The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance 2 (9 page)

She did not protest when he rolled to the side and wrapped himself about her for warmth. With him at her back and the fire at her front, she felt the cold beyond their private haven not at all. But the world would intrude soon enough.

“I heeded your summons this last time,” she said softly. “But I can come to you no more. I have made promises to others, now.”

“Yes. I saw that in you.”

Of course he would have. How could he
permit
it? Why wouldn’t he take her away, back to his godly palace, and keep her there for himself? Yet those were not questions she could ask, and so she swallowed the pain like a shard of broken pottery.

“Rei . . . according to the rules of heaven, this is wrong. I am not to have you. Not to do what I have done. Twice now. Twice the sin.” He did not sound as though he felt guilty, though, merely sad beyond bearing.

“So you will not call to me again, either.”

“No.” He laid his head on her breast, ear to her heart, as if listening to what she could not say. “But
if
I did, if I found a way, would you give up everything for me, Rei of the River?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation in her, only a broken kind of longing, because the fierce desperation of his arms about her in this moment did not speak of hope. Instead it betokened an impossible love and inevitable ending.

Seven

Did you end it?
Ezekiel asked.

They awaited his return together, converging as soon as they felt him. Camael did not need to answer. As soon as he let them touch his mind, they knew. Nathaniel filled with sorrow while Raziel boiled with anger. From Ezekiel, he sensed nothing, not even surprise. Doubtless he saw only history repeating itself. He had walked this road with Gabriel.

You endanger
all
of us with this madness
, Raziel accused.

Nathaniel stared at him, sombre as he rarely was.
He is right, brother. Do you think Seraphiel will forgive our involvement?

I shall not
, the Seraphim intoned, manifesting.

The time had come, then. For himself, he cared remarkably little. Camael only wanted to return to Rei before she married the man who had put the bruises on her arms. He cared nothing for the dramas of heaven any longer. Still, he could not let his host suffer for his sins. He had to try.

I acted alone
, he told Seraphiel.
They knew nothing. Only I must Fall.

The leader of the Seraphim sent angry amusement arcing into his thoughts like a lightning bolt. It stung, as intended.
Do you take me for a fool? I saw through your shields immediately. I only wanted to see how complete the conspiracy. And so I have. Your whole host is corrupted. They will pay.

A flaming blade appeared in Seraphiel’s hand, rippling with awful blue fire that gave no heat: the Sword of Judgment. With it, he tapped Ezekiel on the shoulder.
Ezekiel, your loyalty to your host proved greater than your love for the Most High. I know you yet mourn Gabriel’s loss, so I bear good tidings.
The grim glee that accompanied the thought sent a wave of horror through Camael.
You may now join him, as the leader of these Fallen. If you can find him. If he yet survives. I know you, Ezekiel. You feared the Fall as nothing else. For our kind, it is the closest thing to death. And so I give you dominion over it. I give to you power over death and transformation. They will beg you for clemency, those dying and doomed, and you will offer none. May it bring you nothing but pain to be known as the Merciless Archangel when your secret heart is so tender.

Camael thought he would run Ezekiel through then, but no. They had conspired together; thus they would die together. And the Seraphim had not finished sentencing them for their crimes.

Seraphiel spun to face Nathaniel.
To you, Fallen, I give responsibility for fire. This force can be used for cleansing or destruction. You will spend eternity weighing the difference, judging what must burn, what should rightly burn. Since you were the gentlest of us all, it will be a just punishment, and for each wrong judgment, you shall receive a scar. You will know agony
beyond imagining
, Nathaniel.

And you, Raziel.
The Seraphim pointed the Sword of Judgment.
Who first plotted to hide this transgression from me. I find it fitting to give to you the mantle of mysteries. From this day hence, you will be charged with keeping divine knowledge from the mortal world. They must not know of us, see us, or hear of us. You do so love your secrets, do you not? And this responsibility will give you the most contact with humans – and I do know how you love them. You will clean up for them forevermore.

Finally Seraphiel came to a stop before Camael. He stood straight and steady against the terrible threat of the sword.
You had carnal knowledge of a human woman and sought to hide it. You put base pleasure before your vows to the Most High. So then, Camael, I charge you with joy.
That did not sound terrible, but then the Seraphim continued.
You will be responsible for making sure the world stays in balance – that those who ought to be happy, are, even when
you
are not. In time, it will become . . . excruciating. I only wish I could be there to see the moment when you realize I have placed upon you the heaviest burden of all. You craved the pleasures of earth, and so I bestow them upon you. You were once princes of heaven; now you are only princes of dust, princes of your small dominions. You are exiles, henceforth, never again to know divine peace. Go forth, Fallen. I cast you out!

Seraphiel swung the Sword of Judgment in a wide arc, and the fire cut them wide open. Beneath their feet, a chasm opened, and then they fell. Pain became Camael’s only awareness. The world washed red.

Eight

As Hana plaited her hair, Rei faced the truth. He was not coming. She had been a fool to place her hopes in a god’s hands. Surely she should have learned by now that they did not care. If anything, they saw this world as a place to come and play, where pleasures might be shared and then forgotten.

He had not promised; he’d only said
if I find a way.
It seemed impossible that there existed a force that could hinder the will of a god, but then, he had also said he was only a messenger. So perhaps he was not important enough to break free whenever he chose. Perhaps he too had responsibilities.

She bore fresh bruises on her back, but her wedding clothes hid them. Kenzo had tried to take his rights as a husband the night before, and she’d fought him. Not before tonight. And so he’d taken his satisfaction of her in another way – with his fists. He truly might have killed her if Hana had not heard her cries and tiptoed to see. Though she was a silly girl, she was not heartless and she had run to fetch Isuke.

