TRUTHFULLY, SHE WANTED TO KILL HIM. But she couldn’t. He was the only one she was not allowed to kill. So she went somewhere else instead.
Rows of men faced one another with guns and cannons. Hiva did not differentiate between the soldiers. Whatever the color of their uniforms, their anima was just the same.
She saw the explosions that darkened the sky. The dead ground trampled on by the dirtied boots of soldiers. The corpses floating in the crystal waters of the Marne river.
She met them on the battlefield with her shamshir blades strapped to her back: The men who hid behind tall grass or crawled through dug-out trenches. The men who rode through the battlefield on horses. The wagons transporting bombs and the taxis busing in reinforcements.
Their bullets were not meant for her—not until they realized no bullet could stop her.
Curses in German and French. Hiva understood all languages crafted by the human tongue, though no words were needed for her message.
Warriors existed in every era. For as long as Hiva had lived, she’d seen it: every civilization had felt as if they’d needed means to destroy human life en masse.
They were spurred on by the powerful, whose wealth and political muscle grew with each corpse that rotted on the ground.
An uncomfortable emotion sparked within Hiva as she watched them. Soldiers. They fought for glory. They fought for freedom. They fought to civilize. All excuses.
Captain Slessor, the treacherous leader of the HMS Diana.
Major General Van der Ven, another murderer of the Enlightenment Committee.
Thomas Jones, captain of the slave ship Marlow. On that ship had been kidnapped children aching for home. He’d renamed them “Agnus” and “Anne” and sold them to an exhibition.
He hadn’t known that he’d taken a goddess too. A goddess watching carefully how the evil of men unfolded.
With her body riddled with bullet holes, Hiva stared into the frightened eyes—blue, green, hazel—of the soldiers on the battlefield. The two armies had forgotten each other, each man scrambling to figure out just what had appeared in front of them.
Did demons truly exist?
For Hiva, they did. For Hiva, they stood before her with their weapons and helmets. Military men, whose uniforms and faces all blended into one. Bloodthirsty demons who could strip away flesh from bone if commanded. Who could kidnap and murder if lied to.
It was a mistake to believe that war progressed civilization. War drove only the empowerment of a few at the expense of others. Societies were destroyed. Lands taken. Bodies violated. Kingdoms conquered. An endless cycle of destruction that must be brought to an end.
Hiva lifted her head to the sky, stretched her arms out, and burned them all alive.
The strange emotion inside her disappeared. She felt nothing as their ashes drifted over the Marne.
This was but a test of her power. Soon all would meet the dismal fate humankind deserved. But for now there was much that Hiva needed to attend to. Some very important business.
There was more work to be done.