I looked up to find Paddy staring at me. “Pardon?” I asked.
Aidan grunted. “Oh, Jeezus, Paddy. This one speaks all proper-like.” I turned to Aidan, leveling him with a stern look. “Bugger off, you,” he snapped right back. “What the fancy idiot is trying to say is that if ye can’t sit back and enjoy a point, what’s the pint?”
I frowned, wondering if we were having a failure to communicate, his accent throwing me off. “I think you have that backwards. If you can’t sit back and enjoy a pint, what’s the point, right?” I asked, switching the words to make sense of his drunken advice.
He snapped his fingers, leaning forward as if he had just trapped me. “Good advice. Ye should take it, White Rose.” And then he pinched my hair, flicking it teasingly.
I stared at him, utterly gob smacked. How drunk was he?
Paddy cleared his throat. “There’s a time for fire, and a time for water. A time for sowing, and a time for reaping. A life of one over the other is a life of pain. Balance, child. Pint,” he said, holding up his glass of whiskey as a figurative example. “Point,” he said, jerking his beard at my Spear. “Wield them both, child, and then ye will always be content.”
“But the world isn’t black and white—” I cut off, realizing my argument was only proving his point. “Balance,” I muttered, holding up my hand before he could point out my flaw. “Live in the gray.”
Paddy nodded sagely. “A life spent at only the bottom of a bottle is no life. A life spent only at the end of a spear is no life.” He winked at me mischievously. “But bring a pint down to the fields of war…with ye all covered in blood and whatnot, sipping a cool lick of whiskey after yer victory…” he sighed rapturously. “What more could ye ask for?”
“Blood and whiskey!” Aidan chimed in, clinking his glass.
“But I just want the world to burn,” I whispered, unable to shake the replay of Samael murdering Cain before me. “I want to punish them. All of them. Over and over again…I want them to taste my pain in every fiber of their being. I want their descendants to taste that pain as a genetic trait passed down from generation to generation.”
I waited for them to gasp in disgust, to chastise me, but I heard only silence. I looked up to find them smiling knowingly. “Scales tip back and forth, leaning more heavily in one direction at times. Sitting in perfect balance is boring. It’s static. Do ye want a life of standing perfectly still, too cautious to risk rocking the boat?” Paddy asked. Then he made an unflattering flatulent noise with his lips and slapped his belly with a laugh.
“As you skip through the castle of vengeance, be sure to whistle a tune and admire the paintings on the walls. Murder a bastard. Bed a fine Irish lad. Light a field on fire. Taste a cake. Sing a song with a child, laugh with a friend. Stop to smell the roses, even when their splattered with the blood of your enemies,” Aidan said, flicking my hair with a finger again.
Paddy took a healthy sip of his whiskey, his deep voice resembling the sound of gravel as a result. “I have never in me life seen something so beautiful as the moment of fierce silence after the storm of battle. The sun rising, the birds chirping hesitantly, the laughter of the survivors.” He met my eyes. “Ye don’t focus on the death. Ye learn from it, to be sure. But what happens after a battle?”
I frowned. “I don't know.”
“They make songs...about life,” Aidan whispered adamantly. “Songs of joy, of their loves back home. They celebrate.”
Paddy nodded his agreement. “Ye can't live a life of war without loving something. Without having something to fight for. Something to smile about. Someone to drink with.” To prove his point, he held out his glass in a toast. Aidan and I complied and took a drink. “And when you do finally get your justice…” Paddy went on, “well, murder would have never tasted so sweet as one fueled by a loving heart. Make your rage a shrine to the fallen, beautiful enough to make men weep, cruel enough to make Demons flee. But do a little dance, after, or ye will look like a psychopath.”
I was pretty sure doing a dance after making a shrine of my enemies would be the psychotic decision, but I knew what he meant. “You guys are hardcore,” I finally admitted with an easy smile. “Cheers.” They took healthy drinks, looking satisfied they had taught me something.
I idly wondered where they had come to their conclusion, what with all their archaic fields of battle analogies, but what really dominated my thoughts was Samael.
