Chapter Text
It began with a terrible, bellowing groan, as if the forge itself was in pain. Then the walls began to tremble, and Vaggie’s stomach turned with dread as she realized what was about to happen.
“Evacuate,” Mendrion said, the first one to break out of his shocked stupor. No one moved; none of the smiths seemed to have heard him. He grabbed the three overseers and reiterated, “We need to evacuate the forge, now. Ambross, go to the interlayer and activate all of the transport portals. Havyn, get Wing 1 out of the cold crust, have them join Wing 2. Don’t let anyone try to leave through the lobby, it’s too close to Core B. If Core A is stable enough to be activated, do it.”
Aarom looked faint as he piped up, “Maker, my. . . my squad is in core room B. I have to—”
“I’ll see to your squad, Aarom. Right now, I need you to go to the workshop in Heaven. Tell Ikarvis to go to my sanctum and get it ready to accommodate everyone. Wing 4 will be fine without her for a few hours. I found a new secretary to work there at the last Starlight Festival, remember? That cherub, Monica? She’s very good. She can manage the workshop on her own.”
“Yes, I. . . I know Miss Monica.”
It was clear Aarom wasn’t up to the task, so Mendrion turned to Nadine and said, “Go with him.”
Nadine nodded, and she and Aarom flew out of the broiler. Havyn and Ambross took off, barking orders over their radios. Brego watched Nadine until she was gone, then looked fearfully up at Mendrion.
“Maker, what are we going to do?”
“I’m going to assess Core B, repair it if I can. Call Medic, tell them to meet me there. I need you to organize Wing 3 and get them out of here. I don’t want anyone near the star until I’ve stabilized the forge. Make a round through the broiler, ensure no one’s left behind.”
“We can help!” Charlie blurted. Mendrion and Brego both looked down at her, the former with strained patience and the latter with blatant contempt.
Charlie didn’t wait for chastisement as she maintained, “My hotel is one of the safest places in Hell, and. . . honestly, we only have one official guest right now, and our staff is me, Vaggie, and three other people. There’s plenty of room. Let me open a portal, and Wing 3 can layover with us.”
Vaggie added, “The interlayer will be swamped in a few minutes, since 1 and 2 are both evacuating through there. This’ll go quicker if you let us help. Once everyone else is settled in Heaven, you can come pick up 3.”
Mendrion looked like he was considering it until Brego snapped, “Don’t listen to them, Maker. They manipulated Yris and lied about their intentions. They came here to steal from us, not to earn your favor.”
Vaggie knew immediately that Charlie wouldn’t let that remark slide. To keep her inexplicable understanding of Enochian secret, Vaggie butted in, “We didn’t lie about wanting your support! Yes, we were also hoping to start a conversation about steel, but that was only if the first part went well! But that’s obviously out the window now, isn’t it? None of us are getting steel if there’s no forge to make it!”
She turned to Yris, who was standing beside the hoverflat like she didn’t know what to do with herself. Vaggie clutched her hand and pleaded, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything, but I never lied to you. We can help. You have to believe me, Yris. Please.”
Yris was in tears, she was so conflicted. She gulped and said to Mendrion, “I trust them. They can help.”
Mendrion stared down at her, then scrutinized Charlie and Vaggie. Brego watched the exchange in disbelief.
Finally, Mendrion nodded and said, “You may receive Wing 3. I will personally come to collect them as soon as I can.”
There was a hint of a threat in those words—a warning. He would come, and if the smiths weren’t all alive and safe, there would be literal Hell to pay.
Vaggie had almost forgotten the other exorcists were there, so it surprised her a little when Andromeda burst out, “You’re letting them drag the smiths—your angels—to Hell? Haven’t you heard what happened the last time we went down there?”
Mendrion regarded her coolly, and after a moment commanded, “Brego, take these three to an evacuation point in the interlayer. Yris, remain here until he returns, then join the demons. Help get everyone settled.”
Yris nodded and gave a fervent “Yes, Maker.” After several long seconds of glaring and tooth-grinding, Brego growled, “Yes, Maker.” He commandeered the exorcists’ hoverflat and steered them out of the broiler, ignoring their indignant shouts and curses.
Mendrion stayed long enough to help Charlie coordinate the portal to the hotel. Then, trusting Yris to hold down the fort, he took off, winging away to the cold crust.
“Come on. We need to warn the others that the hotel’s about to fill up,” Vaggie told Charlie, moving to the edge of the hoverflat. She grabbed Gladys by the elbow and pulled her along, meeting the demon’s furious scowl with one of her own.
Yris’s hand shot out and gripped her shoulder, halting her.
“Vaggie, are you sure?”
“Yes, Yris, I’m sure.”
“I’m trusting you,” Yris said in a hard voice. The weight of so many unspoken words hung in the air between them.
“I know.”
They exchanged a nod, and Yris released her.
Charlie went through the portal first, shutting her eyes to brave the jump through the baking air. Vaggie followed, holding Gladys firmly by the arm.
