by Ramy Vance
Aldie put a tender hand on my shoulder. “You might not be able to burn time, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have time to give.”
“Humph,” I thought, “more self-help mumbo jumbo.”
“Perhaps,” Aldie said, clearly listening in on my thoughts. “And here’s a bit more for you. You spend so much time hating your past that it obscures your future.”
“And what should it do?”
If Aldie had an answer to my question, he didn’t share it. He just stood next to me as we watched my friend become whole again—minute by burnt minute.
It was quite the tender moment. Then a friggin’ angel showed up and ruined it all.
↔
OCHE LANDED with all the subtlety of a Mack truck slamming into a bicycle, and clearly not getting the memo that bad guys are supposed to soliloquy you with phrases like, “You stole it from me” or “Time to die,” opted to pick up a tiny two-door sedan and throw it at Aldie.
Normally Aldie would have tumbled out of the way, but given I was right in front of him and he had dozens of adoring fans standing behind him, he pushed me out of the way of the car.
No way he did that with his natural strength. Aldie was burning time. And not just a minute or two—a feat like that would cost him days, if not weeks.
Tossing the car to one side, he said, “Another piece of mortal chaos. I guess not everyone’s a fan.”
Oche roared in frustration, pulling out a sword from under his wings. “Shit’s about to get real,” I muttered in my best Samuel L. Jackson voice before grabbing one of the sedan’s fallen hubcaps. Holding it like Captain America’s shield, I charged at the hulking beast.
“Kat,” Aldie cried out. “What are you doing?”
I could hear the dark elf’s footsteps behind mine. Always my knight in shining armor, I thought as I drew in close to the angel.
Oche shot the two joints of his wings like fists at my attack. The thing about fighting angels … because they are overpowered creatures that spent their entire creation obeying orders, they were also predictable. And he was doing exactly what I expected him to do.
I rolled under the winged attack and beneath his feet, where the joint that connected his wings to his back was exposed. Then I thrust the hubcap into that tender piece of flesh as hard as I could. That was their sensitive spot—and hitting him there was the angel’s equivalent of getting kicked in the balls (not that I’d know what that was like).
Oche growled in real pain, and then did something I hadn’t predicted. He folded his wings inward, wrapping around me with those massive, feather-filled folds. And then he squeezed.
I couldn’t breathe. I was literally being smothered by angel wings. One hell of a way to go, I thought as I struggled to get out, but as hard as I did, I couldn’t move. I simply wasn’t strong enough to push my way out. Not as a lone human.
I was doomed. So, I did the only thing I could. I stopped trying. I conserved my strength and prayed that Aldie would get me out.
DARK ELVES AND PRIVATE PLANES
Who said prayers were no longer answered in the GoneGod World? Within seconds I heard a growl—Egya—and a war cry—Aldie. Inch by inch the wings loosened their grip, allowing me to take in precious air, before they unfolded entirely.
Freed, I tumbled out from under Oche and saw Egya and Aldie pulling at one set of wings as the sphinx and two wyverns pulled at another. Three dwarves wrapped themselves around Oche’s legs, and a dozen pixies clambered up his back, clawing at his ears, one good eye and his cheeks.
I guess group efforts weren’t just for burning time. They were also for overwhelming angels, too.
With all that overwhelming force, I figured it was only a matter of time before Oche would go down. Trouble was, him going down didn’t really help our situation. It wasn’t exactly like we had rope strong enough to bind him or handcuffs large enough to go around those wrists. We were in a stalemate that could only end with the finality of death.
So be it, I thought.
I grabbed Oche’s sword and pointed the tip at his throat. “I don’t suppose I could ask you to leave me alone.”
“Never,” spat Oche.
“Then I see no other way.”
“Kat,” Aldie said, his voice strained as he wrestled with the angel. “There is no honor in killing a subdued enemy.”
“And there is no hope if we leave him alive,” I said. “You said that I hate my past. And you were right. Hating my past has only gotten the people I cared for hurt. Maybe I should stop hating the monster I was. Maybe I should embrace her and ask her to help me in moments like these. Maybe that’s what this world needs … for me to become the monster I once was.”
Closing my eyes, I felt hatred and anger swell within me. I was prepared to kill this angel. I knew it. But more importantly, so did everyone else.
↔
AS I PREPARED to thrust the blade into Oche’s neck, I cried out, “Do you not feel my intentions?”
“Who … who are you speaking to?” Aldie asked.
“Him,” I said. “The coward standing behind that parked car.”
Aldie looked in the direction I had cocked my head and saw Enoch standing there, a forlorn look on his face.
“I do,” he rasped.
“And you will do nothing to save him?”
“I cannot. I have run out of tricks. There is nothing I can do.”
“So you’re content to just watch him die.”
“I am,” Enoch said, but his tone wasn’t even like it usually was. He was in anguish and doing everything he could to hide that from me. But over three hundred years of playing the poker game of life and death, I’d gotten very good at reading others. Enoch was dying inside.
“Then I offer you this: a truce. His life for peace.”
“I cannot do that,” Enoch said.
