I closed my eyes, still combing my fingers through her light golden strands. “The night we met.”
“Just the bench. It was cold that night. Do you remember?”
“I recall you being cold.”
“You blew on your hands and rubbed them together.”
“It’s ingrained into us to replicate human movements to fit in.”
She breathed out a ghost of a laugh but didn’t smile. “The bench, Jared. I was cold when I arrived, and the longer I sat on that hard, frozen wood, the colder I became. The frame was black iron, and the ground beneath was dusted in snow. I had just lost my father—my everything—and felt empty. I had nothing. And somehow, in that moment, you gave me you.”
I shook my head, feeling my eyes burn. “You had your life at college. You had your friends, your career, your whole life ahead of you.”
“And I wouldn’t trade it. I need you to know that.”
A tear made its way slowly down the bridge of my nose, settling at the end, and then dripping onto her shoulder. She crossed her arm over her chest and covered the small, wet dot with her hand. “In the end, I have to admit that I gave you nothing but pain, Nina.”
“This isn’t the end.”
“It’s the end of Eden.”
“You gave her to me; even if it was for a blink in time, she was mine. All of those smiles, those memories of you walking the floor with her, the firsts. It’s all because you sat on that bench. You gave me things no one else could. You’ve saved my life countless times.”
“We have no daughter. This is no life.” I broke down then. For the first time, I found myself not only unworthy, but unable to be a rock for Nina. I’d let her down again.
She stood and cradled my head to her stomach, gently pulling me to her, swaying just a few inches in either direction. She began praying, and my breath caught. With a human-American accent, she spoke the language of Heaven she’d heard me whisper so many times before. Much of it was barely decipherable, but I knew exactly what she was trying to say. And, more importantly, what she was trying to do. Hearing my wife’s voice speak the language of my heavenly and earthly fathers was exactly what I needed to hear in that moment.
I wrapped my arms around her legs and pressed my cheek against her middle, letting my pain fill the loft. I gasped and sputtered, cried out and growled, shook and fell limp, swayed and nearly collapsed as waves of grief rolled over me just to come from another direction. Nina held me through it all.
“I’ve got you,” she said in English. “I won’t let go.”
We stayed that way for hours, holding each other, grieving together, but other than prayers, not much talking until I sensed her stomach twinge.
“You’re hungry,” I said, standing. My body felt two-hundred years old, sore and aching, sluggish and clumsy.
“I couldn’t possibly, Jared. Please don’t,” she said, reaching for me. “Sit,” she said.
I obeyed.
“What now?” she asked.
My brain simply wouldn’t move forward from that minute. I shook my head, waiting for something to come, but for the first time in my life my thoughts were quiet.
“Do we fight? Do we help Levi? Do we demand justice? I need to know. Was this God? Did he let this happen? Was this His plan?”
I rubbed my forehead, feeling overwhelmed. “I … don’t know. I don’t have the answer this time.”
“Do we find the answer?”
I looked up at her, knowing my face looked just as red, beat up, and puffy as hers did. There were always answers, and she deserved them. We both did.
“I need you to stay with Lillian. I’ll send Grant.”
“Are you going to find answers?”
I stood, cupping her shoulders and kissing her forehead, slow and soft. “They’ve started a war. It’s time someone holds them accountable.”
She took a step back from me. “You’re just going to execute every demon you see?”
“Yes.”
Nina thought about what that might mean, but the sweetness of revenge sparked in her eyes. “Good. Kill them all.”
Chapter Three
Claire
“You have got to be mother flipping kidding me.” I chomped on the wad of gum in my mouth, watching the sun rise. At least three dozen demons at my feet, and twice that many goblins. I couldn’t walk without getting blackish-blue goo on my white Louboutin’s. I hooked my arm around Ryan’s middle. It was the only time he grimaced when I touched him.
“No. Don’t. Cl—”
Before he could finish, I bent at the knees, got a good, sturdy stance, and then pushed off, landing outside of the large circle of carcasses, more than thirty feet from the center.
