by Faulks, Kim
My lips trembled, the room blurred. I turned away, falling into Rival’s open arms. It was all I could do to hold on, all I could do to smother the scream in the back of my throat.
“I’m right here,” Rival murmured in my ear. “I’m not going anywhere. Whatever happens, we’ll get through this together.”
I closed my fist around his shirt, gripping while the machines beeped and hissed around us. How could I say goodbye to Titus?
How could I say goodbye to the man I loved?
Chapter Two
Lorn
The bitter stench of smoke still lingered. I stared at the shell of the building that’d once been my home and swallowed a shudder.
Blackened walls…blown-out doors.
Titus had almost died here, trapped at the far end of the foyer outside Ace’s apartment. How the hell had he survived?
I tried to remember the snatches of conversation they’d told me.
Tried to remember anything of those moments.
But all I could feel was pain.
A miracle they called it, and I had to wonder what that looked like.
He was still kept alive by machines.
Machines they now wanted to turn off.
Chang’s restaurant was closed down, the fire from the apartment building too great to leave it untouched. The building had been the target…the building where people slept—where they loved—where they felt protected.
“Lorn,” the quiet voice slipped through the night behind me.
I spun at the sound and caught the shadow move. Ace stepped out, his face hidden by edges of the black hood. “Ace. What are you doing here?”
“Same as you,” the young kid murmured, and neared.
Silver rays of the moon caressed the side of his face and I realized he wasn’t a kid anymore. The muscles of his strong jaw flexed as he stepped closer. He’d grown taller, towering over me. How could this be?
But it was his eyes that revealed his age, and it wasn’t something the years could give—it was experience…and as the young warlock reached out to brush his hand across my arm, I felt his age in degrees.
Power moved around me…though me…power I’d never felt before. Dangerous power…dark power. The image of that gravesite bloomed inside my head. Chiseled walls of cold packed earth. Earth where Alma now called home…down…down…down...
Down where the dead still cried for those they loved…where they whispered…don’t come here…not yet…it’s not your time.
I flinched and yanked away from his touch. Blood magic swirled around him.
“It’s not what you think,” he murmured, and lifted those cold blue eyes to mine.
“I think it’s exactly what I think, Ace. Necromancy isn’t something you want to mess with.”
He cut his gaze to the ruined building. “We all go at some point, Lorn, even those who are immortal die inside.”
Gabriel. That’s who he’s talking about. An icy fist closed around my heart and clenched, driving talons deep. “Have you seen him?”
Ace never answered, only took a step backwards. “Take care, Lorn. I’ll be around if you need me.”
And in the space of a breath, he was gone, slipping between the thick shadows behind me and was gone.
I strained to listen for his footsteps, but there was nothing. I was alone, staring at the burned-out shell that I once called home. I took a step, hit the tar, and crossed the road.
Yellow police tape ran along the outside and across the pavement. The image was a fucking joke. There’d be no investigation—no hunting of those responsible.
How the hell could you investigate your own?
Their hate was bitter…their hate was black. Their hate was here.
I swept the yellow ribbon aside and stepped up into the ruined shell. Brick walls were blown out in the places where the bombs had detonated.
But it wasn’t the shattered exterior that pulled me here. It was the things left behind. Things I felt calling me…
My boots crunched on scorched debris as I moved deeper inside. Shadows and darkness crowded the floor. I caught the outline of beams in the dark.
Color peeked out from the charred ruins. I crouched and reached out, sinking fingers into the cauterized tufts of pink, remnants of the perfect plush sofa.
My archangel came to life inside my mind. Perfect blue eyes sparkled, so full of life…so full of love—so different to the man he was now. I dropped the ruin and rose—perfect memories turned to savage beasts.
Energy hummed, calling me forward like a beacon. I moved through the mess until the power stilled me.
I shoved the charcoal mess aside and dug under fallen sheeting. The edges of the box crumbled as I heaved, but the rest was mostly intact…saved by the markings that now blazed to life.
Heat raced, tearing along my arms and into my chest. I breathed deep and lifted the lid. The journals were all there in perfect condition, just as I knew they would be. I skimmed my fingers along the letter and then withdrew.
They were safe…we were all safe, and alive—for now.
That was all that mattered.
I gripped the box and rose. A bitter southerly wind whipped strands of hair from my face as I went to my car. The rust-bucket was all we had now, our one mode of transportation, and right now it was all I owned.
I clung onto the familiar with everything I had, yanking open the driver’s door and climbed in. The silver moonlight danced across the ruins. It was almost beautiful. I leaned forward and turned the key, listening to the rough sound of the motor.
The dark abyss inside seemed to grow wider as I hit the turning signal and pulled out onto the street. Pain flared as I inhaled the bitter scent of smoke. I turned the wheel and snatched glimpses of the box beside me as I made my way thorough abandoned city streets until I pulled up outside a quiet apartment building.
There was no Chang’s restaurant here. No crack-covered walls filled with the familiar, there was a coldness…an emptiness…but for now this was home. I pulled up outside and grabbed the box before climbing from the car and, as always, I lifted my head to the top floor and the dull yellow light that leaked from one of the rooms.
