Carved from Stone and Dream

by T. Frohock

  The door to his cell burst open.

  Miquel looked up and blinked, because he couldn’t believe his eyes. The shock practically stopped his heart. “Diago?”

  “Hey.” Diago’s gaze moved from Miquel’s face to the notebook in his hands, and from there to the cuff and chain. A mix of sorrow and horror and love filled his eyes. “What are you doing?”

  He’s not supposed to look at me like that. Humiliation warmed Miquel’s chest and cheeks. His hands shook harder. The broken chord hummed dangerously. “Get out. I messed up. Oh God, Diago . . . it’s going to blow.” He loathed the fear quivering through his words.

  “Hold on,” Diago whispered and stepped into the cell. “Stay calm and just hold on.” Moving quickly, he circled Miquel until he stood behind him. Kneeling, he put his arm across Miquel’s chest and examined the notebook.

  “The broken chord,” Miquel whispered. The fear unraveled him. “I missed it. I should have known.”

  “Shh,” Diago murmured. “Don’t let it go.” He sang another caesura and with his steady hands he easily inserted it between the notes. The strength of his voice bought them precious minutes to work through the problem.

  Another figure filled the doorway. Miquel looked up. “Guillermo?”

  The big nefil scowled. “You look like hell.”

  A sharp laugh erupted from Miquel’s throat before he could stop it. “I blinked and they unraveled me.”

  Guillermo scowled.

  Diago’s arm tightened on Miquel’s chest.

  Christ, I sound insane. Get a grip. Give them information they can use. “The Grigori are below us . . .”

  Guillermo nodded. “We know. We found Rafael. I’ll take care of them. Meanwhile, you two try not to blow up anything while I’m gone.” He pointed a finger at Diago. “Stop making that face at me.”

  Diago waited until Guillermo disappeared, and then he brushed his lips against Miquel’s cheek. “I’m here. We’ll do this together, okay?”

  I’m supposed to be the one saying that. In all the centuries they’d been with one another, it was he who comforted Diago. Not trusting his voice, Miquel licked his parched lips and nodded.

  Diago shifted his position to crouch beside him. Their shoulders touched. It’s as though he doesn’t want to lose contact with me, because I’ve scared him.

  And Jesus knows I don’t want him to stop touching me.

  Diago frowned at the sigils. “What are you trying to accomplish?”

  “The broken chord is a bomb. I wanted to peel it from the page and use it to blow the compound. But I mistook the ghost note for the bomb. I picked up the wrong one. If I let it go . . .”

  “You activate the bomb. I see it now.” Diago examined the intricate lines connecting the sigils. “Okay, hold on to it.” Using both hands and soft notes, he padded Carme’s spell with more caesuras.

  Miquel watched him work. “Do you remember how we first met in this incarnation? How I found you? Beaten half to death in an alley?”

  “I remember.” He formed a new glyph and sang it to life.

  Miquel watched him with admiration. The movements were second nature to Diago. “Do you remember what I promised you? Do you?”

  “That you would always take care of me.”

  Miquel closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of him. “And you were surprised. Do you remember that? You said I was a fool; that only mortals fell in love at first sight, because their lives were like those of butterflies, short and filled with fleeting beauty. You said no one could possibly love you.” But I did, and I do, and this is all backward and wrong, because I should be saving you.

  “I remember.” Diago gave him a tolerant half smile. “Let me concentrate.”

  “How did you know I was here?”

  “We didn’t. We were chasing Carme’s notebook.”

  “I found it.”

  “I see that,” Diago said, but the words were barely there.

  Like a ghost note. He watched Diago weave the sound of their conversation into his spell and found himself in awe of his husband’s talent. I’m as awkward as a child next to him.

  “Let it go now.” Diago nodded at the pearlescent lines of Miquel’s song.

  Allowing the notes to die, Miquel lowered the shield. He withdrew his fingers from the ghost note.

  “Good,” Diago whispered. He plucked the threads of Carme’s ward from the page line by line. Once the sigil was free, he lifted it from the paper and placed it on the floor as carefully as if he were handling a bottle of nitroglycerine.

  The glyph shimmered like a pool of water and then it stabilized.

