Desolate (Desolation) (18 page)

At some point someone ordered pizza and set a plate of it on my lap, with a popping Coke on the nightstand. I ate and drank carelessly, my eyes never straying from Michael’s face. I knew what Knowles thought of me. How he thought I couldn’t be good for Michael. How he disapproved of our relationship. He wanted me to be as lonely and bitter as he. Well, he’d get his wish—but not yet.

I’d leave, but only when Michael awoke—only when I knew for sure he’d be okay.

Then I’d get out of his way, leave him alone. It would be better for everyone that way. I hissed as the cold bit through my wrist and made my arm burn. I rubbed it and hoped no one noticed. Miri chattered away, telling Michael all of the school gossip as if he really cared. As if they were having a conversation. As if everything was the way it used to be.

Miri and James eventually left, and then a long time afterward, Knowles left too. Cornelius draped a blanket over my shoulders, but he didn’t speak.

The apartment grew dark and quiet, until only the sounds of Cornelius’ gentle snores from the other room punctuated the night. I leaned forward, my forehead resting on the edge of the bed. I wasn’t tired, only weary.

My own thoughts were torture and my resolve waned. It takes a lot of effort to maintain a hateful attitude to one’s self. Plus, I was so cold. Shivering cold. At first I thought Hell was near, that Father had come to enquire after his servant, but it wasn’t him. It was just me. My right arm ached with a biting, vicious cold. Maybe the heat of my Halo had made me less resistant to the cold, I don’t know.

I settled into a dark and lonely silence, both in the apartment and in my mind. Silence breathed all around me, inside and out.

When his fingers touched mine, and not because I had moved, I stopped breathing. Willed the rushing in my ears to quiet. I waited, hoping, and.... There it was again. His finger twitched, reaching toward mine.

I grasped on to him while he curled his fingers around mine, and my forehead pressed against his and my name was on his lips and

he loved me.

He loved me.

chapter twenty-eight

Desi

When morning came, I found myself curled against Michael’s side, a big, downy comforter pulled over the both of us. Lucy’s comforter.

I jolted away, his arm falling weakly from where it had draped over my shoulders, and fell onto the floor.

I was so cold—he was so cold. Cold like death. Like Hell. “Michael!” I couldn’t lose him now, not when he’d just returned to me against every possible odd.

He murmured sleepily and turned his face away, the sunlight peeking through one side of the drawn drapes casting a line of light across his profile. While I watched, he sighed and I swear his face took on a more golden hue, as if the sunshine fed him pieces of heaven. Healing pieces of home.

I stood and carefully tucked the comforter around him on the narrow bed, and backed out of the room. It took all my effort to drag my eyes away from him, to turn and walk into the hallway, leaving Michael behind.

“Good morning,” Cornelius said, getting up from his chair and stepping into the tiny kitchen. “Coffee?”

I nodded, raking my eyes over the place, looking for . . . what, I don’t know. Longinus watched me, something like concern in his eyes. Cornelius pressed a hot mug into my hands and directed me toward the couch. I sat and huddled around my cup, soaking up the hot steam. No one spoke.

“He woke,” I finally mumbled into my cup. Inexplicably, shame washed over me and I set the mug down on the coffee table. I didn’t deserve to be warm, I reminded myself.

Cornelius, perceptive beyond his humanity, picked up my mug and pressed it into my hand, placing my fingers around the ceramic surface. “We know. Now stop beating yourself up.” When I glanced up at him, startled, his kind eyes regarded me. “You may have cried out a time or two in your sleep.” His smile took on a different flavor, one of great tenderness that tugged painfully on my heart. Tears pricked the back of my eyes, but I blinked them away. He tucked my unruly hair behind my ear. “He talked in his sleep, too.”

I flinched, but Cornelius kept his hand on me, grounding me, calming me.

“He said he loved you.”

He loves me
.

I stared into Cornelius’ eyes, looking for the catch, for the hammer to fall. But there was none. Only love. Only acceptance. Cornelius took my free hand and squeezed. “My, your hand is cold, child.” He turned my hand over and looked at my palm, my fingers, the back of my wrist. He started to push up my sleeve, but I pulled my hand away, pretending to need both hands to bring my cup to my mouth.

“Who brought the comforter? It’s Lucy’s ...”

“James brought it, bless him. He knew my scant supply would be taxed with the extra guests.” He chuckled and Longinus actually grunted—possibly as close to a laugh as I’d ever heard from him. “He returned late last night with several blankets, including that one, in tow. We took it into you, and that’s when we found you . . .” His cheeks flushed and he cleared his throat. When his silence stretched on for a beat too long I looked up and found him peering intently at me. “He’s going to be all right, Desolation. He will be all right.” I read his eyes, his mouth, his truth.
Michael will be all right.

Finally, I sighed, long and deep, and drank in the aroma and warmth of my deliciously dark cup of coffee. Everyone else complained that Cornelius made heart attacks in a cup, his coffee was so strong, but it was perfect for me. I finally took a long drought and closed my eyes while the heat worked its way down my throat, melting a little of the ice that had taken up residence there.

“So where is everyone?” I finally asked, leaning back into the threadbare couch and looking up at Cornelius. Longinus took a knife from the bookcase beside him (why there was a six-inch blade stashed on a priest’s bookshelf, I had no idea) and began swiping a rounded stone over its surface.

Shhhhtttt. Shhhhttttt. Shhhhtttt.
Over and over again.

