by Nia Shay
"You don't believe it?" he muttered.
"No." Whatever the reason behind it, I couldn't accept that his growing emotional range signified any kind of loss. This was progress, not degeneration. I struggled to find to a way to express this to him when he turned again, seeming not to have heard my blurted denial.
"I'll dress for dinner now."
"You've got hours yet," I said, moving my legs out of his way as he headed for the stairs.
"Inconsequential."
"Zeph...." I bit my lip on my next words. I'd been about to call him back, to try and make him feel better about himself. Not exactly the way to make a clean break. I chalked it up to misplaced guilt, which would surely fade once he left. "Business casual," I called after him as he disappeared upstairs, though he probably wouldn't have a clue what that meant.
Twelve
"Thank you for your report, Agent Maxwell. Your request for reinstatement is denied."
Hermann Briggs was an unsmiling man under the best of circumstances, but as he faced us now, he looked positively dour. I'd met with the Austrian only once before, most of which had consisted of a thirty-minute tirade about the proper pronunciation of his name (Airrr-mahn) and the filthiness of American diction. After which, I'd privately dubbed him Airrr-mahn Munster, and hoped never to see him again.
So as luck would have it, he'd been chosen as our Society contact. And he seemed to have been grossly misinformed to boot. "With all due respect, Mein Herr--" I trilled the R's until the tip of my tongue began to go numb-- "I never asked to be reinstated."
By the drumming of his fingers on the tabletop, I could see my extra effort hadn't impressed him. "When you requested additional support for Zephylostrav...."
"HIM!" I interrupted, jabbing an impatient finger at Zeph, who looked up from his pasta in alarm.
Scowling, Briggs continued. "From the wording of your request, Father Markus believed you intended to resume your former duties. Given the nature of your release from his service, that request is categorically denied. If you wish to request assignment to another nephilim, feel free--however, don't expect too much. You were given a very generous settlement at the termination of your previous services. I cannot speak for my superiors, of course, but I believe they would consider this to be, how would you say? A done deal."
I'd sat through his monologue with what I hoped was a sickeningly sweet smile on my face. I cleared my throat before rebutting. "Listen real hard. I. Don't. Want. To be. Reinstated! I want you fools to clean up the mess you've made! What were you thinking, leaving Zeph without a Warden for over a year? He was a ticking time bomb the other night! Thank God he had the good sense to come looking for me instead of going on a rampage through--hey, where were you before you came looking for me, anyway?"
He'd had been staring at me wide-eyed from about the halfway point of my rant. He didn't answer my question. Instead, he said, "Father Markus made the right decision."
"Huh? About what?"
"Presumably about leaving him unwarded." Briggs set his fork down--he'd barely touched his food, anyway. "After the incident with Agent Simms, we were unwilling to risk another Warden to the job."
Guilt and humiliation radiated from Zeph in a palpable wave. "How is Ardith?" he asked softly.
Briggs flicked a glare at him, but looked steadily at me as he replied. "She has made an adequate physical recovery, though she still suffers from pain and delusions, and likely will for the rest of her life. She has refused any cosmetic surgery, saying what you did to her is beautiful and she never wants to forget it."
I swiveled fully around in my chair. "What did you do to her?"
He avoided my eyes, speaking toward his plate. "I told you."
"Not in enough detail, apparently."
"Does the Society's decision make more sense to you now?" Briggs condescended.
I took a long sip of my wine before answering. "No, actually. It seems even more like an asinine half-measure now than it did a minute ago."
"One we fully intend to rectify." He reached into his suit coat, pulling a thick envelope from an inner pocket. "The nephilim is to accompany me to our safe house in Prague, where his condition will be properly addressed. Enclosed you will find a passport and an airline ticket. I will meet you at International tomorrow evening."
At least, those were the words I thought I'd heard. Suddenly I could barely think as a bolt of remembered pain lanced through my upper body. Zeph's memory, but it felt so real I could hardly stay in my seat. My limbs twitched with the urge to fall on the floor and writhe. "Stop it!" I hissed at him from behind my napkin.
