This chapter contains violence and mild adult themes.
Saya belted out her battle cry as she charged her opponents, but suddenly she was standing alone in the dark, pitch black even to her chiropteran eyes, the only sound was that of her breath. There was no sign of the alleyway battlefield or her wounded Chevalier. This place was nowhere, nothing.
This strange break with reality during combat had happened before.
Where am I?
The air felt as close and stagnant as might be found in a closet, and hung heavy with a horrible stench.
Her hands rose out in front of her, attempting to feel her way to a wall, but as she took her first step, her stomach churned in trepidation and revulsion. There was no mistaking that her foot had just collided with a dead body. She crouched down in disbelief, her fingers finding loose, shriveled skin. She turned around, intending to flee, but she immediately found that she was entirely surrounded by corpses.
She let out a panicked sob as she began gingerly stepping on faces and torsos and legs, hyperventilation causing her to gag on the disgusting air.
Her instinct was to run, to escape, to get out, to get anywhere, but the moment she tried, she found herself falling to the ground, not because she had tripped, but because she could feel cold, wrinkled fingers clamped shut around her ankle.
She grimaced in anticipation of her face meeting the rotting corpses, but the second the full weight of her body hit them, they gave way beneath her as if she were falling through a sheet of paper.
Her stomach leapt into her throat as she felt herself seized by gravity, plummeting into nothingness.
Tears were ripped from her eyes as she fell. Everything was still dark, and every passing second heightened her terror of the unseen, but logically inevitable precipice floor. She soon found herself not wishing for miraculous rescue, but simply to see the ground, to see death coming, to know. After an entire minute of terrifying inertia, the ground was no longer an object of fear, but rather a promised end to it, a reprieve from terrible uncertainty of a consequence that might never come.
Just like immortality.
There was a moment of excruciating pain and liberating relief when the earth finally slammed against her body.
She lay, catching her breath for a long while before her eyes drew open. Her hand ran over her mouth, to clear away the material clinging to her skin.
Sand.
She ran her tongue over her dry lips, and caught a taste of the grains.
It tastes like salt.
She gazed down at the small mound in her palm, the moonlight causing the particles to shimmer.
It's red.
She looked up as the strong wind whipped through her hair, head slowly turning to survey the endless scarlet dunes that resembled frozen waves on a tempestuous sea.
A desert.
There was no sign of civilization, save what appeared to be stone ruins in the distance.
It looks like a European castle.
With no other landmark to guide her through the barren land, she began toward it. Every step sunk a few inches deep in the wind-rippled sand as she climbed a particularly tall dune, in hopes of getting a better look at her surroundings. The wind picked up as her foot finally met the crest, and this combined with the unstable ground, caused her to trip, tumbling down the other side of the mound, leaving miniature avalanches of sand in her wake.
She pushed herself to her feet and scanned the dry, far more level valley she now found herself in.
Statues?
Grey skinned, life-sized humanoid figures standing silent and still in petrified ranks protruding from the desert by the dozens.
She began to walk amidst the sculpted pillars of salt.
At first, every face seemed unfamiliar, not even inspiring the slightest tinge of déjà vu. These were some of the many innocent humans that had been transformed into chiropterans, and consequently fallen under Saya's sword.
But as she walked, she began to feel names rolling to the tip of her tongue. Her breath quickened even as her pace slowed to a crawl.
I know them. I'm sure of it…
She finally stopped, her eyes darting back and forth between three particular faces in the crowd, each one assaulting her mind with an image of death, each one cut through her spirit like a dull blade.
A boy, a young man and an older man, each had died a chiropteran, each was a death she held herself responsible for, each was someone who had fought for her sake, and done so out of love.
The wind turned her tears cold against her cheeks; she wasn't weeping, the water slipped unceremoniously from her eyes, until her gaze fell on one final face.
Saya was drawn to it as involuntarily as if reeled in by a noose round her neck.
She stood toe to toe with the statue.
Is she – me?
It seemed to be an exact likeness, the blank, gray eyes allowed for no distinction. Without thinking, her hand found it's way up to the face, but even the lightest touch was too much.
No! Diva! The name only came to her in that moment.
The statue imploded against her fingertips, the gray stone skin giving way to bright red glass like a drab geode exploding into shimmering crystal, instantaneously deteriorating into finely granulated blood, reduced to just another mound in the crimson sands.
The other surrounding statues inexplicably began to crumble as if in a chain reaction, destruction fanning out from Saya's location, disintegrating one after another in ripples of extermination.
The shame and panic of a child having broken something valuable suddenly transformed into the desperate guilt and remorse of a penitent murderer.
I'm sorry!
As if in response to her transgression, the wind turned violent, transforming the grains into stinging pricks against her skin, rapidly encrusting the tears on her cheeks. Her hand instinctively flew in front of her eyes as the storm enclosed her in thick gusts of sand.
