Sinner: Feathers and Fire Book 5

by Shayne Silvers

  “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me,” I said drily. “Oh, that’s right. Sticks and stones can’t hurt me anymore either. My accumulation of power has made me invincible.”

  The man smirked. “We’ll come back to that in a few moments.”

  I frowned at the cryptic comment. “Who are you?” I finally asked, feeling that strange sense of familiarity again as I looked into his eyes. I got the sense that he was the boss of the two.

  “Just an old man who likes to learn. You can call me Sol.”

  “I didn’t ask what I could call you. I asked who you are.”

  He smiled, the motion seeming to make his eyes twinkle. “Solomon,” he admitted with an easy shrug.

  It didn’t ring a bell, so I turned to the lion knight. “What about you, pussycat?”

  He didn’t take offense, but he looked amused by my phrasing. “Richard,” he finally shrugged.

  His answer made the corners of my mouth twitch as if some inner part of me had heard a good joke, but try as I might, I couldn’t find anything funny about the name.

  Sol cleared his throat, and I realized I was glaring at Richard, still wondering why I had wanted to smile at his name. “What would bring the most joy in your life? Pretend I am a genie, and that I can grant you one wish.”

  That snapped me out of my reverie. “I want Samael sobbing and bleeding out on my boots.”

  Solomon glanced at my boots and nodded appreciatively. “Darling, those are very fancy boots. Are you certain you want to get Demon blood on them? They do look to be one-of-a-kind, my Dear.”

  I felt my shoulders twitch uncomfortably, but I didn’t know why. I masked my reaction by glancing down at my boots for a moment. I couldn’t recall where I had gotten them, but they were rather nice. “Maybe not on them,” I admitted. “Just a figure of speech, I guess.”

  He nodded his approval, not fazed in the slightest about the topic of Demon blood. “Wise choice. The final location of Samael’s gore aside, spilling his blood will make you happy?”

  I fought down my instinctive purr of triumph. “You have no idea.”

  “Then you must be very happy right now,” he mused, scratching at his beard with a golden finger. The lion watched us intently, his massive head shifting from one to the other as we conversed. Although I could tell he was incredibly powerful and dangerous, I just wanted to pet that velvety fur and hear him purr. Maybe offer him a tummy rub.

  Instead, I squinted at Solomon suspiciously. “I haven’t killed him yet. Remember?”

  He smiled faintly. “But I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you have accumulated enough power to achieve that which you said would bring the most joy to your life. It wouldn’t necessarily be easy, but the outcome is almost certainly in your favor. Shouldn’t that make you happy? To be on the cusp of your life’s defining moment?” he asked, smiling excitedly. “What if I told you that I could take you to him right now?”

  I practically salivated. “That would make me deliriously happy.”

  He smiled, holding up a gauntlet as if to beg just a bit of patience on my part. I nodded, deciding he had earned it. If he was telling the truth, of course. “So, right now, you are deliriously happy. Entirely content. You have essentially achieved your life’s ultimate purpose.”

  I hesitated as his specific phrasing. “More or less.”

  “I am so happy to hear that,” he said, even his eyes seeming to smile at my achievement. “What’s next, then? You know, afterwards.” He noticed the frozen smile on my face and shrugged. “If your life’s joy is dependent on his death, then you have no reason to exist after you achieve your goal, correct? Theoretically speaking, of course.”

  I frowned, not having an argument to such a question. I hadn’t even considered it, honestly. I shrugged piously, folding my arms. “Where is my Door?”

  He nodded politely. “I must admit that I wasn’t actually pretending when I said I could grant you a wish.” He held up a finger, stalling me as I opened my mouth to make my wish. “Patience is a virtue. The price of my gift is that you have to listen to me ramble a little bit. Old man privilege.”

  Richard snorted. “He uses that one often. But it’s easier to just let him do it,” he told me in a rumbling purr.

