Ignite (37 page)

But then he left me here, alone in this new, bright world alone. And now, I’m lost. He shouldn’t get to do that—come into my life and then just disappear.

What’s worse is that I can’t even go back to what I was before he changed me, before he rekindled the fire that had been smothered to embers for so long. He woke me up and now I can’t fall back asleep. What I’ve seen has affected me so greatly that I can’t just go back to what used to be. All I can do is adapt to what I now have.

Adapt or die.

My eyes have adjusted to the light, and if I go back into the darkness, I’ll be blind again, grasping around me for anyone’s hand to guide me. Az will be there, I’m sure, and it would only be a matter of time before I am the demon he’s always hoped I’d be. Only the faint glow behind my closed eyes will remind me that there was once any light to see at all.

I can’t be blind again. I don’t want to go back into the dark. So I have no choice but to stay in the light, to try to find my own way in this strange, new world. I don’t owe it to him—I owe it to myself.

I’ll find Michael and when I do, I won’t just tell him that I’m not lying to him. I won’t tell him what he means to me because I’m still trying to figure it out myself. But I can show him I’m better than who I was. I can prove that I don’t belong in Hell.

My dagger bumps against my calf, pressing a reminder against my skin.
Not with words alone.

I’ll search the corners of the Earth for him, look as far as I can. Michael kept telling me that I was good even when I didn’t want to listen, when I didn’t want to hear it. He never stopped telling me I could be something more than darkness, not until I believed him. Then he didn’t need to tell me. He never gave up hope that I would wake up and see that. I’ve lost his faith, but I’ll get it back.

I’ll tell him the truth until he believes me, show him I am who he once thought I was. I am not my brother and I don’t want to go back into the dark.
I will be better.

For him, at least, I can try again.

Chapter 30

I don’t know where to start looking for Michael. I try to call out to him, screaming his name in my mind over and over like a ghostly wail. At night, I look up at the stars and wonder if anyone’s looking back down at me. I whisper his name like a prayer, a promise. It’s probably pointless. I’m not even sure he’s listening.

However we were talking before had to be an anomaly. I can’t communicate with anyone telepathically except for Azael. He is my twin, he is my mirror, and our thoughts have always been connected by our blood. But Michael is none of those things, and if he was able to hear me before, it was something he did, not me. And now he may not want to hear me.

But I call him anyway.

Michael, I don’t know if you can hear me. I’m sorry.

Michael, I’m not going to give up. I’ll find you and show you I’m not lying. You’ve changed me.

Michael, you woke me up. You can’t just leave me alone in this. I need you.

Michael, you can’t get rid of me this easily. I won’t give up on you.

Michael. Please.

Michael…

My hope of finding him wanes away with each passing day. I’m whittled thinner and thinner with doubt and I wonder how much more I can search. The longer I am without Michael, the tighter I cling to Azael.

I briefly considered destroying my pendant, disappearing from Hell completely, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’m not ready to be totally alone. So I don’t make any decisions now, not until I know something more from Michael. Not until I’m sure he’s not coming back…

Azael or Michael. I know I can’t have both. Sooner or later, I’m going to have to make a decision, but I can’t just yet. When I think of choosing one over the other I start to spiral into panic.

Could I give up my brother? For Michael, I believe I could. But without him, I couldn’t leave Az. He checks in with me frequently, asking if I’ve seen him. He’s antsy, agitated, and needs an answer now.

Pen, has angel boy reared his golden head yet?

No, Az,
I sigh.

Well he better hurry up. We can’t wait much longer.

I lie to him, reassuring him that everything will go smoothly.
I’m sure he’ll be back soon. He probably just got delayed in Heaven for something. Maybe Ariel and Sablo are giving him another horrid history lesson. You know how much they like to talk.

He scoffs.
History is history for a reason. Let’s go on to bigger and better things.

Azael is growing inpatient, and if Michael doesn’t return soon, I’ll have to tell him the truth. There is only so long that I can stall him with stories and lies. If it’s too much longer, Azael will come up from Hell to finish the job himself. One way or another, he’ll find out the truth.

***

After a few days of silence from Michael, I decide to return to the cave. It’s his secret place, the only place he admitted he feels safe and not under the constant supervision of Heaven. If he’s anywhere on Earth, he’ll be there.

Flying over the thick, green forests of the Pacific Northwest, I feel the first spark of rekindled hope dancing under my skin.

Of course he’ll be there!
I tell myself.
He has to be there.
I can’t believe I hadn’t thought to look there earlier.

The tops of the dark pine and fir trees spin past under my feet, and I keep my eyes open for something familiar. I pass over a small patch of large yellow leaves scattered across the ground. Sitting on the leaves is a cropping of white trunks with bare, spindly branches. Aspens, the same ones Michael and I climbed. But now they’re bare, all of their leaves having dropped to the coppery pine floor of the forest.

Then I fly over the rough waters of a cold stream, bridged by a mossy fallen tree. I still see a subtle disturbance in the mud of the shore where Michael fell.

I’m close.

I feel a thrill of excitement when a small, glassy pond comes into view. Carefully, I lower myself onto the pebbled bank. It’s much colder now than the last time Michael and I were here and the surface of the pond is frozen, covered by a thin sheet of crystallized ice.

The waterfall that once poured into the pond, churning the tepid water, is gone, probably frozen in the shallow riverbed at the top of the cliff. The paper-thin frost is beautiful and delicate, and when I step out on the edge of the pond, I hear it crack under my weight. I spread my wings, fluttering them so I lift just off of my feet as I walk across the pond, following a narrow fissure in the ice until I am below the cave.

