Kayla shook her head. Asher was hurt, but he was still there taking care of Kerif and Kittie, and he even was showing concern for Jeremy, who somehow managed to keep bleeding. She forced her hands to release their pressure on the brush, which was grinding uselessly against the floor. It didn’t seem possible that his fetters could be pulled off, but even with chunks missing, he still wasn’t free. He looked worse than ever.
She flung the brush, letting it skid across the concrete and disappear into a dark corner. She thought about his hand, pulsing and wet, pressed against her neck as he tore the collar from her throat. When Asher cleaned her wounds, she had stared at all the red, searching in vain for some difference that would separate Jeremy’s blood from hers.
Kayla stood, trembling, and dusted off what dry cardboard she could find, placing the flattened boxes in the area of the room she had tidied. She murmured prayers to herself, waiting to hear her mother’s voice, but Kiera had been quiet for some time now, even when Kayla fingered her beads, gazed at her cards or read her book. Her heart was beating faster as she placed the dry blanket Asher had wrapped around her over the bed she made for him.
The light in the room was growing dim and the pain in her body was returning. She pulled herself up and lay sprawled on top of the cabinet, winding the flashlight more for the distraction than the illumination. She couldn’t forget the 10 of Wands, and she needed to see Asher’s face.
Before Evangeline attacked, before they were back on the road, she had some insight to the meaning of the seventh card in her reading. She could see a picture of a man, weighed down by a bundle of rods. The card told her that she strove to do the right thing, but warned that her burden may be too much to carry alone. It was her card, but wasn’t that Asher’s story too? He had his own load to bear, but he still always came for her, always took another step forward despite injuries, fear or pain, and always steered her back to steady footing. Tonight he took a piece of her into battle, but she didn’t lose her power to him. He let himself be a vessel, and then he returned the Angel in her, without any hesitation.
Kayla closed her eyes, but she couldn’t blot out the image of Jeremy running towards her, the raindrops rising off his skin as tiny clouds of steam. She called him, and he was there, faster than she thought possible. In danger, he was her first thought. She swallowed hard, remembering the eighth card in her reading, the 7 of Cups. The placement of the card represented the influences of her environment, and she was warned that she may have too many alternatives closely surrounding her. Grave consequences loomed if she didn’t choose wisely, but a mystical experience could guide her way.
She slid off the cabinet, dropping the flashlight and falling to her knees, fingers clasped. Kayla didn’t know where prayers should be offered any more, to the skies or to the earth. She tried to imagine something worthy of reverence, and she focused on the memory of Asher’s hands. She let the fire in her cheeks be expelled as warm breath, her lips moving rapidly. “ ‘Guard my life and rescue me; let me not be put to shame, for I take refuge in you. May integrity and uprightness protect me, because my hope is in you…’ ”
Cool, calloused flesh rested against her burning cheek, and she leaned into his touch. She kept her eyes closed, afraid to discover if this was real or imagined. The hand lingered along the side of her face before she was lifted off the ground.
Asher’s voice was low, but his murmur was so close that she could hear the bruising that lay below the coarse sound, resonating in her ears and brain. “ ‘How priceless is your unfailing love! Both high and low among men find refuge in the shadow of your wings.’ ”
The familiarity of his words caused Kayla’s eyes to open suddenly with hazy recognition, but her question caught in her throat when she was faced with his gaze. This time, his usual restraint couldn’t completely obscure the evidence of his suffering.
He turned his head slightly, gently releasing her onto the blanket. “You’ve been reading Psalms.”
Kayla’s chest ached, and in her mind she could see branches, and a rooftop… She felt foolish for not understanding his eyes sooner. “She read them to you.”
His mouth twitched in an attempt to smile. “She had to share it with someone. Michael accepted that he came from Angels, but he wasn’t one for Bible study.”
“He didn’t believe in God?”
