by Laura Kaye
She could never shake the sense that if he’d wanted to crack the earth in half, he probably would’ve been powerful enough to do so. Even Cinnamon, one of the original fallen demons, didn’t put off as strong a vibe.
Whatever he’d been, she reminded herself, he was flesh and blood now, like everyone else in the colony. She stood. “Hi.”
“Hello, Lexine.”
Ginger got to her feet and faced her father-in-law. “Is Jett’s training still going well?”
“Quite. Something on your mind?”
“I’m curious how this will work. Will they both be on twenty-four-hour duty?”
He shifted his wings as if one of them caused him pain. “Yes.”
Lexine’s heart sank.
“The idea,” Raphael continued, “is to have security that can’t be provided by one individual, no matter how skilled. It’s a problem, for example, when you and Wren go into the colony, and I’m here at the house, or vice versa. Lark can’t be in two places at once. As the twins get older, it will get even more complicated.”
“I always have Guardians with me,” Ginger said.
“Yes, and as much as I appreciate their help, what they offer is not the same as a dedicated Guardian. If the colony were attacked while you were with them, they would be obligated to protect you and everyone else in harm’s way. Lark or Jett would be concerned with you and only you. I’m not comfortable with anything less.” Raphael turned his gaze to Lexine. “I think I know what this question’s really about.”
“I…”
“You’d be good for Jett. Especially after all he’s been through.”
Her face heated.
“But I don’t think he’d be good for you. Not if he goes through with this.”
“There’s no way we could make it work?”
“The schedule could be tweaked, though not as much as most females would be able to live with. That’s not the biggest issue. Like I just said, in an emergency, his concern will be this family. Bar none.”
The weight of that settled on her shoulders. “Even me.”
“Exactly.”
She took in Raphael’s haunted expression and guessed, “That’s what happened to Lark.”
“Yes.” He flicked his wings. “Lark had to make a terrible choice, once. He made the decision expected of a dedicated Guardian. Now, I think Jett would be very happy with you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. But I don’t want to ever see him in the situation Lark had to face.”
“Neither do I,” Lexine said.
Raphael explained what had happened to Caza, a female Lark had loved. Lexine absorbed the information in silence, but found it difficult not to protest. She wasn’t Caza. This situation was different. When the archangel finished, she said, “It doesn’t have to be this way. An idea took form in her head. “What if you helped me?”
“Helped you how?”
“Rumor has it you’re very good at hand-to-hand fighting. I would never let fear get in the way of my own survival, and if I was a good fighter, Jett wouldn’t need to leave me to the wolves. There’s no reason I can’t take care of myself.”
“This means that much too you?”
“Yes. I dare you to prove me wrong.”
“Please?” Ginger spoke up. “I think it’s a great idea. Why give up when this is an option?”
He stared them for a moment, apparently lost in thought. “Okay, Lexine. While he’s training, you’ll meet me here. It’ll be our secret for now.”
“Thank you, Raphael.”
…
Lexine pressed apples all night, enjoying the exercise and delicious scents. Some of the cider she sealed into large mason jars and refrigerated to pass out at the market. Most she added to barrels for wine. Several barrels of straight up apple wine. Several with spices. By the time the sun rose, her whole body felt like the mashed remains of the fruit.
Time for a swim. She needed to be ready for the training to come. There’d be no point if Raphael went easy on her.
She changed and made her way through the morning quiet of the colony until she reached the lake. She dove in, the cold water drawing a scream from her throat as she returned to the surface. A V of Canadian geese flew overhead, headed south, only to scatter as an archangel shot right at them. She laughed.
The archangel flew low enough that she could make out the black markings on his wings. Wren tipped sideways, a familiar greeting, and flew higher until he disappeared into the clouds beyond the lake.
Floating on her back, she relaxed, letting the water support weary body.
“Hey, Lex.”
She maneuvered herself upright in the water and followed the sound of Jett’s voice. He stood on the shore, leaning against a tree.
“What are you doing?” he called out.
“Swimming, of course.”
“Why?”
“It’s fun.”
He made a face.
She swam to the shore but stayed in the water. “All demon kids are taught to swim before they grow old enough to spark fire and develop a dislike of water. I loved swimming lessons, and I never outgrew finding enjoyment in the water.”
Jett made a dramatic show of cringing.
She laughed. Such a rare sight to see him act silly. “They let you off again so soon?”
“Yes and no. Remember I said I meant to take you with me to my father’s office?”
She nodded, pushed her wet hair back from her face, and draped her arms over a rock near where Jett stood.
“The trip is both personal and business.” He knelt and touched her cheek, his fingers hot after the cold water. “As part of my training, I need to read the material Dante put together for Guardians in training. Lark insisted I not put it off any longer and sent me on my way. I also look forward to seeing my father’s space and getting to know him a little bit. Are you still willing to accompany me?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll have a lot of reading to do. I don’t want to bore you, but your presence would mean a lot to me.”
“I’m sure I’ll also be able to find something to read. I spent all night pressing apples and am exhausted, so this sounds perfect.”
“Thank you.”