For a terrifying fraction of a second after she jumped off the hoverflat, she was exposed to the heat of the broiler, which she could’ve sworn was worse now that the mesh around the star was open. Then she was swallowed up and spat out onto a carpeted floor. Sour, sulfuric air filled her lungs, unpleasant but familiar. She’d never thought that air would come as a relief.
They were in the second-floor parlor. Husk and Angel Dust, who were in the middle of a card game, stared at them from the across the room.
Vaggie wasted no time. She locked Gladys in a chokehold before she could make a break for it and shouted, “Handcuffs, now! This bitch is a fucking snake!”
Angel Dust obeyed without thinking, scrambling to his feet and racing up the stairs to his room. He returned with a set of fluffy pink cuffs. Vaggie dragged the now unconscious Gladys to the radiator, cuffed her, and stuffed the key into her waistband next to her new preening comb. She searched until she found Niffty trying to force a bunch of captive cockroaches to fight each other to the death.
“Niffty, how would you like to do some stabbing?” Vaggie asked. Niffty was on her feet in a flash, scurrying around her legs.
“Stab?”
“That’s right, stab.”
“Yes! I love stabbing!”
Vaggie led her over to Gladys, who was just starting to stir, and said, “Don't let her escape. If she breaks free and tries to run, stab her legs. If she tries to crawl, kill her.”
Niffty cackled and twirled her knife.
Vaggie stared down at Gladys for a few seconds. She briefly considered trying to contact Carmilla, but decided against it. If the nosy old bitch was still watching the hotel, she probably already knew they were back.
She felt like such an idiot, trusting the Carmines. What order had Gladys been acting on? Sabotage whatever she could? There was no way she could’ve known what to expect. More than likely, she’d brought the bomb as a just-in-case, on the off chance she found a way to disable the forge. If she succeeded, it was a win for Hell. If she failed or didn’t get an opportunity to try, nothing was lost.
There had probably never been a real need for security beyond what was necessary to keep the forge structurally sound. With the unfortunate timing of one core being down for maintenance, all the moving from layer to layer, and collective oversights from Nadine and the smiths, sheer dumb luck had given Gladys all the cards she needed to shoot the moon.
Vaggie left Gladys under Niffty’s eager watch and joined the others by the portal. Charlie was speaking in a long, winded rush, explaining as much as she could, as quickly as she could.
“We didn’t get to talk to Mendrion about the hotel, but we convinced some of the smiths to unionize and now they want to organize their first strike, but it’ll have to wait because the forge was sabotaged and everyone has to evacuate, and time-wise, getting them all out is going to be tight, so I volunteered the hotel as a layover, so some of them are coming here, so don’t be alarmed when—”
Yris stumbled out of the portal and skidded to a halt beside Charlie. Husk and Angel Dust gaped at her, and it took Vaggie a second to remember that neither of them had seen a smith before. Charlie took it upon herself to introduce her.
“Yris, this Husk and Angel Dust. That over there is Niffty, and Alastor is. . . where is Alastor?”
“He went out again,” Husk grunted.
“Huh. He’s been doing that a lot lately, hasn’t he? What about my dad?”
“He went out, too. Heaven wanted to see him about some kind of emergency. I assume that’s your emergency?”
“Probably.” Charlie clapped her hands together and jumped back on track. “Anyway, guys, this is Yris. She’s Vaggie’s ex. She’s great.”
“Hey,” Yris greeted quickly, nodding to Husk and Angel. She turned to Charlie and reported, “All thirty squads are coming. Brego’s on the other side, keeping the evacuation streamlined. Are you sure you can accommodate them?”
“I’m sure. It’s ten per squad, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Right. Well, uh. . . I assume you guys aren’t going to want to be spread out too much. If we put one squad to a room—thirty squads, thirty rooms—we should be able to consolidate everyone here on the second floor. Yris, stay by the portal and send the squads down the hall as they come through. Vaggie and I will direct them into the rooms. Husk, Angel, you guys are on ambassador duty. I promise the smiths aren't dangerous, just try to make a good impression. Most of them have probably never seen demons before.”
As Vaggie and Charlie hurried down the hallway to prep the empty guest rooms, Vaggie observed, “You know, it’s probably for the best that Alastor and your dad aren’t here.”
“Yeah. I don’t think that would go over well.”
The smiths of Wing 3 soon began to trickle into the hotel, one squad after another. Many gave little screams of fright when they saw Husk and Angel, and scooted past them very quickly. They were shaken enough as it was, actively fleeing a collapsing superstructure, and being greeted by two sharp-toothed sinners pushed several to the brink of a panic attack. At one point, Niffty left her guard post and circled the smiths curiously. She zeroed in on a particularly nervous one, who hopped up on a chair to get away from her. He was in tears by the time Husk and Angel managed to herd Niffty back to Gladys.
