by Carol Oates
Chapter Thirty-Four
NOTHING CHANGED OVERNIGHT. Everyone, including Candra, sat around waiting. Every time she tried to suggest they plan, Draven insisted they wait it out. For a reason she couldn’t grasp, Gabe backed him up at every turn, but she guessed it had to do with Sebastian and Ananchel’s noticeable absence.
When he did speak to her, Draven didn’t make eye contact. His stare darted from the top of her head to over her shoulder. She tried moving directly into his line of vision, only for him to shift away again.
Candra ended up spending time in the gym, helping to organize the terrified people hiding out there. She fetched water, passed out blankets, and got in the way of a brewing argument between two young men over one of the few cots. Lofi pulled her away and stepped in to calm the situation. An elderly woman slept in the cot, and the two men at either end of the room with thin, itchy blankets from the nurses’ office.
After that, she took herself somewhere she could be of use until Sebastian got back, sitting with the orphaned child for a few hours. He eventually settled in her arms.
It also gave her a chance to think, a thing she’d avoided. It would have been easier if she didn’t feel different since she discovered the Arch had been inside her this entire time…but she did. She felt better, more at peace. The constant struggle inside her, the pressure, pushing her from the inside out, was gone. If she disregarded the absolute certainty of her meeting with the Arch being real, she might have almost convinced herself it hadn’t happened and the only entity inside her head was Candra herself.
She tried to get a handle on the situation with Draven and Sebastian. She didn’t doubt Draven knew about her connection with the Arch. However, she did question how long he had known and whether Sebastian also knew. Did it influence their feeling for her or hers for them? Both of them were drawn to protect her. Were they both drawn to love her too? She cringed when she thought of the implications. How could any of her relationships be real if she was never alone inside? How could they know her enough to love her when she never knew herself?
Holding the child in her arms gave her some perspective. As she sat in the corner of the cafeteria rocking him gently, she understood nothing else mattered but this young life. His pink pouting lips moved to what must have been a dream about suckling. The little boy had no name, at least none anyone was aware of yet, but he had the softest blond curls and milky skin. His pudgy fingers wrapped around Candra’s when she touched the palm of his hand. He deserved a chance at life, no matter what she had to do to give it to him.
Rays of white light broke through the spaces between the boards on the windows, and the sounds around her went from nighttime whispers to morning tensions about what would come next. Candra handed the baby back to the female Watcher.
The time for waiting was over. She had to get the Creation Blade and send Lilith back where she belonged.
Candra arrived back at the church with Lofi, determined to make plans. Before she had an opportunity to do so, the main entrance doors crashed in, shooting a hazy soft yellow light over the central aisle. Candra spun toward it in the exact same instant Lofi pushed her to the ground behind the pews. She slammed down hard on her shoulder, and the shock of it rocketed down her arm. There was a flurry of movement from the others that she couldn’t make sense of, but she presumed they were taking their places ready for a fight. Lilith had found a way around the banishment and had come for her. On instinct, she fought Lofi, still intent on facing Lilith herself with or without the blade.
“Let me go,” she demanded.
“Sebastian.” Draven voice echoed through the empty church.
Lofi’s grip loosened, and they both scrambled to their knees and peeked over the dark wooden rail. Candra blinked, adjusting to daylight after so many hours spent under the radiance of candles thanks to Father Patrick trying to save power. The muted glow from the stained glass above them didn’t help.
“Sebastian,” Lofi whispered, pulling her tawny wings against her back.
All the air left Candra’s lungs in a great whooshing sound, and relief flooded through her at an alarming rate. She didn’t stop to think about any of the reasons she should still be angry toward him. She’d told him to his face she would never think of him again and had made him believe she never wanted to. Her words had been cruel, plain and simple…but then, so were his. She’d known who and what Sebastian was when she’d fallen in love. She’d known his indelible strength and every one of his abysmal weaknesses, yet when faced with the reality instead of the abstract, she’d bolted. She experienced her own frailty down to her core when she couldn’t find any compassion for him within herself.
