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THE AXIAL RIFT opened with a ripping sound that fell in on itself, like a record playing backward. Barakiel stood near the rusted tangle of train tracks behind Philadelphia’s 30th Street Station. When a dozen demons emerged from the rift he smiled with relief. No Corrupted. None of his father’s dark warriors had made it through. The demons may be sturdy and vicious, but they were dim-witted. The fight would be routine and he could get home to Zan. He didn’t let himself think about what might happen when he revealed himself to her. He had a battle to deal with first.
I cannot love her if I let myself be killed by demons.
The location made things easier, as well. Usually, when the yellow-eyed beasts shot through the axial rift he had to draw them away from population. Here, regional-rail trains were passing nearby, but there were no pedestrians. And the hour suited him. The equinox had come at night, around 10:30. Even if Pellus had not been there to conceal his activities, it was unlikely the passengers would be able to see much of anything occurring so deep in the rail yard.
Pellus was there, of course, to hide the battle from weak human eyes and ears with his curtain of refracted light and his sound barrier. Barakiel could depend on him.
Thank Balance this will be easy, after all that has happened.
The warrior’s relief disappeared in a flash along with the rift. Instead of rushing Barakiel, a handful of demons ran off in the direction of the city streets. The others charged to where the passenger trains were coming and going. Barakiel froze for a second to weigh the threats before he moved toward the trains to pursue the greater number.
I hope you can conceal this imbroglio, Pellus.
Barakiel was about to fall upon a demon with his sword when he saw another ripping up the tracks in front of an approaching train.
What in all the realms?
The train would derail if the monstrous creature finished, so he sped to fling it away from the tracks. As he raised his sword to take its head, another demon ripped apart a switching station. Another threw chunks of corroded metal which fell onto a set of tracks in front of yet another approaching train. Barakiel killed the first beast then ran to the blocked tracks to clear the debris before the train arrived. Other demons ran amok through the rail yard, destroying any structure they could see. Anxiety gripped him.
What are you trying to do to now, father? Murder innocent humans to torment me?
He calmed himself with deep breaths as he noted the location of each demon. The most efficient thing would be to kill them systematically, nearest to farthest. The longer they were alive, the bigger the chance of catastrophe. All he could do was try to finish in time to avoid a derailment. At least the trains were not traveling at high speeds as they approached the station.
He bolted to the closest demon, which was distracted by its efforts to curl up a rail. Barakiel sank his dagger into the base of its skull. It twitched, then fell still. He left the damaged tracks to plunge his sword into the back of another beast about to push down power lines across the entire rail yard. Next, he cleaved the skull of a demon ripping up another set of tracks. One by one, he slaughtered them.
Lucky for me, their operating principle is chaos.
Three more. No train was approaching on the ruined tracks, but that could change at any moment. The odds of detection increased the longer it took him to eliminate the ridiculous beasts. At this point, this mess had taken longer than his battle with the Corrupted at the summer solstice.
Is that what this is about, father?
Finally, he severed the head of the last demon. He rushed to the two sets of damaged tracks in succession and bent the twisted rails as close to flat as he could get them, hoping this would make it easier for Pellus to repair them so that the trains would not derail. As a traveler adept, Pellus could manipulate the properties of matter and energy, but it was not easy to alter metal. It took time and a great deal of effort.
After Barakiel had smoothed the rails, Pellus signaled him with a flash of light. The warrior charged over to find the adept’s face creased with anxiety.
Balance help us. Pellus rarely looks worried.
“What in all the realms is going on?” Barakiel asked. “The other demons, did you see where they went?”
“They ran into the street and got into a truck.”
“A truck? What could possibly explain this?”
“The false monks’ followers. I do not know how they knew we were here, but it must be them. They drove onto the highway.”
Two months previous, Barakiel had killed a group of men in France who had apparently worshiped his father. They claimed to be monks of the same order Barakiel had lived with centuries before. He and Pellus discovered that these false monks had killed a helpless man and that he was not the only human they had sacrificed to Lucifer. These men also trafficked in repulsive images of murdered and tortured women, making a sexual fetish of their suffering.
