After confronting Eitan, he roamed the city until after dawn. Once home, he paced and thought. He ate toast to quiet his complaining stomach, and then paced more while replaying conversations as he searched for clues. He ran through ever-changing scenarios until he couldn’t separate truth from mental fiction. For what it was worth, he had reached a decision.
He had not slept but, finally, exhaustion had him considering it. He yawned and arose, stiff from sitting so long.
Down the hall, the bedroom alarm clock beeped.
His shoulders slumped.
Rest would come later, if at all. It was time to get into the heights.
Heading to his bedroom for socks, he paused at Jovienne’s room with the words ‘time to go,’ on his lips, but he caught himself.
Minutes later, he climbed onto the fire escape. He would to allow himself to be led by the Call That Followed. He swallowed the fear he felt at the risk of being…ruined…like the creatures, but it was his best chance of finding Jovienne.
LOOMING GRAY SHADOWS beyond the elevator stopped Jovienne while she was still inside her bedroom. Using the ghost hands to check beyond the door, what she felt drew her out immediately. Two enormous rectangular wardrobes sat to either side.
Taller than she was, the full-length metal doors were embossed with feathers and hieroglyphs like her sword. Her fingers hovered over the feather image.
Inside, a jacket hung on the interior of each door, blocking the mirrors. Shorts, pants, and tops draped across shiny steel hangers. A half dozen pair of boots and gloves lined the top and bottom.
She left the doors open and turned to the other wardrobe. Within it was enough weaponry for a small squadron, categorized by size. She perused the swords, daggers, and throwing stars. The shields, helmets, and armor surprised her. Age-old knights would have been envious.
On the inside of the door hung the crown she’d initially refused. Her fingers slid across its surface. She recalled something by Shakespeare that Andrei had made her read and whispered,
“The thunder of my cannon shall be heard.
So hence! Be thou the trumpet of our wrath
And sullen presage of your own decay.”
She left the crown on the peg and chose pants that were soft inside and draped with horizontal strips of chainmail down the legs. Another vest differed from the first with a thick, high collar that she folded down after putting on a short-waisted jacket.
A length of white silk in the bottom of the wardrobe caught her eye. She knelt and pushed back the soft fabric. Beneath it laid a sword in a sheath wrapped with silken tapestry.
Her fingers curled around the hilt and she stood as she drew the gleaming metal. It was in every way an equal to its predecessor: weight, balance, grooves and etching. This sword, however, bore a scripted J at the base of the blade, heading the symbols. “Hunting, protection, justice, peace.” She drew a slow breath before saying the last. “Faith.”
Swinging the blade through a series of moves, it split the air like lightning, but felt foreign in her grip. Cold. Maybe it would warm up after a good blooding.
She belted it to her side and filled every built-in sheath with weapons. She unzipped a pocket to place steel vials of hallowed water within, but as her fingers shoved inside, she felt paper. Pulling it out, she discovered it was a thick wad of twenties.
The drums beat like a percussionist’s convention inside her ears, instantly followed by a cacophonous blast that allowed no rest or melodic phrasing.
Tossing the money onto a shelf in the wardrobe, she slammed both sets of doors and ran for the ruptured ceiling, calling the wings. The leathery appendages materialized as she leapt and she made herself invisible mid-air.
From her aerial vantage point, she detected more than a dozen rippling pools around the perimeter of the warehouse, and cinders crawled up from each. She wondered how many it had taken to summon Zaebos. If they meant to raise something larger and more heinous than Zaebos, she was ready to blood her new blade.
Circling wider with each round, anticipating the onset of the Call That Followed, Jovienne waited, but again that part of the quintanumin didn’t flare. “C’mon…c’mon.” She rubbed at her scarred temple as if that effort would spark the Call to react. Nothing.
Of course not. Nameless is still here.
Flying in figure-eights that adjusted on each circuit to take her over a different block, she enjoyed the view. That is, until three-quarters of an hour later, when radiant spotlights shot up on the other side of the city. It wasn’t uncommon for a new restaurant or nightclub to rent a spotlight or two for the grand opening, but they would have gone on at dusk. Drawn, she flew toward them.
