Reed’s eyes narrow in confusion. “How did he know we were here?”
“He didn’t. He’s here because it’s my hometown. He associates it with me.”
“Your hand is cold,” he says, rubbing warmth back into it. Would you like to get something to eat while we wait for Russell? I need to find a phone so I can contact him.”
“I can send a clone to—”
“Let’s conserve your energy for more important battles, Evie. I’ll call him instead.” He’s out of the car and opening my door in an instant. With his hand on the small of my back, he leads me into an upscale Greek restaurant. We find a dimly lit table by the window. I look around at the dark wood walls and gas-lit wall sconces that give an old world feel to the place. A beautiful waitress appears to take our order. She becomes chatty when she sees Reed. I take the menu that Reed hands to me while she hovers by him with suggestions, pointing out her favorite dishes. After we order, Reed asks her if he can use a phone. I’m sure they never normally allow anyone to use their phone, but because it’s Reed and he has the face of an angel, she automatically agrees. He doesn’t even have to convince her with his persuasive voice. As she leads him to the back, she can’t help staring at him.
She returns before Reed with our water. I have the urge to stab her with my fork, but I’m better at controlling those impulses now. Instead, I take a sip of my drink, gazing through a picture window at the falling snow. “They’re close,” Reed says as he slips into the seat beside me. He leans to me, kissing my cheek and nuzzling my neck.
“They?” I ask. “It’s not just Russell?”
“I don’t think he could leave any of our family behind if he put a spell on them to make them stay.”
“Zee?”
“All of them.” Guilt, denial, and fear crash in on me. I want them anywhere but here. My aspire reads my mind. “It’s not your choice to make. It’s theirs. You’re not responsible for what evil does.” I know that he’s right. Everyone involved has to decide the role they want in this. It’s a war and it’s here.
“You’re right,” I murmur. Our food arrives. As we eat, I savor the exquisite torture of phantom touches from Reed’s nearness. I pretend that this is our life—that we’re just a normal couple having dinner together. I pretend that we don’t have dire consequences of an impossible contract between us.
I can’t help asking myself questions. What if it was the two of us forever? Could I hold onto this much happiness? Could anyone? My pulse races even now with him next to me. I swear that my body is made for his. Could I be content with someone else now? I know the answer is no. He has ruined me for anyone else.
When we finish eating, Reed’s expression becomes serious. He looks off through the window at the street outside. It’s getting really late. The staff is looking at us with an expectant air. They want us to leave so they can. Reed rises from the table and pays the bill in cash. He walks to where the staff has collected. With his persuasive voice, he says, “All of your guests are gone. You’re free to lock up now and carry on with your evening.” His voice whispers and hisses in my head. I want to itch my brain, but I’m unable to through my skull. Luckily, the sensation passes quickly.
The staff collects their coats in a drone-like stupor, before filing out of the restaurant. Reed trails the last one to the door. “You’ll remember tomorrow that you put your key in the mailbox after you closed tonight,” Reed says with an echoing voice, taking the key from him. The man walks away in a daze. Reed closes the door behind him and locks it, leaving the key in it. He goes to the bar. Selecting a bottle of wine and two glasses, he beckons me over.
I walk to the bar and slide onto a barstool. He pours me a drink. Taking the glass of wine Reed offers me, I touch the rim of mine to his. “To us,” I murmur.
“To always,” he replies.
I take a deep sip. He crouches behind the bar. A stereo system comes on with the muffled hum of electricity. Haunting music pipes through the speakers, defying gravity, floating through the room on a current of air. A soft guitar and mandolin with a bass instrument and violins weave in and out of one another at a slow tempo. Before I realize what he’s doing, Reed has moved the tables aside and is in front of me, holding his hand out. “Dance with me.”
I set down my glass on the bar. My hand closes in his. He lifts me off the barstool. My body presses and slides down his until my feet touch the floor. My heart beats faster. I’m in his arms. My head rests against his chest. Fire meets fire. He moves to the languid beat of the music. We’re really not dancing, not the way he’s capable of dancing. This is more like holding one another beneath the moonlight coming through the picture window. I only move when Reed moves, fading into him as if two becomes one. It feels as if he soaks into my skin and there is no way to tell where he ends and I begin.