“You’re willing to let him die? For what? A fool’s errand.”
“Perhaps. But then again, perhaps not. I am willing to let him die for a chance to change everything. He knows my purpose. And he, too, is willing to die.”
Shit … I hadn’t gambled on that. Still, there was one more thing I could try before slitting an angel’s throat. “Then a temporary truce.”
Enoch’s eyes lit up. “The terms.”
“Two weeks.”
“I cannot.”
“Then one,” I said.
“One day?”
“I was going for one week, but OK. Let’s regroup for one single day, then we can go right back to trying to kill each other.”
Enoch thought this over before nodding. “One day that will start now.”
I twisted my wrist so I could see my wristwatch; it was two in the morning. I was getting twenty-two hours out of this deal. That should be enough.
“Very well,” I said. “But I get to keep the sword.” I lowered my arms and nodded at Aldie.
“Are you sure?”
“He may be insane, but he is honorable. He will adhere to the terms.”
Aldie growled, but let go. “The rest of you, I thank you for coming to my aid, but it is time to let the fiend go.”
The Others clambered off him. Everyone but Egya, who continued pulling at his wing.
I crouched next to the hyena. “Let him go,” I said, petting his neck. “I promise that karma’s going to give him his due.”
Egya growled as he reluctantly unclenched his jaw.
Freed, Oche jumped several dozen feet into the air before landing next to Enoch. Show-off.
I pointed the sword at the two of them. “One day. Now go.”
Without another word, Oche picked up Enoch like he was cradling a child and took to the sky.
We had our truce. Hopefully it was enough time to get to Paradise Lot.
PART VI
INTERMISSION
When Enoch awakens, he is on the basest of planes—Earth. His angel savior is nowhere to be found. The angel did, however, bring the celestial treasure. Something of immense power.
/> And danger.
The first thing that Enoch must do is find his place on Earth. Establish a base. Garner some followers. Research. Plan.
He knows his mission as clearly as anyone can. Find the gods, and once they are found, uncover the path to them.
But as much as he has purpose, something is wrong—something is missing. For in the deepness of self, Enoch does not recognize who he is.
Once upon a time, he was mortal. Human. This body, these emotions … there should be some sense of familiarity to all this. But there is not. Nothing about who Enoch is today feels right.
It’s as if something integral to being human is missing from his very essence.
It takes Enoch months to uncover the problem. He tries everything, but nothing reveals what he knows to be true.
He does uncover it. And like so many great discoveries, it is an accident that leads him to finally understand what has happened to him.
↔
The day Enoch figures it out, he is at a café, mulling over the greatest pieces of the celestial treasure. He knows that in any other context, he should be hiding what is his. That at any moment, marauders could be crashing through the feeble glass windows to get at him.
But this is the GoneGod World, and few can recognize true power anymore. And those who can are too depressed and frightened to seize it. Besides, Enoch is adorned with the Gauntlets of Samson … bracers that imbue their wearer with incredible strength.
Not even the archangel Michael possesses the strength to beat him.
A young woman comes up to him and says with typical human drollness, “May I take your order?”
Enoch pines for the days when he did not need food or drink to sustain himself. To do so was a matter of pleasure, not necessity. He picks two items from the menu—a soup for its nutritional value and a sandwich with the highest caloric value.
He estimates that the combined items will sustain his body for at least six hours, perhaps longer.
The waitress scuttles off to get his order, and when she returns, she has two soups and two sandwiches. Handing him his order, she delivers the identical items to the table next to him.
The young woman with the same order as him leans over and says, “When I heard what you ordered, I thought to myself, ‘That sounds so good.’ I couldn’t help myself. I hope you don’t mind sitting next to a copycat.” She giggles at her own joke.
Enoch does not return her mirth—not that she notices. Instead, she turns to her meal, and with a smile too wide for something as base as eating, shovels in the first mouthfuls of food.
With each bite, the gregarious woman makes little noises of pleasure. At first Enoch believes she is acting. But that doesn’t make sense. Why put on such drama for something as worthless as lunch?
Going through his briefcase of celestial treasures, he puts in the Eye of Dionysus for the first time since arriving on Earth.
Dionysus was the god of revelry. He was also an insecure drunk whose greatest fear was that the other gods only pretended to enjoy his lavish parties. So he created the lens to ensure that when they cried out in pleasure, it was sincere. Genuine.
When Enoch looks at the world around him through these lenses, he sees humans’ true emotions. And this one truly is enjoying her meal.
Looking at himself through the awkward mirror of the metal napkin dispenser, he takes a bite.
He sees no joy in the reflection.
He also sees no disdain.
In truth, he sees no emotion at all.
Is that possible? Humans are contradictions of emotion and logic. And yet his feelings are deeply hampered.
Why?
More importantly, how?
↔
His investigation takes months, but eventually Enoch is able to trace it back to the events of the day the gods left.
It seems that his goal to die was achieved after all. He did die, if only to be brought back by whichever angel entered his chambers. In that second, his soul left his body, but his departure was too late to follow the gods.
And since his savior (not that the mysterious angel saved him at all—more like condemned him) removed him from Heaven, well, it seems that his soul could not follow.
