“I’m going to have some odd company from time to time, and I don’t want you going off in a huff. And no scaring off the angels.” Zoë grinned. She enjoyed seeing Gran savor that idea.
“All right,” Gran said, pursing her lips. Zoë knew that stubborn expression.
Zoë stood and stretched. “I’m glad you’re staying, Gran. I’d have missed you.” She stopped at the door. “If it ever does seem like it’s time to go though, I will understand. You can’t baby me forever.”
The expected retort never came. Gran concentrated over her stitches and started to hum to herself. Zoë almost recognized the tune, but couldn’t place it. With a smile, she closed the door gently behind her.
Zoë headed to her bedroom. She picked up a few odds and ends lying around and stuffed them in the bottom drawer with her socks and the chaos blade.
Thomas’ warning still bothered her. Did he know something she didn’t know? She had to laugh. Thomas probably knew a hundred lifetimes worth of things she didn’t, but his motives still were unclear. On the other hand, what about the purpose of the spirit who’d given her the blade in the first place?
She wondered if it would open a portal like the keys had. Maybe, if the metal was all the lock required. But then, who knew what went into forging a magical object? She didn’t particularly like the word “magical,” because that made it sound like a bunch of wand-waving and enchantments and stuff she didn’t believe in. Of course, she hadn’t believed in real-life angels until she met Alexander, so who knew what life would bring her.
She looked to the trove of items the spirits had brought her when they came to her after she’d set Jackson Burly free. Although they were strange odds and ends, Zoë now realized those spirits had done the equivalent of giving her their card. Each one, other than those too weak to create a bodily form, had given her an item she could use to call them. They’d basically said We owe you one. The understanding touched her deeply.
She dug Alexander’s stone from her pocket. She’d nearly forgotten she’d tucked it in there. It embarrassed her slightly that she’d taken to carrying it with her ever since she’d testified at Alexander’s hearing. But as Zoë began to toss it in with the other trinkets, she hesitated. Who the hell was he to walk out with no word? To have his lawyer come by to break up with her? To only come back because Thomas said so?
For a moment, her anger built again and mixed with confusion, sadness, and sheer overwhelming weight. She gripped the stone in her hand, trying to decide what to do. Her cork burst. “Alexander!” she yelled.
The telltale pop sounded out in the hallway. She stood in the center of her room with her arms crossed, waiting for him to enter. “Well?” she said to the door.
Her heart caught in her throat when she saw him. His brow furrowed as though he had a headache. Zoë steeled herself.
“You sent Thomas? Thomas?”
“Thomas likes you,” Alexander said quietly.
Zoë couldn’t decide between the fifty responses that popped in her head, so she threw the stone at him with all her will and anger behind it. He caught it easily, but still looked injured.
“What is wrong with you?” she asked.
“They cast me out.”
“So what?” Zoë flung at him.
He blinked. “So what? Maybe you cannot understand what it means,” he said, his tone heating up.
“You lost your position. You got excommunicated. So what? Life goes on. You knew what would happen when you did what you did. It was still the right thing, and to hell with the Powers for thinking they can decide who should live or die. And to hell with you for being too much of a coward to tell me yourself. If you don’t want to see me again, just say it. Or don’t. But don’t send someone else to say it.”
“I cannot,” he said, his tone now softer.
“You can’t love me, or you can’t say you don’t love me? Look, I know this is my fault. I messed up at your hearing. The whole Stalker thing came out of nowhere, and I never should have said anything.”
He raked his hand through his hair. A gush of air escaped his lips as he exhaled. A clash of emotions played across his face. “I am sorry, Zoë,” he said finally. “None of this is your fault. Any who did not know about the chaos blade would have as soon as Briony testified. And even with it, I do not care. Zoë, I know you. You are not a killer.”
Her anger dissipated in an instant, but the hurt remained. “Just tell me why” she said, annoyed that she cared after only three dates and that she didn’t have more pride. “I thought it was special. I know the case went badly, but the way you stood up for me, I thought…I thought you cared.” She dashed away a tear, but not before he saw it.
