3. GODRIC

The Infernal bastard is late.

Even as the supplicant, the one who’s gone to outrageous lengths to pester me for this meeting, the damned diva can’t resist making an entrance.

Serves me right for being on time. For being here at all. But mostly, for not putting a definitive end to his incessant harassment.

Regretfully, murdering him isn’t an option.

Not yet, at least.

Blocking him had proven as futile. No wonder, since Hell invented hacking. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was him who personally did.

He’d always circumvented whatever bans I enforced with infuriating ease. But that wasn’t why I abandoned my efforts. I quit when I became certain they were not a deterrent to his twisted mind, but an enticement, even an encouragement.

He had more than once slathered me with demonic quotes to that effect. Ones I’m positive he’d coined.

Resistance is the language of desire.

Reluctance is the fuel of pursuit.

And the most annoying of all; Edging is the spice of eternity.

With him, I’m damned if I do, or if I don’t. Damnation is his business, after all.

But like everyone else, he doesn’t realize it’s mine, too. Even if my goals and methods are diametrically different. While he deals in the bombastic and hungers for mayhem, I prefer the undetectable, and have no cravings.

At least, I didn’t, until …

I grit my teeth. Bloody Heaven. This is becoming ridiculous. No, it’s already beyond that. And it’s unstoppable …

No. I can’t accept that. I must stop it, must prevent my every thought from twisting back to her.

That’s easier decided than achieved, with my mind constantly escaping my shackles to ruminate over every detail since the first time I heard her voice. In the past two days, it’s been invaded by the maelstrom of everything that happened before, during and after the Imperium Trials. It keeps halting at that kiss.

That damn kiss.

It’s been buzzing in my senses, since I did the “sane” thing. Since I didn’t push her back on her bed among her sleeping Unitas, tear her out of those hideous pajamas, and sink inside her, body, soul, and void.

Replaying every glide of my lips over hers, every thrust of my tongue inside her mouth, every pierce of my teeth into her flesh, had been like a barbed-wire squeezing tighter around my balls. But it was the instant addiction to her all-encompassing hunger and surrender that was—is the real agony. The true danger.

Up until then, I thought she was already driving me to extremes. How much worse would it be if I touched her?

Now I know.

That damn kiss in itself was another anomaly, and it demonstrated my gross miscalculation. For that alone, I’d say it served a vital purpose.

It was also inevitable.

Dreading that she was lost to me in the Imperium Realm, because I couldn’t save her, and couldn’t convince her to save herself, had depleted most of my sanity. Having her back, only to fear I might never retrieve her mind from the void, had almost consumed what remained of it.

There was no chance in Heaven or Hell I was going to walk away from her without adding to the collection of insanities I’ve been amassing on her behalf.

And kissing her had been an act of madness. That kiss was the second-most dangerous thing I could ever do.

Following it up would take first place.

That exercise in frustration and self-sabotage proved how oblivious my worst projections had been, those behind my decision never to touch her. It told me there would be no limits to the damage I can cause if I took what I crave, took her, and plunged into this lethal connection we’ve forged.

To think I always disparaged the concept of a slippery slope, and anyone who made the choice to set foot on one. And here I am, still unable to figure out how I found myself on the ultimate one, in the shape of that impossible being, leading straight to annihilation.

Frustration pours out of me on an exhalation that rivals the wind trying to buffet me out of my hover. It would have wreaked destruction in the Academy, with its enclosed spaces and wandering cadets. It does blow back the waves of the dreary Arctic Ocean at the bottom of the cliff below me, before they rage back to resume their steady tumult.

I know how they feels. It was what I felt as I left her. Or as I pretended to. Like the colossal fool I’m turning into, I returned. I watched her struggle with the aftermath of that kiss, until exhaustion dragged her under. But her hunger, even in sleep, almost dismantled whatever restraint I’d managed to hang on to.

Then I received that bloody visit outside her window, and I was grateful for it. It prevented me from blasting inside and claiming her.

After they left me, only the imperative need to tamper with the Angel Amulet stopped me from hurtling back to her. Yet, purging its records of the black hole incident was harder than I anticipated.

Maybe because I was harder than I thought I could get. And that bloody siphon sensed my turmoil, and took advantage of it, to cling to the knowledge. I still coerced it into submission.

Doing the same to my libido when I stood over her again? That was nearly impossible.

I told myself I had to return the Amulet. But I could have done that before the Ceremony. I was there because I couldn’t stop myself. I needed to see her asleep, with her eyes closed this time, and to know she’d wake up eventually.

It was another terrible mistake.

Tuquh, what she calls obsidian lightning, crackles out of me.

I used to display the blasted manifestation on demand, to end tiresome situations without further action on my part. Now it’s always too close to the surface, more and more manifesting without my permission.

Always because of her.

Reining it in is also becoming harder.

