Death. In an agonizing eternity, Camael felt all he was cease to be. The cessation of his divine self hurt more than he could have imagined; as though Seraphiel had rammed the Sword of Judgment through the middle of his soul and he’d come away lesser and smaller. That might be an apt comparison.
Covered in blood, he pushed shakily to his feet. As before, he was naked, and it was cold. But this time, he felt it. The flesh he wore felt heavy and awkward, a meat cage that housed his spirit. Camael took stock of his surroundings, and with some amazement, he realized he’d Fallen beside the river, where he first saw beauty. Of the others, he found no sign. Were they to be punished then by spending an eternity of exile alone with their sins? He longed to see the rest of his host and beg their forgiveness for what his desire had cost them.
He had no way of knowing how long it had been, how long he had suffered in earthly terms. It might have been years, again. She might have forgotten him. He knelt beside the water and washed as best he could. That done, he knew he could not leave this place without learning the truth. Rei was the reason he was here. It was unthinkable to go into exile without knowing.
Now, he needed a fire for warmth instead of comfort, but time might be short. Closing his eyes, he sent the call. While he waited, the chill sank in, raising bumps on his flesh. How he wished he had something to cover himself. He had once thought humans did it to hide their shame, but now he saw there was a more practical reason.
The waiting seemed endless.
And then he heard the soft crackle of dry plants crushed beneath running footfalls. Camael was in no condition to fight, but he recognized her movements even before she burst into sight around the bend in the river. Rei wore a complex robe, layered in sashes, and her hair had been intricately arranged.
“We must go quickly,” she said, breathless. “I will be missed soon.”
Go where? She knew more about this world than he did. Camael had no idea where they might be safe from her pursuers. The only place he could find readily would be the cave where they had sheltered together and made love. Though he was vague on the concept of distance, that would not be far enough away. His whole body burned with cold, and he could not think.
She drew up, staring at him with furrowed brow. Her dark eyes raked him head to toe, taking in the differences. “You’re real this time.”
“Yes,” he said. “I will not be leaving you again.”
Rei froze, terror dawning on her lovely face. “I need you to take me away from here. They will kill you. And me.” But it was clear from her expression, she feared more for him.
Camael went to her then, his uncertainty easing. He took her in his arms. “Fear not. Though I have Fallen, I am not powerless.”
In his heart, he sensed the scales Seraphiel had inflicted on him, weighing the generosity of her spirit against the circumstances surrounding her. The verdict was clear; Rei deserved to be happy — and she was not. Camael sensed the bruises on her back, more serious than the ones he’d healed on her arms. Someone had hurt her and would do worse, if he permitted it.
But he could make her happy. Perhaps he twisted the spirit of the intent, but the Seraphim had given him room to make his own judgments. And so he would.
But before he could make any plans, he heard the sounds of pursuit. These footfalls were unfamiliar to him, but Rei stilled in his arms. Her upturned face reflected pure dread; she thought him helpless.
“Run,” she begged.
The man who burst into sight carried a curved blade. Like Rei, he was dressed in formal regalia, his long black hair upswept. And Camael knew he was also the monster who hurt her. Guilt and fury bled from him in red-black rays, surrounding him like a tainted sun. This one did not deserve joy — and Camael had the power to sever him from all possibility of attaining it.
“I knew you had taken a lover,” the angry beast spat. “And he is not even of our people. You shame your father, Reika.”
She glared at him. “Do not call me that, Kenzo! You have no right.”
“How will you stop me? I have all the power. I am the Tanaka’s firstborn, and I have been wronged. No one will speak a word in protest when I order the two of you executed. See how your beloved cowers.”
Camael stepped away and gently set her from him. He spoke to Kenzo. “You have brought nothing but misery, even to your father. Your mother died bearing you. You are the very soul of grief.”
For the first time, the other appeared shaken. But he rallied, raising his sword. “Words. You have only words.” And Kenzo charged.
Camaek raised his arm and plucked the air with his fingers, latching on to the immortal part of the man who hurt Rei and took pleasure in it. Instead of silver or gold, his life-thread unravelled black and red like the aura blazing around him. This was the right thing; the scales in his heart agreed. It was a fair judgment. With one final tug, he drew the soul out and set it wafting in the air. Its weight would decide its final destination. As with all mortal spirits, it tried to soar, but sin weighted it down, and Kenzo’s soul drifted down into the earth and beyond his knowledge. His body fell, empty and lifeless. The sword clattered to the ground.
“There will be war.” Rei sounded numb. Not with grief, but shock. “What magic have you that you can slay a man with a turn of your wrist?”
“Only that of judgment. He stood in the way of your happiness.”
“And you think his murder will bring me contentment? What manner of monster are you?” She backed away, her slippers sliding on the damp grass.
“Did you love me better when I was not real?”
“I think I did not know you at all.”
“Yet I Fell for you. I gave up everything. You said you would do the same. Did you lie, Rei?”
A sob broke from her. “I — no. No matter what you have done, no matter what it costs me, I love you still. My heart beats for you, whatever dark thing you are.”
Camael smiled, aching for her. She was still — and always would be — the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. “It will cost you nothing. Watch.”
He knelt beside the dead man and touched his fingers to his face. It was a simple task, hardly more than a flicker of energy. When he stood, he was Kenzo. He stripped the robes, dressed, and took the man’s sword, and then he nudged the body into the river. The water claimed it.
“You will take his place,” she breathed. “There will be peace.”
“None will ever know but you. Does this bring you joy?”
“Yes. I never imagined I could keep my home and be with you. I thought there would be a terrible choice.”
There was, Camael thought. And I made it for you.
She kissed him with all the passion she had given him before. Now he could have it for a lifetime. Her lifetime. He would accept the consequences later; he knew now what punishment Seraphiel intended for him. His damnation would be deferred. In centuries to come, he must find the rest of his host — and possibly Gabriel as well — but he would make her happy while he could. Such a short time. How diabolical the leader of the Seraphim — and how clever. But today was not for suffering. Not today.
“Let us marry,” he said aloud to Rei. “I think that is why we are dressed so.”
Her smile nearly blinded him with its delight. Taking his hand, she led him towards the village and their life.
Shirley Damsgaard
Spirit of the Prairie
R.J. Baxter stood on the bluff overlooking the waving prairie grass and cursed fate. A reporter for The News Courier in Michael’s Creek, South Dakota, her editor had sent her out to do yet another “fluff” story. The opening of a cultural center on the Talltree Reservation stretching out before her.