Heaven and Hellsbane (13 page)

I exhaled, letting some of the daylong tension knotting through my muscles seep away. “I’m sorry. It’s been one of those days. And I wasn’t expecting to see you again and… I just need to focus.”

“You need a decent meal.” He slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me snug against his body.

My breath caught and my heart skipped a beat. The sweet summertime smell of sunshine and fresh-cut grass warmed around me and I breathed in a quick, guilty breath. “What’re you doing?”

He smiled down at me. “Getting you dinner.”

The world blurred and my kitchen whizzed by—replaced for an instant by night sky, starlight, and cool evening air. But as quickly as my kitchen walls had disappeared, four more walls came into focus as my new surroundings formed around us.

My brain identified the close walls in front of us, the panel of numbered buttons, the chime of an electronic bell a half second before the elevator doors opened. Eli put me at his side and led me by the hand to the hostess desk in front of us. I had a second to look back through the window wall of the elevator and see the evening sky, the low sun setting colors ablaze against a falling curtain of starry night. And then the doors closed.

Eli smiled at the ponytailed girl in a black vest, bow tie, and matching slacks behind the desk. “Good evening. We’d like a table for two.”

She nodded and checked her seating chart, then scribbled something with a stubby wax pencil and grabbed two menus. Her gaze swung back to Eli’s with a practiced smile. “This way.”

I leaned forward, shuffling to keep up, ignoring the warmth of Eli’s hand holding mine, and whispered, “Where are we?”

He glanced back at me. “You’ll see.”

We turned the corner and before us was nothing but a wall of glass, just like the elevator. The young hostess led the way past a half wall and we stepped down into the dining area. Outside, the view slowly rotated and far, far below I recognized the famous horseshoe falls, the American falls, and the nearby rainbow bridge. I pointed, feeling a little light-headed and disjointed. “Niagara Falls.”

Eli squeezed my hand and smiled back at me as we walked. “Skylon Tower. Ever been here?”

I shook my head, only sparing him the quickest glance before staring out at the view again. The restaurant was a huge revolving room, with windows all around the outside showing off the magnificent sight. With the center allocated to the elevator and kitchen, there was only room enough on the outside edge for two rows of tables—one set next to the windows, the other next to the mirrored wall at the center.

The restaurant was more than half-empty. The dinner rush had passed a few hours ago. The ponytailed hostess stopped at one of the open tables next to the window and Eli pulled out my chair. She left the menus and mumbled the name of our waitress before flashing another well-practiced smile and shuffling away.

“Eli,” I said, feeling my brows go high on my forehead, unable to shut down the stunned expression. “This is…this is—”

“Normal?” he asked.

I looked at him, trying to puzzle out what he meant. “No. I mean, it would be if we hadn’t been standing in my kitchen three minutes ago and you weren’t an angel and I wasn’t a—”

“So pretend we’re not,” he said before I could finish. “Just for a while, let’s see what it would be like.”

I breathed out a laugh, blinking. “Seriously?”

“Yes.” He beamed, pleased with the idea, and opened the tall menu. “Tonight we’ll just be Mr. and Mrs. Smith from Columbus, Ohio. Newlyweds.”

Despite the wistful charge of excitement the idea sent zinging through my veins, I kept my smile in check and scanned the menu. “Newlyweds? You sure you wanna go there?”

Eli shrugged. “Niagara Falls and honeymooners, can you think of anything more normal?”

“I don’t remember what normal is.”

Eli touched my fingers and I looked up as he gathered my left hand into his. His thumb brushed over the top of my ring finger and I felt the metal band form snug and solid.

“Best to immerse ourselves in the parts,” he said.

He pulled back his hand and I splayed my fingers, staring at the shimmering, square-cut diamond ring, at least two carats, and the simple silver wedding band. My gaze went to the matching band on him, thicker to fit his larger finger, making his hand seem more human somehow—more masculine.

I met his eyes, nervous energy fluttering through my belly. My heart raced like an ecstatic jackrabbit and I took a deep breath, trying to stop the tremble quaking up from my core. Pretend or not, guilt dimmed the fantasy. “Eli, Dan and I are finally talking again and I can’t—”

“Just for tonight,” he said, stopping me. “Please, Emma Jane. It will be good for you to put all of the danger and fear in your life from your mind. Just for tonight.”

“Not completely, right?” My thumb rubbed the bottom of the rings like an old habit. “I mean, you’re the one who always said I’ve got to be ready all the time. I never know when a demon will attack or a Fallen will find me.”

“You’re safe. They won’t find you this time,” he said. “Not tonight. No one can find us.”

