Chapter Nineteen

"Don't be like that," Hugo chortles scoldingly, waving his mug of coffee to the sky with disapproval. "You and Penryn are cute together, Raffe! If I didn't dislike you quite as much or fear for Penryn's safety the way I do, I would probably ship it!"

My uncle's gaze flickers to Raffe's stormy face. "Hugo," he warns with a deep tone, sipping at his spiced tea distrustfully.

"But you can totally ship them." Grinning like the madman he is, Hugo swivels to face Bryon, beaming from ear to ear. "Like, I can see how that'd be a ship-worthy couple. I mean, they've got the basics down – Raffe is rather large and Penryn is rather small. Everyone thinks that's cute. And there is chemistry – for instance, Raffe is not a testosterone-crazed bloodthirsty lunatic around her. Look at him, munching peacefully at that bagel." Hugo leans back, gulping the last swallow of his black coffee, studying Raffe all the while. "If I wasn't so attached to you, Penryn, I'd say this ship has the potential to become something as beautiful as Audyon in a few thousand years."

"Audyon?" I question in absolute puzzlement, clutching both hands around the warm mug, inhaling the scent of freshly ground coffee blissfully. "What the heck is Audyon?"

Ogden blinks slowly at me, his mouth dropping open. After a few moments of stunned silence, he slams his mug on the ground, sloshing tea over the edges, and runs both hands through his stringy hairs. The old man looks positively distressed by my lack of knowledge.

"What is Audyon?" Hugo gasps. Horror paints his expression into a canvas of dismay. "God, Penryn, get this straight through your head. Audyon is a creature that wasn't born in darkness – rather, quite the opposite, it was gifted with kindness and a swollen heart, but the creature was told from the moment it opened its eyes that it was a monster, and was thrust into the darkness. Audyon is the creature growing there, dwelling there, becoming the shadows and the nightmares of a child's overactive imagination, a creature bowed to the beliefs of others, one that believes everyone but them can change their nature. Bitterness and self-hate is Audyon.

"But then, in the blackness of the night, along comes a star, blinding the creature – such radiance, such beauty, such innocence, such wholehearted goodness the creature had never clapped eyes upon! And his gaze, so used to the darkness of his surroundings, didn't grow accustomed to the star's beauty – each time he glanced at her, again he was blinded, stunned, unable to look away. This light he had been missing for so long, yearning for, praying for, had come to him, and could not even see its own elegance. Audyon is the creature's intense love, the desire to protect her beautiful brilliance against those that wish to snuff out its light, its guardian angel, the one thing to guide it from the darkness it had known and into the day it foretells. Audyon is the beauty of the good man and his wishing star."

"That makes less sense than 'Audyon,'" Raffe chastises skeptically, gnawing off another bite of his tough bagel.

Rolling his eyes, Bryon leans forward. "'Audyon' is the ship-name for my wife and I," he explains, setting his empty mug on the dirt, rubbing his hands together for additional warmth.

I start, spilling a bit of coffee over the lip of my mug. It burns against my skin, but it's hardly noticeable above my violent surprise. "You're married?"

Hugo makes a raucous noise in the back of his throat, cutting Bryon's answer off. "Of course he's married, Penryn. Look at him, happy as a golden retriever with a master. He has someone to fight for, and it's adorable. Can't you see it? That look he gets on his face sometimes? Like, 'The entire world may hate me, may turn its arms against me, but my wife loves me, and that's all that matters.'"

Ogden puffs out his chest and mimes slicking back his scraggly hair.

"That, too," Hugo agrees with a jovial nod of his head. "It's not like women would be leaving him alone unless he was married. He is, so all's good, but, damn, Penryn, look at him!" Hugo reaches across the smoldering campfire and shoves the palm of his hand into Bryon's face, meeting a surprisingly little amount of resistance. "He's a sex god. A sex god that adores kids, is a great leader, can take down Raphael over here" – with his other hand, Hugo paws at Raffe's face, meeting much resistance – "and will absolutely worship his partner like a goddess. Come on now. There is so much self-shipping it isn't even funny. Who can blame the girls, though? I walked in on him once, and, trust me, that wang of his?" Hugo whistles.

