by Carol Oates
“I never turned from the Arch. I don’t know of many who did. That was never what any of this was about. We fell in love with life. We wanted to live…It didn’t mean we forgot who we are or turned away from the Arch. You, of all people, should understand our capacity for love knows no bounds. Our decision wasn’t about choosing this life over the Arch. We weren’t created to understand that we couldn’t have both.”
“Are you blaming the Arch?”
Draven groaned and scratched the back of his neck roughly. “Why does anyone have to take the blame? Why can’t we just move on?”
“Because that’s the way everything works.”
“Just because it is, doesn’t mean it’s how it should be.”
Sebastian paused abruptly mid-step, as if stopped by something solid directly in his path. Draven went on, not waiting for an explanation.
“The cost, Sebastian. You say you appreciate that I care for Candra, so how could you imagine that I would trade her happiness and peace of mind for mine? Or that I would sacrifice so many for my own selfish desires?”
Sebastian took a long pull on the cigarette in his hand. The bright orange glow of the tip reflected in his glassy eyes, and ribbons of gray twirled around his head. He glanced briefly at Gabe but gave no clue about what was going on inside his head or if Draven’s words got through to him. Then he locked his gaze on Draven.
Draven suspected Sebastian’s opinion of him was already so low that it wasn’t a huge leap to believe him capable of such atrocities.
“No one is to blame, or we all are; what difference does it make any longer?” Gabe’s word verged on wistful, as if merely verbalizing a stream of consciousness. He picked up one of the striped balls in his hand, weighing it for a moment before rolling it the length of the table without much effort. The ball bounced off the cushion and came back toward him, eventually stopping somewhere midway.
They all watched it move over the green, as though waiting for the shining surface to reveal its secrets. What secrets they must be, Draven thought—all the deals, conversations and secrets that would have passed in this room before they could ever have imagined they would find themselves here.
“Can you swear this is the first time you’ve become aware of any of this?” Gabe asked Draven, looking him straight in the eye.
Draven suspected that if he lied, Gabe would be aware. Regardless, he didn’t intend to do so. He searched inside his mind for an honest response. Anything less, and any shards of trust that remained between the sides would be wiped out, with no going back. They wouldn’t need Lilith to destroy them; they would do it themselves.
How far did the deception go? Was it his fault he was so easily fooled by Ananchel? Anger and frustration preceded a sick, gut-wrenching physical pain and a hollowness so deep, it was as though someone had scooped out his insides—the physical acknowledgement of his heart breaking. He held on to the last shards of hope that they were wrong like a drowning man might hold rocks after falling from a cliff into a savage ocean. Maybe he’d suspected the truth all along and had simply refused to accept it. How could he know for sure?
“No,” he finally admitted. “I can’t swear it, but the question is: what do we do now?”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
CANDRA REACHED THE BOTTOM STEP before she recognized the customer in the gallery. He stood with his back turned to her, but she would have known him anywhere regardless. His head tilted to the side, examining a carved couple sitting on top of a bronze sculpture of a meteor. She went to check the door and found it locked. Candra presumed Gabe had left the latch off and the lock had slid into place after Philip entered. Assured there would be no other late customers, she made her way over to Philip. Her heels clicked in the silence of the soundproofed building. Brie had made it that way so people experienced the gallery as a sort of sanctuary from the bustle of the city.
“Philip,” she greeted him, friendly but business-like.
He didn’t respond. Philip stood stoically, apparently entranced by the embracing couple entwined on the pedestal in front of them.
“I had no idea you were into art. Maybe I should go get someone to help you out.” Candra ignored the goose bumps rising on her forearms. Not referring directly to Brie was intentional. Candra didn’t want Philip to know who was on the premises. It felt like a strategic move but not one she had made consciously. Pins and needles ran over her scalp.
“No,” he answered. “It’s you we want.”
Candra automatically scanned the gallery in search of anyone else. She saw no one. She considered the possibility of someone hiding in the storeroom but dismissed the thought since the door was usually kept locked.
