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MY GROANS ECHO in a black chamber, low and guttural. I want to stop, but I cannot. My body vibrates with pain so consuming it becomes my power, coming off me in blood red waves, the color of Zan’s dress, to dance before my eyes in beautiful patterns so complex I know I will never escape them.
I terrified her. My love became a violation. My prison of pain the cost of my weakness.
Pounding and clanging in the distance. Screeching and howling and unmistakable laughter. He approaches. I knew he would. My dreams are not my own.
You are a fool, wayward son, to indulge in such pathos. Do you not wish to be free? You know what I offer as surely as hatred saves you from pain. Look how it erupts from you like an array of swords, glittering and magical in its power. Feel yourself and know you are my son. Destruction will exorcize your weakness. You can take whatever you want. Feed on minds and bodies. Feed on her mind and body.
To feed my hunger. I cannot feed my hunger. Every nerve ragged, no rest. My murderous rage is all that keeps me whole. The only time I feel like myself. You know, father. To love has brought me nothing but pain. If I join you it will be wiped away. You have told me. The purity of hatred will strengthen me. I will take what I want. She will break against me like a crystal figurine. I will reassemble her pieces to suit myself. My hands will close around—
Barakiel woke in a dread sweat, as he had every time he tried to sleep since Zan walked down the wide staircase away from him. He vigorously rubbed his face and wished he could go to battle, exhausted as he was. Left by himself, all he did was stew in his weakness.
He took a shower. He went downstairs and removed his favorite violin from its case, but found he could not play. The instrument’s warmth and curved surfaces made him think of her. Made him remember her emotion when he had played for her, her trust he had betrayed. He walked through the cold night air to his training room, stripped off his clothes and pounded his heavy bag. Before long, it ripped from the ceiling and went flying. He sat on the floor then, doing nothing, until Pellus walked in.
“Why are sitting on the floor, Barakiel? What happened?” the adept asked. He eyed the heavy bag where it had landed.
“What brings you here, Pellus?” The warrior took his feet. “I did not expect you.”
“I have some news I thought you should hear immediately, so I risked a trip. Jeduthan will cover for me.”
“What news?”
“By luck, I ran into Remiel. She told me that she and Osmadiel have already spoken with three battalion commanders. Hagith, Kalaziel and Ezmael are so furious about the Council’s policy they are willing to defy it.”
“That is good. Thank you.”
Pellus peered up at him. “That is all? I had thought you would shout with excitement.”
“I need to stay calm.”
“Yes. I can see how calm you are from the state of your heavy bag. What happened?”
Barakiel told him the story. He pretended he was talking about someone else.
I am afraid of my dreams. My mind. I need help.
When he reached the point where he and Zan had embraced each other, he stopped talking, picked up the heavy bag and walked toward the storage closet, squeezing the bag so hard the muscles and tendons stood out on his arms, neck, and back. He returned to his clothes piled on the floor and dressed. He did not want to cry. He was done with crying.
“Obviously there is more to the story,” Pellus said. “Please go on. You are disturbing me. You do not seem like yourself.”
“To the contrary. I have begun to show what I really am.”
“Stop it now, and tell me.”
“Come outside.” Barakiel wanted to stand in the dark and cold. They walked along the black alders toward the river. He listened to the water heaving against the banks as he told Pellus how he’d invaded Zan’s mind. How he could not control his impulse toward Union.
Pellus took a deep breath. He brought his hand to his chin, put an index finger over his lips and stood staring into the middle distance. “It could not have been Union,” he announced. “That is impossible. Union is symbiotic and Zan is not Covalent. The harmonious vibrations I saw between the two of you? I think you transformed Zan somehow, but it cannot have been Union.”
“Yes, it was.” Barakiel walked to the garden. He pulled up dead stalks and tossed them aside. “Who knows what I am now, after all this time in the Earthly Realm? It was Union. I felt her mind. She felt mine. She said as much. I should have prepared her. Taught her. Instead, I lost control. Invaded her. Violated her.”
The adept’s eyes were wider than Barakiel had ever seen them. He looked up at the night sky. “Balance help her. Even if she felt your love, I cannot imagine how terrifying that must have been. Did she run away?”
“No.” Barakiel ripped up a few more dead stalks then abruptly sat on the ground. He shoved his hands into the dirt. “At first, she accused me of trying to control her, but she knew what it was. Without understanding, she knew. Guardian save me, she was kind to me after.”
I do not want to cry. I am done with crying.
“Zan is a remarkable human,” Pellus said.
