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THE WINTER SOLSTICE. Barakiel’s limbs buzzed with anxiety as he paced. The axial rift was to open in Laurel Hill Cemetery and he urged himself to appreciate the location. A closed, fenced-in cemetery after nightfall made things easier for Pellus, and the adept might be Zan’s only chance.
The ultraviolet light of a kinetic rift flashed a short distance away. Barakiel saw Domist moving towards him with Zan in her grip. A pulse later the axial rift tore open and the demons poured out. They did not rush Barakiel but moved toward Domist.
Barakiel dashed forward, only to slam into a barrier. The traitor adept handed Zan to a demon, then ran away. A split second later, Pellus defeated the barrier and Barakiel resumed his charge, but he slowed when the beast brandished an ax over Zan’s head.
In complete astonishment, Barakiel watched as Zan whipped out a handgun. She dropped the demon with a shot to the head from below, then turned and killed two more. She ran.
How could I help but love you?
His heart thudded with terror. He could not kill them all before one or the other got to Zan. She could not outrun them and there were too many for her gun. He called to them.
“Aaayyy, demons! Over here!” He spread his arms, his sword pointing to the right. “You win, foul slaves, you vile pestilence upon reality. You can have me. Come and get me!”
He dropped his sword. He heard Zan scream in protest. To his further astonishment, she came out from behind a mausoleum, once again poised to fire, but she got snatched back and disappeared from view.
Thank you, Pellus. For keeping your promise.
The beasts surrounded him. He braced for death, clinging to the knowledge that Zan was safe. But the demons did not take his head. They held fast to his limbs and wounded him. He thought of the traitor adept. Then he knew.
They plan to take me to my father.
This meant he had a chance to escape. He thrashed and kicked while they cut him and readied chains to bind him. One demon grabbed his head and plunged an injector into his neck. He felt a tingle, then euphoria. He was swallowed by nothingness.
What is this pain? My veins are filled with acid. I cannot see. I can barely move. I smell demons.
The acid pain recedes, replaced by the bite of blades. My vision clears. Axes. The beasts slice me again and again. I am bound like the women who suffered in those photographs. Bound as I was while my father’s disgusting commanders raped me.
The demons grunted and croaked with what Barakiel supposed was laughter. Some licked his blood from the edges of their axes and drooled, their yellow eyes deepening to orange. But then a shocked look fell upon them. They writhed and howled and backed away. Barakiel could feel the heat. He grinned.
Pellus is up to his old tricks.
When the brutes tried to reach him again, they slammed against more of Pellus’ handiwork. Barakiel thought there must be an invisible battle raging all around him, as Pellus clashed with the traitor adept.
But the next salvo was visible. A framework of glistening, pulsing light domed over him. He wondered if Pellus had done this to reassure him. To tell him that he was protected. He wondered how long a standoff between two powerful adepts could go on. Barakiel needed to get free. With Pellus there to distract the traitor, he could reach her. He would ram his sword right through her brain.
The demons shook their axes and threw themselves at the barrier. Barakiel couldn’t hear them but their mouths worked incessantly. One beast fell, the bloody flower of a bullet’s exit on the side of its head.
Oh no, my love. What are you up to?
When he saw Zan running toward the demons he shouted to stop her, although he knew she couldn’t hear him. Bullets poured from the flashing muzzle of her gun. They pinged off his barrier back into the demons, who shuddered in frantic rage, swatting at their chests and limbs as projectiles tore into their flesh.
Zan ran towards the obelisk. Barakiel struggled against his chains and ineffectually pleaded for Pellus to save her. When the beasts charged her again, she lobbed something toward them. It exploded, causing them to scatter. Zan pressed her advantage. She shoved another magazine into her gun and resumed shooting as she hustled toward the obelisk. She was close now. Another demon dropped dead, a bullet bursting from its face, a shot Zan could not possibly have fired.
She has help. It must be Mel.