Bryon grunts in complaint from beneath Hugo's hand. "That's my niece sitting across the way there, and this?" He rubs a massage into Paige's shoulders, relaxing the taut muscles there. "This is also my niece. Do you mind?"

Hugo holds up his hands. "Fine. Fine, fine, fine. Just so you know, Bay's bigger."

I clear my throat loudly, unwilling to hear Hugo boast about his boyfriend's dick. "New topic, how about?"

"We'll just return to the original one," amends Hugo compromisingly, "because you two have still got shit to learn about the Mothership. Because you two have never been around him and his wife. My god, it is the feelsiest feels around – not some shifty dalliance, but love, pure and true. Because Bryon has always felt like he's never amounted to anything his entire life, that's he'll always be wretched, right, but then his wife came along and simply adored him, okay? Because he looks at her and he sees innocence and beauty and purity, and he adores it, reveres it, devotes himself completely to her, alright? Alright? Get it? And when she looks at him, she sees a wounded soldier, a battered leader, a beautiful dragon with a thousand scars making up his rugged armor. When she, the one who believes herself to be nothing more than an airheaded fool, sees all that agony and pain and the beautiful, holy man it's created, she falls in love with him each time she glances at him, and she respects him, adores him like her god – she feels unworthy to be around such a wise, ancient creature. His adoration of her only fuels hers, and vice versa. It's just the cutest ship ever, because there's no lust, just plain and simple adorbs. I swear to God, I can't wait for the reunion."

"What's your wife's name?" I question, eyebrows knitting together. "Will I be able to meet her at the Nephilim town?"

Bryon's munificent, resounding laughter is spiked with pain. "No, I can't say you will be meeting her at the town. I think you two would get along fantastically – on occasion, Paige reminds me of her. Honestly, I think you remind me a bit of her as well – even with her genteel manner, she is an angel."

"A she-angel?" Raffe interprets, disapproval hardening his tone. "That is very thin ice."

"Yes, yes it is," Bryon concedes with a dark chuckle. "I hope you'll understand why I am reluctant to share her name with you, Raphael."

"Names have power," I breathe, voice as fragile as the sea's zephyr.

"Exactly." Approval glows in Bryon's eyes. "And, no offense to you, O Wrath of God, you've got enough power that, should you return to your hierarchy, you could potentially ruin her and every bit of civility she has attempted to construct amongst your chaotic ranks."

"Which wouldn't be advisable," adds Hugo. "Killing any part of Audyon, intentional or unintentional, would set off a whole lot of anger. From all sorts of races, not just Nephilim and she-angels. God, if you were to even maim his wife in any way possible – were to look at her funny, hint as something – you'd be looking at a real World War, with only one axis power for the allies to crush: you."

"I'm not sure we have that much pull," Bryon scolds with a roll of his eyes. "You're just king of fangirls."

Hugo rolls back on his log, laughing exuberantly. "Dude, you have no idea how much the two of you are shipped. You're the beauty and the beast. Everybody is holding their breath, waiting for your reunion. I know I'll be there livestreaming it all."

"Reunion?" Selecting the key word in his words, I turn to Hugo. "What reunion? You mean they're separated?"

Pleas sparkling in his eyes, Hugo tilts his gaze in Bryon's direction, clasping his hands together in a prayer. "Please? Please? Can I fangirl?"

"The proper term is fanboy," Bryon hums, "and knock yourself out."

Hugo snorts and rolls his eyes, sighing in something akin to pity. "Only real men fangirl. I can feel its feelsy wrath upon me."

Pivoting so, once more, our eyes meet, Hugo begins his explanation with wide, sweeping gestures of his hands. "Okay, okay. So they met last time the angels descended, right? It was a lot worse then, imagine twenty years of this chaos. Alright? Okay? It wasn't until five years in they met, and – story for another time, but it was adorable. With ten years to go, they got married, united in holy monogamy, and a she-angel became queen of the Nephilim. The Nephilim couldn't be happier, but story for another time. But the problem still remained – they had to get rid of the angelic bastards. And so, and so, they enlisted the help of the Black Wolf – damn, I remember that guy so clearly, scariest thing ever –"

"Black Wolf?" Raffe inquires.

