Before he could reply, the waitress appeared with a tray and roughly set down the shots and large bowls of soup. Azarias's bowl looked less like soup and more like a heaping salad of diced boiled eggs, scallions, potatoes, and fleshy pink chunks of snake, all covered in a brown kvas broth.
He leaned over, breathing in his soup, but I didn't know how he could smell it over the scent of fermented cabbage that permeated the restaurant. Once the waitress had left us alone to enjoy our meal, Azarias tossed his head back and slammed the two shots of vodka without a chaser, causing his face to twist in a grimace.
"Well, then. Shall we get to it?" he asked. "What is it that you want to know?"
"What exactly were you doing with my mother?" I asked pointedly.
"You don't know? You look old enough to understand what it is that a man and woman do together," he said with an exaggerated wink that made my skin crawl.
"How did you meet her?"
"How do any two people find each other in this crazy mixed-up world of ours? Luck and serendipity," he said, and when I rolled my eyes, he elaborated. "We met at a bar. But what is it that you're hoping to find out? What do you want me to illuminate for you?"
"Are you sad that she's dead?" I asked, and he looked caught off guard.
"I'm not happy," he said at length. "I had a certain fondness for Marlow. But I'm also not one to get particularly attached to anyone."
"Why did she keep you secret?"
"You tell me," he countered. "You knew her better than I did. But she seemed to be the type that really guarded her privacy."
"I just don't understand why you were with her," I said, breaking down my argument in the simplest terms as he shoveled spoonfuls of the Okroshka into his mouth.
"Wow." He gulped down his food and arched an eyebrow. "Do you really think so little of your mother that she can't possibly have any qualities that anyone would find attractive?"
I knew she was attractive, beautiful even, but her personality was usually enough to drive any wannabe Lothario away. A cold-hearted fighter with an alcohol problem did not a good girlfriend make.
"Not enough for it to be worth the risk," I said.
"What risk?" he asked, but he didn't deny it.
"You asked to meet in Aizsaule, so I can only assume that you live and work here, which means that you're involved with the more unsavory immortals." I gestured vaguely around to the neighborhood. "Most of them would sooner die than date a Valkyrie, and many would be happy to kill you because of it."
"What if the risk is what attracted me to Marlow?" he asked with a waggle of his eyebrows.
I was tired of his games, so I folded my arms over my chest and asked, "What did attract you to her?"
He set his spoon down and stared out the window, thinking for a moment before saying, "She was beautiful, and she was mean. That doesn't sound like a winning combination to you, I'm sure, but it is to me."
He smirked at some memory that I would never know of, and I wondered if he had seen a side of her that I never would.
"So did you ask her out?" I pressed.
He looked at me and tilted his head. "I doubt you want to know all the details of your mother's sex life, so how about I simplify it for you? I work as a bartender at the Red Raven. My boss--"
"Your boss? Velnias?" I leaned forward on the table, and by the expression on Azarias's face I could tell that he'd given away more than he meant to.
"All orders come from him in one way or another," he allowed. "But it wasn't him that night. Just my manager. He saw Marlow at the bar nursing a drink, and he said he sensed that she was trouble and told me to keep an eye on her. One thing led to another, and here we are."
"What was she doing at the Red Raven? Did she tell you?"
"She was looking for someone. That's all she said," he told me in between spoonfuls of soup. "I have no idea who or what, or if she ever found them."
"When was this?"
"A month ago, maybe?" He shrugged. "Maybe a little longer than that?"
"A month ago," I repeated, trying to remember if she'd said or done anything strange then. Or at least stranger than normal. "Did she say anything that seemed ... suspicious to you?"
Azarias finished his soup with one heaping spoonful, then he wiped his mouth with the back of his arm before settling back in his seat.
"Look, I don't really have much I can tell you about her," he said. "Not that you wouldn't already know. Most of the time that Marlow and I spent together, well, we didn't do much talking."
I wrinkled my nose. "Gross."
