by Vivian Wood
Aurora still hated angels and demons, especially so in light of recent events. But Ezra had been nothing but helpful. He had kept his promise to act as her protector, helped her sneak into Paradis despite his reservations.
After the first full day, Ezra knocked. “I’m leaving some of your things out here. Kirael delivered them from your apartment.”
When she opened the door a few minutes later, she saw that Ezra left a rolling rack of clothes from her closet, along with a big duffel bag of shoes and other small things.
On the evening of her second day of mourning, she rose. Showered, put on a strappy red dress that she loved. Braided her long hair into a thick coppery rope, letting it hang down her back.
When she emerged, Ezra was sitting at the living room window, his brow creased as he stared intently at the distant mountains. He turned to look at her, relief plain on his face.
“You’re up,” he said, rising. “I went for takeout. Some Vietnamese from Lily’s Cafe, some prepared dishes from Whole Foods. All vegetarian.”
“Thanks,” Aurora said, shoving her hands in her pockets and leaning against the kitchen bar.
“Are you hungry?”
“Not yet,” she said. “I did eat the breakfast tray you left for me. I don’t know where you found that green juice, but it was great. Thanks for that, too.”
“No problem,” he said. He moved past her into the kitchen, pulling out a container of cold brew coffee and pouring some over a glass of ice. “You want tea or something?”
“No. Actually, I kind of want some booze,” Aurora admitted.
Ezra turned, his brows arched. “You want to drink?”
“Yeah, it’s kind of… part of my process. Two days of moping, one night of drinking, one day of unrepentant hangover.”
“Are you sure you want to get drunk?”
Aurora narrowed her gaze at him, crossing her arms. “I hate when men ask me that.”
“Okay, okay!” Ezra said, raising his hands in defeat. “We have whisky and scotch.”
“No, those are way too nice for what I feel right now,” Aurora said, pursing her lips. “I want tequila. Limes, salt, and tequila.”
Worry flickered over Ezra’s expression, and Aurora laughed.
“Don’t worry, Guardian Angel Man. I’m going to drink here. I won’t be getting into any trouble, just… finding catharsis.”
“A lot of that to be had at the bottom of a bottle, is there?” he asked, but the worry eased from his expression.
“Don’t question the process, Ezra. It’s time-honored and finely tuned, okay?” Aurora said.
“Well, I can go out for some tequila and limes, on one condition.”
Aurora pulled out one of the kitchen stools and sat down. “Shoot.”
“You eat a full meal while I’m gone. I don’t want to spend the evening holding your hair back while you throw up.”
Aurora cracked up at that, she couldn’t help it. “I can’t imagine you doing that.”
Ezra looked a little uncomfortable at that, and shrugged. “I do what’s needed.”
“Right. Ever the dutiful protector,” she said. “Got it. Okay, well I think that’s a fair deal. I’ll eat, you get tequila. Good tequila.”
“I don’t know much about it.”
“More than $30 a bottle, that’s a good baseline. I like 1800 or Patron.”
“Alright. Well… I’ll be back, then.”
And just like that, Ezra was out the door, presumably bringing back the night’s entertainment.
Aurora hopped up and went to the fridge, rifling through dozens of takeout containers. True to form, Ezra had gone overboard and ordered what looked like one of everything. She ended up choosing some tofu spring rolls, a container of tabouleh, and some vegetarian gyoza dumplings.
There was also a glass jug of hibiscus iced tea, which made Aurora smile. She poured herself a glass, then laid her feast out on the kitchen counter. With the food before her, she was suddenly hungry. She fell on the meal, demolishing most of it in less than fifteen minutes.
After finishing off with a few glasses of iced tea, mostly to hydrate herself before the tequila, Aurora sat back and sighed. She was still sad, still hurting and feeling empty, but at least her body was satisfied for the moment.
She moved to the window, taking up Ezra’s favored perch. The sun started a rapid descent, the day slipping away as she watched. By the time Ezra returned, the moon was coming up in the distance.
