Drifting alone through the wrecked town, her thoughts wandered back to Flying Owl. What could his life have been? His whole purpose had been snuffed out in its prime.
Could he have become a great leader and guided his people in this new freedom? Would he have been rational and kind? Why did he have to die at all? Why do any of us have to die?
Thilial was six months old.
PRESENT DAY
The golf cart’s engine hummed. Grass crinkled beneath its wheels. Thorn thought he heard, far in the distance, the distinctive, chilling howl of a wolf.
A piercing bitterness had crept into Thorn as Thilial recounted the old story. Much of it had been familiar. Thorn had regretted his decision to let Flying Owl die every single day since the massacre at Tugaloo. Only now he realized that his attachment to the boy wasn’t the reason for the massacre—his attachment to demon society was. He’d come to accept that the decision to fight the priests had ultimately been Flying Owl’s, but he still wondered how different both of their lives might have been if he hadn’t whispered, “Kill him.”
Thorn remembered most of the story’s facts, but in hearing it from Thilial’s perspective, much of the story’s emotional weight felt painfully fresh. Even though Thorn could still visualize Flying Owl’s bright eyes and youthful smile, he’d forgotten how joyful spending an afternoon with him in a river under the warm summer sun had been. He remembered his own confusion at Xeres’s somberness after returning from the Sanctuary, but he’d forgotten how frightened he’d been of the imposing demon lord. He recalled that some foolish angel’s appearance had spurred him into showing off for Tugaloo’s demons, leading to Flying Owl’s death. But until now, he hadn’t remembered that her name was Thilial, or that she’d tried so bravely to save him from himself.
“So you see,” Thilial said in the spirit realm as she flew beside the speeding golf cart, “demons don’t listen. Even without my interference—even without Marcus’s interference—your plan to tell demonkind about God’s Sanctuary scheme is doomed to fall on deaf ears. What did you think would happen? That they’d all choose to ignore God forever and live their own free lives? That they’d rise up against Him again? No. All you demons have ever wanted is power over each other. No new knowledge will change you. You’re not capable of change.”
“
I
changed,” Thorn said. “Or at least, I’m changing. I did eventually listen to those ideas you put in my mind all those centuries ago. I changed, and unlike God, I don’t need to force others to change. I just want to earn the choice to think for myself, outside of the box that’s been built for me. I had to at least try. I
had
to. God left me no other option. And who knows, the demons might actually listen to me, if you’d just let me live—”
“No. None of that.” She swept her sword inches from his face. “Even if you could get other demons to listen to you, God would concoct some new measure of benevolent control over them. He is
God
, after all. You can’t hope to foil His plans.
“Thorn, I admire what you’ve done for these humans, but ultimately, you’re only aiding them for your own selfish ends. You’re no different than the rest of demonkind.” Thorn considered her accusation. He glanced over at Brandon, who was gazing at the dark forest passing on either side of the golf cart. Did Thorn truly care nothing for this young man? Was he truly just using him as a pawn against God and Marcus? Thorn couldn’t decide either way. He certainly didn’t care about Brandon and Heather as much as he cared about Amy, but perhaps only because he didn’t know them yet.
Amy.
At least I was close to her. At least Flying Owl’s death didn’t forever keep me from growing close to another human.
Thorn let himself smile a bit as he realized that he no longer regretted letting himself grow fond of either human. The empathy he’d felt for them had only ever been a source of strength—never weakness, as he’d once thought.
Thorn shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the dead. He could mourn for them later. If he didn’t soon join them himself.
For now, he had to somehow assure Thilial that he could convince all of demonkind that God was using Sanctuaries to control them—His way or the highway.
And
can
I convince them?
Demon society was far slower to accept change than human society. The progression of human thought through time was mostly made possible by death. When an older human generation died, its beliefs and biases died with it, leaving younger generations to spread their newer worldviews across the planet. Eventually, those young people grew old and died, and their ideas were replaced as well. And thus human society learned, grew, and prospered.
But since demons don’t age and can live forever, we have no such cycle, regrettably.
