Archon (17 page)

“No,” Angela said, getting to her knees and pushing onto her feet. “I can go myself.”

“When you’re ready.”

He watched her brush her teeth and lean down to drink more water from the tap, probably trying to make sure she didn’t pass out again without being there to help. Then he followed her silently out of the bathroom and up the stairs to her own apartment, standing politely outside the door until she waved him in. Angela grabbed a brush and tugged through the knots in her hair, but she didn’t feel like changing her clothes anymore. She was too tired and dazed to care, and once her hair was more civilized-looking, she collapsed onto the bed without even taking off her boots, the world still spinning.

Kim’s weight settled on the bed beside her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, feeling stupid. Under ordinary circumstances, she would have wanted to be alone. But after seeing Troy, any company was better than none. She was just relieved it was Kim. Sophia would have been hovering all over her, worried. “I’m just—not myself right now.”

“True. You haven’t been from the start. I think it’s time to be more honest with me.”

She closed her eyes, taking in a long breath. “My dreams are gone.”

Kim gazed back at her, silent.

“Every time I fell unconscious, I dreamed about my angels.
Every time
. Now . . . I guess my offer was acceptable after all.” Angela rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. “So—I want to understand. Both Stephanie and that blond woman with the braids—the way she threw Nina over the side of the building.
Why
?”

“Because that woman is a flesh-and-blood demon, and Stephanie summoned her to Earth. To Luz.” There was another pause, filled with telling silence. “Whoever you called into your friend is a threat to them. The red eyes”—his words slowed considerably—“gave that away rather quickly. Naamah wants Nina dead now, and she’ll finish the job eventually. The only question is when.”

Nina was going to live. It was probably the only good thing that had come out of her being possessed—her new spirit friend wanted her to stick around. But if the demon found her, sniffed her out—

A demon.
Naamah.

Unbelievably, Stephanie was that dangerous. It was hard to digest that a human being could go so wrong, so young. Had she offered her soul in exchange for Naamah’s services? When and how could that kind of relationship even begin? It was almost beyond comprehension. But in one night, every legend or rumor about Luz had revealed itself to be horrendously true. “What about me? Now she knows that I have power of some kind, whatever it might be. Now I’m a real threat . . . a solid candidate to be the Archon. That has to piss Stephanie off.”

“And it does.” Kim rested with his hand against his chin. “From this point on, she won’t play nice, Angela. Your bolt of lightning was equivalent to a declaration of war, and Stephanie won’t let you call yourself the Archon whether or not it turns out to be the reality of things.” His expression was flat and grim. “Didn’t I say not to let her superficial act fool you? Stephanie has killed before, and she’d kill again. In ways that could turn even the hardest stomachs.”

“But I don’t get it. Why does she want to be the Archon so badly?”

“We’ve already discussed that. It all comes down to power, and perhaps bitterness. But think about what you’ve learned of the Archon, Angela. She will have a choice to make, and most believe it will be one of Ruin. Who is the Ruin? The real Ruin?”

Angela thought hard.

“The Devil?” she said, her breath almost stopping.

“Exactly. In other words, some of the demons want the Archon on the Throne of Hell. This means challenging Lucifel, the Devil herself, for the position. The risks are terrifyingly vast, but the rewards would equal them. Stephanie is a typical witch who only thinks about the latter half.”

So her name is Lucifel. Just like he said, it’s different from the name everyone knows.

Her heart began to pound like it had in the Bell Chapel, skittish with fear and shock. Kim’s voice was low and earnest, but he could have been screaming, her nerves were fraying so badly.

“You and Nina can’t stay here anymore, Angela. It’s not safe.”

The final nail in the coffin. Her throat went dry.

“Then where?”

“Anywhere but here.”

So I’m officially homeless again . . . and this time, because someone actually wants me dead.

Angela sat up, her arms wobbly. Kim helped her, steadying her by the shoulder—until she accidentally pulled him down, and they ended up pressed together, his handsome features blurred by their closeness. Angela’s mouth was right against the curve of his neck, and without even thinking, she pressed a light kiss to it. Her whole self was succumbing to their proximity, and she could sense his own desire in the firm grip of his hands, and the hungry light of his eyes.

He was more like Troy than he realized.

“No,” she said, angry at herself. “We shouldn’t.”

