Demons of Divinity

by Luke R. Mitchell

  “So what’s up with Codename Siren?” I asked when Johnny reached the news—or lack thereof—about my mysterious telepathic attacker. “Who came up with that one?”

  A rare look of embarrassment crept over him. “That was Lise. I was, uh, with the boys outside your room when our new blonde friend rolled up and, well… I mean, they didn’t have cloaks on, which gives them a fair excuse, but I…” He was full-on blushing now. “Look, let’s just say she’s got charm, and she knows how to use it. So, you know… Siren.”

  I couldn’t help but smile a little, despite everything. “I can’t imagine why Mathis didn’t think to tell me about that bit yesterday.”

  He grimaced. “Yeah, sorry about that, by the way. Not that I had any say or anything, but…” He shrugged. “Was he a beardsplitter about it?”

  “What do you think?”

  He shook his head. “Gropping doceres, man…”

  “Yeah,” I said, eager to change the topic. “So, this Siren person. I take it Elise noticed she was, you know…” I tapped the side of my head.

  Johnny nodded. “We told Glenbark and Franco. No one else.”

  “Good. I only told Mathis I suspected the Sanctum, but… Yeah, that was good thinking.”

  It was only at Johnny’s curious look that I realized I was still bobbing my head. He arched an eyebrow in question.

  “She, uh… She licked my ear,” I explained, unsure how else to put it but suddenly needing to tell him. “It was weird.”

  Johnny frowned, then crossed a leg and adopted a decidedly scholarly pose in his chair. “Do go on, my goodfellow.”

  I dropped my gaze to my plate. “I don’t know why I brought it up. It was just… Yeah. Right after she pumped me full of drugs, and right before she left me to die, she just leaned in, whispered that it was a shame to kill me, then she, you know, sorta sucked on my ear, like…”

  I gave up and abandoned the thought to silence.

  “Broto,” Johnny finally said, “that confuses me in strange places.”

  Gropped up as it was, I kind of knew exactly what he meant.

  “I think she was a Seeker,” I said, eager again to change the subject. “Which probably means one of two things.”

  “The raknoth or the Sanctum,” Johnny agreed. “We’re trying to uncover what we can, but Ol’ Siren Earsucker didn’t leave much of a trail.” He frowned. “I’m not gonna say you shouldn’t tell Elise that you were kinda sorta molested by the sexy assassin lady, but you might not lead with it, by the way.”

  I grunted as I scooped the last bite from my plate. “What would I do without you, buddy?”

  He shook his head, stared pointedly at my ear all the while. “Alpha only knows where those lobes would end up.”

  After too much waiting and several emphatic promises to the medics that I would refrain from anything more physically intensive than walking for the next few days, I was released to my two fireteams’ worth of house arrest troops to be escorted to my domestic prison. I limped out of the medica beside Johnny wearing my armor skin—the civilian clothes I’d worn over it in Humility being a few degrees too battle-tattered for decency. At least the medica servitors had washed the armor, though it still smelled vaguely of sweat and battle.

  Still, as we walked across Haven, I decided I was kind of glad for the extra protection.

  I’d thought I’d been getting used to the strange looks around base, but this was unquestionably different. Before, it had been furtive glances, curious looks, and a few whispers behind my back about how I hadn’t fallen when the Sanctum hangman had thrown the gallows lever—about how I’d survived a bomb and a ten floor fall back at Vantage, and how they suspected the nickname, Demon of Divinity, might well not be a nickname at all.

  But now they knew. They’d all seen the vids of me leaping around like something inhuman. All the world had seen. Gone were the furtive glances and the whispered rumors. Now they stared openly, some in horror, some in awe.

  I kept my eyes forward and marched on as best I could. Johnny stayed close to my side the whole time, Carter’s Second Squad fireteams in neat formation around us. As pissed as I was about the house arrest thing, I had to admit I was glad for the guard detail when the shouting began.