"Right, you don't know a thing about the Clockwork Angel." Hugo rolls his eyes, as if Raffe's illiteracy is a personal offense. "Penryn knows what I'm talking about. The big, black mutt alongside the Clockwork Angel insignia? That's her lapdog, the Black Wolf. I'm not sure how I feel about the Angel herself, but I do fear her bodyguards. White Wolf and Black Wolf. Because they don't actually have names. Anyway, scary wolf. He showed Bryon how to banish the angels, and offered his assistance in setting the vortex off. But Bryon refused, for better or for worse, and the wolf vanished."

My brow furrows. "A wolf that…?"

"Yep, vanished," Bryon inserts. "Which, might I add, is not easy."

Hugo studies Bryon pensively. "Did you just…?"

"Of course not. Do continue."

"Right." Hugo swallows, shaking his head to focus. "So, under the Black Wolf's instructions, Bryon started all sorts of weird chanting stuff until he was on a direct line with, so they say, God himself. And then he started banishing all the angels in a giant whirlpool thing – Pigeon-Bat, this you know, because you were screeching like a banshee the entire time –"

Hugo breaks off, covering his laughter with a hand. "God, man, you were funny. I swear, it was like –"

"Hugo," Bryon intones, minutely shaking his head. And my uncle is right – Raffe doesn't respond well to his petulant libels.

"Fine, fine. The plan was for this giant vortex thingy to suck all the male angels back into their heaven with its cosmic winds, while the she-angels remained behind – safe from their raping, abusing, and other misogynic slighting. The male angels would be barred in that weird heaven plane, while everything would be sunny down here. But things didn't go according to plan, and, in his wrath, the Black Wolf sucked up everything there was to suck – she-angels and he-angels alike. Even one poor Seraphim, he definitely didn't return… but focus. Brace yourselves, this is where it gets feelsy. So, as everyone was being sucked into this vortex thing and Pigeon-Bat was –" He snickers into his palm, composing himself after a moment of weakness. "Anyway, as this unnamed wife started to get swept up by the storm and, oh, man, I remember it. Every creature was watching them, every pair of eyes – wait, no, Pigeon-Bat was –"

"Hugo," Bryon murmurs, "you're going to tick him off."

"He's always ticked off," Hugo complains, gesturing to Raffe's scowl. Hastily, he adds, "But I'll do what I can as I continue the story that you keep interrupting. Maybe there's a purpose to that. If you need to go take a walk around, feel free. I'll wait."

"Hugo," Bryon groans, rubbing his face with his hands.

"Alright, okay, fine. Anyway, so, there they were. So romantic – so beautiful. Bryon had his arms ferociously wrapped around her, clutching her with all the power in the world – the might of the dragon, he held her with. But his strength wasn't enough for her – instead of tying her to the earth, he began to go with her, his feet sliding, his cloak flapping in the wind. People were screaming at him to let go – we all knew that he wouldn't last half a second in the angelic domain, that he'd be slaughtered in their baffled rage. But he didn't care. And we heard him shouting that, over the wind, shouting it over and over again – that he didn't care, that he didn't want to be without her. And we all saw that it wasn't him who'd released Au – uh, his wife. She slammed her fists against his chest, kicked at him, smashed her wings against his skull so he'd let go, just for a moment. She was the last angel, female or male, to disappear, leaving behind a broken shell of a man."

"That true?" I whisper, staring at Bryon with eyes probing for answers.

"Every bit of it," he chuckles darkly, gazing into the smoldering ruins of a fire. "Although I'm not even sure that I was a 'broken shell'. Much, much worse. I was without a light. My, I sound pathetic. But even today, it's only the thought that someday, I might behold her once more that keeps me going." His voice strains more, tightening considerably. "I'm still a bit of a broken shell, honestly. I miss her so much. But we'll see each other soon, after all these centuries. And then I think I'm going to take a nice, long vacation."