I released Ryan, and he rubbed his sore side. “I hate that.”
I jutted out my bottom lip.
His face screwed into disgust. “Don’t start. The only reason you did that was to keep your white outfit or ensemble or whatever clean.”
“So?” I said, unaffected by his less-than-stellar jab.
He pointed at the bottom of my shirt. “Got some uh… some splatter there.”
I looked down. Sure enough, the dark red, almost black amalgamated, dried ketchup-like goo that could only be demon blood had spattered my shirt and the pocket area of my white jeans. “Damn it!” I said through my teeth, knowing better than to rub. It would only smear. “This stuff doesn’t come out!”
“Maybe stop wearing your good clothes to a fight, then?”
“Have you met me?” I asked. “Do I own anything else?”
He grabbed my collar and pulled me to him, planting a kiss on my lips before pushing me away. “Covered in Hell slime and still gorgeous.”
I smiled and winked at him. “It’s a talent, really.” My expression sobered as I thought about our surroundings. “Were they coming for Morgan or for us?”
“Or both?” Ryan asked, wiping the bright red cut under his eye with the back of his hand. I loved that he didn’t whine like most humans would. My husband was happy just to be with me and get to trade punches and shoot a gun once in a while. Anything else was what came with the territory, and wow, did he love the territory.
A few loud pops sounded behind us, and Ryan ducked.
I watch as multi-colored flashes sizzled and then fizzled out in midair.
Ryan stood tall and rubbed the back of his neck. “I hate July Fourth.”
The popping and explosions reminded him of deployment. He was on-edge this time of year since he’d come home. I usually took him on vacation, outside of the US, but our plans were cancelled when Eden… I chewed on my bottom lip, changing my line of thought. The goblins had ambushed us just a few blocks from the hospital, forcing me off the road into the park where we were standing. “They would’ve caught us at the hospital if they wanted Morgan.”
“Maybe we should go back there? They might have him in a room by now.”
I nodded. “Not a bad idea. Since humans started getting sick when they shell, it comes with an unintended benefit for us. Maybe Morgan can sift through any memories left behind and give us answers. Maybe he can even tell us where Eden went, if she’s still…”
Ryan nodded, pulling me to him. I hugged him back, my head cradled perfectly by his neck and chin.
“I can’t believe she’s gone,” I whispered, readjusting my chin on his shoulder. “I remember her first steps, her first punch, all of it. She was the perfect combination of Jared and Nina. It just doesn’t make sense.”
“I dunno. I feel like we’ll see her again,” he said. “She doesn’t feel gone, Claire.”
I sighed, getting myself together. “I don’t want to get my hopes up. Let’s go back. See what he knows, if anything.”
Ryan nodded, holding out his hand and leading the way back to my Bugatti Chiron.
“Have you ever thought about getting anything less…”
“Ostentatious?” I asked. I knew it was, of course
, like every car I’d had since the Lotus. I used my sleeve to clean a smudge from the black paint. The gold trim might have been a little much for someone else, but I liked my car like I liked my men.
“Not sure. What does that mean?”
Ridiculous. I rolled my eyes. “You’re lucky you’re cute and can hit a target from over fifteen hundred yards, because I didn’t fall in love with your intellect.”
We both opened our doors and sat inside. I pressed the engine button and the motor ignited, more a low gurgle than a growl and far less pretentious than the paint job.
“It makes you an easy target.”
I touched his cheek, then leaned in for a deep kiss that made my insides flutter. “Baby,” I said as I pulled away, staring into his eyes, “I’ve never been easy.”
“Well, that’s no shit,” he grumbled as I pulled away.
***
It took us longer to find parking at the hospital than it did to drive there. The lights and underbelly of the Bugatti blinked twice when we got too far away, instantly locking the doors. Ryan being Ryan refused to part with his old Toyota Tundra, but he didn’t really need anything fancy. We were usually together, and we both knew I was the better driver, anyway.
