Page 9

V ast, OneWorld

Indigo sat a step below the OneCreator’s throne, one leg extended straight, the other bent and an arm wrapped around it. Her long, flowered skirt pooled around her. She had tamed her black curly hair by twisting it into a braid which reached her ass. Around her neck, resting between her breasts, was an amethyst necklace.

She rocked back and forth. She was on a mission.

Roark waited at the bottom of the steps, his hands clasped behind his back. A proper assassin with good posture and a respect for the distance between himself and the OC.

The OneCreator, ruler of OneWorld, preened bare-chested on his ornate throne decorated with rubies, emeralds, and diamonds. At six feet nine inches, the delicious hunk of male outshone the embedded gems. His golden hair flowed like a waterfall beyond his shoulders, and his nose was as regal as his stone-chiseled jaw. His purple eyes reflected the mysteries of the universe. Not as handsome as Roark, but a head-turner nonetheless. He propped elbow on his leather-panted thigh, resting his chin in his palm.

Indigo aimed for flattery. After all, he was male. “You look good in blue, OC.”

He straightened and smiled, fingering the sleeve of his silky shirt. “I do indeed.” His brow-scrunched gaze said he questioned Indigo’s choice of places to sit.

Since she didn’t work for him, she didn’t care. Besides, she saw her job as ruffling his royal feathers.

“Why exactly are you bothering me?” he asked.

Indigo glanced at Roark. It was clear her mate was letting her roast alone. The trip here had been her idea. Not his.

“My Roark...”

“Who’s Roark?” asked throne-guy.

She crinkled her forehead. “Ohngel. Roark. Samey-same. You know who I mean. Don’t play dumb.”

The OC leaned forward. “Why do you insist on calling him by the wrong name?”

“Why do you insist on pretending you don’t know who I’m talking about?” When he glared, she said, “You win. He was Roark when I met him and Roark when I fell in love with him. Okay?”

“So, your Ohngel...”

She sighed. “...Has wings. You have wings.” She waved her hand through the air. “Right now, my mate has to carry me like a baby in his arms whenever we come to Vast or Angor. It’s humiliating.” She glanced at the OneCreator to see if she had his attention. He could be a bit distracted at times. So far, she had him in the palm of her hand.

“And this concerns me how?” he asked, shifting his position, slouching into his throne, one leg thrown over the arm.

Roark widened his stance, typical warrior position. Bored. Or possibly prepping to avoid bolts of lightning from his royal-Immortal-pain-in-the-ass boss.

“Now that I’m one of you guys...”

“You are not an Immortal.” The OneCreator shook his head, his expression saying “tsk, tsk, tsk.”

“Kinda-sorta.” Indigo flipped her hand from side to side. Should she be insulted not being lumped in with the big folks? Nah . She was comfortable being an Aeternal witch with a lifespan the OC had set to match Roark’s. Her business card said it all. She was the reader of the river, the incomparable finder of lost objects, witch extraordinaire, sister of Alarik, blah, blah, blah. She was an entrepreneur, proud of her accomplishments.

“Are not,” he quipped.

“Am so.”

“I can change access to my dimensions.” He drew his regal brows into a frown.

“Now you’re just being mean. Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed, Oney? Cause you seem a bit grumpy. I can come back another time if it would be better.” She hoped he didn’t take her up on the offer because she had finally puffed up the courage to ask the big guy for a favor. Something Roark said was always a bad idea. A favor meant you owed the OC, and indebtedness to an all-powerful being was dicey.

Both her mate and the OneCreator exchanged glances and shouted, “No.”

“Good. I was thinking I might be in line for some snazzy wings. Something colorful. A little magenta. A few blue feathers. A touch of lilac.”

The OneCreator stared at her, a slight spark in his eyes.

“I see you’re interested in the idea.” No harm in being positive.

“I’m not.”

“Does that mean I’ll get my very own fabulous wings?” Again, looking on the bright side, namely ignoring his words, might change his mind.

“It does not.”

“After all I do for you?”

“Can you give me a list? Because I cannot think of a single thing you have done for me.” The OneCreator’s eyes narrowed as if he were stumped.

