“Feeling better?” he asked.
“A little.”
“Good.”
Jeremiah didn’t get up from his seat, so Erika came forward by herself.
“I was lonely,” she said.
He motioned to a pair of plush chairs across from his desk. Erika hesitated, but gave in.
“I feel like I’m in a law office,” she said.
“Oh?”
“It reminds me of my divorce.”
Jeremiah folded his arms and studied her.
“Can I help you with anything, Erika?”
She looked up from her hands. “I think so.”
“And what would that be?”
“I …” She shrugged. “I need my children, Jeremiah. I need to see them. To know that they’re okay.”
“They’re fine, Erika. You have seen them.”
“Not really.”
“You have. You know that they’re fine.”
“That’s not good enough.” She leaned forward in her seat, her fingers knit together in her lap. “I need you to bring them here, Jeremiah. To me.”
At that, he raised his chin and sank back in his own chair. She watched him for a few long seconds, and he watched the edge of his desk where the light from the window behind him glared silver-white.
He opened his mouth. “Do you know what you’re asking for?”
“I do.”
“No, you don’t,” said Jeremiah. “But you won’t give up, either, will you?”
She didn’t answer.
“Are you sure about this, Erika?” She could tell from the set of his jaw that the question was merely polite and that he already knew the answer.
“I am,” she said, also out of politeness.
“Then, for you, I will try.”
“Do you promise?”
His eyes flicked up to her, and she felt a little prick of irritation in his glance. “I said that I would, didn’t I?”
She didn’t drop his gaze. “I just need to know.”
Jeremiah spun in his chair to face the window. “Everything,” he said quietly. “For you.”
“Thank you.” She got up from her seat and saw that he didn’t stare at the yard, but at a bowl of flowers. Balsamine, zinnias, and eglantine roses, all twisted together with thick myrtle branches.
“Are those from the men at the gate?”
Jeremiah didn’t turn, but she could feel the tension in his words: “How do you know about the men?” he asked.
“I saw them from my window,” she said. “Who are they?”
“Unimportant.” He seemed to think over the statement. “No,” he said after a few seconds. “Very important. Just very petty as well. I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Fine.”
“I need you to promise me something now, Erika.”
“What?”
Jeremiah kept his eyes on the flowers.
“That you won’t try to look for your children again,” he said. “Until I see whether or not I can bring them here.”
“Look?” she asked. “I would never find them anyway.”
His voice came cold. “You know what I mean.”
“All right,” Erika said. “I promise.”
“And I need to know that you would do anything for them.”
“Anything.”
He swiveled to face her.
“Just to see them?” he asked. “You would do anything just to see them?” His face was so sharp, so darkly serious that Erika wavered.
“You’re scaring me.”
Jeremiah smiled. His shoulders relaxed and he leaned forward to pick up his book. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. But you should know that sacrifices will have to be made.”
“I love my children,” Erika said.
“I know. Of course.”
“Please don’t do anything stupid.”
“Oh, Erika,” Jeremiah said. “It’s all stupid.”
He took up his work again and Erika understood that she’d been dismissed.
Again, Jeremiah crossed Gabriel’s retaining room. He had traded his comfortable jeans — his reaping clothes — for the starch of a three-piece suit. It was his attempt to play by the rules; all grown up and still desperate to fit in. Over the past few hours, he’d watched the light through the line of arched windows change from the bright, clean heat of midafternoon to the crystallized honey of early evening. He’d begun to wonder whether his eldest brother was even at home.
After a few more minutes of pacing, Jeremiah sank down onto the rich white velvet of one of the parlor’s chaise longues and stared at the sheer curtains, gone amber with sunset. A few feet away, an old grandfather clock metered out time. Jeremiah glanced at its mother-of-pearl face and made up his mind to leave. He started to rise when the door on the far wall swung open and Gabriel appeared, with his hand on the polished knob. When he spotted Jeremiah, his face broke into a wide, honest smile.
“I didn’t realize you were waiting, Brother,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
Michael, the second prince, strode out of the office, top hat in hand, dark hair pushed back behind his ears. He was taller than any of his brothers and slender in his close-cut suit. He gave Jeremiah a cold look as he passed by. Jeremiah nodded but held his tongue. It had been a long time since the two of them had spoken.
Gabriel didn’t miss the exchange, but he also didn’t comment on it. He ran his fingers through his thick wheat gold curls and tipped his head at the open room. “Come in, come in,” he said. “It’s been too long.”
Jeremiah followed him inside and waited until the door latched behind them both.
The crown prince still smiled — his smile always came too easily — but he looked tired. Perhaps his preparations to take the throne were finally getting to him. “What brings you home, Jeremy?” he asked.
“Michael,” said Jeremiah. “He’s become quite the hunter.”
Gabriel said nothing as he slid behind his favorite ebony desk. He motioned to a chair but Jeremiah shook his head.
