by Anne Hope
It all happened so fast. Everything became a tangled blur in Lia’s mind—Cal and Athanatos sparring, Jace rushing to her side to gather her in his arms, the earth rumbling beneath them.
Next thing she knew, Cal had Athanatos pinned to the ground, a blade pressed to his throat.
“Go ahead,” the Ancient challenged, not daring to move. “Kill me. Then your fall will be complete.”
Jace swept her off her feet and carried her to the door, but Lia’s gaze remained fixed on the scene unfolding over his shoulder.
Cal dug the tip of the blade into Athanatos’s flesh until it sizzled, but something held him back. “I have to do it. I have to undo all the wrong I’ve caused. For her.”
Despite his words, his hand wavered. Athanatos seized the advantage, hurtling Cal off him and projecting him across the room, next to the shattered vase. The Ancient streaked across the chamber, gripping one of the broken pieces and slicing Cal in the arm. Then he turned toward Jace.
“Jace, look out!” she screamed.
But Athanatos was too fast. With a triumphant howl, he buried the sharp wedge in Jace’s back, at the level of his heart.
The porcelain shard shouldn’t have pierced Jace’s skin, shouldn’t have driven him to his knees with her still secured in his arms. It shouldn’t have caused blood to gurgle in his mouth or the light in his eyes to dim. Not without first being dipped in angel’s blood.
And yet it did.
Lia looked at Cal, and everything suddenly made sense.
Desperation strangled her. She rolled Jace onto his stomach and yanked out the deadly shard. With nothing more than her bare palms, she fought to suppress the bleeding. This was how their journey had begun, but this wasn’t how it would end. It couldn’t be.
Tears stung her eyes. It was no use. The blood continued to gush like a geyser. Turning him on his back again, she felt for a pulse. His heartbeat had slowed to a crawl. The life had all but ebbed from his body, and there was nothing she could do to stop his steady slide into oblivion. Despite years of medical training, Lia was helpless.
Surrendering to grief, she bent over and wrapped tender arms around the man who’d doggedly carved his way into her soul, her hair fanning his face as she cradled him against her heart.
Chapter Forty-Two
Marcus wasn’t sure how much angel’s blood he had left on his blade. Certainly not enough to take them all out. At least twenty Kleptopsychs closed in on him, with a smug Kyros in the lead.
Swords began to clash, and Marcus struggled to hold them off. A blade swished over his head, but he ducked just in time. Metal chimed, grunts saturated the atmosphere, and dust swirled like a cloud of moths to flutter around their feet.
Marcus still hadn’t completely recuperated his strength, so the battle was a challenge for him. Still, he held his ground…until a well-aimed blow from Kyros sent his blade somersaulting through the air and left him defenseless.
The firstborn advanced in a slow, confident gait, his sword raised. “Checkmate.” He grinned. “Tell me, Marcus, where are your precious Watchers now?”
“Right here.” Regan’s voice sent a pleasant bolt traveling through Marcus. In a blink she appeared at his side, handed him his discarded sword, and assumed her battle stance. “Now it’s a hundred and one,” she whispered.
Watchers suddenly tumbled from one of the tunnels and surrounded the Kleptopsychs.
“Put it on my tab,” he quipped as the fight resumed. Emboldened by the act of support, Marcus took three of the creatures out with an advance-lunge. Their bodies withered and shrank, as light and smoke gushed from their carcasses to fill the catacombs.
Regan, with her ability to vanish at will, was a force to be reckoned with. She avoided swinging blades with ease, then caught her opponents off guard by delivering several compound attacks, effectively striking them down. Before long, only Kyros remained standing.
Realizing he was outnumbered, the firstborn bolted. Marcus took off at a run after him. He couldn’t let the bastard escape. If he did, there was no telling when their paths would cross again, and this confrontation was already long overdue. One hundred and ninety-three years, to be exact.
“Please,” Lia whispered in Jace’s ear. “Please don’t leave me, too.”
He raised his hand to her cheek, stroked it gently. His lips parted, but no sound escaped. Still, despite the barriers that now divided them, she heard the words in her head: “I love you.”
