21 Shades of Night, page 206
Now, it makes me feel hunted.
“We've never walked this long off-world, have we?” Abel asks, and I can feel his eyes on my swaying hips.
“No, I don't think so.”
“It's nice. No meatsuits, or meddling humans. Just quiet, beautiful greenery, birdcalls...”
“At least until the dragon shifters we're tracking find us and try seeing if we're enough for a meal.”
He laughs. “Not me—I'm too lean. Not bulky enough.”
To illustrate the point, he sucks his form back into himself, making his limbs spaghetti-thin. One freakishly thin arm threatens to loop around my waist, and I swipe it away. “That's so fucking creepy. You ever play King's Quest VII?” He looks at me like I've gone insane, and I sigh, with a little disappointment. “A computer game. Had a creature with limbs like that. Scared me so bad as a kid.”
Abel laughs. “It's still hard to imagine you being afraid of anything.”
“Yeah, well, I was. That boogeyman, and the creatures on the covers of Goosebumps. I never did horror.”
“I find that even harder to believe.”
I punch his arm melodramatically. Old reflexes keep him still for the blow, but demand he lash out with one of his own, catching my hair and jerking me close enough to kiss.
The first time he tried it, I broke his nose. It was autopilot, but it amused him. And after that, every time he got away with it without incident, it became a matter of pride. That he was the only one I'd let that close. I used to love those smiles, and wait for them... only to swerve away at the last second, just when he thought he'd won.
I never really learned how to flirt, or the joys of that subtle interplay until I met him. He brought parts of me alive that had lain dormant in poisoned soil.
I shiver, and let him have that last kiss. I may be breaking my earlier promise that we were sharing our last kiss then, but the thought of sticking to my guns is painful. Better to just accept it, for old times' sake.
He leaves his lips against my skin as long as he can before I start shifting awkwardly, and releases me. “I've missed you.”
I can't think of a reply. I've missed you, too, but it hurts more to be with you than to be away from you. I've missed you, but I don't miss the nightmares as I lay in the spare bedroom, imagining your footsteps coming toward my room with a mix of fear and exhilaration. I don't miss the turmoil you create in me. I don't miss the fear I felt when you led me to certain death like a bitch on a leash. I don't miss feeling like a broken cunt for being terrified of what your love might do to me. Or worse yet, what it might fail to do for me, if the situation came up again.
We walk in silence, the trees fading around a broken path, and a series of steep foothills and cliffs. There's a series of pillars almost out of our eye-range that must be the Enclave. And Kiri's weight is heavier and closer. The air practically bends around the place from the force of her. We're almost there.
I point out two dark blots in the sky, even though I'm sure Abel's already seen them. “We've been spotted.”
He nods. “Hopefully they talk before attacking. Otherwise, you should hide. I'll find her.”
“Noble.”
“No, just common sense. You can't transform, or ghost out. Those claws are deadly, but I've got a better chance of surviving them.”
“Okay. I'll do the talking, then. To justify my being here.”
He sends me an amused glance, but lets me take the lead, as the Cadmus stream out of their stronghold with fast wingbeats. I raise my hand, waiting for them to land on the ground in front of me, transform back to something closer to human. It's a little nauseating watching their bodies shift as spikes and scales melt into tanned and tawny skin.
One of them is in front. He starts toward us purposefully, not waiting for his body to pull his wings back under his skin. The newcomer draws himself to his full height, lithe and wiry muscles bunching in agitation. “If you think you can just come here and—”
His aggression triggers something unhappy in me, and I react the best way I know how—by preempting him. I snort derisively. “Tell me I can't, Cadmus. You think you're the first Anguis I've sent to hell?”
A shadowed figure steps forward, putting a hand on his broad chest. The tines threatening to burst through his chest immediately recede. “Tam, calm down—”
I don't need to look her in the face to see what she is. She's pulling energy from him, trying to sap him enough to tame the beast threatening to transform his flesh. “You're Kiri, then?”
