by Debra Dunbar
“Tomorrow you’re going back to the gateway at Columbia.”
“No!” The gate guardian bit her lip, but too late to keep the word from flying from her mouth. She couldn’t breathe. She was shaking and she couldn’t breathe.
Ezras scowled. And that expression was genuine. “You took the assignment as part of the Grigori to guard whatever gateway you were assigned. We’ve accommodated your cowardice and your weak will, but it’s time for you to complete your assignment. Tomorrow you will return to Columbia.”
Breathe. Breathe. She wasn’t supposed to go back there. She’d been told she wouldn’t have to face that place ever again. But Ezras was in charge of training and assigning the gate guardians. She could go over his head, straight to the head of the Grigori, but the archangel was busy. It wasn’t her place to go running to him and complaining about her assignment. It wouldn’t do her or her reputation any good to tattle on her superior, no matter how much of an unsympathetic jerk he was.
She’d need to do it. She’d need to somehow find the strength and face her fears. Three years. She could hold it together for three short years. She could do this.
“I’m sorry, Ezras. Of course, I’ll complete my assignment. I’ll guard whatever gateway I’m assigned.”
The other guardian grunted, his face full of doubt. Then he vanished, leaving her standing by the gateway. The gray skies opened up and cold rain came down. Then sleet. Then rain. Maybe she’d be happy to leave Seattle behind after all. Beatrix backed into a doorway for shelter, and nearly stepped on a cardboard box decorated with a cheerful spiral of curled ribbon.
Oh, the best part of my day. She opened the box and found five brightly colored macarons inside. Joy spread through her as she bit into the crunchy meringue. It was so light, so incredibly sweet, and the cream filling a burst of almond and sugar. She gleefully munched through the cookies, then blinked in surprise to see a note at the bottom of the box.
Look in the fountain.
A scavenger hunt? She crammed the last macaron in her mouth and ran to the fountain, feeling the icy rain drench her clothes and skin. The fountain water was just as cold as the sleet. No doubt the city would soon be draining this fountain and winterizing it, but for now it was still full of cold water, spraying upward and out from a circle of huge metal koi. Attached to one of the koi was a stuffed bear sealed in a clear plastic bag.
Huh. Weird, and a bit creepy to see a happy fluffy bear with a huge red heart on his torso sealed like a murder victim in a plastic bag. Although maybe it was Beatrix who was weird for thinking of that. Perhaps it was due to all those horror movies that the Iblis had in her house.
She took the bag with the bear back to the doorway overhang and opened it, marveling at how soft the stuffy was, how adorable it’s silly smile was, how comforting it felt in her arms. She squeezed it and caught her breath when it spoke.
“You’re beautiful and brave.”
It was one of those build-it-yourself stuffed animals, which meant that her unknown friend had custom-made this bear just for her. He’d selected the color, the heart decorating the torso, the silly smiling face, and the box inside with a recorded message. Beatrix didn’t recognize the voice, couldn’t even tell if it was a male or female. Who was giving her these gifts? Was it Nyalla, the human girl who had been so kind to her?
Was it an angel, a gate guardian who admired and was wooing her? She couldn’t imagine that she’d be an object of romantic interest to anyone, given what had happened at Columbia Mall, given how wrecked she was with fear.
But whoever gave her these gifts thought she was beautiful…and brave. Beatrix’s lips twitched into a smile just as silly as the bear’s and she felt her face warm. She’d never thought herself worthy of love, and after what had happened at the mall, she definitely didn’t feel worthy of love. Or respect.
But someone out there clearly thought she was. She only hoped she could live up to his, or her, view of her.
Chapter 3
Columbia Mall was worse than she’d imagined. What had once been thriving stores filled with human shoppers was now a mess of concrete and steel. The humans had started to clear out the rubble, but even though it had been a year, they’d made little headway. Beatrix could still see the signs for familiar stores broken and twisted. Although looters had taken most of the salvageable merchandise, there still were shredded bits of purses and clothes, crushed lipsticks and cell phone cases. Worse of all was the carousel—or what used to be the carousel. It was heartbreaking to see the shattered horses that happy human children had once ridden.