Just when she thought there was nothing left of her heart, it broke again.
She raised two beseeching eyes Cal’s way. “You have to help him. You’re an angel. There must be something you can do.”
Cal gazed upon the scene, looking confused and defeated.
“It’s over,” Athanatos sneered. “He’s as good as dead.”
“Cal, please!” she insisted, ignoring the monster standing beside her, watching her with twisted satisfaction.
“There is nothing I can do,” Cal told her. “Only you can save him now.”
Understanding sparked in the black fathoms of Athanatos’s eyes, and he lunged her way. Before he could reach her, Cal morphed into the wolf again and jumped him. The two rolled across the stone floor, man versus beast, though she wasn’t sure which was which.
Cal’s statement resonated through her brain. It reminded her of the story she’d read at the library—the one about Euclid and Calista. She wasn’t convinced the tale was anything more than a work of fiction, but if there was a chance she could save Jace, she had to try.
Voicing a silent prayer, she lowered her head and covered his mouth with hers. He struggled, fought to push her away, but he was too weak, his need too strong. The dark, siphoning energy inside him latched on to her light, drank from it. Heat expanded in her chest, journeyed up her throat and spilled into his mouth. Their minds connected along with their souls.
“Please, don’t do this.” His desperate plea invaded her thoughts. “For God’s sake, Lia, stop. I don’t want to kill you.”
But she kept going, breathing her life-force into him, as tears fell from her eyes to dampen his cheeks. “I love you,” she told him silently. “I love every part of you.”
She’d glimpsed the darkest corners of his soul, and contrary to what Athanatos believed, her love hadn’t waned. It had grown stronger.
“This is how it was always meant to be. You and I together as one, always.”
Then blackness fell, plunging the world in a void so absolute, it left no room for breath.
Chapter Forty-Three
Jace gasped and jackknifed to a sitting position, his insides vibrating, his heart galloping. Pain ripped through him worse than the shard of porcelain had. In the circle of his arms, Lia lay limp and lifeless. “Goddammit, Lia. Why?”
Around him furniture crashed as the wolf tussled with Athanatos. Jace ignored them, shaking Lia, hoping to wake her. But it was pointless. She was gone.
Grief snarled through his veins, fueled by rage. His pained cry echoed through the cavernous room. The wolf and Athanatos broke apart. Cal reclaimed his human form, shot a stunned look Jace’s way. Before any of them could react, energy gushed from Jace, a bright light too strong for him to contain.
Athanatos hollered and fell to his knees, covering his ears with his hands. The energy snowballed, gained strength and speed. The Ancient began to glow, light puncturing his flesh, as though he were slowly being torn apart from the inside out.
Athanatos’s screams pierced the silence like gunfire. He turned to Cal, directed a condemning glance his way. “Are you happy now, Father?”
Shock rippled through Jace as his gaze traveled from the Ancient to Cal. The resemblance struck him, and he reeled back from the betrayal. “Father?”
Cal didn’t reply. He was too busy watching his son fry.
The Ancient stopped screaming. Deathly stillness filled the chamber. A flash of blinding light burst from Athanatos’s eyes, reducing him to ash and proving once and for all that even an
immortal can die.
The earth groaned menacingly, and Marcus’s neck prickled in response. Something was wrong. The landscape suddenly began to shift, walls rising where there were none before, space compressing until distance lost all meaning. The ground beneath him grew unstable, a rolling carpet carrying him through a distorted house of mirrors.
Abandoning his pursuit of Kyros, he returned to Regan and the others. “Something’s happened,” he told them. “Everything’s going haywire down here.”
“Kyros?” Regan asked.
“He got away. There’s no time to track him down. We have to get out of here.” He grabbed her by the arm, yanked her toward the nearest exit, but she resisted.
“I’m not leaving Jace. Or Cal.”
