Concentrating on Maion instead of Becca’s movements, Lillian could see his chest starting to move slower, more regular, as if he was in a deep, resting sleep. When the blood dripping from his cuts on his sides and his hand slowed down, she exhaled in relief.
An hour later Maion was still fast asleep and Lillian had finished cleaning and bandaging the remaining cuts and wounds. The small ones had already started to heal thanks to Becca’s magic, only the deeper cuts and his hand still bled, albeit slightly. She didn’t know what would happen to his pinky and whether he would be able to heal himself once he woke up, but for the meantime she had bandaged his hand and put his finger on ice. That was all she could for now.
Moving to the doorway she looked back at the angel, sleeping peacefully, surrounded by burning white candles. It looked so surreal, but it was her life. With a small shake of her head and a sigh she went downstairs.
She found Abby in the kitchen, cleaning up the last remnants of the mess Maion had made with his crash landing. “Need help?”
Abby crouched down to sweep up the last pile of broken bits of glass and wood. “No, I’m about done. The guys piled the table in the backyard, or rather what was left of it anyway.” Her ponytail of braids swept over her back as she looked up with a grin on her face. “Thought we could do a little bonfire.”
Lillian laughed. “Why the hell not? It would make up for this whole mess.”
“Exactly what I was thinking.” When Abby got up her expression grew more serious. “So…we have an Ebony and a witch sitting in the living room.”
“Yeah.” Lillian knew this issue wasn’t one she could push away endlessly – like some of the others plaguing her. “What do you think about all that?”
Abby shrugged. “It’s weird. I think that’s the best word to describe it. We’ve spent the last two years fighting demons and now…” When she saw Lillian’s face, she added, “Don’t get me wrong. I’m behind you. Always have and always will be. I saw what you saw. A witch with a boy who behaved…well, like normal people do. They care for each other and…”
When Abby moved her shoulders helplessly, Lillian had to laugh. It was exactly how she felt. “Aren’t what we are used to.”
“Yeah. It could be a trap, granted. But then, why help Maion? And look at how she helped him. It didn’t seem to involve any kind of blood-letting or virgin sacrifices, so I guess…we can give her the benefit of the doubt.”
“And Matt and Joshua? Any idea whether they’re on the same page?”
“They are.”
Huh. Somehow Lillian felt…confused. Not that she was complaining, but she had definitely expected some more arguing and WTFs from her guard.
Abby, who could read her like a book, saw it all too clearly and chuckled. “What, you think we’d have had fun in killing those two. Come on, we still work for the good guys after all, and I for one think this is a nice change.”
“Maybe, but our bosses sure won’t see it that way. Their world is black and white, and leaves no place for gray.” She ran her hands through her hair which she kept short in a wild, asymmetrical cut with the longest strands barely brushing her neck.
“We’ll deal with the bosses when we have to. Until then, no one knows what happened. So why worry?” Abby shrugged and turned around to take care of the trash.
Lillian stared after her friend as she went outside.
Why worry? Well, if there was one demon that didn’t prey on human souls, who knew how many others there were. Was that possible? And if so, how many demons had they killed who maybe didn’t even deserve it? She had the feeling she stood at the edge of a gaping, bottomless abyss, about to tumble, as the realization of the gravity of the situation hit her.
“Oh God.” Lillian closed her eyes, against the wave of guilt and nausea that immediately threatened to flood her. No, no, no. No, it couldn’t be. Surely the angels wouldn’t allow for innocents to get hurt, she tried to reassure herself and get a hold of her thoughts. But could a demon ever be innocent in their book? She grabbed the edge of the counter like it was a lifeline as her head and thoughts were swirling, her mind bursting with questions and doubts. No. This couldn’t be happening. Had they been – No, stop! Until she knew more Lillian needed to calm down. She had to focus.
One step at a time. Find the facts and then move on from there.
For now she needed to talk to Becca.