A soul cannot be destroyed. Even the combined powers of all the gods could not do it. So Enoch knows his soul exists, but has no idea where it could be. After all, what does a soul do when it is expelled from one plane of existence into nothing?
It finds another place to exist.
This poses a dilemma for Enoch, for if he is to join the gods, he must not only find them, find a way to them … he must also find his soul in order to reach them.
Finally understanding the full extent of his problem, he stands, leaving his food uneaten.
SELF-HELPING YOUR GOODBYES
T he crowd followed us to the airport, a slow procession of Others parading through he street of Okinawa in the middle of the night. It took us almost three hours to get there, and every time I wanted to speed up by, you know, calling an Uber, Aldie reminded me of two things:
One, the private plane section of the airport opened at dawn, so hurrying didn’t really matter.
And two: that crowd behind us needed this. They needed the walk, the time to contemplate all that had happened. Time to meditate on their purpose as mortals.
The trouble was, I was also doing some contemplating, and I hated it. I didn’t want to be in my head anymore. Evil thoughts swam in its treacherous waters. Thoughts that included regret over not killing Oche. He was a powerful enemy, one that I could have gotten rid of.
So, I did what I always do when I’m stuck in my head. I thought out loud. “I should have killed him.”
“Perhaps.”
“Get out of my head.”
“Never,” Aldie said with a wink. “But go on. What else are you thinking?”
“OK,” I said, figuring that if I was going to be stuck in these thoughts, I might as well have company. “I’m thinking that the GoneGods know he deserved it, if for no other reason than because of what he did to Deirdre. She might be OK, but she only survived because of … well, you. But that was luck. And luck isn’t something you can count on in the GoneGod World.”
“Perhaps. But then again, perhaps luck and fate and destiny were not lost just because the gods took their magic.”
“Spare me the self-help, new-agey crap, will you?”
“Again—never,” he chuckled.
“I can feel it,” I said, looking at my hands, which only an hour ago wanted to kill a prone angel. “I can feel the monster within me. It’s still there and it wants out. It wants to be a part of me again. And what’s worrying is that I want it, too. I never had any doubts when it was a part of me. I knew exactly what to do at any given moment. Granted, those moments were filled with guzzling blood and hedonistic bliss … but they were moments when no uncertainty muddled what I needed to do next.”
My brow must have been furrowed with the anguish of the thought, because Aldie, who knew me better than perhaps I knew myself, said, “When I told you that your past blinds you to your future, I was not only speaking of the demon. I was also speaking about the angel.”
“What angel?” I said.
“The angel who hunted you for all those years. The angel you eventually killed, but who never truly died.”
“Humph, my father and his damned Divine Cherubs.”
“That angel hunted you long after you had fully embraced the demon. Even when we were together, years after your father had died, I felt his presence always with us. Embrace the demon, but also embrace the angel within.”
“Again—new age, self-help garbage.”
“If I had said that to any of them, perhaps. But for you it is quite literal. A demon was a part of you … but so was an angel, of sorts. You will never truly be complete until you embrace both.”
“Sometimes I hate you,” I said with a chuckle. “Check that. A lot of the time I hate you.”
“But now isn�
��t one of those moments,” he said.
“Yeah … now isn’t one of those moments.”
↔
WE GOT to the airport just before dawn and had to wait thirty frustrating minutes until the first of the staff showed up. He looked confused. Aldie’s plane was barely big enough for four people; there were hundreds. But we explained that they were sending us off and the attendant, impressed that we had so many friends, did not let them in.
It was time for Aldie to say goodbye to his adoring fans, something he did in true Aldie fashion. He turned to the lumbering crowd who, in the last two hours, had sacrificed a bit of their time to heal a stranger and thrown themselves into a fight against one hell of an angel. These were the GoneGod World’s lost, but as I stared out at the crowd of kitsune, alps and vodniks, dwarves, wondjinas, and pixies, the hodge-podge of Others who had travelled from all over the world to try to better themselves, in their ill-fitting clothes and with their confused looks, I knew I was standing before this world’s elite.
An elite who wouldn’t be given a chance to shine. There was no time; humans expected them to come ready to fit in and ready to accept their second-class status. Since these folks wouldn’t do either, well, let’s just say if I had a Magic 8-Ball, it would read: Outcome looks bleak.
But whereas I was sure of their bleak future, Aldie hadn’t gotten the memo.
“Here’s the good news. The GoneGod World is inhospitable, unforgiving. Mean. As the humans say: it fucking sucks. And what’s more, the indigenous population sees us as unwanted guests. Refugees who should pack up and go home. They know we can’t, and they don’t care.”
“How is that good news?” I thought, perhaps a bit too loud, because I completely interrupted the flow of Aldie’s … ahem … rousing speech.
“It is good news, because now we have a chance to prove ourselves. But more importantly, we have a chance to be ourselves. For when the gods allowed us to roam Heaven and Hell, Nirvana and Yomi, Valhalla and Helheim, Elysium and Tartarus, they gave us a home that was ready-made, complete to the specifications of our needs.