Ash & Flame: Season One

by Geiger, Wilson

  She sighed at the twinge as she found them below, under the canopy of trees that still covered large swaths of land to the south. Her mind sought one of them, drawn as always to those she could best use. Something pliable. Something human.

  She felt the frightened mind instinctively recoil from her touch, and she squeezed it tight in her grip until it gave way completely to her. All this time, and she still held her breath during the act of possession, her chest fluttering as mortal, human senses flooded over her. She slipped inside, unable to suppress the shudder at the warmth and the pumping blood rushing under her skin, and opened her eyes with a low sigh.

  Lilith—the body she had taken—crouched on the lip of a rough crater, her feet digging into the pockmarked earth. She looked down at her arms, covered in streaked ash, at her thin, emaciated body, and smiled.

  The Ashen. So useful. So needy.

  She wiggled her toes, felt the dirt underneath. A slight breeze picked up, her hair sweeping over her shoulder, and she had to stop herself from closing her eyes at the rush of emotion that bubbled up, goosebumps springing up on her skin. There was something about living, about living under another’s skin, that was an indescribable joy.

  She looked behind her. A fallen tree blocked half the crater, the crater itself one of several that spread across the narrow clearing leading into the wider forest at her back. Trees had been blasted out of the earth, limbs and thin, leafless branches scattered everywhere.

  Two men crouched behind the fallen tree. Her heart nearly jumped until she saw their hair smeared with ash. One of them, a skinny man with white hair that sprouted from his head, looked expectantly past her and Lilith’s gaze followed his.

  A third Ashen man ran towards her, jumping out from the trees across an old road that split the forest, the cement cracked and heaving upwards as if the earth had spat it out. An overturned car, the metal mangled, lay on its side beside the road.

  The man slowed as he neared the crater. He kept his head shaven, and he was tall and thickly built. Ash had been smeared across his bare chest, and tattoos ran down both arms. A long rebar pipe hung from the looped belt at his side.

  “Well, Marko?” one of the men asked, nodding at the big Ashen.

  He bared his teeth at Lilith and the two Ashen behind her. He leaned against the fallen tree and looked up, chuckling to himself. “Got us a couple playthings headin’ this way,” he said. “Big guy, about my size, and a kid.”

  Lilith stood up, her heartbeat quickening. “A girl?”

  “Yes, a girl. Little, too. Believe that, some fool bringin’ a kid out here like that?” Marko flashed her an amused glance, licking his lips. “What, you want her for yourself, or somethin’?”

  Emma was so close now. Too close for this fool to get in Lilith’s way. Her skin tingled. “We let them go.”

  The other two men rounded the fallen tree, their wary glances shifting from Lilith to the big man.

  “What, you think you’re in charge all of a sudden?” Marko took a step closer, his hand slipping down to the rebar hanging from his belt. “That what you’re thinkin’, Cora?”

  Lilith felt her cheeks flush. Clearly, he was used to being in charge, she thought. “Listen—”

  “Tough shit, sister.” The Ashen leaned forward, his brow furrowed, his lips split into an ugly sneer. “And the kid? Girl’s mine, got it?”

  Only he wasn’t in charge. Not anymore.

  Lilith whispered the Word under her breath, the touch of Below surging into her possessed body.

  “What?” Marko asked, his eyes narrowed.

  He had the rebar halfway clear of his belt as Lilith lashed upward with her balled fist. Her knuckles cracked against the man’s chin, and his head whipped up. He staggered back a step, shaking his head, and Lilith kicked out. Her foot caught him in the midsection and he fell over, gasping for air, the rebar slipping out of his grasp.

  Lilith grabbed the rebar and brought it down hard on the back of the man’s head, the pipe reverberating in her grip. Marko moaned and rolled onto his side, peering up at her with a dazed look in his eyes. She swung it again, a sickening thump as the pipe cracked against the man’s skull, and blood spurted down his scalp.

  His expression went slack, and one of his legs twitched as his arms fell limp at his side. Lilith brought the rebar down a third time into the pulp of the man’s head, just for effect, blood spattering across her already filthy clothes. She let out a quick breath, her heart racing in her chest.

