Chapter 48 - Camael

Iris

+--

Less than an hour had passed before Valkyre could take it no longer.
The headache had gotten worse, had turned to a throbbing, pounding that resounded through his skull, over and over again until he was sure he'd just pass out, still in flight. And that wasn't all.
His entire being was trembling, sharp pains flashing throughout his body making him half-double over, even in midair, gasping. He felt like he was on fire, like something was burning him from the inside-out, heedless of flesh or bone or sinew, wanting to bubble out from underneath his skin.
Something was terribly, terribly wrong.
But at the same time...
Something else.
He'd caught just the slightest hint of it, just the faintest, faintest brush of a whisper of an echo of an aura. Somewhere, ringing.
And that's why he'd kept on flying, trying to find that signal again. It didn't carry the signature of any of the others he'd met, not even the hunters or Maeve or anyone else.
But... something... made it tell him, deep down, that this... was it. Was...
There was something lacking, something different, something new... but the brush was soft, the image it played onto the backs of his eyelids dim, glowing white-gray.
Something familiar.
So he'd headed for it. He still whispered the word 'Iris', over and over again inside his head. But, somehow, he knew that this was different. Something else.
And, luckily, over the vast emptiness around him, over the wasteland stretching to his left... A city had appeared.
Small, quaint, and run-down. No one showed on the streets. A quick check barely managed past a throb of headache told Valkyre that there were indeed still inhabitants in this town, but few.
No one lived near the wasteland of the west, not anymore.
That was nothing more than an endless stretch of dust and, nto far beneath, solid, flat stone. Nothing but stone, for mile after mile. No cracks. No dips or hills. Just unending slabs of rock unable to make more than a hair's breadth of shade along its layers.
No one went through there and came back. No one bothered trying. It was suicidal.
And it was, it seemed, slowly spreading, year after year.
And all the people did was push back, deserting the area.
Letting it run.
The angel shook his head, bringing himself back to where he was. The future was none of his business. Below him, the scattered pieces of building stopped abruptly, fading out. Valkyre banked, sharply, wheeling around to land.
He dipped his wings, feeling the wind rushing past him as he dropped from the sky, angled carefully, wincing as a bit of a sudden turn left him momentarily blinded by the sudden grinding of pain against his brain.
He flared his wings just in time, catching air, but then gasping and wincing as pain jolted sharply through his body, bursting from the center of his back where his wings materialized themselves.
His feet hit the hard ground, which he managed to hold for a slpit second, before his legs collapsed underneath him, unused to the strain of suddenly having to deal with gravity, and the angel stumbled and fell over onto his hands and knees, gasping sharply in pain.
Valkyre crouched on the ground, head drooping so low his hair almost brushed the dirt, panting hard, clenching his teeth as the waves of burning heat and throbbing pain washed over him, his entire body shaking uncontrollably, sweat starting to bead on his brow.
The angel stared down at his clenched fists, at the dirtied folds of his gloves, feeling the blood rush to his head, amplifying the throbbing, the pounding as the blood came and left his skull.
What was wrong with him??
It felt like forever, but slowly, slowly, the headache receded, just slightly. Carefully, cautiously, Valkyre lifted his head, looking around.
No one in sight.
Slowly, he heaved himself up, then pushed off on his palms until he was standing, if wobbling somewhat and stumbling backwards a few steps. The headache continued.
Valkyre braced himself, flexing the muscles in his legs, trying to get them to cooperate properly.
Inside, it felt like something was ripping him apart. Like something was burning clear through his skin, screeching.
He couldn't take it much longer, this pain. This, this... He felt like he was going to break, like he wanted to. Like all he wanted to do was just lie down and hope it would all go away, that he could kill himself so the pain would stop, so-
Valkyre froze.
Aura. Iris. Someone. Aura.
The angel jerked his head up, suddenly. A sharp migraine made him regret it, but... He'd felt it, right then. One quick, brief burst of presence, and then nothing. Like it'd lost control for one second, then returned to control, shielding its aura around a barrier again, sealed. Like a box with something glowing inside, bright and white, which peeped open for less than the span of the blink of an eye, flashing out its brightness, before snapping shut.
Familiar. He'd felt this before. He knew it.
Where was it??
Valkyre was lurching forward, walking, one step after another, pushing away the pain, ignoring it.
It-he... was here. In this city. The angel let his feet lead him on, boots powdered in dust, crunching, grinding on dirt packed down so tight it might as well be the lifeless slabs of stone just to the west.
His body knew where to go. Around a corner, down along streets, abandoned, boarded-up buildings passing him on either side, skeletal and empty, mere husks.