“Hear anything on the radio, yet?” I asked.
Ryan shook his head. He kept a small comm in his ear most of the time, listening to the Providence Police Dept chatter. Keeping our family safe was a full-time job, and Ryan and I were a team, but he was also a captain at the Providence police department. It gave us an in when we needed it, and Ryan an earthly break from the fantastical chaos that was our world.
“It’s been pretty quiet, actually.”
The automatic doors of the ER swept open. Ryan pulled and tugged at his wedding ring as we approached the front desk.
“Sometime today,” I said through my teeth.
“Trying. I don’t do this very often anymore.”
Ryan stopped at reception, resting his elbow on the counter, flashing his best half-grin at the nurse behind the desk, who immediately smiled back, batting her eyes.
I’m going to throw up.
“Hi,” Ryan said, slipping the ring into his jacket pocket. “Bev, is it?”
“How can I help you?” she said, straightening her name plate so it was in Ryan’s full view.
I rolled my eyes. Yes, he’s cute, but damn. He’s not that charming. Why do all the women swoon?
“I was in here earlier with my sister,” he said, gesturing to me. “We brought in a kid we found beat up or something. We were just wondering how he’s doing.”
“Oh,” she said, blushing. “I’m not allowed.”
“Of course,” Ryan said, leaning in more. “Maybe just let us know if he’s been moved to a room? We’d love to go see him. He seemed a little scared and out of it.”
Bev smiled girlishly, then looked down. “I really can’t, but you’re really cute. Maybe just… I shouldn’t.”
“Bev—” Ryan began.
She looked up, the shy and excited expression gone. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m old enough to be your mother, boy, now put your wedding ring back on and get the hell outta my ER.” She leaned back, getting worked up. “Tryna butter me up like I can’t get a man on my own.”
We walked away, Ryan trying to push his ring back over his swollen knuckle and me with my hands in my jacket pockets, trying to hold in the laughter.
“It’s not funny,” he said when we were finally outside.
I burst out in a barrage of giggles that quickly became louder, tears streaming down my face. It felt good to let go, but soon those uncontrolled belly laughs became inconsolable tears. Ryan hugged me, holding tight. He grunted so I knew I was holding him tighter, but I couldn’t help it, and he let me. We were surrounded by trees, behind us darkness, in front of us so many lights it was almost day. We’d spent so much time there, within those walls. Ryan had almost died twice in surgery; his blood had poured on the floor. So had Nina’s, but here we stood, outside and unwelcome.
I turned to Ryan. “Stab me.”
“What?” he said, making a face.
“Stab me. Then you can walk around in the ER.”
He shook his head. “You’ll heal. It’ll draw attention. There will be questions. I’m PD; it’s messy.”
“Okay, then I stab you.”
Ryan lifted his light blue Providence PD T-shirt, the skin of his torso crowded with scars. “Pick a spot.”
I blew my bangs from my face, frustrated. “So, we just start looking in hallways, hoping he’s been moved to a room?”
“That’s the best option we have for now,” Ryan said.
“That’s not a plan. That’s hope.”
“Hope always seems to work for me.” He tilted his head, closed one eye and grinned, knowing I was going to make fun of him.
So, I didn’t. “That’s sweet, baby.”
“Yeah?” he said, surprised.
“No. That sucked. C’mon.”
Ryan followed me toward the main entrance, his hands in the air at his sides.
I kissed at him. “I’m just giving you a hard time. You’re the sweetest.”
“You are,” he said, holding the door open for me.
The halls were quiet at midnight. Only the nurses and radiology staff walked the halls, barely acknowledging us while the nurses made their rounds, their scrubs swishing between their thighs while they checked charts and answered room calls. The wheels of the portable X-Ray units whined between the tile floor, and the weight of the machine pushed by the radiology techs. Ryan still had to work to distract overwhelmed nurses while I peeked in rooms or at patient lists. Finally, we found Morgan on the second floor, sleeping and alone.
