In the End (11 page)

CHAPTER
EIGHT

“
Lucien!”

“
Please tell me it's not another vision!” he wailed, clutching his toasting fork. “I just want to finish a meal! Just once! Is that too much to ask?”

“
Oh come on, it won't take long!” Lalael said, tugging on Lucien's arm. Lucien sighed and blew out the candles while Lalael shifted with impatience. When he hauled himself to his feet, Lalael said, “This way!” and dashed out the door. He pounded up the stairs.

“
How far?”

“
To the roof!”

“
Not before breakfast!”

“
Climb.”

Lucien grumbled and followed. Lalael burst out onto the roof into the chilly October air, Lucien close behind. Lalael's little garden of pots was neatly lined up against one wall, filled with dirt and clippings from the rose bush he had encouraged and other plants he was experimenting with.

“
You should take those inside before it gets too cold.”

“
This way!” Lalael called.

“
Lalael, why are you – Oh dear. Please don't jump again. Please. My wings hurt for a week; please, please don't jump again.”

But Lalael just laughed, and took off his coat – he'd cut slits up the back of the shirt, which were now raggedy with loose strings. Lucien dearly hoped he hadn't done that to his whole wardrobe. The angel really, really didn't need any more tells.

And then Lalael called up his wings and jumped.  Lucien had a split second to reflect that Lalael had actually gone insane this time – and living with an insane angel did not sound like a safe thing to do – but as he dashed towards the ledge, just a step before he got there, a blur of color and feathers shot up into the air.

Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, well, well. Look who's all better,” Lucien mumbled to himself, lax with relief. No insane angels around here, thank you. At least, none without debate. “Congratulations!” he shouted as Lalael executed joyful swoops and loops in the air. “Can I go eat now?”

“
No! Come fly with me!”

“
Why?”

“
I'll race you!”

“
Are you okay?” Lucien asked. He recanted; Lalael had definitely gone crazy.

Lalael swooped again, a broad grin plastered all over his face. “I'm fine. Get your wings out! It's the
best day ever
. It's
glorious
.”

“
You're sounding at the moment like you pawned off a few marbles, I think you should know. And it's not objectively glorious,” Lucien said, crossing his arms against the chilly wind that Lalael was generating, even though he did in his own highly subjective opinion find the weather today pretty damn awesome. “It's overcast and it's freezing.”

“
You
like it
. Stop complaining! I'll hold two more toasting forks of bacon for you.” With a flip, flick, and wingtip-pivot, Lalael shifted into a hover in front of Lucien, who still stood on the roof's edge. “I dare you!” he laughed, and shifted back into flight, fluttering and chivvying around Lucien's head. “Hah! You know you're going to lose! That's why you won't do it!”

Lalael seemed to be much lighter and agile on the wings than was good for him, Lucien thought, as this agility allowed him to twist and twirl encouragingly in the air around Lucien without so much as mussing Lucien's hair.

However, Lucien had a bit on him. Millenia of flight, matched with bodies that were admittedly physical impossibilities in this dimension, along with an intellect that had had a lot of time to practice – well, that had resulted in a few tricks. Or an arsenal of them. One of Lucien's favorites – one of his own invention, but then all of them were – was something that he used in cases like this, cornered by an aerial enemy. No one was a friend in the Forsaken Lands, and there had been a lot of potentially airborne adversaries around.

Lucien's trick was a complicated trick, and hitherto one of a kind, for no one who had seen it had ever able to exactly reproduce it:

Twist, duck, and roll into a crouch, ending behind and a little beneath Lalael. That was the first part of the trick, and designed both to offset his opponent and to remove him from the swarm or the center of focus, depending on who he was up against. Lalael, like the demons that Lucien used to experiment with, was unfazed, and he had to spend a moment maneuvering through the air currents to refocus.

From crouch into spring, from spring to a feinted stumble; Lalael was already laughing, but then with an explosion of feathers and the gunshot crack of suddenly-displaced air (and a rip as his shirt tore), Lucien's wings were out and  he was in flight, aided by the drop off the roof. Lalael shouted something in surprise and delight, but collected himself and shot off like a bullet, twenty stories above the street.

Lucien shook his head, circling in the air, gray wings beating with steady, strong strokes. He couldn't hover like Lalael for more than a few seconds – it hurt his wings. They were the wrong shape for it. He focused his effort and began gaining altitude swiftly. From above the city, he could see flashes of Lalael's dove-white wings as he swooped and danced in the air.  Lucien guessed his target spot, beat towards it twice, folded his wings back and fell.

This was another of his tricks. With his wings stiff, but not tight, against his back, just unfolded, he had some guiding ability, while the lack of air resistance meant that he was speeding towards Lalael, straight and true as an arrow, a striking falcon. The wind rushed past his face, the landscape blurring around him as he gained speed, focused on a point just ahead of Lalael... Another
bang
sounded as he snapped open his wings, abruptly slowing him: This hurt too, but it was an amazingly good hurt, and he'd timed it perfectly –  he landed square on Lalael's back and pushed off again, hard.  Lalael stumbled, falling and staggering in the air. An instant later, he'd regained his wind, and then they were flying and shoving and wrestling all at once, like a battle and a ballet, tumbling through the air as they both tried to slam the other into a flagpole or make him crash into a building...

Lucien managed to pin Lalael into a glass-sided office building for half a heartbeat, but instead of surrendering, Lalael turned, planted his feet against the glass window of the office building (in fact, the only window on that floor that hadn't been broken by flying shards of brimstone), and shoved off again into the air. His shoulder slammed Lucien's stomach, and he peeled away with a sharp laugh as Lucien began to fall again.

