by Elise Marion
Micah felt as if his heart had stopped—in fact, as if the organs operating the inside of his body had ground to a screeching halt. He could hear his own blood roaring in his ears like a waterfall.
“Poor girl,” Alice murmured, standing on tiptoe to retrieve two wineglasses from a cabinet. “She’s just a mess … refuses to talk about what happened.”
“Where is she?” he asked, his mind already racing as he struggled to come to terms with what he was hearing.
Jack and Addison, broken up? It didn’t make sense, not when he knew for a fact that Jack had come back from Purgatory with every intention of claiming Addison as his own. She’d made her choice, and they’d seemed happy. It just didn’t make sense.
“Front porch,” Alice responded as she poured the wine. “Don’t worry, I’ve got her.”
Micah barely registered Alice’s words, already on his way out of the kitchen. “Keep choppin’, kid,” he called out to Drew as he disappeared into the hall.
His boots pounded over the hardwood as he moved swiftly to the front door and the massive porch facing the tree-lined front path. Turning left and right, he searched, finding her seated in a wooden porch swing hung near the end of the porch’s left side.
Making a beeline toward her, he dodged a few pairs of muddy shoes that had been left out to dry and several rocking chairs. Then he was at her side, staring down into her eyes. The pain he found there tore through him as viscerally as if it had become his own. Liquid pooled in the honeyed depths, but she didn’t shed a single tear. Her red nose and flushed cheeks told him she’d already done that. Now, Addison was doing what she always did when life dealt her a fatal blow. She was pulling herself back together—or at least, she was trying to.
The moment he sank down onto the porch swing next to her, one arm braced behind her, she fell apart again, shoulders trembling as she seemed to fight down a sob.
“What happened?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm and even for her sake.
He didn’t know what was going on, but if Jack had done this—upset her to the point that she could barely keep herself together—then Micah wouldn’t hesitate to pick up where he’d left off and beat the shit out of him.
“It’s over, Micah,” she whispered, her voice hoarse as if she’d been crying for hours. “Me and Jack … we’re done for good.”
He frowned, unable to stop himself from putting his arm around her—from resting a hand on her shoulder and urging her to lean into him.
“Are you sure it’s for good?” he asked, hoping she would open up and tell him something, anything, to make sense of all this. “Did Jack say that to you … that he doesn’t want to be with you anymore?”
She shook her head before sinking against him, resting her head on his shoulder. “It’s not him, it’s me. It’s all my fault.”
Micah leaned against the back of the swing, tightening his hold on her and allowing his legs to straighten and move, rhythmically rocking both the swing and her.
“Oh, come on, now,” he urged. “It can’t be over for good. You and Jack are in love … you can work it out.”
“Not this,” she countered between sniffles. “There’s no coming back from this.”
Micah fell silent, continuing to rock the swing slowly back and forth. He didn’t know what to say to comfort her, so he said nothing. Maybe his presence could be enough.
And maybe—just maybe—he could let himself feel some hope.
Not just this minute, while she was crying over Jack in his arms. Not in front of her, where she might despise him for the pattern of his thoughts if she could discern them. But, later, when he was alone and could really allow himself to think about what the implications of this might mean for him.
Because, now that he was working toward becoming worthy of her, of all the good things he’d thought he’d never have, she was free. Free to be loved by him … free to move on from Jack for good.
And maybe … just maybe … he actually stood a chance.
Chapter Nineteen: Reset Button
3 weeks later…
Jack shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and started off down the street. He was exhausted, and not relishing the long ride back to Monroe House. The sun had just started to set, casting an orange glow over the city and cooling the humid air tremendously. He wanted a shower, and his bed, in that order exactly. But first, dinner. He’d spent the entire day undergoing medical and psychological exams as part of his application process for the police department, and hadn’t eaten since that morning. Dinner at one of his favorite Japanese diners would hit the spot, giving him the energy he needed to drive home.
Home.
He was slowly starting to think of Monroe House as such. Addison had been generous in opening it to her Naphil siblings, but also inviting the people tasked with working alongside her in the fight against Eligos. It was easier to do his job if he could live near her, and the gigantic plantation house had plenty of space, as opposed to the cramped apartment over Mama Jo’s. However, its distance from the city meant long drives back and forth every day.
It didn’t matter. This was temporary. The assignment would eventually come to an end, and he would be able to move on with his life. Once that happened, he could get his own place in the city, closer to the job he would inevitably take on with the NOPD. The application process was going smoothly, and Jack felt confident he’d begin police academy soon.
Once this had ended, he could put Addison Monroe, the Seal of Solomon, and wars between the different rulers of Hell behind him. The sooner, the better, really, since he’d found himself more curious about her than he should be. He often stared at her, noticing things about her that made his blood run hot in his veins.
There was no denying she was a sexy little thing, and under any other circumstance, he might have done something about the attraction he felt toward her. But, it would be a clear conflict of interest, and Reniel would never let him hear the end of it. Besides, he’d noticed his partner looking at her with a gleam in his eye that Jack had never seen before. It was clear that Micah had feelings for her, which surprised him. For a long time, Micah had harbored resentment toward the Nephilim for what happened to his sister. It would seem that Addison had been responsible for his change of heart.