The heavy thud of my boots rang out in the night as I stepped up to the pathway that ran to the front of the building—one owned by my late grandmother.
It was hard to think of her like that…hard to think of her gone. She’d always been just there. Not under my feet…Hell, not even in the state most of the time. She’d leave for years at a time. But I always felt her energy like the warmth in my veins.
Now I just felt cold. Now I just felt alone.
I shoved my key into the lock and turned it. Hinges howled, tearing through the empty space. I scanned the first floor and turned toward the stairs. I’d not even looked at the place properly—not invested any part of myself.
I wouldn’t be staying. In my heart I was already gone—lost between worlds.
Those words clung to my steps as I climbed the stairs. The familiar scent of hellhound permeated the stairwell. Rival had been the only constant—even Gabriel had disappeared for days, to reappear with those haunted blue eyes.
Eyes I could no longer meet.
An ache flared as I slowed my steps at the top of the stairwell.
I couldn’t stand to remember…not his shattered wings, or the way he looked at me in that Unseelie cell.
The memory of his screams was bad enough…
I tried to ready myself, to steel my fragile heart, and took a step toward the door. Power danced and old magic sang. Magic that belonged to my grandmother. It skimmed my spirit and wrapped around me, and for a second I remembered the warmth of her arms…and the bite of her words.
Just gonna be you and me now, kid.
I stabbed the lock with the key and twisted. Silence greeted me. But I could feel him inside, feel his energy close around me like a sandstorm, blinding me to everything but him.
I closed the door behind me and crossed the living r
oom. Soft yellow light peeked out from under the master bedroom door. I lifted the box of journals onto the kitchen counter and moved closer.
Shadows smothered the light on my feet. I gripped the door handle and turned. The screech of old metal was piercing before the door swung inwards.
The whoosh of wings was instant. Gabriel flinched and swung toward me, eyes blazing with anger and fear. His lips curled, fists clenched, ready to hurt me—ready to kill.
He was healed…physically at least. The doctors had worked day and night repairing the damage Absolon and his scum inflicted.
But the body was one thing.
The spirit was another.
“It’s just me,” I whispered, and lifted a hand. “It’s okay.”
Curled lips slid low. He jerked a panicked gaze to the empty space behind me and inhaled hard. The hard swell of his chest rose and then fell before he gently lowered his wings. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”
“It’s okay,” the response was automatic. It didn’t matter how much noise I made, he’d never hear me…not over the roar inside his head.
“Is there…is there any change?” Hope flared in those perfect blue eyes before I shook my head.
“He’ll be okay,” Gabriel murmured. “I know it in my heart.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell him what the doctor had said. How could I? Not now. My archangel was fragile enough. Instead, I smiled and took a slow step. “Have you been outside today?”
Shoulders stiffened, breath caught for a second before he answered. “No. Not yet. The sun, it’s too bright…maybe later.”
“It’s night, Gabriel, almost midnight, actually.”
He jerked his gaze toward the window. “Midnight?”
Shadows filled the dark circles under his eyes. I lowered my gaze, taking in the hard swell of his chest and his sunken stomach. He was wasting away in front of me. “Have you eaten at all?”
There was a flinch before he paled, turning sallow and sickly. “I’m not hungry.”
“Well, I am,” lies…they came so easily now. “I’m starving, and the line at the cafeteria was too damn long. I hate eating on my own.”
He never answered, just stared at the closed blinds on the window, until finally he found my gaze. “Okay, I can try.”
I nodded and reached out my hand. So much distance. So much pain.
He crossed the room in three gigantic strides to take my hand. The mark on his chest flared to life, a crescent moon filled with so much love—so much hope.
I opened my arms and he moved close, lowering his head to mine. The kiss was just there. No emotion, no need. Sex was the last thing we wanted…and that thought alone filled me with sorrow.
I wanted his hunger, his pain.
I wanted to feel him inside me.
Too feel something.
Instead, he pulled away and motioned toward the kitchen. “Not sure what we have, let me see if I can get something together.”
I let him flounder as I turned away and went into the bathroom. It was better than nothing. I reached down and lowered the zipper on my boots, and cast them aside, leaving the cold of the tiles to ease the ache in my arches.
Black dress pants were next, followed with the white collared shirt and my black leather jacket. My funeral clothes. I wanted to burn them, leave them in a pile of ash like everything else, as I stepped into the shower and turned the faucets.
Copper pipes howled and rattled. Heat rushed, sluicing the bitter cold away as I tilted my head backwards. I closed my eyes for a second, taking this moment before I reached for the bodywash, grasped the bottle from the shelf, and opened the lid.
The sultry masculine scent invaded my senses. I wrenched my eyes open to stare at the sleek midnight bottle of male bodywash…Redemption’s bodywash.
I winced, heart pounding as I stared. He was everywhere…his clothes, his weapons…his scent. I pulled the bottle close and inhaled, and he was here once more, taking more of my heart than he should.
He saved me…he saved all of us.
Risked his life just to get me out of there.
I squeezed the liquid on a loofah and then ran it down my breast. His scent mingled with the steam of the shower. I thought of all the times I loved him. The times where I felt nothing more than the heat of his body, and tasted his love.