He stood in the huge arched doorway, as if frozen in time, except for the subtle movement of his shoulders. Brilliant daylight backlit him, as clouds rolled by outside and cast an elongated silhouette of his body on the illuminated, polished floor. In the hand of the shadow, long fingers wrapped tightly around something pointed, something that glinted when Sebastian took a step and the light caught the object.
“Sebastian,” Candra said. His name didn’t sound real coming from her lips, as if the name of the boy she loved was a figment of her imagination or a wisp of smoke she never fully grasped. She pulled herself up from her hiding place, suddenly consumed with a deep physical ache to be in his arms again.
Sebastian took a couple of halting steps before he stopped and leaned shakily on one of the pews. Draven reached out, as if to stop her when she rushed past Lofi and then him. Candra barely registered the light brush of Draven’s fingertips on her arm. A twelve-inch wall of steel and concrete could do less to keep her from Sebastian in that moment. Draven knew that, or else he would have tried harder.
She didn’t run, but merely walked as quickly as her legs would carry her. Sebastian moved with measured steps. Candra wondered if she’d hurt him irrevocably, and a stinging panic swept through her. How ridiculous that she should immediately presume he’d returned for her. She saw him more clearly as she neared. Under a layer of filth, he looked as beautiful as ever. Except there was something different about the way he held himself, something distant and yet desperate about his eyes. His hair matted to his face and neck, and his skin was damp, soaking through his cotton T-shirt. One side of his bottom lip had a nasty split. The shining red blood still fresh in the wound indicated a recently aggravated injury.
Candra hesitated four rows away from him when his fingers tightened on the blade in his right hand. His left settled on the back of one of the pews, and he seemed to lean into it for support. Thick veins snaked up around his forearms under damp, golden skin. Exhaustion weighed him down, and he’d clearly been fighting. Candra noticed a deep salt and musk scent in the air; it caught in the back of her throat—blood. She looked again and saw a thick red crust coated the blade.
“The Creation Blade,” she said in a hushed voice, her eyes opening wide. “How?”
Sebastian’s chest rose and fell heavily with each breath. “Does it matter?”
Candra flinched at his cutting tone. He looked down and shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry, Candra.” His eyes lifted, and she saw genuine remorse and pain. There was something so different about him that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “But I need you to know I wouldn’t change any of it. I wouldn’t give up one second of the time we’ve had together for anything.” He paused and sucked in a deep breath, wincing.
She started forward, wanting to go to him, but something in her told her to stay exactly where she was. A deep sense of I-don’t-want-to-see-around-the-next-corner overtook every other instinct in her body. The thought felt distinctly like self-preservation and terrified her beyond comprehension.
Sebastian’s eyes flickered past her and drew her attention to the footsteps coming from behind. Candra glanced over her shoulder and wasn’t comforted in the slightest by what she saw. Draven approached with caution, as if sneaking up on a small animal he didn’t want to disturb. Brie stood in between Lofi and Gabe,
all closely bound together. Both her hands were pressed tightly to her face, so Candra could only see the way her eyebrows drew down. One of Gabe’s arms stretched around her shoulder, holding on to Lofi’s. His other hand rubbed up and down Brie’s arm in a comforting gesture. His expression remained a perfect mask displaying nothing, but Lofi was different. One of her hands held onto Gabe’s, and the other was tucked into the underside of Brie’s arm. Candra couldn’t be sure who was holding up whom. Lofi’s tears virtually screamed that something was very, very wrong.
Lofi didn’t cry. She usually barely registered any negative emotions for longer than brief moments. But now, heavy tears poured from her eyes as she sniffled in a vain effort to restrain them. The others stood around in varying degrees of curiosity and horror. Sandal closed her eyes and turned away. Even Nathaniel rubbed his palm back and forth over his shaven head and frowned gravely.
