by T. R. Hamby
She put on her best grin, took a glass and downed it. It tasted disgusting, and Palmer laughed at the look on her face.
“Come on, another,” he exclaimed, waving for another round, and Gilla sighed.
Shit, shit, shit.
Palmer was smooth; he got three shots and one glass of champagne into her. She certainly felt less stressed, and she lounged against the booth, silently laughing at Palmer’s jokes, hanging onto his every word….he spoke very nicely….and she liked the way his lips curved as he spoke….
Shit! What was she doing?
She shook herself, and immediately gripped the table, dizzy. The alcohol must have been weakening her Talents. Palmer’s charm was starting to affect her.
She straightened, though the room spun, and took deep breaths.
Focus. Focus.
She opened her eyes.
She was in a dark car. Lights from the city were blurring past as it drove. Her head pounded, and she felt very fuzzy. Her head was laying on a man’s shoulder, and his hand was on her thigh.
She blinked….and then she remembered.
Palmer.
She resisted the urge to bolt upright. She didn’t want to spook Palmer….what happened?
Gilla must have blacked out. But if she had still been acting okay, then Palmer wouldn’t have noticed how strongly the drinks had affected her. She didn’t need him suspecting she wasn’t an Angel.
He caught her eye and smirked. Gilla could see Cecille on his left, playing on her phone.
He leaned in and whispered, “I like how this feels.”
And he squeezed her thigh.
Gilla took a shaky breath, and gave him a weak grin. She nodded, and he chuckled, kissing her cheek.
She was still drunk--very drunk--when they arrived at his complex. Michael already knew where Palmer lived--a quick online search was all that was needed to find that out. All they needed was the apartment number.
Shit. Michael.
Gilla grabbed her phone from her purse while the car descended into the garage.
A barrage of messages from Michael.
Two? Fucking hell
You OK?
Gilla
Where are you?
??
I’m going to the club
The last message had been sent at one in the morning. Gilla checked the time; it was ten after.
The car was parking. Gilla typed, Very drunk, come to apartment.
He replied almost instantly. Are you OK?
Palmer touched her chin, lifted her face and kissed her, hard.
It was as if her head had filled with air--she was suddenly very light, very hot and very flushed. She was dizzy, and she clung to him. He tasted sweet, and he felt good against her….
He pulled away, smirking again, and Gilla watched him slip out of the car. The world tipped, and she clung to the seat, trying desperately not to topple over. She realized now that Palmer knew exactly how incapacitated she was--but she guessed he believed it was from his Talent, and not from the shots and the champagne.
She raised her phone again. No, she texted back, and hit send.
Then Palmer was opening the door for her, and she eased out, clinging to him.
Cecille was watching Gilla, giggling. She took a step forward and kissed her too. Gilla’s vision blurred, and for a moment all she could make out were vague shapes. Then Cecille withdrew, and her vision was clear again.
Cecille had a Talent too.
They went to the elevators. Gilla shakily slipped off her shoes, and Palmer carried them, pressing a hand firmly on the small of her back.
Please don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me, she prayed desperately. Will entered her mind--his rough hands on her legs, the horrible words in her ear.
She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t.
They took the elevator all the way to the top floor--the penthouse. Of course. It was stupid of them to think that he’d be living in some apartment.
The penthouse was large, with stairs that led to a second floor. Palmer helped Gilla to a sofa, and Cecille disappeared.
Palmer kissed her again, and then straightened and went to the kitchen.
“One more drink?” he said, selecting a bottle from the cabinet.
Gilla pulled out her phone again. Penthouse, she texted.
He returned to the sofa, holding two cocktails, and handed her one.
She tried to stall. She pointed to where she had seen Cecille disappear, and he chuckled.
“She’s giving us some privacy,” he said, winking at her.
He touched her thigh, and that horrible urge to sleep with him happened again.
But Gilla was a little more lucid now. She took a deep breath, and managed to give him a sultry smile. He grinned in reply.
“You know,” he said, taking her drink and setting both glasses down, “we can have these later.”
Oh, god.
He guided her up the steps to the second floor. Gilla’s heart was pounding so hard it hurt, and she was so unbalanced, so dizzy. She couldn’t do this. She was going to get hurt again. She would be a mess when Michael found her.
If she wasn’t dead when he did.
But then Palmer touched her. They reached the top step, and he slid his hand from her back to her ass.
She couldn’t help but jump. She felt the color drain from her face, and Palmer laughed. It was a harsh laugh, not unlike Will’s laugh.
But she wasn’t terrified this time. No, she was furious. She was enraged.
Gilla grabbed his arm and threw him to the floor.
Mel
The four shopped at the Turiststation for camping gear. Mel knew exactly what to get, having spent thousands of years living out in the wild, before the days of industrialization. Tents, compasses, firestarters, and thermal blankets were all on the list. Mel bought a bow and some arrows to hunt with, so Nora wouldn’t have to deal with hunger pangs.
Barry found three campfires that night: one on the Nuolja, and two more, about a mile apart, on one section of the Norge Etappe. Both were much shorter than the King’s Trail, seven and fourteen miles respectively.
