Queen of the Immortals

by T. R. Hamby

  He was quiet a moment, then said, “You know….if you don’t want to be part of this. I understand. If you want to leave.”

  Barry had never heard Gabriel sound so saddened. He turned, wrapped his arm around his waist. “Don’t be stupid.”

  “You should go. Before you get hurt,” Gabriel replied, though he turned to face him, brushing at his hair.

  “That Angel lady already knows what I look like, remember?” Barry said quietly. “And even if she didn’t, I’m not leaving. I’m not leaving you.”

  “You deserve better than me.”

  Barry snorted. “You’re full of shit.”

  Gabriel chuckled.

  Barry tried, in the darkness, to make out Gabriel’s face. He couldn’t, but he could feel his hands on him, feel his body so close to his.

  “I can’t leave those girls, either,” he admitted. “I don’t know why….if it’s a brotherly thing or….some twisted way of making up for all I’ve done. But I can’t leave them like that.”

  Gabriel was quiet. Barry listened to him breathe. His hand was on his chest now, and then slipping down his waist. Gabriel kissed him, and Barry sighed, held his face in his hand. His hands on him were like fire, and soon they were kissing roughly, breathing heavily and groaning. Barry let his hands roam, down his waist, his stomach, his shorts. Gabriel hissed, and Barry shushed him, snickering; the walls in the old house were thin.

  Gabriel turned him onto his stomach, yanking Barry’s underwear off and making him laugh. He kissed him, from his neck to the small of his back, sometimes biting, making Barry shiver.

  Then they were both moaning, trying desperately to keep quiet as Gabriel moved inside him. They laughed, swore. Barry was dizzy, and what Gabriel was doing to him was so good. Gabriel kissed him, caressed his hair, told him he loved him. They were like this until Gabriel swore, clinging onto the headboard and slowly rocking into him.

  Barry was still moaning, breathing heavily and shaking with pleasure. Gabriel recovered, and gently turned Barry onto his back. They grinned at each other, giddy. Gabriel kissed him hard, moaning, before trailing kisses down his body, between his legs.

  Barry tried to keep quiet, though he couldn’t contain himself now. He was dizzy, lightheaded, and his heart raced. What Gabriel was doing to him was unbelievable. It wasn’t long before his pleasure peaked, such ecstasy. And then Gabriel was beside him, kissing him, soothing him.

  They both seemed to be feeling better after that. Gabriel had an arm around Barry’s waist, and Barry was staring at the ceiling, still getting his breath back.

  After a moment Gabriel asked, “Do you want to get married?”

  Barry snorted. “Christ no. Why? Do you?”

  Gabriel chuckled. “No.”

  “Let’s not then.”

  They were quiet. Barry closed his eyes, listened to Gabriel’s breaths. He was already starting to doze off.

  Then Gabriel bolted upright, and Barry jumped. “Jesus, what?”

  “I just thought of something,” Gabriel said, scrambling out of bed.

  He flipped the lights on, blinding Barry. When Barry regained his sight he found the room was empty.

  Gabriel had vanished.

  He put some sweats on and lay back down, waiting. Whatever Gabriel had realized must have been pretty important.

  In about ten minutes he was back, carrying--Barry did a double take--swords. Six of them, cradled carefully in his arms.

  “I wasn’t sure how many we need for now, but this should do,” he said, laying the swords on the bed. “I’ll go back for knives later. We’ll need those too.”

  Barry stared at them. They were short, and shaped almost like machetes. There were intricate designs on the Blades, and the handles were encrusted with jewels.

  “You and Nora can learn to use these,” Gabriel said emphatically. “You can kill an Angel with one of these. It’s what I use when I’m fighting Up There.”

  Barry was hesitant. “I can barely carry my books without dropping them.”

  “You’ll get it,” Gabriel said firmly. “You’ll have to. Both of you.”

  Barry frowned. He looked over one Blade, with a hilt dripping with sparkling sapphires. He picked it up. It was heavy, but balanced. He slowly swung the sword around, getting used to the feel of it in his hands.