"It is what it is." He stood up and pulled out his wallet. "But I have things I need to get to, and since I don't have anything for you, I think I'll be on my way." He tossed a few bills on the table, more than enough to cover our meal. "You should try your soup. It's delicious."
"Thanks," I muttered, staring down at my bowl of brine and barley.
Before he left, he leaned over and, almost whispering in my ear, said, "Oh, and if I were you, I'd get out back where you belong as soon as you're done. Aizsaule isn't a safe place for Valkyries, especially not anymore."
FIFTY-SEVEN
No sooner had I opened the door to my apartment than I heard Asher shout, "Molly!"
By the looks of it, he had been lounging back on the couch petting Bowie, who had nuzzled up to him. Asher stood up so quickly when he saw me that he nearly fell over. I barely had a chance to drop my messenger bag and kick off my boots before he rushed over to embrace me in what I could only describe as a sloppy hug.
"Does anybody ever call you Molly?" he asked, and he put his weight on me as we hugged.
"Not if they want to live," I muttered, looking over his shoulder at Oona smiling sheepishly at me.
She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, with her thick grimoire spread out across her lap. The yellowed pages looked as if they would crumble under her fingertips, but Oona always swore that the book was far stronger than it looked.
"Sorry about him," Oona said as I untangled myself from Asher and helped ease him back down onto the couch. "Some of what I gave him to help with the tremors and the headache have made him a little loopy."
"I missed you so much," Asher said, his words slurring slightly as he pulled me onto the couch beside him. I was afraid he would smother me or try making out in front of Oona, but instead he held my hand and stared down at the floor.
"Have you figured out what caused it yet?" I asked.
"No, but that's in large part because I've been having a hard time getting a straight answer out of him." She frowned at him.
"I try to think, I try to answer." He moved his hand around his head. "But it's like a fog, like ... like I can't get to certain stuff. I know it's there, but I can't see it." His eyes were dark and glassy, with the whites still stained from the eyedrops Oona had given him.
Before he could say more, bright white light flashed outside, followed immediately by a clap of thunder so loud it rattled the windows. The power faltered, bathing us in total darkness for a fraction of a second before flashing back on with startling bright lights and blasts from the neighbors' stereo.
"What was that?" Asher asked.
Rain began pouring down in torrential sheets that slammed against the window, and thunder rumbled on overhead. Fortunately, none of this really seemed to faze Asher. He blinked sleepily at me and barely suppressed a yawn.
"I've been telling him to lie down and rest," Oona said. "It'll help him work through the side effects of the meds faster so maybe I can find out what's going on. But he wanted to stay awake until you got back."
"I had to see that you were safe," Asher said matter-of-factly. "I couldn't sleep if you weren't here."
"Why don't you go lie down in my bed and get some sleep?" I suggested, but he didn't need any prodding. His body had started wilting the second he sat down. I suspect the seizure had been exhausting enough, not to mention that whatever Oona had given him apparently had an inebriating-like effect, so his will to stay
awake had to be mightily strong.
He got up slowly, standing on his own, but his brow furrowed in concentration to make it happen. I followed right behind him, and I could tell by the deliberate way he walked that he was doing everything he could not to lean on me.
Once we got to my room, he practically collapsed back onto my bed. He unbuttoned his jeans and tried taking them off, but it wasn't going well, so I stepped in and slid them off.
"Thank you for helping me," he mumbled as I grabbed my blanket.
"It's no problem." I draped the covers across him, and then leaned over to make sure he was nicely tucked in.
As Asher settled down, his eyes suddenly flashed open, and he stared up at me. "You know I love you, right?"
He knocked the wind right out of me, and I could only stay frozen where I was. My hands trembled instantly, and my throat seemed to close up, robbing me of my voice. The strangest feeling came over me, like I was hovering above my body, someplace separate and far away and wonderful and warm....
And I realized that he was staring up at me, waiting, so I managed to meekly say, "I do."
