A Love Neverending

by Rowan Larke

  Again, images flipped through his mind—Eden, Clarissa, Tamiel—and Mihai knew he'd made the only choice he could, so he surrendered to its effects. His mind thinned, as ephemeral as the fog, and he followed its progress. He drifted with it at breakneck speed, spiraling through a tunnel and descending around her. She didn't want to leave. Mihai could see her reluctance. A quick glance at Jason even made him understand—he was an attractive man, and the love in his eyes made him beautiful. But this wasn't God's will. This wasn't Clarissa's time or place. His stomach wrenched as he realized how thoroughly he'd been manipulated. Tamiel had known he was in the club. He must have guessed that Mihai and Clarissa had a relationship. It wouldn't be hard to put two and two together on that one—Clarissa was a masochist and Mihai was…what he was. A sadist, his mind provided, as if he didn't know the word. Knowing all that, Tamiel had counted on Mihai caring for the woman. Anger burned through him, tinting the fog of his power red, and he locked it down so it wouldn't affect Clarissa. He'd thought he had a choice.

  Mihai almost laughed. He hadn't had a choice since Tamiel had walked through the doors of the club. He'd been manipulated into helping Clarissa. Into returning to his place, and his anger resurged. Mihai had walked—and stayed—away for a hundred years. He wouldn't have returned any other way. Manipulated into it. “Damn you, Tamiel Kasdeja,” he murmured. No response from him, though Mihai hadn't expected one. He let go the thoughts and concentrated on easing the pain.

  “EMTs are on their way,” Tamiel whispered. Mihai nodded, focusing his attention on Clarissa. “They're downstairs.”

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  Tamiel whispered other words Mihai couldn't quite hear, though the cadence of them was familiar. As was the sensation of something crawling under his skin, writhing and coiling under his flesh before settling into slumber. They were invisible now to human eyes. Mihai nodded his thanks. The EMTs hurried into the room. It was up to them now, to call her body back from the brink. He'd done all he could for her soul.

  He closed his eyes, calling the power back within himself. It fought him—it always did—

  and he wrested back control with a soft grunt. When he was free, he met Tamiel's gaze. He knew what was coming. He had a few moments' reprieve, but it was coming. The recoil. The gift that allowed him to heal was passed to him by his father. The recoil was the result of the gift passed on by his mother. The knowing. Empathy.

  “How did you know I'd do it?” His breath was shaky. He wouldn't admit it to Tamiel, but Mihai was frightened. He knew what was coming.

  “You love her,” Tamiel said. His voice was flat and uninflected. When Mihai checked, Tamiel's eyes gave nothing away either.

  Mihai answered him honestly. “I care for her. Deeply.” He glanced at Clarissa. Two men worked over her body. He could see their mouths work when they spoke, but Tamiel had sealed himself and Mihai off from sound as well as view. He was grateful. Any moment now the pain he'd allowed her to escape would attack him, and even the sound of their voices would be more than he could take. He held Tamiel's eyes. “What happened to her…” He kept his tone soft and even, so it was clear he wasn't accusing Tamiel. He was just explaining. “It made it impossible for love. Every attempt was repelled. But I cared.” He glanced her way again. “She deserved better than this.”

  Tamiel looked as if he'd been struck. “She did.” He paused, closed his mouth, opened it, closed it again. When he spoke, the words erupted from him as if they had a will of their own. “I fucked up. And I manipulated you to help fix it.” A hint of apology in his tone. All the apology Mihai was going to get, too, he realized, as Tamiel continued. “But she deserved better. She can live now.” Tamiel's voice sounded strained. “She has the capacity to love now, if that's…if that's what you want.”

  Mihai wanted to know if there was something behind those words. If there was any of the jealousy he was reading in Tamiel's voice. But he couldn't ask. “If she survives.” Tamiel flinched

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  at the reminder of Clarissa's condition. Mihai dropped his head, avoiding Tamiel's gaze. It required all his attention to remain upright. Wave after wave of pain assaulted him, swamping his consciousness. He clung to awareness by the tips of his fingers—his nails biting into the flesh of his palms, keeping him awake. The brunt of the pain caught up with Mihai then, and he succumbed to it, falling to his knees. Tamiel's gaze flashed with concern, and Mihai waved him away weakly. “It is the payment. For using my gifts.”

