by Lucy Auburn
They’re going to be torn apart.
The ache in my throat tells me that it’ll all be my fault. And what’s worse—I’m the only one who can stop it, and I know just exactly how to do it.
Though it kills me to do so, I gather up every ounce of commanding tone inside me and force my will into my words. “Stop this right now.” They freeze. “Hands away from your weapons. No fighting.”
It works. That’s the worst part. The tension leaves Ezra’s hands; his jaw goes slack and his expression mild. Mateo leans against the wall, and Lynx’s fingers loosen. Worst of all, though, Sebastian turns away from me, perches on the edge of the bed and faces the wall. And I feel like my scarred phoenix heart is being torn into four painful pieces.
At least we’re all equally miserable.
“I can’t believe you guys made me do this.” I sink against the headboard of my bed, biting back a thousand frustrated comments. “We should all be horny right now, not... this.”
To my shock, Ezra says, “You’re right.”
I sit up so fast it makes me head spin, and stare at him, slack-jawed. “Wait a minute. Say that again. I’m what now?”
He chuckles, low and simple, which lets some of the agitation leave the room. “I’m man enough to admit that we shouldn’t be fighting each other over this. But Dani... we can’t start this sort of thing.”
“Why not?” I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand in front of him, facing him head-on. “What’s the worst that could happen? And don’t say me dying, because we both know that just summoning you guys or using my powers is enough to do that. Sex isn’t any worse than the rest of it.”
Ezra looks away. “I can’t say.”
“I can.” Lynx’s voice startles me; he frowns in Ezra’s direction, eyes burning. “He’s afraid that if we cross that line, they’ll have one more thing to torture us with in Purgatory when things go sideways.”
“What do you mean?”
It’s Sebastian who answers my question, voice rough, staring out the window at the night sky. “Lyanna. He means Lyanna.”
“I’ll tell her,” Ezra cuts in. “The story is best coming from me. If we’re going to pry open old wounds, let me at least have that much.”
Reaching out, he clasps my hand and holds it between us, and I quiet my thoughts at the realization that he’s about to open up to me. What a rare and precious thing; I don’t dare breath too loud, just in case it makes him clam the fuck up again.
“A long time ago, when I was just starting out...” He clears his throat. “You see, I was young when I died and was brought to Purgatory, and turned into what you see now. I didn’t meet these three fools until I’d been one for a while.”
Sebastian offers, “I told her how we’re made.”
Ezra looks relieved. “Good. I won’t cover that, except to tell you... early on, the missions I went on were mostly voluntary. Lesser demons aren’t summoned, you see, until a Grim discovers us and captures us in one of their spells. So it wasn’t people like Richard bringing me to earth—it was people asking for vengeance. Praying, mostly.”
I’m stunned. “You mean ordinary people can summon demons?”
“They don’t usually realize that’s what they’re doing, but yes.” He smirks. “If you’ve ever wished for vengeance against someone who’s wronged you, and a week later they were in a car accident or their apartment flooded, that was probably a minor demon on a mission to cause mischief. Call it mischief, blame it on faeries or karma, but sometimes bad people get what’s coming to them.”
Remembering the bully at the group home who fell in a crevasse and spent two days down it before they saved her, I smile a little at the thought that demons like mine had something to do with it. She was never quite the same after—or as mean.
“I was on a mission like that when I met Lyanna.” He’s silent for a moment, clearly lost in memory. “She wanted vengeance for a man that attacked her. I was sent alone, because it was seen as a minor mission, and I’d been in training long enough. When I got to the mortal plane, not only had he attacked her again, but... she was far gone. I thought she was going to die.”
His hands tighten on mine. Turning my palm around, I wrap my fingers around his and urge him, “Go on.”