Compelled to kill them, Barakiel had paid a great price. In acting against his purpose and destroying the weak, he’d lost Balance and become weak himself. He would have died in battle if Pellus had not saved him.
The two Covalent knew the predator monks had followers in Philadelphia, but they hadn’t succeeded in tracking them down. Now, this. Barakiel darted his eyes from the tracks to the highway, unsure which was worse for the humans, a truckload of demons or a train derailment. He howled in frustration.
“Pellus, what should we do?”
“We need to pursue the demons. Immediately.”
“But what about the tracks? Can you repair them?”
Pellus directed his penetrating stare to the west. Barakiel had keen eyesight, but it was nothing compared to the senses of a traveler adept, who could detect disturbances in air and light caused by objects moving miles away.
“A train is approaching. Around that bend, no more than five minutes from here. Not nearly enough time for me to restore that metal to its former state.”
“We have to do something! People may die if a train derails.”
“People will die, a lot of them, if those demons get loose in a neighborhood.”
“We have to do something,” Barakiel repeated. “Conceal me. I will force the train to stop. That will buy you time.”
“Not enough, I am afraid,” Pellus said with a grimace. Barakiel was about to dash off to the approaching train when the adept muttered, “Of course.”
“What?” Barakiel almost shouted.
“I will disrupt the electrical system. I can do it quickly. The humans will think it was caused by the vandalism. All the trains in the system will lose power and you will stop the only train close enough to roll to the damaged tracks.”
Barakiel wanted to kiss him. Instead, he barreled off toward the oncoming train. He ran next to it, matched its speed, got a sturdy hold on the front and gradually reduced his pace, his muscles straining as the massive column of metal fought to jump his grasp. Whatever Pellus was doing caused a blinding arc of power to rise over the rail yard. Barakiel grinned. He let go of the train and spread his arms as the bolt of electrical energy shot right to him. For a moment, he luxuriated. Then he slowed the train as if it were a toy. He ran back to Pellus, his momentary elation gone as his frantic thoughts turned to the demons. He couldn’t imagine what his father would gain by siccing them on the population.
Then it hit him.
They are going after Zan.
He shook his head, trying to quell his fear enough to think. Zan waited for him at his house. He’d planned to tell her everything, to tell her what he was. Such revelations were against Covalent Law, but his love for her had reached so deep he could no longer keep his secrets.
Now, he wouldn’t get the chance. He had to warn her. It was her only hope. He shouted at Pellus to give him his cell phone. The adept knew what Barakiel was thinking because the phone was already dialing. The warrior held it to his ear with a trembling hand. She answered.
Thank Balance.
“Zan, listen to me. Something is coming for you. My enemies. Arm yourself. Now. Arm yourself and run,” Barakiel said, struggling to sound calm as his chest seized with fear. “I can’t explain. There’s no time. If you can’t run, take a defensive position and arm yourself. Five will attack you. They are fast, extremely fast. Arm yourself, please. I’ll be there in minutes. I’m coming.” He ended the call and sped over to Pellus, who had moved to desiccate the demon corpses so they would not be found.
“Where is the kinetic rift?” Barakiel shouted.
Alexandra O’Gara sat on the couch flipping the pages of a magazine, too nervous to focus on reading. Normally, she liked it when Rainer asked her to wait for him at his place. Compared to her crappy little apartment, the ultra-modern space was an oasis of serenity, its sleek lines warmed by the rich wood of the furniture and the bright, abstract paintings. She had started a fire in the massive concrete fireplace despite the warmth of the night. She gazed into the flames.
Her phone buzzed. It was Rainer, talking rapidly, panic in his voice. When the call was over, she put the phone in her lap and stared at the floor.
What the hell?
Rainer’s tone led her to believe she should do as he said. Explanation or no, he wasn’t joking.
So much for my instincts. He must be involved in some criminal enterprise.