“Did I thank you for everything you gave me?” I ask Reed in a whisper.
“Every day.”
“There was so much in this world that could hurt me and you kept it from me. If this doesn’t work out for us—” my chin begins to tremble.
“Shh…it will.” He holds me tighter.
“If it doesn’t, I’ll meet you on the other side. Okay?” I press my face to his chest, holding back my tears. I know it’s ridiculous, what I just said. There is no other side for us if we lose. We just end.
Reed plays along. “It’s a date,” he whispers into my hair. We sway together long after the music ends.
There’s a loud rap on the door. Reed’s forehead rests against mine. He whispers, I love you, Evie.” His hand still lingers on my hip, like he can’t let me go. I look over his shoulder. Russell is on the other side of the glass. His tawny hair is covered with a Detroit Tigers knit cap. Russell nods his head toward the doorknob. He’s holding Anya’s hand. White, new snow clings to her ebony hair and her long, black eyelashes. Lion-shaped earmuffs cover her ears. Reed lets go of me to unlock the door. I glance through the picture window. Buns and Brownie close the car doors of the Golden Goose, Buns’ semi-luxury gold-tone car from the nineteen eighties. Zephyr is on the street, checking out the area with his hunter eyes, trying to calculate the danger surrounding us.
Russell allows Anya to enter ahead of him. Reed reaches out and hugs her. Russell’s low growl makes him sound like a wolf resides in his heart. Reed smiles despite the warning. “I get it,” he says to Russell. He lets go of Anya. He extends his hand to Russell. Russell takes it without hesitation.
“It’s instinct, Reed, and given our history, can you blame me?” Russell asks.
I walk to Anya and hug her, “How are you?” I ask.
“I’m well. We’ve managed to evade divine and fallen angels all the way here. Everyone is looking for us, but we have excellent karma.”
“Yes, you do,” I agree.
Buns squeezes past Russell and Reed to get inside. “And we have the Goose!” Buns exclaims, referring to her car. “No one messes with the Goose!” She runs to us, tackle-hugging Anya and me. Brownie slips in to join our circle, squeezing us fiercely. When we break apart, I have to wipe away tears.
Zephyr walks through the door. Looking at Reed, he says, “When Russell told me you said we couldn’t miss you—to just look for wings, I was skeptical.” He gestures outside to the glowing neon sign of a white-winged Pegasus.
“It seemed a fitting place to meet,” Reed replies.
Zephyr turns to me and hugs me. “I missed you,” he says simply.
“I missed you, too.” I rest my head on his shoulder. I let go of him. “I heard you ran into some trouble with my inescapable.”
“I will kill him for you.”
“We have to locate the weapon we need first.”
“That is why I brought Phaedrus with me,” Zephyr replies.
He steps aside so that I can see Phaedrus in the doorway. I don’t smile, but walk to him and hug the black-eyed angel. “Thank you for coming, Phaedrus.”
Phaedrus wraps his arms around me. “You’re welcome. Do you
know where the Gancanagh are?” His body is burning up. He’s like holding an electric blanket that is turned up high.
I let him go and nod. “Yes. They’re only a few miles from here—in an old seminary.”
“I can visualize the place in my mind. It’s very hot in here, isn’t it?” Phaedrus asks. He unwraps the plaid scarf from his neck and takes off his coat. It must be extremely warm for him here because we’re so close to the Gancanagh base. Phaedrus locates his targets by following heat signatures. The closer he gets to something he’s looking for, the hotter he feels. It’s a relief to me that my instincts were right—Brennus has the weapon I need.
“Let me get you some water.” I go to the bar and retrieve a glass for him. On my way back I almost drop it. Another angel stands in the doorway. It’s Preben. His silver-blond hair is covered with snow. The Power angel shakes the flakes from his head and smiles at me, before looking at Zephyr and saying, “The rooftops are clear. We weren’t followed.”
“Preben, how did you find us?” I ask.