Police cruisers blocked intersections, redirecting traffic. Officers sent foot traffic in the opposite direction. Ambulances were allowed through, as were news crew vans with bold logos and satellites bolted on top.
From her vantage point, Jovienne noted a SWAT sharpshooter in position on the third floor of a parking garage. Two more were on the taller buildings across the intersection. A reporter below tossed her head, raised her microphone, and began speaking to the camera before her. Still invisible, Jovienne landed behind the cameraman and listened.
“…hard to believe that such horrible back-to-back events could happen in one city, let alone in the days prior to Easter, yet here we are on Good Friday, with another bomb situation. Police believe the gunman has been holding these hostages for at least four hours inside the Choices Clinic. Officials have not yet identified the gunman who claims to be wearing explosives strapped to his body, and are not certain if this is related to Wednesday’s attack. However, due to calls from concerned family members, police believe they have identified three of the four pregnant women inside, as well as the doctor and six staff members, but they are not releasing any names as at this time.”
Twelve hostages inside, sixteen including the unborn babies. That was all Jovienne needed to know.
She’d watched one madman kill innocent people a few nights ago. She wouldn’t be a spectator this time.
She leapt into the air and flew to the flat top of the parking garage, assessing her options. It would be simple. Invisible, the gunman would not see her. He could not detonate a bomb if he suddenly fell unconscious. Or dead.
She was going in, but she couldn’t blast through a window. The gunman might think the SWAT team had come. It might cause him to set off the bomb. She needed a closer look at the one-story clinic.
Standing, she backed up a few steps and—
“Eww! Did somebody pluck you?”
Damnzel landed at the opposite end of this rooftop. She was under-dressed as usual, but her hair was pinned up with red wisps falling around her face and neck like Medusa’s serpentine locks.
The unnamed man’s words floated through her memory. They believe you know something they do not. She could play that role. “Specialized gear. Next ascension, you’ll probably see more. Especially on the abhadhim with active zones.”
“They look evil. Suits you.”
“These materialize faster and create less drag when on your feet. But I guess you’re not on your feet that much.”
Damnzel laughed a wicked sound. “You’re starting something you can’t finish, sweetie.”
“I would have finished it before, but we had to Ascend.”
“Divine intervention didn’t save me, dearie. It saved you.”
No. Divine intervention cursed me. “Don’t you have something better to do than be an uninvited pain in the ass?”
“Oh.” Damnzel gestured at the clinic. “I wanted to see the fireworks.”
Jovienne’s brows furrowed. “That’s all this is to you?”
“What? It’s not like anyone can help them.”
“I can.”
Damnzel laughed.
“I’m a think-on-my-feet innovator or I wouldn’t be here with these wings.”
“Puh-leease. You’re so clueless.”
“I’m clueless?” Jovien
ne gave Damnzel a confident half-smile. “Too bad He doesn’t trust you with His best secrets.” She looked the other angel up and down pointedly. “But then you do tend to run your mouth.” Done with this conversation and feeling urgent about the hostages, she stepped toward the edge.
Damnzel kicked the back of her knee and shoved her down. Jovienne hit the rooftop hard and rolled.
“You can’t interfere in the affairs of the mortals, you idiot!”
Jovienne stood. “It’s my choice.” She advanced and kicked out.
Damnzel threw herself into a back flip to avoid Jovienne’s boot heel. She stopped in a squatting position. “It is forbidden,” she sneered.
“The rules are different for me. No one told you?”
Damnzel leapt at her.
Jovienne quickened a single step away. As Damnzel landed where she had been, she dug her fingers deep into those pinned-up red tresses and jerked Damnzel’s head back. She grabbed Damnzel’s arm and twisted it even as her leg snaked out and around her. Holding Damnzel in this awkward, off-balance position, Jovienne growled, “You can be a bitch if you want, but those women have babies in them and I’m going to do something about it.”
