Chapter 2

Near the base of the soft curve of the moon were little clumps of something, backlit. One of them was a painfully straight line, rising far above the rest of the shadows if they were together. Zeke scanned the horizon as his head swiveled around with an involuntary impulse and saw more rounded shadows in the distance.

The speaker was not quite to his right, but he arrested Zeke’s attention immediately, framed by the burning sphere of the sun. Which didn’t hurt his eyes to look at.

The person—Zeke wasn’t about to assume once he got an eyeful of the delicate face—was something he’d only seen in art books. Sort of. The chin was too strong for classical models and the eyes were green in a way only cats can achieve. But the person’s hair was a short braided rope of dull bronze and their skin was milky, too pale. They were also strong where Zeke could see the muscles strained under the person’s skin, though most of it was hidden under strange clothes. Billowing pants of drab red-brown and a square tunic out of an old science fiction show in the same color. The black boots were recognizable, at least.

Wings though.

Wings were different.

There were two, one on each side, and the same milky white as the person’s skin. Faded, too, from the look of it. Zeke wasn’t sure if this person was well. After all, he was a trauma nurse, not a disease specialist, and not a vet by any stretch of the imagination, but if this one had walked into his hospital, he’d have sent them up to a doctor, because someone shouldn’t look so washed out.

Wings snapped out to their full span in an instant and a sword appeared in the person’s hand as if it’d been conjured. The bright gold tip leveled right at Zeke’s heart. The panic he already harbored was at its peak, but the weapon did make Zeke’s brain freeze.

“Who are you?” the creature grated.

Frozen brain didn’t stop him. He’d worked under worse. “Zeke.” Easy answers. “Zeke Galison.”

“Whose side are you on?” The person’s voice dropped into a discordant rumble. The sword didn’t wavier.

“Side?” His brain stuttered against the frozen gears, but the damn thing wouldn’t work yet. This wasn’t a question he had an autopilot response for.

“A luminary or kittim, which are you?” The stranger’s face changed from wary to wretchedly enraged. They stepped forward in a shuffle and the fingers on the hilt of the gleaming sword flexed, tightened until the skin was bone white. “Why did Maba pull you here?”

Maba? Zeke shook his head at them. What was Maba? The person twitched their head to the side an infinitesimal centimeter. Zeke wanted to look, he did, but he eyed up this stranger for a good second more with a hard stare. It didn’t seem like they were going to stab him until they had answers. It wasn’t the first time Zeke trusted in the wrong person, but damn it, he had to know

A long pile of rags lay in the dirt to his right. Something black had been dropped close to the rags and more black pooled between the two points. Zeke’s stomach burbled with an unpleasant roll as he studied the thing. It was a face peeking out between folds in the fabric. The skin was split and blistered into a hideous shape, the mouth loosely open in death, cut back from the tips in a Glasgow grin. He jerked his gaze away from the dead thing. Maba he assumed and looked back to the person in from of him.

“I don’t even know where here is,” Zeke insisted, pleaded. “And I don’t even know what this Maba is.”

The sword point wavered then lowered as the stranger gave him a stern, narrow look. Relief shattered the ice in his brain and Zeke breathed in deep. The air smelled a little like saltpeter and honey.

Zeke tried not to flinch away from the stranger as they reached out a hand for him. He managed to keep his reaction to straightening his spine in fear. He raised his hand to the person and was surprised when they jerked him to his feet. There was a shocking amount of strength Zeke felt in the grip.

“You are being truthful,” the stranger muttered. Like they were disappointed Zeke was honest.

“Who are you?” Zeke asked instead of the biting response he wanted to give. This was a stranger and they didn’t know he was always honest. They would learn if Zeke was here long enough. Wherever herewas.

The stranger stepped back and twisted their sword around until they slammed it home in a golden sheath strapped to the looped belts hidden among the folds of the shirt. Silence reigned for long seconds as Zeke watched the thoughts cross the stranger’s face like they were debating telling him even that much. Zeke gritted his teeth and waited.