Ash & Flame: Season One (9 page)

Grigori.

Ren sat in a stunned silence, unsure what he'd just seen. He imagined himself a piece of driftwood, floating aimlessly on a motionless sea. He blinked and shook his head, hoping he'd get the stirred, excruciating memory out of his head. Certain that he never would.

"Your wife committed suicide."

The angel's statement, the tone so sure that it wasn't even a question, shook Ren out of his blank reverie. "What did you just do to me?" he snapped.

A warm tide of anger washed over him. The angel had plucked out the thread that Ren had kept hidden for years, even from himself. Ithuriel had rooted through his memories and rooted out the truth he needed. Ren's memories. Stolen, corrupted, no longer his own, but piercing through the very idea of Katie, shredding everything she was to him. The angel had taken her, the
her
that he remembered, from him forever.

"I have done nothing to you," the angel replied, his voice measured and calm. "I saw what you could not and revealed her for what she was. As I said, difficult, but necessary."

Nothing. The angel had done nothing to him. Then why was he short of breath? Why was the blood pounding in his ears?

"My wife..." Ren took a gulping breath to steady himself. "Was no fucking demon."

No more questions. No more unburied memories.

He turned away from the angel and headed back towards the closed door, his head dizzy. His foot caught on the uneven floor and he nearly toppled forward. He heard movement behind him and ignored it. Ren just wanted out, just wanted the sky above, where he could breathe again. Where he could think.

"Go to your daughter, Ren," the angel called behind him, his voice tinged with sadness, or maybe guilt. "She will need you, now more than ever. And you, her."

Ren ignored the mounting ache in his shoulder as he pushed the tall door open. Ithuriel called for Kevin but his words barely registered for Ren. He left the angel and Kevin behind, Ithuriel's words like a haunting echo in his head. He told himself that it couldn't be true, that Katie couldn't have been a Grigori, one of the Fallen. He'd loved her, and she bore him the blessing that was his daughter. She just got sick is all.

My wife was no demon
. He had to stop for a heaving breath to calm himself. He wasn't sure if it was because his thought was true, or because it wasn't.

▪▪▪

Ithuriel called for him from inside the dome, and Kevin frowned.

He hesitated, watching Ren walk past, and wondered what the Malakhi had said to make him look like he was walking away from a plane crash. Kevin didn't much like the idea of the man walking back on his own, but he wasn't about to ignore the Spear.

Kevin could be accused of being blunt, but he sure as shit wasn't stupid.

He shook his head at the retreating Ren, and ducked inside the dome's doorway, pulling the door shut behind him. The gloom settled, and he strode towards the waiting Malakhi, the angel standing near the center of the massive arched hall.

"What on earth did you do to him?" he asked, his deep voice echoing throughout the dome's interior. "I couldn't tell if you scared some sense into him, or scared what little was left out..."

The words trailed away as he caught the somber look on Ithuriel's face. Even in the shadows he could tell there was something wrong, from the Malakhi's pale cheeks, and his red-rimmed eyes, dark hollows underneath. The angel's gaze drifted past Kevin, unfocused and far-off. He'd never seen the angel like this before, and the first hint of worry jabbed at him.

"Ithuriel?"

The angel's eyes flicked back to Kevin. "You must watch over him, Kevin. Him and the girl. I fear what the Grigori have planned for them both, because I cannot see it."

"I-I will." Something was wrong here. Kevin could see it in the Malakhi's face, in his stance. Had Ren done something to him?

Right, like Ren could have done anything to the angel.

Kevin didn't want to hurt the girl, of course. Truth was, he wasn't sure that he could even if he tried. He'd taken on demons, cultists, those that had reneged on their own humanity, but this was different. No matter what was inside her, she was still just a little girl. If it came down to it, could he do what he had to, just because she was something she didn't want to be?

Her father, though, that was different. Even if he didn't deserve it.

And that was the problem.

He didn't.

"There are so few of us left," Ithuriel whispered, almost to himself. As if Kevin wasn't standing a few feet in front of him.

Kevin's thoughts of Ren and his daughter fled, replaced by a growing concern for his commander. He'd long ago come to terms with his own fallibility, but the Malakhi, he wasn't supposed to act like this. He had been like bedrock, ever since he had first found Kevin. This was unseen territory.

He started to say something, but thought better of it. What could he say? How was he supposed to inspire an angel, a divine weapon of God?

"I do not eat or drink. I do not sleep, do not need to stop to rest," Ithuriel continued, his words stringing together, gaining momentum. "Still, the times have changed. Our Father, my Father, He is gone from us, and without Him I am a flawed creature. My strength is failing, I can feel the ebb of it..."

"No, it's not," Kevin said, worry shifting into something else, his tone more harsh than he'd intended. A spark of anger bit at him, hearing the angel talk this way, sounding so...weak. If anyone else heard this, the survivors' will, their grit and their faith, would shatter, and Haven would fall along with it. It still might, in its own time, but not like this. Kevin wouldn't, couldn't, allow that. "You can't talk like this—"

"I was Made to hunt down those that sought darkness, those that relished the ash and flame." The angel's eyes glistened, and he let out a deep, quivering breath. "But when the darkness is everywhere, when this world has
become
ash and flame..."

"You protect these people. You have blessed us, provided for us, and taught us how to fight back," Kevin hissed, angry now. "You are God's instrument—"

"God is not here!" The Malakhi's shout echoed throughout the chamber, the shock of it reverberating through Kevin like a tremor. A tear trailed down Ithuriel's cheek, his eyes wild, scaring Kevin worse than anything. "God has fled, and He has taken my strength, and my faith with Him!"

