Kissing Fate, page 4
“What if this isn’t real?” He grips the necklace so tight I think he might snap it. His chin trembles. “What if I wake up back in that place?”
His words crush my insides. I cross to him and take his hand, steeling my emotions. “It is not safe for the people inside to have you near them.”
His lips curl down into a frown, but he nods. At least he, of all people, understands my need to keep my family safe.
“Besides, you have Levi to protect you.” I point toward the woods and then I turn his hand so he can see his wrist. “I broke their ability to pull you away. See?”
For the first time since the battle in the basement, he looks at his wrist and blinks at the deep cut interrupting the sigil on both sides of the circle.
“That’s how they were controlling you.” I tilt his chin, so he looks at me. “They can’t find you anymore. I promise.”
He reaches out, cups my face, and softly runs his thumb across my cheekbone. “I hurt you. I can’t take that back, but I plan on trying to make it up to you for the next hundred thousand years.”
“I know. Now go before someone sees you. I need to break the news that I died as well, so you need to be scarce while I smooth this all over. Understand?”
He chews on his lower lip and glances up at the house. “Too late.” He juts his chin toward the window.
I turn and splay my fingers out, taking a protective step in front of Zane. Michael Andreas, Kylee’s husband, marches across the lawn with his fists clenched and his hateful blue-eyed gaze locked on Zane. They say Michael looks like his namesake, the Archangel Michael. His great-uncle. You see, Damian, Michael’s father, is the Archangel Gabriel’s son. They all have dark hair and that olive skin so prevalent in the Greek isles, but they share the angel kin’s blue eyes. It’s a trait that is unmistakable, and I can only imagine what the archangels look like.
“Stop,” I yell, pulling his gaze to mine, but he doesn’t slow down.
“I should have ended both of you ten years ago,” he growls through clenched teeth.
I conjure an invisible wall between us, and Michael smacks into it. He stumbles back and spins toward the house, rubbing his nose.
“Let me through, CJ!” His voice echoes over the still lake.
His insinuation that Papa put up the barrier to stop him almost makes me laugh. “Papa didn’t do that,” I say.
His gaze swivels back to me. “What?”
The sharpness of his clipped tone makes me wince.
My hands are still splayed, but instead of just a gesture of placation, they were actually holding the wall in place between us and Michael. I needed a little more concentration to create and hold something versus Papa, who could create a barrier and go about his day while it’s held in place.
“I put that there.” I take a breath. “He was under the angel’s control. He did not know what he was doing.”
“He killed Kylee!” Michael snarls.
“And Gabriel, and my mother.” I swallow the knot in my chest as Zane’s sins drop from my lips. “And me before I could stop him.”
Michael blinks at me, but his hands remain fisted. “I don’t care. I am going to kick his ass.”
“I’m not holding you back because I’m worried about him.” I meet his gaze. “I’m holding you back because his touch is Death.”
“I don’t care!”
“I do. You have kids. And Kylee would be pissed if I let you die because of your own stupidity!”
He presses his lips together and looks out at the lake. The sheen of tears glazes over his eyes.
“Michael, my father wasn’t able to teach him to protect us from his touch. And they have my father in the same place they had Zane for all these years. They brainwashed him.”
“And you believe him?” he snarls at me.
I turn and grab Zane’s arm, twisting it so Michael can see the ruined sigil. “You know what that is, right?” I point to it and wait. He had been around enough while Kylee was schooling me in the different sigils. He saw the drawings and I’m sure when they went home at night, he’d ask her questions that perhaps I hadn’t.
His glare morphs into wide-eyed recognition, and then he glances back at me. His hands uncurl slowly.
“Your anger is misplaced.” I drop Zane’s hand. “You and I want the same thing. I want payback, too,” I say, but I still hold the mental wall in place between us. I don’t trust Michael. I know all too well how much the loss of a loved one affects the mind. “Unfortunately, I had to break the curse while his hands were around my throat.”
