Authors: Nia Shay
When he broke away, he murmured in my ear again, his voice solemn and husky. "Remember my kiss on your lips when you die."
*****
"Jandra?"
I blinked my eyes open, briefly nauseated by the motion of the car. I'd slumped against the window and dozed off, quite some time ago from the look of the sky. Zeph watched me with concern plain on his face. "Whuzzat?" I mumbled.
"I said, are you all right?"
"Oh, peachy." I yawned. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"You were talking in your sleep. You were whispering a name over and over."
I froze in mid-stretch. "A name?"
Zeph nodded. "Abraxas."
"Ah-whatzit? What kind of weird-ass name is that?"
He frowned, though if in thoughtfulness or disapproval I couldn't be sure. "Abraxas is a figure from the Gnostic writings, identified as one of the high princes of heaven."
"Oh yeah? Sounds more like something you'd go to the doctor for. Acute Abraxasitis--treat with topical cream twice a day."
I sniggered, then broke into a full-fledged giggle. So Dreamy's name was Abraxas, huh? After he'd acted like
my
name was so corny, his turned out to be a thousand times worse. Not to mention totally inaccurate. High prince of heaven, my ass.
"Jandra?"
Zeph's voice brought me back to the present. I fell abruptly silent as I realized I'd been thinking of Mr. Dreamy as someone--a real person. I'd actually been planning to razz the hell out of him the next time I saw him. Hoo, boy. Now I talking back to my imaginary friends, and I'd left all my antipsychotic meds behind.
Right, Zeph had said something to me. "What?"
He didn't answer, just watched at me for a moment longer before turning his eyes back to the road. I felt the press of his mind against mine, a questioning tickle, as if phantom hands shuffled through my thoughts like the pages of a book. I cast a baleful glare at him. "You think I'm losing my marbles, don't you?" No need for him to know I agreed.
"These past days have been difficult for you," he replied carefully. "You are still recovering your strength, and you haven't been sleeping well."
I couldn't hold back a sharp bark of laughter at that. I'd been asleep more often than not over the last few days, and no, I hadn't rested well, had I? A particular little subconscious delusion had seen to that. "So basically you're saying you
do
think I'm nuts, but I have a good excuse for it?" I jabbed his biceps with a fingertip.
"I'm saying I'm anxious to get us to safety." A thread of exasperation had crept into his voice. "Neither of us can keep up this pace much longer."
"Well you'd better hope I keep what little grasp I have on reality, bucko, or you'll really be up a creek."
I turned from him to stare out the window at the colors of the sunset. The interstate took us winding across the vast plains, their greens and browns washing out to shades of gray with the approach of dusk. There were only a few other cars on the highway, far less than I would have expected for a Saturday evening. "So how close are we?" I asked.
"We should arrive just before dark."
Hmm. Not much time, then, to say the things I needed to say while we still had the benefit of privacy. But try as I might, I couldn't think of a good way to broach the topic. I didn't want to be painfully blunt, for a change.
My inner turmoil led me to reach out for him, instinctively seeking comfort through touch. I traced the roundness of his shoulder, the strong solidity of his forearm. He quivered under my fingertips.
"Sorry," I murmured. It wouldn't do to make him run us off the road because I'd been playing with his arm while he drove. Instead, I settled my hand just above his knee.
He sucked in an audible breath. "What is it, Jandra?"
"Listen, I'm sorry I upset you earlier. You know, the whole joking-about-your-death thing."
"No need for apologies," he replied, sounding wary. I suppose it was a strange confession, since I had indeed threatened to be the instrument of his demise more than once.
I sighed and continued. "The thing is, I really don't think you deserve to die. I wouldn't be trying to save you if I did. But then, I don't know everything." Hadn't Cara said those very same words to me just a day or two ago? Oh, the irony. "Maybe it's time you told me what you did that's so terrible."
"To Ardith?" His voice was soft, empty. "I did tell you. I nearly took her life."
"Uh huh. But that's not the whole story, is it? Assuming what Briggs says is true, it doesn't sound like a simple case of overeating." I ended on a rising note, letting my tone repeat the question.
"It is true, and you're right. I lost control of my hunger. I...I tried to claw her heart out of her chest."