  Diago withdrew a key from his pocket and unlocked the manacle on Miquel’s wrist. He eased both the cuff and the chain to the pallet. Then he unshouldered his rifle with the same care. He gave the gun to Miquel. “I need to rig the ward to explode once we’re long gone from here. Very, very softly now, I want you to go into the hall.”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  “You’re not. You’re going down to help Guillermo.” Diago gave him a strong nudge. “That’s an order, soldier.”

  “I outrank you.”

  “Spouses have the ultimate rank. Leave the notebook. I’ll bring it with me when I come. Now go. I need room to work.”

  Still, Miquel hesitated. His heart rattled in his chest at the thought of descending to the pit. And if I don’t go and something happens to Guillermo, I’ll never forgive myself. I’ve always been torn between them, he realized with a pang. How much longer would he be able to honor them both?

  He didn’t know. At least today, the choice was clear. Diago was right: Carme’s sigil required steady hands and nerves of steel, both of which Diago had in abundance.

  Diago must have sensed his indecision. “Trust me, corazón.”

  Miquel kissed Diago hard and quick. “Swear to me you’ll be careful.”

  A wicked light flashed in Diago’s eyes. “I’m always careful.”

  Rising, Miquel went to the door. Too late he realized he’d forgotten the pills he’d tucked under the pallet. Hesitating at the threshold, he glanced back.

  Diago followed his gaze and frowned. “Do you have more of these?”

  The truth trembled on his lips. What will he think of me? And behind the question came the answer. That I’m weak. I blinked and gave them power over me. And he couldn’t be the vulnerable one in their relationship. Diago needed him to be strong. “No. Those are all.”

  Diago’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  Miquel offered his husband a faint smile. “I’m going to help Guillermo, but I still outrank you.”

  The comment won him a wry smile from his husband. “If it makes you feel better. Now go. Don’t look back.” Diago turned to his task.

  My words to Rafael. A grim smile touched Miquel’s mouth as he moved down the hall. He checked the Mauser’s chamber. A bullet, slim and lethal, rested in the groove. He glanced back toward the cell. Diago remained occupied inside.

  Before he could think too hard about his actions, Miquel reached in his pocket, opened the bottle, and took two pills. Ten left.

  The familiar bitterness settled on his tongue. He pocketed the tube as he strode down the corridor. The dying nefilim’s refrain seeped through the open door.

  Putting his back to the wall, Miquel descended, one slick step after another. The Pervitin soared through his veins. Every sound swept across his flesh, raising the hairs all across his body.

  As he reached the last step, he glimpsed Guillermo standing by the archway. The big nefil motioned for Miquel to hold his position.

  A sigil shaped like a mortar round vibrated by Guillermo’s right hand. With his left, he created a second, smaller glyph, this one with the fire of the Thrones searing its edges.

  Hope flared in Miquel’s chest as he realized Guillermo’s intentions. If he destroyed the angelic sigil over the pit first, then the Grigori couldn’t take the milicianos’ souls and give them the second death. Once he shattered the Gr
igori’s glyph, he’d use the ward shaped like a mortar to bury the pit.

  They’d still lose their milicianos, but only in this incarnation.

  Miquel held his breath and raised the rifle, his gaze on the archway, watching for the guards. Something tickled his cheek. He touched his face. Grains of sand stuck to his fingers. No.

  He brushed the grit away and whispered the names of his milicianos, spoke them softly like a talisman against the dark: “Vicente, Alejandra, Juan, Luciana, Remedios, Indalecio, Gaspar . . .”

  The sand disappeared.

  I’m supposed to save them, but they have saved me. Miquel said their names again, louder now. The vibrations of his voice joined Guillermo’s song. The pearlescent strands deepened and grew sharper. Shards of blue and pink and white ice flowed over the smaller glyph.

  With a great shout, Guillermo ignited the ward. He flung it at the fallen angels’ glyph. The Grigori’s mirrored sigil shattered beneath the orange flames of Guillermo’s song.

  Shouting their names, Guillermo spoke to the milicianos—he sang of his love for them and his gratitude for their sacrifice. Miquel provided the coda, with a promise to watch for them. The power of their voices rang throughout the chamber.