I thought the need for vengeance burning through me then was bad after the angels murdered my father, but now, every cell in my body craves revenge as much as I yearn for Zane’s touch. Maybe someday I’d be able to indulge in those decadent wants, but today I have more important issues to deal with.
Like how to protect the people in this house. I can’t protect them. I don’t have the same authority to safeguard those I love from Death’s touch like I had when I was Death.
Unfortunately, only Zane can grant that, and he does not know how.
“I’m sorry.” Zane’s voice cracks with emotion. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I know that’s no consolation, but had I had any control over my mind, none of that would have happened.”
Michael’s gaze drops to the ground and the muscles in his jaw jumps. When his eyes raise back up, there is a dark anger still there. “What are you going to do about this?” He looks directly at me.
I drop my hands. “I’m going to make sure you all survive whatever war the angels are waging. It’s dirty and vile and hellish, and I won’t allow those dicks to harm any of you.”
“Your walls won’t hold against Heaven,” he says.
“They seem to be quite scared of Papa’s shields.” I cock an eyebrow, challenging him.
“The legion of angels I saw the day he died didn’t seem to be scared.” Michael waved at Zane. “If they really were plotting our demise, why wouldn’t they have done it then?”
It’s a valid question. “Maybe they were as shocked by Zane’s actions as I was. I have no idea.”
“They want everyone here to die. They have a real problem with Missy and the Ryans, and I don’t have the foggiest idea why,” Zane said. “But they thought they could use me as their weapon, and if Missy hadn’t been smart enough to do this”—he raises his gouged wrist—“I would have continued coming until you were all dead by my hand.” He bites his lower lip and shakes his head. “They stripped me of my memories and turned me into a monster that was far worse than my father ever was.”
Levi and Mandy stroll back over to us.
“I guess we aren’t hiding in the woods?” Levi says, looking between us and breaking the tension.
Michael actually smiles at the sight of Levi in drag. “I thought he was under the watch of a griffin.” He waves at the dog by my side.
“He was, but when we set Levi free, he destroyed that god-awful thing. But we left just enough to let them know we are a force to be reckoned with.” I smile, but it fades as the weight of what I need to do crashes down on me. “I just need to figure out a viable plan to defeat them.”
Kissing Fate Chapter 7
MICHAEL ANDREAS ISN’T THE only one at the cottage besides Steve and Jennifer Williams, as evidenced by the line of familiar cars in the driveway, so when we walk into the house, I envision a protective box around Zane, so no one inadvertently touches him while we are inside. I mentally measure a perimeter of a foot and a half on all sides of him just to be sure and create a clear, unassuming buffer to keep the rest of my family safe. Unless someone walks into the safety zone around him, no one will be the wiser.
Papa sits straighter in the chair with his lips set in a stiff frown at the sight of Zane. When his gaze falls to me, I give him a nod of acknowledgment. I’ve never been able to communicate telepathically with any of them, despite being given a dose of angel juice. I could only send out a mental SOS if I needed help, but even that had taken years to perfect.
“Where’s your mother?” he asks when the door closes behind Mandy.
I take a breath and shake my head, shifting through the sudden tightening of my throat. “She didn’t make it.”
That’s three casualties at the hands of the man behind me. The hostility in the room ratchets up a notch as silence falls over everyone.
It’s early enough for the teenage kids to still be sleeping, but most of the adults are present. Besides Papa sitting in the recliner in the living room with a tablet in his hand, Nana is sitting at the table with Papa’s parents, Ty and Jessica, along with Tom and his wife, Raven. It looks like they are playing cards, but I can’t imagine trying to think this early in the morning. Although every single one of them has a steaming cup next to their hands.
Michael must have been at the table because there is an empty spot with cards face down, but now he stands with his back to us, as if just looking at us brings him pain. Which I can relate to. His parents are on the couch with their e-readers, too.
