As she stopped to take in the chaos, the oven pinged. Since she stood right next to the appliance, she felt obliged to pull open the door and retrieve the contents. The moment the letter came within view, it took every ounce of restraint to keep her stomach from turning.
With weak knees and a quivering arm, she held the note as far away from her person as possible. “It’s . . . it’s . . .”
“Covered in blood,” Jason finished, snatching the folded sheet of paper. He skimmed the contents of the letter and spun to face Damien. “Stop arguing! Your father is in trouble!”
Damien paled and rushed over to grab the letter. He scanned the paper and turned even whiter. His hands dropped and the note fluttered to the floor. An uncomfortable hush spread through the room.
With glazed eyes, Damien staggered back, one hand reaching out to grip the back of a chair for support. “The palace was attacked. My father’s missing and my second brother is on the front lines.” Grief seemed to swamp him for interminable seconds, before a hardened resolve swept over his black eyes and he marched to the door.
“Where do you think you’re going? I still have the shield around the house,” Miller cautioned.
But Damien ignored Miller and continued to the front door.
“I think the idiot is going to run for it,” Alastor mused.
At that, Miller tackled Damien as the latter neared the door. “Don’t even think about getting to the barrier. It’ll toast you!”
“Get the fuck off me!” Damien bellowed.
“You’re not leaving this house!”
The two men struggled and Damien slammed Miller onto his back. The force of the blow slackened Miller’s arms, loosening his hold on Damien. Unfortunately for the demon, he put Miller between himself and the door to freedom.
“You’re not passing the barrier,” Miller repeated, splaying his hands out.
Damien whipped out his own hand and a ball of fire burst into his palm. “Move or I will torch this precious house of yours.”
“Be my guest.” Miller made an expansive gesture. “I have fire insurance and it’s due for remodeling anyway.”
Daria couldn’t comprehend what happened next. One minute they stood there and the next, Jason had thrown himself in front of Miller just as the fireball flew from Damien’s hand.
Jason dropped to the floor, his chest blackened from the fireball. The stench of charred flesh and burnt cloth permeated the room. Her breath died in her throat. Jason lay on the floor, unmoving. Why wasn’t he moving?
Get up! Please get up. She ran to him.
“Christ!” Miller breathed. He touched Jason’s arm tentatively.
“Are you out of your mind?” Damien yelled at Jason’s motionless body as Miller encircled Jason and lifted him.
Tears rushed down Daria’s cheeks. The sickening aroma of his wound wafted to her nostrils. Her stomach wrenched as nausea hit her. She stared down at death. Jason’s.
“You shouldn’t have done it,” Damien wailed. He retreated from the door.
“Can you heal him?” Miller cried. “He’s burning up. You’re an angel. Heal him!”
Daria turned to see Alastor, who stood over his brother with what could only be described as contempt. Laughter rang through the room as Alastor smirked at them. “Angel? There are no angels here. You forget. Only those who have never sinned can heal.”
Sniffling, she brushed back his hair. The cold, clammy skin didn’t belong on Jason. He was full of warmth. Full of life. He had to live. She wouldn’t be able to go on without him. “You’re going to be fine,” she whispered, but she couldn’t stop the tears from flowing.
Thundering feet broke the tense silence. Someone pulled her away from Jason and set her on the couch. She couldn’t see whom because the world had blurred through her tears. But she heard a voice instruct, “Candy. Alastor. Take your brother to his room.”
Her brain briefly registered that Candy was up and bouncing around. Daria vaguely felt someone sit next to her and then a warm hand touched her temple with a command to sleep.
Her lids drooped and blessed slumber overtook her.
Jason’s body pulsated with a soreness that could only have come from abusing his body at the gym, or a long day of drinking. His limbs weighed down against the mattress and his chest throbbed with every shallow breath he took.
Yet despite the pain, he felt a warm and gentle hand holding his. It stroked his fingers in rhythmic motions of silent reassurance.
It took inhuman effort to open his eyes. A hazy figure sat on the bed before him and for a split second, his heart leapt to think that Daria tended to him. As his vision cleared, he wondered why Daria appeared taller and broader than earlier. Had she cut her hair?
“Oh. It’s you, Uncle Mike,” Jason croaked.
“Don’t be too excited.” But no malice lined Mike’s voice. “How do you feel?”
“Like I just got run over.” Jason tried to shift his body, and his limbs ached with every move. “You healed me?”
Mike smiled. “Well, you couldn’t exactly heal yourself. You feeling good enough to talk?”
Jason nodded and forced himself to sit up. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this awful. By force of habit, he found himself rubbing his wrists as though they were the source of his ills.
Mike leveled him an even glance. “The unrest in Hell isn’t the only reason why I came down here, Jason. It’s been centuries since we last talked. Have you thought about my offer again?”
Everyone in Jason’s family carried the chains, a permanent humiliation of a lost war. But several hundred years ago, his uncle had come to Jason with a proposal. Mike said he belonged in Heaven. Jason had laughed. He didn’t get along with his family, but he wasn’t about to betray them, either. And then, Mike told him his lack of sin carried much more meaning than Jason had ever imagined. It acted like a ticket through the holy gates.
