Angel Of Solace (18 page)

Chapter Twelve

The field of rising silver spires stretching up towards the morning’s hazy brown clouds was truly a sight to behold. Nowhere else in the world was humanity’s impotence so striking, Zanek thought idly to himself. Nearly untouched by the Reckoning that had incinerated most of the world a century earlier, Solace had held onto the architecture that had defined the first fifty years of Argoan colonization. It was as if the original settlers had felt so small and insignificant that their industrial fabricators had been their compensation, creating structure after structure to stretch into the heavens as if to convince God his creations were worthy of his attention.

And they were, just not in the way they had hoped. The Lord’s judgment had taken tens of millions of lives, and now, a century later, most of the survivors had at least recognized their folly. But not the people here. The nation of Elassia and the city of Solace in particular continued to go about their lives as if nothing had changed—as if they didn’t owe their Lord everything for choosing to spare them.

Well, He would certainly not offer them mercy a second time.

“Do you find it easier to sense her from up here, my lord?” he asked the Angel standing near the wall-size window on the opposite side of the room.

“Unfortunately, no,” Marivean said softly, his eyes closed and his body locked in his normal meditative posture. The silvery glow from his skin gradually dimmed. “But it isn’t a cause for concern.”

Zanek nodded. He stood staring out his own large window here on one of the highest floors in the Paralex Tower, marveling at the Solacean skyline. They had completed their move late yesterday afternoon, fully abandoning the small and generally inadequate house they had been holed up in for the last few weeks. This tower was immense, a hundred stories of steel and plastic that had never even been used. The company that had constructed it—and the skyway-connected sister tower across the street—had gone bankrupt at the end of its construction. Somehow Beren’s slaver gang had managed to take control of the new tower and use it as a base of operations for nearly a year.

Now it was theirs, as was everything that had once belonged to Beren. Had they the manpower they could have turned it into a fortress, but unfortunately that would have to wait. For now their only forces consisted of a few dozen mercenaries.

“I imagine the city council will actually let us take legal ownership of the tower within a few months,” he commented. “Once our allies place the appropriate bribes and offer a few concessions.”

“It will be yours to do with as you wish,” Marivean told him.

Zanek turned and cocked an eyebrow. “Truly, my lord?”

“You have served me well, and once we have the Betrayer I will be leaving. For now that is my only concern.” He tilted his head slightly. “But you are correct. We will need a more formidable presence here eventually, and this is as good a place to start as any.”

“My lord humbles me.”

Marivean grunted and stepped away from the window. “You are certain the additional Chosen will be here by tomorrow?”

“Yes, by early afternoon,” Zanek said. “Ten all told. It should be sufficient for our purposes.”

“Unfortunately, we may not be able to wait until they arrive,” the Angel told him, his voice odd. “How large of a force could you assemble by tonight?”

Zanek cocked an eyebrow. “Tonight? I’m not certain…a dozen, perhaps. Is something wrong?”

“Our enemies are as vulnerable as they are going to be, and my connection to our Chosen is…unstable.”

“May I ask how?”

“You may ask, but I don’t expect you to understand,” Marivean said dismissively. “Vaelen was right about one thing—Avrick is strong-willed. He also has a fascination with the Betrayer that is making the task more difficult.”

Zanek didn’t understand—not exactly—but he didn’t really have to. He had witnessed the power of the Angels many times. He had seen what they were capable of and marveled at the results. And if Marivean believed the time was right, then that was all that needed to be said.

Still, the timing was unfortunate. They had hoped to have at least another day before moving in on the Asurans. Even scattered as the rebels were, it wasn’t as if the Covenant’s own forces in the city were strong. Combined with potential troubles with the local authorities or even Elassian Security, any move on their part had to be carefully planned and implemented. They weren’t yet at a point where they had the political clout to do as they wished like in Louvette or Fauress.

“I can assemble our best team, if you wish. They’re competent enough, certainly, to handle a few unsuspecting Asurans—assuming the Betrayer will not be assisting them?”

Marivean smiled. “No, she will not. Nor will her Incubus pet if possible.”

Zanek wasn’t exactly sure how the Angel was going to pull that off, but he had every confidence it would be done. Most every confidence, anyway. The Chosen boy had failed them once already, but somehow Zanek felt much safer with Marivean in control. Soldiers were far more useful as puppets, anyway, even if they were Chosen.

“It shall be done, my lord,” Zanek said. “Do you have a timeframe?”

“Make sure they’re ready by nightfall, and then place them on standby,” Marivean said, his eyes glimmering. “Before this night has passed, she will be ours once again.”

***

Sleep was rarely an easy thing for an Angel. Ever since the Bonding, Sariel had found it difficult to get a full night’s rest. After a few hours, her mind would simply flick on and there was nothing she could do to stop its churn. Eventually she stopped trying to fight it and just caught sleep when she could, and ultimately it had probably made her far more productive.

But right now, staring up at the blank white ceiling, she would have given anything for even a few hours of tranquility. In any absolute sense, the last twenty four hours had probably been the most harrowing of her life, at least since the first day she had run from the Covenant. A day ago the spirit inside her had knocked both she and Damien unconscious, and then she had nearly let herself make a colossal mistake with him. Then a man she hadn’t seen in half a year—a man she had assumed she would never see again—had been suddenly thrust back into her life. And worst of all, he still loved her.

