Gray grabbed the rope attached to Chord, pulling the two of them to the edge of the river and up onto the rock. He helped Chord roll Sev onto his back. The Brit’s eyes were closed, and his mouth hung slightly ajar. Being a firefighter, of course, Gray moved forward to perform mouth to mouth, but Chord stopped him. He had been a lifeguard three summers in a row. Plus, Sev’s lips weren’t exactly foreign to him. Not that that mattered much at the moment.
Tilting Sev’s chin back, pinching his nose, Chord gave two short breaths before moving to his chest for compressions. It only took three more rounds of this for Sev to gurgle and cough up the saltwater his lungs had swallowed. Chord lingered above him for a few moments longer than he probably should have, his yellow eyes looking into Sev’s colorless ones.
“Thanks,” Sev breathed.
“Don’t mention it,” Chord murmured back.
“You can get off of me now…”
“Oh. Right.” Chord backed away to give Sev breathing room.
“Well.” Sev attempted to sit up. “I think it’s safe to say my initial instinct to stay in the library all day was undoubtedly correct.”
“Don’t act like that wasn’t all a clever ruse to get me to give you mouth to mouth,” Chord said with a joking wink, though his face quickly morphed into one of disdain as Sev shook his head in exasperation.
Their relationship—if you could even call it that—had been hot and heavy for one glorious week. Chord showed Sev things he’d never known before and made him feel things he’d never felt. He'd twisted his body into positions that surprised even him. For a virgin—well, even not for a virgin—Sev was damned good in bed. The only strange thing was that he was quiet a lot of the time, like he was in deep thought or he was analyzing his sensations or something. When he climaxed, though, he could match Chord in decibel.
But then, after that mind-blowing week of sex and brushes of hands and secret kisses in the dark, Sev began to act strangely towards Chord. He started to avoid him, spending more and more time in the library. When Chord finally confronted him about what the hell was going on, Sev had said, “You’re a distraction.”
“You’re welcome,” Chord had answered.
“Distractions aren’t good things. I need to focus on writing this demon compendium. And we both need to focus on training.”
“Are you serious right now?”
“Chord. I’m always serious. You should know this by now.”
Needless to say, Chord found himself crushed, yet again, by a man significantly more intelligent than he. And then, to add to the trauma, Sev began a courtship with another erudite who enjoyed camping out in the library and preferred reading over socializing.
Oh, and the erudite was a girl.
“But you’re gay,” Chord had said one day when he spotted the two of them kissing ever so sweetly in front of the library doors.
“I never said that.”
“Well, you sure as hell acted like it for a while there. You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy any of that. I know you’re not a good actor.”
Sev blushed, busying himself with the clasp on his messenger bag so he wouldn't have to look Chord in the eye. “I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy it or that I’m not attracted to you. But I’m also attracted to Betsy.”
“Betsy?” Chord said in horror. “Are you shitting me?”
“No. I’m not shitting you. And you could do with some extra reading yourself, you know. Improve that vocabulary.”
Chord used all of his willpower to keep from smacking the bastard right then and there. “I thought you said you didn’t want to be distracted.”
“Betsy doesn’t distract me. She waits until I’m finished with my work. You were distracting me all the time.”
“So, she’s boring, you mean.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You might as well have.”
Despite the fact that Chord was now completely and utterly obsessed with Sev, he was still pathetically helping Sev with his demon compendium. Sev wrote about, named, and sketched the demons, and Chord acted as a sketch artist, creating intricate, detailed drawings of the demons per Sev’s detailed descriptions. With the way Sev was treating him, he should have just given him a pile of stick figure drawings.
After a month and a half, they’d only recently managed to get on friendly terms, though Chord didn’t hesitate to tease Sev about Betsy any chance he got. Now, though, as he looked into his wide eyes and water-soaked skin, he wished he could be a source of comfort rather than a passing annoyance who'd just happened to save the British bastard’s life.
