Sword's Blessing (12 page)

She passed an open air coffee shop where tourists ate powdered beignets and drank deep coffee. She almost fancied stopping for the treat, but then a bell rang, and Giselle shook her head with a short laugh. No, it was time to return to Armand. Besides, Eli and Samantha needed to know about Cyrene.

The sun was nearing set and the street buzzed to life with sweet jazz when she stepped into the voodoo shop. People pressed through the narrow aisles, talking and pointing and giggling nervously as they looked at the curiosities. The girl at the counter sat up and stared at her as if riveted. Giselle smiled. “Hello,” she said. The girl’s dark eyes were round as she covered a gasp. “Sorry. Did I do something wrong?”

“N-no…” the girl gulped. “I just…I just never…” her voice dropped, finishing such that no one but Giselle could hear her. “Never seen the wings.”

Giselle blinked, suddenly worried. But no one else was commenting, pointing, or even looking at them. “Are Eli and Samantha here?”

“Upstairs.” the girl stuttered. “I’m…I’m Charlotte.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” Giselle replied with a smile. “Giselle. Perhaps we can talk later.”

“I’d like that.” Charlotte waved her behind the counter and pointed up a set of stairs behind the counter. “Up there. Just knock, Memaw’s been waiting for you.”

Nodding, Giselle slipped through the curtain, leaving Charlotte gaping until a customer approached. The door opened before she could knock and she was caught up in slender arms and a cheering cry. “Giselle! Oh, Giselle, I’m so relieved.”

“Samantha?” Giselle automatically hugged the other woman, but found herself confused. Were they such close friends that Samantha had been very worried? As she pulled back, she found Samantha crying. “Are you okay?”

“I should be asking you that,” the Inbetweener whined between sniffs.

“I’m afraid she took the Lucifer’s death a little hard,” Eli said with an apologetic smile, and slid an arm around Samantha’s waist. “She’s still hearing aftershocks.”

“So I suppose you know,” Giselle hummed, distractedly searching the room for Armand. “Where’s–”

“Taking a shower,” Samantha interrupted. “Were you there? Did you see the Lucifer? The Damned you fought said he took you.”

An old woman ambled into the room with a wide smile and a cup of tea. “There you are, darling. It took you longer than I expected.”

Giselle tilted her head. “Are you…”

“Cassandra,” the woman replied. “I know. Many years have treated you well, Blood-bearer.”

“And you as well, seer,” Giselle replied faintly, amazed. The seer had been young when they last met, nearly as tall as Giselle, with diamond black eyes and shining obsidian, tight-curled hair. The hair was white now, and less shiny, her once proud stature much more stooped, though she was more commanding for her age, almost. Still, it was a drastic change.

The old woman laughed. “Such manners,” she hooted. “I was in my twenties when I foretold your readiness, and so it has come.” She grinned toothily. “It’s such bittersweet pride to see a prophecy unfold neatly. Why, here you are.”

Samantha and Eli paused where they were and turned to the old woman with narrowed eyes. Samantha hesitated, and then asked, “What do you mean?”

The old woman was sniggering to herself. “A Damned, an Angel, an Inbetweener and a Mortal under my roof at the same time, embracing and celebrating their reunion?” Cassandra cackled. “Why, my gran’ laughed herself sick when I told her that.”

“Ada? Is that you?”

Giselle forwent the rest of the conversation in favor of the voice from the hallway, striding across the living room to meet him face to face once again. She caught her breath. Dressed in just his pants, his dark hair blended into the darkness of the hall, his skin seemed to gather what light was there and burnish it bronze. He smiled, dark eyes crinkling. “I knew you would come, Ada.”

“Giselle,” she said suddenly. “I am Giselle.” He cocked his head, but his face did not fall, nor did he balk at her words. She reached out, stroked his face. “I’m sorry, Manas. Ada died in the snows of our homeland.”

He nodded. “If what I am told is right, Armand died at Cyrene’s hands.”

“He did.” She took his hand. “Could you love the Angel who loved Armand?”

“If you can love the man who loved Ada.”

Her throat tightened in relief and joy. It was so good to shed her fear, and when she leaned to kiss him for the first time, he bent as well, and yet their lips met with the softness of a summer breeze, warm and fulfilling. She stroked his face and he broke the kiss after a touch, but his smile was full of promise and gentle acceptance.

“Was it very hard for you, those hours you were gone?”

“Impossible and yet as natural as breathing,” she replied, and looped her arm in his. “Come on, I have a story to tell.”

“He won’t be coming to the table without a shirt,” Cassandra called. “And I hope your Damned friend is willing to put up for accommodation elsewhere. This is an old woman’s house, you know.”

“In other words,” Eli called, “Get a room you two!”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got you covered,” Samantha added from the kitchen.

Armand glanced at her. Giselle couldn’t help but giggle. “Find your shirt,” she said, and kissed his cheek. “Then come.”

Returning the kiss, Armand turned, and Giselle savored the ribbing she received as she sat at the kitchen table with sweet tea, friends, and the murmur of Bourbon Street below.

* * * *

Despite her new found courage, Giselle was still surprised when no one criticized her actions upon recounting her story, even when she left out the proper reason she had gone to Cyrene’s defense. They didn’t need to know
why
surely. Even with all they’d been through together, she was reluctant to divulge that secret, and merely said Cyrene’s piteous cries had swayed her. Cassandra nodded her way through it, Eli and Samantha did no more than glance at each other. Armand took her hand as she choked on the words Cyrene had wept.

“So Cyrene is the new Lucifer.” Samantha said. “That’s going to go south quickly, so to speak.”

