Iridescent (Ember 2) (29 page)

“You have a question, little Nephilim?”

Candra blinked and looked up. Nothing about his open expression belayed anything but curiosity. He didn’t say
Nephilim
as though it was a dirty word. He said it matter-of-fact, with no insult insinuated, no indication he related her to the ones who had come before her in any way.

“The Creation Blade.”

He waited a moment, crossing his thick arms across his chest and gripping his bulging biceps. “Was that a question?” he asked with an amused grin.

Candra nodded, uncertain. “Lofi mentioned it. How does it work?”

“It doesn’t. It doesn’t exist.” He paused, again seeming to consider how much to share. “Draven knows more than I do about the stories. He even possesses what is meant to be a replica in his study, a gift from your father.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

O
NCE
A
LONE
, C
ANDRA
T
OOK
out her cell phone and dialed Brie’s number.

“Hello,” she answered after two rings.

Candra opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Exhaustion settled on her shoulders like a lead weight, pushing her down. She sank onto the bed and fell back.

“Candra? Hello, can you hear me…I can’t hear you.” Brie apparently thought they had a bad connection.

“I’m here,” Candra said. “I’m sorry. I was just calling to say I won’t be home tonight.”

Silence. Candra closed her eyes and waited, only to sit up with a jerk when she inhaled and picked up the scent of vomit.

“You should come home,” Brie told her. It wasn’t a request. Candra recognized the familiar tone from her childhood. Brie had used it to lure her indoors, before the real lectures about responsibility and respect began. “Now isn’t the time to be out roaming around just anywhere.”

Candra sighed. “I’m not ‘just anywhere.’ I’m at Draven’s. I’m safe here.”

“I’m coming to get you,” Brie said without missing a beat.

Candra didn’t want a fight; it scarcely seemed worth the energy with everything else going on, but she needed space. “Brie,” she began firmly, “I’m not coming home—not tonight. I’m eighteen now, and I would really appreciate it if you could just let me handle this my way.”

More silence. Except Candra was sure she could hear paper crumpling on the other end and wondered if Brie was taking her frustration out on a notepad.

“By ‘this,’ I take it you mean Sebastian? Something has happened, hasn’t it?”

Candra guessed that meant Brie hadn’t seen Sebastian. She hated that her first reaction was to worry for his safety, to worry that he was out there alone and maybe thinking of her. She hated it more when her second reaction was to worry that he wasn’t alone and that he wasn’t thinking about her at all. Candra shook her head, hoping to clear the images creeping in. Images of red hair whipping over Sebastian’s chest, like flames licking at his golden skin, and ruby lips claiming his.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Brie.” She hoped to belay some finality to her tone.

Brie paused, and for a moment, Candra thought she would continue to demand she come home. She didn’t.

“You will call me if you need anything at all, right?”

“Of course.”

“Okay,” Brie said reluctantly. “I love you, Candra.”

“I love you too, Brie. Thank you.”

After Candra ended the call, she took her time in a skin-searing shower and dressed in the casual clothes Nathaniel had picked up for her. She joined Draven in his kitchen, where he prepared them a light dinner. Neither of them forced a conversation, instead keeping company and eating in relative silence, only broken by the tinkling sound of silverware on plates.

When they finished, Draven invited her to a private tour around one of the several art museums in Acheron.

Her boots clicked eerily on the white marble floor as they made their way around the exhibit on the top level. The building felt as if it belonged in the last century, despite being a fairly recent edition to the city landscape. Pillars and carved archways led room to room. Murals decorated the lower level ceilings in opulent golds, deep reds, and velvety greens. Colors so vibrant and complex, it was hard to draw her eyes away from them. Candra remembered spending several enjoyable afternoons with Brie searching out a preferred piece. They’d sit in silence on the polished sandstone benches, admiring the brushstrokes of the masters or discovering the meaning in some young up-and-comer’s abstract before retiring for rich, bitter coffee to dissect their favorites. Those memories seemed like a lifetime ago—and it was. Back then, her life had yet to begin, and now, the idea of making plans terrified her.

