The Witch's Angel

by Arissa L. Utemark

  “For fuck’s sake, Frank. She’s an Angel. We’re both Angels. Get over it.”

  “Sounds hot.” Frank chortled, going back to his magazine.

  Jana couldn’t wait to get off this goddamn detail.

  She glanced at the clock, her nervousness tugging at the back of her mind. “When’s he supposed to get here?”

  “Whenever he damn well pleases, I guess.” Frank shrugged. “You can make your own schedule when you’re fucking one of the Princes.”

  “Something like that.” A deep, commanding voice said dryly from the doorway. Jana’s stomach did a swoop as she scrambled to attention, feeling a rush of petty satisfaction at the panicked look on Frank’s face as he did the same.

  Jana and Frank stood in front of General Patrick stiffly, extending their wings slightly and snapping them against their backs in a smart, respectful salute.

  “Sir.” Jana chirped, trying to look as apologetic as she could while still standing at attention.

  “Inspection.” Patrick’s voice held a heavy edge to it, looking hard at Frank. “Let’s see what you can do, Lieutenant.”

  “Yes, sir.” Frank grunted before scurrying out of the door, followed by Jana, Patrick bringing up the rear.

  Frank stepped up to the two trees where the tear was located. He looked briefly at Patrick. The General gave him a curt nod and the lieutenant turned back toward the Barrier.

  Jana resisted the urge to smirk. This should be good. Frank hadn’t ever gotten his lazy ass up to check the barrier. Ever. She would be surprised if he remembered how to find the breach at all.

  Frank opened his arms and spread his gray wings under the watchful eye of Patrick. The tear crackled into existence and Jana tried to hide her disappointment.

  That was the moment when things went horribly wrong.

  Purple flames began licking the edges of the barrier, the hole in reality growing larger and larger. Jana saw the General tense, his dark wings violently opening.

  “Keep it under control!” Patrick shouted.

  “I-I’m trying…” Frank’s voice was strained, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead from the stress.

  The hissing whispers of the knightmares grew louder and louder until Jana could make out raspy words formed into promises that made her spine crawl.

  Now…now, it’s time…now...Angels…Witches…they die tonight…The Royal Family dies tonight…

  “Close it!” Jana heard Patrick shout as she felt his wings drawing power. “Close it now!”

  Jana forced her fear-paralyzed legs to move as a hideous tearing sound reached her ears.

  The knightmares were free.

  They slid from the breach like tar, sharply slanted tentacles of dark energy propping their mass from the ground like huge, shuddering spider legs, their form liquid angles as one of them screeched a hiss into the cloudy night sky.

  “Frank, move!” Jana screamed when she found her voice.

  Frank had time to glance over at her briefly, his face red and sweating, screwed up with the strain of trying to hold the breach closed. One of the knightmares hissed as it threw itself through Frank’s body, landing on the ground behind him.

  Jana heard the wet, sucking sound of Frank trying to take his last breath around the gaping hole in his chest, bloody pieces of his wings tumbling into the dirt with a splat. His face was slack in death when he fell to his knees, then slumped to the ground, lifeless.

  She had no time to dwell on his death, pulling up the power her wings had gathered earlier. She watched the General do the same, bright, light energy flowing out of his arms and taking out a few knightmares nearby. But the tear was now open, a steady flow of knightmares pouring into the dirt at their feet, before shuddering upright and disappearing into the pitch blackness of the woods.

  Jana heard their hissing laughter as a massive number descended on the General, then felt cold fear as the next wave of the creatures was on her in an instant.

  Chapter 9

  My mother used to tell me our history like a nursery rhyme.

  About the war at the beginning of this planet.

  The newborn human race, struggling to survive, cowered in terror at the darkness and the creatures that dwelt within it; creatures led by a Scream that echoed through time. This Ancient Scream had no beginning that could be remembered, it seemed to have no ending. Its hunger was legendary. The two sides fought to determine the fate of these brand new human beasts; battles so fierce they transcended blood and fire, skirmishes so bitter they punched shining holes in the sky, fighting so intense time itself wrapped around the carnage.