“Well, that was pleasant,” Sev said. “Shall we return to the mainland now? I have some more work to do.”
“Yeah, let’s not do this again,” Brielle said shakily, her mint green eyes red-rimmed.
“You kids can go back,” Chord said. “I’m going again. Anyone else with me?”
“I’ll go,” answered Aurora.
And, predictably, that made Gray say, “Me too.”
Logan wrung out her hair. “Hey, I’m not done either.”
“I am,” Luna said quietly.
Brielle, Luna, and Sev moved to the boat waiting for them safely in the calm area of the river.
Before they parted from the others, Sev turned and mouthed, “Be safe,” at Chord and then swiveled his head back to the front before Chord could so much as say, You too…you sexual, maddening ass hat.
Four
AURORA
Aurora hated Mondays. She always had. Before, it was because of school and her having to end her perfect Sunday of reading or sketching or drinking coffee in downtown Seattle. It felt rather yin and yang to have her favorite and least favorite days nestled up next to each other like that.
Then college came and, as luck would always have it, her first class of the day would be an 8 am with the most mind-numbing professor in the history of boring professors—one of those monotonous oldies who droned on and on. The ones who apparently didn't realize their audience was a group of restless twenty-somethings who'd likely been drinking or studying all night. If Aurora looked back through her notebooks from those 8 am classes, she would surely find puddles of dried drool bleeding through her scribbled notes.
Then, after college, came her jobs that demanded she come in super-duper early every Monday morning. Being a barista had been the bane of her existence for approximately seventy-three days. Especially since Seattle was basically the coffee capital of the universe. Or at least America.
When she was a substitute teacher, though, barista-ing sounded like a dream job. She swore some of those schools expected their substitutes to be as proficient as their teachers.
Now, Mondays were back to haunt her once again.
Now, Mondays were the day Michael had arranged for her and Gray to hone their Stellar-connection and powers. Luckily they let her sleep until 9 am and had fabulously delicious coffee on the island.
As it turned out, she and Gray were the only known Stellar Halos, which wasn’t surprising given the rarity of their situation. But, there was a pair of Stellar angels—Patrick and Abigail—who were brought to Arx Isle with the sole purpose of teaching Gray and Aurora everything they knew.
Though, they weren’t Powers and had never fought demons a day in their human lives.
The only thing Aurora found interesting about these sessions was that Patrick and Abigail had met on the Titanic and lived because they were Stellars. Patrick had been a third class passenger from Ireland who’d always dreamed of going to “the Americas.” He'd played music for tips for several months to earn enough money to purchase a ticket aboard the Titanic.
Abigail was a second class American passenger who had been traveling throughout Europe with her sister, Amy, who unfortunately died the night Titanic sank. Patrick and Abigail met for the first time on the top deck of the ship. He had been playing his bodhran, a traditional Irish drum, when Abigail parted from Amy to take in the fresh air on the deck after dinner.
&n
bsp; “It was like I’d known him all my life, but had simply forgotten about it,” Abigail told them, smiling over at Patrick, who placed a hand over hers. This small act was sweet, certainly, but it made Aurora squirm uncomfortably in her seat.
Abigail told them of how she'd approached Patrick and tossed a coin in his hat. Then, too intrigued to continue walking, she sat in the deck chair beside him and watched, transfixed.
That was the 13th of April. They spent most of that night and the whole next day together—the details of which Abigail didn’t disclose to Aurora and Gray—until the ship met its ultimate demise at approximately 2:20 the morning of April 15th.
“We should have died,” Patrick told them. “The water was freezing, and we were both mostly submerged. Life vests kept us afloat, but nothing more. But we kept our bodies pressed up against one another until the boats returned for us.”
“There wasn’t a piece of a piano one of you could lay on?” Aurora muttered, receiving a mildly amused look from Gray.
Abigail tilted her head to the side. “Pardon?”
“Nothing.”
