Sacrifice: Outcast Angels, #2

SACRIFICE

An Outcast Angels Novel

C.L. Roman

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Copyright 2015 by Brass Rag Press.

All rights reserved.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please download an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Contents

SACRIFICE

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

A Note From the Author:

Author Bio

Other books by C.L. Roman

Chapter One

Shahara moved through the days as if wrapped in a long, gray veil of sorrow. It was a barrier between her and the tasks of burying bodies and making plans to escape the catastrophe Danae insisted was coming. As if anything could be more devastating than what we have already experienced. The world became a faded replica of what it had been, one she could not touch through the all-encompassing shroud that was her grief. She persisted through the necessary tasks, but she could not feel them.

And then one morning the barrier broke. Shahara set a cup of milk on the breakfast table in front of her husband's full plate. As she turned to retrieve a bowl from the counter, her sleeve caught the cup, sweeping it to the floor. The world slowed and she watched the cup tumble, milk drops fat and round, spiraling into the air until the cup crashed, irrevocably broken, the shards milk-white and sharp against the packed dirt floor. In the space of a few heartbeats, the liquid was absorbed, disappearing like blood into the earth.

Volot knelt and gathered the pieces as she watched him. Accusations beat against her lips as the last protective threads of disbelief fell away. Why is Ahba doing this to us? Shahara whispered. He took everything, and now he'll destroy the Earth herself? Because mankind irritated him? Her voice rose, word by word, into a shrill squeak of outrage.

He looked up at her. Hesitant tendrils of light sought entrance at the open door and somewhere, a bird called morning greetings to her mate. It felt incongruous to her, like a dress stretched too thin, or shoes grown too tight, that the morning should come as it always had, when nothing was the same, or ever would be again.

Shahara. Volot took her hands in his. Sabaoth did not kill your family.

He allowed it to happen, she shot back. Your great god stood by while my village was slaughtered and did nothing to stop it.

He had no answer that would satisfy her, but he could not leave it there. You have not seen the world beyond this place. Why do you think Molek found it so easy to take over your Aunt's village?

She pulled away and began gathering the dishes from the table. Our village did not invite the demon in. Our village was good. Our people were good.

Were they? All of them? His tone was quiet, gentle even, but she paled as if he had struck her.

So, he allowed two hundred people, many of them children, to be massacred because I kept a little golden statue? Is Ahba so weak then, that he is threatened by the work of a human craftsman?

Volot stiffened. It is not for me to explain Sabaoth to you. He is sovereign, this much I know to my cost.

Did it cost you too much then? To refuse to fight in his war? To refuse to kill your fellow angels? Those you looked upon as your brothers and sisters? Tears coursed down her cheeks and she settled the dishes in the wash basin. With trembling fingers she wrapped the bread and cheese in cloth and set them aside. To journey here? To marry me?

Coming up behind her, he slipped his arms around her waist and pressed his lips to her the soft, sweet space just below her ear. To have you, I would have paid the price a thousand times over, and then paid it again. I love you Shahara. I always will.

And I you, my husband. But do not ask me to love the God that destroyed my family and is about to destroy my world. I cannot. Not even if I must be damned into eternity for it.

His arms tightened around her. Eternity is a heavy price to pay for rage.

She pulled back, breaking his hold. I do not want eternity. I want my family back.

He opened his mouth, but she moved away. Finally he muttered something about helping Phaella. She didn't reply and he put his hand on her arm. You'll send to me, if you need me?

She forced a smile and laid her hand, gentle and warm, against his cheek. I will always need you. Seeing the worry in his eyes, she patted him. Go on. I'll send if I have need. Help Phaella.

He leaned over and kissed her, his lips a promise against hers. He was still watching her as he backed into the front garden and leapt, his wings springing free of the pattern on his back, lifting him into the sky.

Shahara followed him out the door and watched his progress, up through wide-spreading tree branches, to open air. In the distance a thin, gray tracing smudged the horizon like smoke. Shahara shivered in the cold breeze that kicked along the foundation of the house. Hugging her shawl close about her, she went inside to begin the morning's work. Preparations needed to be made, Danae said, if they were to have any chance of surviving the thing she called a flood. Shahara shook her head as she worked. Sabaoth may have given Danae the gift of prophecy, but her prediction made no sense. Water was to cover the entire Earth? For a year? Impossible. Still, it was better to be busy.

Immersing herself in the work helped to push the pain of loss once more into the distance. It also served to diminish her awareness of her surroundings. The morning was half gone before she realized how dark it had become. Wrapping a strap across the basket she had just filled, Shahara stood and stretched her tired back.

