Iridescent (Ember 2)

by Carol Oates

  Candra wondered what would eventually happen between them. Gabe was still an angel and would never age; Brie, on the other hand, would grow old and die. Did they stand a chance of a future together here? Was it worth fighting for, and was it worth dying for? He might decide to fall too, she supposed, but Gabe had made no indication that he planned to. Candra didn’t want to think about it anymore.

  She’d spent another restless night dreaming about lights and swarming angels, and she’d made her decision. She’d decided to tell Draven everything and then give herself over to Lilith. What use was she as a weapon when no one understood how to use her? At least this way, there was a chance. She hoped Lilith would open the gateway and allow those who wanted to return to heaven to do so. Those who remained would still have a chance to figure out a way to retrieve the blade and banish her. If her gamble failed to pay off and Lilith went back on her word, then the Watchers could stand their ground and fight. She couldn’t save everyone. For better or worse, her decision was to allow the future to reveal itself like a rug unrolling.

  “Where’s Brie?”

  Gabe removed the lid from his coffee and sniffed at the steaming, frothy liquid with a satisfied smile. “Upstairs, probably hiding out so she can laugh hysterically at my inability to master technology.”

  Candra snorted a laugh. Sebastian had told her the Watchers had seen worse in the past and needed to hold on to the hope there was still a future worth fighting for. She suspected he’d said it partially to placate her. She wasn’t convinced the Watchers had seen worse. If they had, what was her purpose?

  However, she did understand the idea of passing time as normal. It wasn’t ignoring the problem and hoping it went away. It was more about focusing on a fixed point in a storm, staying grounded while everything around fell away.

  “I’ll head on up,” Candra told him, taking the tray and turning to the stairs.

  “Candra,” he began tentatively.

  She halted and watched him from over her shoulder.

  “About last night…well, the last few days, really—”

  “It doesn’t matter. As long as Sebastian doesn’t go back on his word, none of it matters.” Liar, her mind screamed. It matters.

  He smiled briefly, seeming to see straight through her poker face. “Brie doesn’t know about you and Sebastian. We figured you’d want to talk to her about it yourself.”

  No, she really didn’t want to talk about him anymore to anyone, but she could appreciate the sentiment behind giving her the option. Candra guessed Brie was pissed about her staying away from home already. She would be more annoyed about being kept in the dark about Sebastian.

  “I’m going to leave now before she realizes I’ve deleted her online invoices for the last two months. I’ll see her at home.”

  Candra forced a snicker over her shoulder. “I won’t tell.”

  “Good.” He grinned. “I’ll pull the shutters down and lock up when I leave.”

  Candra continued up the stairs and noted how Gabe referred to the townhouse she shared with Brie as his home now, instead of the brownstone where Lofi and Sebastian stayed. She resented how Sebastian had entangled himself so deeply into her life that every thought, every action, and everything around her led her back to thinking about him. It didn’t just happen; nothing just happened. People made decisions that took them down one road or another; Sebastian had chosen, and so had she.

  She found Brie in the storage room, poring over her paintings. Her favorite pieces, all carefully inventoried, were wrapped with high-resolution digital images taped to the packaging and stored in custom-made skeletal shelving. Precise and organized, just like Brie.

  “Hey, what are you doing?”

  “Trying to concentrate on anything but Lilith.” Brie frowned. “I’m failing miserably.”

  “You don’t have to worry, Brie. I’m going to take care of this.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about,” Brie deadpanned and glanced up at her from the paintings.

  Candra tossed the carrier in the trashcan and sat down on one of the chairs beside the table. She took a sip of her coffee, avoiding answering Brie. It wasn’t like she could tell her she wouldn’t do anything silly. Besides, if she lied, Brie would know…she always did. If Candra admitted to Lilith’s offer, Brie would put her on lockdown, and Candra had no intention of sitting on the sidelines. She was actually surprised at how calm she felt about the whole thing on reflection and wondered if her experiences with Draven had anesthetized her to the idea of giving up her life.

  After a few moments of silence, Candra finally spoke. “This is about me. What do you expect me to do?”