She suppressed tears as she pulled her service pistol from her bag. A 9mm Sig Sauer. Rainer had said there would be five assailants. She sent a prayer of thanks out to her FBI partner, Mel, who had insisted she get the Sig that took extra-capacity magazines.
Two with twenty-rounds each. That should do me.
Zan readied her firearm then ran to the front door. Before she opened it, she heard a vehicle drive into the compound. She looked through the peephole. A box truck.
I’ll never make it to my car. Should I call the police? Do I want to do that to Rainer? Have to explain this to my boss? I can slip out the back.
She remembered what Rainer had said about a defensive position. She decided on the weapons room. Its double doors were sturdy and it had an exit to the back balcony. She ran up the stairs. Once inside the room, she grabbed a pike off the wall and slid it through the handles to prevent the doors from opening. She waited. If they seemed like they could bust through, she would exit to the balcony, jump to the ground and hightail it to her car.
All I can do is hope they don’t leave someone outside to cut off my escape.
Zan opened the south-side window. She heard faint voices, doors slamming, the truck pulling away. She also heard sounds like rabid dogs would make if they were as big as grizzlies. Zan had not been afraid before, operating in some state of unreality, but the sounds brought fear screaming to her mind.
What the fuck is that?
She ran to peer through the crack between the weapons room doors. She saw them crash through the front. Five huge, scaly, slobbering monsters with double-sided axes in their hands pushed the heavy wooden doors aside like they were paper.
Oh my god, oh my god. I have gone crazy.
Closing her eyes, Zan tried to breathe, to fight her terror.
Think, soldier. These doors won’t stop them. I’ve got this fucking pea shooter. I need a fucking assault rifle. I need help.
Hands shaking, she dialed 911. The beasts stood near the kitchen table, making guttural noises and sniffing the air before they turned their yellow eyes toward the weapons room. She had to get out of there.
“Hello, 911, what is your emergency?”
Zan spoke as she ran toward the balcony door. “I’m being attacked. Bridge and Richmond streets in Bridesburg.”
“Are you injured, ma’am?”
“No. But I will be if you don’t send a squad car now! Send every squad car in the area! I’m being attacked by monsters!”
“Monsters, ma’am?”
Fucking hell. Why did I say that? She thinks I’m a crank.
“Please. Bad people. Monstrous people.” Zan’s voice was weak with fear. “I have to hang up. I have to hide. Please send help.”
She went onto the balcony, climbed over the railing, hung from the ledge and dropped to the ground. She paused with one hand held over her mouth, the gun clutched in the other.
The response time is ten minutes if I’m lucky. I can’t run. I can’t. Who knows how many people those things would kill? I have to stop them.
Zan took a position behind a nearby tree. From inside she heard a crashing sound. The hideous things burst through the balcony door a few seconds later. She ran towards them, pumping bullets into every monster near the railing, outlined as they were by the light from inside. They howled and batted at their chests, but they did not fall. Zan returned to the tree, taking gulps of air as she reloaded.
I’m a dead woman.
The monsters recovered from their confusion at being shot and moved to jump off the balcony. As they made themselves vulnerable on the edge, she ran towards them again. She steeled herself, keeping her thoughts on the shooting lessons she had received from Mel.
Keep the gun steady with both hands, overlapping grip. Both eyes open, use your sight. Gently squeeze the trigger. Don’t jerk it. Don’t jerk it.
She took take aim at their brainpans, one after the other. Her shots landed true in two of the beasts. They fell dead to the ground, but three made it down and rushed her with bewildering speed, despite their bloodied state. Zan felt like her insides had been dropped down a bottomless shaft. She thought of Patrick, her best friend in the army, who had died to save her.
I’ll go out shooting just like you, Patrick.
As they came, Zan held the gun level with her eyes, resolved to empty her magazine. She knew only luck would land bullets in their heads when they were moving that fast.
Let it be quick.
