Author's Note: My regular editor (aka boyfriend whom I force to edit against his will) hasn't been as available for these last few chapters. So if you see something that I've missed in proofing please point it out!
Maratu District, Omega
They are the living. The only living in this world of unnatural rot, unnatural decay, unnatural death. The little green Children spread their roots through unearthly soils and feed blissfully on the artificial starlight. They know nothing of good or evil, of joy or sorrow. Theirs is simply to grow and multiply.
That is the missive the Mother gives them. Everyday, the people of this world kill and die for want of food. The hungry must learn to feed themselves. The Mother, her husband, and her companions built this great glass dome to find the answers. One day, they will share their knowledge. But this world is not yet ready.
She spends days upon nights in this secluded place. Analyzing, modifying, creating. The Children say she is the most beautiful woman to have ever breathed, with delicate freckles across her pale skin and flecks of gold in her auburn curls. She sings to her Children, whispers to them, pours her heart out to them and they respond in kind.
"Mrs. Butler?" comes the voice of a stranger. In his dual tones are notes of regret, notes of death. A chill runs through The Mother's veins. She begs her divinities not to let this towering figure be the man she dreads.
"Mrs. Butler…is this a comfortable place for us to talk?"
There is no other place she would ever want to be.
The Mother's eyes turn to ice, hardening as she takes in his imposing gray and blue frame. His eyes are gentle, but their shape pierces her heart. His face is bare, allowing her to trace the height of his princely cheekbones. The spurs on his arms and legs flatter the contours of his muscular body. Of course, The Angel would be handsome.
"You're him, aren't you?"
She notices the ceramic container he carries in his gloved hands. He may as well have been carrying the end of the world.
"You're the one my husband left me for."
He bows his head low in shame.
"Thomas has been…killed. We offer you our sincere condolences."
She sniffs the air lightly.
"I suppose that's him in the jar you're holding."
The man nods.
"How?"
"Shot in the head. Very quick, very painless."
The Angel tells such beautiful lies.
"I see."
Silence.
"I'd ask who did it, but I don't suppose it matters."
"He was a good man. He did a lot of good things."
"Thomas always wanted to do good. Feeding the poor, well, not enough guns involved in that. Didn't count."
"He spoke of you often. He believed in what you do. We could all see that he never stopped loving you."
"Love," she sighs. "There's no love in the world that could make a restless man come home safe every night."
She turns from this strange Angel and looks back to her Children. Inhaling their sweet scent, she thinks of mischievous glances through tall stalks of corn, the taste of just picked tomatoes left on their lips, the dirt on his hands that gets in her hair. Mother blinks back the pool of water behind her eyes, barely able to contain the aching flow as The Angel sets the jar down on the worktable beside her. She dips her head toward her chest and chokes on the sobs that escape her throat.
"Mrs. Butler, we will find the people who did this," he says, putting a three-fingered hand reassuringly on her shoulder. "We would like your permission to avenge Thomas."
"Get out," she cries. "Leave before I give you what you want."
There are no angels on Omega. There are only demons and the dying.
"GET OUT!"