"You were even worse back then. God, you were so bad." Hugo whistles under his breath. "I was half-certain you were going to commit suicide, right then and there. Honestly, who can blame you? I'm also halfway sure that if papa Young hadn't been there, you'd be dead meat."

"Sariel has always been there for me," Bryon agrees with a wry smile. "I'm eternally thankful for him."

"You're Sariel's son?" Raffe thunders, abruptly seeming very perturbed. His eyes rake over Bryon's unkempt morning appearance.

Bryon's smile becomes beatific, and he perks considerably, banishing his previous malaise. "Why? Still stingy about the chunk I took out of your arm?"

"Actually, now that you bring it up, yes," Raffe sniffs, "I am miffed about that. It took a very long time to heal. Are you aware of the fact that you're poisonous? And that your bite stings very, very badly?"

"I am, actually." Bryon's smile bares all his teeth. "No need to worry about me chewing on you now – if I sink a tooth into you, you'll be skewered along the length of it."

Raffe studies him up and down. "You're the giant lizard demon, aren't you? How big are you now, exactly? I know you monsters grow all your lives, but I'm not sure just how large you can get. And last time I saw you, you could use a suburb as a sleeping patch."

"I'm actually not all that large. Not by Ogden's standards. But of course, Ogden dwarfs everybody, so it's really depressing to use him as a standard of measurement. So we just don't bring it up very often."

"Oh?" Raffe's gaze slinks to the old man. "And how large are you, Ogden?"

"Dude," Hugo grunts flatly, "he's mute."

Audiat ties back her hair, combing her fingers through the white curls in a vain attempt to calm their turbulent whorls and cycles. The strawberry glint her hair maintains adds some life to the pale mess of locks, but her albino curls still seem limp and colorless, a poor frame for her face. Sighing in frustration, she releases it once more, letting all the tresses shroud her head once more.

"Having difficulties?" Ariel thrums, coming up from behind her and gently taking Audiat's hair in her hands. "Allow me." In the mirror, Audiat watches as Ariel gently binds back all her curls into a delicately winding braid. "You're the only one I can display feminism around, Audie. I hope you realize that. Because I do braid quite excellently."

"Yes, you do," Audiat laughs, smiling broadly at the archangel. "My fingers don't seem that good with things like that. Curls. What nonsense. I like the term 'onion ring demon spawns'."

"Oh, I don't know." Ariel pats Audiat's head twice, sidestepping next to Audiat in the mirror with pursed lips. "I don't have any hair to braid. Of course, such a thought of hairlessness is sinful among all these testosterone-crazed beasts. It has been a turbulent past few centuries, hasn't it, living with these pigs?"

"I've fended off many lusty males," Audiat acknowledges with a laugh like a little bell, "with my awesome ninja skills" – Ariel cocks an eyebrow – "and your help. But not everyone's been so lucky." Her tone hardens, then rises back to its former bright, cheerful cadence. "We'll be better now, I'm sure of it. This may be a long war… but it wasn't so unpleasant last time, was it?"

"Not so unpleasant?" Ariel snorts rudely, pinching her eyebrows together. "You and I remember last time very different, Audie. But I suppose we had very different experiences. At least Raphael is out of our hair. Should he step out of line, I have no doubt Thea will do the right thing and rid us of his drunken habits. Should Bryon do the impossible and work a change into him, then… well, I'll never trust that bastard, but he'll still be gone for good."

"Don't underestimate Bryon." Audiat, twirling around, her skirt flying out like a blossoming flower. "He's God's man."

"Hon, nobody but you says that." Ariel follows Audiat, clopping at her heels in the awkward human shoes she'd picked up. "Not even Bryon. Why do you cling to the idea that he's such a saint? He's a man. A great man, a man much greater than I will ever be – but just a man."

"Eventually," Audiat replies calmly, fiddling with her collar and smoothing the length of her silky dress, "a man becomes a legend. I know that better than anyone."

"Don't be afraid of him," Bryon murmurs, the silky folds of his voice warm, inviting. The hard muscle guiding my movements adds security to my stance, but doesn't aid the shakiness of my breathing. "He won't hurt you. Rumbbaa is acting under orders."

