Wings of Darkness: Book 1 of The Immortal Sorrows Series (22 page)

     "You killed my mother?"

     "Don't be silly.  Of
course I did. I kill everyone's mother…father…nation.  You have to break a
few eggs if you wish to make an omelet, darling.”  She sighed delicately
at the look of horror that must have been on my face. “I took your mother from
you at such a young age to foster a sense of independence in you.  And
just look at yourself; so young, yet so strong. You are mature beyond your
years. There is no need to thank me." 

     A dull roar filled my ears as my
blood pressure shot up.  Thank her?  If I could, I would have killed
her. Slowly. “You’re a monster.”

     “No, dearest, I am not.  I am
Fate, and I am not to be denied.”

She straightened the handful of threads up as she put them
away.  Somewhere in those strands, there would be thread for Gwen and her
family, too. Everyone I had ever loved, she’d said. They were all under threat.
“Do this for me, and I let your family live out their natural life spans.”

     “You’ve gone to all this trouble,
just for petty revenge?”  That was just a whole new level of crazy.

     Fate looked down her perfect nose
at me.  “There's nothing petty about revenge, child. It is simply divine,
if properly executed.  It is the most marvelous feeling in the world. I
highly recommend it.”

     My mind was working a mile a
minute, trying to find a way out of this mess, but I was drawing a blank; there
was no escape. Yet, somehow I had to keep everyone safe from her.  Had
to.  “What if it doesn’t work?  What if you’re wrong, and he doesn’t
feel that way about me?”  I was grasping at straws, but who could blame
me?  There was no way I could do what she wanted me to do.

     “Of course it will work,” she
patted my hand, “and the best part is, you do not have to do anything extra.
All you have to do is be yourself; your flawed human self.  He is already
so deeply within the trap, and yet he does not see it.”  She smiled
languidly.  “The mighty Ashrael, is about to be brought low, and it is
marvelous to behold.  Oh, I have waited so long for this.” 

     She did this?  She put me in
his path? My mind spun out of control. I was the one who was trapped, not
Asher.  What she wanted was impossible. I couldn’t pull it off, could I?
Could I really do it?  Could I betray Asher to save my family? I went cold
from head to toe. I raised my eyes to meet hers, carefully.  She was like
a snake; ready to strike. “What if I choose to tell him?” 

     She laughed that tinkling, musical
laugh of hers, “That is the best part; it will not matter.  Even knowing
the trap is set, he is helpless to stop it from snapping shut.  Oh, I am
enjoying this very much.”  She clapped her hands and stood up.  “Now,
we just need to clean you up a bit.”

     The sleeveless gown was a deep,
eggplant purple; tight in the bodice, then it flowed freely to the floor in a
straight line that darkened to nearly black just above the toe of her silver
sandals. The girl turned sideways, and her back was exposed all the way to her
slender waist. No wing scars marred that delicate flesh. My breath caught.
Isabel.

     Heat crept slowly into my face. I
had not seen her for two long days. I was nearly out of my mind with worry for
her. Only Cronus’ reassurance that all was well with the girl had prevented me
from taking her and fleeing the Aerie. But where could one go to escape from
Fate?  Isabel would be hunted mercilessly, till the end of her days. 
My only hope was that the Elders would see that she was no threat, and that
would be an end to it.  Two days of silence had not reassured me, however.
I was met with resistance at every turn, and it infuriated me. The sanctuary
had proved to be no help to me at all.

     I had never known fear in my entire
existence, until now.  A dozen different scenarios played through my mind,
hour after endless hour, torturing me with the possibilities.  All of my
worries for Isabel had been unfounded, apparently. For here she was, dancing
and laughing, in the arms of a demi-demon. I had missed her, and now that I had
found her, I had a primitive urge to strangle her. Or him...I was not
particular which one it was, at that point.

     The demon reminded me of a snake,
in the way he watched her.  His gaze never wavered from her cleavage; he
was single-minded in his attentions. The evil bastard was handsome in his way;
that must have come from the angelic side of his lineage. That brimstone odor
gave away his other side, however.  He offended me, greatly.

     I came upon them just as he leaned
in to sniff Isabel’s neck like he might like a taste, which was not completely
unlikely.  She ducked away from his advances, shoved him back a little,
till they were arms-length apart.  “What are you, you ravishing
creature?”  His voice was dry, but silky: his tone, almost urgent. 

     “She’s mine.”  I mouthed the
words as I walked softly up behind her.  The demon saw, and his eyes grew
large.  He straightened, suddenly, and excused himself.  She did not
turn to watch him go.  I would be seeing him later, for a long, painful
talk.

     The girl stiffened as I touched her
bare shoulder.  “Asher.”  My name fell from her lips with a
sigh.  Something inside of me loosened, and expanded. Was it
happiness?  She turned slowly, almost unwillingly, towards me.  Why
so hesitant?  Had she wanted that creature’s attentions? 