  Solomon shot Richard a stern look. “Quiet, you.” The lion rolled his eyes and folded his arms—again, with no sound of metal on metal. Solomon turned back to me. “As an added bonus since you’ve been exceedingly ladylike so far, I’ll add another benefit to letting me prattle on. Without my aid it would take you many months and many Doors to find Samael. My Door is instantaneous.”

  I sighed in defeat. “Fine. Go ahead, Solomon.” I knew the Doors were fickle things, and he was likely telling the truth. For some odd reason, I realized I had specifically angled the toes of my boots to face each of them separately, like a subconscious tic, expecting something.

  But nothing happened.

  When I looked over at Richard, he was smiling at me. He gave me a thumbs up, of all things.

  Then Solomon began to speak, and I turned to listen. “We are not here by coincidence. You arrived on your own rather than through the Door we anticipated,” he said, arching an eyebrow to let me know that this was an impressive thing that I had done.

  I dipped my head at the compliment but didn’t speak, figuring the sooner he finished this little talk, the sooner I would be on my way.

  “I am here to offer you a choice. You must decide which leads to your happiness. There is no wrong answer, necessarily, but there are consequences to either option…Each choice will give you some measure of joy, and some degree of pain and suffering. So, heed my words and think twice before answering. I will not attempt to sway your decision, but I will not allow you to choose until I am satisfied you understand the gravity of the situation,” he warned.

  I nodded, my curiosity piqued.

  He lifted a hand in a casual gesture and a Silver Door shimmered into existence a dozen paces away. “Samael waits beyond this Door. His death at your hands is all but guaranteed. Your vengeance will be complete. You will have access to the Doors for the rest of your life, able to find whatever you wish, wandering the worlds for power.”

  He waited, letting me absorb that. My blood boiled hungrily and I had to force myself not to make a run for it, even though I knew he would make it disappear if I tried to break his rules.

  He nodded his approval, silently applauding my temperance. “Or, that one,” he said, pointing towards the church window. I saw no Door, just the ledge of the roof between us.

  I turned back to Solomon. “Care to elaborate on that one?” I asked, repeating his description. “Because right now it’s rather one-sided.”

  Solomon nodded, indicating the church. “This one leads to memory and thought. You will remember who you were, and who you are. It will also give you the key to life, but you’ll forget it the instant you comprehend it, so we will put that bonus on a shelf for later,” he admitted with a tired shrug.

  “Why even mention it, then?”

  “Just being transparent,” he said with a shrug. “I should mention that with your memory and thought intact—remembering who you were—this option would grant you an inner power, one that cannot be as easily taken away as your current magical artifacts.”

  “Maybe who I am isn’t that special. I didn’t seem to care about that when I came here, or else we wouldn’t be having this conversation, right?”

  Solomon smirked mischievously. “And do you remember coming here? What you felt? What you sought? Before you confronted Samael, what were you and Cain doing? Because I can tell you one thing—it wasn’t to hunt down Samael. That was just an unfortunate coincidence.”

  I frowned uncomfortably. I…had no idea, as a matter of fact. What had we been doing?

  “If you go through this Door,” he said, pointing at the window again, “you will have the opportunity to hunt down many Demons in the future. Perhaps even Samael’s Lord.”r />
  Then he pointed back at Samael’s Door. “Going through this one will grant you vengeance. You will succeed in killing Samael. After, you will likely feel alone, lost without a purpose other than the desperate need to accumulate more power as you search for a new purpose to your life. You will find power, and will have your vengeance against Samael. But only against Samael.”

  I studied him in silence for a few moments, thinking. “But if I had power, I would have the tools to go after all the Demons later,” I argued. “Right?”

  “Sure,” Solomon admitted easily. “If you remembered to do so…” I cocked my head, not following. “Name one other Demon,” he challenged. “One not inside your ring. I’ll wait.”

  I gasped, frowning at the Silver ring on my finger. It did have Demons inside. I hadn’t cared to study it too closely, only using it for its ability to open Doors. What would have happened had I worn it while fighting Samael? I quickly pocketed the ring, not wanting to wear it any longer.

