Exalted

by Ella James

  They finally out-flew the rain somewhere over what Julia thought might be mid-Georgia. They landed in a tiny, boxy tree house, built around the top of a big tree. Cayne explained it was a wildlife lookout.

  He tossed her a towel, and she dried her hair and face, looking down at her body with no clue what to do; she couldn't really get dry unless she pulled off her clothes. Cayne was toweling off his own hair; with his arms raised like they were and his biceps bulging as he dried himself, Julia felt like the inside of a hot chocolate chip cookie. She stepped over to him, failing to notice he'd opened a little yellow sticky note. His mouth made a pensive line, and she stopped a step away from him, touching his abs with her fingertips.

  “What does Andre's note say?”

  He shook his head. “Atlanta.”

  “Mmm-hmm. What about it?” Julia couldn't get a deep breath. “Is it like, gone?”

  “Not gone,” he said. “Just compromised. They still haven't gotten the water situation worked out, and the National Guard is not exactly appreciated by the locals at the moment.”

  Julia frowned, and he said, “It's violent there.”

  “So...Birmingham?”

  He shrugged. “That's the plan.” For a second, something strange passed across his face; Julia watched his eyelids grow heavier, his green eyes darken...

  Cayne's mouth was closing over hers before she even saw it coming.

  “I won't do what we're doing without doing this just one more time,” he rasped.

  She spread her palm against his chest and shoved him back into the wall, where she wrapped her arms around his delectable body and pressed a kiss on his scarred throat.

  “Ditto,” she whispered.

  ***

  From the sky, Birmingham was pretty at night—all rolling hills and flashing lights. By the time she and Cayne found the correct hotel, the finer points of their plan to save the world were making Julia feel sick with nerves. She pulled her messy hair into a rubber band she'd found inside her jeans pocket—a sparkly pink one, given to her at the Swosen resort by Meredith—and she and Cayne walked into the lobby holding hands.

  As soon as they got inside, it was clear that something big had happened. The upscale leather furniture in the lobby was crammed with guests, many holding tissues, and everyone was watching two mounted flatscreens set to news channels.

  Julia didn't even look at the screens. She didn't want to know, at least not until they got to their room and got settled.

  Cayne squeezed her hand, and as they stepped up to the check-in desk, the employee, dabbing her eyes with a tissue, didn't even look up at them. After an awkward second filled with sniffling and swallowing sounds, Julia said, “Ma'am? Are you okay?”

  She could feel the flare of auras as everyone else in the room reacted with outrage to her question.

  Sniffing into the tissue, the woman shook her head, pointing to the TV mounted on the wall behind Julia. “My nephew's on a plane today. Went to Cincinnati. He's in sales.”

  When Julia frowned, the woman cocked her head at the TV behind Julia. She reluctantly turned to see.

  Pictured was a jumbo jet. The headline underneath read, “FOUR PLANES DEPARTING ALEXANDRIA CRASH INTO ATLANTIC.”

  ***

  Three hours later, Julia stood staring out at the city through a penthouse window. Behind her, Cayne sat on the bed, rubbing his shadow-scruffy face obsessively, like a man disturbed. All he'd done since they arrived in their room was ramble about The Adversary, then fall into silence when Julia stopped listening. She didn't care anymore.

  Everything was over.

  Again and again, she tried to picture how big those planes would be. Big, she thought. Like, really big. There were enough seats on those planes to hold all the Chosen.

  She tipped her head against the window. Shut her eyes. Took a deep breath.

  The Adversary was a full-blooded Celestial deity. Of course he could do things like this. If Authorities and Chosen could get glimpses of the future, surely The Adversary could, too. What had they been thinking? That they could just sneak up on him and take him out?

  Julia blinked out at the city, surprised that she could still think straight. Her mind was racing a million miles a minute, her body shaking slightly. Her fingers and her nose felt cold, like she'd been walking around outside in the snow.

  Shock. Maybe that was what was going on.

  She heard a funny sound and turned her head. The movement felt too slow, like she was mired in Jello.