Demonkind had only ever had
one
generation, and that generation’s biases had remained ingrained in the demon population ever since their fall from Heaven. No possibility of social change existed, except for changing the mind of each and every demon, one at a time.
Which is why I’ll need the Judges on my side. Demons listen to the Judges.
But even if he could sway Atlanta’s Judge, how could they quickly communicate with all the rest of demonkind?
Thorn remembered a revelatory bit from Thilial’s story. “So angels have their own spiritual plane above ours?” he asked her. “Just as our plane is above the humans’?”
“Yes. We whisper to humans just as demons do, but we encourage them, help them grow. Some angels even whisper to demons, too, though I don’t see the point. God only saves four or five of you each year, and those ‘saved’ often go on to rebel again. I’m sure that an influential demon like you has been the target of many angelic whispers. Maybe they’re what put these delusions of grandeur in your head.”
Perhaps Thilial had picked up on Thorn’s intentions, because she added, “Don’t even think about going up to the angels’ realm. You need wings to do it. You couldn’t get there if you tried.”
Damn.
How could Thilial be so shrewd at psychoanalyzing Thorn, yet so blind about the God she served? Although, she
had
listened to an emotional appeal back in the church… Perhaps she would do so again.
“Thilial, I’m lost. Do you have any idea what it’s like to work your entire life for something, then realize that your work was meaningless? To believe something for your entire life, then realize it isn’t true? Do you know how hopeless that feeling is? It’s like you’ve sunk to the bottom of the ocean. You see all that water above you and you just can’t gather the strength to start swimming.”
Thilial’s face remained stoic, facing forward. Her robes streamed behind her, and she bobbed up and down with each gentle air current, like a majestic winged kite.
Thorn continued. “In Heaven, I met a rebel angel named Karthis. He said that you all are afraid of God. Afraid of how even if you disagree with Him, you must obey Him, or else face dire punishment. We have to start swimming up, Thilial, or we’ll never breach the surface.”
Thilial turned to him, and her steely gaze demanded silence. She sped ahead, then disappeared before his eyes, likely into the angelic realm.
Perhaps trying to influence Thilial was as much of a lost cause as trying to convince the human preacher.
And I used to be so skilled at manipulation.
Under normal circumstances, Thorn might have seen his lack of persuasive powers as a positive sign. A sign of growth. But now, trapped in a Sanctuary with an angel who hated all demons on principle—an angel who would rather see them all in Hell before letting any one of them achieve freedom—Thorn would have traded half of his former charges in order to regain his powers of deceit.
•
Flying alongside the golf cart, Thilial could scarcely believe she’d let Thorn talk her into aiding these humans, for in spite of her loyalty to God, Thorn’s words
had
reached her. She’d known since 1540 that the Sanctuary system was unjust, not only for the humans whom it used as bait, but also for the evil spirits, deserving of death, whom it presumed to rescue from their wicked ways. She’d never dared broach the subject with God, though. Despite His wisdom, He still clung to the false hope that demons could change.
At least if I can save these humans, and deal out justice to the demons here, including Thorn, I can correct God’s oversights in one small way.
Would He forgive her for this? If she killed Thorn, He would. All would balance out in the end, and things would go back to how they were before this whole mess in Atlanta—only now with Thorn dead.
Still, she hated disobeying God like this. A small part of her mind kept nagging,
I should be in Atlanta now, doing His bidding.
But she had only to glance at Thorn to remember all the heinous acts he’d done, and when she remembered that, all doubt was silenced.
The golf cart crested the top of a hill, and the area containing the transit door came into view. A tiny shopping plaza, a dive bar, and a walk-in clinic lay huddled around a cul-de-sac in a small valley some fifty meters downhill. Fluorescent streetlights lit the area, islanded by dark slopes on all sides. No humans but those on the golf cart were in sight.
“Where’s the door?” Thorn asked.
“Hidden in the trees next to the bar,” Thilial whispered to him from the angelic realm.