“Especially if the Lucifer was telling the truth about Cyrene’s madness,” Eli mused, his hands steepled in front of him. “And that makes my confusion about the Lucifer much more confusing.” He frowned.

“How do you mean?” Giselle asked.

Eli sighed. “When the Lucifer died…” He eyed Giselle. “This is sort of a delicate question, but when you ascend, are there certain words spoken? Words no one else would know, unless they had ascended as well? Words which echo in your soul?”

“Yes.” Giselle said. “We call it The Litany.”

“As there is a Litany of the Angels, so there is a Litany of the Damned.” He tapped his nose with a finger. “I heard the second line of it loud and clear, the first was…garbled. Unintelligible, as if someone were throwing hands out to muffle it, or struggling not to speak.”

Giselle swallowed. So much for not needing to know why she’d defended Cyrene.

“Perhaps that’s normal?” Samantha ventured. “Do we have anyone who saw the previous Lucifer’s death?” Samantha asked, frowning. “Diego might have.”

“Francis maybe,” Eli mused. “I’m not sure. I never asked how old he was.”

Samantha shook her head. “I doubt it. He didn’t use any weird words or syntax, he was probably not much older than you.”

“Don’t bother,” Giselle shook her head. “I may know why.”

They turned to her. Giselle smiled apologetically. “Eli, you know the power in those words, so I hope you’ll understand why I didn’t speak the whole truth before.” He nodded, frowning, and Giselle set herself. “Our litany is two lines.”

“Ours as well.” Eli replied.

She nodded. “It was not Cyrene’s pleading which bade me raise my sword against the Lucifer,” she said softly, “But the first line of the Angel’s Litany. She could not finish it, but she cried the first line, over and over.”

The table went dead silent for a moment. Cassandra was smiling gently, Samantha frowning. Eli was staring openly, mouth faintly agape. “You’re telling me Cyrene knows the first of the
Angel’s
litany?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“What does that mean?” Samantha asked.

“One of two things,” Eli replied. “Either she’s a fallen–”

“No,” Giselle interjected. “Fallen Angels are proclaimed and kept on close watch, if they are not immediately hunted down.”

“How would she know the first half and not the second?” Samantha asked. “I mean, you can’t interrupt an ascendency half-way through, can you?”

The table was quiet for a few moments. Cassandra smiled. “The Angels interrupt Damnings enough, don’t they, Giselle?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “I suppose they do.”

“So, why not the other way around?”

Samantha glanced at Giselle, but Giselle could hardly see. There was something chiming in her mind, something terrible. The look on her face must have been dark, everyone stopped and stared.

Armand finally ventured. “Giselle?”

She swallowed around a suddenly desert dry tongue. “Samael. She said, ‘The Angel Samael could not break me.’“ She looked at her hands. They were shaking. “Later, she said as Samael was her curse, someone named Aristaeus was her balm, but she had killed him herself.”

“Do you know anything about an angel named Samael or Aristaeus?” Samantha asked softly.

“No.” Giselle shook her head. “Nothing. She only said one was her curse and the other her balm. She said she killed Aristaeus, so maybe he was a Damned?”

Samantha shook her head. “It’s not a Damned name I’ve heard. I’d bet it was Angelic, actually. All those vowels.”

Eli was frowning. “Two Angels without a history, a Damned who knows the first of the Angel’s Litany, and a very strange shift of the Lucifer.”

Samantha winced faintly.

“What?” Giselle asked.

“Nothing,” she said with a weary smile. “I’m a complete nerd. I just heard Fred from Scooby-doo saying ‘It’s a mystery, folks!’"

Eli laughed. “That’s my girl.” he said, “fighting Damned with light sabers and thinking of Scooby-doo when the balance hangs in the…” he paused, then finished lamely. “Balance.”

“How long have you been hanging on to that one, boy?” Cassie asked.

Sheepish, Eli shrugged. “Only since I got into this mess.”

* * * *

They took a break for dinner, promising to reconvene in an hour. Samantha stayed back to talk to Cassandra, Eli slipped off to find a hotel. Armand offered his hand and Giselle took it, heart fluttering. He was beautiful in the evening lights, and with him at her side she barely noticed the jostle and smell of the street as evening fell and the partying began in earnest.

“Do you remember anything?” she asked as they settled near a quartet playing the blues as smooth and sweet as honey.

“I had a talk with Samantha and Cassandra about it,” he replied, squeezing her hand. “Samantha described her method of saving me. She said even when Cyrene had shattered my soul, my connection to you kept me together. She said it probably would have been disastrous if I’d actually died, since that connection would have just been severed.”

Giselle nodded. “I knew I’d go mad without you anyway. That just proves it.”

“And it means you were right to tell off the Fore,” he replied, and stroked a piece of hair behind her ear. “They said it was for your own good, but they didn’t realize how connected we were. We knew.”

“We always knew,” she agreed. “Will the memories come back?”

Truth be told, she didn’t think she minded either way. It would have been nice to have Armand returned to her, but in the end, she was not afraid of being forgotten. They were together and that was what mattered.

He shrugged. “Cassandra said only very powerful events can unlock those kinds of memories in normal circumstances. Like death or ascension. Samantha added since we’ve got a connection it might be easier, and the lock might just fall apart one day.” He smiled. “I hope it does. I know things about you, but not specifics.”

“It’s all right,” she said, and leaned up to nuzzle him. Whatever soap he’d used in the shower had scented him of myrrh and frankincense. It was an intoxicating scent, especially combined with the fine cotton of the shirt. She blinked. “Weren’t you wearing different clothes?”