And a healthy dose of rage.
I recalled Cain’s easygoing manner, how he had always made me laugh at the worst times, and felt a grin fighting for a place on my cheeks.
Balance. Not just rage, but something to stoke that coal. A cool breeze to make it white hot.
Samael’s cruel, vicious laugh, and Cain’s dry, sarcastic laugh.
“Who are ye, girl?” Paddy asked softly, studying me with those cunning, dangerous eyes.
I opened my mouth but immediately hesitated. I wasn’t quite sure how to answer. Names were such fleeting things, but they were supposed to be powerful, weren’t they? They were supposed to mean something.
So, who was I?
I almost told them I was nobody. Nameless. It felt right, but it also felt wrong.
And Nameless made me feel like my thumb was cold. It wasn’t right. I dipped my hand back into the water, battling the imagined chill as I thought about their simple question.
What was my name? Who was I?
I knew I wanted to destroy the Demon and that I had lost a brother…But that was it.
I’d had a name, once, but I wasn’t sure it still applied. I had discarded it at some point. When Cain had taken his last—
A slow smile came over my face.
“I’m a demon’s last breath. I’m just a sinner.” I smiled at them. “I’m the White Rose.”
The last one fit the best, like a tight glove—but they all felt correct to some extent. The two men nodded somberly, sensing the depth to my answer. “And I think I’ve got some dancing to do.” I knew there was more to my name, but I’d just have to figure that out later. After I leveled up enough to defeat Samael.
I cast Aidan a stern look. “Turn your head before your ears curl,” I told him, and then I climbed out of the pool, setting my glass down on the ledge. I ignored Paddy’s booming laughter and Aidan’s standing ovation as I toweled off and dressed, careful not to nudge the Spear. Then I scooped up the Holy weapon with both hands, closed my eyes, and focused on keeping it safe. The Spear winked out of existence, disappearing somewhere within my body where I had been used to carrying it up until recently. Even though I couldn’t quite remember when I had pulled it out in the first place.
I paused to find a bone dagger that had been tucked beneath my clothes. Cain’s blade…
I scooped it up, testing it between my fingers. The hilt was warm, and I pretended the heat was a parting gift from my brother Cain—a reminder to stop and smell the roses, my balance, a loving, comforting hand on my shoulder.
Even though it was obviously only warm because it had been sitting on the warm stone of the bath house.
Two doors lay before me all of a sudden, gleaming silver. Their glow seemed to thicken the steam, obscuring the edges of the room. About six-feet of empty space separated them.
I knew one door represented vengeance.
The other door represented a sister’s love for her brother.
I gritted my teeth, lifted my hands, and clapped them together. My fists suddenly glowed silver, and the two Doors hammered into each other with a great gonging sound that made the steam in the air suddenly pulse with agitation.
I placed a hand on the center of the double doors and shoved, flinging them wide open.
“Don’t forget to arm yourself, lass,” Paddy reminded me.
“With pints and points,” Aidan added with a wink.
I felt a heavy weight in my pocket and pulled out an unfamiliar silver butterfly brooch that I must have picked up at some point. It made me smile for some reason,
like a red-hot kiss in my palm. I pocketed it, deciding to use it—and Cain’s dagger—as my pint. Because Cain and that cute butterfly both seemed hungry for blood and laughter.
I glanced over my shoulder, nodded, and then I danced through the Doors.
“Our little psychopath is a’ dancing!” Aidan cheered, clinking glasses with Paddy.
The Doors groaned closed behind me, leaving me to dance in the darkness alone.
Chapter 34
I couldn’t remember how many Doors I had used, and I didn’t really care, to be honest. I only cared that I grew stronger for it—picked up some item, some weapon I could use against Samael.
Because I had a very clear list of priorities, and they were the only things keeping me from breaking, from listening too closely to the ghosts of whoever I had once been.
Open Doors.
Gain power.
Slaughter Samael.
Stop to smell the roses.
With each Door, I grew stronger, deadlier, and less compassionate.
