The first day was the worst, but he had learned to deal with his new situation. Jeremy still wasn’t sure why he got behind the wheel to begin with, but once he was there he wouldn’t be moved. The only members of the group that were fit to drive were those pirates, and he wouldn’t put Kayla in their hands. He didn’t understand how Serafin ever did. When they first left Azevin, he yielded to Kit’s demands and let the bony, shifty guy sit beside him, so that the pirate could grab the wheel whenever a particularly acute wave of nausea, agony, or illusion weakened his own ability to lead them out of danger.
Jeremy plunged his fingers into the earth, tearing at the roots below. The thought was sickening. Was it Za’in that was torturing him that day? Or was it just the after-effects of what he did, of what happened to both of them? Za’in had been quiet since; it appeared that his suffering simply came from the nature of the fetters. Well, that and…
He dropped his forehead to the earth. He was barely able to stand that nervous kid sitting beside him. Between them. Jeremy kept insisting that Kit look after her, but his former Ophan was occupied in the back seat, tending to Serafin’s wounds. She assured him that Kayla would be okay, that she was certain of it. But the glimpses of her that he caught from around the pirate’s skinny frame brought him no comfort. All he could do was drive faster and try to not crush the steering wheel beneath his tightening grip.
It was useless. His best efforts would only result in delivering her to destruction in record time. Is that why Za’in left him in silence? No one could do this job better. He could drive for weeks on end; he couldn’t even remember the last time he slept. But still, Kit made sure they stopped at night. If he ever imagined that there was no fate worse than being trapped beside a human ashtray in a truck that looked like a circus freak’s tent, these past few nights were reminders that the universe was limitless in opportunities for degradation. Three such nights passed before she was truly awake to the world again. Jeremy had spent most of that time hovering in the doorway while she lay stretched out on the front seat, strictly watched by a changing guard of dunces that never could have stopped him if he wanted to do her harm. When he sensed his monitors’ eyes wandering or drooping, he would let his bare fingers lightly touch her skin. It was an appropriate punishment: a jarring reminder that he was denied the simple, futile gesture of sitting beside her and holding her hand, as an ordinary man would. As Serafin did, in the brief moments that his nurse allowed him to lean over the seat and touch her with his healed left palm.
Often his eyes would flicker to Asher’s sleeping form. Jeremy was determined to feign indifference to this man, even with the knowledge of how transparent the effort would be to Serafin. That line of thought always ended, as it did tonight, with him turning suddenly and stalking off, seeking a place to crush his aching chest to the ground, allowing his fetters to breathe. It was Kayla’s fault. He never would have seen into Serafin if she hadn’t touched his rival so deeply. Jeremy expected those meteoric glimpses of the soul’s desires, memories, and experiences when he brought his skin against hers with passion. But he never imagined that through the hateful contact of battle, he would, for a moment, live inside the heart of his enemy, through the one connection they both unwillingly shared. The immediate effects of this union were simple and violent, and inevitably led him here, but he didn’t foresee the long-term consequence — this new form of helplessness. Upstairs at Tregenne’s, with only a breath to mark the time, he was Serafin, and although it wouldn’t be a stretch for him to destroy something he identified with, it was against his nature to entertain defeat for any longer than a fleeting moment of self-pity. If their goals were opposing, he’d have to lose on some level. Jeremy flopped over onto his back, wincing at the sharp stings that radiated through his flesh, but then he settled comfortably into the soft earth. This was no different than his connection to Za’in. Whichever goal he worked toward, he’d still lose something. There was no longer an illusion of pure victory, a vision of standing above the world.
He looked up at the stars. They were fixed, their patterns predictable. Jeremy always felt that those glowing points watched him disapprovingly, so tonight he stared back, unblinking. As the focus of his vision shifted with fatigue, it no longer seemed like the clouds above him were drifting, but instead the stars were streaming by like a flock of lazy, distant birds. He forced himself to continue seeing the stars move this way. It was a small triumph over the lights that had always held dominion over him. For a moment, he would allow himself to feel contented, to bask in the fantasy that he could alter his fate as easily as he could shift the stars.