“Sure. I figured out your damn puzzle when Roark broke that teeny-tiny rule of yours. I woke him up even though you’d planned to let him sleep for a millennium as punishment. As an aside, I know you didn’t really want him to nap that long. And I’m a breath of fresh air in your musty ol’ court.”

The OneCreator growled.

Hmm . He didn’t seem pleased. Time to backtrack. “Okay, the last thing may have been a tad snippy. Anyway, I deserve wings.”

“You don’t.”

The OneCreator waggled his pointer finger at a placard above his throne. According to Roark, it read, “I giveth. I taketh away.” Who knew? It was written in some dusty language nobody else understood. Her mate said the next line should read, “So don’t fuck with me.” Indigo, however, was undeterred even when he called attention to the memory aide.

“If not wings, I should be able to conjure Oskar while I’m in OneWorld,” she persevered.

“Who’s Oskar?” There went the big guy’s brows again. For an all-knowing, all-seeing dictator, he sure was dense at times. She was wise enough not to verbalize the observation.

“He’s my best bud,” she whispered, a hand cupping her mouth, hoping Roark didn’t hear. Jealousy was a bitch. Of course, with his super-duper Immortal senses, he probably had. “He’s a gryphon with an upgrade. Eagle, lion, and an added bit of neon dragon scales. Nifty, huh?”

“And how will he help you fly?”

“I’ll have a saddle and reins.”

“Ohngel?” Was the OneCreator consulting Roark? Going to the hubby as if the wifey needed permission? What was she? A throw-back character on Happy Days ? Indigo shot her mate a squint-eyed glare.

“Yes?” He snapped upright. Roark was cautious because he’d previously interfered in events concerning Aeternals and humans. A big no-no. Of course, he’d saved two species, but did he get credit for that? No .

“What do you think?” the OneCreator asked his fire-winged assassin.

Roark grinned. “She won’t give up until she gets her way.”

The OneCreator stroked his chin. “She strikes me as obstinate.”

Was that a negative?

“That’s why we both love her,” said Roark.

So, no, it wasn’t. Good thing ‘cause she didn’t think it was a character trait she could change.

“Look, Oney.” Indigo pursed her lips, getting serious. “You have only yourself to blame.”

“How’s that, witch?” The brows again. Did he possess an alternate expression? The male needed lessons in reading females.

“I know you want me happy because I’m your favorite.” She pulled out the big guns, batting her lashes at his royal peacockyness.

The OneCreator and Roark exchanged looks. They both shrugged.

“True. And I fail to understand why. Okay. Oskar may accompany you.”

“Thanks. So kind. How about his cousins?”

He sighed. “Yes.”

“Thanks revisited. Another tiny request. May I tootle around OneWorld even when Roark isn’t with me?”

Both males again shouted, “No!”

Indigo frowned. “I don’t like how you’re teaming up against me.”

Three pairs of eyes flipped up to gaze overhead. An Immortal was coming in for a fast landing. Dom. Indigo didn’t figure the black-winged assassin would take her side on any issue. He was a cranky bastard.

A while back, Roark had put plans into action which saved both Aeternals and humans from destruction. Since the OC wasn’t happy with the interference, he put her lover into stasis. During that time, Indigo met Dom. Mr. Grumpy wasn’t the most helpful male around, and they still hadn’t made nice-nice with each other. So, she wasn’t happy to see him.

Before he dropped into the throne room, Roark whispered in Indigo’s ear, “He didn’t ask how many cousins your fat-assed gryphon has.”

“His mistake.”

Landing, Dom touched a knee on the stone tiles to steady himself. His one eye took in the crowd. “OneCreator. Indigo. Ohngel. Glad you’re here.”

“How’s the human female doing?” asked Roark.

“Great, given the circumstances.” He twisted toward Indigo. “I could use some ideas for clothes, not being up on female fashion.”

Indigo stroked Roark’s arm. “My sweetie will drop off some fashion mags.”

The OneCreator leaned forward on his throne again. “Human female? Would anyone care to enlighten me and explain why I’m the last to know?”

Dom stood his ground, spine stiff. “I called multiple times. You refused my paths. So the Feard decided to look into it until we had a better handle on the sitch, but things have happened that require answers.”

“Things? Could you be more precise?” His leg popped off the arm of his throne, and he shot upright.