  Brie sighed and shut her eyes briefly. She pushed a large canvas she was holding forward and settled it before joining Candra at the table.

  “I have never expected anything of you. Being your guardian never came with that luxury.”

  The old jolt of guilt crashed into the pit of Candra’s stomach again. Every decision she made hurt Brie, and she always took it with the same grace, turning the other cheek and waiting for the next strike. Candra found herself in her usual quandary, wanting to comfort Brie with chicken noodle soup or shake some sense into her.

  She handed Brie a cup of coffee as an alternative. “I’m sorry.”

  Brie accepted the offering with a tight smile. “Never apologize. You didn’t ask for this, and you certainly can’t be judged for whatever choices you make.”

  “Okay.” Candra nodded. It almost seemed as if Brie took offense at the merest suggestion Candra could make the wrong choices, as if whatever she decided was right by virtue of it being the path of Candra’s own choosing.

  She reached forward, brushing her thumb under Candra’s eye, and scowled. In an unusual move, Candra had applied concealer over the dark purple smudges she had gained as a side effect of not sleeping. Obviously, it hadn’t worked.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Brie’s mouth lifted at the corners. She’d always appeared pleased that Candra shared her enjoyment of art. Candra had expected an inquisition about her recent sleepovers or about Sebastian. Her suspicious mind hummed ruefully at Brie’s avoidance of the subject.

  “I guess you could say I’m doing the same as you. I’m trying to keep things normal.” Candra looked down to her cup and peeked up to Brie speculatively from under her eyelashes. “I take it you haven’t spoken to Sebastian.”

  Brie paused mid-sip and took the cup away from her lips, placing it carefully on the table and turning it slowly between both hands. She kept her eyes trained meticulously on the movement. “I’m trying my very best not to interfere between the two of you. I don’t find this easy. Sebastian was mine first—my brother, my friend…for a long time, we spoke about everything.”

  “You didn’t tell him about my existence. You left him behind.”

  Brie shook her head but didn’t respond otherwise.

  “And there is no two of us to interfere between,” Candra corrected her. The calmness in her voice surprised her. She hadn’t expected to accept the situation so readily. It made her wonder if she had truly accepted it at all or if she was still holding onto some tiny sliver of hope that it was all some ugly dream. Regardless, she couldn’t allow him to die. Candra wasn’t selfless enough to risk him and those she loved without doing everything in her power to prevent it. Maybe there was something wrong with her wiring…or something right with it. Her instincts prevented her from disregarding Lilith’s offer. If she could turn it to their advantage, she had to take a chance.

  Brie lifted her eyes to Candra and fixed her with a piercing gaze.

  Candra fidgeted in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable discussing what happened. “Sebastian ended things with me two days ago. He wants to go back to how things were before I came along: sex, drugs, and rocking and rolling with Ananchel,” she finished lamely.

  Brie pressed her lips together, and a blush flamed across her cheeks. Candra recognized the reaction as a sign of her anger. “I still do
n’t understand.”

  Irrationally, Candra bristled, and she had to bite her tongue so as not to snap needlessly. She didn’t want to have to go through the details, although she understood that Brie deserved more than a brush off. She took a deep breath and swallowed the desire to keep her secrets all inside. It was enough to suppress the truth about Lilith. Adding what Sebastian had done would create a combustible situation.

  “There is nothing to understand. It is what it is…Sebastian cheated.” It sounded so bizarre. As if Sebastian was a normal guy, and she was a normal girl. So basic and simple…but it was anything but simple.

  Brie took a sip of coffee and paused with the rim of the cup millimeters from her lips. Candra always believed she could practically see questions forming on Brie’s face. Tiny details in her facial expressions gave her away: a twitch of an eyebrow, or the tightness of her mouth. How she always swallowed if the question that followed would be particularly cutting or drag an emotional response from the one on the receiving end. Her eyes darted away, focusing on nothing at all, because her concentration was so wrapped up in the goings-on inside her head. Finally, her eyes locked with Candra’s to gauge her response to whatever she was about to ask.

  “Wasn’t it you who told me that how it is isn’t always how it should be?”

