Morningside Fall(125)

With a roar, Cass squeezed the trigger and held it so hard she thought her knuckle might break as the jittergun spewed a stream of death into the tide of Weir that surged towards her. And then – above the demonic cries of the Weir and the buzzsaw scream of her weapon – Cass heard the strangest sound.

A single clear note, high and piercing, like the wind in a winter storm. A human voice. Singing.

And at its sound, the Weir checked their advance. Cass continued to fire into the Weir until she realized that the jittergun had ceased to buzz, and now made only a rapid clicking sound as it tried to feed from an empty magazine.

Strong hands seized her from behind as three forms swept past her and into the Weir. A swirling, almost blinding blue-white light emanated from the three as they moved among the Weir and cut them down with swords that seemed made of fire.

Cass felt herself slipping away, and everything grew smaller, and darker. And the last thing that Cass beheld was a terrifying vision. One of the three forms turned her direction, and its face was of lightning – with blazing coals for eyes, an avenging angel among ravaging demons. And Cass knew no more.





Cass felt herself floating. Or rather, it seemed more like she was falling, but upwards. Her eyelids weighed heavily on her eyes, as if the pressure from the speed of her movement was forcing them into the sockets. Memory fragments returned. Her right hand clenched, desperate to cling to Gamble’s knife, the one that had been in her family a long time, the one Cass had sworn she’d return. But her hand was empty. They had grabbed her. Dragged her away. The Weir had taken her. Again.



Her eyes drifted open, blurred. Tongue too big in her mouth. Everything felt too heavy. She was on her back. A hulking figure loomed. It reached for her. Cass tried to withdraw, but her body barely responded.

“Easy, sister,” a deep baritone voice soothed, the grip firm, heavy, but gentle on her arm. “You’re safe.”

She’d heard that voice before. A long moment. Then her mind processed.

“Mouse?” she said. It took more effort than it should have.

“I’m here,” he answered.

Her eyes still hadn’t focused. “I feel heavy.”

“I had to dose you. Probably going to feel groggy for a while.”

She inhaled deeply. It seemed to take a long time. “Why the dose? Am I hurt bad?”

“They carved you up a little, and you took a hard blow to the head. Nothing life threatening.” He chuckled a little. “I had to dose you because you kept trying to fight everybody.”

“Where’s Wren?” Cass asked.

“Sleeping. It’s the middle of the night. He’s perfectly fine. Not a scratch on him.”

“We made it?”

“We did.”

“All of us?”

He paused. “Almost.”

Cass closed her eyes. “Wick?”

“He’s in rough shape, but he’s hanging in there. Had to give him a fresh whole blood transfusion on the trip back. Got a little lucky there. Turned out Lil was a match.”

She opened her eyes again, turned towards Mouse. Her vision was clearing some. She could see his features. He looked tired. “Wick’s alive?”

“He is,” Mouse answered. He clenched his jaw with passing emotion. “We lost Elan.”

“No,” was all Cass could say. Mouse didn’t respond. There wasn’t really any reason for him to. She had prepared herself as best she could, expecting to lose some of their own. But to cost Lil and her wounded community another life… it seemed unconscionable. And Elan. She remembered him talking with Wren back before they’d left the village, talking about his son. What was his name? Ephraim. Now fatherless.

“How?”

Mouse shook his head. “It was a battle, Cass.” But something in his voice, or his expression – or both – said more. The last moments replayed in her mind. The Weir pressing in around her. Hands dragging her backwards, as angels met the advancing creatures. She’d thought she’d been hallucinating. Now Cass knew she hadn’t been. Not completely.

“He died saving me.” It wasn’t a question.

Mouse took a moment, searched for the words, and then just said, “It wasn’t your fault. And if not for you, more would have died.”

“That doesn’t bring Elan back.”

“Neither does feeling guilty.” She just looked at him, saw pain there, but also grim acceptance. “He knew what we were up against, Cass. He wanted to come help. He volunteered to come help. I guarantee you, if he’d known for sure how it was going to turn out, he still would’ve come.”

“You sound awfully sure for someone who didn’t know him.”