Forevermore

by Kristen Callihan

  “Once, when Lena shifted into a swarm of spiders,”—at that he shivered—“there was a hint of something in the air. Jackal and brimstone.”

  “How could she hide that scent?”

  “Some beings can hide many things if they’ve a mind to do it.” Ian touched her arm again. “I know not who your sire was, but think on it, lass. My sense of smell does not lie. You have both Damnation and Judgment in your flesh and blood.”

  Dread filled her, even as Ian finished, his words heavy as her heart. “Given that this Damnation demon is hunting you, I’d say there’s a good chance he thinks you’re one of his own.”

  “But that doesn’t make any sense,” she said. “For if Damnation is the scent of my mother, then the Judgment you sense in me would be that of my father.”

  Ian frowned. He made to speak but Layla was already turning, heading back to her rooms. She needed Sin.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Layla had gathered up her skirts to climb back up the stairs when the front door opened. The wind whistled into the house, bringing with it the scent of Augustus, of rain and another scent: that of brimstone.

  She halted and caught Ian’s eye. He appeared shocked as well, and they both gaped at each other for a tense moment, then Ian’s mouth filled with fangs. With a growl, he spun round and sprinted down the stairs. Layla followed, her heart in her mouth.

  The front hall was a long, cavernous space laid out with black marble. Ian was charging across it, headed for a delicate-looking woman with midnight hair and eyes. The woman did not flinch in the face of a snarling, spitting mad lycan, whose jaw had begun to lengthen into a snout.

  At her side was a pretty, well-dressed woman with brown hair, who held an arm around a pale and slumped Augustus.

  A tall man with enormously broad shoulders stepped in front of Ian, putting his massive hand upon the lycan king’s chest to stop him. “Hold, Ian. I’ve made my peace with her.”

  Ian pushed up against the man’s chest, but his wild glare went past him to the woman’s. “I’ve a few words of my own, mo mhac.”

  Layla had spent enough time in Ireland to know a bit of Gaelic. Ian had called him his son, though the big man with light brown hair and blunt features had little physical resemblance to Ian.

  And then she remembered: Ian had been hunting Lena because she’d done a great wrong to his adopted son, Jack Talent. Layla’s gaze flew to the woman with black eyes and found her staring back, her expression at once rapt and fearful.

  Lena. This was her mother. A hum went through her body as if she were a tuning fork just struck. At the same moment, Ian lunged around Jack, ready to pounce upon Lena’s small frame.

  But as if he’d been lifted by an invisible hand, Ian flew back and was pinned to the wall. The man all but howled his fury, his body growing more lupine as he struggled, unable to free himself.

  The commotion brought everyone in the house to the hall. Sin was suddenly by Layla’s side, his hand a welcome warmth at the small of her back. But then he strode forward. “Augustus.” He glanced at Ian. “Calm yourself. Jack brought her here. Can you not see?”

  Daisy ran into the fray, fearlessly touching Ian’s lengthened cheek. “Ian, my lovely pest, take a breath.”

  The man obeyed, and he seemed to sag, his shape returning to that of his human self. “All right. I’m calm.” It was a growl of annoyance. “Now kindly release me.” He glared at Augustus, who cleared his throat.

  “I’m not holding you. I haven’t the ability to do so.”

  Ian’s glare slashed to Lena. “Afraid I’ll still do you harm, witch?”

  Lena had yet to look away from Layla, but she did so now as if with reluctance. “Hardly.” Her voice was black ice over stone.

  At Layla’s side, Miranda and Archer and Poppy and Winston gathered.

  “I do love reunions,” Archer murmured, as he leaned heavily on his silver-topped cane. “Most especially when Ian is in a snit.”

  Winston appeared pale, making the red slashing scars that covered half his face stand out more. “Nothing quite like a lycan in a temper.” But he frowned. “If Augustus is not holding him, who is?”

  Poppy left them and strode towards Augustus. “Father, you are unwell.”

  “A bit of an understatement, my dear.” He accepted her arm with his free hand, clenching it tight. “St. John, release the man.”

