I Hold The Light Of Heaven In My Hands

i
have often noticed that
ancestors never boast
of the descendants who boast
of ancestors i would
rather start a family than
finish one blood will tell but often
it tells too much
Don Marquis “A Roach of the Taverns”

A small girl of ten sits by the window, watching her father and grandfather practice out in the backyard. Today is special. It is her tenth birthday and she is to join her father and grandfather.

But that’s later. For now, she watches the two fight, swords glittering in the sunlight. Her father, Kyle, wields a slim one handed sword with a large silver dragon curled around the hilt and cross piece. Along one side is a list of names, taking up three quarters the length of the sword. Her name will be added the first time she draws blood. Her grandfather, Michael, holds a large broadsword with a cats eye jewel set at the junction where the cross piece meets the hilt. It is of a very primitive design, almost resembling a giant fang.

It would be her father’s sword, Stormchaser that she would be fighting with. It had lain alone for a long time waiting for her to grow old enough to help her parents fight. Her father would take one of the swords in the attic. There were two up there gathering dust as they waited for suitable partners. Her father had brought back both of them from India when he married her mother.

Her mother, Lisa, had given up fighting when she’d given birth, picking up the sword only to protect her family. Now, she would be helping train Kaitlin, getting her ready for the War.

“Katy?” Lisa stood in the doorway of her room, looking anxiously at her only child. “Are you ready?”

Kaitlin realized her father and grandfather had stopped practicing. She looked up at her mother, then turned away from the window. “Yes, mama.” She followed her mother downstairs and out into the backyard.

Lisa sighed as she held the door open for her daughter. She’d grown up too fast. She’d had to. Her own family was only one of many who were slowly losing Warriors. When Lisa had begun fighting, the War in America had seemed a near victory. Like others of her generation, she’d gone overseas to help other countries. It was in India where she had met and later married Kyle Barinian. They had returned to the states for their honeymoon to find it almost turned over to the other side.

Kyle handed Stormchaser to Kaitlin. He showed her the correct way to fit her tiny hands on the hilt, then took Michael’s sword.

“You ready to go?” At Kaitlin’s nod, he started to gently prod at her defenses.

Of his own volition, he (for Stormchaser was indeed a he) fended off Kyle. The sword had millennia of experience, it needed only Kaitlin’s strength and speed to fight.

Michael stepped closer to Lisa, watching Kaitlin’s first sparring match. “Chan Li fell yesterday. His sister called with the news.”

“Lord save us,” Lisa’s eyes filled with tears as her hand flew to her chest. “He didn’t die?”

Michael shook his head, a grim look on his face. “Poor Anna... and Zoe. She’s only thirteen.”

“It’s the price we pay.”

“Perhaps it’s too expensive.” Lisa murmured in a low tone, a furious scowl twisting her face into an unpleasant mask.

Michael merely shook his head, his eyes on Kaitlin.

—..—

A foul odor permeated the air, making Max Huristar cry out in disgust. “Gawd, Aunt Maggie, what are you cooking?” The nasal tone of his voice resulting from the thumb and forefinger which firmly pinched his nostrils together.

Silence met his shout. He frowned. Two adults, three teens(including himself), and one infant resided in this house. It shouldn’t be so quiet...

A piercing scream echoed through the house. Startled, Max headed for the stairs. His aunt stumbled out of her bedroom, looking at him with horror filled eyes. “Run Max! Get away from here! Go!” She hissed frantically, waving him towards the door. Dark fluids splattered her body, some red, some greenish black. Flecks of white and grey could be seen as well.

“Wha ?”

Something dark and scaley appeared out of the darkness behind his aunt, malevolent yellow eyes gleaming and drool dripping from long pointed teeth.

“Run puny humans.” It boomed, laughing as Maggie dragged Max back down the stairs. “Tremble and know Akrun will catch you.”

Maggie pushed Max behind her, then lifted her hands before her face, keeping her eyes on the demonic figure before her. A pale blue ribbon of light sprang from the floor to wind about her body, lighting the room.

