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“You tell me nothing about yourself and demand I tell you things?”
After a moment’s silence, she nods. “Yes.”
“That seems like something a spy might do.”
“I’m not a spy,” she bites back.
And I believe her. Despite Abaddon’s paranoia, I don’t think she’s working for whatever angel is stalking us. I think she’s an unfortunate human who somehow stumbled into our realm. It was bound to happen after all this time.
So after we walk a few more steps, I finally answer her. “It is not anyone named Angel. It is an angel.”
She misses a step in surprise. I reach out two hands to steady her, but she yanks back, steadying herself at the last moment. “I’m fine,” she snaps. I pull my hands back.
“An angel,” she breathes out. “Like a literal angel? You mean from heaven?”
I shake my head. “Not exactly. They are simply from another plane. There are many planes of existence. This is merely one.”
“And you and your brothers. . . you’re from a different one?”
Again I shake my head.
“Our Creator-Father was. He was angel-kind, from a plane we call the Great Hall. Most angels retired there long ago. Our Creator-Father refused to go with them. Well, he went,” I hedge, then admit, “but just to steal enough angel spark to bring back here and create my brothers and me in his forge.”
“You were made. . . in a forge?” she says, her tone disbelieving. “Is that a metaphor? Or are you being sarcastic? I’m not good with sarcasm.”
“No, it was a literal forge,” I say. I suppose I’ve never thought about how strange this might all sound to a human. I was not there when Abaddon explained it to Hannah to know how that went. Or perhaps he was not so blunt.
“Okay,” she says slowly, as if she’s not sure whether to believe my words or not. I suppose that is up to her whether she will believe.
“My brothers can scry with angel runes because of the spark inside them, and they have seen that another angel somehow remains on this plane or perhaps has come back. They are watching us, and Abaddon thinks they mean us harm. He worries because of his baby daughter.”
“What about your Creator-Dad or whatever? You said he’s an angel—”
“He’s dead,” I say sharply, and the image of him burning on the pyre flashes before my eyes.
She frowns, but her head bobs up and down, nodding. “If anyone told me this, I’d say they’re nuts. But, well. . . I guess after meeting you guys. . .”
Then she asks, “How long have you been in that castle? Why doesn’t anyone know about you?”
It’s good she didn’t ask all these questions last night. Abaddon would have been suspicious. I’m just happy she’s decided to talk instead of being silent. And I’m so curious about her. Maybe if I answer some questions, then she will, too.
“The castle was created around a thousand years ago. I suspect while our Father was alive, he. . .” I shake my head, “Cast some protection runes over the land directly around us so that no mortal could find us. And after his death, well, we had our own means of dissuading anyone from coming near.”
I see her frown, and she doesn’t ask any more about that. I’m glad. Even as I look around at the familiar landscape, my chest tightens. In another two days, we’ll pass by the place of death.
“What did you do for all that time in that castle in the middle of nowhere?” she asks. “For all those thousands of years?”
Now it’s me who looks at the ground.
Because of course we did not keep to the castle all that time. We were out doing what we were born to do. For thousands of years before and almost another thousand years after the castle was built, we were the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse. Murdering and spreading destruction, war, and death everywhere we went.
“The sunlight is difficult for me,” I lie. “You travel for a while. I’ll be in the shadow plane.”
“The what?” she asks, startled. “What does that mean?”
It means I need to be alone. The beast inside me is restless, and I do not trust him when he is restless. I might not have another being splitting me as obviously as Romulus and Remus, but sometimes I also feel two-natured. There is a darkness inside me that’s only calmed by shadows.
“I’m not only a monster with extra arms and blue skin,” I manage, speaking through my teeth as I stretch my neck like I sometimes see Romulus and Remus do when they are trying to hold the other back. I understand it now because I worry the shadow inside me will be dangerous if I don’t keep it leashed.
“I have other abilities, and one of them is to slip into the shadow plane. I need to spend time there each day.” Another lie, but a safer one.
