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Ava woke up in the morgue for the second time in her life.
Same morgue, actually – just her luck. When her eyes opened and she saw the typical barrenness of the ceiling, she only stared. The stone was so familiar it might have been tattooed on her eyelids. It was pockmarked and old, with a crack as long as her forearm that looked like lightning. She watched candlelight dance and move the shadows, chasing them and letting them back in equally.
She turned her neck. Twitched a finger, then her wrist. She drew her knee up. And it was enough.
She rolled off the metal table and ran out the door.
And suddenly she was free, but never again directionless. She ran until she found a bus stop, took the red line to the edge of town, and got on a train. She didn’t know who put the information in her head, but she knew where the new convent would be. She plucked some cash from a stranger’s pocket and double-checked the train maps.
The new convent was beautiful, if a little unnaturally pristine. Its sharp gothic towers reached into the sky, past the treetops in the distance. The courtyard was wide and bustling with life, filled with people, filled with women. Ava worried how long she’d been gone. Yet some part of her couldn’t help but rejoice that the OCS was here, that it lived on. It had been a home to her for such a short time, but she had found everything under its care: a purpose, a life, a love that bordered on the divine. She pushed through the iron gates and a staff clattered to the ground.
“That’s her,” someone said.
From there it was like a wave. Everyone stopped, everyone stared. A single girl bolted off towards the main body of the church.
“Hey,” Ava offered, wondering if she should have followed something other than her intuition.
“You’re the Warrior Nun. You’re Ava.” One of the women stepped closer to her cautiously, as if afraid she’d disappear. “You – there’s a picture of you, in the remembrance hall. Your stuff is there too.”
“My stuff?”
“Your sword.”
“Oh.” Ava was struck by the possibility that it had been too long, far too long since she’d defeated Adriel. It occurred to her that everyone might have memorialized her life and moved on. The energy that she’d run there with drained out of her.
And then Camila burst through the doors, sprinting down the courtyard like a bat out of hell. She flung herself into Ava, clutching at her, affirming that she was real. Ava laughed and cried and clutched her back. It wasn’t too late, then. She’d made it home.
Camila pulled away and grabbed her face, smiling so broadly it brought tears to her eyes. “We missed you, Ava, we missed you so much. But—”
Ava’s eyes widened in fear. “But?”
Camila glanced over her shoulders and saw only the recruits who’d been training. “You have to go see Bea first.”
“She isn’t here?” Ava’s voice nearly cracked.
“No, she’s in the town a few miles from here. I can drive you, yeah?”
Ava’s heart clenched. Lateness was relative. If Beatrice wasn’t with the convent, then she had probably found someone; she could be married for all Ava knew. Ava didn’t have a doubt in her mind that Beatrice could walk into any city in the world and have women falling over themselves trying to get to her. Ava swallowed something sickly and tried to dredge up happiness for whatever choices Beatrice had made, but the ride to her apartment had turned her smile nervous.
“She’s on the second floor, door 14.” Camila smiled secretively. “I won’t wait for you. But come back to the convent when you can. Mother Superion will want to see you, and so will everyone else. We love you, Ava. I’m sorry we didn’t get to say it before.”
“I love you guys, too.” Ava leaned across the center to hug Camila one more time, just because she could, just because she loved. “Tell Mother I’ll be back soon.”
“I will. Good luck, Warrior Nun.” Camila nudged her onwards, happiness nearly bleeding out of her.
Ava smiled and stepped out of the van. Her soles hit the concrete and she stared up at the second floor. The stairs felt like walking a mile. Door 14 felt like a brick wall.
She knocked.
She waited.
Beatrice was as beautiful as she’d ever been.
“Hi.” Ava tried to be strong but seeing her again was too much for even Goliath to bear. Her voice cracked pathetically.
Beatrice’s jaw dropped. There was something in her eyes and – god, Ava should have asked Camila how long she’d been gone from their dimension.
“Can I come in?” Ava asked softly.
Beatrice grabbed the front of her shirt in a fist and pressed their mouths together, warm and fervent like a winter’s prayer. Ava didn’t know where to put her hands anymore, and tried to dredge up a memory, but she couldn’t think at all beyond how good it all was. Maybe there was a god, maybe he loved Ava in particular. Nothing as heavenly as Beatrice could have been a coincidence.
