URIEL: The Price (The Airel Saga, Book 6) (Young Adult Paranormal Romance) (18 page)

She seemed to drink him in with her eyes. “I love you too, Michael.”

Their words were few.

CHAPTER XVIII

BACK HOME. THOSE TWO words were filled with equal amounts of hope and pain. So much had been lost, so many things would never be the same ever again. And yet this place in the mountains, in the midst of an anomaly where time didn’t mean the same thing as it did in the rest of the world, was as much home as home could be under the sun.

It’s a good place to camp out. That’s how I felt. Having seen the things I’d seen, having done the things I’d done . . . well, I just couldn’t give the real world much weight anymore.

This was where I’d found my one and only love, suffered real betrayal, suffered death, lived again, trained my hands for war, and came to know my grandfather, an angel of El. If home was where the heart was, home was right here. The people I loved were here. Those who were not here lived on in fond memory.

Hope and pain.

Hope and pain, a marriage of opposites. That’s what life under the sun was—tension.

It had been months since Dubai. The world was a wreck, and it would never be the same. The changes wrought by the war were too profound to begin to catalogue, but I resolved to keep a journal about as much of it as I could manage. In essence, things were much quieter, and that was both good—hopeful—and bad because the world overflowed with the pain of its losses. And it still struggled with the disbelief of what it had seen.

After the war, El recalled the two-thirds. The host of heaven crossed over to elsewhere, paradise, rising upward beyond where the thin places could touch. Before going, the war captains reported success on all fronts, though there were two loose ends—the Seer and the Bloodstone. Those kills had never been confirmed. Kreios and I could only assume the worst then. My biggest clue that things were unfinished was that I could still call up the Sword of Light at will. I trained with it daily early mornings in Kreios’s dojo.

Home.

Yet I still felt unsettled, as if I was the one thing on earth that didn’t belong here. I couldn’t shake the feeling that even though I’d learned to let go—to give in to the link between my true identity and the will of El—something was still out of order. Something was still wrong. I guess that’s how we know there’s still work to be done.

I was completely lost as to my dad, and I craved closure. I brought him up with Michael once, but things became so awkward between us, I let it go. I could only assume he hadn’t made it through the war. And I couldn’t ask Kreios because after he left to bury Ellie, he hadn’t come home. Like so many things in life, I would have to content myself to wait for the answers.

Michael’s ankle had healed to the point that he could walk on it again, though he told me it still bothered him when the weather was changing. “You’re just getting old,” I told him, which provoked a love punch in the shoulder. Oh, how I loved that man. I was convinced there was no greater joy than to be in love with your best friend in the whole wide world.

One morning after breakfast, we decided to put his bum ankle to the test and walk out to the cliffs. We hadn’t been there since . . . well, since a lifetime ago. Michael and I descended the long stairway to the meadow, holding hands and watching an eagle soar high in the cool autumnal blue-eyed bliss above us. “Your ankle okay?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Good. I’m glad.” I bumped into him as we walked, rubbing our arms together, and he smiled at me.

“Do you think Kreios will find anything this time?”

“Heck if I know,” I said. “Do I look like a Seer to you? I can’t predict the future.”

He sighed. “I sometimes wish none of this ever happened. Except you, of course.”

“I guess that’s the price we pay for being perfect for each other.” I was feeling a little silly.

“We’ve both been through a lot; it changes you. I don’t see how we could come out of this stuff unchanged.”

“Change for the better, though, in the end. Right?”

He put his arm around me. “Right.”

He still could make me crazy with a look or a simple touch. Was he perfect? Not by a long shot. But who was I to talk?

We came to the woods that separated the meadow from the cliffs. “Airel, do you ever dream of anything anymore? Sometimes I dream of the day we can go for a walk, hold hands—”

“Um,” I held up our interlocked hands, “what are we doing right now, then? Going for a drive?”

“And come home to our house. And go to sleep and wake up next to each other.”

My heart began to race. He could do that to me with such ease.

“You know, we could be two old people, doing crosswords on the back porch, watching the sunset, drinking iced tea.”