  Cayne was sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked hot, like always. Also tense, she thought. He opened his mouth and spoke like someone way far underwater. “Jooooliiiaa. Arrrree youuuuuuu okkkkkaaay?”

  She nodded, unsure what else to do.

  “Whaaaat diiid I juuuuust saaaaay?”

  She shook her head, laughing a little, because seriously, she couldn't remember, and Cayne came over to her. She watched him put his hand on her arm, and felt his squeeze seconds later.

  She wished he would stop touching her. Stop touching her and stop talking. If he would shut up for a little bit, she could go to sleep.

  That's all she wanted. Just some sleep.

  “Juuulia? Arrrre youuu okaaaay?” He frowned, and she managed to whisper, “Fine.”

  She went over to the bed and stretched out on it, face-down, shutting her eyes as the mattress indented with Cayne's weight. He stroked her hair, and it felt weird. Like her hair wasn't really her hair. When he spoke again, his voice was normal, but Julia had trouble believing it was really Cayne. Shouldn't he be dead, too? Everybody else was.

  “Julia,” he said, and she was hypnotized by his green, green eyes, “there's no guarantee they were on those planes. They were with Lille. I think he would have protected them. I think there's a chance The Adversary is just fucking with us. He likes to play games. Maybe none of those were Chosen planes. You know just as well as I do, the media is not going to release the names of people chartering private planes. I think you should try to hold out hope. At least for a few more hours.”

  “Hope.” She laughed.

  Then her eyes were feeling drowsy, so she shut them.

  She dreamed of Carlin, complaining about her wind-blown hair and smeared mascara. Typical Carlin, saying, “I look like I came from the gutter!” She dreamed of Drew with his unhappy face on. Lille walked between them down a long hall, past two leather chairs and a coat tree. He turned to Drew with caring eyes. “Andrew, just wait, you'll see. They'll be in here.”

  A knock sounded on the door, but Julia didn't give a shit. She was sleeping. She felt her mind drift off a little further as her stupor tightened its grasp.

  A second later, Carlin was saying something else. Being really loud. Julia sat up when skinny arms locked around her, and someone started screaming in Spanish.

  ***

  According to Lille, the four planes that crashed had contained exactly four hundred and two Chosen, which still left one hundred sixty-six.

  “They're flying over now—in a different plane.”

  “Now?” Julia croaked. Her voice was hoarse from crying tears of relief. “Aren't we worried their plane will crash again?”

  Lille's handsome face twisted in an ominous way, his lip ring shifting as his gorgeous mouth turned downward. “What The Adversary wants, The Adversary gets, so long as he's made his home in this realm. But regardless of all that, flying is still the best way to get across an ocean. So they fly.”

  Julia shook her head, and Lille said, “I think Cayne could be right. This might have been a message. After all, our plane, the first one we could get on to meet you guys here, contained mostly non-Chosen. We didn't crash.”

  “That's how he does things,” Cayne agreed. “He'll hurt you, but he wants to make sure you come back for more. He knows we'll still come at him, no matter what he does...so he enjoys making us suffer until then.”

  Julia's stomach flipped when she thought about her role in the offense. If their crazy plan failed, it w
as over. Not just their lives, but probably everything. She felt the same queasiness in the pit of her stomach that she had back when Harry would watch those Armageddon specials on the science channel. How pointless would that be? For everything to just...end.

  Lille gave her a sympathetic look, like he was reading her thoughts—he probably was—and then he turned to Cayne. “You want to take off? We can come back as soon as we find him. Should only take a few hours.”

  Julia opened her mouth to say no way. Being separated from Cayne now...it made her feel like she'd felt back in the days of group home. Desperate. Then she thought about the kids in that clothes store. Little kids with little sticky fingers and chubby cheeks. Foster kids still waiting on a forever family. She shut her mouth.

  “I have cell phones,” Lille said, handing one to Drew. “There's a fifty-fifty chance the towers are working at the right time. But I can easily communicate with Julia if she keeps her mind clear.”

  Julia's jaw dropped, and she found herself glaring at the breathtaking Authority. “Are you saying you could have told me you guys were okay?!”

