Hellsbane Hereafter (19 page)

“Abram. Get out of here!” If he’d just leave, she’d stop fighting on her own.

“I’m not leaving,” he said from behind me. “This is my destiny. I won’t run from it. I told you, I’m not afraid to die.”

Dammit.
I blocked the woman’s next swing, twisting my sword in a quick circle that threw her arm wide. She stumbled, and I lifted my foot and kicked, pounding the sole of my sneaker into her chest. She sailed backward off her feet, slamming into the table and chairs across the room, sliding several more feet and toppling furniture.

I took a split second to scan the empty bar behind her and the whirlwind battles around me. Another illorum lay dead, the winning demon now aiding another who barely held his own against an illorum the size of a refrigerator. And all the while Thes stood where I’d left him, like a general on a hilltop, watching his soldiers battle from a safe distance. Was he waiting until the weakest were culled before swooping in to finish off all who remained? Would he come for me in the end? Would I finally be forced to kill a seraph?

I couldn’t worry about it—not now. I spun to face my stubborn half brother. “Abram.”

He danced on his toes, nervous energy jittering through his body, sword still in hand.

I grabbed his shoulder, shook him once to get his full attention. “You’re not going to die today. Got it? I’m not going to let it happen. So just accept it and get the hell out of here.”

For a second, defiance glinted in his green eyes, his gaze peering past me to the ongoing battles. Then he looked back to me, and I made sure he’d see my own stubborn determination to keep him alive plastered on my face. He stilled, shoulders drooping. “Fine. You sure you can handle this?”

“I’m sure—” The word had just left my lips when a blazing hot pain sliced through my chest.
What the hell?

I looked down and blinked at the red-stained metal jutting from between my breasts. There was so much blood, warm and wet, soaking through my clothes. I glanced back up at Abram, his face white, eyes wide, mouth agape.

I winced, the pain slowly oozing into my brain. “That’s not good.”

Abram shook his head, backing away.

I looked down at the strangely familiar metal again and watched it twist. Pain lanced through my body and stole my breath, white-hot agony blazing behind my eyes. Someone screamed, the sound deafeningly loud, echoing inside my head before I realized it was me.

My knees buckled, and I dropped to the floor. Finally Abram turned and ran, disappearing down the little hall at the back corner of the bar. Light flooded the dark alcove when he slammed through the emergency exit then blinked out as the door closed behind him.

The metal in my chest yanked back out of my body, and I fell forward, unable to stop myself.

What was wrong with me? Why did my body feel so foreign?

“Eli.” I couldn’t hear my own voice. I wanted him there—needed him. He’d tell me what had happened.

My hand went to the hole in my chest, fingering the wound. A shiver shook down my spine, but the pool of liquid I lay in felt warm. I tried to take comfort in that, but the thick and sticky fluid smelled of copper and matted in my hair. I didn’t like it.

My vision darkened, and mercifully the pain subsided as my body numbed. But too quickly the sticky pool cooled, and my shiver returned.

“Told you.”

I lifted my eyes to see Tommy standing in front of me. He shook his head, his hands in his pockets. “Being illorum doesn’t make you immortal. It just makes you harder to kill.”

Was I dying?
The question was oddly clear in my head. “I didn’t think I was going to die today.”

“No one ever does. Aren’t you tired?” Tommy’s familiar voice soothed me.

A dark shadow flickered behind him, fading into the dimness that steadily pressed in around me.

“Yes. So tired.” Tired of fighting, tired of worrying, of feeling guilty.
So tired.

“Then go to sleep. It’s time.”

The room grew black surprisingly quick. I could hardly see. I didn’t care. The soothing darkness made it easier, more tempting. I wanted to close my eyes just for a few seconds, to catch my breath, to rest.

So I closed my eyes and…

Chapter Sixteen

“But you’re not really an illorum anymore, are you?” Tommy’s voice pulled me from a deep sleep.

