My hands shake as a vision of Nassa crosses behind my eyes. With her, there is no innocence. No pretense. She is a paradox. An unexpected twist of fate—one that I like.
“You’re still doing this?” The sorceress’s husky voice rumbles through me.
Nodding, I pinch my cigarette between my index finger and thumb, inhaling deeply before I pull it out of my mouth and harshly exhale the smoke. “Every damn night.”
Nassa lingers behind me for a second before stepping to my side and taking a seat next to me on the ledge, showing no fear. Not of me, nor how high we are, nor the darkness of the night. She leans back on her palms, her arm brushing the feathers on my relaxed wing. Her touch ignites a spark within me, causing me to tremble a bit.
“Why?”
“This is where I come to find peace. And . . . breathe.”
“I find it ironic that you put yourself through hell every night on the rooftop of a divine cathedral,” she smirks. “And don’t pretend you come here to find peace, Gallagher.”
“If not peace, then what?” I challenge.
“This is where you fuel your rage and torture yourself with memories. It’s like you need a fix in order to keep being reckless and sink into the darkness. You let the poison of what happened break you down, every night. Over and over again.”
I dip my chin, agreeing with her. “This place does darken my heart.”
Silently, she nods and looks out onto the city, taking it in. Another thing I like about the beautiful sorceress—she reads me well and knows when I need to get lost in the quiet.
The endless silence stretches between us as the temperature drops a little. A light breeze engulfs us and I can tell there’s something in the air. Something written in the stars. I can somehow feel that she and I are becoming something else. Like we’re heading for a collision. I’m not sure I’m ready for what’s to come. Maybe it’s time . . .
To walk away.
To open her eyes and get her to see the ugliness of what my existence is like.
“I found her,” I mutter, staring straight ahead.
Nassa inhales through her nose. “I know.”
“No.” I laugh without humor. “You really fucking don’t.”
“Then help me to understand,” she whispers.
“I thought Camilla was here that night. Alone, in the cathedral, restoring the statues.” I swallow and flick my cigarette off the building, watching it tumble to the ground. “She wasn’t, though. Instead of being safe, in a divine place that she loved, she was frightened and hurt. Beings I trusted—she trusted—kidnapped and brutalized her. They left her mutilated body at my front door for me to find the next morning.” I exhale.
“I’m sorry, Gallagher. For her . . . for you.”
“Want to know the worst part?”
“Tell me—”
“She wasn’t wearing shoes.”
Nassa falls quiet, probably too stunned at my admission to respond to me.
“I don’t remember seeing the fear on her lifeless face,” I whisper. “I don’t remember the bruises or cuts that logically I know marred her body. Christ! I don’t even remember the blood, which I’m sure soaked her clothes. What haunts me is that she was barefoot.”
After a moment, Nassa twists her head and stares at the side of my face.
“They raped her. And left her without her fucking shoes.”
She swallows. “What they did was horrific—”
“What they did was allow innocence to die screaming. They tortured her. Slit her throat. To prove a fucking point. She was stripped of all her humanity and left barefoot.”
Angrily, I shake my head, and my eyes sting with my threatening tears.
“It must be hard,” Nassa rasps. “Always standing in the light of her fading halo.”
“Fading?” I scoff. “Camilla’s halo is as bright as ever, even in death.”
“I don’t come with a halo.” Her voice is barely audible. “I’m not her.”
“I know,” my voice cracks.
“Do you?”
My eyes snap to hers and she gives me a hard look.
“I’m a powerful sorceress. I’m not fragile. Or mortal. There is no humanity to strip.”
Unable to answer, I stare. In my head, I know she is. But in my heart . . . if something were to happen to her too, I wouldn’t survive this time. I rub at the ache in my chest.
“I’m not defenseless. And I don’t need protection,” she adds.
“My desire to protect you isn’t because I think you’re weak.”
“Then why?”
“It’s because . . . you’re important.”