“I’ll only be a moment,” he said. “I have a favor to ask.” He couldn’t tell whether this surprised Gabriel or not, or whether it disappointed him. As the next to the throne, Gabriel had trained hard to keep his emotions in check, especially around rogues. All emotions except for his buoyancy, which Jeremiah doubted his brother would ever be able to rein in.
“I’d be happy to grant it,” said Gabriel. “If I can.”
Jeremiah rolled his hat slowly between gloved fingers.
“There are some children,” he said. “Some human children. I need them brought into the Kingdom.”
Gabriel tilted his head and leaned a little more heavily against his desk. He picked up a thick ballpoint pen and began to play with it, somersaulting it back and forth across his knuckles.
“An odd request,” he said. “Whatever for?”
“A friend,” said Jeremiah. “A new friend. Who deserves it.”
“You know that it isn’t our place to play reaper. I won’t allow for anyone to lose life when it isn’t their time. Especially not children.”
“You misunderstand me,” said Jeremiah. “I don’t want them dead.”
The pen stopped bouncing. Gabriel replaced it on his desk with a little too much care and concentration.
“What have you gotten yourself into, Jeremy?”
“Please, Gabriel,” said Jeremiah. “I can’t explain. I just need to know if you’ll do it. For me.”
“I can’t,” Gabriel said. “You know that I can’t.” He looked openly upset about that inability, his face pleading for his little brother to understand.
“Gabriel —”
“No, Jeremiah,” said the crown prince, more firmly this time. “It’s too dangerous. For them and for us.”
“Just for a few days.”
“Not even for a few hours. I can’t condone it, Jeremiah. I’m sorry.”
Jeremiah stared at the carpet under his feet. Handwoven and ocean colored, it h
ad a delicate pattern of swirling flowers and berry-laden plants. “But you will condone Michael following me into the outer realm.”
“Jeremy —”
“You’ll condone him hunting me like a dog until I have nowhere to run.”
“Jeremy, please —”
“He’s going to kill me, Gabriel. I hope you realize that. I hope you realize that it isn’t fun and games anymore, if it ever really was.”
Gabriel rose sharply to his feet, but Jeremiah had already put up a hand to calm him.
“That’s all, Brother,” he said. “That’s all. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”
He pivoted on his heel and walked through the door before Gabriel could say anything else.
Shawn rinsed off his toothbrush and looked back in the mirror. His skin was swollen from lack of sleep, and his mouth was pinched thin with stress. He looked old and way too much like his father.
In the basement, the washing machine rumbled, and Shawn could hear the whir and clatter of it through the pipes along the wall. Rebecca would be down there, folding clothes and still seething over the morning slipup. She was terrible about holding grudges.
A knock rattled the door.
“Yeah?”
“Good night, Shawn.”
“Night, Meg. I’ll be just a minute.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, don’t worry. Find a book while you’re waiting.”
“Okay.”
Shawn rinsed his hands and flicked the toothbrush dry before putting it away. In the basement, the washer shuddered to a stop.
“Shawn?”
“What, Becca?” He opened the door and saw his sister walking down the hall in slippers and a robe, her arms full with a basket of clean laundry.
“Will you run down and check to make sure the lights are all off?”
“Sure. Do you want me to put the wash in the dryer?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Would you check on Meg, then?”
Rebecca pushed open Megan’s door with her hip and walked inside, all smiles. It was nice not to fight, even if they were both just pretending.
Jeremiah waited patiently in the Stripling family living room, his hands in his jacket pockets, his head tipped back against the wall.
He heard Shawn coming down the steps, and glanced at the hallway when the light flipped on. Gold light spilled over the living-room carpet, just inches from his own feet. He waited for what felt like a long time before the lights went out again and Shawn’s footsteps receded up the stairs. Megan’s door clicked into place and then there was silence.
Jeremiah walked over to the bay windows and flipped out the blade of his pocketknife. It glinted in the moonlight as he brushed the trailing hem of the curtains. There was a space heater perched on the window seat. The report would say that it had been an accident.
How else to keep three children unconscious but safe while he granted Erika’s last wish? Jeremiah hoped that she would never ask what he’d done to bring her children into Limbo, because he feared telling the truth. He feared, also, how difficult it was for him to keep things to himself while around her. Hated the armor he put on to keep her distant. There were so many things that he wanted to tell her, so many times that he wanted to comfort her. So many reasons that he knew he never could.
A stream of fire traveled up the edge of the curtains, too small to make much smoke yet. It crept along one of the pillows and then up to the wooden shutters, where it licked at the whitewash paint as if unsure of what to do next. Jeremiah turned away and tapped the knife against the knob of the front door. He waited for the click of the lock and then stepped out into the pitch-colored night. Behind him, the fire in the living room twinkled yellow and white, like an early-up Christmas tree.
Rebecca slipped off her earphones and sat up in bed. She reached for the cell phone on her nightstand as she sniffed the air.
The line clicked as Shawn answered. “Rebecca?”
“Hey,” she said. “Do you smell smoke?”
“Why are you calling me? I’m twenty feet away.”
“Seriously, Shawn. Did you leave something in the oven?”
“What? No.”
