Queen of the Immortals

by T. R. Hamby

  Ceres tried not to snort, but he was shrewd. “You doubt me,” he scoffed. “You need binoculars to see them. I can watch them with my eyes alone.”

  And he left, leaving her scowling at the floor.

  Well, that was interesting. Unexpected. Dangerous, potentially. But useful. Very useful.

  She returned to the penthouse, wondering why on earth an Angel could be so obsessed with one particular human.

  She heard an anguished whimper as she stepped out of the elevator.

  A beautiful young woman was sitting on the recliner, shivering and quietly crying. She was dressed in a short skirt and a sequined top, with pristine makeup on her face, that was now getting ruined by her tears.

  Ceres checked her watch; it was nearly midnight. The girl must have just gotten picked up from a club.

  She looked around at Ceres and turned to her. “Please tell them to let me go,” she moaned desperately. “Please, I’ll do anything….I’ll sleep with any one of you, just let me go….don’t hurt me….”

  Ceres felt a surge of rage, and she looked ahead at her brothers, Raziel and Valor, who were eyeing the girl greedily.

  Fucking typical. Ceres was left to do all the heavy lifting while Raziel and Valor stayed behind to play with their toys.

  And they never shared.

  “Don’t look like that,” Raziel said, speaking their native tongue; he didn’t know any human languages.

  “Like what?” Ceres spat, ready for a fight.

  “Like a pissy bitch.”

  “I’m far more than a bitch, you lazy shit,” Ceres replied, looking down on the girl again.

  The girl seemed frightened at the strange language, and worked her wrists against the plastic ties that bound her.

  Ceres bent over her, took her face in her hand and studied her. Her eyeliner was smudged and trailing down her wet cheeks. She whimpered again, trying to turn her head away, but Ceres was much stronger than her.

  “Please, please,” she begged, shuddering. “Please….I won’t tell anyone, I swear….my mum is waiting up for me….”

  “We should go get her then,” Ceres replied, smirking, “she can join us.”

  The girl panicked, and immediately backtracked. “No--no, I was lying--”

  “Right. Because we will find her, and we will hurt her, if you don’t play with us,” Ceres whispered.

  She felt a wonderful wave of pleasure as the girl nodded, sobbing.

  “I’ll d-do anything you want….anything….I’m s-sorry….I’m sorry….”

  Ceres ran her fingers through the girl’s hair, which was thick and chocolate brown. It was so smooth, like silk, and it smelled good, too. The girl smelled heavenly, like flowery perfume, sweat, liquor. Her shampoo was strawberry, her chapstick cherry.

  Humans always smelled so delicious.

  Ceres straightened, and looked at her brothers with disgust. “Look at you, salivating like hungry dogs,” she growled. “Where’s Persephone?”

  “With the other one, bitch.”

  There was another? Another stab of anger, and Ceres strode to the bedroom.

  It was too late to enjoy her. The girl--blonde-haired, blue-eyed--was lying on the bed. Her head hung off the edge, with a lovely wound in its neck. There was so much blood on the floor Ceres could see her reflection in it. The smell filled her nose--thick, and so pleasing. There were appendages lying here and there, as well as various bloody knives and Blades.

  Persephone was a sight to see. She was wearing a tank top and a pair of sweats, and she was in a frenzy, sawing on the corpse, covered in blood. Her eye socket was a gaping hole in her head, with angry red skin circling it. A thick scar ran from eyebrow to cheek. She had also shaved her head.

  Ceres was disgusted.

  “I thought our priority was killing Michael and Melkira,” she asked, not caring to disguise her repulsed tone.

  Persephone paused in her desecration to appraise her, straightening. Even in her state she was prim, ladylike, with a pole stuck up her ass.

  “It would be easier to kill them if we knew where they are,” she sneered, planting a bloody hand on her hip. “Or have you been completely useless this whole time?”

  Ceres took a steadying breath. Persephone had always, since their birth, treated her like shit. She never knew the reason why--except perhaps jealousy.

