by C. G. Blaine
Cass keeps his word. I don’t see him parked at the curb or outside my classes or at the frozen yogurt shop Terra and I frequent with Gabe. But the real test of his restraint comes only a few days later.
Terra insists I continue with her mandatory social outings over the summer. I don’t even fight her on it. Honestly, anything that keeps me from dwelling on what Cass said earns my stamp of approval. At least, that’s what I think until Thursday when she pops into my room in spandex workout gear, spouting off nonsense about the gym.
“Endorphins are good for you,” she says, throwing her hair up in a high bun. “Plus, when you exercise, your body burns off all this adrenaline, so afterward, you feel calm and relaxed. And if anyone needs to relax, it’s you.” She gives a smart-ass grin and jogs out. “Be ready in ten!”
I shut the door, so I can change and text Cass, certain he’ll be as unenthused about the evening’s activities as I am. I toss my phone on the bed and peel off my shirt.
“Hannah.”
I start at his voice behind me, which conveniently covers up the rush of emotion at hearing it. I stay facing away from him, unsure of what to expect from his little drop-in. “How do you want to handle this?”
“Warn me before anything high intensity.” His shirt brushes across my back as he reaches around me. He hands me my top off the bed. “And keep your ring on the entire time.”
“You know I’d never take it off.”
No matter what happens, that’s one thing that will never change.
I turn around after pulling on the tank top, and he looks down at my bare midriff. The mood shifts, his features darkening. I can almost see big, bad, broody Cass resurfacing.
“So,” he says, eyes returning to my face, “you move on yet?”
In the time it takes me to blink, he’s gone. I hate it when he does that.
I give myself a minute to re-center before I finish changing. Terra’s jogging in place as I lug my rarely used gym bag downstairs. She’s “pumped,” and she keeps throwing out motivational sayings on the drive. With all the added enthusiasm, she must be worried about me—that, or she’s afraid the cloud of gloom surrounding me will challenge her position as BFF.
After an hour-long spin class, I sneak away from her to track down something with sugar in it. I luck out and find a random candy bar in the bottom of my bag. Leave it to me to bring a stash with me to the gym. With a mouth full of chocolate, I round the corner from the locker rooms and run straight into a chest I’ve bashed into on more than one occasion.
“We have got to stop meeting like this.”
I look up into Sean’s melty blue eyes, and he grabs on to the ends of the towel slung around his neck.
“This time is clearly your fault,” I say. “We had a warning system worked out.”
He looks at the half-eaten candy bar I’m gripping, a grin following right after. “Speaking of workout…”
“You’re just jealous because you didn’t think to bring snacks.”
His head tilts, eyes on my other hand. “Did you run off and marry the bad-ass biker dude without inviting me?”
I run my thumb over the band on my finger. “That would be the left hand.”
Sean raises his left hand and twists a little, double-checking which hand the ring’s on. “Thank God,” he says, his arm falling to his side. “If he would kick my ass for hitting on his girlfriend, I’d be terrified to talk to his wife.”
I force a smile and shrug. “We’re not even together anymore.”
“Shit. I’m sorry, Hannah. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
Or I will be. Eventually. I hope.
He arches an eyebrow. “You sure? Because I happen to be an amazing rebound. I can get you references.”
I laugh and glance away, twisting the ring around my finger.
“Seriously though,” he says, more sincere, “if you ever need a sort-of acquaintance to listen, let me know.” He steps around the corner, out of sight. “I’ll be here.”
I smile again as he reappears. “Good to know.”
“Bye, Hannah.” He spins on his way past me, walking backward down the hall and watching me a little longer.
As he turns around, I remember Cass’s comment about moving on, the acidity in his voice. It reminded me of how he used to act with Gabe. I’ve been failing miserably at convincing Cass I don’t want to be with him. Maybe it would be more believable if he thought I wanted to be with someone else.
I take a few steps down the hall, not letting myself overthink. “Hey, Sean?”
