“What mistake?” I asked. “What has he done to make you so angry?”
He turned to me and his wings vanished. “This is demonic business. You are not one of us.”
“You asked me last night if you could trust me,” I shot back. “You can, but do you?”
“I cannot involve you in this!” he roared, his anger sending his power spiking. “Already you are in danger by being in our presence. Evantia knows about you. I didn’t tell you that she has confronted me about it already—”
“I can take care of myself!”
“You are not the only one who would be in danger,” he snarled. “Evantia has branded me a traitor. Everything is about to be ruined if she decides to speak out.”
I blinked at him, stunned. “That’s all that matters to you? What people think of you? I’m so sorry that being with me reflects negatively on you.”
He exhaled gruffly. “That isn’t what I meant.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Not right now.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “What’s in the satchel? Did you kill a relic guardian to get that? Did you kill one of my people? Is that what Cadan was supposed to retrieve?”
“The grimoire of Antares,” Cadan said.
In an instant, Bastian had drawn a small blade and pressed the tip to Cadan’s throat. The surprise of it sent my heart into my throat, choking off my cry. I didn’t move, as if I thought Bastian were an animal about to strike if I even twitched. But in that moment, staring into his rage-mad face, he looked entirely feral. My brain refused to register what Cadan had revealed was in the satchel. I could only think about Bastian burying that knife in Cadan’s throat. Blood trickled across his skin.
“Bastian!” I cried, staring at the blade in his hand. “What are you doing?”
“Do you know what you have done?” Bastian snarled into Cadan’s face. “This book is our future, our survival. You must never breathe a word of it!”
“Bastian,” I said more harshly to get his attention. “Is it worth killing your only son?”
He did not look at me and spoke without hesitation. “It is worth everything.”
Cadan bared his teeth suddenly and shoved his power into Bastian, knocking his father back. Bastian stumbled away, staring at Cadan in shock, as if he didn’t expect Cadan to have that kind of strength. Growling something in his Germanic tongue, Bastian stomped heavily from the room like a child who hadn’t gotten his way. Cadan glared at him, completely ignoring the line of blood pooling into the hollow of his throat. His father disappeared up the stairs and then a door slammed shut so hard the walls rattled.
I sighed a breath of relief and turned my attention to Cadan, whose entire body was shaking where he stood. I put a hand on his arm and inspected the wound in his neck. It had healed, but there was a significant amount of blood on his skin. “Cadan,” I said gently. “Come with me. Let’s clean this up.”
He didn’t resist as I led him toward the kitchens, where several human servants went about their business with their gazes pinned to the stone floor. I dismissed them with a wave of my hand. They never looked directly at any reaper on the premises, but they always watched us in their periphery. I found a bowl and filled it with clean water left over from the servants’ last trip to the well. I dunked a rag into the water and I dabbed the damp cloth to his skin to wipe away the blood from the healed cut.
“Has he always treated you like this?” I asked in a quiet tone.
Cadan gave an ugly, sarcastic laugh. “Like what? Like a misbehaved dog instead of his son?”
I frowned, disapproving of his comparison, but I didn’t exactly disagree. “Has he always been so cruel to you?”
He jerked himself away from me and gaped at me in astonishment. “What did you think he was like? You’re the one sleeping with him.”
“I—” I clamped my mouth shut. His words were a slap to my face. Didn’t I know what Bastian was like? He was sweet to me, generous, attentive … Was I just a terrible fool? I’d been ignoring everything that I knew about Bastian. He was … Bastian. He killed my people and he killed humans. The demonic did not rise in rank through sweetness, generosity, and attentiveness. Tonight he killed an angelic relic guardian—perhaps someone I knew—for the book written by Antares. I was a blind fool.
Cadan exhaled and deflated. The color of his extraordinary eyes dimmed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s none of my business. That was appalling of me to say.”