Nassa exhales slowly and sits up straighter as she considers me.
“It takes a lot to love and change someone like me. To . . . fix me,” I explain.
“It’s easy to love you. And, I don’t want to change, or fix you. Implying I do would be saying that you need fixing, or to be changed. You don’t. You aren’t broken, Gallagher.”
“I am,” I exhale and look away. “I’m so fucking broken.”
“You’re hurt. You’re lost. Your pain has altered you, but you aren’t broken.”
“When does the hurt end?” My voice is thin, frail.
“Scars fade as they heal, but they never truly disappear.”
“I once told Eve, in this very same spot actually, that the scars Camilla left behind actually seep with loneliness and tear at me,” I mumble, unable to stop myself. “If something were to happen to you, ever, those scars would consume me. End me.”
“Hey, look at me,” she orders.
I don’t, because my chest feels even heavier than before, filled with an endless ache.
Frustrated, she grabs my face between her palms and forces my gaze to connect with hers. “Nothing is going to happen. I can handle myself. And your scars are beautiful.”
“They’re never going to go away,” I warn. “Like you said.”
“That’s why they’re scars.”
“I can’t hide them. Or pretend they don’t exist. They’ll always be there.”
“As they should be. They don’t define who you are.”
“Being with me . . . caring for me . . . it isn’t easy. It won’t be easy, ever.”
“Nothing worth having is. And you—” She pauses. “You, Gage, are worth having.”
“I don’t deserve you,” I exhale roughly.
“No.” She releases my face and gifts me a small smile. “You don’t.”
“Then why are you still here . . . with me?”
Tears fill her eyes. “Like it or not, I’m yours.”
If she only knew how true that statement was. Uncomfortable with her words, she crosses her arms and looks around the roof before her eyes settle on the sleeping city.
As I look at Nassa, I realize, in my world of darkness, she has become a small piece of paradise. The one place where I am not always emotionally empty, exhausted, or mentally on edge. Maybe, with her, I’ll have peace. A small sliver of light and hope seeps in.
Maybe we could have a future.
“Mine, huh?”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t go getting a big head. You still have to earn me.”
A chuckle falls out of me. “I should get to work, then.”
“You do that.” She looks off into the distance. “The River Seine is four hundred, eight-three miles long,” she changes the subject, and I’m grateful. “Which mile are we meeting your friends on?”
I wince, realizing I have to tell her. “In the commune of Source-Seine.”
Deep, angry, emerald-green eyes snap to mine in annoyance.
“Still think I am worth having?” I exhale.
“It certainly doesn’t earn you any points,” she groans.
The commune is owned by the French government and guarded by Sequana, the Seine goddess. At one point, the mortals built a healing shrine to her, which included two temples and this fucking weird brass pot. The humans used to fill the pot with their organ
s and limbs as an offering with the hope that she might cure and heal their ailments.
Sequana is a goddess that Nassa doesn’t particularly get along with all that well. Aside from her being a handful, a long time ago, Mammon cheated on Nassa’s mother with the goddess. During their brief time together, he gifted Sequana with a dragon who, instead of breathing fire, was able to breathe water and flood the river. When Mammon turned his back on Sequana after tiring of her, she didn’t take the rejection very well. She took it out on the mortal realm and Nassa’s mother. At her command, her pet dragon, La Gargouille, caused havoc along the river, sinking ships, eating mortals, flooding fields.
“Let’s get this over with,” Nassa sighs.
She pushes onto her feet, stands, and begins to move toward the doorway, but I jump up and grasp her wrist, forcing her to turn around and step closer to me on the ledge.
“I’ll take us there.”
With a quick dip of her chin, I spread my wings and she steps up to me, wrapping her arms around my waist. When her fingertips accidently brush over the raven-like feathers on my gargoyle wings, I shiver with desire. Leaning my chin on top of her head, I wrap myself around her petite body, holding her tightly against me. For the briefest second, I allow myself to be present in the moment with her—to feel safe and wanted in her arms.