“We,” Candra echoed haltingly. The last thing she wanted was to feel scared. The old her would have been indignant at this intrusion, but when Candra smoothed down her shirt, she realized her hands were trembling. Philip had made a nuisance of himself anytime they had met since they broke up. She couldn’t ever remember him making her feel threatened. If anything, she’d pitied his attempts to win her back because his fragile ego demanded he keep a perfect record of cast-aside conquests.
Philip rocked forward onto his toes and then back onto his heels. Candra took another step back, sensing something off about the situation. Her heart faltered, and her stomach knotted. The voice inside her head that she hadn’t heard in so long rang in her ears. Go now.
Candra flinched at the demanding and distinctly male voice. Her knees locked in position. The voice came again. Leave.
The instruction, underlaid with penetrating urgency, did nothing at all to still her shattered nerves. Her feet refused to move. She pressed her lips together, considering her next move. It seemed almost irrational to be afraid of Philip, but her instincts had never failed her so far. The internal voice was always right. In reality, she knew it couldn’t really be her father because he no longer existed. Candra hoped it was some latent memory of him left behind in this world, a ghost of the angel he had once been that remained to protect her.
Philip’s fingers twitched by his side as their protracted silence wore on. Candra found herself peering at his grubby fingernails, a reddish mud gathered underneath them. Candra blinked rapidly. No, it wasn’t dirt. It was blood…dried, encrusted blood.
Adrenaline fired up and burned through her system, creeping up her spine and awakening every sense. Her body was like a steam engine, building pressure, ready to power across open space and trash anything that got in her way. Candra’s fists clenched mercilessly, and the muscles in her arms strained as she concentrated on reeling in the power surging through her and manifesting as a faint glow across her skin. Brie…She had to remember that Brie just a short distance away. Candra closed her eyes for a moment and forced the power back down.
Philip’s shoulders rose sharply, accompanied by a deep breath. The exhale from his open mouth seemed to slice through the air like a garbage bag split open to release the rancid stink of rotten meat.
“You positively reek of goodness.”
Candra stiffened. If he could smell goodness, the vile fragrance emanating from him was pure evil.
“Time to go,” she ground out through clenched teeth, desperately trying to get a grip on the bubbling energy inside her.
I am here with you…listen.
Her whole body jerked in reaction to the words. They were not her words—she was sure of it now—yet, they were coming from inside her. The voice she had always thought of as her father’s, wasn’t. Candra didn’t recognize the soft enunciation at all. She had always thought her life would eventually drive her insane and wondered if it had finally happened.
“We answer to her, not to you,” Philip said flatly, snapping her back to the situation she should be concentrating on.
Get through this now, and go crazy later, she told herself. “Her?” Candra inched her feet wider and softened her knees, although she wasn’t sure if it was to run or fight. Surely she could use the strength in her muscles to fight off whatever Philip was a
bout to do. Every molecule in her body told her he was about to do something.
Philip laughed, and the malevolent cackle echoed around them. Candra’s skin crawled. She took another step. This time, her back hit the wall, and she looked around again but found nothing. No one could get in, but she couldn’t get out…unless…There was a fire escape to the back of Brie’s office. If she got that far, perhaps both of them might get out without a confrontation. Candra was sure two more guards were positioned on the roofs around the gallery. She wondered if they’d mistaken Philip for a customer. It made her think of every single ridiculous horror movie she had ever seen where someone chased the victim up the stairs before they were sliced and diced. Besides, Brie was the one in real danger. If she died, that was it for her. If anything, Candra needed to lead any intruder away from her, not toward her. She caught sight of her skin where her shirt gave way to her wrist and hand. Her skin shimmered with a silken quality, as if a thin layer of oil coated the surface. She felt as though all the power contained within her might burst right out of her flesh.
Then Philip turned to face her.