The being that called itself Akrun looked a little worried as the vortex of wind started to build, contained only by that pale blue light. Wings of the same icy hue appeared on Maggie’s back, and a thin rapier manifested between her upraised hands. As soon as the sword was fully solid, the light died and the wind burst free, hammering into Akrun. Maggie leapt forward, her foil making a sharp “whoosh”ing sound.


What Kaitlin had termed her “angel alarm” started to buzz. She looked up to see her parents exchanging glances.

“It’s Maggie Weissman.” Kyle said, standing up from the table.

“But Bill hasn’t changed yet.” Lisa stood as well.

“I don’t think he can.” This dire statement was made by Michael. His eyes were closed and he was concentrating intensely.

Kyle and Lisa exchanged glances. “We’re going to help.”

Kaitlin watched as two ribbons of light, one dark gray and one white, swirled around her parents. Feathery wings of the same colors erupted from their shoulder blades and swords appeared in their hands. They ran out into the backyard, and through the kitchen window Kaitlin could see them taking flight.

Michael spotted the confused look on his granddaughter’s face and gave an inaudible sigh. Clapping his hands together once to gain her attention, he smiled. “Well, Katy, would you like to learn how to play chess?”


Maggie cried out in pain as the demon’s claws raked through her side. She stabbed into its side and it laughed at her, gripping the sword and tearing it from her hands. She gave another helpless cry as her sword and lifelong friend was broken in two by the cruel being.

“Foolish mortal. You call yourself a Warrior?”

The door burst open, and Kyle and Lisa Barinian strode through, swords at the ready. As they entered, the demon vanished.

Maggie collapsed to the ground, sobbing. Max crept out from behind the couch hesitantly.

“Aunt Maggie?”

“Maggie!” Lisa rushed toward the woman, hugging her close. “What happened?”

Kyle took a look at the bloodstained and near hysterical Maggie, then took Max and lead him out of the house. “How old are you, kid?”

“S s seventeen.”

“Bill and Maggie took you in?” The boy nodded. Kyle sighed. “Have you been trained?”

Max shook his head. “There were only two swords. Christi and John were being trained for when Uncle Bill and Aunt Maggie d d di “ He choked on the last word and turned a pasty white color, then whirled around and started retching in the bushes.


Lisa looked at the carnage that had been wrought upstairs and felt like emptying her stomach of her recently eaten dinner. Tears ran down her face full force. The Weissman family had died knowing exactly what was happening to them.

She heard a ragged breath being drawn. A flash of white movement came from under one of the children’s beds. “H hello?” A low, creaky voice called. Lisa draw her sword and advanced cautiously. “Bill? Christi? Maggie?”

The white movement took form as an unearthly pale skinned hand trying to drag its owner out from under the busted bed.

::It’s a sword.:: Lisa’s sword told her. ::Must be one of the Weissman children’s swords.:: Lisa nodded and grabbed the hand, helping its owner out from under the bed. An arm clad in a black turtleneck followed, along with a pasty white face, then the rest of the sword’s human form. Black hair fell into horrified eyes. Dark green ichor mixed with red blood splattered his face and body, and he looked to have received a few wounds himself.

“Who are you?” He demanded, then pushed past her. “Where’s Christi? Is she okay?” He didn’t wait for an answer, rushing down the stairs to kneel beside Maggie. Lisa had made makeshift bandages from sheets and a blanket taken from the linen closet, but the wounded woman was becoming deathly pale.

“Shadowbane?” She asked weakly, eyes focusing somewhere around his head. “He killed them. He killed them all.” Her voice drifted off and her eyes slowly closed. She gave one last shuddering sigh, then breathed no more.

Shadowbane stared at her for a long moment, then stood and exited the house. When Lisa followed, she saw a small trail of water that began in the middle of Maggie’s cheek and ran down the side of her face.

—..—

The minor demon watched the gawky youth with mischievous eyes. The young man held his two handed broadsword awkwardly.

“Shadowbane, c’mon!” He muttered pleadingly. The sword was obviously making it hard on him.

