by Ramy Vance
“I could have told you that without you actually being stabbed. Could have saved you a lot of pain.”
“Pain is only unworthy when we do not learn from it.”
“And the pain of this conversation is teaching me how much of a pain in the ass you are.”
“Ahh, my dear little sphinx, how little you have changed. You still confuse temporary discomfort with actual pain. You have never stopped to consider what is it that truly hurts you, and because you are unaware of that, you do not know what your true purpose is. The day my parents died was the day I was set on the path toward my true purpose. Perhaps this day will set you on yours.” Aldie was far too calm for someone who had just been brought back from the dead for the explicit purpose of being killed again.
His calmness was utterly infuriating. “Right now, my true purpose is to get free so I can punch you in the nose. I hate to ask, but can you burn a wee bit of time and get us out of here?”
Aldie shook his head. “This torturer of yours is somehow stopping me from using my magic.”
“Sounds like Enoch. He has a magical item for everything.”
“You speak as if you admire him.”
I pursed my lips, annoyed that he was listening in on my thoughts.
Aldie didn’t notice. “And as to your earlier comment, I believe that one’s true purpose is to live to their fullest potential while honoring who they were meant to be. Punching me in the nose is only a part of that.”
I screamed. This time, it wasn’t from Enoch’s physical torture, but from the mental torture of being with this dark elf.
“Yes,” Aldie said, unshaken by my cries. “My little cat is finally embracing her lion’s roar.”
He lifted his knees up, gathering himself in a fetal position. That’s when I first noticed he still wore that weird gray, plastic chip around his neck. A trinket or something … I couldn’t quite make out what it was from where I hung. But whatever it was, he deemed it important enough to try to grab with his knees.
He managed to clasp it between his knees, and lifting them up to his mouth, he bit down hard on the plastic tile. Then he let himself hang again, dropping the tile on the ground.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to—”
Enoch entered with a giant grin on his face. “Seems that Katrina does care for you, dark elf. Her words were true. The Soul Jar is being retrieved now.”
I thought about how my cowardice had put Egya and Deirdre in danger and hoped the two of them were smart enough to hand it over without getting hurt.
“Let him go,” I said.
“No,” Enoch rasped. “He stays until the jar is in my possession.”
“Then what?”
Enoch’s silence told me exactly what he planned to do.
Villains Will Always Be Villains
“Awkward silences are awkward in the best of circumstances, but when they’re between you and your torturer, well, let’s just say that it takes awkward to a whole new level.
“But here we are, two hanging torturees and a torturer with nothing to say between us. What do you break the silence with? A joke? Some weird factoid about how golf balls were created and why they have dimples? Interesting story—”
“Will you please shut up?” Enoch said.
“What? My nervous ramblings are bothering you? Tell you what … why not cut me down and I’ll take my inner thoughts elsewhere.”
Enoch gave me a look that I’m certain once brought demigods to their knees. Since I was hanging, kneeling wasn’t an option. “You can give me your cold ‘I’m Judge, Jury and Executioner’ look all you want. As the torturee in this fucked-up relationship, I get to express myself, whether it be screaming and crying, or my inner thoughts babbling away.”
“I wouldn’t call it babbling,” Aldie chuckled. He had passed out for a bit—I guess dying and being brought back takes it out of you—and I wasn’t sure how long he’d be out. “I am really curious as to why golf balls have dimples.”
“Well—”
“Enough,” Enoch rasped. Then coughed. I figured that once upon a time, he used to boom his commands with a voice that was deep and resonant. But given how messed up his throat was, he couldn’t really do that anymore, and the effort irritated his throat to the point of near choking.
“Would you like me to get you some water?” I imbued my tone with as much insincere sympathy as I could.
Aldie chuckled. “Ahh, I remember why I loved you so.”
“Do you?” I twisted my dangling body so I could see him. “And do you remember why you left me?”
Aldie winced, before nodding. “I do.”
“And …”
“And?”
“And you left me because …” I let the last word hang in much the same fashion as I was.
“Do you really want to discuss our end while we hang on for dear life?”
“I do.” And I really did. Normally this kind of banter would be me probing for an exit. You know, the old fake a fight, distract our captor, get out of here. But as I said those words, I was struck by how much I really did want to know and how little I was trying to find an escape at that very moment.
“Katrina, now is not the time.”
“And when exactly would the time be? We’re probably going to die here. Well, you’re probably going to die. Me—this weirdo seems to think we will be married one day. So if not now, when?”
“Hold on, he wants to marry you?”
“Desire and destiny are two different things,” Enoch rasped. He was dabbing his lips with a handkerchief and I saw blood stains on the cloth. Somehow, I didn’t think that blood was because he opened up an old wound. He was coughing blood and, in my experience, when you did that it was because you were sick. As in, dying-sick.
“I once thought I also desired her hand,” Enoch continued. “But after getting to know her better, I came to realize that a true union is not possible. She is the proverbial stallion that cannot be tamed.”
“Amen to that,” Aldie said.
