Lysander merely looked at him, head tilting to the side curiously, as if he hadn’t expected Aeron to comply. “You are sure?”
“Yes.”
The angel stretched out his arm and the fiery sword once more appeared.
“No!” Olivia screamed from below them. “No! Aeron! Lysander! Please, no!”
Aeron didn’t want her to see this, but it was too late to ask Lysander to whisk them to another location. That sword of fire was already arcing toward him.
Goodbye, Aeron, Wrath said softly.
He felt the first sizzle of contact, and then he knew nothing more.
OLIVIA SCREAMED and screamed and screamed. Aeron. Dead. Gone forever. His beautiful warrior’s body had gone limp, had fallen from the sky. A fall that had seemed to last forever, slow and agonizing, taunting her and making her hope that maybe, maybe, he would land softly, and he would be okay. She had only to reach him…
“Please,” she sobbed, racing out of his bedroom and heading outside. But deep down, she knew. Reaching him wouldn’t make a difference. Aeron. Dead. Gone forever.
LEGION HAD JUST FLASHED BACK to the fortress to tell Aeron what she’d done when she felt her bond to him break. And she knew. Knew. Only one thing would break a bond like theirs.
Death.
She was alive, so that meant— No. No! Never. She shook her head violently. “Aeron! Aeron!” Without their bond, she couldn’t remain here. She would—
“No,” she screamed, even as she was tugged from the fortress and back into hell.
As the flames enveloped her, she heard Lucifer’s scream echo her own. “No!”
CHAPTER THIRTY
OLIVIA CRIED until she had no more tears left, Aeron’s body clutched in her arms. She barely noticed as the sun fell and rose again. Barely noticed as Aeron’s friends descended. Upon seeing what had become of the warrior, Strider had dropped to his knees and howled. Torin had wept. Lucien had waited to escort his soul, but was never summoned, and no one knew why. Maddox had raged for answers, and most of the others had stood staring in shock and disbelief, pallid, shaking. Even Gideon had stumbled his way outside, and oh, his tears had destroyed her. But the reaction that had slayed her most, the one that had torn her up and left her raw, was Sabin’s.
“Not him,” the warrior had uttered brokenly. “Not this man. Take me instead.”
A sentiment she, too, wallowed in.
Like her, they refused to leave the hill. Cameo tried to convince her to rise, to let Aeron go, so that others could hold him and say their goodbyes. She refused. Even slapped those strong arms away from her. Finally, they left her alone, but she knew they waited nearby, watching, wanting their turn.
This couldn’t be the end, she thought, dazed. It simply couldn’t be. No immortal could recover from decapitation. She knew that. But this just couldn’t be the end.
Aeron couldn’t die alone.
The words drifted through her mind once, then a second and third time. Aeron couldn’t die alone.
Aeron couldn’t die alone.
On every level, this death was wrong. Needless, senseless.
Aeron couldn’t die alone—and he wouldn’t.
Hope suddenly bloomed from the darkness of her soul, and though it required every ounce of strength she possessed, Olivia at last released the warrior—no, hold him, never let go—and picked herself up off the ground. Oh, no. He wouldn’t die alone, she vowed.
“Olivia,” one of his waiting friends said, closing in on her, projecting so much sorrow, so much regret, so much pain.
Ignore. Closing her eyes, she splayed her arms and lifted her head to the gleaming sun. Act. “I’m ready to return home. To claim my rightful place in the sky. To be the angel I was created to be.”
Instantly she was caught up in the sky, wings sprouting from her back in one glorious wave. She curled them around herself and looked them over, shocked to see no threads of gold. No longer a warrior, then. Funny. No longer a warrior, yet never in her life had she been more intent on fighting for something.
Aeron wouldn’t die alone.
Lysander was beside her a second later, his expression so tortured he looked as if he were in physical pain. “I’m sorry, Olivia, but it had to be done. It was the only way.”
There was true remorse in his voice, and she nodded to acknowledge it. “You did what you had to do, just as I will.” She didn’t give him time to question her. No, she marched toward the tribunal chamber, ready to face the Council.