Jeremy could feel a tiny finger twist a lock of his hair. He froze, then recognizing her touch, sighed heavily. “I’m slipping, aren’t I?”
Kittie breathed a humorless laugh. “No, I’m just sneaky.”
He didn’t look at her, but kept his eyes set above, even as his little deception was shattered and the glittering holes in the sky were still and steady again. “You always were.”
She slid down into the grass, her head resting against his. “Things will never be the same between us, will it?”
“Shit has happened.”
“I’m sorry about all of that. I really am.” Her small hand hovered above the fetters near his shoulder. “But worse things would have happened if I—”
Jeremy sat up abruptly, his back turned to her. “If what? If you would have ran your plan by me first? If you would have…stayed with me? All we ever had was each other. And now, why is Kayla so important to you? Why Serafin? This world is fucked, Kit! We never had any illusions about that. We understood that, we used it. Things were starting to go right for us. We had her, we brought her—”
“To Za’in. That’s right, we did. And you would have been happy with what he was going to do with her?”
He turned his head, watching her with dull eyes. “We don’t know what he was going to do.”
Kittie drew closer, not letting him look away now that she caught his gaze. “And to think that I told her you loved her. Was I wrong?”
“What’s with all of you?” he exploded, standing. “I don’t have to prove anything to anyone. I’m leaving her alone, okay?”
She slowly got up from the ground, her palm pressed against her knee for support. “But you’re still here.”
“Are you asking me to leave?”
Kittie’s sigh was more akin to a growl. “I’m asking you to think! Za’in is staying quiet, isn’t he?”
He was speaking before he could question how she knew. “You think I haven’t wondered why? Is there some logic I can follow that will cause the world to make sense again? I never believed in Angels, or Nephilim, or God. I never thought Za’in could touch me. So what do I do now?” Jeremy roughly grabbed her arm over the long sleeve of her shirt, pulling them both back down to the ground. “Get on your knees! Let’s fucking pray. Jesus, save us! C’mon, I know you remember the words. You’re educated in all these damn legends. Now’s the time to recite it, before Za’in tempts me again into darkness or smites me for my resistance.” His mouth was wrathful, his eyes savage as he mockingly repeated the prayer. “ ‘O God, Who knowest us to be set in the midst of such great perils, that, by reason of the weakness of our nature, we cannot stand upright—’ ” He ignored Kittie’s tears, holding her arm tighter as she struggled, driving her knees further into the dirt. “ ‘—grant us such health of mind and body, that those evils which we suffer for our sins we may overcome through Thine assistance. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.’ ” Jeremy looked above him, forcing Kittie’s chin toward the sky as well. “Is anything happening? No? So what the Hell am I supposed to do about all of this?” He released her, motioning to the cross on his chest with his blackened arms. His sinister, broken grin was gone, his eyes desolate. “In the face of this…I can’t question why he’s silent. I’m just accepting the blessing, with the full knowledge that I’m damned. There’s no God to appeal to, no one that will take pity on us and save us.”<
br />
Kittie smeared her tears away, leaving stripes of dirt on her cheeks. “Just because God has perished, doesn’t mean that we’re not left an inheritance. There are debts, I know, but there is great wealth in what Man can do. Your soul, even if it’s damned, is a spark of the divine. And Kayla…she possesses a unique fragment of that lost Heavenly glory. Within her is the defiant, brilliant pulse of a fallen Star. You’re connected to each other. I know you are aware of the unusual occurrence that affected both of you in Azevin. And I’m still asking you to think!”
Jeremy’s face was frozen, his lips barely moving. “You’re saying that now Za’in is in…her?”
Kittie shifted her weight to the side and she sat down, pulling her knees up to her chin. “I don’t know. But Azevin was a trap. If I realized how that place was going to affect Asher, I would have never allowed it.” She raised her head to meet his gaze. “You know what I mean.”
