Destroyed by Onyx (A Dance with Destiny Book 4) (4 page)

Chapter 3

Daichi

(dye-SHEE)

“This universe is vast. And now you have no reliable way to track the Death Angel.” Uriel looked at Daichi as he spoke. “I know you were made especially for her, blue one, do you feel anything? Anything at all?”

“Her essence is so powerful…” Daichi looked down at the glowing blade. “…all my attention is drawn to the dagger.”

“I feel a humming.”

The two Angels looked to Munenori as he spoke, eyes closed, tasting the wind.

Alastyn approached the heavenly trio.

Uriel met the new King of Ashgard, placing a supportive hand upon his shoulder. “This is not your fault, valiant human. I have slain the one who bore the guilt. Unburden your heart and turn your sights toward glorious future. Let the Sons of Heaven see to the Daughter of God.”

Munenori inhaled deeply, his wings expanding to their full glory. “I can feel her weapons,” he growled. “She remains upon this layer still.”

“No, Angel,” Alastyn whispered. “That isn’t Jenevier.”

Three heavenly glares bore through the man who had been named King. He lowered his head, trying to stop his coming tears.

“You sense her blades, yes. Yet, that isn’t her.” He drew in a strained breath. “They are hanging from the bedpost in her old home. She removed them before we came to the forest.”

Daichi’s nostrils flared in anger. “Why would she do something so foolhardy? Why would she abandon her heavenly treasures so easily?”

“It was for me.” Jezreel spoke softly as she approached them. “She came into the forest in search of me. I am her dearest friend from our youth. She did not wish to cause strife amongst my people. She did not come armed because she came in search of love and celebration, not blood and war.”

“Her weapons are for
her
protection. Not yours,” Munenori hissed. “She should know better. I haven’t had time to train her properly on how to reclaim them.”

Jezreel looked sorrowfully upon the mossy lavender Angel of Jinn. “She was still master of her wings and claws. Great fire lives within her. It has seen her through worse.”

“Not anymore, little Elf Princess.” Everyone turned toward the mighty Archangel. “She may yet don her lethal diamonds, but her fire, her great heart, it now resides within mine blade,” Uriel said. “Wherever she landed, she is absent her fire, her heart, and her soul as well.”

“She is only the weapon now,” Daichi whispered.

“It is as you say,” Uriel said with a sigh. “She is no longer the Death Angel. Now, she is only… Death.”

“But… Jenevier would never—”

“She is no longer Jenevier.” Munenori’s shouts cut off Alastyn’s words. “She is an empty vessel, boy. Do you not understand?”

Uriel’s calming voice broke in. “Listen to me, King of Ashgard. She is a mighty weapon to be commanded by whoever shall reach her first. All reason and hope and love have been removed her. All that was Jenevier, the whole of her life, her memories, her enchanting spirit… all of this now resides only in that seraph blade you see in the hand of her mighty blue Blessing.”

Daichi stared at the ethereal dagger while the truth of Uriel’s words sank into the breaking hearts of her childhood friends.

“You are not your body, good King,” Daichi said softly. “That is intended for the pleasure of the eyes alone.” He spoke without turning from the glowing treasure in his hand.

Munenori grasped the trembling Angel’s shoulder but turned to look at the remaining people of Ashgard. “What you are, resides within. What you see with your eyes is but the wrapper. What you truly
are
, is the soul.”

“Yes,” Uriel continued. “And Jenevier’s body, her
wrapper
, is a deadly thing. Only her pure soul could restrain it, could control it.”

Daichi’s voice was heavy with sorrow. “Minus her radiant soul, the Guardians may receive summons against her shell, her body, long before I can find her.” He met Alastyn’s troubled gaze. “Your bow is a deadly thing, Emerald Eyes. With it, you feed your family, defend the weak, you bring forth justice in the face of tyranny. Your weapon is used for good only because the string is pulled taut by a noble heart. Yet in the hands of a darkened mind, that same weapon can cause unfathomable damage.”