Okay, I hadn't been expecting
that.
"You what? Why?"
"I don't remember doing it," he ground out, his knuckles paling as he clutched the steering wheel.
"Well, just tell me what you do remember."
He sighed. "It was six, perhaps seven weeks after you'd left," he began at length. "She'd been with me for only three. I remember my hunger was strong that night--feeding from her was never the same. Never as satisfying." He shuddered visibly, making the car slide to the edge of the lane. "I was feeding from the vessel in her forearm when I blacked out. The next thing I recall, she lay on the floor unconscious, soaked with blood. Her rib cage shattered."
"Maybe you'd better pull off the road," I suggested quietly.
"Not necessary. We must keep going. Unless...." He threw me a wide-eyed look. "Do you want out of the car? Away from me?"
I scowled. "To paraphrase what I told you last night, if anyone's getting out of
my
car, it would be you, not me. And no, I don't want away from you. I just thought you could use a minute to compose yourself. But if you're all right to keep driving, go for it."
He studied me from the corner of his eye. "You don't fear for your safety?"
I shrugged. "No more than usual."
"Do you truly trust me so much?"
That was the million-dollar question, wasn't it? "Yeah, I guess I do. You wouldn't hurt someone like that--I don't believe it for a minute. It just isn't in you."
He grunted, a bitter, rasping sound. "I can't possibly be innocent."
"Why not?"
"Are you suggesting I was set up?"
"No. Well, maybe. I don't know." I sighed, struggling to put my thoughts into words. "There has to be some explanation. Hell, if your azoth had been out of whack for that long, you might have done a lot of things without intending to. And I
know
you didn't intend to, before you even start arguing with me, you stubborn ass."
His mouth snapped shut on whatever he'd been about to say and, grumbling, I continued. "I've seen into every corner of your soul, Zeph, and you do
not
have that kind of violence in you. I know it. No matter how bad things got between us, no matter what I said to hurt you, I was never afraid you'd hurt me physically."
"'No more than usual,'" he repeated. "But I've harmed you during feedings, too."
"Yeah, a little. Bite wounds are painful. They do damage. So what?" As I said it, something dawned on me. "Is that why you were so worried about keeping your control last night?"
"Yes." He grimaced, radiating self-loathing. "And despite my caution, things still got out of hand."
I touched his arm, trailing my fingers over his smooth skin. "It wasn't bad."
"Thanks to you. If you hadn't faced me, talked me down...I don't know what might have happened." He looked over at me again, and this time his eyes were luminous. "I don't believe I've said 'thank you' for that yet."
"Yes, you did." I could feel my cheeks warming. Time to change the subject. "So do you think that's why Briggs is out to get you, because of this Ardith chick?"
"And because of you. I didn't treat you within the limits of their rules, either."
"Right, but both of those issues came up within a few months of each other. Why wouldn't they have done something to punish you back when it happened? Why wait so long?"
"I've no idea."
"Well, what about your last Warden, the one before I signed on? Do you remember how things went with her?"
He frowned. "I'm not sure there was anyone before you. There were others who attended us in past times, of course, but warding is a fairly recent discovery."
"Yeah, but
that
recent?" Surprise widened my eyes. "I didn't know that."
He shrugged, the simple gesture seeming odd from him. "It's possible there was another and I simply can't recall."
"Still, no help there." I drummed my fingers on the armrest. "What else do we have to go on?"
He fell silent for a moment, then said, "Their reasoning doesn't change their intent. Unless it affects your decision to stay with me, I don't see what bearing it has."
"Yeah. I guess you're right. I just wondered." I chuckled a little. "It's inconsequential."
A small smile played across his lips. "You have faith in me still. You amaze me, Jandra."
"Right." I snorted to cover my discomfort. "The Amazing Wonder Woman is on the case." Too bad my golden lariat was sitting back home in Weston, right next to my crazy pills.
Belleryphan's house--a huge, ultra-modern monstrosity--sat at the end of a long private road outside the city limits. We parked at the end of the drive and climbed a wide set of steps up to the front door. I stalked ahead of Zeph, pressing a buzzer set into the wall. Nothing audible echoed to our side of the door.