“Amen to that?” I groaned. “First of all, Aldie, you are fae. Fae don’t amen anything. Secondly, are you really agreeing with the guy who just stabbed you?”
“I am.”
“Because?”
“Because he speaks the truth, and the ugliness of our current circumstances does not exempt me from hearing and agreeing with it.” Aldie spoke in the same tone he used when making one of his self-help, holier-than-thou points.
“Screw you.”
“Interesting fact about that term. Much like the golf ball, it too comes from Scotland. Scottish prisons, to be accurate. In the 1800s, prison guards would—”
“Shut up,” Enoch and I said in unison.
Aldie chuckled before another heavy silence came over us.
We must have hung like that for a couple minutes before the dark elf sighed. “If I am to live by my principles, then I must die by them, too.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“When the gods left, they shattered one of the oldest lies they ever told—that they would be there for us always.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said.
“You are human. Your god never walked amongst your kind.”
“Except once,” Enoch corrected.
“Except once,” Aldie agreed. “But even then, he did so in such an ambiguous moment and during a time of unreliable records. It is difficult for a modern human to believe. But we fae, our gods were amongst us. Dined with us. Mated with us. They continuously reminded us that they would care for us. And then they left without so much as a word as to why or guidance as to what we were to do next. So, you see—a lie.
“I vowed to never lie again. Not speaking, especially with the uncertainty of ever receiving another chance, is a lie by omission. And since the chances of us ever speaking again are negligible, allow me to answer your question. I left because you wanted me to.”
“Excuse me?” This time I twisted my bod
y completely around so I could give him my own death stare. But since I was hanging in the way I was, all I managed to do was twist around and give him a split-second death stare before turning around again.
So, I twisted again. And again.
Twist, death stare, turn. Twist, death stare, turn.
“I was a young vampire—only eighty years or so. I was alone, without a sire to guide me or a coven to protect me. You were my world. I loved you. I loved living in the UnSeelie Court. I loved your parents.”
“I know,” Aldie said. “And they loved you, too. But none of that was enough for us to remain together. You wanted something else.”
“And what was that?”
“You wanted what we all do: to find your purpose. And even though you couldn’t articulate it then, deep down you knew that your purpose was not with me. It was the hardest thing I ever did, letting you go. But it was also the right thing to do.”
“You turned me away. Right after your parents …” I stopped talking.
“Died,” Aldie finished for me. “I will forever be in your debt for what you did for me.”
“What she did?” Enoch lifted a curious eyebrow.
“What, your celestial stalking of me didn’t mention that? The Fates’ tapestry didn’t show you what happened then?” I growled. “Aldie’s parents were something of celebrities in the UnSeelie Court, so when they died, the court employed all manner of detectives and magic to find their killers. And who did they wind up pointing their slender, perfectly formed elven fingers at? Aldie. He was going to be executed, but I was on the case. I found his parents’ killers and brought them to justice. And what did Aldie do as thanks for giving his parents peace and saving his ass? He kicked me to the curb.”
“I set you free.”
“You can use all the flowery language you want—you dumped me. Coldly and harshly.”
“Katrina,” Aldie said in that tone he used when he was trying to cut through my anger to get me to listen, “I saw who you were when you were—how did you put it? On the case? You were alive. Not the sullen girl you became when you joined me at the elven theater or dinner parties, wearing fae silks and perfume. Being the half-breed demon of a dark elf aristocrat muted you. And I couldn’t do that anymore. Not after seeing your vibrant colors during my own darkest days. I loved you far too much for that.”
I thought back to that moment. He was right. I was so … engaged when I was trying to save Aldie. But I didn’t just do it for him. His parents had been kind to me. I loved them. I needed to see their true killers brought to justice.
But it was more than that. Finding his parents’ killers in the unfriendly world of the fae was a real challenge, and I loved every minute of it.
There was a slow clap from the corner. “I must applaud that little display, and thank you, dear dark elf, for unveiling more about Katrina to me. I now see that our union will never be. Still, the Fates showed us hand in hand, standing before the gods. That image was clear, and the Fates are never wrong.”
Aldie cracked his neck. “The Fates are also never clear. They play their old parlor tricks of obfuscation and sleight of hand, using words with double meanings. You saw your union because that’s what you wanted to see. You saw the two of you standing before the gods because, again, that’s what you wanted to see. But the truth is, the gods are gone. Whoever you were standing before is not the gods. It is just the false glamor of an old—”
“NO,” Enoch growled. “I saw it clear. She and I were standing hand in hand on the shores of some great ocean. Five gods from different pantheons stood before us, all of them looking down on us with smiles on their faces. Behind them, the sun was dipping below the horizon.”
“Where?”
“Wherever they are now.”
“Tell me, Enoch, why would the gods be standing on a beach at sunset? Because they are marrying you two?”
“I do not presume. But that is the location where we met them.”
“And why would they be smiling?”
“They are pleased that we found them.”
“Remember,” I said, “he wants to destroy the world and go on some supernova cosmic ride to find them.”
“Answer me this, Enoch. After everything you have seen of this woman, do you still believe that she will join your little voyage? Don’t you think it is more likely that she will die before that?”
