Mission Log, Day 26, Tuesday, September 28th, 1999 (continued)
Ah, Colorado Springs. There's something about that city...like the fact that we can't seem to get away from it.
I'm really starting to dislike the place.
Not that I didn't have any fun today. Take the phone call, for instance. There I was, beginning to calcify from frustration and boredom after hours of fruitless discussion in Thenaire's tether to War, when Matt called. Not that I usually associate Matt with fun, but....
He called to say someone called his cellphone and told him the Painted Pot had been burglarized.
Now, this immediately raises flags in my head. These cellphones have punchnumber identification codes like all phones. Some one would have to know the number to reach him. Yet to my knowledge, Rook just recently got these phones just for us and told no one else the numbers. How would someone know to call Matt's special cellphone in relation to the Pot?
Apparently Matt already had similar concerns; he expressed doubts about Dinhabah's safety and asked lots of questions about Rook's staff at the Board. In fact, he was in mid-conversation when he said, "The gate's been blown up." Moments later the line went dead.
Enough talk about what to do next. "Looks like the decision's been made for us," I said, and launched up the tether.
Boulder-side, I could hear celestial noise almost as soon as I came through, the unpleasant screech of celestial destruction mingled with the sweet crackle of fire. No time to fly even. I launched my celestial rings across town, reaching the Board in mere seconds.
My arrival did not go unnoticed. A demon stood guard in the garden by the mangled back gate; I couldn't resist sticking my celestial fiery ringed tongue at him. His calabitic resonance rebounded off me in a backdraft that shattered a brick wall; I blitzed by and into the building.
Two demons trapped Matt and Dinhabah in the hallway. No, three, if one counted Rook's assistant, casually moving from room to room. I knew what she was up to; I could feel the fire in my bones, taste it with my being before I saw any flames. She meant to burn the building to the ground. No problem, except for one Outcast who has no heart to ascend to.
"Hello, Arabis." One of the demons recognized me; no small feat to distinguish one Ofanite from another in celestial form, even with this damn geas hook of Adrienne's (I spared it a glance; a small square tumbling amongst circles, hard metal clunking against liquid flame). Moreso, I looked the fellow hard in the face and failed to recognize him, or at least this vessel. It wasn't Arnu, I knew that by his very feel. Then who?
I corporealized before my angelic friends. I could not get near; buffeting winds of a Corporeal song of Shields protected them from harm. Besides, no one wanted to harm anyone here, not even me; I suspect Matt, servitor of Flowers, had something to do with that. Nevertheless, they both smiled at my arrival--Dinhabah a bit darkly perhaps--and my human vessel grinned in return. Time to try out Gabriel's newest gift.
I willed forth Dance of Atoms.
I had neither time for nor interest in trying out its subtler uses. I expanded my fiery nature, tapped into that heat of motion within and turned it inside out, sending that excited motion into the already heated air. Temperature spiked, air pressure increased, flames flared with a sudden jolt of heat and oxygen; all those tiny fires became one instant conflagration. One demon died almost instantly, more from inhaling superheated air and burning his lungs than from flame itself.
Did I mention an angel of Fire lives to kill demons with its word?
The other two descended, probably not a moment too soon. The floor groaned in the sudden flame and heat, and a moment later the beams beneath us shifted, twisted, and snapped. We fell through to the first floor. The shield-brothers were fine; I instinctively twisted in midair, landed without harm. I hardly noticed the inconvenience, still heady as I was from killing that demon.
No, wait, that was lightheadedness. Impervious as ofanim of Fire are to flame, this vessel still needed to breathe, and fire fast consumed oxygen outside that shield bubble. We left.
I'd almost forgotten about the calabite in the back garden, but I found someone else taking care of the problem. She was about my size (meaning small in stature), with short dark wild hair and large inky eyes and full lips. Did I mention she had the poor guy pinned against a car like a shishkabob on a piece of iron grate? He looked bad, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, vessel fast expiring. I turned to the woman and smiled. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure..."
Her lips curled in some lop-sided approximation of a smile. "Irad."
My eyes widened a bit. Five hours had to be a record, even for Gabriel, in the redeem'n'go department. "Back so soon?"
"She said I had work to do."
I squinted at her. "How are you?"
"There is much less of me," she stated quietly, simply. "Much was burned away."
"So it seems," I smirked, giving her diminutive vessel the once-over. But I sobered quickly. I can only imagine, recalling my reshaping from Outcast to angel, how much worse the pain must have been for him.
The calabite gurgled.
"Would you like to finish him?"
"Oh, no, I couldn't." I waved her off, patted my tummy in satisfaction. I'd already had a yummy portion of killing-demon-with-fire essence today; I didn't want to hog all the fun. "You go ahead."
"I can't," she said firmly. Didn't take but a moment to remember why. The new Irad was an Elohite, forbidden from acting on her emotional desires if there was another better course of action. And I could see the gleam in her eye of one who desperately wanted to burn this demon. "We should question him. My song won't hold him much longer."
I shrugged, turned to the calabite. "Who do you work for?"
