Shadow Train (25 page)

Chapter 18

The clock tower on the top of Middleburg's
city hall bonged out the hour, and its sonorous clangor seemed to rattle every brick of the large historical structure. But Savana Kain hardly noticed. She was sitting on a toilet in the first floor of the building, wearing a white dress, weeping endlessly, and blowing her nose until it was so red and disgusting she couldn't fix it with makeup, which made her cry harder.

Her dress made her cry harder, too. It was white. Whoever heard of a pregnant ex-stripper with a sixteen-year-old kid wearing, to her second wedding, a color that was supposed to denote purity and innocence? It was like a sick joke—but Jack had insisted on it, so here she was.

“And that's not even the worst part, is it?” she said aloud, cradling her stomach. The child inside her kicked, it seemed, in agreement. Over the last few months, she'd taken to talking to the baby. He—she already knew it was
he
—had become her silent sounding board, her confidant, her understanding best friend. Normally, she would have shared her thoughts with Raphael. He was often harsh with her, but that was probably because he held her to a higher standard than she was able to hold herself. For a moment, she was almost glad he wasn't here to see what she was about to do.

“He wouldn't understand,” she crooned to her belly. “I'm doing this for him, for both of you. How else are we going to get out of the Flats? How else am I going to support a baby and a teenage son, never mind coming up with the money for college? And Jack is good to me. He really is . . .”

There was a rap at the door that echoed wildly in the cramped, tiled bathroom.

“Coming!” Savana said brightly, then sniffed violently, yanking a huge wad from the oversized toilet-paper roll, and scrubbing her face with it. She stood and stepped out of the stall, smoothing her absurd white dress as she went. At least, she consoled herself, it was a simple silk sheath with a roomy jacket that almost hid her condition—not some puffy princess gown with a ten-foot train.

She stared at herself in the mirror, her face a miserable wreck of smeared mascara, her eyes swollen from crying.

“You okay?” She could hear the tension in Jack's voice, a seesaw balance with sweet concern on one side and impatience on the other. “Orias just got here—he's with Aimee—and we've decided not to wait for Maggie.”

“Yes, fine, honey. I'll be out in a second. Just fixing my makeup,” she called as she dug her compact out of her purse.

“Make it snappy, okay? It looks like rain out there.”

“Okay, baby. Sure.” She was digging into her bag for a makeup removal wipe, when the bag slipped off the edge of the sink. Its contents exploded across the floor like shrapnel from a grenade.

“Dammit . . .” she muttered, stooping with great effort to pick up the items. She could hear Jack outside the bathroom door as he gave a frustrated sigh. Then, his footsteps receded, and she knew he was walking away, across the lobby.

* * *

Orias waited until Aimee was distracted in her conversation with Dalton before he went to talk to Jack. Fighting resentment that he had to waste time with this wedding when he needed to be putting an escape plan into action, he reached out to shake Jack's hand. “Congratulations,” he said.

“Thanks,” Jack said. “How'd your trip go? Rick didn't have much to say about it.”

“It was fine,” Orias said. “Better than expected, in fact. I may be looking to liquidate some of my holdings in the next couple of days.”

“Really? Why?”

“I'm relocating—a business deal. An offer I can't refuse.”

“Well, I'll be sorry to see you go. I'm sure Aimee will, too.”

Jack's phony smile didn't convince Orias of his sincerity. “The herbal drops I gave you,” he said. “Did you remember to put them in Aimee's tea?”

“Actually—no,” Jack said. “She hasn't needed them. She's been happy and cooperative—more like her old self. Even asked permission to go hang out with her friends the other night instead of just disappearing like she does.”

Orias should have known better than to trust him. The stupid man had not given her the Lethe water. At any moment she could remember Raphael Kain—and then Orias would lose her. The realization had a profound effect on him.

He had never loved another creature—not angel or demon, human or Nephilim—as much as he loved Aimee, and he fully intended to take her with him when he fled from Middleburg. More important than anything, even more important than escaping from Azaziel, was that he did not lose Aimee.

* * *

Savana looked up from her scattered belongings and saw her reflection in the mirror on the back of the door. She looked sad, miserable . . . and pathetic.

She could almost hear Raphael chastising her.
It's bad enough to deceive everyone around you, including your new husband. It's worse to lie to yourself.

Then she remembered what Lily Rose had told her.
Ain't no medicine like truth, sugar. Remember that. There aren't too many problems it can't fix, even those that seem unfixable.

She stared at herself in the mirror for a moment, and before she knew she'd intended to speak, she was shouting.

“JACK!” In the echo chamber of the bathroom, it sounded like someone yelling from inside a tomb. A moment passed and then she heard his footsteps returning.

“What is it?” he asked from the other side of the door.

“Jack,” Savana said, her voice tremulous. “I need to talk to you.”

“Yeah. You want to come out? You want me to come in?”

“No,” she said quickly, then added, “It's bad luck.”

The truth was, she was afraid. Afraid she'd look into his eyes and lose her nerve. Afraid of what his reaction would be—and knowing that it would be the end of their relationship.

“Okay, then,” he said, annoyed. “So talk.”

“I have to tell you something. About the baby,” she said.

“Yes?” Jack said slowly, with exaggerated patience.

She took the deepest breath she could. “Jack, the baby is—” she stopped abruptly and winced.

“The baby is
what?
” Jack said, his patience eroding at last.

Savana's mouth was open, but no sound was coming out. Finally, a strangled groan escaped her, and she fell to her knees, holding her belly with both hands.

“The baby is . . . coming,” she managed to say.