"Don't be afraid?" I laugh, my voice breathy and thin as a coloring book page, painted with my fear. "He's massive. Why the hell is he here?"

Guiding my hand with his, Bryon softly strokes the belly hairs of the creature within his reach. "Well, I suppose Daine sent him. We did tell Daisy to send help as soon as she got there, so we could hurry up and make it to a safe-haven. This was probably Daine's best option."

"Daine?" I inquire.

"The leader of the town we're going to. He's like a mayor, with more weight. This wolf, do you remember its type? Remember what I taught you?"

"Angel wolf," I recall, gradually growing more confident, a courage that is soon swiped from me as the beast's muzzle descends to snuff at my arm in sucking gasps.

"Very good," Bryon praises delightedly, tolerant of my skittishness around the creature so much larger than anything I've ever encountered. "You were paying attention. Now, a lot of angel wolves are things you don't want to mess with, but not Rumbbaa here. He's been nicknamed the 'Guardian Angel'. Truly, he's a gentle giant."

"Giant," I reiterate, eyes widening as the wolf continues to approach with his broad, flaring nostrils. "Very, very, giant."

Curiosity shines in those wise eyes of its – each is the size of a mega truck's wheels, each blink slow and peaceful. Thick, fluffy brindled brown fur cloaks the wolf, accompanying the chocolate-and-white dappled wings still shading the light from the entire clearing. His jaws, still dripping with the remnants of saliva, could easily take my body and crush it with a single snap of his teeth. The fuzzy triangular folds making up his four ears twitch and swivel, quivering to face each noise any of us dare make – one pair is slightly lower on his neck than the naturally placed set, and smaller to a trivial margin.

Cautiously, I reach up, straining, rising up to the very tips of my toes like a prima ballerina… and only touch the very tips of his chest hairs.

"He's so big," I whisper in utter awe.

"Like a bus of the wolf world," Hugo agrees, stalking up with his hands behind his back. With a keen eye and a judgmental expression, Hugo studies Rumbbaa, circling the wolf critically. "Scruffy's a good lightweight packer. He can run fast, be fast. Now, mind you, this guy's not pokey, either, but he's far from Scruffy's level. Heavy artillery is what this guy's built for." Twice, he pounds against the wolf's iron shoulder, not sending a quiver through its stance. "Look at that. Made for combat. But instead, he carts people around. Such a pity. He could be put to such use."

"So you expect me to… what?" I question, turning sharply to face Bryon's gaze. "Just hop on his back and ride to God knows where?"

"I'm not sure how much I relish that plan," Raffe comments, joining the conversation with a scowl and a set of crossed arms. "I'm not sure I'm a big fan of the 'angel wolf', either."

"Which is why you'll be escorting Penryn." Bryon smiles warmly, twirling his staff tranquilly in one hand. "Ogden has his artificial wings, too, so he'll be tagging along, but Penryn, if you and Paige could take to the air on Rumbbaa, we'd be snuggled into the nice hotel at Sercem Domu by nightfall. It's quite simple, really."

"And even if the old man has these artificial wings," Raffe snorts, "what about you, Nephilim? And you, Monkey?"

"He knows my name!" gasps Hugo quietly.

Ignoring Hugo, Raffe continues, "You two aren't exactly speed demons down here. How are you going to be able to 'snuggle up' by nightfall, hmm?"

Hugo laughs, sauntering up, straightening his jacket confidently. "True, Bryon isn't exactly the quick type, but a unicorn practically is the definition of speed demon. A speed demon with a serrated blade at its forehead. Plus, Scruffy's, like, a gazillion times faster than Tabitha, and apparently, Bryon needs me to prove that to him for the billionth time."

"Oh, you are so on," Bryon growls with a reproachful glare.

"How, exactly, did you make peace with a unicorn?" Raffe's brow puckers. "Other than, well, me, they're the most unpredictable, volatile, fierce creatures that you can possibly encounter. And this one just takes you out for joyrides?"