When a deflected bullet hit Zan in the arm, Barakiel yowled and pulled even more against his chains. Thrashing from side to side, he cursed his inability to get leverage because of the way they had him trussed. Zan was still shooting despite her bloody arm. She stopped right beside him, looping her gun to spray bullets in a wide arc. The barrage made the demons hesitate. Two more fell, whether by Zan’s hand or Mel’s he didn’t know. Zan reloaded and headed to the back of the obelisk where Barakiel couldn’t see her.
The glistening dome over Barakiel disappeared. The shrieking of injured demons and the crashing of small explosions rushed in as the obelisk trembled.
“Goddammit!” Zan shouted. “It didn’t work! Rainer pull on the chains! As hard as you can. They’re damaged, not broken. Pull!”
With grunts of force, Barakiel strained one way, then another, picking up speed as he felt the chains give a little more with each yank. Zan was shooting again, behind him. He could hear bullets glancing off the granite monument. He shouted to warn her as the remaining demons rushed around the obelisk in a clump. He heard her cry out in pain. One more desperate lunge broke his chains with a pop. He leaped forward, wrapping the chains around his wrists to use as weapons.
Barakiel ran behind the obelisk and whipped the chains around the necks of the two nearest beasts. With a yank, he tore the demons’ heads from their bodies with a gelatinous rip and a burst of brown blood.
When the three remaining beasts came at him, he lashed at their legs with the chains. He grabbed an ax from one as it staggered and leaped to land behind them. With a vicious roar, he buried the ax in one brute’s skull then squared his hips for his final offensive. As the two surviving demons rushed him, he wound his body for maximum torque. He exploded into his attack, the ax sizzling with speed. He took their heads in one stroke, then dropped the ax and ran to Zan, gathering her up.
A moment later, Mel ran up. Barakiel shouted for Pellus, but the adept was nowhere to be found.
Does he not care that Zan is bleeding?
Mel opened a bag she had brought and worked on Zan’s wounds with numb efficiency. “Thank you, thank you,” Barakiel mumbled.
As soon as Pellus arrived, Barakiel begged for his help. Gingerly, he adjusted Zan in his arms. Her bleeding stopped.
“What did you just do?” Mel looked like she wasn’t sure whether to run from Pellus or kiss him.
“I congealed her blood,” Pellus said, as he turned his clotting attentions to Barakiel. “A simple matter of gathering proteins, something I can do on the surface of a wound. She will be fine. I see no internal bleeding.”
“Maybe so, but she’s lost a lot of blood already,” Mel said. “She’s unconscious and that’s not good. We need to get her to a hospital.” She dangled keys in front of Barakiel, who pressed his face to Zan’s. “Can you get her to the car fast? It’s parked on Ridge, over there.” Barakiel followed the line of her hand. He could see the car, but he could do better than a hospital.
“Pellus!” Barakiel shouted at the adept, who was marching off. “Where are you going? We must take Zan to the Sylvan Three!” With Zan cradled in his arms, he took his feet.
“Do not be ridiculous, Barakiel. I am not taking her to the Covalent Realm. Take her to the hospital, as Mel has suggested.” He walked on. “Right now, I am going to kill Domist.”
Barakiel could not believe it. He understood his friend’s bloodlust, but Zan’s life was in danger. He blocked his departure. “Then you will take us through a rift, so we can get there faster.”
“Roan must be avenged.”
“Leave her to Covalent justice.”
“Abraxos will protect her! Roan must be avenged!”
Pellus would not back down. Barakiel heard Mel’s disgusted snort. She put her hand on his arm.
“Forget him, Rainer. Let him do what he has to do. Temple Univerity Hospital is close. Ten minutes tops. Let’s go.”
Balance help my idiocy. She is right.
He gently shifted Zan to the right, grabbed Mel and shot off towards the car, leaving Pellus to exact his revenge.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mel yelled nonstop until they reached the car. Barakiel reclined the passenger seat and deposited Zan, Mel gaped at him like he had six heads then climbed into the back.
