Alaskan Fury (66 page)

“You have failed to follow the
laws written countless lifetimes before your birth.”

She felt tears stinging her eyes.

“You failed to adhere to the pact
of Sisterhood.”

She fisted her hands to keep them
from shaking.

“You failed to live a life
without desire.”

Kaashifah could barely hear Him
over the pounding of her heart.

“You failed to keep your body
pure.”

Kaashifah felt their stares, hundreds
of them, accusatory, and suddenly understood what Zenaida had felt, not minutes
before.

“You have failed to protect my
symbol with your life.”

The condemnation felt like a
thousand spears, driving their way between her shoulder-blades.

“You have failed to keep yourself
clean of the taint of human passions.”

Oh gods,
Kaashifah
thought, in misery.  She had been so wrong…

“And you have failed to spread
the djinni’s blood across the lands.”  There was a long, heavy silence
afterwards before her Lord said, “You realize that this is highly inconvenient
for me.”  Kaashifah frowned, hearing the smile in His voice.  Indeed, when she
looked up, the Lord of War was grinning at her.  “They need
bodies
,
Sister.”  He gestured at the hundreds of ethereal Furies encircling her, most
of whom were grinning back.  “How are they going to return without
bodies
?”

“Uh…”  Kaashifah’s face went
red.  “My Lord?” she squeaked. 

He sighed.  “My lovely consort is
constantly berating me for giving unclear commands,” her liege said, gesturing
at the ruined airbase.  He exhaled deeply at the devastation before he turned
back to her.  “So how’s this:  You did good.  Mission accomplished.  Now go
find your djinni and make me some more Furies.”  He cocked His head at her, a
slow smile spreading over His ageless face.  “That plain enough for you?”

Her mouth fell open and remained
that way, a skin-searing flush spreading from her neck to her ears.  “Yes…sir…”
she stammered.

“Oh,” her liege said, “and take
this.  Yngvöldr destroyed your last one.”  He tugged a golden symbol from His
neck, one that was exactly as her last one, except for the color. 

“Gold?” Kaashifah blurted, almost
afraid to reach for it.

The Lord of War held it up and
peered at it, grimacing.  “Well, it was originally silver, but my Lady got her
hands on it.  Said she had a gift for you, and when I got it back, it was
gold.”  He shrugged and offered it to her.  “She’s always been partial to
gold.”

As Kaashifah took it with numb
fingers, He flipped his sword around and offered it, hilt-first.  “And this.  I
would not have my Morning Blade without a sword.”

Stunned and horrified by the
honor, Kaashifah almost dropped the talisman.  Hurriedly, knowing she could never
accept such a gift, she babbled, “There’s a claymore right over—”

One of the ghostly Furies
casually stepped on it, snapping it in half.

The Lord of War turned to look at
the broken sword, then back at her, a single eyebrow raised.

“Oh.  Uh…”  Kaashifah bit her
lip, her eyes fixed on the ruby blade.  For a long, breathless minute, she
couldn’t force her body to cooperate, and she just stared at it in shock. 
Then, when her Lord did not retract His gift, Kaashifah reached out and took
the sword with trembling fingers, having to use delicate care not to nick
herself with the flanges.

“When the time comes that you
must wield it,” her liege said, nodding at the multiple razor edges sprouting
from the hilt, “those will go away.  Until then, it is a reminder.”

“Yes, my Lord,” she whispered,
barely able to find the words to speak through her awe.

The god gave her one more
scrutinizing look, then gave a satisfied nod.  “You did good.”  Then He winced
up at the horizon, which was almost dark.  “And I’ve used up about three
centuries’ worth of time already.  I’d better be getting back before I violate
the Pact.”  As He was turning to go, the Lord of War stopped and looked over His
shoulder.  “Remember, find djinni, make more Furies.  Got it?”

Kaashifah nodded dumbly.

Her Lord winked at her and He and
all of his angels vanished with a howling blast of winter wind, leaving
Kaashifah standing alone on a shattered airstrip with a blood-red blade that
glowed with its own inner fire.  For what seemed like eternity, Kaashifah could
only stare at the sword and talisman in shock.  Then, timidly, she lifted the
silver chain over her head and lowered the golden talisman to her chest.  Made
for the neck of a much larger man, the golden symbol dangled well between her
breasts.

