God, no. Jenna scrubbed at her face, let out a shaky sigh. She twinged in interesting places, but at least her head was clear. Or so she hoped. “We should make L.A. today, right?”
“Six hours or so, depending on where we stop.” That was good news, but he delivered it quietly, as if he expected her to protest.
She studied his expression, trying to figure out how he felt about… last night. She was going to have to roll back into the jeans and T-shirt she’d been in yesterday, and it had been a long, long time since her last one-night stand.
Well, what the hell, it can’t get worse, right? She might as well ask. “Are you okay?”
“Of course.” He straightened, his leather jacket creaking slightly. Now that she knew what was under those clothes, it was hard not to look. Aesthetic appreciation was just fine, or so Rach always averred, especially when she and Sam were on a break. “You?”
“A little nervous.” Might as well be honest. Her mouth was full of morning-taste and a few parts of her were very pleasantly sore, and she was hoping like hell she hadn’t given him a bad time. The dry, dust-freighted morning breeze rasped at the corners of the building, a subliminal song.
His eyebrows rose slightly and the tops of his cheekbones pinkened, which was either a good sign or a very bad one. “About last night?”
Of course, what did you think? She cast around for her clothes; at least she could get to her T-shirt on the floor without the sheet loosening. “Yeah.”
“So am I.” A slow, sweet smile bloomed on his face, and she was helpless to look away. “Was it okay?”
Not the worst I’ve had. But that would be damning with faint praise, and now wasn’t the time for hilarious comments. “Yes.” Her face felt strange—she was grinning back, mostly out of sheer relief. So she’d acquitted herself well, it looked like. “What about you?”
“Earth-shattering.” He scratched at the side of his neck, ducking his head slightly. “Honestly.”
“That’s good.” She couldn’t ask what she really wanted to know, but she’d take the compliment. The space heater near the window was ticking; he must have turned it on. “Glad to know my technique’s still on.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that, if I was you.” He shook his head and his smile vanished, but enough of it lingered to warm her all the way through. “The water here isn’t very hot, and the soap’s not…well, it doesn’t matter, we’ll be at the Eyrie tonight and they’ll have everything to make you comfortable.”
Including you? It was on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it and slid her legs out of the warm nest. The pillow next to hers was dented, so at least he’d stayed a while.
Goosebumps crawled up her skin; the desert didn’t hug any of its daily heat too closely, frittering it away into space all night. She didn’t know just how warm it would get this close to winter, but maybe she wouldn’t need the parka.
Hopefully he hadn’t noticed she hadn’t had a chance to shave, too. Her legs worked just fine; she fished around for her T-shirt and only then was able to let go of the sheet. Half-clothed, carrying her jeans, she picked her way across cheap carpet and was at the bathroom door, muscles twinging in unexpected places, when Michael spoke again.
“Jenna?”
“Huh?” She stopped, looking over her shoulder. Was he checking out her backside? Jenna decided it would be nice if he was, but he didn’t appear to be. Oh well.
“I’m yours now.” Michael had turned away, heading for the door. “You don’t know what that means yet. Just remember it. Oh, and I checked your boots, but shake them out before you put them on. We’re in the desert.”
With that, he unlocked the door and was gone into the gray of early dawn, probably to check on the truck.
Jen, clutching jeans and socks to her chest, her bare legs roughening with gooseflesh, found her jaw suspiciously loose. She closed her mouth with a snap and headed for the bathroom.
He’d left her both towels.
The camper had a giant hole in the side; it looked like a wrecking ball had been dropped into the bed and there was a faint nasty smell lingering under the sand-spice smell of a desert morning. There was no sign of whatever he’d been fighting, and Jenna didn’t want to know. The thought of him heaving a demon body out of the truck while she was driving was unappetizing in the extreme. He just got back behind the wheel as if nothing had happened, and Jen, her hair damp from the shower and rising in rebellion once more, scooted across to sit in the middle seat again.