Despite his inner turmoil, Zeph faced Briggs calmly. "This is unacceptable," he said in mellifluous tones. My trembling body began to relax at the mere sound.
But Briggs just grunted, seemingly impervious to the magic of Zeph's voice. "It will be difficult to provide care for you if you refuse to follow instructions," he replied through clenched teeth.
"I won't leave Jandra unprotected."
"I assure you, Agent Maxwell is in no danger from anyone other than yourself."
"Hey!" I rasped. "There's no need to talk to him like that."
"There's no need for this conversation to continue at all." He stood abruptly, dropping a crisp hundred-dollar bill on the table. "You have your assignment, Agent Maxwell. I trust you will see to it no one comes to further harm. Good evening to you both."
"FYI, I don't work for you anymore, Hermykins!" I reminded him loudly as he walked away, ignoring the dirty looks from the other diners. Once he'd cleared the front door, I muttered to Zeph, "We need to talk."
He still wouldn't look at me. "Finish your meal."
As much as my appetite wanted to lose itself, it would've been a damn shame to leave a mostly full plate of chicken marsala behind. Especially since the Society had already picked up the check. I wolfed down a few more bites, meanwhile draining the remaining wine from the chilled carafe. The latter turned out to be a bad decision--by the time we stood up to leave the restaurant, I felt a bit unsteady on my feet. Zeph took my arm and guided me through the parking lot without comment.
"Thanks," I muttered as he deposited me against the back bumper of my car.
He held out a hand. "Your keys. You are intoxicated."
"Am not," I groused, fishing in the bottom of my purse. "Do you even remember how to drive?" I added. I'd had to teach him twice in the time I'd known him.
"I'll manage."
"Wait." I kept my grip on the keychain as he went to take it from me. "I need to ask you something before I go anywhere with you." He literally cringed, but didn't refuse to answer. So I asked, "How old is Ardith Simms?"
His dark brows lifted in surprise. Clearly he'd been expecting the more obvious question. "It's been over a year since I saw her last. I suppose by now she would be thirty-five."
Relief flooded through me, followed by guilt. The poor woman's injuries were no less tragic just because she wasn't a child, as I had been when I'd entered Zeph's service. But I couldn't help seeing myself in her place, scarred and insane and not yet old enough to drive.
A similar level of disquiet showed on his face, but he didn't bring it up. Instead, he gestured me toward the car. "I'll see you safely home, Jandra."
"I know you will." I sighed as I slid into the passenger seat. It was still pushed back all the way from the other night, and I groped under the seat for the adjustment lever. I felt like a little kid with my legs dangling in all that extra space.
"Open your mind to me."
I looked up, startled by Zeph's sudden command. The tone of his voice touched an instinctive switch in my alcohol-softened brain, and I obeyed without resistance. He sucked in a harsh breath as our thoughts merged. I felt his mind in turn, realizing he'd only wanted to tap into my knowledge of roadway etiquette.
"Don't do that to me again," I grumbled.
"I won't." He put the car in gear and swung confidently out of the parking space.
I stayed quie
t and allowed him to concentrate, watching as the city slipped by outside the windows. Clouds had gathered in the evening sky, blotting out fledgling stars and threatening rain, but the streets were alive nonetheless. Shoppers hustled past cars in a deadly game of chance, as if they were all perfectly aware of the briefness of their lives. But the rhythm of their thoughts sang a different song, one of frantic need and desires unfulfilled. A strange dichotomy--I'd never understood it, anyway. I hunched up in my seat, pierced by a sudden loneliness.
I suppose I must have dozed off. It seemed like no time at all before we were slowing to a stop in my driveway. Sitting up, I blinked at Zeph, who gave me a brief, searching look before shutting off the ignition. He slipped out of the driver's seat and circled around the front to open my door for me.
"Thanks." I accepted his hand as I stood. I wobbled a bit in my heels, a testament to how rarely I drank. When I touched him, I noticed he'd cut himself off from me. His presence in my mind was a humming blank. In hindsight, it had been since we'd left the restaurant. I frowned. "What are you hiding from me?"
