Angel's Deceit (Angelwar Book 2)

by A. J. Grimmelhaus

  While the others collapsed around a tree, Kartane liberated one of the brandy bottles, watched carefully by Stetch who was giving the bottle a forlorn look, as if saying goodbye to an old friend. When he finally looked away and up to Kartane’s face, his expression cooled.

  Kartane uncorked the bottle with his teeth. ‘At least if you’re right I won’t have to hear you say “I told you so”.’

  Stetch smiled briefly, his expression dour as he raised his own bottle in a grim salute.

  54.

  They lay entwined, sated. Tol didn’t dare move for fear of disturbing Kalashadria, curled up against his side with her head resting on his shoulder and one wing draped across his naked chest like a feathered blanket. A shiver stole over him as the midnight breeze chilled the drying sheen of perspiration, and Tol glanced quickly at the angel, holding his breath and hoping she didn’t stir, wishing this moment could last forever.

  ‘It cannot be.’

  He looked down in surprise and saw her peering up at him, an expression on her face that looked half relief and half sadness. ‘What you are thinking,’ she said, ‘it cannot be. Tonight will not be repeated.’

  ‘But…’

  The angel sat up, comfortable in her nakedness. ‘Alimarcus cannot support another life, and your world is a poison to me. We cannot be together.’

  ‘There’s always a way,’ Tol said, his voice rougher than he had intended. ‘You could stay if you really w—’

  ‘No!’ Kalashadria shook her head. ‘It is not just about what I want,’ she said quietly. ‘Others depend upon me, Tol; I have responsibilities.’ She pulled a loose strand of hair back over her ear. ‘What kind of life would we have? We would have to live in hiding else suffer a parade of gawpers and pilgrims.’

  ‘I don’t mind.’

  ‘I do,’ she said gently. ‘You ask me to sustain myself on human blood, to each day live through the memories of the blood’s owner. I will not do that, not now, not ever. You ask too much.’

  ‘I’ll find another way,’ Tol grumbled.

  ‘Do not make this harder than it must be, Tol.’

  He nodded as he felt the twinge of heartache through their bond. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled.

  ‘I know.’ Kalashadria hesitated, her head turning to the west. ‘Get dressed,’ she said, reaching for her discarded figure-hugging garment. ‘Someone’s coming.’

  Tol cursed and dressed quickly, the brief feeling of bliss withering like a desert flower. If Kartane and Stetch failed, he thought, Drayken might have sent men to check. He hurried back into the cellar, the foul stench more pronounced now, and quickly retrieved the two angel-forged swords. He couldn’t bear to look upon Vixen’s slack face, and stumbled out again as quickly as he could, guilt threatening to overwhelm him. I shouldn’t have let her come.

  Tol handed Kalashadria her sword, watching the angel as her brow furrowed in concentration.

  ‘You breathe too loudly,’ she muttered, her eyes coming back into focus, and a crooked grin creasing her face.

  Tol tried to smile. ‘How many?’

  The angel frowned. ‘One.’ She didn’t look very certain.

  ‘You’re sure?’ he asked, wincing at the withering look she shot him.

  ‘Yes.’

  So we’re back to barely speaking? Two can play at that! ‘How far?’ Tol grunted in what he thought was a fair impersonation of Stetch.

  Kalashadria ignored the question. ‘He’s singing.’ The angel chewed her lip. ‘And he sounds drunk.’ She laughed a moment later, a nervous titter. ‘He’s calling for you, and he doesn’t sound happy. One of your friends?’

  Tol grinned, wiping the gore from Illis’Andiev and sheathing it at his side. ‘Kartane.’ He dropped back down to the ground, and Kalashadria joined him a moment later. ‘I’ll find a way for us to be together,’ he promised the angel.

  Their bond was awash with a torrent of conflicting emotions, shifting too quickly for Tol to make any sense of them. I’ll find a way, he swore as he settled in to wait for Kartane.

  *

  Kartane staggered around the side of the cabin a quarter-bell later, sword in one hand and a half-empty bottle of brandy in the other. He prodded the dead guard with the tip of sword, stepping over the body and peering carefully into the cellar.

  ‘You don’t want to go in there,’ Tol called.

  Kartane turned, squinting into the shroud of trees with his sword held out like a lantern in front of him. ‘You alive, Kraven?’

