“Okay,” Alatar muttered to himself, looking at the salt circle and then back at Raiden. “Alright. So, werewolves and vampires create new bloodlines constantly, whenever they turn someone, but witches and warlocks don’t. It is not something we can pass on to someone, other than through having children. Our blood lines therefore can always be traced back to the original lines.”
“And your test told you what, exactly?”
“Well, that Cecelia doesn’t belong to any of the known witch or warlock blood lines, which shouldn’t be possible.”
“Obviously it is because Lia exists.”
“Where would a witch come from, if she wasn’t from one of the existing blood lines, I don’t know?” Alatar held his hands out, palm up. “But then we don’t know where the originals came from either.
“Some think the ability just developed when humans evolved, like a mutation, others think something from outer space changed us, others believe we originated from gods, angels and devils.”
“Angels and devils,” Raiden’s Other flared in his eyes. “”Lia has a grimoire…”
“Really? I inherited one too,” Alatar brightened. “It is not something many families have any more. They tended to get burnt along with the witches in the Middle Ages or burnt by families so they didn’t end up being burnt as witches. So, they are pretty rare. I would love to see yours.”
“She can’t take you to see it right now,” Raiden pointed out patiently.
“Oh, yeah,” Alatar tilted his head. “A bit tied up at the moment. So, what about the grimoire?”
Raiden looked over his shoulder at Lia. “There was a picture of a woman angel having her wings cut off by a man angel.”
“Evelyn,” Alatar said promptly.
“Evelyn?” Lia frowned trying to remember where she had heard that name.
“Evelyn,” Alatar prompted. “The story of when an angel fell in love with a human, which was a big no-no, broke off a political marriage, and in rage over her defiance and dishonour her father cut off her wings, which is supposedly a death sentence for angels.”
“The Wingless,” Lia murmured.
“Yes,” Alatar caught the word. “That is the story.”
“Pretend that we don’t know it,” Raiden told him.
Tara had taken a seat on the bottom step and Wade and Will were shadows in the doorway above her. Alatar glanced over his shoulder at them and pulled a face. He did not want to repeat the story. “Look, man,” he protested. “It is all a bit controversial, religious and all that. Werewolves have their own belief system. I am in your den, I don’t want to tread on toes or be sacrilegious or whatever.”
“It is just a story,” Tara said. “Chill, A.”
Alatar looked back at Raiden and Lia saw his eyes go to the locked gate, which seemed to give him some reassurance. “Fine. Some warlocks and witches believe that it all started off with two species – humans, and angels.
“The angels were superior in every way, and the humans were their slaves. But the angels wanted better slaves, stronger slaves, faster slaves, more loyal slaves. They used magic to create those slaves, and sometimes they succeeded, and sometimes they didn’t.
“The slaves they created are your wide range of weres, vampires, gargoyles, mermaids, minotaurs and so forth, right? I know,” he said hastily when Raiden sighed heavily. “It is not a popular concept, but you asked for it. So, witches and warlocks occurred when-”
“When angelics and humans mated,” Lia had heard this before, from Cael. She frowned.
“Right.”
“Of course,” Raiden rolled his eyes. “Warlocks and witches would believe themselves to the be the children of a superior race.”
“Look man, not my story,” Alatar pointed out. “I am just the storyteller. So, according to this belief system, the angel’s got into a big fight as half decided that they didn’t want to keep slaves anymore, whilst the other half stood by their ancient ways of having slaves do all the work. That is where we get the division of angels and devils from, as opposing forces.
“No one won, they agreed to disagree, and they withdrew from our world, got bored, lost interest, whatever,” Alatar was warming up to the story and turned slightly to include the audience on the staircase. “They are gods, it is what they do, right? Lose interest.”
“Right,” Tara prompted encouragingly.
He flashed her an appreciative grin. “Thanks, T. So,” he turned back to Raiden. “Our world exists in a delicate balance. All the slaves are pretty much,” he held his hands out parallel making minute moves in the balance. “There is no real tipping point. No angels, no devils, so us slaves just sort of potter along.”
“Okay,” Raiden frowned. “I am pretty sure that we are crossing into blasphemy for most of the Others of this world, but whatever.”
“Yeah, not a popular theory with most Others,” Alatar grimaced and sat on the step next to Tara. “Amongst the angels, or angelics, devils, whatever you want to call them,” he nodded to Lia. “There is one punishment above all else…”
“Cutting off wings,” Raiden rolled his neck on his shoulders, trying to loosen tight muscles and regain some alertness. “Go on.”
“Right,” Alatar said. “So, this wing amputation is bad. Like, kill the angels or devils bad.
“The story of Evelyn is pretty much what I said before. She had a human lover and conceived a child. When her father found out, he was furious and cut off her wings. But, in the story, Evelyn survives and, what is more, she escapes… Hey, Raiden, I think we have lost Lia,” Alatar shot to his feet as Lia collapsed, sagging against her restraints.
Raiden caught her and released the rope that held her to the wall, sinking down to the ground and wrapping the blanket around them both as she began to shake.
“She is not doing well,” Alatar observed.
“No shit.”
“Blood withdrawals?”
“Yeah.” Raiden pressed his face into her hair. “Hold on Lia,” he murmured into her ear. “I’ve got you.”
“I might have a potion that could help,” Alatar turned and strode across the room, edging past Tara with a polite, excuse me, before pushing in between Will and Wade.
“What do you think Raiden?” Tara asked him.
“About angels and devils?” Raiden raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know. I renovate buildings and paint cars for a living, Tara. That sort of stuff makes no sense to me. It is just as likely, I guess, as aliens from outer space or a moon goddess. But it doesn’t answer who tried to abduct Lia and that was what I wanted him to answer, so this whole conversation has been just a waste of time.”
“Maybe not, if his potion can help her,” Wade said from the top of the stairs.
“True,” Raiden sighed heavily.
“Take a break, Raiden,” Wade came down the stairs. “You are exhausted and you can’t heal if you don’t rest.”
“I – ”
Wade’s phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket. “Sorry, Rai. It is your mother.” He put the phone to his ear. Diedre’s voice was urgent in tone. “Shit… No. That is… F-k. Alright… Okay. I love you.” He hung up. “We have to go.”
“What has happened?” Tara demanded, anxiously.
“Elior lost.”