by Ilana Waters
Why had my father brought us here? Did the bridge’s angels hold some kind of meaning for him? I’d never known him to be religious. Even if he were, the symbols here were far from the Roman polytheism of his youth. His witch beliefs, if he had any, might also be polytheistic. But ultimately, Wicca holds that the energy of every god and goddess combines to create the All, a being that rises above even the distinctions of deities. And although Abigail was also a witch, I don’t think she ever gave up the monotheism of our Jewish heritage.
As for me, I wasn’t sure what I believed. There must be some kind of power out there; I feel it whenever I do magic, and sometimes when I don’t. But as for where it comes from and what it means, your guess is as good as mine. But was Titus thinking that any of these things might help us now? I hated to be cynical, but I didn’t see that happening.
“Maybe there’s a way to trick Oblivion into revealing the secret of the lemniscate,” Abigail was saying. I blinked rapidly. I’d been so lost in thought I hadn’t realized my parents were talking.
“But how, when the demon already knows Joshua’s every thought?” Titus walked with his hands clasped behind his back. “No, I think his efforts would be more fruitful if he learned how to control the lemniscate.”
“Well, I pray to God you’re right.” Abigail looked out over the water.
“Yes, where is God in all this, if He even exists?” Mindlessly, I looked towards the sky.
Titus snorted. “If there are demons, it’s not much of a stretch to say there’s a god, or more than one. Hell, He probably created demons.” My father voiced this with just enough contempt to reveal what he thought of such a god.
“But then why won’t He do something to stop them?” I asked. “To stop Oblivion?”
Abigail sighed, and turned a pearl bracelet on her wrist around and around. “You don’t need direct divine intervention to defeat a demon. God or the Great Whatever gave you a brain. So use it.”
I raised my eyebrows at her. “He couldn’t have also sent a few avenging angels maybe?”
“He or She,” corrected Abigail.
“Or they,” said Titus. “Now that we’ve run through all the pronouns—”
“Wait.” I stopped walking and turned to Abigail. “Are you saying I’m having demon problems because I’m not religious enough? You were never this spiritually minded before.”
“All I’m saying is you don’t need to believe in God. You just need to believe in something,” said Abigail. “Whether it’s luck, fate, possibility, or just the sheer unknown.”
“Is that why you brought us here?” I asked Titus. I motioned with my eyes to one of the stone angels, who appeared to be holding a scroll. “To a place with symbols that could remind us of such things?” To remind me, in case I’m tempted to give up on the lemniscate.
“What? No.” Titus stared at me in confusion. “You needed to get out of that suffocating hotel suite. And I thought it might be nice for us to do something while we . . . while it . . .” He made a vague motion with his hand and looked away from us, over the water. My eyes met Abigail’s, and we looked away quickly as well.
So, that was it. Titus just wanted to walk in a beautiful place with his family, perhaps one last time. A memory to keep, at least for a while, until Oblivion eventually took that away, too.
We traveled in silence until we were nearly at the end of the bridge. “Shall we continue on?” I jutted my chin at the Castel Sant’Angelo, which was so close now, it seemed as if one could almost touch it.
Titus shook his head. “We’d best be getting back. If you wish to learn the secret of the lemniscate and vanquish this demon, that is.”
“There’s nothing I’d like more,” I said. Abigail nodded, and we all turned around and began walking. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a shadow next to one of the angels, but on the wrong side. The shadow was towards the water when it should have been towards the bridge. But the street lamps here were not as bright as they could be, so perhaps it was just my imagination.
You know, you could offer him a little help, Abigail said.
Who, Father? I turned my head to the left, only to see her giving the slightest of glances to Titus.
And what kind of help would that be, exactly? Titus kept his focus straight ahead, no doubt to prevent me from realizing I was the subject of discussion.
Then how is it possible that I do? I thought to myself. Ordinarily, supernaturals shouldn’t be able to hear telepathic conversations unless the “speakers” allowed it. Clearly, this exchange between my parents was meant to be private.