“It’s not as simple as that. Most people don’t believe this old mythology, but then again, they think the Nephilim are also legend. Michael understood what he was, and that was enough to convince him that God had at least crafted his ancestors. But he didn’t believe that God had perished when war waged in Heaven. How could that happen to a Supreme Being?”
“So what did he think happened?”
“God abandoned us.”
They were both silent, their eyes wandering to the dark corners of the room. She felt his body making small adjustments, trying to settle into a comfortable position on the floor, and she jumped up in sudden embarrassment. “No, please, I want you to rest here,” she cried out too loudly, motioning to the little bed.
He glanced up at her, his face composed, showing no signs of his earlier weakness. “I’m fine. You need to prepare for what’s coming, more than any one of us. Take the comfort while you can.”
“I…I made this bed for you. Please.”
Asher turned his head, some internal struggle tightening his muscles. Slowly, he raised himself up, shifting onto the blanket. “Thank you. I’m only going to sleep for a short time.”
Kayla watched him close his eyes before she sank down to the floor, huddling into herself. She let her gaze travel from his large, tanned forearms to the regular rising and falling of his bare chest. She avoided looking too long on his jaw and brow, and got lost in the strands of his damp hair, forming jagged, curving patterns on the cloth beneath him. Her eyes followed the undulating curls, her palms tingling with the memory of the electricity that swirled through her hands as he held her Intercessors. Energy had traveled through her arms into his in the same twisting waves, and he returned clear bursts of force with every strike he landed, with every caressing adjustment of his grip on the hilts.
When she was helpless in the grasp of the fetters, she could feel his need to protect her. She offered her own bones, and he wielded them by her will. Doubt moved him briefly, so she gave up control for a moment and felt the blades bend into gleaming kukris. She trembled with the certainty that flooded his body, with the freedom of joining with him completely as he allowed her to experience each of his powerful movements as her own.
Kayla struggled to take deep breaths. Asher’s eyes were open, and he was halfway sitting up, his attention on her hands. Her palms were throbbing and she reached out to him as another surge of piercing rapture swelled up from her insides. A little moan escaped Kayla’s lips as her Intercessors broke through her skin, the release of pressure causing her to tumble forward. He caught her wrist as she fell against him, while her other hand reflexively clutched at his side.
Asher’s head was thrown back and Kayla gasped, running her fingers along his ribs, searching for the place where she wounded him. A low sound began in his throat, and she crawled over him, bending to see his face. She whispered his name, but his only response was to release her wrist and press their palms together, his fingers hooking around hers. “No!” she cried out, afraid to stab him again, but as soon as the sound escaped, her body weakened, drooping atop his. A familiar heat pulsed between their hands, snaking over their knuckles and back inside through their arms. It was only then that she noticed her Intercessors weren’t in the form of hard bone, but warm light. That clear fire emitted from her other hand, expelling luminous tendrils that clung to his torso. She let those threads pull her closer to him, and as the glow tightly enveloped them she could feel his injuries, deeper and more numerous than she had guessed. Kayla’s energy plummeted, scattering everywhere he felt pain, and it left her almost paralyzed, limply stretched across him.
Asher’s frame g
ently writhed as her light entered him and she clung to his chest, pressing her face into his shoulder, wanting to experience his body being made whole again. Pain struck her with tiny shivers, the intensity varying in different locations, but the sensation drove her on. She wanted to take all his suffering from him; possessing his body was not enough. A little sigh escaped her as she released all control to the forces within, and she finally allowed her lips to brush against his throat.
She could feel his entire form respond, as a trembling jolt moved him. She swung her leg over his hips, pressing the length of her body to his, her fingers crawling up his sides with hissing sparks, glowing brilliance gathering around his face as she caressed the back of his neck, his jaw, the soft skin behind his ears. His wounds were distant, almost as if they never existed, but something new was rising within him that set her fire sputtering into more violent bursts and tethered her more tightly to him. This terrible fear that seeped out of his pores…could it ever have been his? He was in the shadow of a tall building, and everything hurt. He didn’t want to die, but what was left now? This hopeless quest for redemption, it kept him moving, it led him back to this place. He was more terrified the second time. It was as if everything he accomplished was worthless, that he had nothing to show but an older face, owning only more scar tissue.
