by JK Ensley
Yui was silent long enough to cause Jenevier to turn and see if he was still there.
“Milady.” He spoke, barely above a whisper. “I have many new dresses for you, hanging within your closet.”
“Yui…” Her tears started then, flowing like a river, collapsing her façade of strength. “God has sent you to me. You are my Angel, my light in a dark place. I cannot be thankful enough for… for everything.”
She swayed. He caught her. Held her steady as her knees trembled.
“Do not shed tears for me, Princess. I am gloriously happy with the heavenly role I’ve been so blessed to play in your life. I need no other gratitude or reward.” He fell silent, lowering his head.
Jenevier gave his shoulders a tender squeeze. “All is well, Yui. I understand your hesitation, dear friend. I won’t be offended if you send Mika to assist me.”
His voice cracked. “I want to do it… I only wish… I wish not to shame you, Princess.”
“Shame me?” She laughed softly, lifting his chin once again, forcing him to meet her gaze. “I would never want you to think ill of me. I respect your chivalry where women are concerned. But, Yui, I am way past feeling any shame where my body’s concerned. Clothed or not, it’s only the wrapper. My treasure lies within, as does yours.” She placed her hand over his valiant heart and smiled knowingly at him. “I understand if you cannot do this. But never feel bad for the wonderful way you were raised.”
Tears filled his lovely eyes. “I would be honored to help you, Milady.”
“Thank the heavens.” She let out a relieved sigh. “I did not wish to scar poor Mika.”
“Scar her?”
“You’ll understand.”
She turned her back to him and he gently unwound her obi. The kimono didn’t fall open, as he’d expected it to.
“I fear the sash isn’t all that holds it to me,” she whispered.
He reached for the collar, sliding it off her shoulders. Yui heard her breath catch. He tugged just a tiny bit more before he realized the silk was stuck to her skin.
He gasped. “Is that… blood?”
She didn’t answer. It was all she could do to keep from screaming.
He continued to gently peel the material away from the open scratches covering her shoulder blades. It finally fell free. Only to catch again, halfway down her back. He tugged and she let out a tiny whimper.
“By the gods,” he cried. “What did that monster do to you?”
Jenevier waited a moment before she spoke. “He mentioned a prophecy. Said he was fulfilling perfection through pain and blood.” Her tears broke loose and she sobbed openly.
Yui gently rubbed her curls. “I, too, know of this prophecy, Empress. From blood and pain will come forth perfection,” he whispered. “Alas, the monster erred. You have already fulfilled that prophecy, Milady… the day your sons were born.”
They were both silent for several heartbeats before Yui sighed wearily, apologizing profusely whilst continuing in his horrific task. He cupped water in his hands, moistening the silk to better ease it away from her now seeping wounds. It stung. Jenevier cried out in pain.
She stood there, wavering, gasping for breath, until he’d finally loosened the last place stuck near the base of her spine. The destroyed garment fell freely to the ground.
Yui stared, speechless, at the many cuts and scratches covering her back and shoulders. Her bottom and the backs of her legs were completely covered with blackened bruises. He had never seen nor heard anything that could even come close to the tragedy he now witnessed, trembling before him. He wept.
“How can such a thing even enter a man’s mind? Oh, Milady, I only wish I could have taken this beating in your place.”
“No, my friend. He wished to slay you. Bruises will heal. I cannot restore life.”
She tried to laugh, but only swayed. Yui caught her.
“Let me help you into the pool, Princess.”
He guided her down into the steamy water. She winced. Fresh tears poured down her cheeks as each cut was slowly covered. She visibly flinched when her bottom finally found the smooth stone slab bench protruding from the sides. When the pain subsided and she could relax, Jenevier audibly released the breath she’d been holding.
“I will kill him for this,” Yui swore.
She grabbed his hands, holding tightly to him, desperately. “No, Yui. You must swear to me now you will never return to that palace. Promise me you will avoid the Emperor at all costs. Swear it,” she demanded.
“Only for you… I swear it,” he reluctantly replied.
