“Your friend’ll be fine,” he says. “She’s one of them now. He’ll look after her.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do know that.”
Heat surges through my body. “How can you possibly know? We left her with someone who calls himself Death! I don’t know if you noticed, but he had a freaking scythe and everything.” And if something happens to her, it’ll be my fault. Just like what happened to Jonathon was my fault.
“I noticed, little Demon. But Darius doesn’t lie. Ever.”
Shadows flicker across his face, highlighting the faint line across his throat where Darius held the scythe to his neck. For all his reassurances, he’s tense as well. Something has bothered him. Just as I’m bothered.
When he puts a hand on my shoulder, I feel his heat through the sleeve of my leather jacket. Closing the door behind me, he steers me up against it, then he puts his leg between mine, holding me there.
“You’re upset,” I accuse.
“So are you,” he says, his palms now on either side of me, making a cage.
I place my hand on his chest, looking up into his eyes as he rests his forehead against mine. My breathing quickens.
“Shall we talk about it?” he says.
I glare up at him. “No.”
“Good.”
I pull him forward at the same time he claims my mouth with his.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice tells me this isn’t a healthy way to deal with everything going on—but then Crow bites my earlobe, and I cry out. His low grunt vibrates through my body as I slide my hands beneath his shirt to scratch at his back.
It’s a relief to let my mind shut down.
***
Later, we lie in a tangle of covers, our clothes now part of the mess spilling out of the wardrobe.
“We should talk,” I say as he strokes my shoulder absently.
“Aye? About what?”
We need to figure out what the hell is going on between us, but I don’t want to. If I try to rationalize this, it has to stop, because I still don’t trust him. Yet a horrible part of me likes being around him.
“A lot of things, probably,” I say.
He tilts his head down to meet my eyes. “Go on then.”
“You were upset when we got back from Apocalypse.”
“So were you.”
“You know why I was upset. I’m worried about Josie,” I say. “But what about you?”
He doesn’t reply.
“It’s something to do with that girl, isn’t it?”
He frowns. “Girl?”
“Yeah. The Omen from the club. You almost went to her rescue when Darius threatened her. What was her name? Kat or something?”
His eyebrows lift in genuine surprise. “It’s nothing to do with her. It was what Darius said about my soul. He said he knew the damnation of my soul. And like I said, he doesn’t lie.” Crow meets my eye. “I mean, I always presumed my soul was damned, but it stings a bit to have it confirmed.”
“Oh.” I stroke his chest. “You could always try to be a better man. Get sent to the other place.”
“Aye.” He doesn’t sound convinced. “Or I could be so terrible that Hell doesn’t want me and makes a case to keep me out.”
“Hmm . . . Maybe let’s start with my plan first.”
He chuckles, brushing his lips against my forehead. “Maybe. You’re forgetting something though. If I do redeem my soul, little Demon, it means I won’t be able to hang out with you come Judgement Day.”
“You’re forgetting something too,” I say.
“What’s that?”
“Gabriel’s helping me get my soul back.” I prop myself up on my elbow. “Do you think he’ll actually manage it?”
“He’s always come through for me,” says Crow. “Oh. Speaking of which, I had a chat with him while you were still with Josie.”
“He get any information from Evie?”
“She wouldn’t say much, apparently. But she did say, ‘It starts with an apple.’ Whatever that means. It was enough for Gabe to head off to ‘investigate’ the forbidden fruit in the Purgatory Vaults.”
My mouth twitches. I imagine him dressed as Sherlock Holmes, heading over to the Purgatory Vaults with a giant magnifying glass.
“That’s weird,” I say. “What would an apple have to do with anything?”
“No idea. Could be nothing.” He pulls me back into his arms, and I stifle a yawn. It must be the early hours of the morning by now.
“So who is she then?” I ask. “A friend? An ex?”
“An old friend,” says Crow.
“You have a friend?”
He chuckles. “I know. Surprising, isn’t it?”
After he pulls up the covers, I turn on my side, and he spoons me.
“How did that happen?” I ask sleepily.
“Well, although I thought she was hot, she didn’t seem interested in me at all. Which, of course, drove me mad.”
I pinch his hand at my waist. “What’s wrong with you?”
“So many things, little Demon.” He laughs, his breath warm against the back of my neck. “Anyway, finally understood why when I saw her with some girl outside Apocalypse. Turns out she likes women as much as I do. By that point, though, I’d spent so much time getting to know her that I ended up liking her. And I didn’t want all my efforts to be for nothing, did I? So we stayed friends.” He pauses. “In an Omen way, of course. Don’t trust her in the slightest.” There’s a note of respect in his tone when he says it.
“What a beautiful story,” I say. “She said she hadn’t seen you for a while?”
“Nah. Not been doing many jobs for Omens Limited of late. Other things taking up my attention.”
“Like Apocalypses,” I say.
“Aye.” He grins, pulling me closer. “Apocalypses. And little Demons.”
***
When I wake, it’s with a start and the realization something’s wrong. I reach for Crow, but the space beside me is empty, nothing there but a dip in the mattress.
A clatter comes from the living room.
