The God of Battles

by David Menefee

  “Well, then. It’s settled.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  A Dark Dream

  On the way back home, Angela’s phone rang, and she peered at the display. It was Nadia. She touched a button on the car’s console to answer it. “Hi, Nana.”

  “That’s right, it’s your great-aunt.” The connection was poor, and her voice sounded choppy. “I haven’t heard from you since the party.”

  “I’ve been really busy. What’s up?”

  “One of your cousins needs your help. She needs a dream-walker’s help.”

  Angela glanced at Cassandra—who was staring moodily out the window—then back at the road. She suppressed a yawn. It was ten at night. “Can you call me in half an hour? I’m on my way home.”

  “This will only take a moment.” Nadia’s voice sounded clipped and harsh, and Angela suspected that this was not solely because of the connection. “A cousin of mine’s daughter hasn’t slept in weeks. She’s had horrible nightmares. I was hoping you could help her tonight.”

  “Nana, I just got back from working in the Otherworld. I’m exhausted.”

  “Angela, she’s quite weak from lack of sleep. But never mind. You’ve got to keep your strength. Can you go see her tomorrow morning?”

  Angela sighed. Then the word clicked. “Nightmares? What kind?”

  “War. Terrible, terrible war.”

  Angela tensed. Coming on the heels of her failure with Simon, this could not be a coincidence. “Okay. I’ll go see her tomorrow morning. Where’s she live?”

  Nadia gave her an address, then they said their goodbyes and hung up. Angela glanced at Cassandra again. “Something tells me this is related to what we’re doing.”

  Cassandra didn’t react but continued staring out the window, her face leaning slightly on the glass.

  “Hey.” Angela reached out and touched her on the shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  Her voice was inflectionless, but Angela suspected that she was masking her sadness. Angela brushed her hand down along Cassandra’s arm. They twined fingers and drove the rest of the way home in silence.

  The next morning, Angela drove alone to Joanna’s home. Cassandra had remained in bed, blissfully asleep. Fortunately, Angela’s relatives didn’t live far from Alameda, and soon she pulled into an apartment parking lot. She nosed the Prius into one of the guest slots, got out, and after a few minutes searching, found the apartment.

  The door opened almost immediately after her knock.

  Andrei greeted her with a haggard smile. “Dr. Cooper? Please come in.”

  “Please call me Angela.” Angela entered. “You’re family.”

  He led her to one of the bedrooms and tapped lightly on the door then opened it a crack. “Joanna? Angela Cooper’s here.”

  “Come in.” The girl’s voice was quiet.

  Joanna, a rather thin girl with long, straight black hair wearing jeans and a T-shirt, sat on the edge of the bed. She indicated a desk chair, and Angela took it, setting her backpack down by her side. She looked around. The walls were plastered with pop-star posters and heaps of clothes covered the floor. In other words, it was a typical teenager’s bedroom. But the air reeked of sweat and tension.

  “I’m going to let you work,” Andrei said. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Water?” Angela nodded her thanks as he left, then turned to Joanna. “Do you know how this works?”

  Joanna nodded, fidgeting. “Nana told me you touch my forehead and then I fall asleep and have a dream?” Her voice rose uncertainly.

  “That’s basically it. So, tell me about your nightmares.”

  Joanna shivered and glanced down at her feet. Angela noticed shadows under her eyes. Joanna’s shoulders drooped, but her hands never stopped moving, twining and untwining.

  “There’s this dark forest. I’m standing there, and I’m lost. Then there’s crashing sounds, shouting voices.” She swallowed. “Right in front of me, two men come out and fight. One of ’em looks like a boy I know.” She glanced up at Angela then back down at her feet. “The other one is a really big man. He cuts the boy’s head off with a sword. Then he sees me, raises the sword, and comes at me.”

  She paused as Andrei came back to deliver Angela’s water, then continued. “I wake up screaming. Every night for the last four nights. No one gets any sleep, me included. If I go back to sleep, I have another nightmare.” She swallowed. “I’m starting to see things when I’m awake too. Animals. Weird people.”