Michael didn’t seem to mind. He pointed them south, and the truck bounced up onto the highway like it hadn’t been dragged through hell last night. The passenger side mirror, now lashed into place with duct tape and zip ties, was cracked, but other than that they seemed to have gotten off lightly.
Except for Jen’s clothes, but that seemed about par for the course nowadays.
Breakfast was leftovers dug out of the coolers, awash with melting ice but still safely cold. No tea, of course, and there wasn’t a coffee shop in sight. Still, the bright beautiful furnace of dawn rose at the eastern rim of the world, heat beginning to shimmer in the distance as the sun looked upon everything in a sandy expanse, driving life underground to wait for night.
She could sense it, just as she’d sensed the mountains’ hidden secrets, small trickles hiding from the glare, things that crept or flew or slithered curled up in the shade and dreaming their alien, interminable dreams. Maybe it was just lightheadedness from lack of sleep and inadequate caffeine… but Jen didn’t think so.
The strangest thing of all was closing her eyes and somehow seeing a tight, disciplined glow to her left, a column of angular light. It was different than sunlight, gold tinted with blue at its edges, and it brightened just before Michael spoke.
“You all right?” Did he sound tentative?
“I think so.” She didn’t mean to make it a question, but the sentence lilted up awkwardly at the end. At least her clothes weren’t too dirty; she just felt like the end of a very long road trip, exhausted and hopefully pointed for home. If she could ever have a home again, that was. “I just feel a little strange.”
“It’s the Principle.” He said it as if it explained everything, and maybe it did. ”You have the Breath, you’re going to get a lot more sensitive hanging out with legionnaires.”
“Great.” She kept her eyes closed. It was easier that way; she was still sleep-fogged. “It’s not just you, though. It’s everything. Even the rocks.”
“Everything will wake up around you. Rocks, animals, plants.” It didn’t sound like he considered the prospect crazy or terrifying at all. “You’re a blessing, Jenna.”
“I’m glad you think so.” Even Mom’s silly optimism was back, forcing itself through the cracks like a weed. You couldn’t kill it, you had to let it bloom and wait for inevitable disappointment.
Still…they were both still alive. And Michael seemed to like her, maybe just because she was this “lumina” thing. Did it matter if he liked that and not really, well, her?
“So when we get there, what happens?” Now was as good a time as any to ask. The truck achieved highway speed, engine settling into a familiar hum and the tires singing, happy to be turning again.
“I take you right in the front door, and it’ll be busy for a few hours. They’ll want to debrief me and check to make sure you’re not injured or anything, and they’ll ask you a lot of questions.” He paused and she felt his quick movement to glance in her direction, even with her eyes closed. The truck rocked on its springs a little, cresting an almost-invisible rise. ”Like if I was respectful, if I took care of you, what you need to be comfortable. They’ll get you clothes and a suite high up in the Eyrie, and you’ll be safe. You won’t have to worry about anything ever again.”
“There’s always something to worry about.” She decided she could scoot a little closer, her hip touching his. “Will you get in trouble because we, uh…” What euphemism was proper when you’d slept with a monster hunter? There should be a manua
l for these situations. Who would publish one? Who would write the damn thing, even?
Michael cleared his throat. “It just means I belong to you.”
She waited, but he said nothing more. “You’re going to have to explain that.” So I can tell whether to feel good about it, or scared out of my mind. Or both. Last night had seemed like a good idea at the time, but then again, so had Eddie. So had working at the SunnyTime.
So had the trip to San Francisco that claimed her mother’s life. All sorts of things started well and turned out badly. Then again, had this trip started well at all? Maybe it would end up great, but she didn’t think so.
Jenna simply couldn’t be that lucky.
“It makes me angelus primus, that’s all.” Maybe he realized she needed more, because he shifted slightly in his seat and continued. “Kind of like…oh, consort’s a good word, I guess. It means I’ll set and command your guard detail, I’ll order stuff you need or want, I’ll do the planning if you want to go outside the Eyrie—”
Hang-a-loos whatsis? Consort? Her eyes flew open. If I want to go outside? “Wait.” She should have picked the most important consideration first, but she was what Rach would no doubt call too damn chicken. “You mean I can’t just walk outside if I want to?”
