Forevermore

by Kristen Callihan

  Layla was silent for a moment then broke out in an inelegant and distinctly loud snort. “Oh, do tell me more. An angel.” She laughed again. “Of all the things—”

  Her mouth stood agape as Augustus calmly called forth his wings, unfurling them with a sort of majesty that Sin had yet to accomplish. He had to admit, however, that it was an awe-inspiring sight.

  Augustus’s wings spanned at least seven feet in either direction. Pure, pale silver, they were feathered, unlike Sin’s, and reflected the light as if one were looking into a mirror.

  Layla’s mouth moved several times before words came out. “I . . . That is . . . you . . .”

  “Am an angel,” Augustus finished.

  Layla’s slim hand rose to her head. “I might faint.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” Augustus ordered mildly. “Come, child. You knew. Deep down, you knew.”

  “I did not know this,” she snapped. “I thought . . . well, I don’t really know what I thought. True, I wondered why you did not age. But an angel?” She shook her head. “Why are you even here? Don’t you have a harp you should be playing on a cloud somewhere?”

  A chuckle left Sin’s lips before he could contain it. Layla shot him a glance. “You knew?”

  Sin straightened. “Of course I knew. Why do you think I’m here?”

  Her brown eyes grew wide. “Oh, please do not tell me you’re an angel too.”

  “All right,” he said easily. “I won’t.”

  Augustus cleared his throat, drawing their attention. “Harps are for Putti, Layla. Angels are warriors. And I am not the sort you’ve learned about in your lessons.”

  “I gather,” she muttered.

  “I am the creator of Judgment. ‘Angel’ is actually a new term,” Augustus explained with a wave of his hand. “We actually go back to Egyptian myth. Where hell was called Duat, and the queen of Judgment was named Maat. I, like my brethren, am an eater of souls. I hunt down other immortals and supernatural beings who have done wrong and take their souls for final Judgment.”

  “Other supernatural beings?” Layla’s lips parted in expectation. “Such as?”

  “Demons, Lycans—which human fairy tales often call werewolves—Elementals, capable of controlling the elements—fire, ice, earth, electricity.”

  Layla frowned, her body tensing, and Sin wondered if she was thinking of him. He’d never quite been able to control his powers as a lad. But he’d never full-out shown them to her either.

  “Ghosts in the Machine or GIM, who have clockwork hearts and the ability to leave their body in spirit.”

  Layla’s mouth opened in a gape.

  “There are many beings,” Augustus went on. “We shall teach you all about them.”

  At this, Layla did look at Sin. “What are you, then? I know you are something.”

  “It’s my hair that gives me away, isn’t it?” he teased, his heart suddenly beating too hard. He didn’t like exposure.

  Layla glanced at his head. “Well, it isn’t exactly normal, no. But I’ve always found it quite lovely.”

  He would not smile. His hair was not at all normal. Black as pitch, except for the tips, which always, always turned a vibrant scarlet red. It did not matter how many times he cut his hair; the tips would turn back to red within hours. Sin had taken to pomading the lot of it back, resulting in his hair having a sort of red-black tint. Not ideal but it hid its strangeness well enough.

  “Thank you,” he said tightly. “As to what I am. I was born an elemental.”

  “The barn you burned,” Layla said, her gaze turning inward as if remembering when they’d first met.

  “An unfortunate flare of temper,” he admitted.

  “St. John is unique in that he has control of all the elements,” Augustus said. “Most only have power over one.”

  Yes, jolly great, that. All it really meant was Sin had to learn to control himself at all times or risk crumpling buildings or striking some poor innocent with a bolt of lightning.

  Augustus was still talking, however. “But what St. John is now is something a bit more.” His smile was proud, which surprised Sin. “St. John is now Judgment as well. The most powerful after myself, for he brings with him the elements.”

  Layla’s gaze was curious and a little afraid. “Show me.”

  “I’m not a parlor trick,” he muttered. But she had to believe.