Cornelius chuckled. “Why, it’s mid-morning, my dear. Miri and Reginald were here before classes began, but we thought it best not to wake you.” I snorted when he said Reginald—I so couldn’t see Knowles as anything other than, well, Knowles.

Secretly, I was relieved school had already started and no one came chasing me down, trying to get me back in class. As perceptive as any Gardian, Cornelius shook his head and quirked his lips in a sort-of smile. “I’m sure you’ll be expected to go back to school shortly. Even you can’t avoid it forever. If you’re going to live here, masquerading as a human girl—then school is where you belong.”

He must have noticed the look of abject fear and disagreement that passed over my face because he held a hand up. “Not today, of course.”

Shhhhtttt.

When my shoulders sagged with relief, he quickly added, “But perhaps tomorrow.” He laughed and I laughed with him—even Longinus’ steady rhythm of the stone over his blade, acted like a counterpoint to our laughter.

Shhhhtttt. Shhhhtttt.

“Well, I’m going to go back in,” I said, getting to my feet. I drained my coffee, set it down on the kitchen counter, and returned to the shadowy room where Michael had turned himself so more of him lay in the sunlight. I stepped to the window and slowly pulled the drapes back, watching Michael in case the light became too much. He sighed and my heart melted.

He was so beautiful. Even with the mark on his cheek, he was beautiful. I stepped closer and looked at him. The way his short hair seemed to glitter in the sunlight. The warm, golden hue of his skin. His soft, supple lips slightly parted and relaxed. A fine coating of stubble on his jaw. And the mark at his temple.

The mark had the shape of a serpent, curled round and round, meant to identify the bearer as a willing host for the devil. I shuddered at the thought of any ugliness taking up residence within Michael’s soul.

One of his sleeves had been pushed up, revealing the mark on his inner wrist—it didn’t surprise me to discover bull horns. More indication that Michael had been like a puppet, a tool, doing the will of my Father while his own will had been banished to a tiny corner of his mind.

Standing there, I needed to know how much Father had used him, needed to be sure. So I sought for the spark in my soul, the gift from my mother, and coaxed it to life. It burned my arms as it reluctantly claimed me. It felt so tenuous, like if my grip slipped even the slightest, I would lose it. Usually I felt a sort of peace, an acceptance, when I let the warmth grow inside of me. But this time the burning didn’t fade—it felt like I was at war inside of myself.

By the time I had enough of the goodness to do what I needed, small droplets of sweat had popped out on my forehead. When I saw Michael’s aura, saw its golden goodness, with not a trace of the black that would indicate a demon, I sighed and let the golden warmth of the spark pour out of me in a rush.

Michael had broken free.

But it seemed I wasn’t free at all.

chapter twenty-nine

Michael

The shivering cold convinced me last night had only been a dream. I’d certainly had enough of those dreams through the passages of time—dreams of Desi, her kisses, her love, her warmth. When I pried open one eye I saw her, curled into my side, my arm clasped around her. She was here. She was with me.

Shutting my eyes against the burning tears that sprang to my eyes, I allowed myself to believe it. The night hadn’t been a dream, after all. The kisses had been real. But the cold, the biting endless cold raked through me like claws. Desi wasn’t warm—she was so, so cold.

She jolted awake and jumped out of bed as if she’d been bitten. Her reaction, coupled with the cold that seeped from her like a crack in the Doorway, left me confused and I shut my eyes. I pretended to be asleep while my love, the one I had missed for so long, watched me.

I shouldn’t have lied to her. Shouldn’t have pretended to sleep. I’d been desperate to see her. And I was, I just . . . Something felt off. Something wasn’t right.

After she left the room, I inspected myself—starting with my mind. Cold and darkness lurked everywhere, but I could feel my warmth returning, feel the golden light of home filling those dark places, warming me from the inside out.

It seemed I had spent an eternity in Hell. At first I lived in constant fear, enduring daily endless rounds of battle with the creatures of that evil place—some once-men, some the demonic creations of my one-time prince Loki. As for him, he visited me often, filling my mind with lies about Desi. I knew they were lies—at first.

Eventually, and it pains me to admit it, I came to look forward to my torture—it was the only time I felt anything. Pain became the hallmark of my time in Hell. Endless, limitless, merciless.

I shivered as I remembered the deeds I had done under Hell’s influence.

Memory crashed into me with a ferocity that left me reeling. I bolted up in bed, clasping my head in my hands. A hazy memory played out behind my eyes—a memory that carried the cold burden of remorse and sorrow.

Because I had betrayed my dearest friend.

I remembered calling Heimdall to open a Door from Hell—something that hadn’t been done since Odin cast out the Fallen. I convinced him I’d found a way to escape, if only he’d open a Door and call me home. He believed me—and why wouldn’t he? I was not a liar. I was not a friend to Loki.

And while I still wasn’t his friend, I found I could do many things under his direction. Things I thought I never would.

And so the Door had been opened, while Loki—I could never call him Lucifer, never see him as anything other than my one-time prince—looked on, hidden in the shadows, whispering his orders like a constant hiss in my mind. I stepped onto the Bifrost and arrived in my friend’s tower.

For a moment, one moment only, Heimdall looked on me with relief and joy. He welcomed me into his arms. But when I stepped into the light—
his
light—and he perceived what I had Become, his face fell into a mask of fear and disbelief. In that moment I fell upon him, wrested his sword and horn from his side and threw him onto the Bifrost. I forced him to crawl like a dog while I herded him to Hell.