Exalted (19 page)

She felt nauseated as she listened to the distraught Chosen
describe how the floor shook, and up from the depths of the pyramid, dozens of
Demons had emerged, streaking through the halls with big, red wings, bringing
death and mayhem and terror. She rested her head on Cayne, and leaning on him,
feeling his warmth, she was able to bear what she was hearing. With a little
focus, she actually managed to tune the people's voices out; they were all
telling different versions of the same story, after all.

It felt incredible to let her body sink into its weight, to
forget her troubles in the steady beat of Cayne's heart. She was in an
almost-comfortable daze when she noticed the room had fallen silent. Every eye
clung to Nathan.

“I can’t think of anything that will soften this blow, so
I’m going to tell you directly.” His voice carried across the room, and
everyone watched quietly, eyes wide. Julia recognized what Nathan was doing; he
was soothing them, using his ability. Despite her earlier anger at him, she was
impressed that Nathan was able to rise above his grief to work the skill so
deftly. Even more impressed when he spoke clearly and purposefully.

“The Three betrayed us.” Murmurs traveled through the
crowd, some of them angry. "Many of you were led to believe that they were
elders, venerated Chosen leading us against aggressors but inherently no
different from you. Some among us, myself included, knew part of the truth. The
Three were Methuselah, an archangel, sometimes known as a Celestial deity, and
his two eldest sons.”

There was an explosion of angry noise, and Julia was on
pins and needles as Nathan tried to quiet the crowd. Some of them were yelling
things like "Blasphemy!" and Julia remembered her first impression of
these people—that they were cult members.

"I knew Methuselah's true identity," Nathan was
saying. "So did select others. But we did not know his true plan. It had
nothing to do with saving us from Nephilim. He wanted to use us to start a war
with Heaven."

More angry yelling, and Julia actually moaned. "It
will be okay," Cayne assured her, but Julia didn't think so. People were
demanding to know what happened, and once Nathan calmed them down, he gave them
the whole story, unabridged. Most people reacted as expected—with shock and
horror and fear. Many were angry, and there were still a few who insisted
Nathan was spreading sacrilege. He had his hands full trying to calm them and
answer their questions.

Julia leaned her head against the cool, stone wall and shut
her eyes as she tried again to tune the noise out. Cayne played with her hand,
and she pretended they were in a school assembly, listening to the principal
drone on and on...

The idea brought tears back to her eyes.

Meredith would be a cheerleader. Nathan, SGA. Carlin would
be too cool for group activities, but she would have her own posse, and they
would all wear designer clothes. Drew would be the school newspaper editor, and
all the boys would heart him.

Julia wondered how she would have placed Cayne, back when
they first met. She probably would have stuck him at the jock lunch table, or
the punk table. Now she knew neither one was true. He would sit at her table,
wherever that was.

Feeling a half smidgen less desperate, she opened her eyes
and touched Cayne’s still-bare chest. “How are you feeling?” she whispered.

“Fine.”

“Nice evasion, tough guy.”

He winked, and Julia was feeling all gushy inside when Drew
grabbed her arm. "You're on."

As Shea stepped closer, making Julia visible again, Nathan
turned and touched her wrist. His brown eyes were full of apology. “I know
you're angry at me…but I'm going to need your help. I can corral everyone and
give direction, but you're the one with Methuselah's power… And you weren't
fooled by him, either.”

"What kind of help do you need?"

"You being here is enough."

Julia nodded, and after a second, told him, "I'm sorry
for what I said earlier." The truth was she did blame him, at least a
little bit. And she didn't trust him as far as she could throw him.

But Nathan nodded all the same. His eyes got watery, and
after a long moment holding her gaze, he turned back to the crowd.
 

"Most of you probably know Julia's name. She was
identified as The One, the Chosen selected by Methuselah to be manipulated and
used in his schemes. Methuselah didn't get the chance, but she inherited his
power." Murmurs. Gasps. Every eye turned to her. "She didn't ask to
be stuck with this burden,” Nathan continued. “Unlike most of us here, she
never believed in the mission of The One—to her credit. But she knows as well
as I, and as well as you should, that The Adversary must be stopped. Hell must
not be allowed to control Earth."

