21 Shades of Night, page 205
Some part of me wonders why I took it so personally, but the truth is obvious. Whatever our parameters, however casual our trappings were, I loved him. It's not just that he betrayed me as his partner. It's that he betrayed me as his lover. And that's the part that his apologies can't touch.
I have no idea what my role will be in the coming skirmishes, but I know for damn sure it's not playing the happy housewife with him.
The next time he leaves, I'll sneak out, leave him on his own. The thought fills me with sadness, but also excitement. I'll no longer be anyone else's weapon, to be pointed badly or used for harm. To be cast aside when convenient.
I can't let myself depend on Abel again. Dependence breeds contempt, breeds violence. I have to write a different ending for my story.
Chapter 47
One For The Road, John
DASTAN SAID HE couldn't stay, that it would be too obvious. But he asked me to look after Emmy. I don't even like dogs, but I couldn't say no.
My career is finished. I might have survived fucking up the evidence, or getting seen gallivanting with a suspect several states away, but not both, not in so short a space. And the real prick from IA had just enough IQ points to know I wasn't telling him the whole truth—couldn't, really, with what the whole truth actually is. Oh well. It was a crap job, with a crappier pension and crappier-still java. I got something new brewing. Abel's been teaching me things to watch for, and the more I open my eyes, the more I see.
I don't need to be on the riot squad to know a riot is brewing.
It unnerves me. Even remembering how easily the huntress turned my own emotions against me...
Emmy looks at me and licks my elbow. I see why Dastan liked her. I never wanted a dog before, since I knew I'd never have the time to take care of it. Guess that problem solved itself.
I stroke Emmy's graying whiskers, stare into those warm brown eyes. A shadow fills them. My arms break out in goosebumps, and I take my hand off her neck.
It's all in my head.
But that night as I begin to drift off, I see Genie's eyes shining through the dog's, and watch her put a paw on my head.
She's in my dreams, looking tired, very much the worse for wear. Disturbingly, she's naked. But it's not the first time I've had a normal conversation with a strange naked woman.
“What happened? Where's Abel?”
She shrugs. “I don't really want to be around him right now. And it seemed like a good time to practice this whole literally being a bitch thing.”
“I'm sorry.” I wonder what Abel has to say about all of this, but it's her prerogative to leave, if it's what she wants. “How's Owen?”
“He made it. Not able to talk or form yet, though. Once he does, I'll be able to visit. If he'll have me.” Her expression is sad, and tender. “I feel somewhat responsible for everything he's been through, so I've been keeping a fairly close eye on him.”
I nod. “When you do get to talk to him, tell him I said hi.”
She hesitates, and I don't need freakish superpowers to read her intentions. “Will do. Things are going to get dangerous.”
For a moment, I'm not sure whether I can trust her, until the memory of her facing the huntress and her pack surfaces. Genie's tough as nails, and follows her own guide. I can trust in that. So I take the awkwardness from her. “We're both essentially fugitives, and it's a lonely road. Do you think you want to keep me company, down here on the ground?”
She smiles, hesitantly. “For a while.”
I give her a proper hug, feel wiry muscles shifting against me. Like I said: we're both essentially fugitives, and it's a lonely road.
Chapter 48
Old Wounds, Gene
I'M RUNNING. SOME part of me admits that.
I miss Abel fiercely. It's been so long since I was alone like this; simply having a conversation can't even compare to having a lover who understands your every thought as though it was a part of himself. But my flight's given me other opportunities.
John still visits my mother. And now, when he does, he brings Emmy with him. I can't talk to her, can't tell her I'm there. But she pets me, and makes conversation with him. Just hearing her voice, it's a comfort I don't deserve.
They talk, hours on end, about ghosts, and familiar-looking strangers. About the peculiar deja vu's she's positive he encountered, too, to have taken such an interest in me. She thinks I'm a ghost. And of course, he keeps his silence. He doesn't tell her that her baby's a murderer. Or demonic.
But even without her knowing my truth, hers is glaringly clear to me. She's haunted, metaphorically, if not literally. I've done that.
I need to let her go. I need to let myself go.
I wish I dared return to Limbo. If I could just see Owen one more time, before he's healed enough to tell me to respect his wishes and leave.
But I don't doubt that the moment my feet found the ground in Limbo's transitory woods, Abel'd know I was close, and come to me. He won't give me up so easily. And, as much as I don't know that I'd want him to, I'm tired of hurting the both of us. I'm tired of looking in his eyes and seeing only his betrayal.
I'm tired of failed efforts to forgive him, and his failed efforts to apologize.
Something's broken. And I don't know how to fix it.
In time, I stay out more and more. It's a relief to return to John and Emmy, but being limited to one physical place makes it difficult to do the work I see ahead of me. I begin daywalking with every body I can find, stretching the limits of my power to reach further and further away for new bodies.
I check on Cole and Tabby frequently, though little Adam doesn't seem to like me much, probably because of my deathly cold skin, and whatever lingering traces of new corpse smell and embalming are stamped into my bodies. But if we're gonna survive the coming war, we must stick together. We must protect each other, not just subsist.
