Broken Wings

"You can Fly" owned by Disney


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Astha did her best not to fidget as she was led through the richly decorated halls of Buckingham Palace, and she wished once more for the comforting weight of the Spear of Gae Bolg. Unlike the Methuselan Empire, the human kingdoms would not allow anyone armed in to see their ruler, and she was not about to leave the deadly spear in an unknown human’s hands. It would be too easy for one of them with a grudge against the Methuselah to use it to start problems that she was here to prevent.

"From the Methuselan Empire, Astharoche Asran, Viscountess of Odessa and Duchess of Kieve, messenger for Her Imperial Highness, Empress Agusta Vradica," announced the crier as the ornate double doors were opened before Astha. Surprised murmurs echoed through the large hall as Astha glided up the red carpet placed down the center of the room, her fine white silk outfit with royal blue and metallic gold trim an equal for any human noble's outfit here. The only one dressed more richly than her was the slender redhead seated on the throne on the dais, her elaborate white and gold gown making her appear twice as large as she truly was as a crown of gold and jewels sparkled in Queen Esther Blanchett's hair. Her blue eyes were alight with delight at the sight of Astha but Esther quickly hid her excitement at seeing the Methuselah Noble.

In one smooth, graceful movement, Astha knelt on one knee with her fist over her heart. “I bring greetings to Her Majesty, Queen Esther Blanchett, Albion’s Star of Hope, from Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Augusta Vradica, the Eternal Mother of the Empire,” she announced, decades of playing court politics allowing her to spout off the flowery greeting with ease. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope made out of parchment and sealed with blood red wax holding the Imperial crest, before she held it up, wax side up to prove that it hadn’t been tampered with in any way. “Her Imperial Majesty’s message, for Her Majesty’s eyes only.”

She waited, all urges to fidget gone now that she was in the political arena again and continued holding out the envelope until it was removed from her hand. Only then did she drop her hand back to her side, her head still bowed as she waited for a sign of acknowledgment even as her senses strained to detect any possible twitch of treachery from those in the room. It wasn’t the guards that worried her, but the unknown courtiers who ringed the room while she was in her vulnerable position. If any decided to start trouble with the Empire, it would be them, willing to strike when her neck was exposed like this. There was the sharp crack of the sealing wax breaking before the crinkling of paper announced that someone had removed the folded letter within and was reading it.

As the seconds dragged on into minutes, Astha was glad that she was use to kneeling on a carpet while giving her reports to the Empress because otherwise her knee would be hurting and she would be wobbling from remaining kneeling for so long. But thanks to her unexpected training, she had no problem keeping her balance while remaining motionless as the young queen read the letter.

“We are delighted to hear that our neighbors are willing to start motions towards a peace treaty between us and the Empire,” stated Esther, sounding like she had been raised in this life instead of in a church in Ishtvan and had been a nun up until a few months ago. “We shall compose a letter to deliver to Her Imperial Majesty upon your return. Until such time as you return, we offer you our hospitality and ask that you join us in touring the Methuselah part of our kingdom.”

Startled gasps echoed through the air, indicating that either the offer of the tour or the hospitality was unexpected from the various courtiers, and Astha smiled slightly. “I thank you for the generous offer, your highness, and gladly accept your hospitality during my visit to your kingdom.”

“Please rise and join us,” requested Esther, and Astha managed to make it to her feet without groaning as her leg protested the movement after being stuck in one position for several minutes.

“Your highness, surely you aren’t going to take this vampire down into the Ghetto with you when you go to your meeting with the terrorist leader!” protested one of the courtiers, and Astha gritted her teeth as she ignored the slur even as her fangs itched to rip out that useless voice. They were Methuselah for the Eternal Mother’s sake, not some creature out of a horror novel.

There was a shifting of petticoats as Esther rose to her feet. “The Duchess of Kiev is our guest and will be treated with all the respect due to her as a messenger from Her Imperial Majesty.” The red haired queen’s voice was cold enough to cause icicles to form on the walls, and Astha glanced up to find the young woman’s blue eyes hard as sapphires as she glared at the hapless courtier who had dared question his queen’s decision. “And Vanessa Walsh is not a terrorist. She is concerned over the treatment of her fellow Methuselah, and as one of our subjects, it is our responsibility to listen to her concerns.”