Beatrix picked her way among the rubble, searching for the gateway that, unlike others, moved its location within the confines of where the mall had been. It called to her like a beacon, and she climbed up a collapsed wall to a ledge that had been part of the second story to see the gateway glittering next to something that made her heart race.
Next to the gateway was a metal pole—one of the metal poles judging from the faint tracings of her spirit-self that still stained the edges. The memories surged into the forefront of her mind—the screams of the dying angels, the mocking, triumphant laugh of the demon, the amused glint in his eyes as he’d impaled her, whispering words in her ears. The pain. The excruciating pain that went on and on even after the Iblis had shown up and yanked them from her wings.
And now she needed to sit next to this reminder of her torture, watching a gateway that might at any minute spit out a demon who this time would kill her.
The gateway glowed gold. Beatrix tensed, baring her teeth and preparing herself to spring forward and apprehend any trespassers. Nothing came through, but the gateway widened, for a moment becoming a sort of window, and what she saw had Beatrix near panic. On the other side of the gateway was an army of demons, poised and ready to charge. Were they testing the gateway, looking out at her as she looked in at them? Worried that she was about to be overwhelmed, Beatrix raised the alarm, and within a heartbeat two angels and a demon appeared by her side.
“Bea! You’re back, you badass bitch, you.”
The Iblis. She might not be an angel, but she was responsible for the demons, and as the Queen of Hel, she should be able to convince any trespassers, at the point of her sword if necessary, to stay on their side of the gateway.
Along with the Iblis were two angels—Ezras, and the Ancient Revered One, the Archangel who headed the Grigori. Beatrix dropped to her knees. “Sir. There is an army of demons on the other side of the gateway, ready to cross.”
Both angels turned to the gateway. The Iblis walked forward and touched the edges. She’d been banished and couldn’t use the gateways to leave Hel, but evidently banishment enabled her to pass through into Hel.
“There’s nothing there,” she announced. Both angels walked to her side, peering through the opening. Beatrix joined them, careful not to pass through and violate the treaty.
Red sand. A city in the distance. Something that looked like a tumbleweed bouncing across the landscape. “I swear by the great Creator that I saw an army. They were right there.”
Both angels and the imp stared at her as if she had snapped and completely lost her sanity.
“Are you sure you are ready to return to work, Beatrix?” The Ancient Revered One asked.
How embarrassing for an archangel to think she was so weak, so cowardly that she would be forever crippled by her experience. How mortifying that this powerful angel thought she was hallucinating, that her panicked mind had imagined the army on the other side of the gateway.
“I am ready to continue my assignment and work in any capacity the Grigori requires.” She took a deep breath. “I am ready. Perhaps it was an illusion cast by a clever sorcerer, or a demon using a magical item, but I did see an army.”
The Ancient Revered One nodded, then placed a hand on the top of her head. His blessing poured through her and for a moment Beatrix felt like the strong, snarky, gutsy gate guardian she’d once been.
“Be patient with yourse
lf,” he told her. “We’re here when you need us. Don’t hesitate to ask for help.”
He and the Iblis vanished, leaving her with a scowling Ezras. Don’t hesitate to ask for help. Because she’d need help. Because she was weak and cowardly, and all those things that Ezras was about to call her.
Beatrix straightened her shoulders and took the verbal abuse, breathing a sigh of relief when the other angel had left. Turning around to find a spot to sit and watch the gateway, she stopped and stared, her mouth wide open.
The metal pole, the roofing strut that had been her instrument of torture was now striped red and white with streamers, tiny blinking lights covering its surface. Whoever had done the decoration had also bent the top over in a shepherd’s crook shape. And at the bottom was a small box.