The demon growled in anticipation, a huge grin spreading across its scaley face. Suddenly it darted forward. Max struggled to lift the sword to intercept the dangerous claws. At the last possible moment, Shadowbane redirected himself high enough to deflect the claws. Barely.

Things proceeded in a similar fashion for a few minutes before Max threw his sword down in frustration and leapt onto the back of the demon, wrapping his arms around its neck and squeezing hard.

It grabbed his arms and slowly began forcing them apart. Max tried to keep his arms together, but was losing the battle. Soon his hands were right in front of the demon’s mouth and...

CRUNCH!!!

Max screamed in pain as his left pinky and half his ring finger disappeared down the demon’s maw.

“Shadowbane!” Kyle roared, springing toward the fight, his sword drawn.

Max cried out again as a searing pain stabbed into his abdomen. Kyle pulled him off the back of the demon and off the first inch and a half of Shadowbane’s demon ichor covered point.

“Shadowbane, you fucking bastard! What the hell are you trying to do, kill the boy?”

In reply, the broadsword disappeared. Kyle muttered under his breath, leading the now sobbing Max into the house for Michael and Kaitlin to attend to his wounds.

“Lord save us,” Michael crossed himself, then immediately dug into the cabinet with the first aid supplies in it. “Katy, start boiling some water.” The girl nodded, filling a pan with water and stuffing it in the microwave.

Kyle sat the wounded boy down at the table, grabbing the injured arm and forcing Max to put it on the table. Michael peered at it through his reading glasses, then glanced up at his daughter, who was standing by the huge glass doors. “Go start a fire in the barbeque grill and heat up a couple of the butcher knives. We’re going to have to cauterize it.” She rushed out the door, quickly shutting the sound proofed doors behind her.

At Michael’s calm proclamation, Max started shouting, trying to tug his hand away from Kyle’s grip.

“Katy,” Michael called over the noise, “take the water out and let me see how hot it is.”

She obeyed, placing the pan next to Michael, who stuck his knuckles in the water and nodded. Grabbing a clean rag, he dipped it in the water and cleaned the blood away from Max’s fingers. “All right, Katy, I want you to hold his finger here and here.” He placed her fingers over the spots he indicated. “Grip him tight, now, you hear me? This is to keep him from bleeding too much.”

Kaitlin nodded, obediently tightening her grip. The blood flow from that finger slowed to a trickle. Her grandfather showed her how to close the arteries and veins that were gushing out of the wound on the side of Max’s hand as well, then her grandfather cleaned as much of the blood as he could.

Lisa came in and grabbed two huge butcher knives, dowsed them in rubbing alcohol, then darted outside again. Luckily Max didn’t see, as he had covered his eyes so as not to see the mangled mess that his left hand had turned into. Michael’s liberal application of the rubbing alcohol prompted a choked sob from the young boy, and Kyle gripped his shoulder in an attempt to reassure him.

By the time Michael was done, Lisa had returned, bearing two knives whose blades were still glowing red. Her father accepted one from her, then quickly applied it to the stump of Max’s ring finger, burning the blood vessels shut. Once he was finished, he tossed the knife into the sink and accepted the other one from Lisa, using it to cauterize the place where Max’s pinky finger used to be.

When he was done, Kaitlin sprung into action, quickly and efficiently bandaging up Max’s hand, binding his last three fingers together so that the wound wouldn’t re open.

Once she was done, Kyle helped the young boy to his bed while Michael leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. After a moment of silent contemplation, he opened them and looked at Kaitlin. “Did you understand what happened there?”

Nodding, she dutifully replied, “The alcohol and burning the knives were to kill germs, and heating the knife up burned his arteries and stuff shut so they wouldn’t bleed anymore.”

“Good,” Michael nodded, pushing himself to his feet with a heavy sigh and going to the first aid cabinet, digging through it. “Give him some of these,” he put a vial of sleeping pills on the counter beside him, “and watch over him tonight to make sure he doesn’t get a fever.”

“All night?” Lisa interjected. “She’s got school tomorrow.”