Thankfully, although the smiths were very scared, they were compliant, and followed Charlie and Vaggie's directions without a fuss. They relaxed a little once they were cordoned off with their squads in their respective guest rooms. Vaggie had been concerned that the cramped space would make them antsy, but it had the opposite effect. If anything, it made them feel safer, as they huddled around the undressed beds and consoled each other. They all insisted on leaving the doors open so passing squads could check in with one another. Each smith seemed to be running their own head count.
Finally, Yris announced that the last squad was through. Twenty-nine rooms were filled; only squad 14 hung back, refusing to leave Yris alone in the parlor. They congregated around one couch, three squished on the cushions while the others stood behind it or sat on the floor. It didn’t look comfortable, but as Charlie had anticipated, they weren’t eager to separate. They wouldn’t make eye contact with anyone, only risked the occasional side-eye glance, and Angel Dust’s halfhearted attempts at conversation were met with petrified silence.
As Vaggie and Charlie headed back into the parlor, Vaggie overheard a snatch of Enochian from Yris’s squad. Ansyl was crying, hoping her crocheted blankets wouldn’t be lost, because it had taken her so long to make them, and two of her squadmates were assuring her that Mendrion would stabilize the forge in no time. On the surface, a few blankets seemed like a silly thing to worry about, but the knife of guilt in Vaggie’s heart gave a sharp twist as she remembered Yris’s sculptures, Brego’s picture of Nadine, even Medic’s cozy reading nook. That knife soon started to feel very literal, and she realized the pain relief had begun to wane. She did her best to ignore it.
Everyone was settled in, and Yris was waiting for Brego, when Andromeda, Vulvanna, and Ovaris burst through the portal, weapons drawn. With the advantage of surprise, they successfully knocked Yris out of the way, then rounded to face their targets.
Vaggie, who had retrieved her own weapon almost as soon as she and Charlie arrived, reacted first. She deflected the sickle that Ovaris threw and charged, catching Ovaris’s other blade on the hilt of her spear, shoving it aside, and wrestling her to the ground. Behind her, Andromeda lunged for Charlie, who summoned her shield and tried in vain to talk her down. Vulvanna attacked Angel Dust, inciting Husk to vault over the bar to defend him. Yris’s squad was remarkably unhelpful as they scrambled to hide behind the furniture.
The scuffle lasted less than a minute. Vaggie beat Ovaris easily, while Husk and Angel managed to disarm and subdue Vulvanna. The three of them rushed to Charlie’s aid, as she was reluctant to let loose against an increasingly feral Andromeda.
“I’m going to finish what Adam started,” Andromeda snarled, pointing her scimitar at Charlie. “You, your fallen whore, and your fucking leeches are—”
No one noticed that Brego had come through the portal until he was standing right behind her, looming like a giant shadow. He grabbed her by the collar, yanked the scimitar from her hands, and tossed her across the room as if she weighed nothing. She landed in a heap with Ovaris and Vulvanna, and they cowered as Brego stalked over to them.
“Enough!” he shouted, lifting his wings threateningly. “Mendrion told you to evacuate through the interlayer, and you disobeyed.”
The exorcists hung their heads, but they looked more upset about having been caught than about disobeying.
Yris picked herself up off the floor and hurried over to Brego. As soon as he closed the portal, he faced her and urgently asked, “Where are the squads? Are they safe?”
“Yes, they’re in the rooms. All are safe and accounted for,” Yris reported. “What about Mendrion? The cores?”
“Havyn activated Core A, but it’ll take time to boot up. Mendrion was repairing Core B when—” Brego stopped, and his face became strained.
“What? What happened, Brego?”
“The compression mesh around the star was compromised. He sent me, Havyn, and Ambross through the portals, but he stayed back to try and contain the star.”
Yris paled. She wetted her lips and broached, “And. . . Aarom’s squad? Are they okay? They weren’t hurt badly, were they?”
Brego walked a few steps away and leaned forward, bracing his hands on the back of a couch. It took great effort for him to say, “Two were killed. The other seven were severely injured. Thirteen others were in the vicinity when it happened; they were injured, too.”
Vaggie had never seen anything like the tortured anguish that passed over Yris’s face. She plunked down on the nearest couch and dropped her head into her hands. Vaggie knew she was remembering how she’d vouched for her and Charlie—vouched for Gladys—and personally escorted them into the forge.
Vaggie shut her eye. More blood on her hands—more blood that she knew would never wash off. There was no redemption for fallen angels.
Everyone was roused by a triumphant screech near the radiator. Niffty had wandered off, distracted by a stray roach, leaving Gladys free to slip out of her cuffs. She’d had to sacrifice some skin and scales, and foul-smelling black blood dripped onto the handle of Ovaris’s sickle as she picked it up. She brandished it at the group, baring her teeth.
“I’m leaving,” she hissed, backing toward the stairs. “And if any of you fucks try to stop me, I’ll kill you. I’ll fucking gut you!”
Brego moved first, striding towards her, his features twisting up in murderous loathing. Gladys visibly panicked as he drew closer. She swung the sickle clumsily, but he seized both her wrists in one giant hand and the blade of the sickle in the other. Instead of disarming her, however, he held her fast, letting her keep her white-knuckled grip on the hilt.