Inside the box were four giant candy canes. Hiding three in her pockets, Beatrix positioned herself near the gateway, unwrapped one, and stuck the curved part in her mouth. Minty things weren’t her favorite, but this one tasted especially sweet. And the pole—it wasn’t the terrifying reminder of her pain any longer, not with the festive lights and streamers. Maybe avoiding the memories wasn’t the answer. Maybe what she really needed to do was accept them for what they were, what part they’d played in molding her into who she was. Then she needed to wrap them in blinking lights and learn to make them part of her life.
The gateway flashed gold and Beatrix tensed, the candy cane still in her mouth. A demon came through, carefully looking to either side, then smiling as he saw her. It was the same Low who’d come through in Seattle the other day. What was his name? Snip. She felt like an absolute idiot, but getting yelled at once a day by Ezras was once too many. She’d need to interrogate him. But first she should probably take the candy cane out of her mouth.
It made a pop noise as she yanked it out. The end had sharpened to a weapon’s point with her sucking on it, and for a second she wondered how effective it would be against this Low.
Nah. She’d probably be in even more trouble if she jabbed a member of the Iblis’s household in the arm with a sharpened candy cane.
“Would you like one?” Seriously? She’d just offered to share her candy with a demon? What had gotten into her?
He smiled, and something about his eyes seemed happy and warm. “No, that’s okay.”
Silence fell. She stood there, holding a half-eaten candy cane, a pole with blinking lights in the background. He stood just inside the gateway, that delighted expression on his face.
“Umm. Okay, then.” Beatrix stuck the candy cane back in her mouth.
“Are you going to ask me more questions?” He seemed eager to be interrogated. Weird demons.
“Uh, yes. Yes, I guess I should.” What to ask? Beatrix popped the candy cane out of her mouth again and thought. She already knew his favorite color was blue, that he knew nothing about how fast a sparrow flew. Sparrow. “Do you have wings?”
His face fell. “No. Not many demons do. I wish I had wings. Do you have wings?”
Beatrix nodded. “Even gate guardians have wings. All angels do.”
“Can I see them?”
It was horribly rude to ask to see another’s wings. They were personal, the most sensitive part of an angel, which was one of the reasons they were always hidden safely away when in corporeal form.
But he seemed genuinely interested. And it wasn’t like there were angels lining up to see her wings, or anything else about her. Steading herself for his disappointment, she brought the wings forth, spreading them wide to stretch the newly formed muscles before bringing them to her sides.
“Wow. They’re really pretty. They match your hair.”
Which was brown. They weren’t really pretty, but this Low’s admiration brought an unfamiliar warmth to her cheeks.
“They’re like a sparrow’s wings,” he added.
“An unladen sparrow?”
He blinked and tilted his head. “I don’t think sparrow wings are different if they’re laden or not. Can I touch them? I mean, just with one finger. Really fast. And you can smack me in the face afterward, if that makes it more acceptable.”
Beatrix laughed. How naughty of him to suggest it, but demons were naughty beings. And maybe she was just a bit naughty too, because she was going to allow it. “Just this once. And don’t tell anyone about it, okay?”
He nodded and stepped forward, taking a deep breath as he extended his hand forward. She noticed that his fingers shook. Then as he touched her wing, everything fell away but the caress of his fingers against the feathers, brushing along her spirit-self.
Oh my. It had been a very long time since anyone touched her wings, touched her, saw her. And he was a demon, too.
“I’m done with the questions.” Beatrix jerked backward, pulling her wing free from his fingers. “You’re fine. You can go now.” Please go before someone sees us, before I do things I shouldn’t be doing.
“Okay. See you soon, Beatrix.”
“Yep. See you. Bye,” she squeaked. After he’d left, the gate guardian collapsed on a chipped cement block that had once been a support pillar and put her head in her hands—hand. Singular, because she still had a candy cane in the other hand and getting it stuck in her hair would be a waste of good candy.
Chapter 4
The next day had brought three miniature pecan pies complete with a can of whipped cream. Beatrix ate the pies plain, then sat watching the gateway, occasionally squirting whipped cream into her mouth.
Ah yes, this was the life. Well, it was the life until the gateway glowed gold and it was time to get to work. Once again she caught a quick glimpse of a group of demons on the other side—dozens of demons, but the one that came through was a Noodle, an information demon.