Draven stopped beside Candra, his shoulders rigid. He stood tall and sturdy, his jaw flexing when he swallowed. His eyes regarded Sebastian with a respect and admiration Candra hadn’t seen since the ball. She presumed it had to be because Sebastian had managed to retrieve the one thing he believed would give them an edge in this battle. He’d done it on his own.
Sebastian grimaced, his face scrunching up, and his entire body appeared to shudder. Candra wanted to reach out to him, but her body had different ideas, locking down and refusing to budge.
With great effort, Sebastian twisted the blade so he held onto the blood-encrusted end and offered it to Draven. “It didn’t go as smoothly as I’d hoped. I had to fight.”
Draven stepped forward and took the blade from Sebastian, bowing his head in a mark of respect. That’s a first, Candra thought.
“You will protect her,” Sebastian instructed grimly.
“I will…always,” Draven answered in a firm and regal tone.
Candra recognized a vow when she heard it, but it didn’t make sense to her because it sounded like the promise to a person departing. Sebastian had just arrived, and she was sure that, despite everything else and despite anything going on between them, he wouldn’t leave them now. They were on the verge of a battle with an army of demons.
A hollow sensation filled her chest as if the chambers of her heart had grown exponentially and beat through her entire body, forcing blood to pump.
Draven shifted the blade to his other hand and offered his free hand to Sebastian. For a moment, Sebastian looked at his hand, as though he wasn’t sure what he should do. His eyes darted to Draven’s serious face and back to his hand. Finally, Sebastian closed his eyes for a moment. He pressed his lips firmly into a straight line before he released his crutch, squared his shoulders, and straightened, taking a confident grip of Draven’s hand.
“Brother,” Draven said with a note of reverence.
“Brother,” Sebastian responded, reflecting Draven’s infliction of the word exactly.
Candra glanced worriedly between the both of them. A chill that had nothing to do with the breeze drifting in the door settled deep within her bones. He’d reached out and touched the blade. Sebastian had touched the business end of the Creation Blade, despite knowing that an accidental injury could prove deadly. Why would he do that?
Draven withdrew his hand, and with a final nod, he backed away, leaving Candra staring dumbly after him. Sebastian was once again leaning against the pew for support when she turned back, except this time, his used both his hands. Small beads of perspiration rolled down his cheek from his temple. It seemed at odds with his pallid complexion.
“What’s going on, Sebastian?” she asked nervously, her voice ready to break on each of the four words.
“I’m cold.” It was all he said, and his voice was so quiet that Candra wouldn’t have discerned it if she hadn’t been watching his lips move. Then he went down.
Chapter Thirty-Five
HE DIDN’T DROP QUICKLY. Instead, he collapsed with a sliding motion, as though his legs seemed to give up on holding him upright and bent, allowing him to ease to the floor. His legs straightened out, and the seat behind his back propped him up. Candra’s responses belatedly kicked into gear, and she rushed to him. She wasn’t in time to do any more than place her hands on his upper arms to settle him. She looked back beseechingly to the others standing at the altar. It was only a short distance, but distance didn’t matter. In a blur between when she reached for Sebastian and whipped her head around to plead for help, she saw Brie go to step forward. Both Gabe and Lofi held her back.
“Help him,” she demanded. Her lungs stung; every breath she inhaled was laced with pure, unadulterated dread. This is all wrong.
When it appeared no help would be forthcoming, Candra reached into her pocket and pulled out the small black healing stone she always carried, running her thumb over the smooth surface. Sebastian’s cold hand closed around hers. Her eyes locked on his, desperate and completely unselfconscious about panting, as if she had been running miles. She couldn’t manage to fill her lungs.
“It won’t do any good,” he told her weakly.
She knew already. She understood. Sebastian was leaving her again, and she knew that this time, it was forever.
“What have you done?” Candra blinked her eyes to clear her vision because she had to see Sebastian.
He smiled, revealing his perfect white teeth, whiter than ever against the dirt smudged on his face. “I didn’t sleep with Ananchel.”
“I know,” Candra sobbed, unable to stem the flow of tears. “You were trying to protect me.”