  It started with one zealous legionnaire loudly condemning my spirit to burn. Then another pitched in. And another. The first few were hushed by the more conscientious spectators, but slowly, surely, it built—a rising tide of their collective loathing for the unholy demon who’d infiltrated their ranks, tricked their High General. Murdered their friends.

  I was sure it was about to reach a boiling point and spill over into violence when a hush began to spread through the crowd that’d somehow grown to the point of blocking multiple trafficways by then. Legionnaires shuffled, making room for a procession of passing ground shuttles.

  I half-wanted to take advantage of the distraction and try to make a run for it with my escort, but curiosity got the better of us all. Like Johnny beside me, I craned my neck to see who had calmed the storm… and met eyes with General Auckus passing by.

  He sat in the back of his ground shuttle, letting his servitor drive him around like high royalty, and the look in his eyes as he met mine… I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Only that it made my skin crawl.

  Quickly as it came, the moment passed, right along with Auckus’ procession.

  “That was weird,” Johnny said beside me, confirming that I hadn’t been imagining the strange edge in Auckus’ stare.

  “Probably wishing Siren hadn’t botched the job,” I muttered back.

  He didn’t argue.

  Thankfully, with the momentary lull in their angry shouting, the crowd seemed to have lost crucial momentum. It slowly began to disband—some walking away with disappointed looks and others, while still clearly displeased with my continued propensity for drawing breath, resigning themselves to glaring daggers at my back as we continued on.

  For the time being, their ill-will didn’t escalate beyond that. The closer we got to the civilian barracks, though, the more I almost wished it would. Because as much as I didn’t want to deal with General Auckus’ malicious looks and the malcontent of Alpha-fearing legionnaires, I was even more worried about what was waiting for me ahead.

  Marching to our quarters, I couldn’t help but think of the way I’d felt back in the White Tower, shuffling barefoot and chained across the Great Hall to the waiting gallows. It felt like a lifetime ago. And yes, logically, it seemed kind of ridiculous to compare to the two situations—literally walking to my death versus going to face the girl I loved. But as far as my dread-steeped gut was concerned, there was very little difference. If anything, this march actually felt more dire than the last.

  At least at the gallows, I’d known what to expect.

  Johnny’s grim expression when we reached the civilian barracks didn’t help matters. “Fare thee well, dear goodfellow,” he said, laying a hand on my shoulder.

  “This isn’t an execution,” I said, maybe more to myself than to him.

  He tilted his head as if to say Maybe, maybe not, thought about adding something else, then said, simply, “She loves you, broto,” before turning to leave.

  I watched him go. Turned slowly to the door to our quarters.

  “I can feel you standing there,” came Elise’s voice.

  “This isn’t an execution,” I mumbled to myself, reaching for the access panel.

  In the tiny entryway, the click of the door shutting behind me felt a little too reminiscent of a gun being cocked. I braced myself and rounded the divider to find Elise sitting on the living room floor, meditating in the dull gray light that filtered in through the long window.

  She opened her eyes, looked me over, then tilted her head toward base. “Tough crowd out there, huh?”

  For a second, I wanted nothing more than to leap on the thread she’d just cast me—to play it up, hammer it home that I was the real victim here. “That’s not important, Lise,” I forc
ed myself to say. “Not right now.”

  No more putting it off.

  I can’t adequately describe what it felt like as we moved to the couch by some unspoken agreement and settled awkwardly in—not quite separate, but not quite touching, either. We moved with an air of deep discomfort, like two strangers sitting down for an interview. It put an ache in my chest.

  How could the bond between us suddenly feel so tenuous? It didn’t feel real. My head was spinning.

  I reached out to grab hold of her hand. The touch was jarring—not a romantic spark but a collision alert, forcing us to meet one another’s eyes. I was surprised to see my own turmoil reflected in her. She was just as lost as me right now.

  And I was lost, I realized—suddenly certain that something had gone critically wrong between us but blind as to how or why, or even when.

  I wanted to grab her and pull her to me, refuse to let go. I wanted to kiss her. But she dropped my gaze before I could, stroking my hand absentmindedly with her thumb.

  “I don’t know if I can do this anymore, Hal,” she said finally.

