by Nia Shay
"Nooooo," she moaned, bursting into tears. Cara followed suit, slumping against me and bawling.
Perfect. Just fucking perfect.
*****
It took a full ten minutes to deposit both girls somewhat safely behind the counter with promises that the pretty man would come back soon. Still, they clung to each other and sniffled, mascara running down their faces in dark rivulets. Not quite a full thermonuclear meltdown, but way too damn close.
Though the mall wouldn't close for another half hour, I took a moment before leaving them to pull the grate across the entrance and lock it. It was all too evident something funny was going on in here, and the chance of a few late shoppers just wouldn't be worth the hassle of questions. Sighing, I gathered my resolve and made my way back to the office, belatedly noticing the music still played on. Hell.
Zeph had left the door open, the idiot, and had perched on the edge of my desk. His long legs easily reached the floor, crossed at the ankles in a parody of nonchalance, but I could feel his agitation like static electricity on my skin. His mouth drew tight as he regarded me. "Dark angel. I hate that term."
"Well, it got the point across. I doubt the word 'nephilim' is on the SATs."
"I don't much care for that one, either."
I threw up my hands in frustration. "So, what? You're not mad at me for outing you, just that I didn't do it right?"
"I'm hardly in a position to judge anyone's adherence to the rules, am I?" His voice held an edge of bitterness as he pushed off the desk and rose to his full height with fluid grace.
"Well, at least you realize that now." In spite of myself, I fell back a step as he loomed over me. "You must not be indulging in much arrogance these days."
His brows lowered in a scowl. "I repeat, I haven't siphoned anything from anyone."
"Oh, no? Then why so animated? Whose emotions are those, Zeph?"
"I don't know." His dark eyes flashed bright for an instant, revealing their true color--not black or brown, but a deep, deep amethyst. "It would seem they're my own, but I don't understand how or why. That's what I need you to tell me."
"What?" I turned away from him, slamming my fists against my thighs. "How can you even ask me that?"
"Because no one has ever known me the way you do--Jade, is it now?" His hand landed on my shoulder, making me flinch. "You're the only one who can help me."
I sniffled, horrified by the prickle of tears in my eyes. "Sell it to someone else."
"I can't. I need you." He stepped close enough I felt his warmth against my back--and damn it all, I stood there and let him do it. "I realize I handled things badly between us," he murmured, his voice deep and resonant, compelling. "But don't you care about me anymore?"
"Stop it!" I spoke through clenched teeth. "If you force me into anything, I'll hate you even more than I already do."
He sighed heavily. "You were right, you know. I was assigned another Warden, not long after you left me."
"And?" I prompted into the long silence that followed.
His grip tightened on my shoulder. "And I nearly killed her within a month."
"You what?" I whipped my head around to goggle at him.
"I've been alone ever since," he went on, as if he hadn't even heard me. "I think I have, anyway. I can't remember much of what I've been doing lately. Until one day last week, after I woke from a nightmare."
"You were dreaming?" I looked askance at him, intrigued in spite of myself. "About what?"
"I can't recall." He drew a harsh breath, stirring the hair beside my ear with his exhalation. "Something awful."
A spasm twisted my chest at the note of despair in his voice. Damn it, he was getting to me, too, and he wasn't even trying hard. I pulled away and rounded on him, struggling for anger to clear my head. "Zeph...."
"Help me, Jandra." He caught up my hands in his and held them tightly. "Do you want me on my knees again? Do you want to hurt me some more? I don't care. Just please, promise you'll take me."
"Oh, I'm going to," I growled, "but only because innocent lives are in danger, thanks to you and your selfishness. And I'll only take enough to get you out of here safely. Once you hit the parking lot, you're on your own."
"And then what? Where else can I turn?"
"I know it's been said before, but frankly my dear, I don't give a damn."
"You can't mean that."
I made a futile attempt to yank my hands free. "Get it through your skull. You're not my problem anymore."
"You don't think so?" He cocked his head to one side, eyes narrowed. "Because of you, I knew my own mind for the first time I can recall. You gave me the only peace I've ever known, and then you took it away."
