by Alex Lux
Alaric threw himself between him. "I beg you, spare him." His body shook, whether from fear for himself or Ryder, I couldn't tell. Probably both. Even I wouldn't want to be staring down an angry angel. Still, had to give the bishop credit for having a serious pair of steel balls. "He will be judged by the Church and punished according to his sins."
I moved in closer and raised my voice. "Death is the punishment." No more bullshit excuses. Beleth needed to end this or I would.
Rose stepped forward, her eyes offering a brief apology before she spoke. "No. We don't know the extent of his crimes. We can't kill him."
"He tried to kill my husband, and me!" Sam turned to look at each of us, pleading with us to give justice, or maybe vengeance, to this man. "He won't give up until he finishes the job. Isn't that enough?"
"More than enough," Beleth said, raising his scythe again, perhaps willing to impale the bishop if he didn't move.
I wouldn't cry over that loss, either.
Alaric faced Beleth, not breaking eye contact. "Please, let my order deal with him. He deserves a trial."
Beleth tensed his raised arm, then dropped it. "Then he shall have one."
"He will not return here, I swear," the bishop said.
"He'd better not, for your sake." Beleth didn't shout, but his words carried their own power, and threat. "Now, take me to my son."
Father Patrick gestured for Beleth to follow him, but as he passed I stopped the angel. "Why let him live?"
"I leave him to a trial," said the angel. "One day, I hope someone does the same for me."
Ryder had passed out from the pain, his naked body sprawled bloody over the rock and dirt, but I took no chances, soliciting help from Tammy and Dean to secure him before bringing him back to the mansion.
I also took no measures to make it an easier journey for him. He was lucky to still be alive.
We stowed him in the attic, tied up like a cartoon character from the old Wile E. Coyote cartoons. Not trusting the rope alone, I added shackles, confident he wouldn't be moving, let alone escaping, any time soon.
I cut off the excess rope and stared at the knife in my hand, running my finger over the sharp edge as I thought of all the innocent lives Ryder had destroyed.
"Derek." Someone called to me, but the knife held my attention.
"Derek." A hand rested on my shoulder. I turned to my sister's grim face. "I'll watch him. Go be with the others."
Right. Beleth was with Drake, to hopefully heal him. I nodded and closed the knife, shoving it back into my pocket. "Thanks."
Ryder would live another day.
If he was lucky.
The infirmary was crowed as Beleth stood over Drake with Sam and Dr. Susie at his side and Father Patrick and Alaric in the corner watching. I didn't see Toby, but that didn't mean much.
"In order to save him," Beleth said, "Drake must become more angel than human. There are two ways to become Nephilim: through birth if one parent is angel or Nephilim, or through a blood ritual. Drake was born, but this ritual I must do will also imbue him with angel blood, which is something rarely, if ever, done to turn one who is already Nephilim. The angel blood will further his transformation which began the day of his wedding, when I performed the first ritual to unlock some of his powers by painting an ancient symbol on his forehead with my blood."
It was a lot to take in. What would this change do to Drake? How would it change him? I'm sure Sam and everyone else had the same questions.
Sam didn't hesitate though. "Turn him. Now."
"He's already Nephilim," Beleth said. "That's his birthright. This will unlock his power." He hesitated. "And his weakness."
A shimmer of light hovered in the air and solidified into a street savvy boy who always appeared scuffed up. "What weakness?" asked Toby.
Only Alaric looked surprised at his appearance, but Drake had saved Toby from a life, and death, on the streets. The boy was never far from his side, even if his parapowers hid him.
"The craving for blood," Beleth said.
"Like human blood?" Toby asked.
Beleth nodded.
"Can he control it?" I asked.
Beleth stood still, like a rock or a mountain. "He can learn."
Sam shivered. "How long will it take?"
"Days. Weeks. It's different for each Nephilim," Beleth said.
Father Patrick stepped forward, speaking mostly to Sam. "There is one more thing you should know.