“Zephyr called me. I’ve been running reconnaissance on Dominion for us. I was coming up with a plan to free you, Reed, but you freed yourself.”
“I had a little help,” Reed replies, glancing at me.
“Hey! I helped, too.” Russell teases. “Those knots did not untie themselves.”
“I owe you,” Reed replies to Russell.
“You do.”
Buns strips off her coat and tosses it over the back of a chair. Going to the bar, she starts lining up flutes. “We’re celebrating!”
“What are we celebrating?” I ask, handing Phaedrus a glass of water. Turning, I go to help her. She passes me a bottle of champagne. Taking another from a refrigerator under the bar, she pops the cork without even breaking a nail.
“Family,” she replies, pouring the sparkling liquid into tall stemware.
I pop the cork on my bottle and fill glasses. Russell and Anya take off their coats. Preben casts a glance at Brownie. She looks pale. He helps her remove her coat. Setting it aside, he places his arm around the small of her back; she leans on him as he guides her to the bar. My eyes open wide. “What’s wrong with Brownie?” I ask.
Buns looks over at her best friend. “Nothing is wrong with her, she’s perfectly healthy. She just really needs this right now.”
“Why?” I ask. I hand Brownie a full glass of champagne when she leans against the bar.
“She’s more sensitive than me,” Buns explains. “She feels souls more acutely.”
Brownie doesn’t wait for the toast. She drinks it down and holds her glass out for more. “I feel all of the souls who need to be reaped. They’re screaming out to me to help them.”
My hand goes to my forehead. “It’s that bad in Detroit?” I ask, completely shocked.
Buns shakes her head. “No, sweetie, the souls are in Crestwood. We can feel them from here.”
“What is it like?” I ask. It occurs to me that I should know the answer to this. I remember Heaven. I’ve met more Reapers than I can count, but I never interacted with them to any great degree. I’m ashamed to admit that, even to myself. I was different than I am now. I had bought into the angel caste system to a certain degree. I accepted the way things have always been, instead of how they should be.
Brownie looks at Buns before she says, “It doesn’t hurt at all if I go right away to a reap and do my job, but when I try to resist, my pain increases the longer I wait.”
“Maybe it’s a little like being in labor?” Buns looks at Brownie for confirmation.
Brownie raises her shoulders. “I wouldn’t know about childbirth, but if it is, I’m not ever signing up for that.”
Buns winces and bends forward, clearly in pain as well, but trying hard to hide it. I touch her back, asking, “How do I help you?”
“You can’t. I need to reap,” she pants.
“Has it ever been this bad, Buns?”
“No. Whatever’s happening there, in Crestwood, feels like the end of the world. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.”
I hand Buns a glass of champagne. Zephyr walks behind me and pulls a bottle of vodka from the shelf. “They might do better with this.”
He starts to pour out some shots. I blanch. Without thinking, I place my hands on Buns’ shoulders. I whisper a spell, asking her pain to come to me. It does. Like lightning strikes, her pain climbs up my arms in jagged, yellow bolts. I redirect the sizzling snarling pain. Removing my hands from her, I clasp them on the neck of the champagne bottle, stuffing the glowing bolts of white-hot pain down the throat of the bottle. I shove the cork back into it. Pain shakes and flashes inside its emerald cage in a raging tempest.
Buns stands up straight. “Sweetie, you’re like a redheaded witchdoctor!”
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“I’m much better!”
Brownie groans. “Do me next!”
“Zee, hand me that other empty bottle,” I order. When he does, I repeat the same spell I used on Buns. Yellow lightning strikes climb from Brownie up my arms. I channel them into the container, and then cork that one, too. Anya gets close to the first bottle. Tapping her finger on it, she stirs up sparking chaos inside.
“Thank you, Evie!” Brownie stands up on the rung of her barstool and reaches over the counter. She liberates the shot from Zephyr’s hand. Without really tasting it, she swallows the vodka and sets the glass on the bar.
“It didn’t work?” I ask.
Brownie dabs her mouth with a bar napkin. “Oh no, it worked. I just really like vodka.”
