The Liar
Chapter Five

Giving him a suspicious glare, Michele continued walking towards the school as he hopped up onto a tall concrete wall. After seeming to take so much enjoyment from complicating the matter and forcing her to make explanations of him to her friends, it didn’t seem like the Liar would voluntarily stay away from her school. Although, with him, anything was possible. He was probably playing some mindfuck game with her. From what she knew, it would be very like him.

Atop his new perch, the Liar watched her stalk off, casting glares over her shoulder all the way. He grinned happily. He really liked this one. So much fun!

As she rounded the corner and disappeared out of his sight, another figure came from the opposite direction. A man in his mid-twenties, extremely tall, clean-shaven, attired in slacks and a dress shirt with his coat draped over his arm, came to lean against the wall, just beside where the Liar’s feet dangled.

“Hey, Gaius.”

“Marcus,” the Liar returned with a cat-like smile.

There was a short pause as the pair of them continued to look straight ahead, as if they were pretending that the other wasn’t there. The tall man, Marcus, appeared relaxed, but his shoulders and back were tensed.

“MARKU-CHAN!”

“What the hell?!” cried Marcus as he jumped at the sudden noise. “You’re not Japanese, I’m not Japanese, and I’m going to kill you in three seconds!”

Grabbing Marcus in a hug, he said, “Aww, I love you, too.” Then he laughed and pushed the other away.

“So what are you doing here?” asked Marcus at last.

“I found a writer,” responded the Liar proudly in a sing-song voice.

“Gaius,” Marcus dragged the word out in exasperation, “stop harassing writers. They don’t like you. You freak them out. Time knows you freak me out, you stupid bastard.”

“Pfff. Everyone loves me.” The Liar rolled his eyes and dismissed Marcus’ statement with a wave of his hand.

“You know what? I’m not going to say anything. I’ll think it, but I’m not going to say it.”

“Why is everyone around me so mean?” complained the Liar.

“Ever think you might be the problem?”

The Liar blinked. “Problem? Me? What?”

Marcus began gently banging his back against the wall.

“...What’s the matter with you?”

Stopping, Marcus turned his head to look up at the Liar. His jaw worked, but no sound came out. Finally, he shut his mouth with a helpless look.

The Liar looked at him askance. “Whatever, man. You’re strange. But, hey! Wanna meet my writer!”

“Do I have a choice?” asked Marcus, still in a helpless vein.

“Nope! Oh, damn, she’s in class right now…damn,” he swore again. “Later, though, I’ll introduce you two. I think you’ll get along famously.”

“Uh-huh. Wait. Class? College student?”

“Noooo, high school kid. She’s too young for college. She’s, um, she’s…sixteen? Yeah, sixteen.”

“You goddamned pedophile.”

“Why does everyone keep accusing me of being a pedophile?” whined the Liar to the air.

“Oh, I don’t know, Gaius! Maybe because you’re stalking a sixteen year old girl? Huh? Did that ever occur to you as the reason why? You’re such an asshole.”

“What’s wrong with you today, Marcus?” asked the Liar. “You’re…spazzing out a lot.”

“Son of a bitch…I. I am going to kill you. I really will.”

“Whatever, kitten-rescue-man,” snorted the Angel of Lies. “Angel of War, my ass.”

“I am the Angel of War,” snarled Marcus, grabbing the Liar by his shirtfront and pulling him down so that they were nose-to-nose. “And don’t you ever forget it, Liar.” He released him, spinning away.

The Liar’s eyes had gone hard. “Believe me, I won’t. I remember all the wars, War. I remember the fighting and the blood and the mortals screaming for the mercy they knew we would never give. Me, you, Battle. I remember. And I hope you recall, dear War, that I am who I am. Go on, try to kill me. Try. Because that’s all you can do. Don’t forget, I’m older than you. I know all the tricks.”

His expression melted back into a smile. “That being said, wanna go drinking? I found a great bar. Actually, my shift starts soon…so you’ll be doing the drinking, not me.”

“Fine, whatever.” All the fire had gone out of the Angel of War. “I need to get drunk.”

“That’s the spirit!”

*

Conspicuously, the Liar had been absent for most of the her day. He’d been waiting a short distance from her house to escort her to school, but had stopped a few blocks short of that destination, leaving her to go on alone. He didn’t swing by at lunch, as she’d half-feared he might, and he didn’t make another scene at the end of the day, waiting outside the school with his suicide-machine motorcycle. He simply wasn’t there.

Perhaps, she thought, he’s finally decided to leave. But there wasn’t much hope injected into the musing. Whimsical he may have been, but as abruptly as he might start something, he was too cunning to let it drop just as easily.

Her suspicions were confirmed when she entered the kitchen. He was sitting there, sprawled in a one of the chairs, jean-clad legs stretched out before him, a mug of tea in hand. She started to ask him what he’d been up to-- for surely he’d been doing something devious-- before she noticed the man sitting across the table from him.

Even though he was seated, she could tell that he was monstrously tall. Maybe seven feet. His shoulders cleared the back of the chair and the legs that were dressed in dark slacks seemed to go on forever. If he weren’t so tall he would be ridiculously bulky, but as it was, he just looked formidable. That was the word for this one. Formidable.

“Hello,” he greeted pleasantly in a deep, steady voice, just a dash of formality in the tone. His grey-blue eyes studied her.

“H-Hey,” she returned, more than a little off-balance at the presence of yet another stranger in her kitchen.

Setting his own mug of tea down-- which, unlike the Liar’s, looked untouched-- he stood up, and he did indeed appear to be about seven feet tall. Staring down at her from his high vantage of an extra foot and a half, he half-asked, “You’re his new writer, aren’t you?”

“I suppose I am,” she answered hesitantly, wondering who he was. He seemed like he knew what the Liar was. Was he an angel himself? Or maybe an ex-writer?

“Then I offer my sincerest apologies.”

“Wait…what?”

“I’m so sorry.” He gave her a sorrow-filled look. “No one should have to deal with him.” Sighing, he shook his head, running his hand through his short dark brown hair in a gesture reminiscent of the lanky angel still sitting at the table.

“And…if I may ask…” she began, again hesitantly. Even as he was proffering apologies, he still was intimidating. He towered above her, a situation which was not helped by his impeccable posture.

“Who the hell am I and what am I doing in your kitchen?” The man smiled a little, adjusting the open collar of his long-sleeved white dress shirt. “I’m Marcus. Gaius, here, called me yesterday to make me come out here for a visit.”

“Gaius?” she echoed, glancing at the Liar who had finished with his tea, and was now rummaging through the pockets of his green jacket.

“The Liar. Him. That’s his old name, the one he took in the years of the Holy Roman Empire. I still carry mine, mostly because I don’t feel like bothering to get a new one. That’s why it might seem a little old-fashioned.” He flashed white teeth as the corners of his eyes crinkled. “But if you’d like to know which one I am, I’m War.”

“War?” It seemed like all she’d been doing for the last little while was echoing what he said. She took a half-step back.

“Don’t worry.” Jerking a thumb towards the Liar, he continued to smile. “I’m much nicer than he is.”