My fingers skimmed my body as I rubbed and washed, but out in the kitchen pots clanged and then fell silent, killing the heat of desire cold. My place was here with them, and my love needed to follow the same path.
I leaned backwards, rinsing the bodywash free, and placed the bottle at the far end of the shelf, out of reach. Instead, I grabbed Gabriel’s favorite, the one that smelled like strawberries and cream.
I washed and scrubbed, removing the remnant of Redemption’s scent from my body, and twisted the handles, ending the spray. The heady smell of toasted sandwiches drifted into the bathroom.
My stomach clenched and howled. Eating was the last thing I wanted. But those hollow circles under Gabriel’s eyes overrode everything else. I had to take better care of him, had to be more…here and not some damn ghost that haunted these four walls.
I dried my body and dropped the towel over the rail. An icy breeze slipped in from somewhere, sweeping across my skin as I walked toward the bedroom.
The slow grate of a metal spoon against a saucepan filled the air. I stepped into the bedroom and went to the small closet, shoving aside a monstrous crossbow to grab a clean pair of jeans and a sweater.
Weapons filled every room in the apartment, blood-rusted blades were piled in the corners. Shotguns were propped against the bed, remnants of the one hunt that had controlled Alma’s life.
The only one that mattered.
Where she found my mother’s murderer.
I slipped on a bra, panties, and then blue jeans and a silver cashmere sweater. A breeze plunged through a crevice in the wall, flapping the corner of a map.
I yanked my sleeves low and moved closer. Red and black lines criss-crossed across the graph, outlining every supernatural leyline that sliced through every state in this country.
Most of the lines converged here…in Harbor City, a haven for everything that went bump in the night.
It was the one reason why my grandmother created The Circle, her way of hunting the hunters and upholding the volatile truce between mortals and supes, and, until a few weeks ago, I’d owned fifty-one percent of the company.
I shook my head. Fifty-one percent and I couldn’t even afford a place of my own. “It doesn’t matter,” I answered my own thought. “It was a legacy, not a damn investment.”
And it didn’t matter. I’d done without money before, and I’d continue to do so...for as long as it took.
“It’s ready,” Gabriel called from the kitchen.
I took a step, catching the edge of a photograph behind the map. Strange…I reached out, snagged the corner with a nail, and dragged the image free.
Black eyes gripped me as the image of the night hag trembled and then slipped…falling…falling until it hit the floor.
In my head, nails raked along my face…clawing…clawing, the terror dragged me under, until there was nowhere to go but down. My knees shook, unseen hands clenched around my throat.
It’s just you and me now, Lorn…it’s just you and me…
I yanked the collar of my sweater—I couldn’t breathe.
The sting of her nails cut across my face.
“Lorn?” Gabriel called from the doorway.
Heady boots thundered across the room, still I couldn’t drag myself away from her…not from the claws in my mind…not from those eyes.
She was still out there…still hunting…still alive.
Gabriel gripped my arms, his wide blue eyes were filled with panic.
Panic and pain….
She did that…the Nine did that.
They were the reason Gabriel was broken.
They were the reason Titus was dying.
They were the reason for it all…
“Lorn, for Heaven’s sake, Lorn!” Gabriel screamed.
His terror broke through the haze and I lifted my head, hollow words slipped from my lips. “I’m okay. It’s okay, Gabriel.”
He dropped his gaze to the overturned image. I couldn’t let him see those black eyes…I couldn’t let him relive the screams in his head.
I lifted my foot and stepped, grinding the image under my heel as I held onto him and growled. “I’m okay now. We’re okay, you hear me? We’re okay.”
Haunted eyes held mine as he lifted his head and nodded. “I made soup and a sandwich, wasn’t sure what kind you liked.”
I shook my head. It didn’t matter…nothing mattered. I dropped my hand. “I’ll be right behind you.”
There was a second where I thought he’d wait…a second where he might’ve glanced at that image and demanded to know, until he gave a nod and turned.
I waited until he was through the door before dropping to my knees. I didn’t want to look at her—didn’t want to see those infernal black pits staring back at me. The edge of the picture buckled under my fingers as I clenched tight, folding the material in two before I rose.
I couldn’t leave it here, not for him to find. Death slipped into my pocket as I shoved the image down and then turned for the other side of the kitchen.
The sweet smell of rich tomato soup filled the space as I climbed up onto the stool and stared at the two small bowls. My belly howled, fighting my will. Gabriel slid a plate onto the middle of the counter, with two grilled cheese sandwiches on either side.
I had to protect him. I had to keep him safe, and if that meant forcing myself to eat just so he could eat, too, then that’s what I’d do.
He picked up the spoon and waited until I picked up mine. “Will you go back there tonight?”
“Yes,” and every night until he comes back to me. “Do you want to come? It might help just to hear your voice.”
He shook his head. “I’m going home…just for a little while. That’s what I came here to tell you. I think it’s…” safer…
He didn’t have to say the word—I saw it all in the sky blue of his gaze. Home…Heaven…his brothers would protect him there. He’d be safe and protected…without me.