11
Rise And Fall
GAGE
Seconds later, we reappear and Nassa quickly pushes me away, grumbling about how I have some sort of death wish because I’m reckless with my teleporting theatrics. I can’t help but chuckle. It wasn’t necessary to jump off the ledge with her, but it was fucking fun. Even still, my way got us here much faster than her candle magic would have.
Getting our bearings, we look around the large grotto. In front of us is an oversized statue of a nymph, a hellhound, and a dragon. Mortals view the statue as simply an odd-looking piece of artwork carved out of stone. To those of us who are supernatural, the statue is known as the Triangle of Realms, connecting the three main dark shifter worlds.
“I don’t see the goddess anywhere,” I mention, touching the statue.
“Predators stalk their pray. Good ones are patient,” Nassa mutters.
“If you ask me, Sequana did your mom a favor. Saving her from Mammon.”
“She turned my mother into an encantado, Gallagher. It took the coven two years to remove the curse and turn my mom back into a human from a dolphin,” she snaps.
“Could have been worse. She could have turned her into a sea snake,” I point out.
Nassa’s hand twitches as if she’s ready to slap me. “Not funny. Or helpful.”
Suddenly, the air around us turns warm and the hair on my arms stands on end.
“Feel that?” Nassa asks, looking around.
“I do.”
“What is it?”
“Immorality,” I reply.
Nassa and I both slide our eyes to the statue, where three portals have opened. Each gateway shimmers in a different color: jade for the nymph dimension, gray for the hellhound kingdom, and crimson for the dragon shifter realm. The three otherworldly beings I’ve summoned step out of the portals, their heads held high as they approach us.
Each smirks at me and respectfully dips their chin at Nassa.
Once they’ve fully crossed into the earth dimension, the gateways dissolve behind them and the three of them take the last few steps to stand in front of us.
“You three certainly know how to make an entrance,” I greet them.
“You said it was urgent. For your sake, it had better be. I left an entire pack of female hellhounds—who are in heat—for you.” Locryn is quick to answer—he always is.
I meet his devilish gray eyes, which are shrouded in amusement. “Fates are at stake here, as well as the rise and fall of realms. I would think that makes it urgent,” I reply.
“So I’ve heard,” he counters. “The gargoyles are right to worry.”
“If we all do our jobs, we won’t have to worry,” I argue.
“Who is the witch?” Locryn asks.
“Nassa.” She holds her hand out to shake. “Sorceress of prosperity.”
“Locryn,” he replies, taking her hand. “Prince of the hellhounds.”
As if in a trance, Nassa steps closer to him, her lips parted. “You are achingly good-looking and charismatic. Your hoary skin and face are perfectly carved, and I could get lost in your erotic eyes and heart-stopping smile. And I love your natural wavy dark locks. They’re sexy and complement your Iranian good looks,” she coos. “I like you.”
Christ! Is there anyone he won’t attempt to seduce with his dark charms?
“Locryn, release her from the thrall,” I growl. “And stop putting words in her mouth.”
The hellhound smirks and with a slow wink he frees Nassa of the charm. “Given that I can enthrall her, she must have demon blood running through her sorceress veins. Interesting. I thought I smelled Mammon on her. Are you another of his whores?”
“Mammon is her estranged father,” I bite out.
Nassa blinks a few times before she raises her hand and chants, “Ignis.”
The hellhound jumps around and howls like an idiot, as if he is completely on fire.
“It’s an illusion, Locryn,” I mutter under my breath.
Pissed, he stills, growling like a wild animal at Nassa, who releases the spell.
“If you ever compel me again, dog, I will burn your fur off, for real next time.”
Steel eyes meet mine. “She’s mean.”
“Well, I for one like her,” the slender Japanese woman next to Locryn says. She steps in front of Nassa and smiles brightly. “I’m Itzair, but you can call me Itzy.”