    "Shall we dance, Isabel?" 
I held my hand out for her to take.  Her eyes grew wide, and I thought she
might run from me. “I will not bite, you know.”  Was she afraid of me
now?  She did not seem like my Isabel.  What had Clotho done to her,
to bring this change about?

     She came into my arms reluctantly.
"I don't dance very well, Asher."

     "You seemed to be dancing very
well a few minutes ago.”  She smiled wryly.

     “That wasn't dancing, so much is
swaying in place while I tried to keep that guy from grabbing my ass.” Ah, now
that sounded more like my Isabel.

     “You should take more care in the
company you keep. You do realize that was a demi-demon that you were dancing
with?  They are not known for their good manners.  His mother may be
an angel, but his father is from the City of Sorrows. He is a nasty bit of
work.”

    “He was obviously afraid of you, so what
does that say about you?”  Her words had bite to them.  Was she angry
with me for sending the demon away?  Did I care?  I felt possessive
towards her; she was beautiful, and she was
mine.     

 
    
I pulled her close.  “Many people are afraid of me now,” I murmured
against her ear.  “Look around us.”  She tilted her chin, scanning
the crowd without seeming to.  Her eyes grew huge as I released her to
twirl her smoothly in my arms. We were being watched, by nearly everyone.
“There.  You see?  It is considered poor taste to come to the wake of
the person you kill, and yet here we are.”  She shivered, involuntarily,
but did not speak.  Her fear was palpable.  I smiled at her, hoping
to offer encouragement. “Relax, girl. We are not beaten, yet. 
Dance.”  My hand fell to her hip, and I heard her gasp.  Her eyes
grew large; she did not, however, remove my hand.  “You look very grown up this
evening, Isabel.” 

     “Thank you, Asher, but I feel half
naked.” She chanced a glance at me, from under her lashes, then quickly looked
away.  “You look very nice, too,” she said, primly.  Like most of the
men present, I was in formal wear, as was required for functions such as this
one.  It reminded one of a tuxedo, in that it was silken and black, but it
was also sleeveless and cut to provide for the wings, should they be needed.

     It was supposed to be a celebration
of Mairya’s long life, but it was, in fact, the wake after her funeral.  I
would have felt much better with a weapon.  There were too many enemies,
here; too many unknown elements.  Even though this was supposed to be
neutral ground, I knew that Halo had received little more than a reprimand for
her attack on Isabel.  It should have meant banishment for her, but it had
not.  Allowances were made, according to Cronus, because of her recent
bereavement.  She would not be held responsible for her actions during her
time of mourning.

     How does one celebrate the passing
of an immortal? With a party, of course.  It was odd, to say the least,
but I was forced to play nice, so long as Fate held Isabel.  I did not
expect to find the girl dancing among the angels, yet here she was. 
Impeccably dressed, and finally in my arms, where she belonged. 
     And yet, there was something terribly wrong with the
girl.  I could see it in the way she avoided my eyes, and in the stiff way
she held herself away from me.  She studiously looked over my shoulder
through most of our dance.  Every time I tried to catch her eyes, she
blushed and looked away quickly. Was she embarrassed, afraid, or hiding
something?  I wanted no secrets between us.

     We stopped dancing as the music
faded gently away. “Are you well, Isabel? Have you been treated badly, here?”
 She nodded slowly, and still she would not look at me.  That was no
answer, at all. It frustrated me, greatly. Gently, I tilted her chin up with
the tip of my finger so that she had no choice but to look at me.

     “I want to go home, Asher. 
That’s all I want.” Her green eyes were too bright, and glistened suspiciously.
My throat tightened.  Someone had harmed her.  Someone would pay.

     “Of course. Tonight. Now, if you
wish.”

     She sniffed delicately, and looked
around, searching for someone, it seemed. “I can't leave, and we shouldn't be
having this conversation, here.”  She was right, of course. Far too many
eyes followed our every move.  I placed my hand at the small of her back,
and was gratified to feel her shiver.  She was not indifferent to
me.  There was a garden area just beyond the great hall.  It would
afford us some small privacy. 

     I took her trembling hand and
started to lead her away to the garden, but too late; the sound of sharp little
heels fell, hard and fast, right behind us. I stopped in my tracks,
reluctantly.  I would know that overwhelming perfume anywhere. 
Clotho. Isabel dropped her eyes and took a step back, but I kept her hand
firmly in my own.  Her submissive attitude was completely unlike
her.  What had Fate done to her?

     “Ashrael, it is wonderful to see
that you take your duty as Isabel's babysitter so seriously.”  She had
that musical lilt to her voice that always grated on my last nerve.

     Clotho was dressed in some
shimmering silver material that shifted like water as she moved, yet always
seemed to cling to her in the most obscene way possible.  Diamonds formed
a heavy choker at her slender throat.  She was a vision of loveliness, but
all I saw when I looked at her was corruption, and decay.