She climbed out of the lake, the tank top and shorts she’d worn plastered to her skin. Jett whistled.
“I need to change first.”
“Hmm.” He folded his arms, his gaze blazing a hot trail down to her feet and back up. “We tried this yesterday and never made it to the town hall.”
“Are you going to behave this time?” she teased, looking up at him from under her lashes.
“Doubtful.”
“Well then, how about I go change, you get us some food, and we meet at the town hall?”
“We have a plan. See you then.”
Chapter Eighteen
After eating breakfast on the lawn, Jett climbed the town hall’s central staircase and let Lexine guide him down the hallway to the right. At the end of the short walkway, the hall opened into an atrium—a compact but striking space with a glass ceiling and exterior wall. Only a few plants filled the space, but one was a tree, situated in the center of the room. Among the thick, green foliage, splashes of orange caught Jett’s eye. “An orange tree?”
“Yes. Do you remember it?”
“No. Should I?”
She bit her lip.
He stared at the tree for a moment longer and rubbed a leaf between his fingers. No memories came to him, but, “For some reason, I’m relieved to see it. It must be difficult to keep a tropical tree alive so far north, even inside.”
“There is a special light used in the winter.”
Footsteps sounded in the hall, and a moment later, a Guardian appeared. He nodded in silent greeting, crossed the atrium, and entered a series of codes into a panel to unlock a set of double doors. After propping the doors open, he retreated without a word.
“After you.” Lexine lingered by the tree.
Jett stepped to the thre
shold. The scent of leather and old books wafted from the room. Thick curtains covered the windows, but Jett’s eyes adjusted to the dim light in a second. He lit the demon fire lantern on his left for Lexine’s benefit.
“Have you ever been in here?”
She joined him and brushed his shoulder. “No.”
Jett stepped further into the room. Like with the tree, no memories came, but a heady sense of belonging did. The scent. So familiar. “I know this room. I must have spent a lot of time here.”
He approached the desk, the dark surface covered with neatly arranged odds and ends. Beyond, books and journals lined floor-to-ceiling shelves. “I was old enough to remember. Why don’t I?” He lifted a leather journal from the center of the desk and smoothed his hand over the cover. “Lawrence spent a lot of time with me the first few years, teaching me about the ‘evils’ of demons. His words made no sense to me, and I kept trying to correct him. He punished me for that. Over time, he convinced me the life I thought I remembered was only a dream, and like dreams, the memories faded. It was when I killed the lab assistant that I finally broke and the memories vanished entirely, leaving me with only Lawrence’s version of the truth.”
“Lawrence didn’t break you. You wouldn’t be here now if he had.” She encircled her arms around him from behind and a soft, feminine body pressed against his back. He turned his head and kissed her.
“Go on,” she said, a solemn curve to her lips. She stepped away, gazing out the window.
He sat in one of the room’s thick leather chairs and opened the journal. Plain, neat script filled the pages, but Jett stopped at the first words.
Today, my son, Juneau, was born.
Lawrence’s brainwashing had gone far enough to erase his name? Elbow on his knee, Jett rested his face in his hand. But as he sat there, his body processing dry, soundless sobs, a memory from the lab surfaced.
Lawrence hadn’t renamed him. The human never called him anything at all, except for “the demon” or “the subject” or, when he was angry, “boy.”
“The lab assistant kept asking for my name, but I didn’t want to tell her about my ‘dreams.’ I made a name up. Why didn’t anyone say anything?”
“Raphael thought you should hear it from Dante.” She dropped her gaze to the journal. “Um, what would you like to be called?”
He ran a fingertip over the handwritten sentence, the letters faintly indented in the page from the heavy hand of the writer. “‘Jett,’ at least for now. It was a survival tool, a way to keep the part of me who answered to Juneau away from that tiny prison. I don’t think I’ll be able to step all the way back into Juneau’s shoes. Not any time soon.”
Lex returned to his side and ran her fingers through his hair. Arching under her touch, he tilted his head back and stared up at her. “That drives me crazy.”
“In a good way?” She scratched her nails over his scalp.
“Definitely.”
He set the journal aside and turned around in the chair, getting up to his knees. Holding her head in his hands, he kissed her, focusing on reading her reaction. Her skin warmed with a faint flush and her hands on his back trembled ever so slightly. The brush of her emotions against his mind spoke of a longing as deep as the one that swelled in his chest.
“Maybe just once,” he murmured against her skin. “Call me my real name.”
“Juneau.”
The foreign, yet somehow familiar, name sent his heart off at a hammering pace. He clutched Lex close, burying his face in her neck.
“I’m distracting you.” She withdrew slowly and sat on the windowsill, folding her legs under herself.
Jett went back to reading, selecting a journal from the shelf a couple years more recent, and devoured page after page. The demon had written mostly short, terse entries, but the words flowed differently when the topic switched from work to family.
I carved a sanctuary out of this valley, but I have never cared for anything as much as I do for the—a line of ink smeared across the page—little monster trying to steal my pen.