  But Persephone was finally getting on Ceres’ last nerve. It was their childhood all over again--Persephone constantly torturing her, Raziel and Valor taunting her. Horus idolizing Persephone like a fucking idiot. And here they all were, doing nothing but playing with humans, while Ceres was the one out there searching.

  Persephone gave her a look. “Well?”

  Ceres looked at her coolly. “There are three of them: Michael and Melkira, and one other, who appears to be human.”

  Ceres knew very well that there were six people in that house. It was a huge risk withholding information from Persephone, but she had a feeling it would pay off. After all, Persephone wasn’t what she once was.

  Persephone had looked up at the word “human.” “A human. That must be the one our dearly departed Eris tried killing for me once.”

  “I think one of them is fucking him.”

  She thought for a moment, her one eye swiveling around. “Lucius had said there had at least been four. You’re sure you only saw three?” she demanded, giving Ceres a venomous look.

  Ceres nodded. “That was five months ago, wasn’t it? Perhaps the others got bored. Not many want to be around the two of them anyway.”

  She considered this, frowning. “What else about the human?”

  “He visits a university nearby. They don’t go with him.”

  Persephone straightened, clearly struck. “I see.”

  After a moment she nodded, and a sickening smile appeared on her lips.

  “Pick him up,” she said silkily, “and bring him here. We’ll lure them….and we can enjoy him while we wait.”

  Ceres nodded. She could do it; she wanted to do it. She wanted to hear that beautiful boy scream.

  But she was getting tired of this. Tired of following Persephone’s orders as if she was a revolting slave. Tired of being forced to work with her piggish brothers, her idiot sister Horus.

  Persephone was losing her nerve. She was calm, collected, even in good form, but Ceres could see right through it. The Great Persephone was afraid. Afraid of Michael and Melkira, afraid of death.

  It was weak. And Ceres detested weakness.

  She abstained from joining in on Raziel and Valor’s fun that night. She needed her sleep for tomorrow. Kidnapping a human was easy, very easy, but Ceres wanted to be well-rested in case all went to hell.

  The boy always got up early for his Thursday class. Ceres got ready, pulling her hair into a neat bun, zipping her jacket. She looked average, as she normally did.

  The class was ninety minutes long, and it usually took the boy’s lover ten minutes to pick him up. A short window. She knew his female friend would be with him, but she would be easy to deal with. They were both weak.

  She sat under one of the oak trees that littered the campus, waiting. He always exited the building that was directly across from her. She counted down the minutes, until the little door opened.

  Several people filed out. One of them was the boy, bag slung over his shoulder, talking and laughing with the girl, who was hugging her books to her chest.

  They headed toward her, going in the direction of the library, when she pounced. She ran for him, and he paused, confusion clouding his pretty face….

  And then he dropped his bag, and from his pocket withdrew a knife--a silver knife, with a ruby-encrusted handle.

  A Blade.

  Ceres screeched to a halt, her heart pounding. Then she felt a surge of anger, and she swiped at him, growling. But he slashed in return, taking a defensive stance, shoving the girl behind him.

  “Who you?” he spat.

  Ceres tried snatching the Blade, but he swung h
is arm and slashed her wrist instead. She felt a sting, and blood dripped from the wound.

  Now she was enraged. She charged him, being cut several times before managing to catch a hold of his wrist. She squeezed and felt his bones break. She threw him to the ground, and the knife bounced away. She grabbed his shoulders, hauling him, when a weight landed on her back.

  Ceres stumbled, shrieking as the girl clung to her back and pulled at her hair.

  “Get off me,” she hissed, trying to grab the girls’ hands.

  The boy got up, holding his broken wrist. Ceres caught hold of the girl’s arms and threw her over until she hit the grass with a thud. The boy scrambled to her, and Ceres grabbed both of them by the hair and tipped backward.

  She had to focus; she was flustered. She hadn’t expected any type of defense; she hadn’t even expected the boy to know what was happening until it was too late. It seemed he was a lot smarter than he appeared.

  But now she had both of them, she realized as they landed. And the girl would be hers.

