by Bailey Dark
“You were too cocky,” the Nephilim says, approaching.
I rise to my full height, ignoring the tightness in my chest. The bones will heal. “I’ve learned my lesson,” I say through gritted teeth.
He eyes me. “I doubt it will make any difference.”
Snarling, I lunge at him, claws outstretched. He darts to the side, twisting his body, but I anticipated that. Hot blood gushes over my fingers as I catch his back and a corner of his feathery wings. The Nephilim gasps, arching away from my claws. He whirls away, blood staining his tunic and dripping down his side. I grin wickedly. The heat of his blood is invigorating to me. I rush him while he’s distracted, magic burning everything in front of me. The Nephilim gapes at me as I close in on him. But at the last instant, he smiles, spreading his wings wide. Blood drips onto the theatre floor.
When we collide, the Nephilim laughs maniacally. I slash at him, aiming for his exposed, thin throat. Suddenly, his pale hand snatches mine mid-strike. My eyes widen with surprise and fear. My movements should have been too quick for him. But the Nephilim caught me with ease. He squeezes, and I feel the bones in my wrist grind together. A mangled cry of pain escapes me as he breaks my wrist effortlessly. I swipe at him with my free hand, intent on forcing him to release me, but he pushes it aside as a parent would a stubborn child. I pull against him, pain burning through my arm with each tug. The Nephilim holds fast, a sadistic smile on his face.
Suddenly visions of the Nephilim leeching my soul flit through my mind. I freeze for an instant at the thought before sending my magic tearing against him like a hundred knives. He withstands the barrage, eyes glittering as if he can sense my thoughts. Real fear fills me, like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Covered in his own blood from the shallow cuts of my magic, the Nephilim smiles.
“Do you see now, Kane?” He says, pulling me towards him with supernatural strength.
I dig my heels in as his grip moves up my arm. He snaps my arm to the side, breaking it. Bone juts out from my flesh, and I howl in pain. He drags me closer. "Fuck you," I breathe, lashing out at him with my foot.
I aim to catch him in the knee, but the Nephilim forces me to the ground before it can connect. The Nephilim's wings flare, and I try once more to destroy him with my magic. I summon flames, bright and blue with heat to waft over him. The Nephilim's shirt singes badly, hanging from his narrow torso in threads, but the flames have no effect on him. It's as if I was burning myself.
"Weak," he spits out, his palm striking me hard in the jaw. Blood fills my mouth, and my vision goes black for an instant. "Fool. You tried to destroy what you feared. But I'm here now. And you can't hurt me."
Pain throbs through my body, aching, and acute. I can't remember the last time I lost a fight, and the thought has my head even more muddled. "Who are you?" I ask dumbly.
“I am you.” The Nephilim smiles.
I laugh, bloody spittle flying out of my mouth. “Night, I must be uglier than I think.”
“It’s better if you die laughing,” he says, dropping my mangled arm. I cry out pathetically as it falls and hits the ground by my knees. “You’ll taste better that way.”
“Go on then,” I say, flashing my fangs at him. “Try it.”
The Nephilim’s hand lashes towards me so quickly I hardly register it. He stuffs his hand in my mouth, prying my lips apart. Blood seeps into my mouth, his blood, as my fangs pierce his pale skin. The Nephilim ignores the pain, ignores the venom, and pulls until my jaws ache. With a horrific pop, he dislocates my jaw. I scream, wholly and completely, the terrible sound echoing through from the walls. Jaw slack and useless, my blood and the Nephilim’s pours over my legs and onto the dusty floor.
“Kane!” Briar’s voice echoes in my mind through the fog of pain.
The Nephilim's head snaps to the side, and he snarls as if he can hear her too. I make a strangled sound, tongue flapping, as I try to speak. "You brought a friend," the Nephilim coos.
“Gods, Kane!” Briar cries, sprinting down the aisle towards me.