With that, Esther swept down the red carpet that led from her throne to the double doors Astha had come in, and the blonde Methuselah followed in the redhead’s wake as the doors were opened for Esther. Instead of heading back to either an office or her suite, Esther led Astha down what looked to be almost a servant’s hallway only to stop in front of a door, and Astha watched with concealed interest as Esther pressed her palm against a flat square that was apparently a finger print reader. Then the doors hissed open to reveal an empty metal elevator that looked like it belonged in a warehouse somewhere instead of in Buckingham palace.

“Apparently, my family has not only skeletons in the closet but under the ground as well,” sighed Esther, stepping into the elevator as two guards that had followed them proceeded her by a couple of steps and Astha slipped in just before the doors started closing. “It has only recently come to my attention that the source of lost technology that is the basis for Albion’s political might comes from the Methuselah that live in the Ghetto, an underground factory and city.”

“And since one of the more vocal Methuselah have expressed a distastes for their current living conditions, you have decided to start changing things,” concluded Astha with a small dip of her head. It was a good way to start a reign and would get Esther support from the oppressed Methuselah while building her political influence.

Esther only hummed in a general agreement as the doors slid open to reveal a metal corridor that was even more dingy than the hallway above them. “I just want to help,” she confessed, her voice sad as her shoulders slumped, reminding Astha of the nun who had wanted to help her friends no matter what the consequences. “No one should live in oppression and be forced to support others just because they can.”

That got a noncommital hum from Astha who wondered if these Methuselah were truly being oppressed or if they were just testing the waters with the new queen of Albion. It was not uncommon for subjects to see just what a new ruler was made out of by attempting either a revolution or causing dissonant among the masses. Either way, it would be an interesting meeting because if she remembered her Albion nobility right, Vanessa Walsh was the name of the Count of Manchester’s sister.

A few more twists and turns in the dingy hallway before a door opened, and Esther was proceeded by her guards once more as they took up their spots just inside the doorway. Astha walked in to find herself in an almost sterile room with only a large table circled by a dozen chairs, and a woman with green hair sat at the end of the table with a blond man and a brunette woman sitting on either side of her. Most polite people would have risen in the presence of a queen, but this woman remained sitting, her eyes hard as she glared at them.

“Was it necessary to bring an outsider into these discussions, Your Majesty?” demanded the green haired woman as Esther claimed the seat opposite her and gestured for Astha to take the seat to her right.

Instead of getting annoyed, Esther returned the woman’s furious gaze with her own calm one. “Vanessa Walsh, allow us to present Astharoche Asran, Duchess of Kiev and a messenger from Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Augusta Vradica of the Methuselan Empire,” introduced the redhead. “Your Grace, this is Vanessa Walsh, a representative of our Methuselan citizens.”

That got curious steel gray eyes turned in her direction, but Astha met them with an unreadable blank stare, acting as if she were just another puppet for the Empire. It was the best ploy she could come up with since she had no idea what was truly going on here, and if it turned out her input was needed, then she could act on behalf of the Empire with the blessings of Her Imperial Majesty. It was a small advantage that Seth had granted her before Astha had left the Empire, knowing that there would be times when the blonde Methuselah would have to act in a moment’s notice instead of waiting to get a call back to the Empress.

“Are you here to help us or them?” the brunette woman asked, her voice suspicious and hard as she gestured angrily towards Esther.

“Considering I have no knowledge of the situation from either side, how can I choose to back either the Methuselahs or the Terrans?” countered Astha, sitting back in the chair with her hands folded on the table, the sharp nails glittering in the artificial light, and she was glad that she let Abel talk her into painting them a metallic blood red. They were quite a sight as if she had painted her nails in the blood of her enemies, and it was the perfect warning that she was a warrior in her own right as well as a noble and diplomat.

Walsh nodded her head in agreement with Astha’s words. “Very well. This is our plight,” she began before launching into a tale that sounded like it came from a fairy tale. Methuselah enslaved to work in factories beneath Londinium, making the lost technology, while the humans benefitted and lived off of the sweat and toil of the Methuselah, and the human nobles kept the Methuselah as their dirty little secret.