“Don’t shoot,” he told her with great drama, even lifting his hands upward.
Her job had been a lot easier when she did shoot. And Ezras would be quite happy if she continued with that response, but in Beatrix’s eyes, the treaty was on its deathbed, and this demon had done nothing to warrant death. Yet, anyway.
“If you want to live, you’ll turn right around and get back to Hel,” she warned. “Go on. Now.”
He eyed her, then surveyed the rubble that had once been a thriving shopping mall, his gaze lingering on the candy-cane decorated roofing strut, its lights still blinking merrily.
“Is that thing on a battery? Surely there isn’t live electrical service in this mess.”
“Probably,” Beatrix replied. “Now go back to Hel.”
“This is the closest gateway to where the Iblis calls her home, right? And where the Iblis is, the Ruling Council usually tends to loiter, correct?”
Yes, but he didn’t need to know that. “By the treaty signed over two and a half million years ago, demons, including the Ancients formerly known as Angels of Chaos are not allowed to travel to this realm. Now, go back to Hel, or I’ll be forced to…shoot you.”
Actually she’d attack him like an angel, restrain him and forcibly toss him back through the gateway, although now that the idea was in her head, Beatrix really wanted a gun. Not that big shotgun the Iblis used. Something small. Something like the pistols the human police used.
And a Taser. Yeah. That would be cool.
“I didn’t sign any treaty,” the information demon told her. “I always honor my contracts. I take my vows, my oaths with the utmost sincerity. Never have I signed anything where I agreed not to cross these gates. That treaty is with a bunch of Ancients, not us.”
And there was the problem. They’d spent millions of years enforcing a treaty on the inbred offspring of the Ancients, holding the demons to the same rules. Technically, he was right. Technically. But her boss said “none shall pass,” and if the Ancient Revered One gave her a job to do, she was going to do it. Mostly.
“Go. Now.” Beatrix summoned her energy to the surface, her hands glowing with a white light. As a warning, she shot a blast to the right of the information demon, blowing a crater in what had once been a st
ore marquee.
The information demon squealed and jumped to the side, glaring at her as he put one foot through the gateway. “Okay, okay. I’ve got what I came for, anyway. Bitch.”
And then he was gone, the gateway returning to its normal opacity. What had he meant? There was nothing in this ruin of a mall to “get” beyond a handful of broken concrete or a bent piece of rebar.
But he was an information demon. Which meant he’d gotten information. Beatrix sat back down and sprayed the last of the whipped cream into her mouth, thinking through their conversation.
“Hi.”
She nearly jumped out of her skin at the voice so close to her. It was Snip, standing in front of the twinkling lights on the giant makeshift candy cane. He waved his hand—the one without any fingers—and smiled.
“Uh, hi.” What was he doing here? Oh. He must be heading back to Hel for something or another. The Iblis really had him running around like crazy, it seemed. Beatrix wondered if the Low got paid overtime, or if he was entitled to paid breaks and vacation. The angels weren’t but she’d had several conversations with Sam where the Iblis had informed her all employees should receive such benefits. Of course, that didn’t mean the Iblis, a demon, would abide by such practices with her own household.
“So what do you want to know now?” Snip asked, walking over to her and eyeing the whipped cream container. “I wear a thirty-two short. I like extra cherries in my frozen mudslide drinks. Oh, and daisies make me sneeze.”
That was…weird. Beatrix scrambled to think of what questions she should ask the Low in order to properly interrogate him prior to his crossing the gateway. “What happened to your fingers?”
Well, that was rude. What had become of her that she was asking him about what was clearly a horrific injury.
He didn’t seem offended. In fact, he held the damaged hand up before him, spreading out the remaining fingers and regarding the stumps. “I was on a mission for the Iblis. A demon and a rebel angel captured me and tortured me for information. They had these clipper things that humans use when they are cutting branches off trees. One at a time they lopped off my fingers, then toes, but I didn’t talk.”