"Because you thanked me by taking away my choices! Or did you conveniently forget that part?"
"No. I haven't forgotten a thing about us." He sighed, his gaze dropped to our joined hands. "Sometimes those days are all I can remember."
"Oh, stop your whining. Let's get this over with." I wrenched my right hand free of his grip and slapped my palm flat against the center of his chest.
Anger and bravado made me hasty as I opened a channel between us. There's no way to describe the trick. I just switched my mindset from "pissed" to "receptive"--or maybe "pissed but receptive." Then that dizzying array of feelings I'd seen on his face earlier came spilling into me, like a thread unraveling from a tapestry.
The first rush hit me like a physical blow, blazing down the synaptic pathways that had once connected us. Our neglected psychic channel burst open again, like an old wound tearing through scar tissue to bleed fresh. With the pain came the deafening roar of every human mind for miles around us. Shuddering, I bit back a scream.
A blur of flashbulb images exploded before my mind's eye--Zeph's memories, broken and garbled as they were. I glimpsed an ancient building, a volcano in eruption, a monarch butterfly. A view of the sun that would've been painful to perceive firsthand. Myself, curled up asleep in an armchair. I shied away from that image, fearful of my place in his memories.
Somehow, in exerting that bit of control, I managed to stem the tide of his visions, and my physical eyes began to function again. I found myself staring up at him--I'd fallen forward against his chest.
"Why did you do that?" he whispered. Surprise still colored his features, suggesting my brain had been exploding for only a few seconds.
I shrugged, though I regretted it when I felt my shoulders quake with like an old woman's. "Did I hurt you?" I asked.
"No."
"Then shut up. And relax."
He obeyed, drawing me closer against his body than I cared for, but I didn't waste time arguing about it. His big hands bracketed my hips, anchoring me. Once I felt secure, I closed my eyes and sorted through the pool of our shared consciousness. Beyond perception, past thought and emotion, to the source behind it all--the elusive substance that is the life in a body, what some call the soul. I sensed immediately at least part of what ailed him. He felt like an overcharged battery, hot and electric and deadly.
"Damn. You're a mess."
"I'm aware of that," came his sullen response.
I couldn't quite squelch a whisper of pity. "It's all right, Zeph. I'm ready if you are."
His grip on me tightened. "Do it."
Again, I can't describe what I did to draw that wild energy from him. Natural aptitude fostered by years of training as a Warden made the act second nature to me. I allowed the power to flow between us and it came in a torrent, racing through my body like liquid fire. This time I couldn't hold back a cry. His voice mingled with mine, and I knew his beautiful face would be pinched and pale with the pain.
When I could no longer stand it, I forced my hand to fist against his chest and pulled it away. The simple motion required so much force I'd have flown backward if not for his hold on me. Thankfully, though, with the contact broken, the pain cut off like a switch.
I sagged against him, weak and gasping in the aftermath. "Any...better?"
/> "I am well," he replied in an annoyingly steady voice. "And you?"
"No worse than usual." I mentally scolded myself for every time I'd complained about the headaches of managing Dissonance, especially the ones that had included the words I hate my job. How quickly I'd let myself forget I'd had far worse gigs. "Sound and fury," I murmured aloud.
"Pardon?"
I didn't repeat it, and he probably wouldn't have understood even if I had. Ever since I'd read that phrase in Macbeth I'd always associated it with this feeling. It was one thing to be selectively psychic--at least the only thoughts I usually heard were Zeph's. But when he and I were truly joined, not just in body or mind but the very essence of our beings, I got a taste of what it was really like to be half angel. And I hated it. I couldn't fathom how to cope with hearing the thoughts and prayers of half the damn city. Except by dissociating large portions of my personality, like he had. Zeph's mind could be a scary place.
"Jandra? Are you sure you're all right?"
I forced my attention back to the matter at hand. "I told you, yes."
That seemed to satisfy him. At least he didn't argue with me anymore. His fingertips brushed the side of my face. "Thank you."
"Whatever." I raised bleary eyes just in time to see his mouth descending on mine.
