“I think we’re supposed to hug it out, next. Or you give me a list of demands… What do you think?”
I felt my smile stretching, especially seeing her shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably, like our roles were reversed. “Yeah,” I agreed, holding out my arms.
Her eyes seemed to sparkle with relief as she gave me a tight squeeze. “I never thought I’d say this, but he means the world to me, Callie. I feel like I’m young again,” she said, squeezing tighter.
I patted her on the back. “Just take care of him. He’s all I have left,” I admitted, surprised at my openness. But I was pretty good at reading people, and after spending more than an hour with Rai, I’d lost all doubts about what was going on between her and my dad. They both seemed so happy together, and that was enough for me.
Rai released me from the hug, but one of the buckles on my coat snagged her purse for a second, almost ripping it off her shoulders. Luckily, it didn’t, but we both apologized over the other – and then cutoff abruptly, laughing lightly as we shook our heads and left the restaurant.
The men sat in their cars, smiling at the two of us in relief.
Maybe they had expected the building to be on fire rather than the two of us laughing as we said our goodbyes.
I was simply glad to have one less stress off my back. My dad was happy, and Rai was pretty fun. Looking at Cain through the windshield as I approached, I remembered the horrible start to the dinner, and began to laugh.
I couldn’t wait to tell Claire about the interrogation Cain had received.
Chapter 30
We sat in Cain’s SUV outside my apartment, having rocked out to Journey the whole way home. Cain chuckled, shaking his head as he turned to look at me.
“If a guy ever deserved to get some after meeting a girlfriend’s parents, the time is fucking nigh,” he said in mock seriousness.
I punched him in the arm, satisfied by his grunt. “Nice try. But we’re not – and never will be – boyfriend and girlfriend.”
He rubbed his arm dramatically, leaning his head back into his headrest. “I’ll take some pity love if it’s on the menu,” he chuckled, closing his eyes.
I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help smiling. He had taken a beating tonight. Who would have thought so many awkward questions could arise that pertained to his real origin story?
I leaned in and gave him a firm kiss on the cheek, startling the living hell out of him.
I pulled back, smiling satisfactorily at the stunned look on his face. It slowly turned to hope.
I held up my palm. “That’s the extent of my pity. You earned it.”
He exhaled as his momentary hopes and dreams died. He set his hands on the steering wheel, resigned to a night of loneliness. Then he began to laugh. Great big bellows.
And as if it were contagious, soon we were both giggling uncontrollably.
“That couldn’t have gone any worse if you had set it up!” he roared, pounding the steering wheel as tears leaked from his eyes. I couldn’t help it. I laughed harder.
“Fucking ribs!” I hooted.
“And Garden salads!” he shouted back.
It was a long time before he escorted me back up to my apartment, the both of us still giggling as Claire opened the door with a suspicious scowl.
“I’m not leaving,” she said, folding her arms.
“I am,” Cain said, giving me a quick goodnight hug.
Claire watched him suspiciously as I took a step through the door. I had time to see her sleepy eyes shoot wide before I felt a hard slap on my ass.
When I rounded on Cain to punch him in the mouth, all I saw was him hauling ass down the hallway, roaring with laughter. “I earned that, Callie Penrose!” he cackled.
I felt myself laughing along with him, shaking my head.
Claire studied me from head to toe. “Right, missy. Off to bed with you.”
“Yes, mother,” I said, rolling my eyes as I shuffled past her. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and threw on a long tee before crawling under the covers.
And that’s where he found me…
Chapter 31
I stood in a vast space of polished marble floors, while thick matching pillars all around me climbed high to support an unseen ceiling. Veins of obsidian and silver streaked the white marble, like faint flickers of lightning. Silver sconces lined the walls, flickering with soothing flames, turning much of the marble into faint mirrors.
I tried to remember how I had gotten here, but my thoughts were hazy and drifting, as if all that mattered was this singular moment. I shook my head, abandoning the attempt to think, realizing the strain was only making my head ache.