Outside, the wind moaned like a living thing and she crossed to the doorway, looking out with dull eyes. The smudge she had noticed earlier had grown into a skein of dark, heavy gauze, covering the sky from horizon to horizon. She stared at it. The wind died and the world stopped in silence. For an instant her vision sharpened and she noted every leaf, every flower and stone within her sight, as if it had been magically painted across her mind's eye by an iridescent brush; a scene she would be able to recall with instant, awful clarity for the rest of her life. Then, with an ear-splitting roar, the earth rocked beneath her. An ancient oak swayed like a sapling and crevasses ripped across the ground as water poured from the sky in torrents.

Volot, Shahara screamed, calling to him with voice and soul. In a blurred rush, Volot scooped her up and vaulted into the sky as the oak fell, crushing their house beneath its colossal branches.

Shahara clung to him as he fought to stay airborne against the furious wind. For an instant, the couple looked over the sudden ruin of their home.

It's too soon! We're not ready. Shahara shouted her protest over the storm.

Volot shook his head. We were not promised time. We only hoped.

What about the others?

Their eyes met and she saw the torment in his glance. We will have to find them after. They will escape the same way we will. Shahara... he hesitated and lightning streaked across the sky above him, thunder cracking in the same instant. We have to go into the Shift.

She stared at him with wide, terrified eyes. No. We'll die there.

We'll die here. There is no choice.

He didn't wait for a reply but thrust hard with his wings. In a shower of sparks, the pair was gone, leaving chaos to reign behind.

Stepping into the dark in between, the pair shivered in the sudden, intense cold. The rain-wet fabric of Shahara's dress stiffened and ice crystals formed in her hair. In the distance, she could see pin-pricks of silver light and she shuddered.

We have a few moments before they get here, Volot said.

Before what get here?

The lights. He glanced over his shoulder but she could see no difference yet.

And then what? she asked, her teeth tapping together in the jaw tightening cold.

I don't — Volot's reply was cut off by a brilliant spray of gold sparks as another angel entered the Shift.

Well met, Volot. I see you have brought your wife along. The voice echoed hollow and distant in the cold, but the speaker glowed in sharp relief against the dark. Shahara glanced from Volot to the newcomer. He could only be another angel. His topaz eyes gleamed clear and intelligent beneath black brows. His ebony skin shown reddish bronze in the dim light and it took a moment, but she could see from her husband's expression that Volot recognized him.

General Bellator. Volot snapped to attention and pounded a fist to his heart in salute. He glanced at Shahara. The situation on Earth is dangerous at the moment. I had to —

Bellator waved his comments aside. No need to explain. It is well. You will be taking up a new mission now. The general glanced over Volot's shoulder and frowned. We haven't much time, so listen carefully. You will travel through the light into a city called Babylon.

Through the light?

Bellator's eyebrows rose and then settled again. You really didn't get very far in your training did you? Volot reddened but Bellator ignored it and continued. The lights are time—space portals. Pass through one with a firm destination in mind and it will take you where you need to go. Now, the king of Babylon is being influenced and lied to. Your job will be to get close to him and attempt to guide him to a less dangerous course without revealing yourself.

Attempt? Volot shook his head. Why not just tell him the truth?

Bellator frowned. This is the mission. You are to guide him, not coerce him. And you will not, under any circumstances, reveal yourself. His free will remains and it is not to be taken from him.

The lights were closer now, and the ice in Shahara's hair began to melt. Sir, we have to go back. We have to rescue my sisters and brothers, she said.

Bellator turned his head and focused on Shahara for the first time. What makes you think they need rescuing? His eyes narrowed. We will have to adjust your size. He placed a firm hand on her shoulder and she collapsed, unconscious. Under his hand, a soft glow spread over her body.

Volot scooped her into his arms and pulled her out of Bellator's reach. Keep your hands off her, he snarled.

She is fine, Lieutenant, the general said. Just a minor size adjustment. To the humans of the time you will enter, angels — half, whole or quarter — are a rarity. Someone Shahara's normal size would surely startle them. We can't have everyone terrified of 'the giants' if you are to succeed in the mission you've been assigned. You'll need to scale back as well, but you can take care of that after you pass through. He cast a second glance into the dark beyond Volot. You will step through as soon as the choice is offered. He leaned forward and took Volot's shoulder in a hard grip, his eyes flashing in warning. Do not hesitate, Volot. The way has been opened for you.

Step through what? Volot asked, but Bellator had already moved out of the Shift, the sparks of his passage leaving hazy traces in the rapidly warming air. In his absence, the lights moved in and the temperature rose. Volot's rapidly drying clothes sent curls of steam into the air as he struggled to make sense of Bellator's words.