  Something shattered in me.

  It was breathtaking—almost fascinating, in a morbid way—to hear her say the words. The words I’d somehow convinced myself she wouldn’t say even when I’d known deep down that they’d been coming.

  “Lise…”

  “I’m not mad at you.” She thought about it. “Okay, I am. I’m pissed. Furious. But that’s not the problem. The problem”—her voice wavered—“is that I can’t keep sitting by and watching this happen. Watching you kill yourself. Watching you…”

  “Lise, I know it’s—”

  She silenced me with a look. “Do you? You really think you know what it feels like to sit by and watch the person you love run off into battle? A person, I might add, who has an almost perfect record of nearly getting himself killed. You know what that does to me?”

  I opened my mouth and closed it, fumbling for words. It wasn’t my fault, I wanted to say. I didn’t want this. Didn’t ask for it. I hadn’t even been the one to bar her from joining the excursion to Humility. That had been Glenbark.

  But I’d been glad for it, hadn’t I? Glad for the knowledge that Elise was stuck safely back in Haven. Glad for the chance to throw myself at the hybrids —to live up to Carlisle’s legacy—without the fear of losing the person I cared about most. And was that really so wrong?

  “I didn’t know what else to do, Elise. I’m sorry. I was just trying to help.”

  “Trying to help?” She shot me an incredulous look. “Working on the cloaks—that’s helping. Advising Glenbark on the raknoth. Scud, maybe even riding along with a squad for a mission. That’s helping. But tackling Alton Parker solo? Disobeying orders to charge into a field of hybrids? Pushing yourself so hard that you almost die from exertion? That’s not helping, Hal. That’s suicide.”

  “That’s not—Look, I’m fine.”

  “You’re not. You’ve been to the medica twice in seven days, Hal. Tell me how you think this turns out if you keep on—”

  “WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?” I roared.

  I rocked back from the violence in my own voice. I hadn’t felt it coming. Hadn’t meant to slam my fists to the table. But there were Glenbark and Mathis in the back of my head, telling me to step it up. There was Alton Parker and his intelligent hybrids, sweeping across Enochia, consuming it whole. And there were the deep, pulsing aches in my forearms, confirming that I’d just snapped and lost control yet again.

  “What do you want me to do?” I croaked, rising to my feet, heart pounding in my ears. I couldn’t meet her eyes. Couldn’t stand what I might see there.

  I pointed out the window instead. “They’re killing people out there. Right now. People are dying, and I have the power to stop it.”

  “You don’t,” she said, shaking her head at the edge of my vision. “No one has that power. No one can handle that responsibility alone.”

  “I…” I blew out a long breath. “I know that. Guess it doesn’t matter anyway now that I’m on house arrest.”

  Gently, I settled back onto the couch and reached for her hand. “Look, I know how hard this must be for you to—”

  She hissed a bitter chuckle, pulling her hand away. “Really? So you have stopped to think about it? I mean really think about it? How it would feel if we switched places? If the Legion had come to me for help? How you’d feel if I told you to stay put like a good little boy while I ran off to tempt fate one more time? How you’d feel sitting here, wondering if maybe that’s actually what I wanted—if maybe I was just going to keep pushing myself until I winded up dead and didn’t have to feel the weight of the world on my shoulders anymore?”

  I opened my mouth to tell her she was wrong and realized that I’d be lying. I didn’t know what she was going through. How could I?

  “How would you feel,” Elise whispered, “if I came back from all that just to shut you out, tell you to leave. How would you feel if you found me crying on someone else’s shoulder within the hour?”

  Melanie.

  I felt sick.

  She’d seen me crying to Melanie the night Siren had come for me—or heard me, or felt me from the hallway. It didn’t really matter.

  “Elise, that wasn’t… After Glenbark left, I was upset. I was crying when she found me. It didn’t mean—”

  “I don’t care about that,” Elise said, wiping her eyes. “I don’t love it, but I’m not some jealous little girl thinking I should be the only one allowed to comfort you. That’s not what this is ab—” She took a sharp breath, shaking her head. “You don’t even see it, do you? You let her in, Hal. You showed her exactly what you’ve been hiding from me ever since the Tower.”