“No, you’re right,” I said. I covered my mouth with one hand and realized my fingers had gone ice-cold. “I don’t know what I’m doing. What am I doing here?” I asked myself aloud, my voice rapid with panic. “What am I doing with him, with any of you? I’m going get myself killed.”
Cadan watched me, his expression tense. “Do you think he would hurt you?”
I lowered my hand and met his gaze. “Do you?” I asked him seriously.
His brow furrowed as he considered my question. “I don’t know,” he replied. “He treats you differently, but I’m honest when I say I don’t know how long that will last. Are you afraid of him?”
I loved him and I’d never felt threatened by him, but he didn’t make me feel safe. “I ought to be.”
“But you’re not.” It wasn’t a question.
I studied Cadan’s gentle face carefully. What a conundrum he was. “Why are you so sweet then?”
“Maybe you don’t know me either,” he said.
His smart mouth was meant to shut me up, but I could see right through him. “I know you’re a very good actor.”
He narrowed his gaze. “Is that so?”
“Most of what you tell your father is a complete lie,” I said very seriously.
“You read minds now?” He tried to seem casual, keeping hold of his false aloofness, but still he didn’t fool me.
“No,” I replied. “But I read people quite well. Bastian apparently does not. He’s too trusting. He believes those loyal to him are too afraid of him to disobey, though you clearly do. The question is, are you afraid of him?”
He laughed softly, as though the question amused him. “Of course I am. He’s stronger than me by a thousandfold.”
“Are you afraid of everything that can kill you?” I asked him, not amused in the slightest.
“No,” he said. “But I’m not stupid enough not to fear Bastian. I know what he’s capable of and so do you. And I know you’re not stupid, though you are quite idealistic and a bit of a dreamer.”
My smile was small and sad. “You read minds too, I see.”
“No,” he replied. “And I don’t have to read people well to know those things about you. You’re as obvious as I am.”
“You’ve never reaped a soul in your life, have you?”
His eyes were soft, but the color was bright and the flames danced in his irises. After what felt like an eternity, he replied, “No.”
“Don’t be ashamed. That’s a very good thing.”
“Aren’t you repulsed by him? By what he’s done—still does?”
I wouldn’t lie to him and tell him no. “I love him and I hope he will change.”
“I hate to be the one who says this to you, but he won’t change.”
I pushed myself to my feet, my body heavy as if it were full of stones, and I leaned over him. I dipped my head and spoke in a low voice. “Aren’t you changing? There’s always hope for people to embrace the goodness in themselves, Cadan. It takes an extraordinary character for someone to win that tug-of-war with darkness. You’re winning right now. Why can’t that be possible for Bastian too? He just has to want it, like you do.”
I left him sitting before the bowl of water and his own blood, and I went to find his father.
9
BASTIAN LEANED OVER THE DESK IN THE LIBRARY, his fists closed tight, surrounded by the books he’d once told me to consider my own, inside the house I’d dared to call home. He looked at me with sharp eyes, gleaming with anger, his mouth a tight, unin
viting line. I couldn’t even imagine kissing him now. This was not the man I’d fallen in love with. This was not someone I could be in love with. I wanted back the Bastian I knew. All couldn’t be lost already.
“What happened tonight?” I asked him, though my voice was strangled and pathetic. “You must be honest with me, Bastian.”
He tilted his head, his features unchanging. “I killed a relic guardian.” He was completely unapologetic.
I ground my teeth together to keep myself from lunging at him, screaming at him, hitting and kicking him. My pulse hammered beneath my skin as furiously as a fist beat against a closed door. “How could you do such a thing?”
“To save my brethren and our future,” he replied. “Do you condemn me for killing to save lives? How many of the demonic have you killed? How am I the villain when you are no better than me?”
“If we angelic were not here, the demonic would overrun humanity,” I said.
“And?”