  Sin shook his head. “It isn’t me.”

  Slowly, Augustus’s red-rimmed gaze traveled to Layla. She felt it like a soft thud against her heart. He’d never looked at her in such a manner, as if she were something utterly new, precious, and wondrous. “Layla,” he said, “let him go.”

  She sucked in a breath, aware of all eyes upon her. Aware that the small woman who emanated enormous blasts of power was staring at her in much the same manner as Augustus.

  Had she been holding Ian back? She thought of how she’d wanted to stop him. It had been an instinctual desire. Another breath and she thought about him falling free of the wall.

  Ian tumbled forward, catching himself in an instant. “Bleeding hell,” he said with a faint laugh in her direction. “I had no idea you were that powerful, lass.”

  “Neither did I.” But she did not address him. She addressed her parent. For she knew then, without doubt, that when Ian had scented rain upon her, he’d been scenting her father, Augustus. “Did you know?” she asked him now.

  Augustus swallowed convulsively. “No. Not until now.” He bit off whatever else he wanted to say, and she glanced at her mother. Gods, this was her mother.

  “You kept the knowledge from him.”

  The woman blinked. She was utterly beautiful in a cold and still sort of way. Did she feel anything? Any remorse? Any love for the daughter she’d discarded?

  When Lena spoke, it was a near whisper. “I’ve done many wrongs, as you can see.”

  Sin stepped towards Layla, his eyes creased with worry. “Let us go to the library. We can talk.”

  Daisy took Ian’s arm and then gave a cheery smile. “Right, then, the rest of you lot, breakfast in the dining room. Chip chop.”

  Poppy gave her a sidelong look. “I do love how you believe we’ll follow your orders, sister.” Yet she moved towards the dining room without hesitation.

  And Layla was left alone in the hall with Sin and her parents.

  I’d rather be eating breakfast. Layla stuffed that thought down and sat across from her parents. Augustus slumped against the bolsters of the blue velvet couch, his posture so unlike him, he almost appeared a stranger to her. In a way he was—the man she’d always believed to be her guardian, now her father.

  Her fingers were cold, and as she tucked her hands beneath her thighs, her gaze moved with great reluctance to Lena. Emotions rocked through her, all of them strong and disparate: love, hate, happiness, sorrow, anger, yearning. She didn’t know what to think or to feel.

  Sin leaned a hip against the side of her chair, and his hand settled on her nape. Grounding her. He too knew what it meant to be without family, to have them suddenly appear back in his life. How had he handled meeting Miranda and Archer when they’d arrived in Ireland to tell him he was not who he thought?

  He gave her neck a squeeze, and she realized he’d read her conflicting emotions quite well.

  “Well, then,” she got out. “This is quite awkward.”

  The fingers at her nape began to massage her locked muscles.

  Augustus gave her a wan smile. “Quite. May I present you to, Lena, your—”

  “Mother,” Layla finished for him, getting a dark pinch of satisfaction in seeing the woman twitch when she said it.

  Lena might have been carved from pure marble but she blinked, a slow sweep of lashes. “I went to see you sing. In Vienna.”

  Layla did not know whether this pleased or angered her. A little bit of both, really. Or a lot. “I’ve lost my voice.”

  She did not know why she said it; this woman wouldn’t be her sounding stone. But Len
a’s expression softened a bit—the difference between marble and sandstone.

  “It will come back.”

  Layla flinched as if struck. “How can you say?”

  “Because it happened to me.”

  Augustus straightened. “You sing?”

  Her thoughts exactly.

  Lena shrugged one thin shoulder. “Not as beautifully as Layla but I am proficient.” A strange smile curled her rosebud lips. “Strange gift for Damnation but all of us have it, with varying degrees of talent.” Her dark gaze pinned Layla’s. “Do you know what your name means?”

  “I hadn’t thought on it that deeply,” Layla admitted.

  “Layla is Arabic for night. I knew when you were born that you had the gift of song. I saw it in your soul. Thus you were Layla Starling, my little night songbird.”

