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WHEN ZAN WOKE she realized that in her sleep she had climbed onto Rainer as if he were her bed. Her sleeping bag lay crumpled and abandoned.
“Sorry, honey,” she mumbled. “I guess you’re more comfortable than the roof.” She slid off, snuggled next to him, and stroked his still face.
I hope I didn’t interfere with his healing, sleeping on him like that.
For a while, she lay peaceful with him, watching the rising sun turn the solar array a gentle pink that gradually brightened to a yellow so robust she couldn’t look at it directly. She popped up and sat Indian-style on the rubberized surface of the roof, next to Rainer.
“It’s Sunday, honey, so I’m going to visit Mel. I’ll be gone for a few hours. As soon as I’m back I’ll come sit with you.” She kissed him, dreaming of the time he could return it.
Downstairs, she washed her face, threw on jeans and a T-shirt, stuck a baseball hat on her slept-on-a-roof hair. She texted Mel and a few minutes later was out the door.
On Bridge Street, signs of the day the world had changed were everywhere. Someone had spray-painted REPENT in large red letters on nearly every other building. Some of the corner bars had plywood on the windows, many covered with Bible quotes, some with crude pictures of demons, some with the familiar slant-eyed alien face. Zan wondered if there’d been looting during the crisis, or if the same person who’d painted REPENT had smashed all the bar windows.
Roosevelt Boulevard was no different except for the clean-cut types she saw handing pamphlets to pedestrians and the cars at red lights. Things got freakier when she got to Germantown Avenue, a bustling neighborhood street. Among the usual activities—men in suits selling sweet potato pies, people flowing in and out of shops, vendors hawking everything from umbrellas to electronics from tables at the curb—people peddled “Monster Survival Kits,” pamphleteers were everywhere and firebrand preachers shouted on the corners. Women in elaborate hats handed out water, goth kids held signs saying, “Team Beast,” countered by sober-looking folks with “Team Jesus” placards. Other people held signs that said, “What happened at Area 51?” or “The government knew!” For whatever reason, there were people in costume, everything from superheroes to werewolves.
Well, I guess werewolves aren’t that far off.
When she reached Mount Airy, Zan took a quick right and parked on the street. She was more than a mile from Mel’s house but she wanted to walk the avenue.
I don’t know if I’m punishing myself or indulging a morbid curiosity.
As the neighborhood grew more affluent, the frenzy of activity subsided, replaced by something more disturbing. Shops mostly closed. Bills advertising plans for walled communities; they didn’t indicate a price for the buy-in, but Zan guessed it would be exorbitant. The popular microbrewery was open, but half its windows were boarded up. No one sat at the tables, and only a few people were hunched over the bar. Zan turned onto Mel’s tree-lined street with relief. Farther south, the avenue had been bat-shit crazy, but at least it was alive.
The sight of Mel’s face was so welcome that Zan’s eyes welled up. The women hugged as Lucy clung to their legs. Emmett came in and hugged Zan, too. Mel had been reading to her daughter in the sunroom, but now they all went into the kitchen. Mel made coffee.
“How’s our hero?” she asked.
“Still sleeping. His heartbeat’s a little stronger so I guess that’s a good sign, and Pellus said the sleeping is normal for healing, but I can barely stand it. He’s in so deep. I want to talk to him.”
“Hang in there,” Emmett said. “You want us to come over? Maybe Lucy running around screeching will wake him up.”
Zan laughed. “We could use the energy in the house, but it’s not a good time.”
After all they’ve been through they don’t need to lay eyes on a heartbroken Pellus. Or an angry Remiel. The look in her eye these days would scare the shit out of anyone.
“Uh, have they had the funerals yet for the officers who died fighting the demons?” Zan asked. “I didn’t see anything on the news. I’d like to go.”
Mel grabbed her hand. “No funerals. At least not public ones. The city has gone nuts, so I think the police department is afraid of what would happen.”
“Yeah, I saw the insanity on my way here. You guys have your hands full these days?”
“Oh yeah. We’re on high alert for mass shootings because of incidents in the South and West. Even the foreign terrorism guys have been pulled in, although thankfully, Philadelphia is short on religious fanatics. What surprised me is the fraud. That unit is working overtime.”
“Fear is easily exploited,” Emmett said.
“Yes, it is,” Zan agreed. “Speaking of fear, I, uh, you might not see me for a while.”
“Oh no.” Mel’s face went white. “You’re not going back to that other, er, place, are you?”
