Even Angels have Scars -- Complete

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Saint Kurt
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Not all those who Wander are Lost part 1

Post by Saint Kurt » Sun Sep 05, 2004 6:11 pm

"God in Heaven Kurt! What ever is the matter?"



Kurt ran up the hill towards the church without paying attention to where he was going. He just wanted to get as far away from Azazel as possible. When he reached one of the church's stone walls he teleported without slowing down to think. He materialized inside the church, his momentum carrying him into the back row of pews so that he nearly knocked them over. He dropped to his knees, breathing hard with his eyes shut. When Kurt opened them the first thing he saw was the giant crucifix that hung above the altar and he thought he was having visions. It was a moment before Kurt realized that he had teleported into the church. He had been so upset by Azazel that he hadn't been looking where he was going.

Mentally chastising himself for such sloppiness, he stood up and walked into the center of the nave.

He'd always loved this church. It was the first one he had ever seen and it was still his favorite despite having been in dozens of churches all over Europe. Maybe it was leftover childhood superstition, but of all the churches, he was sure that this was the one that God truly lived in.

God.

Should he even be here now? Would God forsake him now that he had discovered the truth, that he really was the child of a demon, that his destiny was to speak for the archangel Azazel? A more chilling thought was that perhaps God had forsaken him years ago. After all, he had spent his entire life thinking that God had favored him, that God had engineered his birth, his being found by Margali and the circus; that all the good things that had been in his life were a direct result of God's influence. It was a little haughty, be then again he was so different than anyone else, it had only seemed right to assume that God had something particular in mind for him.

But now he knew the truth, that God hadn't been responsible; Azazel had. Everything that Kurt had known to be true; that he was special, that God loved him, that God had looked out for him on the day he was brought into the world, was a lie.

He had been walking up the nave towards the altar as he contemplated the influences over his life and stopped when he stood before the long table with its candlesticks. The crucifix hung above him. Christ had died for their sins, Kurt had believed it from the moment he saw him when he was eight years old, but not for his. His destiny was to serve sin. It was almost too much to bear and when he felt that he could endure no more, he lashed out, knocking over the table and screaming.

What he was yelling was unintelligible even to himself. The mix of rage, and horror, and revulsion he felt couldn't be put into words. How could God abandon him like this? How could it happen here of all places?

Sobbing, Kurt sank down next to the upturned table. He had never felt so lost. He started to cry, quietly at first until he was wailing at the top of his lungs like he hadn't done since he was a very young child. Sorrow had pierced him to the core and it didn't seem like he could ever stop.



Father Dietrich stood outside the church door, frantically fumbling with his keys. He'd heard the screams from within the rectory. Something horrible was happening inside his church and he had hardly stopped other than to throw on something more presentable than his pajamas and a pair of shoes. He'd been surprised to find the doors locked and no sign of entry. But the screaming continued and so with shaking hands he slid the key in the lock and turned it.

The church was empty save for the sound of sobbing. There wasn't a living soul inside, at least not that he could see. Father Dietrich followed the sound down the center aisle of the nave to the altar. It wasn't until he was nearly upon the altar that he could see that the source of the sound was Kurt. He was lying on his side in the shadows, practically beneath the wreckage of the central table where the Sacrament sat during mass.

"God in Heaven Kurt! What ever is the matter?" Father Dietrich said. He broke into a run and knelt beside Kurt who did appear to have heard him. He pulled Kurt's bloody hands away from his face, not sure what he would find. "Are you hurt? What happened?" he asked.

Kurt was still screaming when he felt gentle hands trying to pry his own away from his face. He sat up in surprise, trying to wipe the tears from his cheeks. He only succeeded in smearing blood across it; it mixed with his tears and soaked into his fur. He looked around, realizing that in his panic over Azazel he'd completely smashed up the altar. "I'm sorry," he said, still sobbing, "I'll fix it."

"It's all right, Kurt. What happened? How did you get in here?" Father Dietrich took Kurt's hand, the one with the most blood on it, and looked at it. There was a small pattern of cuts on it, like a bite made by sharp teeth, teeth like Kurt's. And had Kurt just apologized for the damage to his altar?

"What's going on?" Father Dietrich asked.

"Ummm." Kurt paused, gently extracting his hand from the priest's grip. "I had another nightmare," he said.

"But how did you get in here? What happened to your hand?"

Kurt looked around him, suddenly feeling like a trapped animal. He'd never told Father Dietrich about how he could teleport himself, or about anything else that had to do with Azazel for that matter. He didn't like keeping anything from him, but he didn't know how Father Dietrich would react. It was the only secret he had and given the circumstances, it was important he keep it. But he hated to lie.

"Through the door." Kurt said.

"But I locked the door. I had to unlock it to come in here. It looks like you bit your own hand. What's going on Kurt?"

"I… I'm…" Kurt stood up quickly. He tipped the table back up right, but it was now missing a leg and it crashed back down to the floor, missing Father Dietrich's head by inches. The priest jumped back in shock and Kurt cringed; he was just making everything worse. "I'm sorry!" he shouted. He went to pick up one of the candlesticks that had rolled over next to his foot and to his surprise Father Dietrich grabbed him from behind, wrapping his arms around him as he pulled him away from the altar.

"Stop it." Father Dietrich said, he still had Kurt's armed gripped tightly in his hands as though he was afraid of what would happen if he let go. "What's gotten into you?" he asked.

Kurt stared at him. The truth was nothing had gotten into him, at least nothing that hadn't already been there. He couldn't answer. He didn't want to have to lie to Father Dietrich anymore. He turned, pulling himself from the Father's grip and ran from the church.



Kurt was sitting in the kitchen watching the sun come up when he heard Father Dietrich's footsteps on the stairs. Kurt had run from the church and gone directly to his room where he'd locked the door. He'd sat awake in the room with the lights off. He'd listened to Father Dietrich return to the church. The priest had stood outside his door, but he didn't knock and finally, had gone away, evidently returning to his room. A little while afterwards, Kurt had packed a bag and snuck downstairs with his it, his rosary, and bible, and his big coat thrown over his arm. From the sound of the steps, Father Dietrich had gone upstairs to check Kurt's room first.

"Did you get any sleep at all?" Father Dietrich asked as he came into the kitchen.

Kurt shook his head. "You're up early," he said.

"It's Sunday." Father Dietrich said.

It was? Kurt had completely lost track of time. "I'm so sorry about what happened to the altar," he said. "Will you be able to fix it in time?"

"All ready fixed," Father Dietrich said. "That leg has always been kind of loose. It's come off before." He sat down at the table across from Kurt. "You have to tell me what's troubling you," he said. "I can't help you if you don't tell me."

"I can't. I'm sorry, but there are some things I can't tell you?" Kurt said.

"I've got about an hour before I need to start getting ready for mass. We could go into the box if you like. You don't have to keep your secrets from God. God has unlimited forgiveness."

Kurt shook his head again. "I think God already knows. And…" He paused. "It doesn’t matter. This is something I have to fix." Kurt slid his bible and rosary across the table to Father Dietrich. "Would you look after these for me?" he asked.

Father Dietrich looked surprised. "Why on Earth… Kurt, what's going on?"

"I'm sorry Father. It's something I have to take care of. I don't want anything to happen to these, they mean a lot to me." Kurt said, swallowing hard. He'd made up his mind over night. He had to get rid of Azazel; he had to keep him away at all costs. He had spent the entire night mulling the possibilities short of killing himself. When inspiration struck it was his bible that was indirectly responsible, not the words of the book, but the piece of paper he'd tucked into it years ago.

Years ago when Kiwi and Amiri Black came to the circus, Kurt had been fascinated with the tattoos on their faces. They had told him about how the Maori believed that the tattoos frightened evil spirits away, that the decorations had served as a ward, keeping evil from attempting to possess their bodies. This was exactly what Kurt needed and he had considered trying to return to the circus to find them, but then he had realized, the Maori tattoos were in the wrong language. He needed to speak Azazel's language, the alphabet for which was written on a paper he kept folded in his bible. And there was only one person besides Azazel whom he had ever known to use those symbols, Margali's sister, Martuska Szardos.