“We have no choice. The tunnels are unstable. They could collapse at any minute. If that happens, we’ll suffocate.” Marcus had no intention of drowning in dirt. Not because he clung so desperately to his pathetic existence, but because the world needed the Watchers. Without them to keep the Kleptopsychs and the Rogues in check, humanity would fall prey to corruption, violence and despair. Anarchy would rule, countless wars would erupt, until there was nothing left to protect.
“You go ahead.” She pried her arm free as the ground belched and grumbled. “Guide the others to safety. I’m staying.” Worry played across her face, reinforcing his belief that Regan, despite being as soulless as the rest of them, still possessed the capacity to experience emotion in its purest, most potent form.
“It’s too dangerous.”
As usual, the woman refused to listen to reason. “I can flash out of here whenever I want.”
“Not if you’re buried beneath a mountain of dirt.” Despite what it looked like, Regan didn’t actually dematerialize. Her power hinged on her ability to move exceptionally fast, which allowed her to access different points in space. If the place were to suddenly collapse, taking her off guard, she could become immobilized. Robbed of movement, she’d find herself unable to perform her magic. Being trapped in a room was one thing, being buried alive quite another.
“You’re wasting time,” she argued. “I can take care of myself. Now go. Get out of here.”
“Sorry,” he told her. “Can’t do that.” Before she could fold space and vanish on him, he nicked her on the arm with his blade.
The angel’s blood had the desired effect. She blanched as weakness traveled through her. “What did you do to me?” She stared at the cut on her arm in shock. “Marcus, why?”
“Because we can’t afford to lose you, too.” Tossing her over his shoulder, he vaulted through the catacombs with the others hot on his trail.
Stone began to rain down around them. The earth roared, churning and rippling. Ceilings ruptured and collapsed in their wake. Thankfully, Athanatos’s shields no longer ran interference, which allowed Marcus to tap into his tracking skills again. He took it as a sign that the prophecy had been fulfilled, that Athanatos had finally met his end. That was probably the reason his intricate underground world was crumbling. One problem solved.
Now if only they could get to the surface before the catacombs buried them alive.
Violent tremors gripped the earth, but Jace didn’t give a damn. All he wanted was to sit here on this stone-cold floor and hold Lia. The dual souls he’d ingested thrummed in his chest, burned through his veins, knotted his gut. Paralyzing swells of emotion slammed into him in agonizing succession—grief, regret, betrayal.
“So this is what Lia sacrificed her life for,” he spat at Cal. “Some sick vendetta against your own son?”
Thick slabs of rock began to rain from the ceiling. “I can’t explain this to you now. It’s too complicated.” Cal’s gaze narrowed with concern. “We need to leave this place before the earth swallows us.”
Jace’s arms tightened around Lia’s lifeless form. How long before she grew cold, before her muscles stiffened and the scent of jasmine no longer perfumed her skin? “I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’ll be buried alive, a fate equal to drowning.”
“Fine by me.” If he died, then Lia’s soul would be released, free to be reborn. It was all he could do for her now, the final gift he could give her.
“Your judgment is clouded by sorrow,” Cal argued. “You’re not thinking clearly. Come with me before it’s too late.” He extended his hand, and at that moment Jace could’ve sworn he glowed.
“How did you do it? How did you keep them from seeing the truth?”
Fissures split the ground, slowly crawled toward the cathedral ceiling.
“Please, Jace. The Watchers still need you.”
Anger expanded in his chest to crowd out grief. “The Watchers can go to hell. And so can you.”
Bitter remorse twisted Cal’s features. “Hell won’t have me any more than heaven will. My light was taken from me when I fell. Now I’m as soulless as the rest of you.” The walls around them moaned and trembled menacingly. “Time is running out. Come now.”
Jace opened his mouth to protest, then stopped. A familiar sound pounded in his head, cutting through the noise. It was the slow, steady beat of a heart. He raised his hand, silencing Cal, and brought his ear to Lia’s chest. The rhythmic pounding beneath her ribs was the sweetest music he could’ve heard. “She’s alive.”
