The God of Battles

by David Menefee

  The room’s details became unnaturally vivid, and Angela’s body quivered. She restrained the urge to leap up and start punching someone. Starting with that bastard Iron Star. She squeezed Cassandra’s hand and let go. “He’s gone too far.”

  “Angela.” Cassandra put her hand up, palm out. “Don’t go after him. If he can do this to me, he’ll kill you.”

  “Cassie, he’s going to come after me anyway. The least I can do is save him the trouble and take his fucking ass out. Time to use this power I’ve got.”

  “There’s no way I’m letting you do this.” Cassandra’s stare pinned Angela down. “You need me to get to Iron Star through Simon’s nightmare, and I’m not going to take you to the other side like this. Just…” She lifted her hand again, this time palm up. “Just stop, okay? When I get out of here, then we’ll get back on his trail. Okay?”

  Angela lowered her eyes. Cassandra was right, of course, but everything in Angela rebelled against common sense. An atavistic impulse within her pushed her to go to battle with the warmonger. But it was true that Angela had no way to get to that dream world without Cassandra—no way that either of them knew of, anyway.

  With great difficulty, Angela brought her emotions under control and forced a smile. This wouldn’t fool Cassandra, but Angela desperately needed to change the subject. “Cassie, Eric’s coming by a little later. I’ll stay till he gets here, though. So, how’s the food?”

  Cassandra stared at her for a moment longer, face smoothing. Then she stuck her finger toward her mouth and made a gagging face.

  Angela grinned. “This might cheer you up. I was on the way home with these when Eric called about you.” She dug in her backpack and pulled out a box of chocolates.

  “Awesome.” Cassandra’s face lit up as she took the box and opened it. She took out one of them and popped it in her mouth. “Mmm, cherry.” She grinned at Angela, chocolate bits between her teeth.

  Angela laughed. “Hey, Cassie. Maybe now you’ll have more time for your poetry. Someday I’d love to hear your readings at a slam.”

  Cassandra blushed. “Um, well. Someday. Thanks.”

  “The doc told me you’d be in a wheelchair for a while.” Seeing Cassandra frown, Angela raised a hand. “It’s okay. We can set you up with an outdoor bed in the cockpit if you’re up to it. I’ll rig a ceramic heater, and you’ll have the sleeping bag.”

  “You know how I feel about sleeping outside.” Cassandra’s mouth was set.

  Angela already had a fallback plan. “Well, Eric said he’d be glad to put you up if you’d like.”

  “I guess that’s okay.” She winced as she shifted her weight in the bed. “You can stay over too, right?”

  “Sure, hon. Whatever you want.”

  As Angela was leaving the hospital, Nadia’s ringtone chimed from her pocket. She took out her phone. “Yes.”

  “Angela? This is your great-aunt.”

  Angela sighed. “I’m sorry, Nana. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

  “Is Cassandra all right? I just heard the news from your friend Eric.”

  Angela filled Nadia in on what had happened, hearing what sounded like genuine concern in her great-aunt’s voice.

  “I saw it,” Nadia said.

  “What?”

  “I saw what happened to Cassie.”

  “How? Were you watching over her?” Angela heard the incredulity in her own voice.

  “I had a vision sent by the Ancestor himself. By the way, your young lady is very noisy, Angela. I can hear her thinking way out here.”

  “I thought she had that under control.”

  “Well, for most people she does, but remember that I’m sensitive. Anyway, in the vision I saw something dangerous stalking her.”

  Angela reached her car and stood by the door. “She says it was a rapist.”

  “Nobody human was after her.” Nadia sounded impatient. “Anybody she saw was just a puppet. It was that creature, Tin Claw or whatever his name is. He was chasing her.” Her voice turned steely. “Listen to me. Right now you’re in danger. I don’t know what sort of creature this Tin Claw is, but he’s got you in his sights.”

  Angela got in the Prius. “You know I can’t let him get away with this. I’m going after him.”

  “Angela! He’s very dangerous. Worse than the Soul Thief ever was.”