She fell to her knees, choking on the corpses of her slain kin.
"Diva never took this long to remember," Solomon sighed, actually sounding slightly dispirited.
Nathan nodded. "True, she'd be up and back to spontaneously killing things within days, but I suppose that even twins are bound to have some differences."
The two Chevaliers sat opposite each other at a small table, just beside an open sliding glass door, both leisurely sipping at a wineglass. Nathan's company was, Solomon conceded, actually somewhat enjoyable in small doses, or at least until he inevitably started in with his inciting questions.
"You still don't know, do you, Solomon?"
"Don't know what?"
"Why you're willing to go so far for Saya."
"Because I love her," he answered casually, hoping that this would be enough to shut Nathan up.
Nathan just laughed. "I thought you'd say that, but I much preferred the answer you gave in my basement, so introspective, so unlike you. Powerless and frustrated as you were at that moment, it figured that your response would imply that it was all just an extreme attempt at asserting your autonomy."
"I was in a rather strange state of mind, if you must know, and if you preferred that answer, then why ask me again, now?"
"Because I am trying to gauge just how full of shit you are. You know, sometimes I can't help but wonder if you have any idea what you really want."
"Nathan, if you think you're going to convince me that my feelings for her are just some shallow, pheremonal fancy, you're wasting your time."
"As if time had any value to me," Nathan laughed. "And do you really think that biology has nothing to do with it? After all, it did make a fourteen-year-old sissy-boy fuck his worst enemy on ten seconds notice; you don't believe that what you're experiencing is at all related to that phenomenon?" He paused. "But, strangely enough, I don't doubt that you truly love Saya." Nathan nonchalantly examined his own fingernails, "What I do doubt is that you're a better match for her than Haji."
Solomon did know enough of his brother's manipulative nature to perceive that Nathan meant that statement as a challenge to prove him wrong, that he was trying to goad him into some kind of rash action, no doubt for his own amusement.
"What makes you say that?" Solomon asked calmly, as if to tell his brother that his prodding would be fruitless.
"Do you have any idea how messed up she is? What she's been through? She's the most straightforward case of post traumatic stress that I've ever seen."
"I know that she's lived through a great deal, and such things are often harsh on a kind heart," he spoke evenly, gazing down at his glass, regarding the reflection of the moon on the surface of the blood, "but I believe that in time, she'll find new, more pleasant things to think about. Whatever painful memories she has will be buried under new, happy ones, as opposed to being constantly dredged up, as they would be by the presence of her dismal brother in arms."
"You could be right, she is immortal, and what are a few decades of pain in comparison to forever? Eventually, she'll get over it." Nathan directed a rather serious look at Solomon. "But who ever is with her in the meantime will need the patience of a saint, and a saint, you're not. As a matter of fact, I'm not even convinced that you've got much in the way of patience either." Nathan let out a brief laugh. "As well you shouldn't, in this case."
"What do you mean?"
Nathan's face formed into a knowing grin as he patted his brother on his left shoulder, in a rather specific spot. "The graft's saved your life, but you're not immortal anymore. How long do you think you have?"
Solomon laughed dismissively. "Oh, that? No worries, at the rate it's going, I've got plenty of time."
"But not forever. Keep in mind that, in three years, she'll be going back into that tomb for a few decades, and can you be absolutely certain that you'll live to see her come out again?"
Solomon took on a smug smile, still trying not to be influenced by his brother's spurring. "Oh, I think I have longer than that, and besides, I haven't forgotten what you told me all those years ago, about how to end a Queen's sleep cycle."
"Ah, yes! Your trump card!" Nathan clapped excitedly, having led the conversation to the precise point he had planned to. "Well then, it's getting to be just about time to put that ace it in the hole, don't you think?"
Solomon rolled his eyes coolly at Nathan's salacious wink.
"No seriously Solomon, I mean it, I believe I already explained that it'll all be for naught if Haji beats you to it."
Solomon shook his head. "True, but I'm not especially worried about that, as obvious as it is to everyone else, I'm not sure he has it in him to even tell her how he feels, let alone -"
"You don't know what happened at the Met!" Nathan cut in, in a teasing, singsong tone.
"Why? What else happened?" Solomon enquired eagerly.
"He did tell her, and then there was the - well, I wasn't able to see them from my position at that particular moment, but I could see Kai, and judging by his averted gaze and the general flow of the scene, I'm fairly sure that there was a kiss."
Solomon's usual serenely self-assured expression wilted into something like alarm.
"And thus I wouldn't be at all surprised if, once her memory returns, they pick up right where they left off."
It took Solomon a few seconds to regain his habitual sanguine countenance, though it was a few more until he seemed to know what to say. "Well then, I suppose I'd - "
Nathan raised his hand in a clear command for immediate silence, his eyes shifting aimlessly, as if trying to distinguish what song was playing in the next room at a cocktail party.