Those green eyes of his are full of sorrow. “As demons, we’re responsible for weighing evil and punishing it appropriately. We don’t... we’re not supposed to do good things. Like take away people’s pain as they’re dying,” he says, looking to Sebastian, “or bond with humans and intervene in their lives. I knew this, but I couldn’t stop myself. I brought her to the hospital. I saved her life. When I returned to Purgatory, I expected to be punished right away, but no one knew what I had done. It’d gone unnoticed.”
Mateo says, “The suits down there are too busy to bother with the little things, like people’s lives or the wheels of justice.”
“I thought I’d gotten away with it.” Ezra’s mouth thins and flattens. “So I kept visiting her. Even after our quartet was formed, after we started to go on big missions, after my first encounter with a Grim... I saw Lyanna whenever I could. Until one day, she wasn’t alone.” His squeezes my hand briefly. “Somehow, a Grim had found her. He must’ve smelled me on her, because he was waiting for my visit. When he did, he enslaved me and used me to find the other three. He bent an entire quartet to his will. He used us all.”
“Fuck.” I squeeze his hands comfortingly. “I’m so sorry, Ezra.”
“Not as sorry as I was when we finally escaped his spell and returned to Purgatory. The suits might not have noticed the small kindness I did Lyanna, but they certainly noticed what happened with the Grim, and why. So they punished me—and included the others in the punishment, too. They gave us extra time on our penance.
“But that wasn’t enough. They wanted a deterrent to prevent it from happening again. If I ever visited her again, ever saw her, ever even spoke of it to anyone else, they’d take it out, not on me but on her.” His eyes flare in anger. “Even just telling you this is a risk. Lyanna passed two years ago, but she had a son—for all I know they’d sweep him up in that punishment. The leaders of Hell and Purgatory have long memories for those who step out of line.”
I’m horrified. “So just getting involved with me...”
“You’re a Grim,” he points out. “The rules are different. Technically, our wills are not our own as long as we’re bonded to you. But there’s still a line. Crossing it could mean so much more than any of us know.”
Lynx adds, “If this has happened before—and I’m sure it has—none of us know the details, because no one has ever talked about it. Maybe because Black Phoenix are rare, and soul bonds even rarer. Or maybe because anyone it happened to can’t talk and never will.”
I think about what they’ve said, about the risks I already know and the ones that I may never have any idea about. I consider the warmth of Ezra’s hands on mine, the sorrow in his eyes as he told his story, the unfairness of it.
He weighs truth and justice for others but so rarely gets it for himself.
I raise my chin and wait for him to meet my gaze. “I don’t care what the risks are.”
“You should,” he says huskily.
“I think we’ve already thoroughly established that I don’t do what I should, don’t care what others think.” Reaching up, I press my palm against his cheek, and his eyes flutter closed. “We have less than a week to figure things out and prepare to say goodbye. Let’s not waste it.”
Mateo brightens up. “So we’re gonna fuck?”
Groaning, Lynx shoves him. “Be a little less crude.”
I laugh—then, reluctantly, shake my head. “I’m exhausted. There’s so much to process.” Squeezing Ezra’s hand, I take a good, long look at each of them. “But let’s just say I don’t plan on being a virgin the night Meyer helps me perform this spell. Got it?”
I aim the last two words at Ezra. With a chuckle, he nods—and presses a sweet, soft kiss
to my forehead. “Got it.”
For better or worse, the deal is made.
Chapter 20
Thursday, 9:00 AM, Phoenix Fire Casting 101 with Yohan Cheng
“That’s it.” Yohan watches the tiny flame rise between my thumb and forefinger, oddly intense about the whole thing. “Coax it to life. You can do it, Dani.”
I do my best, trying to feed the little ember of power and turn it into an inferno. There’s a twisting inside my heart, though, and suddenly it snuffs itself out.
Yohan glares at me like I did it on purpose. “Again. Five more times and maybe you’ll get it right.”
I disappoint him five more times. “Sorry,” I mutter sheepishly.
“You had this yesterday, Dani. What changed between then and now?”