  Perhaps she lacked the primal need for killing that Azazel possessed, the raw urges he felt, the almost desperate hunger for violence and bloodshed. Still, sometimes it was necessary. And sometimes, like now, it was truly enjoyable.

  She turned to face the two Ashen, her grip loose on the rebar as she swung it casually by her side, blood dripping from the end.

  “Now, we’re going to let them go, aren’t we?”

  Both men looked at her, their eyes wide. The skinny one nodded. “Uh, sure…sure thing, Cora.”

  Lilith smiled. “Good. Then let’s get out of view. Wouldn’t do for them to see us.”

  She led the Ashen back into the trees, and watched from across the road, waiting. She held her breath as a tall figure finally stepped clear of a tall pine. Brad paused there, his eyes taking in his surroundings. Emma peeked around the tree, just behind Brad, and Lilith froze where she stood.

  She had thought she’d remembered every tiny detail of her little girl, but looking at her now, Emma appeared so much more. So much taller, stronger, so much closer to what Lilith had waited years and years for. She could almost feel the tendrils of power radiating from Emma. The blood surging through her veins was undeniable.

  Emma was like the Nephilim, the ancient bond of Grigori and human from so long ago, written and remembered as little more than fable, but the girl was also so much more, so special even among her own kind.

  Lilith watched as Brad led Emma across the road. She wanted to run to her, wanted to touch her, wanted to reach into the well of power that Emma held within, but she resisted the urge. Everything that she had planned, every step and pawn placed, she couldn’t risk the chance, not when she was so close. This was not the place, nor the time, to meet her daughter.

  Azazel would be watching over Emma, and if Brad could not protect her, Lilith knew that her looming brother would.

  The pair walked behind the ruined car, Brad’s eyes scanning to either side as they neared the northern woods. Lilith glared at the two Ashen beside her, wondering if she should have killed them, too. But they ducked behind clumped foliage and hid there, their eyes on Lilith.

  She held herself as still as she could, watching as Brad led Emma into the clustered trees. They pushed through some brush and disappeared just as Ren stepped out on the other side of the road. He was alone, his face a battered mess.

  Lilith grimaced. Of all the people she had expected to see, he was the last. Now was no time for distractions, but if Azazel even smelled that Ren was nearby…

  She motioned towards the Ashen and pointed towards the one man foolish enough to grow a spine at the wrong moment. “Now, him?” she whispered. “He’s fair game.”

  The two Ashen smiled and followed a few steps behind her as she ducked into the trees across the narrow clearing. She crept forward until she was behind the overturned car. She would wait for Ren here.

  She couldn’t allow him to get in the way. Not when he was no longer needed.

  ▪▪▪

  Ren’s heart beat so loud in his ears that he wondered when it would pop. His brow burned, a piercing ache that ran down his cheek, his head throbbing. He wanted to stop and catch his breath, if even for a few seconds, but he didn’t dare. Instead he forced his legs to keep moving forward, praying that his lungs would hold for just a while longer.

  He kicked at a thicket with a boot, pressing the tangle of bushes down so he could trample through them. One of the branches snapped back and dug into his wrist. Ren grunted at the sharp
pain of the thorns as they raked across his skin. He forced his way through the thicket and lurched forward, nearly tumbling onto his hands and knees.

  The sun peeked through the swift current of clouds overhead then disappeared again. The light rain continued to fall on his drenched hair and trickled down his neck. He sighed at the soothing touch of the cool water on his flushed skin. He lifted his chin and closed his eyes, the rain running down his raw face.

  Thick brush carpeted the forest floor, narrow trails cut away or the bramble pushed into the dirt in spots. Ren raised a hand over his eyes and stared ahead, trying to see a sign or a path through the woods that wouldn’t rip his clothes and his skin to shreds. He wouldn’t be much use to Em if he bled to death from a thousand cuts and scrapes.

  His eyes darted left and right, checking for movement, for the slightest sign Emma might have traveled near here. The brush and scrub on the forest floor was so thick that he couldn’t really check for footprints, and even if he could, he was no tracker.

  And if I find them?