You’re a former military leader, Abigail insisted. Didn’t you used to eliminate threats on a daily basis? Don’t you know things about how to overcome an adversary?
The muscles in my father’s face tightened. In a general sense, yes. But my enemies were usually human. Or at least supernatural creatures like myself, whose strengths I knew, and whose weaknesses I could exploit. This is completely different. His eyes were searching, frustrated. I am an expert in scores of tactics, campaigns, battle strategies. But I have precious little knowledge that can actually help my son.
For an instant, I thought I saw a shadow dart from one angel to another just ahead of us. When we walked past the next angel, I squinted, but saw nothing. Not even when I peered around it a little. Still, I had the strangest feeling of being watched, or followed.
Could it be . . . No. Not her. It was impossible to hide here. I kept glancing around the rest of the bridge, but besides my parents and me, there was no one to be seen. I went back to listening to their conversation.
It’s not your fault. Abigail put her hand on Titus’s arm. Forget I said anything.
But it seemed Titus couldn’t. His expression was dark. Such hopeless resignation reminded me of some of the faces of the angels here. After all this time, how can I have nothing to give him? I could swaddle him in armor, cover him in shields, fortify him with weapons. But I cannot give him anything he can use to defend himself from Oblivion. To safeguard any of us. A general is meant to protect his men; a father, to protect his son. And I have failed in both.
“So that’s why you were put out that I wasn’t ‘acting like a man,’ ” I said. “You were really just ashamed you couldn’t save me.” My hand flew to my mouth as I realized I’d given away not one, but two secrets. The first was that I’d been eavesdropping on my parents just now. The second was that I’d eavesdropped on them before. Titus and Abigail stopped in their tracks and stared at me, openmouthed.
“You were listening to us?” breathed Titus. “How dare you.”
“Joshua.” Abigail’s face crumpled. “How could you?”
“Mom, I’m sorry,” I started. “Father, I . . . I . . .”
“No, I mean literally.” Abigail cocked her head. “How could you have heard what we said? Our powers should have prevented it.”
“It was Oblivion.” I suddenly understood what had happened. I walked over to the balustrade and leaned on it with one hand. “He let me enter your thoughts as if you were talking to me. I couldn’t stop.”
“That’s no excuse!” Titus folded his arms.
“Actually, it kind of is,” said Abigail. “So, you heard what we said the other night at the hotel?” She bit her lip.
“Ah, yeah. The whole ‘weakling’ bit, I’m afraid. Was raging more of what you had in mind, Father?” I asked him. “It didn’t seem to help the coffee table.”
“Of course not.” Titus unfolded his arms and his shoulders slumped. “It’s just . . . this whole Oblivion thing has got everyone off balance. And if he helped you read our thoughts, I’m fairly certain he wants it that way. The long and short of it is, we’re all doing things we wouldn’t normally do.” He looked me in the eye. “I’m sorry for what I said.”
My father was apologizing for something? Dear reader, I cannot tell you what a rare and precious occurrence this was. I could count on one hand the number of times Ti
tus had expressed remorse over anything. Unfortunately, his pained expression did not allow me to savor the moment. In fact, I wanted to reach out to him. To comfort and reassure. But Titus was about as likely to accept such a gesture as he was to apologize a second time.
“It’s fine, Father,” I said. “And Mom’s right: none of this is your fault. You both taught me everything you could. You don’t need to protect me or save me. If anything, it’s my turn to save you.” If only I knew how, I thought to myself.
Abigail linked arms with Titus, and we continued walking. We were almost back at the other end of the bridge now. I could see signs of civilization in the distance: people milling about, cars honking, Vespas zipping this way and that. Then I stopped.
“Did either of you hear . . .” No, not that. There was nothing to hear. It was more like a feeling. “Do you get the sense there’s someone else here?” I asked.
Abigail turned her head towards either end of the bridge. “I don’t see anyone.”