Jenevier, satisfied with his promise, leaned her head back upon the edge of the pool, closing her burning eyes.
The former Hand to the Emperor of Jinn quietly scooped up her tattered clothing and headed back down the mountainside. He soon returned with a lovely purple yukata, his favorite, and found her sleeping in the same position he had left her. The soaps and oils were untouched.
“Do you need help, Milady?”
She slowly opened her eyes. “Perhaps. I have not yet tried.”
Reaching for the creamy bar smelling of roses, she smiled when she inhaled the luxurious scent.
“My favorite.”
“I know, Princess.”
Starting with her arms, she began scrubbing. The longer she washed, the harder she scrubbed. Yui saw the fresh tears flowing down her cheeks, dripping into the springs.
“Milady, please stop,” he pleaded. “You’re only causing more damage.”
He saw the horror growing in her eyes.
“No matter how hard I try, I cannot scrub his touch from my skin,” she cried, panicking. “I feel it still.”
Yui entered the pool, tenderly prying her clenched fingers from the fragrant bar. He began gently bathing her. She closed her eyes and let him.
“I understand now, Milady,” he whispered. “I know now why you did not wish little Mika to attend you.”
Chapter 33
Apollyon
(ah-PAH-lee-ahn)
Musashi slowly walked out of his palace home and made his way to the large burning pit, well beyond his ivory walls. Giant sapphire wings spread out before him. The mighty Angel was on his knees, prostrate before the constant flames.
Apollyon stood, without a word or a glance, and walked into the midst of the inferno. The darkest of Angels released a mournful cry. It resonated sorrowfully across the flowing plains, heartbreakingly so, tragically filled with the most wretched pain imaginable.
Just as the Angel’s miserable desolation reached Musashi’s heart, pulling bitter pity from the depths of his soul, he fell to the ground, clasping his bleeding ears. The ache and despair were unspeakable.
Nothing could block Apollyon’s tortured wails. Everyone within the palace collapsed in excruciating pain. Every man, woman, and child unlucky enough to be counted among the Emperor’s household suffered right along with the Prince of Hell. Their eardrums burst from within and their tears flowed as blood. Apollyon’s lament was all that remained in their minds. Their will was gone. He blessed each with but a tiny taste of his hell. The pain was maddening. The cacophony of cries rising up from Jinn spread throughout the heavens.
Apollyon willed his end to come, prayed for his eternal death. Standing within those flames, upon what he believed were the ashes of his beloved family, he burned. Yet he did not die. Counting the pain as nothing, he wished only to mingle his ashes with those of his wife and babe. For three days and nights he burned, he mourned, and he prayed. Alas, his sins were too great. He had gone past grace centuries ago.
He walked from the flames as he had entered them—dangerously beautiful.
Musashi lay curled upon the ground where he had fallen. The pain had subsided but the hell shattering experience had left him weak, broken, and very nearly dead. His whole body shook. He tried to crawl back to the palace. Apollyon grabbed his thick black hair, pulling him to his feet.
The Emperor could feel the dark Angel’s lily-scente
d breath hot upon the side of his head. The once mighty Ronin knew this was the end, longed for it to finally be over.
Instead of snapping his neck and dragging him to hell, Apollyon sniffed him.
Musashi was startled when the ethereal giant released his hair and began smelling his skin, avidly inhaling every inch of him. Apollyon grabbed Musashi’s hands, looked closely at them. And to the Emperor’s horrified surprise, he licked one of his trembling fingers.
Sheer joy spread a heavenly smile across his angelic face. But then, realization caused hell’s fire to burn wildly in his sapphire eyes.
“How is it I taste my wife’s blood upon you when she has been dead for months? How is it her delicious flesh lies under your nails and her unmistakable heavenly scent covers you?”
The Emperor wanted to confess everything, wanted to scream out the horrors he’d wrought upon the one he claimed to love. He selfishly wished to ease the heavy burden of his guilt. Instead, he determined to infuriate the Prince of Hell. Force the old devil into ending his weary life, once and for all. Yet he did neither of these things. He held his tongue and answered not. Sheer terror drained his strength, depleted his will. He was as a kitten before a ravenous lion. Yes, he held still his tongue.