With a blur of impossibly fast motion, Alexander came to her and wrapped his arms around her. She melted into his embrace. He whispered as he kissed her hair, “I am sorry, Zoë. I am one of the Fallen. I knew from the start it probably would happen, and nothing you did or said could have changed that. This is my fault. But I did not want to face it once I met you. You allowed me to forget what the future would hold for me.”
Zoë stiffened and pushed back from him. “Wait. You’re telling me you left me because you’re a Free Angel?”
He hung his head and opened his mouth as though he wanted to speak, but couldn’t say anything. Instead he nodded.
She couldn’t help it. She laughed. Alexander looked up, startled. “Alexander,” she said. “Why on earth would I care about that?”
“But—”
“No. Look. Answer me this—are you evil now? Following some prince of darkness? Doing nefarious deeds on a whim? Morphed into a demon when I wasn’t looking?” She tried not to laugh, but it was a struggle.
A grin tugged at his mouth. “No, but little Zoë, my love, you cannot know what it means. This changes everything for me. My position, my work…all of it is gone. My family even. My parents, they are coping, but a Free Angel can never be a king.”
“You idiot,” Zoë said, pulling him close, their faces now scant inches from each other. “You think I care about your position, your work, or your family? I didn’t even know about your family until I saw them at the hearing and Thomas told me. Who in their right mind would want to be a king anyway? Sounds like a lot of work.”
“I do not know what is going to happen to me.”
“Alexander, I don’t know what’s going to happen to me either. So what? So we find out together. That’s what a relationship is. If it’s not working, fix it. If life is hard, we lean on each other. You don’t run off to keep from inflicting yourself on someone else. If it gets too much for me, I’ll say so, but you don’t get to decide that for me.”
He looked at her one last time, as though suspecting she might change her mind. “I might be an outcast forever,” he said.
“I might be one of those Stalker things. You had it right,” she said. “I am changing. I’m not sure how, but I feel it. I’ve started seeing more. Things are happening. We find out together, face it together.”
Instead of answering or asking the questions she knew he must have, Alexander kissed her hard on the lips. “I do not want to be without you,” he said.
“So don’t. Besides, you have to stay and protect me now.”
“Do not be afraid, Zoë. Thomas will have Henry to a place of safety. I will watch out for you and for Robert Benson, along with others. Things will return to normal.”
Zoë couldn’t help but laugh, now awash with relief, and truly believing that, at least for now, that might be true. “Alexander, you don’t know what normal means.”
He grinned. “I suppose I do not.” He kissed her again, this time with need and urgency. Their bodies twined together and instantly the heat enveloped them. Zoë let the last of her anger and fear melt into lusty, aching desire. Tenderness could come later.
Chapter 19
The moonlight sparkled, reflecting on the sheen of sweat on Zoë’s skin. Alexander ran his hand from her throat down her chest, growling appreci
atively as she rocked her hips in an urgent rhythm. She leaned down to kiss him full on the mouth and then playfully nipped at his lips.
It felt right, and the reality that she’d very nearly lost him intensified the feeling. This was the first time they’d made love in her bed, and she liked having him there and a part of her life. Sure, she enjoyed his place, and she couldn’t even imagine what it would mean to have anything she could think of. At the same time, this house was her place, and as much an expression of her personality as his home was of him.
She realized suddenly how few of the men she’d dated she’d allowed in her bedroom. Usually she opted to go to them. Had she closed her life off and protected her domain? Probably, she decided. Growing up, she’d hidden the real Zoë, spirit-friends and all. One of the things she loved about Alexander was that she didn’t have to pretend.
They moved together, and Alexander held her hips tightly as his excitement grew. Zoë loved the rapture on his face and the honesty of his enjoyment. Exotic and seemingly forbidden thoughts raced through her mind, causing her to blush and shudder with delight at the same time. In his other form, he was bigger, in every sense of the word, not to mention ferocious in a way that frightened and excited her. Pleasure built deep within and she tilted her head back, hands resting lightly on his, and drank in the warmth as the familiar and telling glow began to build in Alexander’s body.