  Lille nodded. “Your mind was too busy, though. I couldn't get through.”

  “Well isn't that a bitch?” she snapped.

  Carlin's eyes widened, probably because Julia usually didn't cuss, and he laced his fingers through hers, glancing down at her with a face that, to others, would seem expressionless; she recognized the unhappiness in the cinch between his brows. He didn't want to leave any more than she wanted him to, but she knew Lille needed him.

  His eyes shifted to Drew. “If anything happens, don't worry about Lille and me.” Julia could read between the lines there, too: Don't let Julia worry about me. Don't let her put herself in danger over me. “We'll find you.” He turned to Julia. “Remember, you're stronger than anyone you'll meet, so blast them back to Hell. And please, be careful." He jerked his thumb at Lille. "And keep your ears open.”

  He gave her a small, tight smile. Julia raised his hand to her mouth and kissed his knuckles, ignoring the exaggerated wink from Carlin. Cayne leaned down to kiss her lips, and Julia melted a little inside.

  After goodbyes all around, Lille and Cayne walked out the door.

  “Hurry back, please,” she murmured.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  There were four bar stools, but only three were occupied. Julia, Carlin, and Drew sat side-by-side, tasting tiny liquors from the wet bar and eating pistachios out of tiny pistachio packets.

  There was music on. Music from somewhere. The ceiling? Julia recognized the Brittney Spears song—one of her newer ones. Suitably light, nothing about it to make her eyes water. But of course, they did. Four bar stools = one for Meredith.

  She tried to comprehend...about Meredith's body, left inside the pyramid. But it didn't make any sense. Was as insane as imagining that Harry and Suzanne had died in a house fire. People couldn't be there one second and gone the next.

  Where did they go?

  Heaven?

  Julia had a horrible thought: If the net was thrown over Heaven and even the Authorities couldn't get in or out, how could souls get there? Was Meredith wandering around, still back in Alexandria?

  She rubbed her throat, where it felt like there was metal wire, wrapped around tightly, slicing into her skin.

  Carlin just kept telling her stupid story, about a horse and a rider and a bowling ball. Drew was listening, but his shoulders were hunched, his head tipped low.

  Right after Lille and Cayne had left, Julia had asked them about the other planes, and Carlin had started crying. Apparently, Shea had been on one of them.

  “Lille knew who...passed,” Drew had choked. “He could tell.”

  Julia tried her hardest not to think about any of the other Chosen. She felt lucky she didn't know very many of them.

  She'd asked about Nathan with a knot in her throat, but Drew had told her Nathan was okay; he'd been on the last plane to depart, the plane that wasn't in the air when the others crashed. Even considering his traitorous past, Julia had felt happy.

  Now she wondered what the Chosen would do. What any of them would do when they met up in Napa. Drew had seen that at least some of them made it that far.

  What was The Adversary's plan? When did he plan to make a move? What move would it be; pulling the net the rest of the way over Heaven and pinning it there for good? Julia's stomach did a quick twist, like she was free-falling on a ride at Dollywood. Drew draped his arm around her.

  “Don't worry too much,” he said, “or else Lille won't be able to get through.”

  Carlin leaned around Drew, noticing what must have been a serious case of Elmer's Glue face and bug eyes.

  “Julia—I know! We will watch TV! I love TV in the States!”

  So they moved to the couch. Julia was zoned out. Intentionally zoned out. She just couldn't be here at the moment, so she was thinking about that time Cayne got shot in Memphis. She had piled pillows around him on the couch, and then she'd taken a shower. In the shower...Wasn't that the first time she'd really thought of him like that? She smiled a tiny bit at the memory.

  Drew had the changer, but all of a sudden Carlin, on Julia's other side, reached over her and snatched it away. “Go back, Drew! Back, back!”

  A female news anchor filled the screen, and Julia actually flinched, terrified of hearing anything else, but it was her outfit Carlin was focused on. “That's Hermes! Look at the scarf! Oh, I love scarves! Julia, you have no scarf, is that right?”