Cal gazed at him as though he were delirious. “That can’t be. No human can survive without a soul.” Understanding passed behind his eyes. “Unless— Marcus was right. She’s a Hybrid.” He laughed. “That’s how she was able to attract your soul.” His forehead wrinkled in concentration. “Of course. A soul forged by an archangel is the only thing powerful enough to mask the darkness. That’s why I didn’t realize what she was. I should’ve delved deeper, investigated further—”
“Cal.” Jace shot to his feet, with Lia safely tucked in his arms. “We can figure it out later. All that matters is that she’s alive.” Heavy chunks of stone plunked around him as the earth unleashed its fury. “We’ve got to make sure she stays that way. Let’s go.”
The Watcher nodded. “There are exits everywhere. It’s the entrances that are hard to come by. Follow me.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Pink tinged the sky as the sun slowly scaled the eastern mountains. The soft sheen of dew coating the treetops shimmered in the weak light of dawn. At a different point in space, the Watchers emerged from the churning bowels of the earth, covered in dust and soot, to marvel at the newborn day.
Marcus and the others stepped onto the Willamette River waterfront nearly a hundred miles from where they’d begun their journey. The river sparkled beneath a delicate cover of vapor. All was still and peaceful, the world barely waking, the streets deserted.
He stood on the bank for a few seconds, admiring the beauty of the human world, humbled to be part of it, even though he’d never truly belong to it. Over his shoulder, Regan moaned and struggled.
“Put me down, you self-important ape.”
“As you wish.”
As soon as her feet touched the ground, she swayed, nearly lost her balance. He grabbed her by the arm to steady her.
“Don’t touch me.” Yanking her arm from his grip, she stumbled back toward the catacombs, but the entrance was sealed. It had closed behind them, filled with hard-packed earth and stone. The grief gleaming in her eyes matched the damp glow of morning.
“They probably got out,” he reassured her. “Cal would’ve seen to it.”
Regan wrapped her arms around her body, shook her head, and lapsed into deep, mournful silence. “What now?” she finally whispered, her voice thin and listless.
Marcus gazed at the brightening horizon, striated with hues of orange and pink. “Now we go home. Wherever that is.”
The Watchers’ complex was bare, offering only the most basic necessities—a utilitarian kitchen, some tables and chairs, and an array of hard cots scattered across a handful of rooms. It was on one of these makeshift beds that Lia slept, oblivious to all but her dreams.
&n
bsp; “Why isn’t she waking up?” Jace sat by her side, gripping her cold hand, his insides twisted in a series of painful knots. Fifteen hours had passed since they’d escaped the tunnels, and she remained unconscious.
Marcus, Regan and the others had returned earlier that morning, relieved to find them alive and well. His mother had clasped him in a breath-smothering hug, and he could’ve sworn he’d seen tears glistening in her eyes. He still hadn’t forgiven her for concealing the truth from him, but he understood why she’d done it. Nothing would’ve sent him running for the hills faster than the knowledge that he was destined to steal Lia’s light.
“The transformation takes time.” Cal’s expression was one of encouragement and calm reassurance. “Every Hybrid turns at his or her own pace. The process can’t be hastened along.”
On a conscious level, Jace recognized the soundness of Cal’s words, but the need to see Lia open her eyes ate away at the soul she’d gifted him. Now that he carried her inside him, his connection to her had grown even more powerful, as had his love for her. “She won’t remember me, will she?”
“Probably not.”
Jace ignored the stab of disappointment in his gut. “She’s alive. That’s what counts.” It was for the best. Amnesia would be a welcome relief after everything Lia had gone through.
“I could be wrong,” Cal added. “This situation—” He shook his head. “It’s uncommon, to put it mildly. Anything is possible, especially with her lost soul living under the same roof, a twin soul, no less.”
“And what about this soul?” Jace asked. “How does this thing work, exactly? What am I? A Hybrid, a Watcher, a nameless freak?”
Cal’s mouth quirked at the corners. “All of the above. You are unique, there’s no question about that. Similar to the Watchers’ bond, this soul will center you, fuel you, empower you.” He indicated Lia with a shake of his head. “When her transformation is complete, it will do the same for her.”
