Antiphon, page 33
“That’s it, Frannie,” Gabriel says. “You have the power. Use it.”
The flood of hope overwhelms me. Sway. Frannie has Sway. If she fights—if she wants it enough . . .
“You don’t want to be in here.” Her voice is stronger, and when her eyes open, there’s only a glowing ring around the irises. “You don’t . . . want me,” she growls.
She continues to writhe with the internal struggle for control then suddenly goes still, as if one of them has given up the fight. I gaze into her eyes, panicked nearly to the point of insanity. “Frannie?”
Her eyes roll back for a moment, and a moan starts from deep inside her, growing in intensity. Her face becomes red and her eyes bulge. There’s a flash of red energy, and she jerks then goes limp.
Breathing back the panic, I cradle her to my chest. “Frannie? Can you hear me?” She finally looks up at me with clear blue eyes—still scared, but lucid.
“He’s gone,” she says with a weary smile. I take a few deep breaths to slow my hammering heart then lean down and kiss her.
FRANNIE
I squeeze Luc’s hand where he sits next to me as I lie on the bed.
“You did good. Your Sway is getting stronger,” he says.
I’m still shivering and my teeth chatter. “Why can I only remember a little of what happened?”
“You may only remember the parts when you were in control.”
“I feel like someone ran over me with a bus. Why didn’t it feel like this with you?”
“Well, I didn’t pick you up and throw you into the wall, for starters,” Luc says. He and Gabe exchange a look, and Luc shoots him a vindictive smile. “But I guess it’s different when you’ve invited the demon in.”
Matt drops into the desk chair and glares at Luc.
Gabe looks at me with a rueful smile. I shrug, not sure what to say, but then a shiver racks me again and I feel nauseous. Out of the blue the tears start, and I’m helpless to stop them. “I’m not going to have a life, am I?” I say between the sobs.
Luc pulls me tightly to him, but he doesn’t answer.
Gabe stands in my door and just stares at me. “Nobody knows the future, Frannie. Everything that happens changes everything else. But the deal is, you’re valuable to both sides. The chance that you’ll be able to get through this untagged is pretty much none. And once you’re tagged—either way—you can be manipulated. I’m obviously not all that objective, but if someone was going to be jerking me around, I’d rather it wasn’t Hell.”
My heart is so heavy. I know what needs to happen, what I need to do, but . . . “How do I forgive myself for the worst thing I’ve ever done? The worst thing anyone’s ever done?”
“Start by remembering what really happened.” Matt glides to the foot of the bed and sits. Luc untangles himself from me and moves to the door with Gabe, giving Matt and me some space. “I fell because I was trying to climb too fast. It was my fault.”
My throat tightens as I remember it. “No. I grabbed your ankle. I was mad, and I pulled you out of the tree.”
“Stop it. You’ve been beating yourself up for so long. It wasn’t your fault. You need to let it go.” He wraps me in his arms, and I sit like that for what feels like forever.
“I just wanted you back,” I finally say.
He smiles. “You have me.”
My heart feels so heavy. “Not really. You’re still dead.”
“You’re right. I don’t have the life I would have had if ?I hadn’t fallen out of the tree, but that doesn’t make why I’m here any less important to me. And it doesn’t make my dying any more your fault.”
He looks at me for a long time, and I don’t know what to say. Finally he says, “Gabriel says you need to forgive yourself, or we can’t protect you.” A smile turns the corners of his lips. “You gotta do it, Frannie. I can’t blow my first gig because of an uncooperative client. It wouldn’t bode well for the rest of eternity.”
“I can’t—”
His smile is gone as he cuts me off. “He says you have to figure out why you can’t let go of the guilt.”
“Because . . .” I fight tears as I pull his journal from under the mattress. I think of all my conversations with Matt in this book. All the things I told him so that he could have a little piece of me—my life. How I needed to keep him alive in my heart. “I needed it to keep from forgetting. I needed to hate myself ’cause the pain kept it fresh. It kept part of you alive.”