Finally, she put her hand on Beatrice’s waist, intending to say something a little smarter than ‘hi’, but Beatrice wouldn’t let her separate. It never crossed Ava’s mind to complain. She could stand in the doorway until her legs gave out if Beatrice kept her hand against her cheek. Eventually Beatrice pulled back, searching her eyes like she was seeing her for the first time.
“Ava,” she said breathlessly, half laugh and half sob.
“I’m here,” Ava whispered back.
“You’re here.” Beatrice pressed into her, unabashed as when Ava had fallen out of the sky. Arms thrown around her neck, she pressed her face against her shoulder.
Ava laughed and grabbed at her hips, pretending she could pull them tighter together. “I love you.”
She froze. She hadn’t really meant to say it, not this time. When she’d thought they were her dying words, she wanted Beatrice to know more than anything. But now, if Beatrice had someone new, Ava didn’t want something like that to weigh on her.
Ava didn’t have to worry for long. “I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you,” Beatrice said, touching her with gentle calloused hands.
Oh, god must have loved Ava very much.
“I missed you.” Tears welled in Beatrice’s eyes, and she returned to pressing her forehead to Ava’s skin, holding onto her for dear life.
“I missed you too. More than I can say.” Ava could say it, actually, but it was too heavy to articulate. Being apart from her was a pain raised up among pains, a crucifixion among petty, superficial wounds. She’d known the agony of death and it still couldn’t compare to slipping away from the only person who’d ever really seen her.
“How are you even here?” Beatrice’s hands drifted idly across her back, smoothing down her jacket where it concealed the halo.
It wasn’t enough to hold her, Ava thought. She needed to be stripped out of her flesh so Beatrice could put her hands on her soul. “It’s a long story. Can I tell you inside?”
“Of course,” Beatrice said and didn’t move a muscle.
“I love you,” Ava whispered again, thrilled to be able to say it.
Beatrice’s eyes flashed and Ava saw decades of pain in a split second. All of the sudden, she seemed to remember they were halfway into the hall, and glanced around quickly before pulling Ava inside.
Even with the door shut behind them, Beatrice couldn’t help standing and staring, holding Ava’s hands in a loose, reverent grip. Ava smiled back at her. “I hate to ask, but how long was I gone?”
Beatrice swallowed the tears that sprang to her eyes. “A couple months. It’s been a while. The others – they thought – well.”
It was still too painful to say. Ava never wanted her to be in pain again. “I didn’t. I’m here. I’m with you.”
“You’re here,” she repeated, and pulled her close again.
They stood there in the entryway for minutes, swaying slightly and letting evening light wash over them. For once, there was no deadline, no impending doom. There was no training or preparation. They could stand there for days if they wanted.
And god, did Beatrice want. It had to have been a sin just for the depth of it, reaching practically down to hell from her heart. Her chest ached with the way Ava had taken a piece of her to that other dimension.
“Hey, love,” Ava said softly, trying to broach the subject with tact. “This is a nice apartment. Not staying with the Order anymore?”
“I couldn’t.” Beatrice reveled in finally being able to breathe easy. “I’m an idolator. It’d be no good for me to pretend to be a nun.”
“An idolator?” Ava’s fingers traced the ridges of her spine.
“I couldn’t hold God above you. I couldn’t even pretend to, on that last mission. I was so stupid, Ava, you kissed me, and it was like the sky fell. There wasn’t anything else.”
“I didn’t know I was that good.” Ava grinned even as Beatrice gave her a reproachful shove.
“Shut up.” She tucked back into Ava’s neck, then went stock still. “Wait, how long has it been for you?”
“Barely a moment. I talked to Reya, and then I woke up here.”
“What?” Beatrice pulled back a little, brows furrowed. “It should’ve been something like a decade, or even more. How is that possible?”
Ava’s warm smile became a little crooked. “You might be a little mad at me for this.”
“Ava,” Beatrice warned, “I’m not about to lose you again.”
“No, no, I’m here to stay! Promise. But Reya – she didn’t send me back for free. Can we sit? I think you’ll want to sit.”
Beatrice regarded her skeptically but led her to the couch. “Tell me the whole story.”
