by C. G. Blaine
I quickly tie the material around her wrists. “I’d better let him in before he beats my door down.”
“Tell Cass I’m sorry?” she asks, and I nod, finishing with my usual final tug.
On my way out, I turn off the overhead light and close the door behind me. I force myself to the kitchen to disengage my security system and then trudge into the living room, not looking forward to the next few minutes. I brace for the ache and activate the amulet, but I end up grinding my teeth anyway.
“You can only come in if you don’t yell at me,” I say.
Cass appears an instant later. “Then kicking your mortal ass it is.”
But instead of following through, he blows out a breath and goes to the kitchen. He comes back after raiding my whiskey and hands me a glass. “Here’s to the look on that fucker’s face when he realized we have the blade.”
He clinks his glass to mine, and I huff out a laugh.
“No matter the millennium, handing him his ass never gets old.” I finish my drink in one swallow and head straight to the kitchen for more. “Kelley recover from my text?”
He snorts and leans on the counter as I refill our drinks. “She’s going to lay into you one day, and I can’t fucking wait.”
I smile, thinking of Hannah going all pissed-off-kitten on me. “Me either.”
We fall quiet, sipping round two, and while I pour the third, he studies me the way Kasdaye does when he sees straight through the bullshit.
“You plan to give me smoldering looks all night, baby boy, or are you going to ask me to dance?”
“Okay,” he says, picking up his glass. “Are you getting attached to The Descended?”
“Nyx.” I set the bottle down and brace myself on my flattened palms. “And is that really your question?”
“No. I really want to know if you’re nailing her and if, because of it, you’ll pull some spare her life and let me go shit. ’Cause this only ends one way, brother—with you getting your light back and being unbound from Abaddon. I don’t care what has to go down for it to happen. And then we’re going to banish the darkness from this asshole once and for fucking all.”
“None of it matters without my light. The only way I stay in existence until then is being directly plugged into Donny.”
“We’ll figure it out. We haven’t even stabbed you yet.” His lips turn up into a smirk, and he throws back his drink.
“Right,” I say dryly. “Plan Z.”
I rub a hand over my face and bypass my glass for the bottle. Which works out since, by the time I finish a long pull, Cass has emptied mine too. The second one hits the counter harder than the first.
“And don’t think dodging the Nyx question isn’t an answer.” Then he grabs the crystal from beside the bag. “Please stay put for the rest of the night. I’d really like to get my girlfriend worked up for a reason other than to save you.”
He waits for my nod but not long enough for me to comment before he tosses the stone into the bag. It forces him to drop out of my apartment, and I put the bag away, mentally listing all the things I could have said.
The lamp’s off when I go back to the bedroom. I lay the amulet with my phone on the nightstand, the crystal still active. Its soft glow touches Nyx’s face and shows her tied hands tucked under her pillow. I wonder if she tested the give. If she noticed I’d left the knot looser than usual. Not enough that she could get it undone, just a little less secure. Less than last night when I hadn’t tightened it all the way and the night before that.
Cass’s words swim in my head while I watch her. All the reasons to shut down whatever this is with her. Our messy ending where both she and her sister die, one of them not coming back and the other hating me.
I drag my shirt over my head, throwing it on the floor as I climb in with her. She sighs the second my lips find hers, and then her hands slide up my neck, her fingers pushing through my hair. I roll her onto her back, needing to feel her against me. It’s the only time my mind shuts off all the shit—locked in my fucking box with her.
Us. Here. I want her. Just her.
I’m a pyromaniac who’s been left alone with an open flame. It was only a matter of time before I lit myself on fire. And fuck, am I ready to burn.
The next morning, I ask my brothers to come over at the ass crack of dawn before Nyx wakes up. Cass and Rosdan are already exchanging glances on the couch, Hannah between them. Since we rarely surprise one another, I doubt what I brought them here for will come out of left field for either of them. So, I jump straight into it without offering pastries and coffee.