After taking a deep breath that couldn’t stop an apprehensive tremble from running through her, she headed towards the living area. The witch and her brother were calmly sitting on the couch while Matt was subtly keeping an eye on them from the armchair in the corner. Joshua was probably still out preparing that bonfire of theirs.
Lillian sat down in another chair to the side of the couch and said, “Thanks for helping us with Maion. I don’t know what exactly it was you did, but he’s better now and that’s what’s important. So…thanks.”
“No problem.” A small smile tugged at Becca’s lips. “Wasn’t quite what you expected, was it?”
Lillian’s own mouth spread into a smile, as she thought of what Abby had said earlier and then shrugged. “I think we all expected something…darker.” She looked at Matt, who nodded in agreement.
“Oh, there’s that kind of magic. Don’t get me wrong. Technically every magic worked is bad. But like with everything else in life, there exists different levels of bad.”
“Which level are you?”
“I try my best to keep my magic as clean as possible.”
Matt frowned. “Like white magic?”
“No. Only humans call it black and white magic, but things aren’t that easy to differentiate. There’s no such thing as white magic. Magic always needs some kind of sacrifice, but there are witches who try to keep those sacrifices on a minimum. If blood is needed, they use their own instead of someone else’s. If death or more is needed, they’ll use animals but never humans or their souls. That kind of magic is despised in hell. It’s called faux magic, contrary to true magic.”
Lillian buried her face in her hands before looking back up, shaking her head in disbelief. “God, why don’t we know this stuff?”
Becca snorted, warm purgatory-dark eyes sadly laughing. “You think it’s different on our side? Believe me, it’s not. It’s failsafe policy on both sides…keep everyone in the dark and stumbling around and call it God’s design, or devil’s handiwork as the case may be, when someone finds the proper target.”
It sounded bitter and yet it was exactly how Lillian felt.
Matt leaned forward, a curious but serious glint in his eyes. “If faux magic is despised in hell, what happens to the witches that use it instead of the real thing?”
Becca shrugged. “Guess, the same as what happens to the fallen on your side.”
“I don’t know what happens to those.”
“Killed or buried in oblivion.”
She said it casually, but Lillian wasn’t fooled. “That’s why you want to get out of hell. Before they have the chance to do either with you.”
“That’s right.”
Lillian stood outside, leaning against the old wooden porch railing and stared up at the night sky wondering at the change this day had brought to herself and her little world, and why it wouldn’t be reflected in the rest of it – like night becoming day.
In a mere couple of hours they had gone from killing demons to working with them.
Through the shroud of fast moving clouds she could catch glimpses of the moon, so pale tonight, and stars.
Stargazer.
Her nickname came out of nowhere to her mind and made her heart clench with the pain it brought and yet she barely felt it, having gotten used to it over time. No one else had ever called her that. The backs of her eyes hurt as tears threatened. Two years. So much for ‘time heals all wounds’. Big load of bullshit as far as Lillian was concerned.
Did she cross a line today? Made a decision, a fatal mistake even, she couldn’t come back from? Gone from amusing
ly crazy into utterly insane?
God, the bastard had left her high and dry, without a goodbye, without so much as a word…and yet she still longed for him. Would have liked to talk to him now, someone who knew her world and her. Those silver gray eyes of his had always looked right into her and … seen everything, every shadowy corner, and bump and hollow she had no idea of.
In the dark of the night Lillian could admit that she felt lonely and that she still thought about him, about them. Where was he now? Close by? Far away? She didn’t know and that hurt more than anything else.
What was he doing? Ivory duty or some other angelic business? She had tried to ask Maion once, but he had changed the subject so fast, she had had whiplash. And lately Maion never was sober enough to really talk with anyway. He only and barely managed to get out their next destination and that was about it.
Raz.
