The Demon Beside Me (21 page)

“The only one I want to know is Caleb,” I said.

“Yeah, I agree,” she said. “But you know she’ll find out. What do you plan on doing when that happens?”

“Same thing I do every time,” I said. “Deal with it as it comes.”

She snorted and pulled her hand free of mine, then doodled a rune on her palm. A flash of magic sealed her palm. I used my ichor to seal my own wound, then lay back and let my head hit the pillow. “Oh my,” I said. “Looks like I’ve overtired myself. I guess everyone out there waiting for me to wake up will just need to wait a little longer.”

“You’re terrible.”

“Can you blame me?”

She studied me as she used another spell to clean her hands. “Considering the circumstances, I can’t. But you can be sure that she’s going to march right in here and shake you until you wake up, doctors and Princes be damned.”

I let my eyes close. My eyelids were heavy. I hadn’t actually been joking about tiring myself out. “Just like everything else, I’ll deal with it when it comes up.”

She muttered something under her breath. I heard the click of the door unlocking, and then sliding shut. Before too long, I didn’t hear anything at all.

I pushed the door to the cafe open, noting how many pairs of eyes turned to me upon my entrance. At least six people glanced at me, and five of them looked away. The sixth pair was gray with just a hint of silver. Caleb lifted his hand in greeting and I shuffled over to his table, Tink following quietly behind me.

“Aren’t you supposed to put your back to a corner or something?” Caleb asked, cracking a small smile as we both sat down.

I shrugged. “If they figure out we’re here, they’ll just hammer the entire building to the ground. Maybe the town too.”

“Security’s a bit tight,” Tink said.

“You’re telling me. Opheran himself double-checked me,” Caleb said. “It’s a good thing we’ve met before. I wouldn’t want to go up against him.”

I bit my tongue, remembering their last meeting, when Opheran had decked the angel with one punch. From the hastily hidden smirk on Tink’s face, she was thinking along the same lines. “Well, the entire Host is turning out for this event,” I said. “The Choir will have a hard time penetrating the security of any location, let alone this one specifically.”

“That’s what Opheran said,” Caleb said. “At least three dozen high security meetings across the world. I’m sure he wasn’t telling me the full truth, either.”

Opheran had told me at least twice that number. It wasn’t that we couldn’t trust Caleb; it was that we couldn’t trust that the Choir wouldn’t extract information from Caleb. Ostensibly, the meetings were to discuss local defense plans if the Choir decided to follow through with their plans. I was sure local defense plans weren’t the only thing under discussion.

“You’re sure today’s the day?” I asked. My sense of time had been thrown off by spending those months in bed.

“Definitely. It’s been sixty six days since War appeared.” Caleb cleared his throat, looking down at the table. “How are you doing, Isaiah?”

I held my hands up. “See anything different about them?”

“No?”

“Two months ago, they weren’t there.”

Caleb grimaced. “That’s a lot closer than I’ve ever come.”

I tapped my fingers on the table. “The strangest thing is that they feel completely natural, like I never lost them in the first place. I think that’s because I was unconscious when Victor did it, and then went into the coma, and so I never experienced being without various pieces of my body. You have no idea how thankful I am for that.”

“Demon, we don’t need the gory details.”

I glanced over at Tink. “I didn’t think you were that squeamish.”

“I’m not,” she said. “But it reminded me of what Deshavin did to my old conclave. I didn’t need those memories brought back up. I’d appreciate it if you’d shut up.”

“Sorry,” I said.

We sat around the table in silence for a moment. “So, I guess now you agree that the next time we see Victor, we need to kill him,” Caleb said.

“After recent events, I’d say so, yes.”

Tink slapped her palm on the table. Caleb and I both jumped and looked at her as she stood up. “I’m getting some coffee,” she snapped.

“Get me-“

“I’ll get you whatever I damn well feel like.”

I watched her stalk away, then shrugged at Caleb. He chuckled. “Still the same old Anna. I’m glad. She wasn’t taking it well at first, especially when you were knocking on death’s door.”

“She didn’t mention that part.”

“Of course not.”

I sighed. “So what about you, Caleb? I’ve heard that you’ve become a political dissident.”