Kim leaned over her a second longer, but the instant he pulled away, she guided him back.

Why can’t I make up my mind?

Part of her wanted to forget everything, but the other half couldn’t stop remembering that Nina was unconscious in Sophia’s bed, that they were both waiting for her, and that Kim’s cousin was a devil from Hell, eating one of his students like a midnight snack.

Her beautiful angel gazed back at her from one of his portraits, smiling in his ambiguous way, like a celestial Mona Lisa.

Angela tried to shut out the idea that he didn’t approve.

She glanced at the door, noticing with gratefulness that it was shut and locked, and that Kim wasn’t stupid enough to let someone walk in on them alone.

Without a word, Angela put his hands on the buttons of her blouse, telling him with her eyes to begin. Just as silently, he worked at the shirt from the bottom up, relaxing her more with his warmth and a gentle kiss here and there. When it came to what they were about to do, it seemed understood that discussion wasn’t necessary. And Angela had more important questions anyway. “Why is Naamah working for Stephanie?” she said when he’d undone the last button. “Stephanie couldn’t have forced her into it.”

Yet it was difficult to believe she’d summoned a demon to Luz and that was that.

There was more to their relationship than a working one. It only made sense.

So why Stephanie, out of all the blood heads in Luz?

“Oh, a demon’s definition of loyalty is nothing like ours,” Kim said. He kissed her bare shoulder, starting to work on her skirt. “In the end, she’s here to answer other kinds of questions, and she’s hoping Stephanie has the answers. Or that you do,” he said ominously, “if Stephanie proves to be a waste of time. The demons want the Book of Raziel opened, but as I said before, only the Archon can do that. So Naamah’s biding her time, going along with Stephanie’s games . . . waiting for the second to decide when she’ll have outlived her usefulness.”

Angela opened her mouth to ask another question, but Kim covered it with his own quickly. Immediately, it began. A repeat of all the fire she’d felt the other night, though even more intense, because there was nothing to keep them in check anymore.

Kim kissed her until it was a pleasure to be exposed, to feel the coolness in the air. So often—too often—she was head to toe in tights, fabric, anything to hide the scars.

With Kim, things were different.

With him, in a strange way, she was free to be whatever she liked, and she had the peace of knowing that he didn’t care one way or the other.

She stared up at him, aching with the sight of his angular face and strong body, enamored by the thin line of his lips. Locked together like this, the rest of the world swiftly melting away, Angela wasn’t aware of how much losing her dreams had hurt, until she lay against his chest again, and by listening to the rapid beat of his heart, felt how empty her soul had suddenly become.

There was nothing left to live for right now.

“What is it?” he whispered, even gentler than before.

Angela buried her face in his neck.

But she knew he could feel her tears.

After that, she instinctively understood the urgency in them both was partly from guilt and partly from loneliness. She had to bite her lip so hard that it bled, desperate to keep Sophia from hearing them, and when it was all over, and his telltale shudders began, she collapsed against him, letting him kiss the sweat off her skin.

Kim ran fingers through the red stripe in his bangs, sitting up on the bed. He was so pale and unearthly. Yet he was also too human for her to fear the hunger hidden behind his smile.

“You keep mentioning the Book of Raziel,” she said, reluctant to leave the heat of his body. Not until her guilt about leaving Sophia and Nina—and her angel—became too much to bear. “But you haven’t said anything about where it is.”

“That’s because I don’t know.”

“Does anyone know?”

He laughed. “Naamah. But she won’t tell you anytime in the near future.” Kim massaged her neck possessively. “But it’s nearby. That’s a given. She won’t risk letting the Book wander too far if the opportunity arises to open it.”

Wander?

“Are you always so distracted?” he said, holding her crushingly tight.

His teeth had just found the rim of her ear when someone knocked on the door.

“Angela? Angela, are you all right?”

Sophia.

Angela sat still.

Kim’s teeth held her, seeming reluctant to let go. Uncomfortably, she thought of the illustration of the Jinn hovering over the human woman, ready to snatch her off to the Underworld with his fangs.

She pushed off him with all the strength she had, hastily tugging up her tights and throwing on her uniform. Kim watched her with a cool smile on his face.