  So he drew in a breath and let himself change. Fully, not the half measure Augustus had done. And Layla let out a strangled sound as his skin color shifted from ivory to the palest mercury. As with Augustus’s wings, Sin’s flesh also appeared to be mirror-like, the heart of fine crystal. He looked like a man made of out of moving, living crystal.

  Another breath and his wings came forth, called to life with a thought. They snapped out, shaped like his mentor’s, but without feathers. Augustus had explained that only a true angel-born would have feathers. Judgment created by other means would have smooth wings.

  “Oh, my,” Layla said, standing as if in a trance. Her trembling fingers rose up to touch him, and Sin flinched. It was a reaction to contact, nothing against her, but she saw and quickly lowered her hand. “Sorry,” she said. “But you are . . . utterly beautiful.”

  “Augustus too,” Sin murmured, trying to deflect.

  His mentor inclined his head and transformed as well. “It is but one of our forms. Designed, actually, to make us invisible. Mostly in the sky.”

  Layla took a breath. “So you . . .” She laughed a little. “I don’t know how to think anymore. Why are you telling me this now?”

  “Because I am fading,” Augustus said calmly.

  Sin sat up straight as Layla balked, her color rising. “What?”

  They both spoke as one.

  “My time here is growing limited,” Augustus continued as if speaking of going on a day trip. “At some point, I will be pulled back into the realm where only angel-born and their mates can enter. I changed St. John into Judgment so that he might watch over you when I am gone. But more than that, I need to know that you are protected for all time.”

  “Oh, Augustus,” Layla sighed. “You’ve given me your fortune. I’d rather have you around. But it’s there and I will use it wisely. I don’t need anything more.”

  “You need someone to protect you. A husband.”

  Everything within Sin stilled, his heart slowing down to a painful thumping. No. No. No. She could not go to another. On the heels of his internal protest was another: He could not watch this. Not her.

  Augustus glanced between an appalled Layla and a frozen Sin. “I had hoped St. John would be that man for you.”

  “No!” Sin was shouting and on his feet before he knew it.

  The denial rang over the room, and he cursed inwardly as he glanced at Layla, who was ducking her head and flushed pink.

  “You needn’t be so vehement,” she murmured in the awkward silence. “I have no intention of marrying. And certainly not . . .” Her breath hitched just slightly. “Not to someone who does not want me.”

  Sin winced, his heart squeezing. He could not look at her. “It isn’t a matter . . . I am Judgment. We are akin to . . . warrior monks.”

  Augustus’s piercing gaze made a mockery of that statement, and the clouds of disappointment Sin saw just beyond that reprimand furthered his regret. But, hells bells, what was the man thinking? Sin wasn’t for Layla. He carried such ugliness. He couldn’t even bloody touch a woman without wanting to retch. He would not shackle Layla in that way.

  “As I was saying,” Augustus went on dryly, “I had a hope but I knew it was not entirely optimistic.”

  Sin crossed his arms in front of himself, and Layla swallowed a snort.

  “Well, then,” she said thickly. “Seeing as that is off the table, shall we continue and clear the notion of a husband entirely?”

  Augustus shook his head. “St. John not coming up to snuff does not negate the ne
ed to see you safely settled.”

  Sin had more than a few choice words for Augustus just then, but Layla huffed loudly.

  “So you keep saying,” she snapped. “But I cannot see why. This is the modern age, Augustus. A woman of means is perfectly capable of living a happy life without a protector.”

  Sin cleared his throat. “Why don’t you explain to us why you feel Layla must be guarded?”

  His mentor sighed. “Judgment all have special gifts. Mine is foresight. And what I see for you, Layla . . .” His expression grew tight and pinched. “What I’ve always seen is you, just as you appear at this age, being hunted by Damnation.”

  Everything in Sin went cold and hard. He loomed over Augustus, the room heating and humming with a crackle that was unnatural. “And you tell me this now?”

  Layla’s eyes shot to him. “What is damnation?”

  Sin ran a hand through his hair as he began to pace. “They are our dark counterpoint. We take a soul, send it to Judgment, where it will be either sent to a version of hell or a version of immortal afterlife. Damnation takes a soul and keeps it.”