He knew who this was. He should.
And yet... it didn't seem to make any sense. And it didn't seem possible.
White, glowing light.
He headed towards it, empty, mindless, only feeling each step as the impact, as the drag of gravity, sent sharp bursts of pain through his bones, up his legs to his thighs, spreading, flaring over his entire body. A thousand needles, a million insects chewing at his flesh, a monster inside writhing, clawing at him, screaming to get out.
Hands digging into the floorboards, splinters under his fingernails. Screaming. Sticky red.
No, no, don't remember. Don't ever remember, Valkyre...
And then... there it was.
A church.
Valkyre felt a smile strain his chapped lips, though he couldn't for the life of himself figure out why.
A church. A church still intact, with all its stainglass mosaic windows still complete. Just for him to walk into.
And he... he was inside. Valkyre knew it, instinctively. He was inside.
The angel stumbled up the stairs, reaching out a hand, touching the polished wood and smooth bass handles. He leaned against the wooden door, resting his forehead on the warm, soft wood. Oil. Soft, faint scent of oil. Of people, opening this door and walking through so many times it'd polished the oak all on its own. Had worn down the brass handles into something that molded more perfectly to the hand than anything machine-created could ever do.
Valkyre stepped back, blinking open his eyes. He reached out, fingers wrapping around the metal that sucked at the warmth from his hands, and he pulled the doors open.
Inside, it was dark, dry, and silent.
The door's creaking echoed through the abandoned building, the pews still neatly arranged on either side frosted with a thick layer of dust.
As he stepped inside, the angel's footsteps resounded, bouncing along the magnificent, high, arched ceilings. It sounded like ringing, like the thumping of primordial drums, of clanging steel muffled in oily cloth.
So quiet. So peaceful.
Behind the angel, there was the scuff of feet, fast and furious along the ground. Quiet, softened by the dust, but still sharp enough to echo around the silent cathedral.
Valkyre whirled around just as the heavy oaken door slammed shut, the dark figure in front of it leaping up suddenly, fingers finding perfect places to grasp in the smoothened wood, dancing fast as a flitting bat as it climbed the doorframe and then the smooth stone above that with ease, pounded at on all sides from the reverbrations of the door's slam which'd set the dust whirling, released from its slumber.
The angel tipped his head back as the figure lept, stopped, and clung to the decorated ceilling, crouching, facing down. Black hair fell around a pale face, the inky dark mess fading into the same black clothes, shapeless.
But before he could quite figure out who it was, Valkyre was stumbling backwards, shaking his head, his vision blurring and doubling.
The figure from the ceiling dropped.
The black rushed at him, growing impossibly large impossibly fast. The hair whipped away from the face, showing pale skin and glowering yellow eyes, the white skin off-set by an angry slash over the bridge of the nose, swirls of black curling away from it, darting back and forth in intricate shapes and lines and dots-
Black lines???
Valkyre barely managed to raise his arms in a futile attempt to block to blow, noticing the flash of a steel blade too late.
The impact made his feet buckle, and the angel just about collapsed onto the ground, gasping. He'd felt the impact, knew that something had dug right through his arm, even though he couldn't feel it yet.
But then the pain flared up, belatedly like it would with such of a sharp edge, burning all along his arm.
Blood splashed out, soaking through the fabric of his arm. He cried out, gasping. It felt like the blood was burning straight through his skin, setting fire to every inch of skin it touched, searing as it cut mercilessly through his flesh, bubbling, devouring.
Asher, on top of him, lept away, tearing out the blade as he did so. Valkyre barely noticed, stumbling backwards, free hand gripping his right wrist tightly, but afraid of touching it, of touching that blood, even if it was his own blood, this blood that was swirling, curdling, seething as it ate at him...
The vampire was making for him again. Valkyre managed to block the initial blow somehow, grabbing the pale wrist that held the knife, by some stroke of luck able to hold it away from his body, to keep it from cutting his skin again, of letting that blood flow.
Asher growled, furious, and then, whip-lash fast, his leg struck out. The vampire's blow caught Valkyre full-on just at the bottom of the rib cage, and the angel was sent flying backwards.
His limp form thudded heavily onto the ground, skidding, and Valkyre gasped silently at the pain, at the blood that was splashing everywhere, his head exploding with white and entire body going stiff with the red-hot pain.
And then Asher was on top of him, snarling, stained blade flicked around to be grasped in the palm so the blade almost bit into the smallest finger, the thumb over the hilt.
Valkyre saw the sharp, finely-honed edge come down towards his throat, saw the blood smeared over the dark blue steel.
The angel closed his eyes, knowing he didn't have the strength to fight back, knowing he'd never win this, not with the condition he was in...