“She is not your bride yet,” her father had said. “While she remains in my house, you will treat her with respect.”

For a long moment, she’d dared to hope her father would call off the ceremony. But no. He needed the Tanaka alliance, so he must abide by the agreement. This was no more than a temporary respite, as Kenzo stormed out. They both knew she would pay dearly for her final night of peace.

“I am sorry for you,” Hana said then. “I wish he was a kind man, like Isuke.”

“It will help the village. I am only one woman, after all. And if I die in Kenzo’s care, Father will have a legitimate grievance. The Tanaka will owe him blood money, so my death may serve better than my life.”

“All the same,” her stepmother said. “It is not my wish for you.”

“Nor mine. But we cannot have our dreams come true.”

If she could, a golden-haired godling would come to smite her enemies and carry her away to his palace in the sky. Instead she sat still while Hana finished her hair and pronounced her ready. “There has never been a prettier bride.”

Untrue. But she forced a smile; she would not wear her misery openly. She was the only living daughter of Isuke of Nakamura, and she would honour him by going to her fate with courage. As Kenzo’s wife, she would not live long. She had antagonized him and shown she had too much spirit, too much of her own mind.

It was hard to contemplate her own death. Rei stood, raised her chin, and followed Hana out of the hut. But as she trod the petal-strewn ground, she heard the call for the second time, like a flute inside her head and trilling in her veins.

He had come. Against all odds, he had come. If she fled with him, the village would suffer. They needed her to seal the peace with Tanaka. Rei shook her head; she had never craved the role of martyr. Then she lifted the hem of her wedding robe and began to run.

Nine

Death. In an agonizing eternity, Camael felt all he was cease to be. The cessation of his divine self hurt more than he could have imagined; as though Seraphiel had rammed the Sword of Judgment through the middle of his soul and he’d come away lesser and smaller. That might be an apt comparison.

Covered in blood, he pushed shakily to his feet. As before, he was naked, and it was cold. But this time, he felt it. The flesh he wore felt heavy and awkward, a meat cage that housed his spirit. Camael took stock of his surroundings, and with some amazement, he realized he’d Fallen beside the river, where he first saw beauty. Of the others, he found no sign. Were they to be punished then by spending an eternity of exile alone with their sins? He longed to see the rest of his host and beg their forgiveness for what his desire had cost them.

He had no way of knowing how long it had been, how long he had suffered in earthly terms. It might have been years, again. She might have forgotten him. He knelt beside the water and washed as best he could. That done, he knew he could not leave this place without learning the truth. Rei was the reason he was here. It was unthinkable to go into exile without knowing.

Now, he needed a fire for warmth instead of comfort, but time might be short. Closing his eyes, he sent the call. While he waited, the chill sank in, raising bumps on his flesh. How he wished he had something to cover himself. He had once thought humans did it to hide their shame, but now he saw there was a more practical reason.

The waiting seemed endless.

And then he heard the soft crackle of dry plants crushed beneath running footfalls. Camael was in no condition to fight, but he recognized her movements even before she burst into sight around the bend in the river. Rei wore a complex robe, layered in sashes, and her hair had been intricately arranged.

“We must go quickly,” she said, breathless. “I will be missed soon.”

Go where? She knew more about this world than he did. Camael had no idea where they might be safe from her pursuers. The only place he could find readily would be the cave where they had sheltered together and made love. Though he was vague on the concept of distance, that would not be far enough away. His whole body burned with cold, and he could not think.

She drew up, staring at him with furrowed brow. Her dark eyes raked him head to toe, taking in the differences. “You’re real this time.”

“Yes,” he said. “I will not be leaving you again.”

Rei froze, terror dawning on her lovely face. “I need you to take me away from here. They will kill you. And me.” But it was clear from her expression, she feared more for him.

Camael went to her then, his uncertainty easing. He took her in his arms. “Fear not. Though I have Fallen, I am not powerless.”

In his heart, he sensed the scales Seraphiel had inflicted on him, weighing the generosity of her spirit against the circumstances surrounding her. The verdict was clear; Rei deserved to be happy – and she was not. Camael sensed the bruises on her back, more serious than the ones he’d healed on her arms. Someone had hurt her and would do worse, if he permitted it.

But
he
could make her happy. Perhaps he twisted the spirit of the intent, but the Seraphim had given him room to make his own judgments. And so he would.

But before he could make any plans, he heard the sounds of pursuit. These footfalls were unfamiliar to him, but Rei stilled in his arms. Her upturned face reflected pure dread; she thought him helpless.

“Run,” she begged.

The man who burst into sight carried a curved blade. Like Rei, he was dressed in formal regalia, his long black hair upswept. And Camael knew he was also the monster who hurt her. Guilt and fury bled from him in red-black rays, surrounding him like a tainted sun. This one did
not
deserve joy – and Camael had the power to sever him from all possibility of attaining it.

“I knew you had taken a lover,” the angry beast spat. “And he is not even of our people. You shame your father, Reika.”

She glared at him. “Do
not
call me that, Kenzo! You have no right.”

“How will you stop me? I have all the power. I am the Tanaka’s firstborn, and I have been wronged. No one will speak a word in protest when I order the two of you executed. See how your beloved cowers.”

Camael stepped away and gently set her from him. He spoke to Kenzo. “You have brought nothing but misery, even to your father. Your mother died bearing you. You are the very soul of grief.”

For the first time, the other appeared shaken. But he rallied, raising his sword. “Words. You have only words.” And Kenzo charged.