  Traveling didn’t agree with the boy and the girl. They lay on the floor, disoriented, too dizzy to rise.

  Ceres looked around. Persephone was sitting in one of the chairs, as if waiting for them. She was clean, her eye socket covered with a designer bandana. She was wearing acid wash jeans and black heels. On her neck was a gold chain that bore the letters S-H-E-R-R-Y, and on her hand were several rings that were clearly not designer.

  Treasure from her victims, Ceres assumed.

  Ceres looked to her left, to the torture room Persephone fondly called the Prison. She could see the body of the girl she had been speaking to last night.

  She looked lovely like that.

  Persephone stood to survey the captives.

  She smiled. “You got two beauties.”

  Ceres smiled too. One thing they could agree on.

  She gave the boy a good kick in the ribs, and he grunted, curling into a ball. “This one put up a good fight. He’s the human who’s been living with Michael and Melkira.”

  “I see that he did,” Persephone said, and her tone was taunting. “Stung you a couple times, didn’t he?”

  Ceres glanced at her jacket, which was spotted with blood.

  “Clearly I can’t work with the best,” Persephone said, feigning a sigh.

  She knelt down and brushed at the boy’s hair. He suddenly jerked and threw a punch at her, but she ducked just in time.

  She laughed, grabbed his face and stared at him. “Do you know who I am, boy?” she asked, in a playful sort of way.

  The boy stared at her, and Ceres saw hatred in his blue eyes.

  “You’re Persephone,” he said, and she nodded.

  “You’re sharp. We’d hoped you were just a pretty face.”

  He just glowered at her. Nearby the girl was sitting up, whimpering.

  “Barry?” she breathed, and his look of hatred turned to fear.

  “Who’s she?” Persephone asked as Ceres knelt beside the girl.

  “His friend,” Ceres replied.

  She gave the girl a gentle look. “What’s your name, love?”

  “Don’t tell them anything,” Barry growled.

  Persephone squeezed his face, and he jerked, grasping her wrists.

  “Pain makes good behavior,” she said firmly.

  “Please let her go. Do what you want with me, but let her go. She has nothing to do with this.”

  “I can’t,” Persephone replied dryly. “I have to reward my sister,” she added, as if talking about a dog.

  Ceres glared at her.

  The girl was breathing heavily, clearly overwhelmed with what she was experiencing. Ceres loved it; she loved the fear in her eyes, her shaking limbs. She got a blanket from the couch and draped it around her shoulders.

  “Your name, love,” she said gently.

  The girl started to cry. “Katie. Please don’t hurt my friend.”

  Persephone must have noticed Barry’s broken wrist, because she grabbed it and squeezed. He howled, thrashing, and she let go with a giggle.

  “He might need hurting,” she said.

  “Fuck you,” Barry spat, holding his arm to his chest.

  “You’re tough,” Persephone said, unimpressed.

  She stood, and looked at Ceres. “We need information before we offer him back to the Angels. I’m assuming you can manage that.”

  Ceres ground her teeth together. “Give me the girl.”

  Persephone paused in the middle of walking away. She turned, her face cold.

  “Fine,” she said.

  “No Raziel. No Valor.”

  “No Raziel, no Valor,” she replied slowly, as if speaking to an idiot.

  She turned away. “Now get me something.”

  Ceres had been right; she loved his screams. Barry the boy sat strapped to the chair, shaking and screaming as Ceres carefully removed another finger. Blood spurted onto her jacket, and she felt vindicated, seeing that he had spilled her own blood on that jacket just an hour ago.

  Ceres gave him a moment to breathe. The girl had been put in the Prison. It had been delightful listening to her blood curdling screams as she laid eyes on the dismembered bodies of her predecessors, before the door was shut behind her.

  Persephone was sitting on the couch, sipping some sort of pink smoothie and flipping through a magazine. Every so often she looked up, bored, before returning to its pages.

  “God….you fucking cunt.…” Barry moaned faintly.

  Ceres managed a smile. He smelled like sweat and blood, and the taste of an Angel.