  “That’s an indication of acute sleep deprivation.” Angela sipped her water and considered what little she knew. Joanna didn’t come from a violent household, and there was no evidence of video games anywhere in the room to feed such nightmares. She shook herself. The day was passing quickly, and it was time to get started. “Okay. Go ahead and lie down on your bed and cross your hands and feet.”

  The girl lay down and stretched out. She scooted her weight to center herself on the bed then lay still, crossing her hands and feet as requested.

  Angela lowered her voice. “This won’t hurt at all. You’ll just drift off. It’s like hypnosis but deeper.”

  Joanna nodded and closed her eyes. She breathed in, then out with a sigh. Angela reached out and touched her forehead.

  The room dissolved, replaced by a day-lit Forest meadow. Joanna had come with Angela and was standing by her side. The girl looked around her, eyes wide, and staggered a bit on the uneven ground.

  “Hi,” said Angela. “This place is real for you right now. Relax.” She helped the girl get her balance. “When you’re awake, it’s just a symbolic place. Look around. Take your time.”

  Joanna gasped and shrank back against Angela. “This is the Forest!”

  That was interesting. While her patients sometimes dreamed of Forests, they rarely recognized their own meadow. Almost none of them had any Second Sight, and of those few, none had ever been trained to see the Otherworld the way Angela did. “Really? Joanna, do you get premonitions? Hear voices? See visions, sometimes?”

  The girl hesitated then nodded.

  “Okay, it all makes sense now. You’re psychic, and that’s a good thing. It’ll make this easier, believe it or not.” Angela gestured at the edge of the woods. “The first thing we need to do is to show you that you have nothing to fear. There are no warriors in the forest. Those are dream images.”

  Joanna needed to be tugged a bit as Angela led her toward the dark eave of the forest. The meadow itself was remarkably tidy, and though the woods were dark, they were not overcrowded with underbrush. “Joanna, how’s your home life?”

  “It’s good.”

  “You love your family? How about school?”

  “Yeah.” Joanna’s voice quivered. Angela glanced back and saw the girl staring at the forest.

  “It’s so dark,” Joanna murmured.

  “That represents your unconscious mind. All the stuff we learn about ourselves comes out of that darkness.” She reached out and, grasping Joanna’s hand, drew the girl to stand beside her. “Now, what I want you to do is concentrate on your dream images. Don’t worry. I’m right here.”

  The girl looked at Angela then closed her eyes.

  Looking back at the dark forest, Angela saw a movement. As it approached, it resolved into the form of a large cat, perhaps a lynx, slinking in and out of the shadows, its eyes glinting with reflected light. She squeezed Joanna’s hand. “Now. Open your eyes, and don’t jump!”

  The girl gasped and jerked in Angela’s grasp. She began trembling.

  “This is your fear,” said Angela in soothing tones. “Just let it come. I’ve got you. Hold on.”

  Joanna clasped Angela’s hand so tight it hurt, but Angela said nothing, unwilling to distract the girl. The lynx neared the two, its belly low to the ground and its ears flattened against its head.

  “Put out the back of your hand. Please. It won’t hurt you if you show it you’re not scared.”

  Joanna
hesitated then held out the back of her hand. The lynx craned its neck, ears pricking forward, and sniffed delicately at it. Joanna yelped and jerked her hand back. The creature’s ears flattened again as it bared its teeth with a growl.

  “Hush,” said Angela. “Don’t do that. It won’t hurt you, but you can’t show any fear. Put your hand out again. Slowly.”

  Joanna reached out with a trembling hand. The lynx sniffed then closed its eyes and rubbed its head against her fingers. Her mouth dropped open. “It’s so soft!”

  Joanna began scratching delicately. The lynx’s eyes half closed, and it began to purr with a muted rumble. Joanna stroked it between the ears. Then, releasing Angela’s hand, she kneeled. The lynx lowered its head and rubbed against her chest. Joanna hugged the big cat, crying.

  “That’s how you conquer fear,” said Angela. “You make it your ally. Fear shows you something you need to know. You should always confront it and never run away.”