Ava nodded and squeezed her hand. “Reya was there when I passed over. She saw the divinium and assumed I’d come to avoid death, but without Adriel on earth, she didn’t need any more soldiers. So she told me I could stay, as a thank you for helping her. I wish you could’ve seen it, Bea, it was beautiful. These towering white buildings, they looked like they were made of quartz.”
“Where Michael had been,” Beatrice said softly.
“Yes. But I couldn’t stay there, and she asked me why. I asked her–” Ava looked at Beatrice, and her gaze was like a physical weight. “–if she’d ever loved.”
Beatrice felt her pulse stutter. “And what did she say?”
“She just looked at me, and it was like everything was cloaked in white. I could feel this warmth, like – like the halo. And I knew that she knew. When I came out of it, she asked me what I would do for love, but I don’t think she meant that. I think she was really asking what I would do for you.”
Beatrice’s eyes were wide and fixed on Ava’s face, on the minutiae that betrayed the discomfort underlying her story. Beatrice had tried to imagine heaven before, but beyond the golden streets of scripture, she could picture nothing. It made for a deep seated dread, that un-imagining; it made her wonder if heaven would just never be for her. But here was her love, returned from battle, telling her what heaven was. Telling her that she’d left heaven for their shitty studio apartments and holy wars, if only they could be together.
Ava looked sheepish but her voice was firm. “Of course I told her I’d do anything. There wasn’t a thing that heaven could ask of me that would be too much.”
No, Beatrice couldn’t imagine heaven. She could imagine devotion, though; she could imagine staying at Ava’s side until she was older than Mother Superion. She could imagine gardens, knives, kitchens, and blood with Ava’s hand in hers. She could imagine peace and war with Ava and knew that she would love her through either.
She was guilty, sure. She was attached to God’s right hand like a ring where she should’ve been loyal to God alone. But maybe, just maybe, if she played her cards correctly, it was human enough for God to forgive.
“So what’d she do?” Beatrice asked quietly, meeting Ava’s gaze with an electricity she’d never dared to show.
“She understood why I wanted to leave. But – this is the part you might be mad at. She asked me if I’d give up what I’d come to think of as mine.”
Beatrice tilted her head as Ava started to seem more frustrated.
“it’s better if I just show you.”
Ava started to peel her shirt off without ceremony, causing Beatrice to lean back suddenly and avert her eyes. Ava was utterly unbothered by her exposed skin and turned so her back was toward Beatrice, showing the large circular scar.
It was flat, and distinctly empty. There was no answering glow to mirror Ava’s agitation, no glow when Beatrice’s hand hovered over it questioningly.
Beatrice took a deep breath and nodded. “Well, it was hers in the first place, wasn’t it? And with Adriel gone for good, we don’t even know if there will be any more demons to fight.”
Ava looked back over her shoulder. “You’re not mad?”
“Ava, whatever you did to heal yourself and come back to us, I couldn’t be more grateful. I’d trade a minute with you for a millennium with the halo.” Beatrice pressed her palm fully against the warm skin in the center of the scar. “You’re here. That will always be enough.”
Ava couldn’t help her relieved half-laugh. “I was so worried. I was so worried I wouldn’t be able to walk without it. But whatever Reya did, it fixed my spinal cord too. She put me to sleep after I talked to her.”
Beatrice couldn’t help but smile. “You’re free.”
Ava turned and pulled Beatrice into her arms once more. “I was free as soon as you coached me through that stone wall.”
Beatrice took her in reflexively, thumbing the ridges of her halo scar, until she remembered that she had never been able to feel that scar before and turned red. “Ava, you’re not wearing a shirt.”
Ava huffed. “The complaints in here are deafening. You’ve seen me shirtless before.”
“In a strictly medical context!”
“This can be medical too. You’re welcome to play doctor.”
Beatrice shook her head disapprovingly but still didn’t let her go. She had months to make up for, whether Ava was making innuendos or not. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You’ll have time to get used to it.”
Time. Yeah, she liked the sound of that. She had time.
Ava kept her eyes closed and allowed herself to just exist, without the burdens of paralysis or halo. She hadn’t really thought of being free before Beatrice had said it, but she was right; Ava was freer than she’d ever been. If she wanted to leave the Order, they wouldn’t pursue her. She could ask for a loan to get her started on her world travels, or—
Or.
“Hey, Bea?”