He whirls around, a wide grin on his face. “Run into you at the corner in fifteen minutes?”
Ignoring the unease settling into my gut, I nod. What’s a few more lies at this point? Hell, Heaven—neither one will have Cass.
Before I shower and change, I check in with Terra to tell her I’m bailing. She tries to talk me into staying with promises of a smoothie. It might have stood a chance if we shared the same definition of smoothie, but she thinks green and veggies, and I think neither of those things.
On my way out of the locker room, I dig through my gym bag for my phone. I might not mention the why or with who, but I at least need to text Cass that I’m leaving early. I stop searching as I cautiously approach the corner.
“Sean?”
“See, and this time, I was ready for you.” He pops his head around, and I can’t help but smile.
He really is a nice guy. Funny, compassionate, and I’m a terrible person for using him like I’m about to. Especially if this backfires and Cass ends up dropping him in the middle of a jungle or something.
We walk toward the lobby, and Sean slides the strap off my shoulder.
“Here,” he says, taking my bag, “I’m sure all those snacks are heavy. I’d hate for you to leave the gym, having actually exercised.”
“Careful. You’re starting to sound like you might be a dick.”
“No, that would be my brother.”
He holds the door open and tips his head toward the parking lot to the side of the building. Through the windows, I see Terra running on a treadmill with her earbuds in. Sweaty and happy and full of nutrients.
“Just the one sibling?” I ask, determined to make a genuine effort to get to know him.
“Three. I’m parked over here,” he says.
He puts his hand on my back to guide me around the corner of the building. The second he touches me, my mind goes straight to Cass.
Shit. I never texted him I was finished.
We pass the only working light post and all the other vehicles. I’m about to check if he’s sure he parked over here until I notice a sports car in the very back corner, blending into the shadows. With my knowledge of cars as sharp as ever, I quickly identify it as black and ridiculously expensive. No wonder he parked so far away from potential door dings.
The car beeps, and the trunk pops open. Before I can say anything, he tosses my bag in.
“Hold on. I need my phone.” I step forward, but Sean grabs my wrist, stopping me. When I turn back to see why, his kind blue eyes are ice cold, matching his hard expression. “Sean…”
He tightens his grip when I try to pull away and jerks me toward him. His arm wraps around me from behind, pinning me to him while I struggle to stop him from sliding the ring off my finger. It clinks, bouncing off the ground, and he clamps his hand over my mouth, muting my cry for help.
I’m unprotected. Isolated.
I breathe in short spurts, my heart pounding like during cardio, but if I panic enough, Cass will know the difference. He’ll sense something’s wrong and come for me. But the fear fades fast as Sean murmurs the same words in my ear, over and over—chanting. Everything slows inside and around me until I can’t stand anymore, and I go slack in his arms.
“I’m sorry it has to be you, Hannah,” he whispers as my eyes fall shut. “I just need all this to end.”
“Just take
it.”
I shove the crystal ball into the crook of Carl’s arm on the bar and walk away. It’s the only thing that will keep me from watching Hannah. After almost wiping her memory last week and then losing my temper the other day, I’m trying to give her the space she claims to want. Not so easily done with the steady stream of light constantly reminding me of how she feels—how I feel when I’m with her. It makes the moments I’m not all the more torturous and the ache of being near her unbearable.
Right now, my entire world is burning to the fucking ground, and the only thing that can extinguish the flames is what set the damn fire.
Fuck. I’m going to lose my damn mind before this is over.
Carl shifts on his stool, and I dash back and catch the globe that’s rolling out onto the bar. I’m about to break down and call up her image, but my phone vibrates.
Ros. He probably wants me and Chaz to sit down for a fucking couple’s therapy session. But it will take a lot more than a polite request for me to forgive. And I’ll never forget the role he played in this entire mess.
“What?” I answer.
“Do you feel it?”
“I feel a lot of things, bro. Annoyed, heartbroken, drunk.”
“Kasdaye,” he says. “Do. You. Feel it?”