  Joanna looked up, eyes shining. “Thank you.”

  Angela shook her head, smiling. “You did all the work. I just brought you here so you could.”

  Giving the girl a few minutes more to make her acquaintance with the lynx, Angela scanned the tidy meadow, searching for further clues regarding her nightmares. There was no obvious reason why this teenager would have such horrific wartime nightmares, unless she was picking up on other people’s troubles. Angela touched the girl’s shoulder. “Joanna, I need to ask you something.”

  “Sure.” She sounded relaxed, even happy.

  “Those warriors. Can you tell me more about their appearance?”

  “Well, the one who died looked like a boy I know, which made it even scarier. He, um, has black hair and eyes. The other one was a big man, taller than anybody I’ve ever seen, and he had glowing eyes. He was wearing red armor, like a knight, and his helmet covered his face. Except for those eyes.”

  Angela felt a shiver go up her spine, and a breeze tossed the tops of the trees for a moment. “Iron Star,” she muttered.

  “What?” Joanna frowned.

  “Nothing. Joanna, do you know someone named Simon? Simon Fenway?”

  “No. Why?” Now the girl’s brow was creased with worry.

  “It’s not important,” Angela lied. She regarded the meadow again. Somehow Joanna was picking up on what was happening to Simon. Or, as she had begun to suspect, Simon’s nightmares were an indication of a real threat from the Otherworld. For now, the most important thing was to help Joanna put up protection.

  Joanna stood, one hand resting on the lynx’s head. “I’m friends with my fear now. Does this mean I won’t have any more nightmares?”

  Angela shook her head. “Not exactly. But you won’t be afraid anymore. If you want the nightmares to stop bothering you completely, this is what I want you to do.” Her voice shifted into the smooth cadences of hypnotic induction. Angela intended to take advantage of Joanna’s highly suggestible state while in the Otherworld. “The next time you have one of those nightmares, you’re going to wake up in the middle of it.”

  Joanna nodded, and Angela continued. “Just hold one hand up and tell these soldiers in a firm voice to leave. They don’t really belong here, after all. You’re just picking up on problems other people are having.”

  “You mean Simon Fenway?”

  Angela smiled. Joanna was a sharp kid. “Yeah. I’m helping him with his nightmares too.” She ran her fingers through her hair. Angela was starting to run out of steam. “I think you’re going to be just fine, and you know you can call me if you have any more trouble. We need to get back.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Haunted by the Past

  But Diamond Angel stands apart

  To gaze upon the Eagle’s heart;

  Then swiftly does she send her spies

  His secret lore to her impart.

  The next morning, Angela called her great-aunt to tell her about what she had seen in Joanna’s meadow. She began speaking rapidly as soon as Nadia answered the phone, feeling a sudden urgency.

  “Angela, dear, slow down. Who or what is an iron star?”

  Angela was in the boat’s cockpit, staring at nothing. She heard clattering in the background, over the phone, and suspected that Nadia was cooking. “It’s a who. Iron Star is a creature who lives in a part of the Otherworld I never knew about. He fights. All the time, it seems. And now he’s targeting us. We’ve been helping a soldier with his nightmares. Iron Star’s been tormenting Simon for a while. And now Iron Star’s showing up in Joanna’s nightmares, too.”

  “The eagle’s iron claws. And the dreamer!”

  “What?”

  “I went to the spirits, and that’s what they told me. Something about iron claws and that a dreamer held the key to power. I was thinking the dreamer was Joanna, but maybe it’s your soldier instead.” She paused then spoke more slowly. “There is a plot, Angela. A plot against our people. Maybe these are hungry mulos, or a curse. I don’t know.”

  “It’s not just our people,” Angela said. “Simon, the soldier, is a gadjo, and he’s taking a lot of horrible abuse from this… whatever it is. Maybe it’s a hungry ghost. I don’t know. But I’ve got a hunch it’s something different, something new.”

  “Could the Soul Thief have anything to do with this?”