AERON SLOWLY OPENED HIS EYES. The first thought to hit him: how was he able to do so? Frowning, he reached up, and wonder of wonders, he had eyes, a nose and a mouth. His head was attached to his body, but strangely enough, there were no scabs on his neck—or tattoos on his arms, he realized with shock when he spotted smooth, tanned skin.
Frown intensifying, he sat up. He experienced no dizziness, no pain, just a cool breeze that wrapped around him as if hugging him in welcome. His gaze moved over his body. Intact. Unharmed. He was lying on a marble dais, and he was wearing a white robe, much like Olivia’s. His legs were also devoid of tattoos.
How was that possible? How was any of it possible?
Lysander hadn’t missed. He’d felt the burn.
So what had happened? And where was he? He studied his surroundings. There was a mistlike quality to the air, as if he were trapped inside a dream. There were no houses, no streets, only alabaster column after alabaster column with dewy ivy that climbed the sides.
Heaven? Had he somehow been made into an angel? He reached around and felt his back. No. No wings. Disappointment rocked him. As an angel, he would have been able to search for Olivia, to be with her.
Olivia. Sweet, sweet Olivia. His chest ached and his hands itched to touch her. He would miss her every day of his…life? Death? Utterly and without waning. Where was she now? What was she doing?
“Aeron.”
The deep voice hit him, and he shook in recognition and shock.
Though thousands of years had passed since he’d heard that raspy timbre, he knew who it belonged to instantly. Baden. Once his best friend, but centuries deceased. Aeron pushed to his feet and turned, unsure of what he’d find. How…?
Baden stood only a few feet away.
Aeron battled through the shock. His friend looked the same as when he’d been alive. Tall, muscled, bright red hair that shagged around his face. Brown eyes, sun-darkened skin. Like Aeron, he wore a white robe.
“How are you…how are we…?” Still the questions wouldn’t form, so great was his astonishment.
“You’ve changed. A lot.” Baden grinned, revealing straight white teeth, and rather than answer, he raked Aeron with his gaze. “But gods, I’ve missed you.”
And then they were running toward each other, wrapping their arms around each other. Aeron held tight. He’d never thought to see this man again. Yet here he was, holding his best friend close.
“I’ve missed you, too,” he managed to choke past the hard lump in his throat.
A long while passed before they pulled back. Aeron still couldn’t believe this was happening. That he was here, with Baden. Touching him, seeing him.
Last time they’d been together, before Baden’s beheading, Aeron had wanted to set the man on fire. Or rather, Wrath had wanted him to do so. Baden had torched an entire village, certain they plotted his murder, and Aeron’s demon had yearned to repay him in kind, fire for fire, even though guilt had ravaged Baden, perhaps even leading to his “trust” in Hadiee, the Bait who’d led him to his slaughter.
Now Aeron felt…nothing but kinship. No menace of any kind. No urge to grab a match. There were no images inside his head, either. No screams in his ears. Actually, he didn’t sense Wrath at all.
That made no sense. He still had his head, so Wrath had to be inside him. Right?
“Where are we?” he asked. “And how are we here?”
“Welcome to the afterlife, my friend. Created by Zeus after our possession, just in case our de
mons killed us. He didn’t want our tainted souls able to reach him. And yeah, I know it would have been nice to know we had a place to stay, but the old bastard never breathed a word.” Baden pivoted and waved his hand over their surroundings. “I call it Bad’s Land. Get it? Baden.”
“Yes, I get it.”
“Still no sense of humor, I see. We’ll have to work on that. Anyway, I know it’s not much to look at and the place is boring as shit, but it’s better than the alternative.”
The alternative? “So I really am dead?”
“Afraid so.”
His shoulders slumped, a paltry motion for the sense of crushing loss suddenly plaguing him. No chance to search for Olivia, then.
And no Wrath, he realized with a sharp inhalation. His demon had been taken from him, released when he died. He was alone. Truly alone, for the first time in centuries.
He was…saddened. Yes, saddened. There at the end, they’d reached an accord.