And then Asher stopped. The dagger point so close it touched, pressed itself into the angel's skin, and it was enough for Valkyre to hiss sharply, recoiling, wanting to hide from the blood that burned into him, the blood that splashed his vision and screamed at him, like shadows eating away at his flesh. It didn't matter if it was Asher, if it was from a blade. All he wanted was to get that blood away from him, get it all out, take it away.
He was almost ready to kill himself on that blade, if only it would take away the burning...
"You sonofadog."
Asher's voice was low and harsh. He glowered down at the other, pale yellow eyes hard and narrow.
"I should kill you right now," he hissed, "You goddamned bastard."
Valkyre stopped, for one brief, frozen moment staring up in startled realization at Asher's face, forgetting the words, forgetting the pain, forgetting the blood and the dagger balanced on his throat.
He stared at the black sigils scrawled over the vampire's skin, edges framing the ugly, harsh scar that ran over the other's face, framing but never quite touching, flaring out in elaborate swirls and sharp curves, doubling over itself, punctuated with carefully-placed dots.
Sigils that he recognized, meaning 'seal,' meaning 'obsolete,' meaning 'refrain.'
Sigils that Valkyre had used himself.
Sigils that he'd learned from only one person. From...
"You lying bastard," Asher was whispering, leaning over him, black hair falling on either side of his face, shaking his head. "You sorry, pathetic... you took away the only thing I ever had."
The blade trembled, dug into Valkyre's fragile skin, drawing blood that made the angel hiss sharply until he clenched his teeth shut, wincing.
Belatedly, through the haze of pain and recognition... he realized the truth.
The aura he'd felt hadn't been an accidental slip.
It'd been on purpose. It was a trap.
It'd been to lead him here.
To...
"Asher. Stop."
The voice carried over the expanse of the hall with the force of a wave, silencing all else, echoing and rebounding on itself. The voice was deep, well-aged, of a timbre and tone that Valkyre recognized instantly.
It left him stunned, unable to speak.
Impossible.
It was impossible.
How... how could it be? After all this time, and now, suddenly, here before him...
Asher, however, was not impressed. He knew the voice, and the words spoken made his eyes flash, pupils dilating.
The vampire whirled around, snarling.
"Why?? This is my kill!! He"-
Asher's words broke off promptly, cut off by the vampire's own sharp screech of pain as he doubled over, keeling, tumbling off of the angel's body. The blade clattered harmlessly onto the ground, blood on the steel mixing to an ugly gray with the dust.
Valkyre was already working himself up onto his shoulders. That voice... he had to know...
He glanced over, staring at the vampire. The sigils along the heavy scar over his face blazed, burning, Asher's fingernails digging at his own flesh, scrabbling hopelessly.
And then, suddenly, it stopped, sigils fading back to black, and the vampire lay still, breathing heavily, chest rising and falling.
"Valkyre."
The angel whirled around at the voice, staring down along the aisle to find the source, which stood in the very center of the raised platform, the giant cross behind him rising up into the sky, into the ceiling, perfectly aligned.
"It's been a long time."
He was smiling.
Valkyre gasped, disbelieving. He tried to move forward, tried to pull himself up onto his feet. Somehow, he managed to rise, forced to brace himself, standing there wobbling, like a baby learning to walk for the first time. It wasn't the first time he'd felt like this, standing before him.
The angel tried to scoot his foot just the slightest bit forward, but it refused to budge. Blood dripped down his arm, and his entire body ached, screaming.
"Ca... H-How...?"
A groan at his side. Asher was pulling himself up, hissing sharply. The vampire glanced over his shoulder, glaring at the figure standing there, alone.
"Asher. Don't forget the deal we made."
The vampire hissed, black hair falling over his eyes, then nodded, sharply, resentful eyes still glowering with hate.
"...Go outside. Find the boy."
Asher paused, then left, shaking his head, one hand still against his face. The door slammed shut heavily behind the vampire, quivering.
Valkyre turned his attention back to the man, feeling like his legs were going to give out any second now. A voice was screeching in the back of his head, demanding. Something... so familiar about it all. About his pain. About... him.
The figure under the cross nodded, slowly. He lifted his arms to either side, still smiling. Valkyre stared back blindly, bluntly, unsure of what he was seeing, blinking to clear his vision.
And then the aura swept over him, the closed box shattering.
And from the figure's back, pure, glowing white wings lifted themselves into the air, rising, curling up slowly, like infantile seedlings, tasting the world. Then they flared out, full and wide, pure white, flawless. Perfect.
Valkyre felt his feet slipping out from underneath him, felt his vision blurring, fading. He tried to speak, tried to find his voice again.
"Ca... ...Camael."
And then everything faded into darkness.

+--

AN: Thank you everybody for everything. Sorry for the drama and the rather rushed writing.
THANK YOU FOR A YEAR OF DEDICATION, SARAH~

You are not authorized to comment here. Your must be registered and logged in to comment