All That Falls (2 page)

She felt a pang of sympathy for Alissa, who’d had to carry the burden of her dad’s mental illness alone. As Cerise tried to pry the door open, she made a silent vow to be a closer friend
to Alissa in the future, especially if the bodyguard, whom Alissa seemed attached to, turned out to be Merrick.

How could Alissa have gotten involved with a ventala? She was usually so smart and careful in her decisions. It just didn’t make sense for her to get entangled with a member of the fallen, who were known to be violent and unpredictable. All the muses had been taught from childhood to be wary of the ventala.

Of course, five years earlier, Merrick had slain a demon in the Etherlin. When Alissa had met him that night, Cerise supposed Merrick must have looked like a conquering hero. He’d undoubtedly been gorgeous and charming. Trouble often came in attractive packages.

That’s the way life was. Some things started off too wonderful to resist then morphed into something else. Like the Etherlin. Like Cerise’s muse–aspirant relationship with Griffin Lane.

Cerise’s throat tightened.

Don’t go there. Don’t think about Griffin.

The banging on the door quieted. Was Richard getting tired? Cerise jabbed the keypad’s buttons in frustration. Why wasn’t ES answering?

“Hello,” a man’s voice behind Cerise said, making her jump.

She scowled. “Damn, you scared—”

As she turned her head toward him, the words died on her tongue. She had to look up to see his face, which almost never happened. Dark blond hair spilled over broad shoulders. His bare chest was scarred, but wicked beautiful. Incredibly, inexplicably, the light seemed to fracture around him, as though he were made of crystal instead of flesh.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“I’m not available for conversation. I’m looking for my friend.”

She cocked a brow.

A slow smile curved his lips. “You smell like oranges.” He took a step back, pushing the hair away from his heartbreaking face, then he frowned and shook his head. “Which is actually an unwanted distraction.” For a moment, he lapsed into a language so ancient, she couldn’t translate fast enough to follow what he said. Returning to English, he managed, “My friend Merrick might be with a muse named Alissa.”

Of course, he’s beautiful. He’s one of them,
she thought furiously. She didn’t even have a weapon to defend herself. “So you’re Merrick’s friend, huh? It’s illegal for ventala to be in the Etherlin. It carries a death sentence. Did you know?”

He shook his head. “Laws made by men are—”

She lunged and grabbed the knife sheathed at his hip. He caught her wrist and launched himself forward, slamming her against the wall and pinning her body with his.

“Get off me,” she said, shoving his shoulder with her free hand.

“You’re strong and soft,” he murmured, staring at her mouth. “An unusual combination—which I don’t have time to contemplate.” He grabbed her left wrist and forced it up against the wall so both her arms were pinned over her head.

“Let go,” she snapped, trying to knock him off balance. When her forehead banged against his chin, he jerked his head back and then spun her body so she faced the wall and was crushed between it and him.

His cool breath blew against her ear, matching her own ragged breathing.

“You smell too good to be part demon, so you’re not my sworn enemy. Calm yourself,” he said.

She was still for a moment, waiting for her chance to throw him off, but his muscles never relaxed. She exhaled hard, frustration thrumming through her.

“You attacked me without cause,” he said. “You should ask my forgiveness.”

“You can kiss my ass.”

His knee rose to nudge her butt. “Be careful what you demand. Someone may accommodate your request.”

“You son-of-a-bitch!” she snapped, whipping her head back to slam it against his face.

A moment later she was free, and she spun to face him. He was several feet away, rubbing the swollen corner of his mouth.

“I don’t have time to teach you a lesson, but your ferocity deserves one.”

“You’re trespassing.”

He smiled, and she hated that it had a devastating impact on the part of her that noticed beautiful things.

“You don’t own the world,” he said. “I trespass where I
please.” He turned. “Now I need to find my friend before he gets himself killed.” He sprinted down the hall in a blur of speed that left her breathless.

Who the hell was that?

Cerise shook her head, trying to decide whether she should warn Etherlin Security that a friend of Merrick’s was also inside. Poor Alissa. It looked like her bodyguard would turn out to be a ventala in disguise.

The thumping on the wall resumed, and Cerise jerked her head toward the door. “Okay, Richard. I’m coming.”