I tried to open my eyes, but it was like trying to force a door open underwater. I could feel them give, but it took real effort to get them open. I saw him first through the tiniest slit of my lids, sitting in my vanity chair, dirty sneakers propped on the end of my bed. The sight was so familiar, exactly as I remembered from two years ago, complete with a half-empty Doritos bag in his hand. He popped one of the reddish triangle chips into his mouth and wiped his fingers on the thigh of his dingy jeans.

“Tommy?”

He gave me a sideways look and a half nod. “I’ve missed these, you know?” He chomped another chip.

“Am I dead? I mean, I thought I was dying.” My hand went to my chest, remembering the gaping hole where my heart had been.

“You’re alive. You were dead. That is, you did die. It didn’t stick.”

“I’m healed.” My breath caught, and I sat up, realizing in that moment that I wore someone else’s T-shirt. It was way too big—a plain white V-neck undershirt. I didn’t really care. I stretched out the collar to peer down at myself.

The skin between my breasts was smooth and healthy with not even a raw scar to mark the spot where a razor-sharp blade had dug out my heart.

“Yeah.” He swallowed. “Your heart was like minced meat.”

“Like yours was.” I remembered the blade piercing through his chest, shredding his heart as it twisted inside him. It’d killed him. “How am I still alive? I mean, the same wound killed you.”

He grimaced. “You don’t have to keep saying that, you know. I got that I died. Can we move on? And you’re not dead, at least not anymore. And you’re not crazy. You’re also not like me. You’re not like anyone.”

My stomach clenched, my mind returning to that dark, cave-like room in the dead city of Petra. Just the thought of my angelic father forcing my hand into the caldron tightened every muscle in my body as I remembered that agonizing pain pumping through my veins. What had he done to me? What was I now that I could survive having my heart shredded?

I hadn’t wanted to think about it. It was childish and stupid pretending that if I didn’t talk about it, didn’t think about it, it wasn’t real. But it had happened, and there was no denying it now that it’d changed me.

I swallowed hard. “What am I?”

Tommy shrugged. “Beats me. Your body basically died. But there you sit, not dead. You’re not human, that’s for sure. Not even an illorum could’ve survived that. Not even one whose father was an archangel.”

“I’m still human.” I wished it more than knew it.

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. You don’t glow right. The human soul has a special kind of light about it. Yours is…it’s just different.”

“You can see my soul?” I looked down at myself just to check if I could see anything.
Nope.

“Sort of.” He rolled a shoulder again, unconcerned. “I mean, I should be able to. From this side of ever after, I can see everyone else’s.”

“But not mine?”

“I see something, but it’s not the same. The human soul gives off a kind of light, like a halo all around the person. But with you the light’s kind of dim. Like your body is more dense, keeping it trapped.”

“But I still have a soul. I’m still human,” I insisted.

“I guess.” He dropped his feet to the floor and sat straighter. “There’s something in there, but it’s like…it’s like…” Tommy’s face paled, making his curly blond hair seem brighter.

“What?” A cold wash of fear flooded through my veins.

He shook his head and looked away.

“What?”

His light blue eyes swung back to me, and he must have seen how his silence totally freaked me out. He sighed. “It reminds me of the way fallen angels look.”

“Wrong.” I shook my head, pushed to my feet, and paced to the other side of the room then back again, still shaking my head.

“No. I’m right. Their spirits weren’t born to the bodies they have.” He inched forward in the chair, trying to catch my attention as I paced. “They made their own bodies out of molecules they called together. So they’re kind of like light-tight containers to hold their spirits, to trap them here. I can see a dim haze around them, but it’s never as bright as humans. Your soul is dim, Emma, just like theirs.”

“I’m not a fallen angel,” I said, but the certainty didn’t really make me feel any better. I dropped onto the bed again, defeat melting through my bones.

“I know. But it’s not just fallen angels who look like that. It’s magisters, too, and any angel who wants to physically interact with this plane.” He tilted his head to the side, studying me for a second. “It’s like you’re more angel than human. How’s that possible? What’d you do?”

I looked away, shame warming my cheeks. “Nothing. I didn’t do anything.”