  “Keeps it?” Her eyes were round and fearful.

  “Absorbs it as his or her own,” Sin explained. “And gains any powers that person might have.”

  “Right.” Layla stood. “Precisely. Demons and werewolves and soul-sucking fiends.” Her hands were clasped, knuckles white. “Simply another normal day in London.” With an off kilter laugh, she wrung her hands again. “If you’ll excuse me, I need some air.”

  Layla did not wait but promptly quit the room as if the hounds of hell were after her.

  Sin cut Augustus a look. “Marriage? Truly? You couldn’t have given just a wee bit of warning about what you wanted out of me here?” He didn’t wait for an answer but strode off to follow Layla. He’d leave her be, but having her out of sight now was no longer an option.

  Chapter Four

  It was the 1890s now, Layla thought as she strode along the pavement, ignoring the bustle of coaches, drays, and omnibuses rattling past. A modern age where a modern woman could walk on her own, without a companion hovering at her shoulder.

  Her skirts kicked up as she lengthened her stride. A modern age where women were not married off to appease lying, immortal angel guardians. Guardians who thoughtlessly humiliated their charges. She cringed, her cheeks heating at the memory of Sin’s vehement refusal to so much as think about her as a wife. She’d been as shocked as he, but she’d been able to hold her tongue. It wasn’t as if she expected marriage from him. Good grief, the idea was ridiculous, considering they hadn’t seen each other since they were youths.

  But you always thought he’d be the one to ask for your hand, did you not? You’d kept all other suitors at bay because you’ve been waiting for him to return, haven’t you?

  Layla told her conscience to shut up.

  “You’re muttering to yourself,” a male voice said at her side. “Keep on and you’ll be carted off to Bedlam.”

  Her pace halted, and she glared. Augustus strolled along, derby atop his head, walking stick in hand—the perfect English gentleman. Ha. What rot. “Just imagine,” she drawled, “what they would do if I told them what you said to me today.”

  His mouth curled, but there was little humor in the gesture. “I’ve heard they’re experimenting with electric shock treatments these days.”

  Layla shuddered. “Don’t jest. It’s horrid. And I very well might end up there.” She felt decidedly unhinged as it was.

  It was his turn to break stride. “No, you won’t. You will lead a full and happy life.”

  Together they slowed. Her brisk pace had taken them to the corner of Hyde Park, and the sun was still out, shining brightly for once upon the path.

  “Augustus, are you truly . . .” A lump formed in her throat, and she couldn’t finish.

  His black gaze grew soft. “Yes, darling girl, I’m not long for here.” When she made a little sob, he rested his hand on her arm. “Don’t cry for me.”

  “How can you say that when you tell me you are dying?” Truly, she was going to start a crying jag right here on the street in a moment, and she did not even have a proper kerchief.

  As if he’d heard her internal struggle, Augustus pulled the yellow silk handkerchief from his suit breast pocket and handed it to her. She dabbed at her watering eyes.

  “It isn’t death as you think of it,” he said quietly. “I simply move on to another plane of existence.”

  “One in which I cannot go,” she said. “Which is just as bad.”

  “So you pity yourself,” he said with a little laugh.

  “Of course,” she snapped without heat. “Why do we cry over death if not for our loss? You believe I will not mourn you every day? Miss you? Silly old man.”

  He chuckled then and leaned in to kiss her brow. “Sassy girl. You always were.” He stepped back and offered her his elbow. When she took it, he began to stroll along the path.

  “Are you quite certain you are dying, or fading, as you call it?” she asked. “Perhaps you’re being overly dramatic and paranoid.”

  “My dear girl, I am an angel of Judgment. The Angel of Judgment. I don’t do dramatic.”

  She snorted. And he ignored it.

  “I broke a law. Long ago. I saved a being I was charged to hunt down. And in doing so, I was punished. First, stripped of my ability to act as Judgment, only to guide other Judgment angels. Second, I was allowed smaller and smaller windows of time in which I could live here in this world.” He glanced up at the blue sky. “I feel it, child, in my heart and soul. I’m soon to be called back and won’t be allowed to return.”