  ‘Mostly.’

  Kartane teetered over towards him, a noticeable wobble to his walk. ‘You kill the demons?’ he asked as he crossed the clearing.

  ‘One,’ Tol called. ‘The other left before we arrived.’

  ‘Probably a good thing,’ Kartane muttered. He stopped a moment, swaying like a sapling. ‘Is it coming back?’

  ‘No.’

  Tol heard a sigh of relief as Kartane followed the voice to its source. ‘Smells of death,’ Kartane said as rounded the tree and nearly fell over Tol’s outstretched legs. He sniffed. ‘Death and blood.’ The knight looked up as he finished, finally seeing the angel who was resting next to Tol. Kartane stared at her a moment. ‘Well,’ was all he said. The knight took a larger than usual swig of brandy, and turned his attention back to Tol.

  ‘You look dead, boy. Maybe you ain’t cut out for fighting demons.’ Another swig as he took a quick look around. ‘Your friend?’

  ‘Dead.’

  Kartane nodded. ‘Shame,’ he said.

  Tol was quiet a moment. ‘What happened at Drayken’s? Is everyone alive?’

  ‘Yeah. Except the people we wanted dead.’ Kartane flashed a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Lots of them.’

  ‘And Katarina’s sister?’

  ‘Chatty got to her in time. She’s not looking too pretty, but she’ll live.’

  Tol sighed in relief. ‘What about Drayken?’

  ‘Alive, sadly. Got a couple of letters but nothing that proves he led the treason. Still,’ Kartane said with a cheerful hiccough, ‘kidnapping Prince Julien and the Black Duke’s daughter does kind of make a statement all by itself. Ah!’ He clicked his fingers, drink-addled memory spitting something out. ‘I don’t suppose you found the prince around here, did you?’

  ‘He was in league with Drayken and the demons,’ Tol replied quietly.

  Kartane went still. ‘Was?’

  ‘He killed Vixen.’ Tol swallowed. ‘Then the demon killed him.’

  Kartane studied him a moment then nodded. ‘Don’t blame you, lad, I’d have done the same thing. Might want to practice that a few more times before telling the king though.’ Kartane took two giant gulps of brandy. ‘Maybe not mention the prince being a traitor part at all?’

  ‘That’s what I was thinking.’

  Kartane laughed. ‘You started thinking now? Bugger me, now I seen everything!’

  Tol laughed along with him for a few moments until Kartane’s smiled faded. ‘We left Drayken’s estate in case the demons got you and came looking,’ the knight said. He gave an apologetic shrug. ‘Seemed best.’

  ‘So what now?’ Tol asked.

  ‘We got to get Drayken into the city and in front of the king. Not sure how Chatty wants to do it, sneak in before dawn or barge in after and hope we can make it to the palace. Either way, they’re waiting a ways west of here. I’ll go get them; I figure here’s as good a place as any to make a plan.’ His eyes flicked over the long rents and dark stains in Tol’s clothing. ‘You sure you can do this? Looks like you took a couple of nasty wounds there.’

  ‘It’s not as bad as it looks.’

  ‘Aye,’ Kartane said slowly, his eyes finally moving to the angel. ‘I guess not.’ He turned to go, but Kalashadria’s wintry voice held him back.

  ‘Will you not speak to me?’

  He turned faster than Tol thought possible for a man three-quarts drunk at any given moment. Kartane’s eyes blazed, his face granite. Tol found his fingers unconsciously d
rifting to Illis’Andiev.

  The dark expression disappeared as Kartane hefted the brandy bottle, raising it partway and then lowering it back down to his side. ‘What is there to say?’ he said in a flat voice. ‘I read the Truth, and I know what you are. This is on you – angels, demons, whatever you are. You brought your war to our world and you dragged us into it. This is your fault.’ He turned away as Kalashadria’s mouth fell open. ‘Might want to look less happy when the others arrive,’ he told Tol gruffly, ‘they’ll know what you done.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘No? Maybe you can explain why your shirt’s on inside out?’