Neither one of the homeowners is present, but the sound of a shower running down the hall could be either Steve or Jennifer Williams. I’m just glad that the only cop in the bunch isn’t here glaring at us with his own judgment.
It’s bad enough that everyone is staring at us as if we are the enemy.
Well, all except Tom Ryan and his father Ty. Those two seem to stare with frank curiosity instead of open hostility. I guess they are the only true ones of the bunch who understand the stigma of being an outsider.
Either way, the attention is unnerving.
“But you made it out okay,” Faith says from the kitchen entry. I spin in her direction, surprised to see her and Alex with dish rags in their hands. I had been so focused on Papa and the rest of the family that I didn’t notice anyone in the kitchen.
I let out a shaky laugh. “No. Not quite.” I trade a glance with her and press my lips together. “But I was able to break the hold the angels had on him before I bit it.”
Fire sparks from her fingers as she narrows her gaze at Zane. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
Faith reacts exactly as I expected. She’s always been uber protective of me. Sometimes even more protective than with her own daughter Holly. But I guess that has to do with having absentee parents for sixteen years of my life. They saw what that did to me and this was her way of making it up to me in my folks’ absence.
Zane drops his gaze and shrugs. Guilt rolls off him in devastating waves. “I have no valid excuse,” he says, owning a mistake that isn’t his fault.
Faith’s fingers don’t stop sparking, nor does the glare soften.
I clear my throat. I can’t let him take the blame for what the angels did to him. Ten years is a long time. I’d bet that anyone in this room would cave to that sort of brainwashing. Hell, I think Papa’s father is the only one who could relate intimately.
I focus my attention on Faith and Papa. “You saw him,” I say and zero in on one of Papa’s memories. “Zane was as far gone as your dad was after Lucifer mind-fucked him.”
Papa recoils in the seat as if I just slapped him. I guess that memory is as painful to him now as it was then.
I glance at Faith. Her fingers are still spitting sparks. “The angels are just as black-souled as your father with what they did to Zane. He was not himself. And if you have any doubt whether he snapped out of it or not, you have the ability to see for yourself.” I wave at the space between us like a game show host showing a contestant a coveted prize. “You can also show us exactly how Heaven undid him.” I cross my arms, cocking an eyebrow as I look from her flaming fingers back to her face. “If you are so hesitant to believe he is on our side, show us what happened so everyone can make their own judgment calls.”
As soon as I utter the words, I want to pull them back. I really do not want to see Zane beaten to death. That will undo me just as much as it screwed him up. The thought of it happening multiple times a day, for ten years, leaves me cold and furious.
“Why are you so quick to trust him?” She fists her hands to douse her anger.
I suck my lower lip in between my teeth. I haven’t told him about my infusion of Papa’s power, never mind Raven’s witchcraft lessons or Kylee’s schooling on sigils. I don’t trust that he is out of danger yet.
I don’t trust him.
The realization drops my stomach.
“I don’t,” I finally say. “Not completely. But he didn’t deliver me to the angels, and he did set Levi free, so I am trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.” I glance over my shoulder at him, meeting his gaze. “He’s going to have to earn my trust again.” I look away, unable to stand the hurt in his eyes.
The area between us shimmers and morphs into the basement of Papa’s house and thankfully the scene is of Zane strangling me against the wall and not the earlier carnage.
I’m actually turning blue and my skin under his hands has blackened. I’m staring up at him as tears streak my face and I’m trying to loosen his grip any way possible, but he doesn’t yield. And then the tip of my finger morphs into a blade that I use to tear through the sigil on his wrist just as the Book of Fates dings on my charm bracelet.
Everything about him changes in that instant, and I see a glimpse of the old Zane as he stares down at me. The truth of what he is doing paints his face in a horrified grimace. His hands release their tight grip on my throat, but I’m too far gone. Hell, he crushed my vocal cords and all I can do is hiss out his name.
