All That Falls

by Kimberly Frost

  “Here’s the flash drive that was around Troy’s neck,” Cerise said. “I plugged it in to one of Alissa’s laptops at the house, but as expected, it’s encrypted.” She slid the drive across to Merrick. “Lysander thought you might be able to get into it.” Merrick took it without comment. Alissa picked up the bird sketch, bringing it close to her face for examination. Merrick’s nostrils flared and his hand shot out, pulling the paper away from her.

  Alissa looked up through loose blonde waves and raised her brows in question.

  Merrick glanced at the sketch, folded it, and passed it to Lysander. “When you wash your hands, sweetheart, add a few drops of bleach to the soap.”

  “Now?”

  “Now.”

  “What was on that sketch?” she asked, rising.

  “Demon ash.”

  Alissa frowned, but said nothing as she went to the kitchen.

  “You can hardly expect to keep her out of things when she’s living here,” Lysander said, breaking off a hunk of bread and spreading some goat cheese on it.

  “Try and keep up, Lyse,” Merrick said mildly. “We already discussed the fact that demon-hunting’s best left to the professionals.”

  “Even so, she’s in this. You married her.”

  “Doctors marry lawyers. Lawyers don’t moonlight in the operating room, and doctors don’t try cases. Alissa’s working to inspire a breakthrough that could make taking the salt out of ocean water feasible. I couldn’t help a scientist with that and neither could you. Like us, she’s got rare skills. I leave her to her work, and she leaves me to mine.”

  Finishing off the milk, Lysander said mildly, “Scientists are unlikely to attack the penthouse.”

  “Neither are demons if we take the fight to them.”

  Alissa returned to her seat. She leaned back, resting her shoulders against Merrick’s arm, which was stretched out on the back of the couch. She folded her hands on her lap.

  They’re certainly cozy, presenting a united front.

  “So Merrick, you’ll see what you can discover about Ileana Rella’s current whereabouts?” Lysander asked.

  Merrick nodded.

  “I’m going to put Cerise through some training exercises. Afterward, we’ll rest if she needs it, then we’ll see if we can locate Tamberi Jacobi. That female ventala seems to be at the center of the demon-raising activities and needs to be dealt with,” Lysander said, breaking off more bread.

  “You think it’s a good idea to parade a muse and her magical blood through the Varden when Tamberi’s bent on vengeance? Why don’t you search alone and leave Alissa’s friend here?”

  Lysander chewed and swallowed. “Cerise stays with me. My claim to her trumps all others, including Alissa’s.”

  “Which one of you was in the tree again?” Merrick asked.

  “Exactly,” Cerise said dryly. “The arrangement seems a bit off, doesn’t it?”

  Lysander swallowed, unperturbed. “The last time I had a lover and let her out of my sight, Reziel murdered her. Felice left me because we weren’t the right match, and I didn’t pursue her.” He shook his head. “She was alone, but she was nephilim. She should’ve been able to recognize Reziel for a demon and should’ve had a chance of defending herself from his attack.” Lysander shook his head again, his features turning granite hard. “Things were done. No part of her was spared. When he finished, he displayed her broken body.” He clenched his jaw.

  “When I caught up to him, I made him sorry. I showed him what it feels like to be beaten without mercy.” Lysander exhaled slowly. “Even now that fight’s darkness is slime on my soul. He earned my wrath and felt it, but I know him. Living underworld has twisted him. He’d kill again and do worse to spite me. Especially if he finds a woman whose company suits me hand in glove, the way his used to before we fell. His jealousy will be as black as charred earth. Reziel’s not risen now and doesn’t take the flesh lightly, but I’m sure rising is what he intends. Am I likely to leave a woman I’m responsible for undefended? No. Never.”

  “Undefended? I suggested you leave her here.”

  “Reziel’s many ranks higher than the demons you’ve fought, Merrick. You’re a credit to your training, and I’d give you decent odds against anyone, but killing demons is never a simple thing, and I wouldn’t trust you to protect Cerise before the other muse in this apartment. Reziel would spot that weakness in an instant. Cerise stays with me.” He glanced at her for signs of protest.

