by Nikki Kelly
Another flash, and my mind turned white.
A green glow appeared at the center of a horizon, and speeding forward, the white page of my mind folded into a point. The green bled, painting the sheet, and then bent into the shape of an upside-down triangle.
Seeing double, I was now looking at two of them spaced side by side.
But then, like rose petals being tossed over a grave, blue butterflies burst forth.
An explosion erupted, and they dispersed, flying free.
I woke with a start. Ruadhan was banging on the bedroom door. “Little love,” he called. “Are you awake?”
Opening my eyes, I said, “Yes. I am now.”
He let himself in and sat at the bottom of the bed, holding out a small pile of clothes. “It’s Sunday. Mass starts in an hour. Phelan will expect you to attend, to be seen by the wider community.” Ruadhan was already dressed in a smart shirt and trousers, and he’d shined his leather oxfords. “Here,” he said, handing me a preselected outfit.
I fingered the fabric. “Phelan pick this out, perchance?”
“Aye.”
“Perhaps if he gets bored of slaying demons, he might consider a new job as a stylist.”
Ruadhan laughed, that lovely, hearty, wonderful laugh of his, and I cracked a smile. “I don’t suppose Jonah will be joining us? Where is he anyway?”
“He’s already off out.”
“Lucky him,” I said, thinking he’d gotten wind of the morning’s arrangements.
With my lack of enthusiasm about attending church so easy to read, Ruadhan pulled me up before I had a chance to really protest. “Now, I know it’s not the same, but let me get you a cup of tea, sweetheart.”
I stretched my arms around his waist and flattened my right cheek to his chest in a bear hug. “What would I do without you?”
* * *
PHELAN MIGHT WANT HIS PEOPLE to believe I was a biblical savior, but I didn’t fancy wearing the traditional skirt he thought gave the look of one. I stayed in my jeans and ankle boots, selecting only the lace-trimmed, sleeveless blouse to change into from the pile of clothes. Though the sun was partially hidden behind a cloud, I met it nonetheless, and I couldn’t help but notice that Gabriel watched from the window of the motor home. He must surely long for the heat of a thousand summers kissing his skin again. I hoped it wouldn’t be long before he was able to experience the vitality of the sun the way he had before. It was like gravity; once you were aware it existed, to lose it would leave you out to drift.
We met Phelan at the front of the house. Riley and Claire were already there, trying to quiet their little girl, who flailed in her mother’s arms.
“I’ll fetch it,” Ruadhan said to Claire as he ruffled the little girl’s dark hair.
I looked to Claire with a quizzical expression.
“Her favorite storybook,” she explained. “She doesn’t quite understand the message yet, but she likes the colorful pictures of the animals.”
Ruadhan returned at superspeed, passing a board book into the two-year-old’s sticky fingers. “After mass, sweetheart.”
I found it astonishing that Claire, a member of the Sealgaire, would allow a “demon” to read to her child. I must have worn the surprise on my face, as Claire said, “Iris is very fond of Ruadhan. She won’t have anyone else read to her.”
Ruadhan strolled beside Claire, and I followed behind with Iona. Though it was nearly midday, it felt much later on account of the gray sky and damp, wet weather. Phelan’s men hurried along the families they were escorting from their homes to mass. They all slowed when they passed us by, gaping and whispering. Iona didn’t notice. She was wittering on about the reading she was due to give, but I barely heard her. I was too busy sticking my tongue out at Iris, who, positioned like a koala bear over her mother’s shoulder, blew bubbles at me.
The gates were open wide, welcoming the townspeople, and as we strode up the long path leading to the church doors, something—someone—caught my eye at the side of the building.
I sidestepped, veering away from the men, and Iona trotted beside me, still chatting away. “… it’s always very popular.”
Up ahead, the darkly dressed figure turned and began to walk away.
“Sorry?” I said absently to Iona.
“Psalm 23,” Iona repeated.