“Mate! You’ve got it wrong!” Crow’s voice says, followed by a thud and a grunt.
I jump out of bed and pull on a black T-shirt and sweats I find on the floor, anger and adrenaline surging through my veins. With it comes the crackle of energy I’ve not quite gotten used to yet.
There’s another clash as something topples over.
“You piece of shit!” a male voice cries. “If you’ve hurt her—”
Flinging open the door, I raise my hand in preparation to strike.
And then I freeze. The room sways, and my heart pounds so hard in my ears that I can’t hear what’s going on.
Crow is on his knees, naked except for black sweats he must have pulled on to go investigate our intruder. There’s a cut across his eyebrow, and his skin is flushed. Old mail is scattered across the carpet, and the breakfast stool has been knocked on its side. His muscular arm is raised protectively over his face. While his attacker is no physical match for him, Crow makes no attempt to fight back.
The intruder wears neat dark jeans and a red San Francisco 49ers hoodie that I know from personal experience smells like the takeout food he used to subsist on. His soft mouth is turned down at the corners, and his light brown hair is wild.
He doesn’t look a day over twenty-three.
The age he was when I last saw him.
The age he was when he died.
“Jonathon?” I croak.
They both turn their heads toward me.
As Jonathon’s eyes meet mine, a mixture of emotion crosses his face. Still on the floor, Crow twists his fingers, and my shadow curls up from the ground to snuff the ball of flame.
“Jonathon?” I say again.
His fist drops to his side.
He gives me a weak smile.
“Hey, sis,” he replies.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Jonathon looks exactly
the same as I remember, only less fuzzy around the edges; more real. My eyes flit from his round brown eyes, to his neat eyebrows, to the scuffs on the toes of his sneakers. I must look so different to him now. I was a child when he died.
For the first few moments, we do nothing but stare at one another. And then something snaps.
Rushing forward in tandem, we collide in a hug so hard the air is knocked from my lungs. As Jonathon pulls me close, I bury my face in his shoulder and take big shuddering sobs, breathing in the familiar smell of his old red sweatshirt.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he says, the words muffled against my hair. I mumble something incoherent about thinking I’d never see him again.
When I pull back, his eyes are watery and bloodshot.
He smiles. I smile back.
And then I punch him in the shoulder.
“Um. Ow?” he says, rubbing his arm.
“Seven years!” I say, stepping back. “Seven years, I’ve grieved for you. Where the hell have you been?”
“Rach,” he says, voice pained. “I couldn’t. You know that.”
“Don’t give me that shit. You couldn’t risk checking in on me once? Do you have any idea what it’s been like?” I take a shuddering breath. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to lose someone you love?”
“I do. I’ve missed you so much.” He tries to put a hand on my arm, but I jerk away. “God, I’ve missed you every single day, Rach. It’s been so hard—”
I fling my arms up. “Then why didn’t you visit me?”
He runs a hand over his mouth, pinching his bottom lip the way he always did when we were kids and he was hiding something from our parents. “I just couldn’t, Rachel, okay? I just couldn’t.”
“Why? What possible reason—?”
“He didn’t want his Miracle reversed,” says Crow.
We both turn our heads to look at him. He’s on his feet now, leaning against the breakfast bar as he studies his fingernails. A trickle of blood runs down the side of his face from the cut where Jonathon hit him.
“You stay out of it,” snaps my brother. “You’re not part of this conversation.”
Crow looks up at Jonathon slowly. “Not wrong though, am I, mate?”
My brother is suddenly fascinated by his old sneakers.
“You exchanged a Miracle for your soul?” I ask quietly. I was so fixated on the desire to see him again that I didn’t think things through properly. For him to have been an employee at Halo Corp., he must have entered into a legal agreement with an Angel.
He touches his mouth again. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah. I did.”
“What could you possibly have wanted?” I say, my voice rising again. “What could possibly be more important than letting me know you were okay?”
He sighs. “It doesn’t matter, Rach. I’m here now.”
“It. Matters.” A building anger buzzes beneath the surface of my skin. “If you can’t say why, you may as well leave,” I snap.
“Rach—”
“Go on! Get out!” I don’t mean it. I don’t know why I’m saying it. If he leaves, it’ll wrench my heart back out, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to put it back in again. And yet . . . “Just go!”
He raises his hands. “Fine. If that’s what you want. I’ll go.”
He turns and strides to the door, shoulders stiff. Tears cloud my vision, and blue flames lick at my hands. I can’t get rid of them. They burn.
Jonathon opens the door.
Is he seriously going to go?
But instead of leaving, he just stands there.
The shadow from the couch twists up my arm and puts out the flames. I feel relief—at the cooling sensation, and the fact Jonathon is still here.
“You going to tell her, mate, or am I?” says Crow. “We all know you’re not really going to leave. And she’s not going to calm down until you tell her. Which means I’m stuck with a domestic going on in my flat when I’d much rather be in bed.”
Jonathon turns and shuts the door, jaw clenched. “I’m protecting her,” he says.