“Coffee for me, pal. I’m not a tea girl.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll be old, so it had better be decaf, right? We don’t want you to trip and break your hip getting to the bathroom at three a.m.”

“Jeez, Michael, that’s so sweet that you want our life together to grow into this perfect cliché,” I teased him.

He chuckled. It was a nice sound, one I hadn’t heard much lately and one I hoped to hear more of in the days to come.

“Do you think it will ever be like that for us?” I lifted my face to the golden rays of the sun as they filtered through the red-orange-yellow leaves of the forest. We had talked like this before, of course. But part of me wondered what was going on inside that sensitive and brilliant head of his.

Michael sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe not . . .”

“Maybe not? What?” I pivoted on a hair trigger and got short with him.

“Airel, hang on. This isn’t one of those ‘if we were the last two people on earth’ kinds of scenarios. You and I chose each other.”

“We sure did.”

“I’m just saying we have a lot to work out between us. I mean . . .”

“Yes?”

“I’m just saying . . . Have you thought about the age thing?”

“Michael, what are you trying to say?” But I knew.

“You’ll be young forever—”

I cut him off. “I do age. Just very slowly.”

“Yeah. Slowly.” He stopped and reached out to hold my chin with a finger and I let him, drinking him in. He took a moment to put his words together carefully—I could see it in his eyes. “Airel, will you still love me when I’m an old man?”

My brows furrowed. “Of course,” I breathed, but my heart blanched at the cold way he posed the question.

“This is our reality, Airel. I mean, will we ever have children? Should we?”

I turned aside and walked off the path. “I don’t want to talk about this. Can’t we just pretend everything’s going to be okay, Michael?” I gazed at the filtered sun. Leaves flitted high above. I watched one fall.

“Is that what you really want, Airel? The fairy tale? The dream?”

“No. Yes.” I rubbed my face in frustration.

“Because when you grow up, you come to find out the fairy tale is a lie. I’m surprised you don’t know that yet.”

I turned and stuck my finger in his chest. “Oh, I know it, Michael. I know all about it. I wear the scar on my heart that proves it, buddy.” I opened the collar of my shirt. “Your own father gave me this wound, Michael, and not very far from here.”

That hurt him. “Airel, I . . . that’s not what I was trying to say . . . trying to do here.” Finally he said, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, Michael.”

With tears in his eyes, he pressed his fingers to his abdomen. “I have my own wound too, Airel.”

And I remembered how it had all unfolded that day, how he didn’t hesitate to do whatever it took to save me. I reached out and touched the hand that touched his wound. “We both have scars.”

He held me tight on the trail for a long time, and we cried. “What a beautiful disaster we are, huh?” he said, pulling away and wiping his eyes. “Oh, God.” He shook his head. “How come I can never quite do what I really want to do with you? You make me so crazy.”

I laughed through my tears. “Ditto.”

“I just want to know it will be fine—more than fine.”

“You’re looking for guarantees?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away.

“Because guarantees are for fairy tales,” I continued. “Kid stuff.” I waved my arms dramatically. “Things smart people like us have learned to do without.”

He still faced away from me. “I fell for you the moment I first laid eyes on you, Airel. I didn’t know who you were, but when we ran into each other in that coffee shop, I knew. I knew. I chose you right there and then.” He turned back toward me.

I caught my breath looking into his eyes.

“All I know is that I’m lost without you. I know it will be hard, but I swear I will fight for you, pursue your love every day of my life. I’ll never give up, I’ll always be there for you—until the day I die. Old man or not.”

He was holding something in his hands. They were cupped together, as if holding a drink of cool water. There on the trail in the woods dappled by autumn sunlight, he got on one knee. He winced a little as his bum ankle flexed, but he managed. When my eyes focused, I could see that he was holding a ring.

“Airel, will you marry me?”

It was a ring I knew well. It had belonged to my mom.

CHAPTER XIX

HE SLIPPED THE RING on my finger. It was made of pure silver and bore a single silvery blue pearl center mounted with tiny diamonds all around its base. It was like a flower opened with this blue pearl revealed inside it.

“Michael.” I was gasping for breath.