“There was this energy,” Abigail continued, smiling slightly. “I can’t begin to explain it, but I could feel it passing back and forth between the two of us, sustaining us somehow. Later we would find out it was because we were Stellars.”
“When did you learn you were Stellars?” Aurora asked them.
“Not until after we passed away,” Patrick answered, as nonchalantly as if he were talking about what he’d had for breakfast.
Aurora and Gray went uncomfortably silent at this until Gray spoke. “How, uh…how did you—?”
“Die?” Abigail offered.
Gray nodded.
“I died in the Great War,” Patrick answered somberly.
“And I passed away the moment he did.” Abigail patted Patrick’s hand as if to say it was okay he technically killed her. “The examiners wrote it off as a heart attack, though I had no such signs. Sometimes people who die without any apparent malady are actually Stellars, and they pass away when their mate dies. Not all Stellars are lucky enough to meet.”
Gray laughed. “Lucky? Tell that to Aurora.”
Aurora shot Gray an exasperated look.
“What do you mean?” Abigail asked.
“Nothing.”
After their initial story about how Abigail and Patrick met and how they died and how they stayed in love even after death and all that adorably terrifying stuff, they went over what being Stellars meant and what they could do.
Aurora didn’t want to be rude, but she never got much from the sessions. Abigail and Patrick hadn’t known they were Stellars in life, and they hadn’t been Halos either. Other than living through the Titanic sinking, they hadn’t had that many experiences where being a Stellar mattered all that much.
They had various post-mortem experiences as Stellars, true, but Aurora and Gray were still very much alive and, just because they had angel blood didn’t mean they were like them. Aurora felt Michael somehow knew her reluctant feelings towards partnering with Gray and thought her seeing the two angels interact would bring her around. Well, he’d been wrong. Aurora was cognizant enough to understand that each person has unique experiences. Believe it or not. Just because the relationship between Patrick and Abigail worked, didn’t mean her and Gray would.
These lessons were pointless.
And today’s lesson was over trust.
Sigh.
“For your powers to be useful, you must entrust all of yourself in the other person,” Abigail began once Aurora and Gray had both shown up with coffee in hand. “Remember, you are trusting one another with your life. It is essential that you are open to each other in every conceivable aspect. Complete honesty is essential.”
Gray snorted slightly, and Aurora said, “What exactly do you mean by ‘complete honesty?’”
“Share yourselves with one another,” Patrick answered. “Keep nothing hidden. To be successful as Stellars, you must know the other person as well as you know yourself, if not better.”
Aurora gritted her teeth. Gray shot her a "we’re doomed" look. Unfortunately, she had to agree. After talking to Abigail and Patrick about how important trust was and how it helped them in their experiences, they asked Aurora to stand on a chair and fall backward so Gray could catch her.
“A trust fall. Seriously?” Aurora crossed her arms defiantly. “That’s a little church-campy, don’t you think?”
“I think it’s clear the trust between the two of you is, well, lacking in some ways,” Abigail offered. “This will help you to trust Gray with your life.”
“How will this help me trust him in any way other than knowing he’s not a complete jerk and won’t let me fall? I know lots of people who would catch me if I fell backward off a chair. But, would they die for me? Would they keep my secrets? Would they ever hurt me? How would I know? Falling off a chair doesn’t tell me that. I know Gray will catch me. I know that. That’s not the issue.”
“Then what is the issue, Aurora?” Patrick asked pointedly.
Gray and Abigail’s eyes were on her as well now. Her cheeks flushed. “The issue is that some things are meant to stay hidden. Gray doesn’t need to know every detail about me, about my past, for him to trust me. And I don’t need to know everything to trust him either. I know he would die trying to save me. Is that not enough?”
“Why would you want to hide your past from your soul mate?” Abigail asked unwittingly, running a hand down Patrick’s arm.
Aurora's jaw clenched. “Because not everyone has a bright and shiny past. Sometimes it’s best not to burden others with your problems.”