Brego’s eyes narrowed. His hand heated up around the blade of the sickle until it was glowing white hot. The steel melted, dripping down in thick glowing runnels. When it covered Gladys’s hands, melding them to the hilt, her scream was like nothing Vaggie had heard before.
Brego dropped her, leaving her to writhe and howl on the floor. His lip curled in disgust, and he spat, “There’s your steel, demon filth.”
The room was silent apart from Gladys’s sobbing. Yris and her squad watched Brego with wide eyes, shocked by what he’d just done. Brego slowly turned, and the glare he fixed on Yris made her shrink.
“This is your fault,” he growled, stalking toward her. “This is all your fault.”
“Brego, I didn’t know—I didn’t mean—”
“You let them in! You promised us they could be trusted! I didn’t trust them, not for one second, but I trusted your word! Our maker trusted your word! Now two smiths are dead, because of your carelessness!”
“I’m sorry,” Yris whispered. Tears were brimming in her eyes.
“You want to lay off? It wasn’t her fault,” Vaggie interjected, marching up to him.
Brego went still.
“You’re right.” He spun to face Vaggie, fists blazing, wings flared, and roared, “It’s your fault! You knew Yris was sentimental enough to believe you!”
Charlie cautiously moved up behind him and said, “Hang on, Brego, we didn’t know Gladys was planning anything. We were told she was coming along to observe—that’s all. If we’d known, we never would have—”
“And you!” Brego whirled around and advanced on Charlie, backing her up. “All your talk of redemption and unions—I saw right through you from the start. You’re the spawn of Lilith and the Morningstar. You, most of all, Yris should’ve known better than to believe.”
“Hey, back the fuck up,” Vaggie snapped, putting herself between them. She raised her spear in a threat that needed no words, but Brego didn’t look remotely intimidated.
“Was slaughtering human souls not enough for you?” he said viciously. “Are you going after angels now? I always thought there was something wrong with you exorcists. No wonder your maker regrets you.”
Vaggie reacted without thinking, slashing the spear at his face. He jerked back, but the blade landed a shallow slice in his cheek.
Brego touched a finger to his face and gaped down at the golden blood that came off. It didn’t take long for his shock to give way to rage.
Only Yris realized what was about to happen, a split second before it did. She was off the couch and across the room in an instant, just in time to tackle Brego as he lunged for Vaggie. Yris grabbed him under one arm and pulled him away with all her strength. He wrenched himself free and charged Vaggie again, but Yris bodychecked him off-course.
“Get out of here, now!” she shouted at Charlie and Vaggie as she attempted to pin Brego.
They didn’t need to be told twice. Brego was much bigger than Yris, and if he was as fast on his feet as he was in the air, she wouldn’t be able to hold him long. But when they turned to flee, they were met by the exorcists, who were back on their feet and advancing on Angel and Husk.
Vaggie heard a cry and looked back in time to see Brego throw Yris against the wall. It cracked under her weight, and a dusting of plaster cascaded down on her as she crumpled to the floor.
For the third time, Brego lunged at Vaggie, but she was ready. She dodged and slashed at his underarm, aiming to disable rather than kill, but he moved quicker than she’d bargained for, bringing one hand up to block. The spear tip ricocheted off his armored fist, and Vaggie's arms buckled under the force of the collision. Brego swung, and she just barely ducked out of the way. She felt the searing heat as his fist sailed past her head.
Fighting Brego wasn’t like fighting an exorcist. He wasn’t formally trained, but he’d been handling weapons longer than Vaggie had, and he was big. She’d watched him catch one of the giant refinement tanks in midair and lift it on his own, and she suspected that was far from his limit. If he landed even one hit, the fight would be over. The only thing keeping her alive was her speed.
She dodged and leaped and rolled, not bothering to conceal her wings for emergency use, searching for an opening. As she danced around Brego, she started to notice a pattern to his movement, the way he put all of his momentum behind every swing and all of his strength behind every block. If Vaggie played her hand right, she could use his size against him.
She retreated, readied her spear, and charged head-on, making to stab him. Just as she’d hoped, he grabbed the spear with both hands. Instead of letting the recoil rattle her, she used the momentum to kick off from the floor, flapping into the air as high as the spear would allow. She slackened her grip and dropped down, slamming both feet into his chest with all her might.
Brego hit the floor and crashed straight through it. It was so sudden, Vaggie didn’t realize what happened until they landed. They were on the first floor, surrounded by rubble. Through the hole in the ceiling, Vaggie could hear the fight with the exorcists continuing.
Brego gripped the spear and flung her off. She caught herself in a roll and scrambled to get back on her feet, only half aware that she’d just been disarmed. For a few seconds they both struggled to right themselves, coughing and waving aside the cloud of debris.
A terrible pain constricted Vaggie’s chest, and she dropped to her knees, gasping. She clutched at her shirt, twisting the fabric in her fist.