All of a sudden I’m sure I’m going to throw up. There’s something inside of me that my body needs to get rid of. “How do I do this? Let it go?”
“It’s okay to feel sad about it, but you have to let go of the guilt. It has to come from inside. You need to remember what really happened.”
I rest my forehead on my knees and close my eyes, waiting for the nausea to stop, but it only gets stronger as I relive the scene in my head. Matt climbing, his foot slipping. I screw my eyes tighter and groan as he falls. In my mind, I see my hand grab for him, but all I catch is his sneaker, and it comes off in my hand. I hear my scream as he hits the ground.
My eyes snap open, and I roll and dry heave over the trash can. Matt’s arms are around me, and he pulls me to his shoulder, where I sit and shake.
Finally, I lift my head and look at him, tears streaking my cheeks. “Why’d you have to fall?”
He shrugs.
I’m not surprised by how mad I feel, but I am surprised when I realize I’m mad at him. I push away. “You should have slowed down—been more careful.”
He nods. “But there was nothing you could do. It was an accident.”
I drop my face into my hands and breathe back the anger. When my shaking slows, I pick the journal up off the bed and press it to my forehead, then hold it out to him. “I did this for you . . . or more for me, I guess. All along, you’ve been the only person I could really talk to.”
He takes it from my hand and smiles. “I’ve been talking back. Did you hear me? Told you to stay away from him,” he says, glancing toward Luc.
My heart sinks. “Why do you hate Luc so much?”
“Why? You’re kidding, right? He almost got you killed, Frannie. He’s one of them.”
“He’s one of me,” I correct, my voice raised.
Luc and Gabe stop whispering and look at us. Luc steps forward, concern on his face. “He’s entitled to his opinion, and he’s got good reason to think the way he does. I did almost get you killed . . . more than once.”
“No. That would be me that almost got you killed,” I remind him.
Matt looks at Luc, his expression still sour. “I hate the thought of you anywhere near her, and if you hurt her—in any way—I’ll kill you myself.”
Luc nods, holding Matt’s eyes with his. “Duly noted.”
Luc turns and looks hard at Gabe, and I know he’s thinking the same thing as I am. Gabe said Matt was the best angel for this job, but I’m starting to wonder.
Matt softens his posture and leans his forehead into mine. His voice is low, meant just for me. “Frannie, I’m having a really hard time with this. Are you sure? About Luc, I mean? I just can’t make myself trust a demon, no matter what Gabriel says.”
“I’m sure, Matt. He loves me. Can’t you just read his mind? Then you’d see.”
“Sorry, I’m not high enough up the food chain for that particular skill. Dominions or higher.”
“Please, just give him a chance.”
His eyes harden again as he glances toward Luc, but then he pulls me into a hug, and I hear the smile in his voice. “You’re not gonna pull that Sway crap on me, are you?”
I smile into his shoulder. “That depends entirely on you.”
LUC
I watch Frannie with Matt as I stand in the door with Gabriel, and I know this is it. Talk to me outside, I think, and he nods and slips through the door with me into the hall.
“She’s ready,” I say.
“Yep.”
“Tell me you’ll take care of her. The look in Michael’s eyes . . .” I shudder.
Gabriel leans into the wall. “We’ve got her backside, which is pretty nice.” He quirks a smile.
“Can you be serious for like two minutes?”
He scowls at me. “Fine. Stop stressing. The Almighty knows she’s special. And remember, Moses’s life didn’t suck. She’ll be fine. She’s not going anywhere.”
“But she’s not staying with me either. I just need to know she’ll be okay before I let her go.”
His eyes hold mine, and his jaw clenches as he contemplates that. “I’m not going to pretend that nothing’s going to change, but what happens from here is up to Frannie. You’re not a demon anymore. You’re human, with a clean soul and a completely clean slate. If Frannie still wants you,” he almost seems to choke on the words, “then there’s no reason you can’t be together.”
