Radicle (Terminal trilogy #2, can stand alone)

39: In which there is a fire

The next day I lost my hearing. But even if I had the sense, there would have been little to learn.

Most of what I needed to know was caught in the scents of the long afternoon, and that smell was that of smoke and flesh- For first I attended a funeral, and next I held one myself.

The actual funeral was more of an event than a solemn happening. People were sad, but it was no longer a matter of the five favorite friends and the occasional tolling of the bell: Too many people were dead for such trifle matters.

Instead, Cassiel and Victoria danced. And danced. Some bodies were burned. But it would take too many days for all the dead to be treated. So mostly the girls danced and Michael, far above and unseen, watched with ever invested eyes.

Blood was collected at first, from the first few ceremonial bodies, but later they stopped dragging the corpses out. My ears were ringing, but with the way they kept taking pauses, I assumed they were just listing names and allowing for a second silence each. The blood would be gathered later.

I did not know and I did not count how many angels were left alive, but I do know there were many bodies to get through that day. I watched at first from the sideline of the tower's arena, but I left eventually.

I had, as I always seemed to have, unfinished business.

Heaven was blood-stained but empty, silent in it's movement. There were demons here, too, lain out across the street like the warning that they always were going to be. It was luckily a short walk to the church building itself, and from there I came to Michael's room and tore the wordless books off his wall until I found what I was seeking:

The files my sister had guarded so dearly. And then another thought came to mind, and I clutched the papers close to my stomach like I needed to keep quiet- but the world was quiet to me now. I had no reason to fear.

I walked to Hell, went to Pride, and kept walking the linear course through the static of the chatting crowds. There was excitement in their faces, and fear seemed to hang tangibly on their minds.

Excavation was going well in the halls towards lower Hell, but the prospects of life were well beyond dim. Work had just reached Envy, the area being close to Lust and Pride, but the next level down would take a number of days to reach.

I only needed Envy, so I was rather delighted to find it unharmed past the semi-collapsed entrance. I was watched by workers, but by the time it was noticed that I had walked past their security, I was deep in the labyrinth.

I searched in vain for Tegan's room, but eventually I realized it didn't really matter if I founded it or not- and I drew out the files and the lighter, and I burned the only record of a previous life.

As the first one in the pile burned, the one where a different Tegan spoke of a different me, I felt something well up in my eyes. I titled my head, sure it was again blood and a sign of my worsening body-

But it was tears.

Huh. That was nice.

As I started to burn the second file, I had a certain realization of a plan that I didn't even try to worry about before putting into action: I began to burn the books.

I was in a small niche of couches and papers, and at every corner I found a book and I let it catch fire until I stood in a ring of smoke. My nostrils stung as my lungs filled with the thick air, and my eyes hurt like a cold autumn evening.

Only when I began to cough too hard to walk did I stumble my way away from the flames I had created, letting my lighter sit on the floor at their base.

People were there, looking among the flames and coming with angry expressions in my general direction, but if they were seeking an intruder, they now had something much more pressing to deal with. I was able to slip away from them again, only stopping in the hall outside Lust to cough for several minutes.

The respite of the blood was shorter with every turn, and as I clutched my shoulder and gripped my chest with every heavy cough, the bleeding returned, old wounds ripping my skin again and blood splattering from my lungs as I tried to stop coughing.

Soon, there was just a stream.

I kept wandering.

But after a moment of resolution, I recalled I had a better place to be, and I ambled my way- slowly, carefully, but generally in a simple enough line- to the present Earth again.

I walked to the forest, veering to the side with such late deliberation that it almost felt like I was making a mistake. But then there it was: a very still pond of dark green and black, smelling of the plants that lined it's pit of a floor.

For once I had time to strip to bathe, but I leapt in fully clothed and with my eyes wide open. I blew the air out of my lungs until I slowly began to sunk to a place that contained nothing but the billows of my blood and the long rotted and half buried corpse of a young girl, maybe twenty, maybe more.