“To an extent.” His face fell, but his eyes flashed. “I don’t make much headway.”

“But you’re not getting reeled in by the Cherubim or Seraphim?”

“Not exactly, though I have been quietly advised that I may want to tone it down a bit. I haven’t been speaking against the powers that be, just publically deploring the atrocity visited upon you.” He chuckled. “You’ll be unsurprised to know that the majority of angels I spoke with could not care less about atrocities visited upon a demon, even a halfblood. Still, the notion is out there. Maybe a few angels will start thinking of demons as actual beings, not avatars of evil.”

“You’re trading on your special status,” I said.

Caleb put his hand on his shoulder, covering the spot where his Independent Choir insignia was etched into his skin. “To an extent,” he repeated. “They aren’t about to censure a hero.”

“A hero.”

His gaze met mine and flashed silver. “Yes, a hero.”

I shrugged. “I’m not arguing that point. I’m just surprised you would refer to yourself as such, especially here and now. Some of your people would undoubtedly consider Victor to be a hero for what he did to me.”

“Victor’s a monster,” Caleb said. His voice was flat. “You will not compare the two of us.”

I held my hands up. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

The awkward silence between us only broke when Tink returned to the table with three cups. I took a cautious sip. Black. I made a face and she smirked at me. “Man up, demon,” she said.

I sipped at the coffee and winced. While most of my wounds had healed, there were some lingering aches and pains that I suspected would stick around for years to come. I’d need to conduct a thorough internal investigation when I had some downtime. If I was lucky, I’d be able to do that within the next year or two.

“So what are we going to do with Famine?” Tink asked.

“Obviously not the same thing as we did with War,” I said.

“No shit, demon.”

I put my cup down on the table. “In truth, and no offense Caleb, but I wish that we could strike directly at the Choir with this, just to try to convince them to back down. But I don’t think starting a famine anywhere on this planet will affect them.”

“You’d be right,” Caleb said. “I simply don’t see how we can invoke a famine anywhere that won’t cause a lot of havoc, but neither the Choir nor the Host will be affected. We simply have too many distributed resources.”

“And once again, humanity takes it in the shorts,” Tink said.

I toyed with the idea of taking another sip, but the last one had left a bad taste in my mouth. Without details about how this famine would work, how could we make a decision? If there were some way to aim the damage at the Choir I’d have to take it, but as Caleb said, we couldn’t invoke it anywhere without causing significant damage to the area, which would disproportionately affect the humans living there.

“Well, we can rule out invoking it against a first world country,” Tink said. “Think about it. Hitting the US, for example, would screw over a lot of the world. Think about all the food we export here.”

“And then hitting a third world country would just result in massive deaths,” Caleb said. “They don’t have the same resources to deal with it as a first world country.”

“So where do we go with it, then?” I asked. “Maybe we can simply cause a famine on some tiny little Pacific island.”

“Giving them no chance whatsoever,” Tink said.

I threw my hands up. “All right, so we need to do as little damage as possible, while giving them a chance to survive. Let’s see how impossible that is.”

“Some country in the Mideast?” Tink asked.

“Destabilizing that region isn’t smart,” Caleb pointed out.

“What about China?”

“Very dangerous.”

I sighed and slumped in my chair. “I wish Famine would just show up so we could figure this out.”

At that exact moment, someone stepped up to our table. “Are you Isaiah Bright?”

I looked over, then down. She couldn’t have been more than eight years old, wearing a flowery dress that no one had dared wear in public since the 70s, with golden blonde curls framing a ridiculously innocent face. “I am,” I said. “I take it you’re Famine.”

The ridiculously innocent face split to give me an even more ridiculously cute smile. “You’re so smart, Mr. Gatekeeper.”

“You have a horrendous sense of humor,” I said.

“You have to have some sort of sense of humor in this line of work,” she said. “May I have a seat?”

I gestured and she hopped up on the empty chair. Caleb and Tink stared at her. “Famine, the Second and Third Gatekeepers. Tink, you should be happy to meet her. You’ll be able to see eye to eye with her.”

“Go eat shit, demon.”