"Nothing."
I snickered. "What, you just want to be alone?"
"Don't concern yourself," he replied gruffly.
"It is my concern," I argued as I trailed after him. "We have to figure out what to do next. You're not going with Briggs, obviously...."
He glanced over his shoulder at me. "Why shouldn't I?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because he's got a big fat ulterior motive? And why didn't your voice affect him, by the way?"
He turned away, unlocking the front door and ushering me inside before he answered. "It did affect him. But Briggs is a soldier, well trained in the art of resistance. And I was...somewhat distracted at the time."
"Remembering something painful?" I shuddered as I recalled the shared sensation.
He nodded slowly. "I had what you would call a 'spontaneous recollection' from my last visit to a Society safe house."
"What?" But it came clear to me as soon as I asked. I'd felt it, too. His scars...I laid my hands on his back without thinking, my fingertips seeking the roughened grooves through the fine silk of his shirt. "They're the ones who took your wings?" I whispered. "Oh, my God."
He froze at my touch. "I can but hope God had nothing to do with it."
Words failed me. I just stood there gasping, a prelude to tears. Zeph glared over his shoulder, his eyes hard and black as jet. "Stop it, Jandra."
"But...."
"It will be for the best." He turned back toward the stairs. "Sleep well."
"What the hell?" I seized his wrist. "Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you!"
He dragged me along for several steps before finally stopping, giving me a sidelong look. "I must walk away from you in the end, mustn't I?"
"Not like this! Not if it means putting you in the hands of psycho zealots who want to torture you!"
"Briggs doesn't intend to torture me." Now he faced me fully, his expression bleak. "He intends to see me dead."
Thirteen
"Jandra?" Zeph's voice sounded hollow as it drifted through the bathroom door. "Are you well?"
I was, in fact, not well. Upon realizing Zeph planned to commit honorable suicide, my stomach had plummeted, then exploded. So much for the chicken marsala. Panting in the wake of my heave session, I clawed the door open and pinned him with an icy glare. "You are not going with Briggs."
"It's not open for discussion. Come, let me help you into bed."
"I'm not going to bed, and you're not going to Prague. As you said, end of discussion."
He regarded me with a beautifully, blissfully blank expression. "Why does this upset you so, Jandra? You have wished for my death many times."
"I said I was going to kill you. Me. Not somebody else. And...I didn't really mean it, okay?"
"No?" He tilted his head. "I don't understand."
"Of course you don't." I sagged drunkenly against his chest. He'd discarded his shirt at some point, and I let out an involuntary sigh at the warmth of his skin against my cheek. "I wanted to hurt you because you hurt me, stupid."
"That was never my inten...."
"Just shut up and listen, Zeph. You don't understand because you don't really know what pain is. You may have felt it, but you forget what it's like when it goes away. My pain hasn't gone away, not in all this time we've been apart. I buried it, but I couldn't forget."
"Nor could I," he breathed. "I am certain now. It wasn't the dreams that changed me, Jandra. It was you."
"Great." I dashed away the tears forming in the corners of my eyes. "And now you want to die because of it."
"No. The fault is my own." He stepped back, his hands lingering on my shoulders until I stood up straight. He sighed heavily. "It's still the right thing to do."
"What're you talking about? What's your fault?"
"I saw. In your mind." He touched my hair gently, a sad smile on his lips. "When you look at me, you see a monster. I don't think I can bear to see myself reflected in your eyes that way."
"Again, what are you talking about?"
"You know."
I thought about it for a moment, and.... Oh, hell. He must have glimpsed my fearful imaginings when he'd connected our minds in the parking lot. So he'd based this whole decision on one of the most immature, nonsensical reactions I'd ever had in my life. "Damn it!" I shrieked, shoving him away from me. He hit the opposite wall with a surprised grunt. "Why do you always think you know how I feel?"
"What am I to think, Jandra?" His shoulders hunched as if the impact had actually hurt him. "I saw your horror, your revulsion. You've told me countless times that you despise me...."
