After a few false starts, Addison said, “I have a friend who knows a little about Lamere, maybe he could help.”
“As long as he’s not a demon, I’ll love to talk to him.”
“Oh, he’s definitely not a demon.”
Fourteen
Keira had never met an angel before, and her feelings about them didn’t help her anxiety while waiting in a quiet downtown alley for one. The last time an angel was supposed to show up, they hadn’t. Whichever one of them should have found her the second she’d become a seer had fucked up, leaving her ripe for Lamere’s picking and without anyone trying to find her. Help her. Save her. No one in the Heights, anyway.
Her parents had tried, though. Desperately.
Once she’d escaped from Lamere and regained consciousness on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, she couldn’t bring herself to go see them. How could she dump all her damage at their front door after three years of nothing? She’d looked them up online to make sure they were okay but, unfortunately, what she’d found was a mother, a father, and their agonizing search for their only child.
They’d offered a huge reward for info and increased it every six months after she disappeared, the last increase about two months before. Keira had shut off the computer after watching only one of the short news videos of her mom and dad pleading for her to come home.
She couldn’t go back, not like she was now—tainted, scarred, angry—so focused on how to get more blood on her hands. She couldn’t bring the danger of this world into theirs. Her parents could never know what she’d done or what she planned to do.
After Lamere was dead, she wasn’t sure what the next step would be. Sending them a message seemed cruel, but at least they’d stop looking for her. Maybe they could move on, and she could...
“What, go to Disneyland?”
The whole post-Lamere-being-wiped-off-the-face-of-the-earth thing confused her. She would continue to support the Rising in any way she could, but supposedly, people had lives outside their work. She wondered if Addison did, or if they were equally obsessed with their goals. Did Addison have a boyfriend waiting for her at the end of the day? Someone she could talk to? Was that something Keira even wanted? Who could put up with her for longer than a few minutes?
Besides the demon. The demon. Right. There’s a suitable choice.
Aside from being on the wrong side of the war, Davyn wasn’t the kind of guy who liked to cuddle on the couch and watch movies. Not that she was, either. They’d probably spend the evening arguing over the best way to get blood off leather boots. For a second, the image amused her, and then it terrified her. What am I doing? Fantasizing about a being who could kill her with a touch, enter people’s minds and manipulate their thoughts.
Maybe that’s what was happening. Lamere’s torture came with certain side effects, including faster recovery from physical damage and the ability to shield her mind from most supers. But Davyn admitted it—demons and angels could get through anyone’s firewall. If that demon had put these thoughts in her head, she’d kill him. Because picturing his face, his body, his lips, even when her eyes were open was incredibly stupid and really embarrassing.
“Go mess with someone else’s head,” she told his image. Unfortunately, no matter what she did, the thoughts just grew, developed into a fantasy seen only slightly less frequently than the one she had of killing Lamere. It was the kiss that had done it. What a mistake that was. Not that she’d known what would happen or could’ve stopped herself from asking for it. Her body warmed from the memory, the way it had reacted to his heat. And when he’d touched her, she’d felt it again, maybe more powerfully, hotter, needier, even through clothing.
When she heard something move behind her, she spun and stopped her elbow about a foot away from the angel’s solar plexus.
Oh, wow. “I’m guessing you’re M?” A very short name for a very big guy, about as big as Davyn. If he hadn’t had wings, she would’ve backed away. He wasn’t mean looking, just intimidating. Power radiated from him. Like Davyn, but without the type-B personality, wicked sense of humor, and lack of filter. The angel was the kind of being you wanted to impress, and Keira didn’t feel that impressive. She fit in better with her demon. The demon! Not her demon. Idiot.
“That cursed demon must think he won the lottery.” M studied her rumpled clothing and wind-ruined hair that she ineffectively tried to smooth.
“What?” Shit. How much had Addison told him?
He bowed his head. “I apologize. Your shield is good but not angel-proof, and your mind was broadcasting the thought very loudly when I arrived. I couldn’t miss it. It will not happen again.”
“I don’t…” She swallowed. “I just think he’s pleasant looking, that’s all.”
“There is no shame in being attracted to someone,” the angel said with a small grin. “Beauty, in all its manifestations, is as much a part of life as anything else. And for some, the biological desire to tame the strongest and wildest mate is impossible to deny. Of course, when that creature is so wild that by his nature he will kill you, it’s best to admire from a distance.”
“That’s my plan.” Distance. Right.
“In total darkness, very few are strong enough to continue the search for light.” Evidently, angels liked to stare at people, make them wonder what the heck they’re talking about. “You have that strength, Keira, but your greatest enemy is not the one you seek. His death will not—”
“It’s a little too late for a pep talk, don’t you think? It’s your kind’s fault I’m even here doing this.”
“You’re right, of course.” His body seemed to relax even though he hadn’t moved. Angels probably couldn’t slouch—against company policy or something. “It was our responsibility, and we failed you. What you were forced to endure should never have happened for many, many reasons. Millions of decisions by countless people brought us to this moment. Some right and others not, some good and—”
“Others not, got it.” The last thing she wanted to hear was any more angel wisdom or advice. “Addison said you might have some useful information for me.”