"How the hell did you even know where to find this place?" I asked him as we waited. A casual passerby would never have spotted the turnoff we'd taken from the main road. The setup had been geared for total privacy. Not unusual for a dark angel's abode, but it should have made this mission a lot more difficult than it had turned out to be.
"I don't know why I knew," Zeph replied, to my utter lack of surprise. "I was simply aware."
"Well, all righty then."
Several minutes dragged by in silence. I began to rock back and forth on my heels, impatient and becoming uncomfortable with the wait. I debated trying the buzzer again just in case I hadn't pressed hard enough the first time. Actually, I wanted to pound on it nonstop until someone answered the damn door.
I can't say what stayed my hand. I felt a weird vibe in the air-- something beyond my conviction that the two of us looked like complete idiots standing out here. As I examined the feeling, a familiar pressure began to build inside my head.
Oh, hell no.
I bit my lip and clenched my fists to stave it off. If I started hearing screams again right now,
I
would scream. And possibly never stop.
Zeph, seeming not to notice anything out of the ordinary, reached over and pressed the buzzer again.
"So, what's our backup plan if he's not interested in having company?" I asked through clenched teeth. Maybe if I kept talking and focusing on his answers, I wouldn't hear anything else. "Do we head back into town and find a hotel?"
He gave me an odd look. "Belleryphan is my brother. Of course he will give us shelter if we require it."
"Oh, of course. Silly me. How could I have mistaken this warm reception we're already getting?"
He said something else, but I missed most of it. The pressure in my head intensified suddenly, so much that my vision darkened. A high-pitched whine shrilled in my ears. I squeezed my eyes shut and staggered against Zeph as my knees buckled.
He caught my wrists, barely keeping me on my feet. "Jandra? What's the matter?"
"I...huh?" It took me a moment to realize I'd heard him perfectly fine. The noise had stopped. In fact, the whole episode had passed as quickly as it had come. "I don't know." I shook my head. "Guess I just blacked out for a second."
"You're still unwell," he concluded. "Hold onto me."
"I can stand on my own, thank you very much," I grumbled, pulling back. He kept hold of my left arm, frowning. He opened his mouth to say something, and I jerked back again, just as the door swung open. I froze in surprise to see, not a household servant, but Belleryphan himself framed in the oversized doorway.
He stood a few inches shorter than Zeph, his build a bit stockier and his face a bit more square. But beyond that, he was the same picture of pale perfection, a Renaissance sculptor's wet dream come to life. Midnight-dark hair hung long and straight to his waist. His eyes were flat obsidian disks, shoeing no hint as to how he felt about finding us in mid-scuffle on his porch. But that was an easy question to answer. He was a dark angel--he felt nothing.
I flashed him a big, goofy grin. "Hiya."
No change.
Zeph seemed to remember his manners and let go of me, bowing briefly from the waist. "Belleryphan, my brother."
The dark eyes shifted from my face to his, like one of those living portraits in a haunted mansion movie. Finally, he inclined his head ever so slightly. "Zephylostravakanastr...."
"Just Zeph!" I bawled in protest, cutting him off at syllable eight.
The afore-named chastened me with a look. "Contain yourself, Jandra."
"Well, excuse me." I threw up my hands. "How is it that he gets something one can actually pronounce, when
you
got saddled with the moniker that ate Manhattan? No wait, I know this one. 'Inconsequential.' Got it. You were saying?"
He just stared at me. Inwardly, I applauded his performance. We'd agreed in advance that Ryphan didn't need to see all our cards, and Zeph should do his best to appear normal. Nephilim normal, anyway, which meant no big emotional displays, nothing that couldn't be explained away by his recent feeding. Of course, testing his acting ability with my most obnoxious behavior hadn't been part of the plan, but what the heck? It was fun, and I needed to blow off a little steam.
Zeph turned from me with graceful aplomb, addressing Ryphan again. "We come seeking asylum, my brother," he continued, his rich voice edged with a hint of compulsion. I wondered if he even realized he'd done it. His power wasn't likely to work on another of his kind. "Please excuse my Warden's behavior. Our circumstances have been rather difficult of late."