“Armaros, what the fu—”
The entirety of my powers drives into me so hard that I stumble back onto the barstool. The phone falls to the floor while I fight to control the cyclone inside me. I manage to maintain a solid grip on the crystal ball. Not even needing to think about it, I summon Hannah’s image. All I see is black. My hand moves over it, trying to pull further back. Nothing. I mutter the incantation for sound and pick up my phone. As I call her, the faint buzz of hers comes through along with another noise. Constant and muffled.
Without any idea where I’m going, I focus on her—her touch and light—but instead of dropping to wherever she is, like I should, I’m still next to a semi-conscious Carl. Someone’s using magic to block me, and they know what the hell they’re doing, not leaving me a single opening.
“Shit,” I yell, then I drop from the middle of the bar.
I land in an empty hallway at the gym. It only takes me a few seconds to find Terra, running on a treadmill. I rip her earbud out. “Where’s Hannah?”
She pulls out the other and straddles the belt. “She left already.”
I only need one hand on her cheek for the light to affect her. “You won’t remember seeing me.”
Another drop, and I’m in the mausoleum at Mary Constance’s tomb. While sliding the lid, I call Rosdan back and tuck the phone between my shoulder and ear.
“Power surge?”
“Full strength in a millisecond,” he says.
I carefully unwind the amulet from MC’s wrist bone, glad it’s not around Hannah’s neck right now. “You have all your charges accounted for?”
“All of them.”
“Samy and Chaz?” I reach into the chalice and pull out the brown paper package wrapped in string. Damn, am I glad I stocked up on her blood when I did.
“No answer from either one. What about Hannah?”
I move the lid back and drop to my bedroom. In the closet, I open the box where I hid all the random shit Hannah left, so I’d stop trashing the apartment whenever I spotted a reminder. I find her sweater and drop to the kitchen for the map shoved in the back of a drawer.
“Cass.” He’s panicked. “Where’s Hannah?”
“I’m working on it.”
Spread out, the map of the city covers most of the counter. I rip open the package and break one of the vials over the sweater. I wrap the fabric around my hand and hold the amulet over the map. Old-school dowsing for something lost with a divine power boost—courtesy of Nephilim blood. Drawing on her essence from the sweater, the amulet begins to swing. When the gem tugs downward, I let the chain slip through my fingers, and it hits the map. She’s local, so maybe the return of our powers isn’t directly related to her missing. She might have just left early. I check where the amulet’s sending me.
That can’t be right.
I attempt to pull the gem off to try again, but it won’t budge. Like it’s fucking magnetized to the spot.
“Rosdan.” My voice is gravelly, so I clear my throat. “Call Chaz again.”
“What about Samy?” he asks.
Sparks fly from my palm, igniting the map. The flames burn around the amulet but leave it untouched along with the paper underneath.
“There’s no point in calling him.”
No point because he already knows.
Chaz is pacing. So is Rosdan. I’m not. I’m just standing in the middle of his charge’s kitchen.
Fucking seething.
“I need you to go over it again,” Chaz says.
“Me too.” Rosdan tugs at his hair. “You named yourself after streets?”
“Kind of.” I rub the back of my neck and try to calm down, but it’s useless. I won’t be anything but ready to rip someone’s head off until Hannah’s in my arms. “Over a century ago, we decided to start using fake names Lydia couldn’t track. I was too drunk to be very creative, so most of mine ended up being random street signs we passed. Walter, Douglas, Norris, Park—”
“Asher,” Chaz reads off the shred of unburned map I brought, part of it being Asher Park. “It can’t be a coincidence?”
Not one to throw around accusations of ultimate betrayal lightly, I’ve already been down this path of doubt. I toss him my phone with the name of the new owner of the collapsing church across the street—where the amulet landed.
“Walter Norris. Fuck!” He flings it across the room and drops to catch it before it shatters against a wall.