I lay back in bed, and a dull thumping pounded at the back of my skull. I couldn’t have this conversation. I couldn’t say what I feared, not out loud, not even when there was every possibility I was talking to my own imagination. I mean, I wasn’t seriously talking to Tommy’s ghost. Ghosts weren’t real. Hell, maybe none of it was real.

“Of course it’s not real.” I wrapped my arms over my eyes, wishing I could escape into sleep again. “As if having a conversation with a dead man wasn’t insane enough. Now I’m wondering if I’m even human anymore. So this is what crazy feels like. Weird. I was sure at this level of loony I’d have one of those nifty jackets with the sleeves that tie in the back.”

“I told you, you’re not crazy.” Tommy was suddenly beside me, perched on the edge of the bed, though I couldn’t actually feel him there.

I dropped my arms to my sides and looked at him. “Then I’m dreaming. I’m in a coma having meds pumped into my arm, and all of this is just a chemically induced nightmare.”

“You’re calling me a nightmare?” Tommy’s expression fell, his eyes like a sad little puppy.

I pushed up to my elbows. “Seriously? I am not apologizing to my imagination.”

“What makes you think none of this is real?”

“Asked the dead man sitting on my bed. Really?” I snorted. “If this is real, then I’m not just seeing ghosts, I’m arguing with them. It also means whatever Jukar did to me in that cave has changed me to the point I don’t even know if I can die.”

Tommy clapped his hands hard. “Exactly.”

I blinked at him. “Is this you being helpful?” I turned my head and threw my arms over my eyes again. “Of course not. Why would you be any less of a smartass in my dreams?”

“You’re not dreaming. You’re not crazy. And I
am
trying to help. I’m here to remind you why you got into this mess to begin with.”

“I can’t kill my angelic father the way illorum are supposed to do to get their lives back. And don’t ask why. It’s complicated.” I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I
was
dreaming so I could wake up and make it all go away.

“I know. It’s too late for that now, at least for you.” He brushed a light dusting of Doritos dust from his hands. “Now there’s only one illorum duty you can fulfill. You have to guard the gates to the abyss, Emma.”

“Is that all?” I asked jokingly.
Why not?
I’d been told my destiny was to protect Abram, but Michael wanted me to kill him. However, according to Amon, if I didn’t kill Abram, no one else could. Why shouldn’t Tommy’s ghost have an opinion on the matter, too?

“Yeah. That’s all. Forget about all that other crap. You’ve got one job now. One destiny. You sealed it the second you picked up my sword. Illorum are the gatekeepers. Don’t let anyone distract you with all that other stuff. Trust your gut. You know what you have to do, Emma. You stick to that, and you’re golden.”

“Awesome. Easy-peasy,” I said, sarcasm meter to the max. “One thing. How, exactly, am I supposed to guard this mythical gate? And from what?” I pushed up to sit, pulling the covers over my lap.

Prompted by my move, Tommy turned, bringing a knee up to rest on the bed, his dirty sneaker dangling off the edge. “Who said it was a myth?”

I blinked, and he was gone.

“Emma?” I snapped my attention to Jukar standing at the door to my bedroom then back to the empty vanity chair.
Shit.
I’m awake.

I slipped back down, rolled over, and pulled up the covers, giving the fallen angel my back. I didn’t want him to see the fear that had me in a cold sweat. Had I actually been talking to a ghost?

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

I didn’t answer, but I heard his footsteps against the hardwood floor and knew he’d moved farther into the room.

He chuckled, the bed dipping behind me as he sat on the edge. “You don’t have to answer. I know you’re fine. Perfectly healed, right?”

I shifted, cuddling my pillow tighter under the covers. I wouldn’t answer. I didn’t want to talk to him, didn’t want to play this stupid game anymore. I didn’t want to be a spy or a double agent. Nothing made sense. I didn’t know who to trust. Didn’t even know if I could trust myself. What was I? What was I supposed to do? I was tired of trying to figure it out.

“You must be exhausted,” Jukar said, seemingly undaunted by my silence. “But I’m afraid I need to speak with you. I need to know what happened at the bar with your brother.”

He rested his hand on my hip. The weight of it seemed overly heavy, his fingers too long and powerful. Every one of them dented my skin, and I fought the urge not to squirm away.