  A sunburst of light washed over the pit. Heavy veins of gold burned through the ichor and shot into each nefil, shattering their chains.

  Whether the milicianos heard or not, Miquel couldn’t tell. Vicente, Alejandra, and Juan had obviously been there the longest. Their papery flesh ignited and they died instantly. Remedios, Indalecio, and Gaspar held hands, falling into a heap across the stones. Whatever words they whispered to one another were lost beneath the roar of Guillermo’s fire. Freed from the Grigori’s hold, only Luciana raised her voice at the end. Even as her body perished, her song remained, reverberating off the cavern’s walls in one long, glorious refrain.

  From around the corner, one of the guards cried out. Chairs clattered to the floor.

  Guillermo launched the second glyph. The golden light of the ward surged upward into the ceiling’s cavities. Ropy veins of lava wormed deep into the crevices, loosening the stones.

  A sigil belonging to the guards burst into view.

  In their panic, they had created a killing ward.

  Jordi will have their balls if he finds they’ve cheated him of Guillermo. The thought raced through Miquel’s brain before he realized his mistake. Instead of focusing on his milicianos with Guillermo, he should have created a protective sigil. It was an apprentice’s error, and one that might cost Guillermo his life.

  Unless I move fast.

  With the Pervitin burning through him, Miquel shoved Guillermo aside, forming a glyph as he did. His shield rose like a wall of light, shattering the guards’ ward.

  Sweat dripped from his hair. Barely. I just barely made it in time.

  It wasn’t over. The two guards circled the entrance, their weapons held low. Guillermo shot one. Miquel lifted his rifle and took down the other one.

  Guillermo grabbed Miquel’s arm and spun him back toward the stairs. “Go!”

  Miquel didn’t argue. Sparks showered them as they charged up the stairs and ducked past the breaker box.

  Guillermo slammed the door shut. He sang a hard sigil over the lock and fried the bolts into place.

  Miquel slid to a stop in front of the interrogation room. The door was closed. But where is Diago? Still inside? He put his hand on the latch.

  20

  Diago stood beside the dead guard and whistled to get his husband’s attention. “Next person that opens that interrogation room blows this entire wing.”

  Miquel remained still. His fingers flexed on the latch, and for a moment Diago feared he’d enter the room in spite of the warning.

  He said his husband’s name again. “Miquel.”

  This time Miquel responded. He turned away from the door. “The notebook?”

  Diago exhaled softly and patted his pocket. “Got it. Now help me.” He gestured to the dead guard.

  Together, they moved the nefil into the first interrogation room, placing him alongside the body of the upstairs guard. Miquel yanked the jacket off the larger nefil and quickly changed his torn shirt.

  Guillermo joined them. He watched Miquel warily but spoke to Diago. “We’ve got about a half hour before my sigil blows.”

  Something happened down there. Diago wanted to ask what but there wasn’t time. “I designed my wards to cushion Carme’s bomb from any shocks caused by yours. The only way hers will explode is when that door is opened.”

  “Then let’s get out of here.” Miquel passed them. “I’ll take the lead.”

  Before either of them could object, he was climbing the stairs.

  Guillermo paused. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “I don’t . . .” The pills. “I think I know. I found four Pervitin on the floor of his cell.”

  “Oh shit.” Guillermo gestured for him to go.

  Diago saw why. Miquel had already reached the landing. He’s going too fast. Diago hurried to catch up. Guillermo pounded up the stairs behind him.

  Miquel assessed the hall and opposite stairwell, sweeping both with his rifle before turning to the alcove. He froze, his body rigid with fury.

  Diago took the stairs two at a time. He was only three steps from the landing when Miquel dropped his rifle and strode into the recess.

  “Miquel!” Rafael hissed his father’s name, not in relief, but in alarm. “Wait—”

  Jesus, what now? Diago gained the landing.

  Rafael’s voice rose with his panic. “Miquel, don’t—”

  There was a scuffle, and then the rest of the sentence ended abruptly. Too abruptly. Diago quickly scanned the corridor and stairs. So far, no one had stumbled on them. But that luck won’t hold.