She hurried around the corner and heard alarms ringing. She sprinted down the corridor toward ES’s central control area. Her pace slowed at the sight of a bound guard on the floor. The main holding cell’s door was thrown wide open, its handle broken. She glanced into the room. Debris peppered the floor. Merrick had broken out.

Cerise’s muscles tightened. Where was Alissa? Had he taken her? And where was Dorie? Merrick might want revenge.

Cerise dragged the gag off the officer’s mouth.

“He’s out! Alissa North helped him escape,” the guard said.

Oh, Alissa, no. What the hell are you doing?

“Can you get the keys and uncuff me, Miss Xenakis? I need to warn Director Easton and the rest of the officers that he’s loose.”

Cerise rushed into the control room and found a ring of keys. When she returned to the guard, she asked, “Where are Troy Rella and my sister?”

“I don’t know.”

Cerise bent over him, unlocked the cuffs, and took them off his wrists. “Richard North’s locked in an interrogation room,” Cerise said. “He’s banging on the wall. I want you to open the door and let him out. I’ll take responsibility for him.”

“Richard North’s not in an interrogation room. Director Easton took him out of there a while ago.”

“Took him where?” Cerise asked.

“To the crime scene I think.”

“Why?” Cerise demanded.

“I don’t know! I’m sure he had a good reason!”

Cerise cocked a brow at the guy’s defensive tone. “Easy,” she said, trying to make her voice soothing.

“Sorry,” he said in a lower voice, “but I don’t know. Miss North also asked why Director Easton had taken him outside, but that doesn’t really matter at this point,” he said, scrambling to his feet. “Richard North’s better off with Director Easton than here where his daughter and that guy would’ve found him.” He hurried into the control room.

“If Alissa’s bodyguard’s out and Richard’s not locked up, then who is? Someone’s banging on the wall.”

“I don’t know,” he said, grabbing a walkie-talkie. “Director Easton, do you read me?” he asked frantically.

She walked to the monitors. The outdoor lights blazed, and ES officers sprinted across the snow-covered ground. Examining the screens that showed the rooms inside the building, Cerise finally found the occupied holding cell.

“How did
they
end up locked in there?” Cerise murmured as she watched Dorie and Troy bang on the interrogation room wall. “At least they’re safe,” she added, somewhat relieved.

Now where’s Alissa?

Had Merrick’s blond friend caught up with them? And, if so, was he making the situation better or worse? Cerise had a feeling she knew the answer.

Trouble often comes in attractive packages.

Despite the scandal that had rocked the Etherlin six weeks earlier when Alissa left the new retreat center with a cold-blooded ventala assassin, the Etherlin Council was determined to pretend that life in the Etherlin was perfect and unchanged. To that end, they were throwing a lavish party. Cerise would have skipped it, except that it was being held at her house. Her father, the Etherlin Council president, was the host. With her mother out of town, Cerise was the de facto hostess and was doing her duty by smiling on cue, until she saw the text message from Jersey Lane.

The message made Cerise freeze as if she’d been doused in slush. The sounds of the party receded as she stared down at her phone.

Can’t face people after last night. Plz don’t blame yourself for not being able to help, Cerise. I can’t keep it together without Griff, either.

Cerise exhaled through pursed lips, chilled as if it weren’t late spring. Two of Cerise’s secrets were thinly veiled in Jersey’s message, but seeing them displayed wasn’t what concerned Cerise most.

Cerise slipped the phone into the pocket of her gunmetal gray silk pants as she glanced around. She forced a smile when she made eye contact with friends, but her gaze didn’t linger. She searched until she spotted Hayden Lane slouched against the wall. He was laid-back and shy, unusual for a rock star, but
he’d been poured from the same mold as his older brother, Griffin. Pain skewered Cerise’s chest and tightened her throat. His name alone could still ambush her. But this wasn’t the place to get emotional about Griffin, and it definitely wasn’t the time.

Cerise tipped her chin up a fraction as if daring fate to sock it again. She strode across the room, weaving through people and reaching Hayden a few moments after Dorie did.

