Angel Of Solace (7 page)

“You don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head. “This is beyond the normal erosion. I started having the dreams before I left, but its more than that. I can…
feel
the spirit inside me, like a second voice whispering in my skull.”

Damien’s eyes flicked furtively between them. “What…?”

“There’s no precise explanation, only an assortment of theories” Kronn told him. “The Covenant tells us the spirit is an intangible, magical being sent by God to possess a human host. It has no form or substance, and is simply an extension of divine will.” He gestured to Damien. “And Demons like you, incidentally, are possessed by dark and corrupt spirits who seek to spread their evil across the world and force a second Reckoning.”

“That doesn’t sound like a medical explanation.”

Kronn smiled thinly. “No. The Covenant has made it impossible to study their Angels, and it’s hard enough to study Demons. I may be the only person in the entire world who has had a chance to study both.”

Damien flicked his gaze between them. “So what has it told you?”

“Not nearly as much as I’d like,” he admitted. “The difference between a so-called normal human and a Demon is virtually non-existent. I won’t bore you with details, but we’re talking about extremely subtle variations in brain chemistry only detectable with advanced equipment—equipment we’re only now starting to rebuild after the Reckoning.”

“But what about Angels? What about her?”

“The differences are far more pronounced,” Kronn said. “Assuming she was like any other human before the Bonding, she has undergone significant changes to her basic biochemistry, from metabolic acceleration to alterations in her cardiovascular and immune systems.” He pursed his lips. “Many of the changes are consistent with what one would expect from a parasite.”

“A
parasite
?” Damien asked sharply. “You mean like a tapeworm?”

“Conceptually, yes, but much more profound. Unfortunately, I can’t prove it. I can’t detect anything with my instruments, and of course the Covenant can’t prove the existence of an intangible divine spirit, either.”

Damien shrugged. “So what does that mean?”

“It means we need another option—namely, you.”

He started to reply but Sariel placed a hand on his knee. “I can hear it inside me, sometimes as a whisper and sometimes as a shout.”

Damien frowned. “You hear…words?”

“Feelings, mostly. At first all I could sense was a…
malevolence
, cold and dark, like a raw, festering hatred building inside me—and then everything changed. I think it understood that I could sense it, and it was afraid.”

“Afraid?” Damien asked. “Why?”

“Because it knows something,” she said. “Angels are passed from generation to generation of hosts, all the way back to the Descent. They are supposed to hold the memories of dozens of hosts, and I think it’s terrified I’ll be able to uncover them.”

Damien leaned back slowly, a look of quiet recognition in his face. “So you think it’s alive and it’s hiding something, and you want me to figure out what it is.”

“We
need
to know,” Kronn told him pointedly. “And we think you may be the only one who can find out.”

“You want me to dig through your mind,” he said solemnly. “To try and make contact with it?”

“I’m not sure you appreciate how rare your gift is, Damien,” Kronn said. “Most Demons barely have enough training or power to read the surface emotions of another with physical contact. Few, less than one in ten, have any sort of real telepathic ability, and most of those never learn to control it. When they go in, they leave very little behind.”

“Scrubbers,” Damien muttered. “Some of the other whores used to talk about them. They scrub someone’s mind for secrets, but in the process all that’s left is an empty shell. Everything is wiped away.”

“Yes, though I’m sure the Agency never let you know just how rare and potent your abilities were. You’ve spent your life plucking out secrets without anyone being the wiser, and I hope you’ll consider using that ability to help us.”

Damien slowly let out a breath. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, I can try—”

Sariel placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not a decision to be made lightly. There may be risks we don’t know about.” She squeezed his arm. “Even if you agreed to do it now, I wouldn’t let you go through with it until you had a few days to think it over. I just wanted you to know what’s going on and why we brought you here.”

Angels were known for their powers of persuasion, Kronn knew, even when they weren’t attractive young women. But he also knew that as necessary as he was, Sariel didn’t want to manipulate him. She would give him time to make the decision himself, even if her condition continued to deteriorate. It was a virtue of character that made him trust her all those months ago when they first met, and ultimately the reason why many of his people would give their lives to protect her now.

It might also, he thought darkly, cost them everything, including her life.

“There’s a lot for you to learn and plenty of people for you to meet,” Kronn said, forcing a smile. “Even if you don’t want to stay with us, I hope you’ll at least spend the next few days here and give it a chance.”

Damien nodded, his eyes distant. “Thank you. I’d like that.”

***

“It’s a state-of-the-art decryption mainframe,” the youngish man with unkempt, tangled hair said. “I’ll hazard a guess you don’t spend a lot of time around computers.”

Damien grinned. “What was your first clue?”

“Well, you know what they say about pretty boys and machines.”

“No, actually. What
do
they say?”

The man started to reply, then shrugged. “Beats me, actually. It just seemed like a conversation starter.”

Damien chuckled and extended his hand. The other man was probably about his age, with the kind of haggard-but-functional appearance a lot of the Asurans seemed to wear like a badge of honor. “Damien.”

“Corin,” he replied easily. He took the hand, and just like with Kronn, there was no empathic spark when their skin touched. This time, Damien hoped he did a better job of hiding his surprise.