My gaze dropped to the menu again. “What’s so special about tonight?”

“I’m shielding you.”

That grabbed my full attention. “Eli, you can’t do that. You can’t hide me from them.” I leaned closer, lowering my voice. “And if the seraphim find out, they’ll never let you be my mag—”

“They won’t. I’ve closed my mind to my brothers.” He took a sip from his water glass and set it back in the same condensation circle.

“Won’t they be worried or angry or…I don’t know, something?”

“They’ll only realize if they reach for my thoughts and don’t find me. And even then, they’ll assume I’m taking some time to myself.” His eyes met mine and he smiled, but there was something missing, something he was holding back.

“But why would you?”

“I want to spend an evening with you like a normal man. I want to know what it’s like to be human. And you could use the break to clear your mind before facing Bariel.”

“Eli, we can’t ever be—”

Our waitress arrived, stopping my protest, and set a basket of warm rolls between us. The scent of fresh-baked bread swirled around our table. “Hi, my name’s Lisa and I’ll be your server. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

I sighed, scanning the menu I had yet to actually read. Eli wasn’t wrong. I could use a break from the kind of high-intensity day I’d been having. I could use a break from the high intensity past few weeks. Did it matter that we could never be a normal couple? What was the harm?

It was only for a few hours—only pretend. We could forget about the rest of the world, about the rules and consequences keeping us in our places and make believe we were a young couple in love. I had a feeling it wouldn’t be much of a stretch for either of us. So why not?

A few hours later we’d forgotten what we were pretending to be and just were. It was easier than I’d imagined. After a year as magister and illorum—mentor and protégé—we’d found a kind of comfort in each other’s company that we couldn’t have pretended if we’d tried.

We were at home together. And the make-believe only gave us permission to stop fighting the feelings that always hummed between us like a crackle of electricity, feelings we’d been denying were even there. We didn’t act on those feelings, we just stopped fighting them, and that in itself was an odd kind of relief.

It had been years since Eli last visited the falls—before they’d built the Skylon Tower, before they’d built the shops and casinos, before they’d laid the tracks for the funicular or thought to ride a barrel to the bottom or walk a tight rope across. According to Eli, the last time he’d been to the falls, they were several miles further up river.

He wanted to see everything that had changed over the years and with a kind of childlike enthusiasm we made the evening a thrilling adventure. We kept up the charade of a normal human couple—walking everywhere, taking cabs, and refusing to use angelic persuasion to bend the rules. We toured all the attractions—from Ripley’s Believe It or Not, to Adventure City and the wax museums. We explored the shops of Maple Leaf Village and traversed the fun house, hand in hand. For those few hours we were just Eli and Emma, friends and confidants, and yet so much more.

Eli wrapped his arms around me from behind, holding me in the warmth of his embrace at the edge of the Canadian falls. Pale, colorful lights illuminated the massive curtain of water and a cool, misty breeze washed over us. I knew it was late, but I wouldn’t let myself worry over the exact time. Not yet. I didn’t want the evening to end. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against his chest, breathing in the soothing scent of him.

He huddled around me, his lips brushing my ear, sending a quick volley of tingles over my skin. “I’ve missed you,” he said.

I swallowed hard, drowning in the emotion at the back of my throat. “I’ve missed you too,” I said, but my voice cracked, the last of it barely a whisper.

He turned me around, one arm holding my waist, the other hand catching my chin and raising my gaze to his. “They were wrong, Emma Jane. What I feel, it’s not what they think, what they fear. It can’t be…it’s more than that. I’ve been at home—at peace with my brothers, but you have never left my thoughts. There are so many wondrous things on heaven and earth that I wanted to show you, to share with you. It seemed every moment something new would make my mind turn to ask for your thoughts and my eyes search for your face. A comfort I’d grown accustomed to without realizing. A comfort I am finding it difficult to live without. I am lost without you. For even surrounded by all those who love me I am alone—unfinished. I missed you. Why is that wrong?”

My chest tightened and I inhaled hard, forcing my lungs to fill. I knew by the way he’d said it that he wasn’t really asking me, but I wished with all my heart I could give him an answer. “I don’t know.”

“Neither do I.” Before the last of his words left his mouth, Eli leaned down and pressed his lips to mine.

Heat spread through my body like a bolt of lightning, warming me from the inside out in an instant. My mind spun as his tongue stroked against my lips, gentle at first and then more demanding. I opened to him, tasting his sweet warmth—the warmth of an angel.