  “But you're… Your gift is pain.” Tamiel sounded genuinely confused, and something in Mihai broke free at the sound. Tamiel hadn't meant for this. It shouldn't make a difference, but as his vision clouded, that knowledge was like a bright spot peering through the darkness.

  “I'm a half-breed,” Mihai said. His voice was barely more than a grunt. Could Tamiel even understand him? “Bastard. Half-angel, half-human. Half-assed gift.” Tamiel still looked confused. And worried. When Mihai began to collapse under the weight of his exhaustion, as the claws of pain began to tear through his consciousness, Tamiel surged forward to cradle him in his arms. Mihai looked up to meet those dark eyes. “My mother was an empath.”

  Pain swamped him then. Fire exploded over every inch of his skin, while pain bloomed in hot spurts beneath his flesh. Agony zinged like lightning over and through him, and Mihai's body bucked in reaction. Through it, though, he could see the astonishment flash through Tamiel. Could see him understanding what Mihai told him.

  Tamiel's arms tightened, to hold Mihai steady while he thrashed. Caught in the aftermath of his opposing gifts, Mihai's mind wandered, his imagination trying to create an oasis of calm and peace where he could avoid what was happening to his body. A desert, Eden's smile, a snowdusted plain, the calm serenity of an ocean beach, Clarissa's wide eyes. The last one—before unconsciousness finally claimed him, and Mihai drifted in the painless dark—was the soft press of Tamiel's lips to his forehead, a murmured apology falling unheeded into Mihai's hair.

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  Chapter Twelve

  Jason looked around himself, bewildered and angry. Clarissa had disappeared, and he'd watched the EMTs work on her other self…until Tamiel said something and the room faded from Jason's view. He couldn't see anything but a dark, empty room. Gray, as if it were made of concrete. A single circle of light ringed the center of the room like a bull's-eye, and Jason had felt marked by sitting inside it.

  Instead he sat just at the edge of the light. The source was obliterated by the light itself—

  just a large circle of white-yellow against the bleariness. He rubbed a hand across his chest, surprised at the ache lodged there. Looking down, he saw the single crimson thread that leaked from his chest like a ribbon of blood.

  Touching it gently, he smiled. This was his connection to Clarissa. Even though she was gone, he was still tied to her. It explained a lot. Why he'd been tied to the club. Why he hadn't moved on. Why she hadn't moved on.

  That last one made him flinch.

  It had been his fault. So much of what went wrong in her life. So much of the pain she'd had to bear. His fault. He'd died, and she'd carried the guilt and shame of it around with her. She hadn't been able to move on. Literally.

  He heaved a sigh, frustrated with the melancholy turn of his thoughts. What else was there to do, though? It was like he was locked in a closet on some sort of cosmic time-out. Was she okay? He knew her soul had been recalled to her body. Had she survived? Was she…intact? A cold sweat broke out over his skin. She'd been deprived of oxygen for a while. Could she have brain damage? Be left vegetative? Alive but dead. A chill broke over his skin with the thought.

  It was a full minute later before he realized the irony of it. Isn't that what he'd been, for years now?

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  The wry smile tilted his lips, lingering there even as the room changed. The gray walls faded away, and he was l
eft standing in Clarissa's space in the club. Tamiel stood facing him, no expression showing on his features. Anger and fear and frustration filled Jason at the sight of Clarissa's killer—who was also her savior, if he'd heard right. He didn't know what he was supposed to think, how he was supposed to feel, facing this man again. So his emotions stayed distant, beyond a thin veil of disbelief and confusion.

  “It—” Tamiel's voice broke, and Jason stared into his eyes intently, trying to read the emotions he could see swirling in the darkness of his irises. Tamiel shook his head. “Listen, you have every reason to hate me right now, but…we have work to do.”

