Ash & Flame: Season One (6 page)

"Dad?"

Ren turned around, her voice surprising him. Emma stood on the landing. She flashed him a quick smile, but Ren caught the nervous energy behind it. Her gaze darted to the ground, and she swallowed. Something was wrong.

"Morning, honey," Ren said. He held out his hand, wiggling his fingers for Emma to join him. "I was just talking to Rachel here. You hungry? I was just going to get us some breakfast."

Emma shook her head. Her lips quivered, and her eyes flitted from him to the mix of salt and limestone in front of her.

"Em? What is it?" Ren felt the first ragged edge of panic, rising like the crest of a wave.

"What's wrong with her?" Rachel asked. Her eyes narrowed.

"Emma, baby doll, come here." Ren moved towards the landing.
Please, not here
, he thought.

Emma stepped back away from the landing, her hand shaking on the rail. Her eyes were wide now, like she was a cornered animal, unsure where to go or how to escape. "Stay away."

Ren took another step, his hands out in front. "It's okay, Em—"

"Stay back!"

Her shrill cry cut into the air, followed by an uncomfortable, tense silence. Ren let out a low breath as the guard called down over the ledge of the squat building. A shout sounded behind him.
Don't. Not now
.

Ren felt the sudden stillness, like the moment before Katie stepped off that ledge so long ago. Before she disappeared and the new world crushed him under its weight, and he was powerless to stop the overwhelming pull of gravity. And then the moment after, when he'd just stood there, blinking, his mind unable to comprehend what had just happened.

Please
.

A flock of birds interrupted the silence, bursting from the nearby treetops and weaving into the sky. Ren watched as they ducked and then flew overhead, darting towards the west before settling on the rails of a catwalk that ran between the towers.

Ren heard a wet thump, and Emma shrieked. The breath stuck in his throat.

A bird lay at her feet, red spattered over its black feathers. Its wings twitched, one stretching out like it ached to touch Emma's foot. She stood still, one hand over her mouth, her gaze frozen on the twitching bird.

The eye of the bird stared at Ren, and his heart shuddered. He knew with a gnawing certainty that something else looked out at him from that dead eye, mocking him, and he felt the hair on his arms stand on end. Fear clawed at him.

Whatever it was, it
knew
him. And it wanted his daughter.

A firm hand clapped him on the shoulder, and Ren winced at the resurgent tide of pain that shot through his neck. Kevin's low voice sounded in his ear. "Bring her here. Bring her here right now."

No
. They couldn't have her. She belonged with him. It wasn't her fault. It was a mistake to stay here, he knew. They had to leave before it was too late.

"No."

He jerked away from the big man's grip, biting his lip against the pain, and ran towards Emma. Rachel called out, her voice faint and tinny in his ears. The bird's eye followed him, taunting him as he sprinted for the landing and his daughter. Blood pounded in his ears, like the ocean's waves.

You're too late
, the smirking eye said.
You've always been too late
.

Ren's foot caught a jutting stone and he nearly fell, a sharp crack running through his ears. The world spun for an instant and something hard thrust the oxygen from his lungs. He dully realized he had ended up on his back, his hand digging into sand and rock. He gasped for air, coughing and spluttering as he finally took a heaving breath.

He shook his head and sat up. He looked for the landing, for his daughter. Instead his eyes found a gleaming giant, clad in a shining breastplate. Symbols ran along the seams and edges of the man's armor, shifting and changing as Ren focused on them. Massive feathered wings fluttered over the giant's shoulders. He held a spear, easily twice the height of a man. The point shone so brightly that Ren had to shield his eyes with his hand.

Ren couldn't breathe, his mind racing, shouting at him to turn back, to run as fast as he could. His feet wouldn't move.

Ithuriel. The Spear.

"Who are you, son of man," Ithuriel said, his voice like the hammer of a thunderclap. His gaze shifted to Emma, his eyes cold and demanding. "And why have you brought this creature into our midst?"

Creature?
Ren got to one knee and nearly lost his balance, throwing his hand out to catch himself. He tried to look up at the towering angel and had to turn his head to avoid the glare from the blinding point of the spear.

"I-I don't understand. That's my daughter."

The angel's wings shimmered in the morning light. He peered down at Emma, then shifted his piercing gaze back towards Ren. Ithuriel's features softened as he lowered the spear. He crouched in front of Ren. "I do see your humanity in her, yes," he said. "But I also see the blood of the Grigori flowing through this child's veins."

"Wait, what?" Ren stammered.

"Well, not quite what I expected, but it makes sense." Kevin stepped into Ren's field of vision. His hand clutched the pendant at his neck. "Sorry, Ren. Looks like you weren’t the problem after all."

EPISODE TWO

The voices in Emma's head thrashed and roiled when the...when the
angel
crashed down to Earth in front of her, and she clenched her legs against the sudden urge to pee. She felt sick, bile crawling up her throat, and she swallowed, her feet rooted to the spot.

Odisse Malakhi
, a voice hissed, boiling over with anger and fear both.
Hate them. Profugere, Grigori
.

Occidite
, another whispered, the word burning into her mind.
Kill it. Occidite!

Emma tried to understand the words swimming in her head, more thoughts and voices whisking by like leaves in a strong fall wind. Warmth flushed her cheeks and seeped down her neck.

She remembered how sometimes her mom would walk into her room, and she could just tell something had gone wrong in Mom's head. The smells that made her wrinkle her nose for a moment and then were gone. Or the ice that trickled down her arms and legs when Mom had touched her or looked at her and the light just caught her face all wrong.

