Queen of the Immortals

by T. R. Hamby

  “It felt like longer,” Mel offered, but Andreas ignored him.

  “You have a scar on your arm from a wound you received a couple weeks ago? You’re shitting me.”

  Mel looked at Nora, who shrugged.

  He returned his gaze to Andreas. “I’m an Angel. We heal a little faster than humans.”

  Andreas stared at him for a moment, eyebrows raised. Then he rolled his eyes, smirking. “All right. Well, whatever happened, you need an operation to fix it. As soon as you can, mind you.”

  As he was speaking he was getting out of bed and pulling his clothes back on. Mel watched, feeling deflated. His arm was throbbing and tingling at the same time.

  Surgery. On a fucking Angel.

  “Come to my practice on Harley Street,” Andreas said, putting his shoes on. “I’ll fix you up.”

  Nora nodded. “We’ll look into it; I promise.”

  “Don’t look into it; do it,” he replied firmly. “It has to be done. Now….I should go….”

  “You can stay.”

  “No--thank you. I should go,” he said, actually blushing.

  He kissed her, and then turned to Mel, who reluctantly accepted a kiss. Andreas seemed to tell he had made things uncomfortable, because he left right after, closing the door behind him.

  There was a silence, before Nora drew close to Mel, squeezing his good arm.

  “We’ll figure it out.”

  “It’s surgery, Nora,” Mel said quietly. “Even if we had the right equipment made Up There, there would be no way to put me to sleep. And how would we explain that to him in the first place? He wouldn’t believe it.”

  “I think he would,” Nora replied, staring thoughtfully at the door. “If we told him right. He’s a smart guy.”

  Mel sighed, frustrated, but he couldn’t argue with that. “Still,” he said, “it isn’t possible.”

  Nora squeezed his arm again. “We’ll think of something.”

  Mel looked down at his bad arm, which was still throbbing.

  His head twitched. Why would Father allow him to be injured like this? Was he suddenly finished with Mel? Or was this some twisted punishment, some sick part of his ridiculous plan?

  “Hey,” Nora said gently, and he looked at her.

  She smiled reassuringly, brushed at his cheek. “I promise we’ll figure it out.”

  Mel raised an eyebrow, although he was soothed by her words. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, love.”

  “Don’t tell me I can’t keep it,” she shot back, and he smiled. “We’ll figure it out. Now….let’s go to bed. It’s late.”

  He was more than happy to. They got under the covers, caught each other’s eye, and laughed.

  “I can’t believe we did that,” Nora breathed, flushed. “That was so fun.”

  “You’re okay with everything?”

  She gave him a look, and he chuckled. “That was such a crazy idea. I don’t know where I got it.”

  “I don’t know either,” Mel laughed.

  “You had fun?”

  He brushed at her hair, loving the look in her eyes. “I did.”

  They were quiet a moment, tangled in each other’s arms. Nora was frowning, a strange look on her face.

  “Say,” she finally began, “we’re alone with someone else….”

  “And the opportunity….arises?” Mel supplied, and she nodded, flushing.

  He thought for a moment, tracing his fingers along her waist.

  The truth was that he really didn’t care if Nora slept with other people. Perhaps it was his nature as an Angel--Angels certainly weren’t monogamous. He wasn’t worried about their sex life, and he wasn’t insecure. He wouldn’t compare himself to a potential lover. And if it was what she wanted to do….

  He looked at her curiously. “Do you want to?”

  “No,” she said quickly.

  She frowned, then continued, “Or….not exactly. It’s just….after what we did with Andreas--I’m more than happy to never sleep with anyone else, Mel, you know that? I love you more than anything.”

  He was smiling. “But, as you’ve said, loving someone doesn’t mean you can’t sleep with other people.”

  “Consensually,” she added firmly.

  “Right,” Mel replied, nodding.

  He was smiling at her; he couldn’t help but be amused. “Nora, if you want to sleep with other people, I don’t mind. Truly. It’s human nature. Angel nature, too.”

