Jeremy couldn’t will his body to rise, even though he knew that Tregenne would recover soon. He had no doubt now that Gabriel’s Mods worked to inflict his wounds back on his attacker, and Jeremy no longer felt impervious to destruction as he struggled to free his tortured limbs from paralysis. Everything hurt. Except…
He couldn’t feel fractured bones in his wrist. He couldn’t feel anything beneath his fetters. That was almost always the case; the only sensations that were trapped below those black masses related to unnatural changes in temperature or vague, shooting pains. A wave of hopelessness covered Jeremy. His only armor was a tool that was constantly used against him. Under his fetters, he was dead. If he didn’t get up off this floor, Kayla was dead. All of this horror that surrounded him was created by his own spite. He didn’t deserve to survive this. Let Tregenne come.
Something warm splashed against his cheek. He shifted his focus to see Serafin struggling to rise, his broken body sliding in his own blood. Asher’s eyes were merciless, their constancy only wavering under the strain of speech. “How can you lie there…when she’s still alive?”
A sudden anger burned the new marks on his back. He could feel the intricate curves and points that formed the bony pattern, spreading from the dense tangle of fetters between his shoulder blades, climbing up and arcing back down over his ribs, ending sharply below his waist. The fetters had tapered off in these areas; instead of thick knots of bone, they formed elegant lines and symbols, leaving the flesh around them able to breathe, open to the air. Now they were inflamed with his ire and longing, even with the destructive power of his spite. That fire spread through the black clots that covered his arms and warmed the sluggish blood beneath. If the pain remained, it was so consumed by this flame that it must have changed form, because he was finally able to rise.
Jeremy avoided even a glance towards Serafin’s face as he steadied the man’s shaking frame. He looked up to meet Tregenne’s eyes, closer than he expected and strangely doused in light and a rare awe.
“I always feel like a fool when I doubt Za’in, sooner or later,” the Arch breathed, stepping backward. “So the Saros kid wasn’t a complete waste, after all…”
Jeremy closed his eyes. He could feel the symbols on his back, spreading out into the air behind him as quivering tongues of blue-edged flame. The looming inferno of sigils sprouting from his shoulders became his wings, and he wanted this whole place to burn. He wanted to shoot up into the stars. He wanted to escape the treachery of his own thoughts…and he wanted her to be his, without any consequences.
Not everything he desired could be, so he’d have to accept what was coming. Pulling Asher protectively towards the eye of the storm, he let himself ignite.
34
Kayla stared up at the swooping lines of the curved, striped canopy, slashed sharply with black bars and wires. It looked like a mechanical, open-aired prison cell that held a brightly colored umbrella above her, or maybe those rods were just keeping the canopy from floating away like a balloon, by stretching it into this awkward shape. She slowly shook her head side to side against the wooden floor. It wasn’t a cage or a balloon that hung above her, but simply the gaping mantle of the carousel, all the inner workings of the now immobile horses exposed. Her shoulders and lower back were stiff from lying here for some unknown amount of time. She knew it must almost be morning.
She rose up on one elbow, twisting her upper body back towards the little bench that sat between the rows of horses. Kittie was still there, sleeping, her limbs gathered tight to her torso. Ever since the fight with Evangeline, the small girl seemed to require more rest, her injuries both slowing down her body and agitating her spirit. But it wasn’t only that. Kittie was troubled. Her thoughts would fall in and out of focus, apparent in the flickering attention of her once steady eyes, and the murmurs that would interrupt and trail from her usually precise words.
Kayla slowly sat up, sliding to the edge of the platform, and let her legs hang over the side, her ankles drooping towards the floor. After Asher left her here, the pirates were quick to carry out their orders. The Captain showed perceptive sensitivity in stationing Vic a few feet from the carousel, ensuring her a night quiet enough to wrestle with her thoughts. Leaving Kittie beside her was a strategy that lent her the comfort of a friend, the tranquility of a sleeping child, and, if awakened in an emergency, another protector. Kayla knew that Fec was perched somewhere above her, hidden on a ledge close to the high ceiling, while Bruno and Kerif guarded her from the perimeter of the building.