Lillian chuckled bitterly to herself, the sound as lonely in the dark silence as she felt. What she wouldn’t give to see his face, if he knew what she was up to. Housing a witch and an Ebony. What would he say to her now? Would he tell her that her parents were fine? Would he tell her that everything would be alright? That she had been right to let the witch live? Her stomach felt like lead as she imagined his expression of utter shock … and disappointment. She could see it all too clearly, and yet she hoped he would understand why she did what she had done today.
Sighing deeply, her breath clouding in front of her mouth Lillian shook her head. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t here. It was like a mantra that some nights she had to repeat over and over again, because sometimes she just couldn’t help thinking about him. Some nights, she just couldn’t help but wonder why he had gone and whether she would ever see him again.
SIXTEEN
Maion’s lids twitched, as if struggling to function, and then finally, slowly cracked open. Only to close again. “Ah, fuck.”
His voice was gruff with sleep and Lillian almost chuckled.
One eye opened, squirming at the soft candle light illuminating the room. “Where the hell am I?”
Lillian leaned into his field of vision. “Our safe house in Oregon.”
He seemed to take that in and then suddenly scowled. “Am I sober?”
“Uh, yeah.”
That scowl only darkened. “What the fuck happened?”
“I called you and you landed on our kitchen table. It was…messy.”
“Don’t remember that.” He slowly got up, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed as if they were heavy tree logs. Bracing his arms at his sides on the bed, he frowned, looking over his shoulder and at his injured wing. Broken before it was now healing up, thanks to Becca, but Lillian was sure it still hurt.
“You cut your pinky and broke your wing.”
Lifting his hand he stared at it. Four fingers. His eyes traveled to Lillian and the jar she held out to him – with his pinky in it. “What the fuck?”
Shrugging, Lillian explained, “I didn’t know how fast you would heal. Or if you would heal. Given all the alcohol in your blood…Before throwing it away, I thought it best to…, you know, just in case.” She thrust the jar out and at him.
“Thanks.” He opened it and took out his finger. As he held it to his hand a soft light emanated from it and suddenly his hand was healed. Five fingers and all. “Only a shade can kill us. The only other way to…incapacitate an angel – and to make him mad as hell – is to cut off the wings or head while he’s earthbound. Takes time and hurts like hell.”
Lillian swallowed, a bit nauseated by the image his words painted, by the thought of the incredible amount of pain suffered and by the ruthlessness that was needed to inflict it.
Then Maion took in the room, noticing the candles and their deliberate placement around the bed, the herbs. His gaze flicked to her, suspicion and alarm rising, “Lillian, what did you do?” His eyes widened before narrowing on her and with a hiss he demanded to know, “And why the hell can I sense an Ebony within these walls?”
It was in that moment that Lillian decided she preferred drunken Maion over the sober one. Drunken Maion at least was laid-back, this Maion was…well, the exact opposite of that.
“Calm down, please. I can explain. You know me, Maion, so please, just listen to me.”
His jaw clenched, as did his hands beside him, but in the end he did as she had asked. He listened as she told him about their fight in the woods, about the Ebony almost killing Matt and threatening her parents. And about Becca and Quinn.
When she finished and silence filled the space between them, Maion groaned and buried his head in his hands before rubbing them through his hair and pinning her with his gaze. Lillian almost squirmed, not because of his fierce stare but because it reminded her so much of another angel she fought so hard to forget. Yeah, she really preferred him drunk.
“Dammit, girl. Wh...” For a moment he was at a loss for words. “Fuck! Why does this have to happen on my watch? God, he’s going to have my head for that.”
What? “Who?”
He thrust a finger into her face. “What’s done is done. You’ll find out as much as you can about the witch and the Ebony. You chose your path, finish it on your own…and live with your consequences. But make sure not one word of what you did, of what is happening here, will ever be uttered outside these four walls. Or it will be the death of us all.”
Maion’s eyes were hard as steel and yet gentle with…understanding? She had no idea how he managed that, but it gave her enough strength to ask, “And what about my parents?”
“Last time I heard, they were alright.”
“You checked on them?”
Maion opened his mouth, but then shut it with a snap. “Yeah.”