  Jason stared at him but stayed silent. Let the big guy do the talking. Jason wasn't in the mood. Tamiel gave a slight nod of his head. A light seemed to go on directly above him. Tamiel's face clenched as if he was concentrating, and then…dark wings spread behind him. Black like a crow's, reflecting silver where the light kissed them, but so large that they dominated even Tamiel's massive figure. Jason gaped at them. Understanding avoided him, dodging his efforts like a bouncing ball.

  “What are you?”

  Tamiel grinned, a quick flash of white teeth against his dark skin. “I'm an angel. Duh.” His shoulders twitched, and the wings spread wide behind him, filling Clarissa's space with their darkness. “A Dark Angel,” he amended. The formality between them broke then, the shattering of it almost audible between them. “I'm one of the Host, sent to reap souls when their time comes. Specifically, when that time comes at their own hand. I do a few other things besides, but that's the one that's important to know right now.”

  Jason flushed. Tamiel was an expert on suicides. Made sense, he supposed. As much as anything made sense. However, if Jason himself could be a ghost for three years, he could accept, in theory, the idea of a Dark Angel whose job was to…reap the souls of people who took their own lives. Something about that sent a jolt of fear through Jason's body like an electric current.

  Tamiel nodded again. “Yeah. People like you.” Tamiel coughed, and Jason had the feeling it was hard for Tamiel to hold his gaze, but he did it anyway. “I was supposed to reap you.” Selfloathing laced his words when he continued. “I fucked up. I don't know how or why.” He gave a

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  shrug, and Jason noticed the wings followed the movement—that little detail was all he needed to accept the truth of what he was seeing. Tamiel Kasdeja was an angel. Okay, then. He met Tamiel's gaze. “Why didn't you?”

  Tamiel shrugged again, but this time the movement was jerky. Angry. “My department is understaffed. No one really wants to take on the dead and dying, much less those people who do it to themselves.” Tamiel took a breath, and when he spoke, his voice was softer, though anger still gave it an edge. “I'm not trying to make excuses. I've been working my ass off for two decades, and I'm not thrilled to know that one of my assignments slipped through the cracks.”

  Another quick inhale through his nose, long exhale through his mouth. “I'm sorry. That's what I want you to know. I'm sorry, and it…wasn't anything personal.”

  “Not…personal?” Jason wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to say to that. His entire existence after his death was… What? Some sort of job mishap? All that he'd seen—everything he'd felt, everything he'd learned—and it was just a mistake? He shook his head. “It was pretty fucking personal to me.” Tamiel flinched.

  Jason had learned so much by living beyond his death. He'd seen how it affected not just Clarissa but other people he wouldn't have imagined would even notice. He'd watched the informal wake at the club after his death. He'd finally come to realize how flawed his thinking was, the illogic that had pushed him to commit his final act. And all that was supposed to be just…a mistake?

  Tamiel didn't move. His shoulders were squared, his hands folded passively in front of him. Jason realized he was waiting for some sort of reaction. For screaming and anger, probably. Instead Jason leaned back, wrapping his arms around his knees. “If I hadn't had that time, I'd have died miserable.” He laughed. “I did die miserable. But I've grown past that.” He arched an eyebrow and wagered a guess. “I wouldn't have had that opportunity if you'd been on time, right?”

  Tamiel grinned a little and nodded. “You would have moved on. Hopefully you'd be learning that lesson in your next life.” The next words seemed grudging. “That next life would have been difficult. You might not have learned anything at all.”

  Jason shook his head. “You should take your time more often. I bet more people than me would learn. Going through what I have.”

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  Tamiel shook his head. “Those who didn't go insane, maybe.”

  Jason considered that and gave a grudging nod of agreement. He could have gone insane. Watching her. Loving her. A lump rose to his throat. “You didn't kill her, did you?” Tamiel held his gaze, unwavering, and Jason knew he was right. “You just temporarily killed her. You planned from the start to bring her back to life.”

  Tamiel nodded. “Clarissa needed to see you again. To know it wasn't her fault that you died.”

  “You were giving her closure.” Oh it hurt. Hurt to know this man had done the one thing Clarissa needed most. Hurt to feel jealousy over that, considering that Tamiel had killed her, no matter what his motives. It hurt to know that she had been blaming herself, and that he'd never even considered that she would. Shit. He'd thought he was a mess yesterday. Jason stood up, turned away from Tamiel, and headed for the stairs.