  “Yes,” breathed Sin, his expression fond.

  Layla realized he’d known that all along, and that, in hearing Lena’s explanation, he’d softened towards the woman.

  Lena nodded, then told them of how she’d made a bargain with Apep, Sin’s sire, and tricked Augustus into laying with her. Layla was appalled but said not a word, her gaze flicking between Augustus and Lena. Her father appeared grim but not particularly angry.

  He glanced at her. How could I be? Layla jumped at the sound of Augustus’s voice in her head. Sin had warned her of this talent, but it was the first time Augustus had utilized it with her. When it gave me you? My pride and joy, my daughter.

  Layla blinked rapidly, her eyes watering. I have always thought of you as a father. Always loved you as one.

  Emotion flared bright in his eyes. She felt his love for her like a warm hug around her heart.

  “There is something neither of you know,” Lena said, cutting the moment short.

  “Lena,” Augustus murmured, exasperation and a wry fondness tinging his tone.

  He loved this woman, Layla realized.

  Yes. Since the beginning.

  She bit back a smile.

  Lena looked at them as if she knew perfectly well they were silently conversing. “When I made my bargain with Apep, it was under the agreement that I would not get anything out of it other than . . .” Her pale cheeks flushed, a sight that seemed somehow wrong on her stoic face. “Other than being with Augustus.”

  “Oh, hell,” Augustus said then.

  “Yes,” Lena said as if he’d made perfect sense. “I did not expect to get with child. But when I did, I was forced to give you up. I was not allowed to keep you, and if I had tried, Apep would have claimed you.”

  Layla sucked in a painful breath. “So you gave me to my father.”

  “Yes.” Lena blinked again. “I could not risk telling him the truth. I knew he’d try to go after Apep. It would not work, however. The contract was binding. I was only set free when Winston and Poppy Lane, with the help of Jack Talent, destroyed him.”

  At her side Sin stirred, his voice coming out rough. “So then, had you not told Apep of my existence, Layla would not have been born.”

  “That is one way to look at it, St. John.” Lena’s lips pursed. “You’ve the look of your aunt, a great sorceress who was gone long before you were born. As does your sister. But you’ve Apep’s hair, those crimson-tipped locks.”

  “Jolly good,” Sin muttered, then his grip on Layla’s neck turned soft. “Thank you, Lena, for setting into motion the acts that would bring my soul’s mate into existence.”

  Lena reared back as if she did not know what to do with his praise, but Layla reached up and squeezed his hand.

  “My boy,” Lena said, “you are born of Apep, one of the original Damnation, and made into Judgment by Augustus, the original Judgment. Not only are you viewed as an abomination as well, but a traitor to your kind.”

  Augustus spoke up. “Enoch, which is the true name of the demon who took my wing, is the natural-born son of Cain, the first and strongest Damnation. In his eyes, Layla might be converted to her rightful place by his side, but St. John must be destroyed.”

  “What makes me the lucky girl who gets to be converted?” Layla’s heart pounded as she spoke. A certain dark rage was swarming in her belly. No one would hurt Sin. Not as long as she drew breath.

  “Enoch is the last living male Damnation. As part Judgment, you are still extremely powerful, and thus considered a good candidate for breeding.”

  Sin shot up from the chair, his skin clear, wings snapping outward. “I will end him. Today.”

  “He is stronger than you, young one,” Lena said without emotion. “He nearly bested both Augustus and me. And while your mentor might be weakened, to take us both on is no small feat.”

  Sin did not flinch. “I know all this. It doesn’t matter. If I die trying, I will have, at the very least, tried.”

  Layla had a good lot to say about Sin dying for her honor but she was not able to voice them, for a cry in the hall had them all turning.

  “That was Miranda,” Sin said.

  They found her crouched next to Archer, who lay sprawled upon the black marble, his skin white and shining with sweat.

  “I am all right,” he told them.