  He brushed at her cheek, and she flushed.

  “All I care about is that you love me,” he murmured. “Just like I love you.”

  “That will never change,” Nora said firmly. “Never.”

  “Same for me. You’re too perfect.”

  “Now you’re being silly.”

  She kissed his cheek, thought for a moment, and added, “Ditto, by the way. I won’t get jealous.”

  He chuckled. “I know.”

  She nodded, relieved. But then her face fell. “I just wanted us to have some fun….blow off some steam….before everything.”

  Mel felt a pang. He cupped her face in his hand, kissed her brow. “We can do it. We’ll be happy. It’ll just take time.”

  Nora nodded. “Yeah.” She took a deep breath. “I have to be strong for Gilla.”

  Mel felt his head twitch, but he resisted bitching about Father again. “Maybe you do. But you don’t have to be strong for me.”

  This seemed to soothe her. She nodded again, and he held her until they were both asleep.

  Michael

  200,000 Years Ago

  Michael stood on the rocky ground, staring ahead, not really seeing. He had been kneeling beside Mel, trying desperately to wake him while he lay dead. His body had vanished.

  His brother was gone. He had sacrificed himself for Michael--murderous, unworthy Michael--and at the same time had smashed Michael’s deal with Father. He was supposed to have died, not Mel. Their roles had reversed, and now Mel was gone….to some other Place, or to nothing at all. He didn’t know.

  He was suddenly shoved hard to the ground. He looked up--it was Gabriel, and he was red with rage.

  “Get up,” he ordered harshly, drawing his sword. “Get up and fight me.”

  Michael was shaking, overwhelmed with guilt and grief. He stood, but he let his sword lie on the ground.

  Gabriel was incensed. “You won’t even fight me too. You brought this War on us and you didn’t even fight!”

  He was screaming now.

  A crowd gathered--Angels from both sides, watching them. Michael was sure he looked ridiculous. The Great Michael, so strong, so favored--now silent, enduring his son’s rage without a word.

  “Gabriel,” a familiar voice said, and Serene appeared from the crowd.

  Michael felt a surge of relief--she was all right too. They had survived.

  She glanced at Michael before looking away sharply. She touched Gabriel’s arm. He looked at her, and she tugged, shaking her head.

  “Come on,” she whispered.

  Gabriel took one final look at his father. Then he threw his sword to the ground, his face contorted with pain. He followed his sister, through the crowd and out of sight.

  Michael watched them go. The pain was so great that he nearly doubled over, nearly roared. He wanted to. But everyone was staring, and that was enough attention.

  It had been mere months ago that he had yearned for the attention of his friends--the admiration, the approval. He had gotten so used to it, being the Favored Son.

  Now here he was, favored by no one. Especially not by himself.

  Suddenly there were gasps, and Michael felt a Presence behind him. He turned, and his heart froze.

  It was Mel. He was on the ground, apparently having just appeared there. He opened his eyes, blue and piercing, and slowly sat up. He looked both shocked and wary.

  He was alive. He was alive. Michael hurried forward, forgetting himself, and held out a hand to help him up.

  “Here--”

/>   “Don’t touch me,” Mel spat, his eyes now black with anger.

  Michael backed away, somehow shocked by his rage.

  But Mel was alive--he was standing up, checking himself over. His shirt was torn at the chest--where the axe had made contact--and Michael could make out a thick scar on his skin. But there was no blood, no pain...he was totally healed.

  “Mel!” Judith’s voice cried, and she ran past Michael and into Mel’s arms.

  Mel held her, the hint of a smile on his face.

  More footsteps--Gabriel and Serene had returned, and Agatha as well, and they too threw their arms around Mel. This time Mel laughed, and some of the pain Michael had been feeling lessened.

  He was all right. He really was all right--and alive.

  “You’re back,” Judith sighed, kissing his cheek. “You can stay.”

  A dark look appeared on Mel’s face. “No,” he said quietly.

  “But you came back--before,” Serene insisted. “You came for the War.”