This felt sort of like that had. She couldn't explain it, not really, but she knew.

Emma wondered if she would get sick like her mom had. Maybe she already was, and it would only get worse from here. Wondered if she'd have to...if she'd have to...
jump
. Emma didn't think that she could do it, even if she had to.

She looked down. The dead bird's eyes stared into hers.

Run, run
, the bird said. Only, the bird's beak never moved. And birds couldn't talk, not really, and the idea scared her even more.
Run away, hide, before Malakhi sees!

Malakhi. Emma understood the word, and she understood the fear of it.

She peered up at the angel's wings, wondering if he could fly without them, then wondering why she would even think that. His spear shone like a miniature sun, its light so bright that she wanted to scrunch her eyes closed. Only, she couldn't.

The angel–
no, Malakhi
–turned and glared at her, like he could see the voices fighting inside her head. And his intentions were as clear as his eyes. He didn't like the voices, didn't like the things they said.

But neither did Emma. She stared back at him and swore that she didn't like them either, and that was the truth. She thought it as hard as she could, through the voices, and the hissed whispers.

She promised she didn't like them, and then her head started pounding. She tried to lift her hands to squeeze both sides of her head to make it stop, but her hands wouldn't move.

Odium amare. Odisse. Amare
. The thoughts swirling in her mind, washing over her.
Love hate. Hate. Love
. Over and over, circling like vultures, calling down to her.

No, please stop
.

"Who are you, son of man," the angel said, his voice like rolling thunder in Emma's ears. His gaze shifted to Emma, his eyes boring into her. "And why have you brought this creature into our midst?"

Something wet trickled down her chin and dripped down her arm. She couldn't remember ever being so scared, not after Mom, not even when the demons had finally found her.

Stop looking at me. Stop looking
.

Prohibere vultus ad me
, another voice cried, the mocking echo ringing in her ears, and Emma flinched.

Dad pushed himself up to his feet and stood there, his hands out like he might fall over.

"I-I don't understand. That's my daughter," he said, but his voice sounded so far away, even though he was only a few strides away from her. It sounded like he was on a phone, his voice tinny and distant.

The voices hissed at her, and Emma straightened and squeezed her eyes shut. She
was
his daughter, no matter what the voices said, no matter how loud and insistent they got. Why would they lie to her?

Maybe they're not lying
, she thought.
Maybe we're the ones telling the truth, and he's the liar
.

Emma bit her lip and glanced at her dad. She didn't think that. She couldn't think that. Maybe he was a coward. But being a coward didn’t mean he was a liar.

The angel looked at her again, and a chill ran down the skin of her arms, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. He lowered his spear and Emma had to squint away.

Please don't kill me
. That thought was definitely hers.

"I do see your humanity in her, yes," the angel said. His voice made Emma's ears hurt. "But I also see the blood of the Grigori flowing through this child's veins."

Grigori
. Emma recoiled at the name. It was a bad name, a name that meant fear and anguish and pain. She couldn't define it, but she knew it, recognized what that word meant to others.

Yes
. Blood dripped from the end of her nose. Grigori-grigori-
grigori
.

Emma let out a deep exhale, all that pressure on her chest suddenly eased. Her arms and legs shook, and she took a trembling step forward. She choked back a sob.

She put her hands over her ears and squeezed. She blinked away the tears that threatened to topple over her eyelids. Maybe she was going crazy. Maybe she already was.

Emma didn't want to have to jump. She didn't want to leave Dad alone. She knew he would be so sad that he'd stop caring, and that would be worse than anything, because he'd quit. He'd lie down and just never get up again.

She could barely stand to see it when he got that far-off look in his eyes, because she knew what he saw, what he remembered. Only it was worse for him because he’d lost so much more than Emma had. She'd lost her mom, and her friends, but she'd been just a little girl when it had all happened and the world broke.

Her dad had lost everything, everything in all the world, except for her. There was no one else left to take care of him.

Kevin muttered something that Emma couldn't quite make out. He'd been nice to her after they'd first arrived and fixed up her dad, but she didn't like the way he looked at her now. The hand holding his cross clenched into a tight fist, and his dark eyes were cold and hard.

A voice slithered in Emma's mind that she understood. It spiraled out of control, bursting at her seams, licking at her skin. So powerful, the thoughts digging at her, telling her the truth. About her, about Dad, Mom. About everything.

Emma screamed.

She wanted to run into Dad's arms, wanted to hear him whisper that everything was going to be fine, but she couldn't. The edge of the landing felt so hot, and she knew without question that if she stepped over the edge, it would burn her up. Like she'd take that last step, bury her foot in the white sand that covered the ground here, and she'd burst into flames.

"Dad, I'm scared," she whispered, and this time she couldn't help it. She couldn't pretend to be brave. She started crying, tears streaming down her cheeks, and her nose beginning to run. She fell down, her knees banging painfully on the cement landing. She couldn't look the angel in the eyes, so she stared at her father instead. "Help me, Dad, please. It's not my fault."

It wasn't Mom's fault either. But she'd jumped all the same.

She blinked and wiped her face with her sleeve. Her eyes went wide as she saw the dark, glistening streak against the white cotton sleeve of her shirt. She pressed her fingers to her upper lip. She swallowed as she drew them back and watched the blood run down her fingers.

Stop it. Just a little blood
. She sniffed and wiped her fingers on her shirt.
You're not scared
.