  Tol looked down, experiencing a brief moment of relief that nothing was amiss that was spoiled by Kartane’s laughter as he turned and walked away. The knight stopped a few feet from the open cellar, peering down into the darkness. ‘You were a fool to go in there, boy,’ Kartane said, ‘but I see why you did it.’ He glanced back at Tol, a faint smile on his lips. ‘Probably would have done the same back when I was your age.’ His smile broadened, gaze flicking to the angel. ‘And definitely the celebration afterwards.’

  Tol watched in silence until Kartane disappeared around the side of the cabin, the tang of sorrow whispering through his link with Kalashadria. ‘He’s wrong, you know. It isn’t your fault.’

  The angel was quiet for a long time. ‘Not entirely wrong,’ she said softly.

  *

  ‘I have to go, Tol.’

  Her voice was soft, a sad, forlorn timbre to it.

  Tol struggled to maintain a grip on his emotions, desperate for Kalashadria to stay, but knowing that any protest he made would only make it harder for her to leave. ‘The others will want to see you,’ he said once he had got his feelings under guard. ‘Well,’ he added with a nervous laugh, ‘maybe not Stetch, but the nuns for sure.’

  ‘I would not want them to see me like this.’

  Tol looked down at her battered appearance, the livid bruises and half-healed cuts. ‘I suppose not,’ he agreed, offering a tentative smile. ‘But you still look beautiful to me.’

  The angel smiled. ‘You humans have poor night vision.’ The smile disappeared. ‘My wing has knitted itself enough. It is time.’

  ‘Are you sure? You’re still not fully healed.’

  ‘I’m…’ Kalashadria broke off, studying Tol with a thoughtful frown he found unnerving, almost as if the angel was looking inside him. ‘How do you know?’ she asked very quietly.

  He tapped the side of his head to indicate the bond between their minds.

  ‘When did this change occur? When did you begin to sense more of me?’

  Kalashadria looked angry and hurt, as if Tol had broken some sacred trust. ‘The sword,’ he explained. ‘You were unconscious for a while and I couldn’t sense you anymore. Illis’Andiev showed me how to find you.’ He shrugged. ‘I didn’t really notice anything had changed till now. Did the sword do this?’

  Kalashadria nodded. ‘I’m sorry, Tol, truly I am.’

  ‘But… surely that’s a good thing? I’m becoming more like you, uh, your people.’

  ‘Yes,’ Kalashadria said heavily, ‘but I do not think that is good.’ She drew the backs of her fingers gently across Tol’s cheek, sending a tingle down his spine. ‘I like you the way you are. I would not see you changed.’

  ‘Oh.’ Why is it that every time it seems like something good has happened it turns out to be the opposite? ‘Is it permanent?’

  ‘Probably.’

  Tol thought for a moment then grinned. ‘But I’m still not going to grow wings?’

  Kalashadria laughed. ‘No.’

  He shrugged. ‘Maybe I’ll make my own.’ He drew a dagger from his belt and held it out. ‘You need your strength,’ he said as sternly as he could, fixing Kalashadria with a stare that Stetch might not have been ashamed of. Maybe.

  She nodded reluctantly, opening one of Tol’s wounds but making him turn away as she drew strength from his blood. When it was over, she rose quickly and held out her hand. ‘Walk with me?’

  Tol let her help him up, the dizziness less pronounced than before. Together they walked out of the trees and into the clearing behind the cabin. They reached its centre, Tol’s heart pounding fast as it shook with regret and the promise of loss. Kalashadria stopped walking, gently turning him round so they were face to face.

  ‘You have saved my life twice and my soul once,’ she said with a tremulous voice, ‘but I have treated you poorly.’ Kalashadria placed a finger over Tol’s lips as he tried to object, and the angel seemed to gain strength as if, her course now decided, the path was now easier. ‘I already knew they were here.’

  It took Tol a moment to understand. ‘The demons?’ His legs suddenly felt hollow.

  Kalashadria nodded, her eyes never leaving his own. ‘Yes.’

  ‘But… How long? Why?’

  ‘Alimarcus believed that telling you was too great a risk, that if you knew what you faced you might turn aside.’

  ‘And you – what did you believe?’

  ‘I believed you would go anyway, but… As Alimarcus said, it was too great a risk, Tol; too much depended on finding them and ending the threat.’

  ‘You’ve known since the beginning,’ Tol said, knowing he was right as the words left his lips. ‘You knew when you found me at the castle in Sudalra.’ Tol closed his eyes, his heart going cold as he realised why. ‘You used me to draw the demons out.’