Titus glanced around as well, then narrowed his eyes and inhaled. “No, Joshua’s right. There’s another heartbeat. A distinctive scent.”
“Maybe it’s a large fish?” Abigail said hopefully.
“I think my vampire senses know the difference between a fish and a person, Abigail.”
“If someone is here, they must be in the water.” I leaned over a balustrade, but there was only inky darkness below.
“I don’t hear any splashing.” Titus joined me.
I shook my head. “Well, they can’t be on the bridge, unless . . .” I looked on the other side of the balustrade. I saw a ledge that, I supposed, could allow one to traverse the bridge unseen. If one were suitably agile. But we had no more time to contemplate it, because there came a piercing, high-pitched noise I knew all too well.
My parents and I covered our ears as the unbearable sound penetrated our skulls. I’d at least had a moment to brace myself. But this feeling was new to Titus and Abigail, whose faces twisted in agony. Titus grunted, a harsh noise meant to conceal the pain he felt. My mother simply screamed.
Then the sound abruptly stopped, the way it always did. “The dynastructor!” I gasped, trying to catch my breath.
“Oh, no!” cried Abigail. “Is that what that was?” We looked up towards an angel grasping a crown of thorns. On top of the pedestal, holding onto the angel, was a figure wearing a hood. The hood fell away, and we finally saw the face underneath it. Nocifari. It had been her after all.
She was dressed the same as before in a diagonal-cut black jacket, boots, and gloves. She still had on her weapons belt, though thankfully, she’d left the crossbow at home. Likely it was too heavy and cumbersome for crawling along a bridge in stealth mode. The only difference in her appearance was the knee brace she wore, and the bandage wrapped around her head. I felt a twinge of guilt remembering the places I’d struck her with the ceiling beam. I could also see thin, red lines on her neck from when I’d nearly strangled her with wires.
Titus gave a snarl, lips curling back to reveal his fangs. He sprang at the demon hunter, probably remembering too late that the dynastructor temporarily blocked his powers. Nocifari gave Titus a hard sideways kick in the teeth. Normally, this would have been no match for his vampire strength and speed. But now, it sent him sprawling backward, mouth bleeding. Livid, Abigail put her hands out to her sides, palms down. Her eyes narrowed into slits, and she focused on Nocifari as the bricks beneath her fingers wobbled. Confused, she looked down. The bricks rattled a little more in their places, but refused to come to her hands. She gave a cry of exasperation and lunged for Nocifari.
“Gail, no!” Titus sprang up, blood running down his chin. Nocifari tried to kick Abigail the way she had my father, but Abigail grabbed her leg and knocked her onto the balustrade. Before Abigail could grab her again, Nocifari pushed herself off the railing and flipped backwards onto the pedestal again.
“Enough!” I shouted. “Come after me if you want, but leave my family alone!” I started towards Nocifari when I saw her draw something from her belt. I couldn’t see what it was; the bridge was too dark and she moved too quickly. But the next thing I knew, the angel’s shadow was growing longer right in front of me. When I looked up, the statue was leaning at an angle, coming off the pedestal and straight into my path.
Out of nowhere, I felt something heavy slam into my side and push me down. A fraction of a second later, the angel fell into the spot where I’d been standing. Countless hours of planning a sculpture—not to mention hundreds of years of existence—were smashed right in front of my eyes. Pieces of gray-white marble flew off in all directions. Only the angel’s face lay before me, like a mask, its sightless eyes forever fixed on heaven.
And to think, it could have been me.
I turned my head. Titus was lying next to me on his side. Nocifari was still standing on the pedestal, furious. She drew what looked to be a small red stick from her belt with one hand and a lighter with the other. Titus and I scrambled to get up as she lit the dynamite’s fuse, then pulled back her arm to throw it at us.