  He didn’t quite know how to answer his own question. He’d just have to worry about that particular bridge after he’d found it. Bridge or not, he couldn’t stop until he’d got his Emma back.

  He lifted his head to the heavens and opened his mouth wide, letting the rainwater spill down his parched throat. He winced and tried to ignore the bitter aftertaste of the ash. He shook his head as he set out again, willing his tired legs forward.

  Hard to think that all this time, ever since the holes had opened up and spilled out the hordes of demons and angels, he’d always tried to run away. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d run right at the danger.

  Even now, a part of his mind screamed at him to flee, to stop chasing Brad and get away. He could find Em later, it whispered. Just run, find a safe spot and hide.

  Shut up. If he didn’t get to her now, he would never see her again. And that would be, finally, too much to bear. He would snap just as the rest of the world had.

  He reached up for the pendant at his neck as he ducked under a tree limb, but he stopped short of touching the relic. His palm still stung from the scalding heat of the pendant. He hadn’t had time to wonder how the relic weapon worked when he’d grabbed it. He just knew he needed an edge, any edge he could find against the bastard who’d taken Emma.

  He heard motion somewhere up ahead, a sound like twigs being snapped, followed by a mumbled voice. He took a deep breath and forced his mouth shut, to keep from shouting out for Em. The only advantage he had was that Brad had no idea he was behind him.

  He raced past the last clump of trees and scrambled up a short hill. He paused at the crest, wiping rain and sweat from his eyes, and looked down into a narrow valley.

  The remains of a road, cracked and pitted, ran east and west in-between the forest on either side. Pockmarked cement pitched up out of the earth at odd angles, and Ren could still see the faded yellow lines on the edge of what remained of the road. Before the road wound over an incline to the west, an overturned car leaned against a fallen utility pole, the car’s dented and ripped frame a blackened husk.

  It reminded Ren of a ruined body, left out in the aftermath, no one sticking around to bury it.

  Motion caught his eye just past the car, and his heart lurched in his chest. Emma slipped into the woods on the opposite side of the broken road, Brad just ahead of her.

  Ren bolted down the hill, the sight of his daughter sending a jolt of adrenaline flowing through his muscles. He climbed over a jutting section of the overgrown road and ducked behind the wreckage, the heavy rain pattering against the rusted metal frame of the car.

  His fingers shook with nervous excitement. She was close now, so close. He could picture the smile on her face as she saw him, the cry as she ran towards him and wrapped her arms around Ren’s neck. He’d brush the hair from her eyes and tell her everything would be fine.

  Ren’s eyes narrowed. His hand brushed the pendant at his neck, and he set his jaw at the surge of heat on his fingers. Brad would get an entirely different welcome. Blessed or not. All Ren needed was one chance. He wasn’t a fighter, but all he had to do was get behind him, stay quiet, and—

  His thoughts scattered at a scraping sound in the road behind him. He whipped around, his hand enclosing the scalding-hot pendant.

  Two men stood in the middle of the road, maybe twenty feet behind Ren. Or what Ren thought used to be men.

  One wore dark sweatpants, cut off at the knees, and black socks that jutted from ankle-high tan work boots. Grime covered his lower legs, and symbols fashioned of streaked blood covered his bare arms and chest. Long hair tied at the back revealed a thin, emaciated face and wild eyes that stared at Ren with barely concealed hunger. He licked his lips and smiled with yellow, sharpened teeth.

  The other was tall and thin, his wiry muscles showing through a long-sleeved red shirt that clung to the man’s skin. He wore long, baggy canvas pants that were torn or shredded down the thighs. A shock of white hair stuck out from the top of the man’s head, and a thick red stripe ran across his eyes. His eyes shone with amusement. He held a long serrated knife in one hand.

  He hissed and slowly dragged the edge of the blade along his forearm, a streak of blood soaking the edges of his shirt.

  Ren turned to run, and almost collided with a woman he hadn’t seen sneak around the other side of the car. Long, greasy blonde hair ran down over her shoulders, and she’d painted her face a pale white. She laughed, a rasping bark that echoed down the narrow valley, and pushed him back towards the two men.