The only problem was that he didn't know where Martuska was. He was going to have to summon Azazel again. He was going to have to ask for his help.

"Kurt, I'm serious. You're scaring me. What is going on?" Father Dietrich said.

Kurt shut his eyes. He knew how this must all look, but he had to follow through, for himself and for Father Dietrich. He couldn't have Azazel threatening him that way. Kurt stood up.

"Please look after them for me." He said. He started towards the door, but he couldn't leave it like that. He turned around. Father Dietrich was still sitting at the table as though in shock.

"I know how strange this must seem, but please understand, it's necessary."

"Necessary how?" Father Dietrich asked.

Kurt could see the utter confusion written on the priest's face, but he shook his head, shifting his coat in his hands. "It's just necessary. I have to go. I'm sorry," he said. He left the kitchen, walking down the hall towards the door.

Father Dietrich got up and followed him. "Kurt, what are you doing? The circus is already back in Europe. Wolfgang is supposed to pick you up next week," he said.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said again. He pulled on his coat and opened the door.

"Where should I tell them you're going?" Kurt could hear Father Dietrich's voice from the doorway as he ran down the hill.



Once he was in the clearing where he had summoned Azazel the night before Kurt went through the same actions, scratching Azazels' mark with his tail and then opening one of the punctures he'd made on his hand.

Azazel took longer to appear this time.

"Twice in as many days!" the angel shouted gleefully. "So you've made up your mind then?"

Kurt shook his head. "Not quite," he said. "I need your help. I need to find Margali's sister."

"What do you need her for?" Azazel asked suspiciously.

"Because I need to corroborate your story. Margali never told me about her family being seers. I need to find out if what you say is true." Kurt said, hoping he was putting enough naïve earnestness in his voice to fool Azazel.

"What makes you think she'll talk to you? Unlike Margali, Martuska still follows Romani traditions." Azazel said.

"That's my problem." Kurt said.

"So you want to know where she is?" Azazel asked.

"Yes." Kurt said.

"And if I tell you, how will you get there?"

Kurt had considered this and it was a problem. "I'll find a way," he said.

Azazel smiled broadly. "I could help you, you know," he said, "I could take you to her."

Kurt looked skeptical. "How?" he asked.

"My realm may open upon any door I chose, even that of Margali's sister. All you have to do is ask." Azazel held out a hand.

Kurt didn't move. It was true he had intended to set out right away and the idea of a shortcut was inviting, as long as he could take it without Azazel discovering his true motivation.

"I promise you safe passage." Azazel said.

Kurt looked around; the sun was starting to come up. In less than an hour people would be arriving for mass. He wanted to be as far away as possible before that happened. It was hard enough leaving a place where he had been so happy. He stared at the steeple of St. Stephan's now silhouetted against the lightening sky for as long as possible, trying to burn it into his memory. He took Azazel's hand in his own.



Kurt felt himself pulled forward, similar to the feeling of teleporting but slower and completely silent. Then he stepped onto what felt like cold marble. He looked around, not sure what to expect and to his surprise saw only blackness. And it was so cold. He could see his breath in the air and could already feel himself starting to shiver.

"This is hell?" Kurt asked. He was expecting something different.

"This is what I choose to let you see." Azazel said. Then he started chuckling. "Hell…" he said under his breath, and laughed again. "So are you coming?" Azazel asked, he motioned for Kurt to follow and chose a direction as though he could see his destination despite the fact that they were surrounded by featureless black.

Kurt followed him slowly, stepping gingerly on the cold stone ground. He wondered where they were going, and more importantly, whether Azazel was truly going to let him out when they got there.
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Even Angels have Scars -- Complete

Post by NWKurt » Sun Sep 05, 2004 9:10 pm

grind, grind... *grits teeth*

Ohhhh, this doesnt sound good. I for one think we need to lock up Zam till she doesnt leave us hanging like this!!!!! :tonguewag NAH!!! Just kidding Zam, we love ya!

It looks like Maelstrom was right about the scars. I eagerly await to see how Kurt escapes the lure of Azazel; I for one think he may be a very untrustworthy, NASTY guy!

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Let us try to live our lost illusions....They're the sun at night.....If we don't, we'll never taste.....The spice of life!
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Even Angels have Scars -- Complete

Post by RavEnigma » Sun Sep 05, 2004 9:14 pm

*shivers* Oooooohhhhhhhh....so Kurt teleports through Azzy's dimension? :? I love this, Azzy sends shivers down my spine. Please write more soon, mon ami!
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Even Angels have Scars -- Complete

Post by taekwondodo » Sun Sep 05, 2004 11:40 pm

Woot! You got the next bit up, glad to see it! Gotta love using Azzy to help Kurt stick it to him. Can't wait to see how it all plays out w/Martuska....

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Even Angels have Scars -- Complete

Post by CurlyyHairGirl » Mon Sep 06, 2004 4:20 am

*psychohyperbouncypsychohyperbouncypsychohyperbouncypsychohyperbouncy* wo0t! OMGIAMSOFREEKINGFULLOFADRENALINEAFTERTHATONEITAIN'TEVENFREEKIN'FUNNY!!!! *pantpantpant*

[calming down]

WHY!!! Why did he go with him...*falls to knees shouting angry blasphemies to the sky* IF IN DOUBT, DON'T DO IT!!!! AHG!!! GOD HELP KURT!!! *says in an unusually calm voice* I would be so paranoid if I were in his position....AAAAHHHHH!!! *runs like a psycho in circles in the livingroom...SMACK!...CRASH....BOOM!!!. Smoke fizzle from the next room*

Spontaneous combustion hurts.
.
.
Can you tell I loved the last one? *bouncybouncybouncy* Please update...but take your time...yes...take *develops a tick in left eye* your time.

*Lots of hysterical huggles for Zam and Kurt, and a smack upside the head for Azzy* ~love EMO~
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Even Angels have Scars -- Complete

Post by Saint Kurt » Mon Sep 20, 2004 4:46 am

I'm glad you liked it. For the first time I've had to write between posts (usually I post 5 or so stories ahead of where I'm writing, but starting vet school co-incided with my starting a batch of new story bits so I had to play catch up a little bit there.)

Anyway - this next part is done and I'm back to writing in my usual non-linear style so I'm hoping there won't be such a long wait for updates.

thanks again for reading - as always.
-e
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Lost

Post by Saint Kurt » Mon Sep 20, 2004 4:49 am

"Well, as everybody knows, demons and angels are one in the same. They just have different agendas."


Kurt was freezing, but it was bothering him less and less. A few minutes ago everything he put one of his bare feet down on the icy marble floor he was sure he would stick to it and it felt like someone was driving a nail of ice through his leg. Now he hardly noticed the cold.

It seemed like they had walked miles though the landscape never changed beyond anything but infinite blackness. He wanted to ask Azazel how he knew where they were going, but he was afraid of what might happen if he did. Finally they stopped.

"Do you see them?" Azazel asked.

Kurt squinted into the darkness. He saw nothing – like gazing into a pool of ink. And then he saw it, a mere shimmer of light at first, a warm orange glow that increased in intensity until he could make out trees and a few trailers parked beneath them.

"Yes," Kurt said.

"Then go for it is there you will find the one you seek."

Kurt felt Azazel push him forward. He wasn't sure how he was seeing what he was seeing. Was it a door or a window he could step through? Or was it just an image? How did he "go to them" as Azazel asked? Kurt reached out – feeling for some kind of barrier between where he stood and what he saw. And then he was pulled forward – like someone grabbing his hand and yanking.

"Ah!" he cried out and closed his eyes. When Kurt opened them again, he was standing in a small thicket, just beyond the circle of light cast by the gas lanterns.

"Azazel, where are we?" He asked, turning. But Azazel was gone. The dark room was gone. He was alone. There were footsteps and Kurt quickly teleported behind the nearest tree. He recognized the silhouette of Martuska Szardos as she walked past, carrying what looked like a large kettle. He was still trying to make sense of what had just happened. Had that really been Azazel's realm, just a vast expanse of darkness? From Margali's books he had understood Azazel's realm to be synonymous with hell. Had that been it?