  But she was angry, and she knew Persephone was too. The shit wasn’t giving them anything. All he was doing was screaming and crying.

  Persephone finally had it. “Just use the girl already. Hurt her and he’ll talk.”

  “The girl is mine,” Ceres growled, her eyes flashing.

  Persephone considered her for a long moment. Ceres knew she was trying to appear stoic, but her face was twitching slightly, and her hands were shaking.

  Still afraid. And fear made one foolish.

  “Fine,” Persephone said calmly.

  She stood, taking a final sip of her smoothie. “Go to them. Tell them we have these two. Tell them we’ll hand them over if they come. They’ll be expecting a fight, but they don’t know how many of us there are.”

  “We guess they don’t know,” Ceres corrected, and Persephone’s eyes flashed.

  “Will you stop interrupting me? You are such a worthless bitch, a fucking disease. You were always the weakest, the runt of the litter. Now tell them our terms, and then you can have the girl all to yourself. Get out of my sight.”

  Ceres stood, her heart racing. Her hands were balled into fists, and she had the strongest urge to try and kill Persephone now. But Persephone was still stronger than her, with her Talent, and it was difficult to surprise her.

  She looked down at Barry, who was slowly getting his breath back, staring at his mangled hand. He looked up at her, and, although she could see pure hatred, she could also see a sort of calm.

  “On my neck,” he breathed, grimacing, “there’s going to be a blackbird. You tell him that.”

  Ceres frowned. She had no idea what that meant.

  In the background Persephone snickered, and Barry glared at her.

  “Wasn’t talking to you, was I?” he hissed, and she turned.

  “You’ve got a sweet mouth,” she replied coolly. “Any more and I’ll rip your tongue right out of your pretty head.”

  Ceres looked a final time at the bloody stumps where his fingers once were, then headed for the elevator.

  This would take tact. Skill. She hoped she could do it.

  It wasn’t often someone betrayed Persephone.

  Nora

  Barry was gone. Gabriel had gone to pick him up, but had only found his things in the grass by the oak tree. He was gone, and they had no idea how to find him.

  “Gabriel, you search off campus,” Mel said, speak
ing to Gabriel over the phone. “Michael, you take north campus; Gilla, you take south. I’ll search off campus too. Nora,” he said, looking at her, “you stay here, in case he shows up.”

  Nora couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow; she had a funny feeling that Mel was just trying to keep her out of trouble, being Talentless. But they all agreed to their roles, and Michael, who had been on campus before, Traveled Gilla and Mel to the university.

  Nora paced, trying desperately to think of where Barry had gone. They all had a feeling--Persephone had taken him. But she tried to ignore the strong possibility, and focused on alternatives instead.

  But she couldn’t think of anything plausible. She decided to clean the kitchen, just for something to do.

  She was about to move on to the living room, which was getting cluttered, when she felt a Presence.

  She hesitated. The Presence was growing stronger, and she knew the Angel was approaching. She went to the door, withdrawing a knife from her pocket. They had been keeping Blades on them for some time now.

  A knock at the door. Nora readied herself.

  She peeked out the window, and saw--to her amazement--Roone.

  She opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

  He let out a sigh of relief, an anxious look on his face. “You’re all right--good. I, um--came to warn you.”

  Nora frowned. Did he know about Persephone?

  “Can I come in?”

  “Oh--yeah,” she said, holding the door open for him.

  He stepped inside, glanced around, and then turned to her. “Is your sister all right?”

  Nora stared at him for a moment, before remembering their last conversation. “Oh--yeah, she’s okay….what’s going on?”

  He took a nervous breath. “Someone’s been following you,” he said gravely. “I just saw yesterday….I wasn’t sure whether to warn you or not. Sorry,” he added sheepishly, “I don’t usually get involved in these things.”

  Nora felt a surge of anger. “Well, if you had gotten involved, our friend wouldn’t be missing now,” she hissed. “He would have known not to go out.”

  Roone looked ashamed, and looked down at his shoes. “I’m sorry.”

  “Who did you see? Was it a woman?”