Dark Angel's Ward (11 page)

I shrugged. "They're good for a few things, I guess, but most of the operatives I've dealt with are basically assholes."

Sara snorted. "You think everyone's an asshole."

"And how often am I right?"

"They have wronged me greatly," he went on, oblivious to our exchange, "and yet, I owe them much."

"Well, isn't that mystical?" I shook my head, turning my attention back to the twins. "If you don't mind my asking, brats, why are you so interested in all of this anyway?"

"'Cause it's cool," Cara replied automatically, without even glancing up from the Good Book.

"And because you helped us," Sara told Zeph. "So we wanted to help you, too. Isn't it awful not to know who you really are, or where you came from?"

He looked surprised. "It's bearable most of the time. I rarely think about it."

"Well, it'd totally drive me bonkers," Cara said. "How can you not wonder?"

He smiled. "Like you, I must trust I'll be shown the right path."

"My point being," I interrupted loudly, "there's no sense getting attached. He's leaving tonight."

Sara's face fell. "You are?"

He raised a questioning eyebrow at me. "I am?"

"Well, there wasn't a good moment to mention it upstairs," I said pointedly, "but yes. We're meeting your contact for dinner at six."

"I see." He sighed heavily. "I suppose it's for the best. I fear what you might discover in my memories if you were to look deeper."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He didn't answer me, looking instead at Sara. "Why do you weep?"

"Because I'll miss you." She sniffled. "Do you have to go?"

"Oh, for hell's sake. You just met him!"

"So?" She glared at me. "He's already been nicer to me than most of the people I've known my whole life."

Cara hugged her twin to her side and regarded me seriously. "She's right. Our own father would have stood there and watched Kevin beat us up the other night, and told us it was our own fault for being such godless whores."

"Oh, sweetie. That bad?" Guilt-ridden, I knelt before the couch and wrapped an arm around each of them. To my surprise, neither girl pulled away. "Forget everything I just said. See? I'm an asshole, too."

That elicited a watery giggle from Sara. "Apology accepted."

"Damn it, did I just apologize again? That's twice in one day. In my own house and everything. See, this is why I never have people over."

"Very funny, boss." Cara pushed me away, but she smiled as she did it. "We love you, too."

Laughing, I got to my feet only to collide with Zeph, who now stood behind me. As I moved aside, he laid a hand on each twin's shoulder. "Thank you," he said gravely, "but don't waste your tears on me."

The girls rose as one and embraced him between them. "We like you," Cara growled. "Deal with it."

"You're an angel to me, no matter what anyone else says," Sara sniffled.

He smiled softly down on them. "The burden of eternity is a heavy one," he said. "Jandra believes that is why I lose so many of my memories, because there is too much suffering in this world to be borne all at once. But moments like these...." He hugged them. "These are the ones that don't fade away. You have been kind to me, as well. I will never forget you."

Both girls were crying in earnest by now. The tough-as-nails twins falling apart before my very eyes--unbelievable. I looked sideways at Zeph, asking, "You're not messing with their minds again, are you?"

"No," all three replied in varying tones of offense.

So shut up, Jandra.
Sighing in defeat, I sat down and waited as they said their tearful goodbyes. Then the girls gathered up their books and papers and left us.

After seeing them to the door, Zeph returned and sat at the opposite end of the couch. His eyes were intent on my face. "So, this will be goodbye for us as well."

"Yeah. So it will."

"I suppose you'll be relieved to be rid of me?"

If he'd asked me that on Wednesday night, my answer would have been a resounding yes. Before he'd touched me, before he'd made me question the past, yes. I'd wanted him gone more than anything.

But now I couldn't help but feel torn. Couldn't help wondering what might have happened if we'd spent more time together, explored these new developments. That in itself gave me my answer--separating from him again wouldn't be any kind of relief. It would eat at me just like it had the first time.

All the better, then, that he'd be gone soon. I'd make a clean break of it before things got any more complicated than they already had. If I could survive the next few hours, I'd be back in very familiar territory, alone and nursing a wounded heart.