I approached an expansive balcony, stopping before a waist-high wall to study the vast, open sky. Gray clouds hung thick enough for me to almost feel like I could reach out and touch them. Where am I? The thought drifted up from my mind like a bubble from the bottom of a pond.
Then it was forgotten and the slow ache returned as I tried to recall… I shook my head again.
I stared over the balcony and sucked in a breath, suddenly gripping the marble wall in panic. The marble crunched under my fingers, rubble spilling at my feet. I didn’t look down. Just out.
Far, far below was a strange, strange world.
A forest of glowing pink trees flickered with violet flames. Violet embers and sparks erupted into the air as several of the trees crumbled, crashing to the earth. I heard wails of agony and despair, but not from any specific voice. More like… from the trees themselves. Because I saw no one in the flames, just the trees.
A small cloud of sparkling silver mist zipped up to the violet flames, hovered for a moment, and then drifted around it before disappearing behind a rise in the rolling hills beyond the burning forest.
In the distance was the silhouette of a tall, foreboding castle shrouded in sinister fog – harsh spires, keeps, and towers rose above the fog, stabbing at the sky like a fist of thorns.
I saw armies of… creatures marching in the distance, looking like nothing more than black smears of charcoal through the fog, but I heard the distant sound of drums signaling the marching beat. Then I saw two more when I looked a different direction. Then more. And more.
All making their way towards the shrouded castle.
I spun at a sudden sound behind me but didn’t immediately see anything in the pillars – which were dim in comparison to the view at the balcony. I walked deeper into the maze of columns, alert for the sound that had startled me.
Suddenly, I was standing before a wide circular depression in the floor, the infinite world of columns behind me. A curving arc of three steps led down into what resembled a royal suite. A wall of uncut diamond bisected the circle, stretching infinitely up and out, before and behind me.
A massive bed of silver and gold backed up against the glittering wall, which I realized was dripping with water like a spring. The entire wall.
Two fireplaces crackled on opposite sides of the bed, one burning with white fire and the other with black. It all felt… natural.
Then I saw him.
A masked figure stood directly opposite me, staring at me, with the suite between us. His skin was the same uncut diamond as the wall behind the bed, making him look like a living statue. The black and white flames from the fireplaces reflected off his skin, glittering. Vast skeletal wings rose over his shoulders – no membrane between the spines.
An image flickered into view, and he was suddenly holding an entirely black spear at his side – even the unique sword-axe hybrid blade at the tip was black – with a blazing red orb set in the center of the blade. The spear flickered again, vanishing, and revealed two sets of clawed hands hanging at his sides. He didn’t appear to notice the change.
Something about that spear… My head began to ache again so I stopped.
His eyes met mine, and I shivered. They flickered with silver and white fire. I couldn’t make out the details of his face, so I took a cautious step down the stairs, closer to him and
the suite. Then another.
Like a mirror image, he advanced a step. Then another.
When I stopped, so did he.
As I took another step, finally standing in the bowl, so did he. I finally got a good look at his face and felt a sharp intake of breath escape my lips, my head aching in warning. His mask was majestic and horrifying – a man’s harsh features carved into the uncut diamond.
Something about him… That mask… My thoughts felt hazy, fleeting, as if it was taking all my strength to simply exist and observe the moment. I lifted a hand, even though I wasn’t close enough to reach him.
He mirrored my motion, and I somehow knew he was just as confused as myself. Or was this literally a reflection of some sort? Some inner monster inside me? Me seeing a version of myself.
I shivered at that, taking another step closer.
So did he.
I frowned, glancing down at some obstruction tangling around my ankles, and saw I was wearing a long white toga that left one shoulder bare. I also wore stained cloth wrapped around my wrists and forearms, filthy compared to the opulent white toga. I was surprised to see my hand gripping a crackling white spear with two bands of shifting black rings on the haft, breaking it into thirds. I gasped, but my fingers didn’t release the weapon, as a thought struggled to slip through, searing my mind, no longer giving me a faint warning ache. I pressed against the pain, fighting… whatever it was, allowing the thought to finally break free as I withstood the growing ache.
