TC pulled out his gun and aimed it.
I put up my hand, and Daniel raised his as well. “No,” we said in unison.
TC snarled at Daniel. “You don’t get to decide. Now do what we promised to do.”
I watched as Daniel pulled the small book from his coat pocket and held it out. “I’m sorry, brother. But I can’t do that. I can’t murder my sister.”
“Yes, you can!” TC roared. “It’s what we promised to do. You said when the time came, we’d bring Father back . . .”
Oh no . . .
I put my hands to my face. This . . .
this
he kept inside of him all this time. Even I hadn’t seen it?
“Azrael,” Daniel began, and suddenly I didn’t see Daniel anymore, but a tall, dark-skinned woman with plaited hair and black eyes. She shook her head and held out the book. “There is so little left of him, and what there is, is corrupted. Sophia tried to use the Guardian’s Familiar to kill him, but he was too cunning and evaded her. But now those pieces of him, those things we still remember, are gone. Father is no more, Azrael.”
I looked at TC and gasped.
I no longer saw Vin Diesel but a small child of maybe eight. He wore the clothing of a Sumerian prince. His head was shaved, and he was crying. “No . . . you said one day . . . we would bring Father back.”
“I know, little brother. And all these years I’ve kept him. And still . . . until the Guardian came, and then I saw how corrupted and bitter father’s soul had become.” She held the book out and up. It disintegrated in front of us, simply melting into the air like ashes.
TC went down on his knees, no longer the child. And Daniel lowered his hands, no longer the daughter of Samael.
“I’m sorry, brother,” Inanna said through Daniel. “I failed you.” And with that, he turned and moved down the stairs.
All eyes in the audience turned to me. Though they didn’t have eyes, I just knew it.
I moved to TC and stood over him. I bent down and touched his back, but he flinched and pulled away. “Leave me the fuck alone.”
“No,” I said. “Whether you like it or not, we’re joined. For how long, I don’t know. Your pain, in a way, is mine. I’m sorry, Azrael. I really am.” With that, I moved to the egg and looked inside.
I heard him move behind me, heard the cock of the hammer. “You move away from her. She doesn’t deserve salvation. No rest. Only an eternity of pain.”
I shook my head. “No. She doesn’t. No one does, don’t you see?” I turned to him. “All this time, I’ve been so worried about my own soul that I forgot I have a larger purpose. I’m here to release those souls who have lost their way. And Sophia lost hers a long time ago. Now it’s time for her to rest.”
“No!”
I turned to him and pointed. “YES!”
And the power was there. I held out my hand and forced him to drop the weapon, to drop on his knees and bow to me. I was his keeper, he was not mine!
Daughter . . .
My dad’s voice made me blink. The power I had. It would be so easy to give in to that anger.
To the hate and resentment that Samael and Sophia had.
I lowered my hand and released him. TC stood, and fixed me with the coldest gaze he’d ever used on me. “Fine—I warned you. Don’t. Trust. Anyone.” He grabbed his gun and left the auditorium.
I looked back to the egg and pressed both hands to the outer shell. It gave like any shell would and crumbled away, though not like pieces falling to the floor, but changing to dust and vanishing around us. I wondered if the shell had at one time been her protection against the world. She remained suspended before me, bathed in an incandescent green light. I touched Sophia’s face, and she opened her tired eyes to look up at me.
“Why?” she said in a quiet voice. “After everything I’ve done to you.”
I shrugged. I was surprised I wasn’t angry. Or hurt. Just . . . sad. “I don’t care about you, Sophia. Not one bit. I’m doing this because it’s the right thing to do. If it weren’t”—I smiled at her—“I’d gut you myself.” And with that I shoved my hand into her chest. She screamed as I rooted round for her soul, surprised even now that First Borns had souls.
I grabbed it and pulled it out. It was a twisted thing, like a walking stick from a gnarled oak. And with a final breath, I cut her cord and released her.
The power that surged through me was incredible. I lifted my arms high and yelled out with joy! Oh . . . the power that coursed through my joints, healing the muscle aches and pains. I felt myself lifted, high over the stage, above the remnants of the egg. I glowed as my father below me glowed, and I felt everything. And . . .