"And this will be an end to it?" he asked, punctuating my thoughts to perfection.

Damn it, I wasn't used to having my mind read anymore. I raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you asking if I'll keep in touch?"

He grunted. "Would you?"

"No. If I wanted to be pen pals, I'd have given you my address when I moved in here."

He fell silent for a moment, then slid across the cushions, closing the distance between us. "I...I want you to know that I'm sorry, Jandra." He laid a hand on top of mine.

"For what?"

"For the way things have been between us. For all the pain I've caused you."

He meant it, too. My eyes went wide, but I fought to keep any other signs of reaction off my face. "Why are you telling me this?" I asked.

"Because you don't want to hear what I truly want to tell you."

Yeah, if it was any more of that I-love-you crap, he had that right on the money. But this...this was almost worse. God, I had to say something before he kept talking. "You don't even know what remorse is, so save it, okay?"

His eyes narrowed. I'd begun to squirm under the weight of his gaze by the time he spoke again, his tone soft and resigned. "If that's what you believe, Jandra."

"You gonna argue with me?" I shot back. My own voice came out soft and breathy, robbing my words of their potency.

"No. I'm not." His fingers squeezed mine briefly before he released them and stood. He faced the front door, though his gaze had gone distant and unfocused. "Only consider this, if you would. Consider how much I have to regret in the days of my life I can remember. Consider how many other regrets have surely been lost to the winds of time."

"Yeah? So?"

His eyes flashed back to my face, bright enough to make me blink. "So, even if I have only recently become acquainted with remorse, do you truly believe I don't understand it?"

My mouth hung open, but I couldn't seem to remember what I'd intended to say. I closed it again.

"What do you suppose I've been thinking about in the quiet of night, while you sleep?" Zeph asked. His eyes had gone dark again, but he wasn't seeing me any more than he'd been looking at the door.

I wanted to snap at him, say something--anything--to make him change the subject. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. What a wonderful moment for my bitterness to fail me. Finally, I whispered, "What, Zeph?"

"Would you believe me if I told you that I, like the twins, have been wondering why I was made?"

"What do you mean?"

He sighed again, sharply this time. His hands twitched at his sides in a restless gesture, as if he would've liked to throw them up in the air. "What have I to show for centuries of existence?" he asked. "A patchwork of things half remembered, many of them horrible, none of them redeeming. I cannot find purpose in it, no matter how hard I try."

"Really? You, who just gave that moving speech about faith?"

"That's just it. Once I found my solace in the times between, when I was capable of feeling nothing. Now...I don't know." His shoulders slumped. "Perhaps I'm growing weary of this world. Or perhaps I'm finally going mad."

My breath hitched in my throat. "Don't say that." The Society didn't look kindly on insane dark angels.

"You don't believe it?" he muttered.

"No." Whatever the reason behind it, I couldn't accept that his growing emotional range signified any kind of loss. This was progress, not degeneration. I struggled to find to a way to express this to him when he turned again, seeming not to have heard my blurted denial.

"I'll dress for dinner now."

"You've got hours yet," I said, moving my legs out of his way as he headed for the stairs.

"Inconsequential."

"Zeph...." I bit my lip on my next words. I'd been about to call him back, to try and make him feel better about himself. Not exactly the way to make a clean break. I chalked it up to misplaced guilt, which would surely fade once he left. "Business casual," I called after him as he disappeared upstairs, though he probably wouldn't have a clue what that meant.

Twelve

"Thank you for your report, Agent Maxwell. Your request for reinstatement is denied."

Hermann Briggs was an unsmiling man under the best of circumstances, but as he faced us now, he looked positively dour. I'd met with the Austrian only once before, most of which had consisted of a thirty-minute tirade about the proper pronunciation of his name (Airrr-mahn) and the filthiness of American diction. After which, I'd privately dubbed him Airrr-mahn Munster, and hoped never to see him again.

So as luck would have it, he'd been chosen as our Society contact. And he seemed to have been grossly misinformed to boot. "With all due respect,
Mein Herr
--" I trilled the R's until the tip of my tongue began to go numb-- "I never asked to be reinstated."

