“This little lady can totally kick your ass, mister.”
I pour the water into the back of the brewer and smile. “Yes, she can. I’m fully aware.” I set the pot back in place and press the “On” button. Then I grab her hand and pull her closer. “My gut has had several opportunities to become comfortable with that idea.”
She slides her palms up my chest. “I only punched you that once. And you’re lucky it was your gut; you were being a very large asshole.”
“But you’ve forgiven me.”
“Maybe.” She gives me a coy look and tilts her head like she’s leaving it open for discussion.
But before I start kissing her again, I need to check something. After what happened the other day, I can’t be too careful. “How’re you feeling?”
She sighs and pulls back a little. “I’m fine. Look.” She points at her face and opens her eyes wide. “No blood.”
“You don’t feel sick? No headache or anything?” I touch her temple gently.
She shakes her head. “Just from this conversation.”
“You know that I’m going to worry. That was terrifying.”
“I know.” Her features turn more somber. “But really, Aidan, I’m feeling totally normal. In fact, I feel better than ever.”
The idea should lift a weight off my shoulders, but instead it just raises more questions about why her energy poured into me and why the marks on her soul are blurry. When we go out today, I need to get a good look at her soul.
She continues, “I’m so much better, in fact, that I may want to finish that conversation we were having the day before yesterday.” She reaches out and slides her finger like a feather over my neck. “You know, the one with the kissing.” She rises onto her toes and touches her lips to my jaw. “And the touching.” Then she runs her hand down to my stomach, lower, and lower—
I bite back a breath and grab her wrist. Then move so I can see her eyes.
I let a heartbeat go by. We stare at each other, her face now serious. And I see it there, the same thing that’s inside of me. The need to connect. To finish what we started all those weeks ago. I don’t think I’ve seen that in her eyes before. I felt her want me when she touched me, but it was always like her mind was somewhere else. Like we weren’t really connecting anymore once we started getting closer to what she feared and all her dark memories crowded in.
We haven’t gotten close to the edge of that cliff again, not since the night in the hotel, just before my Awakening. I don’t think my body could’ve handled it if we had, anyway.
I rub my thumb across her wrist, feeling the thin bump of her scar, and I dare the question. “What’s changed?”
Her brow pinches. “Nothing.”
But something has. And I’m willing to bet it has to do with her bleeding eyes and the way her energy merged with mine. But does it really matter? Maybe I need to stop thinking so damn much.
I lean in and touch my lips to hers, letting myself sink into her for a second, sliding my hand up her arm and across her shoulder, to the nape of her neck. Her skin is soft under my fingertips, the feel of it making me want to touch her more. And the way she responds to my touch nearly makes me forget to stay on the safe side of the line.
A squeak comes from the hall and I pull back, my head full of how much I want her.
When I turn, there’s a flash of red hair and I spot Rebecca running back up the stairs.
FIFTEEN
Aidan
Connor and Kara and I gather the supplies we need for the attic job at the Fosters’ and for the wards at my great-grandmother’s house and the cave. Sid is still in his shed when we’re leaving; he asks Connor if he could pick up a few scrolls from Hanna at SubZero, so he can do more research about Kara’s blood-show. We figure we’ll head there first. Jax decides to come along, too, since Rebecca is here to help Holly with filing and other office stuff. This thrills Holly to no end, since it means she can focus on her homework today.
I feel bad leaving Rebecca there with the grunt work and consider inviting her along on the job, but she isn’t even willing to look me in the eye. My guess is that the answer would’ve been no anyway, considering how embarrassed she seems from walking in on me and Kara.
Rebecca goes to the summer program at the arts academy three days a week, like Ava did, so she won’t be stuck in the house all the time, at least. And now that everything is out in the open between us, we can be honest about where things stand.
“You’re thinking about her again,” Kara says. She’s next to me in the backseat of the Camaro. Connor’s driving and Jax is shotgun.
I turn to her. “Huh?”
She rolls her eyes, but she takes my hand and weaves her fingers through mine.
We get to SubZero and park in the back lot. It’s odd being here at Eric’s club without him. And I haven’t seen Hanna since that last night when I tried to save Ava; I still have the alabaster box Hanna gave me, tucked under my bed where I don’t have to look at it. The thing is just a reminder of how I failed to save my sister.
As we walk across the parking lot to the warehouse, I focus on Kara’s skin, trying to see her soul better, now that we’re away from the house.
It surfaces easily. What used to be handprints are now just greyish-brown smudges. The red print on her throat is blurry, too. And the Chinese characters on her neck from her father’s curse are light silver.
Her soul is definitely changing. But what does that mean? I know it can’t be good. The blood-show made that more than clear.
When we get to the warehouse, the outer door is already open. I look around but don’t see Hanna in the front offices. I put aside my worries for Kara for a second and feel for Hanna’s energy. It’s coming from the back where the vault is—a bright warmth that smells a little like cinnamon and sugar.
The others follow me as I walk deeper into the warehouse, down a long hallway, to the thick steel door of the vault. It’s wide open and Hanna is standing in the frame. She’s dressed in stretch pants and a long T-shirt. It’s strange to see her in such mundane clothes, instead of her usual designer blouses and skirts. I wonder if something’s wrong.