Not now. Please, not now.
A hulking hand seized her ponytail, and she cried out as her head was yanked back. Brego sat on her back, pinning her down, crushing the air from her lungs. His other hand closed around her face, plunging her into darkness.
“If you had any honor, you would've taken your own life the moment your halo fell,” he growled in her ear.
His hand heated up around her face. The carved runes glowed like the element of an oven. Vaggie’s skin started to burn, then blister. She tried to scream, but with his full bodyweight crushing down on her, she couldn’t inhale.
One of her hands clawed desperately at Brego’s and the other groped around the floor for a weapon, any weapon. When she managed a feeble twist, she felt something small and sharp poke her ass, something tucked in her waistband. She reached for it, and her fingers closed around the handle of the preening comb.
She ripped it free and thrust it upward, not knowing or caring where it landed. The sharp prongs hit flesh, and Brego let out a bellow of pain that shook the hotel. His hand disappeared from Vaggie’s face, and his weight lifted. Only his grip on her hair remained secure—so secure that when he staggered away, half of her scalp tore clean off her head.
Vaggie thought she might’ve screamed, but she didn’t hear it. Brego’s grip finally loosened, and her hair slipped out of his fingers, but the damage was done. Her scalp hung off one side of her head in an ugly, bloody flap, like a half-attached wig. The thought sparked a sense of misplaced humor, and Vaggie would’ve laughed if she’d been able to stop screaming.
She forced her arms to move, to drag her prone body. Forward, she commanded. Forward.
She turned her head just enough so she could see Brego. He stood a few feet away, leaning against the wall, clutching his face. The handle of the preening comb glinted in the lamplight, dripping blood. She’d stabbed him right in the eye.
Vaggie wasn't screaming anymore, so there was nothing to stop a bubble of delirious laughter from escaping. It was weak and choked, and it made her corroborator hurt even more, but once she started, she couldn’t stop.
Her laughter caught Brego’s attention. He ripped the comb out and flung it to the floor. Liquid gold spilled from his ruined eye as he stalked over to her. His savage face was the last thing Vaggie saw as he raised a fist and brought it down on her back.
She heard her spine break half a second before she felt it, and everything went white.
*****
The entire time it took Charlie, Angel, and Husk to subdue the exorcists, all Charlie could think of was Vaggie, standing alone against Brego.
Once the exorcists were disarmed again, Yris’s squad finally decided to help. They restrained them easily, and no amount of struggling could break their stone grip. Charlie didn’t waste another moment jumping down through the hole in the floor, where she was met with a paralyzing sight.
Vaggie lay flat on the floor, unmoving. Charlie could only hope she was merely unconscious.
She'd been partially scalped. Her blood-soaked ponytail, still rooted to the skin, lay limp on the floor beside her glistening head. Her midsection looked like it had been flattened by a tire; her bowels oozed out her sides where her body had split open from the sheer force of the blow. Bits of torn mesentery hung from the edges of splintered ribs. A single vertebra was visible, peeking up through her back. Greenish fluid leaked onto the floor, mixing with her gold blood.
Brego stood over her, heaving. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, both splattered with gold. One of his eyes had been reduced to a ball of slimy, bloody tissue, sitting limp its socket. His own blood was drying in yellow streaks on his face, drying where it had dripped onto his bare chest.
Charlie’s mind blanked. Her vision went red.
She was charging before she knew she’d made a decision. She approached from his blind side, so by the time he heard her, it was too late.
A surge of power flowed through her, raw and tremendous, howling for vengeance. A burst of unnatural strength manifested in her left hand, building up the muscle, thickening her skin, lengthening her claws, giving her what she needed to beat him.
Her fingers locked around his snip, digging into the metal with a crushing grip, and she tore it off with one ferocious yank.
The flesh of Brego’s back ripped free. The skin directly under the snip split down the middle and folded to either side like ghastly wings, exposing a broad plane of gold muscle.
Brego’s shriek cracked the windows, threatened to shatter them. He fell against a sofa, skinless back arching in pain. His wings hung off to either side, twitching weakly.
The battle was won, but the new power inside Charlie wanted more. It reared its head, roaring for the angel’s blood, fiending to tear him limb from limb.
Charlie might have given in if Yris hadn’t grabbed her by the jacket and thrown her across the room.
Charlie landed hard, rolling across the carpet. When she pushed herself up and gathered her wits, the roaring inside faded away, and her hand reverted to its normal size. She crawled over to Vaggie, fear suddenly overtaking her.
She was too afraid to move her, so she knelt beside her and pressed two fingers to her neck. She almost sobbed in relief when she felt a feeble pulse of life. How much longer it would last, she didn’t know, but by some miracle, Vaggie was alive. There was still time to save her.
A cry of distress drew her attention. Yris was kneeling beside Brego, sobbing, hands hovering helplessly over his back. The rest of her squad flew down through the hole in the ceiling, carrying the exorcists, and scattered screams of horror passed over them when they saw what had happened. Charlie shielded Vaggie with her body, but none of the smiths paid any attention to her.