  Cerise studied him, the slant of his cheekbones, the slashing scars, the set of his jaw. “I enjoy arguing, Lysander, but you haven’t really left me an opening. Reziel’s been mucking about in my world, and I want that to end as much as you do. You’re interested in keeping me alive; I’m interested in staying alive. What’s there to fight about?”

  “Wise beyond your years,” Lysander said, his shoulders relaxing. “Also, you couldn’t desert me yet even if your life weren’t at stake.” He rose and collected his dishes.

  “Why’s that?” she asked.

  He set the dishes in the sink and turned, scorching her with a look. “You owe me a reward for my earlier restraint.”

  She smiled.

  Lysander turned to Alissa, skinning the sweater from his chest and setting it on the coffee table. “I borrowed one of Richard’s sweaters and a jacket. They couldn’t stretch as far as I needed, so I damaged them. I’ll pay for replacements.”

  “Not necessary. But speaking of that, I have something for you,” Alissa said, rising and proceeding to a nearby closet.

  Merrick was next to her in an instant. He opened the closet door. “I’ve got it.”

  Alissa turned as Merrick set a couple of large shopping bags on the couch. “Let’s see,” Alissa said, digging through the first bag. “There’s this,” she said, holding out a knit shirt to Lysander.

  Cerise looked at the hanging straps and said, “What is that?” Cerise took it and examined it. The chest and sleeves were a black knit stretch fabric, but there was no back. There were suspenderlike straps hooked at the neck and waist horizontally.

  “It’s backless. Because of your wings, you’re often shirtless, but in the winter it’s freezing. I had Merrick’s tailor make this as an experiment. I also designed a coat that has a back panel with a cord. You pull it and the back will pop open. I know normally you just wrap yourself in blankets and sit by the fire when you arrive somewhere, but even in spring your skin’s incredibly cold after flying.”

  Cerise looked at Lysander, who was staring at Alissa. “Warmth is a true gift to a fallen angel. Did you know it’s part of what we lost? When a portal opens, many demons try to rush through, but the opening is too small. Only the lesser ones can escape into the world. And the reason they’re all in such a frenzy is the earth’s heat. They’d tear each other to pieces to enter the world of men because when they’re flesh, they feel warmer and closer to heaven. The chill, it’s the ache that never ends.”

  He pulled the sleeves onto his arms. “That’s part of the reason, besides the natural male instinct, that we feel compelled to make love to human beings. You’re warm.”

  “The fallen are always cool-skinned?” Cerise asked, realization dawning.

  “Yes, and the damned are like ice inside. Hence the rumored fires in hell. No matter how intense the heat, it’s never quite enough.” Lysander tried on the one-sided shirt, pulling the straps to tighten them, then moving experimentally. “The fabric yields well to movement. It’s a brilliant design.” Lysander took Alissa’s hand and kissed it. “You honor me with your thoughtfulness. Thank you.”

  She smiled. “I’m glad you like it. I was thinking maybe goose down for the coat, but that might be too bulky. We’ll see.”

  “What else is in the bag?”

  “More of these shirts and some pants. Denim and leather. You left a worn pair in the guest room, so I gave them to the tailor to copy.”

  “Very nice.” Lysander glanced at Merrick’s dubious expression and smiled. “Merric
k’s offered me the use of his tailor a hundred times.”

  “I know you haven’t taken him up on it, but isn’t that because you like to keep your circle of acquaintances small? You don’t like meeting new people.”

  “Exactly.”

  Alissa shrugged. “This way you don’t need to. We can take care of it. It’s no problem.”

  “That suits me. Thank you.” He turned to Merrick. “I concede that sometimes it’s convenient for you to have a wife.”

  “I still don’t care what you think,” Merrick said.

  Lysander rolled his eyes. “Alissa and Richard understood my reservations. You almost got yourself killed on their account.”

  “And would do it again.”

  “Which involves me since you have an obligation to fulfill.”

  “One doesn’t exclude the other. You still intend to fulfill the prophecy, don’t you?”