Neither of them had even really gotten going yet.

Lucien let his momentum propel him through the air until he hit the building on the other side of the street, and, setting his feet firmly against blackened stucco, he shoved off as hard as he could. The cold wind stung anew, blowing into his eyes and rippling through his hair and feathers, whirling around him. Lalael bolted down a side alley. Lucien backstroked, pivoted, and followed sideways, for the alley walls pressed in, too narrow for him to fly horizontally with his wings fully outstretched. The bricks flew by in blurs of red and gray. Lalael had surely chosen this alley because of its dimensions – it was just barely wide enough for him, Lucien saw, to extend. The bastard had known Lucien would have to compensate here.

Then up ahead, Lalael found a dead end. Lucien, unable to stop soon enough at such speeds, threw caution to the winds and hoped that Lalael could maneuver in close spaces as well as he could in the open. The angel, wings cupped and backwinging, stopped his forward shot with a foot and a knee against the wall and shifted into hovering pace.

“
Lalael, move!” Lucien shouted against the wind. Lalael glanced back, alarmed, and flung himself upwards into the air, wings fluttering in the tight space. At the last second, Lucien managed to change his direction, winching his wings in tight, turning perpendicular to the wall as it rushed at him, and landing against the wall as Lalael had, foot, knee and both hands. He managed to run two steps up the side of the wall, awkwardly scrambling through the air with his wings at the same time before they grabbed the air again, and then, his angle changed, he was rushing upward with the speed of his momentum, until he
snapped
his wings open just as he came above the roofs of the buildings on either side. Lalael hadn't gotten his bearings, he was still fluttering overhead, looking back to make sure Lucien was alright.

No instincts. No practice in leaving your pursuer in the dust, perhaps to die.

They were going to crash.

Rather than that, Lucien threw his arms around Lalael's waist, carrying them both aloft so that their wings wouldn't tangle in the air. Neither of them would have walked away unharmed from that.

This, from the entrance to the alley, had taken the space of fifteen seconds.

They shot into the air again, separating as they rose, and gained a clear shot to the park. They didn't even need to look at each other. Both pair of wings beat twice in perfect synchronization, and the two strained to maximum speed. The buildings shot by in blurs, the park and trees raced towards them; once again, time slowed down.

***

Lucien could feel every breath of wind upon his skin, every tickle of down at the joints of his shoulderblades, every hair on his head as the wind shifted and whipped it at his face, and he knew if he could speed up just a little more it would run back smoothly. A primary feather shifted the slightest bit, and in these long moments he could feel its shift and the instinctive, automatic, hair's breadth adjustment against it. 

***

Lalael was reminded of his fall from the roof. The tugging and odd feeling in his stomach as they raced faster, faster, as the world slowed down again, the wind running its fingers through his hair like a banner that rippled like water – he began to push himself harder, the muscles in his wings and back and shoulders screaming. This was faster than he was built to go, but he wanted to win against Lucien so badly he thrummed with it. They were neck and neck, approaching the soft grass of the park at a broad angle, and as one cupping their wings against their bodies to slow their race in the last fifty feet. At the final moment before they landed, their wings shot open again and a single, explosive beat dropped them safely on the ground.

Lucien landed neatly on his feet; all Lalael's muscles gave out at once and he collapsed to the ground, gasping, “I! I won!” and at those words, Lucien laughed too, equally weak-jointed. Their hair was wildly mussed with the wind, and a sheen of sweat sprang up, now that there was no strong wind to sweep it away.

“
I haven't flown for too long. A couple weeks. Amazing how fast you can get out of shape,” Lucien leaned on his knees, hanging his head down and breathing deeply.  “You've got wind head,” he commented, breathless.

“
So do you,” Lalael answered, staring up at the cloudy sky with a foolish grin. He tucked his wings out of sight with a groan and closed his eyes. “That. Was great.”

“
You lost.” Lucien rolled his shoulders and likewise put his wings away.

“
No. You did.”

“
I touched down before you.”

“
Liar, we tied.”

“
No, I was watching your feet.”

“
Shut up.” Lalael started giggling again.

“
Whatever you say. You can tell people you won if you like,” Lucien agreed.

“
There's no one to tell!”

But Lucien had just straightened up and looked around. “Oh. Um. Oops.”

“
Oops? Like it's your fault or something –”

“
It might not have been a very wise idea to fly in broad daylight without even blinding sunlight as cover.”

“
Huh?” Lalael rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand.

“
I mean, we were seen.”

“
...What?” he yawned.

“
Open your eyes, wake up, get on your feet, something!” Lucien was looking around in a panic – there were dozens. Upon dozens. Oh dear. And his limbs were shaking from the cold now as well as the exertion. “There's humans!”

“
Oh no. No, no, no,” Lalael said, opening his eyes and glancing around. “
Danama
!” He scrambled to his feet.

“
This could be trouble. Wait until I tell you to fly and then get the hell out of here, and be ready to talk fast if you're caught.”

“
Okay,” Lalael squeaked.

“
On three,” Lucien mumbled as the humans approached, “Fly.”

Some of the humans had weapons. “What are they?” someone in the crowd asked.

“
One,” said Lucien.

“
Gods,” came the reply. “Angels. Monsters.”

A murmur ran through the crowd. Some of them looked awed; others... didn't.

“
Why are they here?”