Book 3: Chapter 36 - Angel in a Bottle

Callings are a strange thing, aren’t they?
Impossible in every way, yet mundane ever since the end of the world.

I suppose everything feels normal when the air chokes you and crystal turns prey into predators.

Callings fascinate me regardless.
They are clearly tied to the end of all things, just as much as they are tied to this new society we’ve built.

But were they caused by the crystallization?
A side effect of the mist and the crystal?

Or did they cause it?
—Professor Laurel Clementine, Personal Notes

Angelo was terrified. Not for his own sake, like he expected. But for his team. This was why he didn’t want to be in charge of anyone. He wasn’t built for responsibility like that. His calling didn’t even make sense to him. Seraphim? All his talents were literally angelic. Attacks based on light. Healing. Flight. Everything that made him look like he should be a beacon for others to look to.

But that wasn’t who he was.

He was determined to get everyone home alive. And it was becoming more and more obvious that he couldn’t do that. He was going to need to make a choice. Send his friends to their deaths, or abandon strangers to the same. An entire town of them. With children. Violet was right. He couldn’t do that. But he couldn’t lie and pretend he thought anyone was leaving that nest alive a second time. Seven students struggled to kill two yellow hedron. And people had been growing because of that, but he could only push that so far. 

There were more dangerous hedron inside, and they’d barely escaped alive when one of them attacked the group. Angelo’s wing was still regenerating after Guy broke it apart. They would not survive that nest.

He’d always ignored the old “trolley problem” exercise when it was presented. He figured there was always a third option, and the question artificially limited choices. The real world wasn’t so simple. Except here he was, and the problem was real. Sacrifice himself and seven other students, or sacrifice an entire town of people he didn’t know.

He couldn't live the rest of his life knowing children had died because of him. And even if he survived the nest, he wouldn't live through the guilt if anyone else on his team didn't. When someone else on his team didn't. The options he was left with were hopeless, and there was no way he could escape the mission and still be a good man. None that he could think of, at least.

And that was why he was waiting in the dark. Breathing in mauve death and staring at the school he would probably die inside of. He scanned the structure over and over again. He desperately searched for whatever Violet had seen. It had to be visible. She said she needed to show it to him. She needed him here, on the far side of the nest. That was dangerous enough on its own, regardless of how rare flight-based talents were. If it weren’t obvious, why would she say it would be easier to show him than explain?

The only explanation that came to mind chilled him to his marrow. She was going to bring them closer to the nest. She’d chosen a spot to meet that was relatively safe while he waited. But she transparently planned to take him back into that hell. Or at least much closer. And that made him want to cry.

He could still feel the tendrils all over his body. Pulling him. Fighting him. Like the Grim Reaper himself was trying to drag him down and swallow him whole. He had never been more terrified in his life. At the start, he’d tried to save Violet and Terry. But by the end? He was praying they’d slip and fall so he could fight without their weight. He was too frightened and desperate to care about anyone else in that moment, and he would have kicked them off if it had gone on much longer.

And now? He had to know that. For the rest of his life, he would know. When it really came down to it? He would choose his own life. Maybe not before a confrontation. But when a hedron had its teeth in his skin? He would always know what his response would be. Which meant even if he decided to brave the nest again? He would still fail, and people would still die.

Maybe that was why he believed Violet so thoroughly. She’d been extremely vague, and there was no reason he could think of for that. But he believed her. He didn’t have a doubt in his mind that she at least thought there was another option. He didn’t know if she was right yet. But it was more than worth this meeting. In the worst-case scenario, she was wrong.

But he had hope.

Violet Asher was a miracle worker, after all. Everyone said so. Even Kassie would be dead without Violet. If Angelo was honest, Violet should have led both teams for this mission. He’d said as much to Mr. Bouvier. But the headmaster had shut him down alarmingly quickly. Because it had been a cowardly suggestion. He’d been at Chromatic longer and had more training. He was the obvious choice on paper. But Violet was the real leader.

He just hoped her idea was amazing.

“Oh, excellent! You came!” Violet said. Angelo whipped around to look at her. His heart was pounding in his chest as he did, since he hadn’t heard her coming. Perception wasn’t his strongest attribute, and the mist did mess with it. But in Category Orange? It was strange for someone to get so close before he heard them. Unless they had very intentionally crept up on him. 

And yet, there she was. Only maybe four feet behind him. She looked strange, too. At least as far as he could tell. Her body language was relaxed, yet strangely agitated. She had her head tilted to one side like a cat watching prey. With the dark all around and the thicker-than-usual mist, it was also hard to make out her features. That made no sense at all. His perception was definitely high enough to make out a girl’s face in the dark. Especially one as pale as Violet. Yet her face was cast in shadows with no apparent source. All he could see was blue eyes. On her right, he could only see the iris, actually. Her hair was down for once, and she was rubbing one arm like it was bruised. 

If he was being honest, she looked creepy as hell. 

“Shit, you scared me!” he complained. 

A smile split her face, and the ethereal shadows seemed to part for shining white teeth. “Language, please. Profanity is the resource of a small mind, remember?” she replied with an unpleasant giggle.

Angelo was suddenly feeling extremely insecure about this meeting. She was acting... the best turn of phrase he could think of was “batshit.” Was this a game for her? That didn’t make sense. She’d been telling the truth about her plans. Was she being controlled?

“Violet, is everything alright? What’s this about? What did you want to show me?” he tried.

She let her arms fall, then gripped one of her wrists behind her back. “Have you ever played Zelda?” she asked.

