He shrugged. "I don't know how effective that would be. If it's an angel, then I have no idea how to kil it. If it's at the bottom of the ocean, at least nothing else can get to it to wake it up. Nothing can survive thirty thousand feet below the ocean's surface. Nothing is absolutely indestructible."
"What if Bastian intercepts?" I asked.
His voice grew dark. "Then we'l have to fight him. I want to avoid him until the Enshi is at the bottom of that trench. We can't risk running into him or Geir and the others before then. We can't." The desperation in that last word sent a spark of fear through me.
I didn't want to think of the possible results of something like that happening. We had to get it out of the city--out of the state--as soon as possible. Wil wasn't the only one who didn't want to fight Bastian's vir. I knew I wasn't ready. They'd mop the floor with me, and I only knew the half of it. I'd seen none of what Ivar could do and only a little bit of Geir's power. We'd been lucky when we'd gotten away. I couldn't even fathom what the rest of them were truly capable of. I grabbed my pajamas from a wad of clothing on the floor and went into my closet to change. When I came back out, Wil hadn't moved. The furious concentration in his expression had furrowed his brow and tightened his lips. He stared at the floor.
"Did you eat enough at Nathaniel's?" I asked him, lifting his hair away from his eyes.
He didn't answer.
"Guess not. I know you needed to eat after the fight tonight."
"I real y don't want to eat right now."
I smiled. "Don't move." I went to the kitchen and explored my fridge. I was lucky to find a half-empty two-liter bottle of root beer in there, and a carton of vanil a ice cream in the freezer. I made a float, smiling fondly to myself as I stuck a spoon and straw into the glass and I took the sugary concoction upstairs.
Wil stil hadn't moved.
I stopped in front of him and held the float out. He looked up at me, his eyes flashing, and he grinned.
"El ie . . ."
"You aren't going to pass up a fabulous root beer float, are you?" I winked playful y.
He gave a gentle laugh and took the glass. I sat down on the bed beside him and watched him eat.
"Since I made it," I said, "I get a sip and a bite."
That beautiful smile widened. "Agreed."
He gave me the spoon, and I took a bite of ice cream and then sipped a gulp of creamy root beer to wash it down.
"Mmm, that had better be the best damn root beer float you've ever had."
"It is, trust me." He watched me for a moment before he took the straw back and stirred. "However, it's even better when the ice cream melts. Just a little trick for you."
He stirred until most of the ice cream was dissolved and the root beer had turned a milky brown color, like hot cocoa.
"Try it now."
He held the straw stil while I took another sip. The root beer was softened with creamy vanil a and the carbonation was almost al gone. The result might have been the most delicious thing I'd ever tasted.
"It's amazing," I said, and took another sip.
"Told you."
We shared the last of it and I set the empty, frothy glass on a coaster on my nightstand. My heart pounded as I turned around to him, feeling the heat of his eyes on my back.
"Thank you," he said. "I feel a lot better."
"You couldn't fool me." I eased up to him, and my heart sank when the worried expression returned to his face. "Wil , do you regret it al ? The fighting? Kil ing the demonic reaper?"
"I don't regret it, no."
"But it bothers you," I said. "That's why you wear the crucifix your mother gave you. And because you miss her."
He looked up at me and his brow softened. "I guess you can read people better than I thought."
I smiled warmly at him and smoothed my hand over his hair. "Only you. Hard as you try, you can never fool me."
"I suppose not."
My smile faded. "You know there are higher powers and Heaven and Hel out there, but you don't seem very religious."
"I think religion is based on faith," he said. "I don't need faith to know what I deal with every day. I know that there is a God and that Lucifer chal enges Him. I know that there are the Fal en and there are angels who fight them. I know that there are creatures who drag innocent human souls to Hel to prepare for the Apocalypse and that I was designed to fight those creatures. Faith has nothing to do with my existence, but yes. You're right. I don't like kil ing, but I have to do it because it's my duty. Protecting human souls is the duty of any angelic reaper. Protecting you is my duty. I'm a soldier in a war, and the only difference between our war and the ones between humans is that this fight has been going on since time began and it's not likely to be over any time soon."