I reach for her, wishing she didn't have to see the disgusting mess of flesh and blood I've become at the Nephilim's hands. I mumble again, pain searing through me at even the smallest attempt to speak. Briar's eyes are locked on me, and in the haze, they seem to glow bright blue. I slump back onto the ground, exhausted and filled with pain. The Nephilim turns on her, but Briar doesn't falter. The room brightens, lights flaring until it's so bright I'm forced to squint. I imagine wings, impossibly white, stretched out behind Briar as she approaches. The Nephilim squeals as the light singes his eyes; it burns mine too.
“Die!” The Nephilim howls, launching himself towards her.
My body spasms with fear at the sight, but it fades quickly until I feel as if I'm floating in comfortable warmth. The lights blind me, and I hiss in pain. I hear a humming sound and a sickening squelch. The fear doesn't touch me even though I wonder if it's Briar. Slowly, the lights fade into comfortable darkness again. Footsteps pound towards me, shaking the weak floors. The Nephilim, I think numbly. Oh, Gods. It killed Briar.
The other half of my soul.
I try to murmur Briar’s name, but the sound is nothing more than a garble of syllables. My body aches, but it has nothing to do with my injuries. Unwelcome tears stream down my cheeks, cutting through the dried blood and spilling into my gaping mouth. It’s been hundreds of years since I cried. I almost forgot the sensation – forgot the relief that it is. I roll onto my side, arm hanging limply over my body. I open my eyes, intent on crawling towards Briar’s body if the Nephilim doesn’t stop me first.
Vibrant blue fills my vision, like a turquoise gem. “Don’t move,” Briar whispers, her voice cracking.
I mumble, confusion sweeping through me as Briar gently pushes me flat on my back.
“I followed you,” she says, fingers dancing over my broken body. Her eyes glow in the dim light, nothing like the grey they always were. “Kane, how do I?”
Her voice breaks, and she drops her head to my chest. I wince as pain flashes through my broken ribs. Briar's head snaps back up, and her brows furrow apologetically. "Gods, I'm sorry."
I tilt my head towards the aisle behind her, questioning her with my eyes.
“No, the Nephilim,” Briar trails off. “He’s dead.”
Dead? How?
“I don’t know. He just exploded,” Briar mumbles, shaking her head vigorously.
A laugh bubbles in my chest and blood spurts from my gaping mouth. I knew it. The lights emanating from Briar, her eyes, the wings I saw – all of it points to the translations being incorrect. And now the Nephilim is dead by her hand, whether she knows it or not. Briar fusses around me as more blood leaks from my unhinged jaw. It truly is Briar. I’m soul bound to one of the most powerful beings in the three realms. It truly was her this whole time.
“Kane, tell me how to fix this,” she says desperately.
I shake my head, flinching as pain sears through my jaw. Suddenly, the doors to the theatre slam open, banging against the wall with a deafening sound. Briar whirls, eyes flaring with light again before fading to dull grey at the sight of Willem and Aiden storming towards us. Her fingers clutch at my tunic, and I brush her leg with a finger weakly, trying to reassure her. Her shoulders relax slightly, and I feel a thread of warmth in my chest.
“What in the Night happened?” Willem demands, his eyes drifting over something I can’t see in the background.
“Kane is hurt,” Briar says before I attempt to speak. “He needs help.”
“Fuck,” Aiden breathes, eyes wide at the sight of my jaw and broken arm. He limps closer, keeping his torso straight so as not to aggravate his wounds. “You look like shit.”
“Move,” Willem says sternly. Briar crawls aside, avoiding looking at whatever it is in the distance that caught Willem’s eyes. He kneels beside me and carefully slips his arms around my shoulders to hoist me up. “Come on, get up.”
I narrow my gaze at the floor as Willem helps m
e to my feet. I sway, head light, and jaw aching. Gingerly, Willem supports me. We walk slowly up the aisle, towards the door. For once, I'm looking forward to returning to the Diamond. We won't be able to return to the Underworld until I'm healed enough to withstand the pressure of the magic. Briar trails behind us, on my heels. I'm glad to have her close. I grunt, blood spurting from my mouth.