Martuska was walking away quickly, he didn't want to lose track of her. But if he had really just passed through hell? Kurt bowed his head and recited a prayer of contrition. He hoped that God would understand that all this was necessary.


He tried to follow Martuska as quietly as possible, but the ground was littered with twigs and had only made a few careful steps before one snapped.

"Who is that?" Martuska said in Romani as she whirled around – looking in the direction of the sound. She was looking straight at him, but from the way she was walking curiously forward; Kurt could tell she couldn't see him.

For a moment Kurt was silent. He knew about thirty words in Romani and that was mainly limited to a few greetings and the funny little phrases Margali used to say when they were kids. Add to that their favorite things to call him, "beng", "marimé", and "gadje" and he still wasn't exactly conversant. But if he remembered correctly, Martuska spoke German.

"Kurt Wa… It's Margali's son." Kurt said in German. If Martuska had been a man, Kurt would have been expected to make a more formal presentation of himself; that was the Romani custom. As it was he was glad he didn't since he wasn't very familiar with Romani customs.

Martuska squinted into the darkness. "I can't see you." She responded in German.

Taking a deep breath, Kurt stepped out into the light cast by their lanterns.

Martuska stepped back and hissed at him "Beng!" she shouted. "Margali's devil son. Get away from here!"

Kurt had to duck away when she took a swipe at him with the kettle, which thankfully, was empty. Kurt let her fling insults at him for a few minutes. Most of them he knew though a few were new to him. When she tried to hit him a second time with the kettle, he caught it in his hands and kept it.

"I said get away!" Martuska shouted at him and when Kurt stood his ground she stormed off towards the trailers. Kurt teleported so that he was in her path. Martuska screeched in surprise.

"I'm not going anywhere," Kurt said. "At least, not until I've talked to you."

"I won't listen to your words. Now go away."

Kurt shook his head and to his surprise Martuska gave a huff of impatience and ripped the kettle out of his hands. He followed her as she started down her original path, away from the trailers. When he couldn't convince her to stop or even look in his direction, he teleported into her path again.

Martuska's response was much the same. She screeched though now she glared at him angrily.

"I'm really hard to get rid of," Kurt said.

Martuska put a hand on one hip and considered him for a moment, still glaring daggers, then she thrust the kettle at him. "Then you can carry the water for me," she said.

Kurt took it and followed her to the well.

"What is it you want?" she asked.

"I need your help." Kurt said as he worked the pump until water poured from the spigot into the large pot.

"I don't help demons." Martuska said.

Kurt stopped pumping as the water began to spill over the edge. He picked the kettle up by the handle, leaning back to counter balance it's weight. "And yet you would ask one for his help," he said.

Martuska's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. Kurt began following her back towards the trailers.

"And if you believe in demons, then you must believe in angels," he added.

"I might," Martuska said.

"Well, as everybody knows, demons and angels are one in the same. They just have different agendas." Kurt said. "You haven't asked me what my agenda is."

"That's because I don't care. Put it there." Martuska said. She pointed to a stand with a hook that stood over a small fire.

Frowning, Kurt hung the hoisted the kettle up onto its hook.

"I expect you to be gone," Martuska said. She glared at him from the doorway of one of the trailers.

"Maybe," Kurt said with a shrug. "Mind if I use some of this water? I'm pretty thirsty." Kurt used his hand to scoop some out to drink, then he teleported out of sight into a shadow cast by a stand of trees. From there he watched Martuska dump out the water with a grunt of irritation and start back towards the well. He couldn't help but smirk even though he was sure he hadn't endeared himself to her that that stunt.



Kurt hadn't really expected to live outside for so many days and he certainly hadn't packed for it. He supposed he had spent his entire life "camping", but he always had some sort of roof over his head. Since following Azazel to Martuska's camp however, the trees had been his only cover.

He'd learned he was in Spain and though the days were warm it cooled down considerably at night. Kurt had made a sort of home for himself in a thicket of trees a short distance from where Martuska's trailers were parked. His coat was warm, but he woke up freezing every morning, shaking the dew out of his hair and hopping around to get the circulation back in his hands, feet, and tail.

He was getting a little restless and more than a little discouraged. Every night he'd tried to convince Martuska to listen to him and it always ended the same way. She went into her trailer and he returned to the woods. The strange thing was that he was pretty sure she was leaving food out for him. It was hard to imagine why else they would be throwing away perfectly good fruit and loaves of bread that were nearly whole. Even so, it was hard to imagine that he'd left Father's Dietrich's for this.


Even though only four days had passed, it seemed like an eternity to Kurt. He had always lived surrounded by people so a few days spent living alone in the woods made him feel like he was going mad. Wolfgang had lent him the German translation of Thoreau's Walden once and it was hard to imagine how anyone could live in isolation like that. At least Thoreau had his cabin, Kurt thought.

He would have liked his bible or his rosary at least, but he'd had a feeling that Azazel would make him an offer like the one he had. It didn't seem right to carry such objects across a space that was, as Kurt understood it at least, Hell. But, at least he would have had something to do now.

As darkness fell that night, he crouched in the shadows of the thicket nearest to Martuska's camp waiting for Margali's sister to come out to collect water for that evening's meal. When he heard the sounds of footsteps on leaves and branches behind him it was too late for him to do anything as he was pulled to the ground by a hand gripping him by his hair.

He let out a shriek of surprise that was answered in a torrent of Spanish. He struggled against the many hands that held him down while another attempted to bind him with loops of thick rope. Under the cover of the trees in the darkness there was barely enough light even for Kurt to make out the faces of Franco, Martuska's husband and his sons.

They spoke a mix of Spanish and Romani to each other and it seemed that they were experts with knots because it wasn't more than a minute or two before Kurt was bound fast, unable to free his hands or feet.

"Let me go!" Kurt shouted in German and then again in Spanish. Franco laughed and threw him to the ground.

Franco gave a quick nod to one of his sons, "Drag him this way," he said.

Kurt felt his bonds tighten as he was pulled along the ground and out into the open. He twisted and jerked, trying to dig his feet into the ground, to keep them from bringing him any closer to their trailers. He started shouting the old Romani proverbs that Margali used to say at them in an effort to convince them he meant no harm.

" May mishto les o thud katar i gurumni kai tordjol!* Shuk tski khalpe la royasa!**" Kurt shouted. It was nonsense, but his Romani was pretty limited after all. He wasn't really even sure what he was saying.

"Bengesko niamso." Franco said.

"Mashkar le gadjende leski shib si le Romeski zor!" Kurt responded, which meant, ironically, "surrounded by Gadje, the Rom's only defense is his tongue".

“I said be quiet,” Franco said. He shoved Kurt face first up against a rotting tree trunk.

Kurt cringed against the side of the tree trunk. How could this be happening to him again? He tried to hold his bound hands up in front of his face, making himself as small as possible.

“What are you doing in our woods?” Franco asked.

“Nothing,” Kurt said.

Franco gave him a look of distrust.

"I came to see Martuska." Kurt said, swallowing hard. "She's my aunt."

"She's no relation of yours." One of Franco's sons said.

"Margali is my sister and she calls that child her son," a voice broke in from above them and everybody looked up to see Martuska Szardos standing in the doorway of the largest trailer.

Franco shouted back at her in Romani and the two of them began to argue with Franco's statements apparently being supported by his sons. Meanwhile Kurt pulled frantically at his bonds, trying to free his hands and feet by yanking on the ropes with his tail.

The argument reached a fevered pitch then seemed to cut off suddenly. Kurt could see the look of angry defeat in Franco's eyes as he watched him take out a small pocketknife and cut through the ropes. Kurt stood up quickly and backed away from them, not sure of why he'd been freed or what they wanted from him. For a few minutes nobody said anything.

"So what are you waiting for?" Martuska said at last. "Get out of here. And don't come back."