She loved everything about him, from his dual nature to his ridiculous pride, to the adorable way he seemed befuddled by human machinery. As his body tensed with impending release, hers responded, and she leaned forward again to hold him close to her as their bodies were wracked with an exhilarating rush. She peaked just before he did, and, as though answering her call, he cried out with her, unleashing pleasure in throbbing waves. They lay intertwined in a long, delicious silence. Contentment made Zoë’s eyelids heavy, and sleep beckoned her as she rested her head on Alexander’s shoulder.
She looked up, opening her mouth to say, “I love you.” She hadn’t said it but the one time back in Lament, and it seemed ages ago, even though it had been only days. They’d come through the trial, Henry would soon be safe, and Zoë thought now was the time to make it clear: she meant what she’d said. She did love him. She’d always believed that when one meant them, those words couldn’t be said too often.
Just as she began to speak, Alexander stiffened. “Zoë,” he said. “Something is wrong.” He eased himself away from her and stood, his clothing forming over his magnificent body.
“What is it? Is it Henry? What happened?” she asked, sitting up suddenly. All thoughts of sleep vanished. She swung her feet around the side of the bed and began to look for her clothes.
Alexander’s skin took on a blue tinge, and for a moment Zoë thought he was going to transform, but he must have just turned invisible. “I will return. Do not worry. I will watch over you.”
“No way,” she said, tugging on her panties and grabbing a pair of jeans that lay across a chair. “I’m coming with you.”
She heard the pop before she could say “No,” and ended up shouting the word to thin air. Alexander had gone. “Dammit,” she said, racing around her room to find a bra and then dug up a sweatshirt from her dresser. She fumbled with her sneakers, swearing as she tried to unknot one of the laces. When finished dressing, she swore again. She had no idea where to go.
It took just a moment before she remembered the knife. She tossed socks all around, digging in her drawer for the chaos blade. Removing it from its t-shirt wrapping, Zoë slid it from its sheath, and held it in the air for a moment, looking at the cool glow of the alien metal. Tucking the sheath into the waistband of her jeans, she steeled herself to begin.
She had no idea if it would work. Sure, she’d seen into the celestial circle’s waiting room at will, but Alexander hadn’t told her where he planned to go or what had alarmed him so much. If she was the praying kind, she would have said a prayer for Henry. She hoped he was okay. The idea of him and Rose lost in blackness made her feel desperate and sick.
Focusing her mind on Henry, Zoë tried to see him and Rose, willing the blade to form the black archway she’d seen the night before. Nothing happened. Tears of frustration formed in her eyes, and she used all her effort and every ounce of strength she could muster. But it was as though they didn’t exist.
It dawned on her that maybe the blade would not locate a dead human. The angels claimed chaos weapons had been crafted specifically to kill them and not demons or faeries or humans, so could the mordicite be attuned to their race? She couldn’t be certain, but she shifted her thoughts to Thomas. She’d try anything at this point.
The black arch formed in front of her, groaning like a landslide. Again she saw nothing but blackness within. Striving to remember how she’d done it before, she recalled thinking about Thomas and their conversation before the trial. Instantly, she saw the empty gray waiting room on the other side of the arch. Not wanting to dwell on that place, in case someone showed up, she shifted her thoughts back to Thomas.
The inside of the archway went dark. “Come on, Thomas,” she whispered. “Where are you?” Snatches of conversation came through the darkness. Her heart leapt. It sounded like Thomas and a few others, but their voices sounded distant. “Thomas,” she shouted into the Void. “Thomas.” She caught distorted glimpses of him, as though she was looking at him through waves of black water. The scene shifted and continually changed, and she could not get a lock on it. Trying to hold on to Thomas’ voice was like grasping at water.