  The Angels and the knightmares.

  When the war reached the freshly cooled soil of the Earth, the Angels found a powerful ally amongst the ground-dwelling creatures; masters of the earthbound elements that made up the new planet, gathering power from the nature around them, just as the Angels pulled from the power of Heaven.

  Witches.

  With these mighty partners at their side, the forces of Heaven drove the Ancient Scream and its knightmares to a space between the dimensions, sealing them away, never to do harm again.

  This should have put an end to the knightmares; but there are many bridges between dimensions and the barriers that held Hell’s soldiers at bay were tenuous.

  So, the family of Witches whom had led the fight against the knightmares was named the keepers of these barriers: a Royal Family, sworn to protect the humans and the Earth that they lived on. The Angels commissioned the Witches to watch over the new human race and help guard the barriers.

  A few of Heaven’s soldiers stayed on Earth to stand alongside the Witches. Friends, partners, lovers who formed a union more powerful than they could be individually. Together, they were tasked to guard the newly formed planet and its occupants, carefully out of sight from their charges. Together, they became guardians. Together, they sought to protect the peace that stretched out in front of them.

  Peace that would end with a Scream.

  Chapter 10

  I’m gonna kill Rodney.

  I startled awake with a gasp from yet another Dawn Wars nightmare because some asshole had to talk to me about the fucking Ancient Scream earlier today.

  As if I needed something else to have nightmares about.

  Nightmares about knightmares.

  Is that ironic? I always use that wrong.

  I rolled over to my side and took several deep breaths, trying to get my skyrocketing heart rate down, adjusting the pillows around me. I rubbed my cheek against the soft cotton of my sheets, trying to stay awake for a few minutes. I wasn’t eager to continue my disturbing caveman murder-time dream. Staying awake for a bit usually helped the dreams pass.

  I settled into silence, the soothing pull of sleep calling me back under once again and I welcomed the comfort of its warm embrace.

  Bang!

  The door to my bedroom flew open and cracked against the wall, the sound as jarring as a gunshot through the night. I felt my body jerk, and I lurched up, trying to shake off the drowsiness and figure out what was going on.

  I heard the hissing before they grabbed me.

  Unlike when a knightmare consumes the flesh of a human, a knightmare’s touch feels like a freezing burn to the skin of a Witch, sizzling as if you’d put your hand on a red-hot burner turned up all the way while intense cold painfully spread on your skin

  Just what one would want to wake up to.

  I sucked in breath through my teeth at the feeling as they wrapped their tendrils first around my arm, then my neck, then my torso just before I was dragged violently out of bed, my half-awake body thrown jarringly to the floor.

  “Wha-?” I had time to mumble stupidly before my head snapped to the side, sharp pain blossoming on the cheekbone that was just being caressed by soft fabric a few minutes before. Another blow to my stomach just below my ribcage knocked all of the air out of me and sent me sprawling to the floor, my seizing lungs unable to pull in oxygen. The tendrils pull
ed me up again and I opened my eyes just in time to see one of their tentacles coming at my face before it hit me. I couldn’t stop the cry that escaped me when I heard my nose break with a sickening crack, the taste of adrenaline and my own blood bitter in my mouth.

  The burning arms holding me left and I fell to the floor next to the foot of my bed.

  “Is thissss all the fight the mighty Princesssssss has in her?” I heard one of them ask.

  I tried to get my brain to re-engage around the pain. How was that possible? Knightmares coming out of the void didn’t have enough power to talk. This must have been the one that fed earlier today.

  “Aw, look at your pretty face, Highnesssss.” I heard another one chuckle mockingly.

  Oh, good. A terrible hellbeast thought I was pretty. At least I got that going for me.

  Wait…another one?

  I blinked away my tears and saw not one, not two, but four knightmares standing above me.

  Huh. Busy day.

  I held my nose with one hand while I reached for one of the corners of my bed with the other. The knightmares’ sharp, breathy laughter surrounded me.