     She held a champagne flute out to
Isabel. “Here, my darling, drink this, and be merry.  It is a party, after
all, and you look like you’re at a funeral.”  She tittered at her own poor
joke.  “Oh, my, I suppose it
is
a funeral of sorts. Drink, my darling, to Mairya.”  Liquid sloshed the
sides of the crystal, thick and crimson.  It smelled of old blood, and
death.

     Isabel paled noticeably as she eyed
the drink, suspiciously.  “What is it?”

     “Spiced wine: a rare vintage, and
very old.  It is delicious, and I insist that you try it.”  Clotho
sipped delicately at her own drink, and waited with expectant eyes.

     Isabel started to take the drink,
but I knocked it from her hand.  She jumped back with a startled yelp, and
barely avoided the splash that would have ruined her lovely gown.  The
glass shattered, and blood spilled across the marble floor.

     “How dare you?”  Clotho’s eyes
flashed. 

     My hand shot out to stop the hand
that was meant to strike my jaw.  Her fingers curled into claws, as she
jerked against my grip on her wrist. “No, Clotho, how dare you?  How dare
you feed your poisonous blood to this girl?”  I had to force myself to
drop her hand, instead of crushing it.  “How dare you keep her here,
against her will?  How dare you question me?”

     Clotho bared her teeth in a nasty
sneer.  “Careful, Reaper, you’re making a rather public spectacle of
yourself,” she warned.

     The general noise in the hall
dropped so low that I could hear my own harsh breathing.  All eyes were
trained on us as couples stopped dancing and drinking, and conversations lagged
into thin air.  A small hand found my shoulder and pulled me away from
Clotho.  Isabel.  Her face was unearthly pale, and she watched me
with fearful eyes.  She shook her head slowly, once.

     Clotho had recovered herself
remarkably fast, but then, she always did.  “I haven’t kept anyone against
their will, Ashrael.  Isabel is our guest.”  She stroked a fond hand
down the girl’s hair, which Isabel flinched away from.  “Our honored
guest,” she said, for anyone listening.  The entire room strained to catch
the bits and pieces of our conversation.  That was to be expected, of course. 
Isabel was an enigma, one they were all desperate to solve.  No one knew
where she fell in the angelic hierarchy.  She was not human; she was not
angel.  She was an unknown element, possibly a dangerous one.

     Violence simmered inside me,
bubbling up like a volcano.  It scalded me.  I wanted to smash Fate:
to crush and destroy her, along with all of her vile lies.  I gritted my
teeth, and forced an even tone to my voice.  “You said that you meant to
keep the girl for observation.  If no threat were detected, then she was
free to go.”  Isabel’s hand was at my elbow, tense as a wire, silently
cautioning me.  “As you can see, she has been no threat to anyone. 
She is little more than human. Set her free.”

     Clotho shook her massive head of
over-dressed hair.  She looked at me as if she almost pitied me. 
Then that predatory glint lit her eyes, once more. “Oh, Ashrael, you mistake
me.  I never meant to hold the girl as prisoner. One cannot observe a
butterfly in captivity.  Why, look at how lovely she is this evening. 
She simply lights up the ballroom.  She is such a sweet little thing.”

     The crowd turned away slowly, back
to their own pursuits.  Angelic in nature, or not, they lose interest
easily.  They continued to listen, of course, but at least some of them
remembered their manners.  I raised my voice.  “So you will release
her?”  I knew better than to believe her lies, but I wanted witnesses to
hear her say the words.  The more the better.  Should Isabel get to
go home, anyone coming after her would be in clear violation of an Elder’s
wish. They would be fair game.

     “Of course we will release her,
Ashrael, she has been a model guest.”  I glanced at Isabel.  Her face
was guarded.

     “Not so fast, Clotho.  That
human, or whatever she is, still presents a known threat.”  Suriel. 
I might have known he could not keep his mouth shut.

     Clotho turned towards Suriel with a
seductive smile. “I think the girl would best be judged in her own environment,
don’t you, darling?” She lay her hand against his jaw in a familiar
gesture.  He seemed to melt into it. He was so easily swayed by Fate.
“That way, we can see for ourselves just how human the girl still is,” she
purred close to his ear.  “It is the only fair thing to do.”

     “I don’t like it, Clotho. It is too
risky.”

     “Don’t be silly, Suriel.  I
believe Ashrael will be glad to supervise the girl.  He is, admittedly,
her babysitter, after all. Let him babysit her.”  Clotho tittered at her
own little joke.  If only she were as clever as she believed.

     Enough of this. “Suriel?” 
Proud, dark eyes turned on me.  “May I have a word with you, in
private?”  He nodded.  I had a bargain that even he could not refuse,
and it would buy Isabel her freedom.