“Be careful of your knees, I need to move the seat,” Barakiel said, causing Mel to clamber to the middle. The two of them worked like a rally-race team on the way to the hospital, Mel telling Barakiel when to turn, and he barely slowing down. He ran three red lights, skidded up to the emergency room doors and burst out of the car. He gathered Zan in his arms and smashed through the doors backward, shouting for someone to help her. Mel chased after him, begging him to not be so loud. A few people in the emergency room shrieked at the sight of him, dressed as he was in battle gear streaked with the brown blood of demons and a healthy measure of his own.
Nurses came and put Zan on a gurney. Mel told them about her injuries. With shaking hands, she flashed her badge. They wheeled Zan through another set of double doors as Mel talked to a nurse in a low voice. Barakiel tried to follow the gurney, but another nurse stepped in front of him, the security guard behind her.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said in an unsteady voice, “but with injuries of this kind it’s better for the patient if the family waits here and stays out of the doctors’ way.”
She can’t be serious.
“I will stay with her!” he said, loudly enough to make the security guard walk over to the phone at his station.
Mel rushed to Barakiel and put her hand on his chest. “Please calm down,” she said. “I’m barely holding it together, so please, stop. She’s in good hands. This is an excellent hospital for trauma. Agents have come here injured much worse than Zan and been fine. Please, you’re scaring everyone.”
Barakiel glared down at her, breathing heavy, his nostrils flaring. “I should be with her.” He tried to be quiet, but it came off as menacing. Mel lost all the color in her face.
“Listen to me, Rainer,” she said with an impressive amount of authority considering she’d just gone white and her knees were shaking. She looked around to make sure no one was listening. “It will not be good for Zan if they call the police, which they are legally obligated to do whenever anyone comes in here with a gunshot wound. They won’t because I showed my badge and told the nurse it was an accidental discharge as a result of a car accident. Don’t fuck it up.”
He glanced at the security guard, who watched him with wary eyes.
I need to calm down. That is best for Zan.
“I understand. I’m sorry.” He put his huge hands on Mel’s arms. “Are you all right? You’re trembling.”
“Uh, I don’t know. I guess it’s catching up with me, all this craziness. Oh god, I can’t think about it.”
“And I’m not helping.” He shifted his grip on her arms, holding her up. “You’re an amazing woman, Mel. Thank you. For your skill. For being calm. For everything.” He tried to hug her but she pushed him away.
“You’re welcome, but don’t hug me. You’re gross. Keep holding me up, though, because otherwise, I might fall down.” He tried to smile. He wanted to reassure her, but his expression had the opposite effect.
“Really, Rainer, don’t worry so much. I love her, too, you know? And I’m telling you she’s going to be fine.” This time his attempt at a smile was successful. She smiled back.
“Listen,” Mel said. “We have a wait ahead of us. You need to do something about whatever the hell that is you’re wearing. The whole emergency room is staring at you because of course, they are.” She leaned in to whisper, “You’re covered in monster guts and you stink to high heaven. Can you go home and get cleaned up?”
“I am not leaving!” he said. He let go of her arms, frowning.
“Okay, okay.” Mel leaned against the seats. “That was a stupid thing to say. I’m sorry.”
The security guard walked over. “Everything all right here, ma’am?”
“We’re sorry, sir. His girlfriend got hurt and he’s upset, but he’ll calm down. Won’t you, Rainer?”
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
The security guard went back to his station while looking askance at Barakiel, who began to pace, kneading his hands. “Where is Pellus?”
“I’m sure he’ll come when he can. He was good to us. He kept us safe.”
“He should not have let her get anywhere near those, uh, that mess. She could have been killed.”
“Rainer, Rainer.” Mel took his hands. “I assure you, Pellus could not have stopped Zan short of using force. You know her.”
“That I do.” He saw a person walk by in scrubs. “The doctors! Can we ask them? Has it been long enough? Can we ask them how she is?”
