Evenstar (41 page)

Lucifer took this in and turned to Paimon.
 
“What is it?”

Paimon’s eyes were sunken and red.
 
“No one can heal them.
 
She’ll die when Furcas does.”

Lucifer stepped inside.
 
A halo of red light circled the two on the dais.
 
His face lost its emotion.
 
“Everyone out.”
 

“But.”
 
Paimon grabbed his arm.

Lucifer pushed him away.
 
“Leave.
 
You can do no more.”

“What will you do?”

“I do not know yet.”

The second generation Lilliam left the room.
 
Instead of reverting to their formless energies, they stayed in physical form and waited next to their families.
 

Lucifer reformed the door behind him.
 
He stood alone with Furcas and Dahlia.
 
He stared at the dais, at a loss for what to do next.
 
His gaze settled on the small door fused to the stone wall.

He crossed the room and touched the door.
 
He leaned his forehead against it, silently commanding the door that would open only for him.
 
The material dissolved and green light poured from the room.
 
He ducked and stepped through.

The space beyond the doorway was bright, living, carpeted with lush grass.
 
A thin tree grew from the center of the room; an adolescent girl slept at the foot of it.
 
She wore a gauzy smock, and her skin was sea foam green.
 
Blooming red flowers twined through her viridian hair.
 
She did not stir at his arrival.
 
Her eyes did not move beneath her eyelids.
 
There was no rise or fall of her chest.
 
She slumbered in stasis, kept there by her father.

Lucifer knelt and touched her cheek to release the spell.
 
“Wake, Gaea.”

Her eyes flickered open, glowing scarlet.
 
Gaea looked up.
 
“Daddy?”

He lifted her into his arms.
 
“I am sorry to rouse you.”

She felt the first stirrings of pain.
 
“It
hurts
.”

“I know, but I need your counsel.”

“Of course.”
 
She tried to stand.
 

He kept her in place.
 
“Sit, do not strain yourself.”

She nodded.

Lucifer set her down gently.
 
He went to the Sanctuary and ripped the dais and some of the floor out of the ground.
 
He brought it all into her room and set it against the wall.
 

Gaea noticed Furcas first and cringed.
 
She saw Dahlia and her eyes widened.
 
She leapt up.
 
“Mommy!
 
She is dying!”

Lucifer helped her stay on her feet.
 
“Yes.
 
We cannot heal them, the barrier prevents us.”

Gaea touched the red light.
 
It did not repulse her as harshly as the others, but she was not allowed through.
 
It slowed her hand like glue.
 
“Familiar.
 
She has shielded herself using Furcas as a medium.”

“Can you break through?”

“Not as I am now.”
 
Gaea shook her head.
 
“I need more of her in me.”
 
Her body grew brighter in closeness with Dahlia.
 
She examined the light, pensive.
 
“You must reclaim her energy, draw it in, and give it to me.
 
Only her own energy can break through this and allow us to heal her.”

“Where can I find this light?”

“It is in the humans.”

Lucifer looked at his daughter, confused.
 
“Why would they have it?”

“They were constructed from her body.”

Lucifer flinched.
 
“Why do you think this to be true?”

“The Earth has told me things while I slept, it recognizes their form.”
 
Gaea’s red eyes met his blue ones.
 
“They are beings of her, not you, not Lilliam.
 
They all contain a spark that is hers.
 
Reclaim it from them and we can heal her.”
 
She stepped back and touched her tree.
 
Two branches shuddered and dropped leathery seedpods into her hands.
 
She broke one in half, one piece she placed near the dais, the other she handed to Lucifer.
 
He took it without questioning.
 

She hummed to the other pod.
 
The substance changed, morphed.
 
In her hands, it took the shape of a violin and bow, black and deadened.
 
She handed it to him.
 
“I give you back the Song of Death.”

Lucifer stepped away.
 
“Gaea,
no
.
 
Do not give this back to me.”

Gaea shook her head.
 
“You will not destroy yourself with it.”
 
She smiled, pained.
 
“You have her to care for now.”

He reached out and took the violin that she offered him.
 
He remembered the Song as he touched it.
 
The notes swam through his memory and filled up his being.
 
He swayed.
 
“You trust me too much.”

Gaea waved her father away.
 
“Go, play for her a dirge worthy of a dying star.
 
I will be waiting, ready to collect their light.”

He stared at Dahlia.
 
“How will I know when you have collected enough?”

Gaea gestured to Furcas.
 
“He will heal as she does.
 
They are linked now.”
 
She pointed to the halved seedpod that Lucifer carried.
 
“Give that to Paimon.
 
He will know when his love is healed and through him, you will also know when you have reaped enough.”

