I was with Freya this evening when Simmah found me. She was in a low mood. Kara and George had gone out tonight, and Kara has been pestering Freya to do the same—“you need to get out more, Cobb, you’re becoming a weirdo. Sitting in your room and talking to yourself.”
“That’s not exactly fair to Ace,” Freya replied mildly.
“Ace doesn’t count. No offense,” Kara added to me.
“None taken,” I replied. “I happen to agree with Kara. It would do you good to get your mind off of all this. You always used to enjoy going out with friends, or even on a date.”
“Now that’s the best idea I’ve heard all day,” Kara said. “Come on, Cobb, it’s time to get back in the saddle.”
I was unsure of the exact meaning of this, but I caught the implication, and I agreed.
Freya didn’t seem to agree. She put both of us off with a laugh, but I could see that she was annoyed. She still was after Kara left, to the point that I asked if she wanted me to leave.
“Do you want to go?” she asked, her voice sharper than it has been.
“Freya, I always want to be with you if that is permitted.”
Just like that, the flames in her aura stopped snapping. She looked at me with a smile. “So stay then. But Ace, I don’t—I don’t really want to talk, okay?”
And so we were sitting together in silence while I meditated and Freya flipped through a manuscript. I was monitoring the movements of Rachmanes and Ananiah on watch around the house, but it was neither of them who burst into the room, startling Freya into knocking several loose pages onto the floor.
“Asa’el,” Simmah said, his voice taut with urgency. “Trace the thread. Do it now.”
I was on my feet, my wings trembling. My seniors were concerned at the toll it took me to do just that the first time, and they asked me to refrain from using it unless absolutely necessary. If Simmah was asking this of me now…
“What is it?” Freya asked me. She has not yet met Simmah, and so could not see him.
But then she jumped as Simmah revealed himself to her, in her eyes appearing out of nowhere. “I will explain,” he told me. “Hurry, Asa’el.”
I needed no further urging. I closed my eyes and found the thread in my heart, thinking about light flashing on Shannon’s hair and the ring of her laughter. Asoharith’s laughter sounds just the same, but there is a sour note behind it.
It did not take as long as it did the first time. Soon I was hearing that laughter in more than just memory, and with it was a voice that horrified me.
When I opened my eyes, I was staring directly into Freya’s. The heat of her aura bloomed all around me, and I knew then that she had heard what I had—her mother’s sobs.
“Go,” she said, and she bolted out of the room, snatching her keys and screaming for Rachmanes.
I flew, but it didn’t feel like I was leaving Freya. Rather it felt that she was flying with me, driving me faster, her anger and fear filling me with strength.
I did not bother with eyes or ears. I knew precisely where Asoharith was, and I charged into her with all the force of a train, driving her out of Esther’s house and pinning her in the trees behind the garden.
“How dare you,” I snarled, and I heard Freya’s voice behind my words. “How dare you even look at her.” Smoke was rising from under my fingers where they were fixed around Asoharith’s throat.
Even so, she grinned at me. “Better hurry,” she rasped. “Mommy’s not in a good way.”
Freya’s fear snapped the connection between the two of us, and I turned, casting my thoughts back into the house. Esther’s light was faltering, her pain rising.
“Brid,” I cried, but Esther needed help now, and Asoharith knew it. I cursed and let go of her, and she was gone even before I made it back to Esther’s side.
She was clutching her chest, gasping for breath. The pain was growing in her, spreading all down her left arm, which she seemed unable to move. The weight of the shadows that Asoharith had put on her was putting a desperate strain on her heart.
I set my hands on her shoulders and sent all of my light shooting through her. “Esther,” I said, and as she looked up, her eyes wide and frightened, I opened my mind and heart to her as I had to her daughter. “I am here. You are not alone. You will be all right.”
Somehow, she was not afraid. She stared at me in wonder, and the shadows slipped away. “Ace,” she gasped. “Thank you…for coming.”
She lost consciousness then, but by that time Brid was there. We worked on her together, and when Freya’s car skidded into the driveway—half an hour earlier than the trip usually took her—Esther was sitting up, a blanket around her shoulders, a bit of color coming back to her cheeks.
“Mama!” Freya cried, falling to her knees beside her.
“Oh, honey, I’m so glad you’re here,” Esther said, clutching her daughter’s hand. But then, before Freya could fall to pieces, she added, “Could you make me some coffee?”