Bile rose to Jason’s throat. He would never go to Heaven. If he left this realm, he would never be able to marry Daria.
“Don’t waste your breath,” Jason retorted tiredly. “I’m not interested.”
“You weren’t interested then because you were mourning Alice. I know you like this one better.”
Like this one better. That didn’t begin to describe his feelings for Daria. Mike’s statement far diminished their relationship.
“Perhaps I could offer an exchange.”
Jason froze, momentarily stunned that the Angel Michael tried to bargain with him. Surely that was in violation of some heavenly law or another. But when he looked into Mike’s blue eyes, the same eyes of his father, brother, and sister, he didn’t find any guile or subterfuge. He saw a sincere interest to bring him into the heavenly folds.
He sighed, willing to indulge his uncle for now. “What could you possibly offer me?”
“Her safety.”
Jason jumped from the bed, vertigo almost sending him toward the floor. As he swayed on his feet and crisp air touched his skin, he realized he was shirtless. Then his eyes fell on the tatters left by Damien’s fireball and now sitting in the trash.
“There is growing unrest in the realm,” Mike warned. “Danger lurks around every corner.”
“Are you threatening me?” Unbelievable. His uncle appeared the picture of innocence, yet sat there negotiating for Daria’s life. He didn’t need to use the uprising in Hell as an excuse.
Mike chuckled and stood as well. “Of course not. Daria’s the auspicious one. She’s always had her own guardian angel.”
Jason scoffed, “The only guardian angel she’s had is me. I’ve been the only one watching her and protecting her all these years. Whoever you assigned is clearly lax on the job. I—”
The words died on his lips and realization knocked the breath out of h
im. He stumbled to the door, needing to put some space between them. “All those years ago . . .”
Mike held his eyes steady, unperturbed by his implied accusation. “I merely suggested to your father it was a good way to redeem yourself. You’ve always been such an idealist, Jason. I knew you would fall in love with Daria as you did Alice.”
The truth behind how he came to protect Daria and the fulfillment of Mike’s overconfident prophecy threatened to bring Jason to his knees. He stared at his uncle with new eyes. Had the angel always been this calculating?
The last twenty-eight years now seemed nothing more than a careful path laid out by Mike. How many other times had his uncle encroached, or manipulated to get his way? Was this what it was like in Heaven? Always an invisible, overhanging, heavy hand that dictated the fate of others?
Perhaps his father was right to rebel.
“Your father was not right.” Mike sighed. “You really are more like him than you know. Both of you are quietly defiant.”
Usually Jason had no trouble blocking his family from entering his mind. But in his weakened state, he couldn’t stop Mike from invading his thoughts.
“It doesn’t matter what you say.” Jason reached for a shirt that someone had placed on a chair for him. “I’m not going to abandon Daria.”
The sudden smile on Mike’s face sent panic ripping through Jason. “You’re going to try to take her away from me, aren’t you?” Not waiting for an answer, Jason stumbled to the door and yanked it open. He had to make sure Daria was all right. He had to hold her in his arms.
Outside the door, Daria straightened and relief flooded her face as new tears overflowed from her already red eyes. “You’re awake! How are you feeling?”
The tightness in his chest unknotted strand by strand while the muscles in his shoulders relaxed. Everything was fine as long as Daria was safe. He could bear the weight of the world if she could be spared. No matter how much their destiny had been planned and contrived, no one had pre-determined his feelings. They were his own and he loved her.
“I’m fine,” he whispered. “You’ve been worried.”
She laughed sheepishly. “Is it that obvious?”
He swung his arm around her shoulders and she guided him down the hall. “I like it when you worry about me.”
She didn’t say anything, just steadying him as he leaned into her for support. His strength was returning, though slowly. He hoped he would feel strong again by midnight for their escape. And they would escape.
They were heading to the family room when Jason heard his father call for him. He glanced down at Daria and nudged her to the family room. He had no doubt his father had plenty of things to say to him. None of them kind.
Her eyes filled with uncertainty and reluctantly, she left him behind after a quick kiss.
“I need to sit down,” Jason muttered, stumbling to the living room.
As he heard Luke’s footsteps behind him, Jason dropped onto the sofa, still feeling like an army had mowed over him. If he stood any longer, he might keel.
“You can’t take a little beating?” Luke asked.
Jason shut his eyes, wishing he could block his thoughts from his father’s telepathic powers. What was there left to say? Wasn’t he one big disappointment to them?
“When will you accept who you are?” his father probed.
“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Jason spat. “It’s rude. If you want to know what I’m thinking, then just ask.”
When he opened his eyes, he saw the corners of his father’s lips tilt into a reluctant smile.
“Then tell me what’s on your mind. We haven’t seen each other in hundreds of years and for this human, you would come home to beg me. For this human, you would face armies. Why do you love this child so much? She’s a human.”
“So was Mother!”