Candra gasped, but it sounded hollow in the cavernous room. She bit down on her lip. One scream would bring Brie crashing down the stairs.
Philip had been handsome before. However, now, his eyes were nothing but glassy black orbs in sunken sockets. His skin was ashen, as if he had been completely drained of blood, leaving him hollow-looking with ghastly sharp cheekbones jutting out through papery skin.
“You’re not Philip.” Candra said the words in a whisper as the realization of what was about to happen crawled over her flesh. This creature was here for a purpose, and it wasn’t to browse for art. The battle lines had been drawn. Her decision to give in to Lilith meant nothing. It was too late.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
THE CREATURE LICKED HIS LIPS. They were nothing more than an open slit across a monstrous imitation of a boy. His tongue darted out, making him appear distinctly reptilian.
“We are one, and we are all,” Philip answered with a tight smile that Candra thought might split his face in two. Instead, it revealed a mouthful of rotted yellow teeth and more of the rancid, stinking odor.
She brought her fist up and bit into her knuckles to stifle the scream rattling around her lungs. He was decomposing right in front of her. This had Lilith’s calling card all over it. With horror, she remembered the girl in the library, her washed-out skin and sunken eyes. Had they been carrying on their day-to-day lives while Lilith strategized and gathered her army? She realized she should have seen this coming, all the needless violence in the city, the depression slithering through the people. Did this mean Lilith planned to pit humans against Watchers? Humans wouldn’t stand a chance. She needed a moment to think and wished she had some useful power instead of the pretty but hopelessly useless glow.
He just stood there, watching her…waiting for something, but Candra had no idea what.
“Lilith?” she asked hesitantly, a frown forming on her face.
Philip’s head tilted to one side, as if he was mildly confused, accompanied by the awful creaking sound bones make when they’d been sedentary for too long.
“We are here.” His voice cracked and strained over the word. He seemed to be becoming less human with each passing second.
Perhaps that was the plan: not humans fighting, but something else, something corrupted by her. Candra sucked in a shuddering breath and almost choked on the putrid air. That was why Lilith had been at the school. Candra spluttered and used the moment to lean forward a little, pressing her weight against the wall inconspicuously so she could use it to push herself off and give her attack more force. She gagged on the bitter taste in her mouth.
Her reaction was to more than just the diabolical figure in front of her and knowing she would have to fight her way out of here for herself and Brie. Lilith had chosen strategically again—first Ivy, and now Philip…not exactly the best boyfriend material, but no one deserved to be made into a minion.
A thunderous, hard crash made her break eye contact with Philip. She looked to the stairs helplessly, hearing a noise from the fire exit. Brie was about to face her own fight. Candra had no idea what manner of creature that might be against. Adrenaline pumped through her rapidly once more, and she prayed the intruder was looking for a way in and would bypass Brie. She simultaneously hoped Brie would have the sense to stay out of a supernatural fight and knew she wouldn’t. She hoped they were only there for her. Another loud bang, like a table being overturned, filtered down. Philip’s morbid chuckle was all she needed as an answer. Candra felt utterly distraught that she had ever allowed this demented animal to touch her, even if he had been human at the time.
He narrowed his eyes. She had to act now. Candra readied herself to fight off an attack, positioning herself to spring forward should she need to. She could tell by the light quiver that seemed to run the extent of his body, like heat radiating from asphalt, that the time to stall was drawing to a swift and deadly finish. He laughed darkly as he creaked his neck first to his right shoulder and then to the left, flexing his fingers out straight. He brushed dirt from his scruffy jeans. Candra noticed his knees were covered with crusted blood and dirt, just like his nails. She swallowed the nausea building inside her. What horror had he been attempting to escape from? Philip dipped his head and shook his ragged hair from his face before lifting his furious glare to her again.
“You’re nothing but a pathetic marionette doll,” Candra sneered. “Time to cut your strings.”
