Chapter 3: Not Work that Kills
“They have a new reader!”
“Shamal?” A bleary Chrono tilted his head up, rubbing his eyes. He felt like a pounded meat bag, and waking up in the middle of the night on the same day as the hardest fight of his life was not restful or conducive to healing. “What?”
“The Angels have a new reader,” Shamal repeated, wringing her hands. The rings on her fingers gleamed still, as if proving her statement. “For the Tome of the Night Sky.”
“WHAT!” Chrono echoed himself, bolting upright. He was lucky Amy was sitting up with Subaru and Teana, or else he’d be in trouble for waking her so late. “Are you sure?”
“Of course,” Shamal said. “The aura was odd, sharper than the last reader but faint, so faint I would have missed it if I hadn’t been doing a reading myself.”
Scowling, Chrono thought a bit. “Go to sleep, Shamal,” he said in the end. Stopping her protest with a raised hand, he explained, “They have to look for the new Angel. That will occupy them for a while, even if they can read the
Prophecy again. Remember? The last Angel—”
“Alicia,” Shamal interrupted him. She gave him a look. “She’s not our enemy anymore; the least we can do is use her name.”
Chrono rubbed his face, grimacing at the stubble on his chin. “
Alicia was young, so she couldn’t possibly have had kids yet. And even if she did, they wouldn’t be old enough to become the Black Angel anyways. So either the Angels would have to hunt for the new Black Angel, or they’d be useless for another ten years. No matter what, I’m sure we can wait until morning to work out our new plan, alright?”
Shamal nodded slowly, anxiety still present in her posture. He couldn’t blame her, knowing her guilt over the death of the Tome’s last reader. Involuntarily, he shivered as well. Everything always became harder, less clear, after someone is killed. Instead of concentrating on the goal, Chrono found himself wavering, wanting to spend more time at base doing nothing instead of out in the field. Last time he had almost given in and called—he shook himself, coming back to the present.
“Get some sleep alright? We’ll deal with it in the morning.” He looked away. “Alicia gave us all a breather.”
***
Nanoha whirled, cutting upwards in a double-arc. She felt the impact of hitting Signum’s broadsword travel all the way up her arms, but pulled back and attacked again, striking high and low simultaneously. Dimly, she felt Signum block them both, then a rush of pink towards her—
Signum scowled, staring down at her. “You’re sloppy,” she said bluntly, sheathing her sword and crossing her arms. Nanoha panted, curling up and springing to her feet, crouching back in position. Signum glared at her, making no move to continue their bout.
Taking a breath to calm herself, Nanoha sheathed her two katanas onto her back, moving to the side to get a drink. “I’m fine,” she said.
Signum tilted her head. “Are you sure it’s not because—”
“It’s not,” interrupted Nanoha. She pulled out one blade and gave it a few twirls. Inside, Nanoha had to fight not to shudder. She had cleaned the blood off the night before, but she still remembered it all over the length of metal and her hands, once she had finally gotten there. Gotten there
too late.
“If the sister really is the Black Angel, then we’re doomed,” Nanoha said flatly as she darted around Signum, testing the pink-haired fighter’s defence. “Look at her! Handicap aside, she just lets everyone walk all over her. Her friend does a better job of defending her than she does.”
Signum shrugged, parrying and attacking with a double-handed slash. “You’ll just have to help her,” she said practically.
Nanoha stopped. A silver flash halted at her neck; Signum lowered her sword, scowling again. “What?” Nanoha asked, hearing her own incredulous and furious tone rumbling in her throat.
“You knew Alicia best.” Signum stepped back and sheathed her sword again, turning in a twirl of her armoured cape.
“She’s not Alicia!” Nanoha shouted, and saw Signum tense slightly. But the other woman didn’t answer, just slid the training room door open and letting it slam shut behind her.
Nanoha fell to one knee, pounding her fist into the floor. Since no one was around, she allowed herself the luxury of grieving. Help the sister? Nanoha could barely look at her. Every time she did, she kept seeing the same thing—blank, dead red eyes on a face that used to glow with radiance.
She’s not
Alicia. If only Nanoha could really believe that, then maybe she could finally stop seeing Alicia’s corpse every time she looked at Alicia’s twin.
***
Fate paused at the door Arf had led her to. Inside, she could hear Nanoha’s confounding voice, so at odds with the one in her memory that it always took Fate a few moments to re-match the voice with the name, and Carim’s soft tones. Except that today Carim’s voice sounded rushed and anxious, her words coming out low and fast.
“Who’s here?” Fate asked, and the noises in the room went quiet. They were probably feeling awkward, confused, not used to needing to explain something so obvious aloud. She sighed. Times like this, she missed Hayate’s straight-forward cheeriness.
“Signum, Carim and myself.” Nanoha was the one to speak up. “Come in, have a seat.” Then belatedly adding, “There’s an empty seat a few steps diagonally to the right, beside Carim.”
“Right,” Fate murmured to Arf, who led her smoothly that way. “Left.” Reaching forward when Arf stopped, Fate felt the chair back. From the shape of the backrest, they were in the meeting room next to the training hall, unless Mother had moved the furniture. Then she realized something.
“Where’s Hayate?”
The tension in the room must have increased tenfold.