  It also made me concerned about my other jewelry. What dangers lurked with their use that I had overlooked in my quest for vengeance. I…wasn’t sure if I had asked anyone.

  Solomon nodded. “Power without knowledge is dangerous. To others and to yourself. How about this…” he asked. “Do you remember anyone from your childhood? From your teens? From a few years ago? What is your favorite juice-box? Animal? Color? Best friend? Who was your first kiss? Who was your last kiss?” He leaned forward. “I’ve got an even simpler one…Tell. Me. Your. Father’s name. I’ll accept any of the three possible answers as correct.”

  “Four,” the lion corrected. “Four fathers.”

  Solomon sighed. “Right. Four,” he muttered. “I always forget that last one.”

  The lion looked upon Solomon, his face horrified. “He’s kind of the most important one.”

  I fell to my knees as a wave of pain crashed through me. I was shaking my head stubbornly, holding back tears that threatened to spill. I had no idea how to answer his questions. Any of them, and it physically hurt to realize this.

  How could I not name my own father?

  Richard was suddenly crouched down, staring directly at me with his icy eyes. He shook his head sadly, his leonine ears swiveled back. “All that power at your disposal—invincible from all those sticks and stones—and mere words hurt you,” he said sympathetically. “It must be tough to be so invincible. But…what Solomon is trying to tell you is that it will get even tougher the further you proceed down this path. The more powerful you get, the more pain you will feel.”

  Solomon nodded sadly, not appreciating that he had been the bully in the example, but accepting full responsibility. “On top of these harsh truths, I must heap on another fact…killing Samael will not bring you peace. It will not bring Cain back.”

  “My brother,” I corrected in an instinctive snarl, a sudden flare of passion helping me to overcome my anxiety. Solomon shrugged. “You don’t know how powerful I am,” I told him defensively.

  Solomon scoffed dismissively. “Of course I do. I have stood in your shoes. Faced the same trials. Made my own choice. As have countless others.”

  I blinked at him incredulously. “And which did you choose?”

  He gave me an amused look. “If you could recall anything about yourself, you would realize how humorous that question is. You, caring about what others choose or do not choose.”

  “Am I supposed to know who you two really are?” I asked tiredly, desperately needing to change topics. “Because I don’t like your face,” I said pointing at the lion. I still felt a vague sense of familiarity about them but couldn’t place why. Was this all some elaborate ruse to mess with my head?

  Richard glanced at Solomon as if asking permission. The man gave him a meaningful look before slowly nodding. Richard turned back to me. “You may know me as Last Breath.”

  The familiarity grew noticeably stronger, but not enough for me to understand.

  “Like I said, my name is Solomon. I was once a fool. A sage. A wizard. A warrior. A tyrant. A deviant. A saint. A sinner…Some of those still apply, but I’m doing my best.”

  I glanced over at the stained-glass window, gathering my thoughts. “I don’t like that part,” I said absently, pointing at the one corner I had been able to study—the man on the unicorn. I felt like I had seen him recently. Had he given me one of my artifacts? I noticed a weight in one of my pockets and pulled out a silver charm shaped like a butterfly.

  My hand began to visibly shake as I stared at the charm, but it wasn’t any magical power. It was something internal. That charm…bothered me somehow. I hastily shoved it back into my pocket.

  Solomon was smiling in amusement of my statement. “Not many people do like him, but he has his uses. He will be important soon. As will others.” He studied me thoughtfully, seeming to debate whether or not to say something. I narrowed my eyes in warning and he finally sighed. “Perhaps you could be important, too, someday. If you remembered why.”

  I grunted indelicately, turning back to the man with the unicorn. “Or I could take him out of the picture,” I suggested. Something about him screamed a warning of wild, raw, chaotic magic. A worthy opponent. But also something more than that. “Maybe after I found just a little bit more power. I could be greater than him, whoever he is.”

  “Indeed, you could,” Solomon said seriously. “You could also be his lesser.”