  Candra pressed her lips together, growing more agitated with each passing second. She didn’t expect Brie to turn her own words on her and didn’t consider it helpful. “Sometimes, it doesn’t matter which is true.” She bent her head to conceal the moisture forming in her eyes. Sebastian didn’t deserve her tears—she’d give up her life for him in a heartbeat, but no more tears. A quick, sharp pain, a white-hot needle pierced her heart, shooting through her chest. Later, Candra promised herself. She would deal with the pain of Sebastian’s betrayal later. He was on her list of goodbyes.

  Brie continued to scrutinize her, and Candra felt judged. Brie was no fool; she never had been. Candra realized thinking she could get her to simply overlook her relationship breakdown had been an exercise in futility. Brie expected her to talk, and she just…she couldn’t. That specific dam gate needed to stay closed for now. Blood flooded her cheeks when a fleeting desire to enter the abyss Lilith offered flickered into her mind. She dismissed the thought as running away. That couldn’t be the reason. It would take more than a broken heart to make her a coward. It was a choice, not an escape.

  Brie frowned and picked up her cell phone from the table.

  “What are you doing?” Candra demanded, horrified and reaching forward to grab the phone out of Brie’s white-knuckle clutches.

  “I’m going to find out what is going on with him.”

  “No,” Candra squealed, diving across the table. She couldn’t imagine anything more humiliating than Brie berating Sebastian for his treatment of her. Her heart raced a mile a minute, and her palms began to sweat.

  Brie’s reflexes were faster, and she swiveled out of Candra’s reach. “I’ll be the first to admit that I haven’t been on board with a relationship between you two, but you need to take my word for one thing.” Her brown eyes looked huge, and her shoulders rolled back with indignation. “I know Sebastian better than anyone else, better than Lofi…even better than you. He did not just walk away from you. Walking away is something that does not compute in Sebastian’s programming.”

  Candra stood and glared at Brie, aghast. She reached for the phone over and over, with Brie continually wrenching away from her.

  “Sit down, Candra. You are being immature.”

  “What?” she cried. “Honestly, you cannot be serious right now.” Candra felt bile bubble up her throat. There was every possibility she might vomit if Sebastian answered that call.

  They tugged back and forth for a few more moments. Brie kept the phone locked to her ear, shrugging off Candra. They weren’t an even match physically. Candra had a slight advantage on Brie with height and weight. However, Brie was fast and wiry. She was used to fighting, and Candra wasn’t. Candra had to use all her strength to wrestle the phone from her hand.

  “Stop it,” she scolded Brie. “I am not a child, and you don’t need to fight my battles for me.”

  “You are my child.”

  Candra let out an exasperated groan. Brie had always been overprotective, but this verged on ridiculous.

  Brie managed to pull the phone from her hand again. “You don’t get it. There has to be more. He wouldn’t—”

  “He would…he did,” Candra broke in angrily. Perhaps Brie was right, and there was more to it. It didn’t matter. He’d cheated, and he wanted his old life, the one without her, the one where his only wish was to return to heaven. He couldn’t have decided at a worse possible time. Her fragile heart was already dealing with the loss of her friend. “I made him tell me to my face so I couldn’t lie to myself or make excuses for him,” she said, almost choking on the words. “So just stop it.”

  Candra placed the phone back on the table and stepped away from Brie. Two deep frown lines cut across Brie’s brow, and her jaw jutted out defiantly. She seemed to want to keep fighting but lacked the words. Candra took a deep breath and returned to her seat, shaken and irritated at herself. Despite everything, her instincts told her to protect Sebastian. She felt justified in her rage but didn’t want Brie, or anyone else, to punish him. He’d been right about one thing: he’d warned her from the beginning not to fall in love with him.

  Brie seethed, her arms rigid by her side where she gripped onto the armrests of her chair. It made Candra aware of the choice she had made for Brie. Tomorrow, the world would be a different place for her, one where Candra no longer existed. Candra’s conscience wouldn’t allow her to take any more of Brie’s family from her too.

  “It’s between us, and it’s over. That’s all you need to know.”