Indigo hoped he wasn’t about to zap Dom out of existence. The OneCreator was moody that way.

****

D om stared at the couple . Indigo and Ohngel. They still puzzled him. The witch was sprawled a step below the OneCreator, chatting him up as if they were friends, equals. Why did he allow her such freedom? Ohngel stood off to the side, his gaze pinned on his mate, clearly taken with every word she uttered.

The Aeternal female was frivolous on the outside, but Dom suspected that inside was pure substance. She had not given up on Ohngel when he had been in a millennium-long stasis. She had awakened him early. For that, Dom respected her, though he continued to study the unlikely pair, wanting to figure out what attracted them to each other.

The OneCreator cleared his throat. “I’m waiting to hear about this human in OneWorld.”

Dom flipped his attention from the mated couple. “Yes. She’s a librarian from St. Louis, a city in America. She was grabbed off a street, and the next thing she remembers is coming to as a prisoner of the Scourge Praevus, though she has a vague recollection of a female accomplice.”

The OneCreator stroked his chin. “Praevus, the Mind Rat. A particularly cruel male. I was conflicted with him, wondering whether I should issue a capture or extinct order. And a female. Go on.”

In typical OC fashion, he didn’t fess up to making the wrong decision about Praevus. Always right even when he was wrong. “The Rat discovered we were on to him, released her, and went into hiding. He likely thought she would cause enough of a stir to buy him some time. I found her surrounded by Soul Suckers. Once I sent them on their way, I stashed her at my place. It’s warded.”

The OneCreator resumed a slouch on his throne. “The solutions are simple. Find Praevus and anyone else involved. Show the female home. Leave me alone. I am beset with pressing problems.”

“We’ve divided up for the search, but he is illusive.” Dom crossed his arms over his chest.

Ohngel nodded. “I’ve been conducting flyovers. No sign of him.”

The OC smoothed his fingers through his hair. “Unusual. Scourges are not so clever or lucky.”

Dom said, “Rumor has it that Praevus wasn’t doing his Ordeals. He was excused from them. Your decision?”

“Nope.”

“Here’s a bigger question. How did he obtain a human when he can’t leave Angor? Obviously, he has a friend who can. Could be the female accomplice. Maybe someone else. We haven’t extracted names from anyone.”

“Have you talked to Michael?”

“We haven’t questioned Michael.” Why should they? “Could Harmony, your manager on Angor, have conspired with Praevus?” Dom knew the OC favored her, but he wasn’t so sure of her loyalty. She’d fucked up once and could again.

“I trust Harmony, but feel free to talk to her. She may have some ideas.”

Once a Scourge herself, Harmony had opted to remain in Angor after her rehabilitation. She cited the need for more penitence, and the OC appointed her to manage the dimension in his absence. Over the millennia, she’d become his confidant and someone he leaned on heavily.

The OC stroked his chin. “Another rebellion?” The OneCreator’s eyes wandered far away as if he were lost in thought.

Indigo shook her head, her braid whipping back and forth. “Fill me in. I’m in the dark.”

Ohngel took on the task. “Three millennia or so ago, an Immortal in Vast led an uprising. His name was Lucian. There is some question whether he suffered a malady, but it seemed likely. Regardless, he gathered others to his cause. Once he had enough ass-kissers, he hacked his way to the throne room, leaving blood and body parts in his path. He challenged the OC. A monumentally stupid move.”

Indigo arched her brows. “And?”

Dom sighed. “The OC lopped off his head. Luce’s followers turned tail and flew off.”

“And?” she repeated.

“I condemned him to Angor. It took about one-and-a-half millennia for his head to grow back. Painful, I hear, but tough love. He was on a destructive path.” The OC’s eyelids drooped, sad. “What’s Luce up to now?”

Ohngel shifted from foot to foot, his wings flicking out and snapping back in. “Word is he’s the perfect Scourge. Takes his punishment. Lays low. Quiet. But Luce isn’t capable of traveling to Earth to kidnap a human and returning. Is he?”

When Dom looked to the OC for confirmation, he was met with a passive, non-committal expression.

“Are you going to answer?” asked Indigo.

His lack of expression remained intact.

The closed-mouthed OC made Dom’s head ache. He rubbed a temple with the palm of his hand.