As soon as it touched her skin, however,
the gold color dissolved and dispersed into the contours of her chest. 
Kaashifah felt something tighten within her ribcage, like a muscle being
strained past the limit. 

What the…?
she thought in
panic, staring down at the now-silver talisman.  As the pressure increased,
Kaashifah remembered her Lord’s words. 
Said she had a gift for you…

A gift?  The stretching within
was almost becoming painful.  An instinctive part of Kaashifah reflexively
tried to stop it, to clamp down and keep the feeling restrained, but the
gentle-yet-powerful surge would not be refused.  She gasped as the pressure in
her chest continued to increase, tenderly pushing open and out, and suddenly
she was struggling to breathe as it was overwhelming her with a hot, tingly
warmth in her lungs, heart, and stomach.

On that tide came a rush of
emotions that she had been struggling to keep in check for eons.  Anguish,
loneliness, unhappiness, despair, uncertainty, hopelessness…all of the miseries
of the ages, those that she had painstakingly locked away, began bubbling up
from within like a great tide of the sea.  With nothing to hold them back, she
felt them burst through the sudden dam in her chest and flood away, like a
logjam cleaned out by a river.  Breathless, she fell to her knees and blinked
at the frozen tarmac.

What was left to her after the
rush of power was sore and tingling, but held a softer warmth, one that
Kaashifah had struggled for years not to recognize.  She once again saw
‘Aqrab’s big body stretched out on a sky-blue blanket as she rounded the stand
of date palms at the oasis, remembered his startlingly beautiful violet eyes,
his shy smile.  She remembered that connection that had formed, that instant of
panic, upon meeting his gaze.  She remembered how he had twitched,
ever-so-slightly, and how he had glanced down at the pile of dates on the
blanket beside him, plucked a nicer one from the top, and held it out to her…

Would you care to listen to a
story of love and adventure?  I’ve had no one to hear my songs in many years…

She’d wanted to hear his song,
Kaashifah realized.  Her first instinct, upon meeting those gentle eyes, had
been to take the date and sit down beside him to hear that first damned song.

Tears suddenly stung her eyes. 
Instead, she had knocked the date aside, cursed him, and challenged him to a
duel of souls.  She remembered the djinni’s stricken look, the confusion.  She
remembered taunting him, daring him until he accepted, thinking she was just an
insane human girl.  As he was reluctantly getting to his feet, he’d even told
her that, once he vanquished her, he’d simply make her sit down and listen to
his damned story, rather than take her head.  While Kaashifah, blind as she
was, fully intended to harvest his soul.

Of course she had won.  A
hardened warrior against a poet.  A Favored Fury against a djinni who was
outside his Realm.  He’d never stood a chance.  Even now, she could take his
head and claim his soul, and he the same.  Of
course
he had been
reluctant to grant her wings…

‘Aqrab,
she thought, a new
agony sprouting within. 
I am so sorry.

She remembered the gentleness he
had shown her, the tenderness of the past few months, and the strange heat in
her chest flared anew.  Warm and overpowering, yet utterly blissful, it left
feeling adrift on a contented sea of happiness, awash in a comforting blanket
of joy.  She had felt the beginnings of it once before, upon first meeting the
djinni’s eyes, when he had offered her that fruit.  Then she’d ruthlessly
fought it down, locked it away, walled it up, and done her duty.  Just as she
had every other time.

Love,
she realized,
stunned.  She looked down at the sword in her hand.  She’d found
love
. 
It had only taken her three thousand years to recognize it.

A floodlight flashed upon her
suddenly, blindingly white against the increasing black of nightfall, and Kaashifah
looked up, blinking.

“Attention winged intruder. 
We know you’re injured.  We have medical facilities that we will make available
to you.  Relinquish your sword and come towards the light, hands in the air,
and we will get you the proper treatments.”

Kaashifah slowly got to her
feet.  Ringing her on all sides, tanks and humvees formed a ragged circle, with
armed soldiers standing or squatting behind their vehicles, weapons aimed at
her.