  “It's time.” Tamiel's voice rumbled a little, as if he had thunder caught in his throat.

  “Time?” Jason didn't understand what he meant, but he didn't like the little ripple of fear he felt at the word.

  “For you to finish your journey.” Frustration was evident in Tamiel's tone now.

  “I have no idea what you're talking about.” Only he did. He had the strange, terrifying notion he understood exactly what Tamiel meant.

  “You're dead, Jason.”

  “That's hardly a news flash.”

  “And now it's time to move on.” Tamiel looked menacing now, and Jason was sure he knew what he meant. Fear and anger clawed their way jointly to his throat, lodging there in a firm ball he couldn't cough out. And then Tamiel said the one thing that Jason would never forgive him for saying. “It's time to let Clarissa go.”

  Jason looked down at his chest and was not surprised to see the ribbon, bright and red and shining, streaming from where it was lodged in the center of him and winding away into the distance. To Clarissa.

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  Chapter Thirteen

  “Jason!”

  Pain, as though a knife were ripping its way through her neck from the inside. What—

  “Jason?” Fear now, as sharp and piercing as the pain.

  She didn't know where she was. Tears slid from her eyes.

  “It's okay, love. You're okay.” The voice was familiar, but it wasn't Jason's. Why had she thought it would be?

  She tried to shake her head, but the pain flared in her neck again. It's not okay. She couldn't say it. Couldn't force her voice through the fiery, sharp column that was her throat. Tears trickled down her face, tickling the hollows by her ears. She wanted to wipe them away, but it was too hard to move her arms. Pain blossomed in thick, heavy blooms throughout her body, and she gave a strangled moan.

  “The meds will take a few to kick in,” a voice said. She didn't recognize it, but it was a good voice. Male, strong, calm, and patient.

  “I'm here,” the first voice said again, and now she knew who it was. Mihai. Her eyelids fluttered as she struggled to open them, but her vision was clouded, and she felt sick, so she closed them again quickly. “It's okay. You had a close call, but you're okay now.”

  Why did he keep telling her that? She wasn't okay.”Where?” It hurt to say that much, and she fell silent, hoping it was enough. Hoping he'd heard, because the idea of repeating herself led mo
re tears to fall.

  “You're in an ambulance,” Mihai told her.

  That explained the sirens. “Why?”

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  Mihai made an uncertain noise. Blinking hard, she could make out the dark shape of him to her left. He leaned close, so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. “Do you remember dying?”

  What a ridiculous question. But it didn't want to make her laugh. It made the tears stream faster, made her chest ache with something familiar. Loss and pain. The pain of loss. Memories fell into place like a sudden weight, as if her veins had turned to lead. Jason.

  With her.

  Making love in the space between life and death. Oh God, she wanted to cry. Let me go back.

  Maybe she'd managed to say it aloud, because Mihai answered her. “You can't go back, love.” He sounded as if his heart was breaking for her, and that made her unexpectedly angry. Her heart was breaking. How dare he make her worry about him? Again, he seemed to understand what she was thinking. He smoothed the hair back from her forehead, which earned him a sharp admonition from the other voice. Mihai apologized thickly, but Clarissa heard anger in his voice too.

  “Why?” she asked, but the other voice said something, and Mihai moved away. Too far for her to feel his breath on her cheek anymore, too far for him to hear her scraped and damaged voice.

  “We're almost there,” he said. “You're going to be okay.”

  Clarissa shook with repressed sobs. It wasn't okay. She wanted to go back. She'd been with Jason. He'd held her, kissed her, touched her…and Mihai had taken her away from that. She used her silence as a weapon against him, though he probably didn't notice. The other voice receded, and Mihai leaned close again. “I know you're angry, Clarissa, but please, believe me. You can't go back. It was a temporary reprieve. A chance to say good-bye. Tamiel should have told you before he sent you.” Mihai stopped then, and Clarissa had the feeling he could expound quite a bit about Tamiel. Perhaps he'd call him all the names Clarissa currently wanted to. Except Tamiel had given her some time with Jason. She should be grateful for that, shouldn't she?