“Okay. I’ll try to find out for you.” Mel walked off to talk to the people at the intake desks on the back left side of the room. When she came back a few minutes later she reported that the administrator would call and ask if there was any news.
“You know, you look like you could use a little medical attention yourself,” Mel said.
“It’s nothing. Pellus stopped my bleeding. That’s all I needed.”
“If you say so, but we’re going to be here for awhile.” She looked him up and down. “Why don’t you wash up?”
Mel suggested he use the restroom. Shortly after he came out, Pellus walked in, dressed in an expensive suit. “How is Zan?” he asked.
“We still don’t know. I don’t understand what is taking so long.” Barakiel glared at the people manning the intake desks.
“Volume, please,” Mel said.
“Come with me, outside,” Pellus said softly to Barakiel. “I brought clothes. I have much to tell you.”
“No! Why are the two of you trying to get me to leave?”
“Come now,” Pellus said. “Now is not the time for anger. There are things we must discuss.”
Barakiel met the adept’s tired eyes. He thought of Roan. Of everything Pellus had done that night. “Forgive me,” he said. “My worry has made me a fool.” Pellus brushed his arm as if to say, “It’s all right.”
They went outside, down the block, into a stench-filled, trash-strewn alley where the adept concealed them. As Barakiel changed into street clothes, Pellus told him what happened with Domist.
“I have stored her body at your compound, with Roan’s. I need to consider what I should say about her to the Council and the Travelers Guild, or if I should say anything at all.” Pellus began to vaporize the remaining blood on Barakiel’s limbs, but the warrior stopped him.
“I cannot go back into the emergency room having been miraculously cleansed. I will wash again in the restroom. Mel has suggested I seek medical attention, but it is best if I do not. I can hang on.”
“I agree. Do not worry. If you heal imperfectly the Sylvan Three can mend you before your next battle.”
Nodding, Barakiel moved to leave the alley. “We should hurry,” he said. “The doctors may have information soon.”
Pellus stayed put. He sank his chin to his chest. “I must tell the Guild about Roan. I will tell a version of the truth. I will say I sent him to help you before the solstice. I have not decided if I should reveal that Domist killed him.”
“You cannot. The resulting fervor could lead to knowledge of Zan’s existence.”
“Then I will make up some lie. It does not matter what I say.” His voice broke down. “I deserve to be punished for placing Roan in danger.”
The thought was too much for Barakiel. His faced crumpled and he moved closer to his friend. “I let Roan die. I failed him. And I failed you. I should have protected him.”
“It is not your fault,” Pellus said in a barely audible voice. “I should not have sent him here.”
Barakiel closed his eyes. “You were helping me.”
I should have protected Roan.
“Let us finish and go back inside.” Pellus made a visible effort to collect himself. “There may be news.”
As they walked to Zan’s car to park and stash the armor, the adept told Barakiel that he had retrieved his sword and all the guns and left them at the compound. He had removed the evidence of their presence in the cemetery as best he could.
“I am sorry for my anger when you would not take us through the rift,” Barakiel said.
“You were frantic with worry.”
When they got back to the emergency room, Mel was perched on the edge of a waiting room seat, her legs bouncing. She jumped up when she saw them.
“Zan’s going to be fine. The doctor told me she’s been sent to surgery.”
“Ah, I wanted to talk to the doctor myself!” Barakiel pressed his fists against his forehead. “Why does she need surgery?”
“For her shoulder. The bullet wound is not that bad.”
“Her shoulder is bad?”
“No, no, they didn’t say that,” Mel added hastily.
“What did they say? Please.”
“That it will heal much better if they repair the damage to the ligaments surgically. She isn’t in any danger, Rainer.”
“Distract yourself,” Pellus suggested. “You mentioned washing up again.”