“Our demands are simple,” concluded Walsh, spreading her hands on the table as if displaying a deck of cards. “We want the safety of every Methuselah in the Ghetto guaranteed, that your government help any Methuselah that wishes to relocate to the Empire, and that our hard work to the prosperity of the Albion economy be publicly acknowledged.”

Esther frowned in thought instead of in anger. “It will take a bit of doing to get everything started for your requests to be met,” she stated, one finger tapping her chin before blue eyes turned to Astha. “Do you have anything you wish to add, Duchess?”

“I would like to speak to some of the workers in this factory,” announced Astha. “Just to see for myself the conditions that you speak of, and to allow me to make an accurate report to Her Imperial Majesty.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Her Imperial Majesty is working towards a peace treaty between the Empire and the human kingdoms, and as Her Imperial Messenger, it is my duty to investigate such claims of unrest that could potentially disrupt the Peace Talks.”

She glanced at Esther who was regarding her with curious blue eyes. “By your leave, Your Majesty?” Esther nodded, and Astha rose from the table, nodding her head in a gesture of respect to Walsh before she turned and walked out the doors.

As the doors closed behind her, Astha let out a small sigh of relief. It wasn’t that she disliked sitting in on potentially hostile negotiations, but she could do so much more investigating Walsh’s claims instead of sitting around a table and talking. Her hand crept up to feel the second envelope that was still in her coat pocket, and a small smile touched her face. Besides, she still had another letter to deliver and two children to bring back to the Empire. Turning on her heels, Astha picked a direction and started walking, knowing that if this was part of the factory then she would find either a control room or workers sooner or later.

A few hours later and much wiser about the situation in the Ghetto, Astha found herself standing in front of a building where the laughter of children spilled out of the partially opened windows, and she took a fortifying breath before knocking on the door. There was the sound of approaching feet before the door opened to reveal a pretty young Methuselan with brown hair neatly pulled back into a bun wearing a simple pink blouse and burgundy skirt with a white apron over it. Wary brown eyes stared at Astha, taking in her rich clothes. “May I help you?”

Astha smiled in a reassuring manner. “Yes, I was wondering if Wendy and Peter were available for a talk,” she said, pulling out the second envelope. Instead of the Imperial Seal in blood red wax, this one was sealed with blue wax with a cross pressed into it. “I have a letter for them.”

The woman studied Astha for a few minutes before opening the door farther. “Please come in,” she invited, stepping to one side, and Astha casually entered the building.

The inside was neat and clean with the few children’s toys that were scattered on the floor adding a homely feel to the place instead of making it seem cluttered. Curious eyes peered at her from around doorways, hallway corners and from between the railing slats on the stairs, but Astha remained unfazed by the various stares. The woman brushed past Astha and motioned for the blonde Methuselah to follow her.

“Wendy is in the kitchen, helping with dinner, and Peter is assisting her,” the woman announced, her voice gentle, and she looked up at Astha with hopeful eyes. “Are you here to adopt them or act on behalf of someone who wants to adopt them?”

“Why do you ask that?” inquired Astha, wondering how many times this woman has greeted someone who was acting on someone else’s behalf to adopt a child.

“I truly hope you are,” stated the woman with a wistful smile. “Neither Peter nor Wendy wish to be separated from the other, a common occurrence with close siblings, and yet no one wishes to adopt both of them, citing Wendy is too old to adopt or two are too much trouble than one would be.” She sighed softly. “Both of them being adopted by a noble would be a good change for them, provide them both with a steady home. Both are hard workers. Wendy is a kind little mother for the younger children, and Peter is a fierce protector of all of them, especially Wendy. We were blessed when they were brought to us, but they need to find their own way again.”

Astha nodded, her thought whirling now. She had only come here to deliver the letter from Leon and see if the two children wanted to return with her to the Empire, but part of her was urging her to seriously consider adopting the children into her own household. After all, she didn’t have any heirs yet and probably wouldn’t for the foreseeable future, and she had two titles while being an Imperial Investigator. Wendy could easily be trained in the proper ways of the Imperial Court while Peter was trained as a personal guard for her.

Entering the kitchen, Astha at first thought the girl standing at the stove was a maid, dressed in a neat blue dress with a white apron over it with large ruffles protecting her shoulders, and her golden hair was pulled up into pig tails, tied off with pink ribbons, but the way she was directing the children around her without really saying anything indicated that this wasn’t a maid.