  I shot the man a murderous look, but he met my gaze levelly, letting me know it hadn’t been a criticism. “The same can be said of anyone, ever. We choose what we become, whether we admit it or not.”

  I stared back at the stained-glass window, this time focusing on the center. I frowned at the burning cross and the white rose wreath. Then harder at the two figures before it. “I expect this is all some sort of symbolism. That man looks broken, but the girl is even worse—a weak, clueless little creature. A self-righteous man who once thought too highly of himself and was humbled for it, holding hands with a vapid girl who followed him blindly, never thinking for herself.”

  The rooftop was silent for a time so I looked back. The two were staring at me intensely.

  “Perhaps she never defined herself. Didn’t learn her I.” He mistook my frown as a lack of understanding, but it was more than that. Those words had sent a chill down my spine. “How can someone say I love you if they never defined the first word in the sentence—their definition of self, their values, their ethos?”

  His answer only made the chill grow worse, so I redirected my frustration back on the window. “Perhaps…” I said. “But it doesn’t change anything. Still a stupid girl and a man broken by the weight of his own misplaced arrogance.”

  I sensed them nodding in my peripheral vision as they waited for me to decide.

  “The key to life…But I’ll forget it the moment I touch it?” I asked, repeating what Solomon had said.

  “Yes. But perhaps you may find it again someday.” He waited for any further questions, but finally took my silence as an answer. “Have you decided?”

  “You won’t try to stop me from using the other Door…” I asked, glancing at the door to Samael. The door to my vengeance. The door Cain deserved.

  Solomon nodded. “You could avenge your brother. Then, for many years you could wander the Doors, amassing power for the rest of your days. You will shine like the sun. None would ever dare throw a stone at you—and it wouldn’t matter if they tried. What good is throwing a rock at the sky?”

  I thought about that. For about a solid minute, almost salivating. I would be invincible…

  I didn’t look up as I spoke. “But power would be my only purpose.”

  Solomon was silent for a few moments. “It is almost guaranteed. Risk and reward await you either way. Joy and suffering. The price of free will…” he trailed off sadly.

  I stood near the ledge, gripping the Spear in my fist, noticing I was bathed in its Silver glow. I glanced down at my fingers—at my rings. I thumbed the bone dagger
on my hip. Then I thought about my other trinkets, realizing they made me feel incredibly safe. I was protected. Almost invulnerable. My entire being crackled with power, but I sensed the truth to Solomon’s words.

  That power wasn’t truly mine. I just wore it. I didn’t know why these two even cared about me, whoever I was. I couldn’t even recall my own name when he’d asked me. Couldn’t even remember my father’s name. Just…Cain.

  Which made it all so much worse. I was given the option to remember my own name…by giving up on avenging the only other name I knew—my brother.

  I sniffled, wiping at my nose as I blinked through tears. “Do you two just stand up here, waiting for someone like me to come along? That’s a miserable existence,” I whispered, studying the window thoughtfully. Something about that burning cross…it seemed to be dripping blood, reminding me of a elusive dream. And that wreath of white roses…hadn’t I seen some white roses recently?

  Part of me wanted answers to that damned window. Not for power, but because…it felt missing from my life. A curiosity.

  I realized that despite my initial disgust, I wanted to know about those two broken souls. I had enough power to challenge a God right now, but Solomon was right…I felt empty. And other than murdering Samael—I couldn’t think of a single thing I wanted to do with all my power.

  Not one.

  “The key to life…” I said again, staring at the man and girl holding hands, the brilliant light where their hands touched.

  “A fleeting gift,” Solomon said drily. “But you will have your own memories back. The ones you have traded in for power.” He touched my shoulders gently, the gauntlets feeling like warm skin rather than cold metal. I didn’t look up, but I did flinch. “You have tasted raw power. Draped yourself with it. Learned how to make your enemies grovel…” I glanced up at him slowly to find his eyes studying me intently. “You could continue on this path, finding more. Or…you could trade it back in. Have a re-do.”