Why did that sound like a lie? Frowning Lillian catalogued that for later to ponder and persisted, “Well, you’ve been out of it for a while. Care to check on them again? Maybe have someone shadow them for a while?”
He nodded, his face soft again. “Don’t worry.”
Relief flooded her. At least today, when she needed him the most she could count on him. “Thank you.”
Raz found Maion in a bar in Chicago, staring at the bottom of the empty glass in his hand as if he could find all the answers there.
“Where the hell have you been?”
A few years ago Raz would have simply enjoyed the dim light, bluesy music and a glass of good whiskey, but now the atmosphere didn’t even register while he was barely able to keep himself from throttling his brother - and only because he wanted him to have enough air to answer his questions. They had been supposed to meet yesterday, as they always did after his brother went to see Lillian.
What the hell was wrong with Maion? It wasn’t the first time he wondered. No, it really wasn’t. There were so many questions that needed answers, and yet he, the angel of mysteries couldn’t see them.
“In Oregon,” his brother said, not quite drawling yet.
Lillian.
Raz swallowed. Just the thought of her and his mouth went dry and his heart started drumming against his ribs. “How did it go?”
“Splendid.”
Anger rising and eyes narrowing, Raz had to battle for patience. “What the hell is wrong then?”
“What’s wrong?” Maion softly repeated before facing him, surprising Raz with the sudden lucidity in his eyes. “The whole fucking system, that’s what’s wrong. Then that’s what it is…a system. We’re all expandable. The Ivorys, the angels, the humans.” Shaking his head Maion went on, “You have no idea how it feels. Every time when I go to see them… and Lillian, for just one flash, has this hope in her eyes…wishing it wasn’t me but another angel that would come to her.”
They had been through this before and yet it always cut him. Raz could feel every muscle tense, his heart hurting as if being squeezed in his brother’s hands. “As long as she’s okay…”
Maion’s snort cut him off. “Okay? Lillian functions, but she’s not okay. Not deep inside where it matters, that plac
e only one person can ever reach. That one person who makes everything better, brighter and worth it.”
Snapping, Raz snarled. “Damn it, Maion. You know what would happen. You’re the freaking angel of self-discipline and should applaud me on mine not push the dagger deeper and twist it for fun.”
Maion stood on unsteady legs, murmuring, “They should be happy, they’ve earned that right.” Then he disappeared.
And left Raz standing there, alone, his heart aching…his mind wondering.
Not even caring whether someone had noticed his brother’s sudden departure into thin air, Raz slid onto the empty stool.
“What can I get you?”
He pointed at a bottle of whiskey on the shelf behind the barman. “All of that.”
And to think he had been sure that Maion, the fucking angel of fucking self-discipline, would have his ass for his feelings toward an Ivory. No, quite the contrary. Ever since he had left Lillian, Maion looked at him as if he’d drowned his favorite puppy.
Fuck Maion. Of course he wanted nothing more than to go back to her. It was like an instinct screaming inside of him, and Raz fought it every goddamn day. He hadn’t seen her in two years and still everything was fresh in his mind. Maybe that was also because he replayed every moment they had spent together over and over in his mind. All he had were these conversations with Maion, who would tell them how there fights had been, where they were off to next. Although he wanted nothing more, he hadn’t even watched her out of the shadows. Not really because it was too creepy but because it was too damn tempting.
If he saw her again, even just one more time, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to walk away. In fact, he was sure he would never be able to leave her again.
Two days later luck was on their side. It had finally stopped raining and nothing stood in their way to gather around the improvised fire in their back yard. The guys apparently had been rather eager and had even chopped some wood to add to their fire. Night had settled around them and sweet, damp autumn scented the air.
“Hey, let me help you with those.” Joshua came up the steps and towards her as he saw the bowls in her hands. The bigger one contained the dough she had prepared for campfire bread, the other chopped onions and strips of bacon which she loved to add to the bread.
Ivory Guard Page 14
