Beckoning Shadows

Chapter 19

Dark ran his fingers over the smooth feathers, marveling at how something so soft and pure could be attached to a being so cruel. He took a step back and studied the wings on the wall. They were of all sizes and shapes: long, wide, thin, weak, strong, large, small. An assortment of appendages so varied, it was difficult to believe they belonged to creatures that shared the same mindset--one of death and destruction.

A similar display of wings was set up on two other walls of the small room, dozens and dozens of wings pinned crudely to the wall. Normally an organic body part like the wings would have long since rotted away, but Dark could spark the residual magic within the wings and keep them intact and gleaming for as long as he wished. Wing collecting was a gaudy practice--one he would not partake in had he been alone--but the members of his organization seemed to delight in the physical record of their achievements. They also served well as proof of angels when no live prisoner was handy.

He stepped forward and nailed his contribution to the wall, a fresh pair of wings that he'd gotten just that morning; he'd been woken by an unfamiliar spark of magic and went hunting through the forest, slaying the angel he found there. After he finished, Dark went to work running his fingers over the smooth feathers, strengthening the magic in any that seemed to be weakening. Once he finished, he took a step back and surmised his work. The wings looked as if they'd been cut that day.

A knocking on the door interrupted Dark's reverie. "Master Dark?" ventured a raspy voice.

"Come in." Dark turned around as the door swung open, already knowing who it was. "Do you need something, Hugh?"

"Yes, I do." Hugh lingered in the doorway, eyeing Dark like he might jump out and strike Hugh down with his sword at any moment.

Dark raised his eyebrows at the unusually cautious behavior. Despite his weak frame, Hugh cowered at nothing and nobody. "Well, what is it?"

Hugh took a cautious step into the room, hand resting on the door frame as if he was too weak to stand on his own. In truth, it might have been so. A ghost of a disease that he'd never quite recovered from haunted Hugh, dwelling in his wan face and shadowed eyes, his frail frame and shaky movements. Yet a sharpness dwelled in his brown eyes, fierce and clever enough to cut as deep as Dark's sword. "I have good news," he started slowly, "though, Dark, you might not take it as such." Contempt laced his voice.

Dark crossed his arms. "What is it?" Only Hugh, the second person to join the organization, was bold enough to be so openly disdainful. Dark liked to think he wasn't running his organization oppressively, but he got the sense that he intimidated many. But even if Hugh hadn't been one of the first members, Dark suspected his demeanor would be no different.

"I just finished meeting..." stated Hugh, "with a possible ally."

"Not an ordinary recruit, I assume."

"No," said Hugh. "Better. Someone with easy access to all the angels' information, even their most concealed secrets."

A pit settled in Dark's stomach. He knew where this was going. "And what, exactly, is this informant?"

Hugh said it with a touch of reluctance. "An angel."

"No."

Hugh's mouth twisted into a frustrated frown. "Do you understand how useful access to this information will be?"

"If it means cooperating with an angel, then I want none of it. I've infiltrated the angels' society. I can do it again. We can get all our information that way."

"That's a waste of time and resources!" spat Hugh. A fervent spirit possessed him, driving him to march into the room, doorway forgotten. "Dark, you're being foolish and you know it. This is the best possible way to achieve our goal."

"It's an empty victory if we have to stoop ourselves so low in the process!" insisted Dark. "I will not taint the values of this organization by working with an angel. That goes against everything we stand for."

"No victory is clean!" exclaimed Hugh with a burst of bitter laughter. "Dark, it's plain childish to think you can do this without getting your hands dirty. I will do anything--anything--to eliminate the angels, and using one as an informant is mild compared to what I'm--you're willing to do. As long as we reach our goal in the end, I don't care what I have to do to get there."
"I refuse to tarnish our goals," repeated Dark stubbornly. The very idea of associating with an angel made his stomach turn. "Have you forgotten what these things are, Hugh? Monsters! They're cold-hearted, murdering monsters that live only to see us suffer. To associate with something like that is to take everything we stand for and throw it out the window."

Hugh scoffed. "And we're not monsters? What we've been doing--arson, murder--isn't evil? You may justify it by dressing it up as pretty things like "justice" and "defending humans," but in the end, it's pure, ugly revenge. The sooner you admit it, the better off you'll be. What we're doing is already hideous and low--we can't stoop much lower, which is why I will stop at nothing to avenge the wrongs the angels have dealt."

"I-it's not revenge!" insisted Dark, feeling like he'd just been punched. The world spun around him; all those wings on the wall, each belonging to a living being--did Hugh mean to say their deaths were for naught but revenge? "We're above that now. Maybe, at one point, it was, but we're better. It's for justice, justice for all the humans in the world. Innocent humans will be harmed by the angels if we don't stop them. This is what's right, Hugh, can't you see that?"

Hugh merely smirked bitterly at Dark's shouting. "Not all humans, are innocent, Dark."

"Of course I know that. It's the angels that corrupt--"

"No," interrupted Hugh. "I guarantee you there are some humans out there that are rotten, with or without the angels. The world isn't as pretty as you and Jax would like it to be. You know, there are plenty of twisted people in this very organization that are just in it for the pain, the fighting. Shiya--she just wants to see the world burn." His smirk dropped into a scowl. "I'm sick of it, Dark--sick of your foolish clinging to your 'values,' sick of your endless second chances, sick of it all. You need to see sense and make a logical decision for once in your damn life. Use the angel's information."

Suddenly Dark felt the urge to lean against the wall. His stomach turned and the world continued to spin. Hugh was wrong, wrong, wrong. His quest was just. It was right. Angels were evil, and humans were evil because the angels corrupted them. Easy. Simple. And cooperating with an angel was wrong. Grasping at straws, he forced out, "But...you can't trust it. It will lie."

"I'd considered that," answered Hugh smoothly. He sensed he was winning, and a victorious smirk spread across his face. "But, Dark, as you said, angels are nasty creatures. Our informant is a greedy, power-hungry bastard. Easy to turn it against him. I convinced him that helping as achieve our goal will also give him the power he yearns for. He won't be betraying us anytime soon."

Dark opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out. Hugh always came through. Hugh was always right. Hugh didn't take risks. Hugh knew what he was doing. Dark trusted Hugh. If Hugh said the angel wouldn't betray him, then that was that.

"So, Dark," said Hugh, "are you going to make the obviously superior decision to use this angel's information, or remain willingly ignorant of the angels' inner workings?"

Dark stayed quiet for a long time, stomach twisting and turning. He hated Hugh, despised his words, but he couldn't deny the truth in them. The angel informant would be an asset, perhaps even help them reach their goal several times faster than anticipated. It could end everything within months.

Hanging his head in disgust and shame, Dark murmured, "We'll use him."