"That doesn't mean I want you to die, idiot!"
"Then what does it mean?"
"I don't know!" I paused, panting as I stared him down. "I guess it means I still want you to be who I thought you were," I added in a more subdued tone. "Pretty pathetic, huh?"
He hung his head. "You are ashamed of me."
"Sometimes, yeah. But things can't get any better if you're dead." The word seemed to stick in my throat, making it draw painfully tight. "Don't do this, Zeph. Don't put your blood on my hands."
"Are you...crying?"
"No." I covered my face. "No."
He moved close again--I could feel his body heat warm the air around me. "Let me hold you, Jandra," he whispered.
I didn't have the strength to deny myself the comfort he offered. Choking on a sob, I fell into his arms. "Don't go." I moaned the words against his biceps.
He stood silent for a long moment before replying. "If I don't meet with Briggs tomorrow, he'll likely send the authorities after me. I've been in violation of the law since I left my home. And I suppose I still am, since you're no longer my Warden. I would have to go into hiding."
"Fine, then that's what we'll do." I looked up at him, wiping tears from my cheeks. "There's got to be someone who'll help us."
"You said...us?" His eyes widened.
"Yeah, well. Don't read too much into it." I laughed convulsively. "Your head is still a mess, and we haven't figured out why yet. You can't just go running off by yourself. You need me."
His breath eased out in a soft hiss. "I always have."
Reaching up, he traced the curve of my cheek with his fingertips. I didn't resist as he tilted my chin up. I didn't turn from him as he leaned in. And as our lips met, my defenses shattered like thin glass. Suddenly he was inside me, and I inside him, our hearts and minds mingling freely. I felt his surprise and wonderment echo my own. His arms went tighter around me, crushing me against his chest as he deepened our kiss. His tongue nudged at my lips and I opened to him, eliciting a growl from deep in his throat.
I made an eager noise of my own as I clung to his shoulders, awash in the heat of passion. I hardly noticed when he slid an arm under my butt and lifted me. His grunt of frustration startled me back to awareness a moment later.
Opening one eye, I saw he'd carried me to my b
edroom door. I'd closed it earlier, and his first instinct had been to kick it out of his way. Fortunately he'd known better, but he had no desire to take a hand off me to open it.
I didn't want to let go of him, either. I had to force my fingers away from the smooth, muscled curve of his shoulder. Reaching awkwardly behind myself, I finally managed to twist the knob. Zeph darted through, using his elbow to push the door open. The only light came from the fire of his eyes, bathing the room in amethyst brilliance.
I turned a hazy smile up at him as he laid me on the bed. "Zeph," I whispered, grasping at him. He stayed still, poised above me with one knee on the mattress. His shoulders heaved with deep, ragged breaths. When I reached for him again, he pinned my hands down on either side of my head. I squirmed. "What's the matter?"
He didn't speak, but suddenly I could feel it. Joined as we were, the balance of energy had begun to shift between us. It was only natural--it was innate for me to draw from him. I'd just been too distracted to realize I'd been doing it. In the void I'd left inside him, I could sense a growing hunger.
Damn it, it was too soon for that. But I'd passed the point of caring. "Don't stop," I begged.
"I must." Desire deepened his voice so I could barely understand him. "You won't be safe."
"I'm fine." Or I would be, once he got the hell down here and kissed me again. Frustrated, I bucked against his restraining hands, getting absolutely nowhere. "Zeph, please...!"
Shuddering, he squeezed his eyes shut. The room plunged into darkness. "Be still."
Those two short words seemed to hang between us forever and a moment, soaring and twining into infinite melodies. I froze, fascinated in spite of myself by the full power of his voice--the power I'd fled from in terror, once upon a time. Now that I knew it again, my fear seemed ludicrous. It didn't even matter that he'd told me I couldn't have what I wanted. It only made me want it all the more.
By the time I could think clearly again, I lay alone on the mattress. Zeph had retreated to the doorway. "I'm...sorry," he grunted between shallow breaths.