She stretched her fingers out above her face, her thoughts drifting back to a time when her flesh hadn’t been so pale. There was little different about the Avrick in that cell than the one she had loved since childhood—the one she had spent over a decade growing up with. It seemed like a distant lifetime, but some of the memories were still as sharp as ever. She could still see him as an impish boy asking her ridiculous questions about the faith. She could still imagine him as a handsome young man sneaking into her quarters to steal forbidden kisses. She could still feel him making love to her for the first time…

Sariel closed her eyes and did her best to push the memories away. The worst part of all of it might have been the guilt she felt at leaving him in the first place. There had been no way to get him a message when she had left, and she had known he would assume she was a traitor. Yet somehow that had almost been easier—at least it had been a clean break. But now he knew better, and he was here on the other side of the compound, just waiting for her to come see him again.

She sighed and brought herself to her feet. It was almost seven now—she had managed to squeeze in a few fitful hours of sleep somehow, and at this point she wasn’t going to get anymore. From the smell wafting inside the room it seemed like someone had actually tried to cook a real breakfast for once instead of just handing out nutrient bars. If ever there was a reason to get out of bed, the promise of real food definitely had to be it.

She rolled off the dormitory cot and took a quick shower. The water was cold and tightly rationed, but even a few minutes under the nozzle made her feel a lot better. When she finished, she opened the closet with her meager selection of clothing, finally settling on a functional pair of black jeans and a matching shirt. After a few minutes making herself look more-or-less presentable, she headed off towards the mess hall.

“You almost missed your last chance at a decent meal,” Damien told her as she came around the corner. Two other Asurans—Regis and Caroline—sat at one of the tables and hastily chomped down the hot entre he had cobbled together. None of the others were anywhere to be seen.

“I didn’t realize the Agency taught its people to cook.”

“I’m not sure I’d go so far as to call this cooking,” he said dryly, nodding towards the ingredients. “Most of supplies have been cleared out already, and I pretty much just threw what was left into a casserole. Still, it’s better than those damn bars.”

“You don’t get to swear at the bars until you’re here for at least a month,” Regis commented from the table.

“I think the cook’s allowed to swear as much as he wants,” Caroline countered sagely.

Damien chuckled and tossed a few bits onto a plate for the Angel. “Anyway,” he went on, lowering his voice, “they didn’t teach us. I just picked it up as a hobby. Some clients really went for that type of thing.”

“I can imagine, thank you,” Sariel replied, taking the plate and giving the colorful ensemble a once-over with her fork. “I’m still sorry you have to see things at their worst.”

He shrugged. “There are far more pressing issues than my mild discomfort. Speaking of which, did you get anything interesting out of your friend?”

It was an earnest enough question, but was there a hint of jealousy behind it? Probably not; he didn’t really seem like that type of man. She felt her face flush just thinking about it and quickly took a bite of the casserole to buy herself a few seconds to consider.

“He doesn’t know much,” she told him. “But I believe him.”

“And the others probably don’t.”

“No.”

He nodded idly and started to clean up the dishes, rolling up the sleeves of his silken shirt that looked so out-of-place amongst the others here. Not that he could be blamed for it—he hadn’t brought much with him and probably didn’t own anything else. Besides, it looked good on him.

Not that anything else wouldn’t. And nothing had looked even better.

“Do you know what Kronn is going to do?” he asked after a moment.

“Keep him here, for now,” she said, doing her best to subtly motion for him to follow her a bit away from the others. “There isn’t much else to be done. He had a team check out the address Avrick gave us, but it was empty.”

“I suppose that doesn’t mean much. If he really did manage to escape, they had to assume he would rat out their location.”

She sighed and closed her eyes. “This changes everything.”

“How so? You said yourself he doesn’t know much of anything.”

“Not Avrick—Marivean.”

“Ah,” Damien murmured. “I take it you know him?”

“He’s one of the first,” she explained quietly. “The scripture says there were originally four Angels following the Descent. Marivean was one of them. He’s on his fifth body now, if I recall correctly.”

“From everything I’ve ever heard about Angels, I can’t believe they would be willing to risk sending one here across the mainland.”

Sariel locked eyes with him. “That’s how badly they want me back.”

“All the more reason to find out why.”

She shook her head. “Or just leave. The stakes are much higher, now. My being here is more of a threat than ever.”

“I can’t give you validation, if that’s what you’re looking for,” he told her. “But I can still try to help. It’s why you brought me here in the first place, and nothing has changed about that. If anything, it’s even more important.”

She set her plate down and folded her arms across her chest. “I just…”

He smiled faintly and placed a hand on her arm. The spark between them flared, and she felt herself gasp softly. Her legs weakened, and she had to lean against the counter to stay upright. The spark seemed to get stronger each time they touched…

“It’s more complicated, I know,” Damien said, smiling. “You and Avrick had a relationship.”

She pulled away abruptly. “Stay out of my head!”

“I wasn’t in your head,” he assured her. “It doesn’t always take a telepath to know things.”

She eyed him warily for a moment, suddenly aware of how Regis and Caroline had turned at her outburst. She waved off their concern and sighed. “It was a foolish fling. We were kids, and we both thought—”