A hundred horror stories raced through his mind of angels who had touched the white hot lights within the Shift. Ouroborus, who now spent his days in the shape of a snake, continually consuming his own flesh. Crom, imprisoned to protect others from his mindless violence. Volot had never once heard of anyone who came in contact with the lights and escaped unscathed. He tightened his grip on Shahara and saw a sheen of sweat coating her skin. She felt small in his arms, hardly larger than a child now in comparison to his current size.

Bellator couldn't have meant his instructions as they sounded. Volot turned, intending to step out of the Shift, only to find his way blocked by a solid wall of white light. They were surrounded.

Choose. The hollow voice boomed against his ears, its presence a physical pressure against his mind.

Choose what? he cried. The lights had merged, becoming a solid sheet of incandescence. The heat was unbearable.

Choose, the voice said again and Volot focused on one pulsing point in the coruscating wall.

I choose, he screamed and tumbled forward, rolling as he fell, curling his body around Shahara's unconscious form. He landed hard on cool, soft grass and laid still, Shahara cradled in his arms, as night sounds whispered around him.

After a moment he sat up. Stretched out before him lay a sprawling city, bathed in starlight, sleeping beneath a full moon. A wide river wound its way through the center of the town and in the far distance, another narrow sheet of water glimmered on the horizon. The name of the city came to him without his volition.

Babylon, he whispered.

Chapter Two

Shahara sat on the wide sill, legs dangling, one hand clenched in a wad of blond curls, tugging without feeling the pull. Behind her the tiled floors and woven hangings that bespoke success were silent. She stared out over the Euphrates, the river gleaming gold in the light of the setting sun, and wondered where her siblings were; if they were. Gwyneth, Magnus, Danae? Little Ziva? Kefir? Bellator's words drifted back to her. It was all very well for him to imply that they didn't need help. The dead needed no help either. Had any of them survived the flood? So much death. So much loss. What use was a god who allowed such carnage, and then drowned the entire world in a fit of pique over the actions of a few?

No god that she would follow, this much was certain.

Swinging long, sun-browned legs off the sill and into the room, Shahara strode across the rich carpets to a small side table where a carafe of wine and several goblets waited. Pouring the heavy, dark liquid into a cup, she raised it to her lips. She was a petite woman, small boned and delicately structured with wide, blue eyes and a thick fall of blond curls. She looked breakable.

Footsteps echoed in the stone corridor outside the sitting room. Shahara took a seat on a nearby chair, hastily setting the cup back on the table. With a few careful tugs she arranged her sheer skirts in a pleasing fashion and picked up a bit of embroidery.

Volot stood in the doorway, a grim expression compressing his hard features. Blunt jawed, with arctic blue eyes, her husband was blond as well, but his wrestler's build and hunter's expression ensured that no one thought him breakable.

And how does the Captain of the King's guard fare today? she asked.

Volot frowned. It was a good day. We forestalled a riot at the city gate. Lot's gang again. Trying to force new trade agreements with merchants who don't want to deal with him in the first place. Shahara —

Her blasé expression changed to one of interest and she interrupted. They caused a riot?

No, but not for lack of intent. He brought three of the Blood Kin with him. Claimed they were his body guards.

But you knew that wasn't true because... she fluttered her fingers as if grabbing an answer from the air.

Because Inanna's priests guard no one but her. Lot is insane to ally himself with a false goddess.

No more so than if he allied himself with a real one. It's all a shell game as far as I can tell.

Volot rubbed a weary hand across his face. You know that isn't true Shahara.

Do I? A brittle smile etched her lips and she tossed the embroidery aside. Shall I tell you about my day, husband? Her tone was light but he watched her warily as she picked up the wine carafe and topped off her cup. It began shortly after you left this morning with some stomach cramps and red sheets. Not exactly enjoyable, but certainly telling. Her voice trembled. She filled a second cup with wine and handed it to him.

Volot closed his eyes. I'm sorry Shahara. I had hoped...

That this would be the month? She plucked at her skirt, gazing into the cup.. Yes, I had hoped so too, but Sabaoth, as I keep telling you, is not so kind as all that.

He reached for her, but she twisted away from him, crossing to the window to brood.

It is as well, I suppose, she said. So many women die in childbirth and I have no desire to meet Ahba in person, now or ever.

Volot flinched. She turned to him and the sadness in his face somehow tempered her pain.

The rest of my day was actually very productive, she continued, her tone softening. I hired two new weavers and received an order from Balasi for six carpets for his school. That ought to earn a pretty profit as well as increasing my reputation. It's well known he only hires the best.

That is good news, Volot said. Have you enough workers now or will you be hiring more?

It is enough for now. She took a sip of her wine. Dinner should be ready in a few minutes. Afterward I will go to Asha's for a few days.