“Lailah,” Phelan shouted, eyebrows raised as if I were holding them up. When I didn’t respond, he whistled in that infuriating way of his.
“Go greet your flock,” I snapped. Surely by now Phelan had gathered that I didn’t like being told what to do.
Ruadhan patted Phelan’s back, encouraging him inside with an “I’ll go and get her this time” kind of look.
“Who is that?” I asked Iona, pointing to the figure now disappearing into the depths of the graveyard.
Like a meerkat, she angled her face and peered up. “Oh, that’s just Malachi, the caretaker.” She smiled as Ruadhan arrived at her side.
Malachi.
“Sweetheart—” Ruadhan began, coming between us. Iona took his extended arm.
“You go on ahead,” I said, my eyes following Malachi—the fallen Angel I’d met long ago. “I’ll be right there.”
I thought myself to the bottom of the graveyard and scanned the surrounding land. To my left, the autumn aurora continued to seep into the sky, painting the backdrop for death and destruction. The hill was still, with no sign of any Purebloods, and I wondered if Zherneboh was now satisfied with the number of demons he had collected in his jar. I cleared my consciousness, searching for Zherneboh’s presence in the darkest recesses of my being. I couldn’t feel him. Wherever he now was, he wasn’t close. But that didn’t mean there weren’t others. I would have to keep my wits about me. My supersenses picked up on a twitch from within the orchard, and I arrived at the center of a cluster of apple trees a moment later.
With his back to me, he hung his head, turning only when I called his name. “Malachi.”
“Lailah,” he replied. “Good to see you again.”
“Is it? The fact that I’m standing in front of you now means I failed to deliver on your request to end the worlds.”
“I never said that to end those worlds, you would be ended there, too.” He removed a hand from the pocket of his overcoat and took off his hat, straightening his ash-blond hair underneath. “Come. Take a walk with me.”
Fruit trees with bowing branches surrounded us, and despite being fall, the leaves here were green and fresh. This morning, the sun had taken a back seat to the cover of cloud, but somehow, here in the orchard, a sticky, Mediterranean-style heat hung in the air.
“Did you come to Lucan to try to find me?” I asked. “To hand out more orders?” Though this meeting was an impromptu one, I was quickly forming my own agenda. Malachi was old and wise; the knowledge he possessed might help me formulate a plan to save humanity.
“No. Lucan is home to my more permanent residence. I have been the caretaker of this land for millennia.”
I ducked under a wayward branch. “I thought you were stateside when Gabriel came looking for you?”
His answer was easy. “On such occasions that business calls me away, I have a deputy.”
“Right,” I said. “And what exactly are you taking care of?”
As always, Malachi’s expression was unreadable. “Why waste time asking questions you already know the answer to?”
“So, what? You care for the land, home to the doorways to the first and the third dimensions? Is that not a dangerous vocation for a fallen Angel?”
“You would think so, wouldn’t you?” He pressed his hand into the small of my back, redirecting me through the thicket. “Unlike any other, I possess a certain set of skills.”
“You called yourself the Ethiccart?” The last time Malachi and I had met, he had told me that Orifiel had bestowed the job title of the Ethiccart upon him, and from what he had implied his role had somehow involved a redesign of Styclar-Plena after the day the darkness fell—the specifics
of which he hadn’t shared, insisting instead that I must see it for myself.
“Yes. When you passed into the third, you witnessed my work firsthand.”
I slowed my pace. “The structures, the sea of souls, that was you?”
“My design, Zherneboh’s hand. Though I have never seen it with my own eyes, on account of the nature of the world.”
“On account of the fact that if you passed through, you would become one of his scavengers, you mean. Like the other fallen Angels.”
“Ah, you were able to see through the creatures?” For the first time during this exchange, Malachi’s elevated tone gave something away. It sounded almost like hope.
“Yes. Why would you ask me to end the Purebloods when you designed them a sustainable system? You told me before to bring both the third and the first dimensions to an end.” I stopped. “Whose side are you actually on?” I demanded. I had gathered from our previous conversation that Malachi acted as a sort of middleman, offering his services to the highest bidder. The fact that he had no allegiance to anyone but himself made me uneasy.
