Days of New: The Complete Collection (Serials 1-5) (60 page)

“Persephone would have loved any time they could have together. Even if it was in the underworld. She would have spent her days away from him waiting to see him once again.”

“Or dreading it.”

“Longing for it,” Maya corrected with a grin.

Lucifer fell silent, his eyes focused on the medallion. “Loving me won’t be a fairy tale,” he whispered. “I don’t know how this will ever work, but it won’t be as easy as what Hades and Persephone had.”

“I doubt they had it easy. Being separated like that would have been awful for both of them.”

“Maybe, but at least Hades had won the right to be with her. I’ll have to fight every day for you. The angels—holy and fallen—won’t like us being together.”

“Oh, that doesn’t sound so bad. I can be pretty stubborn. They’ll give up eventually.”

“I—”

A knock on the door interrupted Maya. “Master?” Dante called into the room without entering.

“What?” Lucifer snapped, glaring at the door through the narrow gap in the canopy.

Maya slapped his chest. “Be nice!”

“I mean,” Lucifer corrected, coughing slightly, “what do you need?”

Maya laughed quietly at him, but he just rolled her eyes at her, his fingers inching toward her ribs, ready to tickle her.

“Master, they’ve arrived,” Dante said, still outside the door.

Lucifer stilled. Coldness permeated their little cocoon. He removed his hand from her side and looked toward the door. “Who?”

“A legion of fallen angels. They’ve come straight from Hell, Sir.”

“Oh,” Maya whispered, covering her mouth with her hand.

Lucifer met her eyes, his expression distant. Maya felt the sudden urge to cry.

“I’ll be right there,” Lucifer called back.

* * *

Clark and Camille emerged from the edge of the woods, the moon spilling milky light over the clearing around the cabin. Uriel’s blood glinted off to the side, but Clark refused to look. He couldn’t look at the place where Zarachiel had lain either. Or the place where Grace had hit the trees, her body broken from Camille’s forceful throw. So many places not to look. He wondered if the whole world would turn into a bad memory he had to avoid.

“I have to go warn them,” Camille said, her quiet voice ringing through the silent trees.

They stopped at the tree line, both of them looking toward the cabin, where numerous lanterns were lit. Iris’s shadow crossed back and forth in front of the kitchen window as she worked to help Uriel’s destroyed back.

“I can go,” Clark said, his voice tired. “You shouldn’t have to see him again after…”
After he tortured you
, Clark finished silently. How had things twisted around so much that Camille felt like she had to shelter Lucifer? What had happened that Clark felt that way too? How had Gabriel suddenly become the bad guy?

“You won’t get there in time. It has to be me. I can handle it.”

“You’re too weak. You could barely fly to me in the woods.”

“Clark,” Camille said, her grip tightening on his hand. Finally, she looked at him. “I can handle it.”

“It’s too far,” Clark said, but he knew his argument was weak. Weak and futile. Camille would go no matter what he said.

“The fallen angels are likely already there. And someone needs to tell Maya what happened.”

Zarachiel’s dead
. Clark swayed. The pain in his chest brightened into a searing ache that took his breath.

“She deserves to know,” Camille said quietly. “And Lucifer should be warned. Gabriel is wrong. Grace killed Zarachiel, not Lucifer.”

“Maybe we should just let them have at each other. Let them start another war. Let them kill each other off. It’ll be over then. One way or the other.”

Camille didn’t respond. The silence stretched out between them. The idea was tempting. Clark couldn’t imagine the relief he would feel to just walk away from it all. To take Camille with him to a place where they would be safe. But that would be sacrificing Maya and all the other innocent humans who deserved a second chance. He sighed.

“You should go,” he said.

“I won’t push myself too hard. And I’ll rest when I get there.”

“If Lucifer hurts you—”

“He won’t. Not with Maya there.”

“Just be careful.”

Camille nodded and released his hand. She stepped away, getting clear of the limbs above their heads that stretched shaky shadows across the ground in front of them. Her wings spread out, the feathers sparking like diamonds tumbling across a mirror.

Right before she took to the air, panic surged up Clark’s throat and took control of his tongue. He jerked forward and grabbed her hand. “I love you, Camille,” he said, voice shaking. “I have for a while. I’m sorry for what I did to you. And for what you had to do to Uriel. I’m sorry for Maya and for Z. I’m sorry for it all. But I love you. And I’m sorry for that too.”

Camille opened her mouth to say something, but she must have thought better of it. Her brisk nod made Clark’s heart sink. He let go of her hand, and she was gone, rising into the night air. He didn’t watch her go. Instead, his eyes stayed on the ground.

He stayed outside for a while. The cold sank into his bones, but he welcomed the icy numbness. He wanted nothing more than to never feel anything ever again. And he couldn’t look anywhere but the ground, because nowhere else was safe to see. Endless thoughts spiraled through his mind. Memories all the way back to his time as a reluctant Descendant under his father’s thumb came back to him. He imagined how things might have been different if he could have been a good son, an obedient one. If he’d listened to his father and taken the Descendants’ cause into his heart like he should have. Like a good son would’ve. He might not have been the best Descendant, but he could have been enough. Enough to keep him out of that cave in Mammoth. Keep him from finding Michaela. She might have died there that night without him. Her death would have ended all this. The Aethere would have kept Heaven. Lucifer would have taken Earth. Things would have played out a different way, Clark thought.

But maybe not a better way. Maybe just another kind of evil. But that evil might have been more understandable if it was Lucifer ruining Earth and the Aethere ruining Heaven and Michaela long dead and the Archangels deemed traitors. That was an easy evil. An evil everyone expected.