“Yes, she is. She said, uh—” Barakiel dug his hands deeper into the dirt. “She said she does not have the capacity to accept what I want to give her. She told me to forget about her.”
“Can you?”
“Of course not.”
If I did not know better, I would swear Pellus has tears in his eyes.
“I will manage, Pellus,” Barakiel said, forcing his voice to evenness. “I have left off that foolish hope. That wanting. My railing at my situation, my anger at you. I blamed everything and everyone for keeping her from me, yet when she came back to me I lost her because of my own weakness. She does not want what I shoved in her face. I do not deserve her.”
Pellus sat next to Barakiel. They stayed for a long time, listening to the river.
“Why do people love, Pellus? Why do they seek it? The joy I felt with Zan does not rival this pain. I am destroyed. Why would anyone risk this?”
“You were never free in your love,” Pellus replied. “Your feelings were mingled with fear for her. Guilt over your dishonesty.” He rubbed his eyes. “I never ceased to condemn you. You were deprived of joy in your love the same way the Covalent have deprived you of everything. I am sorry, Barakiel.”
“The only reason I do not meet the Stream is my desire for vengeance.”
“I am beginning to desire vengeance as much as you.”
Barakiel nodded. “Good,” he said. “I need your help more than ever. My father offers me the freedom and purity of Destruction, but my singularity of purpose is its own kind of freedom. He crept into my mind. He gave me thoughts of harming Zan. Of bending her to my will. I need to kill him. This is what I will live for now.”
“Crept into your mind?” Pellus leaned back to gawk at him. “What in all the realms are you talking about?”
“My father comes to me. Tries to seduce me with the force of Destruction.”
“He comes here?” Pellus looked around wildly. Barakiel smiled and laid a hand on his arm.
“No, no, not physically. I hear him in my mind, in my dreams. Not always. When I am in pain. When I am weak or unhappy. When I fall into self-pity. He calls to me.”
“Guardian save me,” Pellus doubled over, holding his stomach like he was going to retch. “I have never heard of such a thing. How long has this been happening to you?”
“Since the time I spent in his savage kingdom. The poison of Destruction did not affect me the way it claimed the minds of the Corrupted. The way it claimed my mother.” The warrior choked on his words. “But it crept into my mind nonetheless.”
“How can I help you?” Pellus said, his shoulders sagging, his arms limp at his sides.
“I do not think you can. My pain attracts him. He knows it will be cleansed if I join him. He tells me I will feel no pain. I know this is true.”
“What are you trying to say? That you will go to him?” Pellus grabbed Barakiel’s wrist with surprising strength. “I refuse to believe it of you.”
“No, do not worry, my friend,” Barakiel said, his voice weary. “It is a paradox. My hatred for him is what draws him to me. The power of it animates me. I think without it, I could not get out of bed.”
“You must embrace it!” Pellus shot upright to stride around the dead garden. “Use it against him, Barakiel! You know the citizens believe Lucifer is the most powerful Covalent warrior ever to exist. Prove that it is you. Defeat him. Live for that.”
Barakiel rose in turn. He grasped the adept’s shoulder as if he were a warrior. “I will,” he said. “And I have something else to live for. The winter solstice is approaching. We must protect Zan.”
Zan lifted her coffee mug to her lips with trembling hands. She switched on her computer and wished she could sit in the dark office all day wearing headphones, listening to white noise drown out the world. She knew Mel would throw all the lights on when she came in.
Mel. God help me.
Her friend would not be as gentle with her today as she was on Saturday night. After Zan had gone back to Mel looking like she’d just attended her mother’s funeral in a red ball gown, her friend only asked her once what happened. When Zan said she didn’t want to talk about it, Mel squeezed her hand and took her to the restroom to get cleaned up. She drove her home. Rainer stayed on the mezzanine. Mel periodically glared up at it, trying to spot “the son of a bitch.” If Mel had had her high-powered rifle, Zan thought she would have lain in wait for him.
This morning, she would want to know what happened. And Zan could not possibly tell her a thing.
She’d think I’ve gone nuts. I’m not sure I haven’t.
When Mel came in, she said nothing for a full ten minutes beyond good morning, occasionally glancing at Zan while she went through her routine at her desk. When she spoke, it was with tenderness.
“How’re you doing, Zan? Did you get some rest yesterday?”
“Not much, but I’m okay. I have to be okay. I didn’t want to come in, but maybe work will do me some good.”
“Maybe.” Mel seemed content to let it drop, perhaps warned off her questioning by Zan’s puffy eyes and dark circles.