The Spear of Longinus – the spear that had pierced Jesus’ side as he hung on the Cross. I’d also heard it called the Spear of Destiny, and I’d only consciously held it in another vision where I’d confronted a demon named Amira. I’d unknowingly forged the three broken pieces back together during a fight with another demon but had never held the re-forged weapon in the real world. Just in these visions.
“Who are you?” I asked in a cautious whisper, glancing back up at the man as I pressed against the presence in my mind harder, gritting my teeth.
The hold on my mind shattered at the spoken question, and a flood of thoughts rolled over me, drowning out the presence that had been blocking me. I was in a strange vision of sorts. Or a dream.
The man gasped, reaching up to his face to tear off the mask. He flung it to the bed with a violent gesture, and he abruptly changed. A muscularly-sculpted man in a kilt of braided white and silver leather strips stood before me, his now jaw-length hair brushing his chin as he stared at me in disbelief.
“Callie…” he whispered, but it sounded like a question. “What are you doing here?”
Nate Temple.
And he was suddenly sprinting at me as if to save me, the marble floor crunching under his pounding feet like thin ice as he held out his hands, a desperate look of pain on his face.
He froze in mid-step, and even the flames in the fireplace halted. As if I was now staring at a room-sized snapshot of what I had just lived. Like a framed picture, what appeared to be a wall of glass rested over the still image of Nate reaching out a hand to save me, only a few feet away.
And in the glass, I could make out a faint reflection of myself superimposed on the scene.
My face was dirtied, smudged, and sported several cuts.
But the most startling aspect was the thick, white bandage covering my eyes, wrapped entirely around my head. Beneath the bandage, liquid silver trailed down my dirty cheeks, gently dripping off my chin to fall to the marble floor, like I was crying silver tears.
I gasped, reaching up to my face, wondering if it was an illusion, but my fingertips touched the bandage and recoiled. It was real. My eyes were completely covered. But… how was I seeing anything with a bandage over my eyes?
As I thought that, the room around me flashed silver, like a filter had been thrown over my eyes, turning everything into chrome lines like I was seeing it all in sonar. Then it snapped back to normal – or what passed for normal in this… place.
A dream?
A vision?
I reached out to touch Nate’s outstretched hand on the other side of the glass, and it shattered, crashing to the floor in a pile of shards. Then the shards were gone, and the room as it had been moments ago stood before me – like I was reliving the moment.
Nate stared at me from across the suite wearing his Horseman Mask again.
No wonder we hadn’t recognized each other.
As if in replay, he slowly shook his head. Had he experienced the strange reflection as well? Was this real? Or some twisted dream? I’d had strange experiences like this before, but nothing so specific, and never with a person I knew.
Nate tore off his mask again and was suddenly naked other than his white and silver skirt. He somehow pulled it off quite well, and I found my eyes devouring the curves of his upper body. Taking his cue, I reached up to my blindfold and tore it off, letting it flutter to the ground beside me. Nothing changed in my perception of the room, but the air on my cheeks was noticeable, like cold air on wet skin. I reached up, touching the dampness, and when I pulled my fingers away, I saw they were wet with the silver tears.
I also realized that I wore a similar outfit to Nate, except mine was a flowing white, sheer silk skirt, where his was the white and silver strips of leather.
Lucky for him, my chest was also bare, and he took his time acknowledging this facet of the dream – but not any longer than the amount of time I had spent admiring his own bare chest. He didn’t leer, but he devoured me with his eyes, and I relished in it.
Then we were hesitantly walking towards each other, as if both fearing the scene was about to freeze again. I arched my back defiantly, not truly understanding why, and I noticed that his jaw was clenched, his hands fisted at his sides.