Briar inhales sharply, and I feel fear sweep through her. I follow her gaze towards the pile of flesh and scraps of bones coating the chairs mid-way through the theatre. Red, wet, flesh and blood hangs limply from the once luxurious fabric. The smell of fresh blood and death hangs over the area like a cloud. My gaze flicks toward Briar, but she refuses to meet my eyes.
I wish I had been able to see it; my bride’s first kill.
Chapter 18
Briar
Images of the pale, white-haired man erupting into a cloud of blood and muscles and skin and bones flash continuously through my mind. Every time I blink, his bloated body bursting with light is all I see. Pieces… of him flew towards me, but none of them touched me, burned by the bright light all around. I wonder if there are angels from the Lands of Light that may have been protecting me, but the thought seems absurd.
“Briar,” Aiden’s voice cuts through the oppressive humming in my mind.
My eyes snap up from the grains in the table. “Yes?”
“You had the perfect opportunity,” Aiden muses. “Why didn’t you take it? I even stalled Willem outside for you.”
"You followed me?" My eyes widen, and my heart clenches. I don't want anything to do with Aiden anymore. Not know that I know I could never fulfill my vow to my father.
“Of course. Why didn’t you do it?” Aiden leans forward.
I glance at the patrons around us, but they’re lost in their drinks or opium, or distracted by the women of the Diamond. “There wasn’t time. The Nephilim was attacking, and I was frightened.” It’s not entirely a lie.
“If you want to kill him, you have to take more risks.” Aiden shakes his head and then points towards the ceiling. “You missed the perfect chance now that he’s healing.”
I follow his finger to the boards of the ceiling. Kane is up there, in our room. It’s been a few hours since we returned from hunting the Nephilim. It was a painful process getting him to the second floor without being seen. Willem had to fly him in through the window, and it was excruciatingly painful for Kane. I could feel it deep in my bones. I hated the Nephilim that caused him such pain for a while. I haven’t been able to get the vision of the Nephilim’s grisly death out of my mind, but I don’t feel sorry for him. Now I’m just glad he’s dead.
Now, we can go home.
“I should go see him,” I murmur to myself.
“Why? If he dies suddenly, it will be very suspicious.” Aiden leans back in his chair and signals the bartender for another drink.
“I’ll be back,” I say, slipping out of my chair.
Aiden snatches my wrist, stopping me. His eyes lock on mine, cold and empty. “Remember, we have a pact.”
I wrench my arm away from him, rubbing at my already bruising wrist. He turns away before I can answer, and I rush up the stairs. If I don’t kill Kane, will I be held responsible by my father and Aiden? The thought of owing anything to Aiden has my stomach twisting. I pause outside the door. Images of Kane’s slack jaw and bloodied face spring to my mind. It hurt me to see him like that. Taking a deep breath, I push the door open slowly.
The hinges creak as it opens and I wince, hoping I haven’t woken him. “Come in, Briar,” Kane’s voice filters towards me from the shadows around the bed.
I bite my lip, trying not to smile with relief. The sound of his voice is enough for me to know that he’s healing well. Closing the door softly, I turn towards him, heart beating rapidly in my chest. I tiptoe towards the bed, not wanting to shatter the silence in the room as Kane waits for me. I can see his eyes glittering in the darkness, watching me. At his bedside, I pause, hands twisting together. I wonder if he saw what happened if he caught a glimpse of the angel that must have been at my side. Mother, I think vaguely.
“Sit, Briar,” Kane says. His voice is inviting, nothing like the demanding tone he would normally take.
“How are you feeling?” I ask. My eyes are adjusting to the darkness. I can see his jaw is secured and healed, bruises pocking his skin below the scruff on his cheeks and chin. His arm is in a sling, propped against his chest. “You look better.”
“I feel much better,” he says. “Healing well, we should be able to return to the Underworld tomorrow night.”
A sense of relief floods through me. Relief that Kane will heal so quickly. Relief to return home. “Good.” I nod, smiling.
Kane is quiet for a moment before he pins me in place with an even stare. “Briar, we need to talk.”
“About?” I ask hesitantly.
“What happened in the Opera House tonight,” Kane murmurs. “About the Nephilim.”