  It felt good.

  He looked at the Blade again, and was surprised to find an eagle carved into the metal.

  He looked at Gabriel. “An eagle?”

  He shrugged. “I like birds, I guess.”

  Barry looked at the sword again, smoothed his hand along the Blade.

  “You’re struck,” Gabriel said with a chuckle. “How does it feel?”

  Barry looked at him and smiled. “It’s wicked.”

  Sword-fighting lessons would begin that evening, seven sharp.

  It couldn’t come soon enough, in his opinion. He loved that sword. There was something about it….he didn’t know what. He wanted to try it out, watch it clash with another Blade.

  If he and Nora could learn how to fight, they would have a chance at defeating any Angel that came their way.

  But first--literature. Barry tried to keep his eyes open through class. He hadn’t gotten much sleep with everything that had gone on last night. He and Gabriel had talked about different movements and positions in sword fighting well into the early morning. He would need lots of coffee to stay awake for their fighting.

  His next paper was due Friday, and he was stuck. He went to the library to get some work done before he left for his session at the tattoo shop. He had found a good artist in Soho to cover up the awful script on his neck, and he would be coming back later for a new piece on the other side of his neck, too.

  He found a group of his classmates sitting across the hall, and nervously trudged over. He tended to be shy, but he needed a study group if he didn’t want to fail.

  He managed to smile at the blonde girl at the head of the table. “’Lo. May I join?”

  The girls’ eyes went to his tattoos, and she tutted. “Sorry. No room,” she said in a posh accent.

  “Long way from Hackney,” another one of them muttered, and there were snickers.

  Barry turned away, pissed and humiliated. Typical, of course.

  “Excuse me,” a voice said behind him, and he turned.

  It was a pretty girl, with dark brown hair and freckles. She gestured to the chair across from her. “I have room.”

  Barry smiled and sat down. “Thank you.”

  “You’re in my Stats class,” she said enthusiastically.

  “Yeah, and we take English together, too.”

  She stuck out a hand. “I’m Katie Pembleton.”

  “Tom Barrett,” he replied, shaking her hand, “but you can call me Barry.”

  “Barry,” she said with a smile. “What are you studying?”

  “Business. Probably accounting. Haven’t quite figured that one out yet.”

  He looked at her; she was listening attentively, her brown eyes bright. “And you?”

  “Art,” she said, beaming. “I wanted to go into photography, but I figure I could get my degree in art history and teach. But we’ll see.”

  They were quiet a moment, shuffling their notes. Barry was relieved; it was nice to be with someone so cheerful and friendly.

  “How good are you at statistics?” Katie asked, a worried frown on her face.

  Barry shrugged. “I’m pretty good at maths.”

  “God, I’m not.”

  He took the hint. “Well--how are you at writing papers?”

  She brightened. “Very good.”

  “Let’s tutor each other, then. How does that sound?”

  “It’s a good trade,” Katie replied, looking grateful. “I’ll take you out.”

  “I can’t tonight--but thank you.”

  They mostly just talked instead of studying. Katie was twenty-two, lived off campus, and was a regular at the library. She and Barry discovered they both
enjoyed video games, and swapped handles.

  “Do you have any classes left?” she asked as the clock struck noon.

  “No, do you?” he replied, packing his bag.

  “No.”

  She hesitated, then said, “Maybe we could do something. There’s an ice cream shop ’round the corner that’s quite good.”

  Barry was sheepish. “I actually have an appointment. For another tattoo,” he said, pointing to his neck.

  She looked intrigued. “Oh, great. Your neck? How many do you have?”

  He chuckled, flattered by her enthusiasm. “Too many to count. And on my neck here--cover up this abomination.”

  “Right,” she said, and she seemed to deflate. “Well, I’ll be seeing you.”

  “Yeah, see you tomorrow,” Barry replied, getting up.

  He looked at her for a moment--she was almost downcast, flipping idly through her textbook. The light from the window hit her arms as she moved, and he noticed a series of thin white scars cutting across her wrist.