Dorie’s new nose and pencil-thin brows had transformed her cute face into something vaguely plastic. Her hips, however, continued to betray her despite a diet completely devoid of everything that tasted remotely decent. If their parents let Dorie get body-sculpting liposuction as a teenager, Cerise would be sick. Of course, the blame wouldn’t rest solely on their shoulders. One of Cerise’s assistants had described Dorie as a Machiavellian princess in the making. Cerise had fired him, but later there’d been moments…Cerise could understand lying to steal a little freedom. All the muses did that from time to time. But lying to hurt another muse? Ever since seeing evidence of that at the retreat center, Cerise hadn’t felt the same about Dorie. And Dorie, who seemed to sense it, had been trying too hard. Tonight though, Dorie glued herself to Hayden, which gave Cerise a bit of peace. But also didn’t. Hayden had already been through a lot.

“Hayden, I got a text from Jersey. She’s not coming,” Cerise said.

“I figured.”

“What happened last night?” Cerise asked.

Hayden shuffled his feet. “All week she kept forgetting lyrics in rehearsals so she was a nervous wreck last night. She decided to have a drink to calm down, but on an empty stomach…”

Cerise grimaced. Already petite, Jersey had lost weight since Griffin’s death and was probably all of ninety pounds at the moment.

“She got wasted off two vodka cranberries,” Hayden said, frowning. “She slurred her way through ‘Sympathy, Too’ and went word salad on ‘Burn It Down.’ I jumped in even though I don’t have the voice to do it. People were pissed. They started yelling for her to get offstage.” He shrugged lean shoulders. “She did.”

“It hasn’t even been a year since Griffin died,” Cerise whispered.

“I know, but drunk people get annoyed.”

“She’s torn up inside,” Cerise said, knowing that feeling all too well.

“Everybody misses him. You. Me. Jersey. But so do the fans, and we can’t charge people money and then fuck up his songs ’cause we’re too wasted to sing.”

“You’re right,” Dorie said. “Griffin wouldn’t have wanted that. She should respect his memory.”

Cerise didn’t spare Dorie a glance. Her sister, the sudden expert on Griffin Lane, had met Griffin for a sum total of about twenty minutes.

“Where is she?” Cerise asked.

“At the apartment.”

“Griffin’s place here in the Etherlin?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s go check on her,” Cerise said.

“Oh, come on,” Dorie said. “You guys can’t leave the party now. Dinner’s about to start. How would that look to the council, Cer?”

I don’t care what the Etherlin Council thinks. Haven’t for years.

“Besides,” Dorie continued hastily, probably at the sight of Cerise’s stony expression. “Jersey will never pull herself together if everyone gives her a ton of attention every time she screws up. If she’s going to sulk, ignore her.”

Cerise turned a frigid gaze on Dorie, who blanched, then Cerise glanced back at Hayden.

“I’m worried about Jersey,” Cerise said. “I have a bad feeling.”

Hayden’s shuffling ceased, and he straightened. “Okay, let’s go,” he said.

Dorie fell in step with them. “Considering that you and I are the only Etherlin muses here tonight, if you’re gone, they’ll probably hold dinner till you get back. So it won’t matter if I go out, too.”

Neither Cerise nor Hayden said anything.

“I’ll come with you,” Dorie added.

“No,” Cerise said.

Dorie narrowed her eyes. “Why not?”

Because I don’t trust you.
“Because this isn’t your business,” Cerise said.

Even while not dancing, Cerise’s fluid movements seemed to recall her ballet training, Lysander noticed. Her fingers extended gracefully as if reaching for something beautiful. Like a stolen moment.

With the beat of massive wings, Lysander rose from the tree bough that overlooked Cerise’s house. Her scent didn’t reach him that far up, but it didn’t need to. He remembered it too well, along with the warmth of her body and the fierce way she’d fought to free herself when he’d restrained her.

She’s nitroglycerin wrapped in the softest skin
, he thought as he swooped across the sky, skimming the treetops of roof gardens. Cerise’s wild passion had awakened his own.

Enough.

Enough of watching the girl. Enough of thinking about her.

The more a preoccupation is fed, the more powerful it becomes.

The prophecy—the one that pertained to his only chance for redemption—contained several parts, including a warning that getting involved with a woman could make him fail. He’d never risk that, no matter how beautiful she felt or smelled or danced.

He flew over the Etherlin, so named by her kind, the descendants of the ancient muses. They were the only remnants of the lofty society of the Olympians, the superhuman creatures who had once been caretakers of the world. Until their hubris and their manipulation of mankind had led to their exile from earth.