Someone cried, "What do we do?" and Nathan turned
to Julia.

She opened her mouth to say, "I have no idea,"
but Shea appeared at her side. "She's going to amplify your voice,"
Nathan said.

Julia thought again of Meredith, and came to a split-second
decision: She wanted this. Maybe even needed it.

When she opened her mouth, she had no idea what was going
to come out, so she surprised even herself when she said, “I have Methuselah's
Celestial power, and I'm going to use it to destroy The Adversary. As soon as I
can get to Heaven's gate, I have an appointment with The Alpha." She
watched the news sink in and glanced at her friends. Drew was surprised, Carlin
was nodding. Cayne was grim-faced—but maybe that was because he wasn't feeling
well. “I'm going to speak to The Alpha. I'm going to get his aid. There is a
way to defeat The Adversary, to kick him back into Hell."

The room was silent, every Chosen staring at her with
uncertain eyes. It was overwhelming. "We can do this!" she said, with
as much enthusiasm as she could muster. Which wasn't much, but Shea worked her
words into a rallying cry fit for a superhero movie.

Cheers broke out among the crowd—not a chorus of joy, but
at least some people seemed to feel better. She tried to smile confidently as
an old man yelled, “She is The One!”

And for the first time, she kind of felt like it.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Several
hours later, Carlin picked a beige Hummer with huge black tires, and Drew found
the key labeled “43” to match the huge SUV's slot in the hangar.

It
was hard to believe that just days before, Julia and her friends had arrived by
plane in this same hangar as prisoners of Methuselah, with Nathan in the role
of Chief Betrayer. Julia had been tortured by Dizzy, who apparently was dead
now. She'd been terrified to find out what The Three had in store for her. And
Meredith had been there...

For
the thousandth time in the last few hours, Julia felt like a big, stiletto boot
had stomped her heart. It was all she could do to keep from clutching her
chest. When she thought back to her first meeting with Cayne, she realized
she'd felt the same those few days in the warehouse: that grinding, utterly
unbearable ache of wanting someone who wasn't physically present anymore.

When
she'd lost Harry and Suzanne, she had been alone and adrift, no idea who she
was or what she would do. Now at least she knew the answer to the first, even
if she didn't like it. She was The One. She was strong, and she was loved. She
had a place in the world, even if it was a scary one. And she knew what she
wanted:
for the scariness to end. For
all of this to just be over.

She
tried to make her aching heart feel hard, like a character in an action movie.
She was on a quest for vengeance, and she wouldn't stop until the bad guy got
got.

Unfortunately,
she was after the consummate baddie, and he was already spreading major
badness. They learned just how much after Julia's impromptu speech, when Nathan
ushered Cayne, Drew, Carlin, and her to a small room off the main hall. There
they were to wait while Nathan organized the Chosen and found another healer to
try to rejuvenate Cayne.

When
Carlin discovered a computer, she demanded to use the Internet, and Nathan had
to summon a lanky woman named Mary to get them set up.

It
only took Carlin a few minutes to notice the news: American Marines run out of
a long-held base somewhere in Africa, a man getting shot in British Parliament,
a rash of suicide bombings, a deadly tsunami. The sad thing, Julia reflected,
was that the devil didn't need to be on Earth for those things to happen. But
there was the very palpable feeling that things were happening fast, and
getting worse.

Now,
with Carlin driving, Drew riding shotgun, and Julia holding hands with a
tired-looking Cayne in the backseat, they listened to the radio on the only
English station Drew could find. They bumped over the dry desert toward Cairo
for a full six minutes before they realized the heavily accented voice was just
talking about Taylor Swift.

“Go
to any of the Arabic stations,” Cayne said finally.

“You
speak Arabic?” Carlin asked.

“Some.”

After
a few minutes listening to a passionate-sounding man, Cayne signaled Drew to
turn it down. Julia could tell by his face that the news wasn't good.

“Egypt
is having a resurgence of violence. The Cairo airport has been overtaken by...
You could translate the word to mean 'renegades.'”