The OC wagged a finger at him. “Investigate this shit. Leave me out of it until you know what is what.”

Dom swallowed his grumble. The Feard didn’t investigate crimes. They tracked Scourges and captured or extincted them.

The OneCreator swiped a hand across his brow.

Then, the impossible happened.

The floor quaked beneath Dom’s boots. He spread his stance, shooting the OC a bewildered look. Ohngel lunged to steady Indigo.

The OneCreator jumped to his feet, his palms pressed to his temples, his eyes barely a squint. When the ground settled, he recovered and shrugged. “An oddity. A rare disturbance in OneWorld.”

But Dom had seen the pained expression and the indications of a headache. As he pivoted to stride out of the throne room, the OC coughed. The black-winged assassin snapped around to see him bending forward to hack over and over again.

“Out, I said.” The OC recovered, swiping the sleeve of his robe across his nose.

Fuck! The boss doesn’t get colds, seasonal hay fever, or headaches. He only suffers from catastrophic mood swings, which don’t lead to coughing or earthquakes.

On the steps outside the OneCreator’s palace, Indigo conjured Oskar, her golden fur-rumped gryphon who nuzzled her neck. He flared his nostrils at Ohngel and Dom, which was all the greeting the assassins would get. The damn beast was a jealous creature.

Indigo stroked Oskar’s scales. “Aw, buddy. You get to be my transport wherever I go in OneWorld.”

The gryphon smiled. At least, he opened his beak and snorted a puff of smoke.

The witch conjured a saddle along with reins. When Oskar crouched, she crawled onto his hind leg, heaving herself onto his back. He flicked out his wings, stroked downward, and took to the air.

Ohngel spread his fiery wings and followed his mate, calling out to Dom that he would continue his search for Praevus. With the sun rising, the black-winged assassin wanted to fly home, strangely anxious to see the human again. Instead, he headed for Stupool and answers.

****

T he OneCreator slumped back into his throne. He had a headache and post-nasal drip. What the fuck? He rested against the chair, his eyes gazing at the ceiling. Then like an old human in a nursing home at the end of his life, he revisited the past. The time before the problems began.

Along with his brother and three sisters, he awoke before the first dawn. Afterward, an explosion followed the march of eons. Fully formed and sentient, the five Siblings drifted amid the galaxy they would call the Milky Way.

An immense spherical gas cloud collapsed and began to rotate. With wreckage coalescing everywhere, the Siblings dodged collisions of matter. In this volatile setting, the OneCreator was the first to recognize his power. With his hands, he clumped together particles, forming larger and larger masses he called planets. Pleased with the outcome, he created four dimensions where he, his brother, and the sisters would eventually dwell, naming them OneWorld—Null, Angor, Vast, and Evermore. He situated the planets and the dimensions in a spiral arm known thereafter as the Orion Spur. Locked in the fiery orb’s gravitational pull, they rotated around the sun.

As the grimmest of the Siblings, his brother Chaos observed the accomplishments with awe but held himself in check, acknowledging his own power was in destruction. Marveling at the incipient galaxy, he had not wished to lay waste to it with an errant thought.

His sisters were elemental. Their gifts brought beauty to his creations and the surrounding skies.

When Melodia sang, her breath swept across lands as a gentle rolling breeze, infusing spirit into quiet places, freshening the air with scents redolent of life. Delighted, Lumia clapped her hands and laughed. Focusing her brilliant mind on her own power, she radiated light, making the sky brighter, painting stars on the canvas. Prima cried upon seeing the beauty of her brother’s miraculous creations and her sisters’ contributions. When she did, the water of her tears fell as rain, giving rise to rivers, lakes, and oceans. Flora covered the terrains.

The exception to their powers was Null, which unexpectedly resisted their efforts, remaining forever a dull, lifeless dimension. The environment was mostly flat and barren. Bushes, if they existed, were small and scraggly. Though some plants flowered, the blooms were not vibrant colors.

The five had such hope. Everything was fresh, uncomplicated, and awe-inspiring. They were enough.

The OneCreator brushed aside his memories to listen to petitions from his Immortals. Finished listening to their sometimes petty, sometimes important concerns, he shuffled off to his private chambers. Alone.