One little girl with brown hair pulled back into two small pigtails tied with yellow ribbons tugged on the girl’s skirt, and she beamed up at the blonde who smiled gently down at her. “Wendy, sing the flying song again? Please?”

“Yeah, sing it again!” piped up a boy with messy light brown hair and big blue eyes from where he was chopping potatoes at a nearby counter. He shrank back as Wendy turned serious blue eyes on him and he stopped waving the knife he held around.

“All right since you asked so nicely,” agreed Wendy before she started to sing. “Think of a wonderful thought, any merry little thought. Think of Christmas, think of snow, think of sleigh bells, off you go! Like reindeers in the sky! You can fly! You can fly! You can fly! Think of the happiest things, it’s the same as having wings. Take a path that moonbeams make. If the moon is still awake, you’ll see him wink his eye. You can fly! You can fly! You can fly! Up you go with a heigh and ho to the stars beyond the blue. There’s a Never Land waiting for you, where all your happy dreams come true. Every dream that you dream will come true. When there’s a smile in your heart, there’s no better time to start. Think of all the joy you’ll find, when you leave the world behind and bid your cares goodbye. You can fly! You can fly! You can fly!”

The girl’s sweet voice brought a smile to Astha’s face as the other children helped her sing the song while they twirled around the kitchen, their arms outstretched as if they were trying to fly, and they collapsed in giggles at the end. All except the young boy chopping potatoes. Astha had seen a flash of longing and hurt in his large blue eyes before it was hidden again by laughter. She had thought that no one else had seen the look, but from the faint frown on Wendy’s face, the girl had seen it.

“Dinner’s almost ready, so everyone, time to wash your hands and faces,” instructed Wendy, pointing to the door with her wooden spoon, and there were a few faint sounds of protest before the children trickled out of the door. “Peter, are you almost done with those potatoes?”

“Yes Wendy,” announced the boy, dumping the last of the potatoes in a large pot next to him on the counter before he carefully carried it over to her, placing it on an open burner on the stove. For a moment Astha thought their presence had gone unnoticed, but that thought was dashed the moment the boy’s hands were free because he turned to them and folded his arms across his chest, glaring at Astha as he stood between her and Wendy. “What do you want?”

“Peter!” admonished Wendy, turning to look at them, and Astha caught a faint flicker of fear in the girl’s blue eyes before it was buried. “How may we help you, Matron?”

The matron gestured to Astha. “She has brought a letter to you both,” the woman announced, and the children’s faces became alight with curiosity as they looked at Astha in a new light. “I expect you both to be on your best behavior while she is here and to treat her like the noble she is.”

She started shooing them both away from the stove, but a torn expression appeared on Wendy’s face. “But dinner...” Wendy began.

“You have everything prepared,” stated the matron, shaking a finger at Wendy. “I only have to let it finish cooking and place it on the table. Now escort the Lady into the parlor where you three can talk in private.”

Wendy sighed in defeat before turning away from the stove, wiping her hands on a towel as she did so, and she placed a hand around Peter’s shoulders before starting towards the door. “If you would come with us, please,” she invited, and Astha nodded her head, pleased at the girl’s manners.

Astha was led into a room that had nice chairs scattered around it, separated by the occasional table and a large couch while pictures hung on the walls that were decorated with faded wall paper. It had probably been very lovely at one time, but age had taken its toll on the room, stripping it of its glory yet somehow leaving the feeling of homeliness behind. Wendy and Peter sat on the couch, their blue eyes staring at Astha expectantly, and now Astha could see the beginnings of womanly curves mostly hidden under Wendy’s plain dress, causing her to reassess her original idea of Wendy’s age from around ten to probably thirteen.

“You wished to speak with us?” invited Wendy, her hands folded demurely in her lap, and Astha pulled out the envelope she had been carrying, holding it out to them.

“Father de Asturias asked me to pass this along to you,” began Astha, and Peter snatched it out of her hand, tearing open the envelope before he yanked the pages out, his blue eyes already scanning the neat handwriting there. Astha blinked in surprise at his actions as she settled into a chair across from the two children, their heads bent over the letter as they read the introduction that Leon had written for her.