He stared back, their eyes both moving slightly with their unspoken communication. After a while, Jeremy turned his head, crossing his arms over his chest as he began to pace. “At Tregenne’s, he didn’t think he could win. And it’s not that it didn’t matter, or that he was at peace with it. God…damn!” he growled, as he threw himself down heavily on the ground to sit with his back to hers, his arms flying up in frustration and his fingers clamping tightly around his hair. “I can’t explain it.”
Kittie remained still. “Why do you even care?” she whispered.
“Don’t tell me that’s the one thing you don’t know.”
“If I know so much, you could try trusting me some time.” Her back sagged close to his, barely missing his Ruiners.
Jeremy’s head was bowed, his voice quietly falling from beneath his dark hair. “So what do I do?”
“You want to save her. I know you do. You can’t leave her alone, not yet. Azevin was a trap that I doubt we truly escaped, but what you have in your pockets, that was the reason for the detour. I know why you haven’t handed them over, but you don’t have to be afraid.” Kittie’s features were gathered tightly together, her eyelids shut beneath a pained brow, but her words were soft.
Jeremy grabbed the treasures he carried, from the outside of his pockets. He shook off his sudden reaction; it was no use wondering how she knew. Kit was Kit. He slowly rose, and looked down at her. “You’re right, it will never be the same with us, but some things just won’t change. We can’t escape these roles. I’ll do this. It’s like I’m always handing over relics. And it’s not that I don’t trust you — to have this maddening insight into nearly everything — it’s just that when I needed you most, you were gone.” He offered her a cheerless smile and turned back towards the truck. He walked toward the vehicle, bathed in moonlight, but he refused to look at the sky again tonight. The stars weren’t sailing by. They were fixed and cold and piercing, just as they were the night the tower fell. Every memory of his utter vulnerability that night involved some awareness of their surveillance. Kit was gone, Kayla was gone… Because they were by Serafin’s side instead.
It was the complaining, dreadlocked pirate that was her guard tonight, leaning sullenly against the truck and fiddling with his hair. “She’s sleeping,” he mumbled, his eyes moving around the landscape in an attempt to show Saros that he was on watch and that the former Arch was no concern of his. As Jeremy continued to approach, Kerif’s body stiffened. “Resting. Not feeling well,” he said, his voice rising nervously. The pirate scooted out of the way before he could be shoved from his place in front of the door. Kerif tried to regain his composure, taking comfort in murmuring under his breath, “I guess it’s better that she’s sleeping. You’re just gonna give her that creepy stare for hours…”
Jeremy hardly noticed the pirate as he leaned into the doorway, making room for the moon to enter and illuminate the girl curled up on the back seat. Her hands were folded into loose fists, resting lightly against her neck. Kayla’s face was smooth, only occasionally troubled with twitches of dreamy concern. He watched her features carefully, waiting for a sign of waking to offer him the least intrusive moment to break her slumber and destroy her dreams with more burdens of her legacy.
Kayla moaned softly, her hands gathering her blanket close in a spasm of tightening muscles, and she turned over onto her side, clinging to the seat’s support. Her camisole strap slipped from her shoulder, revealing scars that raised intricate lines over her back, forming familiar symbols. His face went numb. Jeremy backed away, choking on the stale air in the truck, and he stumbled out to be cleansed by the cool night, but it offered no relief. He grabbed Kerif by the collar, hissing, “Where is Serafin?”
“Aah! Dude, he’s there! There, okay?” the pirate stammered, motioning to the dark form beneath a tree at the camp’s perimeter. Jeremy released him and stalked wrathfully in that direction. Kerif dropped to his hands and knees gasping, “sweet Jesus!” before sitting down cross-legged and waiting for the shivers to subside.