  “What are you reaching for, Witch?” One of the other ones asked through their mirth. “There’s no one that can help you.”

  I reached up, closing my fingers around what I was searching for and wrenched it loose violently. The wooden leg of my bed frame broke off into my hand and I looked back at the knightmares triumphantly as their hissing giggles ceased into dead silence.

  I guess even knightmares can’t laugh at the prospect of me killing the shit out of them.

  “I’m pretty sure this can help me.” I wheezed just before I pulled a surge of power from the wood and released a spinning tornado of energy at the knightmares, baring my teeth in dark satisfaction as I heard them screech and dissolve out of existence.

  In the silence that followed, I turned painfully onto my side to spit a mouthful of blood onto the carpet.

  “Fuck.” I groaned to the universe in general, rolling the rest of the way over to my stomach, watching more blood drip to the floor as I blinked tears away.

  Four knightmares? In the Beacon? That wasn’t normal. It took a lot of energy for those damn things to get themselves through the barriers and it was always always one at a time. Something was going on and it was very, very, very terrible.

  I took a deep breath through my mouth before painfully levering myself to my hands and knees. My hand grabbed the edge of my bed and I used it as support to stagger to my feet, leaving behind a red smear on my sheets that was gonna be super fun to explain to housekeeping.

  Your brothers seem to keep their room clean just fine. A memory from my childhood popped, unbidden, into my head.

  A fresh flood of fear bloomed between my shoulder blades and raised the hair on the back of my neck.

  Oh, no…Cale…Theo…Mom…

  What if they got attacked, too?

  I stumbled through the door and down the hallway where the rest of the family quarters were, gasping air into my bruised lungs, steadying myself with the walls on either side of me, leaving more streaks of blood on the pristine paint.

  Do you always have to make a mess, Danny? I shook my head against another memory.

  I threw myself at Cale’s door and fumbled with the handle before shouldering it open.

  “C-Cale…Talia. Guys, wake up.” Two lumps were on the bed in the darkness and I made my way toward them, grimacing at the muffled sound of my voice from the blood filling my sinuses. I hoped Theo could get the bleeding to stop when this mess was over.

  “Wake-“My bloody hands grasped the beadspread and pulled back the blankets.

  If I had trouble with the four knightmares from before, it was nothing compared to the twelve had formed the two lumps I saw in the bed.

  All of them lunged at once, grabbing me around the neck and throwing me across the room. They were on me in an instant and I felt my skin burn as their blows hit me like slimy whips, their bodies crashing on top of me painfully. I felt another strike to my face, along with several to my chest and I gave a groaning gurgle as I felt a few of my ribs crack, or perhaps break. I couldn’t be sure.

  I curled in on myself, trying to protect my body, but there was no escape from the cold, burning pain of the lashes.

  “Get Her Mighty Highnessss to her missserable feet.” I heard one of them say.

  I barely registered the pain from the knightmare’s touch as they grabbed me by the arms and hauled my body upright. My vision was fizzy as I slumped against them. I tasted blood and wasn’t even sure where it had come from anymore. One of the knightmares grabbed my chin with a tendril and tipped my head up, looking into my face. Its grotesque mouth smiled at me giving off a putrid stench that made me want to throw up, the rest of its face gooey ink. I bared my bloody teeth and glared at it with the eye that had not yet swollen shut.

  “Poor little Princessssss.” The knightmare hissed before dropping my head. I let it fall forward, my strength failing me. I couldn’t reach anything that could help me, my hands kept carefully away from anything I could use for a spell. I was powerless.

  I didn’t need the burning shame searing up my throat like bile from my gut to know that I was helpless. There was no hope.

  C’mon…c’mon…do something!

  “Get her to the throne room.” I heard the knightmare say to the others. There was a slap to my bruised cheek and it leaned close to me and hissed in my ear. “Your mother hasss ssssome good newsss for you.”

  Cold terror threatened to choke me as I was dragged from the room.