“And you and Kyle and I have to work. She’ll be fine missing a day or two of school until the boy gets better.” Michael calmly set out the materials Kaitlin would need and handed them to his granddaughter before turning to face her mother. “She needs to learn this, Lisa. Better she get the experience now when someone can take over if she fails rather than later when there’s no one.”

Lisa’s lips tightened into a thin line, showing her displeasure, but she nodded in agreement. “All right.” She said, looking at her daughter, who was watching the exchange warily. “I’ll call Zoe tonight and see if she can’t gather up your homework for the rest of the week.”

Kaitlin let out a sigh of disappointment, carrying her supplies into Max’s room where she found her father and the just turned twenty one year old Max sharing a bottle of vodka. “Daddy!”

“Hmm?” Kyle looked up and smiled cheerfully at his daughter. “Oh, there you are, dear! Come and have a drink, won’t you? Oh, that’s right, you’re too young. Well, too bad for you, Katy.”

“Grandpa says I’m supposed to take care of him tonight.” She dumped her armload on the dresser, then turned and scowled at her father. “You weren’t supposed to give him alcohol, Daddy.”

“Calm down, Katy.” Her father grinned at her as he stood, grabbing the bottle away from Max. “It’s a painkiller. To kill his pain. Here’s to murdering that sonofabitch Pain!” Kyle raised the bottle high in a toast, then gulped a good portion of it down.

Kaitlin rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Daddy, it’s time for you to go to bed.”

Her father oogled his watch, then nodded sagely. “Why so it is, it says so right here. Well, good night, you two.” He shut the door behind him with a little more force than was necessary.

Kaitlin rolled her eyes again, then turned to look at Max, who had flopped onto his belly, injured hand brushing the floor. “Okay, Max, gotta roll over for a sec.” She received a heavy groan in reply and sighed. Grabbing his shoulder, she attempted to roll him over. He resisted her efforts for a moment, then pushed himself onto his back, staring at her.

Intimidated, although she didn’t show it, she grabbed his injured hand and propped several pillows under it. She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead, then, alarmed at the heat pouring from him, she muttered “be right back” and dashed out of the room, returning with a bowl of cold water. Dipping a washrag in it, she wrung it out and placed it on his forehead. His eyes closed then and she heard him sigh quietly.

“What’s wrong?”

He glanced at her, then shook his head. “Nothing,” he muttered. Kaitlin frowned, taking a seat in the armchair by the bed and curling up on it, wrapping her arms around her knees and watching him.

—..—

The porch light was the only light on in the whole house. Twenty three year old Max stood in the doorway, shouldering a pack. It wasn’t that he was ungrateful to Kyle and his family. Kyle had taught him how to fight, how to summon his birthright, and had even gotten Shadowbane to help him. To some extent, anyway, he thought ruefully, rubbing the aching stubs where his fingers used to be.

Max knew he would spell trouble if he stayed. First his parents, then Uncle Bill’s family. They said that bad things happened in threes. Kyle’s family was bound to be next if he didn’t move along.

He took one last look at the room behind him and was about to shut the door behind him when he caught a pair of solemn gray eyes staring at him.

“Katy? What are you doing up so late?”

Grateful for the dim lighting that hid her blush, she retorted quickly. “What are you doing up so late? Where are you going?” The sixteen year old girl’s voice quavered slightly, as if afraid to hear the answer.

Max shrugged with false confidence. “Out. I’ll be back.”

This didn’t seem to mollify Kaitlin. She scowled at him. “Wait right there.” Bare feet padded silently to her room, then returned quickly. She met him at the front door, holding a silver medallion on a long chain which she placed around his neck.

“What’s this?” He twisted the medallion around to see it better. On it was a man in a loincloth carrying a child across a river. “Saint Christopher protect us?”

“Saint Christopher watches over travelers. I- If we can't- It's just-” She sighed, frustrated at the way the words she wanted to say just wouldn't come through. Instead she watched as he tucked it inside his shirt, then looked up at him. “Promise you’ll be back?”

He smiled gently at her. “I promise.”

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First fic on adult-fanfiction.org, yay for me!. I have no betas, so if someone wants to polish this up, send me a line!