  Brie’s posture softened, but her brow furrowed more deeply. Candra closed her eyes, unable to look at her any longer. Her body felt as if every muscle had been wrung out. Exhaustion settled on her like darkness folding in after a long, weary day. She ached everywhere, inside and out. The worst of it was the hopelessness of it all, the continuous movement in her life when all she really wanted to do was stop and find her bearings again. It wasn’t that long ago that she knew with complete certainty who she was and what she wanted from her future and her life. That version of herself seemed like a stranger now, and soon, she would disappear completely.

  “Anyway…” Candra paused and sighed. “It wasn’t real. Us, together, was just some ploy dreamed up by Draven to force the sides together.” Her eyes burned, but rubbing them would draw further attention to her battered and bruised emotions.

  “You don’t really believe that, Candra, and neither do I…not anymore. Not after…I saw you two together at the ball. I have never seen Sebastian so relaxed, so free of the past that haunts him. He loves you.”

  “Maybe he does,” Candra conceded, unsure if it made things better or worse. Her chest ached dully, her emotional hurt manifesting as physical pain. She was still too angry and her hurt too raw to see his actions clearly. He had cried, she reminded herself, and his torment had been perfectly apparent. On the other hand, it was equally possible she had seen what she’d wanted to see, perceiving his irritation at dealing with an emotionally wroth teenage girl as angst. “It makes no difference now. There is no going back for us.”

  She opened her eyes to find Brie gazing at her with compassion. A small quiver in her chin made Candra speculate Brie was smarting over more than a break-up. She saw this as a failure on her part to protect Candra again, and nothing would persuade Brie otherwise.

  Losing Ivy had shaken Candra’s confidence in her ability to protect those around her. No matter how far she looked inside herself, she couldn’t find the strength to keep herself deluded into believing she was some magic weapon. Lilith understood exactly what she had done by taking Ivy. Candra felt as if time was slipping through her fingers, eroding little pieces of her and leaving only a weak imitat
ion of the girl she had once been.

  She was about to speak, when the sound of the front door closing heavily distracted them from their conversation. If anything, Candra was grateful for the distraction.

  “Gabe was supposed to lock up when he left,” Candra observed.

  Brie went to stand, but Candra got there first and held her hand up. “I’ll go deal with this so you can finish up here.”

  “Okay,” Brie agreed, her tensed shoulders relaxed. “If you need me, just call.”

  Candra held back a chuckle at the irony of that statement, given their conversation. She nodded and picked up Brie’s phone, handing it back to her.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  DRAVEN SURVEYED THE CITY BEFORE HIM. The view from this part of Acheron differed from the one he had grown used to recently, and the constant droning of alarms melded together to resemble an air raid siren. Even the smell bothered him. The river snaking through Acheron didn’t flow near his home. Around here, the pollution turned the water a moss green and filled the air with the repugnant stench of rot. He grimaced. The smell would be hideous come summer when the heat intensified the stink. Of course, that was if they made it through winter.

  He could practically taste the pain and suffering radiating from the residents in the surrounding buildings. His flesh crawled with their misery. He closed his eyes to it. The action only helped to concentrate his hearing so that he picked out the cries of the child who hadn’t eaten all day. Somewhere else, a drunk hurled verbal abuse at his wife because she couldn’t stretch their meager household budget to pay for his brand-name beer and had bought generic instead. In the same home, pop music played and charcoal scratched over paper. He wondered if that was where the money had really gone. In an alley on the other side of the building, a junkie attempted to score a fix from her dealer, without the money to pay. He dared not imagine where she would end up tonight.

  Draven could ignore his gift for the most part, but his highest senses tingled in this part of town and sent chills deep into his bones. Nausea made his stomach curl, and his cotton shirt irritated everywhere it touched. His feet itched to the point of being painful. He could bear the clothes on his skin as long as his feet remained uncovered. It grounded him, like rubber soles for an electrician or a metal rod with lightening. Then there were times that it wasn’t feasible to go barefoot; a man walking barefoot through the city in winter was bound to draw a few speculative glances.