Still, she could find no peace. Asher was out there facing the only person he seemed to fear, and here she was, fearing everything. Was it her promise to him that kept her here, useless, as all of this violence circled about her, or was it her own terror that held her still? The most frightening realization was the knowledge that it wasn’t really her that Za’in sought, or that the world relied on for deliverance. It was an idea. It was the Angel in her. Was that what her identity was reduced to? Did she have no say in all of this? As a Nephil, she wouldn’t, would she? Angels were meant to serve, not to choose. Her face burned. Kayla couldn’t help but remember standing above the desert, regretting her own humanity, embracing all that Sebastian had taught her, and trying in vain to discard her feelings for Jeremy. Back then, she was avoiding his human heart, but now he was something else altogether. Was it the man in him that was wicked, or was it the Ruiners that tainted him? Was it the woman in her that owned this faithless spirit, or was a Nephil never meant to find fulfillment in this life?
If Asher never returned, it would be her sins that damned him. Kayla wanted to break through this makeshift stronghold and throw her body into the danger he faced. If she could be his salvation, if every assault could break against her instead, it might erase her actions on the shore that day, when it was the sight of Jeremy on his knees that activated her defenses and caused her to fight off her rescuer. Every mistake, every weakness, every ignorant decision she ever made, now pulled Asher towards unknown darkness. He should have never sought her. He didn’t know he was pursuing his own…
Ruin.
Kayla’s fingers gripped the edge of the carousel’s platform. “What…?” she whispered unsteadily.
Corrosion and ruinruinruin…fuck! Focus. Corrosion. Corrosion and…
The words that pounded against her temples were frantic and jumbled. Her palms ached. “God damn you, what is it now?” Kayla closed her eyes and tried to push him out of her head. “I don’t care,” she murmured, “I don’t care what you’re doing, or how you’re hurting.” Her own mantra couldn’t drown out his, since no amount of repetition could convince her of her own words. Kayla’s voice broke beneath that pressure, her desperate sounds solidifying into pleas. “I…I can’t. I can’t choose you. Please…just release me.” Her throat and nasal passages burned as she choked down each wave of emotion that came with every one of his fragmented thoughts.
She drew her legs up under her body, kneeling to stand, but collapsed under the weight of his presence within her. He was insistent, his power raging against a new attempt at control. She lay there, still, until the rhythmic chanting, interrupted by curses and growls, subsided. Kayla began to slowly rise, until a new sensation halted her movement, holding her body in an awkward pose. A warm, gentle pressure began in the center of her hands, playing over her fingertips, then back up through her arms, raising the tiny hairs on her limbs. The nape of her neck tingled before she felt a teasing trail of shivers circle behind her ears, across her cheekbones, only to end on her lips, parting them further with each trembling breath. She exhaled carefully and completely, letting her body wilt under Jeremy’s sudden adoration for her. If she didn’t fight this, just for a few moments, no one would know. If she didn’t let it last much longer, no one could condemn her for forgetting all he’d done, opening herself just a bit further to this subtle sense of rapture. She could feel his gaze was narrowed and evasive, his body weary, his spirit forsaken. She knew the air around him was dank
and stifling; she knew his nerves were threadbare and dulled. If she opened her eyes, she’d see him again. The side of her face was splattered with something wet. When her vision cleared, everything she was feeling was now torn away by the unexpected sight of Asher, pallid beneath heavy smears of his own blood.
“No…no!” she choked out, her veins flooded with her own fire again. “I have you — I know where you are. You won’t get away with this. I swear, he won’t die before you.” Kayla’s voice echoed coldly through the carousel’s canopy, blunted by betrayal.
Vic rushed towards the girl, his steps hurried but measured. “Kayla. What’s happening?” His voice was low as he laid a steady hand on her shoulder.
Her face was tight with barely veiled wrath as she looked up into his face. “That coward. What he did to Asher is because of me. It’s my responsibility to end this,” she whispered fiercely.
“Wait. Who hurt Serafin? Is it Saros?”