Of course something’s wrong. Eric is gone. And Hanna’s always been beside him. They were a team.
She comes forward and surprises me by wrapping me in a hug. “Aidan, how are you? You look tired.” Her scent fills my head and I let myself be comforted for a moment before she pulls back and holds her hand out to Kara. “And how are you, sweetheart? Sid told me what happened.”
Kara goes stiff at the show of affection until Hanna releases her hand, and then she manages to say, “I’m fine. Really.”
“Is that why you’ve come?” Hanna asks. “Sid had me set aside the temple scrolls so he could figure out what may be going wrong, or if the blood-show was just a fluke. I found three new pieces that Eric had hidden in his desk.”
Connor says, “We’re also looking for information on runes. Kara and I have been studying the differences in configurations and we’re missing some of the stronger protection combinations.”
“Of course,” Hanna says, motioning for us to enter the vault. “I’m sure we have something. In fact, I recall a very old book on rune study that came in a shipment a week or two ago. Maybe that will be helpful. It’s in old Norse, but I’m sure Aidan can translate. Oh, and since you’re here, Aidan, I’d like you to look at something for me. There were some abnormalities on one of our surveillance videos, and it’s a bit curious.”
She smiles, but it’s a sad excuse for a smile. I want to ask her how she’s doing, but I don’t want to upset her by talking about it. As we walk into the vault, the look of the place surprises me a little, increasing my concern. It’s very different than the last time I was here. The long shelves of artifacts still run in rows down the room, like a supermarket that sells dusty pieces of history. There are statues in the right corner and glass cases full of weapons, metalwork, and preserved cloth to the left. But where things used to
be in boxes and covered up, for the most part, now many of the items are lying here and there, exposed, along with papers and stacks of open books, as if someone was frantically doing research.
Jax wanders over to look at the glass case of swords.
“What are you trying to protect?” Hanna says. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“My great-grandmother’s place,” I say. “And the cave.”
She nods. “Is everything with your sister all right?”
“Yeah, I think so.” I consider not saying anything else, but then decide that she deserves to at least know her boss is around. “Eric is there, watching out for everyone. For now.”
Her eyes fill with so much emotion it hurts to watch. The air swirls with her feelings, making me itch to move away. Shock, fear, joy, and a fair amount of pain.
“He’s back,” she says quietly.
I don’t know what to say now. I spilled the beans, trying to be honest, and her reaction feels stronger than a hurt friend. It almost seems like she’s a jilted lover. I’d always felt how bonded they were, but that was before I knew what he was, and I had no idea things between them were so serious. Why would an angel get so deeply involved with a human? Why would he leave her with no explanation, not caring how she felt? Even a friend would’ve prepared us all for his inevitable departure better than Eric did.
“He told me that I need to get some wards up,” I say, trying to redirect the conversation. “The doorway is attracting demons and it’s a bit of a mess.”
She nods again. “I see.”
“And I need to dig up info about dominion angels or any other midlevel angels. There’s one named Jaasi’el; maybe he’s in old literature or something? He’s Ava’s father and he’s trying to find her, which apparently isn’t good.” I don’t say that Eric told me all that, because I’m not sure how much she knows about him, if she knows that he’s an angel. “It’s all so confusing. Do you know anything about how all the realms and dominions work? I’m still unclear on some of the angels’ ruling structures.”
Hanna seems distracted and it takes her a second to respond. “Sure. I believe I have something that could give an answer or two. Let me check the inventory.” I figure that she’s going to wait to look into it, but she backs up a step and excuses herself, obviously disturbed.
Kara leans in and whispers, “You don’t think that she and Eric were a thing, do you?”
I watch Hanna disappear into the back of the vault. “I don’t know.”
But I’m pretty sure that I do.
Connor leans on the desk. “I told the Fosters we’d be there at one, so we need to get this done.” He pulls out his phone, checking the time. “We have fifteen minutes to collect stuff.”
Jax opens the glass case and picks up one of the swords. He slices it through the air with a whoosh. “And I’m freaking starving.”
“Hanna said she set aside the scrolls for Sid,” Kara says, looking over our surroundings. “Maybe we can find them.”
Connor turns to study the clutter on the desk. He opens a drawer. “Hanna doesn’t look good. I guess we could come back for the stuff after the job.”
“Plus, food,” Jax adds.
I leave them to make my own search, heading in the same direction as Hanna. I find her at the end of a row of shelving; it looks like a section of Jewish artifacts. There are several ossuaries—or bone boxes—in various sizes, and what look like two very old Torahs wrapped in blue velvet, along with folded, aged cloth with blue stripes on the edge that could be a priest’s robes.
Hanna looks up. She sniffs and wipes tears from her face. “I just needed a minute.”
“I get it. I’m sorry, Hanna.”
She shakes her head. “No, Aidan. Don’t take this on. It’s not your problem. I knew when I got mixed up in this world that it would hurt me eventually.” And then she adds more quietly, “I just couldn’t seem to help myself.”