Like two warriors approaching from opposite sides of a battle.
I was panting in both anticipation and frustration as we reached each other, fearing the vision was about to shatter like glass again the moment we touched, my despair growing with each step.
And I suddenly realized why we had both approached each other like enemies. Not against each other, but against whatever was trying to keep us apart.
The vision didn’t shatter this time, but we didn’t relax either. We stood inches apart, the only point of contact was the burning skin of his chest barely grazing the tips of my breasts, which felt suddenly electrified as we both panted, the friction quite literally tearing at my soul and body with a shared desperate need.
He shuddered, slowly lifting his hands to my cheeks. He looked so tired. Exhausted. Resolved.
I lifted my hands to his chest, confirming that he was, in fact, real, and not an image.
I left silver handprints on his body, marking my territory as I stared into his green eyes, which roared like fire in this room of only black, white, and silver.
He gripped my face and leaned closer, his breath like a gentle breeze of anise, or absinthe.
Blue fireflies erupted behind his head, bathing him in a cold glow, showering our hesitant embrace with magical light. Then I noticed green fireflies from behind me mingling with the blue as the swarm began to whirl around us in a gentle tornado. I could feel his racing pulse both through my fingers on his chest and his fingers on my cheeks. We held each other tightly, desperately, squeezing just a hair past comfort and gentleness.
A whisper of violence between us?
Or was it territorial?
Were we claiming each other or challenging each other?
The fireflies whirled faster and faster, our hair whipping in the steadily increasing vortex of power caused by their passing.
“What is this?” I whispered, digging my fingers tighter into his chest as my lips trembled.
His fingers were slick with the silvery tears dripping from my eyes, but he continued to cup my cheek bones and neck possessively, holding me in the palms of his hands while I clutched at his heart and soul.
“A tale of two cities…” he whispered back, smiling harshly as he glanced over my s
houlder, indicating the world I had seen from the balcony.
Before I could respond, fire suddenly rolled over us, immolating the entire world in green and blue flame.
Silver and gold flame.
White and black flame.
Chapter 32
I woke up with a gasp, eyes wide and my body drenched in sweat. Claire snored softly beside me, curled up on half of the bed, oblivious to my sudden movement. She slept like the dead before she was a shifter, but now was even worse.
I rushed to the bathroom, frantically staring into the mirror. My eyes were fine. No marks on my face from Nate’s grip. No silver tears on my cheeks.
But my body tingled with electric fire, every brush of fabric like sandpaper on my inflamed skin. Especially my lady bits.
I took a very cold shower, sitting on the floor, rocking back and forth as I tried to steady my breathing, to take stock of everything I could remember about the odd dream, not wanting to forget a single moment for multiple reasons.
Was someone messing with me? It had been like a vision. But those had only ever happened to me when I confronted an Angel or Demon, where I would find myself suddenly transported to a different plane of existence.
Had it been a warning of some kind? Was Nate in danger? Was he still off in Fae? I’d call him later, not to tell him about the dream – thank you very much – but to see if anything important had happened to him lately.
With his level of arrogance, I wasn’t about to admit to a dream like that. It would make me look desperate, weak. Like some floozy. He had a big enough head already.
With absolutely no chance of falling back asleep, I threw on some workout clothes, and while Claire continued snoring in my bed, I made a Gateway to a place I wasn’t welcome.
I stepped into the familiar training room where I had spent much of my formative years, learning the art of blades, blood, and magic.
Church.
Where I had trained to become a reluctant Shepherd for the Vatican. It had been the only way Roland would agree to teach me about my magic. Of course, as a child I had thought it the coolest thing ever – learning how to use weapons and self-defense like I was the next Karate Kid. I hadn’t known about the Shepherd thing. I had known about monsters, unfortunately, and that I had magic, but I hadn’t known how to use it.
Angel's Roar: Feathers and Fire Book 4 Page 15