He still looked broken even though I’d heard his bones snap back together myself. The skin beneath his eyes were purple, his stats still low. He sucked in a shallow breath, in no hurry to exhale.
“How long does it take to bounce back?” Ryan asked, watching him with concern.
“It depends. Before Eden was born, it didn’t affect humans at all except for special cases like Kim. Now, they leave something behind. Like an echo. For some it takes weeks to get back to normal, some months. Morgan was shelled by the Devil. I don’t know that he will.”
“So, Eden saving him was all for nothing?”
I touched Morgan’s cheek. “We’ll know when it happens.”
“When what happens?” he asked.
“The reason for his sacrifice … and for hers.”
I shook my head at the curly-headed kid in the bed, crossing my arms. It was strange to feel sympathy for the boy I just saw murder my niece, a girl who was my most precious. We’d played hide-and-seek, she called me out on my snark—and gave it right back—when she was just four, and kicked my tail during training not long after that. She was my hero, and he’d killed her.
“Morgan,” I whispered, patting his cheek gently. “Can you hear me?” I looked back at the television hanging on the wall. There was a sign hanging from a single strip of tape that read Out of Order.
He stirred.
I patted him again. “Morgan?”
“Eden,” he whispered. Even in his sleep his face crumbled, and he mourned. His eyes popped open, and he stared at the ceiling. A tear fell from the outside corner of his eye down his temple, settling in his ear.
“It’s Claire, Eden’s aunt. Do you remember me?”
He blinked a few times and looked around, clearly exhausted and confused.
“You’re in the hospital. You’re alive,” Ryan said.
His tense muscles relaxed back into the mattress, and his eyes seemed heavy again.
“Morgan, what’s the last thing you remember?”
His eyes closed, and his bottom lip trembled. “Eden,” he said, saliva gathering in his mouth. “Eden.”
“Yes,” I said, running my fingers through his hair. “But you can still help her I thi
nk. I hope.”
He blinked again, his eyes slowly wandering to me. The sleeves of his hospital gown had bunched at his shoulders, the thin blanket probably not enough to keep him warm against the intense air conditioning.
“Do you remember anything else? Beyond the end? Something that might not belong to you?” I asked.
Ryan shook his head. “He doesn’t know what that means, Claire.”
“Sshhh,” I snapped.
His eyes fell away as he sifted through the past, and I wondered if he’d be able to communicate his thoughts if he did happen to remember anything helpful.
He raised a shaking hand just a few inches from the mattress, trying to point at something. I looked back. “Wall? White board? Writing? Chair?”
Morgan’s hand fell to the bed. He was exhausted.
“It’s okay,” Ryan said. “Take your time.”
Morgan noticed the television hanging on the wall in the corner of the room and raised his chin, concentrating on it for a moment. The beeping on his monitor kicked up a bit, but not enough to get the attention of staff. He blinked, and the television switched on. He blinked again, and the channel changed to All in the Family.
“What do the kids say these days? That’s lit?” Ryan asked.
I frowned. “It’s lit. And, don’t say it. You sound stupid.”
The grumpy, loud patriarch on the screen stormed out of his living room, slamming the door, and Morgan managed to emit a short groan.
“The old man?” I asked.
“Father,” Ryan guessed.
“Good one,” I said, nodding.
Morgan closed his eyes tight, and the television scanned through several channels.
“Whoa, whoa, slow down.” I stood, trying to keep up with the imagines. “It’s too fast.”
“All I see is blur,” Ryan said.
The screen went dark, and I looked to Morgan, who stared at the hall.
“You have a look. I’m not familiar with that one. Did you figure it out?” Ryan asked.
I sighed. “Door. He remembers her at a door.”
Morgan’s eyes fluttered, and he lost consciousness.
Ryan rushed over, touched him, then looked at the monitors, which all appeared normal.
Sins of the Immortal Page 2