And that’s the key: if she still wants me. She’ll belong to Heaven. To Gabriel. Will she still want me after? Her life will outgrow me—the tagalong, used-to-be demon. It won’t be long before she doesn’t need me or want me. I crack open the door and gaze at her. She looks so tired, but she also looks at peace, and I know it’s time.
Gabriel pushes through the door, and I walk behind him, stopping just inside. But then Frannie holds her hand out to me, and I stride to her side, needing to feel her touch.
“You’re ready,” I tell her, and she nods her affirmation. “Good,” I say to myself. “This is good,” I repeat a little louder—for her. Then I kiss her quickly and stand.
I turn to Gabriel. “Okay,” I say, giving him the signal.
He smirks. “Okay, what?”
“Tag her. She’s ready.”
“It was done before we walked back into the room. What’d you think, we have some big “Pomp and Circumstance” thing?”
I glower at him. “You’re such an asshole. I thought maybe you’d give her a heads-up, that’s all.”
“If she’s ready, why does she need a heads-up?”
“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” she says, glowering up at us.
“Should I have given you a heads-up, Frannie?” Gabriel teases.
Frannie grins. “No, but maybe Luc would have liked one.”
I start and stare down at her. “What are you talking about?”
Frannie’s eyes are brighter than I’ve ever seen them. “Tag—you’re it!”
I look at Gabriel, stunned. “You’re joking.”
He smiles and shrugs. “It was one of Frannie’s conditions. Plus, you’ve impressed the right deity, though Michael was less than thrilled.”
I try to digest what Gabriel is saying. “I’m tagged . . . for Heaven . . .” I say, trying it on.
“Could you at least pretend to be happy about it? Otherwise, I may have to take it back.”
I feel the grin spread across my face as Frannie reaches up for my hand. I grab it and sit down hard in the desk chair next to the bed. “Holy shit.”
Matt cracks a dubious smile. “You can say that again. A demon tagged for Heaven. . . .” He shakes his head.
“So, what’s going to happen?” Frannie asks. “I mean with my life . . . college and all . . .” her gaze shifts for an instant to me then back to Gabe, “. . . you guys.”
Gabriel sits next to her on the bed and grasps her other hand, visibly struggling with what to say. But his eyes say what he can’t. I see it, clear as day, even if she doesn’t. He’d give up his wings for her. All she’d have to do is ask.
His eyes drop from hers, but his hand grasps tighter. “What happens from here is up to you.”
Chapter 24
Charles
The white light of a winter afternoon, coupled with the blast of frigid air, brought water to Charles’s eyes, and he blinked for a moment. The strong hand on his upper arm guided him quickly through the open door as he was passed from one Machtvolk guard to another.
He looked out over the snow-covered forest, his eyes taking in the smoke of a hundred fires and the scattering of buildings that punctuated the foothills of the Dragon’s Spine.
If this doesn’t work, he thought, I could be dead by nightfall.
He’d spent the first two days hidden with the mechoservitors and the book. He had met Garyt just hours after they’d arrived, when the loyalist guard brought the latest of Winters’s dreams, adding them to the most recent volume of the Book of Dreaming Kings. And as soon as the man had left to find food and water for Charles, the old arch-engineer busied himself reading the book while the mechoservitors continued sharing data in code. That first night—or perhaps it was day—he’d slept with a full stomach from cold roast chicken and small potatoes fried in salt and fat with dried onions. The bread had still been warm and the water was ice cold and sweet.
In the morning, he’d made his decision. The mechoservitors had resisted, as he’d expected, but in the end they had no other choice but to let him go. They needed their missing pages, and they could not leave the cave. Charles would elicit help from Rudolfo’s Gypsy Scouts.
Now, he stood outside for the first time in weeks. He felt the wind on his face and took in a great lungful even as Garyt pulled at him. “We need to move quickly,” he said.