The opening of the cave is entirely exposed without the waterfall falling in front of it like a curtain, and its visibility makes me uneasy. Craning my head back, I try to look into the cave from the lake, but I can’t see anything inside.

I take a deep breath and call out. “Michael?”

When I spring off the surface of the frozen pond, I break a hole through the ice to the water below. I lift into the air and land noiselessly on the edge of the cave, the light filtering around me in a slanted shadow. The back of the cave is dark but I can see the empty collection of mason jars scattered across the small room. I walk farther back, clinging to a feverish hope that he’ll be here hidden around the corner.

Maybe he’s asleep.

But when I come to the mouth of the small circular room, that hope disappears.

It’s empty. He’s not here.

I spin my bracelet around my wrist and it’s cold. I didn’t notice that it wasn’t warm—how did I not notice? I was so sure he’d be here, but I was wrong.

In a surge of frustration, I rip the bracelet off of my wrist, snapping the thin elastic and sending tiny, clear beads bouncing across the cave. I kick out at the mason jars, shattering the thick glass of the containers. The glass rains down around the cave, covering the floor in dangerous, sparkling shards.

He’s gone.

With a deep sigh, the anger slips away into despair and I sink onto the hard, carved bench that hugs the perimeter of the room.

He’s really gone.

Please, Michael, if you can hear me—just… Just give me a sign. Give me something to hope for. Anything.

I wait in silence, desperately listening for a whisper from Michael. Any hint that he can hear me.

Please. Answer me, please. Please please please,
I chant in my head.

Nothing.

The silence in my head seems to grow until it devours me. The quiet sneers at me, mocks me with its emptiness, and I have never felt so deflated in my life. My search for him was pointless. He’s not coming back. He doesn’t want to come back, and he doesn’t want anything to do with me.

Without Michael, I am without hope.

I grab the jagged rock of my necklace and squeeze it in my fist, letting the sharp edges of the stone slice into my palm.
Azael.

Pen, finally. Have you heard from Michael? Is he ours or is he dead?

I hesitate, looking once more around the cave.
He’s gone.

Fantastic. It looks like Lilith will need to pay up on our bet. Make sure to bring back his heart or head. The choice is yours. But if you do bring back his head, please poke out those horrid blue eyes of his. I don’t need them following me around the room like a creepy painting, always watching.

No, Azael. He’s not… He’s just… He’s gone.

There’s a sudden angry silence from Azael, and I can feel his fury like an icy burn.
Gone?
he hisses, and I can practically see the letters sliding out from between his teeth.

He’s not coming back.
My throat feels constricted, like I am being strangled.
Ever.

And how do you know this?

I just… Trust me. I know. He’s gone.
As I repeat it, it starts to sink, settling over my skin like a burn. Slowly, I feel the shadows reaching out towards me again, stealing away the last of the light I clung to with all of my strength. I remember what Michael told me, that letting go of what is good is as easy as falling asleep. And I’m so tired.

So he’s still alive then.

As far as I know, yes.

Well, that complicates things a bit.
He chuckles darkly.
But I’m sure we can exterminate him when the time comes.

I flinch.
Sure.

You didn’t…
His voice fades away.
You sound different.

I clear my throat unnecessarily.
Different how?

Upset.

I failed,
I answer in explanation.

More than that.
He pauses, and while I know he’s in Hell, I feel like he’s watching me, his eyes probing and skeptical.
It doesn’t matter now, I suppose.

No. It doesn’t matter now
, I repeat.

I’ll see you tonight then. Hell has missed you dearly, sister. It’s time you come back and claim your rightful position by my side.

Goodbye Az.

Pen, I’ll see you soon.

I let my face fall into my hands as our connection snaps.

It feels like a betrayal to return to Hell, but I have nowhere else to go. I have no one to turn to except for Azael. He is the only one who can fill the hole that Michael has left in my chest. He’ll hold me together. He won’t know why he has to, but he’ll do it anyway. He’ll be there for me.

With Azael, I might be able to ignore my memories. I’ll be distracted by the war and whatever follows.

I can’t afford a conscience when I return to Hell, and somehow I’ll have to switch off the small piece of humanity Michael has kindled within me. When I imagine what I’ll do for Hell in the upcoming months, I feel queasy. It gets even worse when I think about losing what little good that is left in me.

But this feeling won’t last long. After I lose myself completely, I won’t hate myself for what I’m doing. It won’t bother me because I won’t care. I’ll feel nothing, be numb to everything. I would do anything to be numb now.

Michael was wrong when he said I am strong. I am not strong. Not strong enough for Michael or Azael and not strong enough to do this on my own.

I cross my arms over my knees and lay my head down, looking out of the mouth of the cave. The misty light of the day is seeping into the graying purple of dusk. I have to wait most of the night until I return to Hell, and I am resigned to let myself use this last moment to mourn. I will stay in this cave, hidden from the stars, as the night deepens into the early hours of the morning. And if my stillness cases me in the cement of a statue, so be it.

After tonight I will have move on, or pretend to, at least, and become the demon my brother believes me to be. I must fulfill my duty as a dark angel. There will be no misguided notions that I am anything but evil, soulless, heartless.

It’s foolish to believe I’m something I’m not, and the one person who had faith in me is gone. Maybe Azael was right all along. Perhaps it really is better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven
.

I close my eyes and picture Michael’s face. His angular jaw, his wide shoulders, his bright eyes, his innocent smile. I’ll never see his face again. At least, I hope I won’t, because if I do I know that I’ll have to kill him now. I’ve pledged myself back to Az, back to Hell. I’ve revealed my location, and what I do from here on out will be seen by anyone in Hell who cares to look. With my failure comes close scrutiny.