Tirade (Heven and Hell #3)(48)
Author: Cambria Hebert

The stone cottage that I saw from the back of The Devourer was sitting not so far away and it looked warm and welcoming.

“Where did The Devourer go?” Sam asked, and we both turned and gasped.

The Devourer wasn’t there, but there was a giant… bird? Creature? Animal? Standing there staring at us. It was covered in feathers, brilliant feathers of blue, red and yellow. It spread its wings to reveal more jewel-tone hues of orange and green. It had a large body, but somehow it seemed graceful, never clumsy. It had a wide face and the top of its head was covered in a yellow Mohawk, while the feathers around its eyes were green. But there was something familiar about this creature.

It’s eyes… I gasped.

This was The Devourer. Somehow, remarkably, its ugly exterior was transformed in this place to a thing of great beauty. “It’s The Devourer,” I whispered to Sam, who nodded, not taking his eyes off the dragon.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” a woman said from behind and Sam spun around quickly. I turned too, just not quite as fast.

She was just as striking as everything else. Her beauty rivaled that of Airis, except there wasn’t an untouchable vibe. She wasn’t as austere as Airis. She was more natural, but nature had given her its every gift. She had long hair the color of sun-kissed wheat and her wide-set eyes were as green as the grass beneath our feet. She wasn’t very big. In fact, I was taller than she and I guessed her height wasn’t more than five feet. She moved with an elegance and grace that I would never master, even if I practiced for a hundred years. Her skin was smooth and creamy with pink undertones, making her appear very young. But none of these things were her most beautiful feature.

Her most beautiful feature was her aura.

I had never before seen such pure, unfiltered color. There was a bright yellow and a crisp orange that weaved with emerald and blue. But the most abundant color of all was magenta—the unique blend of purple and pink that I had only ever seen one other person wear. My brother. Except this woman had about three times the amount of that color and, instead of circling only her head, it encompassed her entire body.

We shook ourselves from staring as Sam asked, “Who are you?”

She smiled. “My name is Aniano.”

“Once again?” I asked.

“An-yah-no,” she pronounced more slowly.

“I think we’ll just call you Ana.” Sam replied ruefully.

“If you wish.” She smiled back, her green eyes amused.

“What is this place?” I asked her.

“My home,” she said simply. “Come, I will show you around.

Forgetting my ankle was broken, I moved to follow. I stumbled, but Sam was there to catch me.

“You are injured. I can help.” She didn’t wait for us but walked toward the cottage. Sam picked me up and hurried after her. There was a large set of French doors, open to the breeze, where I thought she would go, but instead, she passed the open doors and walked across a small clearing on the other side of the house.

“Heven is human. Her soul…” Sam began to say, obviously concerned that we were wasting time.

Ana lifted a hand. “Her soul is not in danger here. It will remain in her body.” Then she stopped and looked down with unfiltered joy on her face. Sam made it to her side and stopped, placing me on my feet (well, my one good foot) and we both looked down to see what she seemed so awed by.

It was a flower.

It was growing alone among the softest patch of green grass. The breeze played lightly with the petals. It was golden and seemed to be lit from within; its edges were glittering and magnificent. The creamy yellow petals were open, inviting the warmth of the sun and the gaze of our eyes.

“You brought us out here to look at a flower?” Sam asked, trying to sound polite.

“It isn’t just any flower,” Ana said kindly. “It’s a piece of the sun.”

“A what?” Sam asked.

“This flower grows from a drop of the sun. It is the purest form of life.”

“Then what’s it doing in hell?” Sam asked, curious.

“Proof,” I murmured.

Ana turned toward me and smiled.

“Proof that God created hell, not Satan. If Satan created it, then this place wouldn’t exist.”

“That’s right,” Ana said.

“I guess no one would think to look for it here.” Sam allowed.

Ana turned her smile on him.

“Come,” she said, bending down to pick a petal off the flower. I gasped at destroying such beauty, but the petal grew back immediately.

This time she led us through the French doors and into the house. I took in everything as we stepped inside. It was awfully large for a cottage and the inside had an old-world look with modern conveniences. The floors were dark, scuffed up wood that looked uneven yet charming. The walls were all white, but looked bumpy and when I peered closer, I saw it was because they were made of stone. The ceiling was vaulted and made of the same dark wood that covered the floors, and there was a large fireplace filled with crackling logs. The mantle was a huge piece of wood and the only thing on it was a bulky white vase filled with wildflowers. We walked across a multi-colored braided rug that was old and in some spots worn, but was otherwise extremely soft underfoot.

We walked past overstuffed aqua-colored couches and into the kitchen, which was open to the living room. It was a large room that had stone countertops and stainless steel appliances. There were more braided rugs of every color on the floor and peeling white-painted stools beneath the island.

“Please, sit,” Ana invited as she grabbed a teakettle off the stove and filled it with water and set it to boil. Then she opened up a cabinet filled with white porcelain mugs. She wasn’t tall enough to reach them, so she climbed on the counter to get what she wanted. Her hop back onto the floor was soundless. Then she set the cup by the stove and placed the flower petal at the bottom.

Sam pulled out two stools for us to sit on. While I was fascinated with her movements and what exactly she was doing, I found myself growing dizzy again. I was sweating and shaking and I wanted to go to sleep. Sam seemed to pick up on my crappy feeling and rubbed slow circles over my back with his hand.

The kettle began to boil and Ana poured the water over the petal. The cup seemed to glow the minute it was filled and the steam that came off the top danced with golden glitter. “Drink this,” she said, sitting the cup on the island in front of me.

Sam looked at her like she just grew three heads.