Jericho Aquinas
Find him.
He knows how to save you.
I choked back a sob at the words. She must’ve written it before I’d made a deal with the devil.
We fates are far-seeing, but we also dwell in human bodies with all of their limitations. We are subjective, and we make mistakes.
She’d made a mistake.
I fell back on my haunches and rubbed my eyes. Defeat had a bitter, metallic taste.
My connection with Andre thrummed, building on itself as I felt him move towards his room.
I hurriedly wiped my eyes and stashed away Cecilia’s note just as the door opened. Andre entered, closing the door behind him. “We have much to discuss, don’t we, soulmate?”
I swallowed from where I knelt on the floor.
Andre moved over to the bed and sat on the edge of it. “I’ve bought us some time with the Politia. They will not attack for a while longer.”
I nodded, knowing that wasn’t really what he wanted to talk about.
Andre leaned a forearm on his thighs and ran his other hand through his hair. When he looked up at me, resolve colored his face. “What deal did you make with the devil?”
I hadn’t thought about what to tell him. My mouth opened, ready to tell him the truth. I bit back my response before I voiced it. How would he react if I told him what I’d promised?
“A kiss,” I said in a rush.
I almost groaned as soon as the lie spilled out. A kiss? That was the best I could come up with?
“He asked for a kiss in return for not harming the people I loved,” I continued. “He … was angry that we’d …”
“Made love?” Andre finished for me. His face went soft, like it had been doing every time the subject crossed his mind.
I nodded and bit the inside of my cheek, my body and my conscience feeling sick at the falsehood.
“He asked for a kiss?”
I nodded, averting my eyes.
Andre stood suddenly, his presence filling the room. “You’re lying. I can see it, I can smell it.” A muscle ticked in Andre’s jaw. “There should be no lies between us, no secrets, soulmate. I’d die for you. I deserve the truth.”
Now I stood, my fear morphing into anger. “No lies? No secrets? You are seven centuries old! You have more of them than the desert has sand. I don’t demand you tell me yours—not the names of all the women before me, not the number of people you’ve killed, nor your plans for the coven. Give me mine.”
Andre crossed the distance between us and clutched my jaw. “I can’t, my little mate. I can’t.” Anguish slipped into his voice. “Not when your body wastes away and the devil cleaves to you like a second shadow. If I am to save you, all must be known.” He searched my eyes, as if they would give up my secrets.
Before I had a chance to respond, someone rapped on the door, saving me.
“Come in—” “Give us a moment—” we said in unison.
Whoever stood outside our door lingered, uncertain which voice to listen to.
I pushed past Andre and opened the door, eager for the excuse to leave my soulmate and his questions.
“A seer arrived looking for Miss Fiori,” the servant said to Andre, ignoring me completely.
Andre growled, running a hand over his jaw. He pointed at me. “Soulmate, this conversation is not over.” I shivered at the determined note in his voice. He would wheedle the truth out of me; it was only a matter of time.
“Where is this seer?” Andre asked.
“We detained her in the tearoom.” Only a vampire would have a room as frivolous and outdated as a tearoom. They didn’t even drink the stuff.
I followed the servant to the room, ignoring the brooding vampire king that strode behind me. He was full of pent up frustration. I could feel it like a hot breath on my back.
The man stopped in front of one of many closed doors that lined the halls of Bishopcourt, and with a final glance at Andre and me, he opened the door.
I’d been so distracted by my confrontation with Andre that I hadn’t thought about this visitor—that she’d been detained. But when the door swung open and revealed a red-eyed Leanne, I quickly forgot my own issues.
Leanne stumbled towards me. “Nona,” she said. She fell into my arms and I held her close as she wept, her own tears coaxing mine back to the surface.
I didn’t ask her how she knew.
Behind me I heard Andre whisper to the servant. “She is a friend of my soulmate. Leave them here, and tell the servants that no one is to bother them.” Then the door closed behind us.
Even amidst our fight, my heart swelled for that man. He only ever had my best interest at heart. Even if his delivery could suck balls.
I ran my hand over Leanne’s hair. She had worked closely with Cecilia only months ago, and for all I knew, they still kept in touch.
I held her for a long time, until her cries became quiet whimpers, and then sniffles.
“It’s my fault. He killed her because of me,” I whispered into her ear as we held each other.
I bit my lip after I spoke. I hadn’t meant to confess this. It felt selfish to draw attention to myself in the wake of someone else’s death, but guilt was riding me hard.
She shook her head, pulling back and wiping her tears away. “No, Gabrielle, it’s not. He killed her—not you.”
Leanne placed a hand on my shoulder, then it was her turn to hug me. We’d both witnessed the devil’s horrors. She knew better than most how perverse and frightening he was.
I pulled away. “Can I ask you a strange question?”
“Shoot.”
“Have you ever heard of Jericho Aquinas?”
She started at the name.
“You have.” I so needed to read up on important people of the supernatural world. I was clearly lagging behind.
“What do you want to know about him?” Leanne asked.
“Cecilia had asked me to find him.”