I spun around, checking there was nothing untoward behind me.
“Calm down, child. I told you before that I am with you, not against you.” He waited patiently for me to accept what he said.
With caution, I continued to follow him through the dense orchard.
“It was a necessary evil,” he said. “The sea of souls, as you put it, is fueled organically through natural selection; the scavengers collect the dark matter of the dead, they don’t kill for it. Overall, far more lives would be lost if it didn’t exist at all.”
My mind whirled. “Was Pandora’s box up there your design, too?”
Malachi’s eyebrows arched. “Yes. It seemed sensible to keep the gateway to the third hidden. When it first appeared, it was on full display above the land. In the beginning it was easier to conceal, but with the advancement of technology, it’s become increasingly more difficult to disguise.” Malachi slowed beside a small allotment plot. “These men with the infernal gadgets,” he grumbled.
I thought of Darwin and his team as Malachi directed me around the vegetables. “But it doesn’t just hide the gateway. Zherneboh’s been depositing Vampires—”
“Into a chamber—yes, child, I know my own design. An add-on Zherneboh desired. He is collecting the strongest of his demons to slay the inhabitants of Styclar-Plena when they are flushed out of the first, you see.”
“You are both sure that I will do as you ask, but you are both wrong. I told you before that I’ve no intention of passing through to the first. Ending that world will not save this one.”
“On the contrary, if you don’t end Styclar-Plena, this world will be the first to die.”
I dug my heels into the ground. “Without me he can’t.”
“If you won’t, there are other means to his end. A new discovery—”
“What new discovery?”
“The crystal in Styclar-Plena is fueled by the light energy released from a mortal in death. Without humankind, there would be no light to transport. It wasn’t possible before; even with the might of the Purebloods, still there were not nearly enough…” He paused, waiting to see if I could put together the pieces.
“Zherneboh knows.” I gasped. “His Vampires can create more Vampires.” My mind tumbled. The Vampires that had descended upon us as we walked back from the pub were not like ordinary Second Generation Vampires—they had appeared weak and frail. It was only Hanora’s mate and the Vampire who had taken Cameron that were strong. “Zherneboh doesn’t care that they are weaker, because their purpose is not to fight.”
Malachi nodded. “No light souls, no energy. No energy, no way to sustain the Angels’ world. Orifiel will either perish in the darkness of his dying Styclar-Plena, or he will do what he hasn’t since the day he betrayed his brother. He will pass through the gateway and face him.” Malachi held his hat to his chest. “You must deliver Orifiel to Zherneboh first, Lailah, or there will be no souls on Earth left to save.” Malachi placed his hat on his head. “Step forward, would you?” I did as he asked, and from nowhere, a cottage built of stone stood before me. Strobes of light cascaded over the dwelling in twinkling waves of white and gold.
I did a double take. “How did I not see that before?”
“By manipulating light, you can cloak just about anything, if you know how,” he replied.
A tree towered high above the red slate roof. Its branches drooped with an abundance of tempting apples. Malachi reached out in front of me and pushed back the tangled branches to reveal a luminous streak of brilliant white light.
“The gateway to the first,” I said slowly, entranced by the extraordinary sight.
“A door you must walk through to save a world you and I have both come to call home.”
I contemplated his request, the fresh burden he had placed on my shoulders already weighing me down. If I didn’t bring an end to Styclar-Plena, then the inhabitants of Earth would be the ones to pay. “I understand, but—”
“But what?” he asked quickly.
“Once Zherneboh takes his revenge, what then?”
“Once you bring about the end of the first dimension, the end of the third will follow. And then you must kill them all.”
“You want me to kill every single Pureblood, every single generation of Vampire on this planet? On my own?” I hoped that if I put it like that, he’d have something more useful to say.
“Kill Zherneboh, and his house of cards will fall with him.”