I watch the streets, checking up on every expatriate demon I can think of, trying to get a sense of who's on which side. Who might be a spy, or might be a target. Who might take advantage of the confusion to lash out and disturb the mortals.
One day I forget to walk my form back to the morgue before returning to John's place, and he comes down to breakfast to find a strange, sickly looking man at his breakfast table, painting his fingernails. He doesn't say anything. Just rolls his eyes, and lets me go on blowing the color dry.
It's amazing what people can adapt to, given the opportunity. As he eats a bowl of cereal, he gives me the rundown, listing all the news from while I was gone. It must have been a week, at this point. Apparently sometime in that span, Abel came by.
“This would all be easier if you'd just talk to Abel yourself. I told him that, but—”
I raise an eyebrow. “But he knows it's better to leave things be right now.”
“If that's it. How'd you two end up working together, anyways?”
“It's a long story.”
“I've got time. I'm still fired, you know.”
I duck my head, and shrug. “Okay. Well, the brass wanted me to succeed, but I was somewhat uncontrollable. I had a few partners who were... triggering. Abusive or predatory. It was to the point where if I had one more partnership end violently, they would have decided I wasn't worth the trouble, despite the potential my early assignments showed.”
John shudders, guessing what those assignments were.
“That means they'd have either restricted me to the Hub permanently, or flashed me entirely, if I disobeyed—which, in the shape I was in then, I would have.
“So they paired me with him. I guess he'd gotten tired of the Limbo politics, and the exhaustion of an incubi's work. He's—well, I don't know exactly what year he was born; I don't think he does either. But he grew up in a much more warlike culture, and so was a natural to transfer to the Reapers. They put him with me because I—I was a mess.
“While our specific brain chemistry and DNA might not survive the rebirth, a lot of the rest of me did. I was a patchwork of trauma and pain, with hair-trigger moods. My partners and I were continually at each other's throats, and our work suffered. They hoped that his comparatively recent work for the incubi might help ease the transition. That his skill reading people would help him relate to me where Hounds who'd been away from that kind of subtle work longer had failed me.
“It didn't work very well. He was intimidating, and his preferred method of dealing with me was sort of a pull-up-the-big-girl-panties-and-knuckle-through-it sort of bravado. He thought it was needed to curb the violence. Thought that I needed to be more afraid of him than of whatever trigger was causing me to disobey him.
“It blew up on an assignment. We nearly had the target, and Abel got too close to me when I didn't expect it. I turned on him, buried in flashbacks, and the target got away. Had he told our bosses, it would have been the last mark on my record. Instead, he lied for me. Accepted the blame for my fuck-up. Probably had to manipulate them to make them believe the lie—an offense punishable by flashing, had they noticed it. As it was, they weren't happy, and didn't go easy on him. Cut into him using a blade dipped in holy water, to make the lesson stick.
“Even as he was struggling to heal around the wounds, he returned to me, talking me down from the episode. And after that, how could I not trust him? How could I question his loyalty to me?”
John's staring. I glare at him. “What?”
“Nothing. Just, a few months back, there's no way in hell I believed a story like that. It's crazy how fast stuff changes. Maybe I'm not cut out for this shit.”
“Is anyone, really?”
We sit in silence, for several minutes.
“So what changed?”
“Hmm?”
“You and Abel. What changed, that you aren't on speaking terms?”
“How much did he talk to you, when he dragged you into this?”
“Not much. I think he blamed himself for you being hunted. He didn't get into specifics.”
“Then I'm not gonna, either. Suffice to say that he wasn't the partner I thought he was. And both of us were deluding ourselves, letting personal stuff mix with work. It was never gonna end well.”
“But it has ended?” John asks, pointedly.
“Yeah, I'd say so.”
“That's a little sad.”
“It is.”
But I'm lying. As much as the thought of Abel still stings, there's something much better around the corner.
The path to rewriting a better ending is in choosing to walk that path. For all my coldness and distance, I love Abel. Really love him. Still. And I'm still tied to Owen and John. I'm not the weapon they trained me to be—I'm better. Even with how things have ended with Abel, I can still take the strength loving him gave me, and heal myself with it.
“So what now?”
“Well, you said they're trying to warn any of the incubi who aren't already in hiding. I'll pick up with that.”
“You know that wasn't what I meant.”
“But I can still track them in half the time of any of the other inkies. You have Abel's list?”
“Yeah?”
“Then I'll get out of your hair for a while, while I track—” I glance down at the page. “—Kiri down.”
“You can't run forever, Gene. It's not gonna make it go away. It's not gonna fix things.”
“I'll be fine.”
“Abel said they don't want people going alone, in case the others have set traps.”
“Again, I'll be fine. I take care of myself.”
John shakes his head. “Abel said you'd say that. That's why—”
He trails off, as a black substance pours from his lips. I glare at Abel, his form still coalescing in the smoke. “You were watching for that.”
“Yeah. I know you too well.”
“I'm still going, though. I don't need a babysitter.”