She heard the swish of a portal on the floor above, and Angel Dust exclaimed, “Holy fucking DILF!”
Mendrion. Mendrion could help Vaggie.
“Here!” Charlie screamed, startling the smiths. “We’re down here! Please!”
Mendrion dropped down through the hole. He was so large that the top of his head brushed the ceiling. Charlie opened her mouth to plead for help, but surprise made the words stick to her tongue.
He wasn’t alone. Cynthaeis dropped down after him, and her attendant, Jasper, glided silently behind her. Between Cynthaeis’s plain, shapeless robes, her tousled feathers, and her disgruntled expression, it looked as if Mendrion had just dragged her out of bed. A rather mean part of Charlie hoped that was the case.
“Let me through. Let me see him,” Mendrion ordered, brushing past the smiths. He glanced at Charlie and Vaggie only long enough to note that damage had been done on both sides. He crouched beside Brego, pressed a fingertip to the back of his neck, and with a ripple of light, Brego relaxed. His face, only partially visible where it was pressed against the couch, went slack with relief. Mendrion carefully removed the broken snip, arranged the torn flaps of skin where they belonged, and began sealing them in place.
Cynthaeis didn’t move. She just stood where she’d landed, glaring around the room with the same degree of disdain as before, until Jasper cleared their throat softly and nodded towards Vaggie. Cynthaeis gave a permissive flick of her hand.
Jasper crossed the room like an apparition, pale and silent, and lowered themself gracefully to their knees on Vaggie’s other side. With glowing hands, they nudged her organs back into her body, fitted her broken ribs, and began to close the worst of the wounds from the inside out. Their magic worked slower than Mendrion’s, and scar tissue formed instead of new skin, but Vaggie could come out of this with a hundred scars for all Charlie cared—just as long as she survived.
Jasper must be a healer, Charlie realized. Had she been able to focus on anything other than Vaggie, she might've wondered why Cynthaeis felt the need to keep a healer close at hand.
On the far side of the room, the exorcists stood in a tight cluster. They were no longer being restrained, but they’d lost all interest in fighting. They stared at Cynthaeis, then at Mendrion, watching the way the smiths crowded him and huddled under his wings.
One of the exorcists—Ovaris, Charlie recalled—hesitantly approached Cynthaeis.
“Maker?” she said in a small voice. Cynthaeis glowered down at her.
“What?”
Ovaris cowed at her tone, but didn’t retreat. She held up her arm like an offering; it had taken a nasty cut during the fight.
Cynthaeis grimaced. Ignoring Ovaris, she said loudly to Mendrion, “Forgive me, Seraphim, but I don’t see why it’s necessary for me to be here.”
Mendrion paused in his healing and turned around. He fixed her with a glare that clearly said, “Deal with your damn kids.”
Grumbling, Cynthaeis seized Ovaris by the wrist and began mending her cut. Ovaris gazed up at her, not flinching even as Cynthaeis’s long, sharp fingers dug into the wound.
When Cynthaeis finished, she dropped Ovaris’s wrist and turned to the other two. The second one eagerly moved forward for her turn, but the third, Andromeda, hung back, looking sulky.
Quiet lapsed as the two makers healed their respective charges. Charlie watched Jasper’s slow but steady progress with bated breath. She hardly noticed when Angel Dust and Husk made their way downstairs and joined her.
As he finished Brego’s back and moved on to his eye, Mendrion cast a glance at Charlie and stated, “She looks like him.”
Cynthaeis paused, and she, too, took a moment to scrutinize Charlie.
Mendrion didn’t look at Cynthaeis, but his words were clearly meant for her as he went on, “I had heard she resembled him, but I didn’t think—”
“Dead ringer, I know.”
Cynthaeis finished healing the second exorcist and moved on to Andromeda. She reached for her face, where a long slash marred her cheek, but Andromeda smacked her hand away.
“I don’t want your help,” she snipped. Cynthaeis rolled her eyes, grabbed Andromeda by the jaw, and hoisted her up onto the tips of her toes.
Cynthaeis’s handling of the exorcists wasn’t rough, exactly, but there was no warmth in it. As Charlie watched her, she recalled everything Vaggie had told her in the Wing 3 dormitory.
“It’s not just me. She hates all the exorcists.”
“Alright,” Mendrion said, leaning back with a sigh. Brego slowly stood, flexing his wings. He turned to Mendrion, but had nothing to say for himself. Mendrion held out his arms, and Brego moved forward, accepting the hug. Squad 14 invited themselves to join in.
Mendrion broke away and rose to his feet. He manifested a ball of light, handed it to Brego, and said, “This portal goes directly to my sanctum. Go upstairs and lead everyone through. Wings 1 and 2 are accounted for.”
“Yes, Maker,” Brego mumbled, accepting the portal without argument.
Before he could take off, Mendrion put a hand on his shoulder and stated, “When I consented to let the princess visit, I was clear that I would grant her an audience. You should have summoned me when she arrived.”
