Faith Hunter - Seraphs

I smelled Thaddeus Bartholomew, a state police cop and Rupert’s cousin, across the street before I saw him, his body throwing pheromones into the air like an advertisement for pure sex. Thadd was a walking come-hither machine, and I wasn’t the only one to notice. Human women turned, finding him with their eyes without knowing why. His face was haggard, pain lines cutting through once-smooth flesh. Hiding among humans, half human, part seraph, part mage, his genetic heritage was jumbled. Stuck between forms, the change into third-generation kylen had halted. But the enzymes catalyzing his transformation were still active and, because I knew what to look for, I could see the slight humps on either side of his spine where infant seraph wings had begun to emerge.

“Can anyone join this parade, or is it only for the blood kin and the condemned?” a voice drawled. I cast Eli Walker a quick smile. The lithe, almost delicate man was leaning against the wall of the dry-goods store, his booted feet crossed at the ankles, partially blocking the walkway. I figured he was one of the people Audric had phoned when preparing for my trial.

Eli was part-time miner, part-time tracker, a great dancer, and a spiffy dresser. Today he was decked out in Post-Ap cowboy gear: jeans, hobnailed boots, cowboy hat, and fringed leather jacket. Around his neck was an old Indian necklace of dyed wood beads, glass beads, and porcupine quills on a woven, knotted jute thong. Eli liked me, and not for the jewelry I could make, the charms I might conjure, or my money, though he brought raw emeralds from his claim to Thorn’s Gems and bartered high prices for them. Some of them hung around Jacey’s neck, and I saw him glance at them before he looked back at me. His lips lifted in a slow smile, the kind that excluded everyone else present and spoke volumes to intent. He’d been trying to get me into bed for weeks.

“All help is welcome,” Jacey said.

“Then you won’t mind if I escort my mama into the meeting.” Boots scratching across the ice as he stood upright, he intercepted Miz Essie and took her arm. “I imagine she’s going to side with you. She always sides with the underdog, and that means trouble.”

“You’re a good boy,” the older woman said, patting his face, “but you should have shaved. Shame on you, and you so pretty.” A dark fuzz of beard grizzled his cheeks. It looked good below his odd amber-colored eyes. Very good.

“Yes, Mama, I am.” He kissed the leather glove over her knuckles, his eyes on me as his lips touched. His expression said clearly that he’d like to kiss me, and wouldn’t stop at the knuckles. I blushed hotly and Eli chuckled. It was disconcerting. “And you’re a pot of trouble filled to the brim.” He still spoke to his mother, but I was his target. And when he stood, I saw he was prepared for trouble of the worst sort. Beneath the buckskin jacket he wore a white flannel shirt with guns holstered beneath each arm. The hilt of a baselard, a short sword with a two-foot-long blade, was strapped across his back.

“No fighting,” I said, my tone fervent. “Neomages never start violence against humans. Never. ”

“Don’t reckon they do,” Eli agreed. “But they damn sure finish it when they’re attacked.” His mother gasped and my flush deepened at his casual swearing, but he was right. He’d seen me fight. And the history books confirmed his claim. Unrepentant at his coarse language, Eli grinned at me. “And I also reckon I don’t much feel like being on the losing side in this little internecine war some town fathers and orthodox elders have cooked up.”

“What have you heard?” Audric asked, his hands gripping the hilts of his weapons beneath his cloak. Two el-cars skidded past us and disappeared. Silence settled on the landscape, broken by footsteps and the rustle of people on the move. Sleet peppered over my hood.

“Since Jacey called? Little here, little there. Enough to know some folks got less sense than balls. Your pardon, ladies.” He tipped his hat as his mother swatted him. The unmistakable affection between the two made me appreciate Eli, maybe more than I should. As if he knew what I was thinking, he winked at me. “We should make an impression, though, when we all stomp in the room together. Just hope it’s enough of an impression to count for something. Make a few people think instead of getting all heated up and mob-minded. The progressives and reformed are diddling about whether to intercede in her behalf. Politics by committee sucks, but it’ll suck more if the three groups come to blows.”

That was what I dreaded, a mob scene. Under my cloak, I shivered and slid my fingers through the ring of my prime amulet. With my other hand, I levered myself along, walking stick tapping. Its vibrant green-and-red bloodstone hilt warmed my palm. It was also a prime amulet. Most mages had only one prime. I had two. I hoped I wouldn’t need to drain them both dry today just staying alive. And keeping my friends alive.

I should have been warmed and gratified by the supporters around me, should have been persuaded that numbers would make a difference to the future I feared. But I wasn’t. Instead, I remembered the morning’s dream and the cry of the lynx. My fingers found and worried the tiny release that allowed me to pull free the long blade. For fighting.

As we moved up the street, Eli stepped close. In a laconic tone he said, “Some of my boys been hearing rumors about a seraph trapped in the Trine.” I whipped my head to him. “From when you went underground? Seven seraphs went in after you and only six came out.”

I had no idea who his boys were or why he might mention that now, but I nodded stiffly. “Yes. One is still underground. Trapped.”

“Hmm,” he said. Which told me nothing. He pushed back the brim of his hat, allowing the weak sunlight to warm his amber eyes. “Let me know when you decide to go back after him. I’ll tag along. Watch your back.”

“I will never— never —go underground again,” I said quickly, preventing a shiver of fear before it took me.

“I see,” he said. “Fine. Sure. Whatever.” And the miner fell behind me.

When we rounded the long curve and saw the former Central Baptist Church ahead, my hopes dwindled. The building was no longer used for religious services. It was now the town meeting hall. Out front of the old building a throng of people milled, split into two factions, an informal welcoming party to either side of the entry doors. The group with me faltered and nearly stopped. We would have to walk between the two crowds to gain entry. Well, in one way that was symbolic of what I had done to the town: Divided it utterly.

Murmuring voices raised on the cold air as black-clad orthodox and angry men in one group debated in loud voices with the smaller, more colorful progressive and reformed crowd. I figured it was the first time the orthodox and the rougher elements of Mineral City had ever agreed on anything. Too bad that agreement was to kill me. And too bad the other, smaller group looked so cowed. If I was attacked, they would probably run instead of coming to my defense.

I was so toast.

Brisk footsteps gained on us and I felt, more than saw, Audric whirl and half pull his short blade. I spun, ready for anything, but it was Elder Jasper and his pretty blond wife, Polly, who had been a half block behind us. “Morning, folks,” the elder said, his gaze touching each of us, a warning conferred in his expression. “Hope you don’t mind us slipping in front of you.” His voice dropped, not carrying beyond our small troupe. “Seems some folk might need reminding that violence is punishable by kirk sanctions.”

Jasper glanced at me as he passed, his eyes saying as clearly as his voice would have, Wait! Instantly he looked away, raising his arm. “Morning, Earl! Ephraim. Howard! How you boys doing today?” He and Polly pulled ahead of us. “I wanta thank you for showing up at widder-woman Henderson’s yesterday. That ramp you boys put together for the old lady was the blessing of the year for her. Louis, missed you at kirk Sunday. Hope you’re feeling better. Richard, good to see you again. Glad you’re back in town. Joseph, hope that ulcer is better. Saw the new el-car. They call that color seraph blood, don’t they? Florence, I see you’re feeling better, making new friends, getting out some. I look forward to finding you back at jubilee this week.”