The magic, the names, the church—with all those breadcrumbs, Samy has left me no room to doubt he has her. I just can’t figure out why he’d lead me straight to them. It’s the only reason I haven’t descended in a fiery ball of light, palms blazing. Every instinct I have tells me that’s exactly how he expects me to play it, and his plan shifts into neutral until then.
“Samy took Hannah,” Rosdan whispers to himself before he turns to me. “Which means…”
“He wants to undo creation.”
My eyes dart to Chaz. “What did you just say?”
“What?” he says. “You think you two are fucking clever? All of a sudden, we have our powers. Demons are attacking. Ros has a notebook in his kitchen with a symbol from the language of creation scribbled in your writing.” He cannons my phone across the room, and I stick out a hand to catch it.
“I get it, okay? I’d choose protecting my Nephilim over each one of you too. But when it comes to something this existence-altering, you’d better believe I’d tell you assholes, so you were with me when shit went down.”
“Because who else would you want there?” I mutter.
Chaz rants his way into the reason Samy Hansel-and-Gretel’d me. Even if he’s using the only thing I’ve ever loved to trigger the end of the world, he wants me with him when it happens, just like I would him.
“Hey, Cass.” Tantrum over, Chaz scratches his jaw, focused on the empty space between us. “If you needed a Nephilim to destroy the world, which one would you pick?”
I’d choose Hannah, but the way he looks up, eyebrow cocked, he already knew that.
“And I’d want Avery,” he says. “So, why the fuck isn’t Samy using Chloe?”
Holy shit. I’ve been so blinded with everything Hannah that I never considered what’s now the most glaring hole in the scenario Samy’s crafted. He has a charge—a sexy-ass doctor, saving the world one underprivileged child at a time.
“Because she’s dead.” Rosdan looks up from his phone, his face paling. “A year ago. Random stabbing in South America.”
A cold shock rocks through my core, numbing me as it goes.
“No.” Chaz shakes his head, almost amused, and steals the phone. “That’s … no. That would mean
…” He trails off, his expression sobering while he reads the screen. “Samy’s human.”
No one moves or breathes, like the words deliver a death sentence. They do. Except what’s supposed to come after never will. Nothingness for eternity.
“Maybe it’s not true.” Rosdan finds the piece of hair he’s always yanking on. “Chaz makes jokes about taking his charges underground all the time. Samy might have—”
“When’s the last time he said her name?” I ask, cutting him off.
“I don’t know,” he says. “Why?”
“You two have always used a Nephilim’s name when talking about them. Chaz and I are the dicks who usually call them charges.”
It’s something I should have noticed when he popped up again. I would have if I hadn’t been so wrapped up in Hannah.
“But how’d he get from Colorado to Seattle without any powers?” Chaz sighs and answers himself, “He’s working with demons. They teleported him wherever he needed to go.” He slumps back against the fridge. “I thought he felt a little weak when he was dragging me off the floor.”
The quiet resumes, but it’s different. Rosdan and Chaz are looking at me, waiting for me to tell them what they already know. Samyaza’s mortal, and with enough knowledge and magic to bring about the apocalypse, it appears he wants a little company on the wrong side of the heavenly gates. Only one thing will guarantee he’s not successful.
I dismiss the friends-forever highlight reel playing in my head and clear my throat. “I need to go to the church and save Hannah. Then, after she’s safe, I’ll…” I can’t finish. What I need to do is an acid eating away at my entire being.
Chaz blows out a breath and straightens. “Not just you. We’re all going to get your girl, man.”
“And then,” Rosdan says, letting his hand fall to his side, “we’ll kill Samy before he fucks us all.”
At first, it feels like I’m underwater. Their words slosh around me, lapping at my subconscious. Then, slowly, my head begins to clear, and I recognize the smooth voice closest to me. The last thing I remember is hearing it utter an apology. The other voice also belongs to a man—gravelly and cold with an unmistakable boredom to the tone. It moves closer until it sounds almost on top of me, every syllable perfectly clear.
