by Carol Oates
“You shouldn’t fight,” Candra snapped back.
He frowned and pursed his lips, sucking in a mouthful of air and lifting his hand to stop another of the blue cabs. “Yes, well…I have experience fighting.”
Candra folded her arms over her chest tightly, simply refusing to get into another argument. She really didn’t have the energy.
What in the name of everything that was rotten in this forsaken city was the problem with getting a cab when you needed one? Sebastian could say that, forsaken, because he knew it to be true.
He could see Candra was tired, or drained might have been a more fitting word. Draven had influenced her for so long that her body had exhausted its energy fighting off his influence. She needed to sleep; she needed to refuel, and for that, he needed to get her home—which he couldn’t do if he couldn’t get a cab. His wing would need attention too. It was okay for now while concealed, but Sebastian wasn’t relishing the prospect of extending it to heal the damage Draven had inflicted. He suspected it was fractured and berated himself for letting his guard down, for allowing his emotions to control him in the heat of battle, because this was the result, and he should have known better.
He would have happily killed Draven today to stop her from seeing the real him, Sebastian, and what he was capable of; he just didn’t understand why. Candra could have handled the truth from the beginning, and if only he had gone with his gut instinct and not selfishly allowed his tender ego to panic him, it would have been him instead of Draven who told her the truth. He could have controlled it, let her know slowly, kept the things from her that he knew would hurt. He had been blinded by rage when he saw Candra leaving with Ananchel, irrationally so, but was powerless to stop her because he knew she would never stop until she got to the truth. It was one of the things he both admired and hated about her.
He should have waited for Candra to return and dealt with the repercussions then, but he was never the most patient of his kind. Thinking about patience brought him back to thinking about cabs. He was on the verge of carrying Candra back to the townhouse himself, something he knew would be met with vigorous opposition, when a cab pulled to a stop directly in front of them.
As soon as they were inside, Candra leaned her head against the side window, with her long bangs falling across her face, partially concealing her eyes, and slept. Although he considered she might be faking, he couldn’t fault her for not wanting to talk to him. Sebastian wasn’t sure what Draven had told her, though he could hazard a fairly accurate guess at most of it: basically everything they had withheld from her since she discovered who she was. Well, now she knows everything important, the entire, sordid history. It has to make me a monster in her eyes.
Sebastian had known Draven would want Candra, but he now believed he’d underestimated how much and the lengths to which Draven would go to get her. The game was on, and the prize was the girl. Candra was obviously disturbed by what she had seen and heard. Even in sleep, a delicate rosy color flushed her cheeks below her chocolate-and-toffee colored hair. She frowned, and two vertical lines formed between her eyebrows. His stomach knotted at the idea that Draven would win and Brie would lose Candra, because Draven wouldn’t allow Brie to join him, even though she was fallen. Draven would want Candra kept separate and dependent on only him for affection in his bid to win her over.
Candra was responsible and strong-willed. If she believed she could prevent a repeat of the atrocities Draven described, she would. Once Sebastian’s existence had changed irrevocably: he had given up everything for a cause he’d believed in when he led the army here. He broke heaven’s laws and killed Nephilim in the name of humanity. It was changed again the day he realized Candra was one of them, and he never for a split second considered killing her—not for the tiniest measurement of time. Sebastian knew with everything in him that he’d had to protect her then and he had to protect her now—her and Brie. He had to keep them together, no matter what.
“That went as well as can be expected,” Ananchel said lightly and closed the door to Draven’s apartment.
Draven watched them from the window as Sebastian jostled Candra into the cab, practically having to carry her. He felt a twinge of guilt at the idea that he may have gone overboard serving her brandy, but she had requested it.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” Draven said to Ananchel. When it came down to it, Ananchel was his best friend.
He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the street below and the angry beeping cars, their drivers vying for position on the road. They were filled with rage against everything: the lights, the other cars, road works, pedestrians…
Ananchel came to stand beside Draven, looking down to see what he was watching. “Tut.” She shrugged, crossing her arms and drumming the nails of one hand. “Draven, it is not the first time you’ve had to correct me, and it won’t be the last. You know me; I never know when enough is enough, and this is too important to mess up.”
“Sebastian is far more involved than I imagined. I wonder what Payne would think of it?” Draven pondered aloud, turning from the window to look at Ananchel.
“I think he would turn over in his grave.” She chuckled.
Draven laughed too, but he had a niggling feeling, and it wasn’t because of their plan. He needed Sebastian involved for this to work. How could he not take advantage of the situation that presented itself to him? He hadn’t found it as easy as he imagined it would be to lie to Candra. It surprised him how much he liked her. She was strong-willed and determined. She had a good heart.
“Are you sure you are going to be able to do this?” Ananchel asked with narrowed eyes.
Draven went over to the couch, flopping down on the soft cushions, and stretched his arms across the back. “Of course I can. Do you doubt my charms?”
She rolled her eyes. “I think you genuinely like her, and I do hate that you’ve been alone all these years.”