He licked his lips nervously. "Not all survive the transformation."
Sam nodded, likely having read the priest's mind already. She turned back to Beleth. "You're not pure angel anymore. You've been genetically modified. Will that affect the ritual?"
Beleth dropped his head a fraction, such a small movement but on one usually so still, it felt big. "I don't know. But I do know he will die soon if we do nothing."
She steeled her shoulders and squeezed Drake's hand. "Do it."
Beleth's hand turned into a blade—was that an angel trait or unique to his newly bred genetics?—and used it to cut open his wrist.
I wasn't sure what I expected, more subtlety or some incense and chanting maybe, but not something this blatant.
The blood poured into Drake's mouth and down his throat. I turned away, troubled by the thought that my best friend would crave this particular delight.
I faced Alaric instead, whose face had paled considerably. I didn't want to think we were both disgusted by the same thing. "Take Ryder and leave. Tonight."
He pulled his eyes away from the blood meal to lock eyes with mine. "You may wish to reconsider."
"Why?"
"You and Rose must accompany us."
Yeah, not happening. "I've spent enough time around you."
Rose slipped her hand into mine, and even in the midst of all this hell, her touch made me shiver and long for more. "For the trial?" she asked.
The bishop nodded. "Aside from Drake, you two are the only witnesses."
"And if you go alone?" I asked.
"Then there can be no trial, and he'll be set free."
Rose squeezed my hand. "We'll go."
"We'll stay with Drake," I said at the same time.
We faced each other.
"I want to stay too," she said, "but Drake would want us to go. He'd want Ryder judged."
"Then it can wait until after the transformation." I wanted Ryder punished, but I wasn't going to make him a priority over Drake.
"No," said the bishop. "We must start soon. When Ryder fails to contact the council, they will wonder where he has gone. If they discover we have kept him prisoner without informing them of why, they will hunt us."
Rose fidgeted, looking from Drake back to the bishop. "How long do we have?"
"We should leave tomorrow," he said. "Once everyone has rested."
My muscles tensed. "Contact the council. Tell them they'll have to wait."
The bishop smirked. "They wait for no one."
"They'll wait for me," I said, a low growl in my throat.
The bishop raised his hands. "You'll put this school in danger."
"You've already done that by coming here and bringing this monster," I reminded him.
Sam spoke up from over Drake's body. "We're fine here." She glared at me, of course reading my mind. "Go. Make sure he's punished for what he's done to my husband."
I wanted to argue, was about to argue, but how could I? This was what she wanted, what Drake would want if he was conscious. "Fine. We'll go tomorrow."
The room suddenly felt too small, too claustrophobic. Drake choking on blood. Alaric gloating over his win. Toby, Sam and Father Patrick looking ready to cry if this didn't work. Beleth bleeding out blood too dark to be human.
I walked to the door, Rose with me, when Sam's voice filled my mind.
Make sure he pays.
TWENTY ONE
Give Me That Man
ROSE
Give me that man
That is not passion's slave, a
nd I will wear him
In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart,
As I do thee.
— William Shakespeare, Hamlet
"MAYBE DEREK IS right. Maybe we shouldn't be leaving Drake and Sam right now." Clothes littered my bed as Ocean tore through my closet and dresser looking for something 'decent' for me to wear in Rome.
Basically, she packed my skimpiest, more 'indecent' clothing, while I unpacked them and packed more reasonable choices.
Hope, the only remaining puppy of my loyal companion, Sandy, and my wedding present from Derek, jumped onto the bed and licked my face vigorously, forcing me to stop and pet her.
Ocean cocked her hip, her long red hair falling down her chest in spirals. "That husband of yours is most definitely not right about this. Not only do you need to make sure Ryder is punished for what he did, but you two also need some time alone. This is a perfect opportunity to steal a mini-vay while away."