"Unicorns are evil?" I blurt, glancing incredulously from Raffe to Bryon.

"Yes," answers Raffe in the same heartbeat that Bryon chuckles a hearty rebuttal.

"Tabitha scares me," Bryon admits sheepishly, glancing downwardly with cowardice, "but unicorns aren't evil. Evil isn't the phrasing I'd use. Frightening? Yes, a million times."

"Unicorns are fierce, and oh boy, they're meanies," Hugo cackles gleefully, slapping his hands against his thighs repeatedly, "but they're not evil." His self-inflicted disappointment causes me to roll my eyes. "Being a speed demon and a demon are two entirely different things. Tabitha is a mean, mean girl, but she's just got a need for speed. That being said, Scruffy is so much faster than her, it's not even funny." Hugo hesitates. "Hey, Bryon? Can you, like, not go past the speed of sound? It's not fair, because Scruffy can't do that."

"I detect some faulty logic here," I trumpet. "But you know who's going to beat the two of you?"

Both of their smiles turn to me, wolfish and toothy. "Oh!" Bryon exclaims, rubbing his hands together. "Next thing you know, Ogden's going to sign up for track. What's your contestant, Penryn?"

I crane up, gently rubbing my fingers along the rock-solid muscles forging Rumbbaa's leg, massaging beneath the thick blanket of silky fur. His warm breath cycles over my cheek, curious snuffing of his nose drifting gently over my hair.

"Rumbbaa here," I boast, "is bigger than Scruffy and Tabitha, and faster, I'll bet. He may not be the most slender thing, but his flaps can get him pretty far, I'm willing to say."

Scruffy yips indignantly, trotting over to the larger wolf for the first time. True, there is a frightening difference in stature – Rumbbaa is not twice the size of Scruffy, but rather thrice – but Scruffy does not falter, does not even lay his ears back in the presence of the massive animal. Instead, he growls and woofs a threat at Rumbbaa, baring his little ivory teeth; strange, I'd never thought I'd be calling his fangs tiny, but, in the larger wolf's eyes, they must seem rather pathetic.

Rumbbaa, undaunted by the little wolf, sends a triumphant shiver through his fur. All four ears focus on the pup before him. Enamel gleams from beneath his dripping black lips, each tooth able to puncture Scruffy's skull in a single bite. His dappled feathers flex and scoop the air, forty foot wingspan casting its shadow upon the ground. A thunderous growl rumbles in the pit of his throat, shivering through his neck fur.

Over the hill, a piercing whinny scrapes the sky, a challenge to both of the wolves. At the sound, both Rumbbaa and Scruffy recoil, flattening their ears against their skull and tucking their tails.

"Tabitha, bitches!" Hugo crows. "Oh, this is going to be fun!"

"Eat my dust," Raffe chuckles, baring his black wings to the sky, cocky smile consuming his face.

"You'll be begging for mercy when I'm through with you," Hugo chuckles confidently. "Ogden will be faster than you, with my installations on his artificial wings."

"On the subject of Ogden," Bryon hums thoughtfully, "did anyone else notice him getting a headstart, or was that only me?"

Hugo runs his hands through his hair, anxiety conflating with the thrill of the race in his eyes. "Fuck! Fuckity fuck fuck! Scruffy, saddle up!"

Oh, how I enjoy writing for Hugo.

Just as an FYI, Bryon's wife is Audiat – and they haven't yet met.

So, they're going onto Sercem Domu, travelling by air and land, in a race – but here's a thought, here's a thought. Could it be possible that the Nephilim are already aware of their position? Rumbbaa did appear to them, and it's not like the floating flowers of the previous night were the best of stealth tactics. Besides, wouldn't they like to keep a lazy eye on Raffe?

Just out of interest, do I actually have viewers from Croatia, Bangladesh, and Venezuela? Or is that just some weird glitch thing? Shoot me a review, I'm curious.

POLL: Scruffy, Rumbbaa, Raffe, Ogden-with-Head-Start, Tabitha. Choose one to win, because I'm too tired to think of anything better.

Ciao,

~wolfluvermh