She cocked her head. “Why?”
“She thought he might be able to save me.” Before I bartered away my life, that was.
Leanne’s eyes brightened, bringing me back to the present.
“He owns a shop in Douglas—Jericho’s Emporium,” she said. “It’s less than an hour’s drive from here. But …” She bit the cuticle near her thumb, “before you visit him, there’s something you should know.”
I hadn’t planned on seeking him out, but I didn’t bother correcting Leanne. “And what’s that?”
“Jericho Aquinas is not of this world.”
Chapter 23
We hung out in that tearoom for another hour before Leanne had to go. I led her out to the car someone had called for her.
“You sure you’re going to be okay?” I asked, eyeing the vehicle and the driver. She and Oliver had given up so much on my behalf. Each one of these excursions put her more at risk for being discovered. If authorities knew my friends were helping me, the anti-Christ—cringe—there was no telling what kind of punishment they’d receive.
But it would be bad.
Leanne gave me a watery smile. “I think I cried out the worst of my emotions.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Though the reminder of Cecilia had my eyes stinging all over again.
She blew out a breath, the smile drooping. “I know. And I wasn’t going to tell you this, but the Politia already talked to me and Oliver.”
That drew me up short. “What?” I stiffened. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Leanne leaned against the car. “Because you already have enough to worry about, and it wasn’t a big deal.”
“How is that not a big deal?” And how had Oliver not brought up the subject? His lips were looser than his morals—well, most of the time, anyway.
“They talked to me and Oliver shortly after we returned. Oliver fed them some story about how we’ve been trying to convince you to turn yourself in. So that’s our official story.”
I shoved my hands into
my pockets, grimacing when my hand brushed against a crusted patch of dried blood on my pants. “And they bought that?”
“They think you’re the embodiment of evil. They assumed we were good supernatural folk that got hoodwinked by you. It wasn’t that difficult to convince them.”
I pulled a hand from my pocket to rub my eyes. “So even the seer’s shroud—?”
“We explained it all away,” Leanne said. “I could stand here all night telling you everything we said, but the point is, they believed us, Gabrielle. They believed us.”
Leanne opened the door to the back of the car and tossed her purse inside. “Oliver and I have been encouraged to continue persuading you, so these visits won’t get us into trouble. You really don’t need to be worrying about us.”
I nodded, pressing my lips together. I couldn’t help it. I’d bartered my soul for their lives.
“I’ll see you soon,” she said, and then she stepped into the car.
I stood outside a long time after Leanne’s vehicle drove off, staring into the distance, wishing I could drive off into the night just like she had.
Another car sat in front of Bishopcourt. Its driver leaned against it, smoking a cigarette.
Suddenly, my situation was overwhelming. Intolerable. Hiding here, waiting for death to find me. I glanced over my shoulder, well aware that Andre would have the hissy to end all hissies once he learned that I’d slipped away. And he’d know, thanks to our connection.
I decided I didn’t care. Time for me was running out.
Plus, I had an idea where I wanted to go.
Chapter 24
Jericho Aquinas was a messenger.
That’s what he called himself at least. He wouldn’t elaborate on whom he was a messenger for, but I could guess. The scent of divinity rolled off of him. Like some of the other big players in this game, Jericho was more than just the withered old man he’d have me believe. He moved too fluidly, especially for a man with stooped shoulders and twisted hands.
And, judging by the slight crinkle of his nose, he could smell the damnation wafting off of me.
I watched him press a clothbound book into the shelves of his emporium. I read the spine: The Extraordinarily Long Life of Comte de St. Germain, Vol. III (1706 – 1754).
“Vampire?” I asked¸ nodding to the book.
“‘Not all that glitters is gold.’”
Yay, another supernatural that spoke in riddles. Awesome.
“Aw, are you going Tolkien on me?” I asked, recognizing the quote.
Jericho peered at me though the thick lenses of his glasses. “I’m impressed you know the quote.”
“Okay, now you’re just trying to be offensive,” I said, folding my arms and leaning my hip against the bookshelf.
A mischievous smile stretched across his face. “Aye, I am, aren’t I? Apologies. And no, the Comte de St. Germain is not a vampire. What is it you’ve come to inquire about?”
Now that was the question. I hoped he could answer that for me, otherwise my little excursion through the town of Douglas to find this place would’ve all been for nothing.
“Nona sent me here.”
He glanced at me sharply. “She did now? How is that wily fate?”
My throat worked. “Dead.”
“Ah. I see,” he nodded. Noticing my face, he patted my shoulder. “Now now, it does you no use to grieve over immortal beings. She’ll be back soon enough. That’s the way of things with fates.”
I nodded, appreciating his words.
Jericho pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and cleaned his glasses. “I’ll be guessing that she wanted you to finally collect on your mother’s deal.”
My attention sharpened at his words. “My mother’s deal?”
The thought that Celeste might’ve stood here and talked to Jericho had my heart twisting.
“Aye. It’s not just fairies and devils that do deals.”