"Please, I…" Kurt began but Martuska cut him off.

"No. I said leave. Next time Franco finds you – I won't come to your aid. Now go." With that Martuska turned away toward the interior of her trailer and let the door shut behind her.

Kurt didn't move at first. Was that it? Had he journeyed all this way for nothing? How was he going to get back? And more importantly where would he go? He couldn't go back to Father Dietrich, not after Azazel's threats. And he had no way of finding the circus other than once again summoning Azazel to ask him to take him to Margali. And at what price? Kurt certainly couldn't imagine Azazel allowing him to freely cross his realm a second time.

Kurt suddenly understood how alone in the world he truly was. There was no life for him outside of Circus Gehlharr. He couldn't find a new place to live, a new job, or even walk down the street. His very existence was predicated on the myth that his appearance was a costume. There was nowhere he could go, nothing he could do.

Franco and the others were still staring at him expectantly.

"I'm going." Kurt said. He turned away from them and walked slowly into the woods to fetch his things. Though after that, he did not know what to do next, his options were so limited they hardly seemed to exist at all.

Perhaps Azazel had engineered this too. Maybe he hadn't allowed Kurt free passage at all; that he knew Martuska would so stubbornly refuse to help him, and that in the end he would be trapped far away from anyone who could help him, anyone except for Azazel himself.

But he couldn't accept Azazel's offer, he just couldn't.

And yet it seemed that all his life he had played into Azazel's hand – even in his most earnest attempts to serve God. In fact at that moment it seemed to Kurt that everything he'd every understood about his own faith, about God's plans for him, had been turned and twisted back against itself by Azazel's silent yet constant meddling.

Kurt stared down at his meager pile of possessions and shoved them into his rucksack. He didn't even miss his bible and his rosary for it seemed that God truly had forsaken him.

Looking around he realized he was lost in every way possible.



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Even Angels have Scars -- Complete

Post by CurlyyHairGirl » Mon Sep 20, 2004 5:17 am

gRRRR. Me no likey her, she reminds me alot of my aunt Katie...although my aunt is SATAN!!

You have soothed my hunger...for now, thank you Zam I could just kiss you:kiss :LOL

I still have that tick though:LOL
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Even Angels have Scars -- Complete

Post by NWKurt » Mon Sep 20, 2004 3:59 pm

Thankies Zam, I was wondering what happend to ya! Good to hear that all is well and school is keepin you busy!

Heh, right now in my family life with the way things are happeing to me, parallells that end part of what poor Kurty is going through. I felt alone except for one or two distant friends. I'm kinda in between a rock and a hard place to put it lightly.

*but enough of me*

Good to see another goodie posted!

And no, THANK YOU (again) for posting them - as always :D

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Even Angels have Scars -- Complete

Post by CurlyyHairGirl » Tue Sep 21, 2004 4:08 am

Zam should get a Golden adamantium meadal (so it never bends, sckratches or dents) and a crown of dasies and a big boquet of purple roses...all for spending the time to right this treat for us despite being busy with school...hows that going by the way?

Hugz and Kissez from ze fanz! *jumps Zam, and gives bear hug*:kiss:bow
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Even Angels have Scars -- Complete

Post by Rowena » Thu Sep 23, 2004 4:55 pm

Golly gee, Zam! Talk about an emotional roller-coaster. Once again, you leave me at the very edge of my seat, completely engrossed and wracking my brain to try to figure out what might happen next. Great job!
"There are worlds out there where the sky is burning, where the sea's asleep and the rivers dream, people made of smoke and cities made of song. Somewhere there's danger, somewhere there's injustice and somewhere else the tea is getting cold. Come on, Ace, we've got work to do."
~The Doctor, Survival

"There's no point in being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes."
~The Doctor, Robot

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Even Angels have Scars -- Complete

Post by Saint Kurt » Mon Sep 27, 2004 4:17 am

Wow. I guess there are a lot of people who read this but don't post in the thread because it has over 5000 views now. That's cool.

I have good news and bad news.

The good news is that there are only a few chapters left. The bad news is that there are only a few chapters left. :) I've outlined the final 4 parts and have most of them written. I really want to have this arc done so I can enter it in that Xday 2004 thing.

So I'll be wrapping up Even Angels have scars in the next few weeks.

I've mentioned that my outline goes up until Nightcrawler is captured by Stryker and perhaps someday I'll actually write the whole thing. But for now I really want to put a final end to this arc so that Even Angels have Scars is a cohesive story that stands by itself. The second half of the outline is about changes to Circus Gehlhaar and Kurt's motivations for finally striking out on his own and auditioning for an American circus. I'll probably take a little break and then get started because there are still a lot of good stories to tell. It's way more of a soap opera though with weddings, births, and funerals and stuff.

If you guys are bored I'm open to speculations on who gets married, who has kids, and who dies. I always like reading what you think is going to happen. I tried to be so tricky with the Azazel thing but you guys figured it out really early. Agatha Christie I ain't...

I'll have part 51 up sometime tomorrow. (part 55 will be the last chapter. Nice round number...)

Thanks for reading.
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Even Angels have Scars -- Complete

Post by CurlyyHairGirl » Wed Oct 06, 2004 11:02 pm

*whistles long* 51! Holy mother of cheese sticks and Chevy's salsa!! This story has gone far!
:cry I am sad to hear that this will end at 55, but I'm sure you'll do fantastic for X- Days, and I'm right here routing you on.

You do deserve a nice long break. You have provided us with a source of entertainment other then mind warping TV (though I'm not all too sure sitting in front of the computer for hours at a time is that good for you either:shrug)OH well! Not only has this story taken lots of time on your part, but during school...how is that by the way?

I hope to see more of your stories here, like some of the other fantastic writers have done.

I like soap opra's...if they aren't on TV...It sounds like the whole Stryker thing would be more like an expansion to this story after it has been finished...that it? Expansions are great, like a comic book in a way, you can end something and then start it back up at a later time as a different story, yet still having enough to do with the previous story that it doesn't seem completely random.

Whatever you choose to do, Zam, remember "Your the best at what you do.":lol AND!!! You got SKEEELZZZ!!! :*D...*laugh* sorry...hugglez and kissez.