Eventually, she will ask me. I might as well get it over with.
“Thank you, for being so supportive.” She walked over and put her hand on Mel’s back. “You’re the best friend anyone could have, and I know you must be wondering what the hell happened at the fundraiser, but I won’t talk about it. I can’t. And believe me, you wouldn’t understand.”
“You know what, Zan?” Mel said, leaning back on her elbow to look at her. “I believe you. I pride myself on being able to read people, but what’s coming off you now? I just don’t know. You seem resigned, not so raw. I can only think that’s a good thing.”
“How’d you get so wise, Mel?”
“I don’t know. Motherhood?”
Zan laughed. She got an idea and rushed back to her computer. A minute later she exclaimed with all the enthusiasm she could muster, “It’s out!”
“What?” Mel asked.
“The press release, about the raids last week. The information office in D.C. posted it. Let’s read it. We need some cheering up.”
“Yeah, we do.” Both women turned to their screens.
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Human trafficking and obscenity ring disrupted by international multi-agency sweep
WASHINGTON, D.C. – The FBI and Interpol have disrupted a criminal organization engaged in murder, conspiracy to commit murder, human trafficking and the distribution of obscenity. A series of raids last week in the United States, Europe, and Southeast Asia have led to the arrest of hundreds of individuals. Scores of young women were liberated from captivity. The women are now under the protection of the United Nations High Council on Refugees.
According to FBI spokesperson Anthony Phillips, more than 100 individuals will be indicted in U.S. Federal Court. More than 200 individuals will be charged in courts in Europe and Asia.
The FBI, with the assistance of local law enforcement, served warrants in nine U.S. cities including Philadelphia, Baltimore, Los Angeles, San Diego, and Seattle. Armed resistance led to mass arrests. The operation in Philadelphia took place in November. The other raids were conducted during the week of December 8.
Interpol led the effort overseas, with assistance from the FBI, the French National Police and the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime.
International law enforcement agencies continue to pursue members of the criminal organization, a long-term effort that began with an inquiry into the murder of Emanuel Morales in Philadelphia last year. James Nguyen, Special Agent in Charge of the FBI’s Philadelphia office, said individuals apprehended in the course of that investigation provided valuable information regarding the wider criminal enterprise.
Efforts to obtain the information were led by agents in the FBI’s Philadelphia field office and the U.S. Attorney for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.
When Mel looked up from her screen, Zan grinned at her. “We got a shout out,” she said. “Cool, isn’t it?”
“I guess, but I think the lede should have been, “Thanks to the superhuman efforts of Special Agent Zan O’Gara.”
Zan felt a sting in her eyes as she thanked her friend.
Well, it was thanks to the superhuman efforts of somebody.
Once liberated from the office, Zan ran down the block through a hard rain. The reflections of the traffic lights on the slick streets seemed absurdly colorful. As she leaped over a puddle she wondered why her body did not match the fragility of her emotional state. She hadn’t gotten much sleep, but as the day wore on, she became antsier and antsier. Now she was compelled to run, to pump her limbs, dodging umbrellas. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs.
I think even Philadelphians would notice a woman in a suit running down the street screaming.
She didn’t head to her apartment. She ran north, to a no man’s land of highway ramps, the only place she could think of where there would be few pedestrians. In a few minutes she was soaked through, but she wasn’t cold.
What is wrong with me? That thing with Rainer really did drive me nuts.
When she turned left to loop around towards Center City, Rainer and Pellus appeared in front of her. The weird energy that had her in its grip flew away, replaced by a memory of terror. And love.
“You’ve got to leave me alone!” she yelled at Rainer. “I need to move on.”
“We understand,” Pellus said, holding out his hands. “But it was imperative we speak with you. You made it easy for us, coming here. Rainer said you would not like us coming to your apartment.”
“Why are you here?” Zan was thankful for the rain and the dark until she remembered that they could detect her physiological responses. They knew she was about to cry.
“I thought you’d rather talk to Pellus,” Rainer said, standing behind his friend. “He has a proposal for you.”
“Get the fuck out of here with your proposals.”
“The winter solstice is approaching,” Pellus said. “I believe Rainer told you the demons are likely to attack you again, to use you against him. We will protect you. He will watch you as the event approaches, but you do not have to see him. On the day of, you will stay with me until the event has passed.”
“No way.”
“It is the only way.”
Zan wiped the rain from her face and shivered. The drops ceased to fall, and she was warm and dry. Pellus and Rainer were also dry and shielded from the rain, though she saw it still fell all around them. She had the impulse to run but she knew it wouldn’t do any good.
