Desolate (Desolation) (11 page)

“Thank you,” I whispered again and again.

He wrapped an arm around my back and stroked my hair with the other, letting his essence take on some of the brilliance of his aura, letting it seep into me, renewing my strength, my confidence.

When I finally stepped back, Aaron had lost the look of his boyish self and I had a sudden wish that I’d been able to say goodbye—even though he was still here just . . . different. He wasn’t a boy anymore, but a god.

And when he fixed me with his gaze, I felt the power of Ascension.

“Believe in yourself. Believe in his love for you.” Quicker than my reflexes could react, he grabbed my wrist and rubbed his thumb over the spot where the horseman’s sword had nicked me. He let more of his brilliance overtake him. My wrist burned ice-cold and Aaron frowned for an instant—and then the moment was gone.

“Believe, and set things to right,” he said.

Aaron disappeared in a flash of white that propelled me out of the wheelhouse and across the vastness of space, back to the cemetery. Back to war.

chapter fifteen

I found them standing at the outskirts of the graveyard, watching the sky. Watching for me. I came up behind them. They looked so human, even though I knew two of them weren’t. But three were . . . Cornelius, his white hair reflecting the starlight; and James and Miri, hand in hand, their heads bent together in shared whispers.

“I have it,” I said softly. Miri still jumped.

Her hair stuck up at weird angles and she wore her pajamas. I’d practically forgotten that normal people were still asleep at this hour. I looked away from Miri, regret—again, always—making me wish she’d never met me. The sky had turned a navy blue, brightening with the new day that wasn’t far away.

When I looked back at the group, I found Longinus looking at me. His shoulders sagged with relief while his gaze traveled hungrily over the spear in my hand. He licked his lips and his fingertips twitched, but he dragged his eyes to mine and nodded tersely.

“I’m off then.” I gripped the staff tighter and avoided looking at James or Miri. They’d be worried for me, try to . . . well, they wouldn’t try to talk me out of it, but they’d do something. Remind me I had obligations now, I had friendships and relationships where people cared about me, cared what happened to me.

I turned on my heel and spread my wings, tensing them for flight.

“Wait!” Miri’s voice, high and sharp, cut through the night. I half-turned, looking over my shoulder. “There’s speculation,” she dropped James’ hand and jogged forward. “That the blood of certain demons—or even their weapons
—can infect you, can turn you.”

I laughed, but she looked at me with such intensity that the laughter died away in my throat. “Mir, I
am
a demon, remember?” I won’t deny it thrilled me to see her eyes widen with a breath of fear at my words. I’m a demon.
Ademonademonademon.

She reached out and lightly touched my arm—the arm that was aglow with golden light. “That’s not all you are.” Her bright blue eyes dove into my soul until I remembered who I
really
was and shut her out.

But she did have a point. “Got it.”

She let out an exasperated sigh and stepped back. “Just be careful.”

I stared at her for half a second more before turning my face to the sky and pushing off and away.

The closer I drew to the ocean Door, the quicker my heart beat, the more my stomach flipped. I couldn’t explain it, and I certainly would never admit it to my friends, but the horseman scared me. I didn’t know what he was. Didn’t know what he could do. Didn’t know why Father had hid him from me. It seemed the longer I stayed in the human world, the less sure I became of my own—and I thought I knew everything, thought I’d explored every nook and cranny over the centuries.

I remembered Michael telling me about the goddess Hel, the creator of Helheimer, and how Odin believed Father had imprisoned her somewhere on Helheimer. I’d never heard of her. Couldn’t fathom a place in Hell where she could be hidden and I not know about her. Now I wondered how it was that Hell hadn’t given up its secrets to me.

A flash of memory struck me—walking the corridors of Hell, ignoring all around me. Eternally training with Akaros. Countless hours in the throne room where I lost myself to my own thoughts and Father counseled with his minions. That had been my life. I realized now that I hadn’t wanted to know the secrets Hell possessed.

Now I knew that Father had the goddess chained somewhere in his kingdom, and had monsters I never knew of—including demonic horses and riders with no faces who could bring death and destruction to thousands just by riding in their midst.

At least this would be one ride I could prevent.

I bent myself to greater speed and forced all thought from my mind.

Except for a tiny worry that squeezed my heart with abject fear.