Undoubtedly, she doesn't have high expectations for anyone here to see her. And why would she? Plenty of incubi have been hunted down for fleeing Limbo, shirking their duties, as she did. Tears well up in her eyes as she turns to face me. Then they widen. And her form shifts, the mishmash of female features reflexively sliding back into something much more frightening—a face entirely too like my own.
“Hello, Kiri,” Abel says.
My eyes widen. See, I knew my family had an inky in its recent history, but I never thought for a moment it might still be alive.
But here's living proof otherwise. Kiri's eyes are softer than mine, her jaw less determined, but we share the same nose, cheekbones, and eyebrows. If we were standing near each other on the street, you'd think we were sisters.
She has my mother's lips. The ones my mother said looked like her mother's.
Blood will out.
“Did they send my own to hunt me, just to be cruel?” Her eyes are large, filling with tears. But her form never flickers from stress—this isn't an attempt to put one over on me, soften me. This body is what's natural. “Are you going to sleep well, killing family?”
I roll my eyes, entirely too aware of her trying to alter my brain chemistry to weaken me. It's like watching someone do surgery with a baseball mitt on. I'm not impressed. Apparently her skills lie in other areas. Either that, or she has fallen out of practice to a frightening degree.
“What the fuck is going on here?” her companion, Tam, roars, the assembled Cadmus clan staring at us, waiting for the blow to fall. Abel pushes forward, obviously gearing up to take Tam down if he makes a move for me.
“If you'd both just shut up a minute,” I command, not hiding the cutting edge in my tone. “I'm not here to kill anyone.”
“Then why're you here?” Kiri glares at me suspiciously.
“Because those of us who're better at traveling are making the rounds to check on those who haven't been heard from in a while, to be sure they're safe. And to encourage them to return, if at all possible. It's pure luck, I assure you, that I ended up here. Frankly, the thought of another crazy bitch like me on the same plane is a little scary. Happy now?”
Her fierce companion stares at me, looking for any sign of aggression or falseness. I raise an eyebrow. “I'm Imogene, and this is Abel. And you should come home with us. It's not safe for us abroad right now. There. Message delivered. You want us to go?”
She puts a gentle hand on Tam's forearm, and some of his aggression stills. He stretches a hand forward. “Tamiel. Kiri's Bound husband.”
“Well, Bennett could've mentioned that,” Abel whispers to me, and I can't help but smile.
“Mighta saved us the pissing contest,” I mutter back, echoing his smile.
“Come on home, then. If we should be bracing for an attack, it would help knowing what we're defending ourselves from.” Tamiel nods, and the gathered demons transform again to take flight.
Chapter 50
Message Received
ABEL TAKES OVER the talk from there; I'm a little too rattled by finding out I have immortal family. Just Kiri's eyes on me from across the room are more than enough to keep me on edge. And it's a relief to back away from Abel, to look for some sort of perspective.
“We're not moving. Never. But she's ours to look after. You lot don't need to bother, though we're happy for whatever information you can provide that helps us keep things locked down.”
“To be honest,” Kiri chimes in, “I think you're gonna have a huge problem persuading some of the others to go home. Most of us who've left, there's damn good reasons for it. And we'd rather die than go back. There's worse things than dying for living the lives we want.”
“What about the Well?” Tamiel asks, making Abel raise his eyebrows. The Well is a dive bar built into a gateway between Earth and the Hub. The brothers who own it are known to be very antisocial. But the word is they have rooms available adjacent, that're sometimes available for rent. And that no fugitive who's shelled out for a room has been found and apprehended. Though that's always struck me as hearsay since I've never heard of the Reapers failing to bring a mark in, in the end.
“Do you think they'd take refugees, or that it could be a place to coordinate check-ins?” Abel asks. “The twins who run it—what're their names again?—they don't really talk to us. Do you think they'd be on board to provide some kind of safe harbor?”