Which reminds me—I’m not certain if I succeeded in negating the effect her Unitas had on the Amulet. If I didn’t, and that energy storm that emanated from them to strike it happens again during the Ceremony—well, what’s another damaging tidbit coming to light?

I would deal with it then. I won’t let anything interfere with my plans. I need more time to figure out her abilities, and what I can do with them, before she garners even more unhealthy attention.

And more demands to end her.

You should have let her die.

Every iota of my Energy roils in a chain reaction at the memory of those words, spoken in that eternal voice.

They sounded like a berating, but they were a demand. The uncharacteristic overtness, the anger, the nervousness behind it, surprised me, when nothing ever does. Nothing besides her. But I’ve been so focused on her that I hadn’t seen this coming.

I should have. There had been hints, almost from the start, expressing discomfort about her presence. I should have extrapolated they would lead to that. They are beings who have always manipulated the cosmic chessboard. To them, the existence of one piece outside their knowledge and control, is unacceptable.

Still, I thought I should worry about my so-called allies only if her true potential was exposed. But I should have taken into account they’ve been getting more trigger happy in their preemptive strikes against anything that might be a problem down the road. It’s now evident they consider her one, even when they have no idea of the scope of her abilities, or danger.

But I already knew they always err on the side of caution. They’ve been doing so for years now, eliminating anyone they fear might upset the balance of the coming war in the enemy’s favor.

Or rather, they’ve been having me doing their dirty work for them.

I am Heaven’s Sword, after all.

This bloody name never used to bother me, or the rest of the glorified designations they saddled me with. Now each grates on me further every time I hear them. I’d rather they had the guts to call me what they made me, what I truly am.

Heaven’s Executioner.

And they wanted me to be hers.

Even without learning the truth of what she did in the Imperium Realm, her Unitas’s unprecedented method of return from the Trials unsettled them. Enough to turn her unknown quantity from a mild worry, to a possible threat. It made them pay me that damn visit, and made her the first human they wanted me to eliminate. Or at least, to let perish.

I never refused them before, either because I agreed with their motives, or couldn’t stir suspicion about my allegiances.

This time, I not only refused, I practically threatened them.

My pretended offense, at their infringement on my turf, might have worked. Or not. I no longer care.

Let them think, and do, whatever they like. It will be yet another complication I’d deal with when it comes to pass.

Exhaling another gale, I’m suddenly grateful for this meeting, and its instigator. If anyone can provide me with adequate distraction, it’s him.

It’s been years since I’d given up trying to stop him, and let him inundate my devices. His missives range from juvenile provocations in the vein of “Missing you lots” and “What are you wearing,” to erotic essays depicted in emojis, to explicit content starring his—privates, to strategic intel.

Only the last kind of harassment bothers me. If he can invade my electronic privacy, so can others. And he’s so cavalier about sending what could become major problems if intercepted, just to get a rise from me. I’m certain he’d love me to call him back, or better still, to descend on him in person, with a harangue about best conspiracy practices. I never respond to his provocations.

But this time, I couldn’t ignore him.

I did the first ten times he messaged me with a demand to meet. Then came his eleventh message. That was one I couldn’t dismiss.

“Bloody prick …” I pause, my grumbled words hitting me with their irony.

Bloody prick indeed.

I have to give him that. He managed the right amount of aggravation to get me here. And he still isn’t.

Huffing, I look around the landscape of frigid isolation.

Even if he stands me up, I’m almost thankful I made the trip. I should do it more often. This specific zone of the Arctic Circle is one of two places on the entire planet outside both Terrestrial and Celestial Ley Lines. Anywhere else in this world, I always feel the magicks of Existence buzzing, like a constant background noise. They’re strongest where I have to be most, in the Celestial Region.

It’s been ages since I’ve mastered blocking them out. But being here makes me realize what a maddening drone it all is, and what a toll keeping it at bay exacts.

The absolute serenity here is almost—intoxicating. A feeling I’ve always heard about, but could never achieve. At least, not until?—

That’s it! I’m done letting my mind drag me back to her. This obsession must end. As must humoring this bloody wanker.

At the same moment I decide to leave, I feel him. High above me. Naturally.

Raising my gaze, I know what I’ll see. And my prediction is accurate.

In what looks like a choreographed scene from a fantasy movie, he’s descending from the matted clouds, wings multiplied ten-times their usual size, blazing like a black sun going supernova.

I watch the theatrical spawn of Hell descending to the cliff below me, and landing almost at the edge in utmost grace.

He flashes his wings away, patting imaginary wrinkles and lint off the pristine blackness of his three-piece suit.

After he adjusts his crimson tie and matching pocket handkerchief, he gives a dramatic pause, then sweeps his gaze up and meets mine.

Flinging up his arms, a slow smile splits his face as he croons, “Darling.”