  “Of course!”

  “But you’ve taken on the responsibility of Cerise’s safety.”

  “I have, but that’s different.”

  “Is it?”

  “Of course. I didn’t have a choice. She’s been forced on me by circumstance.”

  Stung by his admission, Cerise took a step back.

  Merrick shook his head at her as if to reassure her. “Yeah, by the circumstance of you flying into the Etherlin with your blood gushing out of your back, so there was no way for her to avoid it.”

  “I didn’t intend for her to find me alive. I only planned to leave her my knife.”

  “Sure, you did.”

  Lysander scowled. “You accuse me of lying to you?”

  “I accuse you of lying to yourself.”

  Lysander waved him off impatiently. “Speaking of knives forged in archangel blood, Cerise needs one. I can’t get to my own home while my wing is still healing. Give her one of the daggers I gave you until I can replace it.”

  “We can use the gym for her training,” Merrick said.

  “Just give her the dagger. Her training is my concern.”

  Merrick smiled. “So it’s okay for you to share my wife, but you’re going to keep Cerise all to yourself, huh?”

  “Now you see the way of it,” Lysander said coolly as he walked to the door.

  The corner of Merrick’s mouth curved higher as Lysander stepped outside. “Yeah,” Merrick murmured, “it was all forced on you by circumstance.” Merrick winked at Cerise and said, “Come on, beautiful. Let’s get you a knife.”

  Chapter 20

  Dressed in black stretch pants that molded to her lower body and a white V-neck Hanes T-shirt that was as transparent as tissue paper over her lace bra, Cerise stood in the middle of a mat, dagger in hand, and waited. Lysander studied her with a predatory look in his eyes.

  A headband held the hair back from her face, and she studied him with an intent expression.

  “If you can cut me three times before you’re too exhausted to fight, I’ll consider the session a success,” he said. “Stretch and tell me when you’re ready.”

  She waved the tip of the dagger toward herself in a “bring it on” motion.

  He smiled. “You don’t want to stretch?”

  “I stretched when I changed clothes. Come on.”

  In the next hour, she landed on the mat so many times, she thought her rattled brain might ooze out her ears. He showed her moves and maneuvers that she would never have dreamed a human body could manage and yet she did. She cut him four times in all before she was too spent to stand.

  “Good, Cerise. Very good,” he said, taking the dagger from her limp grip and setting it aside. He sat next to her on the mat and rubbed her hands, working the tension from her fingers. He bent forward and took her leg, rubbing the muscles then lengthening them in a series of slow stretches. Gastrocs, hamstrings, and gluts. She gave no resistance when he rolled her onto her stomach. She sighed as he drew her shoulders back, stretching her shoulders and pecs. Then he worked her back, easing the strain, massaging in slow firm circles till she felt about as solid as a bowl of warm pudding.

  “I’m going to sleep here,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

  She woke later when he moved her.

  “I’m up,” she mumbled, pulling loose of his grip and running a hand through her hair as she rose. “Any idea what time it is?” she asked.

  He glanced at the window. “Early morning. Three or four.”

  She nodded, rubbing her arms where the salt of dried sweat tattooed her skin. “I need a shower and a strong cup of coffee.” She walked to the table where her cell phone rested. There was a signal.

  “Finally! They’ve managed to get at least one of the towers repaired.” She scanned through the texts and found one from Hayden. She opened it.

  Am okay and crashing at friend’s place. Will come back to Etherlin tomorrow.

  She tried calling, but went straight to voice mail.

  “Hey, it’s Cerise. I’m glad you’re okay. Where are you? Give me or Jersey a call. Something happened to her tonight—it’s too long for voice mail. Just call when you get a chance.”

  She ended the call and joined Lysander, who waited by the elevator.

  “The girl came down to check on you. She looked better by the way.”

  “Oh good. Had she heard from Hayden?”

  “I’m not sure. I asked her some more questions about what happened. She said that Rella didn’t come to the apartment to confront her. He was looking for something.”

  “Did she have any idea what he was looking for?”