His eyes glinted and he slanted her a look of sharp appraisal. Why Asha's? If you feel ill would it not be better to stay here, where you are comfortable and Miriam can take care of you? he asked, naming their housekeeper.

Asha's husband completed their bath house and she has developed a medicine she swears aids in conception. It involves herbal baths as well as a tea that you drink and it must be started on the first day of a woman's moon cycle. That is today, for me. Shahara stepped close to Volot and laid her hand on his chest. Her eyes begged for understanding. The treatment has worked for others. Perhaps it will work for us.

He pulled her close, burying his face in her hair. How long will you be gone?

Slipping her arms around his waist, she sighed. I must take the baths three times daily for the first five days, then I will be home. I must drink the tea each day for the rest of the month. She says it sometimes takes several cycles for the treatment to be effective, but she has yet to see it fail. A glitter of excitement lit her eyes and she reached up to press her lips to his. If this works, we could have a child by next year at this time.

He smiled into her eyes. Go then. And I pray this will be a new beginning for us.

Orion's hands clenched the coverlet, gathering the thin, soft cotton into sweaty bunches against his chest. He muttered, asleep still, but his consciousness rising into the dim fields where night visions dwelt. The dream was the same.

He stood on the upper platform of a finished Esagila. The ziggurat rose from the flat plain of the desert in magnificent splendor and he could see all of Babylon spread before him as well as several miles up the Euphrates. Four columns of quarried black marble supported a massive portico, five times the height of a man, on the top steps of the temple. Orion stood in front of a huge dragon statue beneath the awning. Marduk, storm god. The name floated into his mind without a summons. Next to the dragon was another statue, this one of a beautiful, bare-breasted woman. Inanna, goddess of war and sexual pleasure. Semiramus, his green-eyed future queen, stood radiant, waving to the crowds from between Inanna's stone knees.

Feeling a movement at his side, Orion turned. A smiling priest held out a cup and said, Esagila is a viper. She will devour your nation. Then he poured a libation and Orion drank. The wine was warm and sweet in his mouth at first, but suddenly bitter and fiery. His head snapped back and Marduk awoke. The stone beast stood, its tail lashing back and forth. It snapped up the priest and swallowed him in one bloody gulp while the air filled with a cold, blue light.

The dragon slammed his tail against one of the stone columns and it shattered into black spears of pain and death. Orion's people ran, screaming, from the temple grounds, and blood rained from the dragon's mouth. Inanna fell down the temple steps, breaking into four great boulders that rolled into the courtyard. Through it all Orion could only watch, mute and paralyzed, from his place on the platform.

The blue light intensified and the temperature plummeted, growing so cold that the Euphrates became solid and frost formed on Esagila's walls. The dragon disappeared and Inanna's giant torso squirmed around, arms reaching, hands clutching for and finally finding, the head. When the neck and the head touched, they fused together and the eyes looked around and found the legs. In a few moments the statue had put itself back together and risen to its feet. Now it approached him and he saw that the face belonged to Semiramus. The idol stretched out its hand, the sensual, familiar mouth gaping, filled with obscenities and jagged, bloody teeth.

As it bent down, he noticed that, though still beautiful, the statue no longer looked like his intended bride. Nor was it a statue, but human, yet still giant. It was Inanna, the stone goddess made flesh. She picked him up and began speaking to him in words he couldn't understand. Suddenly the courtyard was filled with voices shouting incomprehensible things and Inanna was laughing. She tilted her head to the side and asked him a question, but he couldn't understand what she was saying. She asked him again, her glowing green eyes widening in inquiry.

He shook his head. I don't understand, he shouted.

Suddenly a statue once more, it shrugged, the stone shoulders lifting and falling with a grinding sound. It opened its jagged mouth and pushed him inside. He screamed as the bloody teeth closed over his chest.

He cried out and jerked himself awake. Semiramus slept at his side. Orion rubbed his hand across his eyes and let it fall to her hip, consciously slowing his breathing and working to dismiss the recurrent dream from his thoughts. Semiramus stirred in her sleep and turned toward him. He smiled. The best way to get rid of a bad dream is with a good one. He cupped her breast and her eyes fluttered open. She was already reaching for him.

Chapter Three

The new baths are beautiful Asha. And extensive. They must have been costly. Shahara slanted a look at her companion. The woman was tall, with willowy curves and eyes the color of emeralds. As delicate as Asha looked, Shahara knew there was steel under her skin, and a shrewd business mind behind those arresting eyes.

Asha smoothed a hand over her black tresses. The thick curls were piled on the back of her head in a crown-like arrangement, a gold cord and jeweled pins completing the effect. Not so much as you might think. The springs were always here, tucked away, waiting to be discovered. The caves required only a bit of polish.

Shahara looked around. A series of round