This evil—the evil of the good guys turning into the bad ones—was far worse, far harder. Gabriel shouldn’t be the one Clark had to align against. He shouldn’t have to protect Lucifer, the devil.

The devil. The devil. The devil.

In this evil, Gabriel had become the devil. Michaela had survived and became a devil herself. Camille was a devil. Clark was the greatest devil of all for loving Camille too much, for sacrificing Maya, for letting his best friend die. In this evil, they’d all become devils.

Clark managed to walk across the yard, careful to keep his eyes trained on the cabin’s door. The stairs squeaked beneath his heavy footfalls. The porch was dark, but he knew the path by heart, his hand reaching for the door handle without a moment’s pause. Inside, Iris looked up from where she was bandaging Uriel’s back.

“How is she?” Clark asked, his voice foreign to his ears.

“She lost a lot of blood,” Iris answered as she focused on her work. Uriel was unconscious and facedown on the pallet where Camille had lain not so long ago. A new angel’s blood dotted the floor. A new tragedy. Another new evil.

“Those,” Clark asked, gesturing to her wings, “will have to be shaved down?”

Iris stilled. She ran a soft hand along the shattered ends of Uriel’s wings. They poked out of her back like hands reaching up through her skin, grasping for all that they’d lost. “When she’s stronger.”

Clark nodded. “Camille went to warn Lucifer and tell Maya about Z.”

“She’s a strong woman for putting her past with Lucifer aside to prevent this battle.”

Iris stared at him, but Clark didn’t meet her eyes. “She shouldn’t have to. She should get to hate him.”

“You’re right,” Iris said. “But it’s not that kind of world anymore.”

“It’s an eviler one.”

Iris cocked her head. Clark knew he was worrying her, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Something was wrong with him. The warmth of the wood-burning stove hadn’t eased the numbness in his chest. He still couldn’t feel anything.

“Maybe,” Iris said carefully, watching him closely. “But it’s the only one we have.”

“An evil world for all the evil devils.”

Iris set the bandages aside and stood. “You’re not a devil, Clark. What happened to Z wasn’t your fault. But I’m sorry you lost your friend.”

He shrugged and started to walk past her. She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “What?”

“You’ll find what you need beneath the sink in the bathroom.”

Clark frowned. “You had a vision?”

“Yes,” Iris said and turned away from him.

Not a good one
, he thought,
if she can’t look at me or tell me about it
. But what had he expected? He continued into the bedroom and closed the door quietly behind him so he didn’t wake Uriel. Inside, the bed was still unmade where Grace had slept on it. Clark gritted his teeth and turned from that too. He went into the bathroom and closed the door, twisting the lock. Gripping the vanity’s edge, his head sagging, he finally managed to force himself to look up at his reflection.

This
, he thought,
can’t be a bad place to look
.
You have to see yourself
.

“You’re not done fighting yet,” he said to himself.

His eyes trailed down to the marks on his arms, the evil Watchers’ magic. “You have to see yourself if you’re going to fight. You can’t look away anymore.”

He straightened away from the vanity. Wondering what he needed, he crouched down and opened the cabinet door beneath the vanity’s sink. From a dark shadow in the back, Clark pulled out a plastic bag. Something heavy fell over and rolled around inside. Slowly, he stood up and set the back on the counter. The knot was loose and easy to undo. All too quickly, he was peering inside.

But when he saw the contents, he understood. His mom was right. This was exactly what he needed.

The numbness inside him slowly thawed as he worked, setting out the bag’s contents and reaching for a jug of creek water that they kept in the bathroom. Pulling the stopper in the sink, he turned the jug over and let the water fill up the shallow basin. As he worked, he felt himself warming, his feelings coming back to him. The sadness and anger and guilt of Z’s death was horrible, and Clark’s cheeks grew wet with tears. But his strength came back too, and his arms began to itch, ready for him. Every chance he got, he looked at his reflection. And each glimpse looked a little more familiar, especially when he started with the scissors.

When he was finished, he looked up and stared. His fingers were stained. So was his shirt. It wasn’t the best job, but it would do.

Clark was back. He was ready. To love Camille. To fight to stop another war. To survive another day.

He didn’t bother cleaning up the bathroom before he left. He might never be back here again. A mess could wait until after he’d saved the world.

“Looks good,” Iris said, but she didn’t look up from where she was boiling another pot of water. Clark saw the smile on her face as he passed.

“The bathroom’s a mess.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.” Iris stirred the water, watching it bubble and hiss.

“I’m going to take a drive to clear my head.”

“That’s probably a good idea. Enjoy yourself, but be careful.”

“I will.”

Clark opened the cabin’s door and walked outside. He didn’t bother looking away from the bad spots in the yard. Through the woods he went, the path as second nature by now as his own name. The Chevelle waited for him. Its gleaming black paint winked at him like an old friend.

“Time to party,” Clark said quietly and got inside. The engine roared to life, and Clark revved it, letting the car scream his warning to all who could hear.

Clark was back.

As he zoomed down the park’s service road, he glanced in the rearview mirror, but all he could see was the familiar neon pink of his freshly dyed hair. He shoved a cassette into the car’s player and let Ozzy pour through the car’s open windows as he sang along.

If they made it through this, he was going to make “Crazy Train” the national anthem.

Because, after all, who could stop him?

Chapter Seven

M
aya waited as Lucifer dressed, her eyes tracking him from the bed. He didn’t say anything to her before leaving, and her heart sank even further. Quietly, she got up and pulled on the simple dress left over from her time at the convent. Her footsteps were quiet as she crept from the bedroom and down the hall. At the top of the stairs, she found Dante, hovering with wide eyes as he looked down into the foyer.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” she asked when she was close enough to whisper so that only he would hear.