“Ah, she’s still sleeping,” Carim’s voice sounded too measured, too careful. She wasn’t quite lying, but she was close. “We talked pretty late, so I think she might be tired out.”
“If one of you don’t mind, I could use a teleport home later,” Fate said, politely overlooking Carim’s nervousness. “If we’re going to stay here for a while, Hayate and I need things from our apartment. That’s if Hayate can get around alright here.”
“If you stay.” What an odd tone in Nanoha’s voice.
“I’m sorry?” Fate inclined her head in confusion.
“The Black Angel is a hero,” Nanoha said. “A hero who fights to ensure the world’s survival, who’s capable of it.”
“And you don’t think that I’m capable,” Fate said quietly. At her feet, Arf sat up and growled, her thick orange fur raised.
“Alicia was a fighter,” Nanoha snarled fiercely. A chair scraped back; she was standing, and a thump meant that she had probably hit the table. “She was the best!”
Softly, Fate said, “Then why did she die?”
There weren’t many times in Fate’s life where all she heard was dead silence.
“I wish Alicia were still here. I don’t envy her destiny. But if you want me to prove myself—” Fate held out her hand. “Give it to me.
Bardiche.”
She didn’t know who gave Bardiche to her.
She didn’t know whose hand rested briefly on her own.
All Fate knew was light, the golden light that swelled through her blood and poured through her fingers, her skin, and felt that if she opened her eyes she maybe could really see again. The energy streaming through her closed fingers shifted, forming a solid staff through her hands.
She knew it. She had seen her sister with it, her red eyes alight with triumph as Bardiche blazed in her hands, the yellow energy scythe shimmering with power.
“Bardiche,” Fate commanded. “I am your partner, the Black Angel.”
“Yes, sir.”
Part of her delighted in the affirmative reply—and part of her sunk, dejected, because now there was no escaping it. No escaping what Alicia couldn’t escape. Fate gave the mental command, and shrunk her new partner back into its sealed form. She sat back down and placed it on the table before her.
“I’m not a hero,” she whispered. “I’m not the best at anything. But I’m the Angel now.”
Someone sighed. “In for a penny, in for a pound,” Nanoha grimaced, although she didn’t sound happy at all.
“So it seems,” came Signum’s dry answer.
“Um, Fate,” Carim said hesitantly. “If you’re the new Angel, then I suppose that I’d better tell you.” Fate raised an eyebrow. “Do you know how we read the
Divine Prophecy?”
“I think…someone reads it, scrys for it, since it’s constantly changing.” Fate furrowed her brows. “More than that, I don’t know,” she admitted. “They never told me.”
“All prophets can only read the
Prophecy with the aid of a device,” Carim explained. “There are many kinds, and um…the one I use to help me is the Tome of the Night Sky. It draws upon the magical power of its reader to break a hole in the dimensions, allowing me to draw upon the cosmic energy to take a tarot reading.” She hesitated, and Fate could smell sweat, and hear the nuance of tears in her voice. “Our last reader, Yuuno, was killed two months ago. But now…we have a new reader.”
“A new…” Fate stopped. Logically, it could only be—“
Hayate? But she’s not a mage!”
“You can’t know that for certain…nonetheless, the Tome chose her. That’s why she’s not here right now…the stress…” Carim trailed off.
“She’s alright though?” Fate asked anxiously. Arf whined, responding to her master’s worry.
“Oh yes! Just tired, that’s all. She's still sleeping.”
Fate sighed. “That’s a relief then.”
“On to more important business,” Nanoha interjected firmly. “You mentioned yesterday that there were things Alicia didn’t tell us.” Doubt just about brimmed over in her words, although Fate didn’t get the feeling that Nanoha mistrusted her. What an odd contradiction—maybe Nanoha knew that Alicia hadn’t been entirely forthcoming, but hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself?
“Um…” Fate shifted uneasily. She had never liked speaking of it, and always tried to ignore her family when they spoke of it… “Maybe you should get my Mother in here to explain.”
“She’s not available,” Nanoha said flatly, and that bitter edge of grieving pain entered her rough voice again. “So you’ll have to do.”
So there’s no avoiding it. “The Jewel Seeds…who has them? How many are left?”
“The White Wardens have twelve,” Signum reported. Fate winced at the number. “We have six. There are still three left unclaimed. Since Alicia claimed the most recent Jewel, we have maybe a few weeks before the next one can be found.”
“I can search for it now,” Carim said quickly, as if wanting to redeem herself for past failures. “We won’t have to play catch-up anymore.”
“You all know what happens if the Wardens get fourteen Jewels, right? That they could do unspeakable things?”
Silence, then Nanoha said belatedly for them all, “Yes.” They must have been nodding before. Fate sighed again—gods, this was tiring.
“Well, that’s not entirely true…” She gnawed her lip, looking down. “They need fourteen Jewels, yes, but they also need to find the Gate, the opening. Just like when the first Black Angel died, and those jealous of her abilities sought to possess her power. They wanted to open the Gate to the power to create a new world. That’s what they want: the power to
change. Only once they reach it, could they make their wishes reality.”
“Where are they trying to go?” Nanoha demanded, a needless action but Fate appreciated the push in this case. “What are they trying to open?”
Fate lowered her head. “The place angels come from. The beginning and ending for every world.
“Al Hazard.”