Fo'ever a loving fan o' Zam's,
~~~CHG, EMO, O'~~~~:bow
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Even Angels have Scars -- Complete

Post by Saint Kurt » Thu Oct 07, 2004 2:47 am

Alright - so I promised to post and then the board went down. :)

But that's okay, I got some more time to write and yes, this will be finished in 55 parts. It feels kind of nice to be looking at the end.

School is really challenging - it makes undergraduate look like a piece of cake. In the last 6 school days I had 6 exams (2 per day, every other day). I'm still trying to recover from it. I did take a break on saturday to travel to St. Louis and enter my Nightcrawler costume in a contest. The competition was amazing. There were so many beautiful and well made costumes that I think I took everyone (including myself) by surprise when I took best in show. I'm still trying to let that sink in.

Anyway, without further delay, here's chapter 51....

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Martuska's Answers

Post by Saint Kurt » Thu Oct 07, 2004 2:51 am

"It seems that as the world becomes more fascinated with science and technology, the harder it is for people to believe in magic. But it is still there, if you peel back the layers of "scientific fact", that is all that's left."




Once packed Kurt shouldered his rucksack but didn't move. There was no point. He had nowhere to go. He could stay here and be tied up again by Franco and the others or go find persecution elsewhere. Suddenly all the good places in there world, his home (such as it was), Circus Gehlhaar, Father Dietrich's rectory seemed impossibly far away. And as he stood contemplating his options, his feet seemed to grow roots into the ground.

Kurt didn't know how long he stood there. Seemingly unable to move.

"I thought I told you to go." A voice said, issuing from somewhere in the darkness as though it belonged to a ghost.

"Martuska?" Kurt asked, trying to peer into the darkness to the source. He recognized her accent, so close to Margali's, yet on this nearly moonless night it was too dark for even his eyes to pick out any detail.

Martuska stepped out of the shadows. "You're still here," she said.

"I… I know." Kurt stammered. "I don't have anywhere to go. You have to help me."

Martuska laughed. "I can't figure out if you're very stubborn or very stupid," she said when she was done chuckling.

Kurt sighed. "Maybe a bit of both," he said.

"Why did you let Franco catch you?" Martuska asked.

The question caught Kurt off guard. Why? He had been overpowered. Just like on the beach, there was no way he could have run. "How?" Kurt asked, feeling more stupid than stubborn. He knew Martuska wouldn't have asked the question unless she already knew the answer, an answer he obviously didn't have for her.

"You can move yourself great distances in the blink of an eye, and yet you let three men bind you with ropes. Why?" Martuska asked. "Why did you let them?"

Kurt felt all the blood drain from his face. Why indeed? He had simply forgotten he could do it. She was right; he had let them catch him. There was no reason he'd had to endure any of that. Kurt shook his head.

"Never let people hurt you again," Martuska said, "not when you have the power to stop it from happening."

Kurt had been looking down at his feet, but now he looked up at Martuska. Why was she telling him this? Kurt nodded, still not sure what was happening. Was she actually going to help him? Or at least listen?

"Why me?" Martuska asked.

"I can explain everything," Kurt said, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt. "Just please give me the chance."

"I've sent them away, Franco and the boys," Martuska said. "Come. We will talk."

Kurt dropped his things and fell to his knees. "Thank you." Without thinking he reached for her hand to clasp in his own and she pulled away quickly.

"You forget yourself." Martuska said, whatever warmth that may have been in her voice a moment ago was gone. "Never touch me." She turned and began walking towards the camp.

"Hurry," she said, "There isn't much time."



Martuska's traveling home was more like Margali's old van, the one Kurt had grown up in, and even though his relationship with his foster aunt was tense, he felt instantly at home amongst the familiar furnishings and tapestries; the warm glow of oil lamps instead of the harsh 12 volt bulbs that powered the lights of their new trailer.

Martuska motioned for Kurt to sit down. He did so, thankful that the stools at her table had no backs so he didn't have to shift the chair to one side or the other to accommodate his tail. Martuska set a mug of tea down in front of him. Then she slowly lowered herself onto her own stool.

"You are persistent," she said.

"It's important," said Kurt.

"And you do know, that it is only because of your connection to my sister that I allow you in my home, Beng." Martuska added.

Kurt glared at her. "Beng" was the Rom word for demon and one of his least favorite insults. "Yes, I know. I'm all marmé." He said with a sarcastic sigh. "Can you at least call me Kurt?"

Now it was Martuska's turn to glare at him. "Do you mock my ways?" She asked.

"No," Kurt said, "I'm just reacting the way anyone would to being called "filthy" and a demon."

"So then tell me why you have come here?" Martuska asked him.

"I need your help." Kurt said.

Martuska smiled coyly. "And what makes you think I will help you?" She said.

"Because you said you believe in angels." Kurt said.

"Oh?"

Kurt took a deep breath, not sure how much of the truth he should tell. Wondering what the fine line between what would get him help and what would get him kicked out of the trailer was. There was an intense moment of debate in his head. "And because I've met Azazel." He said at last, unconsciously holding his breath.

Martuska sat up straighter, narrowing her eyes. "Azazel." She said. "Now that is interesting."

She hadn't kicked him out yet so Kurt allowed himself to exhale. "He follows me and I don't want him to. I love God and wish to serve Him, but I can't if he's around. I have to keep him away somehow." Kurt said.

Martuska stood up abruptly and Kurt wondered if now was the part where she kicked him out of her trailer. Instead she went to a cupboard and pulled out a large dusty tome. She flipped the pages absently as she thought. Finally she settled on one that seemed to satisfy her.

"So it is true," she said. "You are a scion of Azazel."

"I don't know." Kurt said. "I think so. He told me I was. But, I don't want to be. I need you to help me get rid of him."

Martuska laughed. "You can't 'get rid' of a demon," she said. She gestured at Kurt. "See, I couldn't get rid of you."

Kurt rolled his eyes.

"What makes you think I can free you from his presence? Why didn't you go to Margali for help?" Martuska asked.

It was a good question and Kurt didn't like thinking about the answer. Of course he would have preferred Margali's help, at least, in the past he would have. But now Margali was cold and distant to him. He wasn't sure if she would have bothered. "I don't know." Kurt said. "Something's wrong. She…" He trailed off, not sure if he wanted to tell Margali's sister how she had stopped talking to him, how Amanda suddenly wouldn't even look at him.

"She is angry." Martuska announced.

"Angry? How would you know? Why would she be angry?" Kurt asked.

Martuska returned to her seat and leaned towards him.

"Because Margali made a terrible mistake." Martuska said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "A mistake that cost her everything and one that you are partially responsible for."

"Me?" Kurt said in surprise. "What did I do?"

"Oh, it wasn't intentional on your part." Martuska said, leaning back. "I have always known that Margali would make the mistake someday. She was too blinded by her love for you."

"What's wrong with that?" Kurt asked.

Martuska smiled. "Nothing, unless one is a member of my family."

"Azazel said you were 'seers'." Kurt said.

"Yes, the scions of Enoch, the first man to hear to the voices of Angels and therefore forever linked to Azazel's kind." Martuska said. "You must see where the danger lies."

Kurt shook his head.

Martuska sighed. "It seems that as the world becomes more fascinated with science and technology, the harder it is for people to believe in magic. But it is still there, if you peel back the layers of "scientific fact", that is all that's left."

Kurt smiled. "Father Dietrich says the same thing," he said.

"Well, then perhaps he would understand the position that both you and Margali have placed me in."

"Placed you in? You weren't even there." Kurt said, growing more confused by the moment.

Martuska laughed. "You don't even know." She said as she chuckled to herself. "You understand nothing."

Kurt frowned. That wasn't true. There was plenty he understood. He understood the danger he faced in coming here. He understood that if he hadn't come, that Azazel would soon force him to bend to his will; possibly even putting Father Dietrich in danger at the same time. He understood that he had been alienated from the family he loved even if he didn't understand why.

"By all rights you should be dead." Martuska said.

Kurt's frown deepened. "But I'm not dead." He said. He was tired of hearing this.

"No. You are very much alive due to the sacrifice made by your mother and her daughter. And by myself." Martuska leaned forward again, her face just barely inches from Kurt's own. "And for what you now possess, I should kill you where you sit so that I might take back what is not rightfully yours."

Kurt jumped back out of his seat. "Why are you threatening me?" He asked. "I haven't done anything."

"Not intentionally." Martuska said. She motioned for Kurt to sit back down. "But you have most definitely done something, and act which threatens to remove the balance that my family and your kind have enjoyed for eons."