“Yes, Maker.”
Yris piped up, “Wait, what about the forge?”
“The forge is gone.”
The smiths gasped, and a few broke down in tears.
“What?” Yris said, shocked. “But you stabilized the cores, didn’t you?”
“It didn’t matter. I was unable to repair the compression mesh in time. The star consumed the forge. It’s gone.”
“What are we going to do?” another smith cried.
“Go to my sanctum. We’ll talk about our options there. And I believe Havyn has something she wants to discuss as a group. Go on, now. Follow Brego.”
Brego led the group back up to the second floor. Yris briefly lagged behind; she almost made to check on Vaggie, but changed her mind and followed her squad without a word. Charlie heard Brego give orders in Enochian, and three hundred pairs of feet thundered overhead.
A loud, purposeful knock sounded on the front door. Charlie threw a pleading look at Husk, who rolled his eyes and went to answer it.
“How can I—oh, shit, uh. . . hello, Miss Carmine.”
The door was shouldered open, and Carmilla Carmine pushed past Husk, striding into the parlor. Strangely, she was alone. Her eyebrows shot up as she took in the destruction. She studied the two giant angels, one gold and one silver. Finally, her gaze landed on Vaggie.
“I take it your trip didn’t go well, princess.”
“No thanks to you,” Charlie shot back.
Cynthaeis ignored Carmilla, but Mendrion’s full attention came to rest on her. He flicked a finger at the ceiling, and Gladys floated down through the hole. He dropped her on the floor, where she lay curled up, whimpering and tugging at her fused hands.
“This one belongs to you, I believe?” he prompted. He crossed his arms, awaiting an explanation.
Charlie burst out, “You said she was coming to observe! Just fucking observe!”
“Yes, that’s the order I gave her,” Carmilla confirmed. “Did she do something other than observe?”
“Try destroying the whole forge,” Husk said dryly.
Carmilla’s cool demeanor cracked.
“She. . . destroyed it?”
“Was she not acting on your command?” Mendrion asked.
“No. She was not.” Carmilla’s piercing red eyes were locked on Gladys.
Mendrion considered for a moment, then addressed Gladys directly. His voice was heavy with magic as he commanded, “Speak the truth.”
Gladys fell into a dazed calm. She sat up, faced Carmilla, and bluntly said, “I’ve been an informant for the Vees for the past year. Velvette sends me a paycheck every week, on the same day you do. I listened outside your office door when the exorcist came to talk to you, and I monitored the security feed on the hotel. I kept Velvette updated on everything. She told me to find a way to join the princess, so I convinced you I should go as your representative. I brought an angel bomb just like the one that shark smuggled into your facility—and his was just a prototype. Velvette told me to do whatever I could to cripple Heaven’s forge. I was acting on her command.”
Gladys slumped, snapping free of that dreamy haze. She blinked, confused, and looked up to see her boss standing over her. Carmilla's face was drawn in cold, murderous anger. Gladys's eyes widened, and she clumsily backed away.
“M-Miss Carmine! I-I can explain, that wasn’t—all those things, I don’t know why I said that, none of it was—they made me say it! The angels made me! Please, you have to—”
Carmilla swept her leg through the air in a swift, deadly strike, and Gladys’s head dropped to the floor.
Cynthaeis, who had finished healing Andromeda and stopped to watch the altercation, scoffed, “Demons.”
She wasn’t watching the exorcists, so Ovaris was able to sneak up and nestle under her wings. Cynthaeis jolted as if she’d been electrocuted, lifting her wings and jerking away. Ovaris recoiled from the utter revulsion on her maker's face.
“What did you expect?” Andromeda muttered. Ovaris looked like she was trying not to cry.
Mendrion frowned at Cynthaeis’s behavior, but didn’t correct her. He nudged the exorcists toward the hole in the ceiling and said, firmly but gently, “Go on. It’s time to return home.”
“But Seraphim, the demons—”
“I’ll handle it. Go.”
Shooting one last hateful look at Charlie, Andromeda took off, and the other two followed suit.
Charlie was so focused on the exorcists’ departure, she jumped a little when Jasper spoke. Their voice was soft, but no less surprising to hear. Charlie had been half-convinced that they were mute.
“Elder, she’s stable, but there’s only so much I can do. I can mend her spinal cord within the hour, but it’s not in my capacity to mend her corroborator. I don’t think it will remain intact for much longer.”
Cynthaeis glanced disinterestedly at Vaggie and said, “Yes, that damage does look severe. It might be kinder to let her die.”
Charlie bolted to her feet. Her horns manifested, and her hair swirled angrily around her.
“How dare you?” she yelled. “You’re her maker! What the fuck is wrong with you? Why can’t you just fix her? It’s not like you’ve got anything better to do! You’re fucking retired!”
The silence that ensued was deafening. Cynthaeis’s nonchalance faded, replaced by a venomous chill. She advanced on Charlie, crossing the room in just a few long strides.