“I would do nothing but apologize and assist you in whatever way I can. But to not warn you of the risks on the path you’ve chosen would be another failure. Sometimes walking away takes more courage than fighting.” His smile was tight, sad, as he turned away from her.
He went over to a large plastic bag someone had dumped half in and half out of a puddle. Then he tore it open and pulled out an old shirt. “One man’s garbage…” He held it up, nodded to himself, and laid it over his shoulder before pulling out the next. Angels were permanently white, so he probably wasn’t shopping for himself. There was a homeless shelter in this neighborhood somewhere. “I will tell you all that I know about Lamere, although I’m not sure it will help you with your hunt.”
“You never know.” She stopped looking at him as an angel or as an enemy. The important thing was to find Lamere. “Just pick somewhere and start talking. I’ll ask questions if I need to.”
“Angels are not supposed to judge. We leave that to others.”
“But…?” she prompted.
“I have no proof of anything Lamere has done,” he said, bending to pull out another piece from the garbage bag—a poncho or something that had more holes than fabric. It didn’t seem to meet his standards, so he tossed it into the dumpster about twenty feet away. Nice shot. “Since the Treaty went into effect, nothing has ever been proven and, until recently, no victim has ever come forward.”
“But…?”
“But…” He paused, and then took a deep breath. “It is my true belief that Lamere should have been removed from this world a century ago, perhaps much longer than that. Certainly before he won the Treaty contest and received the Champion’s wish.” He shook his head. “Anything at any time. To allow anyone access to such powerful magic is dangerous enough, but to give it to a creature like Lamere…”
“What did he wish for?”
She couldn’t just stand there, watching him go through the pile of clothing, and do nothing. Especially because he was running out of shoulder space to pile things on. So she put down her pack, went to him, and held out her arms, inviting him to use them as hangers.
“Thank you.” He continued to sort through the bag, laying some across her arms and throwing others into the dumpster. “Unless they choose to, the Champion need not tell a soul. So no one knows if he even used the wish, much less what he might wish for.”
“Oh, he used it. I don’t know what he used it for, but he used it. Because he knew he’d get another.” Another wish, another victim, a never-ending supply of things for him to use. And no one had ever been able to find him or stop him. “What was he like before?”
“As you can imagine, vampires have never been known for their strong sense of morality, but prior to the Treaty, Lamere was a scourge on the earth. A terror. A sadist. The angels could do nothing to stop him. We could only attempt to heal whatever remained after he lost interest and moved on. It was rarely possible.”
“Yeah well, he hasn’t changed much.”
When the plastic bag was empty, the angel took back the clothing he’d given her piece by piece and put it back inside. As soon as Keira’s hands were empty, she helped him hold it open.
“Thank you,” he said, still not at all surprised by her help. “After the Treaty’s laws were set down, it seemed as though he’d traded in his dark, empty soul for another. He followed the line of the law so adeptly, I could not help but think all the Treaty had done was make him better at hiding things. Terrible things.”
M stopped packing and turned towards her. But he wasn’t looking at Keira, he was looking beyond her. To memories? Regrets? “Lamere’s lack of conscience and morality is evident when he is allowed to brutalize—in the Treaty’s fight of Champions, for instance. With almost a child’s joy, he destroys.” He blinked to refocus. “This is not helping your hunt.”
It wasn’t helping her emotional state, either. “He’s been an upstanding vamp since then—pretending to be, at least?”
“Until this unfortunate episode began, he has always been a perfect subject to the Treaty and the Highworld.” He went back to the old clothes. “As to why he made such a large and obvious mistake after being so careful for so many years, I do not know.”
Keira didn’t really care. She knew how evil he was, how little he deserved to exist. “Do you know why he chooses to live here?” Lamere’s English wasn’t even that good. “Or why he’s staying here, even though he knows he’s being hunted?”
“I believe he enjoys being near power.”
“The council?”
He shook his head. “The North American council is based in San Francisco because this area, and a few others, hold stronger magic. These energy centers draw supernatural creatures as well as humans; therefore, they have all become large cities.”
They spoke for a little longer, until all the clothes had been placed gently into the bag, but M didn’t tell her anything new or surprising. She’d spent more time with Lamere than anyone else. She knew him better than anyone else. Which meant she was the one who had to find him.
Before she picked up her pack, she wiped her hands on her pants, trying to get rid of the grimy feel the clothes had left.
“Thank you for your help,” M said, spinning the plastic bag around to close it.
“Are you taking them to the shelter now?”
“Of course not.” He laughed as they walked towards the street…together. “I have to take them to the coin laundry down the street first. Then they’ll go to the shelter.” An angel at the laundromat. Not something Keira had ever imagined, probably because she didn’t think angels got dirty.
“I wish I could tell you more. But there is…” After only a few steps, he stopped and set down the bag. “While I can never give you all Lamere took away, I can return something of yours that might help you in your quest. Unfortunately, it may also bring you pain.”