"Why would your mother give you a crucifix if reapers aren't very religious?"
He did that lip thing again, and my stomach flipped. "My mother was very devout in her belief that what we're doing is the right thing. She fought hard against the demonic, and I think wearing a cross made her feel closer to the archangels she served and to God. We get very lonely sometimes, and we lose track of our goals after so many centuries of fighting. I think it kept her grounded."
"Does it keep you grounded too?"
"You keep me grounded," he said. "And this crucifix reminds me that there are bigger things happening out there than just you and me. That there is a world beyond protecting you, even though you're al I real y know. You asked me if I regretted any of it, and the answer, truthful y, is yes. The only thing I ever regret is failing you, letting you die."
I continued to stroke his hair and said nothing. To be honest, I didn't real y know what to say.
"And yes," he continued, "I do miss my mother."
"Do you think she's watching over you in Heaven?"
He tensed and didn't answer me right away. "Reapers don't have an afterlife. Heaven and Hel are for human souls. When a reaper dies, that's it. So, no. My mother is gone."
My heart kicked in my chest and sadness blanketed me like heavy, freezing cold snow as the blood drained from my face. I'd always felt a smal comfort knowing that when I died, my soul would be safe. Nothing frightened me more than the possibility of the Enshi destroying my soul so that after my death, I would disappear. And here, this entire time, for Wil 's entire life, he knew that if he were ever kil ed, he would end the same way I would if my soul were eaten. My Guardians before him had al died for me and ended their existences. Wil had known al along that his ultimate sacrifice for me would only bring him eternal nothingness, and despite knowing this, he stil risked his life for me every night, every battle. If he died protecting me, fighting for me, he'd give up everything. There'd be no Heaven for him to rest and find peace in. Al he would ever know was war and death and loss and sadness.
How could I be so selfish? Why would I let him risk so much for me? My thoughts made me angry at myself, for caring for no one but myself.
But he was there. Day and night he was there for me, risking his very existence to protect me from a war that claimed my life over and over again. He never faltered, never wavered, never feared for his own safety. He was beaten, stabbed, abused, and tortured again and again, and yet he stil stuck by me, ignoring the possibility that he would die for me one day. It wasn't right. I didn't deserve everything he sacrificed for me. I wasn't worth so high a price. I wrapped a hand around his face and turned his gaze to mine as I folded my legs underneath me. Kneeling, I smoothed my hand over his rough cheek and into his hair. I leaned forward and kissed his lips softly just to feel that much closer to him. His kiss tasted like vanil a and sugar, warm and delicious against my lips. The ache in my heart reminded me of how much I loved him and I pressed my lips to his more desperately, as if I were afraid that he might vanish right there next to me. I bit back a tear that might have been happy or sad--I wasn't even sure myself--and pul ed away.
"You're amazing" was al I could say to him.
His gaze fel . "I'm not even
close." He leaned toward me, resting his forehead against my shoulder, and his hand slid up my arm. He held me close to him and pressed his lips to my arm, brushing his nose across my skin as I ran my fingers through his hair. I bit on my lip to stop the tears. I lifted his face, and his eyes opened up into mine. I couldn't help the smile that formed when I could tel that I'd embarrassed him. "Yes, you are. You need to relax. Don't worry about anything for once."
His troubled look began to fade. "I don't mean to."
"Let me help you," I offered. I walked around my bed and climbed in, reaching for his hand. He let me take it and I pul ed him toward me. "Lie down with me. Sleep for a little while. You don't need to sit up in the freezing cold on my roof. You owe that to yourself. Forget about everything else. You're always so worried about taking care of me. Let me take care of you for once."