“Aye? And look how that’s worked out. She’s sold her soul to the Devil, and people are trying to kill her. Because they’re looking for you. Maybe if she knew from the start what you’d done—”
“I couldn’t risk it.”
“Risk what? What the hell’s going on!” I cry, wiping my eyes.
“She can handle it,” says Crow. “Just tell her, mate, and be done with it.”
Jonathon sighs and runs a hand over his mouth. Then he walks toward me to gently take me by both arms.
“Okay,” he says. “Okay. Look. Do you remember that time when you . . . you went in the river, and I took you to hospital? It was pretty touch-and-go for a while. The doctors said . . . they said that you weren’t going to make it.”
“When I came around, they said my recovery was miraculous,” I murmur, my voice barely carrying in the small space between us.
“Yeah,” says Jonathon softly. “Yeah, they did.”
I swallow, my throat feeling thick and wrong.
“In the darkest hour, I prayed,” says Jonathon. “I’d never prayed before in my life—never believed in gods or angels or prayers. I believed in science.” He lets out a short laugh that doesn’t quite meet his red-rimmed eyes. “But the whole point of science is testing things, isn’t it? Adjusting your methods. Trying everything until something sticks. And it seemed we were out of options. So I got on my knees, and I prayed you’d pull through. Told whoever might be listening that I’d do anything if they’d help bring you back.
“Not long after, a guy came in wearing blue doctors’ scrubs. Told me he was an Angel and he’d come to answer my prayer. Said his organization had been keeping an eye on me for a while and that they wanted to make an investment in my soul. He presented me with paperwork. A Miracle for a soul.” Jonathon shrugs. “I was skeptical, but I signed it. Seemed worth a try.” He smiles a watery smile. “And then he touched your forehead, and you woke up.”
He lets go of my arms and takes a small step back. “So that’s why I didn’t come find you after I died. I was scared they would reverse the Miracle. Even when I got out of the Halo Corp. contract and started working for myself, I was still terrified they’d take away that gift. I couldn’t risk your life.”
My chest feels heavy. “Then it was my fault,” I say. “It’s my fault you died. All of this is because of me.”
“No. I died because some asshole was texting while driving. It had nothing to do with any of this, and certainly nothing to do with you. Signing away your soul to Angels is hardly a terrible thing anyway.”
Something eases inside of me a little. “I guess.” I turn on Crow, still leaning on the counter. “You knew I was his Miracle?”
He gives a half-shrug. “I guessed when you told me about your tattoo.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Wasn’t my story to tell,” he says simply, then he turns to my brother. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you get out of your contract with Halo Corp.?”
Jonathon’s mouth tightens. “Redemption Clause.”
Crow nods as though that makes perfect sense. “Because you sacrificed your soul in exchange for Rachel’s.”
“You?” Jonathon asks.
“Devils Inc. murdered me.”
Jonathon nods as though that too makes perfect sense. Then Crow pushes off from the counter.
“So did you come here to check I wasn’t murdering your sister?” he asks. “Or do you have some information to share that will shed some light on who’s looking for you and what it has to do with the Apocalypse?”
“Both,” says Jonathon.
A smile spreads across Crow’s face. “Excellent. I’ll just go put a shirt on—”
“Please do,” says Jonathon.
“Then we can have a nice little chat. Rachel, there are some beers in the fridge. Jonathon, make yourself comfortable.”
As he disappears into
the bedroom, I note how he didn’t call me “little Demon” in front of my brother. I look at Jonathon, suddenly feeling awkward. This is the first time I’ve seen him in years, and he’s just caught me in bed with a decidedly older, morally dubious Omen.
“Want a beer?” I ask him.
“Yeah. Yeah, please.” He gives me a weak smile. “I think we’re all going to need it.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
What are you supposed to say when you reunite with the genius big brother who died seven years ago?
Even though I take my time getting the beers, holding my nose against the smell, I still haven’t figured it out by the time I hand one over the breakfast bar. Judging by his terse smile, Jonathon’s having trouble figuring out where to start as well.
I take a sip of mine. He takes a sip of his.
Jonathon’s smile warms. He opens his mouth then shuts it again.
“What?” I say.
“Never thought I’d get to share a beer with my little sister,” he says.
I smile back, then take another sip, not sure what to do with my hands.
“So,” says Jonathon. “What you been up to?”
“Well, I’m studying law now, which it turns out I suck at because I accidentally signed my soul away to the Devil in exchange for free Wi-Fi. And a load of people are trying to kill me. You?”
“Well, I died, created an app that can track any Ethereal being in the world, and went on the run for a year in an attempt to save the world.”
I shake my head, lips twitching. “You always had to one-up me, didn’t you?”
He laughs, and I can tell it surprises him, as if he hasn’t found anything funny in a while. Then a heavy silence falls once more.
“How are Mom and Dad?” he says.
“They lost their son.”
He sighs and bows his head. “I know.”
“You didn’t check up on them either,” I say.
“I wanted to. It was too hard.” He lifts his gaze from the granite counter. “I did check up on you though. From time to time. How do you think you managed to get a private dorm room?”
“Are you serious?” I say. “Josie did always say that was a miracle.”
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