Enoch didn’t say anything. And neither did I. I did, however, let Aldie’s words sink in. If he was right, then I would never leave this planet.
Still, what if what Enoch saw was also right? Were the gods planning to come back? And if they did, what would become of this world? We barely survived their leaving, and I knew we had no chance of surviving their return.
But before I could fully consider the implications of those thoughts, Enoch started laughing with those eerie, raspy croaks of his. “Very clever, dark elf. Oh, how your lies do distract.”
“I am not lying. I told you that I do not lie. Not anymore.”
“Really?” Enoch said. “You mentioned that the Fates used obfuscation and sleight of hand to fool those who would listen. Tell me, how are you different?”
“Because I do not manipulate. I am not trying to get my audience to do or believe something that is false. I am merely trying to inspire.”
“Inspire through lies.”
“No,” Aldie said, but I could hear his voice wobble.
“And those little pyrotechnics, those fireballs. Tell me, how much time do you burn for each?”
Aldie didn’t answer.
“Wait a minute,” I said. “Are you telling me that those fireballs were an illusion? As in a non-magical, I’m-a-Vegas-magician illusion?”
Again, my question was met with silence.
“Aldie,” I said.
The dark elf let out a long sigh. “Pockets of gas released, then ignited in midair. Ingenious, don’t you think?”
“So, you weren’t sacrificing time?”
“That’s not entirely true. It took time to design that. And also, I needed to burn a bit of magic to explode the gas—”
“How much?”
Enoch smiled at my question. He was loving this.
Even though I couldn’t see him, I knew him well enough to know that he lifted an eyebrow in a very Spock-like fashion. “How much what?”
“How much time?”
“It took me several tries and singeing my hair twice, so all invested, a week?”
I shook my head. “Don’t play coy with me. How much?”
“Three seconds.”
“You burnt three seconds of time per fireball?” I didn’t know if I wanted to punch him or scream.
“No, three seconds total.”
OK, I did know. I wanted to scream and punch him.
“You lied.”
“They needed a hero,” he said. “Someone to sacrifice for them. Like their gods once did. That is all I did.”
“You lied,” I repeated.
“No! I inspired.”
“And now you’re lying to yourself.”
“They needed a hero.”
“A false god,” Enoch rasped.
“Oh, don’t give me that shit,” I said, locking eyes with Enoch. “Your god was just as false as him. And a worse hero, too.”
“Excuse me?” Enoch’s eyes widened.
“God makes a terrible hero,” I said. “Think about it, when you can do anything with simply a thought, there is no struggle. No overcoming anything.”
“You ungrateful talking monkey—” He took a step toward me.
“You’re a talking monkey, too. And criticize him as much as you want,” I said. “Your hero is just as bad.”
“Maybe you are right,” Enoch rasped. “Maybe you foolish humans didn’t want a god. You wanted a hero to believe in, not a god to worship. You wanted Him to believe in you. And when He rightly refused, you stopped worshipping Him. You took Him for granted. You turned your back on Him first. You …” He punched a
hard, accusing finger against my chest, causing me to swing under the force of each painful “you.”
“You,” he said one more time. He gave us his back, not wanting me to see the glossy tears of frustration welling up.
He was hurting, and if he wasn’t hell-bent on torturing me before destroying all life, I might have felt sorry for him.
I will give it to Enoch. Of all the villains (moi included) I’ve known over my long, long life, he was the most methodical—the deadliest of all. And that included the three dead gods I had the displeasure of meeting. But when you boiled it all down, he was still just a villain. And villains seem to all share the same trait of getting emotional.
Probably comes from their moms not hugging them enough. I know that was my excuse.
And when they get emotional, they make mistakes.
The force of Enoch’s finger on my chest caused me to swing more and more each time he prodded me. Pretty soon, my body was moving back and forth like a pendulum. I kicked back my foot to increase my momentum as I swung back, and as soon as I swung forward, I used Enoch’s chest as a springboard to twist round and up over the pipe.
I had seconds until Enoch would find a way to reach me, but seconds were all I needed. Shimmying the ropes along the pipe, I moved toward the bolt that held the section of pipe on which we hung.
I may not weigh much, but old pipes like this weren’t designed to hold much of anything. Laying on my back, I kicked up against the wall and pushed with all my worth.
The joints creaked, then groaned before finally giving way. With a rush of water, the pipes cracked apart and, although still bound, I was free.
And so was Aldie.
With the grace of a mountain lion, he flipped forward, kicking Enoch’s chest. The blow forced the ex-archangel a few steps back, buying us enough time to make it out of the room, where a conveniently hung sign with the word Exit on it pointed the way.
Angels and Elves … Let’s Get Ready to Rumble!
Enoch hadn’t taken us far. We were in the bowels of the auditorium. Makes sense—he would have needed to sneak us past thousands of adoring fans … non-human fans who tend to have extra eyes and boundary issues. Who knows how many satyrs, pixies and elves had burnt a few minutes of time to sneak into his dressing room? Aldie was friggin’ hot!