“Yeah, I’m all right,” she shouted. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

It took another for Sophia’s footsteps to trail slowly down the hallway, with all the speed of molasses. Either she knew what had just taken place, or she was worried that it might. Her distrust of Kim was getting stronger by the hour. Maybe she hated him because he was Stephanie’s lover. Or maybe there was a lot more going on than Angela had seen on the surface. All of a sudden, it troubled her: the calm way Sophia had been dealing with Troy, the strange coincidence that she and Angela were living together, and Naamah’s crisp exchange with Sophia after she’d scared her into a rage.

Remember why you’re here, Sophia . . .

. . . she’s not the One . . .

Sophia had actually been frightening that night. In a less definable way than Troy, but frightening nevertheless.

. . .
she will never be the One . . .

Angela laced her boots, watching Kim work the buttons of his coat and reconnect his white collar, the sharp cuffs of his sleeves. He was glancing at her from the corner of his eye, still smiling, his thin lips soft and hungry all over again.

Sophia knows Naamah. She knows what’s going on here. And I have to face her now and lie about—this.

The situation wasn’t black and white anymore.

Instead, it was turning a terrible shade of gray.

Angela stood back and caught sight of herself in the mirror, her face carrying angles almost sharper than Kim’s and her blue eyes wide and overly large. Her hair was too straight, too long, and red as blood. For the briefest moment she saw a woman who could crush the world if she had to.

Yet that moment always passed as soon as it arrived.

Eighteen

The sacred number of Three, the pedestal on which so much rests.

—
U
NKNOWN AUTHOR

“T
ell her the truth.” Sophia’s tone was polite, but Kim also heard the million unspoken threats hidden behind it. She sat next to Nina, her uniform skirt spread across the sheets, her bloody slippers neatly set near the footboard. “Tell Angela the truth, or I will say it for you.”

Angela halted at the doorway, pale. She looked even sicker than in the bathroom.

Rain slung itself against the windows, glazing over the impressive view. Wrapped inside one of Sophia’s bedsheets, her red eyes blinking slowly, Nina lay like a woman who’d just spoken to death and returned to tell about it, gazing out into Luz with an expressionless haze over her features. A candle flickered on a table near the bed, bringing out the tired, ghastly thinness of her face, and perhaps even more disturbingly, the gleam of perfectly mended limbs. Her broken bones had already healed.

Had the “something” inside of Nina who’d fused her bone marrow together also told Sophia his secret? Sophia had been suspicious from the start—and now, Kim felt himself getting angry. He should have begged Troy to kill her and be done with it.

One less person to worry about. She was Stephanie’s slave after all.

“The truth?” he said, entering the room despite her threats. His voice came out sharp as a knife. “Which truth, and relating to what?”

“Oh, you know precisely what I’m referring to, Kim. Or should I say, Sariel of the Sixth Clan?”

She knew his Jinn name.

Angela turned on him, instantly accusing. “
You’re still hiding things from me.
” She was angry now too, a picture of indignation that mirrored the gray angel of her paintings, and she walked closer to him, bold because of their intimacy and how much power she thought it had gained her. Her beautiful face was all angles and frightening eyes. “You said that Troy is your cousin. What does that mean?
Who is your mother? Your father
?
What are you?
”

The charade was officially over, then, but only by half. Kim dropped into a nearby chair with his hands clasped atop the rails, adopting the same bored attitude he took in the confessional. Except right now, Sophia would be the soul on trial. If she wanted to play this game, he wasn’t going to hold back. “I’ll tell you, but only if Sophia explains her demonic friend. Fair is fair.”

Angela gasped. She’d forgotten all about that, hadn’t she?

“How do you know Naamah, Sophia?” he said, hardly in the mood for mercy.

She pursed her lips, so tightly that they looked bloodless.

“Sophia,” Angela said, demanding. “Answer him. I don’t have time to learn who I can trust and who I can’t.”

“She is—” Sophia took in the sight of Angela and Kim, almost side by side, and refused to hide the bitterness in her voice. “—she is my master.”

“God,” Nina said, swearing in Angela’s place. Whether she truly remembered what had thrown her over the balustrade, though, was another matter. It could just as easily have been her possessor speaking, praying for them to suffer.

“Your master,” Angela repeated for her. She crossed her arms, imperious. “Where are you from, Sophia?”

Silence.