The warrior headed to the restroom. He washed off more demon blood and tried again to rinse it from his hair. He remembered his last trip to an emergency room, during a summer camping trip after a limb had cracked off a tree in a storm and endangered Mel’s daughter, Lucy. He’d shielded the child and was mildly injured by the tree limb. It was nothing, but everyone insisted he go to the hospital. Then Zan nursed him while he let the wound slowly knit itself back together, foregoing the services of the Sylvan Three. Now, he had to deal with injuries the human way, once again. But this time, he would nurse Zan. He would tend to her every need and whim.
How could you do something so foolish, my love?
When he returned to the waiting room, there was still no news. They settled down to wait, not speaking. After a half hour, Barakiel rose to pace. Another half hour and he could barely stop from growling.
“Why have we not heard anything? How much time does it take? This is nonsense.” Barakiel clenched his fists, causing Pellus and Mel to exchange a look.
I’ve had enough.
He strode up to the intake desks and accosted the first person he saw. “You there, I demand to know what is happening with Zan O’Gara.” The security guard stood and looked over, but he seemed relieved when Mel and Pellus came to deal with their agitated friend.
“You should talk to him. He responds better to females,” Pellus said. Mel gave him a queer look.
“Rainer, please. Surgery is time-consuming. It doesn’t mean anything is wrong. Besides, delivering the news is the last thing on their minds. Their attention is on Zan, and that’s good. Look at me!” Her insistence had the desired result. “I love her, too, remember? And I’m calm.”
He spun around and marched toward the doors. “Aagh! I am not accustomed to being so helpless!” He raised his arms and tensed, his muscles standing out under his shirt.
The security guard picked up his phone, causing Mel to rush over and plead with him. Pellus went to Barakiel and grabbed his arm. “You are making trouble for Zan. Can you not see that?”
Deflated, Barakiel returned to his seat and leaned forward with his head in his hands. He was still in this posture when the doctor came out forty minutes later. “Agent Romani?” the doctor said.
At the sound, Barakiel walked toward him so quickly he blanched.
“What? What is it?” Mel and Pellus were close behind him. They crowded around the nervous doctor.
“She will be fine,” he said. Mel clutched Barakiel’s hand.
“We removed the bullet and stitched her up,” the doctor continued. “She should have no problems there. As for the shoulder, the surgery went well, but only time will tell if it is completely unaffected.”
“How could it be affected?” Barakiel asked.
“She could have range-of-motion issues. She’ll need physical therapy.”
“Ah, it’s all my fault! Can I see her? Where is she?”
“They’ve taken her to her room. You can go there in a few minutes,” the doctor said. “I have to ask,” he added, looking at Mel. “What did you use to dress her wounds? Was it some kind of coagulating spray? I know the EMTs use products like that, but whatever you have is much better.”
Mel stared at him stupidly. Pellus came to her rescue. “The product is experimental, doctor. It will be in clinical trials for years.”
“That’s a shame. Who makes it?”
“I am not at liberty to say.”
Barakiel shifted impatiently. “What room is she in? How do I get there?” When he got his answer he walked off. Pellus followed him, but Mel stayed with the doctor.
Soon, Barakiel and Pellus were walking down the hushed hall of the hospital’s seventh floor. Zan was sleeping when they entered her room, but that did not stop Barakiel from covering her face with kisses.
“My love, why did you put yourself in that danger? I have brought you nothing but pain and peril.” He stayed with his face pressed to hers, holding her hand, leaning against the side of the bed. “Wake up, my love,” he whispered.
“She needs to sleep,” Pellus said. “It will help her heal.”
“I know, Pellus. But I wish I could talk to her.”
I want to thank you, my love.
A few minutes later Mel arrived.
“She is so still,” Barakiel said before he covered her face with kisses again.
“Zan’s sedated, Rainer. She won’t wake up until tomorrow. She lost a lot of blood so they thought it best.”
He nodded and stood with Zan’s hand pressed to his chest. “She saved me.”
“Yes, she did.” Mel went to the side of the bed opposite Barakiel and pushed Zan’s hair back from her forehead. Then she collapsed onto a chair and put her head between her knees.