What if I can’t kill him?

chapter sixteen

I watched a couple walk down the beach and go beneath the bridge. They whispered to each other in low voices and he slipped his arm around her shoulders when she complained of being cold. My thoughts circled around Michael, but I forced them away. I couldn’t afford to think of him; needed to forget him.

My breath caught in my throat.

Forget him? I couldn’t. I’d never.

I rubbed at my right wrist where the horseman’s blade had nicked me and reached for the warmth of my Halo, willing myself to think of Michael. To Remember him—the surest path away from the cold, dark feelings that rose in my veins like a coming tide.

I thought of the first time I’d seen him. Of the way he looked when I found him in my garden, the sun shining in his lion-eyes, a fistful of Lily of the Valley in his hand. Of the way those eyes shone with love for me from the very beginning, and until the very end.

Of the way his lips felt on mine, the soft strength of them, the way they forced me to forget every other thing and be only in that moment. With him. With love.

I closed my eyes, hoping for a Remembering, for the sweet smell of oranges and the taste of honey on my lips that came with reliving the past—but I smelled and tasted nothing. So I trudged through what memories I had.

As I reached for each thought they dodged away, like mist slipping through my fingers. My head pounded and my right arm felt numb as if hypothermic, the sensation pushing away the past and staking me to the present. And in this present, I couldn’t coax to life the spark of warmth at the center of my being. I couldn’t muster up love and hope for Michael. I couldn’t shake the desire to dive into the water, bust down the Door and move back into my life there.

A tortured sound escaped my throat, like the wrenching cry of a strangling infant, and I pressed the heels of my palms against my eyes.

I didn’t like the changes I felt inside of me. Didn’t like this leash that seemed to have snaked around my neck drawing me back down to Hell.

I was meant to
destroy
Hell. To rebel against the dark and all my father stood for.

And yet . . .

My soul longed for the peaceful emptiness of my childhood home.

For the endless sameness where I knew exactly what was expected of me and exactly who I was.

This . . . This conflict felt like a burden of a million mountains. I didn’t know if I could carry it anymore.

Didn’t know if I wanted to.

I waited for hours, huddled in a tight ball on the top of the bridge, battling my inner demons, but the horseman never showed. The constant whisper of Hell assured me the Door still lurked beneath the waves, but it didn’t once crack open.

When I knew my resolve to resist breaking down the Door myself hung by a mere sliver of starlight, I stood up, stretched, and dove for the sea.

At the last possible second, my wings brushing against the freezing water, tiny, icy particles clawing my face, I leveled out and flew away.

I wouldn’t go back to Hell, back to my one-time home.

Not today. Not ever.

I didn’t stop at James’ open door, but I didn’t try to be particularly quiet, either. I fell onto my bed, kicked off my boots and crawled under the covers. I shivered beneath them until I finally gave in to sleep and an entire nighttime of dark dreams.

The next morning I left before James came out of his room. Before yoga. Before coffee.

I drove to school in silence, even though all I wanted to do was spread my wings and fly—anywhere and everywhere, just not here. And yet, school is where I ended up. Only two cars were parked in the school lot—the dean’s and one I didn’t recognize. I pulled into a spot I didn’t recognize until I’d shut the engine off.

Only a couple months ago I’d parked in that very spot, with Michael’s big white truck parked beside me. He’d talked to me. Held my hand. He’d awakened feelings and memories that I’d kept buried for an eternally long time. Now I waited, expecting the feelings to resurface, but they didn’t. I used to use music to feel something—anything—but now I wanted . . . nothing. I’d discovered I could create my own Hell within my mind—empty of all fuel for my senses. No sound. No regret. No sorrow. No memories. No pain.

I sighed and stepped out of my car, letting the door swing shut behind me with the barest
snick
.

My feet moved me forward without me telling them to. I wasn’t lost in thought; I was lost in the absence of thought. I left the path and walked across the cemetery, not caring whose grave I stepped on, or if I knocked over a bouquet or two. A copse of trees stood like sentinels at the far perimeter of the church grounds and I trudged toward them and the dark shadowed freedom they promised.

I took one step into their embrace. Stopped and closed my eyes.

Only then did I realize I wasn’t alone.

I held my eyes closed a moment longer, and when I opened them, my gaze zeroed in on the boy who stepped out from behind a tree, his eyes on me.