I look over and see Russell watching me. He raises his eyebrow in question, asking me silently what else I can do and what else I know. I pick up two flutes of champagne and walk toward him. Behind me, Zephyr tries to remove the cham-pain bottles from the bar, but Buns stops him. “What are you doing with my pain?”
“Getting rid of it,” Zephyr replies.
“Don’t take my pain. I have plans for it.”
“You have plans for your pain?”
“Yes.”
Zephyr’s cunning grin matches hers. “Tell me of these plans.”
I hand Russell a glass. He taps the rim of it to mine before sipping from it. “I never figured you for a Tigers fan.”
He makes a funny face. I point to the navy-colored knit cap on his head. He tugs it from his tawny hair, using his fingers to comb it. “Oh, this,” he holds up the hat, “was Buns’ idea. She got ‘em for us when we stopped for gas.”
“How was that?” He looks confused, so I add, “Stopping at a gas station convenience store?” Of course I’m referring to our aversion to going into one since our brush with death at the hands of Alfred.
He shrugs. “There are worse things than fallen angels, so I just try not to think about it. And I like my hat.” He puts it back on.
“It’s not too late, you know?”
“Too late for what?”
“You can still take Anya and go somewhere—I have all the money you’d ever need—you can be happy.”
He shakes his head. “I’m in this fight, Red. I can’t be happy livin’ with your ghost, knowin’ I could’ve helped you and I didn’t.”
“That’s just it, Russell. You won’t have to live with my ghost either way.”
His brown eyes see right through me. “That’s not what I meant, and anyway, I always liked your ghost. It would be a shame not to see it around once in a while, so I have to finish this with you so I can start over fresh, like you intended.” There is no bitterness in his words, just honesty.
“If all goes well, you won’t have to fight Emil ever again.”
“If all goes well, you get to live, ‘cuz I gotta tell you, Red, I don’t think eternity will be half as interestin’ without my best friend in it. Or him,” Russell tips his glass in Reed’s direction. “I kinda like him and I never thought I’d ever say that.”
“I kind of like him, too.”
“Then figure out a way for us to win t
his, like I know you can.”
“I don’t know if I can this time.” I feel crushed by the weight of my own words.
Reed moves away from the bar. “Balance,” Reed murmurs when he comes to stand beside me.
“Hmm,” I ask, raising my eyebrow at him.
“Something just occurred to me—about balance.”
“What about it?”
“We have a key that opens Sheol.” Russell leans in closer, listening to our exchange.
I nod and say, “I think we need to use it to close Sheol. I think that’s its purpose.”
“Maybe,” Reed says, noncommittal. “It could also be a way in to Sheol to get to Byzantyne, should he try to hide from us, but that’s not what concerns me at the moment.”
“What worries you, Reed?” I touch his arm; he wraps it around my waist holding me to his side.
“If we have something that opens Sheol, then it stands to reason that Emil has a key that opens Paradise.”
“Why would he have that?” Russell asks, his body tense.
“The Fallen want to get back into Paradise,” Reed answers. “If we needed the key to get into Sheol, they’d only relent if they could have one to Paradise.”
“Why would we need to get into Sheol?” Russell asks.
“I don’t know, but the fact that we have the means is telling. And if I’m right, then Sheol already knows we have this boatswain.”
“What boatswain?” Zephyr asks as he joins us. We have everyone’s full attention now.
“I think we all need to tell our stories of how we got here.” A hush falls over the room. I have everyone’s attention. “I want to tell you a story about Simone and Reed, and I want to tell you about how we will unite our three armies.”
Zephyr’s ice blue killer stare is focused on me. “Yes. I have been patient long enough. I need to know it all, the strategic points, positions, and players in the conflict so that I can force them to submit to me.”
Something about that makes me smile, even as I try hard to hide it. “We can all sit at this table and I’ll fill you in.” Choosing a seat at a round table, I start at the beginning with a girl who loved her soul mate and her Seraph. I tell them the tale of a Power who would save a dying girl, and gradually come to where we are now. Along the way, each member of my family fills me in on things I missed. When we come to the end of our pasts, the only thing left to discuss is our future.
Iniquity (The Premonition Series Book 5) Page 25