Beatrice’s fingers traced lightly on the back of her neck. “Hmm?”
“Are you still a nun?”
Beatrice had prepared for such a question, had thought about it for months, but somehow that didn’t make the answer easier. “I can’t just turn something like that off. I made those vows with the intent to keep them forever. But – I don’t want you to think that I’m turning you down, or that I won’t change for you.”
Ava laughed and turned to kiss her jaw. “Anyone would be a fool to ask you to change, Bea.”
Beatrice’s eyes burned. “It’ll be difficult.”
Camila had said her piece about the difficulty of loving Warrior Nuns, but Beatrice had her own brand of hard to love. She had dedicated her life to something that was falling apart at the seams with inaccuracies, based on what she’d seen with her own eyes, and still she wasn’t able to give it up. Regardless of whether it was her church, the other women would always be her sisters. A wraith would always draw her blade. She’d always throw herself into a dangerous place for others. She’d always crave the love of her God.
That was not to mention the reason she’d joined the convent in the first place. She imagined the ideas she’d held about herself for more than a decade would come back to bite her where intimacy was concerned.
A little lost in her own head, Beatrice’s grip loosened just enough for Ava to pull back and look at her. “Difficult? I tried to kill Satan by myself. And besides, loving you is hands down the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”
Beatrice lifted her hand, smoothing Ava’s hair back from her face. “You’ve already got me, you know. You don’t have to sweet talk.”
“Sorry, I actually do have to tell the love of my life that she’s the greatest person to walk the earth.” Ava leaned her cheek into her palm. “It’s not my fault I’m in awe of you, gorgeous.”
Beatrice was well and truly blushing, and unable to do anything about it when Ava was staring at her so openly. “Did Reya teach you how to flirt, too?”
“No instruction needed. Just saying what I know.”
Beatrice shook her head and looked down as the emotion flooded back. “God, I missed you.”
Ava knelt in front of her, chasing her gaze while keeping her hands on her knees. “I’m so sorry I left you, Bea. But I promise you, I swear to you, I’ll be with you until the end.”
The end had meant a lot of things to Beatrice over the years. In her youth she’d feared that it meant damnation, which had been mostly alleviated by her joining the Order. Then it was heaven, the glorious kingdom that seemed far too vast for Beatrice, who’s soul was already growing tired. She’d never truly believed that death was final, but having stared it in the face so much, she often felt that her life on earth would have a gruesome conclusion.
Ava pictured the end so much differently on account of having a few deaths under her belt. She said there was nothing. Beatrice didn’t know if she believed her. But she knew that if death was the end, she wanted to share a grave.
“In this life,” Beatrice said softly, “and every one after.”
“And every one after,” Ava echoed, smiling as if Beatrice had handed her the world. “Can I kiss you again?”
“If you promise to stay with me.”
“Beatrice. Death couldn’t keep me away from you. What else is there?”
Beatrice smiled sadly and traced her jaw. Ava leaned into it deeply, wondering who on heaven or earth could’ve revered this woman as less than an angel. “You know I’ll always worry about you. I just want to keep you with me.”
Ava was a bit of a fool, because Beatrice could’ve asked for Ava’s heart on a platter, and she would’ve given it willingly. Lovesickness was a real disease, and Ava had sworn off the treatment without a single regret. “If you ever decide you want to take off your vows, I want to marry you.”
“Oh,” Beatrice choked out, stricken by the sight of Ava on her knees offering up her third life.
Ava was smiling at her with a kindness that only comes from deep, lasting love. “I’m not saying that to pressure you. You have as long as you want.”
It was like breathing, like walking, like flying, like every little death that man could live through: “I don’t want to spend any more time pretending to be unbound to you.”
Surely this was rapture, surely this was heaven, surely she had played her part in the divine plan and God had rewarded her. Ava stared up at her, but Beatrice’s eyes abruptly flicked down.
“What’s that?”
The front pocket of Ava’s shirt was glowing golden. She pulled back just a bit to retrieve whatever it was, her smile dropping into a hesitant frown. “I don’t—”
There was no note, but it was clearly from Reya. There were two gold bands, simple and strong, blue gray divinium inlaid to read ‘amor mortem vincet’. Ava tipped her hands forward to present it to Beatrice, who read,
“Love will conquer death.”