Kurt threw up his hands in frustrations. "You and Azazel both!" he shouted. "Riddles, prophecies, pronouncements, will you never just speak in plain sentences?"

Martuska gave a smug laugh. "Fine." She said. "You did die. And when she saw this, Margali blindly, stupidly, attempted to sacrifice a portion of her life to give you back yours."

"Ummm. Okay. Can Margali do that?" Kurt asked. He'd never seen Margali perform any magic beyond a bit of slight of hand with tarot cards.

"Yes. It would be a stupid thing to try to do, to anyone, and for you it was nearly fatal, not just for her, but for every living female member of her family. I'm shocked she even attempted to perform such reckless magic."

"What? Why?" Kurt asked in surprise. It didn't make any sense.

"I thought you said you met Azazel." Martuska said.

"I did. He didn't say anything about women. Just that you were seers."

"Yes all may hear, but the women hold the path, the way. It is the lineage that forms the line between the planes of the angels and ours. We are both a wall against the darkness and a path to knowledge. And Margali's attempt to save your life was a foolhardy, she risked far too much." Martuska said.

Kurt was silent.

"When Margali released her life force to you, for a moment the ethereal plane and the earthly plane were linked. And though your physical being was devoid of life, the part of you that walks on the opposite plane was very much alive.

And so like a drowning man being offered a branch, you nearly pulled your savior into the water with you." Martuska explained.

"But I wasn't aware of any of that." Kurt said. "I don't even remember Margali doing it."

"Of course not. But that is the danger. It was this very fate that I attempted to warn Margali of when I saw she had taken you in." Martuska said.

"Warn her?"

"Yes. When it became clear to me that she either didn't know or care who you were, I left messages for her attempting to warn her of your identity."

"The symbols on the door?" Kurt asked. Martuska nodded her head. "But I thought those were to frighten me away."

Martuska laughed. "If they were they certainly didn't do a very good job. No, they were warnings to Margali. All but one, that was a test to see if you could read your own language. Thankfully you could not."

"But why would you need to warn her in the first place? I mean, what's the problem with it?" Kurt asked.

"There is an undercurrent of power that surrounds those of us who stand on the path. Even if we are unconscious it is still there, providing one half of the balance. The other half comes from angel kind, and to a certain degree, from you?" Martuska said.

"Me?" Kurt asked. He was getting confused. This was so far outside the realm of anything he believed in that he wondered if Martuska wasn't simply making it up. Then again, he had no reasonable explanation for why Margali and Amanda were suddenly treating him differently. Could there be truth in Martuska's words, he wondered.

"Yes. You can't help it. And that is precisely why Margali should have never taken you in in the first place. The combined nexus of two magical beings with opposing power living together would be incredibly strong. I suspect that is exactly what attracted the two of them to you in the first place."

Kurt shook his head. "Azazel told me he called to Margali."

"I mean afterwards. Just being near you would have given them an incredible surge of power." Martuska said.

Kurt frowned. "But then what about me. Wouldn't I have been similarly attracted to them?" He asked.

"But you were." Martuska said. "Particularly to your sister, the end of the line and therefore the most powerful." She smiled knowingly. "An attraction beyond what is expected of a family member." She added.

"She's my sister, that's all", Kurt said defensively.

Martuska gave him a long look. "Have you forgotten I'm a seer?" She asked.

To change the subject Kurt pulled from his pocket the paper on which he had copied the angelic alphabet, wishing he still had the bible he'd always kept it folded in. He smoothed it out on the table. "I always liked them," he said.

For the first time Martuska smiled a real smile, not to mock him, but the recognition of a homesickness that he didn't even know he had.

"So, then what happened? Why was Amanda so angry?" Kurt asked.

"Once she became aware of her mistake, Margali did the only thing she could to save herself and her daughter, she gave up her place on the Winding Way to you. Now the path has twisted back on itself as I alone attempt to stay the positions once held by three people."

"I'm on it?" Kurt asked.

Martuska shrugged. "For all the good it does, yes."

There was the sound of wheels on gravel and a pair of headlights crossed the wall. Martuska stood up suddenly, knocking her stool to the ground.

"You must leave now." She said urgently.

"But, I…" Kurt stammered. Surprised by the change in her demeanor.

"Franco and his sons have returned. If they find you here, they will burn this trailer down with both of us in it. Go!"

Kurt gathered his things and ran for the door.

"Idiot!" Martuska shouted. "Not that way. They'll see you. Go your way. Find me again in the morning when they are gone"

For a moment Kurt was baffled. His way? Then he understood. He quickly glanced out the window, catching sight of a spot where he wouldn't be seen. And then he was gone, leaving Martuska alone with only the lingering scent of his teleportation.
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Even Angels have Scars -- Complete

Post by Maelstrom » Thu Oct 07, 2004 3:57 pm

Zam,

You've certainly got my sympathies, and admiration, for all this. I've been told countless horror stories about the pressure-cooker that is UC Davis (California's Vet school), from the insane amount of schoolwork to the downright evil grade competitions between classmates. (One rumor said that students would hire people to watch their long-running experiments, because of the chance a fellow classmate would sabotage them!) That you can go to school, keep writing, and still attend (and win! :) ) a costume competition has me in slack-jawed awe at your amount of energy.

You will be posting pics of that contest sometime, right? :puppy

And I'm gonna miss this when you finally finish....
Eagles may soar, but weasels never get sucked into the intake of a jet engine..... :evil

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Even Angels have Scars -- Complete

Post by Saint Kurt » Mon Oct 11, 2004 3:54 am

Wow. Are you sure that was happening in Vet School and not at the pre-vet level?

I know at my school cooperation is not just encouraged but practically mandatory. Doctors are required to work together all the time so it makes sense to start early. Plus we don't tend to have long running experiments in clinical school - at this level it's all about facts. It's science, but it's the science of what things are, not what they might be.

But every school is different and UC Davis is known for being particularly challanging. Thought to be honest, I can't imagine that kind of cut-throat environment turning out decent doctors. Hopefully if it was like that, their policies have changed.

And there's always Western which is positioning themselves as a kinder gentler vet school. They'll be accredited next year when they gradute their first class.

But here at U of Illinois vet schoo it's just about late nights and doing the work. There's a lot of learn and the pace is crazy fast. It was nice to take a break in the middle of it all and be Nightcrawler for a few hours...

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Even Angels have Scars -- Complete

Post by NWKurt » Fri Oct 22, 2004 2:36 am

Kurt is progressing nicely Em! I waited a very long time to read this one, it WAS worth the wait!

I see the end is near for the lineage of the fic, and looking back, nothing but happiness from me. You have done a wonderful job, thank you!

I eagerly await the next post :D

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Even Angels have Scars -- Complete

Post by Saint Kurt » Sun Oct 24, 2004 4:33 am

I don't normally post right in a row like this, but technically almost 3 weeks have gone by.

The good news is that I'm done with the whole thing. (Yay!) It's just having some major editting going on right now. Plus I'm compiling it into one novel like volume where each story is a chapter so that I can submit it to X-Day 2004 along with my costume.

So, here's part 52. It's what you've been waiting for.

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The Crownless Again Shall be King

Post by Saint Kurt » Sun Oct 24, 2004 5:28 am

“There exists no magic in ink, your power lies in your blood.”




If Kurt slept that night, he wasn't aware of it. Even after a few days of it, he still wasn't used to sleeping outdoors, with little more than his coat as a blanket. He piled up as many dry leaves as he could scrape together, but he could still feel the cold hard ground beneath him. Every sound in the woods caused him to jump awake; he wasn't so much afraid of the animals there, but that Azazel would return having figured out his plan. Kurt hoped he could convince Martuska to help him; that she could help him. Though he'd been thankful for Azazel's shortcut, he never wanted to feel so cold again.

When he heard the sound of the old engine on Franco's car start, he stood and started towards the camp. Sitting on a large rock outside the door to Martuska's trailer was that accursed black kettle, empty and expectant. Sighing, Kurt snatched it up and took it to the well. He was sitting on the side of a large log besides the fire pit tending to the boiling water when Martuska sat down beside him.

For a few minutes they said nothing while Martuska made tea and poured it into two enamelware mugs. Kurt took the mug from Martuska and wrapped his hands around it as though it were possible to warm his whole body with it.