“Itzy is a kitsune shifter,” I explain. “She can’t enthrall you.”
“My shifting form is a Japanese fox. Pretty and sly.” She wiggles her brows.
Nassa’s brows pinch. “I’ve never met a fox shifter before.”
“No shit?” Itzy sounds amused and pleased at the same time. “Unlike hellhounds, kitsune are highly evolved and intelligent. And like you, Nassa, we also wield magic.”
“What kind of magic?”
“Similar to what you just did, I can create fire and lightning illusions that are so elaborate, they’re often perceived as reality. Not just by mortals, but other supernatural creatures too. We’re also known for our trickery and love of beautiful things. Above all, though, my kind are faithful guardians and friends to the fae and nymph realms. Our abilities tend to become more powerful with age and wisdom, which is why we’re loyal.”
“Speaking of beautiful things, it’s nice to see you again, princess,” Locryn flirts.
“You’re still here?” Itzy says with disdain, glaring at him.
“Pleased?” he counters.
“Surprised,” she retorts. “I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks.”
“Clever.” Locryn stiffens. “Had I known that you knew how to carry on an actual conversation that didn’t include yelling, I might have been more inclined to stay.”
“I’m guessing you two know one another,” Nassa mutters.
“Intimately.” Locryn grins.
Itzy sighs at him. “Sadly. We’re betrothed.”
Nassa frowns. “To . . . each other?”
“Such happy news, isn’t it?” Locryn replies sarcastically.
Alderic sighs, “Do yourself a favor, Locryn. Don’t speak anymore.”
The hellhound takes an aggressive step. “Or what, dragon?”
Quickly, I jump between them. “All right. Let’s just calm down.”
Itzy looks at me. “You brought two alphas together, Gage. What did you expect to happen when their energies began to surface and bounce off one another?”
“Who are you?” Nassa asks the mocha-skinned, green-eyed guy next to me.
“Alderic,” he says formally. “My father is the dragon king of fire.”
“He’s a dragon shifter,” Itzy adds.
<
br /> “One who can find any treasure you want,” Locryn points out.
Alderic politely nods his head at Nassa—the extent of his greeting. The dragon prince is a being of few words. But Locryn is right; he’s the best at finding hidden treasures. And when he shifts into his dragon form, there is no stopping him. One of the many reasons I need him for this little mission. Why I need all three of them to help me find the treaty.
Locryn’s eyes swing to mine. “Well, we’re all here. So, what is it you need?”
“The divine and demonic realms have signed a second peace treaty,” I begin.
“This is not news,” Alderic replies.
“No, it isn’t. However, the gargoyle race would like to know what it says.”
“Why?” Locryn asks.
“We have reason to believe the protectors have been used as leverage. Given their history, and how well the divine and demonic realms play together, or for that matter uphold their ends of treaties, I’ve been tasked by the London clan to find out how the gargoyle race plays into their peace agreement. I need to find it. Decode it. And figure out how to make sure our realms and races are kept safe from whatever they’ve planned.”
Locryn scoffs. “Do you honestly believe any place or race is safe these days?”
“The hellhound is right,” Alderic agrees. “A temple of priestesses was slaughtered. A fae queen beheaded by archangels. And now, there are rumors of a demon lord creating a dark army.”
“It does sound like a war is on the horizon, does it not?” I reply.
“If not war, chaos and distrust,” Locryn retorts.
“That’s not all,” Itzy sighs. “There have been rumblings that a little over two years ago, Empress Farica of the water realm was beheaded. The emperor was also found dead. Oren, the emperor’s cousin, has taken control of the realm. Allegedly, he and the council have brought in dark magic spell weavers. It’s rumored they’ve enchanted the realms to erase the empress’s existence.” Itzy’s eyes meet mine. “The kitsune can’t be spelled by dark incantations, so we remember. Between us, that sounds like murder and a coup.”
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