“
Where?
”

Sophia stared at Kim, her pretty face white with resentment. Her words, usually so sweet, could have been dipped in acid. “Hell. I’m dead—and this is my punishment. Naamah oversees it and with the Prince’s permission torments me however she pleases.” She was like a beautiful, life-size doll, but overflowing with hatred. No wonder Angela felt a certain affection for her. In a world of dolls with curls and ribbons, hats and petticoats, some dressed in kimonos and others in contemporary fashions—Sophia had become the capstone to Angela’s collection. Naamah clearly had planned putting Sophia here as the perfect spy. There was no question in Kim’s mind. What that demon hadn’t counted on was Sophia’s fondness for her blood head roommate, or Angela’s for her. “Stephanie’s control over me is temporary. Her pact with Naamah makes her think she has some kind of say in what I do and how I do it. But she’s been overstepping her bounds lately and getting bolder. The incident in the tunnel—”

She and Angela exchanged a glance filled with understanding.

“—was a perfect example of that.”

So Sophia was a Revenant. A human who had been given her body back, but only so that it could be tortured along with her soul, mind, and heart. Even physically die again. That, of course, was the cruelest part of the punishment—never knowing when you would be killed, but knowing that it would be soon, and perhaps more painful than last time, leaving the cycle to perpetuate itself into eternity.

Only Lucifel could devise such an exquisite torture.

Angela opened her mouth, full of questions, but must have decided to focus instead on what fascinated her most, sitting down next to Sophia and looking at her in wonder like she’d never seen her before. Sophia’s face twisted with pain. She was holding back tears, and she set Angela’s hand aside. “Day after day, nothing changes. Day after day, I wait for her, and she doesn’t come. I was starting to worry that Stephanie would be the One after all.”

“You mean the Archon,” Angela whispered.

Sophia nodded, one hand against her forehead. “She can set me free. If She wants to.”

“But what could you have done? Why are you, out of all the humans who’ve ever died—why are you being punished like this?”

Then, Kim saw it. A brief and horrible glimpse of something unimaginable appeared behind Sophia’s gray eyes, and for that single, long second, they became so deep and hollow, they could have sucked in the universe. Whatever she had done, it had been a sin far beyond simple explanations. He allowed her to speak, overly aware that what was being said would be little more than a half-truth. The whole truth would be too incomprehensible for Angela’s ears.

“I died in childbirth.”

“You have children?” Angela said, shocked into a murmur. “How many? How long have you been living like this?”

Silence again.

It was clear Sophia wouldn’t explain further. Instead, she brought everyone’s attention back to where it had first centered, on Kim, her face whipping around to meet his gaze, all her meticulous curls fluffing around her shoulders. Her soft mouth was all smile and no tenderness. Sophia and he were on equal footing now, and she was letting him know it. “I’m not a spy,” she said, back to her old calm and confidence, “and I’m not on Stephanie’s side. If anything, you’re the questionable element, Kim, Sariel. You and your cousin.”

“I’m a half-breed,” Kim said to Angela, desperate to gain her trust, smart enough to know it could escape at any moment. He was on perilous ground now. “My mother was a human witch—just like Stephanie. My father was a Jinn—just like Troy. He died when I was an adolescent. My given Jinn name is Sariel, but my mother named me Kim. Kimberly.” He shrugged, accustomed to the question in her eyes. “It was a common name for boys at the time.”

Angela glanced at Nina, worried, but her possessed friend wasn’t saying anything at all, only blinking, listening, and breathing. She turned back to him reluctantly. “How did your father die?”

“I killed him.” No point in being evasive, unfortunately . . .

Angela’s lower lip trembled. She put her head in her hands.

“He was abusive, Angela. Like only a Jinn can be abusive. Father or not, I think you can understand why I had to put an end to that.”

He held the cross at his breast, regretting his inability to tell her more than his own half-truths about its origins the first time she’d questioned him. Her words had unintentionally wounded him that night.

“How long ago was this?” She wasn’t looking at him anymore.

“Long. I don’t age like you.”

A lengthier pause. “Are you really a Vatican novice?”

“I’ve been part of the Vatican for five hundred years. Emerging onto the scene, disappearing, reappearing later to become a novice all over again, and in that time I’ve gained a mastery of Latin, and I now know more about angels, demons, Jinn, and the dimensions of Hell than is probably good for me.” He ran fingers through the hair in his eyes, shrugging it back. “That knowledge saved my life. The Jinn have been waiting for the Archon for eons ever since Raziel died. And because I knew what to look for and how to find it, Troy had no choice but to let me live until I did.”