“Are you and I the only ones here?”
“No. There are a few others, but they keep their distance from me. I don’t know why. I’m as sweet as a sugar cookie. Not that I’ve gotten to enjoy one lately,” Baden grumbled. “Pandora, though…” He shuddered. “She also resides here and she does not keep her distance. Unfortunately.”
Again Aeron battled back his shock. Pandora. The woman who’d been given charge of dimOuniak, the box holding all the escaped demon High Lords captive. The woman who had taunted him and his friends with her elevated status, reminding them over and over again that the gods had overlooked them.
Once he’d despised her. Now…so many years had passed since he’d even thought of her, he couldn’t dredge up the hate. Was he overjoyed to know she was here and nearby, however? Hell, no.
“Why haven’t you killed her?” he asked. “Again.”
“He’s not strong enough,” a female said from behind them.
In unison, they spun. Pandora rested against one of the columns, arms crossed over her chest.
Seeing her, even though he’d been warned of her presence, was like being punched in the face with brass knuckles. Aeron looked her over. Like him and Baden, she was tall and muscled, though on a much smaller scale. Her brown hair hit her chin and trapped her face. A face too harsh to be pretty. Her eyes were gold. Too gold. Too bright. Otherworldly. And filled with disdain.
The same look she’d always given him in the heavens.
Ah. There was his old sense of loathing, rising inside him, filling him. Even in death he was to have an enemy, it seemed.
“Must be my birthday,” she said with a cruel smile. “One by one the men who sent me here have decided to join me.”
“You’re mistaken. The gift is mine. Now your eternal torment can be ensured.”
She stepped toward him—to attack?—but stopped herself and offered another smile. “So. How’s Maddox? Dying, I hope.”
Maddox had been the one to kill her. The warrior had been lost to his demon, Violence, and had stabbed her, over and over again. “You’ll be disappointed to know he’s well. He’s even expecting a child.”
Breath hitched in her throat. “Is he now? How wonderful.” She exhaled, and with the release, a dam seemed to break inside her. “That bastard! He doesn’t deserve to be happy! He killed me, allowed my box to be stolen, and now no one knows where it is. It’s our ticket out of here, but nooo. Even I can’t find it. He ruined everything and now his dreams are coming true? You think I didn’t know that he always wanted a family? I knew! But he was supposed to die! He was the one who—”
“Oh, get over yourself already.” Baden tossed Aeron a see-what-I’ve-had-to-endure look. “Gods. You’re just as much of a bitch now as you were then.”
Silence. Panting. Her eyes narrowed on the redhead. “Feeling invincible now that you have a friend to protect you?”
“Hardly. I’m invincible either way.”
They continued to bicker, but Aeron tuned them out, his attention locked on part of Pandora’s impassioned speech. Finding the box, dimOuniak, would free them from this realm? Truth or lie, he didn’t know. What he did know? If he could escape, he could search for Olivia, as he’d wanted.
Would she be able to see him?
Yes or no, he didn’t care. He would be able to see her.
That box is mine.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
OLIVIA STOOD in front of the Heavenly High Council, life and death in their hands for the second time. For days she’d pleaded her case, refusing to give up or leave, but they’d continued to reject her, too satisfied with the outcome. Aeron was dead, as they’d wanted, and Legion returned to hell. Her home. Something Lysander hadn’t fully explained to Aeron.
She splayed her arms, her wings, and turned, letting them see her. All of her. Aeron’s blood had been cleaned from her robe, but not her hands. She hadn’t let her hands even graze the material. She wanted those in charge to see what they had wrought.
Her gaze locked with every member, perched as they were atop their thrones. They were beautiful, each of them. Strong and proud and pure. They felt justified. They felt exonerated. They did not flinch under her probing stare.
Do not waver. You are confident, aggressive. “By punishing him,” she called, “you have punished me. Eternally. I fell, yes, but you allowed me to return. I am once again like you. An angel. That means my soul is as pure as yours. Therefore I ask you—what have I done to earn such a punishment?”