  Inside the alcove, Rafael crouched against the wall, gaping at Miquel as if he were a stranger. A new cut marked his forehead.

  Miquel backed Nico up against the wall. “You son of a bitch.” He raised his fist and brought it down twice on Nico’s head.

  When Miquel raised his arm for a third blow, Diago caught his biceps and hauled him away from Nico. Miquel twisted. Diago felt him slipping away and then Guillermo appeared. The big nefil wrenched Miquel backward and shoved him against the wall.

  Fortunately, Nico seemed to have gone into a defensive position and offered no resistance. If he’d fought back, Diago had no doubt that Miquel might have killed him.

  Diago turned on his husband. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

  “Stay out of it.” Miquel’s feral gaze hit Diago like a blow.

  They’d been together for centuries; they’d argued, even fought, but never in all their time together had Diago seen Miquel’s hate aimed at him. He’s like an aggressive dog, ready to bite whoever attracts his attention.

  The aftermath of the melee in the choral room resurfaced in Diago’s mind. They went berserk and they destroyed one another.

  Not realizing the danger, Rafael opened his mouth. Christ, if he strikes Rafael again, I’ll have to fight him. Diago lifted his hand to silence their son. “Be still,” he said to Rafael and then turned back to Miquel. He needed to de-escalate the situation, but he couldn’t give in to his husband’s demand. Keeping his voice gentle but firm, he said, “I won’t stay out of it.”

  Guillermo spoke softly. “Rafael, go to the stairs and keep watch for us.”

  The youth shouldered his rifle and scooted past Miquel with the same wary glances he’d give to a vicious bull.

  Guillermo tilted his head in Nico’s direction. “Diago, can you see to him?”

  The other nefil was on his knees, still shielding his head with his arms, and spitting blood onto the floor.

  Backing away from Miquel, Diago reached Nico and knelt beside him. When he touched him, the Italian flinched and pushed himself against the wall.

  “Ya, ya, ya,” Diago sang softly. He’s been abused. The quick defensive position and the nervousness all indica
ted this wasn’t the first time someone had attacked him. And he’s been conditioned not to strike back. Whispering, Diago coaxed the other nefil to lower his hands. “Let me see.”

  Nico spat a molar to the floor. “I’m okay.”

  He didn’t look okay. A bruise enveloped his left eye and another swelled along his jaw. Christ, Miquel came close to blinding him. Diago held up two fingers. “How many?”

  “Four.” Nico wiped his chin with the back of his hand, smearing blood and drool across his mouth.

  Shit. Diago traced a healing ward over Nico’s temple. How is he going to shoot if he can’t see?

  Guillermo kept his voice low. “He’s with us, Miquel.”

  “The fuck he is.” Miquel spat the words. “What did he tell you? That he offered to help me? That he tried to get me out? Well, he fucking lied to you. He made his promises and led me right to Samyaza. Don’t trust him. Get away from him, Diago.”

  Remaining in place, Diago sang the glyph to life. Never in my life would I have seen this moment coming, where I’m tending my enemy’s lover while my own husband is raving against me.

  Nico muttered, “It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. Jordi and Samyaza were going to Barcelona. For some reason they never left.”

  Rafael poked his head into the room. “He’s telling the truth, Miquel. Jordi and Samyaza were on the tracks when I came through the Parisian portal behind Carlos. They mentioned postponing their trip because of me.”

  Diago snapped his fingers. “Keep watch!”

  Rafael disappeared again.

  Nico barely acknowledged the interruption. “We were supposed to be gone long before Jordi and Samyaza returned from Barcelona.”

  “Liar!” Miquel started forward.

  Guillermo’s palm struck Miquel’s chest, stopping him in his tracks. “We’re standing on two bombs, and the clock is ticking.” His tone left no room for argument. “Nico is with us. That’s my order. Obey it.”

  Miquel’s nostrils flared.

  Diago worried he’d defy Guillermo. Then put him on the defensive. “How much Pervitin did you take, Miquel?”

  Nico spat and cleared his throat. “Doesn’t matter. He’s been injected with it since they found him at Argelès. We’ve been experimenting with varying dosages to craft the perfect soldier. We succeeded with Miquel.”