Our lips met before I could stop him, and once I felt his warmth, I couldn't quite bring myself to try. I ended up moaning into his mouth instead of pulling away. Encouraged, he brushed his tongue across my lower lip, his hands stroking upward over my belly.
My body remembered this--his embrace, his touch. As I arched my back in unbidden reaction, he cupped my breasts, his long fingers splayed and caressing. I gasped, feeling his surge of fierce enjoyment as the pleasure he wrought in my body echoed through his own. Which was just the reminder I needed. I wrenched away from him, hissing, "You are not allowed to touch me that way!"
"I can't help it." Zeph's eyes were violet fire. "When you feel me and I feel you...how am I to resist?"
"Here's a suggestion. How about going away and leaving me alone for the rest of my life? Wasn't that the plan?"
He sighed, his gaze going distant. "I released you because you begged it of me, Jandra, not because I desired it. Your pain was crushing us, and you couldn't seem to heal while you were with me. But now you're whole again, and strong."
"So you've come to break me all over again?" I accused.
"I've no intention of hurting you." He reached for me, but I evaded him. Instead, he pinned me with his gaze as he spoke his greatest lie. "I love you, Jandra."
"No you don't!" I shrieked, balling up a fist and darting forward to punch him in the chest. "You don't love anyone or anything. You are not capable of it!"
"Perhaps that's true." He enfolded my fist in one large hand. "Or perhaps your love has changed me."
The tears came as hot and fast as the resonance of his soul had, and they burned just as deeply. "I never loved you."
He said nothing, merely released me and retreated to the doorway while I wept. As my sobs faded into racking gasps, he cast me a baleful look. "Yet I am the one reviled as a thief of souls."
Three
We emerged from the office some fifteen minutes later, once I'd regained my composure. Fifteen wasn't bad considering the wellspring of energy I'd drawn from Zeph. I'd managed to dispel a bit through my outburst, though I could still feel the raw power churning just beneath the surface of my skin. It made me edgy and moody--a familiar feeling, but not one I relished.
In the heat of our encounter, I'd completely forgotten about the twins. I'd locked them in, of course, so they couldn't very well have left. So much for my plan of a clean getaway. I sighed as they perked up at our approach like a pair of curious puppies. Schooling my expression to nonchalance, I asked, "Did you girls clock out already? I'll unlock the door in a sec."
"Oh, hell no!" Sara squawked, and Cara growled, "We want answers." They emerged from behind the counter as one, Sara angling toward me as Cara advanced on Zeph.
"What's wrong with your eyes?" Sara asked. "They look weird."
They probably did, puffiness notwithstanding. After a transfer of that magnitude, they likely looked almost colorless. I hedged, wondering how to explain it to her, but she'd already looked past me. "And you...what did you do to us before? That was like the baddest of bad trips."
"I apologize," Zeph replied carefully. "Are you feeling better now?"
Cara nodded as she stood toe to toe with him, sizing him up. "Hmm. You're pretty tall, but aren't nephilim supposed to be giants? Like twenty, thirty feet tall?"
"Shut up, Zeph," I snapped as he raised an eyebrow in my direction. To the twins, I added, "I didn't realize you two were so well informed on the topic."
Cara snorted. "Don't look so surprised. It was all over the news a few years back when that dark angel from Israel immigrated to the States. We just didn't know what they looked like, since he wouldn't let the reporters show him on camera."
"As for the book smarts," Sara added, "we were raised Catholic."
"Seriously? I can't imagine."
She giggled. "Believe it. It was pretty scary."
"I'll just bet." I had to laugh at the mental image of the twin terrors in pleated skirts and knee socks. "I guess that explains the rebellious phase, huh?"
"No. Not really." Cara turned serious eyes on me. "We could just as easily have been raised Buddhist, or Muslim, or Satanist. What our parents believe doesn't dictate who we are or what we think."
"True enough. Well, I s'pose I do owe you introductions. Zeph, these are the Wheeler twins. This is Sara, and that's Cara."
The latter stomped her foot. "Damn it, how can you always tell us apart?"