Candra had once questioned how the light from the domed, paneled skylights of the central gathering areas didn’t damage the art. Brie had explained to her that light was an important feature of a display and how light influenced perception of art. Too much exposure or too little, and the experience became uncomfortable. If the light was uniform, the viewer became lax or distracted and missed something vital. She’d said the human eye was amazing, but it had limitations: it could be tricked or deceived, or rather, the way in which the mind interpreted information could be manipulated. She’d told Candra the challenge was in finding the balance to reveal truth.

It passed for a metaphor for her life. She needed to shed enough light on what Lilith was up to without blinding herself to something important. No doubt Lilith could manipulate things to her advantage. Candra would have to be smarter. She had to quit holding back the energy inside her. Maybe holding back prevented her from figuring it out, but letting it loose was frightening. Brie was right. The light was proving challenging, and people she could trust were disappearing fast.

“Are you with me?”

Candra blinked and realized Draven was standing close and had said something she didn’t hear.

He shook his head and laughed blackly. “Sometimes, I look in your eyes and all I see reflected back is a pale echo of who you wish I could be.”

Candra groaned in frustration and drew back from him.

“I thought maybe a distraction would take your mind off Sebastian. Clearly, I was wrong.”

“I don’t want to talk about him. We’re having a good time. Just for once, I want Sebastian not to intrude on everything I think, feel, and do.”

Draven reached out to catch her hand before she got very far, and Candra reluctantly allowed him to drag her back to his side.

“It’s okay.” He smiled reassuringly. “I know you are here with me. That’s enough for now.”

“Why do I still want someone who doesn’t want me? I hate it.” Candra realized she was pouting. Either way, the world as everyone knew it was ending. “The worst part is, I know you can see…I know everyone can. It’s humiliating.”

Her options hadn’t changed. Either she went down fighting with the rest of the world’s inhabitants, or Sebastian and the others went home, leaving the world to Lilith. Lilith would have one of those futures. Candra needed to believe Sebastian was worth saving, that maybe they could still do something to stop Lilith
and
get home. Perhaps sacrificing herself would give them time, perhaps not.

He took a long deep breath. “Hope should never be hidden. It’s like a bird. It needs space and the freedom to fly. What are wings for if not to fly?”

“What use is a caged bird,” Candra whispered, repeating the words Draven had said to her at the ball when she’d asked why he didn’t keep her with him.

“People always have reasons for doing what they do. It may seem at a glance that the reasons are obvious, but they rarely are.” Draven paused. His eyes darted around the room, searching for something, and then a smile tugged the corner of his lips upward when his eyes settled on something over Candra’s shoulder. She turned to look at the same time he placed his hand at her lower back, urging her forward. They stopped in front of a large plant pot containing a single flowering plant. A thick stalk rose from the dirt, mud brown and scaled with heavy, dark green fibrous leaves sprouting outward. At the top sat one beautiful bloom with purple, heart-shaped leaves.

“What do you see?” Draven asked gently.

Candra glanced up at him and frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Draven smiled. His navy eyes twinkled in the light when he blinked, and his hair fell across his forehead before he combed his bangs back again with his fingers. A familiar flutter trembled in Candra’s stomach. Everything about the man before her called to her: his beauty, his kindness, and strength. She trusted him.

His smile grew wider, and Candra realized that instead of answering, she had been staring at him. Draven slowly lifted his hand and scooped a loose tendril of hair behind Candra’s ear. His finger continued to stroke her skin, trailing carefully along her jaw and raising goose bumps. She swallowed and made a great effort to keep her eyes open. The temperature of the room appeared to rise significantly, and Candra reached out, pressing the flats of her hands against Draven’s firm chest to steady herself.