“You mean you bargain as well?” I caught another whiff of divinity; the idea of something pure striking deals with humans seemed outlandish.
“I am a messenger. I do not have the power to make deals, but from time to time I fulfill deals on behalf of Her. Sometimes the Woman herself allows trades to be made—”
Whoa, whoa, whoa. “We are talking about God right now, and not like Satan’s third cousin, twice removed that rules some other land I’d never heard of, right?” I asked.
God was a woman?
“We are.”
I rubbed my temple, pulling my thoughts back on track. “But She doesn’t make deals.”
“Oh, she doesn’t now?” Jericho said, mirth dancing in his eyes.
“No … ?” It came out unsure.
“Isn’t that what prayer is?” he asked.
“But that’s a request, not a bargain,” I argued.
“Ah—but the very act of praying is part of the deal. Faith and love have high currency in our world, and both go into prayer.”
He hobbled down the aisle, pushing his cart of books and knickknacks, coming to a stop in front of a display of lamps and adding a lantern to it.
“Undying light,” he said, nodding to the lantern as he set it on the table.
“So you mean to tell me praying actually works?” Why had I not gotten the memo sooner?
Jericho gave me a chastising look. “Of course it works,” he said as he pushed the cart. “Doesn’t mean every prayer is answered how the person intended. God does indeed move in mysterious ways.”
He stopped again and pushed the cart into an alcove that housed several music boxes and perfumes encased in crystal decanters.
He dusted off his hands. “Follow me,” he said, shuffling to the back of the building. I picked my way through the cluttered store, following him.
“So what are you saying?” I asked, picking up the conversation from where we left off. “That my mom prayed and God left the answer to her prayers here with you?”
Jericho made a noise at the back of his throat. “Your mother’s case was a little more complicated than that.” We walked up a narrow staircase. Here the dust was especially thick, and I waved my hand in front of me, coughing. My lungs heaved, unable to fully purge the cough.
“All the Hail Mary’s in the world wouldn’t save you. She knew that.”
“Wait. Me?” I’d been assuming that whatever deal Celeste had made had to do with her.
“Yes, you. You’d been marked since before birth. There’d be no stopping the wheels of a fate this strong from turning. Even Nona knew that, which is why she sent your mother here in the first place.”
“Nona sent her here?” I must’ve looked like I just found out Oliver had burned my wardrobe because Jericho quickly elaborated.
“Thick as thieves those two were. From what I hear, she and your mother were the best of friends. All I know was that Nona saw your mother’s fate unravel along with yours, and she came to me seeking divine intervention.”
“What?” This was all too much too quickly. Nona was once … young? And she’d been friends with my mother?
That picture of my mother at Cecilia’s house. The other girl had been her. Holy crap, my mother had been friends with a fate.
Jericho pulled a key ring out of his pocket and unlocked a door at the top of the stairs. He held the door open, and dazed, I stepped inside.
A wave of magic hit me, knocking the breath out of me, and I stumbled at the sensation.
Jericho chuckled. “It does that,” he said, following behind me.
We’d entered some sort of storage room, only this one was full of magical—and likely very valuable—objects. A strange gemstone reflected hues of light I wasn’t positive I’d ever seen before. The placard beneath it read, Alchemist’s Stone. A series of goblets took up one of the walls, some with descriptions, some without.
Jericho walked over to the far wall and pulled down a domed glass case caked in dust. He placed it on a side table and grabbed a rag, wiping it down.
Beneath the dust
, the glass case housed an iridescent feather. I stepped forward, eyes narrowed. On closer inspection I realized it wasn’t simply a feather, but a quill.
“In return for a series of tasks, your mother and Nona were given a celestial request quill to be bestowed upon you in a time of need.”
“A celestial request quill?” I was so going to need a definition for that one.
“It’s a pen that allows you to place an official request for the heavens to hear your case.”
“My … case?”
I glanced back at the quill and swallowed. I didn’t have a good track record with quills. I tended to break them.
“The terms of its use are that the Celestial Plane—heaven—must hear your complaint and rectify it as they deem fit.” He glanced down at it. “You can only use it once.”
I looked at the quill. Had my mother and Nona meant for me to use it to write into God about my current situation?
I reached for it, but Jericho pulled the item out of my reach.
“You’re not going to give it to me?” I eyed the case. I was not above grappling with an old, angelic being for the thing.
“Nona had her own conditions,” Jericho said, “and there was one she was particularly adamant about.”
My eyes flicked from the container to the man that held it. “What was it?”
“She said I was not to give it to you until after you married the devil.”
Chapter 25
After I married the devil.
The devil.
I shivered at the implications of that.
Jericho’s hand rested lightly on my upper back as he walked me out. He held open the front door for me.
It hadn’t struck me as strange that Cecilia never mentioned Jericho when I visited her. Not until now.
Because she hadn’t meant for me to find him until after I’d met with Decima and after I watched her die. She’d wanted me to know that help wouldn’t intervene in time to save my life.
But help might come later. After I died. It was the tiniest spark of hope in the darkness.
The Forsaken Page 20