“Be careful,” Nora said as Gabriel and Barry got the car ready.
They would be driving separately to their respective trails.
Barry smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Mum,” he joked, pulling her into a hug.
She gently smacked his arm; she hated when he called her that.
“One of these days,” she said, but she kissed his cheek.
They all exchanged hugs, claps on the back, “good lucks.” Then they got in their cars and left.
Mel could tell Nora was nervous. She had lived in cities all her life, had barely set foot in a park. The beach was the most outdoorsy she got. Now they would be roughing it on the Norge Etappe, fourteen miles of hard hiking.
“I never thought we would be doing this,” she said as they got out of the car.
There were no polis here--there were probably too few officers to guard every trail. They slung their packs over their shoulders and began.
The trail was beautiful, with the mountains sloping around them. The ground was rocky, and still covered in a light sheen of snow. They slipped a couple times, and righted each other, laughing.
“Did you have a wife? When you lived in the east,” Nora asked, after spending the first hour quietly enjoying the scenery.
Mel looked at her, surprised by the question. They hadn’t spoken of his past wives since she had first learned he was an Angel.
But she merely looked curious, so he said, “Yes, I did.”
“What was her name?”
He thought for a moment. “Alba,” he finally replied.
He could see her now: red-haired, with a horrible temper. He had found her amusing.
Nora nodded, thoughtful. “Why did you marry her?”
“Status. She was the daughter of an important chieftain. It got me in with the right people--protected me from any suspicion of
what I was really up to.”
“Did you have a good marriage?”
Mel chuckled. “No, not really. She was always pissed about something.”
He thought for a moment, remembering, and said, “She loved to tell stories, and she was good at it. She told tales of the valkyries who came down from the heavens--how they chose which of the slain would enter Odin’s hall. Millenia on the earth, and it’s still one of my favorite myths.”
Nora smiled. “It’s amazing the things that you know. The things that you’ve seen. It’s incredible, actually.”
He smiled, ducked down and kissed her. “You are more incredible than all that.”
“Please. I can’t even hike.”
“One foot in front of the other,” he said, and they continued on.
They kept their eyes out for anything, anyone. It was slow going--Nora couldn’t seem to navigate the terrain very well.
But about five miles in they found something. A little hut, with a still-smoking fire.
Mel looked inside, and swore. Two deceased--a man and a woman. Their throats were slit, and they had clearly been tortured. Blood was splattered on the walls, pooled on the floorboards.
Nora appeared at his side. “Jesus,” she breathed, holding a hand over her mouth.
They stood there for a long moment, staring.
Mel’s head twitched, and he closed his eyes. Two more dead--sometime overnight, with their fire still smoking. Barry may have just seen it alight before they were murdered.
How many more humans would Ceres kill before they caught up to her?
“We need to call the polis,” Nora said. “If this is a human doing this, then they’ll need forensics right away.”
Mel shook his head; it was clear a human did not do this.
“We won’t get service out here,” he said quietly, turning away from the hut. “Let’s go about another mile, set up camp. See if Ceres finds us.”
He didn’t want to risk Nora getting seen by Ceres, but like she had said before--she had made her choice. She was in no matter what. He had to try to respect that.
So they continued a ways, cresting a small hill. They set up their tent at the base, and laid out their supplies. Several knives and a sword. It was all they could manage to carry.
Mel made a fire, and played a few tricks for Nora, swirling the flames around his fingers and blowing them into the sky. They lay down in their sleeping bags, and--at just the right time--marveled at the Northern Lights. Mel pointed out some stars, and told her the tales about them he had heard over the centuries. Nora was quiet, and he knew the dead couple they had just seen was haunting her. But she still smiled, and was awed at the wondrous sky above her.
There was a rabbit just a couple yards away.
Mel was hunched down, holding his bow, arrow drawn back and at the ready. He breathed slowly, his eye trained on the fat creature moseying in the snow.
He released the arrow, and it found its mark. The rabbit gave a squeal, and Nora moaned, covering her ears. Mel went to silence it before she burst into tears.
It was an hour before sunset. They had had another hard day of hiking, slipping over the rocks and snow. Nora shivered, and cursed the cold weather. They came across the bodies of more victims, this time three--the second fire Barry must have seen.
They were halfway through the trail now, and Mel wondered if they should step off, and venture into uncharted territory. Ceres may have been camping off trail, hiding somewhere in the mountains, Traveling back and forth between the trails.
So they headed about a mile east, before catching the rabbit and setting up camp again.
“This is a stupid question,” Nora said as Mel roasted the rabbit over the fire.
He couldn’t help but smile; Nora never asked stupid questions. “Yes, love.”
“Why can’t we just….Travel to where Ceres is?”
Mel frowned. He was surprised this question had never come up before. “An Angel can only Travel to a place they’ve been to before. Unless they’re Called--then they just follow the other’s voice.”
Nora nodded slowly. “I see.”
Mel finally handed her the rabbit, and she wrinkled her nose. But she took it, and after it had cooled a little, bit a decent chunk off the body.