‘Aqrab,
Kaashifah thought,
her lips slowly stretching in a smile.  Thought of the djinni only made the
heat in her chest flare, like a furnace within.  She spread her wings, found
them sound.  In the ragged ring encircling her, men and women began to shout
back and forth, and the woman on the loudspeaker said,
“Retract
your…uh…wings…and offer yourself up into custody or we
will
fire.”

You’d better have a place in
mind, djinni,
Kaashifah thought, grinning. 
This time, I’m not taking no
for an answer. 
With a joyous pound of her wings, she launched herself
skyward.  On the ground behind her, no one fired.

After being not-so-politely told
that her services weren’t necessary in the basement, Imelda had found a seat at
a table against the inside wall of the cafeteria, slipping in and out of consciousness
as the strange native man with the sizzling electric eyes ranted at his
football game while ‘guarding’ her former comrades. 

The unicorn had brought her food
and water from the buffet and had settled down in a cafeteria chair beside her,
still giving the entire gathering a timid look.

The team on the television made
another ‘fucktarded play’ and the man in the shimmery gray robes shrieked and
stood up, screaming profanities about blood-sucking referees and how San
Francisco might soon be renamed to the City by the Bolt.  While normally the
continuation of the game was enough to wrest his attention back and quiet him,
this time the television broke to commercial, and the Athabascan man shouted in
indignant fury and turned on the group.  “You saw that, right?  He was
holding
onto him
.  That’s
illegal
.  Against the
rules
.”

All of Imelda’s brethren nodded
hurriedly, and with wide eyes.  Imelda idly wondered why none of them had yet
tried to escape.  One of the technicians over in a corner had what looked like
burns, but otherwise, they seemed incredibly docile for the amount of attention
they were being given.

Then the man had turned, scowling
at the cafeteria.  His electric eyes located the unicorn.

“You!” he called, his glowing
eyes narrowed.  “You didn’t nod.  You don’t agree?”

The unicorn flinched at the
table.  “Um, I, um…”

“He doesn’t know anything about
football,” Imelda said.  “Leave him alone.”

As the television went on about
the cool, smooth qualities of an American beer, the man in the strange
shimmering robes frowned at the unicorn.  “You don’t know
anything
about
football?”

The unicorn shook his head and
seemed to cringe into the wall.

“Oh, we must fix that,” the native
man cried, striding confidently over and sitting down beside them.  As he did,
Imelda felt the little hairs along her arms tingle, almost like she were being
inundated with static electricity.  As both she and the unicorn leaned away,
the cafeteria ‘guard’ began explaining the basics of the American pastime.

“You see,” the man began, drawing
it out on their table with a perfectly manicured finger, “the Seattle Seahawks
is the greatest team in United States history.  They are, categorically, the
best.  They have—”

“—only made it to one Superbowl,
as far as I’ve heard,” Imelda pointed out.

The glowing-eyed Athabascan man
hesitated, gave her a long, irritated look, and went on, “—the greatest record
in the NFL.”

Imelda frowned.  “I thought the
Steelers and the Cowboys had the most Superbowl appearances.”

“The Superbowl,” the man grated,
“isn’t everything.”

“Oh, okay,” Imelda said, “if you
want to go by overall percentage of wins, it would be the Dallas Cowboys, the
Dolphins, or the Bears, with more wins than losses, rather than the Seahawks,
who have more losses than wins.”  Then, at the man’s blue-white electric scowl,
she quickly shrugged and said, “Sorry.  I am new to this country.  I am a fan
of football in Spain—soccer, you call it here.  Perhaps I misunderstand.”

He peered at her for some time
before turning to the unicorn.  “The Seattle Seahawks are the underdogs, which
makes them the greatest in history.”

“I thought the underdogs were the
Cardinals, the Buccaneers, and the Texans,” Imelda said.  “Their win record is
hovering at just over thirty percent.”

The native man turned back to her
and Imelda felt the little hairs on her arms start to lift again.  “You know,”
he muttered, “there is more to the game than
numbers
.  It’s the
spirit
of it.”

Imelda raised an eyebrow.  “And
you think the Seahawks have the greatest spirit?”

“The Seahawks,” the man said,
“have the best mascot.”

Imelda felt a little twitch in
her brain as she tried to comprehend that.  “The best…mascot.”