And more and more, I discarded pieces of myself—whoever that naïve person had been. But since I kept my priorities at the forefront of my attention, I no longer cared about that. It was a trade-off. Each step through a Door showed me wondrous, terrible things and places and people, replacing who I had been with a new person and a new name.
On a distant level, this troubled me, but I told myself I would turn my attention to it after dealing with Samael. After hurling my silver butterfly brooch through his heart like a bullet.
After plunging Cain’s dagger in each of his eyes.
Slowly.
After I made him beg me to do it.
I stared at the white fire crackling before me. The mountain air was chilly up here, but I’d acquired a hooded cloak of living crystal flame to keep me warm—among other things. Strange horses grazed in the skeletal, barren trees just beyond the campfire’s light. I could smell hot blood in the frigid air, proving the beasts weren’t eating foliage, but something that had once had a pulse.
“Well?” a voice asked, drawing my attention back.
I looked up at the cloaked figure, studying his strange Mask and his strange wings. He was dangerous, this one. Something about him felt familiar, too, but I’d long ago given up on trying to kindle those types of feelings. They just left me frustrated.
And I’d found that when I grew frustrated, I wasted energy killing everything in sight before I moved onto the next Door.
He offered two items to me, both incredibly powerful. But they had figurative chains attached, and I didn’t like chains, even figurative ones.
A Silver Door shimmered into existence behind him and I let out an impatient sigh, turning back to his proffered ‘gifts.’
I finally climbed to my feet. “I’ll find another merchant,” I told him, kicking the snow from my boots.
He studied me in silence. “I’m not selling anything, Cal—”
“Everyone is selling something,” I snarled hurriedly—feeling angrier than the situation warranted. I didn’t know why.
His twin flames for eyes acknowledged my reaction without even a flicker, despite the screaming wind. “Let me know when you change your mind,” he said in a tired voice. “When you remember who you are.”
Something tried to hold me back, to tear off that Mask and see what tortured soul hid beneath, what cocky bastard dared challenge me with such a simple statement, but I wisely forced myself towards the Door and stepped through before I gave any serious thought to killing him for the comment.
I wasn’t sure who would have won anyway. He was incredibly powerful—a wild, chaotic man lurking beneath a calm façade and a Mask. He looked like the type of person to dance at the end of the world.
We likely both would have died in a confrontation together.
And that wouldn’t have helped me complete my checklist.
But for some strange reason, as I palmed my silver butterfly charm, I imagined kissing him…
Chapter 35
I stared dubiously up at the tiny, talking, mushroom-munching bear.
“I fail to see how letting you see my breasts will help me kill Samael,” I repeated, scanning the peaceful clearing for a Silver Door, growing agitated.
He giggled, tossing another mushroom up into the air and catching it in his mouth. Then he leaned back onto his boulder and closed his eyes with a contented grumble. “What if I said I was a breast whisperer?” he asked, cocking one eye open to peer down at me, gauging my reaction with a strange look on his muzzle. Was he…smiling?
“I’d have a new bear rug to make, Starlight,” I growled. I frowned at the last word, not knowing where I had pulled it from or why I had called him that.
His eyes flashed to mine and he opened his mouth to pant, his tongue hanging free as he nodded. “You do remember some things…” he mused, scratching a paw at his grey-flecked muzzle. “Looks like I get to show you some pretty twisted shit. Oh, and I don’t need to see your breasts. Been there, done that,” he added, chuckling.
I glared at him in disbelief. “Excuse me?” I snarled. “You most certainly have not seen—”
He flung up a paw and an orb of smoking, golden light abruptly struck me in the face, bathing me with heat. The forest clearing around us suddenly disappeared and I saw a vision of me in a sweat lodge, completely naked, with this exact bear guiding me through some form of meditation. And he most definitely saw my breasts.
Then the vision was gone so fast that I stumbled to find myself still standing in the clearing. The bear hadn’t moved, and the glowing orb hadn’t actually harmed me in any way. I stared him in the eyes, not understanding the vision or how I had forgotten such a bizarre event, and definitely not approving of him throwing a ball of light at me.