  “I don’t know why he let me come back,” Mel replied calmly. “But I only came back to fight. Now it’s over….and I have to go.”

  They protested, shook their heads. Serene and Agatha began to weep, and he held them and shushed them.

  “Come see me,” he whispered, “if you can.”

  It was a long time before the group parted, and Mel looked directly at Michael.

  “I made a deal with Father,” he said, “I’m banished to Earth again. You’ll want to talk to him….he has some things in mind for you.”

  And then he stepped backward, and with his characteristic stumble, vanished.

  Michael stared at the spot where he had disappeared. He wondered vaguely what Father had in store for them. If Michael was to make another deal, it had to be for something strong….something infallible….unbreakable.

  He had to protect Mel.

  Michael

  Gilla lost her voice the very next morning.

  She seemed to know right away. Michael felt her sit up shakily, and then he knew too. He sat up, saw the look on her face, and immediately held her. Gilla cried silently, her shoulders shaking, and Michael rocked her and shushed her, having no idea what else to do.

  He had to try not to weep himself. The both of them had to be composed for Kristina and Peter. He and Gilla had agreed that Michael would say she had laryngitis, and that she would see a doctor once they arrived in London. They would wait a couple weeks, and then break the news. Gilla would never speak again.

  He called Nora before they went downstairs.

  “She’s lost it, hasn’t she?” she asked, almost resigned.

  It took him a moment. “Yeah.”

  “How is she?”

  He looked over at Gilla, who was applying a cold washcloth to her face, trying to lessen the redness on her nose and eyes. “About what you’d expect.”

  “Okay,” and she paused. “Look, Michael, I hate to say this….but I think you really need to keep it together for her. Not that you can’t--just that you should. You can always come to me, but….I just feel like it would be better for her.”

  Michael took a deep breath and nodded. He could read between the lines of what Nora was saying. It had been obvious how distressed he had been about the eventual loss of Gilla’s voice. He had to keep it to himself now, for her sake.

  “All right.”

  “Don’t be mad.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Okay….our flight’s at three. Meet at the airport.”

  He and Gilla spent the day with her parents. They seemed to pick up on Gilla’s mood, and resisted asking any questions about her health. They sat by the fireplace and talked. Gilla listened, of course, and sometimes sent a message in a group text to voice her opinion on something. Every once in a while she went to the bathroom, and Michael knew she had gone to cry.

  “You’re not fighting already?” Peter asked worriedly, taking Michael aside after lunch.

  Michael shook his head, though he felt guilty nonetheless. “She’s been stressed, with the move to London. The laryngitis was just...the final straw.”

  He hated lying, but he had no choice, and he didn’t want to worry her parents anyway.

  Peter nodded soberly. Then he said, “Michael….Kristina and I have been meaning to tell you….just how happy we are to have you in the family. You’re a good man, and we can see you make her happy. We’re proud to have you as a son.”

  Michael stared at him. He was almost shocked, embarrassed. No one--except for Gilla and Nora--had spoken to him like that in thousands of years.

  He looked away, clearing his throat, and Peter chuckled, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

  “Don’t worry. I know you’re not good at these things. We just wanted you to know.”

  Michael nodded. He was touched, grateful. But he looked over at Gilla, who was staring dully at her plate, and knew he didn’t deserve it.

  Their flight was a sober one. Everyone was very gentle with Gilla, who sat curled up against Nora for most of the journey. Michael studied the wedding ring on his finger and wondered if they had made the right decision. Maybe getting involved with him had ruined her life.

  Mel had gone to the bar, and came back with three old fashioneds. He handed one to Michael, who took it, raising an eyebrow.

  “Seriously?” he whispered.

  “Trust me,” Mel replied, “you need it.”

  He couldn’t argue, remembering what Nora had said. When Gilla went to the bathroom he drained all three--enough to give him a small buzz. Mel took the glasses away, and Michael sat there, feeling slightly more relaxed.

  Mel returned to his seat, and Michael knew he was going to say something.