“The seraph who led the illorum, what was his name?” he asked. “Did he say if he had come for your brother specifically? Did he say why?”

I didn’t answer, didn’t move. I pressed my lips tight, refusing to give him anything. I turned my head into the pillow and squeezed my eyes shut.

“Emma!” Jukar yanked my shoulder, forcing me onto my back. “I want the answers I’ve paid for. Don’t forget, your beloved Eli will suffer your disobedience.”

I gulped back my surprise and rallied my anger. “You’re fatherly love is touching.”

He sighed and stood, his hands clasped casually in front of him. “I’m sorry. You’re very right. You must still be in some shock after the battle and the devastating injuries you suffered earlier.”

“How long was I out?”

“A few hours,” he said.

I blinked at that. I’d healed what should’ve been a fatal wound in a few hours? Could anything kill me now? “What about Abram? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine.” Jukar looked down at himself, smoothing the lapels of his gray suit jacket and adjusting the buttons. “He arrived back at my offices shortly after he left the bar. Elizal heard your call. He was too late to stop the attack, but he and three of his brothers made certain they ended it. Unfortunately, there were none left alive to question.”

“None?” My thoughts went to Thes and then to Sadie. What would I tell her? But then another terrifying question froze out the first, and I met Jukar’s cool blue eyes. “Who killed the angel?”

He shrugged. “It’s of no consequence. He was ended before any of our people could recognize him. But Samuel said you spoke to him. He said you seemed to know the seraph.”

“Samuel?”

“One of the demons guarding Abram,” he said. “He fought valiantly, defending you both.”

“Oh.” I shook my head, trying to deny the fear that Eli might have killed Thes. Would Michael and the others forgive him for that; could they? “Um, yeah. His name was Thes. He was…” I swallowed, struggling to focus my thoughts. “He was dating my business partner.”

Jukar’s light brows shot up to his hairline. “A human? That
is
a shame. I’m sorry for the position that puts you in.”

Yeah. I bet he was all torn up about it. “Was it Eli? Did he kill Thes?”

Confusion creased my father’s handsome face. “I couldn’t say. I don’t believe so. Why does it matter?”

I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t admit I did all of this lying and spying in hopes of earning Eli back his grace, that we weren’t the happy, close-knit family he wanted to think. I ignored the question.

“Where is he now?” I sat up. “Where’s Eli? I need to talk to him.”

“He’s near,” my father said. “You can speak with him when we’ve finished. Now tell me, did they come for my son? Did they know he was there?”

“I don’t know. I think they did, but I’m not sure they were actually going to attack. I was talking with Thes when the fight started in the back room. I thought I’d talked him out of hurting Abram.”

“Why?” Jukar asked.

“Why what?”

“Why did you bother to talk to him?” He folded his arms over his chest, his frown deepening.

I shook my head. He had to be joking. “What do you mean? I was trying to protect Abram.”

“Yes, but if they had not yet attacked, why risk interfering?”

“I figured I could stop the fight before it started.” Did he not want me to protect Abram?

The archangel nodded. “Understood. What do they know about the boy?”

“Um…” My brain took a second to catch up. “Nothing, I guess. I mean, nothing concrete. I don’t think the seraphim even noticed Abram existed until they realized I was protecting him.”

“Good. That’s fine.” His gaze drifted as though his thoughts had gone somewhere else.

“I’m pretty sure they’ve figured out he’s important to you,” I said. Maybe he wasn’t getting how much danger Abram was actually in now. “If I don’t do something, they might go after him just to get to you.”

Jukar’s blue eyes swung back to me, and he smiled. “Understood.”

“I don’t think you do. I’m saying I can stop them. I can put them off the scent. They’ll still talk to me.”

He shook his head. “That won’t be necessary.”

“But Jukar, they might actually kill him.” I threw back the covers and scooted out of bed to stand. The T-shirt reached to an inch above my knees, but the lack of bra made me fold my arms over my chest. “What if I’m not there to stop them the next time they try?”

“I have no doubt you will do as you’re destined,” he said.