  ‘I am sorry, Tol, truly I am. I hope you can forgive me.’

  He took a step back. ‘You lied to me. After everything we went through, you lied to me.’

  ‘It was necessary,’ Kalashadria said in a small voice, ‘but know that I am sorry and it will never happen again.’

  Tol nodded, stepping away as the angel’s wings unfurled.

  ‘We’ll meet again,’ Kalashadria promised him. She gave him one last look, the regret on her face so plain it made the hurt worse, and then she bent her knees and launched herself into the night.

  Tol watched until the white smear of feathers was lost in the darkness. He knew that the angel’s promise was empty; the sense of duty which drove her meant that if she felt it necessary she would lie again. They were right, he realised. Katarina, Kartane, Stetch, they all warned me not to trust her and they were right. His legs finally gave out and Tol collapsed to his knees, shaking with sorrow as he hung his head and cried until there were no tears left. He knelt there quavering with silent grief until he at last heard footsteps approaching.

  55.

  The party made their way south-east as dawn broke over Meracia, reaching the eastern gate as the sun rose above the trees. Suranna was waiting for them at the eastern gate as dawn broke over the horizon. Tol smiled. He stepped through the city gates, his blood-spattered companions close on his heels, and then he saw the dozen guards flanking the road.

  Stetch reached for his sword, and Tol gripped his wrist. ‘Wait,’ he said. ‘She won’t let us down.’ He hoped he was right.

  The guards closed in around them, Suranna and an officer in the centre. ‘This is Captain Marland,’ she said. ‘He’ll see us through the city to the council chamber. The rest…’ She shrugged.

  Captain Marland remained quiet during the march through the city, though he occasionally glanced behind him at the motley crowd he was escorting, fastidiously smoothing his perfectly manicured and overly oiled moustache. The closer to the noble district they got, the more frequent his backward glances, eyes darting from one bloodied figure to the next. As they crossed the eastern river, Suranna left Tol’s side and moved ahead to walk beside the captain, linking arms with him as she leaned in and spoke quietly.

  Lovers? Tol wondered. A potential suitor, maybe? Whatever Suranna had told the officer, it had got them this far, the council chamber only minutes away. It had been easy, really, and that’s why Tol was nervous. His luck had been so bad of late that he was sure things were going to go sour. As they drew nearer t
o their destination, he found himself looking around more and more often, gaze flitting over the heads and shoulders of their escorts and searching the long mid-morning shadows. The crowds were already out, and Tol was glad Suranna’s idea seemed to be working: people moved quickly aside for a guard patrol. He hadn’t been keen on Suranna travelling back to the city in the middle of the night while they slept, but it was still better than Stetch’s idea, which consisted entirely of murdering anyone who got in their way. We’re not there yet, Tol reminded himself. There’s still a lot that can go wrong.

  Kartane nudged him. ‘Expecting trouble?’

  ‘Always.’

  The knight clapped him on the back. ‘You’re learning.’ The two of them wore their Reve tabards, the white backgrounds almost uniformly pink after the previous night. They were starting to earn curious – and often distasteful – looks from passers by who caught glimpses of them between the tight knot of guards.

  This could go really wrong really fast. Tol glanced over his shoulder, relieved as he saw that Drayken was barely visible. Stetch led him by the arm, Suranna’s cloak draped over the traitorous lord with the hood pulled down to hide his face – and the gag that kept him silent. Rachel was positioned on Drayken’s left side, while Bruna – the large, quiet nun – walked in front, obscuring all but the slightest glimpse of Drayken. Tol couldn’t see her, but Victoria was following behind Drayken, her diminutive hidden form behind Bruna and Drayken.

  ‘What happened with the angel after I left?’ Kartane asked quietly.

  Tol kept his eyes wandering over the crowds in the street. ‘What makes you think anything happened?’

  ‘Most people’d be pretty cheerful, what with screwing an angel and all, so why is it you ain’t?’

  ‘Ah. That.’

  ‘Yeah, that. Look, lad, if you don’t want to talk then don’t, but how many people know the truth – how many people can you really talk to about it?’

  ‘You were right,’ Tol said.

  ‘Well, of course I was.’ A moment later Kartane added, ‘What was I right about this time?’