"A mini-vay? I don't think that's a real word." Despite my mood, I couldn't help but smile at my best friend, who always put a positive spin on everything.
"A mini vacation," she said, rolling her eyes as she threw more clothes into my suitcase.
Hope found a new distraction across the room, and I tossed out a skimpy sundress and packed another pair of jeans. Ocean scowled at me and shoved the dress back in. "You'll thank me for this, I promise you. Hope and I are going to have grand walks while you're off on your vacation."
Since she had been the one to dress me for my first dates with Derek, I gave in to a few of her demands, but still kept my jeans.
"I think Derek wants to kill him." My hands froze over my carry-on as I spoke my fears out loud for the first time.
Ocean sat on the bed and looked at me, her green eyes wide and serious. "So do I. But does that mean he deserves to die?"
"That's what I want to figure out," I said.
"You do that," she said, grabbing my makeup case. "I'll do your makeup."
We pulled up to a private airstrip after an uncomfortably quiet drive from Elysium. The Church had sent an armored truck to transport Ryder while Derek, Bishop Alaric and I sat in the back of a limo avoiding eye contact with each other.
Armed security, also from the Church, escorted Ryder to the jet first, locking him away in a small room and standing guard outside while we boarded. Derek and I sat as far from everyone as we could.
Given the circumstances, I felt bad for being impressed by the posh interior, leather reclining seats and space allotted us. I'd never actually flown anywhere before, but I knew from watching television and movies that this was not the typical experience.
Sam and her friends were used to this, from their assignment travels with Rent-A-Kid. This is how she grew up, in secret, flying all over the world as a paranormal spy. It made my life raised on a farm with my coven seem so ordinary, though I was sure that also wasn't true.
I sucked in my breath as the jet took off, my stomach dropping as we rose in the air. Derek stared out of his window, lost in his own thoughts.
We'd argued again about Ryder before we left today, and I hated the divide I felt between us. Being in conflict with him churned my gut, and I needed to resolve it somehow, to get us back to being 'us.'
I reached for his hand, but it lay limp on his leg, so I pulled away. "Have you ever been to Rome?"
He didn't turn to look at me. "Nope."
I forced my voice to be chipper. "I've always wanted to go."
"Cool."
"How about you?"
"Don't know. Maybe." He turned his body further away from me, and my heart sank, but I didn't give up.
"We'll get him, Derek. No matter what, we know he attacked Drake. He won't get away with that."
"And how would you punish him?" he asked, staring at the clouds, his voice monotone.
"Lock him away."
"For how long?"
I thought about it. "Years. Life, maybe."
Derek finally turned to face me, his jaw locked and eyes hard. "What if this council lets Ryder go? What would you do then?"
"I'm not sure."
"You'd let him go?"
"I don't know," I said, knowing we were digressing back into our fight. "What gives us the right to decide his fate?"
Derek turned back toward the window. "What gives anyone the right?"
I didn't answer. I didn't have an answer.
"Power," he said, answering his own question. "Power allows us to decide. He attacked our friend. He lost. Now, his life is in our hands."
"Power gives us the ability to decide," I clarified, "not the right."
"And yet it's ability that I care about," he said as he shoved his earbuds into his ears and drowned me out with music.
With Derek silent, I walked over to the bishop, who sat with a black book in his hands.
"You know Ryder is guilty, right?" I asked.
He closed the book and motioned for me to sit down.
I did.
"I know he made a mistake—no, no, not even that," the bishop corrected himself. "I know he is in trouble, and I must stand beside him." His eyes were the heavy eyes of a man tired with life. If he were younger, would he look like…. no he couldn't, but…
"Is he family?" I asked.
The bishop grumbled. "In a way."
"How? I'd like to know."
He stared at me, as if judging how serious I was. "Why?"
"I'm about to decide a man's fate. I think I should know as much as possible about the man."
He scratched his chin, grunted, and finally sighed, resigned. "I can't tell you much. It's not my place to speak of his past. But I can tell you how we met."