“It’s not a burden when you love some—” Abigail began.
“We aren’t in love,” Aurora snapped. “And I’m done here.”
“Aurora—” Gray began.
“I’m done,” she repeated.
With that, she stormed out, leaving Gray alone with Abigail and Patrick to pick up her mess. Aurora knew she should feel bad, but she didn’t. Gray could’ve stood up for her in there. He could have stepped in and told them it was okay she didn’t tell him everything. Well, maybe he wasn’t okay with it.
But he’s gonna have to be, she thought bitterly.
She’d been serious about not wanting to burden him with her past. It was the truth. Her past was a heavy, dark, twisted burden she didn’t wish to unload on anyone else. Especially not Gray. He didn’t deserve to carry that for her, and she didn’t want him to.
The tree on the top of the hill welcomed her with open branches, but she didn’t feel like sketching or writing anything. Instead, she took out her crux and began chipping angrily away at the bark. The heavy sound of approaching footfalls announced that she was no longer alone. Peering around the trunk of the tree, she saw a fuming Gray, his hazel eyes blazing.
“Gray, stop. I don’t want—”
“No, Aurora, you stop,” he replied in a dark voice, taking her aback. Gray was usually so calm and levelheaded. Seeing him this angry was almost a shock. “I didn’t say anything when we got here and you started acting all distant, and I didn’t say anything when you completely ignored the fact that we kissed on Etheria—yes I remember, don’t you? But I can’t continue standing idly by while you make a fool of yourself, of us, in front of Patrick and Abigail. They’re just trying to help. You can’t walk all over everyone you meet because you feel like it.”
“Make a fool of myself?” Aurora jumped down from the branch of the tree, so she was face to face with Gray, her crux still clutched tightly in her hand.
“Yes. Did you not see their expressions? They were horrified. It’s not like they were asking you to cut yourself in half and let me put you back together. It was just a stupid trust fall for God’s sake. You act like they were asking you to jump off a building.”
Aurora bit the inside of her cheeks to keep from screaming, or worse. “You don’t understand, Gray. You never have.”
“Then enl
ighten me!” he shouted, fire flashing in his eyes. “You told me what happened to you. I know about your past. What more could you have to hide?”
“Plenty,” Aurora snarled. “You don’t know the half of it. And there’s no need for you to. I don’t see why, just because we’re Stellars, we have to share every detail of our lives with each other.”
“And I don’t understand why it’s so damned difficult for you.”
“And I hope you never do.”
Gray threw his hands up in frustration. “You know what? Fine. Keep yourself all locked up in your little box, but don’t blame me when the world we could have saved crumbles in our hands because you were too damned stubborn to ask for help.”
With these words, he shot her another blazing look and trampled back down the hill. Aurora’s chest heaved with angry breaths. What scared her most wasn’t anything Gray had said, it was the way he looked. Since the day she’d met him, he’d proven himself to be one of the kindest, most understanding men she’d ever encountered. He wasn’t a pushover by any means, but he was sensitive and perceived things about people. But, just now, he hadn’t come off as sympathetic or understanding. He was raging mad…because of her. She realized with a painful jolt that she'd been the one who put that hostile fire in his usually kind eyes. She was turning him dark like her. And she couldn’t let that happen.
Aurora spent the rest of the afternoon and evening sitting in moody silence. Gray’s little episode had done the opposite of his intentions. Rather than make her feel guilty for not opening up to him, she felt surer than ever that she needed to pull away. She needed to ensure he remained good, and being around her influence clearly didn’t help.
After avoiding everyone and everything, she went back to her perfect little Halo townhouse that she, thankfully, didn’t have to share with anyone else, and went to bed early.
Maybe it was the lack of dinner or, perhaps the dark thoughts permeating her mind, but nightmares soon overtook her dreamless sleep.
Echo (The Halo Series Book 2) Page 2