Charles nodded and followed the guard. The dirty woolen and fur clothes stunk in his nostrils and made his skin crawl. He tried to ignore both. He kept his head down, feeling the bits of wood in his beard as they tickled his neck. It had taken them an hour to get him ready, applying the mud and ash to every inch of his body and then dressing him carefully in the clothes Garyt had brought.
They walked past log structures that looked new, and immediately Charles noted the crowd. Through the trees, he could just make out the bright canvas of large pavilion-style tents—liberated he suspected from the papal summer palace. “There are a lot of people gathering here,” he said in a low voice.
“Mass of the Falling Moon,” Garyt said. “One of their high holy days. There will be a ceremony tonight followed by three days of feasting.”
Charles smiled. A good time to hide a crazy old man.
They moved along the edges of the larger pockets of people, with Garyt steering them away from the uniforms that Charles saw interspersed among the crowd. They picked their way carefully across the more populated areas near the larger wood structures and climbed a trail that took them behind a round building made of stone. They left the trail when they were out of eyeshot of any others, and Garyt kept them moving quickly.
When they were deep in the woods, Garyt paused. “You’re certain of this?”
Charles looked up. “I am.”
He’d learned about the Watcher yesterday. He’d surprised the man with his question when the guard brought him a second meal. And Charles had known the moment he asked that the man knew something about it. Still, beyond eventually acknowledging its existence, Garyt had said very little else about it despite the questions. But he had finally agreed to take him to Aedric.
Not that Charles knew exactly what he would ask of the first captain of Rudolfo’s scouts. The missing pages, according to both Isaak and the other metal man, were vital for the salvation of the light. Somehow, they had to wrest them from their mechanical guardian or—if fate was kind—search the caves that Garyt claimed it lived in while it was away on some other business. Charles hoped for the latter, because if they were truly facing one of those ancient artifacts from the days of the Younger Gods, the gypsy scouts would be no match in an open confrontation.
And Charles knew better than to believe it could be reasoned with. Not a mechanical that operated on faith. Of course, it wasn’t so very different from his metal men and the dream they believed in and acted on behalf of.
He felt the strain of their quick walk in his legs now and noticed that the snow had let up. Overhead, beyond the canopy of frozen evergreens, he saw that the midmorning sky was clearing as northern winds pushed the clouds away. Even with all that time in the Beneath Places, his muscles protested the effort.
They’d not gone much farther when a low whistle brought Garyt to a halt. Charles started at the sudden sound and stumbled, catching himself. He looked around the clearing and saw the slightest shimmer, heard the slightest whisper of footprints as they materialized in the snow.
“Hail, Garyt,” he heard a voice call out. “And you as well, Androfrancine, though you are a long way from home.”
Charles noted that the direction of the words changed even as they were uttered. “Hail, Aedric. How are the others?”
“They bide well,” he answered. “We’ll see him safe back to your care, Garyt.”
Garyt inclined his head and looked at Charles. “Be cautious, old man.”
Charles nodded. “I will.”
He watched the man jog south and west, then turned his attention back into the clearing.
“So.” Now the voice was closer, and Charles could make out one eye, barely visible, just inches from his face. “Garyt tells me you are inquiring after a certain metal man.”
Charles nodded. “It has something we require urgently.”
“We?”
“I am here with Isaak,” he said. “He is hidden with the Book of the Dreaming Kings. Pages have been removed from it with precision only a mechoservitor could produce. I’m told one lives in the woods and your men have encountered it.” He paused as he realized what he was about to say. Perhaps I do know what to ask of Aedric, he realized.
“I need you to take me to it,” Charles said.
“It is out of the question,” Aedric said. “Aye, there is a metal man. It’s been monitoring and altering our birds. It killed two of my men—cut them, bled them first and then sent their folded uniforms back with Lady Tam after serving her tea. She’s left clear orders that we’re not to approach the Watcher.” He could hear awe bordering on fear in the man’s voice. “It’s like nothing we’ve seen before.”
Watcher. Charles noted the name. “I need to find the pages it cut from the book.”
