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“And while our Creator-Father may have originally had visions of taking back the heavens, he became consumed with the glory to be found in the petty wars of men. He desired power, above all else, and for that, he needed more warrior children.”
“Warrior children? That’s awful.”
“We come out of the forge fully formed. I told you that already. We were never children as you think of them.”
“Well yeah, but still. You might be… grown on the outside, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t…” I struggle to find the right words. “You still had to develop. In your minds. And you had to learn how to live and move and be in the world.”
He pauses, then shrugs. “Perhaps. Some of us were better at it than others. And Creator-Father did not have much patience for us… learning.”
“You said he created more. But there’s only Remus, Romulus, and… really couldn’t you come up with a better name than Thing?”
Abaddon shrugs. “It is what we have always called him since it is what Creator-Father called him. And yes, we had one more brother. Layden.” Again his eyes move away from me. “Creator-Father used the last of the angel-spark to create our youngest brother, certain he had finally figured out the recipe for strength, indestructability, obedience, and above all, beauty.”
Ugh, recipe, really? Creator-Father sounds like a mad-scientist. And a dick. I go up on one elbow, still entranced by everything I’m hearing. “So what happened? Where’s Layden? And your father? Where’s he?”
But all of the sudden the light goes out of Abaddon’s chest, and we’re once more engulfed in darkness. There’s only the wan light of the dawn beginning to come through the window.
“Talk, talk, talk. You are like Romulus. Talk is useless.” He leaps out of bed, wings outspread fully either in a stretch or because he’s been upset by the last of my questions. “I am hungry. I will find food.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
ABADDON
My consort—no, my Hannah-consort—my chest glows a little at having her name. At her giving me her name.
Hannah-consort frowns. “Awesome. Bear meat for breakfast. Yum.”
I sense she is not speaking truthfully, because the frown remains on her face.
But then her stomach rumbles. She is hungry, but perhaps not for bear meat. Ludicrous since bear meat truly is the choicest. But who knows how these mortal stomachs work? I have not spent time among them in many centuries. These days, instead of seeing me as a god, they tend to look at me, point, and scream. Then either flee or shoot at me if they have a weapon.
“Come.” I draw my wings back in tightly to my side so I can fit through the narrow doorway.
I hear her little feet on the stone floor behind me as she follows.
It pleases me every time she obeys, and I like that she is again naked for me. Then again, perhaps she is just trying to get on my good side after running away yesterday. I barely keep the growl in my throat at the memory of arriving home only to find her gone.
I will not forget so easily. She has betrayed me once, well, twice, if I count her pitiful attempt to run away by the lake the first time I bathed.
I will not be made a fool a third time.
Still, I take her down the many stairs to the ground floor where I abandoned the bags of food I gathered for her yesterday. They remain by the door where I dropped them to do battle with my brothers.
“Whoa, what happened here?” She looks around at the table and chair that our battle knocked sideways.
“What do you think?” I bite out. “I had to get my brothers back in line. You set them free.”
Beside me, she at least has the grace to look ashamed, but then she spots the food. She rushes forward, her bosoms bouncing in a way that makes my cock harden as her face transforms with delight. “Oh my God, where did you get this?”
She drops to her knees and starts sorting through the bags. It is cold enough in the castle to have kept the food fresh, at least.
“Cheese!” she exclaims, holding up a mottled yellow-and-white block.
“Is it meant to be that color?” I ask, distastefully.
She just laughs at me and keeps pulling items out of the bag. “And lettuce.” She holds a leafy green plant to her chest like it’s the best present.
I thought consorts only delighted over shiny gemstones, but this one looks like a little tree is giving her spasms of joy.
“And broccoli and onions and peppers!” Then she looks up at me. “Tell me there’s a kitchen somewhere in this drafty old place, and I don’t just have to cook over the fire.”
I grunt. Then nod for her to follow me. The word she said is an old one to me. I have not heard it in many, many years. Not since Creator-Father walked these stones. He liked to keep delicacies in such a place.
