Angel Of Solace (17 page)

Sariel swung about. “I can handle it from here. Wait outside.”

The other woman’s mouth fell open as if she couldn’t believe it. She looked to Kronn, but he was just eyeing Sariel curiously. Finally he nodded and stood.

“We’ll leave you for a bit. I’m sure I’ll have more questions later.”

The woman opened her mouth to protest, but Kronn silenced her with a glare. A few moments later they were both outside, and Avrick was alone with Sariel. 

“I don’t know what made you leave,” the Chosen murmured. “I’ve wondered about it for months. I just wanted to ask you what it was, to give you a chance to explain…” He shook his head.  “I started to get angry when I thought about it—about how you didn’t even leave me a note. But I know you would have if you could.”

She sat down on the bed next to him. It was a gesture of trust. Had he wanted to, he could have killed her before she could bring her powers to bear. She certainly knew that, and the others probably did as well. But there was no concern in her dark eyes, only sadness…and regret. 

“I don’t know what they told you,” she said, “but I left as quietly as I could. It wasn’t planned, and I think I assumed they would probably catch me soon. But I had to get away.”

“Why?”

She placed her hands on top of his. “I felt the Angel inside me. Not just as a presence in the background, but as a real, living entity. I could feel what it felt…and it was hate.”

“Hate? Hate of what?”

“Of me, of everything,” she whispered. “It was this raw, unfocused wrath, and for an instant I could see into its thoughts—it didn’t care about God or priests or helping to rebuild the world. All it cared about was survival and control.”

She sighed and closed her eyes. “I knew then it was all a lie. I can’t explain it exactly, but it was an epiphany. I
knew
more than anything else that I had to get away, and it suddenly realized I was looking at it, like it was noticing my presence for the first time. The hatred grew, but there was also fear.”

“Fear that you knew something?”

“I think so. I just wish I knew what it was,” she said. “We’ve been trying to find out, and we may finally be close.”

“How?”

She smiled tiredly. “I can’t tell you that. Not yet.” She moved her hand up to his face. “I’m sorry I had to leave, and I’m sorry for what happened to you.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. We both know you were right. The Covenant isn’t what we thought it was. It’s…a lie.”

She squeezed his hand. “Maybe together we can do something about it.”

Avrick smiled. There was a time in his life when he would believe anything this woman said—when he wanted nothing more than time alone with her. There was a time when he believed she would be his salvation—that she, more than anyone else at the temple, deserved to be an Angel.

Sitting here, looking into her eyes again and feeling the warmth of her skin, he knew that none of that had changed. He still loved her. He always had.

He wrapped his arms around her and buried himself in her shoulder, the thin strands of her white hair tickling his nose. She held him tightly, and he didn’t bother to hold back the tears.

He might have had an Angel out there trying to kill him, but right now he had another one holding him in her arms. Somehow, it seemed like a fair trade.

***

“She can’t be that stupid,” Shyrah muttered as she sat down on the bench outside the one-way mirror that looked into their guest’s room. “He could kill her right now.”

“They were lovers.”

Shyrah blinked and turned to face him. “What?”

Damien shrugged. “It’s not really that surprising. The Covenant tries to keep its people celibate, but we all know how well that has worked throughout history.”

“And here I almost forgot you were the sex god,” she murmured dryly.

She folded her arms and crossed her legs, scowling in annoyance. Kronn was still over by the door with Stanson and a few of the other Asurans whispering quietly. Damien wasn’t exactly sure why they had wanted him here, but Sariel had insisted. She may have assumed he could see things the others could not. All in all, it wasn’t an unreasonable assumption.

“I think he’s honest enough,” Damien said after a few moments.

She snorted. “Because he used to fuck her?”

He smiled. “No, because I think he’s an honest man like many of the children the Covenant trains to become Chosen. They grow up surrounded by these beliefs and internalize them, never asking the tough questions for fear of being disciplined. Then, one day, something finally opens their eyes…” He took a deep breath and turned towards her. She was looking straight at him, eyebrow cocked. “I had a client who was trained to be a priestess all her life. She finally escaped and ended up doing well for herself. Avrick reminds me of her a bit. Earnest and trusting…and then his whole world gets turned upside down.”

“But that never happened to you?”

“People like us start with the world upside down and spend our lives trying to right it,” he said with a bitterness that surprised himself.

Shyrah said nothing, sweeping her gaze back to the room. Damien didn’t have to touch her to feel the hidden pain behind her eyes or understand the lifetime of torment she had likely suffered as a result of her abilities. He wondered dimly how her story compared to some of the Asurans he had already spoken with. Given her general disposition, he wouldn’t be surprised if it topped all of them. It was there in her face, hidden behind a brutal scar and an ardent determination.

“You grew up in the Agency?” she asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Mostly. I have a few memories of my parents, but they got rid of me as soon as they could when they found out I was a Demon. I suppose I’m fortunate they didn’t just hand me over to the Covenant or drop me on a street in the middle of Louvette. To be honest, I don’t know why. I recall them being quite pious.”

“It’s possible to believe in God and not ascribe to the Covenant, you know,” she told him. “It’s just one interpretation.”

He nodded idly, wondering if she herself was a believer. “You’re right, of course. It’s just hard to remember that sometimes when the fools make the most noise.”