“Didn’t realize I was gone that long,” he joked, entering with a brown paper grocery bag.
“Yeah, I think the sunsets about half an hour long here,” she said, shaking her head. “A very weird feature.”
“Well, I think you’ll be pleased with what I got,” he said, setting the bag on the kitchen counter.
Aurora trailed after him. He produced a bottle, putting it on the counter.
“Tequila, the good stuff.”
“Mmm,” she said, picking up the bottle to inspect the label. “I don’t recognize the brand.”
“The cashier recommended it, said silver tequila doesn’t get much better than this, and it wasn’t outrageously expensive.”
“Nice. What else?”
“Limes,” he said, producing a whole bag. “And orange liqueur, simple syrup… and salt, of course.”
He set each one on the bar. Aurora gave him a questioning look. “Margaritas?”
“Yeah. I don’t want you make you drink alone, but I’m not keen on doing shots of tequila. I thought this might be a good compromise. I figured we could use a little of that hibiscus tea, too.”
Aurora was surprised. “I didn’t know you were such a proficient bartender.”
“I’ve lived for longer than humans can even comprehend. I’ve picked a few things up along the way, if you can believe it,” he said, looking amused rather than offended.
“Right,” she said, shaking her head. “That makes sense.”
“I see you ate,” he said, nodding to the takeout containers she left behind on the counter.
“Yep,” she said, picking them up and carrying them over to the trash.
“Well, have a seat and watch me work,” he said.
His good mood was comforting, if not exactly contagious. Aurora sat and waited while he found a plastic pitcher, juiced all the limes by hand, and then proceeded to mix up the margaritas.
The tequila went in last, and he didn’t stint on that, either. The final product was a beautiful, hazy pink mixture.
“That looks amazing,” Aurora said.
“Tastes even better,” he said.
Filling two glasses with ice, he poured them each a tumbler of the concoction. Then he came around the bar carrying the glasses, and nodded at the window.
“Let’s sit over there,” he suggested.
She followed, somewhat enchanted by Ezra’s follow through on her request. She tried to think if a man had ever made her a drink, outside maybe a bartender at a bar. Almost definitely not.
They both sat and he handed her the tall, frosty glass. Ezra looked at his, shrugged, and started to take a sip.
“Wait! Shouldn’t we like… toast or something?” Aurora asked.
He paused. “If you want. What should we drink to?”
“Um…” she said, looking away at the landscape for a moment. “How about to finishing what we set out to accomplish?”
When she glanced back, Ezra had a strangely satisfied expression on his face.
“To finishing what we begin, then,” he said, raising his glass.
Aurora flushed, clinking her glass against his. They both sipped their margaritas. Aurora’s eyes fluttered closed as she savored the first taste, the sharp notes of tequila blending with the floral hibiscus, tangy lime, and sweetly bitter orange. There was no salt around the rim, but she could taste a little in the drink itself, so he must have added a dash to the mix.
“This is great,” she said, eyeing her glass. “Tastes as good as it looks, somehow.”
“I have many faults, but I can make a Hell of a drink,” he said with a smile.
Aurora made a noncommittal sound, sipping her drink and leaning back against the window frame. She suddenly felt like she was sitting a little too close to Ezra. Or perhaps it was that the moment was veering toward a kind of intimacy that felt inappropriate in light of her brother’s culling.
She looked out at the sandy dunes stretching beyond the house, bleached white and pure under the rising moon. It was funny how the world worked like that, making things look so lovely and unblemished from afar. It was only upon close inspection that you could see all the flaws and failings.
“I was just thinking,” Ezra said, drawing her attention. “If you’d told me a year ago that I’d be here right now, with you, I wouldn’t have believed you.”
“Were you still in Hell then?” she asked, glad for his diversion.
“Yes. One year ago from this exact moment, I was probably hunting through some distant level of Hell, trying to find a specific soul that deserved release.”
