Henri
When I wasn’t hunting down Imperium soldiers to barter for your release, I’d taken to wailing with the sirens. Rather, I’d perch on a craggy rock with the salt spray lashing at my skin and listen to their doleful cries. Only my island spirits understood my torment over losing you. Or at least, they were very good at mimicking my grief.
On the mainland, Lucian was busy administering to our numerous captives, and Lena was on a clandestine world tour, peddling the gospel of Parousia to the Grigori elders as though you weren’t currently a prisoner in one of Azrael’s strongholds.
It was for the best that Lena stayed out of my sight. My compulsion to behead her had not diminished in the six months since Imperium forces had kidnapped you from that hellish mine. I’d gladly offer up Lena as a trade if I thought Azrael desired her, but he’d made it clear he had no interest in her captivity.
That was during our last meeting in the dream realm weeks ago when I’d begged the Angel of Death on my knees for your release, and he’d denied me, yet again. He warned me to stop my assault on the Imperium and told me your needs were being met. I didn’t care if you were living like a prince and dining off of golden platters, I’d continue my raids until you were in my possession again.
It was during one of my hauntings with the sirens that Lucian found me. I was drunk, and not for the first time. It had been a few hours since I’d returned from my last job in Cairo. Having delivered the prisoners to Lucian’s doorstep, I’d retreated to my islands to brood that in all these months of searching, I still hadn’t been able to find you.
“Henri?” Lucian paused to take me in. It had been two weeks since we’d last seen each other, but Lucian’s reaction to my bedraggled appearance did not shock me. I’d let myself go to seed—not bothering with any of the grooming rituals you’d always held in such high regard.
Lucian carried with him a large wicker basket and what appeared to be a fresh fish wrapped in butcher paper. Your cat emerged from the shadows to slink against his calves. Spooky and I were reluctant cohabitants. She’d followed me to my islands and insisted on stalking me in the dead of night if only to hiss at me her recriminations.
I nodded to the empty rocks beside me. Lucian selected a table-topped one and set down his provisions. It was through his efforts alone that I didn’t starve.
“The hearthborn are getting our crops to produce incredible yields,” he said conversationally, “and they do love to bake. The blood is fresh but needs to be consumed within a few days.” He eyed me warily, perhaps noticing my ribs, which weren’t protruding but were more prominent than before. Sometime in the past few hours, I must have discarded my shirt, though where, I had no idea.
“And what’s that?” I pointed at the fish.
“The seaborn wanted you to have it. They stopped me on my way here.”
I grunted. The trio of fishfolk had been using my islands as their personal playground ever since I’d raided a safehouse near Athens and had taken them captive.
“Why won’t they stay on the mainland with the others?” I groused. I didn’t wish to encounter them, however infrequent those episodes may be.
“They prefer the hunting here,” Lucian said in an offhand way, but I suspected he’d suggested it as a way to keep watch over me. Not long ago, Lucian had caught me gazing from the tops of my cliffs at the jagged rocks below. I supposed the seaborn would at least be able to plumb me from the depths should I choose that route.
I wouldn’t though, tempting as it was. I’d not abandon you to Azrael’s design.
“I’m worried about you, big brother,” Lucian said, taking up a seat beside me.
So, this would not be a short visit.
“Vincent should be the cause for your concern.”
“He is ever present in my mind, but it might do you good to interact a little more with our guests. Show them you’re not the villain in all of this.”
Lucian was spending a small fortune to keep our prisoners housed, fed, and entertained with all manner of bacchanalian pursuits. It was part of Lena’s campaign to persuade the other tribes to join her revolution. I doubted the Grigori would be as pleased with us when we traded their Nephilim sons and daughters back to Azrael, for we surely would. Whatever it took to get you back.
“I don’t care what they think of me.” I’d hoped to determine your location from their intelligence and steal you back myself, but our captives’ reports always proved false, which had embittered me toward them. Regardless, the treatment of Azrael’s foot soldiers in our keep was not my concern. I cared naught for our mother’s uprising or the liberation of our kind. I only wanted you.
“This war will be won or lost on persuasion,” Lucian said.
“We all know I’m not the one with the charms.”
“And how would Vincent feel knowing you’ve been living like this?”
I surveyed my dire surroundings. Broken glass littered the ground from my previous rages along with bloodstains from my fists crashing against the rock walls. There were a few empty bottles, including the jug of wine I’d grabbed from my cellar last night before stumbling here in the dark. I couldn’t recall whether I’d slept or not, though I certainly did not feel rested.
“But he’s not here,” I said, stating the obvious. If you were, everything would be different.
“He will be, Henri. It’s only a matter of time. You should be preparing for his return rather than mourning him as though he’d died.”
“How do you know he hasn’t?” I rasped viciously. I’d lost you once already. I wouldn’t put it past Azrael to claim your soul again, angelic law be damned.
Lucian studied me with deliberation. “One of the captives you brought in last night says he was imprisoned with a man who sounds like Vincent.”
The dull fog in my mind cleared while I focused on that information alone.
“Why didn’t you say so?” I growled. “Why bother me with the lecture?”
“Because, Henri, when Vincent returns, he’s going to need you to be strong. Whole and… stable. You’re none of those things right now.”
I reached into Lucian’s basket and uncorked a bottle of blood, which I drank in a few hasty gulps. The fish I tossed on the ground for Spooky to devour. I took care of her, for you.
“Enough of this nonsense, Lucian. Take me to the prisoner.”