Famine clicked her tongue. “Such dirty language, Ms. Glass. Why are you so sensitive about your height? I find that being underestimated is a wonderful thing in today’s world, especially when one is as powerful as you or me. They don’t expect the uppercut from this level.”

Caleb and I exchanged looks. “Uh, Famine, if you’d mind not giving her any ideas, we’d appreciate it.”

“It’s nothing that hasn’t crossed my mind before,” Tink said.

“So, Gatekeepers, I’m here. Let’s hear it. Where shall I strike?” She toyed with a curl of her hair. “Oh, wait. I’m sure you have eighteen questions for me, very few of which I can answer, and even fewer of which I will answer. Maybe I’ll be nice. Maybe I’ll give you more answers than you’d like. What do you think? How would you convince me to give you a hand?”

I looked down at the little girl staring up at me. “Victor,” I said.

Her lip curled. “That was somewhat monstrous, yes.”

“Somewhat?” Tink glared at the little girl. “That’s putting it mildly. I know you’re some super powerful being from beyond time and space, but would it kill you to pretend to take it a little more seriously?”

Famine looked up at Tink and I felt supernatural power surge. From Caleb’s reaction, he felt it as well. “Famine,” I snapped. Her eyes flicked to me and I felt myself falling inward, into those dark pits.

Children sitting, staring into space, limbs like twigs-

Grown men fighting, killing for a scrap of bread-

Fields of golden grain, now rotting and barren-

Once clear and full, a river dry and brown-

Mothers weeping over the body they couldn’t nurse-

Desolation as far as the eye could see-

I broke eye contact and shivered. A small hand touched mine. “I’m sorry,” Famine said quietly. “That wasn’t meant for you.”

“That shouldn’t be meant for anyone,” I said.

“Don’t you think we know that?” I looked up. Her eyes were clear and blue once again, but they were infinitely sad. “Gatekeeper, what do you know of us?”

“Of the Horsemen? Not much. The lore of the end times tells us you’re the harbingers of destruction, but Conquest indicated you’re the agents of change. I question the necessity of changing the status quo, personally.”

“Do you?” Famine smiled again, her eyes lighting up. “So you would prefer for your cold war to continue indefinitely?”

“As opposed to a real war?” I looked across at Caleb. His brows were drawn together, as if he was deep in thought. “Speaking from the side that’s bound to lose, yes, I think that the prior situation would be an improvement.”

“Bound to lose?”

“Do you know something I don’t know?”

The little girl smiled. “Of course I do.”

I raised my eyebrows and attempted to give her a winning smile. “Would you tell me if I gave you some ice cream?”

“Are you attempting to bribe a Horseman?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

I sighed. “I’m sorry, but when you decide to look like a little girl, you should expect to be treated like one.”

She pouted, and then burst out laughing. Heads turned. “I had never expected the Gatekeeper to be so much fun to play with.”

“I’m glad to be so entertaining.”

“You don’t seem to be very happy.”

“Nothing personal, Famine, but there’s going to be a war within the next month, and we’re looking at potential genocide of my race. I’m not much in the mood for fun and games. I thought I’d have more time to make plans.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” I slapped my hand down on the table. Tink and Caleb both jumped. “I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry I ever opened those damned Gates. I’m sorry I let you four jackasses out. I’m sorry I ever said anything to Conquest other than ‘get out’. I wish I had listened to Hikari back then. Maybe none of this would ever have happened.” She started to say something, but I didn’t let her. “I don’t care if it’s something that’s supposed to happen. You aren’t the one living with this. It’s my fault that this war is happening, my fault that my people are facing annihilation, and my fault that humanity is on the verge of witnessing a war that might just destroy their world. What do you Horsemen know of that sort of guilt?”

Famine snorted. “Are you done feeling sorry for yourself, Gatekeeper? Listen to me, because I am only going to tell you once. Who do you think we are? Why do you think we exist in this form?”

I frowned. “Who you are?”

Caleb cleared his throat. “I suspect the more important question is who you were.”

“Good. Very good.”

“Who were you?” I asked.

Famine’s eyes locked on mine. “We were angels. We were demons. We are your past.”