“Babies? It’s an abortion clinic.” Damnzel reached behind her back and drew a short dagger. “Their mothers don’t want them.”
Jovienne kneed her mid-spine and threw her to the gritty roof before the dagger swung close.
Damnzel rolled into a crouch and grinned wickedly. “Those babies are going to die no matter what you do. It’ll be like some kind of Good Friday sacrifice.”
Incredulous, Jovienne asked, “Do you hear yourself?”
“Aw, are my words more blasphemous than their actions?” She pointed a thumb at the clinic.
“That man has a bomb—”
“What he’s doing is no different than what those mothers are doing to their babies. Except he’s willing to die for his choice.”
“If you believe there’s no difference, then you’re the idiot.” Jovienne clenched her fists and struggled to find a good reason to keep them at her side. “You can follow the rules without a single thought of your own in that damned thick skull of yours, but I wo—”
Choices Clinic exploded.
Flames poured through the windows. Debris fluttered in every direction. The bomb’s roar echoed through the streets and alleys, mingling with the shouts and cries of the on-lookers.
“Told you,” Damnzel crowed.
Jovienne stepped back as the blast wave hit her, but she rushed to the building’s edge in its wake and stared into the smoke and flames. Soon, a familiar, bark-cloaked apparition materialized from the ruins and began collecting her bouquet. On top of the empty feeling of failure in her gut was a nagging jealousy of those welcomed into the angel’s embrace.
Jovienne fell to her knees.
“You’re a demon-killer, sweetie.” Damnzel strode behind Jovienne, heels clicking on the rooftop. “Not a superhero.”
Jovienne tried not to react, but there was blood in her mouth. She was biting her own tongue to keep silent. And she was through doing that.
Spinning and rising from her knees, Jovienne’s sword slid smoothly into her hand. Wanting its first blooding to be Damnzel, she lunged. The red angel twisted out of the way. “You really want to kill me? That’s a laugh.”
Jovienne advanced. “If I cut you in half, can you put yourself back together?” A series of near-misses accompanied her words. “If I cleave your head like a changeling, or destroy your heart like an imp, can you heal that?”
“Even if your weapons could, you’re not good enough.” Damnzel did a pair of back-flips to escape. “Didn’t that handsome teacher of yours explain that mortals must have the option to be evil and destructive? I’m pretty sure I ground that lesson into his head.” She gyrated her hips, then made a surprised face. “Oh! Maybe that was his other head. Andrei may understand that doing evil provides the opportunity to grow,” she held her knees together and faked a shiver, “but he’s not much for choosing to do good. He’s much, much better at being bad.” Seeing Jovienne’s shock, she laughed heartily.
“Decapitation it is. At least it’ll shut you up.” Jovienne advanced with an arcing swing followed by an agile thrust. Damnzel ducked under the first and threw up a red-leathered wrist to deflect the last, but she didn’t reroute the sword tip enough. The blade grazed lightly across Damnzel’s cheek.
It healed, but a thin line of blood marred her makeup. Damnzel finally drew her sword.
As they circled, Jovienne tapped the tip of Damnzel’s sword, baiting her, threatening her. Damnzel tapped back, hard, and thrust in. Jovienne blocked. Punching swiftly over the crossed blades, Jovienne slammed her fist into Damnzel’s face.
“You’re such an idiot,” Damnzel said as she backpedaled, “wasting energy on me. We can’t die! We’re immortal!”
“Teaching you a lesson isn’t a waste.”
“That’s cute, you think you’re gonna school me.”
“You think you know so much, but I can do things you can’t do. Things you wouldn’t dream of doing.” It felt good to hear herself proclaim it so confidently.
Something shifted in Damnzel’s eyes as doubt carved a chunk of her defiance away. “This is over.” Her wings spread and flapped, lifting her into the air. She turned for Oakland.
Jovienne didn’t want Damnzel’s fear, she wanted to be respected. For that, she would have to show Damnzel what she could do. That meant Damnzel had to be on the ground.