  “How very unfair. You should be rewarded for your kindness in sparing another, not punished.”

  He glanced at her. “Even if the being I hunted was evil? Had done many a foul deed?”

  “You say you are ‘the’ angel of Judgment. Does that not mean you are able to see into the heart and soul of another and deem whether it is worthy?”

  “It does,” he said carefully, still looking at her.

  “Then your decision to spare this being ought not be questioned.”

  His lips curled again, this time with amusement. “So you say, child.”

  Layla grumbled in annoyance over his unjust fate. They were quiet until they reached the Serpentine. “I’m still cross with you. How could you throw Sin at my head in that manner? It was badly done.”

  One of his dark brows rose. “Reprimanding me, are you?” He shook his head. “I was not in jest, Layla dear. You need guarding. Were Sin your husband, it would solve that problem.”

  “Oh, neatly, indeed.” She glared off at the lake. “He was horrified. And, in turn, I was mortified.”

  “I do apologize for the way I handled the situation,” Augustus murmured. “But not for the idea.”

  “Why Sin?” she asked, the sting of rejection still sharp in her belly.

  Augustus halted and turned to face her. His expression was kind but unyielding. “Because you love the boy.”

  Layla flushed hotly, her mouth opening to give him a good piece of her mind. But he talked over her.

  “You do. You always have. Lie to me if you must, but I’ve seen the truth since you were a girl.”

  “You took me away from him,” she blurted out, close to crying once again. “You kept us apart.”

  His jaw tightened. “It had to be done then. For your safety.”

  “My safety. Always my safety.” She flapped her arm as if she could strike down the very notion. “Never mind my feelings.”

  “Not when it means your life, no.”

  She huffed then, wanting to stamp her foot.

  “I see you did not deny what I said,” Augustus pointed out.

  Layla hugged herself close. “What does it matter how I feel? He does not want me.”

  It hurt to say and brought a fresh wave of hot humiliation over her skin.

  “He does not know what he wants at t
he moment,” Augustus said quietly. “Sin has had a rough go of it, these past years. He needs to find his way again.” He held up a hand when Layla moved to ask why. “I’ll not divulge what is his story to tell. But know that what St. John says and how he truly feels are not in complete accord at the moment.”

  Layla blinked down at the rough gravel path. “Then we are at an impasse.”

  He was silent until she was forced to look up. As always, his dark eyes seemed to see straight to her soul. Layla supposed he probably did, and wasn’t that an uncomfortable notion. His voice was deeper than usual when he spoke. “What would you do, Layla Starling, to find your happiness? To secure his?”

  When he looked at her in that manner, his voice compelling and strong, she was unable to hold her tongue. “Anything.”

  He nodded. “Even your swallow your pride?”

  She’d never thrown her pride down before. Never had to. But she found herself saying, “Yes.”

  “Then heed me, child, and have faith that all will turn out right.”

  A part of her did not want to. That cowardly self preferred to crawl into her bed and hide for a good, long while. But Augustus stood before her, steady and sure, a world of love for her in his eyes. He would not harm her. And so she would trust him. “Very well,” she said. “What shall I do?”

  As soon as Sin saw Augustus headed for Layla, who had been stomping towards Hyde Park in a fury, he backed off. Augustus had much to say to Layla, at any rate, and Sin did not.

  Wrenching his tie loose, he made his way towards Covent Garden, where the broad streets narrowed to twisted lanes and crowded houses. The sun had a few hours left in the sky but there was a shimmer of wrongness in the air—more so than usual. He’d never noticed these markers before becoming Judgment. Now he could see glittering, dark trails and vapors of ill intent running through the city, the sight of them like black diamonds in the moonlight, beautiful in their own, strange way.

  That he found evil and corruption attractive was unnerving. However, Augustus had once told him that to be Judgment was to appreciate that the world was made up of both good and evil. That one must accept that there must be balance. Sin had countered by asking why they bothered eradicating great evil then, only to be patiently told that their task was to even the playing field. In other words, wipe out great evil and leave the smaller, petty crimes to play out for themselves.