Peter snorted as he finished, raising his blue eyes to pin her with a glare. “The Old Man speaks highly of you, but how do we know we can trust you?” he demanded, letting Wendy have the letter as he folded his arms across his chest again. “He said you know what happened to us, but for all we know, you just want to cart us off to see what Barrie did to us so you can repeat his experiments.”

“For one thing, I am a representative of Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Augusta Vradica, the Eternal Mother of the Empire. She would have my head on a pike if I even thought about something like that in passing,” remarked Astha, raising an eyebrow at Peter’s paranoia. “Of course, if you wanted, Wendy could always fix a cup of her special tea that Father Nightroad speaks highly about. He mentioned that it was the fastest he had ever fallen asleep after a cup.”

An embarrassed blush stained Wendy’s cheeks as she folded the letter and held it in her lap. “Father de Asturias and Father Nightroad both speak highly of you in this,” she stated, holding up the letter before folding her hands over the parchment, and Astha stared at her in surprise. She had known Leon had written the letter, but she hadn’t thought that Abel had added anything. “On their word, I am willing to listen to you, but that is all. I want to hear from you why you are interested in us.”

Astha sat back in the chair and steepled her fingers before her face as she collected her thoughts, her estimation of the two children going up several notches. Their paranoia of others would serve them well in Court as well as against any who might harm them, but left unchecked, it would ruin them both. “Father de Asturias asked for me to act on his behalf since he is unable to openly adopt you due to an unsolved crime in his past. At first, I was only planning on inviting you both to come to the Empire and live there until the crime was solved so Father de Asturias could openly adopt you both.”

“And now?” The wariness in Peter’s voice was only sharpened by the distrust in his eyes.

“Now, I would like to adopt you both myself, and name you my heirs while teaching you about the Empire and this world you have been thrust into,” replied Astha, her voice calm as she hoped the children would agree. “You would be able to stay together for as long as you wished, you would be allowed certain privileges as would be your rights as my heirs, and both Fathers de Asturias and Nightroad would be welcomed to visit you whenever they could or you could visit them.”

She shrugged a shoulder. “It would not be an easy or idyllic life since there will be duties that you will be required to perform and training to undergo, but it can be yours if you wish.”

“And if we don’t want to go with you?” Peter’s eyes weren’t any more trusting than they had been at the start, but there was something that told Astha he was really listening to her.

“Then you don’t go with me,” the blonde duchess stated in a casual voice as if that was the end of the matter. “But you should think about it seriously. I will be a guest of Her Majesty, Queen Esther, while I am helping her with the problems the Methuselahs have brought to her attention before I return to the Empire when my business here is complete.”

The two children exchanged glances before Wendy returned her gaze to Astha. “Might we have a few minutes to confer on your offer, ma’am?” Before Astha could say either way, they stood up and left the room, Wendy pulling Peter out by the hand, and Astha had to wonder what was so urgent that Wendy had to talk to Peter right that minute. Perhaps the young girl was afraid that Astha might change her mind about something, but if they went with the blonde noble, they would learn that it would take a miracle to change her mind about anything.

A few minutes later, they reentered the room, serious blue eyes staring at Astha, and she simply crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap as she waited for them to speak.

“We have decided that we will go with you, but if there is any treachery on your part, you will never see us again,” announced Wendy, licking her lips nervously.

“That is agreeable,” Astha stated, uncrossing her legs before rising to her feet. She held out her hand to Wendy who carefully shook it before Astha held her hand to Peter. The young boy stared at her for a few minutes, suspicion warring with hope before he finally took her hand in a crushing grip that surprised her more than it hurt. From what Abel had told her, Peter had not been transformed into an artificial Methuselah, yet he had the strength of one. That would require some careful consideration.

Wendy bowed slightly to Astha. “Would you care to join us for dinner before we approach the Matron about the official adoption, Duchess Asran?” she invited, her voice filled with respect even as Peter’s face softened a bit.

Astha smiled and placed a hand on Wendy’s shoulder, making sure the girl saw her actions as she still had some distrust of adults. “That would be wonderful, Wendy. Thank you.”

The three left the study, and Astha smiled as she watched Peter and Wendy talk in quiet voices. Yes, they would go far together.