Abigail saw it, too. With astounding speed, she ripped her pearl bracelet off and threw it into the river. Instantly, a huge wave came crashing over the edge of the bridge, engulfing Nocifari and putting out her explosive. Both tumbled over the side and hit the water with an enormous splash. When we ran to get a closer look, Nocifari had already made it halfway to the shore. Titus started towards the end of the bridge, face contorted in anger, fangs still visible. No doubt he was intent on running the rest of the way and grabbing Nocifari when she emerged.
“No, Titus, wait!” Abigail pulled him back by the shoulder. “You can’t tear her apart with your bare hands. You’ll expose what you are.”
“So we just let her get away?” he growled, not taking his eyes off Nocifari as she arrived on shore. She glanced once behind her, then vanished into the crowded streets of Rome.
“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of her later,” I said. Then I realized this was a thought Oblivion was voicing to me. I wondered why he didn’t simply have me dispatch Nocifari when she was on the bridge. I got the sickening feeling it was because his eventual plans for her were more . . . creative. I didn’t know which I feared more: her killing me or Oblivion killing her.
Titus’s chest and shoulders heaved as he glowered in the direction Nocifari disappeared. Finally, his breathing steadied and he turned to us.
“Are either of you hurt?” he asked. We shook our heads. “That was close. What a loathsome feeling.” He shuddered. “I never felt so defenseless in my life.”
“Your powers will come back soon, both of you,” I said. “Promise. We’ll probably be outside the dynastructor’s radius as soon as we’re off the bridge.”
“But I don’t understand, Abigail.” Titus wiped blood off his chin. “If that blasted thing took away our powers, how did you make the water rise up like that?”
“Don’t you remember when Joshua explained the dynastructor to us?” Abigail motioned to me. “He said it blocks brain waves used to control energy. The pearls on the bracelet were water-attracting stones. They already had energy stored in them. So I used that.”
I nodded. “Good thinking.” Titus raised his eyebrows, also clearly impressed. “By the by,” I said to him, “thanks for what you did before. Pushing me out of the way, I mean.”
“I didn’t have a choice, now, did I?” He brushed off his jacket. “You were standing in front of a falling statute with your mouth hanging open.”
“I was not—it was not hanging open.” And I don’t know if a heavy object would even crush me at this point, what with my new demonic healing abilities. But I suppose it’s the thought that counts.
“This doesn’t make any sense.” Abigail stepped over the broken angel to examine its former pedestal. Titus joined her. “That statue must have weighed a ton. How did a mortal woman who was just badly beaten push it over?”
“With this.” Titu
s picked up a small black piece of plastic. It had a shining red light on one end and a button on the other. “A handheld laser.” He pointed it at the pedestal, which cracked where a ray of thin, red light hit it.
“Titus, be careful with that!” Abigail said. Titus shrugged and tossed the laser over his shoulder into the river.
“But why didn’t she laser me to pieces directly?” I asked. “Why push a block of marble on me at all?”
“Likely she wanted the cover the statue afforded in case any of us came at her again,” Titus said. “For all the good the latter did,” he muttered.
I blew a puff of air out my lips. “So she tried to vanquish a demon with an angel.”
“Yes, very poetic,” said Titus. “And where in the hell is your savior, Philip, in all this? He’s supposed to be keeping that blighted woman away from you.”
“He’s trying, Father!” I threw out my hands. “He made several attempts to get ahold of her. Besides, you saw how strained he was back at the hotel. He’s only human.”
“That’s the problem with the whole bloody lot of them,” he grumbled.
“I’m actually curious to see what she drops on me next,” I said. “An anvil, perhaps? I’m beginning to feel like I’m in a deranged cartoon.”
Abigail looked at me severely. “This is no time for jokes, Joshua. You almost got killed.”
“Not to mention a priceless monument got obliterated,” I added.
“Yes, because that’s really what I’m worried about right now. I mean, it’s a shame but—oh, it doesn’t matter! This is stone.” Abigail thrust her hand at what remained of the statue. “You are a person.” Then, a voice whispered to me. A voice only I could hear.
But not an ordinary person. Not for long.
Chapter 20