“I want to tell her,” I say.
Cass exhales and slouches into the cushions, and Rosdan tugs at the back of his hair. Then the silence kicks in—and it’s loud as fuck. But I need all three of them to be on board, so I wait through it. I stare at my hands, slowly passing the glowing amulet between them. It keeps the shadows mobile, more tolerable while they shift from one side to another.
“She’ll want to use it on her sister,” Rosdan finally says.
I nod. “Yeah.”
“You can’t let her,” Cass adds.
Another nod. “Yeah.”
I might not know what the fuck is happening with Nyx, but I know all of this. But she also deserves the truth. That Abaddon lied about lying. Pure Essence of Creation can be made, and not only that … I’ve had access to it all along.
“Wait, what are you telling her?” Hannah looks first at me, then at Cass before ending on Rosdan. “What will she want to use?” Her questioning comes back to me, and Cass’s jaw tightens.
“The essence Nyx wants for her sister.” He massages his temple with one hand and her shoulder with the other. “It’s the dust that was left over from creation.”
Rosdan sits back and sighs. “A few scribbles on a paper and a Nephilim, and we can make more.”
“The dust?” Hannah asks. “My dust?”
I almost laugh at my dust, like the very essence of all things created belongs to her because she’s one of the eight beings currently in existence who could create it without God’s assistance. She didn’t even know what it was a few months ago. About the dust or the Book of the Speech from God that was used for every reboot of creation, let alone that she could read the language it was written in.
Her eyes drift around the room while she pieces the rest together. “So, if her theory about the dust works, then she could keep her sister alive?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Cass says.
“She can’t even try,” Rosdan continues. “If she only has one resurrection left, we’ll need it to unbind Chaz from Donny after we get his light back.”
He looks to me, waiting for my reaction. But fuck if I have one. So much of my existence has focused on protecting man—and I’ve spent the entirety of my mortal life watching over Nyx.
Now, I’ll need to let one die and crush her if I want to save myself.
Before I even attempt to open my eyes, they feel dry. I rub one and then peek at the single hand, my other still on the mattress. Not something that should normally confuse someone, but in my current situation, I expect my hands to come as a pair this early.
Chaz looks amused when I blink the rest of the way awake. “And here I thought you’d appreciate not being tied up in the morning. Guess I’ll make a note—hostage wants to be bound. Not a beneficial method of torture.”
I laugh, and he smiles. It fades fast, but his expression stays soft. Something about him feels different after last night. Warmer despite the coolness of his skin. He studies me for a long time and then sweeps my hair away from my face.
We haven’t done this before, just lie here together. I creep my hand across the space between us. His gaze flicks down when I reach the scar on his side, but he brings his eyes to mine again without stopping me. I run over his abs and up his chest and neck. The stubble on his jaw scrapes my fingertips. He turns into my touch, closing his eyes as he kisses my palm. His lips brush my skin again and again. Only
then, his brow draws in. He slides his hand over mine, pressing it to his mouth harder before he pulls it away.
“Fuuuck, Nyx,” he says. He opens his eyes, and they’ve changed in the past few seconds. His thumb rubs over the inside of my wrist, and he’s watching the movement instead of me. “I have to tell you something.”
“What?” I ask.
He lifts his head, and I haven’t seen this Chaz yet. A hard swallow bobs his throat, concern etched in his face. His perfect fucking face, sending me into a panic.
“Did Nyla’s nurse call? Is she…”
“No.” He shakes his head, emphasizing.
I let out a relieved breath, my entire body relaxing until he moves my hand back to my side of the gap.
Then he lets go and rolls to his back. “Abaddon wasn’t lying about the Essence of Creation. More can be made.”
My skin chills and not from his touch this time. I shift, so I can see his face, bracing myself on my forearm. “But why would he say it couldn’t?”
“Because he can’t make any.” Then he adds, “Who knows? He might not even know it can be made, so he thought he was lying to you.”