Because of this, Jack had decided that pursuing her was out of the question. Not just because of his assignment—which he might have gotten past if he wanted her badly enough—but because his best friend had a thing for her. And if there was one thing he would never do, it was mess with a girl his buddy liked. Bro code, he liked to call it—that sacred, unspoken rule between men that he could not break. Addison Monroe was absolutely, positively, unquestionably, off-limits to him. End of story.
Still, it had been a long time since Tracy’s death, and he couldn’t deny having been lonely for a long time. Since returning from Purgatory, he’d resolved to change his life and go after all the things he’d been missing out on by making his entire life about the cause of the Guardians and nothing else. Maybe now, that could include dating.
Nearing the diner on the corner, he smiled. Dating again would be good. Nothing too serious, of course … just some light-hearted fun, which he hadn’t allowed himself to have in a long time.
He’d just turned to go inside when he heard a sound from down the alley stretching between this building and the one beside it. Frowning, he realized it was the low murmur of a woman’s voice … but she wasn’t alone. The taunting jeers of several males interspersed it, which could only mean one thing.
“God damn it,” he muttered, releasing the door handle and moving toward the alley.
He was starving, but couldn’t just walk past what sounded like trouble. Not when he was in a position to help whoever this woman might be.
Edging down the dark slit stretching between two brick walls, he made out four men blocking the sight of the woman they’d cornered. He could hear her voice, though, clear and edged in steel when she spoke.
> “Last chance, assholes,” she called out. “Walk away.”
Jack frowned, craning his neck to see past the men. Whoever this girl was, she was brave as hell.
“Not a chance, Light Bearer,” one of the men retorted. “After what you and your people did to our den, we’re owed a little retribution.”
Light bearer? This girl must be a Guardian, and her attackers either demons or Naphils.
“You can be the one to pay,” another added. “In blood.”
Jack had just opened his mouth to take them down with his voice waves and rescue the girl when a sound like something rushing through the air resounded, just before all four of them fell limp on the ground.
His jaw dropped as the woman was revealed—standing with her knees bent, a gold-hilted sword held in both hands, the blade smeared with blood. Closer inspection revealed the markings on the hilt of the blade—revealing it to be the weapon of a Guardian. He shifted his gaze to the four men, who now lay at his feet with their throats slit and blood staining their clothes. She’d taken them all out with a single sword stroke. As suddenly as they’d gone down, they disappeared in flashes of light and puffs of smoke—dispatched to Hell.
“Impressive,” he murmured, stepping over the pools of blood left behind and approaching the girl. “I had made up my mind to come help you, but it looks like you have things handled here.”
He reached up to the collar of his shirt and pulled, revealing his mark. She relaxed at the sight of it, standing up straight and giving her sword a little flick. The blood slid off the blade and splattered the ground, leaving the silver metal clean. Sliding it into a sheath at her back, she stepped forward and extended a hand to him.
“Thanks, anyway,” she said with a smile.
As he took her hand, Jack was struck by her smile. It was warm, a bit wide, as if she had the sort of personality that required such a full grin. Like she was the sort of person who laughed, loud and often.
The dark burgundy lipstick she wore made her teeth seem whiter and complemented her skin—a shade of brown just a bit fairer than his. Long, slender braids hung down her back, and a gold stud decorated one nostril. She was absolutely adorable, with full, lush lips, a button nose, and intriguing dark eyes. She stood an entire head shorter than him, with a lithe, athletic figure.
“Jack Bennett,” he offered, shaking her hand.
“No way,” she said, her eyes growing wide. “Not the Jack Bennett?”
He raised his eyebrows. “You know who I am?”
“What New Orleans Guardian doesn’t? You’re one of the elite, with an impressive family legacy. Besides, everyone knows the story about how you died fighting Mammon and then rose from the freakin’ dead. Dude, you’re a legend.”
He found her smile contagious, giving her one of his own. “Maybe you can tell me your name now, so I can gush over you.”
Instead of being embarrassed, she merely laughed. The sound was just as he’d predicted—loud, boisterous, heartwarming. He liked it.
“Leah Jones,” she replied. “Also one of the elite, but I don’t think we’ve ever met.”
“No,” he murmured, taking a step closer to her. “I think I would have remembered meeting you.”
Folding her arms over her chest, she inclined her head at him. “Are you hitting on me?”
He smirked. “That all depends.”
“On?” she prodded.
“On whether or not you like it,” he teased.
Leah laughed again, not even bothering to temper the sound. What must that be like, he wondered, to be so full of joy?
“Well, let’s say I do like it,” she countered. “What would you do about it?”
“The way I see it, there are two options here,” he replied. “Option one, you could give me your number. We could call and text back and forth a few times before I work up the nerve to ask you out. Or …”
She smirked. “Or?”
“You could come have dinner with me right now.”
“Now?” she replied, seeming taken aback. “I don’t even know you. You could be an axe-murderer, or kidnapper, or—God forbid—an Eagles fan.”
