Revelation (29 page)

"And this is the
purpose
you've chosen for us?"

He smiles.

"What about free will?" I ask.

"You are free to walk away at any time."

"Am I?"

"Every decision you make has a repercussion, every choice a consequence. Knowing this, yes. You have free will. You've always had free will. Of course, you
are
marked now. And, unfortunately, that means death. However, we could be persuaded to intercede on your behalf, to forgive you, should you accomplish the task you set out to do."

"Kill him," I say, referring to Luke.

"Yes."

"And Seth?"

"You're making this more complicated than it has to be. You owe Lucien nothing. This fight is already won. If you do this, Genesis, Seth is yours." There's a smile in his voice, eyes wide and bright.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

He laughs.

I don't. I have no other choice. I'm pressed against a wall. Marked by Viola. Marked by Luke. Either they die, or I die, but we can't all survive. This world isn't big enough for the three of us.

I reach into my back pocket, fingers trembling, remove the silencer, clip it on the end of the gun. The expansive room, the night sky and city lights converge, suffocating.

"I want to discuss the fine print, first."

T
HIRTY-THREE

"No more visions."

"I believe that can be arranged," Silas agrees.

"Genesis, don't do this," Carter begs.

I ignore him, focusing solely on the Council, on the things I
can
control—disregarding what I can't. "I don't know what else you were behind—nightmares, accidents, whatever—but I'm done with it. I'm done with it all. I
never
want to see your faces again. I never want to hear your names spoken. You
do not
exist to me."

"Done."

"And Viola? She wants me dead."

"You will not be left unprotected," he says. "And I can assure you Viola is no longer a problem."

"Good." My eyes travel the room—the line of Council members, Luke, his bodyguards. Viola. Mara. Carter. The other Guardians. Seth behind me, eyes flecked with unease. I turn from him. Head swirling. Seconds burning, time stretching.

"Is that all?" Silas asks.

"That's all." I raise my hand slowly, extending my arm, pointing the gun, aiming for Luke.

"Genesis, you
can't
trust them," Seth says. I feel him behind me, so close, hovering.

"I have to," I whisper, fighting back tears.

"No. You
don't
."

"I have no other choice!"

"Yes! You do!" he insists.

"He's not your responsibility," Mara adds. "This was never your battle."

I shove an angry laugh to the back of my throat, swallowing it. "Never my—you
made
it my battle!" My voice breaks. And I don't even know who I'm addressing. Viola, for her vindictive spirit. The Council, for the visions. For stripping my protection. Mara, for training me. Carter, for trading his whole world to help me. Seth, for falling in love with me in the first place.

I train my attention on Luke. His dark features. Tailored suit.

Just pull the trigger. You can do this.

"Genesis." It's Mara.

"Gee," Carter whispers.

"Stop it," I hiss. There are too many voices, too much interference. I need to think.

Focus
.

"Genesis, please," Luke begs, eyes searching mine, the former gleam all but vanished.

"Stop saying my name!"

My hand shakes. It shakes so that I can barely hold the gun steady. I blow a quick breath.

Focus.

"If you do this, Genesis, Seth is yours," Silas reminds me, voice low. "He's
more
than yours. We'll restore him to Earth. As he was before. And it will be as if this never happened."

My skin prickles.

Seth. Back on earth. With me. That's worth killing for, isn't it? Worth fighting for? Worth dying for?

My eyes close, tears spilling, but when I open them, the world sharpens. Clear. And I aim. I aim because I see him. And I know what drives him—what drives them
both
. Because it's the same thing that would drive me were our roles reversed. Because being unable to love is a fate worse than death.

"I'm sorry," I mouth to Luke, fixing my gaze, my head, my hand.

My finger moves to pull the trigger. But something grabs me from behind. Seth grips my arm, spinning me around to face him. I stumble over feet. The world silent. Cold finger pressing against mine, and, before I can react, before I can scream, we're falling. Crashing to the floor. Twisting together.

"No! No! No! Seth?"

I scramble to knees, hanging over him. Body trembling, panicked and disoriented.

Blood is everywhere.

"Oh my God." The words break to pieces in my throat, shattering, salty tears splashing against his shirt in tiny puddles, mingling with blood so that I don't know where he ends and I begin. "Oh my God! What did you
do
?" I scream. "
Why
did you do that?"