Jeremy clenched his fists until his fingers bled. He wouldn’t relax his hands to allow his flesh to heal. He felt like a fool for not expecting it, and that only fueled his anger. Of course, why didn’t he think of it sooner? After Serafin was stabilized, Kit tended to her. He had looked through the rearview mirror and saw her treating Kayla’s back. She was practically an Angel; she should have been okay. Before this, he wasn’t sure who really set that fire in Azevin, but he was certain now that it was his own doing…through Za’in. These things on his arms that now made their way over his back, he thought they were singular instruments of his own personal Hell. But he couldn’t entertain that fallacy any longer, not after seeing the angelic script marring her back in the same formation as the fetters that covered him. It was disturbing when he saw her red fire facing the dying glow of his blue wings, but he never guessed what it meant. He had to break this connection before she was consumed by his own certain damnation. This knowledge purged from his heart any dark fantasies he once had of her sharing his fate. Jeremy shook his head. No, he knew all of his base emotions would eventually resurface. He had to hold the image of those scars in his memory. They were a reminder. This had to end.
Serafin looked up at him, his face closed, his eyes unaffected by Jeremy’s explosive approach. He gently dropped his glance as the former Arch emptied the contents of his pockets at his feet.
“This is what you were looking for, right? I hope it was worth it! All this fucking trash.”
Asher’s bandaged hand twitched, but he reached out with the left one instead, running his fingers over the blood-spattered book that lay amidst the other discarded trinkets. “Saros…”
Jeremy’s swift departure was halted by the sorrowful throb of Serafin’s voice. “No, don’t. I wanted that place to burn just as much as you did. And this stuff didn’t belong to Tregenne or his master. They’re hers now.”
“We should wake her. Her physical wounds are healing, but I still don’t know what happened to her, and I don’t understand the nature of her deeper injuries. These objects will no doubt strengthen her—”
“Then bring them to her, dammit, but leave me out of it!” Jeremy turned back angrily to face Serafin, but his rage was quenched by the sight of Asher rising up to his sore feet, clutching the relics to his chest, his unusually sharp gaze now vague and wet.
Asher didn’t seem to notice his outburst. “I don’t know how to thank you. I had no words for what happened at Tregenne’s, but this—”
“Listen, nothing I’ve ever done has been for you. If you want to thank me, then keep silent about all of this. She doesn’t need to know that I gave these to you. Just stay the hero. Kit says that Azevin was a trap. She’s your new advisor, so you work out what the hell that means. I can only figure that Za’in has found a foothold in Kayla, and I thought maybe this stuff can help protect her. It’s more chance than I ever got.”
Asher’s eyes regained their keen focus. “My silence will deepen the memory of your noble actions.”
“We all hav
e our own delusions that help us endure this shit. Just keep yours to yourself, like any other sane person.” Jeremy stormed off into the trees, retreating to a dark spot to watch Serafin carry those ordinary treasures to their heiress.
37
Kayla was adrift, floating in the spaces between worlds. When she found what appeared to be steady footing, the ground gave way and she fell weightlessly into another complex dream. There were moments when she longed to emerge from her internal landscape, but she was unsure of which reality would receive her. Sometimes it was Asher’s voice that penetrated the thick air that separated them, and she was torn between her desire to walk upright in his unwavering realm and the impulse to just wander this vague expanse within, safe in the knowledge that he wasn’t conquered by darkness. These musings were often interrupted by tiny electrical shocks that would move gently over her arms or cheeks, sometimes lingering around her collarbones or hands. These sensations came from a different source, a different man, and she drew further into herself, unable to face whichever fleeting emotion she would find expressed in his pale eyes.
She was aware of the presence of her companions, but the soothing rumble of their interactions — the product of the comfortable roles they had assumed — was disturbed by his energy. Why did he have to stay? Why did it have to be his will that forced the truck forward? She wanted to remain in this void, worlds away from explanations or apologies or pleas.
But he was unkind, and never let her rest. She noted the passage of days by counting the stretches of darkness, marked by a lull in movement and the force of his attention focused completely in her direction. It was always the same. His gaze burned through her closed eyelids for what seemed like hours before she could hear his voice, pounding in her temples, even as she felt warm, moist air pulsating against her ear. The words were jumbled, his thoughts gathering thickly and then shattering into frenzied gasps.
Dominion of the Star (Descendants of the Fallen Book 1) Page 27