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With slow, controlled movements, Abel moved through the kata, feeling the pull and burn of muscles as they worked while a simple staff was substituted for his blood scythe. Music filled the air from the stereo tucked away in a corner, a mix of fast paced songs set to play in a random order, and a faint sheen of sweat covered his skin, causing his loose pants to stick to his legs. His hair was pulled back in a braid while the few strands that had worked free floated around his face, and his blue eyes had a ruby glitter to them, the only sign that his Crusnik instincts were closer to the surface than they normally were.

Two weeks.

That was how long Seth and Astha had been gone from the Empire. He knew they both had duties outside of taking care of him while he was weak, but if anything happened to Seth, he knew his ass was going to be on her throne, ruling the Empire she had put together, and that was a responsibility he didn’t want yet. He had an idea of where she might have vanished to but no concrete proof. Astha had been sent to the Albion kingdom to start the process for the Peace Conference and to find Peter and Wendy if at all possible. Seth had just vanished after breakfast with a kiss and a “Be back later, brother!”

While Leon spent most of his time in the garden, enjoying the warm weather and the sunshine as he healed, Abel was in the training room, pushing himself farther as he went through the katas that he hadn’t bothered with since Armageddon. It was almost a surprise how easily the moves came back once he started again, and he worked himself into an exhaustion each day, determined to improve enough to take Cain down permanently. He refused to allow any of the leaders to come to harm from his twisted brother or any of his lackeys.

“When I left, I had hoped that you would take it easy. Not work yourself into the ground and set yourself back with exhaustion,” drawled a familiar voice from the door, and in one smooth motion, Abel turned, launching the staff at the person standing there as if it were a javelin. Seth reached out and knocked the staff away with a sweep of her hand, breaking it in two and sending the pieces clattering to the ground. She sniffed and moved farther into the room, her emerald eyes running over Abel in a clinical way. “You’re either working yourself too hard or not eating enough again. You’ve lost the weight you managed to regain, Brother.”

“Two weeks,” he growled, clenching his hands and feeling his nails start to elongate, cutting into his palms. “No word on where you were or why you left. I didn’t even know you were gone until Mirka told me.”

The virus in his blood was starting to react to his anger as the nanites controlling it loosened their hold, and his braid unraveled under the force of the static electricity his body was generating. His fangs descended, aching to rip through flesh and release a font of hot fresh blood, and he growled, knowing his eyes had become enveloped in the crimson light of the Crusnik virus.

Seth sniffed and folded her arms. “You know I have other responsibilities, Abel...”

“I know that, but I wasn’t expecting you to just up and vanish, leaving me to wonder and worry about you while hoping you didn’t get killed because that would leave me with your throne. Something I am not looking forward to.” His voice was a low growl as he glared at Seth, trying to get control of his anger but unable to. It was just another sign at how weak he was currently when he couldn’t even control his emotions.

“And I’m not use to having someone around the palace that worries about me,” countered Seth, startling Abel out of some of his anger. She offered him a rue smile and a faint shrug. “You haven’t been around, and there really isn’t anyone else who would be that concerned about me before you and Leon showed up. About the only person I’ve ever been answerable to have been my doubles and that was only to let them know that they needed to stand in for me because I was going to be gone.”

Slender arms wrapped around his waist, and Abel closed his eyes, finally managing to rein in his tempter and activate more of the nanites to suppress his Crusnik form. “I don’t want to loose you,” he confessed, sinking to his knees and wrapping his arms around Seth’s small form. “Not when I have a chance to get to know you again.”

Soft laughter shook her body, causing Abel to look up at her with a curious expression as she slid her fingers through his long silver hair. “Your pretty cardinal is the same way, you know that?” she inquired, her green eyes dancing. “Both of you have lost a great deal in your lives and are afraid to let anyone get close to you while wanting to cling to those that manage the impossible despite your best intentions.”

“So did she influence me or did I influence her?” mused Abel, resting his head against Seth’s chest as he continued to kneel there. He didn’t want to move yet, not when he could soak in her warmth and use it to chase off the nightmares again. “The first time I saw her, she was about thirteen years old and was being chased by a group of vampire assassins. She was so young an vulnerable, not like the strong woman today.”

“I think that’s like asking which came first, the chicken or the egg,” replied Seth, not stopping her stroking of Abel’s hair, and his eyes slid closed under the soothing motion, a deep purr starting in his chest.