He laughed and kept reading. Curious, he skipped ahead to the last volume on the shelf to browse entries closer to the last time they would have seen each other. Holding the heavy, red-dyed leather book, his hands shook. Not only had Juneau been kidnapped that day, Dante had been killed. The journal ended less than halfway through.
My son planted an orange seed last spring and now has a tiny sapling in a flowerpot.
He lifted his gaze to the tree in the atrium. “No shit?”
Lexine grinned from her position on the windowsill. “The tree is infamous. No one thought it would grow, except you and Dante. Everyone in the colony knows the story.”
Jett paused, a new thought occurring to him. “Did we know each other when we were kids? This is a small place.”
“I’m a year or so younger than you. I remember your family, but like most memories from that age, nothing but vague snippets. I think we saw each other from time to time, but I don’t think we knew each other.”
He rubbed his brow, his head aching from trying to remember anything at all. He lifted a white drape from a small table beside the desk, revealing a dozen framed photos of his family. He was perched on his father’s shoulders more often than not, he and his smiling, blond mother an odd contrast to the heavily armed Guardian. Although, upon closer inspection, his mother had carried weapons of her own. What appeared to be an unusual walking stick at first was in fact a long bow. The feathered ends of arrows stuck out from behind her shoulder.
“My mother was an archer.”
“A good one, too,” Lex said. “She looks innocent enough, but rumor has it she took out her fair share of humans when the colony was attacked. Want to hear the rumor of how she and Dante met?”
“Please.”
“This is just what I heard. When Amelia moved to Sanctuary, she wanted to train to be a Guardian, but Dante was resistant to the idea—this was the midnineteenth century and he didn’t want a female getting hurt. They fought about it for months, your mother refusing to back down. Finally, when he walked away from her one day, she waited until he’d reached the tavern and with a few quick, perfect shots, pinned him to the door by his clothes.”
“You must be joking.”
“Nope. You’ll have to check those journals to see if it’s true or not, but it was a Guardian who told me the story. Apparently Dante and Amelia hunted each other for days after that moment and were mated soon after.”
Jett turned back to the photos. His mother, beautiful and deceptively delicate. She and his father made sense together. In a fight with humans, she could protect herself, and then some.
“Now, this,” Lexine said, coming over with a book in her hands, “you should remember. He’s a couple years older, so I bet he does.”
“What? Who?”
She handed over the book, which turned out to be a photo album, the date on the cover corresponding with the year before the kidnapping. The first pages held photos of Jett and Wren, mostly outside the archangel house. In one, they were covered in mud, even Wren’s wings. They grinned like lunatics.
“I don’t remember this at all.” He stared. He and Wren had been friends?
“It makes sense,” Lex said. “Dante invited Raphael to Sanctuary in the first place, if I recall my colony history correctly. Your families were close. This I do remember well, because it was a big deal. Wren couldn’t spend much time with the other kids. He’s half human, so there was concern he’d be susceptible to demon venom. And demon kids can be very nippy.”
“Really? What happens if two demon children bite each other? You said mutual biting led to a mating bond.”
“The venom doesn’t gain that characteristic until well after puberty.”
“Ah.”
“Anyway, I remember being constantly reminded by my mom to stay away from Wren. The kids played in groups, and I recall Wren getting frustrated when he couldn’t join us.”
“Why me, then? B
eing Dante’s son couldn’t have made me less dangerous.”
She stared at him, ghosts of memories in her eyes. “I think you were naturally calmer than most, and mature for your age. Because of your strong empathic trait, perhaps.”
“Still, he was older than me.” Jett grinned, looking at the photo of them covered in mud. “He was a very bad influence, it seems.”
Lex laughed.
Jett checked the date below the photo and turned to the corresponding entry in the journals.
My son is turning into a remarkable empath, for an earthborn. I can’t express my pride in words. Last night, Juneau protected Wren, with a stick and a rock as weapons, from an imaginary monster in the woods. They’d ventured quite a ways out. Lark was with them, of course, but he kept out of sight. Juneau, who loves playing in the woods at night, dropped the game and brought Wren home. This despite Wren being the older of the two and not the least bit afraid. I’ve never seen Juneau look so serious and focused as when they returned to the house. I have no doubt my son will become a Guardian one day. Perhaps, even, a dedicated Guardian to the archangels.
“Working on that, Dad,” he whispered. The written words branded into his mind’s eye, he replaced the album and journals, the burden of his lost past heavy enough for one day. He turned to the far left of the shelf, where he’d been told he’d find the official documents Dante had meant for Guardians in training, along with books of demon and archangel history. He took the first leather-bound book to the desk and settled down. He began to read, a smile stretching his lips as Lexine curled up in the chair next to him with a book of her own.
How did she warm his whole body simply with her presence?
Chapter Nineteen
Jett reached the archangel house just as the last of the colorful sunset faded. It’d been over two weeks since he’d last seen Lexine and her absence distracted him. He’d been spending too much time thinking about her instead of focusing on his tasks. Forcing her from his mind by remembering Raphael in the underground prison, he prepared himself for whatever trial Lark would launch at him tonight. The Guardian emerged from the woods and stepped in Jett’s path.