"Oh piss! And I wasn't done with you yet! Looks like we'll have to finish our talk some other time."
"What are you going on about now?" Solomon asked, his tone actually somewhat short.
"Tell me Solomon, do you feel it?"
Solomon's irritation at Nathan's information and rudeness dissipated and he leaned out onto the balcony, attuning his senses to the city.
"They've found Saya," Solomon replied abruptly, stepping up onto the rail. Before making his exit, he turned back to his brother.
"Aren't you coming?"
"Me? Pfft! You know I only fight on special occasions, and a couple of corpse corps aren't worth getting icky over. You, on the other hand, swore to protect her and you helped make those things – this is your problem. Besides, she already got a freebie out of me. But, I'll tell you what I'll do, I'll buzz the Shield, and tell them to mobilize a clean up crew."
Solomon nodded and vanished like smoke in the wind.
"Try not to kill Haji!" Nathan called after him as if he were a parent, advising a child to play nice at school.
The alley was a scene of carnage as gruesome as any Solomon had seen in his life, and he'd participated in two world wars. The corpse corps had been completely annihilated, some crystallized, some simply shredded to ribbons.
Saya stood with her back to him, mechanically jabbing her sword into one of her still twitching, fallen opponents.
Her head turned as she no doubt sensed his presence, and her eyes met his from over her shoulder, her nostrils flaring slightly as she looked him over, eyes ablaze in more ways than one.
Solomon took notice of his rival lying on the ground near by. The drops of blood on Haji's torn collar, and his wrinkled, sunken skin made it clear what had happened to him.
Who's better looking now? Solomon thought smugly, before Saya reclaimed his attention, and in a somewhat surprising manner.
She tackled him, slamming his body against the pavement, and before he had a chance to react, she was already enthusiastically straddling his hips.
Solomon would have dearly liked to believe all of this was an expression of joy upon seeing him again, that she had remembered him, and was now permitting herself to express affections and desires that had been previously kept hidden.
But he couldn't quite bring himself to believe it, due to her striking lack of a smile, or any discernable expression, for that matter. Because of his days with Diva, Solomon knew a fit of instinct when he saw it. As a matter of fact, he was so familiar with the concept that he had actually come up with a system of labels for the various degrees at which his ex-Queen could surrender to instinct, mainly for ease of communication between the Chevaliers. Code 5 signified that she was perfectly calm, lucid and reasonable (and usually seemed to indicate that she was depressed) and Code 1 signifying that she had completely lost touch with reality and was a mortal danger even to her own Chevaliers. Solomon optimistically appraised Saya as being somewhere around Code 3, a little more uninhibited than usual.
Even so, he made no protest against her actions.
It might have seemed as if he was handling the situation a little too opportunistically, no better than a bastard taking advantage of a drunk woman, but Solomon saw no such parallel. He took this simply as Saya finally embracing her glorious chiropteran nature, her destiny as a chiropteran Queen.
And who would I be to deny her desires?
He leaned forward to kiss her, but the attempt at romance was adeptly evaded, her face bobbed to the side as if someone had just stepped in front of the television. Saya's attention was focused elsewhere.
In the blink of an eye, his leather belt had been sliced in two.
"Now, now, let's not be too hasty -"
She obviously didn't register his request, her eyes with a vacant, wild stare that was a familiar sight to him, though not on her. She pulled at the waistband of his pants, causing the button to pop off.
Solomon hadn't quite anticipated that she would be this eager, he was actually more in mind of passionate kisses and embraces appropriate to the reunion of long divided lovers, ideally followed by retiring to somewhere a little more private.
Solomon prided himself on being master of his own inner beast, but even he had some trouble controlling the intense and decidedly unromantic impulses that were welling within him in response to his bride's presenting herself so temptingly.
But desperately though he wanted her, all of her, he had no intention of consummating their love in an alleyway like a couple of stray dogs. That was not to mention that the multitude of body parts and large pools of blood didn't help the atmosphere either, even for a Chiropteran, and most offensive of all, unresponsive though he was, Haji was lying not three feet away from them.
At the same time, being madly in love with her, he wasn't about to pass up this opportunity. Saya suddenly fell back on her rear, and Solomon appeared beside her, scooping her up into his arms, intending to whisk her off to somewhere less revolting, telling himself that it wasn't just to capitalize on her present willingness, but also for her own safety.
But being manhandled didn't seem to please the rabid Queen one bit, and Solomon soon found himself thrown to the ground with a deep gash in his side.
"Now that hurt, angel," he said, chiding through a suave smile.
Saya let out a beastly snarl, bearing her teeth at the lovesick Chevalier, having apparently forgotten her estrus intentions from a moment earlier and now perceiving herself to be under attack. Like any animal threatened by a creature it assumed to be of inferior strength, she intended to make it pay dearly.