By the drumming of his fingers on the tabletop, I could see my extra effort hadn't impressed him. "When you requested additional support for Zephylostrav...."

"HIM!" I interrupted, jabbing an impatient finger at Zeph, who looked up from his pasta in alarm.

Scowling, Briggs continued. "From the wording of your request, Father Markus believed you intended to resume your former duties. Given the nature of your release from
his
service, that request is categorically denied. If you wish to request assignment to another nephilim, feel free--however, don't expect too much. You were given a very generous settlement at the termination of your previous services. I cannot speak for my superiors, of course, but I believe they would consider this to be, how would you say? A done deal."

I'd sat through his monologue with what I hoped was a sickeningly sweet smile on my face. I cleared my throat before rebutting. "Listen real hard. I. Don't. Want. To be. Reinstated! I want you fools to clean up the mess you've made! What were you thinking, leaving Zeph without a Warden for over a year? He was a ticking time bomb the other night! Thank God he had the good sense to come looking for me instead of going on a rampage through--hey, where
were
you before you came looking for me, anyway?"

He'd had been staring at me wide-eyed from about the halfway point of my rant. He didn't answer my question. Instead, he said, "Father Markus made the right decision."

"Huh? About what?"

"Presumably about leaving him unwarded." Briggs set his fork down--he'd barely touched his food, anyway. "After the incident with Agent Simms, we were unwilling to risk another Warden to the job."

Guilt and humiliation radiated from Zeph in a palpable wave. "How is Ardith?" he asked softly.

Briggs flicked a glare at him, but looked steadily at me as he replied. "She has made an adequate physical recovery, though she still suffers from pain and delusions, and likely will for the rest of her life. She has refused any cosmetic surgery, saying what you did to her is beautiful and she never wants to forget it."

I swiveled fully around in my chair. "What
did
you do to her?"

He avoided my eyes, speaking toward his plate. "I told you."

"Not in enough detail, apparently."

"Does the Society's decision make more sense to you now?" Briggs condescended.

I took a long sip of my wine before answering. "No, actually. It seems even more like an asinine half-measure now than it did a minute ago."

"One we fully intend to rectify." He reached into his suit coat, pulling a thick envelope from an inner pocket. "The nephilim is to accompany me to our safe house in Prague, where his condition will be properly addressed. Enclosed you will find a passport and an airline ticket. I will meet you at International tomorrow evening."

At least, those were the words I thought I'd heard. Suddenly I could barely think as a bolt of remembered pain lanced through my upper body. Zeph's memory, but it felt so real I could hardly stay in my seat. My limbs twitched with the urge to fall on the floor and writhe. "Stop it!" I hissed at him from behind my napkin.

Despite his inner turmoil, Zeph faced Briggs calmly. "This is unacceptable," he said in mellifluous tones. My trembling body began to relax at the mere sound.

But Briggs just grunted, seemingly impervious to the magic of Zeph's voice. "It will be difficult to provide care for you if you refuse to follow instructions," he replied through clenched teeth.

"I won't leave Jandra unprotected."

"I assure you, Agent Maxwell is in no danger from anyone other than yourself."

"Hey!" I rasped. "There's no need to talk to him like that."

"There's no need for this conversation to continue at all." He stood abruptly, dropping a crisp hundred-dollar bill on the table. "You have your assignment, Agent Maxwell. I trust you will see to it no one comes to further harm. Good evening to you both."

"FYI, I don't work for you anymore, Hermykins!" I reminded him loudly as he walked away, ignoring the dirty looks from the other diners. Once he'd cleared the front door, I muttered to Zeph, "We need to talk."

He still wouldn't look at me. "Finish your meal."

As much as my appetite wanted to lose itself, it would've been a damn shame to leave a mostly full plate of chicken marsala behind. Especially since the Society had already picked up the check. I wolfed down a few more bites, meanwhile draining the remaining wine from the chilled carafe. The latter turned out to be a bad decision--by the time we stood up to leave the restaurant, I felt a bit unsteady on my feet. Zeph took my arm and guided me through the parking lot without comment.