  He felt a pang, and shuffled his feet. “Do you….want to come with?” he asked cautiously.

  Katie looked up, surprised. “Really?”

  “Sure. You can hold my hand.”

  She grinned. She packed her things and followed him to the street, where he hailed a cab. They drove to the shop, and she looked awed when they stepped in, walking slowly and marveling at the artwork on the walls.

  “I like this style,” she said, pointing to a new school print. “I should try that.”

  They pointed out different prints while they waited. Then the artist arrived, and Barry got settled on the bed.

  “I’m just going to be a pest,” Katie said guiltily, sitting in a chair nearby. “I should’ve left you alone.”

  “Trust me, if I didn’t want you tagging along, I wouldn’t have invited you,” Barry said.

  His artist turned on the machine and began to work, and Barry winced.

  “Is it bad?” Katie asked curiously.

  “It’s not the worst. Just a bitch. Doesn’t stop me from wanting more.”

  “What are you getting?”

  “An eagle.”

  “Why an eagle?”

  He tried not to shrug, not wanting to bump the artist’s hands. “They symbolize courage, I guess.”

  She smiled, her eyes sparkling, and withdrew a sketchbook from her bag. They talked--about their lives, their families. Barry mentioned Gabriel, mentioned his life on the streets. Katie was open too--she had depression, and at one point a pill problem. She was behind in school because of it.

  Barry lay there, feeling his neck getting stuck, and not for once wondered why God let bad things happen to good people. Perhaps Barry was an exception, but Katie was not. She was sweet, innocent--rather like Gilla. She had been the only person kind enough to offer him a seat in the library, offer to collaborate with him.

  It made him angry.

  He took deep breaths, squeezing his eyes shut. Luckily the pain seemed to distract him from his dark thoughts.

  The session took nearly three and a half hours, but Katie didn’t care. She sketched, chatting with Barry and the artist, and then eventually pulled out her textbook and worked on her homework.

  When the tattoo was finished Barry got up and looked in the mirror. The script was completely gone, replaced by a brown and gold eagle, with a shimmering gold eye. Its wing spread across his neck, the tips of its feathers almost reaching the nape.

  He loved it.

  “Can I take a picture? For my Instagram?” Katie asked the artist. “I’ll tag you.”

  She snapped a couple photos, and then the two headed outside. It was still warm out--autumn had not quite descended on the city. Katie ordered an Uber, and Barry waited for Gabriel to come pick him up on his motorcycle.

  “It suits you,” Katie said, studying the tattoo. “It’s very….war-like.”

  Barry laughed. “I don’t think ‘war-like’ is a good term for me.”

  “Well, we’ve both had our battles,” she said, shrugging.

  Barry smiled at her. That was true, as difficult as it was for him to admit. He had fought some hard battles. Some days he didn’t feel like he had won.

  Katie looked at him. “Do you want to study after class Wednesday?” she asked hopefully.

  “Yeah, that’d be great.”

  “Good.”

  “What you doing now?”

  “Oh, I’m meeting an old friend for drinks. I promised I would. Should be home early, though. I’m tired.”

  “Well--thanks for holding my hand,” he said as Gabriel pulled up, his motorcycle roaring.

  “Shit!” Gabriel exclaimed, studying Barry’s neck. “That’s good. I like it.”

  He was starting to catch a faint accent, being around Barry all the time.

  “Gabriel, this is Katie, my classmate; Katie, this is Gabriel, my boyfriend,” Barry introduced, gesturing between them.

  Katie and Gabriel shook hands.

  “I like your tattoos, too,” she said, examining the script on Gabriel’s cheeks. “What language is that?”

  “It’s….an old language,” Gabriel replied, a little awkwardly.

  He frowned. “You’re not walking home alone, are you? It’s getting dark soon.”

  “I have an Uber.”

  He nodded. “We’ll stay until you’re picked up.”