Nothing.
With a sudden snap, I was in darkness. Total and utter darkness. I couldn’t move, and my screams resounded in my own ears, deafening me. My knees were in my chin and I was surrounded by—
The egg.
I was
in
the fucking egg!
Quiet, Zoë,
came my father’s voice.
The universe cannot have a vacuum. And it cannot exist without a Phantasm. For now, you will be that creature.
Wha . . .
NO.
DADDY!
Quiet, child. Soon you will grow accustomed to the position just as Sophia had before. I’m afraid you won’t be able to move much, or leave, until Azrael is destroyed.
Destroyed? Daddy . . . what are you doing?
Taking control. Soon our soldiers will find him, and you will become the Phantasm. One under our control. For now, just sleep. And rest. You deserve a rest.
And then there was silence.
Utter silence.
Daddy?
Nothing.
DADDY?
SOMEBODY!!!!!!
EPILOGUE
MORNING
sunlight brushed against his face, luring him from sleep with the promise of coffee. The smell of it was intoxicating. Rolling over in the bed, he blinked several times and focused on a lamp with a headless Mary Had a Little Lamb.
I’m in Zoë’s room. WTF?
Sitting up, he looked at the clock. Eleven in the morning. It was Monday. With a groan, he shuffled into Zoë’s bathroom, showered, shaved, and dressed in a pair of jeans and a tee shirt laid out for him. Running a brush through his unruly hair, he made his way down the stairs.
Dark . . .
Nona was in the kitchen, sliding a panful of eggs into a bowl. He could smell the butter, and his stomach growled. She turned and looked at him, a smile on her face. “Well, about time you got out of bed. Sleep well?”
“Yeah,” he said, and took the bowl she gave him. He moved from the kitchen to the tea shop. The table was set. Rhonda sat in her place, dressed as usual in black, reading a book. Jason sat to the left of her. He looked better—the scars were nearly healed, and soon his skin would look as if he’d never had an obliteration spell carved into his flesh.
To Rhonda’s right was Dags. He looked as he had since coming back from Between. Glassy-eyed. Sitting still. Responding only when spoken to. He got along well enough, and Rhonda believed his condition would improve with time. She and Nona figured it was because Maureen was still out of commission, thus his left arm was useless and bound to his chest in a sling, and because the book got reshuffled when it went back in. He thought maybe it was a good opportunity to fix that book, but Rhonda seemed to like Dags like this.
Alone . . .
Docile. And with no memory of Zoë or much of anything else. Alice appeared every now and then to help him eat or bathe. It was sad. And it was wrong.
On the other side were Tim and Steve, quiet as usual. Tim more so as he faded in and out. Not really trying to be corporeal.
Jemmy was missing, but she’d moved away, saying things weren’t right anymore. It was time for the horsemen.
Nona came to sit down, and they all helped themselves. He grabbed up a coffee and treated it as he always had.
Help . . .
He sipped it for a while and watched them. All of them carried on their lives as they had since that day.
When Zoë disappeared. And no one seemed to care.
But him.
His phone rang, and he nodded to Nona as he got up and stepped outside. There wasn’t really any need to answer it. It was just a signal for him and an excuse to leave the house.
Down the road to the right stood two men. One was bald and beefy, with dark clothing and shades. The other was taller, thinner, with a more graceful build, and wore glasses, jeans, and a cotton shirt. They waited until he was within earshot before the bald one spoke. “You hear her?”
He nodded. “Yep. Started yesterday.”
The lighter one licked his lips. “You tell them?”
He shook his head. “No, Daniel. I haven’t said a word.” He looked at Azrael, also known as TC. “But at least we know she’s alive. A month, and finally some word.”
Azrael nodded. “And I got a pretty good idea where. You in, Joe?”
Joe Halloran nodded and checked the gun in his holster. “Oh, I’m ready.” He set it back. “We’re gonna need your friend Frejya if we’re gonna get Dags away from Rhonda. We need to fix him first.” He looked at both of them. “And then, gentlemen, we go find the Wraith.”