His arms slipped around me, pulling me closer until our bodies molded to each other. The hardness of his excitement pressed against me, cueing my brain, crystallizing my awareness. The risk we were taking, what it meant if we let go of our last thread of control, melted from my thoughts. We could do this. We could be together. All that was stopping us was…

Eli’s eternal life and…Dan
. I broke the kiss and pushed back from Eli’s heavenly embrace, the cool chill of the falls’ misty breeze making the loss of his warmth all the more acute.

“I’m sorry. I…” Like a curtain had suddenly been lifted, reality blazed through my thoughts. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know,” he said with a soft laugh. Angels have little concept of time.

He reached for me, but I moved back checking my watch. “Shit, Eli. I’m late.”

Chapter Thirteen

I wasn’t sure if Eli knew where the meeting was or if he would try to follow me, but when I teleported from the edge of the Canadian falls to the Mount Washington overlook in Pittsburgh, I couldn’t worry about it anymore. Without missing a step I drew my sword and willed the blade to form, calling molecules from this plane and the next.

This was supposed to be a meeting, a negotiation, but what I walked in on fifteen minutes late was a full-on battle. From the corner of my eye my brain registered Dan on his knees, hands up in surrender, a sword point denting his neck.

A jolt of fear froze my heart, stole my breath, but I forced a slow exhale, focusing. I’d get him out of this—alive—but only if I could push my worry for him from my thoughts and keep my head clear.
Dammit. Of all times to be late.
I knew the man—the demon—who held him on his knees.
Bariel.

He was a chunky demon, built like a two-hundred-pound bowling pin in a business suit. His short, honey-colored hair, violet eyes, and round face were exactly as I remembered from a year ago when he was the go-to bitch for Rifion.

I shifted the information to the back of my mind and focused on the more immediate danger that had both man and demon distracted for the moment.

Jaz hadn’t listened any better than Dan. With long, determined strides I stormed across the wide concrete overlook toward the three gibborim working hard to find an opening in his defenses. Two men and a woman, each with gleaming swords that could only be angelic.

I picked my target, the biggest of the three—scruffy face, dirty jeans, flannel shirt, and vest. He looked like a truck driver except for the huge honkin’ sword in his hands. “Hey. How about we even the odds?”

For half a second everyone hesitated and in that exact moment I swung my sword. I don’t know if the guy’s brain had time to register what was about to happen—to see the glint of the streetlights off my sword, to feel the first sting as the blade broke his skin. But that’s all the time he had before my sword was through his neck. His head toppled off and hit the hard concrete with a sickeningly wet
thump
.

I shuffled backward to avoid the wobbly roll of his head and watched his bulky frame crumble. I couldn’t tear my eyes from the gush of thick blood pouring from the sheared-off stump of his neck, pooling around his upper body, growing wider and wider. The red liquid shimmered in the light of the streetlamps, smooth and flawless, like the shine on a candy apple—pretty and wrong.
So wrong.

My brain shifted to the man I’d just killed, then to my sword and the blood running down the edge, dripping from the point. I waited… For what?

He wasn’t a demon. He’d been human. His body wouldn’t melt into a convenient pile of rank black goo. He wouldn’t disintegrate leaving no trace to prove he ever was. He was real, human, and I’d killed him. I’d taken a life.

“Fucking bitch.” I heard the curse like a voice on the radio—distant, separate from the reality I occupied. But instinct lifted my head and despite the slow response of my brain I stumbled backward, narrowly avoiding the sword slicing past my face.

The female gibborim came at me again with unfathomable speed, teeth clenched, long, coffee-brown ponytail flaring out in her wake. She was dressed like a Sunday afternoon jogger—black Spandex pants and mint-green sports bra, her white sneakers unmarred except for a splash of crimson red. She’d stepped in her dead partner’s blood, leaving a footprint indented in the thickening pool and track marks after every step.

My stomach gave a hard, nauseating roll and I barely lifted my sword in time to block her next strike. The impact sent a shock down my arms, jangling through my nerves, making even my teeth hurt. I staggered back, tried to adjust my stance to attack, but she was already striking again. I blocked, stumbled back, and blocked again.

“Stupid seraphim puppets.” She snarled. “Weak and slow. No way are you getting away with killing Jeb.”

I wanted to argue, to fight back, but I couldn’t. She was so fast, so strong, it was all I could do to keep her sword from ramming through my gut or slicing me in half. I spun and willed myself some twenty yards away—to the other side of the overlook. I’d moved at nearly the speed of thought, but when I came to a stop she was already there.

A smug grin stretched across her thin tanned face. “Seriously? You’re as slow as my grandmother.”