“What are you doing to me now?” she mumbled.
“You were cold. There is no reason we should stand in the rain,” Pellus said. “You see, I have abilities. You should let me protect you.”
“You have abilities?” She laughed until she was bent over with her eyes watering. “Huh, yeah, good one.”
The Covalent glanced at each other. Rainer looked like someone was shoving needles under his fingernails, while Pellus looked like he was on a stroll through the park.
“I cannot imagine what you have been through, Zan,” Pellus said. “I can see you are in turmoil, but I think you know you need us to protect you.”
“No, I don’t. I’ve seen those things. I know how to deal with them. I have better weapons now.”
“This time will be different,” Rainer said. “A Covalent has turned traitor. Someone like Pellus. You are in grave danger. Please let me watch over you.”
“I don’t care! I will protect myself!”
Jesus Christ, I just want my life to be normal. I’m a step away from the asylum.
“You are not slowing down to think, Zan,” Pellus said, his voice as smooth and sweet as caramel. “The traitor is a traveler adept, like me. You see how I have kept the rain away? She can put you in a cage with a thought. Snatch you and take you anywhere in an instant. She is much more dangerous than a gang of demons.”
“But she can’t hurt me, right? Not really. Not without getting sick or something, right?”
Pellus’ eyebrows shot up. He glanced at Barakiel. “She would pay a price, yes.”
“Then let that protect me, and when solstice comes, I’ll be far away from here and armed to the fucking teeth.”
“Zan, please. There is no reason to take this chance!” The veins stood out on Rainer’s neck as he spoke.
“No reason? I’ll—” Her voice came out a mess so she cleared her throat. A group of people approached. The rain began to fall on her again, lighter than it had been. “I’ll tell you the reason, Rainer. Even now, I want to go to you. Smooth your hair away from your face, kiss you, comfort you. It’s like a sickness. I can’t believe it and I refuse to accept it. You’ve burrowed into my brain. If I have any chance at all of getting my life back, I cannot live under your protection. You or Pellus. I need to move on.”
Rainer stood with a storm in his eyes. Pellus sighed, then tried again.
“Just once more, Zan. After the solstice, we will have time to deal with the traitor adept. Then it will be far less dangerous.”
“Right,” Zan scoffed. “Until you tell me it’s even more dangerous.” She looked down at her shoes for a moment. “Listen, I don’t expect you to understand, but for the sake of my sanity, I’m not taking your help.” She walked off. After a few steps, she turned to wave. “Goodbye, you beautiful bastards! Oh, and Rainer, don’t think for a second I don’t know you’ll be watching me anyway.”
Barakiel stood on the corner of Spruce Street near Zan’s apartment in the cold dawn. For five days, he had been watching her. Pellus had spelled him at times, pushing his luck with the excuses he made to come to the Earthly Realm. Pellus had begged the warrior to get some sleep, but when he managed, it was fitful. The winter solstice was the next day. The closer it got, the more worried he became.
Sparrows chattered in the trees as the sun approached. Barakiel tried to find some cheer in the sound. A moment later Roan came walking down the street dressed in earthly clothes.
“Hail, warrior,” he said. “I know you were expecting Pellus, but he could not get away. The Guild leadership called him in to help make sure that whatever Lucifer did to the gates does not happen again.”
“Oh. Well, thank you, Roan. This is far beyond your duty. I am grateful for your help.” Barakiel hoped his thoughts did not show on his face.
Demon take the Guild and its timing. Domist must be behind it.
“You are welcome, warrior. I am surprised to find the area so deserted, Pellus told me humans would be everywhere.”
“It is Saturday, a day off for many humans. Plus, it is early.”
“Will there be many later?” Roan asked, his eyes darting about the street.
“More than likely.”
“I can conceal you, sir, but I cannot conceal our activities as well as Pellus. I will do my best to help in any way I can.”
“You may not be Pellus, but you are a traveler. You can help.”
Just then, Barakiel heard a door open. Zan emerged carrying two bags. One appeared to be heavy. She frequently readjusted her grip.
“You see that human, Roan. If you want to help me, she is all you should care about. Please help me protect her.” The traveler nodded. His eyes narrowed with determination.
Zan walked the hundred or so feet to her car and put her bags in the trunk. Barakiel was happy to see it.
Good to leave early. You should have left last night.