Musashi knew what would happen if Apollyon learned his wife and child yet lived. The demon-Angel would tear Jinn apart until he found them. No matter what pain the Emperor had put Jenevier through, he would die before he let this misery find her. Knowing it would utterly destroy her, he was prepared to undergo an eternity in the pits of hell before he caused her to shed one… more… tear.
“Know you nothing of Angels, Ronin?”
Apollyon’s smooth laughter rippled through Musashi’s soul, hollowing him out.
“You are no Angel,” Musashi said in a strained whisper.
“Ahh, but I once was. I am still. Perhaps not in the way a human might believe. But I am very much an Angel. Perhaps you meant I didn’t act like an Angel. Was that it? Oh, my dear man, you have no idea. If you had ever met an Angel, a real Angel, you would know true terror. So, as I said before. Know you nothing of Angels, Ronin?”
His smile and velvety voice tried to lull the Emperor into a dream. Musashi fought it desperately.
“No,” he rasped. “I know nothing of Angels.”
“Well then, let me enlighten you, Otouto. Angels are not, and have never been, your friend. They are creatures formed but for a single purpose. They have no compassion nor do they know mercy. An Angel is told to go, it goes. When Father tells an Angel to come, it comes. If it’s told to kill, it kills. Perfect, obedient little soldiers to the very end.” His chuckle was bitter, resentful. “They don’t come to protect you unless they’re told to. They do not help you unless that is their command. An Angel gives no more thought to you than they give to the beasts of the field. They are not your loyal protector, ally, or defender of your realm. Angels care not for you, little brother.”
“So says the Chief of Liars.”
“Ah, yes. I can lie. But I am not. The only difference between the Angel you see before you now and the ones you dream of flying through the heavens spreading love and good will, the only difference between us is… Why.” He dragged the word out into a long hissing whisper. “I was the only one with the guts to ask, Why. Why must I do this thing? Why is this one spared and the other one tortured? Why is injustice tolerated? Why? Why? Why?”
“A simple question made you fall from heaven, Senpai?” Musashi said sardonically. “Is that truly what you expect me to believe?”
“Believe as you will, Ronin. I speak only the truth in this thing.” He placed his hand on the Emperor’s arm and patted him, almost sympathetically. “And no. The question alone did not bring my banishment. But the rippling effect my one little question caused, that’s what brought me low and left me in hell. It’s a valid question, one many of my brothers began to ponder. Why… a tiny little word carrying immeasurable weight upon its back. When a being begins to think for itself, begins to question the things it’s told, the things it’s taught, only then does that being truly begin to live. Be they man or Angel, they are free only when they question. Because questions lead to knowledge and knowledge leads to power. Such is the synopsis of my current role in this universe. Now, let’s go back into your royal chambers and have a nice chat. Shall we?”
Apollyon motioned with a wave of his arm that Musashi should lead the way.
“We have nothing to discuss for I have nothing to say. I do not have the answers you seek.”
“And if you did?” Apollyon coaxed.
“I would never speak them,” Musashi spat.
The fallen Angel laughed gingerly as he wrapped one massive arm around the Emperor’s broad shoulders, urging him closer to the gilded palace doors. “We shall see, Otouto, little brother. We shall see.”
When the two men entered the lovely room, the one Jenevier had slept in, had once given birth in, the dark Angel closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.
“I know my wife lives. There is no denying the evidence still upon your devious hands, Musashi. Tell me where she is.”
The Emperor did not speak.
“I am eternal, my good man. I will not leave and you cannot kill me. I can torture you forever. You know you deserve it. Do you not?”
He was met with only silence.
“Think about this, Otouto. If you hold your tongue and die today, or suffer through the torture and die twenty years from now, it won’t matter. After the deeds you have done, Emperor. Where do you think your soul shall rest? Do you deserve heaven, or hell?”