His rage was instantaneous. He charged at her with lightning speed and precision, knocking her sideways with a vicious swipe of his forearm. Candra crashed against a plasterboard pillar stretching toward the ceiling and pulverized it. Power sizzled in her veins and made her limbs shake so hard, she struggled to right herself. Another loud roar came from upstairs, assuring Candra that whatever was going on, Brie was still fighting.
Philip took advantage of her distraction and harshly tugged her to standing. He gripped her hips, lifting her and pressing her back into the wall in one effortless movement. Wood splintered against her back and pierced the cotton of her top, scratching at her skin. Candra strained against his shoulders, and Philip’s eyes rolled a little. An involuntary grunt passed Candra’s lips when he loosened his hold on her body just enough to shove her back harder into the wall. There was something sadistic in the creature that she was positive had never existed in Philip.
Fury welled up inside her, and her fingers pushed into the surprisingly leathery skin. She had somehow managed to stretch the neck of his T-shirt when he leaned in and pushed his mouth against her collarbone. Candra shoved harder, spurred on by the vibration of lips trembling against her flesh. More strength than she had ever experienced surged within her, yet he was still stronger. At first, all she felt was a pinch under the place where his mouth connected with her, and then a sting before a savage blistering pain lanced though her.
He freaking bit me!
“Don’t fight me,” he gasped harshly against her throat. His vile breath burned in Candra’s nostrils. “You are weak. You’ve always been weak. Did you think you could hide inside your little mongrel forever?”
She had no idea what he meant. Who was he talking to? What mongrel? The hot, grainy flesh of his tongue lapped at the throbbing artery below her ear, and the warm sticky wetness of her blood seeping over her shoulder.
“Your precious Sebastian will soon be with Lilith.”
“No,” Candra cried out with what little air she gasped. It wasn’t possible. Sebastian would never side with Lilith. Besides, this creature talked in riddles and clearly knew her every weakness. “No.” That’s it. Sebastian would never betray Brie, Lofi, or Gabe. He would die first, but it wasn’t beyond him to come up with some idiotic self-sacrificing scheme to save them all. That was the reason for Sebastian’s bizarre behavior. She should have seen it before. It wasn’t his place to save them—it was her responsibility.
> Another crash was followed by the distinctive sound of rushing air forced into submission by formidable angel wings. Time to die, she thought to herself, finally accepting there was nothing left of Philip inside the thing in front of her. He was so close that there was no room for her to maneuver against him. She battled again, gaining only centimeters in space. The skin of her throat tingled where he’d bitten her, but the burn subsided quickly, overtaken by the urgency to be done with this. The way he sniffed across her collarbone and skimmed his nose over her skin made it clear that she had only a matter of moments before he struck again. Maybe this time, the wound would be deep enough that she would bleed out. She already sensed the life ebbing from her with her blood, yet the energy inside her buzzed even stronger.
The shimmer across her skin pulsed and flared with each pump of her heart, sending bursts of white light rippling across the room. She fought harder to keep it at bay; this wasn’t the time to face the unknown.
Candra managed to slip her leg quickly from outside Philip’s thigh to between his legs. With every ounce of strength she had in her, she drew her knee upward, catching him in the crotch. She hoped to evoke some human male reaction to this act and that it would be enough to give her the vital distance she needed to attack. It worked.
Philip flinched away from her enough for her to be able to set her palms flat against his chest. She used the fraction of a second his pain afforded her to force him backward to the ground and vaulted over him. Her breath caught sharply as she somersaulted through the air in a graceful arch. It shouldn’t have been so easy; even cartwheels had been an effort as a child. Nevertheless, she wasn’t fast enough and felt his long fingers wrap around her ankle before she smashed to the ground at his head. The whole floor shook on impact, while dust and chips of wood flew into the air around them. An explosion of white-hot pain ripped across one side of her lower ribcage. Candra cried out. Philip twisted and grabbed her roughly by the throat with one hand, lifting her into the air so she dangled several inches above the ground.