Jack laughed. “I’m an elite Guardian, remember? I don’t have it in me to be any of those things. And, anyway, I’m a Patriots fan.”
“Hmm,” she murmured, looking him over from head to toe as if trying to decide whether she liked what she saw. “Okay, I’ll consider having dinner with you if you pass my test.”
“A test?” he chuckled. “Damn, girl, you don’t play around.”
“I do not, sir,” she retorted. “So, are you ready?”
“Let’s do it,” he answered. “I’m a tremendous test taker. I’m about to blow this out of the water.”
“We’ll see,” she hedged. “Now, just answer these questions with the first answer that pops in your head.”
He nodded. “Ready.”
“Okay, first question. Coke or Pepsi?”
“Coke.”
“Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter?” she fired back.
“Both.”
She shook her head. “Nope. You have to pick one.”
He sighed. “Fine. Harry Potter … but only because you’re twisting my arm.”
She smirked and nodded as if in approval. “Which house?”
Jack didn’t miss a beat. “Hufflepuff.”
Leah laughed. “Seriously?”
He shrugged. “I assumed you wanted honest answers.”
“So far so good,” she relented. “I’m not done yet. Tupac or Biggie?”
“I’m a Brooklyn boy,” he scoffed. “Biggie all day.”
“Pancakes or Waffles?”
“Waffles, because they have those awesome little pockets for holding syrup.”
“Team Iron Man or Team Captain America?”
“Iron Man,” he rattled off without batting an eyelash. “Captain America is a self-righteous prick. Besides, Iron Man has Black Panther on his team, and where T’challa goes, I go.”
“Jack Bennett, you’ve got yourself a date,” she declared.
“Is that all it took?” he quipped, extending an arm toward the street and gesturing for her to precede him out of the alley.
“You can tell a lot about a man by which side he takes in the Cap versus Stark debate. Besides,” she added, pausing to glance at him over his shoulder. “You had me at Hufflepuff.”
Grinning, Jack followed her back onto the sidewalk. Waiting for her to stash her sword in the little red car parked at a nearby meter, he found himself unable to stop smiling. Leah was certainly an unexpected surprise, but one he could let himself get excited about—especially since he was starting his life over again. Pressing the reset button, if one wanted to think of it that way. New life, new start … new beginnings.
“Ready?” Leah asked, re-joining him on the sidewalk.
Jack nodded, offering her his arm. “Ready.”
Addison stood at the railing of the balcony jutting out from the back of the house, the door to her room hanging open behind her. The morning sun felt warm on her face, as did the coffee mug in her hands. Micah had brought her the cup, black and strong the way she liked it. He had been watching her like a hawk the past few weeks, and he, Alice, Drew, and Derek seemed to tiptoe around her, as if afraid to do anything to set her off. She couldn’t blame them, as her mood had shifted from a state of depression to a one of constant anger. Her blood seemed hotter than usual, simmering in her veins like boiling lava, just waiting to bubble out of her and incinerate anyone who pissed her off.
But, she wouldn’t take it out on the people who cared about her. That wouldn’t be fair. So, every night after work, and on her nights off, she searched for an outlet for her pain. New Orleans was full of demons, and at any given moment, one or several could be found breaking the rules of engagement. As a Guardian, that left her free to dispose of them how she saw fit.
So, she did.
She hunted them until the sun came up, the golden .22 tucked into an a
rm holster beneath her jacket. It was the only way she could function—knowing one less demon walked the streets before she let her head hit the pillow. It didn’t matter whether they served her father or not … they were all the same to her.
Yet, Orobas remained her target of choice, and when she hunted, Addison always kept her eye out for him. When she met him again, she would make sure his death was even more painful than Lilith’s had been.
This was how she spent her nights. During the day, when she wasn’t in class or studying, she was working to get Monroe House functioning in an organized and orderly way. Micah and Antoine had gathered a group of men to make repairs on the cabins—some of which needed roof and window upgrades. She and Derek had teamed up with Harley to make contact with the Naphil dens in the area and set up a co-op of sorts. Supplies needed from one place to the other would be traded month to month, which would lighten the burden of feeding everyone tremendously.
Her sister, Harley, turned out to be quite resourceful, and had a way of finding things and putting them to good use. A dozen generators she’d been storing at the Israel Meyer school had been traded with one den for food—which now overflowed in the pantry downstairs. They’d also traded with another den—labor in exchange for the material they’d needed to make repairs. Harley and James took a crew to that smaller den to help make repairs, and in exchange returned with a truckload of lumber and tools.
Derek worked with Butch Thorton to come up with a schedule for planting their own food come spring. The old sugar cane fields could be repurposed for growing produce, bringing their cost of food down tremendously.
Proving himself to be a valuable asset to Monroe House, Derek had also organized a guard and chore schedule—ensuring that everyone contributed to keeping the house and grounds clean and safe from attacks on all sides.
In this matter, at least, Addison felt content. Monroe House had become a home for her siblings and the people she cared about, and they had everything they needed. She couldn’t ask for much else. The one other thing she had wanted … well, she tried not to allow herself to dwell on it too much.