Michael’s eyes narrowed against the glare, but he didn’t seem a sunglasses sort of guy. Maybe she should suggest some. Did monster hunters get cataracts? “We’ll just go with you if you ever leave the Eyrie, that’s all.”
Oh, that doesn’t sound controlling or anything. “And if I don’t want anyone going with me? Like, if I just wanted to go for a walk by myself?”
“You really want to run across one of the unclean alone?” He watched the road, chin dropped slightly and long proud aquiline nose just as forbidding as the sage-crowded rock formations rising in uneven clumps. His window was down, letting the slipstream fill the cab with fresh air, and he wore his jacket again despite the promise of heat later in the afternoon.
At home there might even be snow by now, but not here. “I guess not,” she said, heavily, and wished she hadn’t buckled herself in next to him. Maybe sleeping with her was just something he regarded as his duty.
He didn’t turn the radio on and she didn’t have anything else to say, so they drove in silence. They were touching, but Jen felt the new distance between them, sharp as prickly desert plants. Everything in this part of the country learned to protect itself, and she should be no different.
I suppose we’ll see when we get there, she thought, bleakly, and blinked several times against the hot, swelling saltwater in her eyes.
Uncertain of Affection
They stopped on the far edge of Klinefelter for fuel as well as drain and repack the cooler, but she was entirely too quiet for Michael’s taste. Had he hurt her somehow, or was she regretting accepting him as angelus primus? It wasn’t the kind of subject you could initiate with an Incorruptible, and his place wasn’t to ask questions but to accept whatever she saw fit to give. Silent except for commonplaces, they swung west on the Needles, and for a long time the sun hung motionless overhead. It was the home stretch, and he should have been feeling relief and anticipation in equal measure.
Instead, his skin itched with tension and his lumina was back in the passenger seat, the freshly filled cooler a silent sentinel between them. She watched the wilderness change, mountains rising charcoal and blue on other side, approaching to swallow the truck, then receding. There was little traffic to speak of, and for long stretches the truck was the only thing on the road, a red beetle with a half-crushed wing busily trundling along. The heat built quickly despite the season, ovenbreath sighing into the cab along with sage-scent and a persistent faint note of burning. The knocking in the truck’s engine wasn’t a source of concern just yet, but when they got to the Eyrie he was going to request a tune-up.
And, possibly, a new canopy. That would be nice, if she’d approve it. He almost opened his mouth to ask, glimpsed her set expression and pale cheeks, and decided he’d better not.
He’d probably done something wrong. Hurt her somehow, in his stupid, clumsy way. He’d made a mess of everything else, why not that?
“Hey,” he said finally, when Barstow was throwing its arms around the freeway, welcome spots of irrigated green breaking sere heatshimmer. They might even see farms soon, precious water dumped out to keep growing food clinging to the dirt. “You’re quiet. Have I done something wrong?”
She twisted her dark hair up with her fingers, honey highlights shining in its rippling flow, and her neck gleamed with a fine misting of sweat. He wondered how the microscopic droplets tasted, and the thought of kissing that tender hollow right above the collarbone caused an interesting frisson up his spine. The speedometer’s needle hovered just over seventy-two.
“I’m just thinking.” A line between her dark, winged eyebrows, she stared at the city in the distance.
Traffic thickened, clustering, and his hands tingled with intuition waking up to lead him through any potential rush hour. “It’s only a couple more hours. I figure we should stop on the other side of Barstow for gas just in case.” His mouth was running, he couldn’t stop it. “What are you thinking about?”
“Just things.” She let go of her hair, and the tumbling waves made a halo. “A few days ago I was only scared of my ex showing up. Now I’m scared of demons eating me.”
Maybe she needed something to tie her hair back with. A bandanna, perhaps? He’d have to dig in the small duffel. “They’re not going to hurt you.” Nothing will. Not ever again. At least, not if he could stop it.