Before the nearest monster closed the distance she heard a whir. A blaze of luminous blue shot in from her left. With a wet sound, the beast’s head fell from its shoulders. For a moment, she saw Rainer standing there, blue-steel sword in hand, before he pivoted to meet the second beast and his image was lost to her. Then she saw him flash in the air, his sword over his head. She held her breath.
What am I seeing?
Rainer brought his sword down with a shout and split the skull of the second monster, spinning toward the next so fast that Zan could perceive nothing but the streak of his blade and the glint of his armor. He sliced through the last brute’s neck cleanly. Its carcass thudded to the ground. He immediately turned and went to Zan.
“My love, you are alive, you are unharmed. Thank Balance, thank Balance.”
Oh my god, oh no, what are you?
Zan pointed her gun at Rainer.
“Stay right where you are!”
“Please, Zan—”
“What the fuck were those things?” she screamed. Rainer’s eyes held a tortured mess of anger, fear, and pleading. He seemed paralyzed.
“Tell me what those things were!” Zan screamed again.
“They were demons, sent here to kill me. They were trying to get to me through you. Don’t worry. No more will come. I’ve killed them all.”
“Demons? Demons?” Zan looked around wildly. “Oh my god, oh my god, what are you? No one can move that fast. I’ve never seen anyone move that fast. What the fuck are you?”
He wouldn’t hurt me. He wouldn’t hurt me.
“I am Covalent, a being from another dimension. The demons are my enemies.”
“What? What? Another dimension? Are you fucking kidding me?” Zan stared at him with her mouth open. “Covalent? What the hell is that? An alien? You’re an alien?”
I thought we were something beautiful. We were a lie.
Rainer glanced at the ground and then back at Zan. “Yes, an alien, but humans have encountered us before. You’ve given us many names. Angel, djinn, avatar, the gods. When human society was primitive the Covalent often came here. We became part of your mythology.”
“You, you’re an angel?” Zan whispered.
“No. Angels aren’t real. That’s only a story humans told about us.”
Zan’s breathing became ragged. Tears welled in her eyes. She paced and waved her gun around. “The sex, that warmth I felt, that power. You were—” She wailed and hugged her body, leaning forward, the gun sticking out to the left. “You were doing something to me. To control me.” She stopped pacing, steadied her gun and held it on Rainer.
“No. Please, Zan. We love each other.”
“Love you?” Zan shouted before erupting in desperate laughter. “I don’t even know what you are!”
“I just told you what I am.”
“Like that means anything to me! Oh my god, oh my god, I knew! Somewhere deep down I knew you weren’t right, you weren’t normal. The sex, your strength, the time that tree limb fell on you. It must have weighed three-hundred pounds. It fell right on you and you just walked away!” Zan put her gun-filled hand to her forehead and wailed. “What the fuck? What the fuck?”
When Rainer took a step toward her, she snapped her gun back to attention.
“Stay away from me!”
You have ruined me.
“You cannot mean that,” Rainer said. A slight tremor passed through him. “We love each other. You are my mate. We will share our lives.”
Zan half-laughed, half-screamed again. “Yeah, well sorry, whatever-the-fuck-it-is-you-are, but I have a few rules in life. One of them is, I only date guys from my own goddamn planet.”
She walked away. Rainer followed.
“Please don’t go,” he said. “Talk to me. I was going to tell you, you know that. That’s why I asked you to wait for me here tonight.” Zan pointed her gun at him again.
“So help me god, Rainer, I will shoot you. I’ll empty my magazine if that’s what it takes. You stay away from me.” She resumed her exit.
Let me get somewhere normal.
Tensing his arms and flinging his head back, Rainer let out a roar that hit Zan like a baseball bat. She fled, running fast toward her car. She peeled out of the driveway as the wails of police sirens grew louder. Rainer stood looking after her.
Quaking with adrenalin, Zan drove down Richmond Street. Within a few blocks, her eyes swelled with tears and her vision blurred. She pulled over and sat with her hands on the steering wheel, sobbing. She hadn’t sobbed like that since that day in Afghanistan when the helicopter flew her away from Patrick’s blood-covered corpse.