“You'd have to ask them.”
“It's a good option to explore.” Abel turns back to Kiri. “I know what you mean. I moved to the Reapers because of my exhaustion with the elders' bullshit. And having them gone, there's still enough residual hostility there that I'd rather not get involved in. I wouldn't be living back in Limbo myself if I had a better option. And there's people I'd happily live outside the safety of Limbo to protect.”
He glances at me, and she raises her eyebrows. I want to glare at him for being so transparent, but it would only add fuel to the fire.
“We shouldn't stay here,” I cut in. “If we're trying to keep you off their radar, having three of us here will call you to their attention much faster. I can start heading back tonight.”
Abel glances at me. “We'll start heading back tonight. When the conversations are done.”
I mouth his words back at him sarcastically. “Who died and made you boss?”
Kiri smiles, glancing toward Tamiel and the little girl clinging to his arm, as she serves a portion of dumplings for the child.
“It's uncanny, you know,” Kiri says. “I should love to look into the genealogy. Has your family kept any records?”
I roll my eyes. “I'm not sure. My mom might have something. I was never terribly interested. I guess some of what her family had was lost when they immigrated, and after World War II. She mourned the history, but never really felt connected enough to justify trying to recover it. From the way she talked about it, I don't think my grandmother forgave her for that.”
“That's a shame,” she said. “My mortal name was Ayame—do you—”
“Know where you are in the family tree?” I finish her sentence for her. “No. The name's not familiar. My mom's May, her mom was Connie. Don't know maiden names or anything. I never really paid attention. I think my grandmother moved fairly frequently, so probably not a lot of public records on them, either, I'd guess. You're welcome to look it up.”
There's a hunger in Kiri's eyes—or should I call her Ayame?—that I don't quite get. It makes me feel like I'm letting her down by not being as fascinated as she is. “Look, it might be more interesting to you than to me. I'm trying to move away from thinking too hard on who I was.”
Her face falls, and she glances at Abel and the others, before leading me away to finish the talk privately. “I wasn't trying to put you on the spot. I just—I got myself into trouble, back in the day, trying to stay a part of my mortal family. And now I find my family's followed me into my new life.”
“I'm still cutting myself off from mine. They'll heal better without me.”
She sighs. “You're so young.”
“So're you.”
“Such pain. Sometimes I question whether the birthright is a curse.”
I shrug.
“Still, I hope you'll stay in touch. It does my heart good to think of my line still out there. Even though—” Her eyes show her distaste.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Few people hope their descendants grow up to be amoral killers.” I roll my eyes, not having it in me to be nasty about it.
“Or sluts,” she says, a little self-deprecating amusement in her expression. “Our very beings are predicated on what's seen as the worst of primal urges. It would take a special one to love us. Perhaps that's why our elders stopped telling us we should seek that love.”
“I—I couldn't say. No one really gives a shit what the Reapers do, so long as no one dies, and it's not an incubi or demon we shack up with. Of course, there's not many who'd be thrilled to bang a Reaper possessing a corpse anyways, so that narrows the pool even more...”
Her eyes twinkle; my dark ramble wasn't enough to throw her off the grain of truth I'd hoped she wouldn't see. “But you broke that, didn't you. It's obvious your companion's heart is with you.”
Why does everyone want to ask about that? “We're complicated. And it's not up for discussion.”
“No—you don't discuss, do you. Discussion requires fluidity, and a willingness to change.”
“Alright. You've got me. Smartass.”
“Well, for his sake, I hope it works out.”
I shoot her a look—what does that mean?
“He didn't mention it to you? We worked together, back in the day. I shadowed him for a time while I was training. This would have been quite some time ago. A century—maybe closer to two. I'd have to do the math.”
“No, he didn't mention it.”
“He was harder then. But less focused. And he wore a much different face.” She shakes her head, with a soft chuckle. “Half the time, he made them laugh until they were his.”
