this far into Dark Eyes’s territory before.

  The angels who were running with him were scattered on the ground. Two of them rapidly decomposed as he watched. The rest of the warriors staggered to their feet, groaning. Iron Star got up, aching all over, and hefted his sword. Raising it over his head, he charged the statue with a howl of anger. But before his weapon could connect, there was a flash of light. More of Dark Eyes’s angels, radiant with power in their own territory, appeared between him and the Guardian. They were armed with massive, weighted nets, and they flung these at his squadron. He managed to dodge the attack, but a number of his angels weren’t so lucky. Several of them, trapped in the nett
ing, began to dissolve in fitful sparks.

  Iron Star slashed with his sword, but the netting was too tough to hack through. He backed up, gauging his losses. “Fall back. Fall back now!”

  The remainder of his force, those who were not trapped by the nets, joined him. He raised his sword in an ironic salute to the old woman Guardian then opened his own portal to home.

  War on Earth

  “Freedom begins at home, man.” The speaker waved his hand. “Don’t get distracted.”

  —

  “The media’s lying to us.” She waved an angry fist. “We gotta get our own house in order.”

  —

  “There’s one way to do that.” He shared a scowl with his friends. “Kick out the no-good…”

  —

  “Kick out the filthy immigrants!”

  —

  “… taking all our jobs…”

  —

  “Filth.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  The Neighbors

  Later that afternoon, after Andrea had left, several members of Nadia’s extended family had come by to help with chores. Afterward, they laid the table for an impromptu potluck, something Nadia loved. Children were playing and yelling in the yard, and several of the men had brought guitars and were playing a lively tune. Of course, there was plenty of dancing.

  Nadia was ensconced in a lawn chair. The outdoor table by her side was laden with tea and a crumb-covered plate. Despite her worries, she was content.

  She turned her head at the sound of crunching gravel next door. Nadia’s neighbors, an older gadjo couple, had returned home in their ancient Cadillac luxu-beater. They were a withdrawn, surly pair of retirees who had made no secret of their dislike for her Romani family. Nadia kept a sharp eye on them as they emerged from their car.