"I need to set things right," Kurt said at last, still staring into his tea, not daring to look Martuska in the eye. "If there really is a path, you know, what you were describing last night, then Margali and Amanda should be on it, not me."

When Martuska was silent Kurt continued. "And, at the same time I need to hide myself from Azazel," he said, looking up at last. "I didn't mean to, but I've ruined everything. Will you help me?"

Martuska stared at Kurt impassively for a few minutes as though weighing her options.

"And what do I get out of this?" She asked. "You're asking an awful lot it seems."

"You said you were on the Winding Way by yourself. You'd have Margali and Amanda there with you again." Kurt said. "And, you'd be rid of me of course."

Martuska gave a short laugh. "Are you saying I'm stuck with you until I grant your wish?"

Kurt shrugged. "That or your husband catches me."

She regarded him for a long time, staring at him with such hard cold eyes that Kurt couldn't help but squirm; it felt like she was looking through him, reading his thoughts, his deepest desires, and his greatest fears. He shrank away from her without meaning to.

"Azazel has plans for you." She said at last. "His time has past, but you… Your ascension is at hand. You could rule the world. And yet you wish to hide? Why is that?"

Ascension? Rule the world? What was she talking about? Kurt shook his head. "I don't know what you mean by my ascension, or ruling the world, but that's not what I want. I… I want to perform in the circus, and serve God, and…" Kurt paused, it sounded so strange put into words because it should have been obvious. "I want to be normal. Just me. Just Kurt Wagner." It was what anyone would have wanted. Why couldn't anyone see that?

Martuska squinted at him thoughtfully.

"It will not be easy," she said at last.

Kurt sat up straighter. Was she going to help him, to grant his wish? Did she even know how?

"Putting the Way back to its natural order is simple, but as for Azazel…" Martuska shook her head. "I have never heard of such a thing being done. Very few may hide from angels."

Kurt's hands were shaking as he unfolded the paper from his pocket. It was deeply creased from the years it had spent tucked inside his bible. He handed it to Martuska.

"I looked inside of Margali's books to find their meaning. And… Azazel uses them. I thought maybe I could use them too, to keep him away." Kurt said.

Martuska stared at it, written in his neatest thirteen year old hand writing, and started chuckling.

"Margali told you nothing did she? You really didn't know?" she said.

Kurt shook his head.

Martuska pursed her lips as she stared at the symbols. "I don't know…" She said, more to herself than anything else. She turned the paper over in her hands a few times as she thought and then spoke. "Angels are divided into choirs, each with their own task in accordance to their position. Azazel is a watcher."

"A watcher?"

"They see those who sin so that they might be judged. Anyone who has the mark of a sin upon them, Azazel sees." Martuska said.

"And if one is innocent?" Kurt asked.

Martuska shook her head. "They are invisible to him."

Kurt nodded. This was why Azazel hadn't been able to see him after his Baptism at eight. It also meant that he had been invisible once again after Father Dietrich had performed the extreme unction. But he'd gone and summoned Azazel himself. Plus there was the matter of his ability to teleport. From what Azazel had told him during their first meeting, it seemed that Kurt passed through Azazel's realm each time he did it. So there was no way he could truly hide for long, not unless he chose not to teleport again. But it would be difficult to give that up, the ability to move from place to place in the blink of an eye like that had opened so many doors to him, doors that had previously been closed because of his appearance.

"You would need to be marked, permanently, in such a way that Azazel would not be able to find you," Martuska said.

"Yes," Kurt said quickly. "I was thinking the same thing." He told Martuska about Kiwi Black and his son Amiri, how in the Maori culture the tattoos on their faces were believed to drive away evil spirits. "Could you do that to me?" Kurt asked. "With those symbols? Would that keep Azazel away?"

Martuska smiled. "Very clever." She said. "You have the right idea, but this is different." She took Kurt's hand in hers, turning it over so she could see where he had bit his own hand in order to bleed on Azazels' sigil.

"Your blood is of great significance." Martuska said, running her fingernails along the palm of Kurt's hand. It made him uncomfortable and Kurt tried to pull his hand away. Martuska tightened her grip. "The magic I could do with you, dead or alive. It seems that Margali wasted yet another opportunity."

Kurt gave a stronger tug and finally freed his hand. He rubbed his hands together vigorously – trying to rid himself of the feeling of her grip. He folded his hands tightly against his chest – making himself as small as possible.

Martuska laughed. “Don’t worry,” she said coyly. “I won’t hurt you.”

Kurt wasn’t convinced. He flinched and moved away as Martuska ran a gnarled finger down his cheek. He didn't like it, the way she was touching him now when yesterday she wouldn't even let him take her hand in thanks.

“Do you know what to do?” Kurt asked and Martuska gave a snort of laughter.

“In theory, yes, but such a thing has ever been tried. Your kind is very rare.”

Kurt bit his lip in thought. “What about Margali and Amanda? What do I need to do to return them to their proper place?”

“You’re lucky in a way. The simple act of cutting yourself off from Azazel will restore the positions Margali and Amanda once held, if they choose to retake them.” Martuska said. “You see, the Way is a structure created by legacy. Each stop along the way is represented by another generation.” Martuska explained. “The first position is said to be held by Merlin, who served King Arthur.”

“Wow.” Kurt said.

“The Way is very old and its arcane ways are very secret. With each passing generation the Way is fortified; Margali is very powerfully magical, Amanda even more so. Angel kind are different – they are immortal. And their children who walk this earth…”

“Yes?”

Martuska shrugged. “Like I said, they are rare.”

“Azazel said there were others.”

Martuska nodded and gave him a small sly smile. “He’s been very busy I suppose. He’s been trying to re-ascend for years and that is exactly why Margali’s mistake was so grave. Where you now stand, you could destroy the Way forever.”

"I can?" Kurt furrowed his brow. It was like something out of a legend or fairytale. Was this really happening to him? “And then what would happen?” he asked.

“That depends on you.” Martuska said.

“Oh, like whether I want to take over the world or not?” Kurt said with a laugh.

“That's exactly it, you… and those who have influence over you. Do you think you're in this alone?” Martuska said. "It only emphasizes the gravity of Margali's error. That's why she fears you now. She meant to save you and instead made you the key to the end of creation. "

Kurt furrowed his brow. Who had influence over him? No one, except for maybe Azazel but even then he wasn’t sure. Other than calling Margali to the place of his birth and showing up a few times, how much affect had Azazel had on his life? And the end of creation? That seemed a little much. He frowned.

“Okay then," Kurt said in his most matter of fact voice, "what do I do to keep any of that from happening?” That was the goal wasn’t it? None of this mattered if he could somehow hide himself from Azazel’s influence. If Azazel couldn’t find him then there was no danger, right? He wouldn't be able to end creation or anything.

“Simple.” Martuska said. “You must look like you have never sinned.”

Kurt laughed. “But that’s impossible,” he said. "I mean, everyone sins sometimes, even in small ways. It's inevitable. I'm not a saint."

Martuska shook her head. “I didn’t say you must never sin. I said you must look like you haven’t. It’s all a matter of what Azazel sees. If you don’t appear to have sinned, he can’t see you.”

“Okay, I think I understand,” Kurt said. “But how?”

“You were right about the symbols, they can be used to create zones of magical influence. It may be possible to create one around you.” Martuska said.

“Like the tattoos that Kiwi and his son have,” Kurt said.

Martuska ran her finger down Kurt’s cheek again. “There exists no magic in ink,” she said. “Your power lies in your blood.”

“My blood? But how…” Kurt trailed off. What did that mean? That he needed to be marked by his own blood?

“The cuts must be deep enough to shed blood,” Martuska said.

“Cuts?” Kurt asked, sitting up a bit straighter. “What are you talking about?”

“Each mark made must go deep enough to draw your blood.” Martuska said simply.

“You’re going to cut me?” Kurt asked.

“No,” Martuska said. Kurt breathed a sigh of relief. “You’ll make the cuts yourself.”

“What?” Kurt asked in surprise, sitting up and jumping back. He had backed away so many times in the course of the conversation that he was running out of log.

“You must be the one to perform the act. The power lies within you, not me.” Martuska said.

Kurt shook his head. “I can’t cut myself. I… I don’t understand why it has to be me.”

“It must be a deliberate act on your part, but don’t worry, you won’t know you’re doing it.”

“I won’t?” This was getting confusing.

“You see, you’re still quite young. You have a whole life time to commit sinful acts and in order for this to work, they must all be hidden. So, unless you want to keep coming back, you’ll have to hide them all at once.” Martuska said.

Kurt couldn’t help but laugh. “How do I do that?” He asked.

“I’m a seer. I can guide you.”

Kurt frowned. “So, let me see if I understand this. You’re going to foretell my future so that I can cut marks into my skin but that I won’t know I’m doing it?” He said.