  “No,” said Lena, “you are at death’s door.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Augustus

  He could feel the pull, that insistent tug on his soul that demanded he leave this plane of existence and return to the world where he had been born. He did not fear fading. His heart hurt, however, for those he would leave behind. Layla, his child. He’d loved her from the moment he’d laid eyes upon her. And though he’d only now known she was his flesh and blood, he’d always been a father to her, as much as he was able.

  He would miss Poppy, whom he had both mentored and worked with as an equal. He would not get to see her child grow to manhood, or hear her no-nonsense tones, telling him he was wrong about one thing or another.

  It hurt to think about those he’d leave behind. But he could not linger forever. His time was rapidly dwindling, and there was one thing he would do before it ended.

  “Lena,” he called, knowing she was in the other room, sitting with Layla. They both entered. And though their coloring was different, when they stood side by side, he could see the similarities in them. The same doe-shaped eyes, the same fine but short nose and oval face.

  Layla had his lips, he realized with a jolt. Womanly on her, but the same curve to the upper lip and pout on the bottom. Her coloring was lighter than his as well, but he remembered that, as a younger lad, his hair had been mahogany, not black. Just like hers.

  He smiled at them. “Such a pretty picture, my lovely ladies.”

  Lena pursed her lips. “Sentimentality makes me ill, and you well know it.”

  “Perhaps that’s why I indulge in it,” he teased. “To see you riled up.”

  Layla inclined her head towards Lena. “He once told me that his ability to aggravate others was part of his charm.”

  Lena did not take her eyes from him. “Daughter, when a man has to tell you what makes him charming, he is selling himself on the cheap.” She flashed a quick fang at him when he laughed. “However, in this case, I shall have to agree.”

  “I regret nothing.” A wave of lethargy hit him, and he leaned against the pillows. “I need you to bring Archer and Miranda to me.”

  Lena’s expression grew sharp. “Have you the strength?”

  It was not a question of what he had, but what needed to be done. If he did not act, a man would die, a heart would be broken, and he found he could no longer bear to witness those things. In truth, this was the only thing he had the strength left to give. He could not even help his child fight Enoch.

  Layla glanced between them. “What’s this about?”

  “I’ve enough,” he said to Lena. “However, it will be gone when it’s done. Are you ready?”

  He did not want to ask it, but she needed to know it was her last chance.

  Lena did not hesitate. “I will not leave your side.”


  Layla huffed. “Anyone care to enlighten me?”

  “I am going to perform my last act as Judgment,” he said to her. “Find Sin and bring him here as well.” Augustus closed his eyes to rest for a moment. “And be quick about it, the both of you.”

  They did as bided. Sin arrived first.

  “Help me into that chair,” he told the lad.

  Grimly, Sin took his arm and guided him into the chair. “What’s all this about?”

  “Do not ask me questions you know the answer to.” Augustus settled into the chair with a sigh. So very tired. He glanced at Sin, who now crouched next to him. “When I go, you will be final Judgment.”

  Sin blinked in shock.

  “There is no one else. And your heart and soul are pure, St. John. More than you believe them to be. I’ve told you this before.”

  Sin cleared his throat, his eyes going glassy. “So you have. But I fear I will fail you.”

  “Will you try your best?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then you will not fail.”

  They were interrupted by the arrival of Archer, stubbornly limping along, though he let Miranda and Layla hold on to his arms and provide some support. Lena trailed behind.

  Archer’s gaze was sharp on Augustus, his weakened body jerking as Miranda helped him into the unoccupied armchair by the fire.

  “It bothers you to see me thusly,” Augustus said. He was too far gone to hold his human appearance any longer and was fully transformed to Judgment, his wing laying limp at his side. When he faded and went to There, his lost wing would be restored, as would his strength. One thing to look forward to.

  “I do not mean to be rude,” Archer said through labored breathes. “But it is true. I see you and remember my curse, the years of isolation and fear that I lived in it.”

  “And yet it was never a curse.”

  “It was for me.”

  “Because you were ignorant of what you were and did not have one to teach you how to use it.”

  Archer shrugged. “True.”

  At his side, Miranda held him up. “Do not forget that the witch who gave him the elixir made it harder to accept Archer’s state as anything other than evil.”