chapter V
Portland, Oregon, Pearl District, present day
KREIOS COULD REMEMBER THE battles he had fought. He knew the look of each man that had died under the edge of his sword. Through it all he was the master of his temper, his anger, his rage. Time and conscience had taught him to hold it in check, to act and not let emotions rule.
But he could also remember the few times that he had lost his temper. Time and conscience had also taught him that everything was personal. The difference between angel and animal was self-control, keeping instinct and impulse in check. This was one of those times when he was more animal, operating on instinct.
Wide open and out of control.
The howling inferno of his righteous anger—his prickling sense of justice—filled him, and he allowed it to consume him to the core of his being.
There were three women he had ever dared to love. The manifestation of that love to each one was different but no less complete. And now his loss was complete. Filled up for each of them. He knew about price. And he knew he was nothing more than a fallen angel, in the final analysis. He deserved all of it. All of the futility. All of the pain.
He thought it especially ironic that the Seer’s Bloodstone was red—his anger was hatefully red as well. It pulsed through him in a fire that only the red of guilty blood could quench.
“Look,” the woman said, “I don’t know who you are or what you want, but I’m not the one you’re looking for!” She sounded confident, but it was a thin shell. In the same way, she was rough and untended, the slightest hint of femininity beneath it all.
“I am not surprised anymore,” said Kreios, half to himself, half to the jeans-clad woman with wild red hair. “But this will be messy; an embarrassment.” They stood in the back parking lot of the Riverside Bar facing one another.
She bent her knees slightly as Kreios advanced toward her. “What do you want?” She lowered her shoulder, hand on hip. The front of her shirt, its buttons undone just a bit too far, fell slightly open, revealing a leather string that held something around her neck.
Kreios continued to move closer, towering over her by a foot or more.
“Hey,” she said, looking alarmed, “I’ve taken down bigger guys than you…” She widened her stance and dropped her hands to her sides.
“Woman, you are of the Brotherhood. Admit it and stand to fight.” He came off a little bored. Kreios did not want to argue with the demon, he just wanted to kill it and be on to the next. There were so many to kill, so many on which he could spread around the load of pain and suffering.
“Brotherhood? What are you talking about? She tossed her wiry hair in the jaundiced street lighting. The lot was empty other than a few lingering cars. It was past closing time.
Trina Wilson was her given name. She managed and tended the bar. She usually took home over $500 in tips, too, though she wasn’t beautiful. Whatever men saw in her was simply what happened when an excess of alcohol fogged the mind. She was good at working what she had, and it served her well.
More importantly, the demon for whom she played willing host was the Infernal—the leader— of a pod of the Brotherhood in the city of Portland, principality of Oregon. This Infernal had once answered to the Seer—Stanley Alexander’s overthrown master, Tengu.
“As I said,” Kreios continued, “I know who you are.” He stood weighing just shy of three hundred pounds and almost seven feet in height, wearing jeans, athletic shoes and a hoodie, blending into—sort of—the background of Pacific Northwest street scenery. He was massive.
“Dude,” she pleaded. “I just run the bar. I mind my own business. C’mon…you’re gonna pick on a woman?”
Kreios looked around. He didn’t want to have to kill any witnesses tonight. It was better to go in and out clean. “Demon, I am going to kill you, woman or not.” He began to tell his version of a joke: “After all, I believe in equal pay for equal work. If you give me usable information on your… associates…and their whereabouts, I will make your end quick. If not, you will suffer. There is no difference to me.”
She crouched and bared her teeth, hissing. Trina Wilson shook violently and then doubled over. Black wings emerged from her back as her Infernal master exited its place of refuge. The demon’s tail whipped around, clipping an old dented green dumpster and sending it across the parking lot. It careened off the brick wall of the building and smashed into a rusted-out Chevy truck behind Kreios.
He smiled and bent at the knees. “Ah, good,” he said.
“Kreiossss!”
The host Trina staggered away as the winged creature leapt fully free of her body. It was insect-like, its segmented body over ten feet tall, its midsection thick. The wings draped outward by ten feet on each side. The double barbed tail slithered and cracked like a whip.
Trina gathered herself together. Hunched down, she pulled a SIG P-225 from its ankle holster and fired three shots at the angel. The 9mm Parabellum projectiles grazed him but mostly spun out wild.
It stung, and he blinked at her. “You annoy me, woman.” In a single motion he lunged backward to the dumpster and tossed the heavy green steel trash box at her like a wad of paper.
It hit her full in the chest and she went down hard, the upside down dumpster finally pinning her between the asphalt and its grimy metal edge. She shrieked in pain, blood running down her forehead into her eyes from a large gash.
Kreios turned his full attention again toward the demon, but the lot was empty. He looked around, knowing that the demented thing would not run. It would fight.
He looked up just as it fell upon him from above.
A thunderous roar. Black drool flew from the maw of the demon as it waggled its head in apparent victory. It filled its lungs and screeched.
Kreios burst up and out in massive strength, throwing the huge black insect-like mass off him. He grabbed the tail as the demon tumbled end over end and yanked it back toward him, cracking the whip in reverse. The demon yowled in pain.
It flew, pivoting by tail held in the vise of angel hand, up over Kreios’s head in an arc. It landed on its back, raising a cloud of dust around them.