  “Look,” he began quietly, “this might not be the best time to say. But….”

  He hesitated, his jaw working, and then said, “I’m sorry.”

  Michael stared at him, bewildered. “You’re really doing this now?”

  “I said it probably wasn’t a good time.”

  “Yeah. It’s not.”

  Mel took a deep breath and sighed. He was rubbing his injured arm, apparently unconsciously, and was staring at the cabin floor.

  Michael shook his head, ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t tell if he was angry or just exasperated. Mel was clearly apologizing for how he had reacted to the Patrizio incident, and Michael knew it was because he had almost died. Nora had said Mel hadn’t taken it well, that he was shaken up.

  But Michael didn’t like it. He didn’t like Mel apologizing; he didn’t like Mel worrying about him. He didn’t like the drinks. He didn’t even like the civility anymore. They were both fooling themselves if they thought they could be friends again. Michael had destroyed that relationship 200,000 years ago, and it couldn’t be fixed. There was no point.

  He looked at Gilla, who, to his relief, was absorbed in a sign language lesson with Nora. She looked focused, determined, and he felt a strong surge of love and pride.

  He would be civil with Mel for her sake--and for Nora’s. But that was it. No more.

  Mel seemed to be struggling to reply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “Don’t,” Michael said, and Mel looked at him. “Don’t bother. We’re together for a job, that’s it. Nothing else.”

  Mel was quiet a moment, clearly taken aback. Michael felt a hint of guilt, and avoided his eyes.

  Mel finally whispered, “We have two partners--”

  “They don’t need us to be friends to be happy,” Michael said coldly. “Don’t tell me we need to be buddies so you can keep Nora satisfied.”

  Mel stared at him.

  “Save you guilt,” Michael murmured. “Get over it.”

  It was cruel. He hadn’t said anything like that to Mel since before he Regenerated.

  The air turned very cold, and Mel got up and stormed off. Michael glowered at the table, playing with his ring, knowing very well that he had fucked up.

  He caught Nora’s eye, and she looked
murderous.

  She cornered him when they got to Heathrow, while Gilla was in the bathroom and Mel was hailing a cab.

  “What did I say about keeping it together?” she hissed, looking positively livid.

  Michael avoided her eyes; he had never seen her so angry. “He told you then?” he asked flatly.

  “No, he didn’t,” she growled. “I can tell by your faces. You know he’s barely said two words since the flight, right?”

  Now Michael felt a flash of anger. Nora didn’t understand, and she needed to stop pretending she did.

  He shrugged, letting his arms drop to his sides. “So he’s pissed. He’s always pissed with me. He’ll get over it.”

  Nora took a deep breath, her eyes flashing. “He’s. Not. Pissed,” she breathed. “He’s upset. He’s hurt. Are you happy?”

  Michael stared at her. There had been a time when he had been sure he could never hurt Mel again; he had been so hardened by anger.

  Now he didn’t know what to feel.

  Nora ran her hands through her hair, clearly trying to stay calm. “You know how much I love you,” she said, her brown eyes piercing. “Right?”

  He nodded.

  She blinked rapidly, cleared her throat. “You need to get it together. I’m really disappointed in you. If you don’t want to be friends with Mel, fine. I’ll respect that. But whatever you said to him earlier--I’m not having it. He’s my partner, and I won’t tolerate you hurting him. Understand?”

  Michael was staring at his shoes, overwhelmed by guilt. He had never hurt Nora before, and it was a sickening feeling.

  He nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  She hesitated, clearly still pissed.

  But she finally touched his arm, squeezing, stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Good.”

  “How’s Gilla?”

  She thought for a moment, folding her arms. “She really likes the sign language,” she said quietly. “It’s something to focus on.”

  “What can I do?”

  She took his hand and squeezed. “You need to learn too, so you know what she’s saying. And,” and she said this warningly, “Mel’s also going to learn. I’m assuming we’ll be pretty busy, so I figure we can get up early in the mornings and have lessons.”