Irad twisted the iron skewer for emphasis. "The Game," he croaked.
"Your friends, too?"
"Yes."
"Do you work with Daspit?"
That iron spike must have been very uncomfortable, for he answered without hesitation. "Sometimes."
"Emergency vehicles coming," someone called out.
"Flame," I requested. I don't remember who provided it, but once lit, Dance of Atoms finished the calabite quickly. As he died something happened to me, something I hadn't felt in years. Maybe it was the essence of burning demons, or perhaps the lingering power of Gabriel all over Irad, or maybe something finally clicked in my soul, but inside I felt my rings churn, shift, split, and recombine. Where there were once ten rings now spun eleven.
The others piled into a car and left; as a raven I kept an eye on Rook, who stayed behind to talk to the authorities.
If he felt any grief over the loss of his Role's school, he showed no sign of it, even as an act. The authorities must have thought him a little strange. I know I did. Once gone, I accompanied him back to the tether in silence.
Dealing with the police and fire department ate up much of the day, followed by more talk into the night. Matt filled us in on the details of the attack, apparently headed by Rook's assistant Sangita, Impudite and spy. Again, no response whatsoever from Rook over the betrayal of someone thought to be a loyal friend.
We brought Matt up to speed our the discussion of the Scourge, and I added the fact that this latest attack seemed entirely the doing of the Game. Which brought the topic around to Dinhabah again. I said nothing, and he didn't say much either. Whatever held him silent had to be powerful, because I feared it would cost him these angels' help, help he desperately needed if he were to pull through this and clear his name.
It finally occurred to me that he might not pull through, set things right. It occurred to me that he might Jump. I can't allow that to happen, even if it means killing him. Dinhabah would want me to, were he his old self and not this warped mutation of fear, hatred, and selfishness. Question is, is his trust in me warranted? Could I really bring myself to do it? Could any of us?
I suspect Rook could. Then again, Rook ain't exactly healthy right now, either.
Someone brought up Strassen's jacket again, the one that showed people their heart's desires. Did anyone know where it was? Not at the moment. Strassen didn't have it with her, and apparently Thenaire's soldiers hadn't known to look for it. I don't remember who suggested retrieving it, but I thought it was a fine idea, anything to keep the momentum going from our latest (and rare) victory. If nothing else, we might learn something from Strassen's home, or better yet, set a trap for anyone sent to retrieve it. And although we would be looking for a needle in a haystack, we decided to search for Fate or the Game overland, see if we could intercept them coming or going. This was all well and good, except the part about Arashiel forbidding us to engage them until the cavalry could arrive. I wasn't too happy about that, but admit it's probably best until we know who or what we are dealing with.
There was the issue of staying in contact, of course. Even if Rook and I found someone, our friends would still have a hard time finding us. It may have been Adriel who suggested that Arashiel attune to me, but whoever it was, Arashiel immediately looked unhappy with the idea, sought other alternatives. I admit to being hurt by her reaction. She was only responsible for Dinhabah right now following Jael's death, certainly wasn't spread too thin; Jael once told me she had four or five attunements at the time, myself included. Perhaps she thought I didn't need protection, could take care of myself. Or more likely, she expected there would be more important people for her to protect. But the truth actually hurt more than that. She didn't want to attune to me because she was afraid my activities would get me hurt, and she didn't want to get dissonance because of me, muttering something like "flaming rollercoaster of destruction" under her breath when she thought I couldn't hear.
I thought that's what cherubim did, put their souls on the line to protect others. That's what we all did, in our own way, endangering our souls to fight the War. God knows how many times I've held myself back from doing something for the good of the group or the mission, even if it meant flirting with dissonance against my ofanite nature. And Rook, what kind of dissonance could he be carting around from having to break his word to Strassen at Arashiel's behest? Even Matt admitted to me that he was glad--glad!--I showed up when I did and was impressed with all the pyrotechnics. An elohite of Flowers expressing an emotional appreciation for violence? How dissonant is that?
More than that, I suddenly missed Jael. No one told her to attune to me. She did it on her own, without prompting. Maybe it had to be done (although I can't think of any logical reason she would think so) and she chose to be the one to do it. Or, I would like to think, because she actually worried about me, risks to herself be damned. And when I think of all the times I took hits from calabite and Tsayadim alike...I had no idea what a danger I'd been to her, and she never breathed a word of complaint. Never...much to my shame.
Arashiel was not her sister. I hid my emotions as she reluctantly attuned to me, then strapped my newly-acquired Purity sword to my human back and--with a flattened-affect Rook in tow as sparrow--we birds set off for Rocky Flats and followed the roads south to Colorado Springs.
Again.
Did I mention I believe in miracles?
I don't know how I spotted it. Perhaps it was all the time spent following it that one time, but there on the interstate below was TIC-TOC, Daspit and Strassen's sleek silver car, heading for Colorado Springs. We stayed well back and out of sight, making only a short stop at a payphone to inform the others, and then patiently followed its lead, following Arashiel's orders.
As much as it pained me to wait.
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