“Go check the hall.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“I’m not kidding! Shawn, go downstairs and — Shawn?” She looked at the display and frowned at the “call ended” message. “Bastard.” Rebecca tucked her earbuds back into place and settled into her nest of pillows.
Her bedroom door crashed open.
“We need to get out,” Shawn said, smoke curling in around his shoulders.
“What’s going on?”
“There’s a fire, Becca, come on!”
Rebecca shot out of bed and followed her brother to the stairs, Megan running along between them. The smoke smudged the hallway into a dark blur. Shawn sprinted to the front door and tried the handle. When it wouldn’t open, he tugged harder, bracing his shoulder against the frame.
“It’s stuck!”
They ran into the kitchen, where he tried to pry open the back door, but it also refused to budge. Megan stood hand in hand with Rebecca, but her grip began to slacken. Rebecca scooped her up and tried to keep her conscious.
“Meg, honey, please listen to me, okay? Meg? Shawn, hurry up.”
He coughed hard into the collar of his shirt.
“Take her upstairs.”
“Smoke rises, dipshit!”
“Then why are you fucking holding her?”
She dropped to her knees, pressing Megan’s face against her chest. “Break a window.”
He grabbed a lamp from the sitting room and hurled it at the window over the breakfast table. The ceramic base shattered against the glass pane. Shawn stared at the pieces for a moment, speechless and horrified.
“Dammit, Shawn, can’t you do anything?” Rebecca lay Megan on the floor and jumped up. She lifted one of the chairs and slammed its legs into the glass. Nothing happened. She thrust it again. Nothing. The chair spun and crashed into the refrigerator as Rebecca flung it aside.
Shawn grabbed her arm. “Don’t panic,” he said, sounding panicked himself. “Call Matt.”
“I don’t have my phone.”
“Well, get it.”
Rebecca skidded down the tile of the hallway and almost slammed into the banister when she turned and headed up the stairs. Her throat burned as she took a breath. She winced with each dragging cough and her eyes, stinging with smoke, squeezed out fresh tears. She found her cell phone and squinted down at the blue-white screen as her list of contacts scrolled past. A crash rocked up from downstairs as something heavy struck the back window, then a clatter as it hit the floor. Shawn let out a frustrated yell.
Then Rebecca heard Megan’s voice, weak but high-pitched, from the front hall. “It’s on the stairs, Becky! On the carpet!”
Rebecca stumbled out of her room. The hallway glowed orange and gray.
“Becky! Come back!”
She tried to yell for Shawn to grab Megan, but when she opened her mouth, a massive cough ripped through her. She doubled over.
Shawn’s voice flew up the stairs. “Megan, no. Megan, come back.”
“But, Becky —”
Then soft, almost a whisper: “Beck?”
Rebecca looked down, half surprised to see her cell phone clutched in her hand. She brought it to her mouth, but no words came out. She could only cough.
Matt’s voice drifted through the speaker. “Beck, are you there?” He sounded frightened and very far away.
Rebecca took a step back and tripped. The phone bounced out of her hand.
Beneath the hungry crackle of the fire, the house fell silent.
Jeremiah waited for the children’s voices to fade away before he broke the seal and walked off down the street. He needed to hail a cab and get to the nearest hospital. Soon the boys would be picking up his trail.
Erika sat chewing her thumbnails on the bottom steps of the grand staircase.
She’d started to regret asking Jeremiah to do anything. The longer he was gone, the less she trusted him.
Kala perched in her cage a few feet away, perfectly silent and perfectly still, more like a toy than a real bird. Her beak was settled against her breast, as usual, so that Erika saw only a hunched back and a silver tail.
There were noises outside from the gardener packing away his tools for the night. Dusk drifted through the city, and Erika, for some reason, kept expecting the call of nightingales. Instead, she heard the awkward trudge of the gardener’s boots, and then other, cleaner footsteps coming up the walk. A cold breeze hissed through the open windows.
Erika got to her feet and walked to the front door, trying to step lightly on the cold marble floor. Her breath caught high in her throat as she pressed her ear against the heavy wood, wondering where the footsteps had gone.
“Well, are you going to let us in?”
She jumped.
“You’re being rude, Uri.” The second voice sounded smoother, softer. Velvet.
Erika stepped away from the door.
“Who are you?” she asked, struggling to sound poised.
“The quality,” said the first voice. “Is our charming brother home?”
She opened the door a sliver.
“Your brother?”
The two men from that morning stood on the top step in their fresh-pressed suits. The shorter of the two had gray eyes and blond curls cropped close in a cap around his head. A sharpness to his jaw suggested a career military, and indeed he wore his scarlet cloak pinned at the shoulder, like a Roman commander.
The other man was tall and slim, his black hair tied out of his face.
“Little Jeremy,” said the first. He looked Erika up and down in the glimmer of light that spilled through the cracked door. “I thought I felt a human,” he said. “Though at least you’re pretty for one.”
“And you are?”
“Uriel.”
“And Selaph,” said the taller brother.
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