“What about you?” As usual, she waited to broach what her tone said she was most concerned with.
Was he what worried her? Of course, he was larger, stronger, and had to be just as brutal as the unclean. He wasn’t fit for gentler things, no matter how much he longed to be. “I’m not going to hurt you either.”
“No, I mean, what if you get hurt?” She tucked her hair behind her ears, but it immediately sprang free again, refusing to be contained. Like grace itself, radiating from its vessels.
Oh. “I don’t matter so much.” Didn’t she get that he was a lot more durable, and that she was the important one? “You do.”
“You matter to me.” Now she sounded sad, and turned her chin to gaze out the window. “I mean, I know it’s not real, I know it’s just heightened emotion and us being thrown together, but… I really like you, Michael.”
A deep, painful rosette bloomed in his chest. “Do you?” How many empty years had passed, and now he had more than he ever dreamed of?
“I said it before, you’re a good guy.” Now she darted him a single, unsteady glance.
The strange, almost blasphemous idea that she might be uncertain of his affection tiptoed through his head. The junction with 15 was coming up; he took his foot off the gas and began reading signs. What was the best thing to say? He knew what soldiers joked about, but not what a woman—let alone an Incorruptible—would actually want to hear. He had to cough to cover his confusion. Think fast, Michael. “I adore you,” he blurted. “You’re brave and funny and kind.” And beautiful. So beautiful. But if he added that, would she think he was just like those mortal men, perhaps even the one who had made her so uncertain? So afraid?
“Likewise.” Now she looked at him, steadily, and he longed to return the favor but the road demanded his attention. “So… are we dating?”
“If you like, Jenna.” He might have driven off the road if grace hadn’t been tingling all through his marks, reminding him of duty. “Whatever you want, I’m all right with.” Once they reached the Eyrie, his brothers would compete for the Incorruptible’s attention. One of them might supersede him, but he would always be angelus primus, belonging to something other than the Legion, his place assured at long last. There would be no more uncertainty, his duties would be clear, and close to her, he wouldn’t deviate from the Principle.
Unless he already had. That was a worrisome prospe
ct indeed. So was the idea that perhaps another of his brothers would be better at keeping her safe, and wouldn’t have made such a slipshod mess of extraction.
The soft warmth of amusement was back in her sweet voice. “I’m kind of high maintenance.”
Is that what those mortal men told you? “I don’t think so.” He was grinning like a fool yet again, and the sudden easing of her tension was a gift all its own.
“You’d be the first.”
“Honored to be so, lumina.” He almost said my lumina, but that was a step too far. He could think it all he wanted, but an Incorruptible was not to be owned. Not by a blockhead grunt, that was for sure.
The silence returned, but it was different, easier, with no static-crackle of worry and awkwardness. And after they stopped outside Barstow, so close to safety he could almost taste it, she moved back into the middle seat. Her small, fragile hand crept to his knee, he carefully took it in his own, and for a short while all was right with the world.
Victorville sprawled wide and sun-drenched, traffic slowed, and they were almost clear of the urban tangle when Jen stiffened, a small sound escaping her mouth and her fingers tightening in his. Her other hand flew to her head, and he felt the rasp of alarm along his own skin.
“It’s them,” she whispered, deadly certain. “Michael, it’s them.”
Of course the unclean would be watching the approaches to the city proper. Maybe Michael and his precious passenger could slip through undetected, but he didn’t want to bet on it. “Just breathe.” He kept his tone even and calm, though his hands wanted to clench. Come out so I can kill you, diaboli. “And tell me if it gets worse.”
“They’re not really close,” she said softly, closing her eyes. Her attention sharpened; grace tingled along his arms and legs. “But they’re here. I don’t think they’ve noticed us.”
“Okay,” he murmured. “Good instinct, lumina. Don’t focus too much on them, they’ll be able to feel it in return. I’m gonna draw everything I can from you, okay?”
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