I ignore the snickering behind me; the demons, of course, are along for the ride this morning. One of the first things I did before class was take a cold shower, but of course it had no impact since I spent half my time waiting for Sebastian’s blue-eyed gaze to interrupt things. I don’t know if I was more disappointed it never happened, or relieved that I made it to class on time despite all the tossing and turning I did all night.
“Nothing has changed,” I lie, pretending like there’s not a cold ache in my middle or a sharp desire to greet the evening with four men between my sheets. “Maybe it’s...”
My thought is interrupted by a sharp, cold pain against my collarbone. Hissing, I pull at the leather cord around my neck and yank out the black opal charm. It’s gone so chill that there’s a thin layer of frost skimming its black surface, dimming the black shine of it.
“What’s that?” Yohan reaches out to yank it, and I lean back. “If it’s getting in the way of your lessons, get rid of it.”
“I can’t. Meyer gave it to me for protection.”
Yohan frowns. “There’s no greater protection than your phoenix fire. Are you sure the necklace isn’t getting in the way of summoning it?”
“Positive.” In fact, it should be saving me from death—unless my bond with the demons has grown too strong for it to work anymore. “I think I know what’s wrong. I’ll fix it.
It’s quiet behind me. After everything, I don’t dare turn around to see what expression Ezra is wearing. Instead I just let every thought out of me until I’m sure the demons have been dismissed.
The instant they’re gone, the opal warms to the temperature of my hand. Proof that it was doing something while they were here—keeping my powers from draining away completely, probably.
Which means I have very little time with them left.
Yohan is frowning at me. Shoving the necklace back beneath my shirt, I give him my best go-getter smile. “I can do it this time, I swear.”
“I hope so. Little candles won’t save you, Dani, when what we need you to summon are full phoenix wings.”
A feat I’ll hopefully be able to manage again... once Meyer has finished his spell.
Thursday, 3:00 PM, Shifter History with Ocean Johnson
“So, the general’s second Shield, Edgar Wainwright III, shifted into his wolf form in order to infiltrate the ranks of the experimenters. He knew that he’d be risking his life to pose as a half-breed wolfdog and that there was a good chance... am I boring, you Dani?”
I come out of my daydream so fast that I actually make a snorting sound, which gets a soft chuckle from the other students. “No! No, sorry, just... tired.”
Normally gentle Ocean Johnson looks peeved at this. “Just because you’re a phoenix doesn’t mean this history isn’t important to you. One day you’ll have a Shield assigned to protect you, and you’ll be expected to fight alongside them and respect their history. How can you do that when you don’t know the first thing about being a shifter?”
Suddenly all eyes are on me, and because every other student in this class is a shifter, not a phoenix, there are hard edges to almost all of them. Except for Olivia, who looks sympathetic at my lack of knowledge, they are—of course—all legacy students who probably learned this form of alternate history sitting at their parents’ knees.
“Sorry, Mr. Johnson.”
“It’s Ocean.” Now I’ve really peeved him off, but I can’t call any man, even a hippy with long braided black hair, a name like that. Whoever named him after a body of water did him a disservice. “Bring me a two page essay on the history of shifters in both World Wars, first thing next class. And don’t skimp on the details.”
I bite back my groan. “Of course.”
Days like these, it’s easy to imagine the normally soft teacher shifting into a giant brown bear and cutting through swathes of demons with the swipe of his paw.
Too bad I’m now on the other side of that hulking beast with sharp teeth and sharper claws. I liked it better when he was just the hippy with glasses and braids.
The day continues on, relentless. I do my best not to repeat the mistake I made this morning; I don’t summon the demons. I don’t feel the chill of the black opal against my skin, or the sinking feeling of my powers flickering in and out. When I head up to my room after my last class and fall down onto the bed with a oomph, I tell myself I can stay away from them until...
Until...