He knew Ananchel was trying to look out for him, but it was his decision not to take a mate. He’d led them all here, and it was his responsibility to get them home. That was his first priority. “I haven’t been alone. I’ve had you for friendship, and I’ve had the occasional affair.”
Ananchel walked toward the couch and sat down beside him, pulling one of his hands from the back of the couch behind her and dropping it on his lap. “It is not the same thing, and you know it.” She raised her eyebrows, scolding him. “Besides, I doubt Candra will consider it charming when we betray her after she gives up everything for us.”
Chapter Ten
Candra was flying—really flying, floating through thick cloud cover toward the clear night above it, a sea of navy sprinkled with diamond. She didn’t recall there ever being so many stars in the sky, and so far, she clearly felt her aeronautical skills were not up to par, since it wasn’t what could be described as a smooth journey in any sense of the word. She juddered and shook with short, jarring motions and had no sense of her body at all, as if she was completely numb. It was altogether bizarre. The air was thin up here. It hurt to breathe. In fact, she hurt all over, especially her eyes which were…her eyes were closed. This can’t be right, she thought. How could she still see the sky, and why were the stars suddenly hurtling toward her? She couldn’t be sure it wasn’t the other way around and she was hurtling toward them. Candra couldn’t tell, and she had no control. She couldn’t stop it.
She woke with a start to find herself in the cab Sebastian had caught outside Draven’s building. Her mouth felt dry and tasted like some furry animal had crawl in and died there.
“What was that stuff I drank?” she groaned, holding her head in her hands. She would have happily scooped her eyeballs out with a rusty spoon in that moment, if it would have eased the drilling going on in her head.
Sebastian paid the driver and got out to open her door. Even in Candra’s excruciating pain, she noticed the way his shirt was torn, two slits once again where his wings had protruded when he’d lost control.
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��Wine,” Sebastian told her as she got out, supporting herself with the door. “Can you walk?”
“Just about,” she answered. The words rattled inside her brain, as if someone had screamed them. “And not so loud, please.”
“I told you that you shouldn’t drink,” Sebastian teased lightheartedly, surprising Candra.
She had to wonder if it was just that he was enjoying her misery, but then he surprised her further by offering his arm for balance.
Candra looked up at him as the cab pulled away. Even in twilight he had the same luminescent quality, as though he carried the light within him. His chocolate brown eyes flashed with exasperation he couldn’t hide at her hesitation to take his arm.
Candra eyed him suspiciously, imagining if she reached out, he’d snatch his arm away. The sudden changes in his mood left her feeling she had spent days on end watching tennis games, with her head whipping back and forth. It was impossible to keep up. Still, she slipped her arm under his and clung to him walking up the steps, even leaning her head on the top of his arm near his shoulder. It was difficult for her to reconcile this kind and gentle part of his personality with the other darker parts.
“My head hurts…my everything hurts…” Candra whined while Sebastian opened the door with the keys he took from her.
“It wasn’t the garden variety type of wine you were drinking. It’s a special kind made by us, nearer to a brandy but much stronger. We have a stronger constitution when it comes to liquor.”
“Now you tell me,” Candra moaned, earning another chuckle from him.
It explained the excessive number of beers he was able to put away at the party and her unusual reaction to the drink she helped herself to that night while waiting on Lofi. “You’ll be fine. It will wear off soon enough,” Sebastian reassured her.
Brie was on the other side of the door to meet them, her wide eyes anxious and darting between Sebastian and Candra, appearing to be waiting for one of them to speak. She was still very thin; her jeans needed to be belted to stay on her hips these days. She had put some weight back on, but the two small lines between her eyebrows seemed to have taken up permanent residence there again.
Candra’s mind abruptly flashed back to the image she’d seen at Draven’s: the tapestry was intricate and brutal in its detail. Her stomach curled in, and she swallowed thickly.
“Everything’s fine,” Sebastian told Brie, removing Candra’s arm from his and, to her utter shock, hooking his arm around her shoulder protectively.
She inhaled the fresh mint and musk scent and groaned when her lungs protested at the exertion.
“Have you been drinking?” Brie demanded, horrified, sounding like a flustered mother hen. A flush rose in her cheeks.
A wave of nausea swept over Candra, and she leaned into Sebastian, closing her eyes to see stars again. “I’m never doing it ever again, if that is any consolation.”
“That’s how you’re going to deal with this?” Brie asked caustically. “You think you can get lost in a sea of booze and this will disappear?”
Her tone was harsh and cutting, meant to put Candra in her place. Or at least Candra thought it was, until she opened her eyes to see Brie’s eyes fixed on Sebastian.
“No, I don’t.” Sebastian responded barely above a whisper. Whispers suited Candra. They didn’t hurt her head. “Believe me, if that was the way I felt, this would be a whole lot easier.” The confusion in his tone was apparent and made Candra wonder what he had to be confused about.
She believed this was her problem, her decision. She was the cause and effect, and she was also the only solution. Yet again, she felt totally alone. “Can I please be reprimanded tomorrow? I just want to get to bed now…please.”