Tears burned the backs of Musashi’s eyes. “Stop calling me otouto. I am not your little brother,” he spat.
Apollyon chuckled. “Very well. But feel free to continue calling me Senpai. Let’s be honest. I am definitely your senior… in every imaginable way.”
Musashi only glared at the Angel’s perfect smiling face. How could my Princess ever resist such a man as this? It’s not possible. Even I am drawn to his beauty… and I hate him. I now know I’m doing the right thing, the only thing. The only protection I can offer her. He must never find her. Never truly know she yet lives. He only assumes, let him continue thusly.
Hell’s Prince sighed lightly as he continued. “Now, where were we? Oh, yes. I believe the answer to my question goes without saying. Do you know who’s in charge of the punishments handed out in hell?” He chuckled icily. “What your dear friend and spineless comrade, Mikage Abe, is going through at this very moment will seem as nothing to you.” He narrowed his eyes, looking hard at the broken ruler of this layer. “And that, Otouto, is my promise to you.”
Musashi’s tears dripped from his downcast cheeks, leaving darkened spots upon his torn and bloodied yukata.
“I don’t normally make deals. I don’t have to.” Apollyon’s laugh was spine-tinglingly cold. “But I am prepared to make an exception, just for you. How’s that sound, little brother? Interested?”
Musashi didn’t respond.
“Let’s leave your punishment in someone else’s hands. Shall we? That should only prove fair. Don’t you think? Let me see. Who shall I set as judicator on your behalf? Who has the warranted right to claim your sentencing?” He drummed his fingers atop the same dressing table Jenevier had once sat. “How about… I let her decide?”
Musashi turned his horrified gaze toward his tormentor.
“Yes. I believe that would only be fair. Wouldn’t you agree? Jenevier should get to decide your punishment. Whatever my Anicee speaks, so shall it be. Tell me where she is. Unless you believe her words would bring you more pain than mine.” He laughed again. “She can be so dreadfully vicious—my little Angel. She has a bit of a temper. Did you know that?” Apollyon held Musashi’s stare. “No, of course you don’t. Had she born her claws to you, we would be having a vastly different conversation in a vastly different place.”
The Prince of Hell crossed the room and looked out upon the rolling lavender fields. He watche
d as the sun slowly set and the full moons glowed.
“She would love it here,” he whispered to himself. “This place could have been her paradise. It seems it was designed… just for her.” He felt the sweet burn of coming tears. “Surrounded by her favorite color, staring up at those glorious moons… if there were roses climbing these walls, she would be in heaven.” He sighed, a single tear shone upon his cheek, sparkling in the soft moonlight. He wiped it away.
“She said almost the exact same thing.” Musashi’s choked whisper was barely audible.
Apollyon didn’t turn to him. He closed his eyes, tilting his face toward the glorious moons. “Where is my wife?”
Musashi heard the pain in the Angel’s cracking voice.
“What did you do to mine Angel?”
At this simple question, the Emperor openly wept, sorrowfully, bitterly. His regretful moans confirmed Apollyon’s worst fears.
“There’s not only blood under your nails, there is flesh as well.” Apollyon held fast to the balcony banister. “It’s your guilt that forces your tears, isn’t it? Confess your sins. Ease your heart. Speak the truth concerning her.”
The broken Emperor spoke not. His shoulders shook with his continued sobs.
“If she had loved you, what would you do for her?” He posed his question without turning. “If our roles were reversed, what would you do to me? To be blessed with just one word concerning her… would you kill a man? A hundred? A thousand? Would you destroy a world? Tear apart a universe?”
Musashi lifted his gaze until he saw Apollyon’s trembling back. He understood the soul-crushing pain coursing through the blue devil’s heart. He knew that feeling well.
His words came out as barely more than a whisper. “Her powers left her. They did not return.” He paused a moment, staring at the shameful evidence still buried under his nails as he choked out the rest of his vile confession. “I was only trying to force Vashti out. I thought… if I pushed her hard enough… she’d find her wings and take herself back home… back home where she belonged.”