But I can’t. I want them. I crave them. I need them. Is this what Meyer warned me about when he said the bond would grow too strong? Or is this just me, lonely and desperately needy for their quips, their intense eyes, their calloused fingertips and protective ways?
Closing my eyes, I force my heart not to race. I breathe in deep through my mouth and out slow through my nose. I let go of the desperate need to have them here with me, to claw my way up their naked bodies and surrender myself to them completely.
Who am I kidding?
I’ll never let that fantasy go.
There’s a need that lives beneath my skin. It’s a dark yawning pit that’s hungry, and there’s only one thing that will make it subside so that I feel whole.
A joining. A completion. One last, dangerous hurrah before I say goodbye. Bonded souls ending their journey the only way possible.
Or as Mateo would put it, just a bunch of fucking like animals.
When I open my eyes they’re not here with me. And I don’t feel anxious or afraid—I feel a thrum of excitement inside me, a promise of what’s yet to come. Peeling off my blazer and throwing it onto the floor, I sit in the middle of my bed and stare at my reflection. The mirror set in the door of my wardrobe reveals sharp black hair with ends that flip, a white T-shirt—I refused to wear the requisition collared button-down today—and knobby knees. Late afternoon sun streams in through the third floor window, revealing the shadow of my cheap department store bra beneath my thin shirt.
Is this, I wonder anxiously, what the demons see when they look at me? A girl barely grown into a woman, the edges of her stolen eyeliner smudged? I look like something the cat dragged in—or in this case, something the shifters grabbed off the street.
My heart twists anxiously, and I rush to my bathroom. Grabbing my bag from beneath the counter, I yank out all my makeup and a pack of makeup removing wipes, and get to work on making myself look a little more presentable.
I’m not a dainty flower, and I’m sure as shit not gonna lose my virginity to the sound of Coldplay with a dozen scented candles for lighting, but the least I can do is spruce myself up for the main event. First I remove the smudged liner and redo it, then swipe on a fresh coat of mascara. Then I grab my one nice eyeshadow—thank you, tiny sample sizes from Ulta—and swipe it onto both lids until they shine with gold flecks. A little lipstick and some concealer later, I like how I look far better.
But there’s still the matter of my uneven ends. This dorm room bathroom didn’t come with a hair dryer, and I sure as shit didn’t carry one out on the street. Frowning, I wet my fingertips and pat down the ends of my hair wherever it flips, tugging at it uselessly.
I could buy a flat iron with my ill-gotten stash of cash... if they let me out of the gates of this place. O
r I could ask Petra for help styling my unruly strands, but she might get suspicious about it.
I’m delaying. The guys don’t care about the direction my hair flips. They’ve already seen me naked and I know they want me. I haven’t seen them naked and I know I want them. Like, really, really know.
Just when I’m considering how I want to summon them for this—laying splayed on the bed or standing naked in a bathroom full of steam—my stomach grumbles. It’s barely five o’clock but the inner street rat in me doesn’t care.
I should probably eat before I lose my virginity to four murderous demons. Not that I know how any of this works.
I’ve got a pit of nervousness in the middle of my stomach, and no matter what I do I can’t seem to make it dissipate. It hasn’t yet tipped over into the kind of anxiety that summons the demons, but it’s only a matter of time.
I reline my lips with lipstick. Check my reflection over and over again. Tug on the hem of the pretty blue shirt with capped sleeves I changed into—the only kind of nice thing I had, and it came from the dumpster behind an H&M.
“What the actual Hell am I doing?”
“Good question.”
I whirl around to face Lynx, who’s standing all alone in the doorway of my bathroom. “How are you here? Is it just you?”
“The guys are in the other room.” He takes a step forward and shuts the door behind himself. “You know, Dani, you don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. Clearly you’re nervous if we showed up like this.”
“I know.”
“Although perhaps you want us to touch you, because I can feel the weight of my body.” He comes closer, slowly. “Is that possible?”
I swallow. “It is.”
“Except your heart is beating so fast I can almost hear it.”