“So…” I lick my lips, hesitating. I should be diving on him and squealing in joy, but a warning sounds inside my chest. “How do you know this?”
Chaz moves onto his side again and pushes up on his elbow. He hangs his head and drags his finger over the back of my hand, resting on the mattress. “Because I can.”
The heartbeat rises into my ears, my pulse throbbing everywhere at once. “You’ve known the entire time? When I told you in the desert that it’s why I…” I swallow, remembering the harshness of his stare after I mentioned it. He said he could have saved us the drama.
I scramble to the foot of the bed and to my feet, holding a hand to my forehead as I take a few steps. Then I face the bed. I face him and his guilt-ridden features, and reality sinks into my belly. I told Rosdan how the essence supposedly worked—about injecting Nyla with the dust after I transfer my life into her.
The life they need. Why I’m even here with him in the first place.
“Can I have the dust?” I ask, and I drop my arm to the side.
“Nyx,” he starts, rotating to get out of bed, but I shake my head.
The tears burn in my throat, my lip trembling as he walks toward me. “Answer me, Chazaqiel. Can I have the dust?”
He stops in front of me, only holding my gaze for a second before he looks to the floor. “No. We won’t give you the dust.” He reaches for me, grazing my hip. “You can’t use it on her—”
“No!” I shove his hand off me and back away from him. “No. You don’t get to tell me you have the one thing that can save her and then forbid me from using it. It’s my life. My death.”
“If your tattoo disappears—”
“It’s not your choice!” I shout. “She won’t come back, Chazaqiel. She’ll die and be gone. I can’t just let her go without trying. I can’t. I don’t…”
The tears are falling in earnest now, and I don’t even bother wiping them as they drip off my face. My insides are crumbling, leaving holes as they cave in on themselves, and I don’t fall to the floor; I disintegrate. I slump against the dresser, legs folded in front of me. I rest my head on the wood and close my eyes, trying to grasp on to anything to stop spinning.
Everything I’ve done to try to keep Nyla from permanent death is now a part of the reason I can’t. I finally met my angel, and he’ll take the life meant for my sister. Save one; lose another.
After a few minutes, an ache in my eyes replaces the tears. The last of them are drying on my cheeks as a shadow falls over me. I look up at Chaz. It feels like I should fight him more. But before I can, he lowers to his knees.
“I’m sorry, Nyx.” His fists clench like he’s stopping himself from trying to touch me. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
He never loses eye contact, tilting his face up when I push off the floor to my feet. I start to walk past him, but he stops me by wrapping his hands around my waist. They stretch almost all the way around me.
He stares up, and I stroke his cheek.
“I’m sorry too,” I tell him.
Then I leave him there, on his knees, his eyes begging for forgiveness.
At some point, I forgot the reality of my situation. I’m not a guest or a part of anything. I’m a tool kept on the shelf until needed—one-time use. I appreciate that Chaz took the time to remind me.
I haven’t talked to him for three days. I haven’t talked at all. Not to Rosdan or Cass. Even Hannah, when she gives me a sweet smile from the other end of the couch, gets ignored. They work on the blade in the living room or conference in the kitchen. I stay wherever they are not.
The most interaction I share with anyone is at night while Chaz knots the tie around my wrists.
The first night, he said, “I need you to believe me when I say I’m sorry. If we knew you had more than one resurrection left, I’d give you all the fucking dust you wanted.”
I waited for him to tug the last loop through and rolled away, giving him my back until morning when he unbound me.
Night two: “I understand why you’re upset, but you need to forgive me.”
By last night, he was feeling otherwise. “You set me up to lose my light, bound me to a demon, and in the process, let the darkness inside me. It was all you, Nyx. I didn’t ask for any of this.” He jerked the knot as he finished but kept ahold of it, so I couldn’t move as he leaned in close. “I want you to fucking remember that.”
Then he marched out of the room, and I slept alone for the first time in weeks.