"What's the big deal?" I asked for the hundredth time. "I thought twins hated being mixed up."
"Well, yeah, but life should have a few mysteries, shouldn't it?"
"Your souls look quite different," Zeph explained, his voice soft.
"Okaaaay, there's a mystery for you." Sara arched an eyebrow. "Can you see our souls too, Jade?"
"Souls," I scoffed, drawing a small noise of disapproval from Zeph. "I prefer the word 'azoth.' It sounds way cooler."
Cara frowned. "What's azoth?"
"It's an old term from alchemy, for the animating principle--whatever it is that makes you a moving, thinking person instead of just a pile of bones and organs. Some people call it chi, or sa, or kundalini. Some call it an aura or a soul. And yes, you and Cara have different vibrations. It's not a visual thing. At least not for me."
"What about you?" Sara asked Zeph.
"Yeah, what about you?" Cara went back to eyeballing him. "We never did get your name, by the way."
He inclined his head in greeting. "I am Zephylostravakan...."
"And you'll call him Zeph," I interrupted, "because the whole thing is like twenty syllables long."
"Only twelve, I believe."
"Whatever!" I rolled my eyes at him. "Since we've all made nice now, I need to get Zeph out of here. I'd still rather not risk having him around all these people."
"Mall's closed now, boss." Cara shrugged. "All that's left are the assholes who brighten our workdays with their smiles."
"He's dangerous, huh?" Sara looked doubtful. "How so?"
"Did you really just ask me that? You, who was acting like the PMS Prom Queen just half an hour ago?" I jabbed an accusing finger at Zeph. "It's because of him. 'Unwarded dark angel' equals 'walking insanity factory.' He's lucky he didn't start a riot on his way in here."
He looked askance at me. "I am somewhat aware of my limitations."
"Oh, was that sarcasm?"
"Besides, he's warded now, isn't he?" Cara looked back and forth between us. "You took care of him in the office, right?"
Sara snorted. "God, that sounds filthy."
I glared at them each in turn. "He'll be all right for a while, but I don't know for how long."
"We have time to talk." He flashed a small smile. Clear
ly, my fondness for the girls had infected him. "They're already aware, Jade. They may as well be informed."
I rolled my eyes at him. "You don't have to call me Jade, stupid. It's just a nickname."
"'Cause she's soooo jaded." Sara giggled.
"Oh, who cares what her name is? We want to be informed!" Cara aped Zeph's sober tone, though she practically danced with impatience.
"All right. Sit down, all of you." I directed them to circle on the carpet like a group of preschoolers before running to grab some sodas from the mini-fridge in my office. Zeph declined his, but once the twins and I were fortified with sugar and caffeine, I began to tell the tale.
"Well, the dark angel who immigrated here isn't the only one on American soil, obviously. You just don't hear about them very often. And most of what you do know is misinformation."
"Of course," Cara grumbled. "Those government bastards cover up all the cool stuff."
I shrugged. "It isn't a cover-up per se. As a matter of fact, there's a federal law on the books stating that a dark angel is subject to prison time if he's active in society without a Warden." I shot a meaningful look at Zeph.
He merely said, "Can you please stop with the offensive terminology?"
"Pardon me--Watchers may not be active in society without a Warden. Anyway, that law is a matter of public record. And since you two seem to know a bit about Wardens, I wouldn't say any of this is really hidden. Like I said before, it's just not talked about very often."
"What exactly does a Warden do?" Sara asked. "How did you get to be one, anyway?"
"It's genetic, or so we assume. If you look at the Biblical description of nephilim, which is the definition that's popularly accepted--and inaccurate," I added before Zeph had a chance, "you'll see they were the sons of fallen angels and human women. There's no mention of any daughters born between them, though. That's because we weren't so outwardly different."
"'We?'" Both twins goggled. Cara added, "So you mean you're just like him?"
"Well, no one knows for sure. I shouldn't have said it that way. It's assumed those of us who have the talent to ward are descended from the same gene pool. Wardens are always female--you probably already knew that, huh? Watchers, of course, are always male.