  Angela plugged the phone into the hands-free unit and started the car. “And so am I. Dangerous, that is. Please do me a favor and don’t get involved. You saw what Iron Star can do. He’s got the power to reach into our world and persuade people to do things—through what they read and what they see. I need to find him and stop him.”

  “Too late. I’m already involved. Apparently, we all are.” Nadia paused. “Well, you never do listen to me. Just be careful. And Angela,” Nadia said, her voice warmer, “I’m going to keep an eye out for you. I know you don’t want my help, but it’s there if you need it.”

  Her words lifted Angela’s heart unexpectedly. Nadia defended her clan with an iron will. It was good to have that will on her side. “I love you, Nana. I’ll call you when I can.”

  “You do that, dear.”

  Angela stood in her Otherworld meadow, staff in hand. She stared, frustrated, at the tall conifer. No visions of war or of her enemy manifested. She closed her eyes again and concentrated but to no avail.

  “Granddad? Are you here? Anywhere?” She’d started calling for him as soon as she had arrived, with no answer, no hint that he even existed in the Otherworld. She had hiked into the forest as far as she dared go, skirting other meadows, and had found nothing unusual. There was no sign of her enemy, of her mentor, or of Nadia’s oversoul, who sometimes haunted this region.

  “Dammit.” Angela waited several more fruitless minutes then stashed her staff in the cabin and returned home.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  War in Heaven: Prescription Delivers

  Root Hexagon, Bald Eagle

  The commander of the guard at the Root Hexagon watched for an attack, yet when one came, it still took him by surprise.

  He heard a loud crack followed by shouts of alarm. He whirled to face the Root Hexagon in time to see one of his men tumbling into the pool at the base of the artifact. The other angels had their weapons out and were scattering to the perimeter of the crater.

  He collared one of them. “What happened?”

  The angel was breathless. “I don’t know. My partner was scanning the sky near the pool, and then his head exploded. Something flew by so fast I couldn’t see it. It struck the crystal there. It may be a new type of angel, but I can’t be sure.”

  The commander peered toward where the angel pointed. He could just make out a crack that had not been there before. Iron Star was going to be furious.

  He shook his head and turned back to his subordinate. “Lieutenant, stand your men down. Whatever did that is long gone. I will need to report this to Iron Star when he returns from his mission.”

  Franklin Psychiatric Hospital, San Francisco

  “Nurse, this patient is ready to check out.” Dr. Weatheridge flipped the chart shut. “She has responded excellently to the EMDR work you’ve done with her. Very commendable.”

  “Actually, I think we can thank Facebook.” Seeing his confusion, Nurse Delaney continued. “She told me she saw a posting telling her she didn’t owe her dreams to anyone. So why relive the past in them, right? Anyway, she said that was what helped her let go of the need to punish that burglar.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “That’s one for the books. Social media as therapy.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  The Overworld

  Emboldened by her victory

  The Angel uses strategy

  To hurl the Warlord from his perch

  To rise in noble majesty.

  Angela returned to normal awareness lying in bed. She swung her legs off and stalked to the kitchen, muttering angrily to herself. She had not eaten since morning, so she nuked something from th
e freezer.

  Waiting for the microwave to finish, she jumped when her phone rang. She dashed back to the master cabin to retrieve it, whacking her elbow painfully on the way. She picked up, wincing. “Ow! Simon?”

  “Yeah. Cassie just called and told me she was in an accident.”

  “I don’t think it was an accident.”

  “Me neither. Listen. I’m sorry I’ve been a complete asshole.”

  She walked back to the galley, nursing her elbow, and took a plate out of the cupboard. “You quit on us, Simon. I understand, though, and I’m glad you called.”

  “I still feel responsible. It was my monster that got her, wasn’t it?” He didn’t wait for her reply. “I want to do something to make up for it. I want to help.”

  She took the hot burrito out of the microwave and poured a dollop of sauce on it before taking it to the dinette. “I hope you’re ready to fight. Really fight. It’s going to be harder than anything we did before.”