“Lily Rose!” she heard Jack shout. She heard the door opening, and then everything fell away from her, like the ending of a movie, fading to black.

Moments later, she found herself blinking up at the ceiling, cradled in Lily Rose's arms. Aimee and Dalton were standing in the doorway, watching her with concern.

“Am I . . . is the baby . . . ?” Savana whispered, confused.

“You're fine, and so is the baby,” Lily Rose said patiently. “And don't worry—he's not coming quite yet. I'll bet my hat it was just false labor brought on by the stress of the day.”

Savana glanced up at Lily Rose's hat. It was a jaunty little lavender number covered with fake flowers—daisies and baby's breath—and it had an organza frill accent. As much as Lily Rose loved her hats, Savana knew, there was no way she would bet one if it wasn't a sure thing. Feeling better, she sat up, but it took a huge effort. It really felt like the baby was doubling in size every day.

She looked up at Lily Rose and the two frightened girls in the doorway. “I'm getting married today,” she said softly.

The girls probably thought it was just an affirmation of the obvious, but Savana knew Lily Rose understood what she meant.

“We all got our path to walk, don't we?” Lily Rose said. “Come on, girls, help me get her on her feet and let's get her makeup done.”

* * *

Ten minutes later, Aimee stood on the courthouse steps, hand in hand with Orias, as her dad and Mrs. Kain faced each other and the justice of the peace started the ceremony.

“We're gathered here today to join Jack Banfield and Savana Kain together as man and wife . . .”

It was a small party. The only people there were herself and Orias, a mildly disgruntled Rick, the Shaos, Dalton, and Lily Rose. Aimee wasn't surprised that Maggie hadn't shown up. She didn't think her former best friend had much interest in Rick anymore.

“I do,” said Savana.

But more important than the people who were there, Aimee thought as the justice's voice droned on, were the people who were not there. Emily Banfield and . . . someone else. Someone Aimee had once cared about very much. Since she'd been staying at her dad's, she'd started getting quick little memory flashes of things she used to do with her friends . . . that boy Tyler, who had died . . . and another boy, after Tyler. Someone she had really liked. Her mind grappled for more information during those brief flashes, trying to remember, and just as she almost had it, it faded away. The one recollection that stayed with her now was her burning need to find her mother and bring her home. Somehow, she'd gotten so comfortable in her life with Orias that she had forgotten.

“I do,” said her father.

“Do you have the rings?”

Aimee's mind wandered throughout the ceremony, jarred back to reality only by the sound of applause as the justice said, “I now pronounce you man and wife.”

And that was it. They were really married. The truth was Aimee had expected something to stop it—some grand catastrophe, maybe, or someone speaking up to object to the proceedings. But no—it was done. She and Orias followed as Jack and Savana descended the courthouse steps, smiling while the Shaos showered them with handfuls of rice. Her dad was shaking Orias's hand and then hugging Rick. Savana was giving out hugs, too, first to Lily Rose, then Dalton, and then scooping Aimee into an awkward embrace.

She watched in bemusement as her father helped her new stepmother down the steps to the waiting white limousine, and then the car took off, on its way to the nicest hotel in Topeka for a mini honeymoon. Jack had promised Savana the real thing in an exotic location after the baby was born. Just like that, they were gone. The whole ceremony had taken less than fifteen minutes.

A fat, cold raindrop plunked down on Aimee's face, then another and another, and suddenly she felt the insistent swell of an encroaching panic attack. With it came the overwhelming need to be someplace else. Before could stop herself, she slipped.

Almost instantly she was standing in front of the perpetually burning fire in Orias's living room hearth. She moved closer and warmed her hands, allowing the heat to evaporate the rain from her skin and her hair. She watched the flames quiver and intertwine for several minutes before she heard Orias come in.

“What the hell was that?” he asked angrily.

“I had to get out of there. I couldn't breathe.”

“We've been over this, Aimee,” Orias admonished. “You can't slip in front of others—you know the problems it could cause. Lily Rose is pretty savvy, but most humans are not advanced enough to understand your gift.”

Her eyes locked onto his, and she felt the sting of tears. She fought to hold them back.

“I know,” she said. “But during that farce of a wedding, it hit me.”

“What?” His tone was warmer now, less angry.

“Don't get me wrong,” she said. “I've loved spending all this time with you. I loved it so much that I forgot about some other things I want to do. I forgot how badly I need to find my mom. All this time—we were supposed to be looking for her. How could I just forget about that?”

“You're not ready,” he said.

“Yes, I am.”

“Did you remember anything else—staying at your dad's?” he asked quietly.

“Just . . . I don't know. Some disjointed things I can't quite put together. But I remembered the most important thing—I've got to go and get my mom.”

“You can't go alone—”

“I'll be fine,” she said. “If anything gets too weird, I'll just slip. Anyway, I won't go unprepared. This time I'm taking supplies. A flashlight, for one thing, and—you're going to help me, right?”

Orias put his hands on her shoulders, and she loved the strength she felt in them. “This has to wait, Aimee—just a little while. There are other factors at work now,” he said. “I can't stay in Middleburg any longer, not even eighteen-seventy-seven Middleburg. I have to leave—maybe forever—and I want you to come with me.”

“Where are you going?” she asked. “Why? What's happened?”

He sighed, a darkness she hadn't seen in a while returning to his eyes. “I've explained to you the relationship—or lack thereof—between Nephilim and the fallen angels?” he said.

“Yes. No love lost. Enemies for centuries and all that. I got it—and?”

“And it seems I've somehow offended a very angry—and very powerful—fallen angel named Azaziel.”