  Her words hit me like a mag tram, ringing with an intensity of truth that left me wondering how the scud I’d been so blind. Had I really been so closed off?

  “I’ve been here for you,” she said, the grief draining from her tone, leaving it flat and weary. “I’ve done everything I know how to do. And I’m sorry I pushed you about Carlisle the other night. I’m sorry. But I can’t just grin and nod while this thing you’re carrying around eats you from the inside out.”

  “Lise, I didn’t… I’ve been so absorbed in everything else, I never stopped to think…”

  I’d thought I’d been handling it. I’d thought, being with Elise in those crumby little Legion quarters, we’d been healing together. But no.

  Once. That was how many times I’d allowed Elise to see me grieving for Carlisle and my parents and everyone else. One time, right after the White Tower, I’d cried into her arms—allowed her to help me. And since then… I’d avoided it all like a disease-ridden dumpster around her, hadn’t I?

  I’d spent plenty of time thinking about Carlisle and my parents and everything else, certainly. But always when I was alone. Always when times were already dark. Never when Elise might see.

  I’d kept her at arm’s length. Shut her out from everything she needed to understand and given her nothing but brooding silence and erratic bursts of anger. And somehow, getting back to work and feeling useful again in these past days, I’d actually fooled myself into thinking it was getting better.

  Alpha, how had I not seen it before now? Before she stood from the couch with a look that made me feel broken inside?

  I grabbed her hand, desperate. “I can’t lose you, Elise. Please. I can’t. I can’t live through it.”

  She cupped my cheek with her other hand. “And I won’t sit here and cheer you on while you ride yourself to the pyre. I won’t be the princess you convince yourself you’re doing this for, watching you cry out for help over and over again only to refuse everything I have to offer…” She shook her head, jaw tight, trying to pull her hand from mine. “I can’t, Hal. I won’t help you kill yourself.”

  “Lise, please.” I clung to her hand like it was my last lifeline. “I can’t—I won’t… I love you.”

  Her lips quivered. A tear rolled down her che
ek. “I love you too, Hal. I always will.”

  The look in her eyes hit me like a raknoth fist to the diaphragm. My hand loosened around hers. She slid her hand free and stepped past me. I stared blankly at the space she’d vacated.

  This couldn’t be happening. I was on house arrest, for Alpha’s sake, I couldn’t… I… I couldn’t breathe. The world lilted drunkenly around me. I tried to turn as she stooped down to pull on her boots but couldn’t even seem to do that.

  Do something.

  The words rolled through my head like a chant, over and over, until they lost meaning. I had to say something. Had to explain it to her, whatever it was. The thing that had been trapped inside of me, festering there as surely as if it had died with Carlisle and all the others.

  At the edge of my vision, she stood, boots on. Hesitated. She was going to say something. But then she moved out of view, toward the door.

  I tried to follow her. Why couldn’t I move? I had to tell her. Had to say something. A weight wrapped around me, pressing in on my chest until I was sure my heart and spinning head would both burst. I was going to vomit. Words came out instead.

  “It should’ve been me.”

  I turned, finally unfrozen by the words I hadn’t expected or intended to say.

  Elise had paused by the door, waiting for more. “What should’ve been you?”

  The words clung in my throat, desperate to stay.

  “At the White Tower,” I finally managed. “It should’ve been me.”

  She looked up to meet my gaze, her eyes full of empathy and desperate longing. My jaw trembled. Tears began to fall, loosening the words in my throat.

  “I shouldn’t be here.” My voice was thick and wet. “It should’ve been Carlisle. He could have handled this. He would’ve known what to do, how to protect the legionnaires and—” I fought down a sob, burying my face behind clenched fists, tears dripping from my chin into my lap. “He should’ve left me in the tower. He should have gotten you out himself. Shouldn’t have come in the first place. All those civilians. All the soldiers who died because of—”