This morning I could bear the helplessness no longer, and I went to find Orison. He was in council with Salathiel, but perhaps they saw some of my desperation, for they broke off their conversation to give me their undivided attention. I was grateful for that, but not for their advice.
“It is a bad idea,” Orison said bluntly when I had explained what I wanted to do. “To say nothing of the foolishness of looking for trouble, Asa’el—you know yourself the impossibility of finding a specific Fallen if they choose not to be found.”
“What if she does want to be found?” I retorted. “She has challenged me so many times—”
“Then that is worse,” Salathiel answered, “for it means that she is laying a trap for you.”
“Battles between angels and Fallen have been planned before the event in the past.”
“And almost inevitably they resulted in treachery from the enemy,” Orison reminded me. He set one hand on my shoulder, his grip tight. “Leave behind this idea, please. We will put a stop to Asoharith in time.”
I did not with to wait for that. I did not want to continue to stand by and watch the Fallen causing pain and death in their attempts to get to me. I wanted to give them the chance. And perhaps it was that shadow of recklessness that led me to Anathalie.
She heard my plan in silence, her eyes fixed on my face the entire time. Not once did her expression or her aura flicker, not when I laid out my logic or my emotional reasoning. But when I had finished, she spread her wings. “Let us to the hunt, then, brother,” she said.
I was much astonished, for in the interest of honesty I had told her that Salathiel and Orison had both disapproved my plan. But she said only, “They will not punish you for it if you are with me.” And so we flew down into the night, into places where chill was thinning the air and there was fear and uncertainty in the hearts of those around us. There has been much of that, recently, or perhaps it is just the way that I see the world now.
I did not know what Anathalie was looking for at first—she was silent in flight, her scarred hand groping through the air. Soon enough, however, it closed into a fist as if around a rope, and her eyes narrowed. “Quickly and quietly,” she told me, and she stooped.
It was a Violence, a big bully of a Fallen who was prompting a thief to open fire on the people who stood between himself and freedom. The thing looked up in astonishment at the sight of Anathalie—so swift was her strike that she had her hands on it before it even realized we were there. She tore it away from the humans and dragged it into the air, gripping it by the nape of the neck. Somehow—I cannot say how—it hung docile in her grip, only making a small keening noise. At one point, Anathalie said, “Quiet,” to it, and the sound immediately cut off.
We came to an empty place by a river, full of empty warehouses and abandoned boats, and Anathalie threw her prey down onto the deck of one of the latter. “Stay down,” she said, arching her wings so the tips pointed like knives at the creature.
It did so, shivering. “You are the one,” it said in a low, quavering voice. “The shadow slayer.”
It does not surprise me that Anathalie has such a reputation among the Fallen.
“You are not here to talk about me,” Anathalie said. She stepped back, motioning to me. “My brother has questions for you.”
My heart began to race. Abruptly I did not want to be there, did not want to be doing this.
But the Violence was turning its eyes towards me—they were surprisingly lovely, a shade of deep green—and I gathered my courage.
“Have you heard the name of Asoharith?” I asked.
Something shifted in those eyes, and its mouth curled up. “Perhaps,” it said. “Is it Asa’el who asks?”
Before I could say anything in reply, it fell to the ground as if pressed there by a great force. “We are the ones who will ask the questions,” Anathalie said. She had not moved, but I could feel the power from her now. There was pain in her gaze, but her voice was even as she went on. “You will answer only with truth, or lose the ability to speak entirely.”
It gabbled some sort of assent, and she released it. I waited while it gathered itself. “What is it that you wish to know about Asoharith?” it asked meekly.
“I wish to know why it is that she hunts me,” I answered with some force of my own. “And I want to give her the opportunity to find me, rather than the ones that I love. Why is it that she uses others to do her work for her?”
“Why would she do for herself what she could have others do?” the Fallen asked, in logic that bewildered me. “As to why she hunts you, I could not say.” A trace of smugness came into its voice. “We are not so obedient as you angels, always forced to follow the orders of others. We do as we please, so long as it furthers the vengeance of our Master.”
“Your pride would seem to leave you very lonely,” I said.
“I have no need of anyone, and no desire for them, either.”
How strange that it could not even see how sad that is! “Then you have no loyalty to Asoharith?”
“No loyalty,” it repeated, and its mouth stretched wide, showing long, narrow fangs. “What is it you propose, Guardian?” It spat the last word as if it were a curse—which it may have been.
I drew myself up, stung by the trace of mockery in its voice. “Bring a message to Asoharith for me. Tell her that if it is me that she wants, she can have me, in a time and place of her choosing, and we can bring this to an end with no further suffering to innocents. I will promise that none of my fellow angels will interfere unless she does not come alone, and that I will be glad to hear her grievances.”
The Violence looked up with a glint in its eye. “And for the favor of bearing the message—?”
“You will have your life.”
“It is not much,” Anathalie said coldly, and the Violence cringed.
For an interminable moment, it considered the bargain. Finally it bowed its ugly head. “I will take your message,” it said. “I cannot say what Asoharith will do, but she will hear of it from me, I swear it.”
My hands clenched into fists, as if my enemy were already before me. “Then go, and return to this place here when you have her answer.”
“Of course, Guardian,” it said in an oily tone.
Anathalie freed it, stepping back, and it rose, shaking out its wings and giving her wary glances. She did not move to stop it, however, and so it leapt into the air. I saw a flash of a grin on its face before it turned and was gone.
I was turning to Anathalie to exclaim over the success of the plan, but she seized my arm. “Quickly and quietly,” she said to me and drew me up into flight. We went directly to Freya’s house, where all was calm and peaceful. Freya herself was stumbling out of bed in search of a glass of water.
And there at the head of the stairs waited a familiar bulky shadow, watching her. Visions of her tumbling headfirst down the stairs, of my own grief and guilt, gleamed behind a pair of lovely green eyes.
I was overcome with rage. This time I was the one to stoop and seize the creature, even as it was reaching for Freya’s ankles. I dragged it out to the street and hurled it down onto the pavement. “Foolish, treacherous creature,” I snarled. “Is your life worth so little to you?”
“You’re the fool, Guardian,” it snapped. “I owe no loyalty to Asoharith or to you. If I did, I would let her bring you suffering as she wishes, instead of taking it on myself.” It crouched to strike, but suddenly again it was pressed down to the ground, this time so forcefully that it could not speak or move.
“Do you see now?” Anathalie asked me. “There is no honor in them, no common purpose. No promise you could make to them could compel them to deal truthfully with you.” She stepped forward, and in her hand appeared a long knife, its dark edge so fine that it vanished from sight.
The Violence on the ground began to whimper, struggling against her hold. Its eyes were wide and fixed on me, but there was no pleading in them, only hate.
“Quiet,” Anathalie said, and she let the knife fall. And it was.
There was little more to say. I went back into the house to check on Freya—she had been startled fully awake by the close call, but was convinced easily enough that she had imagined a noise and went back to her bed to calm down from the little scare. When she was asleep, I went back out to find Anathalie still standing in the street.
“We will find her, Asa’el,” she told me. “And until you do, you will protect Freya as you always have.”
I will certainly try. But what if it is not enough?