Oh, Rainer no, please no, it can’t be real. It can’t be true.
When Zan finally stopped sobbing, she stared straight ahead, trying to reassemble her mind. She looked at the cheap plastic sign of a nearby corner bar. She knew the type. It would be dark and narrow, smelling of stale beer and cigarettes, its jukebox crammed with classic rock and the Irish Rover. The kind of place that used to be her solution to everything. She imagined going in, ordering a shot and a beer. Nothing was stopping her.
I can’t do it. Three beers in, I’d be right back at his door.
She considered calling her partner Mel and going to her house, but she couldn’t face talking about what just happened. Instead, she drove off towards the highway.
At least I got out of there before the police arrived.
Considering his compound was littered with dead monsters, she wondered what Rainer was saying to them and if they would arrest him. She feared repercussions for herself, her job. There would be a record of the 911 call. The thought threw her into a panic.
What the fuck just happened to me?
The sirens grew louder as Pellus dropped his curtain of refracted light. He propped up the double doors at the front of Barakiel’s house and fused them with their frame, having no time to repair them properly. He went to the balcony and stood at the railing while he desiccated the demons’ bodies.
Barakiel stood where Zan had left him, staring wide-eyed at the ground. Pellus dropped a shield over the warrior that went beyond his usual concealment technique. This barrier bent light, but it also blocked sound and would offer some resistance if Barakiel moved any distance. Pellus hoped this would keep him in place while the police were on the scene. The warrior could absorb the energy of any barrier the adept placed around him, but Pellus hoped he lacked the will at the moment.
After he applied the same temporary fix to the balcony door he’d applied to the front, Pellus returned to the first floor and waited for the cruisers to arrive.
In a few minutes, he heard the crunch of gravel in the driveway. He looked through the peephole as two police officers emerged from their vehicles, one tall and fat, the other short and muscular. They looked around suspiciously. Pellus thought it best to play a frightened senior citizen, so he adopted the dry, gray hair and shriveled skin of an old human. He opened the side door.
“Officers. I am so glad you are here! I thought I heard gunfire.”
“Yes, sir,” the short one said, as the other headed to the house and peered in the window. “We received a couple of emergency calls. A woman said she was being attacked at this address, then a few minutes later someone reported shots fired.”
“No woman lives here officers. Maybe she is somewhere nearby.”
“Did you see anyone in your yard?”
“No, but I was afraid to look out.”
“Could you tell where the shots were coming from?” the officer asked, as his tall colleague rejoined them.
“No, I am sorry. It was confusing. They seemed like they were coming from everywhere.”
The two of them stepped away to confer. They obviously didn’t think Pellus could hear them. The tall one told the short one that he couldn’t see anyone in the house. He said the owner was obviously rich, and that the place would appeal to a burglar or a home invader. They stepped back to Pellus.
“Are you sure you didn’t see anyone?”
“Yes, I am sure.”
“Is this your place?”
“No. My nephew’s. I am watching it for him while he is away on a business trip.”
“Your nephew,” said the short one. He poked at a handheld device for a minute or two. “Uh, records show this place is owned by B&P Bridesburg, Ltd. What’s that?”
“My nephew’s company. His name is Rainer Barakiel.”
“Does he own a gun?”
“Not that I know of.”
“What’s with the getup?” asked the tall officer, pointing at Pellus’ brown robes.
“I am from Kyrgyzstan. This is how we dress at home.”
The officer frowned. “Mind if we look around?” he asked.
“Please do.”
They headed toward the back of the house where the yard was sunk in darkness. Pellus followed. As they neared the edge of the building, the adept noticed goldish glints of color in the grass. At first, he was confused. Then he realized.
Shell casings from the gunfire!
He began to cough violently and stumble. The officers stopped walking. The short one grabbed Pellus’ arm.
“Are you all right, sir?”
Pellus waved him off and faced the back of the yard, his hand to his chest. He continued to cough and tremble. It gave him the chance to adjust his vision so he could see the molecular structure of the cursed bits of metal against the structure of the grass and soil. He bent forward, pretending to catch his breath as he broke the bonds that held the metal in the form of shell casings. Tiny shards of metal remained in the grass.