With shaking fingers, she touched solid muscle and warm flesh under the thin cotton of his shirt. Draven was warm and strong. He offered comfort and loyalty. Things Candra might easily get lost in right now. Her fingers tensed, and her body shivered when his free hand came up to slide around her waist, pulling her closer. His heart retained the same slow and steady rhythm, although the thick vein in his throat strained.

He wanted to kiss her, she was sure of it, and she wanted him to. She was so sick of running, sick of pretending she was strong for everyone. She wanted to disappear inside something bigger than her. Something that would consume her from the inside out and make her forget everything. Draven could give her that. He clearly wanted to. The only thing that held her back was the niggling doubt that she would be using him.

She didn’t need to make that decision in the end because Draven’s fingers didn’t guide her lips nearer to his. He gently turned her eyes to the plant beside them.

“Tell me what you see.”

Candra tried to swallow down the knot in her chest and narrowed her eyes at the plant, wondering what she should be seeing. In her experience, nothing in Acheron was ever what it appeared to be.

“I see a plant.”

“What else?” he pushed.

“A pretty plant?” she asked with a note of uncertainty in her voice.

Draven chuckled and stepped away from her. Candra’s body swayed in his absence. It surprised her how unsteady she was without him there supporting her. He ran an exploratory finger over one of the mauve petals, circling his thumb over the silky texture. “All you see is this, the plant, the pretty bloom. Except flowers don’t exist in isolation. You need to go further, look deeper. This is only a tiny part of the plant.”

He reached into the soil and scooped a handful before letting it slip through his fingers again. “Love is just like the flower; it has hidden depths that we rarely ever explore. Beneath the surface lies a network of roots. You can admire the flower for what it is, or you can dig deeper. The more you dig, the more you will find. The real reasons we love a person sometimes exist in the darkest and deepest part of us, the part that knows no logic…or rationale.”

Candra’s eyes watered against her will when she thought of Sebastian out there, somewhere, with Ananchel. She looked down, not wanting to see Draven’s face. What a mess they had all made between the four of them.

“How do we change it? I feel like I’m losing hope.”

“You can’t change it,” he said gently. “A broken heart is something even I can’t protect you from. I’ve been alone for so long, and believe me, all that does is provide a false sense of security. Being alone doesn’t erase the deep yearning that exists in all of us. We are not solitary creatures. You have to love and open your heart. If not, what is it we are trying to save? When it swallows you whole, remember that it means you’ve lived.”

She wanted to tell him everything, there and then. She thought about pouring her heart out and letting the chips fall where they may. What would he do if he knew the blade was real, that heaven was practically within reach? Maybe she was a weapon, but she couldn’t figure this out on her own anymore.

Draven took her by the hand and led her to the next section of the display. Candra gasped, dropping his hand. Her pulse raced inside her chest as she took her next hesitant steps toward the painting on the wall in front of her. Her hand floated in the air, aloft, as if the image might perhaps disappear like a mirage burned away by reality if she didn’t touch the surface.

“You did this?” She stole a quick look over her shoulder.

Draven made no outward reaction to confirm the painting was one of his. His expression remained neutral. Several of his works hung in the library of his home, each one a completely different style. It was impossible for her to tell if this was one of his creations, but who else would paint her?

Candra lowered her hand and stepped closer. No signature—not surprising, since he didn’t sign any of his other paintings. The painting before her caught the light from the moon coming in from the skylight. She guess it wasn’t a permanent position, but rather a placement made to show it to full effect at this exact point of the evening. The girl in the painting wore a long black strapless gown, and few strands of curled hair fell forward over her shoulder. The sadness in her eyes made Candra’s breath catch in her throat, but there was something else, too…a fierce determination. Her shoulders were rolled back and her head held high, her gaze fixed on something in the distance Candra couldn’t see. The girl stood in blackness, except for one thing. Every inch of skin glowed with a pearlescent light, the effect intensified by the silver moonbeams landing across her skin. The girl in the painting existed like some kind of beacon in the dark.