Zan had already told Mel the whole story of the offensive against Lucifer on the phone, as well as how she and Pellus had rescued Rainer and got him to the Sylvan Three. She’d stopped short of telling her friend that Rainer’s enemies in the Covalent Realm had tried to kill him and they’d had to flee. She hadn’t told Mel about Remiel, either, but she figured she should tell her something about why she had to leave town.
“No, no, but things are as crazy there as they are here. I’ll skip the details, but one of the high-ranking warriors may be making a power play.” Zan glanced at Lucy, who was looking at a picture book her father had given her. “Pellus thinks this warrior will try to hurt Rainer while he’s laid up, so we’re going to take off for a while. Pellus went home to learn about the situation there. We’re going to leave as soon as he gets back even if Rainer is still sleeping. Pellus might say it’s safe to stay, but somehow I doubt it.”
“I can’t believe this,” Mel said. “Didn’t Rainer eliminate their worst enemy? How can this warrior get away with it?”
“It’s complicated.”
“What else is new?” Emmett said. His expression made Zan wince.
“This warrior, his name is Abraxos,” she said. “He has his own faction. A lot of warriors died in the fighting so I guess you’d call his move opportunistic. We’re going to get out of town to be on the safe side. Maybe we’ll go visit Kurt and Malcolm.”
“I warn you, your reception there may be strained,” Mel said. “Kurt said he was going to go medieval on Rainer’s ass when I last spoke to him, when I was looking for you after you disappeared.”
Zan got up and put her mug in the sink. “Don’t worry. I’ve spoken to him since. Told him point blank that I won’t talk about it, but I blamed it on my job, uh, my former job.”
“I wish it wasn’t former,” Mel said. “We could use your help.”
“I wish I could help you.”
Mel nodded. Zan asked Emmett to hand Lucy to her and squeezed the little girl for a good long time. “Auntie Zan loves you, Lucy,” she said.
“I love you, too, Auntie Zan.”
For the second time in less than an hour, Zan almost started bawling. “I have to take off,” she said. “I have to go see the boys in the band, tell them I’ll be gone for a while. I guess I should just cut them loose. Tell them to find a new guitar player.”
“It wouldn’t be Sawtooth,” Mel said.
“I guess not, but those poor guys have put up with enough of my nonsense. Even before I met Rainer. They always had to adapt to my schedule.”
“You’re worth it, Zan,” Emmett said. She gave Lucy back to him and kissed his cheek.
“Thanks for trying to cheer me up,” she said. “I’ll see you when I see you.”
Remiel had paced the yard for so long and so quickly that the small green blades had worn away on her path. She stopped when Zan pulled into the driveway.
“I am glad of your return,” Remiel said, as Zan got out of the large machine, called a car. They went into the house. Remiel could see that Zan was still stricken with anxiety for her mate.
I must be mindful of my energy. She does not need my anger making it worse.
Once inside, Zan threw her bag on the massive table. Zan had said it was carved from something called rosewood. Remiel concentrated on its rich tone and willed herself to calm.
“Perhaps you can give me an English lesson while we wait for Pellus to return,” Remiel said, careful to keep her voice soft and pleasant. “I need the distraction.”
“Yes. I could use one as well.”
After Zan took a bathroom break, they sat at the table but it was no use. Both of them were too agitated for a lesson. Instead, they went to Barakiel’s training hall, an outbuilding beside his main chambers. Zan told Remiel it was done in the style of an ancient earthly culture from a place called Japan. Once, hundreds of earthly years in the past, Barakiel had lived there. He loved the aesthetic.
“I like it too,” Remiel said. “It is simple.”
With relief, Remiel nodded when Zan said she thought it best they didn’t spar. Unlike Barakiel, Remiel was unused to holding herself back against a weak opponent, so Zan stretched while Remiel struck a heavy hanging object. It took only a few minutes for her to destroy it. “Demon take it!” she shouted. “Where in the name of Balance is Pellus?”
“I hope he will be here soon,” Zan said, staring at the heap of rubbish which had once been training equipment.
“I am sorry, Zan. I am hazardous to your things.”
“I do not care, Remiel, please believe me. I stare at it because you shredded it so thoroughly. Very impressive.”
They both chuckled.
I like this human. I should have known I would. Of course, Barakiel would choose his mate wisely.