I can only hope they do not notice. I have no time for anything else.
“Are you sure you’re all right, sir?” the short officer asked.
“Yes, please. Just give me a moment.”
Although it took much longer than Pellus would have liked, the short officer waited next to him, perhaps afraid he would keel over. The tall one walked over to the hedges that grew next to the compound wall and looked up at the elevated pipeline that ran along the south side of the property, a remnant of the chemical plant that had once operated there.
“I am sorry,” Pellus said when he had finished. “I will be fine. Do what you need to do.”
Guardian save me. What if they traverse the spot where Barakiel is concealed? They will collide with the barrier.
As the tall officer got closer and closer to the barrier, Pellus contemplated collapsing so they would have to call for medical help, but it soon became clear the officer was on his way to the tree. He craned his neck to see into the branches. The short officer crossed under the balcony to the other side of the house, then walked along the perimeter. The tall one eventually did the same on his side. When they had both reached the river, they started back.
Pellus remained where he was, near the back of the house, making sure he had located all the casings that had come from Zan’s gun. He noticed bullets embedded in the balcony’s frame so he gathered particulate matter from the air to cover them.
Thank Balance for the poor perception of humans.
When the officers reached him again the short one asked him how he was feeling.
“I am fine, officer, but this has all been a little frightening. Did you see anyone back there?”
“No. If bad guys were on your property, they’re long gone.”
The tall officer nodded. “We need to leave now, to make a pass through the neighborhood. Will you be all right here?”
“Yes, officer, I will be fine.”
“When does your nephew come back?”
“Early tomorrow morning.”
“You should go in the house, now. Don’t come out again, okay?” Pellus assured them he would not. They got in their cruisers and drove slowly away, so slowly Pellus had almost reached the front door by the time they were out of sight, even walking like a decrepit old man. As soon as they were gone he dropped the barrier surrounding Barakiel. The warrior had not moved.
He still needs time.
Pellus let him be. He properly fixed the doors and the bullet holes in the balcony. He broke the remnants of the casings down into their elements and returned them to the soil. Forty minutes later, Barakiel was standing in the same spot. Pellus went to him.
“Come inside now, Barakiel. You should get cleaned up. You need to rest.”
He didn’t react. The adept wasn’t sure he even knew if someone was there. Pellus said his name more and more loudly. Still, he didn’t react. Pellus tugged on his arm until Barakiel finally looked at him.
“Come along, Barakiel,” Pellus said, pulling on his arm. The warrior followed, not speaking, moving slowly. When they were inside, the adept poured himself a glass of cognac before he returned to his practically catatonic friend.
“Stop this, now. You need to take off your armor and get cleaned up, go to sleep. You will feel better in the morning.”
“I will not. Feel better. In the morning!” Barakiel shouted with such volume that Pellus nearly dropped his glass. The warrior held his hands to his head and thrashed back and forth.
“Oh, oh, I was going to tell her. Tonight! I had it all planned! Then you would take us north, to the mountains, the wild, beautiful mountains, and I would dazzle her. Why did I wait? I knew it was wrong. Has there ever been such a coward? Stupid fucking coward. Stupid fucking coward!”
He leaned against the kitchen counter and hid his wet face in his hands. Pellus had no idea what to do.
Guardian save me, I would not show more despair if Jeduthan were taken from me.
The adept stood staring at his glass, beset by unfamiliar emotions.
No one can help a Covalent who has lost his mate. Was she his mate? Can it be true?
“I am sorry I said that.” Pellus went to him and awkwardly placed a hand on his back. “Tell me how I can help you, please.”
“How you can help me?” Barakiel stretched to his full height, looming over Pellus. He seethed, but when he spoke again, it was in a quiet, trembling voice. “You share this blame. You told me not to tell her. You told me terrible things would happen. It gave me an excuse for my cowardice.” His hands shook as he stood.