“So I assume taking care of this is your job?” he asked, gesturing to the wall-sized data center and trio of computer terminals. It was bulky, but at the same time he could tell it had been built for portability—all the various sections seemed easily detachable.

“Among other things,” Corin said with a shrug. “I’m not sure what Kronn has told you, but over the past few months we’ve really been on the defensive. The Covenant has been hiring all kinds of trash to try and smoke us out. I’ve had to come up with ways to keep that from happening.”

“I assume those fringe groups have more technical skill than a bunch of priests.”

“You’d be surprised. No slaver gang or even serious cartel like the Valerian Syndicate has anything like the resources of the Covenant.”

“Makes sense, I suppose. The Agency had plenty of people who knew what they were doing, but I definitely wasn’t one of them. I really have no idea what their cyber capabilities were.” Damien shrugged. “I’m better with people than machines.”

“No one’s perfect,” Corin replied with a grin. “Anyway, I’ve been trying to put together a few sniffers to slow them down, but so far I haven’t had a lot of luck. Kronn’s just had us moving around a lot and changing our encryption protocols often enough to drive me insane.”

Damien nodded idly, giving the compound another pass. The base was little more than a few interconnected houses in an out-of-the-way district, but they had done a decent job of making it livable. Revolutionaries, he imagined, didn’t have time for decorations or anything so frivolous, but the place was clean and comfortable enough. Most of the rooms had been turned into storage areas or stuffed with computers and electronic equipment like this one.

Other Asurans passed by them frequently as they went about their daily activities, but few stopped to say anything. Most just smiled politely and kept going. One, however, was doing a not-so-subtle job of lurking nearby, tossing them furtive glances in between attempts to look busy. 

“She’ll introduce herself eventually,” Corin said without even looking. “I’d prepare you for it, but I don’t think it’s possible.”

Damien cocked an eyebrow. “How does that work?”

Corin lowered his eyes and set one of his tools down on a nearby bench. “Look, I’ll be honest with you. Sara’s been talking about bringing you over for two months, ever since we got word from our contact in Louvette that you were trying to escape. I probably don’t have to tell you how atypical that is.”

“You mean focusing on a specific person like that? I assume there are hundreds of Demons trying to get away all the time.”

“More like thousands,” Corin said. “We can’t possibly help them all. Even moving one person can be a huge expense and place a lot of other people in danger, especially if they are already owned by someone else.”

Damien’s lips thinned as he nodded in understanding. “So there are going to be some annoyed people here who don’t think I’m worth it.”

“Not many, but some, yeah. Sara seems to think you’re exactly what we need, and I have no idea why. None of us do—well, except Kronn.”

Damien didn’t reply, and his eyes continued to follow the lurking woman. Corin might have been testing him to see if he’d just blurt out what Kronn had told him, or he might have just been fishing for answers himself. Either way, the best option seemed to be staying quiet.

“Shyrah’s never trusted Sara, either,” Corin went on. “And you can’t really blame her. Have you ever imagined a real fallen Angel? I thought it was impossible.”

“So did I,” Damien admitted. “So since Sariel wanted me here, Shyrah doesn’t.”

“Guilt by association.” Corin shrugged. “For what it’s worth, I like Sara. A lot. She’s done so much for us it’s hard to describe. We have some Demons around here who can do some pretty extraordinary things, but nothing like what she can pull off. A dozen of us probably owe her their lives at least. Including me.”

“But not Shyrah.”

“I don’t know about that,” he said. “Not that she would admit it, regardless.”

“Well, I might as well just get this over with, then.”

Corin grunted. “Gotta like spirit. If you’re still alive later, why don’t you have dinner with the rest of us? Nothing fancy, but I can introduce you to the others and show you around a bit. I’ll even skim over the boring tech details if you want to stare vacantly and nod now and then.”

Damien laughed. “I’d like that.” He shook Corin’s hand again, and the other man grabbed his tools and walked away. Damien took a deep breath and gave it another minute before heading over.

When he made it across the hall, she was on her back working on an electrical outlet. She was about his height with a slender, athletic build, and she sported a rather wicked burn scar on her left cheek.

“So, looks like you made nice with Corin,” she commented as he approached. “You want to hand me a decoupler?”

He glanced at the toolbox near her. He had no idea what that could possibly be, but something in her voice…

“You don’t have one,” he said. “Unless this is some local dialect I’m not familiar with.”

She leaned up on an elbow and shot him a cold glare, but after a few seconds her lips broke into a wry smile. “Not bad for a pretty boy.” She extended a hand.

He took it to help her up, and this time the empathic spark came abruptly as their skin touched. He expected a wave of annoyance, but instead he sensed…hope?

“The name’s Shyrah,” she said, breaking his grip, “but you already knew that. I’m sure Corin tried to scare you away, but I have nothing against you, Incubus.”

“He mentioned you had some concerns. They didn’t seem unreasonable.”

She grunted. “Some of the people here think you’re going to save the day—they’re convinced of it. They don’t know how or why or what the hell it even means, but they’re convinced.”

“I don’t really know how I’m going to save anyone,” he admitted. “I’m a whore and a refugee.”

She seemed to size him up for a moment, her blue eyes sharp and focused. Finally she smiled, and decided it was actually quite pleasant.

“So we’re told,” she said. “You do what you need to survive. No one should blame you for that.”