Freya stared, and then dropped her head on top of their joined hands. “Are you serious? Did you or did you not just have a heart attack?”
“Maybe I did,” Esther admitted, “but it was a very little one, and anyway I had a pair of angels to help me through it. But while they are very good with big problems, they’re not so good with things like starting the coffeepot. So would you please?”
Dumbfounded, Freya looked up at me. I shrugged. “I suppose she decided to remember after all,” I said quietly to her. “And you should know we don’t stand a chance against Cobb women when they’ve made up their mind.”
“He’s pretty smart,” Esther said. “Here, help me up, my ass hurts.”
And so Freya settled her mother at the kitchen table and made coffee, and the two of them talked about—well, everything. I was not there for the entire conversation, though Brid was, still keeping a sharp eye on Esther. Thankfully she seems to have taken no lasting harm from the fright, although she will be talking to her doctor about heart trouble at her next appointment, and Brid will continue to keep watch.
There was no such happy resolution for a Cherub tonight. Asoharith has vanished again, and though Anathalie and Orison are again on her trail, we are not encouraged. Even Simmah only saw her plan, not where she had gone or who was her target.
“I am very sorry,” he told me, “and I hope you will carry my apologies to both of them. Pelaios’ shadow keeps her well hidden, and she certainly has someone guiding her movements.”
“Then search for them, not for her,” I told him. “All these powerful Fallen who have gathered behind her—why would they do this if they were not using her for their own gain? She is not the true threat.”
“She is to you,” Simmah said.
With that grim reminder in my ears, I went back to check on them.
This time, Esther jumped a little bit at the sight of me. I could tell that now that the fear of the Fallen was gone, she found my appearance alarming.
I spoke to Freya to give her a bit of time to get used to me. “Kara is going to be angry with me.”
Freya raised her brows.
“I broke my promise to let her be present the first time that I swore.”
She laughed. “Well, the circumstances merited it, that’s for sure.” Her eyes grew serious, and she angled her head in question. I shook mine, and her eyes tightened.
I turned then to Esther, who was now studying me in some fascination. “It is time that I introduce myself to you,” I said, bowing. “I am Asa’el, who is Guardian to your daughter.”
“And to me, I guess,” Esther said. “I’m very grateful to you for coming so quickly. If you hadn’t, I might be dead by now.”
Freya winced and said, “Mom.”
“What? It’s true.” She pushed to her feet, ignoring Freya’s protest. “And now I know that if not for you, my daughter would be dead. I know what she went through, and what you’ve been protecting her from. And I don’t know how to thank you.”
I bowed my head. “Perhaps you should not. In at least one instance, I was not able to protect her from the same pain that was inflicted on you tonight.”
“Only because it was turned on you,” Freya sprang to my defense. “I’m telling you, Mom, Ace is the real target.”
“In more ways than one, Freya is my guardian as well,” I said, smiling at her. She returned the smile.
Esther looked from me to Freya and back. “You’ve been together for a long time,” she observed.
“For years now,” Freya answered. “But it’s only been since about Christmas that I knew it.”
“I remember,” Esther said, settling back into her chair. “I said to my daughter then that she had a very good, selfless friend. I wish I knew how to repay you for what you’ve done.”
“There is no need, and in full truth it was not so selfless. It would have broken Freya’s heart if anything had happened to you, and her pain is mine. I will do whatever it takes to keep either of you from such pain.”
Esther reached across the table, and Freya took her hand, squeezing it tightly.
“You have much to talk about,” I said, taking a step back. “I will not be far if you have any further questions. And you may rest assured, Esther, that you will not go unprotected again.”
A martial light came to her eye, and her aura flared up almost as bright as Freya’s. “You better believe that I won’t be surprised again, either. That thing came for my daughter more than once, and if I see her again I’ll be the one throwing hands.”
She meant it, too—as I left to take up my watch, Esther was pressing Freya about the role humans can play in the battles between angels and Fallen, and about the training that she, George, and Kara had gone through.
And so we have another conscript to this battle. It worries me, though, and not just because Esther is more physically fragile than the others. This feud is becoming more of a war, dragging in more and more combatants, and the stakes are rising. Asoharith and I may have started it, but who will finish it? And how will all of us come through it in the end?