A vision of the Nephilim, red eyes wide and bulging, lips parted in a silent scream flashes through my mind. I can smell his death again. “I should let you rest, we can talk later,” I say hurriedly. Or never.
“Let’s talk now,” Kane says forcefully. I hesitate, frozen, and ease back down on the edge of the bed. “Do you have any idea what you did tonight?”
“I didn’t do anything,” I whisper.
“You saved me.” Kane’s tone softens but I see a hint of darkness in his eyes, like shame. “If you hadn’t come when you did, I would be a dead man. He would have leeched my soul.”
“Why was he so powerful?” I ask, thinking of the moment I saw him force Kane to his knees and pry his jaw apart.
Kane shakes his head. “I can only guess it had something to do with the souls he consumed. He must have gained power and strength through them – at least that’s what he claimed.”
“What now?” I ask, hoping Kane won’t bring up the Nephilim’s strange death.
Kane's black eyes are locked on mine, and I feel warmth stir in my chest. The dagger is still in my waistband, and all I feel is guilt. "When we return to the Underworld, we begin planning our wedding. If you'll have me still."
My jaw goes slack with surprise, and then I grin manically. "So soon? We have over a month left of the Claiming. There's no need to rush."
“Perhaps.” Kane shrugs and then winces at the small movement. “But it would please me, nonetheless.”
My head reels. In my mind, I always envisioned myself returning to my family. Kane was never a part of such imaginings, almost like he never existed. Or as if he were dead. But I never pictured myself in the Underworld until my death. Kane watches me closely, and I try to school my face. I learned everything about the Underworld while I was young. My father wouldn't want me to return to him if I haven't completed my vow. I couldn't.
“It would please me too,” I say softly, not knowing if it’s a lie anymore.
“Good.” Kane smiles like a cat with a mouse in its sights.
“I should let you rest.” I rise, heart thumping.
I turn away from him, eager to reach the door and find some privacy. “What do you know about your mother?” Kane asks suddenly.
I pause, biting my lip. “She died when I was sixteen, I know as much about her as any sixteen-year-old would.”
“Like?” Kane prods.
"Well, what do you want to know?" I eye him over my shoulder. "It's clear you're after something."
“Very astute of you.” Kane grins. “But I simply thought I should get to know my bride now that I’ve made my decision.”
I feel a thrill of anticipation slip through my body, skin tingling. When our eyes meet, I see visions of the two of us tangled together. I blush, pushing such thoughts from my mind. He’s recovering from a near-death experience, I chide myself. “I think that’s a very good idea,” I say slowly.
Kane yawns. “We could talk all night, if you wanted,” he says, fatigue clear in his voice. “Isn
’t that what mortal lovers do?”
My face flushes at the word lovers. I’m not sure that what Kane and I are can even be categorized. “I’ll let you rest,” I say. I open the door and slip out. “You should sleep.”
My thoughts are whirling as I descend the stairs into the Diamond proper. I bump into a woman and mumble an apology, barely shifting my gaze from the floor. It’s almost too much to comprehend, I think numbly. Kane wants to marry me. He wants a future with me; nothing more than a blip in time for him, but a future nonetheless. Me, who is meant to kill him. But more than that, I can't get the memory of the Nephilim dying from my mind. He looked at me, and he died. I was impossibly hot, and my skin tingled. And then there was the strange light. Could it have been me?
No.
I shake my head and laugh nervously. That would be impossible. The angel must have touched me or been directly behind me. Perhaps I’ll contact one of our leading theological scholars and tell him my experience with angels. Then it will be real, I think. It will have had to have been an angel. And I can leave it behind me. I can focus on Kane and building a life together. Or destroying it. I pause beside the wall, just around the corner from where I left Aiden, chewing on my thoughts. I clutch at my head, an ache building in my temples.
“And you’re certain she won’t be a problem?” Willem’s voice echoes around the corner. “She’s a pest.”
“A stupid pest,” Aiden says. “I’ve got her wrapped around my finger. I don’t plan on staying in the Underworld long. I don’t want Kane to be suspicious.”