Jovienne quickened as she pursued, and flew higher in those first seconds, and then descended, ramming her sword through the joint of Damnzel’s feathered wing.
Damnzel screamed.
“I hoped this sword would get its first blooding in your flesh,” Jovienne whispered. She searched for a suitable location, angled them toward it, and then folded her leathery wings so the pair plummeted down.
Damnzel groaned and flapped her single wing to no avail. She could do nothing with a sword jammed in her other wing.
At the last moment, Jovienne spread her wings. The gust caught in the featherless flesh and pushed Jovienne up even as gravity pulled Damnzel off the blade. She landed hard on the pavement of a dark alley.
Jovienne landed behind her, sheathed the sword and drew a dagger. “Do you still think my skills are juvenile?”
“Absolutely,” Damnzel said, sitting up. She grunted and spat blood, wiping her mouth on her glove, and then noticed a horrible bend in her thigh. “My leg is broken.”
“Aw, someone got a boo-boo?” Jovienne fell to her knees behind Damnzel, wrapped her arms around the angel and stabbed her quick in the heart. Damnzel gasped, twitched, and choked. Yanking the dagger free, Jovienne held it so the blood dripped on the ground between Damnzel’s spread legs. “Look. It’s the same color as your wings.”
Jovienne stepped in front of Damnzel. She used the dagger tip to draw a quick circle around the blood. “Let’s make it even.” She drew the razored blade across her palm, slicing through the glove to her flesh.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?”
Pulling off the damaged glove, Jovienne dropped it into the small circle she’d drawn as she stood. “No. But you are a shit-stirring, thick-headed bitch who won’t leave well enough alone.” She drew her sword and Damnzel began a pitiful one-legged crab-walk backwards. Dragging the sword along the cement, scratching the surface and sending a few sparks, Jovienne easily made a circuit around the injured abhadhon, being sure to cross her steps runway model style so Damnzel would approve.
Damnzel tried again to get up, but still couldn’t and rubbed at her leg as if that would make the bone heal faster. When she noticed Jovienne had drawn a circle around her, she said, “Maybe I underestimated you.”
“It’s too late to kiss and make up, sweetie.”
Cosmic forces tingled in Jovienne’s nerves, expanding until her whole body prickled with intense awareness. The power within her had roused and was revving up to ans
wer the Call it anticipated.
“That is my circle you’re in, my moment of time, drawn to the attention of the universe weaving around us.”
“What?”
“Here where I stand, and there where you wait, the elements move to my command. The energies hear me and come.”
With effort, Damnzel gained her feet without using the now straighter leg, and tested if she could take a small step.
“I beckon the ancient powers! Hear me!” Jovienne felt the energy thicken around her, singing within her, filling her body and aura with commanding vibrations. “Ikiiki hahana, pekana hana mana a’po…ahi. Ahi!” Flames licked up from the ground. The element of fire had answered Jovienne’s command and burned by the strength of her will. The circle was sealed.
Damnzel made small progress toward the edge of the circle and away from Jovienne, but when the fire flared up she whispered, “My God.”
Like distant thunder, the drums began. Jovienne imagined the cinders listening to what she’d made happen.
Damnzel tried to step over the fire. Sparks flashed when she hit the edge. She tried to reach past it, but jerked her hand back from the heated edge. She gaped at Jovienne. “It’s true.”
“Ahi!” Jovienne repeated it three times and again tapped the magical well flowing inside her. She called the fire element to strike the smaller circle aflame. “What’s true?”
“You. You’re one of—” Before she finished, she leapt, flapping her now healed wing. She could go only a few yards up. Her heels slammed back to earth. “Let me out.”
“Sorry, sweetie, I can’t. You think you’re so much better than me? Prove it. Do what I do. I’ve faced four demons at once in a circle like this. Decide how many you want to face. Decide how good you really think you are. How many will you let through?”
“You’re in league with the demons!”
“In league with them?” Jovienne shook her head and made little tsk, tsk sounds. “I told you. I killed four of them in a circle just like that.”
“You’re full of shit.”
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