She saw strong, white teeth, vicious green eyes, and an iron spike. A wooden beam bruised his spine, his arms were stretched out, his head sagged. Those animal teeth parted… “nec spe, nec metu.” She didn’t understand the Latin phrase, but she felt it unlock a wave of despair that washed over Asher. The agony that entered her palms quenched her flames for a moment. She had never heard him scream before.
He kept her image in his mind, he longed for her, and no amount of light she poured into him could heal the solitude that had been silently tearing him apart. Her mouth claimed his and his body awoke, consuming her passion while generating more with each rough caress. He seized her, slamming her back onto the blanket, sending the cardboard beneath sliding. Her blouse was a barrier between them that was easily removed, his hands possessing her flesh with purpose, each touch building on the next in sequence. She wrapped her legs around him tightly, afraid of her own senseless escape.
Soon they’d have what they both needed. He’d make her his, and he wouldn’t have to be alone anymore. She wouldn’t have to let the world down, and she could face the 7 of Cups proudly. Kayla pressed her cheek to the skin below his collar bone, unmarred by any black marks. He still hadn’t forgotten what happened at Tregenne’s. He was seeing that tattoo she feared before he was hurled into a wall; she could see the faces of her two choices, close in battle, bathed in a red light. The fire in her hands began to harden. She wouldn’t let that abomination hurt Asher. No, something else happened. It was as if those two rivals reached into each other and found something they could recognize, something that was the same…but it couldn’t be! The vision dissolved and she could see him back in the basement of that building, the hammer was falling again, but Jeremy was there too, shattering the bones of that frightening Arch, gathering Asher’s broken body to his, and he used those cursed Ruiners to make a light that would save his enemy and bring him back to her. It was true, it was all true… Why did she have to experience this now?
She held tighter to Asher, moved harder. But still, she could see Jeremy, dropping the book, the cards, and the necklace at his bandaged feet. She doesn’t need to know that I gave these to you.
It didn’t matter! That didn’t change anything. Jeremy’s actions were just another random impulse. She struggled with the cord that cinched Asher’s pants tight.
His hands were on hers. “No.”
Her eyes opened to see his sober face, no longer lit with passion. She felt her cheeks grow hot in shame.
“It’s not your disgrace to bear, it’s mine. It’s been so close to the surface, I’m surprised you didn’t see it sooner.” He untangled himself from her and stood.
“So for once in his life he did the right thing…that doesn’t mean anything! Please don’t go.” She stumbled to her feet and grabbed his hand with both of hers.
“I’m not tallying up our deeds in a contest for your love. I didn’t do this when he was my adversary, and I won’t give in now that we’ve recognized each other. We’re nearly two days from Armageddon, and if all we’ve been are sad pawns in Za’in’s game, then this is our last chance to make our own moves. If we’ve been thrown together to tear each other apart, I won’t participate in his plan.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. “It’s not that I won’t fight for you, Kayla. You know I have, and I will never stop. When this is all over, I still want to be the one you choose. Until then, there are too many changes happening in you, too many forces pulling you in different directions. If I had you now, it wouldn’t make you mine.”
She pulled her hand back slowly, numb.
Asher nodded gravely and walked to the door. “Thank you for healing my body. Please try to sleep.” When she didn’t respond, he turned around. “Kayla, if this is about those cards…remember that they can be interpreted in many ways. Make sure the voice you’re listening to is your own.”