Solomon was actually becoming a little annoyed himself; there was almost nothing that irritated him more than his opinion being disregarded, and nothing kills the mood like the activation of a pet peeve.
He was also starting to realize that Saya was, at present, too far gone to be controlled. Fortunately, he was also well practiced at how to handle such a contingency, how to subdue a Queen in that state, how to take advantage of their derangement in order to overcome their increased strength.
There are only two options in this situation, cause her to lose consciousness, or let her tire herself out. The inevitable civilian death toll of the latter will prove problematic, so that leaves us with…
The enraged Queen was shoved back against the wall, her momentary disorientation enabling him to seize her wrists in one hand, while the long, elegant fingers of the other closed around her neck.
Oxygen deprivation will make her pass out, but, unlike with humans, it can't cause any permanent damage.
"I'm sorry," he whispered tenderly in her ear as she grunted and struggled, "But I'd prefer not to die for you again unless it's truly necessary."
Solomon looked away, unwilling to watch himself do the deed, his own throat tightening slightly as the grunts turned into increasingly desperate gasps, and she finally fell limp in his arms.
He breathed a brief sigh of relief.
"I promise, after a nap, you'll feel much better."
Solomon gathered his bride in his arms and carried her in the manner most appropriate to that title. He glanced down when he felt her stir against him, a soft coo on her lips.
"Shhhh. Go back to sleep, angel," he whispered soothingly.
"Hhhhhaji."
Much as he would have liked to, there was no mistaking what she had mumbled. Solomon glanced back at the Chevalier he'd just left for dead.
"If that is what you wish, Saya," he reluctantly sighed after more than just a moment's hesitation, carefully placing the still unconscious Queen on the ground, resting her head on a bloodied torso.
"You really are pathetic, Haji," he shook his head as he reached down for one of the non-crystallized corpses, ripping off one of its arms, dangling it over Haji's face in such a way as for the blood to drip onto his lips, and wrung out the limb like a wet dishrag. Of course Solomon knew that Saya's blood would have been the most potent medicine, but while he was willing to hurt her in order to save himself, he was not willing to hurt her to save her pest of a Chevalier, and he certainly wasn't going to use his own.
Haji flinched after a few incognizant gulps.
"Tastes like swill doesn't it? We did that on purpose so they wouldn't feed off each other," Solomon muttered to his still unconscious co-Chevalier, his skin rapidly regaining it's proper firmness and some slight amount of color. Having done more for Haji than he particularly cared to, Solomon tossed the severed limb aside and made his way back toward Saya, chuckling in spite of himself.
"You really are determined to make a do-gooder of me, aren't you, Saya?"
Haji's eyes finally peeled open, and the sight of Solomon kneeling beside an unconscious Saya was the first thing that came into focus. A pair of intangible daggers flew from Haji's eyes as his rival embraced his beloved, but Solomon was too absorbed by the enchanting creature in his arms to notice.
So beautiful, even when you're coated with blood and filth.
"Don't touch her," Haji growled.
"You're welcome," Solomon answered blithely back over his shoulder, not heeding the demand.
Haji immediately comprehended Solomon's intention to spirit her away again, but Haji was in no shape to fight him physically, and their last confrontation had shown that Solomon didn't seem effected by any of his threats.
"She has not regained her memory yet," Haji stated, with just the slightest note of entreaty. Haji had no other option but to appeal to Solomon's sense of honor, despite his being sure that whatever honor Solomon had stemmed from vanity rather than real conviction.
Solomon laughed in spite of himself again. "You know, I cant quite decide if I'm glad or disappointed that you didn't see what just happened." I think I'd enjoy the look on your face when Saya started ripping off my pants, however annoying your presence might have proven afterwards.
"You gave your word, Solomon."
Of course, he had already broken his word that day on the train, but Solomon Goldsmith was obviously not one to be held back by oaths he didn't feel like keeping.
Solomon considered his options.
Well, Haji's in no condition to give chase, and it would probably take him a while to find her…
Then again, it's unlikely that Saya will remember anything from this incident, let alone want to continue what she started. And besides, I'd be surprised if Haji didn't tell her that I'd broken my word by bringing her with me, and the last thing I want to do is come off as is untrustworthy.
I may as well avoid conflict, and just hand her off to Haji. But I must admit, these setbacks are becoming rather frustrating.
"That I did," he sighed as he unhanded his sleeping bride. "But Haji, I know that this sort of incident indicates full awakening, and I assure you, my spies will inform me the very moment she seems to have recovered her past. I will take my place at her side."
Solomon turned an infuriatingly longing stare at Saya before taking his leave, discreetly holding the waistband of his pants so as to keep them from falling off.
Things got a little weird for a minute there, didn't they?
I eagerly await your comments! Please?