At last, a murmur arose.
Hope bloomed once again.
“What do you mean?” one of the males asked her.
“Allowing you to return here was not meant to be a punishment, but a privilege.”
“I love Aeron. I cannot be happy without him.”
“You can,” one of the females said. “You just need time to—”
“No! No time. I deserve to be as joyful as I have made thousands of others, and I have told you what that will entail.”
This time, there were no murmurs. Only silence. Heavy silence. Defeating silence. Still she didn’t bow her head or apologize for her impudence. She wouldn’t back down. Not about this. If they would not give Aeron back to her, she would die with him.
He would not die alone.
Confident. “If you leave things as they are, a good man slain, you will be no better than the ones you protect the humans against.” They would be like the demons. She left that unsaid, but her meaning was clear.
“Good men are slain all the time, Olivia. That is the price of free will.” Another of the females, her tone softer now, bearing a hint of compassion.
Aggressive. “We punished Aeron for his choices. Why can’t we reward him, as well? For that is what truly sets us apart. Our compassion, our kindness. Our love. Love he himself has demonstrated to a humbling extent. He gave up his life for mine. Does that sacrifice not outweigh his crime? Has he not proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’s worthy of redemption?”
Murmurs again. And then, finally, a sigh.
“Perhaps something can be arranged….”
THE DAYS PASSED in quick succession, one fading into another. Aeron spent all of his time with Baden. They talked, laughed, cried and caught up, all the while dissecting possible locations for Pandora’s box. His determination to find that box was stronger than ever. Not to stop the Hunters—though that would be a wonderful bonus—but for Olivia.
He found that he didn’t need to sleep, and he didn’t need to eat. He merely existed in the endless white, his resolve unwavering.
So far, they’d developed a few good theories. The box was hidden in plain sight. Perhaps stored in a realm like this one, no one able to flash inside. Perhaps buried at the bottom of the sea. Who had taken it, though, and why, they still hadn’t figured out.
“I want to go back so badly,” Baden said as they walked through the mist. They did their best thinking this way. “Every so often, at random times, we’re given glimpses of life down there, but they’re never enough.”
“What have you seen?”
“A few of Sabin’s battles with Hunters before he moved to Budapest. Your fortress. The explosion that brought you all back together. Each of the women who’ve helped you. Lucien is a lucky bastard. His woman is my favorite.”
“You’d probably offer him condolences if you actually met Anya.”
Baden laughed. “A troublemaker, is she? But then, aren’t they all.” As his amusement faded, he slapped Aeron on the back. “I think I miss a woman’s softness most of all.”
Thinking of Hadiee? “Why did you do it?” Finally Aeron asked what he’d wondered for centuries. “Why did you allow the Hunters to take your head?”
His friend shrugged. “I was tired, so tired of constantly looking over my shoulder, suspicious about anything and everything. I’d even begun to doubt you.”
“Me?”
“All of you, really.” Baden sighed. “I hated it. I hated that I expected each of you to turn on me when I knew in my heart that it would never happen.”
“You’re right. We never would have hurt you.” They’d loved this man too fiercely. Despite his demon, Baden had been the one each man relied on. The one each man sought for guidance and support.
“And then the woman came,” his friend continued. “I suspected she was Bait, but what made it worse was that I hoped she was. So I did it. I escorted her home, let her seduce me, even though I knew the Hunters would show up. I was…relieved when they finally approached. I didn’t even fight them.”
Like he had ultimately refused to fight Lysander. “Are you happy with the way things ended?”
“To be honest, I don’t know. Pandora is all I have for amusement and as you saw, she isn’t very amusing.”
There was no denying that. “Speaking of Pandora, she seems to have disappeared. I’ve caught no glimpse of her since I first arrived.”
“That’s the way she works. She gives you a few days of peace, lulling you with a false sense of security, and then strikes. But enough of her. Why did you do it?” Baden asked, flicking him a glance. “Why did you allow yourself to be killed? And yes, I know you allowed yourself to die. You’re too good a soldier to have been taken any other way.”
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