  She sat with Gabriel on the bike, asked about the controls, the pipes. Barry leaned against the wall of the shop and smiled. There was a nice breeze, and his neck only stung a little. Katie got in front, gripping the handles. Gabriel sat behind her and taught her how to rev the engine. The bike roared and she shrieked, laughing, and Gabriel grinned.

  He looked over at Barry and smiled, his dark eyes glittering. Barry felt a rush of happiness, and he clung to it. He had been given so much, and he didn’t want to lose it.

  Maybe this time he wouldn’t fuck things up.

  Ceres

  Out of all her siblings, Ceres was the one who had visited Earth the most. There had been a time when she had lived there, for several years. She spoke English, and she understood humans better than the rest of them.

  Humans were pliable, foolish. She was never sure why Father had Created them in the first place--although she assumed it was for entertainment purposes.

  She shook her head. Persephone was unhinged. Ceres had never seen her like this.

  She had come to them to recruit them. It was a simple exchange--kill Michael and Melkira for her, and the five would enjoy the humans together. Raziel liked to ravish, Horus and Valor liked to torture, and Ceres herself loved to hunt. Persephone, it seemed, loved to kill.

  All that was required was allegiance. Persephone would lead, the rest would follow. Once Michael and Melkira were dead, they would live and work in harmony, or some other bullshit.

  Persephone was truly losing her nerve if she thought she could convince her siblings that she wouldn’t turn against them.

  Still, Ceres was willing to play the game. She may not have had a Talent--as Persephone so enjoyed reminding her--but Ceres had always been good at hunting. It explained her many visits to Earth--her trips stalking and killing humans. She had been doing it for centuries, and Talent or not, she was good at it.

  God, she craved humans. She just loved the little things. It was something she and her sister could agree on. Taking the life of a mortal produced an unrivaled pleasure.

  The main thing about hunting was one’s appearance. Camouflage. It helped that she looked unassuming. She wasn’t attractive like her siblings; she had dirty, wispy blonde hair, an overbite, large eyes and an awkward figure. She often thought she looked like the human--or Angel--equivalent to a sloth.

  But that was perfect. Mortals didn’t pay attention to people who looked like her. Never had, never would.

  She approached the house in Knightsbridge, wearing an overly large backpack and equally large glasses to complete her look of Young Female Nobody.

 
; It was an open house. Ceres stumbled in and took a pamphlet from the table.

  “Good morning,” the realtor greeted. “Come to look around? You’re our first visitor.”

  “Am I?” Ceres asked in a decent accent, pulling a deer-in-the-headlights look.

  “Yes, love. How are you today? Would you like me to show you around?”

  The two walked through the house. The realtor yammered on, while Ceres took in the furniture, the paint on the walls. Both smelled new. She could see them watching TV in the living room, see two of them fucking in one of the bedrooms. It smelled human in here….and it smelled Angel, too.

  “What do you think so far? You’re a quiet one, aren’t you?” the realtor asked in a kind voice.

  Ceres knew better. She was trying to make a sale, and Ceres’ silence was getting on her nerves.

  She gave a ditzy giggle. “Nice family who lived here?” she asked, looking around the room again.

  The realtor chuckled. “Oh yes, lovely people.”

  “Such a big house for just two.”

  “Oh goodness no--there were at least six when they moved out.”

  Ceres allowed a look of surprise. “What a big family. Children?”

  She shook her head, now looking thoughtful. “No, all adults. I always wanted to ask what their situation was….you don’t see a lot of flatmates in Knightsbridge.”

  “Quite. I hope their next house was bigger, then.”

  “Oh, not quite….I sold them that house too. In Westminster, just on Keller Lane.”

  Ceres feigned excitement. “Yes, yes--I know which one you’re talking about--oh, what number is it--”

  “241,” she replied. “Yes, such a charming house. I was almost sad to see it go. It’s a shame you didn’t get to it in time. But this house….”

  Ceres let her continue. She was thinking….thinking hard.

  She knew their address. That was a start. But Persephone couldn’t attack them now, even if one of them was human. The rest were supposedly Angels, and two of them were more powerful than any other.

  It would be a formidable fight. They would need an advantage.