That makes me pull a dour face—Abel, a jokester? I just can't see it. I'm mildly curious about what he looked like to her, since even in our early days, he wore so many looks that the changes frightened me.
Eventually, when he realized it, he chose the one, his mortal face, and wore it whenever possible, to put me at ease. I don't think I considered what that meant to him, even though I've since shared some of his memories—enough to know that however else I might worry he lied to me or used me, his form was one piece of himself he was completely honest about. He hid it for how long, although it was the truest expression of himself. And then revealed it to me. Took away one barrier between us.
Kiri evidently assumes the same. “Perhaps it let him convince himself there was distance there. Even talking with me, he never wanted to hear anything personal. No opinions, no fears, no dreams.”
“Yeah, he was like that when we first met, too.”
“What changed?” She cocks an eyebrow at me, knowing I'm not gonna answer.
Finally, she gives up on the wait. “If you're anything like I was, it feels like there's something broken inside you. Some kind of fissure or divide that holds you back. You could reach out with open arms, and seize something beautiful, but instead, you'll cross your arms over your chest, hoping to hold that chasm together. You'll tell yourself you need to, because it's the only way to avert the tragedy awaiting should you break completely the moment you let go.”
Her honesty startles me, but the worst is that her words resonate. She doesn't even know who I am, but she knows the gulf that's been threatening me since I walked into the incubi's trap.
“It's... it's a little more complex than that.”
“I'm sure. But I hope, for his sake, that it's worth facing that complexity. It pains me to think that my old friend could live without finding the joy that I have. And it pains me to think the same of my family.”
“Oh my god, did you really just give me the 'settling down' speech? Fuck, Kiri. You're not my mom.”
She smiles and looks away, likely having picked up that I deflect with teasing. The conversation's entirely too personal. And I'm getting tired of others talking to me like what's inside me is so obvious to them. They might not be wrong, but it doesn't mean they're right.
Footsteps rasp across the gravel path near us. “Gene? Time to go,” Abel calls out, quietly. “Everyone's settling down for bed. So it's our time to say goodbyes and start back.”
Chapter 51
Pain
KIRI FLASHES ME a sad smile. “Don't be a stranger.” And then she leans up to Abel, whispers something I can't hear before thumping his shoulder, and backing away. “I'll tell the others you said farewell. Travel safely.”
Tamiel peers through the doorway as we walk away. I can't blame him for not warming to us—we must seem the harbingers of doom. And witnessing his clear protectiveness of Kiri, it's no wonder she has no intention of leaving.
She doesn't bother walking back to the door, just rematerializes next to him. Here one second, gone the next. Barely an itch on my shoulder where she patted it goodbye.
Abel's already walking, but I can't resist stealing a look behind us at the pair, holding each other. They're at least a little scared, despite his bravado and her determination. They'd be fools not to be.
It's hard finding our footing in the dark. The hills and bluffs around the Enclave are treacherous, and though it's not like either of us could die from falling, there's no point to taking a thumping on the way down.
Abel's quiet. “Have a good chat?” he asks, after a long delay.
“Reasonably. She puts me on edge. Was she always like that?”
“What?”
“She said she worked with you. Was she always like that?”
“Oh. It was so long ago I'd almost forgotten. Think she used to be quieter. A lot changes, though, in that kind of time.”
Like him. He shoves a strand of ash-blond hair back from his face, brushing it back with scarred knuckles. I want to pull his hand to my cheek, rub my face against it like a cat.
“Thanks for going all alpha, today.”
“Hmm?”
“Getting between me and the dragons. You didn't have to. I'd have—”
“Have kicked their asses and exacerbated the problem. We both know where your head was, there.”
I flush. “You know me too well. And you're right. I was an ass.”
He throws an arm around my shoulders, pulling me toward him. The ground's chilly under my bare feet. “So long as we both know it.” From his dark tone, he's talking about more than just the confrontation.