He lay on his side, the mattress sinking beneath his weight al too intimately, and he slid an arm tentatively around my bel y. I didn't say anything as we lay there, and I fel asleep feeling his warm, sugar-sweetened breath on the bend of my neck.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF--NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Children's Books
..................................................................... 30
NATHANIEL HAD ARRANGED A FLIGHT FOR US AND air freight for the sarcophagus to Puerto Rico via Miami. My parents bought the story about my spending the weekend with Kate's family at their lake house up north, since I had done it a hundred times before, and everything was fal ing into place. Despite Nathaniel's preference for working behind the scenes instead of fighting on the front lines, he would be coming along as backup. I hadn't seen him in action, yet, but I was intrigued. He didn't fight with the traditional blades Wil and I were used to. Nathaniel had a thing for guns.
He managed to have the box containing the sarcophagus classfied as an archaeological artifact, and we had no trouble shipping it on a cargo plane. Nathaniel, rightful y afraid of leaving the Enshi on its own, concealed his presence from the airport staff by staying within the Grim and managed to sneak onto the flight unseen--invisibility proved to be a handy reaper trick. He would stay with the sarcophagus until we arrived in the Caribbean. Thankful y we didn't have to check our swords along with Nathaniel's guns. That would have been fun to explain.
We arrived in Miami after ten on Wednesday night and after a layover we boarded another plane to San Juan. I was definitely feeling the exhaustion when we final y got to our little motel at almost four in the morning. We got a room in the motel instead of one of the glamorous hotels I would have preferred, but Wil said it was for our safety and that of the locals that we would stay in a smal building with an easy exit in case Bastian got wind of our location. The motel was off a narrow street and only a couple blocks from the airport. It was a little run-down, and the pavement outside had tufts of weeds sticking out of cracks. When Nathaniel's cargo plane arrived in San Juan, he rented a large truck to carry the sarcophagus and parked behind the motel. He'd be watching the truck like a hawk until dawn in case of attack. Wil let me sleep in until eleven in the morning, which was heaven after the rough week and late night. After my shower in the darling little bathroom, I was anticipating with excitement geting outside and seeing what the city real y looked like. I peeked my head out of the bathroom while I blow-dried my hair and spotted Wil standing over his suitcase and pul ing off his shirt. I felt my face fil with heat when I saw him shirtless, and I almost looked away. Almost. He shrugged on a new tee, and the muscles in his abdomen constricted as he smoothed out the cotton.
"Is Nathaniel stil out with the truck?" I asked. He turned around and eased over to me. "No," he answered. "He took a taxi to the marina to get a boat. I thought we'd get lunch when he gets back. Sound good?"
I smiled wide. "Definitely. Is he coming with us?"
"No, he's staying with the truck. We can't leave the box alone." He sounded genuinely disappointed. "I brought him food before he left, though. We both need to eat a lot before tonight, just in case."
"You mean you already ate?"
"Some." His tone was so nonchalant, as if everyone ate before they went out to a restaurant.
"And you're going to eat more?"
"Yeah," he said. "I told you I didn't want you seeing how much I real y have to eat. It would give you nightmares, I assure you."
I rol ed my eyes. "Oh, thank you for protecting me from the painful truths of how much guys really eat when girls aren't looking."
He smiled down at me. "You should take me more seriously."
"You should take yourself less seriously," I retorted, standing my ground as he leaned into me.
He laughed. "Are you finished in the bathroom yet?"
"Makeup."
"Hurry."
I didn't. I took my sweet time applying liner and mascara over rosy pink shadow. The day was sunny, and I was in a freakishly good mood. I tried not to think about later in the day, when we'd be sailing out to drop the Enshi off the edge of the world.
"Are you serious?" I heard Wil shout from back in the room. I poked my head out. "There's nobody else?" He paused. "Al right, fine." Wil shut my phone and ran an angry hand through his hair.
"What's up?" I asked, sliding balm over my lips.
"Nathaniel found a fishing boat for us to rent," he replied, his voice annoyed. "The problem is that it won't be available until after five. No one else would let us take their boat out far enough. What are you doing in there? You're taking forever."
"Makeup!" I repeated, scowling. I put an unneeded extra layer of lip balm on just to annoy him.
"Aren't you concerned about how late we have to leave?"
"Wel , five isn't bad," I offered. "Sunset isn't until, what?
Seven?"
He frowned at me. "We have to sail almost eighty miles out to get to the Milwaukee Deep."