Lucifer kissed his daughter’s forehead.
 
“This will hurt you.”

Gaea shook her head.
 
“I already ache from the poison on the planet, the acid in my blood and scars on my skin.
 
The cancer should be burnt out.”
 
She swayed under the stress of being awake, her energy not what it once was.
 
On the surface, plants and animals faltered, weakened, aged.
 
She regained herself and the balance above was restored.
 

Lucifer hugged her.
 
He looked at Dahlia stuck in the stasis of death and nodded.
 
“For her.”

***

Paimon and Helion led Dahlia’s friends away from the Sanctuary.
 
Belial came with them willingly, silent and morose.
 
She had no desire to stay back in the palace with Andy, and Helion would not let her out of his sight.
 

Nodin and Tokala followed the quiet party.
 
Nodin slipped his arm around Tracy and pulled her away from the others.
 
They slipped off.
 
Tokala stayed near Celeste’s side.
 
He made no move to take her away.

Paimon kept his gaze ahead of him, unable to speak.
 
He did not care whether the others followed behind or not.
 
He thought of Furcas, only Furcas.
 
The pain he was in and how he, for all his knowledge, could do nothing…
again
.
 
He’d failed.

Paimon walked and the streets grew wider, the houses less packed together.
 
He took them to the home Furcas had made his own for centuries, a tower surrounded by a small garden.
 
Round windows spiraled up the outside.
 
Faint colored lights glowed from behind the glass.
 
Paimon ignored his garden and walked up the steps to the only house that he ever really considered his home.
 
He pressed his palm to the sealed front door and it opened for him.

The house was immaculate and warm.
 
Furcas had decorated the walls with paintings, photos of Dahlia, and photos of Paimon and himself around the world.
 
The furniture was well worn from centuries of use.
 
Model cars sat atop the long dining room table.
 
Charcoal drawings had been left half-finished.
 
The place was quiet, the air scented with the faint smell of Furcas’ cologne.
 
Paimon bit his cheek to keep from crying.
 

The house rose upwards with one suite per floor.
 
The master bedroom shared space on the first floor with the kitchen and living room.
 
The troupe passed that bedroom by and took to the spiral staircase.
 
Paimon unlocked the guestrooms as they ascended the stairs.
 

Jacob took the first, an ocean-themed room.
 
He ignored the water and fairy lights.
 
He collapsed on the bed and passed out.
 

Celeste took the next room.
 
Carpeted like a forest, glow flies passed in the air, making lazy iridescent patterns of green around the leafy ceiling.
 
Tokala waited until the others had continued on.
 
He stood in her doorway and looked at his feet.
 

Celeste smiled.
 
“You have been my shadow since you woke.”

Tokala shrugged.
 
“I like how you fight and your eyes are bright.”

Celeste smiled thoughtfully.
 
“Do you want to come in?”
 

Belial took the next room.
 
Helion stopped her and looked into her eyes as Whitney and Paimon continued up the spiraling staircase.
 
Belial pushed him away.
 
“I will be fine.
 
I have not finished my duties yet.
 
I have my own promises to keep.”

His black eye flicked over her features.
 
He searched for a lie, but she spoke honestly.
 
Still, he would not move.
 
“Andy will not be able to stand with you gone.”

Belial looked away.
 
“He has been fine all of this time.
 
Stop being blind.”

Helion pushed her.
 
“It is not I that is blind.
 
Andrealphus has loved you since he first saw you, before your change, before everything.
 
He would do anything for you.”

She nodded.
 
“Then he’ll forgive me my choice.”

“No.
 
You will destroy him with it.
 
You will kill him.”

She looked up at him.
 
“He will live.”

“No, Belial, he will not.
 
You are his heart.”

She leaned on the doorframe, tired.
 
“Helion, do not argue this with me.
 
I cannot continue indefinitely.”
 
She looked him over.
 
“You will not tell Andrealphus.”

Helion shook his head.
 
“
You
need to.”

“No.”

“Then at least give him some happiness before you tear out his soul!”

“Helion—”

“Listen to me!”
 
He grabbed her and pulled her close.
 
“You plan to steal away
everything
from him.
 
Everything!
 
Give him memories, Belial.
 
They will be all he has once you’re gone.”

Belial balked.
 
“Helion, I can’t do that with anyone.”

Helion let her go.
 
“Do you think everything in love comes to sex?
 
Is that all I could possibly be talking about?
 
Do you think that is all he wants?
 
He adores you, he is devoted to
you
!
 
Give him your
time
!
 
You should realize that he will not hurt you.
 
He would
never
hurt you, though
you
would hurt
him
dearly.”
 