“Are
you freakin' kidding me?” Julia gaped.
  

Carlin
slowed the Hummer, looking over her shoulder at the pyramid; Drew was shaking
his head, but Cayne held up his hand and continued translating. "There's
more going on around Egypt, but especially in the transportation centers. It's
dangerous at the airport. Too dangerous.”

“What
does that mean?” Carlin gasped. “What do we do?”

Drew
met Cayne's eyes, and Julia already knew what he would ask. “Can you fly?”

“No!
No, no!” Carlin cried. “We will not separate! We will never find each other!
No—” her voice broke— “I cannot lose another friend!”

Carlin
started to cry, and after getting a hug from Drew, she came around to the
backseat and got in on Julia's side, throwing her arms around Julia's neck and
crying into Julia's tangled hair.

“You
are my family! You can't leave me!”

“You're
mine, too,” Julia whispered, holding onto her friend.

“We'll
make it back,” Cayne said.

“What
if you cannot?!”

“We'll
find you, Car,” Julia said. “We're tough, remember?”

“I'm
feeling stronger,” Cayne promised.

“Are
you really?” Drew asked.

“I
am."

Julia
managed to hold back tears until they pulled back into the hangar, and a
booming, shaking noise sounded from somewhere far away.

“Was
that a bomb?” she asked.

Drew
caught her eye, and his expression gave her a sinking feeling.

They
all climbed out of the Hummer, and Carlin turned to Cayne. “This is real? The
bomb? It is not a coincidence?"

“I
can't say for sure. But it's probably not a coincidence,” Cayne said quietly.

“Be
careful with Julia! And be careful, you!” Carlin poked her finger into Cayne's
chest, then threw her arms around him.

“We'll
be safe below the pyramid,” Drew said, wrapping his arm around Car.

“Overthrow
Nathan if you need to,” Julia said, only half joking.

“Will
do, Captain.”

“Be
safe,” Drew said to Cayne. They clasped hands, and Julia thought she saw relief
on Cayne's face. She wondered if he'd been worried that the others would hold
it against him—Meredith's death.

Julia
and Carlin held onto each other, with Carlin declaring, “We will go to the spa
when this is over! We will go in Madrid!”

Drew
hugged Julia so hard it hurt, pressing his forehead against hers. “I think this
is your purpose,” he said quietly, near her ear. “You can do this.”

After
another round of hugs and tears, Drew and Carlin disappeared inside, and Cayne
pulled Julia into his arms—only for a second, before they stepped outside, into
the brilliant dawn.

Julia
gripped Cayne's hand. “Are you really okay to do this? Even holding me?”

He
nodded. “The healer helped. We'll have to take it slow, but I'm okay.”

“I'm
glad Car found you this,” she said, tugging gently on his green zip-up hoodie.

“I'd
be fine without it.”

“Tough
guy.”

Cayne smiled,
tight-lipped, and scooped her up—and for the first time since they'd headed to
Washington on board an Amtrak train, Julia and Cayne were traveling alone.

***

Cayne's
charcoal wings looked a little battered, and with the wind whipping around
them, Julia could feel his muscles trembling with strain, but he could indeed
still fly.

The
sky looked like a watercolor painting: glorious orange with streaks of violet,
deep pink, and yellow, all folded around them like a blanket. It was beautiful,
so awesome and peaceful, it made Julia feel like crying all over again. But she
didn’t want to worry Cayne.

They
were flying slowly, and every few breaths she felt his chest expand as he
inhaled deeply. The few times she glanced up at him, he gave her a smile, but
it was tight and didn't quite touch the weariness around his eyes.

For
long stretches of time, she drifted in and out of sleep, lulled by the subtle
up and down motion of their bodies. She dreamed of smoke and fire, of pyramids
and Methuselah's voice inside her head. Sometimes her old, suspender-wearing
neighbor, Mr. Jenkins, who'd helped her after the catastrophe at the Raysons'
house, would appear and hold her hand. Other times, Cayne would sweep her up
and they would fly away, and she would imagine a little house on a quiet
street, where they would take their shoes off at the door, and Cayne would have
his own apron. They would have cook-outs…