He was still on one knee. I knew my answer, but I couldn’t give it. I was tongue-tied.

I didn’t need to see the change that crawled up over his face like a death masque to know the bottom had just dropped out of our world, and at the worst possible moment. The sword came to my hand without me even thinking of it, asking for it, or wanting it.

Michael’s eyes were large and dark as he looked behind me at what was coming for us. “Oh, my God, Airel. I thought I would have time to be able to figure out a way to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” I turned around.

“But there’s no more time,” Michael said from behind me. I could hear him struggle to his feet.

There before me, not ten feet away, was my dad. “Hello, Airel.”

“Dad?”

He smirked. “Qiel.” He took a breath, and in the most casual of tones, said, “You have been a bad girl, running away, not telling me that you were, well . . . not human.” It was as if he was sighing over a broken cup.

“Qiel?” It can’t be. Qiel was the son of Uriel.

“It is my fault, really. I should never have fathered you, never married your mother, and I should have killed you in your crib.”

The Bloodstone hung from his neck like a bloody orb. This was Qiel, whom I had suspected was the Seer in Dubai—which, it turned out, I had been right about. I hated being right sometimes. And I hated myself for not figuring out this riddle. Of course. It’s the only thing that makes any sense. I knew Qiel was in my lineage, but I didn’t know he was my father.

“Ah, look how the hideous light of comprehension dawns upon her.” With his right hand, Qiel drew a black dagger. “Fear not. I come to right my wrongs. I come to repair the damages.” He took a swipe at me.

The sword, either on its own or connected by training to my instincts, moved to block the blow. The blades rang out in steel tones through the forest as we jostled for position on the path.

Michael tried to come around from behind me, but I kept him at my back, me and the sword between him and this new threat.

My mind was racing to keep up with the context of what was happening. I prayed to El I could remain detached and martial, calculating and sharp. I fought hard against my emotions to keep them in check.

“Do you wonder how this happened, halfbreed? Do you wonder if you can reach me? Save me from myself?”

No, no, no, don’t give in to this! Keep your emotions in check.

“I can assure you, girl, you are the one who needs saving, not me.”

“No.” I said. I won’t fight you. I spun around and launched myself at Michael, striking him with my shoulder firmly at his midsection. He was stunned and complained a little, but I didn’t care. I held him over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry as I gained altitude and flew up through the trees, taking to the skies. I would make him safe.

A burst of red exploded around us, sapping my power, and I faltered. “Oh, no.” We were falling.

“Airel?” Michael said, his voice sounding alarmed. “Can you please do something? We’re falling.”

“I know, Michael!” I rolled us over, placing him on top of me as we descended. It happened fast. We plowed through the tips of the trees and crash-landed together on my back, coming to a stop near the cluster of boulders at the top of the cliff.

Qiel was coming. I could feel it. All those years. All that time you spent away. Holidays gone, Christmases spent without you. No wonder now. No wonder. Business trips and excuses and hidden love. I was beyond hurt.

“Michael, are you okay?”

He groaned. “Yeah.”

“Then can you please get off me? I have the Seer to kill.” Michael rolled off onto the ground, and as I clambered to my feet, I found myself in a wicked déjà vu. What is it about this cliff top and death? It was an evil place.

Qiel appeared at the edge of the forest. He advanced toward me. “Come, come, child. You must face the truth. You are an abomination, a curse. You should not exist.”

“No,” I said. “I am no mistake. I am a daughter of El.”

“No,” he said, “you are a disease. You are the key, Airel—don’t you understand? You are the essence of the audacity of El. When I finally snuff out your life, the world will be made right, and truth and justice will prevail. The rebellion will finally be justified.”

“Your truth and justice are lies,” I said. “Your mind has been poisoned.” I had lost track of Michael, but I didn’t have time to wonder. He had climbed up to the top of one of the boulders unseen, and now, before I could stop him, he leaped for the Seer.

Qiel caught him by the throat and held him off the ground. “Stupid boy. I never did like you much.”

“Let him go,” I said, pointing the sword at my father. “Or I will kill you.” But I wasn’t close enough to follow through on my threat.