I shook my head in disgust. “What are you planning with that dagger of Belial’s and now this book? Is that truly the grimoire of Antares? Will you use it to kill even more of my kind?” The book written by Antares was said to contain all known angelic magic. One could do anything if in possession of this grimoire. If a spell existed, Antares had scrawled it on those ancient pages.
He looked right at me. “This book is not meant for you.”
“Then who is it for?”
He took a deep breath and rounded the desk to walk straight toward me. “Cadan was to find the grimoire on his own,” he told me in a low voice. “He decided it was wise to question Evantia’s underlings about it, because he thought she had it. He thought that it wasn’t hidden where I said it was, that the relic guardian did not have it. Now these underlings know who was looking for it and they know exactly who to go to. That’s me.”
“He loves you,” I said. “He was only trying to please you.”
“He’s a moron,” Bastian scowled. “Now that Evantia knows about you and that I wanted the grimoire, she will be knocking down my door this very night.”
“If you’re stronger than her, then what does it matter?”
He sighed in frustration. “The plan was to take her down alone and when she isn’t looking, not when she ambushes me with a dozen or more of her thugs. My chance of survival will drop drastically.”
I stepped close to him, shaking my head in sadness for him, and I brushed my fingertips over his cheek soothingly. “You don’t have to fight her. Come away with me, away from this horror.”
He loosed an ugly noise that was not quite a laugh. “And do what? Forsake my people for yours?”
“It doesn’t have to be about people—”
“As if the angelic would welcome me with open arms?” He scoffed. “Don’t be a fool. I don’t need protection and I’m not afraid of fighting her. I want to fight her. I want what she has.”
“What does she have that you don’t? You have family and someone who believes in you with all her heart. You don’t need Evantia’s power and position to feel worthy of anything. You have everything you need right here in front of you.”
His eyes dimmed and grew cold. “No. I don’t.”
My lips trembled and I swallowed, fighting back tears. “Is my love not enough?” I asked him. The words came out thick and strangled.
His jaw clenched and his gaze broke from mine. “No. It is not enough.”
A pang of despair hit my heart like a fist, but I refused to show how much he hurt me. “Why do you need this book so badly that you’re willing to kill for it?”
“The Preliator,” he said. “I’ve discovered a way to destroy her soul for good so she can no longer be reincarnated.”
“Bastian, no,” I moaned, feeling my heart break. “If you destroy her, then the demonic will devour the human race. Why would you wish that?”
“She kills us!”
“She’s only protecting human souls!” I cried. “When the demonic take souls, they’re sent to Hell—even the righteous and pure! That is a terrible, horrible thing that can’t be allowed to happen. Don’t you understand that? You can’t—”
The back of his hand struck my jaw so hard and so suddenly that I hit the floor, cracking my knees. I cried out in agony, but clamped my mouth shut in fear when he knelt over me and his hot breath blasted my ear.
“Do not tell me what I can and can’t do,” he snarled.
“Bastian,” I whimpered, and looked up to meet his eyes.
Life seemed to come back to him all at once. He straightened as I pushed myself off the ground and he blinked several times before stepping away from me. “I’m—I’m sorry,” he stammered, finally snapping awake. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I cupped my jaw as it throbbed. “It doesn’t matter if you meant to or not. You still hurt me.”
His expression began to slowly draw cold and vacant, as if all the feeling in him had been spent and there was nothing left. No reaction, no emotion. Nothing. “I’m sorry,” he said flatly. Then he turned his back to me, crossed the room, and was gone.
Bastian did not trust me, and I no longer trusted him. He wanted to use Antares’s grimoire to destroy the Preliator, and I could never let him do that. He was right that I killed the demonic and could not condemn him for killing the angelic. And I could not sit idly by while he killed our last hope to protect humanity. I did not want him to be my enemy, but if he made himself so, then I had no choice.
I grabbed the satchel containing the grimoire and clutched it to my chest. I fled, spreading my wings in the night air, and left the manor as quickly as I could.