Brie stepped forward and pressed a cool hand to Candra’s head. In her disorientation she almost flinched away, but her stepmother didn’t appear to notice the split second indecision when the image from tapestry flashed through Candra’s mind. Brie smoothed her hand downward over Candra’s cheek. Her lips were pursed as she brushed the hair from Candra’s face.
“Do you need me to get you anything?”
Yes, a new life would be nice. “No, I’m fine. If Sebastian could come up and help me, that would be great.”
Candra saw a flash of trepidation, and Brie’s pupils flared infinitesimally. Clearly she was against it and sensed Candra’s growing attachment to his company even though Candra had no idea when that had happened. She didn’t look to see what his reaction was, but since he hadn’t spent a night outside her room since the party, she believed her request probably didn’t make much difference to his plans anyway.
Brie nodded once and moved aside, allowing them past. Sebastian let Candra go to climb the stairs one step ahead of him. His hands stayed on her hips, supporting her. She could have been imagining it when she felt his fingers as she reached the top step before he let her go, almost like he didn’t want to. Candra couldn’t deny it made her wonder if there wasn’t some truth in what Draven said about Sebastian’s reasons. She couldn’t fathom why the idea he had any feelings for her other than apathy was terrifying.
Candra was walking through a park she recognized, but hadn’t gone to in years. It was the one she only recently remembered, the one her father had taken her to several times. The day was bright, and she could feel the heat of the sun from the cloudless azure sky wash over her skin, which was strange considering the fine layer of swirling mist around her ankles and coating the grassy knoll she was climbing. She remembered the hill. Once at the top, she knew she would see the shining red swing set and matching slide and climbing frame. Beyond that, she would see the oak woods where she used to take walks with her father.
Just as she expected, it was all there: the oaks standing proud behind the place where children played contentedly, laughing brightly while the low mist moved around them like milky satin gliding fluidly over the bark-covered ground. Candra continued on as if drawn to their laughter and lifted her hand to her brow in an attempt to dull the garish sunlight shining in her eyes. It was only then that she saw the man, the only adult in the scene. He was pushing one of the swings, and she felt the strangest tug inside her chest at the joyful giggles of the little girl rising into the air and swinging back, only to feel the gentle push that forced her to rise against gravity one more.
Candra went on, feeling strangely compelled. Each step made the mist disperse and swirl, and as she moved closer, she saw the dark chocolate brown of his hair reflecting in the light with strands of gold. He was familiar and different at the same time. There was something about his solid shoulders and strong back and the way he rocked back on his heels with each push.
“Higher, higher…” the girl squealed. “I want to fly.” Her voice echoed around Candra’s head as if it was coming from inside her, and it cut like razor blades slicing into her brain.
Candra winced and fell to her knees, hit by the scent of wet grass and a metallic taste that filled her mouth.
The man chuckled, but it was too loud. She clasped her hands over her ears to block it out, but the other children continued to play obliviously.
“But what if you fall?” He laughed, and Candra knew it was him—it was her father, just as he’d been when he was alive.
The girl, she was Candra as she was years ago. She wanted to scream at them, to call out and warn him about the car that he would step out in front of. To tell him he wouldn’t make it home, but she couldn’t. She was trapped by the mist rising about her like ribbons twisting around her body and locking her there. When she opened her mouth, nothing came out.
Candra struggled against her bindings as the day darkened and the once inviting trees turned angry and threatening. Their leaves turned black and flew into the air in a disorganized movement of swooping and diving toward the gray overcast sky. The branches gnarled and twisted in on themselves, transforming into claws, ready to rip apart the unsuspecting father and daughter as they continued, oblivious to the menace creeping up on them.
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Please…no…please…Candra’s mind screamed as tears streaked down her hot face. No. The binding mist rubbed against her soft flesh, biting into it, leaving deep welts. She was trapped; she was completely trapped.
“I’m not afraid,” the girl protested.
He laughed brightly, and Candra blinked away stinging tears that blurred her vision of him. He was young and handsome with a sharp jaw, defined cheekbones, and full lips pulled back to a beaming smile as he looked at his daughter—Candra.
Candra woke abruptly and for a second didn’t know where she was. The dream was so real and disconcerting. It had been so that bright she had trouble focusing in the semi-darkness. She was safely in her own bed where she had fallen asleep several hours before, according to the clock beside her bed. Her heart was pounding against her ribs, and a dull ache still throbbed in her brain, although not as painful as it had been.
A sharp intake of breath reminded her she wasn’t alone, and she twisted under the covers to see Sebastian, bare-chested and straining to reach over his shoulder, toward his partially extended wing. The light from the street filtered in, catching the contours of his sculpted body in shadow, the ridges of his taut abdomen and the indents over his hips leading into the band of his low-slung jeans. She spent a moment or two longer than necessary watching the way his muscles rippled and corded under his smooth golden flesh with each tiny movement of his body, until another sharp intake of breath alerted her to the fact he was in pain.
“What happened?” Candra asked in a sleep-laden voice, rubbing her eyes as her breathing began to return to normal.
She’d surprised him, and he turned his face to her sharply, wincing again when his damaged wing fluttered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I had a nightmare.”
“You have them a lot,” Sebastian observed with a frown.