His tongue darted out to skim his top lip, and Sebastian closed his eyes before shifting to sit up straight. Candra heard crying and shushing words but refused to take her eyes off Sebastian to see the source.
“What did you do?” she asked again.
Sebastian didn’t answer. His hand released hers and gently skimmed over her heated flesh, tracing a line up the entire length of her arm and over her shoulder. His fingers trembled and left goose bumps in their wake before cupping the back of her neck and tugging her toward him. Candra didn’t resist, even though there was no strength behind his hold on her.
She scooted nearer and placed her palm on his neck, smoothing her thumb over his stubbled jawline. His pulse was weak, hardly causing any stir at all in his artery. Her own thundered, as if attempting to beat for both of them. Sebastian closed his eyes again as Candra’s lips drew near, his breath in stark contrast to the temperature of his skin. His spicy scent enveloped her, making her want to crawl into his lap, but she didn’t. Sebastian seemed so breakable, she wasn’t sure he would be able to hold her weight.
“Please let me heal you.” She breathed against his bloodied lips, and tears spilled from her eyes over her flushed cheeks.
“Kiss me,” he said in a whisper.
Candra closed the space between them, firmly pressing her mouth to his. His lips parted a little and deepened the kiss, swallowing hard and tightening his grip on her neck. Nails scraped across her skin beneath the disheveled braid that was beginning to unravel. Candra’s body responded to him as it always did, with fire in her belly and a raging heart. She took everything he gave, took every ounce of passion Sebastian poured into that one kiss. The world disappeared. They could have been anywhere—it didn’t matter. Time didn’t matter.
Candra tasted the salt of her tears mingled with the metallic sweetness of blood in her mouth. She devoured the taste of him. His fingers dragged down the length of her spine, roughly pulling her closer when he reached where her shirt ended. His cold skin caused her to quiver, and his strength appeared to increase with each velvety stroke of his tongue against hers. A dull ache throbbed through her body as her fingers splayed flat over Sebastian’s chest and hard stomach.
She sat awkwardly, leaning across him, her legs curled under her and her torso partially touching his. She could feel his strained breathing and his heart working overtime, despite his weakened pulse. Candra hands moved without conscious thought, exploring his body, over
whelmed with an unquenchable thirst for him. Sebastian’s fingers clawed into her skin to the point of pain, but it was such sweet agony because his desperation proved his yearning for her rivaled hers for him.
The tingling began gradually under her skin and spread as melted butter over a warm knife through every inch of her. Then the tingling became a vibration and awoke those few last sleeping nerves. It brought her body to a heightened state of awareness, but nothing like the sensation of the Arch trying to break through. That part of her remained sleeping. Electricity raced through her, shooting jolts over her skin, and surging power made her heart pound. Her hand slid below Sebastian’s arm to his back and bunched into his sticky shirt. Not sticky in the way sweat made fabric damp so it clung to skin. It was more a syrupy type of stickiness, heavy and thick.
With a guttural noise that reminded Candra of a wounded animal, Sebastian suddenly shoved her back. She licked her lips, tainted with the fresh blood spilling from his lip. His breathing grew harsh as he held her away, fixing his wild eyes on her. The world came abruptly into focus, the dank smell of old water and moss, dead flowers and smoke from recently blown out candles. The cold flavor of stone and marble hit the back of her tongue. Wind whispered past the door and blew in, scattering trash across the central aisle.
Tears still streaked down her face, and her head pounded. The pungent perfume of incense made her gag. Candra swallowed the nausea in her throat. Her eyes widened. Sebastian’s skin was as pale and icy as the marble that made up the pillars around them, and every hard breath seemed to lance a swift pain through him.
His back, Candra thought, not sparing a moment to glance up to the hushed whispers coming from near the altar.
“What did you do?” she demanded. “What did you do?” A panic as acute and cutting as a razor blade tore her heart open.
Sebastian flinched and then fought to hold her at bay when she pulled him forward, intent on inspecting his back.