“Yes.”  He turned back to the
unicorn.  “Football is a man’s sport only, which is probably why the fool human
woman is so interested.  They are superior athletes, and their uniforms are
quite…revealing…”

“I like soccer,” Imelda said.

But the man was looking the
unicorn up and down.  “You know, you would look absolutely fabulous if you put
on a little weight.  Have you ever worked out?  There’s a gym in Eagle River I
could take you to.  I could get you in shape and we could be a deadly duo.  My
looks and your mystique…  You like karaoke?”

The unicorn gave the man a
nervous look.  “Um.  I don’t—”

“He would love it,” Imelda said,
sensing an opportunity for the unicorn to expand his horizons.  “He’s been
looking for friends for awhile, now, Mr…?”

“Thunderbird,” the man said. 
“But you may call me Brad.” 

“As in a
Thunderbird
?”
Imelda cried.  “Seriously?”  Suddenly, her comrades’ cowed demeanor was making
a lot more sense.  There was a standing Do Not Engage order out on all
Thunderbirds, due to the repeated, devastating losses of Inquisition teams all
over North America.

The man turned to frown at her. 
“As in
the
Thunderbird.  Seriously.” 

That made Imelda blink.  If there
was only one of them…  Suddenly, the creature sharing breathing-space with them
became a thousand times more dangerous in her mind.  Not an upper-tier, then. 
An
over
-tier.

Casually, Thunderbird turned back
to peer at the unicorn.  “What is your name?  You smell funny.  Like wet
horse.”

The unicorn started to shrink
into his chair again.  “I, um…”

“He doesn’t have a name,” Imelda
said, her instincts telling her that this was the greatest opportunity for the
unicorn to make a buddy that he’d ever been given.  “He’s been alone in the
woods for God knows how long and he needs a friend to show him the ropes. 
Someone with experience.”

“Oh?”  Thunderbird lifted a
patiently condescending eyebrow at the unicorn.  “What is he?”

The unicorn’s eyes widened.  “I,
um…”  He looked at Imelda, blue eyes pleading for assistance, biting his lip.

“Oh come on,” Thunderbird
growled.  “What, you think I’m going to drag you off and add you to my hoard? 
I’m a
demigod
, kid.  I’ve been around as long as there’s been rain.” 
Then he cocked his head thoughtfully.  “Well, rain and birds…  But that’s
another matter.”  He glanced back at the unicorn.  “The point is, I’m not
greedy like that little masturbating fop of a dragon.  I may like to get a good
look if something strikes my interest, but I don’t need to take it home with
me.”

“Um…”  The unicorn’s voice had
fallen to a whisper, and it sounded like he was having trouble speaking as he
glanced to the roomful of people, keeping his voice down, “I’m a…”

“I can’t hear you,” Thunderbird
snapped.  At the unicorn’s startled blink, he snorted, “Gods, kid, you must be
really
proud of yourself, if you think those idiots are going to give a shit with
me
in the room.”

That seemed to give the unicorn a
tiny bit of courage, because he leaned close and whispered something into
Thunderbird’s ear.

Thunderbird choked and leaned
back in his chair, and for over a minute, the rain-god stared at the unicorn in
slack-jawed incredulity, his smooth arrogance vanishing in a wave of red-faced
excitement.  “
Really
?”  It came out as a shrill, girly squeal.

Fidgeting, looking like he wanted
to sink into the chair and the wall, the unicorn nodded.

“That’s
amazing
!”
Thunderbird cried.  “And you don’t have a
name
?”

“Um…” the unicorn looked acutely
uncomfortable.  In the background, the game had resumed, but no one was paying
it any attention.  Imelda’s former coworkers were staring at Thunderbird—
Brad?
—and
Thunderbird was staring at the unicorn.

“You’re very timid,” Thunderbird
said.  “I will call you Tim.”

This time, it was the unicorn’s
turn to stare at Thunderbird.  “You…will?”  He sounded shocked…and delighted.

“We need to get you some clothes,
Tim,” Thunderbird continued.  He had an elegant finger to his lips and was
frowning at him again, considering.  “I’m thinking Armani.  With hair like
that…you’d look
stunning
in black silk.”

“Keep in mind,” Imelda said,
“this is Alaska.  From what I’ve seen, the bars in Alaska aren’t exactly the
type to appreciate Armani.”