“It’s also possible your parents just wanted money,” she said darkly. “Mine didn’t bother to hide that from me.”

Damien started to ask a question, but stopped himself. If she wanted to elaborate, she would. She was definitely not the type of person who would respond to prodding—quite the opposite, in fact.

“The Syndicate offered twenty thousand voca,” she murmured. “My dad didn’t even hesitate. He couldn’t find work in Termire after the conglomerates started moving out for better tax breaks. We could have just moved with them, but I think it was just an excuse. He didn’t really want me. He just…”

Her cheeks hardened and her eyes went cold. Damien’s hand was halfway towards touching her when he stopped himself.

Shyrah blinked away the memory and grunted. “The Syndicate’s worse than most of the trash we deal with here. Beren’s gang, the Pulsars, any of the bounty hunter guilds—they’re all the same bastards. They hunt and sell us, but they’re too stupid to actually try to use us.”

“That might be why the Covenant chooses to work with them.”

“Probably,” she agreed. “The Syndicate doesn’t care about that. They teach Demons to be whatever they need. Scrubbers, mostly, if they show even a glimmer of real telepathic ability. The rest of us…” she shrugged. “Just basic slaves or whores. And not the fancy kind like the Agency—just regular, punching bag whores.”

Damien wondered idly how many people she had shared that with. Probably not many, but he was used to that. Making women feel comfortable enough to talk was one of his best skills.

“I had it easy,” he admitted softly. “I think deep down I always understood that, but it didn’t change anything for me. A slave in a nice cell is still a slave, and that’s all I was ever going to be. I had to do something.”

He felt her eyes on the side of his head, measuring him. Perhaps deciding if he could possibly understand what she had been through, and he really didn’t know himself. But he did still want to hear it.

“You fought your way out,” she said. “That means a lot.”

“And you?”

Her cheek twitched just slightly. “I fought plenty. It just didn’t usually get me anywhere.”

Damien nodded idly. “Until the Asurans got you out?”

“Something like that,” she muttered. She sighed and stood—and he could tell from the tightness in her jaw and the shimmer in her eyes that her armor was back on. “I guess there’s no point sticking around watching them get all mushy. I’m going to get some work done. I’ll see you later.”

With that, she was gone, and with effort Damien turned his attention back on Sariel and Avrick. Soul-searching was often harrowing, but he found he already missed the distraction of conversation. His mind flashed back to the feeling of holding Sariel in his arms, of the energy that seemed to flow between them every time they touched. As much as he found himself wanting to be with her, he knew that was a foolish mistake they had almost made in the apartment. Sleeping with her—for real—was not going to solve anything, and he was certain it would in fact make everything worse. He needed to focus his efforts on getting information from the spirit inside her, no matter how small of a chance that might have been.

He brought a hand up and rubbed his face. There was more to it and he knew it; he just didn’t want to admit it to himself. Seeing her inside that cell with this other man was actually bothering him—really bothering him. It would have been ridiculous enough had Damien just been a normal man, but the fact he was an Incubus made it even worse. Jealousy was not exactly an emotion he had practice working through. He had mental sex with two dozen different women a week, and the closest thing he had to a real lover, Vala, did the same with her own clients. He had never once felt jealous about it.

Yet for some reason, seeing Sariel whisper back and forth with this other man was making him visibly tense. He pushed his hands over his eyes and forced himself to take a deep breath.

“Did you have another chance to try and contact the spirit?” Kronn asked.

Damien lowered his hands and glanced up to the man suddenly standing next to him. “No, not really. We were just discussing options when you called.”

“Ah,” the older man said, his eyes fastened on the exchange between Sariel and Avrick.

“So what do you plan to do with him?”

Kronn smiled tightly. “That is the question, isn’t it? I’ll have people check out the address he gave us, but I’m not really expecting to find much. He doesn’t seem to know a whole lot more than that, unfortunately.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s lying,” Damien pointed out. “I doubt many armies tell their soldiers any more secrets than they have to.”

“Naturally. Still…we’ll have to see. For the moment I don’t think anything has changed. We need you to keep trying to get that information. As soon as possible, preferably.”

“I can try again tomorrow. The base is mostly empty now, so we may as well just stay here in one of the dormitories.”

“Good idea,” the man said. “If something else goes wrong, at least I’ll be close by.”

Damien nodded. That had nothing to do with the reason he had suggested it, of course. He didn’t want to be alone with her in that apartment again. It was problematic for more reasons than he wanted to think of, but really only one that mattered. He was going to focus and get this done, then decide if he wanted to stick around. If not…

Well, if not, there was no reason to get more attached to these people than he absolutely had to. For his own benefit, he needed to start maintaining an emotional distance. Somehow.

“I’ll talk to you later,” he said, standing up and heading off towards the dormitories on the far side of the complex. He made it about ten meters before tossing a glance over his shoulder to the pale woman inside the cell. A woman who, only days before, had saved his life. A woman who, only hours before, had nearly slept with him. A woman who, right this instant, he was falling in love with.

And she was going to die a horrible death unless he could focus on what had to be done. This wasn’t about him, and it never had been. He promised to help her, and that’s what he was going to do. Even if that meant pushing her away.

Damien turned and walked down the hallway.