Angel of Slaughter

“I had a bad dream.”

Eny rubbed her eyes from the doorway. The dark of the night meant nothing to Jere as he gazed at her. He couldn’t twist his shoulders - Ylfa had fallen asleep curled against his side instead of on his lap, her head resting on his shoulder. Her soft breathing was audible to his enhanced ears, but it didn’t bother him.

He thought out what he wanted to say to Eny, noting the unusually low amount of energy she was emitting.
Come sit.

But she stayed still, puzzled. He tried again.
Eny. You can sit next to me.

Still she didn’t move. Her mouth opened again.
“Papa? Can you not hear me?”

He shook his head. One of the few positives about Ylfa’s deafness was that she couldn’t be woken by sound, so they didn’t need to use telepathy to talk. But he was deeply concerned.

“I can’t. Why?”

Her bottom lip began to tremble, her voice wobbling.
“I… I don’t know.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she broke into a stumbling run, leaping onto the couch and slamming into Jere’s unoccupied side. He didn’t even flinch from the impact, Eny’s arms clutching at him. One of his arms was wrapped around Ylfa’s waist, so with his other he pulled Eny in closer. It was a tried and tested method - physical contact was a great way to ease someone’s sadness, especially when the other person initiated it.

Eny sobbed into his side, tears running down his waterproof clothing. His sensors ran their diagnostics, finding nothing unusual besides the drop in her emitted energy. Eny didn’t know about this energy, so he couldn’t ask her directly.

He spoke as softly as he could, which still wasn’t very gentle.
“What was the nightmare?”

She sniffed, speaking in bursts between shaky breaths.
“The… the bright lights and… and the loud noises again… but…”

She coughed a few times, then continued.
“But… there was a shape this time… like a boy curled in a ball…”

His processors immediately began sorting and storing the information. But there was little they could infer from that alone - they needed more, far more, before drawing any assumptions.

“Can you remember anything else?”

“It… it was all very grey… like empty grey…”
She sobbed harder.
“But I can’t hear your head anymore! I can’t hear it! Why can’t I hear it!”

Jere didn’t answer. He was thinking hard. Something was happening - something beyond his comprehension - and he didn’t understand it. It frustrated him. Annoyance. He filed away the emotion and was about to speak when Eny’s crying suddenly stopped.

She knelt upright, pulling away from his grasp and looking down. Her eyes were wide, voice small.
“I… someone’s talking to me…”

Jere listened, but heard nothing. His sensors didn’t detect any magic energy passing through the air, like they normally did when someone spoke via telepathy. He waited patiently until Eny spoke again.

“He’s asking where he is…”

Jere responded instantly.
“Who is he?”

Eny seemed to be conversing silently, her lips twitching before she answered.
“He wants to know what I am.”

Jere frowned.
“That’s not a good answer to ‘what’s your name.’”

Eny grinned, which confused him further until he realized his phrasing could be taken as a joke. She looked up at him.
“What do I tell him?”

Jere shrugged.
“Your name, maybe?”

She nodded and her expression went blank again as she relayed the message. A few seconds later she came back.
“He wants to know what I am to him.”

It wasn’t the first time Jere had heard that phrasing. His brow furrowed deeper.
“Tell him that you don’t know.”

She did so. A pause. Then her eyes widened slightly.
“He says his name is Jaka.”

Jere nodded, slightly reassured. He’d never heard that name before - but still, something about it unsettled him.
“Ask him what other names he has.”

Eny looked confused but obeyed. A few seconds later her face went pale.
“He says he’s also known as J-2… and the Angel of Slaughter.”

Jere felt his face go numb. Fear. His eyes narrowed.

“Ask him where he is.”

A few seconds later, Eny spoke again.
“He doesn’t know. He can’t see anything. It’s… grey.”

Her eyes widened as realization struck.
“My nightmare. It was about him.”

But Jere was already far ahead of that thought. He’d heard rumours once - of a second Angel built after him - but he had never believed it was completed, and certainly never imagined it might still exist. The simplest explanation his processors could assemble was that Jaka was trapped in the between. The only thing Jere remembered between his own death and summoning was a grey void.

If Jaka was in the same place - and able to speak to Eny-

“Eny. Have you told him about me?”

She shook her head quickly.
“No. Do you want-”

“No. Don’t tell him about me. I forbid it. Understand?”

She nodded, startled by the weight in his tone.
“What should I tell him, then?”

He thought for less than a second.
“Ask him why he’s able to talk to you.”

A pause.
“He doesn’t know.”

Jere frowned, then exhaled slowly.
“I don’t know either. Do you want to keep talking to him?”

She shook her head.
“He talks like a robot.”

He nodded, though she shouldn’t have known what a robot was.
“You could try sleeping again.”

She nodded, her golden hair flickering in the firelight.
“Okay.”

She shuffled closer to his side, leaning against him. The way the two females in his life treated him like a living pillow amused Jere, but he didn’t complain. Within minutes, the small girl’s breathing steadied as she drifted off without trouble.

His processors whirred on, churning through data and generating possibilities about what might be happening. But his organic mind was elsewhere entirely - still lost in the memory of Ylfa’s lips on his. Despite the hours that had passed, the feeling lingered. Every so often he paused his processors and replayed the recorded sensation, reliving the warmth that no logic could quantify.

And he knew he would never tire of it.

Ylfa stirred as the sun shone into the lounge. The fire had long since died, but faint embers still glowed in the fireplace. Her shoulder ached, but she didn’t care - she was still leaning against Jere’s side, and his arm was still around her.

She yawned softly, noticed Jere watching her, and smiled. She squeezed a little closer, then lifted her head. Her intent was obvious almost instantly. A kiss was on its way.

He reacted at once, leaning in and matching her movements so they aligned perfectly. Their eyes closed at the same time, and their lips met. It wasn’t like the deep, lingering kiss of the day before - it was a gentle greeting, the kind shared between a devoted husband and wife.

They parted after a moment, the memory already occupying its own place in Jere’s mind. He wondered, briefly, if he’d ever get used to it - or if one day he’d have to choose which memories to keep, and which to delete. But her smile erased the thought. He withdrew his arm from her waist as she signed gracefully.

Sleep well?

A joke - she knew full well he didn’t sleep. He nodded, then motioned toward Eny. Concern flickered across Ylfa’s face.

Nightmare?

He nodded again, then signed back:

She couldn’t use her telepathy. I’m hoping she can when she wakes up.

Ylfa nodded, then leaned back against him. She had to tilt her hands sideways so he could read the signs.

I want to help make breakfast today.

He signed back simply:

Okay.

And that was all. She nestled against him again, he wrapped his arm around her, and they waited for Eny to wake.

Jere savoured the quiet - savoured the frustration of his processor, the stillness of his body. It felt good to be peaceful.