She swung and I ducked, then sliced my sword up in an undercut, aiming to rip her from hip to shoulder. But Jogger Girl twisted and blocked, then rammed her elbow into my nose. Pain exploded through my brain and I stumbled back, fighting to keep both my hands on my sword.

The jogger bitch laughed. “God, you’re pathetic.”

She was right. I felt like I was moving in slow motion. My gaze flicked behind her to Jaz. He and the third gibborim—dressed in medical scrubs and a white lab coat—fought for their lives, both of them going for the kill with every strike. Their bodies blurred, and every few seconds they’d blink out of sight only to reappear a few feet away or across the street or on the next overlook down. I couldn’t tell who was chasing whom, or which one was winning, but I knew the battle wouldn’t last much longer.

I had to get to him. I had to help. My gaze flicked back to Jogger Girl, determined.

She laughed. “Forget it. He’s already ether.”

My jaw dropped. She’d read my thoughts? Of course she had. With that stolen sword she was nearly as powerful as an angel. No wonder I couldn’t outmaneuver her. She knew my moves before I made them.

Confident, she lowered her sword, toying with me.

I hate that.
I sighed and dropped my sword to my side. “I don’t get it. You’ve got an angel’s sword in your hand. The only reason you can even use it is because you’re half angel. You have to know that. You have to believe in angels and demons and God… Yet you’re killing angels for their swords. Why? Aren’t you the slightest bit afraid of pissing off God?”

She snorted, too sure of herself. “God? Who do you think told me to do it?”

I felt my brow wrinkle. “Kinda doubt that.”

Jaz and his doctor attacker popped in fifteen feet behind Jogger Girl. The moment the thought occurred to me, I teleported behind his attacker, swinging my sword before I’d even come to a stop.

My blade sliced through the air, nicking flesh and spraying blood. But it wasn’t the doc’s blood, it was Jogger Girl. She was fast, too fast, and had materialized right in the path of my sword. Doc gibborim was a few inches taller than her, so the swing I’d meant for his neck hit her temple, slicing across her eye and nose.

The eyeball popped from its socket before she could reach up to cup her face. She screamed, blood seeping between her fingers, streaming down her face as she twisted back around, her free hand wielding her sword for the strike. I dodged, trying to stay in her blind spot, but an agonizing cry from Jaz made me trip and I hit the rough concrete.

Skin scraped off my hands and knees as my sword bounced out of reach, clanking along the cement. I twisted fast, ignoring the pain, blindly scrambling backward for my sword. Jogger Girl stomped after me, but my fingers had finally found the solid hilt. I gripped it tight, ignoring the brush of something soft and cool against my knuckles. My gaze went to Jaz, clutching his sword arm to his chest. A ghostly white mist oozed out from the short stump where his hand should’ve been.

Mercilessly, the doctor swung his sword at the wounded, unarmed angel. Reflex made Jaz lift his bleeding arm to block the strike.

“Jaz, no!” I screamed, even as the gibborim’s stolen angelic sword sliced through the meat and bone of his forearm and then glided right on through his neck.

The angel’s white-blue eyes flicked my way, wide and surprised. His head tilted as if he were about to ask a question and then kept going until it tumbled off. Before it hit the floor a flash of light burst from the dismembered head and severed neck.

An instant later his whole body exploded in a brilliant blaze of light, so bright we all had to shield our eyes. A hot wash of wind blew over me, knocking me back so I had to brace my arms to keep from falling over. And then he was just…gone.

“You fucking bastards!” I yelled, launching to my feet with a speed and strength I’d never felt before. I swung my sword, my gaze and aim perfectly synced. Jogger Girl never saw it coming.

She was closest and she’d be the first to pay. In a blur so fast even I could hardly track it, my blade sliced through her waist and out the other side. Her body fell in two pieces—the blood seeping from her eye was nothing compared to the buckets spilling from her middle.

I turned to the gibborim who’d killed Jaz and found myself close enough to strike the moment the thought entered my head. I wasn’t sure how I’d moved that fast or why, and I didn’t care. I just swung my sword—my heart aching, crazed, and furious beyond reason. But the sword-wielding doctor was ready. He blocked and attacked, our swords striking metal to metal so hard sparks lit from the blades, showering the ground at our feet.

He was a better swordsman than me, but not stronger, not faster. Not this time. Still, I couldn’t stand my ground—giving way one fast step after another, backing across the overlook. My foot bumped into something behind me and I stumbled, trying to catch my balance, but my feet couldn’t find solid ground and I slipped, going down—hard.

“Stop!” Bariel’s bellowed command stopped the gibborim’s blade mid-swing.