Malachi stretched the branch back farther, encouraging me to step through the gateway. But then, from the lapel of his overcoat, a bright spark flickered. It was coming from a golden pin shaped like a leaf. “Phelan lent me a hairpin that looked just like that.”
“The leaf is a symbol of the fallen. The fallen Angels wear them as a promise to me.”
I took a step back. “I don’t understand.”
Gently, Malachi let the branch spring back. “By Earth’s time, Zherneboh emerged from the third thousands of years ago, after which he sought out the Arch Angels who were visiting Earth and collecting the light energy to fuel the crystal.” Malachi ran his finger over the rim of his hat in quiet contemplation. “Zherneboh took thirteen before Orifiel realized. Back then, several millennia ago, the Arch Angels worked alongside the first of the Angel Descendants, ferrying the souls from one plane to the next, and so to protect the Arch Angels that remained, the Descendants alone were purposed with the task of moving the souls.”
“These were the Angels that were not paired to one another?”
“Yes, Angel Descendants Mark 1. A defective batch by all accounts. One by one, their lights dulled, and when they fell, they passed through the fixed gateway from the first to here.” Malachi’s tone became deep and dark. “But Zherneboh and his kind were waiting.”
I gulped, hard.
“Orifiel had removed the Descendants’ crystals, thus stripping the Descendants of their gifts and rendering them defenseless for the rest of their extended existence—ripe for the picking. They were taken into the third.”
Gabriel’s face appeared in my consciousness, along with the most terrible realization. If he were pulled into the third, he, too, would become a scavenger. “It’s unthinkable,” I said.
“With the Purebloods’ sustainable system in place and their scavenger servants at work, the Purebloods dispersed and set about building their armies, which would both hunt for them and of course one day fight for them. Not all of the fallen were lost. I was able to save a good many before the Purebloods were able to snatch them for the third, delivering them instead to the only place they would truly be safe.”
“The sea,” I murmured, and Malachi nodded.
“But what could they have possibly promised you in exchange for their lives?”
“To fight for me when the day came.”
“What day?”
Malachi took my hands in his, and as our skin met, the i
mage of the painting on Darwin’s landing filled my mind.
It was as though I were inside it.
Suddenly, and all at once, bright-green upside-down triangles glowed.
The ground quaked under my feet.
The wind whipped at my ears.
The butterflies took flight.
The strobe of light shot up, disappearing with a whoosh, and the leaves on the ground scattered. As they did, one lone leaf lifted. Smudged in black charcoal, his name had been concealed in the bottom right corner all along: Malachi.
I jolted, snatching my hands out of his grip. “You were the seer?”
“I couldn’t be certain, but looking at you now…” he mumbled, staring at my butterfly mask.
“You had a vision of the future?”
“Being created in Styclar-Plena means our very makeup contains the means to travel through the fabric of the universe. It allows us to jump from one world to another, but doing so creates a bend in the linear line of time. The curves allow us to peek around the corner before we travel down the road.” Calmly, Malachi put his hands back in his pockets.
“You saw a robot kill me?” I said.
He shook his head. “The vision was unclear. I painted what I perceived.”
Edging backward, the cottage disappeared from in front of me. The second it did, distorted raised voices echoed all around, distracting me from the conversation, but Malachi saying “The fallen are gathering” brought my attention right back to him.
My gaze fell to the pin on his lapel. “Wait, the jewelry, the leaves you gave them—”
“Devices.” He cut me off. “A kind of homing beacon. The fallen Angels will fight with you, Lailah. They are already on their way.”
“On their way—” I didn’t get a chance to finish because a crash sounded from within the garden. I recognized a voice. “Darwin.”
TWENTY
LEAVING MALACHI BEHIND, I thought myself to the edge of the garden that separated the two gateways just in time to see Darwin get knocked to the ground by a Second Generation Vampire.
I reacted instinctively.
I charged forward and collided with the Vampire. I wrapped my hands around the demon’s throat and broke his neck before he had a chance to shriek.