“Exactly,” Martuska said. “It’s the only way.”

Kurt shook his head. This all sounded so far fetched.

“It’s the only way,” Martuska said again.

Kurt stood up. “I don’t understand,” he said. He shoved his hands in his pockets and paced back and forth.

“If you want to be rid of Azazel then you have to give me control. If you want to hide yourself forever, you have to give me control.” Martuska said simply.

Kurt stopped and turned back to her. He wasn’t sure he trusted Martuska especially not enough to allow her to control his actions in the way she seemed to be suggesting. “I can’t do that.” Kurt said.

Martuska shrugged. “Then it is only a matter of time. The fact that you’re still able to decide tells me that Azazel has yet to truly attempt to persuade you.”

Kurt slumped back down on the fallen log that had been his seat. “I can’t,” he said.

Martuska said nothing.

Kurt looked back up. “It was Azazel who brought me here,” he said.

Martuska smiled. “Did he?”

“Yes, I… I tricked him.” Kurt said, but it suddenly sounded silly in light in all that Martuska had said.

She smiled again, but said nothing. It made Kurt feel even more indecisive. He thought about his conversation with Azazel outside of Father Dietrich’s house. Azazel had made it seem like he controlled him from the moment he was born, pulling strings from behind the scenes with Kurt as his puppet. What if this was just another string? Even worse, what if Azazel had called to Martuska in the same way he had called to Margali?

Kurt frowned, grinding his teeth together as he thought. On one hand, he would do anything to rid himself of Azazel. And yet, Martuska was asking so much. Somehow the idea of the tattoos that Kiwi and Amiri wore was more palatable than the idea of slicing into his skin. The message was so different. Would anyone understand what he'd done and why he'd done it?

"Where would you… Where would I… Where would the marks go?" Kurt asked.

Martuska shrugged. "That depends on what I see," she said.

"And I won't know what's happening?"

"You'll be conscious, but unconscious to your thoughts and actions. I will guide your hand."

That didn't sound like something he wanted to do. Kurt shook his head. "I can't." He stood up and paced around the small fire. Martuska watched him impassively.

"It's your choice." Martuska said. "Is that your decision?"

Kurt turned quickly. That was it, she was giving him just a few moments to decide? "No, I… I'm thinking." He said, stalling for time.

Martuska straightened as though she was listening to something. Kurt strained his ears but heard nothing. "You'd better think fast then. Time's almost up."

Kurt was pondering what this meant when he heard the roar of a car engine. Franco was returning. He turned back to Martuska.

"If you let him catch you, I won't stop him this time." She said. "That is, if you say no…"

He had seconds to decide. And yet he still had so many questions, so many doubts. But he already knew what would happen if he said no. In a way it already had and in those moments he'd felt more hopelessness than he ever had.

"I'll do it." Kurt said, as he watched the grill of Franco's old car burst into view from the trees. He turned back, expecting to see Martuska still sitting on the log, but she was up and standing right behind him.

"Good. I was hoping you'd say that." She said. She reached out; grabbing Kurt by the shoulder so hard he could feel her nails digging into to his skin.

"Hey!" but even as he shouted, he could feel something strange happening. He was slowly dropping down onto his knees without meaning to, as though he no longer had control of his own legs. Was it Martuska's doing? He tried to tell her to stop, that he wasn't ready. He didn't know what to expect, but it wasn't this. Candles maybe, magical talismans, like the things that Margali had around the place when she read fortunes for people. He hadn't expected this. He tried to speak, but the words came out as strangled grunts, completely unintelligible. And at the same time he realized that his own thoughts seemed to be slipping from his control.

Kurt looked up and realized he was now lying on his side on the ground. Franco was standing over him, his sons flanking him as usual. There was a sharp knife in Franco's hand and Kurt realized that they had come prepared, that if he'd refused, then Martuska would have been the one to persuade him. Not that she would have needed to. When Franco knelt down and pushed him on to his back, Kurt realized he was totally unable to move. Eyes wide, he stared up into the sky. Franco and his sons were pinning him down, but there was no need. Knowing that he could no longer speak Kurt screamed at the top of his lungs, anything to get them to stop.

"It will be easier if you don't fight," Martuska said.

Kurt could still feel her fingernails digging into his shoulder, closing down so hard that he could feel blood seeping beneath them. His eyes were closing and his last thought was how could he fight if he couldn't move? And as consciousness left him entirely, he was sure he was going mad.





Author's Note: The titles of this story and "Not all who wander are lost" are from J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. They are part of a poem describing the manner of Aragorn, the Kind of the West's return to the throne of Gondor and it's one of my favorites pieces of verse in the book.
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NWKurt
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Even Angels have Scars -- Complete

Post by NWKurt » Sun Oct 24, 2004 7:02 am

Your right Zam, this is it. I cringed many times reading this, it may have been a bad idea for me to read this right before going to bed. But I know, soon, all will come to light and the wait to see the end will be one of relief for me.

You have done so much here, what can I say but thanks!

Drop me a line sometime!

NWKurt
Let us try to live our lost illusions....They're the sun at night.....If we don't, we'll never taste.....The spice of life!
~Enigma~ Le Roi Est Mort, Vive Le Roi! The Prism Of Life

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Even Angels have Scars -- Complete

Post by CurlyyHairGirl » Mon Oct 25, 2004 2:00 am

You never fail us with your tremendous writing:clap
Martuska gives me the chills, especially when she kept touchin' Kurt...*shudder*

You ARE going to enter this fic in a competition right? It would be so freakin' wrong if you didn't.

Drop me a line to, we love hearin' from you.:kiss:bamf
one name: Bruce Campbell

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Even Angels have Scars -- Complete

Post by Rowena » Mon Nov 01, 2004 12:37 pm

Fascinating. Absolutely amazing. Your explanation here was truly brilliant. This was just what I was hoping for. It all makes so much sense! You really worked out the whole thing, down to the last detail. Wonderful writing! And I thought those quotes at the beginning seemed familiar! All hail J.R.R. Tolkien! :D

This story is truly a masterwork, Zam. I hope you do enter it in a competition. It deserves the highest honors. It's excellent! :D
"There are worlds out there where the sky is burning, where the sea's asleep and the rivers dream, people made of smoke and cities made of song. Somewhere there's danger, somewhere there's injustice and somewhere else the tea is getting cold. Come on, Ace, we've got work to do."
~The Doctor, Survival

"There's no point in being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes."
~The Doctor, Robot

"If this isn't civilization, why am I standing in a bomb crater?"
~Hawkeye Pierce, M.A.S.H.

Rowena Zahnrei's Stories: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/526713/Rowena_Zahnrei

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Even Angels have Scars -- Complete

Post by Maelstrom » Mon Nov 01, 2004 4:54 pm

:shocked All at once? Good Lord! He's going to be living in a world of hurt once he comes to! (And if they do all the carving with him laying on the ground, he could get infected with damn near anything up to gas gangrene.... :urg)

:blindfold I know I wouldn't want to feel any of the scarification as if was performed, so being knocked out like that could be a blessing. But there is something innately horrifying in paralysis alone, let alone going unconscious in the control of people who you at worst fear, at best can't completely trust. We've only seen his upper body with those scars in the movie, so it's up to our imagination as to whether his legs are marked or not. Talk about martyrdom...

(please don't cut there, please don't cut there, please don't cut there :hide )
Eagles may soar, but weasels never get sucked into the intake of a jet engine..... :evil

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Even Angels have Scars -- Complete

Post by Saint Kurt » Sun Nov 07, 2004 1:57 am

Thanks for the kind words and reviews you guys. As always, it looks like a lot of folks read and very few write. Thanks for being the ones who write.

The editing is going slow on these last bits because there is a lot to tie up and I've got to make sure it all works. As you can see, a lot of the things that are happening now had their seeds planted in the first chapter.

I'm particularly pleased that you like the explanation of the scars. I always felt that that was some really weird off the cuff writing in the movie. I understand the motivations and I know they just wanted him to seem all spiritual and mysterious, but the scars never made sense to me. I thought they looked cool, but I'm pretty sure a guy who's so Catholic that he wears a rosary on his vest like a watch chain wouldn't be cutting heretical symbols into his skin.

Hence my desire to make them make sense.

Anyway - the whole thing is coming to an end now.

Enjoy part 53.
-e
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