  Chapter 11

  The cold marble floor of the Throne Room slid under my weakly scrambling bare feet as the knightmares dragged me through the ornate doors. I tried breathing into broken lungs, my throat working as I swallowed blood and tears. I found myself sending a silent plea out into the universe, begging for its mercy.

  Please. I’ll die. You can take me…but, please, spare my family…

  I drew my head up to see what was waiting for me.

  The ornate fixtures of the Throne Room shone, the design of the space and the layout of the murals drawing the eye up to the Thrones themselves. The chair on the left was empty, reserved for the Royal Angel; my father’s throne. The Angel’s Sword, a handsome saber in its finely crafted scabbard and belt, hung from the back, a small memorial to the Queen’s fallen Angel.

  The Throne on the right was occupied.

  “M-mom…?” I asked softly. I looked closer at her.

  Blood flowed freely from the clean slice across her throat.

  The Queen sat, slumped, in the Throne, a mockery of her usual proud posture. Her sightless eyes stared into the room and the Queen’s crown perched on her hair was askew.

  I looked away with a strangled cry; doubling over as much as I could and wishing my throat could open up enough for me to empty my stomach. I couldn’t breathe…I couldn’t breathe!

  The door flew open again and I made myself turn to see who had entered.

  Relief flooded me when I looked over and saw Theo thrashing violently in the grasp of even more knightmares. He, too, was still in his pajamas. His lip was split and his face, arms, and bare chest were littered with bruises, but he appeared to be okay.

  “Theo…” I croaked weakly, wishing I could reach out to him.

  Theo’s wide green eyes found me and his struggles grew even more frantic. “Danny!

  “Ah, finally you two get here.” A tightly cool voice came from behind the Thrones. I saw Cale come into view from behind my mother’s body, completely unharmed, and I sagged with relief despite the burning touch of the knightmares still holding me. Cale was alive, too.

  “Did they hurt you?” I asked him desperately. “Are you alright? What happened?”

  Cale’s smile twisted its way across his features, looking stretched and mismatched from the rest of his face.

  “What…?” Theo voiced the doubt beginning to tap at me.

  “What
’s going on?” I asked. Cale casually began to approach us in casual strides. I wanted to scream at him to stop, to stay away from the knightmares, but that mismatched smile froze the words in my throat.

  “What…what have you done?” I heard Theo breathe, horror in his voice. Cale stopped short in front of the Thrones, leveling his gaze at me.

  “I wanted to be the first to wish you a happy birthday, Kid.” Cale smirked at me, the flash of our mother’s blood visible over his shoulder. “It’s a big one.”

  “You did this?” The horrified, unbelieving words came from my throat seemingly without my permission. No. Cale would never. My brother would never…

  Cale sauntered back toward the body sprawled on the Throne.

  “No, our beloved Queen of Witches is responsible for this.” Cale spoke down to the fallen Queen, a creeping cold carefully kept at the edge of his voice.

  He reached toward the body and I threw myself angrily toward him, still held by the knightmares’ painful tendrils. Cale ignored me, plucking the crown off her head.

  “It seems the Queen has decided who should inherit the Throne.” Cale spoke distractedly, staring at the crown in his hands. He looked at me pointedly, his face tight. “Congratulations, Danny. She chose you.”

  There was silence in the Throne Room. I waited for Cale to say something, anything that would make what I thought he just said make sense.

  No explanation came, just his unfamiliar cruel eyes staring at me.

  “What?” I asked quietly, cutting through the silence.

  “Danny,” Cale simpered mockingly, “Kind, gentle, loving Danny would be the Queen of the Witches. She would rule with compassion and truth!”

  “That’s not…that’s not right…” I began.

  “Spineless piece of shit.” Cale’s cold growl interrupted me, the words stabbing into me viciously. “She was going to tell you in the morning.”

  “She wouldn’t…” I tried to tell him he was wrong. I tried to say that there was a mistake. I felt a pain deeper than what any of my other injuries could inflict combined. “You wouldn’t…”