“No, you need a partner. Your partner. We've gotta watch each other's backs, and I'm not letting you run off on your own to die in some backwards dream or abandoned plane. You've already been attracting too much attention investigating solo. You've gotten lucky thus far. It won't hold.”
“I don't need a partner, Abel. I'm just fine on my own.” I don't dare respond to the possessiveness in his eyes.
“Look—Gene, I know why you ran.”
“Do you, now.” I can't keep a dry note from my voice. He probably does, but that doesn't mean I want to talk about it with him.
“Please, Gene. One last assignment together, if you have to do this now, and then I'll talk one of the more fidgety ones into working with you for the rest of the list.”
The prospect of being with him is almost too painful. Remembering all that was, and might have been. It's almost enough to bring me to my knees. But if I tell him I'm in no rush to do it, and something happens to the succubus in the meantime, or if her trail goes cold... I don't want to take any chances. Surely I can put up with a little pain to protect her.
I nod, grudgingly. Abel catches my arm and tugs me into him, his lips finding mine in a scorchingly relieved kiss. I push him away, but can't put my heart in the gesture. As unnatural as these lips feel against his, his are still somehow right. Somehow familiar. Something I'll never taste again. Shouldn't I at least savor it, before I go to pick up the pieces?
“Ahem.” John coughs, a glower plastered across his face. “I don't want to watch that crap. It's creepy.”
“Why? Because of this?” Abel holds up my hand, and then kisses me again.
“Yes, because of that. Couldn't you at least bandage the wounds so it'd look like I'm watching two living people make out?”
I can't help but laugh. I'd completely forgotten that this one was really only passable at night, since there's large burns over half his body.
“Seriously—get a room.” John trades a look with Abel.
“If she agrees to come home with me.”
I blink, not liking being on the spot. “You're only tagging along while we warn those on the list.”
“And after that, I want you to come home. Take a more direct role in planning our response. You're smart, and tactical—we need you. And more to the point, I need you. Don't tell me you want to walk away from everything we've shared together.”
“I—”
John coughs, again. “Can you guys do that somewhere else?”
“Yeah. That's fine. I need to get the big guy home, so no one wonders why he's on your kitchen floor. Abel, I'll meet you two planes out.”
Abel pins me with a heated stare, one that promises that we aren't done yet, and makes me quake in my boots. “Okay. Don't try to run, Gene. You're not doing this on your own.”
“Wouldn't think of it,” I confirm, but mutter “Asshole,” under my breath.
He laughs, and pulls away from me, withdrawing his arm.
I leave him and John talking cheerfully.
Chapter 49
Living Proof
ABEL’S WAITING WHEN I arrive, happily back in my own skin. He smiles tenderly and moves for a kiss, but I turn my face. I can't let myself pretend it's okay to touch each other that way. No matter how much I want his lips on mine. He settles for a hug, resting his lips against my hairline.
“Don't run from me, Gene,” he murmurs into my hair.
“I'm here, aren't I?” I back away and throw the dress on over my head, adjusting it until the hem falls evenly.
“That you are. There may be hope for me, yet.”
“So is there anything I should know? Since you're here anyways.”
“Not that I can think of. Bennett checked in with Kiri some time back, and she was fine. Happy, even. Socializing with the Cadmus clan. I doubt anyone'd want to fuck with her, let alone there. But better safe than sorry.”
I nod. I haven't met any of the Cadmuses, face to face, but I've taken down Anguis demons before. So long as you can keep them too off-balance to shift, they're okay. Once they're shifted... it's a whole different situation. “Wonder how that happened. Aren't the Cadmuses supposed to be really territorial?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
He takes my hand, and together we reach for the first stepping-stone on our path, tearing through the two worlds in between to create the gate. He squeezes my fingers, and we both hold our breath out of habit, as we step through. On the other side, he doesn't wait to talk.
“Listen, Gene. I don't think another apology's gonna do it. But that doesn't mean I've given up on us.”
“Maybe you should.”
“How could I? You're everything to me. And no matter how long you need me to wait, no matter how much space you need—” he catches my look, and hurriedly adds, “so long as it's not endangering your safety anyways, you have it. I promised I'd be there for you. That I'd look after you. Even when you didn't need it. And maybe you're running away from that because I don't deserve that trust. But that doesn't mean I'm not gonna try.”
“Do we have to do this now? Can't we just enjoy the walk? We're within reach of their plane, but who knows how close to her we'll actually emerge?”
“If that's what you want.” And he unmakes a portion of his form to pull a folded square of fabric out of what was formerly his chest cavity. That's the one aspect of the incubi I've never gotten used to. He slips the fabric onto my arm: a dress, so I don't have to face them naked.
One more jump, and we're on the plane the Cadmus Enclave is on. It's a lushly wooded, temperate area. Perfect for a brisk walk.
It's easy to feel Kiri's weight on the plane, though she must be a ways off. We've got probably hours of walking to get there.
Hours of silent, painful walking, entirely too aware of Abel's presence next to me. Even without body heat to warm the air around him, it's impossible to mistake his strength and weight. Once upon a time that made me feel safe.