I nodded. That would have to do.
He spoke quietly, softly, as one does when they pull a story from the edges of memory. "Many years ago, when the Romans still commanded—no. Not that long ago—when the Roman Empire had faded, yes. I had gone hunting for a Nephilim and followed his tracks to a city of outcasts. I found my prey dead in the snow, which was unfortunate, for my superiors wanted him alive, and decided to scour the city for another criminal to bring back. Instead, I found Ryder, sleeping on a stone floor, half mad with grief. He had a hatred in him, as sure as the seasons and hot as flame. He'd lost everything to the Nephilim, and on the few nights he slept, he told me he dreamt of revenge.
"Sometimes, I wonder if things would have been better if I'd left him to die. Sometimes I wonder—no, no wondering. I offered him a new home, and he accepted, and I taught him to hunt his enemies. For years, across the slopes of Italy and the hills of France, we hunted together. That is what he knows. That is what he does. He is what I made him, and I must defend him, for his actions are my doing."
"He should pay for his own decisions," I said.
The bishop nodded. "And he will, but I will be at his side. As I was at the beginning, I shall be at the end."
He turned away then, and I returned to my seat, occupied with thoughts of Rome and the bishop. But mostly I thought of Sandy, my Husky. You may wonder why, but there is good reason. You see, I'd raised that dog, taught and trained her. If she ever hurt anyone, I was the one responsible, and I knew it, like gravity, I knew it was right. Some may say that a dog and a person are not the same in this. But I would disagree.
TWENTY TWO
When Sorrows Come
SAM
When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions
— William Shakespeare, Hamlet
THE GROANING WOKE me from the shallow sleep I'd fallen into. On autopilot, my hand reached for the washcloth soaking in cool water and placed it on Drake's head, mopping up sweat, cooling off his feverish body. A lock of blond hair fell over his eyes, and I brushed it away, willing him once again to wake up, to look at me with his beautiful, kind blue eyes.
His normally tan skin had paled, his strong face sunken in by the poison sucking his life away. Somewhere inside of him, Beleth's angel blood and Ryder's werewolf poison were fighting a
battle for his life.
I'd been by his side all night and all day, only sleeping when my body dozed against my will. But nightmares lived inside my eyelids, in the crevices of my mind, and I didn't need to dream about death.
Drake's body convulsed, shivering and shaking, and I choked back a sob and held his hand, whispering to him, telling him stories of Ana, of how much I loved him. Reminding him of why he had to fight this. Why he had to live.
The door opened with a soft click and Lucy and Luke came in. I released Drake's hand, throwing myself into a three-way hug with my best friends. "You came!"
Lucy glanced at Drake, then turned her eyes to me. "Of course, we came. I'm just sorry we weren't back in time for Curtis's funeral. How's Paul doing?"
I felt guilty for having forgotten about his grief in my own. Drake could live, but Paul would never get back his love. "He's not well. He keeps to his room, deep in mourning. We're trying to give him space."
Lucy nodded. "And how's Drake?"
I shrugged. "Alive. He's fighting." I'd already filled them in on Drake's shocking heritage and transformation. Though, maybe shocking is an overstatement. We'd had so many shocks over the last few years; this was par for the course in our lives. Luke and Lucy had found out about a mother they never knew they had, only to lose her within hours of talking to her through my telepathy. She'd died saving me and my unborn child.
I'd found out I was the genetic test tube baby of an evil genius who then mated my genes with Drake to create the ultimate weapon in Ana.
We'd all had shocks.
They sat with me, telling me about their travels, Lucy mooning over Hunter and their exciting love, while I listened. I might have been jealous, if I didn't love my life so much. It wasn't as exciting as theirs, not usually, anyway, but it was beautiful, spending my days with Ana and Drake, helping the kids here learn to express themselves through their art, using my Seeker powers to find new kids to help. I wouldn't change anything.