This morning, I woke up, already untied. I haven’t seen him at all, other than the few seconds it took me to pass to and from the kitchen. But when I come out from my shower in the evening, the bedroom door is shut. A relief. I need a break from the same four walls.
I grab a glass of water from the kitchen and flip on the TV. Halfway through some trashy reality show, I hear yelling and cursing coming from the bedroom. And a minute later, the door swings open. Chaz hovers in the doorway as I sit up, ready to switch rooms once he comes out. He stares at me, his features hard lines and zero give. If I wasn’t so mad, I’d find it intimidating. I do when he starts stalking toward me, and I sink into the couch. He stops a few feet away, his fists clenched.
“Here,” he says, but it’s more a growl. He throws something on the cushion beside me and slams a set of keys on the coffee table before storming away. “Now, get the fuck out.”
While he bangs drawers and the cabinet in the bathroom, I carefully pick up the clear vial next to my leg. The bottom half is filled with a nearly translucent white dust. A shocked breath leaves me. It’s the Essence of Creation. I look up at the hallway where Chaz disappeared and then at the keys. His car keys.
It takes a second for my brain to catch up, but once it does, I snatch the key ring off the table. I dash for the door, only thinking about Nyla until I hear footsteps behind me. I glance over my shoulder just as Chaz collapses into the recliner, facing away from me. My fingers rub over the glass tube in my hand, the other hand squeezing the keys.
Shit.
I breathe deep and turn around. Each step feels like a betrayal to Nyla, but I can’t leave until I know why he’s doing this. Why he gave me the dust when it might mean he’ll stay bound to Abaddon.
As I get closer, I see a pile of white cloth on the table. No. Bandages. Then his thigh comes into view, red streaks on his jeans, his bloody shirt on the floor.
“Oh my God,” I say, rushing around the chair.
Chaz glances up, irritated. “What part of get the fuck out was unclear?”
He winces, trading a saturated gauze pad for a new one and pressing it to his side. Right over his scar from Abaddon. Where, a few weeks ago, he was holding the tip of the Dimming Blade when I panicked that he’d stabbed himself.
And now, he has.
The vial and keys fall to the floor, and I push the already-
soaked pads off his leg.
“Seriously, do you need an escort out of the building?”
“Do you need one to the ER?” I bite back.
I crawl up to straddle his legs and shove his hand away, so I can apply pressure to the wound. I expect more of a fight, but I don’t get one. He grunts and readjusts my knee before he rests his head back, his chest rising and falling with sharp intakes.
“What the hell were you thinking?” My voice is weak from not speaking—or from speaking to him. “You agreed to wait until Rosdan ran out of ideas before you—”
“There wasn’t time.” He watches my hands. “I needed to know.”
I lean back for a clean square, and he grabs my thigh to keep me balanced. He keeps his grip there after I straighten up. Like maybe he’s missed touching me. I hate admitting that I’ve missed it too.
“What was the big hurry all of a sudden?”
“You,” he says, and I look up at him. His fingers flex, squeezing my leg tighter. “I thought if I could get my light back … I don’t know. Maybe we could lure Donny to the farm, and you could give your life to Nyla and unbind us at the same time. Two birds, one resurrection. Then you could keep her, and I could…” He tips his head toward the side. “Obviously, it didn’t work.”
A few shadows spill out as I switch the pads. “But you gave me the dust anyway?”
Chaz nods, running his other hand up the outside of my other thigh.
“Why?” It comes out a whisper, probably because I’m terrified of the answer. “Why would you do that?”
He was going to let me try to save her. Without knowing if I would be able to help him after. Without proof that the dust would work or if he was sealing his fate over a myth.
“She’s all you have,” he says. “I won’t be the one to take her away from you.”
I feel a catch in my chest—my breath or my heart or both—and the realization spreads over me like a smooth wave. It pulls me under before I even have a chance to fight or thrash around. I was right to be scared of his answer. Of the truth it would bring to the surface.