He must have dozed off because the next thing he was aware of was soft giggling drawing him back to consciousness, and he opened an eye to find Astha leaning over him with a smile on her face. It was then that he realized that Seth had maneuvered them to the floor where she was sitting while he lay curled up on the floor with his head pillowed in her lap, her hand still stroking his hair. He heard the giggle again, and his eyes were drawn past Astha to where two familiar children stood, amusement clear on their faces.

“I’m glad to see you’re feeling better, tovarash, but the floor of the training room is not a good place to catch a nap,” teased Astha, reaching down to brush his silver bangs out of his eyes, and a faint blush spread across his cheeks.

Slowly, he pushed himself up, sitting on the floor near Seth and raked his long hair over one shoulder before starting to braid it with quick fingers. “I’m getting better but I have a long way to go before I can fight Cain and win,” he sighed, tying the long braid off with a ribbon that he found in his pocket as he climbed to his feet.

He walked past Astha towards the weapon’s rack where other staves were available for use, and stopped to smile down at Wendy and Peter. “I’m glad you decided to come. Leon will be happy to see you.”

“And what about you, Father Abel Nightroad?” asked Wendy, her blue eyes filled with curiosity. “Aren’t you happy to see us as well?”

Abel stared down at her, meeting her gaze with his own blue one, and part of him wondered why she was asking, considering that they may have parted on friendly terms but had started out with her trying to kill him. “Yes, I am glad to see you.”

“Well you don’t act like it,” retorted Peter, glaring at Abel with a mulish expression on his face.

“And how exactly am I suppose to act, hm? Perhaps sweep you both into my arms and hug you like there’s no tomorrow even though you are both still wary of adults,” mused Abel, looking at Peter who had the ashamed dignity to look away. “You both knew me from the time we crashed on Never Land Island to when you were dropped off in Londinium with my acquaintance which was the span of a night. You should really learn more about a person before you start making assumptions about them.”

With that, he continued over to the rack and picked up one of the staves, testing it in his hand before moving to the center of the floor to start his katas again. There were a few quiet murmurs before the sound of people leaving was punctuated by the door closing firmly, and he closed his eyes as he relaxed into the kata again. Maybe later, he’d be able to talk Seth into sparring with him again...

“Why are you so angry, Father Nightroad?” Wendy’s voice broke through his concentration, and he froze, opening his eyes to find her staring at him as she leaned against the wall. Her hands were tucked behind her in the small of her back, and she was the picture of unconcerned relaxation, but Abel knew how quick she could be when she shifted to her vampiric form. “Even after I drugged you and wanted to kill you simply for being an adult, you weren’t this angry. What happened to you?”

He snorted and straightened out of his attack position, the staff held casually in one hand as he stared at her with intense blue eyes. “Do not ask questions that you are not prepared to hear the answer to,” he warned, his voice hard and emotionless as his hand tightened slightly on the staff. Hearing the wood creak under his grip reminded him of the fragility of his practice weapon, and he loosened his grip on it. He couldn’t keep breaking staves in his anger or there would be none left to practice with until the woodcarver could make more.

“If I didn’t want to hear the answer, then I wouldn’t have answered the question,” countered Wendy, pushing away from the wall as a shimmer appeared behind her before solidifying into glowing fairy-like wings. Small fangs protruded from her lips and her eyes glowed red as she slowly rose into the air, her wings humming as they beat the air with a furious speed. “You did not fear us before, going as far as to beg Father de Asturias for our lives, yet the gentle priest is gone, discarded for this angry man before me.”

“The gentle priest was drugged and kidnaped before spending three months in a dungeon being tortured by a sadistic man,” Abel shot back, a sliver of satisfaction curling through him as she blanched at that information.

“Did you kill him?” Wendy asked as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “We killed the man who hurt us.”

Abel shook his head, his thick braid slithering across his back with the motion. “It’s not that simple,” he began, lowering his head to stare at the floor as emotions battled inside him. Part of him wanted to return to the Vatican simply to rip Francesco limb from limb before decorating the garden with the entrails of the cardinal while a much larger part wanted to do the same thing but with Cain instead of Francesco before locking Francesco in a small cell to rot.

“How can it not be that simple?” she demanded, her fists on her hips. “If someone hurts you that badly, you kill them so they can’t hurt anyone else.”