Uriel and Munenori looked knowingly upon the sapphire Blessing from God. They could read well the pain now constricting his shattering heart.

“Come. We must not waste time, Brother,” Munenori said. “I will retrieve her blades and meet you within the holy city she called home.”

Jezreel watched the three Angels disappear into the clouds as the happiest day of her plagued life came crashing down around her broken heart.

*****

“Tenshi!” Daichi’s voice cracked with his coming tears as he yelled out his angelic brother’s name.

“How is it you are broken, Angel?” Vinika kept her voice as a whisper when she approached the trembling sapphire-winged giant.

When he looked up from the glowing seraph blade, she saw the tears streaming down his lovely face.

She took a hasty step back. “I will go find your brother.”

Daichi’s mournful cries tore through the heart of every Guardian within the city.

Vareen rushed to his side. “What has happened to her now?”

“She has been destroyed,” he sobbed.

She gasped. “How is that even possible? Who could do such a thing to the Angel of Death?”

“A jealous Elven girl upon the fourth layer,” Munenori answered as his feet crashed to the ground beside Daichi. “Have you been given a vision concerning her?”

When Vareen regained control of her startled tongue, she answered the mighty Angel. “I-I have not.”

“Where is Tenshi? Where hides my brother?” Daichi yelled through his tears once more.

Vareen lightly touched the blue Angel’s arm. “He’s in the training dome with—”

“Can you scry her?” Munenori cut off her words with his demanding tone.

“I ca-can t-try,” she said.

Daichi’s bitter sobs turned into a half-laugh when he beheld the sapphire wings of his brother fast approaching. When they embraced, the sound was akin to boulders colliding. They held each other silently. Words were not necessary; their thoughts were as one. Tenshi knew instantly all that was in his brother’s mind. He turned to Vareen. The seer stood speechless before them.

“Will you make me a promise, revered mother?” Tenshi asked.

Seeing the great pain clearly within his steely eyes, she could only manage a slight nod of her head.

“Will you give me your word?” he pressed.

“Yes, Tenshi,” she said. “I will do anything you ask of me. Simply name it.”

“Very well, then. When you receive summons against Mama, tell me or Daichi before you send word to the selected Guardian.”

“But Tenshi, I—”

“You gave me your word,” he growled.

She stiffened her shoulders and raised her chin. “So I did… and I shall keep it.”

Munenori placed his hand atop Vareen’s head, physically turning her to face him. “We don’t have much time. Every second she remains soulless brings us one step closer to irrecoverable catastrophe. Go. Scry her now.”

Vareen returned to them only a moment after her departure. “It told me she was standing right here next to you,” she whispered to Munenori.

“Then you can only scry her soul.” He sighed and turned to the angelic twins. “We are on our own in this. Uriel will keep watch as well. He will herald us all he sees, but…” His words trailed off.

“Aye, Brother, if ye seek mine Angel, ye’ll nae be alone in the task. Nae while I yet draw breath.” Vittorio released a dry laugh as he approached them, a molten fire gleaming in his heavenly blue eyes. “I’d let the whole universe burn tae see her safely smiling within my arms.”

“Vittorio, but… How did you know?” Daichi said.

“Aye, little brother, ye may be made for her, but I share an inexplicable bond with the wee lass. One that yers cannae erase,” he said with a smile. “I was in the forest of Byzantha, talking with Prince Syadar, when a gaping hole opened in my heart. All my strength gushed oot an’ I staggered.” Angry tears filled his eyes. “I knew then. It cannae be anything less than the loss of her, of my only wee love.”

“What in the blue blazes has happened this time?” Vareilious growled.

He burst through the clouds like an explosion, his landing caving in the firmament before them. Gone was his arrogant smirk. Gone was his always mischievous manner. Rage and revenge pulsed fervently just beneath his iridescent skin. He was utterly terrifying. His deep guttural voice echoed off the surrounding mountain tops.