  “No. He’s long gone.” Memories of that terrible conflict arose in Angela’s mind. “I saw to that. You know I did.”

  “I mean, maybe this—this Tin Star—is something he left behind.”

  “Not Tin Star. Iron Star.” Angela’s her breath caught, and she felt a flutter in her stomach. She had not considered that the presence of Iron Star might be related to last year’s struggle, but knowing the power of the Soul Thief, it was possible. She considered what she knew of that ancient enemy, her old lover and would-be destroyer. “Maybe he did leave Iron Star behind. But I never saw any hint of it. If he’d had something like that up his sleeve back then, he’d have used it.”

  There was another pause. Then Nadia continued. “My neighbors gave me some trouble, and I had to shout at them. A bunch of family were visiting that day, and they liked what I said. Said it gave them backbone. Then I had to stop a fight between the boys the next day. Did I tell you? Something’s gotten into people. They just can’t stop fighting over the most ridiculous things.”

  Angela heard sipping on the other end of the line. Her stomach rumbled as she thought about Nadia’s cooking. “Well, please let me know if you hear about any more nightmares involving war, okay?”

  “I will.” She cleared her throat. “Angela, I know you’re busy. But there’s a lot you need to learn, starting with how to deal with the hungry mulos and how to lay them to rest. How to work with the spirit world. I can teach you that. And better than the ghost of your grandfather.”

  Angela sighed. Here we go again. “I know. I know. I promise, I’ll find some time soon. As soon as I can, okay?”

  “Very well, dear. Give my love to Cassandra and Eric.”

  “I’ll do that. Give Michael a big hug for me, okay? Love you. Bye.” She hung up and closed her eyes to concentrate, remembering all she could of the many powers of the Soul Thief and the Great War he had caused. Pressure mounted within her as if her prior incarnation as the Lady of Light were seeking dominance. She fought down the temptation to give in and allow those old habits of thought to take over. The most poignant memories centered on the Chancellor, who’d been reborn over many lifetimes to become Cassandra.

  As if hearing her thoughts, Cassandra came up from where she had been lurking below decks. Angela glanced at her. “Cassie, remember the stories I told you about the War our people fought?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m afraid we’re not through fighting it.”

  “You said that was a long time ago.”

  “It seems like only yesterday to me. I spent the last umpteen-zillion years in the Otherworld, watching… him, but that was more like a long dream. I remember the lifetime
before that time very well when he destroyed our world.”

  Cassandra eyes widened. “But he’s dead! Worse than dead.” She hugged herself.

  “Yes, he is. But I’m still worried about us. Our world. And the legacy of the older world that he reawakened.” Or that I may have reawakened, she added silently.

  After further discussion, Angela and Cassandra decided they needed to try to enlist Simon’s help. He offered the only reliable way that Angela could use to contact Iron Star, and they needed to learn more about their new enemy. Angela had a sense that time was running out, though she could not put her finger on why.

  Now they were outside his apartment, and Angela rapped on the door. Cassandra stood beside her. Angela smelled something pungent, an aroma that she could not identify. The odor reminded her of incense, but if it was, it was not one she would ever burn.

  “Simon? It’s us, Angela and Cassie.” Angela glanced at Cassandra, who was staring at the door. “Simon? I know you’re home. I heard you moving. Cassie can hear you thinking.”

  There was a thump. “Go away.” Simon’s voice was muffled.

  “I’m not gonna do that. This is bigger than you, bigger than us. We need to talk.”

  “I said, go away!” His voice was louder. It sounded as though he was in the living room. “You can’t help me. Neither can Cassie.”

  Cassandra rolled her eyes and snorted.

  “I don’t think we were going about it the right way,” Angela continued. “Simon! Please, let us in.”

  There was silence. Cassandra looked at Angela. “He doesn’t want us to get hurt. He’s got no idea what you—what we—can do.”

  Angela stared at the door, willing Simon to open it. “Look, I know you’re worried about us. But this isn’t just about us. There’s a war going on, and we’re all in it. Together.”

  There was more silence, followed by another muffled thump. They waited.