His father pursed his lips, obviously annoyed by Jason’s outburst.
“Your mother is special.”
“So is Daria!” Jason cried. “You were the one who said the auspicious one gave you the right to rule the Houses. You were the one who declared the opportunity for the other Houses to compete.”
Luke’s eyes hardened. “I did. And none of them have survived to adulthood until now.”
“Because I have watched over her every minute of every day.”
“Even when I wanted to pull you off,” Luke added with a sigh. “I never should have taken Mike’s suggestion.”
Jason sniffed. “That was a plot from the beginning. Did you already figure out he wanted me to act as her guardian angel?”
Speculative and intense, Luke eyed Jason. “I did.” He paused for a moment before lifting his chin in contemplation. “But Mike miscalculated one thing.”
“What was that?”
“He never thought you would be willing to kill for her. That’s why he’s here, isn’t he? To make sure you don’t dirty your hands?” Luke’s disgust coated every word.
“I haven’t yet,” Jason answered quietly.
“Accept who you are, Jason. Who we all are.” Luke bowed his head, visibly searching for the right words. “Circumstances may force you to accept.”
How could he not accept the chains when he carried the reminder with him all the time? The constant weight of these black shackles followed his every waking hour. Even if he wanted to pretend he came from another family, the chains never let him.
“I know who we are. I also know that your ‘oldest child thing’ is crap. It’s a stupid law that you made up and you could retract it if you wanted to.”
“I could,” Luke pondered in a soft whisper. “But I don’t. Why do you think that is?”
“How the hell would I know? You didn’t even have any siblings. At least none cast down with you. And you were the one who came to the mortal world and learned of their powers. You were the one who came up with the rules.”
A cold sweat broke through Jason as another sick realization in his gut grew like cancer. His chest clenched. He couldn’t breathe.
No. It couldn’t be. Could it? He stared at his father, seeing him in a new light. Luke returned his stare with a steady, almost defiant gaze.
Jason slumped back into the sofa cushions, the gravity of his discovery almost crushing him, immobilizing him.
“Oh my God,” Jason whispered. “It was you?”
Chapter 21
Jason stood in his room, staring out the window into the dark night as he fought a desperate battle within himself. The clock showed twenty until midnight.
His father had said nothing after Jason’s accusation, preferring instead to stare him down before leaving. No denials or even the sick smile of triumph. Instead, his father chose to satisfy none of these. Luke excelled at the expressionless evasion. Like a snub in the nose, the non-answer always said volumes while leaving doubts.
Like now.
But for Jason, even the possibility of realization had crippled him. He hadn’t been able to think, had barely been able to breathe. The gravity, the implications, were enough to kill him. Could kill her.
And it didn’t make any sense. He still missed an essential clue, still hadn’t put his finger on a pivotal piece of information. His father hadn’t enlightened him and Jason almost preferred the ignorance.
No more revelations of this magnitude. His brain had barely been able to process the first one. Jason turned away from the window and his questions. Dwelling on it now wouldn’t yield answers. He had to go.
When his hand reached the knob, he stilled. This is it. If I walk out of here now, there’s no turning back. Ever.
With a resigned smile, Jason opened his door. The decision had been made the moment he fell in love with her. What was the use of dwelling now?
He crossed the darkened hallway, strode through
the house, and out the back door.
Miller already waited on the patio. A minute later, Daria emerged from the house. She slid his hand into his and neither said anything.
The moonlight cast a ghostly silver glow on their faces and Jason surveyed the perimeter of the barrier for enemies. The rest of the coalition never arrived. Damien’s oven mail confirmed his fears—they’d regrouped in Hell for the revolt. It didn’t bode well for the House of Demons, but they could use the short respite to get married.
Miller motioned for them to follow him. They tread across the dewy grass and their footsteps fell silent on the stone walkway, which wound a path around the back of the house.
Suddenly, Jason froze. He whipped around and saw the light had come on in the living room.
“Run!”
Miller sped down the walkway and skidded to an abrupt halt in front of a little stone stairway that led down to the beach. In front of the stairs stood two pillars and atop each pillar sat a decorative stone ball.
A door slammed shut back at the house. “Hurry!” Jason commanded. He turned to Daria. “Don’t let go of my hand, no matter what.”
Miller hefted the left sphere and the barrier opened around the stairway. He shifted the sphere to one hand while holding out his other hand to them. “Don’t step through the shadow until I put the sphere back on.”
But they never got the chance.
His father and Mike ran from the house. Jason hurled an energy ball their way. In one second, he stepped across the barrier, changing to his true form, his long black coat swaying against his booted feet. Then with his free hand, he grabbed Miller’s arm and crossed through a shadow.
A second later, they arrived ten feet from the chapel at the nearest university. Jason stared at the imposing wooden doors below the majestic stone façade. The contemporary Gothic architecture expanded to the heavens with sixty-foot tall buttresses covered by large stained glass windows. The front panes glowed in multi-colored hues from within the chapel. He blinked at the name. Coincidence, that this place held the same name as Alice? Or was it fate?
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