“Oh you naive child,” he sighed, tossing the staff off to one side as he stared at her. He was actually amused by her naivety, but she still needed to learn this lesson. “You are no longer on your island where you make the rules. Now you are part of society where you must obey the rules that others make. Were I to kill the one who hurt me, many people would suffer because he is a loved one of theirs, and I would be hunted like a fugitive before being locked away. He will be punished, of that I have no doubt, but until that time when I can move against him, I have to bide my time and get stronger.”

Wendy sniffed and folded her arms across her chest. “You’ll have to get a lot stronger if you want to hurt your enemies,” she remarked. “Because you were easy to defeat on the island.”

He chuckled, the dark sound rumbling in his chest. “Perhaps I was holding back because I didn’t want to hurt you?” he purred, holding his arms out as he stared at her. “If you think you can defeat me a second time, come.”

A red glare was his only warning as Wendy zipped towards him, her wings beating a furious tempo against the air, and Abel casually rolled out of the way, feeling her brush past him. A few more close misses that resulted in a few slashes in the tumbling mats, and he chuckled at the frustration on her face. “Perhaps I should get the other Lost Boys and a Tinkerbell system for you to use. After all, that was how you defeated me last time.”

Stars exploded in his vision as a lucky punch clipped his jaw, shaking things loose in his head, and he stumbled backwards, one hand coming up to cradle his aching head as he blinked furiously, focusing on her furious face.

“There’s nothing special about you,” growled Wendy, her red eyes flashing dangerously as she clenched a fist. “You’re just another adult who thinks they know what’s best for everyone.” She lunged, grabbing a sword from the nearby weapon’s rack, and Abel knew that while the edge was dulled for practice, in the hands of a Methuselah that didn’t mean much. Especially one as angry as Wendy apparently was.

Snarling, she swung the sword at him only to gape when he caught it with a clawed hand, and for the second time, his braid unraveled again as his hair rose above his head. A dark chuckle slipped past sharp fangs emerging past black lips as he lazily blinked at her, and he held out his right hand, blood rushing out to form his scythe.

Wrapping his fingers around it, the Crusnik brought it up, twisting it this way and that as he watched the light glint off the razor sharp blade. It was rarely this bright when he usually summoned his scythe, and he never noticed how the transformed blood was almost metallic along the blade.

The faint whimper of fear and the pounding of a heart brought his attention back to the small figure gripping the sword he was holding, and he cocked his head slightly, studying her as he tried to figure out if she was a friend or a foe. It was hard to think for some reason, his instincts smothering his thoughts, demanding he destroy this one who dare attack him and take her blood for his own. She smelled young and sweet with a slight artificial scent about her that was spread with each flutter of her shimmering wings. His tongue snaked out to lick his lips, hunger rumbling in his stomach as he caressed his fangs, and she screamed before diving out the window, her wings beating the air in a furious tempo, the sword falling to the floor, forgotten. His back rippled before ebony feathered wings spread, and he snarled as he jumped after her, dimly hearing the door to the room slam open behind him. That wasn’t as important as catching his prey before it escaped him.

The prey flew around trees and castle spires, desperate to escape, but the Crusnik kept right behind her, enjoying the feel of the wind beneath his wings and the faint burn of the muscles in his back and chest keeping him in the air. He glanced briefly at the scythe in his hands before dismissing it. He would not need that to bring his prey down.

Suddenly, something small and moving fast slammed into him, shoving him off balance and knocking him away from his prey, and he managed to right himself with a few flaps of his large wings as he looked around for his prey. After a few seconds, he spotted his prey being dragged off by a young male with the same shimmering wings and a determined look on his young face as he glanced back at the Crusnik over his shoulder. Snarling, he dove after them because the younger male was taking his prey right to another Crusnik!

There was a green blur that intercepted him when he was almost to his prey, slamming into him hard enough that he started spiraling out of control, his wings refusing to work correctly before a strong if small hand grabbed him by the nape of his neck and dragged him onto the balcony. He fought against the grip, wanting to break free and claim his prey, which had landed a bit farther away on the balcony, when sharp fangs at his neck startled him before he went completely limp, submitting to the other Crusnik’s domination and collapsing to the balcony, ignoring the pain that lanced through his knees as he struck the unyielding stone.

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