He left her side and followed Whitney and Paimon up the stairs.
 

Belial walked into her dark room.
 
She sat on the bed and stared at the window.
 
Tears ran down her cheeks.
   

Paimon stopped at the last door, the top floor.
 
He pressed his palm to it and it swung open a crack.
 
An unfamiliar smell of lavender and soap seeped out of what had been his study centuries ago.
 
He poked his head in and gaped.
 
He pulled the door shut and turned to Whitney and Helion.
 
“Take my room downstairs.”

“Why not this one?”

“
Take my room downstairs
!”

“Okay!”
 
Helion picked up Whitney and ran down the spiral staircase.
 

Paimon leaned his head on the doorway and willed it to open again.
 
He stepped inside and shut the door behind him.
 
The room was nothing like what he remembered.
 
This had been his study, a musty place with bookcases and scrolls, his old lab equipment and blueprints.
 
Paimon pushed his hair out of his eyes.
 
Now…now…

Soft glow lamps hung from the ceiling like stars.
 
The walls were painted in soothing pastels, colors that faded into a soft moss floor.
 
In place of Paimon’s desk, Furcas had installed Dahlia’s old crib.
 
Above it, her mobile hung from the ceiling, it spun at little at the draft he’d let in.
 
Dahlia’s baby blanket was draped over the edge of the crib, one of many gifts they had given her.
 
Furcas had organized Dahlia’s stuffed toys, things Paimon barely remembered, into whimsical piles around the room.
 

Paimon forced himself to walk to the crib.
 
Dahlia’s first teddy bear sat inside it.
 
He picked up the stuffed toy with a shaking hand.
 
He brought it to his nose, closed his eyes, and inhaled.
 
He smelled Dahlia, but also Furcas.
 
He gripped the side of the crib hard enough to make it creak.
 
He clenched his teeth and blinked back tears.
 

The room contained toys that were not Dahlia’s, they were older, far older, spanning centuries.
 
Furcas had collected wooden blocks, tops, mechanical creatures fashioned for Lilliam children.
 
A knitted baby blanket lay half-finished on a tiny rocking horse.
 
Furcas had painted swirls and letters on the walls in his strange ornate style.
 
He’d planned every piece of art or placement of a toy, thought through with his loving attention to detail.
 
His handmade quilts and clothes were folded in neat piles, all of it ready for a child that never came.
 

Paimon dropped to his knees.
 
He held Dahlia’s teddy bear to his chest and sobbed.

***

Dahlia and Furcas hovered in her memory above the barren, lifeless surface of a planet.
 
She knew through him that it was Earth.
 
How are we here?
 
Is this your memory?

No, not just mine
.
 
Furcas smiled.
 
Paimon and the others, they shared memories with me later.
 
And now I see yours, so a mix of them all I suppose.

There were only two things on the planet below.
 
Lucifer, blue and six-winged.
 
Halos of light wrapped around his arms, ankles, and spun over his head.
 
He held on to
her
, Ladriam, red and six-winged.
 
They kissed.
 
Dahlia’s gaze fixed on her old body.
 
She felt oddly dislocated, in two places at once.
 
At the thought, the dual consciousness of Furcas and Dahlia slipped into her memory.

She broke the kiss and looked into Lucifer’s eyes.
 
“I feel you, understand you.”

He kissed her neck, her earlobe, her cheek.
 
He did not understand these new feelings, but he found them satisfying and pleasurable.
 
He whispered into her hair, “Are you angel?”
 

“Angel?”
 
She thought over the word.
 
“I do not know this, I only know the material.
 
I am Ladriam.”

“I am Lucifer.”
 
He touched her wings, marveling at them, the difference and the heaviness, the sheen of metal, fiber, blood, and bone.
 
Her halos spun red and silver, physical blades that cut through the air.
 
She was sharp and soft, smooth and raw.
 
He buried his hands in her feathers and drew her closer.
  

She purred at the touch and leaned into him.
 
Nothing before had matched this sensation.
 
His touch made dim the one-sided adoration of Him, the other.
 
She knew that they were separate, Lucifer and Him.
 
At her closeness, Lucifer changed from blue to white.
 
She blinked.
 
“You are as Him, twin similar.”

He cocked his head.
 
“Who?”

“The one who created me, the one I am with and yet apart.”

He shook his head.
 
“Him.
 
No, He created me as well, not twin.
 
I am Primangel, six-winged, as are you.”
 
He smiled and kissed her, marveling at the gift God had given him.
 
Lucifer would sing a thousand songs to Him for this wonder.
 
He hummed into her hair, his hands in constant motion across her body.