  “He started looking in the bathroom for whatever it was.”

  “Maybe the pills then,” she said as they boarded the elevator. “A lot of people keep their prescriptions in the medicine cabinet above the sink. Griffin kept his in the kitchen.” She tipped her head up to stare at the roof of the elevator. “Troy wouldn’t have just happened across that prescription to use for the suicide staging. I think he came for the bottle.” She narrowed her eyes. “Griffin’s behavior was erratic the last couple months of his life. What if Troy ground up some jimsonweed and dusted it over his pills?”

  “To what end?” Lysander asked as they ascended.

  “If it gave Griffin more seizures or made him think he was losing touch with reality, maybe Troy would’ve had an easier time controlling him. There were days when Griffin was a control freak about the music and his career and the band’s image. Other times, he would’ve signed anything anyone put in front of him. On the night Griffin died, he and Troy had an argument about a music festival that Troy wanted the Molly Times to play. Besides it being a lot of money for everyone involved, if the Times had signed on, Troy could’ve gotten a couple of other new bands he was promoting on board, too. Troy bought us a couple of rounds of shots, which he normally wouldn’t have been in favor of me drinking. Maybe he did it to soften Griffin up. Maybe he came over later to get Griffin to sign off on the paperwork. I wouldn’t have let Griffin sign if he was out of it, but maybe Troy expected me to be passed out. He could’ve slipped something into my drink to be sure I would be unconscious. But was Troy’s endgame really just about making money? Or was he involved in something else? Something bigger?” she wondered aloud.

  Inside Lysander’s apartment, Cerise stripped and showered and wrapped herself in a thick blue towel. Lysander showered, too, and emerged from the bathroom naked.

  Water dripped from his skin and his blond hair curled at the ends as he sat next to her on the bed. The dagger wounds had all healed, and the other scars in the areas where she’d cut him had faded, too. Some of his original scars were still prominent, but others were like melted wax that had been rubbed away, leaving only faint marks. His ability to heal was amazing.

  She put a hand on his chest, his flesh cool against her palm.

  The fallen are always cold.

  “You should wrap yourself in a blanket.”

  “I plan to,” he said, watching her with dark green eyes. The low light in the room fractured away from him in tha
t strangely alluring way.

  She nodded. She let her hand slide lightly over his muscles, then fall onto her lap. “I’ve never had a casual affair.”

  “I never proposed that the affair be casual.”

  “No? You’ve made it pretty clear to me and to anyone who’ll listen that you’re stuck with me out of circumstance.”

  “Just because I would’ve resisted binding you to me out of choice because I know the risks, doesn’t mean I regret what happened. Your company is a pleasure I savor. I didn’t admit that to Merrick because love is the one thing that makes him reckless, and I’ve criticized him for it. Confessing that I enjoy being near you is information I don’t choose to share. He already sees too much.”

  “What difference does it make if Merrick knows you want me with you?”

  He paused. “Ultimately it doesn’t. When it comes to emotional attachments, Merrick doesn’t look to my example, nor do I look to his. But I encouraged him to behave with restraint in his passion for your friend. If I’m now unrestrained as I fall in love with you, he’ll expect me to admit I was wrong when I advised him. I won’t. I wasn’t wrong. But I don’t relish tension between Merrick and me. He won’t go back on his word to help me, but when he’s angry, his silence is an abyss.”

  “If you don’t want there to be tension, you should stop suggesting Alissa would be better off if he gave her up. Anyone can see neither of them will ever agree to that.”

  “You’re right,” Lysander said. “It’s Richard all over again. The man had a mad passion for his wife. Still does. Merrick and Alissa seem bent on the same reckless course, to love with such abandon that it destroys everything in its wake.”

  “I say good for them. Why shouldn’t love be as precious as war?”

  He raised his brows. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning, to use a poker metaphor, Merrick goes all in. He wouldn’t run from a fight, and he doesn’t love in a half-assed way, either. He’s all in.”

  Lysander flashed a smile. “Is that a challenge? An indictment of what you perceive to be a lack of romantic courage on my part?”