I am sorry, Barakiel. I saw your love with my own eyes and still, I denied it.
“Please. Tell me what to do. I do not know what to do.”
“There is nothing you can do, Pellus.” Barakiel slid to the floor. “That amazing woman,” he said, his eyes unfocused, his voice still quiet. “I have betrayed her trust.”
“Get up,” Pellus said, pulling on his arm. “Please, get up.”
“Go home. Go home to your mate. Leave me alone.”
“I will not. I will stay with you.”
Barakiel sat on the floor, his head hanging. Pellus sat beside him, and they remained there, pain thick in the air between them.
The pier jutted into the black river, the water lapping at the pilings with smacks and whispers. The Ben Franklin Bridge loomed overhead, points of white light adorning its muscular steel. Zan was glad to be there. It was the middle of the night and no one was around. She needed solitude to collect the pieces of her shattered mind. She had walked for miles to let the rhythms of the city distract her to no avail.
Rainer had made her throw away her hard-earned mistrust. She couldn’t believe she’d let it happen. Her body ached, as if love betrayed had entered and scooped out all her cells, replacing them with capsules of poison that dissolved in an endless time-released cascade, delivering a fresh dose of pain every moment.
I’ll never be the same. How could I?
She turned to look at the glittering skyscrapers of Center City. She wondered if, among the millions of souls gathered around that spot, a single one of them had any idea that the world was not as it seemed.
Only the insane and the deluded. That’s the company I keep now.
The normal people, the accomplished people, had no idea that monsters lurked at the edges of their awareness. No idea that supernatural beings played out their affairs among the clueless populace. No idea that their beauty and grace could turn anyone into a plaything with a glance and a smile.
Across the river, she could see the Battleship New Jersey docked on the Camden side. A waterfront attraction, blue lights gleamed from its gray metal points and she could see the outlines of its port bow guns. Once, a warship had seemed an amazing thing to her. Now, she saw a pathetic symbol of false strength manufactured by creatures terrified of their own fragility.
How am I supposed to function? The whole idea of getting up and going to work in the morning seems ridiculous.
What would happen if she let herself fall into crazy, she wondered. If she let herself pick up a bottle. Images flashed through her mind. She was barricaded in a building with a pile of guns, finally running out with a scream to commit suicide by cop. She was pushing a shopping cart filled with plastic bags that contained the sum total of her life, sticking her hand out for change and protesting that once, she had been strong and beautiful. Once, she believed she could protect people. Crying now, she thought of Patrick, how he had sacrificed himself to save her in Afghanistan.
I won’t let myself fall, Patrick. I owe it to you.
Zan walked rigorously along the pier, trying to get her heart rate up, to feel the life in her. The next day she would go to work and do her best. As the days passed, what had happened to her would seem less and less real. People’s minds played tricks on them, often for the worse. She prayed that with her, it would be for the better. She smiled a little when she thought of one of the most useful platitudes among the many churned out by Alcoholics Anonymous.
Fake it ‘til you make it.
Has my heart been awakened only to be crushed? I felt you in my mind. Are you not my mate? Did I imagine it?
Do not leave me, Zan. Do not cast me into exile a second time. Do not take away my home. My love for you makes me feel as if I hold the sun in the palm of my hand. It vibrates through my every cell and beyond me, to the places I see in my mind’s eye. Places I do not understand, though I know they belong to us. Let me love you, or I will be consumed. This fire will turn me to ash.
Let me teach you of the Covalent. You will see we are not so different from humans. In our fear, our cataclysmic mistakes. My fear kept me from telling you. I was afraid to lose you. I can see now, I was a fool. I was unfair. But you love me, Zan, I know you do. I felt you. How can you think that our love is no more than something I have done to control you?
You must know from the way our bodies shudder together in joy that you have as much power over me as I have over you.
I am empty without you, my love. My duty will turn to dust. To shed the blood of demons and the Corrupted will satisfy only Destruction. Each time I bathe in hatred and despair I will lose more of myself. I will become like him. Lucifer will come for me.