Tears were finally forming above her lower lids. “That bastard. But, Vic, I’m not asking your permission. I’m going.”
His grip tightened. “You know Serafin commanded me to keep you here.” Vic’s dark eyes were still.
Kayla’s tears fell as she released both Intercessors.
“Heyheyheyhey! Wha’re you doin’?” Fec was scrambling towards them, tripping over his own sandals. “Have y’lost yer mind?” He leaned his thin frame between them in an attempt to shield his hulking brother.
“She’s not going to do it,” Vic said simply, with no disturbance in his usual somber delivery.
“If he kills Asher now as I hesitate, I don’t know what I’ll do.” The sensation of fluid streams of searing liquid glided up Kayla’s arms and pooled around her shoulders. Her skin felt like a thin layer of tissue stretched over a boiling current, with sharp bubbles popping at irregular intervals over her back. Kayla ignored the momentary fear of being torn apart and let the heat rise. She remembered Asher warning her that her indecision and capriciousness would rend her asunder, so if this was her end, it would be nothing less than she deserved. A surge of euphoria came suddenly, with all of the rage that was clearly Jeremy’s, and strangely, all of the hardened purpose that was Asher’s. Maybe this wasn’t the time for her demise after all. The warmth around her shoulders intensified with the certainty that a god could never be compassionate. Kayla knew this only now, as she never felt more like her absent creator — that void her angelic blood continually sought. She wanted her flight to Asher to be like the eruption of flame behind her. All she had to do was give rise to everything that she was.
She watched impassively as Vic yanked his hand back with a guttural yelp of pain, holding his burned palm close to his chest. Finally released, she whirled around, running weightlessly to the stairwell. Kayla could hear Kittie weakly calling out to her, and the small girl’s breathless and pained cries slowed her steps. Why had Kittie been silent until now? Kayla turned to see the girl, hunched over and struggling to stand, her face contorted, and her eyes wide with familiar knowledge. Jeremy’s emotions were coursing through her as well. Kayla turned away. She refused to be infected by his weakness any longer.
She threw open the heavy door and was halfway up the steps before she heard it shut behind her, abruptly cutting off the sound of Fec’s siren screams as he called out to his comrades on the outer edge of their stronghold. Kayla came out the other side, rushing through the cool tunnel of the second-story parking garage. She glanced briefly at their truck. The pirates’ decorations were neutralized by the darkness, and it almost looked like Jeremy’s vehicle once again. No, that wasn’t true…it was always Sebastian’s possession. Kayla turned away. It didn’t matter. Even if she knew how to drive it, she would have refused to let this thing bear her to him. They were close enough for her to reach them on foot; she could feel it in every pulsating stab of heat that pressed her forward. It wouldn’t be long before she would have to make the stand that Asher had told her countless times was unavoidable. It wasn’t what she expected: a showdown with Za’in at the brink of Armageddon, but simply this — cutting her heart off from her last sympathies with the opposing side. She had no chance of victory against the overwhelming force of that ageless being if she couldn’t even do what was necessary now.
Kayla’s feet slid over the slanting concrete as she emerged from the parking garage, and she felt a vague sense of relief as her skin was now fully exposed to the moist air that preceded the dawn. The atmosphere was cloudy with steam and tinged with orange hues, affected by the flames that now sheltered her body. She blinked in the haze, stumbling as her vision cleared to reveal an apparition at the base of the ramp. His skin glowed white against the murky morning shadows, but dark nests of emptiness collected around his arms and face. Kayla let her shaking legs carry her further. She had to see that blackness take a solid form, so that she could banish from her memory the illusion of his body being consumed by a crawling abyss.
She watched his cold blue irises move upwards to meet her gaze, the pale orbs catching in their sockets with little nervous jerks. Kayla stared hard. She wasn’t even quite sure that she saw the trembling movement beneath his brows. Her fists gripped the empty hilts of her Intercessors tightly as she moved closer, determined to keep both her outward and inner awareness focused. “What are you doing here?” she heard her voice call out to him, but she was more intent on studying the angle of his spine as he stood.