She was curious to see how Thorn would coerce the humans into the transit door, and even more curious how he’d explain the Corridors to them. When the golf cart eased to a stop in front of the clinic, she saw that Thorn would opt for the direct approach. Before Brandon and Heather could help Virgil out of the vehicle, Thorn simply jumped up and jogged the corpse away.
“Hurry, over here,” he said to the humans. He was affecting a limp for good measure, but the humans looked wary, especially Karen. Thorn was too eager for his own good. Thilial rose to the rooftop of the dive bar to observe the action.
The humans approached the alley beside the bar cautiously. The interior was dark, but red neon lights advertising various beers adorned the windows on the side. They cast a dull crimson light into the copse of trees where Thorn was now rooting around. Karen motioned for Brandon and Heather to stay back, then took a few steps toward Thorn herself.
“I thought you were injured,” Karen called to him.
“I am! But I need you all to see this first.”
“See what?”
Thorn found the transit door, well hidden by foliage. He brushed the dense branches away from its glowing runes, revealing it to the humans. “I found a way out!” he said. “A way to safety for us all.”
But just as Thorn finished saying the words, the door erupted into splinters of wood. A deep crack tore through it, plunging the bright runes into blackness and tipping the top half of the door forward. It slammed against the dirt, barely missing Virgil, who’d fallen back at the initial explosion. Thorn quickly crab-walked him backward, away from the shattered door, and away from the two demon-controlled corpses who were now pacing toward him. Marcus, still wearing the same cadaver from earlier, hurled a pointed shard of the door at Virgil, impaling his shoulder.
“This is V-E-3-N-Q-R calling C-Q-D-X,” said a familiar voice from behind the humans. Thilial turned to see Donundun and Paxis inhabiting bodies of their own. They had maneuvered to trap the humans between the bar and the shopping center. Donundun’s corpse bore the exact same voice that they’d heard on the ham radio in the church.
As Marcus and Hecthes closed in from the hillside and the other two demons closed in from the road, the defenseless humans backed against each other.
All four of the remaining demons from Marcus’s team are here, and they don’t know that I am, too. Should I kill them?
Thilial had swiftly dispatched Drelial and Amos, and had let the others live this long only because Thorn presented more urgent quarry. With her access to the angelic realm, she could slaughter them quickly and save the humans. Yet she was torn about whether she should rescue Thorn as well. Letting her enemies kill each other would ease her burden tonight. Yes, that would be the best option…
•
Marcus tramped through the dirt toward Thorn. For once, he didn’t look angry. He didn’t even look annoyed. His expression was as dead as the corpse he hid behind. He just looked tired—like any excitement he’d felt at pursuing Thorn had been exhausted by the long chase, and now he just wanted to get this over with.
The other three demons, though, clearly lusted for blood. They snickered and smirked. Donundun was even cackling.
Karen shouted at the approaching assailants. “In the name of Jesus, I command you to leave us alone! You have no power over me, because Christ dwells within me!”
Brandon tried to plead with the demons. “Shannon! Please don’t do this! Remember all the good times we had together in church.”
Thorn had crawled backward nearly all the way to the panicked humans. He searched for an exit, but had nowhere to flee.
“You care so much about freedom and purpose,” Marcus said to Thorn in the demon realm. “But you’ve failed to account for those like me. I’ve
always
had a purpose, Thorn. To control, so that I can destroy. Would you take that purpose away from me?”
Thorn removed the bloody wood shard from his shoulder. He gripped it tightly, ready to fight. “You may be stronger in this moment,” Thorn said. “You and those who think like you may prevail temporarily. But the weight of all history is against you.”
“Ha. I never thought I’d actually be bored with you, Thorn.”
This confrontation could only go two ways, and if Thorn survived, he’d need the humans to trust him. He had to be sure they’d see what he was about to attempt. He turned to Karen and called her name.
“I told you!” she said to the other humans. “I told you Virgil would lead us into a trap!”
Karen’s attention was all Thorn needed, aside from, perhaps, Thilial saving the day with her sword. That wasn’t likely to happen, though, so Thorn turned back to Marcus.
Marcus and Hecthes charged toward him.