He kisses me and then pulls away. Tears roll down his face as he apologizes over and over, falling to his knees with me in his arms. His sobs continue even as Mandy blinks back into the room and dislodges the scythe from my mother’s dead body.
“You need to come with me now,” she says and grabs his arm. All three of us disappear in a blink.
The air ripples again, and the cottage falls back into view. But before anyone can speak, the space transforms again. This time, the view isn’t of Papa’s house. It’s a rock-formed cave.
I glance over my shoulder at Zane. All color bleeds from his face, and that says a lot, considering he’s already dead. His trembling lips and wide eyes broadcast his absolute terror. His chest even rises and falls like someone close to hyperventilating.
The conversation outside flares bright in my mind. His fear of this cottage, of me, not being real is manifesting in the shakes accosting him. He can’t tear his eyes away from the brutal truths being laid bare for all of us to witness.
I step closer and take his shaking hand as the image of his father strikes another debilitating blow.
Zane’s attention snaps to our intertwined hands and then to me. His chin trembles and he blinks back the sheen in his eyes. He grasps my hand tight, and relief smooths out some lines on his face. His breathing calms and some of the color returns to his cheeks.
Being strong for him helps soothe that immediate need to pummel an angel in the same way his father is beating him, and I squeeze his hand as I refocus on Faith’s time jump in front of us. I glance back in time to see his broken body fall to the ground, and yet his father still kicks him until the angel intervenes. When the angel offers Zane relief from the beating in exchange for my death, Zane tells the angel to fuck off, in so many words. Then that bastard touches Zane’s forehead and the scene repeats. Over and over.
This was his existence for ten years. My stomach rolls, and I nearly gag on the acid. “Stop,” I command after watching Zane get pounded to death five times in a row.
The scene disappears in a poof, as if I just unplugged a television. Silence fills the cabin, and I glance outside at the bright sunshine. How much time had passed while we watched Faith’s time jump? Enough to move the clock to mid-day.
The next thought chills me to the core. How many portals did Faith open by showing us this? If the breaches she created are in Heaven or Purgatory, it may bite us in the ass. It’s truly an odd feeling, praying for a breach in Hell, but that’s what I find myself doing as I blink at the sun-drenched lawn outside the window.
Everyone is staring at Zane with the same abject horror coating my veins with a toxic need for vengeance.
Thankfully, I’m not an impulsive teenager anymore, or I would have blinked into Purgatory with Heaven’s blade at my side and recklessly slaughtered as many of the bastards as I could. But that need is still there, fanning the flames.
Zane slowly pulls away from me, breaking our hold, and he turns toward the door. His movements are stilted, as if he doesn’t know whether to walk or run, but he leaves the cottage in one hell of a hurry.
I glance at Faith and give her a nod. I know what she risked. I think some of the others know, too, because they talk in hushed tones. I can’t deal with breaches today. That’s a problem we will have to deal with some other time.
I turn and head to find Zane. He’s already at the dock, sitting with his head in his hands. I can’t imagine the confusion and pain he’s stuck in right now, but he needs to get it all out before they come. There is no doubt in my mind that they will appear, but they have to find us first.
When I take a seat next to him and start softly rubbing his back, he says, “They are going to send him after me.”
“Who?”
“My father.”
My first reaction is to wince, but I suppress the urge. It makes sense. They know his weakness and will exploit it. My blood boils, creating a hot flush through my entire form.
“Good.” I welcome a face-to-face with his father. This time I will not be as humane as I was the first time I killed him. I might be inclined to skin him alive with a spoon or something appropriately painful.
That bastard deserves a prolonged death. I’ll have to noodle on that for a while to come up with a particularly horrendous way to kill him that will cause maximum suffering.
Zane stares at me. “What do you mean, good?”
“This time I won’t be so nice.” Hell, I even know some really horrific spells, too. The more I think about it, the more I smile.