“She’s going to kill you,” Angela spoke certainly, “for murdering her uncle . . . but that doesn’t seem right. She doesn’t seem like the kind of creature that would care what happens to anyone—”

“Not so fast.” Kim lifted a finger. “Troy might look savage, she might behave savage, murderous, and evil—but the Jinn are known for two things: determination and loyalty. Both of these combined equal my death sentence.” He continued, encouraged by the calm seriousness in Angela’s expression. She was listening very carefully, picking apart his every word. “The Jinn have a clan system, and the members of a particular clan—of a family—are expected to adhere to one another like glue. It doesn’t matter what the circumstances are. Directly killing a family member is their cardinal sin, punishable by death. Making matters worse, I’m a half-breed. Usually, we’re exterminated at birth. In Troy’s eyes, I’m an abomination, flawed from the start.”

Another sorrow they could both understand. Angela lowered her gaze, pensive.

Nina coughed in the background, suddenly lively. She wasn’t shivering anymore and her fever looked like it had faded. Now, she stared at Kim along with everyone else, wide-eyed and grim.

“Why are you and Troy involved in this?” Angela stood up, stalking far enough away so that no one could touch her. “I thought you were looking for the Ruin, the Archon—to kill Her.”

“Hardly.” He gave Sophia his finest smile, enjoying her silent anger. “I’m on your side,” he said to Angela. “If you turn out to be the Archon, of course.”

“And if not?”

“Then I suppose you know too much.”

The unspoken implications of that hung between them, crushing. Kim didn’t want to kill Angela. She was a beautiful young woman, smart, interesting, and talented; and her personality—with all of its raw recklessness—tormented him with curiosity, the desire to delve deeper and deeper. But he’d been disappointed before, and Stephanie was probably the worst disappointment yet; not because she wasn’t a candidate, but mostly because her mind was unhinging itself. There would be no cooperation there.

“Well, I changed my mind. I’m not ready to die anytime soon.”

Sophia regarded her with surprise. “Is that the truth? You’re going to stay?”

Angela shared a brief glance with Kim, as if she either regretted their intimacy or ached for it again, and then walked over to a window, pressing her forehead against the glass. Her voice was almost inaudible. “I can’t be responsible for what happens to Nina. Her possession is all my fault.”

“No,” Nina said. “Not entirely.”

Her eyes were such a stark shade of crimson, it almost hurt to look at them. Bloody as the eyes of Lucifel herself. Kim slid out of his chair, strolling closer to the bed until he was leaning over her. Nina turned her face up to follow him, her arms lying peacefully at her sides, her features too content. Then she smiled at him. “Don’t try, priest.”

“I knew it. Who are you?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Are you working for the Black Prince?”

Nina’s smile faded. “I’m not working for anyone.”

“You were the one who told the demons that the Archon could be found in this human city, am I right? You told them that Her time was arriving.” His tone sounded cooler than even he meant it to be. “That’s why they want you out of the picture. You’ll complicate their agenda.”

“You have no proof.”

“Your eyes are proof enough. What do you want? You could have left by now and gone back to the Netherworld.”

“
I was never in the Netherworld to begin with.
”

“You’re saying you’ve always been a spirit?”

“Yes.”

“Impossible.” He leaned in even nearer, but she didn’t back away, her face strangely alien and disquieting, as if she didn’t quite know how to use it. “Every angel, demon, and human is made of both body and soul. You’re no different—unless you’re dead, and just a soul.”

“I never had a body until recently. And I left it when I found my opportunity.” She and Sophia measured each other, and a brightness lit Nina’s eyes, as if they’d come to some silent agreement. She then turned back to Kim, oddly dignified. “It is the end, priest. The dead are yearning for release, and only
She
can give it to them. As a spirit, I’ve wandered all the dimensions and seen the horror that can be ended by Her coming. If I help Her, She will free them, and they will serve Her like no other master. She will take the place of the Supernals and lead like they were never able to.”

Angela seemed to step in out of nowhere, her presence breaking the small hold Kim had on the situation. “The Supernals. They are—”