“Okay, Zoë, think.” She sat down on the edge of her bed with the blade in her hand. The picture of the celestial waiting area had come in clearly. That could mean either the blade only showed places, not people, or maybe Thomas was out of reach. Taking a moment to breathe, she shifted her focus to the place beyond the portal where Thomas had led Henry and Rose.
The deep black in the arch turned gray, and not the bright gray of the celestial waiting room, but the swirling miasma of that strange in-between place where Henry had hidden. Zoë’s stomach tightened. Without a doubt she could not just wander in there. That’s exactly how Henry had died, and she doubted she’d fare any better.
No familiar voices came from this place. She stepped closer to peer into the mist. “Thomas?” she said quietly. “Henry?” A face coalesced in front of her, but it wasn’t familiar. An insubstantial and contorting shape formed and then wavered. She couldn’t tell if it belonged to a male or female, although it looked vaguely human. Its mouth opened and snapped closed as soon as Zoë caught its eye.
“Oh crap,” she said, and the soul rushed toward her. As quickly as she could, she flung the knife away from her, and the archway slammed shut just as the soul reached the opening. Zoë let out a choked half-sob, heartbroken that the soul was lost and hungry. But self-preservation told her she shouldn’t yank souls out of the ether.
Okay, she told herself, no more other-worldly destinations. That left the only place she could think of where Alexander might go when trouble brewed. After wiping her hands on her jeans, she picked up the knife and focused on Thomas’ place. Although it was perhaps technically other-worldly, compared to the Void, it seemed a relatively harmless choice. The previous encounter told her anyone could see her through the other side of the arch, so she didn’t focus on the public bar. Didn’t seem wise to use an assassin’s weapon to tumble into a room full of angels. Instead she thought about the office in the back.
In seconds the office appeared inside the archway. She saw Camille putting something into a cabinet at the rear of the room. Even with her back turned, Zoë recognized her long raven hair. When the angel turned around, her eyes widened in surprise. “Zoë?” she said.
“Camille.” Zoë wanted to cry with relief. “Where is Thomas? Alexander took off, but wouldn’t say what happened. Did something go wrong with Thomas and Henry? Is Rose okay?”
“Slow down, Zoë,” Camille said, looking at the archway uncertainly. “I heard from Tho
mas a moment ago. He’s returning.”
“Where is he right now? Could something have gone wrong?”
Even through the strange archway, she felt the pop of air as Thomas materialized in his office. He appeared with his back to Zoë, and stopped suddenly when he saw the look on Camille’s face. Turning quickly, he stared through the archway at Zoë, and down at the blade in her hand.
“It’s got to be Robert,” Zoë said. “How could I be so dumb?”
She waved her arm in front of her, as though erasing the words on an invisible blackboard. When she did, Thomas and Camille disappeared. It only took seconds for the scene in the archway to shift to Robert Benson’s living room.
Robert lay on the floor unconscious, with blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Zoë immediately stepped through the archway and rushed toward him. She expected to feel cold or dizzy or something, but it was about as dramatic as stepping into the bathroom from the hallway. As soon as she passed through, the archway groaned closed behind her.
She ran forward and knelt beside him. “Robert? What’s happened?” He didn’t move. “Don’t worry. I’ll call an ambulance.” As soon as she turned toward his desk and the phone, she found she wasn’t alone.
“You,” she said at the exact same moment the same word came from the mouth of Ren Jones, the necromancer she’d seen in Thomas’ office, the very same one who had bound Jackson Burly. He was taking the last of the mordicite keys from Robert Benson’s library wall, careful to leave them inside their protective glass cases. With the knife in her hand, she understood why.
He didn’t feel to her senses like an angel, nor did he feel human, but the chaos blade vibrated intensely. “You’re half angel,” she said. She hadn’t thought that possible. A half-angel necromancer?
“Stalker,” he hissed.
A crash outside told her Ren had not come alone. A bird-like screech sounded. “Alexander,” she whispered, feeling his presence somewhere nearby. She could sense other angels with him, as well as other presences that felt strange and unfamiliar to her.
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