A lamp from a nearby desk illuminated a bookshelf before him.
Stacks of books covered rows of shelves that lined every wall. Crinkled wads of wide-ruled paper surrounded the base of a desk covered with a mix of potato chip bags, Hershey's wrappers, files, and books.
Had Dedrus known he was going to have immortal company, he would have tidied up—especially if he’d known it’d be Kinzer.
“It’s fine.” Kinzer stared off, apparently not noticing the mess. The cleft in his chin and the divot in his nose hid in shadows created by the lamplight.
A wave of Dedrus’s dark bangs obscured his view. He tossed his head back, jerking the clump behind his ear. Standing on his toes, he pulled a book toward him. The bookshelf swung open, revealing a secret compartment.
Dry, glistening tissue that had grown over the cut on Kinzer’s lip expanded with a smile. “Glad you’re still putting that brilliant mind to use.”
Dedrus blushed. No one appreciated his handiwork anymore. No one ever saw it. During the golden days of Heaven, his inventions had been adored. His craftsmanship had been praised by the most ingenious of his higherling peers. They’d held ceremonies in his honor, praising him for his innovation. Those days were so long ago that memories of them seemed more distant than the blurred images of a nearly forgotten dream.
Not his memories of Kinzer, though.
Those were vivid. Being an engineer for the Almighty, Dedrus was a member of an elite higherling class. Kinzer had been a laborer, a builder. He pieced together, with millions of other builders, the magnificent visions that the elite conjured up to satisfy their vain tastes.
Had the realms divided based on loyalty rather than hierarchy, Dedrus would have fallen as well, for he had actively worked against the oppressive institution that exclusively served the Almighty’s most beautiful of creations, leaving those perceived as less remarkable at the bottom of the order. Though an insignificant creation to the Almighty, Kinzer wasn’t unremarkable. Not to Dedrus. When the war came and he and Dedrus had joined the Leader’s fight, they worked together, defending the Leader during the Siege of Hell and fighting the Morarkes when they turned against their creator.
Kinzer wasn’t a leader. Just a soldier. A hardworking, passionate soldier. Dedrus had fallen in love with his passion, not just for the rights of all higherlings, but for life—a better life than the Almighty had ever promised his lowliest of creations. Kinzer and Dedrus shared a tent. They’d lain in cots as Kinzer read the Leader’s philosophies on equality to Dedrus. They’d spent nights discussing the troubles of Heaven and the promises of Hell. Kinzer wasn’t a great philosopher. His arguments were weak, emotion-based, and devoid of logic, but they were passionate. It was that passion Dedrus had fallen in love with—the same passion that stirred the fire in those sparkling brown eyes.
“I can’t have you walking around without any protection.” Dedrus pulled the bookshelf open like a door, revealing racks stocked with swords, daggers, and knives. He reached in, pulled out a sword, and handed it to Kinzer. “Recognize it?”
Kinzer smirked, his eyes on the hilt—on an emblem of a dove in flight. It was Dedrus’s emblem. “You took out a lot of Morarkes with this guy.”
“Wedid.”
The Morarkes had been designed to defend Hell and attack Heaven. When they turned against the fallen, the immortals formed a task force known as Feint to destroy the beasts. Morarkes, having been created with an incredibly narrow focus that forced them to isolate their assaults to higherlings, were incapable of multi-tasking. Their attention fixated on their victim higherlings until their mission was accomplished. Members of Feint used this weakness against the monster. Working in teams of two, one immortal drew the attacking creature’s attention. The other attacked its weakest point. Dedrus’s swordplay was vastly superior to Kinzer’s, so Kinzer always acted as the distraction while Dedrus acted as the attacker.
With Kinzer’s assistance, Dedrus had slain hundreds of the menaces.
“I’m not gonna take this,” Kinzer said. “It’s yours.”
“You pissed off the Raze. You need a sword.”
Kinzer had to have an immortal weapon, one created from the minerals of heavenly realms. The weapons of Earth were insignificant against immortals.
“Not gonna do me much good,” Kinzer said, “now that I don’t even have my strength. Or my gift.”
His gaze drifted across the blade. He sighed.
Dedrus knew he was reminiscing about more than the loss of his strength or gift. He was reminiscing about the war. About his days with Janka. As supportive as he wanted to be, he couldn’t stifle the spark of jealousy that stirred within him. He hated himself for feeling it. Janka had been a good friend. They’d worked together on the Almighty’s heavenly empire at the dawn of creation, combining the skill of Dedrus’s engineering with the craft of Janka’s architecture. They’d built a kingdom worthy of the Almighty’s precious creations.
As much love and reverence as Dedrus had for Janka, he had never been able to shake the sting that surged in his chest, reminding him that Kinzer could never be his. His resentment stemmed from his initial courting of Kinzer, interrupted when Janka became a captain with Feint.
At the time, an affair between Janka and Kinzer seemed impossible. Despite Janka’s siding with the Leader, he had never been one to care for the plight of the lower class. He’d only ever expressed disgust for them. However, a change of heart left him caring, not only for the lower class, but mortals as well. It was a dark day when a fellow soldier whispered rumors of Janka and Kinzer’s relationship to Dedrus. The sting he’d felt became a surge of rage that overwhelmed him. He’d been livid. He’d had to isolate himself for days as he abused desks, chairs, and even books, leaving them ripped and tear-stained. What could someone as compassionate as Kinzer see have ever seen in the vain whims of Janka? Dedrus spent many nights in fits of anger, consumed by jealousy. What was he to do now that he’d found the one creature in the uncountable span of time that was the only one he could ever love?
“I appreciate it.” Kinzer gripped the shaft of the sword. “So how have you and Treycore been holding up in this mortal rat hole?”
“What? You don’t love the place?”
Kinzer smiled. “Not exactly the flash of your castle in Heaven.”
Dedrus had been spoiled with one of the greatest castles in the Almighty’s kingdom. He and Treycore had once lived the most luxurious of lives, basking in the great pleasures of the elite. Now, they opted to live in squalor among the mortals in their work as liaisons.
“It’s easy for Treycore. Attention is attention, and most creations have always been beneath him, so he adores it regardless of where it’s from.”
“And you?”