  Julia shook her head, looking into the newscaster's green eyes. Cayne had green eyes.

  “I will buy you one!”

  Julia nodded. As she examined the woman's scarf, a small head shot filled a corner of the screen, and Julia almost gasped. It looked like Cayne—or maybe that was just her imagination. Something about the face sent creepy crawlies up her spine.

  Carlin was still talking, but Julia jumped up. “Shhh!” She grabbed the changer from Car's waving hands and cranked the volume up in time to hear:

  “Sources say Michael Abiss has spent the past few years in seclusion, at one of his infamous, unusual homes deep inside the Alps. However, the chaos here in America and overseas has forced him out of his self-imposed hiding. In addition to several defense contracting companies, Abiss Holdings owns the U.S.'s largest fleet of fire-fighting helicopters, and Mr. Abiss has donated three to fight forest fires in his home area of Bel Air. California and other western states with raging forest fires have leased sixteen more for what some sources say totals more than $60 million dollars per day. Meanwhile, the reclusive billionaire is showing Hollywood's elite a good time, with plenty of...er, hydration for all.”

  The screen panned to a wider shot, and Julia felt like she'd been punched in the ribs.

  “The caves!” Car shrieked. “The caves, the caves!”

  Grinning ear to ear, with women under each arm and Cayne's green eyes flashing in his chillingly beautiful blond head, was one Michael Abiss—the same pale-haired 'Authority' who'd stepped into the ski lift with Julia and Cayne at the resort in St. Moritz, laying the ground work for his plan to use Cayne to kill Methuselah.

  "That's him," Julia breathed, feeling shaky.

  "Who?"

  "The Adversary."

  They watched the TV with wide eyes, and Drew muttered, "Well, I guess we found him."

  ***

  “So they're just partying it up?” Julia murmured.

  She and Cayne were sitting on a vintage, orange couch about two feet from a panoramic view of Birmingham. The city lights still twinkled in the dark, but the sky was growing lighter, brighter, as the sun came up over California, where the wildfires burned; over Utah, where a cult leader had, the night before, encouraged almost a hundred people to jump off a mountain to avoid Armageddon; over Mississippi, where a teacher had just been fired for abusing children for two decades; over Louisiana, where levees were straining against flood waters...

  Julia knew these things because for most of the
night, while Drew and Car slept in the other rooms and she waited for Cayne to return, she'd sat in the king-sized bed in this master suite, looking out over the city and watching all the news she didn't want to see. She'd had to—to convinced herself they had to go through with their plan.

  Cayne nodded, pulling her closer into the crook of his arm, where she snuggled into softness of the new black jacket Carlin had ordered—along with a bunch of other things, including a scarf—through room service.

  “I can tell he's there. The whole place has the same feeling that Hell did. At least for me.”

  “What kind of feeling?”

  She watched his mouth quirk; he caught his lower lip between his teeth. “Kind of a jumpy feeling. Like adrenaline. Anxiety.”

  “Times a jillion,” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  “So he lives in a big, white mansion in Bel Air with columns and tennis courts and a bunch of other stuff, plus a grotto just like Hugh Heffner's.”

  “Bigger. I wouldn't be surprised if we had spent time in an exact replica."

  “Michael Abiss.” Julia shut her eyes. “You know, that's not even creative. Abyss. I wonder why Michael.”

  Cayne shrugged. “Irony. It's an old angel name.”

  “Has he ever really been on Earth before?”

  Cayne's brow arched, and he looked down at himself.

  “Besides then, I mean.”

  “Maybe a few times. I guess enough to amass a fortune."

  Julia nodded, still a little unable to believe it all, especially since she'd never really seen The Adversary—at least not since she knew he wasn't really a blond Authority. “So you guys saw the Demons, too, when you flew out there tonight?”

  “There were some there.”

  “Were there any Nephilim?”

  He shook his head. “None. They still hate Demons, and vice-versa. Which means a few might join with Andre and help us.”

  Julia nodded. She had a feeling they'd need all the help they could get. “What do you think he's planning? You think he expects us, right?"