“I leave for two heartbeats and all bloody hell breaks loose!”

Chapter 4

Brodder

(BRAH-dur)

Brodder Scot stared at the tiny white woman, now sleeping soundly, peacefully. She looked like a child, fists drawn up to her button nose, curled into a little ball. She was as a small babe, looked just like a dolly swaddled in the midst of that giant bed.

She’d cried herself to sleep in his arms on their journey here, not even stirring when he carried her in and laid her down.

He sighed as he looked upon her, so delicate, so fragile.

“What am I gonna do with you, Lass?” He closed his eyes, wearily rubbing his massive hands down his face. “You have shown up at the worst possible time. Where shall I hide such a wee girl? Where can I tuck you away so you won’t be crushed?” He leaned back in his chair, casting his troubled gaze upon the ceiling. “Dainty things don’t live in Val Hal. They cannot survive here. Our women are roughhewn. Our men, battle weary. War is coming, wee lamb. I have no place to hide you from it, no place to safely stow such a rare treasure.”

The large man walked to the dusty window, absently staring out at another bleak and dreary day. His mind saw only the coming clash. It filled his every waking moment.

Val Hal had always been a glorious place to live, the rolling green hills, majestic steep cliffs, pristine icy waters. It was a place only poets could dream of, a magic no artist could truly capture. The strong, valiant people were as rugged as the beautiful land they walked upon. Neighbors helped each other, families cared ferociously for their young, and the whole of them lived by a simple set of rules. Wake up early, work hard, treat others with respect, satisfy your mate, and always share your whiskey.

A warm smile crossed his wind-creased face as he thought about it.
Life has always been good here. No one can laugh as loud, drink as much, or love as hard as the brave people of my beloved Val Hal.

The smile faded from Brodder’s eyes as his mind went on to more recent events. His jaw set in a hard line, abject determination danced across his sullen features.

“Everything was perfect until that Silver Witch showed up on our doorstep,” he growled.

He could still see her face plainly in his mind’s eye.

She appeared out of nowhere.

Strolled right into the feast hall, as if she owned the damn place
, he thought.

“Bloody fool,” Brodder grumbled as he remembered how his brother, Gryndal, had been so taken with the strange looking woman.

“Alas, I hope his soul found its peace.”

Shortly after the witch’s arrival, families were torn apart, neighbors slew each other over boundary lines, livestock were slaughtered in the night, and brother took up arms against brother. Family had once meant everything on Val Hal. Now, it was nearly counted as nothing. During the years that witch had walked among them, war and death had spread as locusts upon the land.

Brodder turned when he heard the fragile little creature mumbling as she squirmed amongst the covers. He drew nearer, his brow furrowing as he tried to make out a slurred word here or there. He listened to her murmured nightmares.

“The wee maid dreams of demons, Dragons, devils, and dead men,” he whispered. “Hmpft, perhaps she landed in the right place after all.” He softly hummed to himself as he made ready for bed. “It seems she
can
speak. At least, she can speak when she dreams.” He looked at the reflection of her stilled form in the mirror. “Wonder what tragedy befell such a lovely wee thing? I wonder what happened to mess her mind up so badly.” A sad smile crossed his face. “Perhaps she’s just like the rest of us, layer upon layer of all-messed-up. Yes, she has fallen amongst her own kind. Of that, I am certain.”

He took out his scissors and sharpened his razor, humming all the while. He quietly spoke to his aging reflection, peering back at him through the battered old looking glass.

“Well, no more need in hiding, old boy. The winds of change are blowing colder and my men will arrive within a fortnight.”

He’d only just finished trimming his newly-shaped, close-cut beard, when the snow white girl woke, screaming. He stumbled back and turned to face her.