I study her graceful features and wonder if Eric couldn’t help himself either. “I’m glad I met you, you know,” I say. “You were kind to me when I needed to be reminded the human race didn’t totally suck.”
She smiles at that. “You were quite the scraggly kid when Eric brought you into this place.” She studies me. “You’ve really become a man now, though. And you’ve come into your powers so gracefully.”
What she doesn’t know . . .
“My mother had the sight,” she continues. “She understood what was down people’s paths before they could see it for themselves. I have a little of that ability, too. Just a little. But it was enough to see how vital you are. And now I can see you’re not alone in your heart anymore.” She glances down the aisle of shelves to Kara, who’s sitting in the desk chair. “Is she the Eve to your Adam? The other half to your soul?”
It’s a blunt question and I suddenly have trouble swallowing. Because, yeah, when I look at my future, I can’t seem to see happiness without Kara there. “I want her to be.”
Hanna touches my shoulder. “Then she is.” Her smile becomes sad again. She takes a deep breath and turns to slide one of the bone boxes closer to the edge of the shelf, like she’s pointing it out. Bone boxes were used to house the bones of a Jewish man or woman once the body decayed enough. If the bones were kept together, then they’d be safe for the resurrection that some believed would eventually happen.
This box looks heavy. It’s made of limestone, about two and a half feet long, tapering down to the base, twelve inches deep. There’s a flat lid on this one, but some of the others on the shelf have vaulted ones. And some stand on legs while this one doesn’t. It’s also almost totally unmarked, while the others have designs and faded writing covering their surfaces. But this one might just be older, the decorations of death worn smooth by weather and time.
“What is this?” I ask, feeling a strange vibration from it.
“The abnormalities on the video the other day seemed to surround this box. I was hoping you could feel if there was anything going on with it.”
“What was on the video?”
“I’ll give you a copy of it,” she says, “but the ossuary appeared to have orbs around it for approximately three hours, several dozen of them. And it started at the same time as the earthquake yesterday morning, which I would think is probably linked in some way.”
The earthquake. When something shifted on the other side. The same time Eric said Ava’s soul broke a seal over the barriers. It all has to mean something. “Who’s in this thing?”
“The papers say that it holds the bones of a male, no mention of his origin, and the inscription is vague.” She points at the side of the box where words are carved into the soft limestone surface in Chaldean. I move closer to see it more clearly. The script is faded from time, but I’m used to reading old things.
“Leave the dead to bury the dead and find your . . .” I have to squint to figure out the next words, “home with the Light.”
“I believe that’s a blessing for the living,” she says. “Or maybe a warning to remain pure and stay away from the dead, which would make you unclean in many cultures. But here’s the person’s title, or their job, and I can’t make heads or tails of it.” She motions to the only other markings on the box, three tiny lines of text inside a circle on the front.
“Servant and keeper of Baal, awaken not,” I read aloud. Most bone boxes would have names as well as titles on them, since they’re used to recall the life lived, similar to a sarcophagus. But this one doesn’t appear to have anything except a title and some sort of warning.
Awaken not. How would you awaken bones?
Ossuaries span from the early fifth century BCE into Roman times. From what I can see, the other boxes on the shelf are Jewish, from the Roman era. But this box looks like it’s much older, at least several hundred years older, and it’s obviously of Babylonian origin. It’s actually pretty amazing to see it still intact.
“Eric brought this back from one of his trips to Iraq. He returned with thi
s, the small alabaster box I gave to you after your Awakening, as well as the two amulets, one of which you’re wearing.” She gestures at my chest. “It’s why I felt you should know about the orbs, since it all appears to be connected.”
“Did Eric ever say anything about the box?”
She seems to consider this, as if she’s not sure how much to tell me. “He did mention that it had something to do with his task and the reason he was here.” She pauses, looking troubled. “He said it was connected to why we couldn’t be together.”
But what would this thing have to do with Hanna?
“Will you look deeper for me?” she asks. “It might answer questions for both of us.”
I realize she means this box could answer questions she has about Eric. I wish that I could tell her what he is, that I could just say it out loud. But I have no idea what sort of reasoning Eric has for keeping his origin a secret.
So I take a deep breath and reach out, placing my hand gently on the cool surface of the limestone.
My body goes tense instantly, like my muscles have turned to stone, too. My insides are far from still, though. They spark to life in a fury of movement and then swirl in a rush as they seem to reach out for the box.
The world around me dims to black, then shifts.
When it clears again, I’m lying in a cave, looking up at vaulted stone. I’m on some sort of altar, laid out and stiff as death. There are a number of women surrounding my body, their hair covered with dark wool fabric, their dresses torn at the neck as a sign of mourning. They cry openly and wail as they set bottles on the stone slab where my body lies. Then they begin applying oils and herbs to my cold skin.
This is a memory of the man whose bones are inside the box; somehow, even in death, he felt the touch of their fingers and their salty tears.
He was old, but had expected to live much longer still. He was not meant to walk the path he did, and yet he walked it in obedience, always honoring his father and his God.
They wrap me with cloth from the waist to the thighs. They bind my feet and my hands to make it easier to collect my bones once the flesh rots from them.
Darkness Fair (The Dark Cycle Book 2) Page 9