“Thank god she’s all right, thank god, but what the fuck?” she mumbled. “What the fuck just happened to me?” She covered her head with her arms and rocked back and forth.
The Covalent exchanged a look. Barakiel went over and tried to place a hand on her back but she swatted it away. She stood, her face wet with tears.
“For months now, Zan has been a mess because of you,” Mel said, stabbing her finger at Barakiel. “She’s been exhausted, emotionally raw and confused. Now I see why. All this crazy fucking shit!” She paused, her chest heaving. When she spoke again, she had regained control of her voice. “Why couldn’t you leave her alone?”
“I know, I know,” Barakiel said, Mel’s tears calling up his own. “I have brought her nothing but pain and peril.” He stroked Zan’s peaceful face and ran his fingers along her hair spread out on the pillow.
Mel stood and looked down at her friend. “How did you not go nuts? How will I not go nuts?”
Pellus watched Mel with veiled eyes. “Is there anything you would like to know?” he asked in a soothing voice. “Is there anything we can say that will help you?”
Barakiel glanced at the adept.
He respects her. As well he should.
“No, no.” Mel vigorously shook her head. “Christ, no. I need to not think about it. I need to go home, kiss my daughter, have my husband hold me and tell myself this has nothing to do with me. I’m exhausted. I can’t think.” She closed her eyes, swaying. Afraid she would fall down, Barakiel put his arm around her.
“I forgot one thing when I was yelling at you, Rainer,” she said, leaning against him. “I forgot Zan loves you. She would fight her way through the seventh circle of Hell to save you.”
“I know,” Barakiel whispered.
“Okay.” Mel rubbed her eyes. Her trembling had returned. “I need to go home before I lose it entirely. Let me tell you what the doctor said.”
Zan would wake in the morning, but she would stay in the hospital for a day, the best way to ensure her shoulder remained motionless. She could go home after that, but she would need care.
“I will take her to my house,” Barakiel said. “I will give her everything she needs.”
“We’ll have to ask Zan what she wants.”
“Of course, of course.”
Perhaps nothing has changed. Just because she saved me does not mean she wants to be with me.
“We will call you as soon as she wakes,” Barakiel said. “And thank you, again. It is evident to me why Zan loves you so much.”
“Yes. Thank you for your help, Mel.” Pellus stepped forward to warmly clasp her hand. “If Zan would brave Hell to save Rainer, you would evidently brave Hell to save Zan.”
“Evidently.”
“I am amazed by you,” Pellus added. “You were confronted by novel circumstances, yet you operated with calm efficiency.”
“Ha! Novel circumstances!” Mel grabbed the bed to steady herself. “That’s one way to put it. I may have a nervous breakdown when I get home. None of it seems real.”
Pellus leaned towards her with a reassuring smile. “Can we rely on you to pretend it is not real?”
For a few seconds, Mel stared at him, her lips bunched together. Barakiel shifted his weight nervously, but Pellus was a still life.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I just imagined telling my boss everything, and it didn’t go well. Car accident. Accidental discharge of weapon.” She nodded. “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”
A nurse came in. She said hello, checked Zan’s vitals, then informed them they needed to leave. They could wait in the lounge down the hall.
“I am not leaving.” Barakiel managed to speak quietly, but his tone was hardly mild.
“Can he stay here, nurse, please?” Mel begged. “He’ll stay in the chair and be quiet. Won’t you Rainer?” She gave him a pointed look. “That’s his fiancée. He wants to be near her.”
Mel’s romantic play was successful. Barakiel could stay. Mel gestured for him to lean down, kissed him on the cheek, then left. When Pellus moved to leave a moment later, the two Covalent grasped each other’s shoulders.
“I do not know when I will see you again, Barakiel. You will find out if they have thrown me in the Wasteland Dungeons when you report for battle.”
“I am sorry for all that I have cost you.”
“You did not cost me anything. We know who has cost us.”