She was twisting and turning her hands frantically in front of her startled black eyes. When she noticed one of the curls hanging down over her shoulder, she picked it up and stared at it with a wild, terrified, caged look. Scrambling off the bed, she nearly pushed Brodder over as she lunged for the tiny mirror fixed there on the unpainted wall.

Tears spilled silently down her colorless face as her trembling fingers outlined the lovely glittering crystal scar adorning her cheek. She lightly touched the few upon her chest, the large one going halfway around her neck, and the many upon her bared shoulders.

A threatening growl rumbled in her throat as she pulled viciously on those dull silver curls, holding the ones out in back so she could see them as well. But when her eyes focused on that single black curl now hanging down in her face, the rumbling growl tore loose from her pale lips, rattling the windows. The vicious sound echoed through the quiet house until she finally caught sight of her own eyes. Her own snowflake tinged black eyes. The growl ceased, tears filled those ebony pools as her shoulders slumped forward wearily. She sighed as she staggered back, collapsing into a tremulous heap atop the giant bed.

Brodder approached her slowly, keeping his tone as soothing as possible. “Were you vexed with a wicked dream, Lass?”

She turned swollen eyes toward him, nodding her head.

“And what did you dream about, wee Gealach?” He touched the locks she had only just tried to tear out by the roots. “Were your curls different in your mind?” He gently stroked her scarred cheek. “And were your eyes, skin, and wee diamonds different as well?”

He tenderly wiped her tears as she nodded her affirmation to each of his questions.

“Well, now, I have no way of knowing what you saw in your dreams, my wee darling. But I cannot imagine anything any more beautiful than what you just beheld in that old looking glass.”

A small smile tried to tug at one corner of her quivering mouth.

“If your dreams had you painted up like a lady’s flower garden, well, that would only diminish your rare splendor, Milady. You are perfect and beautiful just the way you are.”

Her tears did not cease, yet they slowed, losing some of their sorrow. A small glimmer now twinkled amongst her haunting snowflakes, coupled with a slight smile.

Brodder’s chest tightened. She took his breath away.

Never have I seen magic as exquisite as is hers
, he thought.

Her tiny hands went to his newly coifed beard. Her smile broadened.

“So? Do you like it?” He turned from side to side, pretending to pose for her. “Does my Gealach favor me like this? All gussied up and smooth.” He chuckled softly. “Do you like your men soft, wee moon?”

She was nodding and smiling brightly, curls bouncing across her shoulders and down her back.

“Aye, Lass, if that be the case, you’ll have a hard go of it on Val Hal. We’re as rough as stones, we are. The bloody wind pulls the moisture from our skin and the sheen from our hair. You’ll be hard pressed to find a delicate mate here. You, my wee lamb, you’re as lovely as a breath of spring, a wee flower amongst our snow-capped hills. There be no lad here that can match you, Gealach. Nay, as different from us as East is to West, you are.”

She leapt from the bed then, heading back toward the age-scarred mirror. There was a warm smile on Brodder’s face as he watched her rifling through the few toiletries he kept on the small table. When her hand shot up in the air triumphantly gripping an old hairbrush, his smile faded.

Holding up both hands, Brodder shook his head from side to side. “No, no, now, wee lass. Don’t you come near me with that thing. Too long has it been absent this old mop. You’ll rip it from my head, you will, strand by strand.”

A devilish smile twisted her pale white lips. She took slow, deliberate steps toward him.

He started to stand but she pounced on him, knocking him back onto the bed.

His protests were no more than play. And soon, she was on her knees behind him, carefully extracting the many tangles and knots. The giant of a man hissed and groaned. Yet she did not slow in her task, never wavered. Eventually, the brush ran smoothly from his crown to the small of his back. His thick tresses began to shine, glistening like moonlight dancing across dark waters. Still, she did not stop.

“Mmm… That feels good, Gealach. Never has a woman brushed my hair.” His warm chuckles sounded almost like a hum. “Old as I am, you’re the only maid to attempt such a thing.” He closed his eyes and smiled. “Ahh, I fear I like it too much, my wee darling. Will you promise to do thus daily?”