When he closed the door gently behind him, she dropped onto the disheveled blanket, clutching her blouse to her chest. Her eyes burned. She tried to hold on to his words, but his abrupt exit still felt like rejection. Her uncertainty was what kept them apart in the past, and now…maybe it still was. Was he right? Was she trying to force everything into place according to what the cards told her? Kayla pulled the deck from her pocket and stared at the 7 of Cups. She could see a woman holding a veil adorned with images of gold chalices, each containing a different object. The choices ranged from a dragon to a child’s head. What did it all mean? She tried to listen to her own instincts, but no inspiration came.
That’s because a correct choice has been made. It’s not any of them you need to follow…it’s you. You saw how your passion allowed you to see the true nature of your gifts.
“Mother?”
You’ve finally realized that your Intercessor isn’t merely a sacred weapon. It’s your Angelic fire made physical. It is what you let it be. Would you have discovered this without the fervor that makes all vision, love, and creation possible? Use that emotion, with restraint, to fulfill your potential.
Kayla remembered Asher’s words and Jeremy’s warning. This voice wasn’t hers, but it did come from within. She looked down at her palms. “This was the first time I was able to heal so effortlessly, unaided, and without absorbing any wounds myself.”
Try it again. Make it more precise.
“With who?” she whispered, subdued by Kiera’s urgency.
Jeremy seems like the obvious choice.
She pulled her shirt on over her head, sprang up, and grasped the flashlight as it began to flicker out. “I…I can’t…” Her words faltered helplessly, but she turned the torch’s crank with angry purpose.
You got carried away with Asher. You were just leaking cures. But if you focus your ability…
Kayla frowned. Jeremy’s capacity to heal himself instantly was frightening, but she was more afraid of what it could mean now that this power had mysteriously abandoned him. Would there be some catastrophic reaction when a Nephil’s gift reached into one tainted by Ruiners? What would happen when their skin finally touched again? When she spoke, she made sure to keep her voice even. “What makes you think this is necessary?”
Notice the ninth card in your reading, the only one you haven’t unraveled yet. Remember, this one is your most personal hope and fear…
She stopped pacing and forced herself to sit, dropping the flashlight down beside her. Kayla picked up the next card, the Knight of Wands. An armored man sat astride a rearing horse, and although the animal’s eyes were wild, the Knight appeared at ease, keeping a firm grip on his staff. “Who is he?”
They call this card ‘Lord of the Flame and the Lightening.’ He represents a man that is charm
ing, but unpredictable. He is passionate, clever and physical, but he is also impatient, wrathful and impulsive…
“Fine, it’s him. The ninth placement represents hopes and fears, so what am I supposed to do — admit that he scares me? He does, okay? He’s just human and hopelessly damned…but he frightens me. I don’t want to touch him.”
He’s the last card before The Two of Wands: Dominion. Those two rods are power and clarity. You won’t be able to have the success you desire without the wisdom that can only come from experience, from learning to join the energies of opposing forces. How will you face Za’in if you can’t face him? Where will you draw your strength from if what you desire and despise is the same?
Kayla bowed her head in angry defeat, her clipped whisper falling from beneath her hair. “I’ll call to him.” She let out a long breath, imagining that the hissing whoosh silenced the world. It wouldn’t be hard to reach him. She simply released the tension that came from avoiding thoughts of his eyes, his shoulders, his mouth. He was close; she could taste blood. There was no message she had to formulate — the honest surrender to their connection was enough. He sensed her need, and almost immediately she heard his voice on the other side of the door.
The angry muttering ended abruptly as the door creaked open and he peeked warily into the room. A look of relief and irritation flickered across his features when he saw her sitting cross-legged on the floor, unharmed, but still he entered, securing the lock behind him and crouching at her side.
“What is it?” he asked flatly, his hard gaze fixed on her, except when he spoke.
Kayla could see that the jagged, red lines scraped across his face were wet with clear fluid, and his left arm was wrapped with seeping bandages, the fetters peeking out between the bloody rags. “Are you okay?” she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut in a spasm of embarrassment at her clumsy words.
Dominion of the Star (Descendants of the Fallen Book 1) Page 32