CHAPTER 132: HELPING HAND

"Please, angel! My Mittens is stuck!"

Grace stared up at the roof where a fat orange cat sat, completely unbothered by the rain hammering down on it. The old woman beside her wrung her hands.

"He’s been up there since yesterday," the woman said. "I’m so worried!"

Grace looked up again, squinting at the cat.

[That cat looks about as worried as a rock.]

But Grace had a quest to complete. Twenty villagers to help. And if that meant climbing a rain-slicked roof in gale-force winds to rescue a cat that probably didn’t want rescuing, then so be it.

"I’ll get him down," Grace said with the kind of finality that felt out of place given the situation.

The old woman’s face lit up.

"Oh, bless you!"

Grace approached the building.

In normal weather, she’d just fly up, grab the cat, fly down. Easy. But with the wind trying to rip everything apart? She figured that her wings would turn into sails and she’d end up three villages over. So, no, that wasn’t an option.

All she could do was climb.

The first handhold was slippery as hell. Grace hauled herself up, boots scraping against wet wood. The wind immediately tried to peel her off.

"Careful, dear!" the old woman called.

"Y-Yeah, all good!"

Grace grunted and kept climbing. Hand over hand, trying not to think about how stupid this was. She was an angel. A demon slayer. Currently playing amateur roof repair for a cat.

"You know," the old woman said, loud enough to be heard over the storm, "I’ve lived in this village forty years."

"Yeah?" Grace managed between handholds. She glanced back for just a moment before continuing forward.

"Yep. Seen all kinds of weather. Storms, droughts, that time it rained fish."

Grace paused.

"Fish?"

"Oh yes. Whole salmon falling from the sky. Made for good eating though."

The mental image almost made Grace lose her grip. She kept climbing.

"Point is," the woman continued, "you get used to it. The hardship becomes routine. Before you know it, decades have passed and you’re still here, still dealing with the same problems."

Grace reached the roof edge and hauled herself up. The cat watched her approach with supreme indifference.

"But you know what? I wouldn’t change it. This is home. These problems are my problems. If nothing else, at least it keeps life simple."

Grace blinked.

[Huh... Is that so?]

Grace inched across the tiles toward Mittens. The cat yawned.

"Here, kitty kitty." Mittens stood, stretched, and walked further away. "You little shit."

"What’s that, dear?"

"Nothing! Just... bonding with Mittens!"

The chase, which took place entirely on that small bit of ground, took ten minutes. Every time Grace got close, the cat moved. Like it was a game. By the time she finally grabbed him, Grace was soaked through and ready to punt the furball into the next mountain.

But she didn’t. She tucked him under one arm and carefully made her way back to the edge.

Getting down was way worse than going up. It wasn’t exactly easy to climb one-handed while holding a squirming cat. Grace ended up half-sliding, half-falling the last few feet.

"Mittens!" The old woman scooped up her cat, who immediately started purring. "Oh, thank you so much!"

Grace stood there dripping while the woman cooed over her pet.

[Ugh, that was the worst.] She slumped a little. [I didn’t realize it until now, but, I really have gotten used to my wings. Not being able to use them feels so limiting.]

Her quest counter ticked up. 1/20.

Nineteen to go.

The second task was easier. A family’s roof had partially collapsed. Grace helped them move their belongings to a dry room and patch the hole with some spare wood and a tarp.

The third was annoying. A merchant convinced his entire stock of "weather-resistant" umbrellas would sell better if an angel endorsed them. They all broke immediately in the wind, but Grace pretended to be impressed anyway.

The fourth through tenth blurred together. Lost items, minor repairs, helping people board up windows. Grace’s hands were raw from all the manual labor.

By the time she finished helping an elderly man reinforce his chicken coop (the chickens were very upset about the whole situation), Grace was ready to collapse.

She stumbled back into the inn and found Diana at a corner table, bottle of something amber in front of her.

"You look like drowned shit," Diana said.

"Thanks. Really needed that." Grace fell into the chair across from her. Everything hurt.

From somewhere upstairs came the unmistakable sound of Venus doing what Venus did best. Multiple female voices, all very enthusiastic.

"Busy day for everyone," Diana said, pouring Grace a drink.