A quick kiss on his cheek gave him the answer he wanted.

Jenevier continued until it felt like fine silk gliding between her fingers, then she skillfully braided the gray-streaked flax down the length of his back.

Tugging on his hand until he followed her, they now stood, fingers entwined, admiring his handsome reflection.

“So? What do you think, Lass?” he said through his smile. “Do I meet your approval, wee moon?”

She smiled wide, nodding her head, holding both thumbs up in front of her.

“Aye, that’ll do, then.” He laughed and wrapped his big arms around her. “I never had a daughter of my own.” He gently raised her chin and looked into her snowflake eyes. “Neither did I have a sister, a brother only. I’m not used to this kind of attention, Lass. Be careful you don’t spoil me.”

She only crinkled up her nose and hugged him tighter.

The tiny girl who had once walked with mighty Angels couldn’t recall her life before she opened her eyes and beheld this gentle giant of a man. But in her heart, this was the first time she could remember feeling warmth—gentle, healing warmth. It spread inside her, swelling to fill every dark place hiding within her depths. The constant internal chill she had known since waking began to subside. She clung tightly to him, letting him hold her, heal her.

When at last they parted, Jenevier slid her fingers in her own hair and pretended like she was scrubbing.

“Aye, so you want to wash your hair, Lass?”

She nodded furiously.

“Very well, wee Gealach. I’ll draw you a bath.”

When she started to pull her dress over her head, Brodder grabbed her arms.

“No, no, Milady. Never do such as that in front of a man. Not even me.”

He found her furrowed brow and confused look to be rather comical. Clearing his throat, he forced himself to be stern, choked back his swelling laughter.

Pointing his finger at her, Brodder firmly admonished her behavior. “Don’t remove your clothing in front of
any
man, Gealach, even me. Men are beasts, they are, especially around lovely young women. And
your
equal cannot be found within the whole of this realm, Lass. Do you understand me?”

Mouth agape, she obediently nodded her head. Slowly unclenching her fingers, she released her fluttering dress tail, letting it fall back down to tickle the backs of her knees.

“Very good, Lass.” He patted her on top of the head. “Men can behave like animals. Never show them your body, always keep your guard up. If any man tries to tug at you or paws at your clothing, punch him square in the nose, real hard.” He pretended to act out his instructions by taking her balled up fist and aiming it toward his face. “Then while he’s crying from the bloodied nose, come get me. I’ll make sure he never even glances in your direction ever again. You hear me, wee moon?”

She only stared at him, wide eyed, slowly nodding. But he could tell his words were sinking in.

He playfully tapped the tip of her milky white nose. “Good girl. Now, tomorrow I’ll teach you to fight a wee bit, teach you a few simple tricks. Perhaps we can make you strong enough to keep most men at a distance. As you are now, my wee darling, they’ll not fear you. If you cannot earn their respect, then at least demand their fear. No one needs to be touching you.” He squeezed her thin arm then, and didn’t hold out much hope of her being able to defend herself. “Aye, Lass. Never have I seen a maid as dainty as you. Mayhap fighting with a man wasn’t the best advice. Perhaps I’ll teach you to use a blade instead. If you can lift one, that is.” He mumbled that last part, mostly to himself.

Brodder thought it odd how she was only smiling with one side of her mouth.
More like a smirk than a smile
, he thought. Yet she nodded her consent to his promised schooling.

He was humming when she came back into the room, freshly bathed and shining like a newly struck coin. He didn’t even try to restrain his laughter when he glimpsed her standing there, wearing one of
his
old shirts.

It was way too big, nearly swallowed her whole. She’d rolled up the sleeves as best she could, but it easily fell down to the tops of her knees and hung completely off one shoulder or the other no matter what she tried. She held it out with both hands and turned in a circle, modeling the oversized frock for his continued enjoyment.