His dark eyes grasp mine. Dull. Fading. "It's even," he chokes. "They have no leverage now. They don't own you. You have free will."

Free Will.

I laugh through tears, brushing away strands of hair stuck to his damp forehead. "Free will meant being with you. I picked
you
."

His chest rises and falls, slowing.
Dying
. I take his hand in mine, squeeze until my knuckles turn white, as if I can hold him back—keep him forever. "You
promised
not to leave me!" I argue.

"I'm not leaving. . . . I'm saving."

He winces, eyes squeezing shut, grappling for air.

"Please. Don't go," I whisper.

I lean in, kiss him softly on the lips. But this is no fairy tale and my kiss doesn't hold the power to revive. Evil wins. He brushes the back of my cheek with his hand, and I hold fast to that one, too. Kneeling over him, clinging, grasping his hands in mine. Holding. Begging. Pleading. Praying. Tasting blood on my lips.

Free will
.

A memory surfaces, piercing, a hopeful sting.

The Angel of Death.

A trade.

I can make a trade.

I turn to Luke. To the Council. Mara. "Let me trade with him. My life for his.
Please
."

But no one speaks. No one concedes.

Another ragged breath. And another. Fewer and farther between. His eyes close, lids so translucent I can see the tiny, web-like veins in them, feel the blood as it slows, empties.

"It's okay. I’m here. I won't leave you," I promise, squeezing his hands tighter, trying to be strong enough for both of us. "I love you. Do you hear me? I love you,
forever
."

His lips turn with the tiniest of smiles. They move, forming words, but no sound emerges.

And then. . . . He's still.

Unmoving.

"Seth?" I clutch his limp hand. "Seth?
Please
." I shake him, desperate. Desperate for another moment. Just one more second with him. That's all I ever wanted. One more second.

"Someone do
something
!" I demand. The Council makes no effort to move. Luke stares, watching, troubled. Mara and Carter like statues, frozen in time and place. Viola. Charles. The men whose names I don't know or care to remember. "Please!
Help
him!"

But how do you help a fallen angel who's just given his life to save yours?

I exhale, watching him, feeling my lungs expand and contract, expand and contract, burning in my chest. Burning my throat. Heart crashing against ribs. Pounding in my ears.

The floor. The floor vibrates beneath me. The shift is slight—subtle—but it's like the earth is moving. Quaking. On a nearby end table, the water in a vase of flowers ripples. Chandelier trembles. I watch it settle. When I turn back to Seth he's sleeping. Peaceful.

For the first time he's sleeping.

And something inside breaks—the world fractures—a violent swell dragging me below surface. I cover my mouth with my hand, faint, unsteady, breathing the same breath over and over and over and over.

Until I let go of him, reach for my gun, rise to my full height. I wipe my nose against the cuff of my sleeve, swat tears from my eyes.

I stare at it—the cold, heavy steel. I cock it, inserting a fresh bullet in the chamber.

And I laugh.

"Gee," Carter whispers.

I point the gun to my head, addressing the Council. "This is what you want, isn't it? After everything you've done to me. This is what you wanted. This is
exactly
what you were hoping for."

Council members exchange nervous glances.

"Genesis, please." Luke inches closer, reaching to stop me.

I remove the gun from my temple, turning it on him. "Shut the
fuck
up." He steps back, hands raised, cautious.

The power—the electricity—flickers overhead, plunging us into darkness then sputtering back to life. My heart stands still. We each look to the ceiling, watching, waiting, wondering what will happen next.

"Genesis," Silas calls after a few, quiet moments. "This is the easiest thing you will ever do. Look what he did to Seth. You've lost him forever. He
took him
from you."

He
took him
from me.

He took him from me.

And two, simple words ring in my ears: It's over.

I turn toward Silas, eyes hard, determined, and lower the gun, aiming for the row of Council members. Each target hit in succession, the next one after the one before him—her—as if something else—something more powerful guides my hand. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

A gasp.

It worked.

They fall in a wave, flesh ripping, silencer muffling every bang. Motionless. Bleeding from their desire for more, their hunger for power, their
selfishness
.

Silas's eyes widen, disbelieving, but no one is more surprised than me. "How did you . . . ," he begins, but he doesn't finish. I
refuse
to let him finish.