  “Somehow, my nightmare went after my friends. I don’t owe my dreams to anyone. Not Uncle Sam. And not to this creature.”

  Angela smiled, relief washing through her. “That’s my meme talking.” Then she froze as an idea pushed into her mind.

  “What?”

  “Just a sec.” A superstitious fear of jinxing the notion made Angela reluctant to speak. “Listen. I’ve got to fill you in on a few things. Cassie and I did an experiment. Do you know what memes are?”

  “What, like the funny pictures you see on Facebook?”

  “Um, yeah, sort of. Anyway, I think Iron Star is the Otherworld equivalent of a meme. I’ve been doing some reading on memetics as a treatment protocol…”

  “Angela?”

  “Sorry, I’m babbling. So, Cassie and I created a new meme, and what you just said came from us. About owing your dreams. Cassie went chasing after it in the minds of people in this town, and Iron Star did something that made her run into traffic.”

  “Son of a bitch. It’s my fault.”

  “No! Iron Star isn’t your thing. He’s something else. He’s been around a long time, I bet. As long as there’ve been people with PTSD anyway. Simon, I tried to find Iron Star just a few minutes ago using dream-walking. No dice. But maybe I can use my meme to get to him. Are you up for some nightmare work right now? I know it’s really late.”

  “I can’t sleep anyway.”

  “Neither can I.”

  The hospital room was dark and quiet. Cassandra remembered the nurse adjusting her morphine drip and the ensuing warm blanket of pleasurable darkness. She also remembered waking up, her head stuffed with cotton, calling out to Angela and apologizing for not being able to help her go after Iron Star. When she awoke again, however, her head was clear, and she felt energetic and free of pain. When she opened her eyes, Cassandra found that she could see everything clearly. Someone must have left the light on, though the illumination was oddly uniform and sourceless.

  She sat up easily and swung her legs off the bed. For some reason, her feet felt as if they were wrapped in cotton: pleasantly numb, slightly rigid. She could barely sense that there was a surface under her at all.

  It was time to go help Angela. On her way to the door, something made Cassandra pause and turn. A small form lay on her bed, and for a moment she wondered who had snuck in and taken her spot. Then the realization rolled into her mind. She was out of her body.

  At first she thought that she was dead. She should have felt horrified, but her mind seemed to be working very slowly, albeit with great clarity, and she felt no worries. Then it occurred to her that she was doing what Simon did. Immediately, Cassandra thought of Angela again.

  The world dissolved into whiteness, and she felt a pulling sensation in her solar plexus. When the light faded, she was standing in the living room at Simon’s place. The room was dim, though crowded with the same eerie illumination she’d seen at the hospital. She looked around herself. There was Simon in his chair, apparently dozing. Her eyes lit on Angela. She was stretched out on the couch.

  “Hey, you guys. I’m here.” Her voice crowded in her ears, as if she were talking in a barrel.

  No one reacted. She was not about to let that stop her. Cassandra concentrated, reaching into herself to that secret place where she could communicate with other minds. She mind-shouted, —Angela!—

  Angela’s eyes flew open. “Cassie?” she whispered, turning her head and scanning the room.

  —Yeah. I’m out of my body. Like what Simon does.—

  Angela sat up carefully to avoid waking Simon. “You’re here? In the apartment?” She glanced around again, obviously not seeing Cassandra in her astral form.

  Cassandra crossed her arms and waited for Angela to catch up with what was going on. A moment later, Angela nodded.

  “I can’t seem to follow Simon,” Angela murmured. She rubbed her face. “I’ve been trying. I went to his meadow to look for my meme. But it never showed up.” She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “Cassie, that creature is coming after all of us. The war in Iraq? It’s his fault. I know it. And I’m the only one who’s ever fought him and had a chance of beating him. Please. Can you help me? Us?”

  Someone somewhere was shouting, but the sound was faint. There were gunshots. Suddenly Cassandra knew what she needed to do. —I’ll help you. Just think of me.—

  Angela lay back, a tiny smile on her face. Cassandra looked at Simon, feeling a similar expression on her own face as she reached out mentally to contact him.