In a voice colder than ice, she said, “Never presume to command me, Charlie Morningstar. I stooped to obey the whims of one arrogant child, and it cost me more than you can comprehend. Never again.”
As she spoke, she changed. Her flesh became thin and pallid, her plumage grey and withered. Her entire body appeared to sag, and her silver eyes clouded with the beginnings of cataracts. As soon as she finished speaking, however, she reverted to her normal appearance.
It was as if, for a few seconds, a mask had been lifted, but it happened so fast, Charlie had to wonder if she’d imagined it.
“Cynthaeis.”
Cynthaeis didn’t turn around, didn’t respond to him. Mendrion moved closer and quietly said, “Please, ashlehren.”
“Don’t you ‘ashlehren’ me. You know my feelings on that matter; they have not changed.” Cynthaeis snapped, rounding on him.
“Nor have mine.”
They stared each other down for a long time. Mendrion gave her a tired, pleading look, and Cynthaeis finally caved. She trudged over to Vaggie and scooped her up. Vaggie looked horribly small and frail in her arms.
Without looking at Charlie, Cynthaeis said, “I need somewhere I can lay her down and examine her.”
“We have tons of guest rooms, you can use one of those,” Charlie said hastily, leading the way down the hall.
She opened the door to a guest room, and Cynthaeis ducked inside. She placed Vaggie on the bare mattress and sliced away her clothing.
“Do you really have to—”
“I built her from molecules. There's nothing here I haven’t already seen.”
As soon as she said it, she paused. She lifted one of Vaggie’s wings and made a thoughtful noise. She chose not to remark upon it, however, and bent low over Vaggie to examine her spine.
Charlie stood in the doorway, watching anxiously. She stayed quiet until she no longer could and asked, “Do you need anything else?”
“Privacy would be ideal.”
“Right. Privacy. I’ll just. . . leave you to it, then.” Charlie waited a moment to see if she would get a response, but she didn’t.
She shut the door, leaving them alone, hoping Cynthaeis had been fully won over by whatever estranged elderly romance Mendrion had implied. Charlie didn’t quite understand what ashlehren meant (it was the first Enochian term she’d heard that didn’t translate cleanly in her head), but there was a weight to the word, a sense of significance that she couldn’t quite grasp. She made a mental note to ask Vaggie about it later.
When Charlie returned to the parlor, it was deserted except for Carmilla.
“You’re still here?” she asked, pointedly flicking her eyes to the door.
“I apologize for the trouble my representative caused. I’d have killed her a long time ago if I knew she'd been bought.” Carmilla regarded Charlie with something close to curiosity. “You should know, princess, the Vees were in favor of war before the last extermination. They and many others are getting restless. You should be more careful, especially if you plan to continue corresponding with angels.”
“Thank you, Miss Carmine. The door’s there.”
Carmilla took the hint. With a curt nod, she left, closing the front door quietly behind her. Charlie locked it, then went upstairs to find Mendrion.
She arrived as the last ten squads were waiting for their turn to go through the portal. The smiths were much more comfortable now that Mendrion had shown up, and a few were even voluntarily talking to Husk and Angel Dust. From the bits Charlie overheard, it sounded like Husk was explaining what a strike was.
“So we just. . . stop working?”
“That’s right. And you don’t go back to working until they cut you a fair deal.”
“But our work. . . it’s important.”
“Yes, it is, which is why it makes a great hostage.”
“So, we’re holding our work hostage?”
“Weird way to put it, but sure.”
“But taking hostages is bad. That’s a terrible thing to do. Why would we—”
“The ruling class is holding your rights hostage. Even trade.”
Charlie approached Mendrion, who was ushering the squads through the portal. She sidled up beside him and hesitantly said, “Hey, so. . . sorry about the forge and. . . everything else. Will you be able to make a new one, or. . .”
“I hope so.”
Charlie waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t even look at her. Still, she had to try. She and Vaggie had gone through so much just for a chance to speak to him.
“I know you’re probably not in the mood, but I’d like to talk to you about my hotel.”
The quiet, derisive noise he made confirmed that he was far from in the mood. Charlie tried not to sound desperate as she pressed, “Look, I know I fucked a lot of things up today, but this is really important, maybe the most important thing I’ve ever done! You know about the exterminations, right?”
Mendrion finally glanced down at her. He gave a short, pained nod.
Charlie persisted, “This is an alternative to that. I really, truly believe it can work, but both doors have to be open. I need support in Heaven. Please, will you hear me out?”
Mendrion was silent for so long, Charlie started to think she’d failed. Then he responded in a flat, unmoved voice.
“Five minutes.”
“What?”
“It will take five minutes for the rest of Wing 3 to depart to my sanctum. You may speak. I will listen.”
“Thank you,” Charlie breathed, her heart flooding with relief. She looked around and saw that some of the smiths were eavesdropping. She smiled, pleased to have a wider audience. The more angels heard, the better.
Without further ado, she took a deep breath and started to sing.