“Stopping you from getting killed. Go back inside, Kayla. Tregenne’s coming, and out here you’re—”
She ran forward, skirting around him by jumping down off the end of the ramp.
“Hey!” he barked, turning hurriedly and grasping her elbow. Kayla didn’t struggle, ending her sprint suddenly to notice each pained shudder as he fought to keep his hold on her smoldering skin. He finally let go with a frustrated cry, and she staggered forward a few steps before turning back to him.
“Stop playing games,” she murmured. “Masquerading as Saros will only get you killed.”
“How did you…?”
“Your eyes don’t travel like his and your back doesn’t relax at the same point. But, most of all, we share this fire. I don’t know which one of us sparked it, but I’m sure it’s burning at his back too, and it won’t be what hurts either of us.”
The simulated, brooding severity dropped from his face, leaving only simple exasperation. As his expression melted into something more innocent, his features transformed as well, and his disguise fell along with a heavy sigh. “What, are these things not even working anymore?” Bruno howled, holding his forearm close to his face to examine the three lines of raised flesh.
Kerif stalked out from beneath the ramp. “What are you complaining about? It’s my ability that’s been useless lately!”
“You saw when that stupid Arch deflected every one of my coins back at me! I thought this would work, though, since I was pretty successful against that deranged blonde chick, with your help. I don’t enjoy looking like him, but you give me that psychological edge,” lamented the Captain, sadly dragging out the gold disks with the unburned fingers of his left hand.
“Aw hell, Serafin is gonna kill us,” Kerif groaned as he looked up to find Kayla gone. The only evidence of her departure was a warm glow in the distance, too localized to be the rising sun.
“No!” A look of resolve hardened Bruno’s troubled face. “No,” he repeated more softly, grinning at his comrade as he drew out a long chain of silver coins.
Kerif glanced back towards the Mall, even as he ran in the opposite direction, towards the dimming light. “They’ll catch up.”
The two pirates rounded the corner, following the orange glimmer around buildings with unsteady, stacked stories and beneath sheltering overhangs of scrap metal. They followed the train tracks overhead, and when they emerged from a tight alley, they found themselves facing Kayla’s fiery wings. Her flames took the form of strange symbols, bending gracefully around her form. Bruno pushed the patch up onto his brow and s
quinted both his eyes. Was she being consumed? The same angelic script that scorched the surrounding air appeared to also be etched painfully into her flesh. He closed his eyes for a moment, but bright blobs of light still danced in his vision. The Captain had lost sight of Kerif, and he hoped his comrade would have better luck in catching her if this momentary stupor cost him the chance. He opened his eyes again and shielded them from her brilliance with his singed hand while he flung the string of coins with the other, aiming low. Kayla sensed the metallic rope’s approach and, her back still turned to him, immediately sidestepped the attack, all the while continuing her dash forward.
“Damn!” Bruno searched his pockets frantically for another one of his specialized weapons. He heard Kayla’s steps halt as his fingers closed around another chain, and he flung it wildly, fearful that this moment of stillness would pass him by if he hesitated even a moment to ensure perfect aim. His gaze followed the line of its trajectory, breathlessly blocking out any sight other than this immediate goal. The head coin pierced the crest of her calf while the rest of the chain circled tightly around her legs, binding them together. She made no sound, and scarcely flinched at the impact. Her hand slowly dropped to pull away what restrained her movement.
“Is this supposed to stop me?” she asked quietly.
Bruno choked, certain she wouldn’t be able to easily tear off the chain and fearing she might damage her hand in the process. When her fingers stopped, resting motionless over the coins, he raised his stare to see Asher emerging from between two buildings, stumbling towards Kayla. “Shit,” the Captain breathed, his body going limp before he began shuffling in their direction, taking his time as his mind raced for some excuse to offer his hero on his obvious failure to keep the Nephil sequestered.
Kayla sullenly watched Asher’s approach. “Don’t say anything,” she whispered.
Serafin dragged his body closer to her. “Again, you’ve put yourself, and all of us, in danger! Go back now with Bru—”
Dominion of the Star (Descendants of the Fallen Book 1) Page 25