Angelo paused. “Played what?” he responded. The name rang a bell, but he couldn’t conjure an image with it.

“It’s a game. One of the more popular ones in the archives,” Violet cheerfully explained. 

Angelo took a step back. “I don’t really play games. Can we focus, please? I want to see whatever you want to show me so we can get everyone out of here.”

“That’s what I’m trying to explain,” Violet pouted. “See, in just about every game, they have these fairies. And if you catch one in a bottle, it will heal you later. Or revive you when you die, but that might be asking too much in this case.”

“Violet, please,” Angelo complained. “We almost died today. I don’t want to talk about fantasy games!”

“I get hurt a lot. As I’m sure you know,” Violet continued. “And it’s getting hard to explain away. Especially since I don’t want to keep going to Kassie. There is something wrong with that girl, you know? Something inherently upsetting. So I’ve been wondering all this time. How do I get extensive healing whenever I need it? So when I get hurt out in the city, I can come back to school without a scratch on me. It’s been on my mind a lot lately.”

“Just go to the infirmary when you're hurt! It’s free for students. Or shit, ask me, I don’t care. But you’re freaking me out!” Angelo snapped. 

Violet ignored him. “Then we went on this mission, and I saw your pretty little wings, and your halo, and your persistent concern for my safety... and I thought of that game. How nice it would be to have a fairy in a bottle. Of course, they only healed you once in the game, but no analogy is perfect, right?” Violet explained.

Angelo tried to take another step back, but his foot wouldn’t lift off the ground. Violet stepped toward him instead, leaning forward at the waist and broadening her unearthly smile. The shadow seemed to creep away from the lower half of her face, leaving her eyes obscured and the blue more vibrant than ever. “What the fuck? What the fuck are you doing?” he shouted.

“Language, Angelo. I won’t ask again,” Violet chided him. Then he felt something eerily familiar grip him. Something sickening and sour. Some sort of tendrils. Ones he couldn’t see, but whose pressure gripped him all the same. Around his ankles. His wings. Climbing up his body like vines and pulling him down. Holding his arms to his chest and even gripping his halo.

“Oh, God. God, it was you in the nest. Why? What are you doing?” he begged. “What are these tendrils?”

Violet frowned as she closed the distance even more. She stood only an inch or two away from him before she stopped, and he could finally make out her face despite the shadows on it. “I just explained why,” she sneered. “People don’t like it when you tune them out, Angelo. Remember that in the future. Listen when I am talking to you, please.”

She was somehow at eye level with him despite the gap in their height. Then she was taller, and looking down, and Angelo realized what was happening. He didn’t know how. He didn’t know what talent this was. But he was sinking into the earth. Or rather, he was being pulled. “Oh, fuck. I don’t understand, but please. Everyone will die if we don’t raid the nest. You were right. Please don’t do this. Whatever it is, just let me go,” he pleaded. “I won’t tell anyone about this, I swear to God!”

“That means a lot, coming from an angel,” Violet mused, putting one finger to her lip. “But you’re wrong.”

“What? Wrong about what? I’m telling the truth, I swear! I won’t tell a soul! Please!” he cried. Tears were running down his face as he fought the tendrils with everything he had. He didn’t understand. She hadn’t lied to him before, so why? Why would she do this to him? He would heal her whenever she wanted! That had never been in question! There was no reason to do this to him.

“They aren’t tendrils,” she answered. “They are ivy.”

Angelo’s eyes widened as the implications of that settled over him. “Ivy? As in...” He trailed off. He lost some of his will to fight at that moment, and he felt himself start to sink faster. But he couldn't convince his muscles to move.

“Yep! That's the one,” Violet replied with a chipper grin. “But don't worry. You're not the person I'm planning to kill on this trip. Isn't that a relief?”

Angelo's heart sank at the implication. “No,” he responded, his voice strangling itself as he forced the words through his throat. “Leave everyone else alone. They didn't do anything wrong! They are innocent!”

“No one is innocent, Angie. Not one soul on this wretched planet. Some people are just better at lying to themselves for longer,” Violet teased. “For one reason or another. A yellowbelly more often than not, but you know that.”

The ivy was oppressive. Angelo couldn't move more than his eyes, and every cell of his flesh was screaming. But somehow, Violet’s delusions seemed to sting more than anything. The injustice over her words seemed to override his fear that he'd be killed, or trapped. He forgot for an instant. That this was the end of his life. That he'd never graduate, or work up the courage to ask Kassie out. Violet’s justifications were so petty and dishonest. And that gave him the strength to challenge her. “No,” he denied. “You just need to believe that because you'd loathe yourself otherwise.”

“Oh?” Violet asked. “Let's test that, shall we? Because, see. I kill to survive. I taunt because it feeds me clarity. Everything I do is so I will one day have enough strength that I can't be executed for my calling. Or for my lack thereof. Turns out both are a capital offense.”

“Not even you believe that,” Angelo snarled, his rage and fear for his friends overcoming his horror. 

“And you know I'm a serial killer,” Violet pushed, dismissing his accusation. “So let's see if you do what I want. To stay alive. To survive as long as you can. Will you be my angel in a bottle? Will you heal me when I need it, knowing so-called ‘innocents’ will die if you do? Or will you refuse and prove that good people are real? Time will tell.”

“You're fucking insane,” Angelo spat.

“And that’s your third strike. I said I wouldn't ask again. Goodbye, Angelo. See you soon!”

An instant after that, and the force of the ivy increased by orders of magnitude. Instead of being pulled down, he found himself plummeting into an endless, dark purgatory.