I burst through Nathaniel’s door and let out a sigh of relief when I found him home. He grinned at me, happy to see me, but his face quickly changed when he realized that something was wrong. I threw the satchel on the wooden table.
“You have to destroy this,” I said, my voice and entire body shaking.
He gave me a puzzled look and dragged the satchel toward him. He flipped open the leather flap and pulled out the ancient book. He examined the worn cover, running his fingers over the pressed seal written in Enochian, the language of the divine. “What is this?”
“The grimoire of Antares.”
He dropped the book and it hit the table with a heavy thud. “Where in Hell did you find this?”
“It’s the reason London has been crawling with the demonic for months,” I said, but my voice was quickly breaking into a pathetic, devastated thing as tears burned my eyes. “They’ve been after this. It had a guardian and a cadre of angelic protecting it, but they’re gone now. Their blood is on my hands.”
A vice suddenly tightened around my lungs and I couldn’t breathe. Gasping, I slumped into a chair and brought my knees to my chin. Nathaniel pulled up a chair beside me as I buried my face into my palms. His hand settled on my back and he rubbed very gently and soothingly. He offered me food, but I declined. I was so nauseated that just the thought of eating made my stomach turn.
“Maddie,” he murmured. “Please talk to me.”
I wanted to. I wanted to tell him everything, but I couldn’t. Perhaps it was because I was ashamed of myself for falling for Bastian. He and I were over. I could not forgive him for what he did and why he did it. This was bigger than some angelic and demonic spat in London. Destroying the Preliator was dragging Heaven into the equation. I had loved him so much, so hard that my heart had not simply been broken. It had been shattered so completely and I hadn’t even realized it’d been made of glass. I’d spent my entire life, a hundred years, erecting an iron cage around my heart and I hadn’t bothered to strengthen the heart I’d tried to protect. Now I was entirely unraveled from within.
I became aware that I’d begun to weep only when Nathaniel drew me into his arms, cradling me in his lap like a child. He murmured into my hair, touched my cheek, and held me close. He let me weep until I was empty and there was nothing left inside o
f me. I looked into his face, into his beautiful copper eyes, which were so vivid they reminded me of a vermillion sunset. Now that I was really looking, I noticed the flecks of violet in those metallic depths. He gazed back at me, his brow furrowed with concern and fear, and I felt something begin to fill the hollowness inside of me. The backs of his fingers brushed the spot on my jaw that Bastian had struck. While the bruises had healed, I was still tender there and in my heart. Nathaniel’s touch seemed to erase the ache. He pushed my hair away from my face and leaned over me as his arm around my waist tugged me closer to him. I didn’t shy away when he kissed me. It was a soft brush of his lips on mine, but the kiss grew quickly into something more desperate and passionate as his fingers threaded through my hair and I wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down to me. I’d known him for my entire life, but he felt so new and different, yet so familiar. Like home. He felt like home. He’d always been there for me—even when I didn’t return for weeks or months. He always left the door open for me and welcomed me back with a smile. I wondered for how long he’d been in love with me and suddenly I was sick with shame. Even if I wanted to open my heart to him, I couldn’t. It was unfair of me to use him to take my mind off the things I wanted so desperately to run away from.
I broke the kiss and recaptured his gaze. I smoothed my hand over his cheek and allowed myself one moment to enjoy the feeling of being loved again before I closed the iron cage around my heart for the last time. Tonight I felt as if I’d never be able to love again after being destroyed so utterly by it. One day, perhaps. But right now, no.
I untangled myself from Nathaniel’s arms and climbed out of his lap. I walked unsteadily over to the book, my limbs feeling as spongy as cake, and I put a hand on the supple leather cover. I looked back at him and he appeared as defeated as I felt. He’d just opened himself completely to me, revealed his feelings in the most vulnerable way, and I couldn’t … I just couldn’t.
A Dance with Darkness: An Angelfire Novella (HarperTeen Impulse) Page 5