But what really bothered me was that I apparently knew this talking bear.
He snorted. “Told you. Been there, done that.” He suddenly rolled off the boulder, hit the ground with a grunt, and then continued rolling towards me down a small hill covered in flowers. “Weee…” he sang, giggling until he came to a stop a pace from my boots, flowers stuck in his fur, but he sat upright with a serious expression as he met my eyes. “Now, do you want me to show you some stuff that you don’t want to see, or some stuff that you do want to see?”
I hesitated, recalling my priorities—to kill Samael. “Stuff that I do want to see,” I said, giving the obvious answer.
“That’s a really good choice, but I’m going to show you both anyway.”
I folded my arms. “Not likely.”
“First,” he went on as if I hadn’t spoken, “You’re going to want to take off your new weapons. For your benefit, not mine. They’ll mess with the visions—and probably your sanity.”
“That’s it. I’m going to go find the next Door,” I told him, checking the trees behind him. Sadly, I saw no Doors, just endless thick woods.
He sighed patiently, leaning back on his paws. “Like a good little Catholic, you are scared of Relevations.”
“I think you mean revelations,” I said, not understanding the reference, but knowing he had misspoken the word.
The bear shook his head. “No. Relevant Revelations. Relevations,” he explained. “Those truths that are uncomfortable. The ones inside your own walls—the assassins in the shadows of your own castle. Heard it in a movie, so it must be true.” Then he began laughing.
I didn’t know what a movie was, but his explanation was bafflingly sane somehow, so I finally shrugged, still not seeing any Doors to take me away from this place. The damned bear must have something I could use against Samael—even if he was overdosing on his mushrooms.
“And you will not touch my things?” I asked.
He held up a paw in a solemn oath. “As a rule, I don’t like things. Just experiences. I will not touch them, and I will keep them safe for you until you return.”
I appraised him warily, but saw no cause for concern. He was trustworthy. I simply knew it like one knows water i
s wet. And his warning to take off anything that might interfere with the visions he was about to show me made sense. I didn’t want to overreact while holding onto a deadly weapon.
I took off my hooded cloak of living crystal flame and laid it out on the grass like a blanket, murmuring soothingly to it. The crystal flame listened, reforming into a smooth, comfortable spot for me to rest upon.
Then I stabbed Cain’s dagger into the earth.
I slipped off the obsidian halo from my head, ignoring it’s incessant whining. I still wasn’t entirely sure about that acquisition, what with all the baggage it seemed to carry along with it. Even if it could let me see a God with my own naked eyes.
I set it on the grass, suspiciously close to Cain’s dagger, smiling as the whining instantly ceased in fear.
I took off my curled jade earrings and touched them together, surprised at how silent the world now felt—since I was no longer able to hear the thoughts of every living thing. The trees had been louder than I had realized, their gentle humming song like a soothing mantra.
I pulled off the ring of pure white light from my right thumb, and then six other rings that were harder to explain, let alone understand. I knew only how to use them as weapons, and hadn’t bothered listening to the previous owner explain their other abilities. I shook the pile of rings in my palm, closed my eyes, and blew a faint breath over them. When I opened my eyes, they were gone. Just like the previous owner had told me.
Most of the other weapons I had acquired were unseen—merely in my mind—and impossible to remove. Power. Magic. Spells. Understanding. Stories. Manling Tales. Fairy Tales.
Truths.
I stared down at the bear and nodded my head that I was ready.
“You probably want to sit down…” he suggested.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“Cool,” he said. Then he leapt up faster than I had expected and slapped me on the forehead with the pad of his paw, knocking me down into the grass.
Instead of hitting the grass, I splashed into what felt like a pool. Then the clearing—and the bear—winked out of existence, leaving me in a void of nothingness. I stared down at my body and was startled to discover that I didn’t actually have one. I was just…part of the Nothingness. A sentient, voiceless, bodiless void. But I could still recall my purpose.
Sinner: Feathers and Fire Book 5 Page 21