She chewed for a moment, then shrugged. “Could be worse.”
Mel chuckled.
They were quiet a moment. Nora ate slowly, and Mel played with the fire, making it dance on his skin.
Then she sighed. “We haven’t found anything. Besides the dead.”
Mel studied the campfire, brooding. She was right; they hadn’t found a thing. No weapons, no tracks. Ceres was making it very difficult for them.
Just then there was a whoosh, and an eagle landed by the fire. It turned, and in a blur of feathers and clothing Barry appeared where it had stood.
Nora jumped to her feet and threw her arms around him. “Thank god. You’re okay?”
Barry chuckled, embracing her. “I’m fine. We’re fine.”
Mel stood. “What did you find?”
Nora pulled away, looking eager.
But Barry looked sheepish. “We got lost.”
“What?” Mel and Nora cried.
“How did you get lost? The trail is clearly marked for you,” Mel said, exasperated.
“We went off trail a bit,” Barry replied, and he raised an eyebrow. “Rather like you.”
Now Mel felt a little sheepish. He glanced at Nora, whose expression was worried.
“So you haven’t found anything?” he asked calmly.
“No,” Barry sighed. “Have you?”
“Five dead so far,” Nora said, and he swore. “We thought Ceres might be hiding off trail, which is why we’re here.”
“And that’s all?”
Nora nodded, and Barry sighed. “We haven’t even found the campfire I saw the other night. No idea where it went.”
They looked at each other, uncertain what to do next.
Nora finally spoke, looking at Barry. “You stay up, fly around and look for any more campfires. Then get some sleep, get up in the morning and find the trail again. You two have to at least find whoever started that fire.”
Barry nodded darkly. “Find their body, more like.”
He looked at her. “What about you two?”
Nora shrugged, glancing at Mel. “We’ll keep looking. There’s not much else we can do.”
The futileness of their task seemed to hover over them. They deflated, and Mel took deep breaths, trying to keep his rising anger in check.
This was impossible.
Michael
Gilla. Gilla. He had to get to Gilla.
Michael ran down the pavement, his heart racing in his chest. Palmer’s tower loomed above him, and he knew at the top Gilla was in trouble.
Palmer had gotten her to drink. Shit. They hadn’t thought of that.
Michael grabbed a chunk of gravel as he ran, aimed and launched it at the security camera hovering over the entrance to the garage. It shattered, and he sprinted inside. Palmer had to die, but they didn’t need the police on their asses.
It was the slowest elevator ride he had ever experienced. He kept checking his phone, hoping to find a text from her, but nothing.
He was finally let out at the top floor, and went to the door.
He withdrew his knife and knocked; he didn’t give a damn.
There was a pause, and then the door opened. A pretty dark-haired Angel was standing at the threshold, studying him, frowning suspiciously.
And then everything went black.
Michael stumbled, blinking furiously. He couldn’t see; all there was was darkness. He swore, and he heard the woman chuckle.
“Knew there was something up,” she said, her voice circling around him. “Hurts when you can’t see. I use it on Kellan when he’s annoying me.”
Michael lashed out, slashing his knife in the direction of her voice. It made small contact, and she gave a little squeal
.
Then she was on him, scratching at his face, kicking him in the gut. They fell to the floor, and the knife clattered away. Michael fought, grabbing a wrist, while she struck him in the face. He squeezed, and she screamed, wrenching her wrist free.
He felt her stand, and he knew what was going to happen. She kicked him in the ribs, and he growled, pain searing through his torso. He knew she would do it again, and this time, by sheer luck, he caught her by the ankle. He squeezed until it broke, and she howled.
He heard her crash to her floor, and he crawled away, searching blindly for the knife. His fingers brushed the Blade….
“No!” she screeched, and he felt her catch his foot.
She dragged him backwards, and he swore, smacking the floor and hearing the marble crack. He could hear her sobbing in pain, but he felt her scoot over him anyway, grab his throat and squeeze.
He jerked, grasped her wrists and yanked her hands off of him. He tried crawling away again, but once again she grabbed his ankle.
He couldn’t avoid it.
He spun, reaching a hand out and blindly grasping her throat. He pushed her to the floor, and with both hands applied pressure. She beat at him, pulled at his wrists, but he was far stronger than her--stronger than any creature ever Created.
It took a long time for his vision to return, and when it did he looked around wildly. He caught sight of his knife, grasped it with one hand, keeping the other on the Angel’s throat. She was unconscious.
Michel released her and stared. It took him a long, horrible moment. His heart raced, and his hands shook.
He took the Blade and dragged it across her throat. Blood poured from the wound, a river of red pooling on the floor. She jerked, struggling to breathe.
Her face morphed into Lilith’s, and Michael stared.
Then she was gone.
Barry
He had never experienced this before--he had never been this high in the sky.
Barry, in his eagle form, flew high over Abisko. The wind sailed over his feathers, and his heart beat steadily in his chest. It was night, so he couldn’t see as well as during the day. But he wasn’t looking for anything small--just a campfire. Anywhere.