Grace downed it immediately. Burned like fire. Perfect.

"How many people did you help out there?"

"Thirteen." Grace held out her glass for a refill. "Seven more and, uh... Something good will happen."

"What?"

"I... think demons won’t want to come near. Not for a little while, anyway," Grace explained. "Not with an angel being so active," she offered up as a reason.

Diana snorted.

"Fat lot of good that does us now."

True. But it was something. A goal that wasn’t "figure out how to defeat an angry spirit and her pet demon."

They drank in comfortable silence for a while. The sounds from upstairs got louder. Someone was having a very good time.

"You know what I’ve been thinking about?" Diana said suddenly.

"Venus’s stamina?"

"My squad."

[Oh.]

Grace set down her glass.

Diana stared at her own drink.

"They were some good ladies. Good fighters. Better than me, some of them."

Grace waited. Diana rarely talked about this.

"And I keep thinking... what if you’d been there? What if you’d become an angel earlier?"

Grace raised a brow.

"I-"

"No, listen." Diana looked up. Her gray eyes were steady, but there was something raw underneath. "That Primal killed them. All of them. But you can actually kill those things. Permanently."

Grace’s chest tightened.

"You don’t know that would have changed anything."

"Don’t I?" Diana laughed, but it was bitter. "You killed one in Oakridge. With my help, sure, but you did it. If you’d been with us that day..."

Grace sighed.

"Nothing would have changed," she said. Diana looked at her, waiting for an explanation. "It wouldn’t just be about me being there, Diana. It’s about the amount of training I’ve done too. If I, as I am right this moment, was there, maybe things would be different. But, if I’d gone there as a rookie..."

"They’d have just killed you too," Diana finished with a nod. "Especially with you being so tiny."

"I’m not that small!"

"You’re pocket-sized."

"You’re just freakishly tall!"

Diana’s mouth twitched.

"Freakishly?"

"Like a tree! A big, muscle-y tree!"

"That’s the worst comparison I’ve ever heard."

"Yeah, well, I’ve had a long day of roof climbing and chicken wrangling! That’s the best I’ve got."

Diana actually laughed at that. A real laugh, not her usual sharp bark.

"Chicken wrangling?"

Grace sighed.

"They’re very fast when they’re panicked!"

"I see. The mighty demon slayer, defeated by poultry."

"Those things are tyrants with feathers! They’re terrifying!"

From there, they started talking about nothing in particular, trading casual insults and refilling their glasses.

Upstairs, Venus hit what sounded like a spectacular finale. Several voices cried out at once.

"Fucking show-off," Diana muttered.

"Jealous?"

"Of her? Please. I could do that with my eyes closed."

"Big talk."

Diana’s grin turned predatory.

"Want me to prove it?"

Grace’s face went hot.

"Unfortunately for you, I have more angel duties to get to."

"Excuses, excuses."

But Diana was smiling now. Really smiling. The shadow that had been in her eyes was gone, or at least tucked away again.

They kept drinking, kept talking. Still about nothing important. Training schedules, which Love Sister had the best technique, whether Grace could take Valkyrie in a rematch.

Normal things. Comfortable things.

Outside, the storm raged on. The Tempest waited on her mountain with her Primal guard. But right now, in this moment, Grace was just a tired angel sharing drinks with a friend.

It was...

It was nice.

"You should probably get back out there," Diana said eventually. "Sun’s getting low."

Grace groaned.

"I guess so."

She was right. The sooner the village had protection, the better.

She stood, only swaying a little.

"Thanks for the drink."

"Anytime, shortstack."

As Grace headed for the door, Diana called after her.

"Hey. Earlier, what I said..."

Grace looked back.

"Yeah?"

Diana shrugged, sighing deeply.

"Thanks for listening."

Grace blinked.

"... Yeah. Anytime," she replied quietly.

And then Grace was back outside, rain immediately soaking through her clothes again. Seven more villagers to help.

But the alcohol buzzed warm in her veins, and Diana’s rare vulnerability made her chest tight.

[... I’m not too sure I like it when Diana isn’t barking at me. That was... That was weird just now.]

Time to be a hero again. Even if it meant more chicken wrangling.