I didn't know what I'd say until I said it, and I didn't know how I felt, but then I meant it. I did know. I'd never before believed that anyone could love me--I'd always thought that I was an unlovable monster--but when Asher touched me, I knew. I just knew.
He closed his eyes, and within seconds he was asleep.
I sat on the edge of the bed beside him, giving myself a few minutes to catch my breath and slow my heart, and eventually I felt grounded back in my body again. My hands still trembled, and I felt this dizzying happiness.
When I left the room, closing the door behind me, Oona was still sitting on the floor with her spell book open, Bowie taking refuge from the storm beside her, but she'd turned on the TV and her eyes were glued to the screen.
I was about to ask her what all had happened while I'd been gone when my phone beeped loudly in my pocket. I pulled it out to see Samael's name flashing across the screen. It was a text message.
I need to see you at the Evig Riksdag. ASAP.
FIFTY-EIGHT
"Shit," I cursed to myself, and Oona managed to pull her eyes away from the television screen long enough to glance over at me.
"Mal, you gotta see this."
"Can't." I went over to where I'd kicked off my boots fifteen minutes before so I could pull them on again. "I have to go."
"What? You can't!"
"Samael texted--"
"No, Mal, come watch the news!" She pointed wildly at the screen. "You can't go out there."
"Why not?" I walked back over to see what all the fuss was about, but it became obvious very quickly.
It showed downtown Chicago, pitch-black except for the dancing lights from circling helicopters. Between the towering buildings and through the sheets of rain, I could just make out people running. The camera zoomed in on a burning car. Behind it, a human and cyclops were working together to break into a jewelry store.
The red crawl on the bottom of the screen said the entire State District--home to the Evig Riksdag, along with plenty of other business and government buildings--was in chaos.
"I turned on the news to see if they said anything about the storm we're having, and, well, yeah," Oona explained.
"Are they rioting?" I asked.
"Yeah, the lightning blew out all the power downtown, and I guess everyone went nuts."
"But it's raining!" I insisted incredulously. "Why are they outside in a cold rainstorm? What is wrong with everyone?"
"The world is going mad." She looked up at me. "The news reporter said that everyone should stay inside until the police get everything calmed down."
"I have to go."
"Are you not listening?" Oona shouted. "It's too dangerous!"
I sat down on the coffee table so I could pull on my boots more easily. "Samael said he needs to see me ASAP, and it's probably about whatever the hell is going on out there that is making everyone so insane right now."
Oona exhaled through her nose and thought for a second before deciding, "Fine. But you can't go by yourself."
"Asher is out." I motioned to my bedroom where he lay sleeping. "I need you to stay here with him and Bowie."
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, obviously I'm not going out in that because I'm not a total psycho."
"Then what do you suggest?" I asked.
"Quinn."
I scoffed and stood up, which was the only argument I really had against Quinn. Oona closed her grimoire and set it on the table.
"Mal, hear me out," Oona persisted as she followed me to the door. "She wants to help with this stuff, she lives nearby-ish, and she has a car, so you don't have to ride your luft in the rain."
"Oona." I licked my lips, unable to think up a compelling argument except that I wasn't ready to deal with all the feelings that came up whenever Quinn and I were around each other. "Things are complicated right now."
"No, things are very simple," Oona said firmly. "You want to save the world and you don't want to die, and you're willing to do anything you need to make that happen."
I rubbed my temple. "Fine. I'll text her. But if she says no, I'm going on my own."
FIFTY-NINE
We agreed to meet at Dillinger's Corner Market & Apothecary, since it was roughly halfway between our two places. I'd ended up calling Quinn, with Oona hovering beside me to make sure I went through with it, and to my dismay, she'd actually answered.
I thought she might be avoiding me, but she knew that if I was calling it had to be important. Once I explained the situation, she immediately agreed to join me, but in that regard, I hadn't expected anything different.