Aurora took another sip, mulling over his words.
“Is that how you see it?” she asked.
“What?”
“The culling. You sound as though you see it as an act of mercy.”
He tilted his head, looking thoughtful.
“Yes, I guess I do. Hell is relentless. The souls that reach the point of being culled, they’re worn thin by the experience of it. No matter what they did in their mortal life, they’re so far from being that person… there’s nothing left of who they were. In a strange way, Hell washes the soul clean.”
Aurora blinked. “You mean, they’re sort of… made anew, before you cull them.”
“If you choose to see it that way, which I do. When I Destroy, the energy is pure, ready to be used for a new soul, a new… journey, I guess.”
“A far cry from this spot, I would have to agree,” Aurora said. “Ready for a refill?”
Ezra nodded, a bit distracted. Aurora took both their glasses, added some more ice, and returned with refreshed drinks. He accepted his, draining a third of it in one long gulp.
In an attempt to keep pace, Aurora did the same.
“So, where did you think you’d be today?” she asked.
Ezra glanced at her, then frowned. “I’m not sure. I knew I was going to leave Hell. I expected to be hunted, I guess. Lucifer doesn’t let anyone go easily, especially not Fallen.”
“Where did you plan to go?”
“When Mere Marie found me and recruited me, I was negotiating to obtain a bolt-hole, someplace like this,” Ezra said, glancing around the living room. “In fact, I think when I came here right afterward, this was a rather new world. I think I influenced it, a little.”
“Oh yeah?” Aurora asked. “How so?”
“I think if you look at some of the books, if you look at some of the wilder parts of the gardens…” he said, then trailed off.
“I could see that,” Aurora agreed. “So, I guess being here isn’t terribly far off from what you pictured for yourself, in a way?”
“I had a much lonelier existence in mind,” he said, glancing at her. “No offense.”
“You don’t have to explain it to me. Not getting close to anyone, because you’re being hunted? Paranoia about the people you meet? Mere Marie saved you from basically living my life.”
Ezra’s lips thinned. “It’s not a good life.”
“No,” she agreed. “But you have a powerful voodoo priestess on your side, and… whatever Le Medcin is.”
“You have me,” Ezra said. “I’m here specifically to protect you.”
“For now, sure.”
Ezra looked a little surprised at that, which Aurora found gratifying.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I mean, Le Medcin isn’t some perfect neutral,” she explained. “He wants something from me. Otherwise, why bother with any of it.”
Ezra was silent, so she pressed on.
“I’m guessing that he told you what he wanted,” she said, keeping her tone light and conversational though her words were anything but. “I’m guessing he told you which side I need to pick.”
Ezra sipped his drink, still without comment. Aurora set hers down, looking straight at Ezra.
“Did he tell you what will happen if I don’t choose what he wants?” she asked.
A muscle in Ezra’s jaw ticced, which was all the answer Aurora needed.
“He did, then. You see, I was right. Angels, demons, gods… they can’t help themselves. The life of one Null means nothing in the grand scheme of their stupid war. Yeah, it’d be better if they managed to get me to pick their side. But if it looks like I’ll go the other way, they won’t hesitate to kill me.”
“No one’s going to kill you,” Ezra growled, looking at her with his green eyes ablaze. “On my honor, I will never let that happen.”
“Not even if you’re commanded to do it, as part of your duty to Le Medcin?” she asked.
“Not even then,” he said, his promise ringing deep and true.
Aurora turned away, picking up her drink again. Against her better judgment, she believed Ezra. At least, she believed that he would never willing hurt her, but…
There were greater forces in the world than one Fallen angel. He might have defected from Hell, but he couldn’t go against Heaven if something was commanded of him.
She tipped back her glass, finishing the contents. She didn’t want to have this conversation with Ezra, not tonight. Tonight was about purging the last of her mourning blues, nothing more.
“I have an idea,” she said.
