Jennifer Armintrout - Queene Of Light

“What?” Garret grasped her arms, his face twisted in shock and anger. He collected himself and glanced over at a group of Faeries that stood near them, then guided her firmly to an alcove at the back of the hall. Though Ayla noticed no one watching their retreat, Garret kept a distracted eye on the assembly. “Ayla, you told me—”

“I know what I told you!” She lowered her voice, ashamed at herself for having raised it to her mentor. “There was another creature who got to him first. A Death Angel. I fled.”

Garret sighed heavily, smoothing his antennae back. “Ayla, I have trained you far better than that. Were you wounded? Are you certain it was a Death Angel?”

She thought of the bruises marring her shoulder and thanked the Gods for the darkness of the alcove. “No, I was not wounded. And I know what I saw. It was a Death Angel.”

Garret’s face paled, white as Ayla imagined the moon would be. “Gods. Then the stories are true?”

She could do little more than nod in answer. This was a turn she did not imagine events to take. It had never occurred to her she might be the first Lightworlder to catch a glimpse of such a creature and live.

“You’ll have to report this at once.” Garret’s face lit up, then fell again. “You didn’t kill it?”

“I…I did something to him. I do not believe I killed him outright.” Her guilty mind assailed her with the image of the Darkling lying on the ledge where she’d left him. “But he will not survive.”

“I will take this information to Cedric privately. Do not make a report today.” Garret reached for her, running his hands down her arms affectionately. “It would have been better if you were injured. But I do not think Cedric will rule that you’ve broken the geis, given the circumstances.”

As he turned to leave her, she called after him. “You said you had news?”

“Yes.” He tapped the parchment against his palm, seemingly unaware of it even being there. “But first I must speak with Cedric. Go to Sanctuary, use the time to calm yourself, then come to my home tonight. We will discuss it there.”

With that, he strode away from her, leaving her disappointed and alone.

The true foulness of the Darkworld had never seemed so raw to Malachi as it did when he left the Bio-mech’s workshop. When Keller swung open the thick, metal door and stepped down into the nearly waist-deep sewage, Malachi’s mortal throat had closed on a gag.

“Listen, I know it doesn’t seem real sanitary, but that’s the price I pay for such roomy digs. Get your ass down here before something comes along and swallows me whole.” Keller reached his hand up, and Malachi had little to do but accept it.

“Is that a danger?” The water was slightly less than cold as he eased into it. Cold would have been somehow better, cleaner. Something brushed Malachi’s leg, and he repressed a shudder.

Keller studied him with interest, his grizzled face working toward a smile. “With you around? Never. You’re my insurance policy. Not a lot of Darklings are gonna mess with a guy who’s traveling next to the Angel of Death.”

“I am not the Angel of Death. I am merely—was merely—his servant.” The man had begun to slog ahead of him, and Malachi struggled to keep up. It was a difficult thing to walk through water. His muscles ached after only a few steps. “I am pleased to provide you protection. You have been kind to me. I know Humans enjoy hearing that their actions are approved of.”

“Yeah, we’re real suckers for heartfelt expressions of gratitude.” They had come to a fork in the tunnels. Keller flipped the light on his strange hat off and held a finger to his lips. “Okay, we’ve gotta go quiet through this part. I think we’ll have less trouble down that way.” He gestured to where the tunnel branched to the left. Water lay deep, and there seemed no end to it.

The other tunnel sloped upward quickly. Malachi could make out dry ground only a few feet from them. “Why not that way? You wear a contraption to keep you dry. I have nothing. I would prefer to take the drier path.”

“For one, this is not a contraption. These are waders. They just look strange because I won them off a Rock Troll who wasn’t all that good at cards. Two, that way looks easier, but trust me, it’s not.” Keller scratched the plate behind his ear with his metal fingers, the sparks fizzing out before they reached the water. “Easier in the Darkworld means more dangerous. There’ll be a tax, for one thing.”

“A tax?” Malachi had traversed these tunnels usually invisible to the denizens of the Darkworld. He had never been charged a tax. Then, the creatures he had been visible to may not have been brave enough to charge him.

“Yeah, a tax. For going the easy route. Hell, even some of the not-so-easy routes are taxed. If it’s a mortal, they usually want money or smokes. If it’s a Bio-mech, like me, they want scrap metal or spare body parts.” Keller held up his mechanical arm. “But God help you if you meet up with an Elf or a Succubus. What they want…” He punctuated his sentence with a shudder.

“Elf?” Malachi had not paid much attention to the species of the Darkworld he’d not had to collect. “I have never heard of Elf.”

“Elves. Outcast Fae. They were dark-sided long before they wound up down here. Nasty blue skin and yellow eyes.” Keller made a face. “They don’t like anyone. Barely get along with each other.”

“This world is…” Malachi struggled for the word in the Human language. The gift of tongues continued to slowly wear away. “Strange.”

“Strange to you? Imagine if you lived up there, where I’m from originally.” Keller gestured to the ceiling of the tunnel. “And it’s not like you haven’t been here for a while.”

“Too long.” When had time become an issue to him? They slogged on, the water growing deeper, almost to the top of the Bio-mech’s wading contraption. The tunnel around them changed shape, growing wider, and they followed it until Malachi saw a high ledge of dry ground beside their heads. “What is this place?”

“A subway?” Keller shrugged and leaned against the wall, reaching into his waders for the cigarettes he seemed to rely on more than food or drink. “I guess trains used to run under here before they cluttered up the Aboveground. That was before I was born. Are you doing a history on the Humans or what?”

“You are Human,” Malachi snapped back. “And I am merely trying to acclimate myself to this existence.”

“Correction, pal. I was Human. Now I can’t show my face up there.” The blue smoke from the Bio-mech’s cigarette spiraled through a dim shaft of light from an overhead vent, and Keller’s gaze followed it. “I could wear a hat. Gloves. Fuck them, they’d still get me.” He chuckled, a bitter sound. “Did you ever have to go up there?”

“No.” Only now it occurred to Malachi to question that. “I suppose we should have.”

“Uh, yeah. There are quite a few more mortals up there than down here.” He took another long draw off his cigarette. “Did any of you go up there?”

“No.” Another “why” he would not have worried about before.

“Don’t you think that’s kind of…” Keller gestured with his metal hand. “Unfair?”

Malachi shook his head, and the movement felt strangely natural. “I do not decide what is fair or unfair. I merely carried out the will of God.”

“And His will is to abandon those poor bastards up there?” The Bio-mech took another long draw off his cigarette. “Good thing I came down here, then.”

“That is not what I meant. You have twisted my words.” Malachi’s hands fisted at his sides, hands that would never have thought of committing senseless violence before. But this mortal and his confusing questions sent sparks of doubt through his brain. His immortality may have been ripped from him, but he would not allow this perversion of God’s work to take his last certainty from him.