I shrugged. "So? What's that? An hour?"
"El ie, we aren't driving a car. This is a real y big, old deep-sea trawler. We'l be very lucky if it tops out at fifteen knots."
"I don't know what that means!"
"It's about seventeen miles an hour."
I didn't attempt to calculate since I couldn't even count the toes on my feet without getting confused. "Wil that get us there by six?"
"No, it's most likely going to take us over four and a half hours."
My jaw dropped. "We're going to be out there after dark?"
He let out a long breath. "That's what it's looking like."
"Can't we wait until tomorrow?" I asked hopeful y. He shook his head. "Our plane leaves at nine in the morning and we can't risk spending another day here."
"Great."
"I know."
I huffed. It would be okay, I told myself repeatedly. There was no way the demonic vir could know we were in Puerto Rico. We were safe. "Let's not worry about it. We'l be fine."
He gave me a quizzical look. "Since when did you become Miss Optimistic?"
"Since I got this hungry, so let's go."
Wil cal ed a cab to take us into Old San Juan. I was absolutely enchanted. The streets were ablaze in a rainbow of colors; every building was bright and unique in its own way. Arched windows gave onto wrought-iron balconies lined with planters ful of fragrant flowers spil ing over the edges. Every doorway was unique, ornately decorated and protected by beautiful iron gril work. I'd have to revisit again one day when I wasn't expecting to meet certain doom at sundown. We stopped at a little cafe and ate on the stone patio. Though it had a name I could never pronounce, I ordered a colorful salad with al sorts of surprises folded into the greens. Wil ordered some kind of chicken stew with rice and beans. It smel ed amazing, and I stole a few bites of it despite his protests. For a little while, to my surprise, I felt normal again. I liked the feeling. I enjoyed pretending to be a normal girl on vacation with a normal--although gorgeous--
guy in a beautiful town.
When we finished eating, we didn't immediately take a cab back to the motel. Instead, Wil insisted
I have a good day. He seemed excessively concerned about whether I was enjoying myself, which didn't put me at ease at al --instead, I suspected that Wil thought this might be my last day. We walked through Old San Juan, making our way through the crowds that surrounded street musicians and artists, gazing up at the spectacular sights. We walked along a crowded beach and took a tour of Castil o San Cristobal before heading back.
When we pul ed up to the motel, Nathaniel was sitting in a chair outside the door. He stood when we climbed out of the cab and Wil paid the driver.
Nathaniel smiled. "Have a good day?"
"Yeah," I said with a grin. "It was nice." I tried to treasure how I felt at that moment, because I knew the feeling wasn't going to last.
We piled into the truck with the sarcophagus and the duffel bag ful of Nathaniel's weapons in back and drove to the Port of San Juan on the other side of town. I sat between Wil and Nathaniel and stared silently out the windshield, trying not to think about the worst thing that could happen that night. We drove past a seemingly endless line of cruise ships and ferries to the fishing boat docks. These vessels were much smal er than the big tourist ships, but they stil towered over me. The distinct smel s of salt water, fish, metal, and nylon nets assaulted my nose al at once. Ropes and wires were strung everywhere, and crewmen dodged among them fluidly, going about their chores. We stopped at a huge deepsea trawler with the name Elsa stamped in faded letters on the bow. A stout, greasy, balding man jogged heavily down the loading dock to greet us.
"Hola," he said, nodding to us, his beady eyes lingering on me.
"Hola, Jose," Nathaniel replied. "Sorry we're a little late."
"Al okay," Jose bel owed. "You already paid me, so I don't care if you show." He laughed, his bel y bouncing, and he swiped the back of his hand across his filthy, sweaty brow. Nathaniel forced a smile. It was obvious that he didn't like our new friend. "We'l take the Elsa off your hands, now."
Jose's laughter boomed even louder. "There is no way you wil able to captain my ship with one other guy and a teenage girl and stil have it back in this port by midnight. And I don't care how much you pay me, my crew doesn't leave the ship."
Courtney Moulton - Angelfire 01 - Angelfire Page 26