  Ren tripped over a raised chunk of cracked cement, and fought to keep his footing. He took a step backwards, his hand darting towards the pendant at his neck.

  Maybe they knew what it was. Maybe it would be enough.

  He had to get to Emma. Had to get away. His mind screamed at him to run, to flee into the woods. They were going to kill him. They were going to play with him, torture him. And when they’d finished with their fun, they would peel the flesh from his bones and eat him alive.

  Runrunrun!

  He nearly did it. He’d always been a coward, and as long as it kept him and his daughter alive, he was okay knowing that. Only now it wasn’t okay. If he ran now, his daughter would die. He’d be a coward, he’d die a worthless coward, and he’d lose his daughter forever. He couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t hate himself.

  He wasn’t going to run this time. He couldn’t.

  Ren closed his eyes and wrapped his hand around the pendant. Please work, he thought. I need this.

  A white-hot flame seared the palm of his hand and he screamed. He stumbled backwards and fell, landing roughly on the chipped cement. His eyelids shot open and he pulled his hand back.

  The shape of the pendant had burned itself into his skin in dark lines that still smoldered, tufts of smoke drifting from his hand. Blisters appeared on the edges of the burn mark, and angry red welts surfaced over the rest of his palm.

  He didn’t know how to make the relic weapon work. He was going to die.

  “Smells good,” the woman said, her nostrils flaring. She glanced at the two men who now surrounded Ren. “Something to be said for cooked meat, right?”

  The man with the knife laughed. He stepped closer to Ren. “Dun care much either way, Cora. Jus’ hungry.”

  Ren bit down against the pain, wishing now that he’d stopped long enough to grab another weapon. All he had was his mind and his aching, bruised body. Neither would be enough.

  “You jus’ sit still now,” the man said. He slid the blade over his tongue.

  I am not a coward. If they were going to slit his throat, it would be while he was scratching and clawing at their faces.

  Ren watched the blade slide back over the Ashen’s tongue, and he lunged at the man. He felt the woman’s hands on his back as she pushed him forward.

  The extra momentum carried him right into the man, and Ren grabbed the his wrist and drove it inward, right into t
he Ashen’s surprised face. The blade cut deep into the man’s mouth, and Ren tumbled forward, bringing the man down underneath his weight.

  The Ashen tried to scream as Ren pressed down with all his strength. He bucked and kicked, struggling to free himself from under Ren.

  Ren forced the blade deeper, and with a sickening crunch he felt the blade give. His fist leaned heavily against the man’s jaw, the hilt of the knife buried in the Ashen’s mouth. The man stared at him with wild, panicked eyes, gurgling as he struggled to breathe.

  Someone tackled Ren from behind and he found himself on his back, breathless, the woman’s strong hands like a vice-grip wound tightly around his throat as she straddled his waist.

  She leaned forward and sneered at him, and for a second he saw something in her eyes, something familiar that he couldn’t quite place. And then it was gone, and it was just her hands around his throat, murder written on her face.

  “You picked a bad time to fight back, Ren,” she whispered between her bared teeth.

  Ren didn’t have time to wonder how she knew his name. He tried to roll over, but he winced at the sharp sting that lanced through his neck and shoulder. He grabbed at one of her wrists, but his enflamed hand couldn’t keep its grip to pull her fingers loose of his throat. He swung at her, pummeled her shoulder, pounded his fists against her ribs.

  Streaks laced his vision, and he saw a blur, shaped much like the other man’s head, pop into view above him. The man chuckled as he knelt beside Ren.

  “Sweet dreams, bitch.”

  Ren tried to blink away the fog. He gasped for air, and his hand swatted at the woman’s head. His feeble, worthless swing brought more barking laughter from the woman.

  “How you made it this far, Ren, I’ll never know.”

  Darkness curled in, swirled around Ren’s eyes.

  He didn’t know either.

  ▪▪▪

  Ithuriel’s skin tingled, like ice crawling up his arms. Drizzle fell against his back, water trickling down his armor. His wings beat against the air, his left wing still so tender that every twitch sent daggers of pain shooting down his shoulder and back. He ground his teeth together and skimmed over the forest, his eyes scanning the trees.