Fortunately, the rain had lessened in the few minutes it took me to get downstairs and outside. I would still be soaked by the time I made it the few blocks to Dillinger's, but at least it wasn't like I was jogging in a tsunami.
New Edgewater wasn't a nice neighborhood, not by any stretch of the word, but it was generally relatively quiet compared to the rest of the city. The dirty canals kept a lot of through traffic out, since not everybody had hovercrafts, and the canals dead-ended in a concrete wall before the lake.
With the weather and the newscasters' directions to stay indoors, it felt eerily quiet. Even three years ago, when we'd had a blizzard on New Year's Eve, the streets hadn't been this deserted. I swear, every time I stepped outside I heard a baby crying--I suspected it was usually pontianaks, attempting to lure victims by mimicking the sound of an infant crying.
But when I stepped outside tonight, for the very first time, I heard nothing. The water in the canal was oddly still, and the air smelled exceptionally like sewage and filth. A couple was walking on the other side of the canal, huddled together under an umbrella, but otherwise, I was alone.
And no one was ever alone in this city.
I started running, not to get out of the rain so much as to get away from here.
Dillinger's was still a block away, glowing dully with harsh halogen lamps like a lighthouse in a storm. A narrow parking lot sat in front, and Quinn's vintage sedan hovercraft was already parked there.
Hers was the only car in the lot, but as she got out of the driver's side, I saw a group of people coming out from the shadows. There were five of them, and even from my distance they were easy to spot thanks to their attire: lots of neon patches and brightly colored metal spikes adorned their jean jackets, with hair to match styled in mohawks and liberty spikes.
On the back of their jackets each of them had affixed a large flamel--a serpent wrapped around a cross. That was the symbol for their gang, Perenelle's Children, though I was using the term "gang" loosely. They were all Cambions, children of various low-level demons and immortals, and they had little to no power or prospects. So they hung around, played with alchemy, and occasionally caused trouble.
Generally, I considered the Perenelle's Children to be nothing more than a vague nuisance, but tonight was not like other nights.<
br />
As soon as I saw them, I felt the buzzing. Familiar and intense, wrapping itself around my heart, as pressure grew in my stomach.
I kept running, watching as they approached Quinn. She'd been walking toward the store, but they interceded. They started to surround her, and now I was close enough that I could see the expression on her face--the shift from polite smile to resolute anger as she realized they were trouble.
A woman with a strip of bright pink hair stepped up to Quinn. Two ragged holes were cut through the back of her jacket to allow for small leathery wings, flapping impotently in the rain. When the winged Perenelle tried to push her back against the car, Quinn pushed back.
After that, everything happened quickly. They closed in around her, and even though it looked like she got in a few good hits, they were unrelenting as they tried to get her to the ground.
As I raced toward them, I pulled my asp baton from my bag, clenching it in my fist. They were so focused on attacking Quinn, they didn't even notice me. Not until I was striking them across their backs with all my might.
One of them collapsed in a puddle with a guttural scream, but another--the winged girl with the pink hair--whirled on me instantly. She hit me hard, her fist colliding with my jaw enough that I heard it crack, and I stumbled backward.
The Valkyrie in me had taken over, so I didn't feel the hit, or at least not the pain. But I tasted the blood coming from the corner of my mouth, and Winged Girl threw her head back and laughed, revealing the few sharp teeth she had left in her mouth.
On any other day, the baton would've been enough. Quinn and I shouldn't have had any problem taking on the Perenelle's Children. But Oona was right--the world had gone mad, and in a world of violent delights, only more violence would be the answer.
I took out my machete, holding it in my right hand while I kept the baton in my left, and I spun the weapons around. It was a cheap trick that I'd learned at Ravenswood, meant to intimidate, but Winged Girl did not look intimidated.
She ran at me, so I swung the machete. She lifted up her arm to block it, and the blade easily slid through the flesh and fabric, getting stuck in her bone.
"What is wrong with you?" I asked.
Once again, she only laughed at me. "Don't you know? You don't have the power anymore. We do."