The two had barely resumed their exercise when Pellus appeared. Remiel took a deep breath. She could not barrage him with questions. She could not imagine his terror for his mate. She would be gentle.
“I am glad you have returned, adept. I worried about you. Was your reconnaissance a success?”
Pellus offered a wan smile, then recounted all the intelligence he had gathered in the Covalent Realm. Remiel went to lean against the wall in a fruitless attempt to hide her emotion. She had not shed a tear since the first night of her exile, when she had sobbed to the lovely earthly moon for her lost friend Osmadiel. But the thought of Kalaziel tortured, and of her warriors—wounded, hunted, forced in their weary state to hide in the harsh Wasteland—shrouded her heart with anger and pain.
“I am so sorry, commander,” Zan said.
“Thank you, Zan, but I will be all right. I must tell myself this news is not all grievous. Most of my warriors have escaped, a reason for hope.”
“Yes, I believe it is,” Pellus said.
“And Jeduthan is alive!” Zan added. “We will rescue her.”
“I am grateful for your confidence, Zan,” Pellus said. “I wish I could match it. I do not know how to begin. Balance help me.”
Zan hugged Pellus while Remiel straightened and shoved her grief deep down inside. She was a commander. They needed her to act like one.
“You were right, Pellus, to go alone to the Covalent Realm to gather intelligence,” she said, “but once you have rested you must take me there. We must find my warriors, and then observe the situation at the Wasteland Dungeons. One step at a time. We will devise an effective plan to retrieve your mate. My warriors will help.”
The adept turned his misty eyes to her. Remiel had never seen Pellus like this. It was disconcerting, but this was no time for doubt.
Barakiel, please wake. Your friend needs you.
“I am overcome by your support. Both of you. Thank you,” Pellus said.
“You deserve all we can do and more, adept,” Remiel said as she paced the training hall, hands behind her back. “You are a hero of the Realm. So, we shall return there. First, we will locate as many of my warriors as we can. They may have retreated to my remote base. Each commander maintains a base in a location known only to that commander and the warriors of the battalion. This is why Abraxos tortured Kalaziel. And Hagith.” She had to stop speaking for a moment, afraid her voice would crack.
“Once we have gathered my surviving warriors, we will establish a forward base in the Wasteland, close to the dungeons but not so close that we can be easily discovered. Then, I will direct my intact warriors to search for fighters from other battalions. Those who need help, we will help. Those who can fight, will fight for your mate. Of this, I have no doubt. While my warriors gather our forces, I will go with you to observe the dungeons. I will devise a tactical approach. After that, we will return here to see if Barakiel is awake. Even if his sword cannot be decisive, his tactical mind would be a great help to arrive at a final plan. And then, we will move. We will rescue your mate and deal a blow to the usurper Abraxos, who dares to serve our brave warriors thus.”
Her words seemed to bolster Pellus, who nodded firmly.
“I feel like I just heard the St. Crispin’s Day speech from Henry V,” Zan said.
“What?”
“I have given up trying to understand Zan’s references, commander,” Pellus said.
The sight of the adept amused, even slightly, made Remiel feel better than she had since she arrived in that alien place.
Zan laughed. “I meant that your words, and the way you said them, were inspiring. Balance knows we need it. But you neglected to mention, Pellus—should we leave? Will Abraxos send his warriors after Rainer?”
“He faces challenges to his control at the moment, but there is no telling when that will change, so yes, I think it best if we leave.”
“With Rainer still unconscious?”
“I do not think it matters, but we should not take him to another city. He needs to be close to nature. Such energy will help him heal.”
“Good.” Zan rubbed her hands together. “I want to visit my friends Kurt and Malcolm in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. Nature is strong there. We need to, uh, what is the Covalent word for ‘drive?’ I don’t see how I could explain how we got there if we showed up without, uh, a machine.”
“We do not have a word for ‘drive.’” He went to a drawer and pulled out a checkbook. “Purchase whatever machine you need, Zan, to carry Barakiel in comfort. I will rest, and then Remiel and I will return to the Covalent Realm when you are ready to go to your friends. We will meet you there when we have accomplished all we can.”
“All right. That will give me some time to prepare Kurt and Malcolm for the sight of you two.”
“Perhaps after they have seen Barakiel in his disfigured state we will be less of a shock,” Remiel said.
“I hope you are right.” Zan blew air out of her mouth. “This should be interesting. And now, I want some food. Commander Remiel, I would like to introduce you to something we call ‘pizza.’”