Thunderbird frowned at her.  “Who
said we would be limiting ourselves to Alaska?”

“She’s my prisoner,” Tim
confessed.  “I have to carry her wherever she wants to go.”

“Want me to kill her for you?”

“No!” Tim gasped, looking
horrified.  “She’s my
friend
.”

Thunderbird sighed disgustedly. 
“Fine.  Alaska.  Hmmm.”  He peered at the unicorn again.  “Maybe with a bit
more meat on your bones, you could go for a Sexy Outdoorsman look.  We’ll have
to work on that.  But Outdoorsy’s kind of hard with the hair.  And he’s not
scruffy enough.”  He glanced at Imelda.  “What do you think?”

Imelda considered.  “College
student?”

“Yes!” Thunderbird cried.  He
slapped the unicorn on the shoulder.  “Tim, I am going to have to introduce you
to the
wonders
of public education.”

“While you’re at it, be sure to
introduce him to the wonders of abstinence.”

“He’s not going to get a
disease
,”
Thunderbird snorted.  “He’s a—”

“I was talking about dropping
halfborn
kids
all over the University of Alaska,” Imelda interrupted,
before Thunderbird could blurt out to the whole room that they sat in the
presence of a unicorn.  “And can you please keep it down?  There’s
millions
of people that would like to get their hands on him.”

Thunderbird suddenly got a dark,
malevolent look, and Imelda felt the power in the room rise with her hair.  He
reached out, put his thumb to the unicorn’s forehead, and left a glowing,
electric print that quickly disappeared even as the unicorn was flinching away
from him.  “Let them try.” 

“You just
Marked
me?” Tim
gasped, touching his forehead in horror.

Yes,
Imelda thought, with
satisfaction,
definitely the right friend for the unicorn.

“Of course I did,” Thunderbird
said, matter-of-factly.  “If something goes wrong with your debut and someone
decides to nab you, I will be able to hunt down your kidnappers and destroy
them all.”

Very slowly, the unicorn
relaxed.  “Um…  Okay.”

In the background, the announcer
was screaming, “
Touchdown, touchdown, the Seahawks are making a comeback! 
This is amazing, folks, absolutely amazing!
”

Thunderbird either ignored it or
didn’t hear it.  He hadn’t turned away from the unicorn since Tim had whispered
in his ear.  He was still eying her friend thoughtfully.  “I’m thinking we’ll
enroll you in dance.  You’d make an
excellent
tango.  Don’t you think,
mortal?”

“It’s Imelda.  And yes.  He’s got
the looks.”

“Plus,” Thunderbird said,
“there’s always
throngs
of girls in my dance classes.”

The unicorn was looking at
Thunderbird with a cross between awe and joy.  “You can teach me to
dance
?”

“Tim,” Thunderbird said
conspiratorially, “I am a dance
instructor
.  My teams make nationals,
when the University can convince me to work a season.”  He caught his chin
between thumb and forefinger.  “He would also look good in red.”

“Stunning,” Imelda agreed.

“Then it’s settled,” Thunderbird
said.  “I will take you to my home in Chugiak.”

Tim glanced at Imelda.  “What
about my prisoner?”

Thunderbird made a dismissive
wave of his hand.  “You may bring your captive.”

“
Bullshit
, you greedy,
self-centered
asshole
,” a rumble from the entryway to the cafeteria
echoed.  When Imelda looked, the dragon was standing in the doorway, huge sacks
and duffel bags thrown over his shoulders.  “The girl is my reward for
assisting in the siege.”

“She’s my prisoner!” the unicorn
cried, getting to his feet.

“Fuck you, you brainless little
femboy.  I’m bigger, she’s
mine
.”

Still seated, Thunderbird glanced
over his shoulder at the dragon with a sigh.  Looking up at the unicorn, he
said, “Do you want me to kill him?”

“No!” the unicorn cried, at the
same time Imelda said, “Yes.”

Thunderbird sighed.  “Dragon,
bugger off.”

“She’s
mine
,” the dragon
snarled.  “I had an accord with the djinni.”

Imelda stared at the dragon. 
“Wait, you mean you actually
want
to take me home?  Aren’t you afraid of
bad luck?”