  The room abruptly faded to black. Men shouted. Boots tramped. It was a chilly night. There was the floodlit checkpoint, the guard station, the running men, and the oncoming headlights. Angela stood by her side.

  Looking down, Cassandra saw that both she and Angela were dressed in battle fatigues, like the soldiers. She touched Angela’s arm, making the older woman jump. Angela turned to her, face white with shock.

  “Cassie? My God, what’re you doing here? I thought you were staying behind.”

  “Does it matter?” Cassandra glanced around, a nervous fluttering in the pit of her stomach. “I’m here. So let me—”

  Angela took Cassandra’s hands in her own. “Cassie. You’ve got to go back. Remember, this guy almost killed you.”

  Cassandra pulled out of Angela’s grasp. She looked around. At first she could not make sense of the confusion, but then she saw him. Simon stood nearby, lit by the flood lamps that starkly illuminated the checkpoint under the strange red sky. He stood in a firing stance, his rifle at his shoulder, muzzle pointed down but ready. She and Angela stood near one of several piles of bricks and other rubble about twenty feet away.

  “Angela, I want to help. We don’t have much time.” She shook Angela by the shoulder, gently. “Stop worrying about me. I can take care of myself.”

  An engine roared. Cassandra saw the approaching headlights, and though she knew what was going to happen next, her heartbeat accelerated. She pointed at Simon. Angela shook her head then stared in his direction.

  “Simon!” Angela shouted without bothering to conceal their presence.

  He swiveled in place, ready to fire. But then he lowered his rifle. “You made it! How?” Then, seeing Cassandra, his jaw dropped. “Cassie?”

  “No time for questions,” Cassandra said. “Let’s do this.”

  Nodding, Simon laid his rifle down. The scene froze, and the nearby soldiers turned their heads and began walking toward him.

  Cassandra picked up a brick, aimed, and beaned one of the soldiers. He dropped like a sack of potatoes. The others turned sluggishly, and heartened by their slow reactions, Cassandra backed away, staying out of their reach. Someone screamed. Angela clubbed a soldier down with the butt of a rifle. She spun to deal a blow to another coming from behind.

  Cassandra noticed Simon and gasped. She ran over to tug at one of the soldiers who were struggling with him. Then Iron Star strode from the shadows, gigantic and implacable. Cassandra felt a chill emanating from him, and her own energ
y was sapped by his presence.

  Iron Star glared at both Angela and Cassandra. “My enemy,” he growled. “Leave now, or you will be destroyed.”

  “Fuck off, Iron Star.” Angela put the rifle to her shoulder, aimed, and fired. A small hole appeared in Iron Star’s flak jacket. He pulled a large knife out of a sheath at his belt and crouched, menacing them both. Angela backed up, circling away from Cassandra. Ignoring the younger woman, Iron Star tracked Angela’s movement, waving his knife. His crouch deepened as he prepared to attack.

  Cassandra saw her opening, and she leaped onto his back. He roared and reached around with a massive arm in an attempt to claw her off of him. She clung tightly. Unable to dislodge her, he bellowed with rage. Then the world around her vanished into a white roar, and her awareness shredded with it.

  Iron Star and Cassandra vanished as Angela watched in horror. “Cassie! No!”

  She looked wildly around at the soldiers, who were now passive. Simon, too, was staring at where Iron Star had disappeared. Then inspiration struck Angela. Those soldiers appeared to be projections of some kind, extensions of Iron Star’s will. She would follow her enemy by using one of them as a conduit.

  She approached a fallen soldier, whom she saw was still breathing, and reached out and touched his forehead. The checkpoint dissolved around her.

  Simon felt his heart sink. “Cassie? Angela?”

  The soldiers who had been forcing him had vanished as well. Then reality stuttered as if it were a movie whose reel was jammed, and his eyes opened in the dim living room.

  “Oh, shit.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  War in Heaven: Retaliation