Kreios still held fast to the double-barbed tail. He braced himself to rip it from the beast, but the demon righted itself and rushed him.
The angel took up the challenge with a shout, tail in hand, rushing the creature with double the speed. With a deft spin in mid-stride Kreios twisted the tail, stiffening it, wielding it like a massive pike. He drove it deep into the creature at the joint between thorax and abdomen, severing it completely in half, following through in one motion, cracking the whip again.
The demon’s voice was a wretched gurgle; pathetic. Thick and juicy innards were thrown out into the arena of combat, burning like phosphorus on contact wherever they landed.
Kreios looked down at what his hands had wrought. The demon’s exoskeleton began to break apart, turning into wisps of black smoke that rose up briefly and then fell back to the tarmac, boiling there for a moment before being sucked up by the pavement like a sponge, disappearing.
“Now for the other one.” Kreios walked to the side of the dumpster and looked down at the pinned and bleeding woman.
“And you…?” asked Kreios.
Trina coughed. Blood poured from her mouth.
Kreios knew her lungs were filling up. “Oh. That is…sad for you.”
He leaned down and took hold of the object that hung from her neck and ripped it from the leather thong. He held it up to the lights of the parking lot. It was an amulet, the figure of a chameleon rendered in pure white jade. It changed colors even as he looked at it. His face became grim; he knew precisely what it meant.
The woman spoke. “Please! Don’t kill me…I…”
“I will not kill you, Trina Wilson.” Kreios pocketed the object. “I will leave you here to die slowly. Your body will bleed out soon. It will hurt then more than it does now. Much more. Your legs will swell when you begin to burn. Your eyes will melt in their sockets. And when that happens…you will see where you are bound. Wait until the veil is lifted. Then you will see in truth. Your remains will disintegrate in the fire that I have come to set. There will be nothing left.”
Kreios stood, looking to the sky. “I will find every one of your clan…The Nri?” He looked at her; he wasn’t asking, he was taunting.
She hissed at him again, angered at the mention of the truth.
“I will burn all of them as well. They will wish for a quick death, but they too…will not taste it.” He felt the anger surging within him again and he clenched his fists in order to contain it.
He knelt down, his face inches from hers. “Blood for blood,” he said. And then he was gone.
Soon the Riverside Bar was a blazing inferno. And Trina Wilson was burning.
Arabia, 1244 B.C.
There she was. At play in the grass with one of the kittens, surrounded by wildflowers and ancient trees. He was there in the grass too, relaxing, smoking his pipe, blowing smoke rings. He looked through them to the mountains beyond and closed his eyes.
It was summer. Beautiful. He lived alone with Eriel, the battle to defend Ke’elei six years behind them. It had made her safe, had bound his people together and scattered the rest of the Brotherhood. He and Yamanu had hunted them for another year after the great battle. If any were left, they were deep underground.
Eriel laughed and teased the tiny bundle of fur with a ball on a string. “Kitty,” Eriel called him, pawed and jumped at the ball, arching his back and hissing. This made her laugh even harder and Kreios smiled in spite of himself.
“Look, Daddy, Kitty is trying to be a big boy. See how he hisses?” She tossed back her black hair and yanked the ball and string away, making Kitty hiss even more.
“You should be nice to that kitten,” he laughed. “One day it will be a big cat. You do not want him to be mean.” They both laughed and Eriel continued her little game.
Like ripples in a pond, the laughter smoothed its own way out of him, and all too soon. Kreios didn’t know what to think of the quiet; didn’t know what to do with it. He was accustomed to war and its particulars, hiding and trying to blend in. The quiet, the solitude, the peace…though it was still at alien to him, it made all the difference.
He saw a few friends—Yamanu for instance—on occasion. For the most part this new life was safely off the beaten path. Out here in the wild he could be himself. Eriel could grow and learn without being looked at with suspicion and fear. He knew one day it wouldn’t be enough for her. Eriel would need people, need to engage life, perhaps even start a family of her own. Then he would need to let go.
But that time would be far off, wouldn’t it?
Kreios stood and stretched his legs. The cabin he had built for them was simple. One room. But it was cozy. He picked a low open valley and built the cabin just beyond the tree line. It nestled at the base of massive Sawtooth Mountains and looked out over a perfect meadow of grass and wildflowers, a misty waterfall nearby that cast rainbows out into the air.
“When can we go back to Ke’elei? I miss everyone. I want to see Mary. I want to see uncle Yam.”
“Soon, my lovely.”
“Why can’t we live there?” Eriel stood. Kitty took the ball and string, running a few feet off in the grass with his spoils.
“We’ve talked about this. It is better out here. Quiet.” Kreios hated the politics of life in the big city. The Council also did not look kindly on him after all that had happened. Yet he could not help his six-year-old daughter understand any of this.
“I know…” Eriel said with a pout. She hung her head and looked up at Kreios with big eyes.
His smile broke wide. “You know I cannot resist those eyes. Come here.”
She came to him.
He lifted her into his arms and took to the sky, twisting and twirling with her wrapped tightly to his chest. She giggled, pulling him tighter with her little arms. She loved to fly with him and would beg and chip away at him for hours if he let too much time go by without “a sky adventure.”
“I love you, Eriel,” he said, kissing her cheek.
“I love you too, daddy.” Her eyes bright, she looked out over the world without any fear.