“Shocking,” she said on a laugh. “Nothing ever seems to come without pain.”
“That is no longer true. If you could—”
“Yeah, okay. What have you got for me?”
He didn’t look upset that she’d interrupted him, which was really annoying actually. Proof that an angel’s life would never be disrupted by a seer’s.
“A memory he wiped from your mind,” he said.
“Just one?” For once, she was glad Lamere was a sadist. If he’d taken all of them, she wouldn’t hate him enough to want him dead. “I don’t care about the pain. It’s mine, and I want it.”
M lowered his head until it almost touched hers. She may have blacked out for a second, or whited out considering the whole angel connection. Then she felt it. As if a tiny point of light expanded, opening up a passage. In my head? Pretty sure it’s not good to have holes in your head. Outside or inside.
Her pack slipped out of her hand and hit the ground when the memory appeared. Of her. Of the house she’d grown up in, where she’d been safe and warm and loved and normal. Her mom’s car was even in the driveway.
Keira’s vision shifted to the cement sidewalk under her bare feet, down the street, around the corner. She struggled to keep up with the images, running until she stood in front of an iron gate attached to a thick stone wall. She’d probably passed it a thousand times on her way to school without ever really seeing it. Magic.
The image jumped, bringing her into the place where she’d grown up another way, in fear, humiliation, and pain. She suddenly understood why, of all her memories, Lamere would’ve taken that one.
She’d been kept and tortured and raped for three years in a house so close to her own that if she’d had the strength to scream, her mom and dad might have heard her. If she’d gotten free, she could’ve walked home. How many times did her parents pass her prison, looking for their little girl? If she hadn’t given up or stopped hoping she’d ever escape, maybe…
No. “That’s not possible. It can’t be.” She shook her head, trying to make herself believe it was a trick. Did angels trick people? “It wasn’t real, was it?”
“I simply gave you back what you had forgotten. I did not see anything for myself.”
Three years. For three years she’d been searching, and the only place she’d never thought of looking was her hometown. She couldn’t go back there. What if someone saw her? A classmate or her parents?
I have to. The only thing more haunting than her time there was the possibility that Lamere had replaced her and that some poor girl was going through what she had. The probability of that increased when she’d found out that he’d turned someone. Someone who looked like her.
The vampire he’d made and abandoned had been found almost a month ago. A month gave him more than enough time to find a new project.
“I gotta go.” She picked up her pack and flung it over her shoulder.
“Before you do, I would like to give you a gift.”
“Is it a pony? Because I could sure as shit use a pony right now.”
“Had I but known…” The softness of his eyes as he smiled stopped her breath. It was impossible to hate him. She wondered if he or Davyn knew they had anything in common. “This is something you may eventually need even more than a pony.”
“What?”
“My name.” He explained how it worked, how seldom angels spoke their names to any being outside of their race because of the risk. “It is how we communicate, how we can be called. It is a sign of my belief in you, as well as my penance for what you went through because of our mistake. The risk is even greater because of the relationship you share with your demon.”
“Eww. First off—relationship? Totally wrong word to use. He and I don’t have a relationship.”
“When more than one being is involved, it’s a relationship.” Davyn had said almost the same thing about negotiation.
“It doesn’t matter, but he’s not my demon.”
The angel
just smiled.
“He’s not,” she mumbled.
“I did not disagree.” Great. He didn’t agree either, now did he? “If a demon were able to communicate freely with an angel, be able to invade his mind, neither they nor anyone around them would be safe. You must promise you’ll never tell Davyn my true name, no matter what.”
“Okay, I promise.” She put her hand to her head when she felt a pressure. Not painful, but not pleasant either. Just…unnerving.
Then she heard it, a faint whisper she knew no one else would hear—
‘Micah.’
“Wow.” She shook her head, trying to make sure he wasn’t still in there. “That was…weird.”
“Was it?” he asked, amused. “Then, if you say my name…‘weirdly,’ and ask for assistance with your whole heart, I will come to you. But it must be with your whole heart.”
She’d be sure to put that on her Never Going to Happen list, but she couldn’t deny it felt good to be so trusted. “I don’t think I’m ever going to understand immortals.”
“We are fairly ‘weird,’ aren’t we?” He laughed. When his wings came out, she stepped back and turned away. First, because they were huge and took up a lot of space, and second because they were so beautiful she actually felt her eyes tear up.
“Thanks for…you know. I appreciate it.”
“You have already returned the favor.” He nodded to the bag of clothes, and then looked at her. “However, if you wish to do more, then I would ask you to do something for yourself.”
“What do you mean?”
“Decide what your true goal is—to end the life of your abuser or to begin a new life for yourself—because the two are not compatible as you are now. And understand that we can never move forward while our feet are stuck in the past.”
Good advice. But Keira already had lots of plans for her feet, and the only thing they would be stuck in was blood.
Fifteen
Keira finally decided she hated Micah more than she hated all the other angels combined, because Micah was right. As soon as Lamere was dead, Davyn would go do whatever it was that demons did, and she’d never see him again. Eventually, the weird feelings she had for him would go away too.
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