The rumpled doctor panted—chest and shoulders heaving, face frozen in rage. He straightened, slowly regaining control as he tugged the edges of his lab coat, smoothing his green scrub shirt underneath.

“Hello, Emma,” the demon Bariel said. “So nice of you to accept my invitation. Now, be a dear and hand the sword over to Dr. Westly.”

Dan twisted to see me—his hands still up but ignoring the sword at his throat. “Just run, Emma. They’ve already got me. That’s enough. Run.”

“Silence, boy.” Bariel flicked his wrist and sliced a quick line across Dan’s throat, instantly drawing blood. It wasn’t deep, but Dan jerked back around—his hand going to the wound.

“Dan, don’t—” I shifted, ready to teleport to him, but the doc stepped closer just as fast to stop me.

“There are plenty more like you all over the world,” Bariel said to Dan. “My interest in you is not without limits.”

My blood ran cold, fear weighing in my stomach like iced lead. I couldn’t let anything happen to Dan. I couldn’t lose him—not like this. He was the only thing standing between me and the insanity of this bizarre supernatural life. He’s what grounded me in reality, gave me reason to fight, to hope for a future without demons and death. No matter how I felt about Eli, Dan was the embodiment of normal life for me. He held the light at the end of the tunnel for me to follow. I couldn’t lose him. I wouldn’t.

I looked at the doc still glaring at me, his lips a tight, flat line. He must’ve been in his mid-forties, his brown hair showing the first signs of thinning. He had at least a day’s worth of beard stubble, and other than the sword in his hand he seemed as normal as Jogger Girl and Trucker Guy. It was as if they’d been in the middle of an average day when Bariel called them to come kill Jaz and me.

Jaz.
My chest squeezed. I couldn’t believe he’d been killed right in front of me, and I hadn’t been able to stop it. Anger clenched my teeth and I fisted the hilt of my sword.
And now they’d threaten to take Dan too? Hell no.

Faster than the gibborim doctor could track I was on my feet, ready to do whatever I had to in order to protect Dan.

“You want my sword? Let the human go and come get it.” But something was wrong. The weapon didn’t feel right. My sword had been made especially for me—made perfectly to fit snug in my palm. I looked at the hilt in my hand. It wasn’t mine.

“Not
your
sword, my dear,” Bariel said. “The seraph’s.”

My gaze shot across the overlook to where Jaz had been killed, where he’d screamed cradling his bleeding arm, and where I’d dropped my sword.

There it was. My illorum sword lying right where I’d left it—half-hidden on the other side of the trucker’s headless body. The hilt was only a few inches from the pool of his blood, a pool that still seemed to be growing larger as I stared. My gaze dropped again and I opened my hand—for the first time feeling the slick, ghostly sensation. Jaz’s misty blood was practically invisible, but the hilt of his sword was covered in it—and now so was my hand.

“You may keep it if you like,” Bariel said. “Simply kill your magister.”

My gaze swung up to the gibborim in the doctor’s coat and scrubs, hatred a vile, bitter taste in my mouth. “My magister is already dead, you sick bastard.”

“No.” Bariel chuckled and the sound turned my blood cold. “Jazar was the housemother the Council sent to spy on you. He meant little to you. I want a true display of your loyalty. I want the sword of Elizal, your real magister. Kill him, take his weapon, and I will ensure the threats of demon attacks end. You, your family, all you love will be safe. Retrieve Elizal’s sword and you can reclaim your life…and still retain your power.”

My gaze flicked to the stout demon, a sickening weight settling in my belly. Jaz’s blood was on my hands—literally—and this bastard thought I’d use his sword to hurt Eli? “Go to hell.”

Bariel’s light brows shot up. “Not a particularly clever retort, dear, but I understand you’re under a measure of stress. In fact, I’ll allow you a moment more to reconsider. Perhaps you do not fully comprehend what I am offering. Quite simply, I will restore your life as you knew it, before you picked up that boy’s sword. You would be forever safe from demons. Not simply you, but your entire lineage, and those you truly love safe from evil and all its faces—until the end of days.”

His words slowly crystallized in my brain. He wasn’t just promising that the people I love would never be attacked again; he was promising that demons would never touch our lives in any way.

If he could do it, the offer was better than gold. Most freed demons were resentful, vengeful creatures, taking comfort in causing human suffering. And they were good at it. Child molesters, serial killers, corrupt CEOs, crooked politicians—demons never appeared as the evil things they really were. Instead they insinuated themselves into society—manipulating, whispering evil, destroying humanity from the inside out. And all those I loved could be forever protected from it.