“I see something!” Roan exclaimed. “I am not sure, but I think a concealed traveler is approaching the human from the other side. There, six doors down, a disturbance in the light. A displacement.”
Barakiel took off and immediately slammed into a barrier. He howled with rage, but cut it short to concentrate on the barrier, which crackled and vibrated until he had absorbed its power enough to break through. He immediately slammed into another barrier.
“Roan!” he bellowed. “Please help Zan!”
Zan looked up at the sound of his voice as Barakiel dealt with barrier after barrier. He saw Roan surge towards her and a black-robed, masked adept emerge from concealment to grab Zan’s arm. Zan pulled a gun, but when she squeezed the trigger, there was nothing but a click. When Roan reached the spot, the adept was forced to place her barrier-creating attention on him. Barakiel rushed forward. Zan clutched her throat, struggling for breath.
Encased! Deprived of oxygen. Hold on, my love.
Roan managed to disrupt the barrier in front of him, a feat Barakiel did not think was possible for a navigen traveler. Roan threw himself toward the masked adept, who swatted him to the ground, letting out a screech that was decidedly female in tone. She placed another barrier in Barakiel’s path. Zan stayed still, no longer gasping, her face drained of color. Barakiel quelled his panic to concentrate on the energy of the barrier before him, its whir and static. He took deep breaths. A neighbor opened a window and popped his head out, but did not seem to see Zan or the Covalent.
Thank Balance for small favors. The adept must be concealing this mess.
In a moment, Barakiel had succeeded in absorbing the barrier. It came easier now. A few more times and the adept would not be able to stop him at all. She obviously knew this because she took off down the street dragging Zan, who wheezed and gulped.
She can breathe.
“Roan, where is the rift?” Barakiel yelled as the navigen got unsteadily to his feet. “Where is the adept heading?”
In a heartbeat, Roan was beside him. “The rift is some distance ahead and to the left. Follow me.”
The two Covalent pursued the masked adept, who had a vice grip on Zan’s upper arm and was moving too quickly for her to mount any resistance. Barakiel could easily catch them and had just turned on the speed when eight sets of masked adepts dragging Zan appeared in front of him, converged and then spread out again, with mad fragments of light shooting in every direction.
“Can you tell which one is real, Roan?” Barakiel shouted. He then realized that he’d left the traveler some distance behind him so he ran back, picked him up and took off again. He repeated his question.
“The third from the right, warrior. No wait, she has shifted again. And again! Demon take her! Get close. We need to time it right.”
Barakiel did as Roan said. Just as they were about to close the gap a package truck turned onto Spruce Street in front of them. The eight masked adepts joined as one. When Barakiel and Roan moved to let the truck pass, a whirlwind formed with a subwoofer blast, picked up the truck and flipped it on top of them in a maelstrom of street debris. Barakiel shielded Roan with his body. He’d absorbed so much power from the masked adept’s barriers that when the truck slammed onto his back, he simply crouched then pushed up to send it careening into the parked cars on his right. When he looked forward again the masked adept and Zan were gone. He growled in desperation.
“Go to that gap ahead,” Roan said, pointing to an intersection. Turn left. I can see the rift.”
Carrying Roan again, Barakiel rushed left, then right. He saw the masked adept heading for Washington Square, its large trees visible a few blocks ahead. Even if he could not see the kinetic rift like Roan, he knew it must be in the square, the only spot with enough open space. He rushed forward. The adept was about to speed through the gap in the low brick wall surrounding the square. Barakiel dropped Roan and leaped after her. He slammed into a barrier of a different configuration than the walls of energy he had confronted earlier, but at least he had stopped his enemy’s progress toward the rift. Zan fell to the ground and rolled away. The adept went after her, as Barakiel worked to absorb this new kind of barrier.
Roan ran forward, his hand on his head. With an excruciating yell, he formed crystal shards in the air around him. He tried to force them toward their adversary using the wind, but they were not delivered with nearly enough force. The masked adept laughed and called up a gust that drove the shards back toward Roan in a blur of speed. They pierced his body with sickening moist rips.
As soon as he defeated the barrier, Barakiel roared and stormed toward Zan, but the masked adept was too fast. She snatched Zan up and disappeared into the rift at the center of the square. Barakiel fell to his hands and knees. He scrambled to Roan but the navigen was dead, a thick shard of clear crystal embedded deep in his eye socket.
Barakiel lay beside Roan, crying. Vehicles with sirens blasting passed nearby. When a person entered the square with a dog, Barakiel concealed himself and Roan’s dead body. He cradled him in his arms and walked off slowly toward his car.