Kevin reacted without thinking, grabbing the pendant at his neck. He hissed its name, and
Lahat
flamed into existence, the sword gleaming under a strip of sunlight, blue fire racing along the length of the blade.

"
This
is faith, Ithuriel! This is strength!" The words spurted from Kevin's lips, and he kept going, afraid if he stopped that he would fall, too. "You're the Spear, the hunter of the dark. You
are
strength, Ithuriel. You
are
faith."

"This," he shook the blade in his hand, "is nothing without the Malakhi that gave it to me."

Ithuriel's lips curled into a weak smile, and he ran his fingers over the dancing flames. Blue fire enveloped his fingers, darted over his hand.

"There are so few Malakhi left, so few of us that have not fallen into corruption or despair," the angel said, his eyes staring into the flames of the Blessed blade. "I am tired, Kevin. So tired that I want to close my eyes and fade away."

He closed his eyes as he spoke, lifting his head towards the dome's ceiling. "Do you understand this?"

Kevin released his hold on
Lahat
, the blade sparking out of sight, the flames leaving the slightest curls of faint, bluish smoke.

"Understand?" Kevin more than understood. When he lost his only child to the ravaging fires, he'd wanted to tuck himself into a ball and gibber away, wished that he'd go mad and lose himself. He didn't want to think, didn't want to feel. More than once he'd found himself staring into the murky green waters of the Mississippi, wondering what it would feel like if he swam to the bottom and never came back up.

And there were reasons, reasons that he kept to himself, why he never carried a gun anymore. The same reasons he never wanted to go back to that dark place. He'd fight, kick, scratch, bite if he had to. Never again.

"I do understand," he said, the anger draining away. He let himself smile. "Being tired and desperate is all just part of the human experience."

Ithuriel nodded and wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. He glanced down at the damp spot, his brow furrowed, and took a deep breath.

"I must talk with my brothers," he said, wiping his wet hand with the other. "Those that would still hear me."

Kevin opened his mouth, pausing in uncertain confusion. "You mean right now?"

"Yes. I have...questions." Ithuriel's wings stretched out wide, and, with a powerful thrust, his feet left the ground, his beating wings sending motes of dust swirling through a staggered shaft of sunlight. "Keep an eye on them. Post a Blessed to Ren and his daughter at all times, until I find the answers I seek."

And then?
he thought, not sure he liked the idea of answering that himself. He hoped Ithuriel found the answers before it was too late, before the Grigori had what they wanted. Whatever that was. "Roger that."

He nodded, and turned back towards the entrance, running a hand over his head. The Blessed, the handful that remained, were already taxed. He had tasked Brad and Rachel for another scavenging run, and Sam was still dealing with Jackson's death. Logan was so young, and Anderson wasn't getting any younger.

Kevin felt like he'd been up for hours, checking in on folks, walking the perimeter. But the survivors of Haven had enough on their plate, so what was one more thing?

"Kevin."

Kevin, nearly to the door, paused and glanced back over his shoulder. "Yeah, boss?"

The angel skimmed a few feet off the ground, his wings beating gracefully, powerfully over his shoulders. He hovered for a moment, his eyes focused on Kevin.

"Thank you."

Ithuriel raised his hand, and his spear stretched out in his grip, the point blazing in the gloom of the chamber, dashing the shadows. He soared upwards, the spearpoint surging like a brilliant star.

Kevin couldn't help the grin on his face. He understood that, too.

▪▪▪

Ren tried not to think about the angel's revelation as he headed back towards his room, but the images were everywhere, whenever he blinked he kept seeing Katie.

He saw her eyes, only now he saw the lurking intelligence behind them, mocking him. He saw the faint ghost of a smile on her lips as her foot trailed over the ledge.

It gnawed at him. He couldn't see her any other way now, couldn't remember her face without catching sight of the
thing
that had hidden inside her skin.

Noise ran through the compound, people working in the attached buildings to the south, a steady rhythm of hammers and metal and shouting. A man straddled one of the long pipes running overhead between buildings, occupied with a section of the rails.

Ren paused, closing his eyes, the clamor suddenly shifting into the keen of the Grigori as Ithuriel's powerful grip yanked the demon's form free of Katie. A chill tingled down his back, an ache clutching at his heart.
Oh, Katie
. His eyes welled up. He'd never seen it, had he? Or had he doomed her, ignoring what seemed so obvious now?

Katie
.

"Hey, you okay?"

Ren opened his eyes and turned towards the voice. A woman had stopped, straining to hold back a dog on a leash. The dog, a German Shepherd, whined, digging into the sand and dirt with its hind legs.

"Y-Yeah. Yeah, I'm good." His heart pounding, Ren hurried back towards the room, not daring to cast a glance over his shoulder. He passed the squat building, nodding up at the bearded man still standing guard.

If the man stared this time as he strode by, Ren didn't much care. He just wanted to get inside, see his daughter's face. And then he'd figure out a way to get them both out of here. Just as soon as he healed up enough. The angel and Kevin could play all the games they wanted, him and Em didn't need to be here for them.

Brad stood where Ren had seen him last, propped against the wall beside the door. The barrel of his rifle rested easily over one shoulder, and he nodded as Ren approached.

"So, it go as well as it looks?"

Good question. I just found out my dead wife had a demon living inside her
. Ren shrugged. "If I look that bad, then yeah, pretty much."

"Well, you're still alive, right?" Brad asked. "Pissing off Kevin's a good way to change that, you ask me."

"I'm not so sure I'd need to be asking now." A corner of Ren's lips curled up into a self-deprecating, lopsided grin. "Pretty well answered it myself."

Brad nodded and smiled at that. "You sure as shit did."

But Ren was still alive, as was Emma, and he owed that to the people here like Brad. He had been so self-reliant, so used to just worrying about himself and Emma.