Ezra gave her a long look. “What’s that?”
“Why don’t we take the rest of the pitcher out to the Faerie pond?”
His expression was half relief, half skepticism.
“That’s it, you’re just changing topics?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure you want to keep drinking?” he asked.
Aurora shot him an exasperated look. “Yes. With you or without you, I promise.”
Ezra’s lips twitched, but he didn’t argue. “All right. Lead the way.”
She carried the glasses, leaving Ezra to ferry the pitcher. At the last second, she grabbed a silky throw blanket from the living room, then headed for the Faerie pond.
As soon as she stepped outside, she sighed. The night was warm, nearly sultry as they neared the small swimming hole. Their walk was quiet, aside from a few times when Aurora misstepped or stumbled a little on the sandy path.
All right, maybe I’m a little more tipsy than I realized, she thought.
Once Aurora stepped into the Faerie clearing, she saw that a small shaft of moonlight poured down, illuminating the spot where she and Ezra had sat before.
Not one to argue with something so lovely, Aurora skirted the pond and sat down the glasses. She spread out the blanket and settled across from Ezra, who glanced around the forest.
“Quiet out here,” he commented.
As he spoke, soft lights began to flit and twinkle.
“I guess the Faeries were waiting for us,” she said, unable to repress a smile.
“One of the perks of having an enchanted forest in your backyard,” he said, pouring them another round of margaritas.
She nodded, then leaned back and stared up at a little patch of starry sky visible through the treetops.
“Why don’t you live here full time?” she asked. She straightened to look at Ezra, a little fission of heat going through her body when she caught him staring at her with a hooded gaze.
“I never thought about it,” he said with a shrug. “I travel a lot for Mere Marie, so it seems easy to just stay at the manor house with her.”
“Sounds fancy,” Aurora said, smirking a little.
“It’s not shabby, that’s for certain. Meals are prepared by a chef, someone presses my laundry,” he said. “Maybe I’ll talk to her about moving in here, eventual
ly.”
“You’d need a roommate,” Aurora said. “It would get lonely.”
Amusement lifted Ezra’s lips. “Are you volunteering?”
Aurora’s cheeks flushed.
“No… I was just… making conversation.”
“Mmhm,” he said, leaning back and sipping his drink.
They were quiet for a minute, then Ezra spoke again.
“Where did you think you would be right now, a year ago?” he asked, echoing their earlier conversation.
Aurora took a sip of her drink, thinking.
“Running.”
“Ah. So not that far from the truth.”
Aurora raised her brows. “If I was running right now, I’d be so far gone that no one could find me.”
“I’m like… the fourth person in New Orleans to know who and where you are. Clearly you aren’t that good at hiding.”
Aurora scoffed. “I tried something new this time, staying in one place a little longer. It didn’t pan out.”
“How often do you usually move?”
“Every few months. New city, new apartment. I usually pick a human roommate, just so I don’t go completely nuts locked up by myself. Not that I socialize with them, just… to have someone nearby.”
“You didn’t know about Vesper’s powers when you chose her as a roommate, then?”
Aurora snorted. “She didn’t know about them either, I’ll have you know.”
“So I heard. She and Kirael have quite the story.”
“Yeah, it would make a really good romantic thriller movie,” Aurora said. “Lots of twists and turns.”
“Well, it worked out in the end. Before they got together, I wasn’t sure…” he said, hesitating.
“Sure of what?” she asked.
He looked as though he was trying to choose his words, taking a few moments before answering. Aurora eyed him as he gazed off into the distance, taking him in. He wore a tight-fitting navy t-shirt and dark jeans. He was barefoot, leaning back in a way that showed off his bulging biceps.
At the sleeve and collar of his shirt, she could see dark lines of ink poking out. She almost asked about them, then realized that Ezra was answering her question from before.
“I wasn’t sure that Fallen, or former Fallen, could take mates. It’s not done in Heaven or in Hell, as far as I know.”
