Last Rite (12 page)

“Are you okay?” I ask, my heart hammering.

When she sees me she tries to smile, but it’s strained. “Yeah, just a dream,” she answers as if trying to convince herself. Her eyes lift to me and widen a little. “All of it,” she says. “Just a dream.”

“Can I come in?” I try to keep my voice calm, but something in her expression is scaring me.

Her eyes are still a little wide when she nods and I push through the door, closing it behind me. I move through the room to the open window and look out at the ocean, scanning the surrounding beach. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

I look back at her as she lowers herself onto the bed. I move to the edge and sit next to her. “Tell me about your dream.”

That gets a nervous smile out of her. “Can’t you just pick it out of my head?” she asks with feigned nonchalance.

The look in her eye tells me that she
really
doesn’t want me to. Which makes me
really
want to.

“I’m trying to be a good boy. I won’t pillage. But if you wanted to offer it up…”

Pink creeps into her cheeks as her hand gravitates to something hanging from a strap around her neck. “It was nothing … in a sorta embarrassing way.”

I sit and brush the hair off her face with my fingers. There’s pressure in my chest as my heart speeds up. As wrong as I know it is, I can’t help hoping her dream was about me.

I shake my head.
Quite the Dominion
.

“It wasn’t the Mage?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know for sure. I don’t remember seeing him this time.”

“What
did
you see?” I press.

She blushes. “Maggie … and a boy.”

I consider that for a moment. “It could be the Mage showing you something he wants you to see.”

“I thought of that. But why would he show me Maggie making out with some boy?”

“I don’t know.” Still, something doesn’t feel right. I pat the bed between us. “Do you mind if I stay here for the rest of the night?”

She breathes deep. “If you must.”

“I must.” I reach out and squeeze her hand. “You might talk in your sleep and accidentally divulge all your deep, dark secrets.”

She yanks her hand away and smacks me across the shoulder. “Just for that, you can sleep on the floor. With earplugs.” She shoves me, but when I start to push off the bed, she grabs my hand and slides over, pulling me in next to her.

I tell myself it’s my sense of duty that won’t let me stay away, but as I sit here, staring at Frannie—the soft light of dawn dancing over her features—I know it’s more. My heart thrums.

She rolls over, her back to me, and I lie down with some space between us. I stroke her hair, resisting the urge to tuck up tight behind her and bury my face in it. I breathe her in, drawing energy from the connection.

“Gabe?”

“Huh?”

There’s nothing for a long minute, then she says, “Thanks.”

“Go to sleep.”

“’Kay.”

Her voice is thick with sleep a few minutes later when she says, “Gabe?”

“Yes.”

She rolls on her back without opening her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Go to sleep,” I whisper again.

“’Kay.”

Her breathing slows and she twitches and jerks as her memories assault her in her dreams. But for the moment, those are the only demons I detect. Finally, when her sleep seems more peaceful, I focus on the pink streaks of a dawning day streaming through the window, then close my eyes and give myself up to the Light.

But not before brushing my lips gently across hers.

For a moment, nothing happens, but then the raw, stinging burn is almost unbearable as it sears through me. I clutch myself and cry out as I shift into the Collective.

My eyes open to a smirking Aaron.

He takes a slow lap around me, down on one knee, then raises his eyebrows. “Are you injured?”

I stand and straighten up as the pain passes, then I look him in the eye. Aaron is the last celestial I need digging into my personal business. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

“You’re sure? Because you look a little … green.” His eyes narrow suspiciously. “Are you developing motion sickness?”

Among other things
.

“I’m fine,” I repeat, turning to the Board and looking it over. “What’s Daniel’s status?”

Aaron presses into the post that materializes at his shoulder, his arms folded tightly across his chest. “You’re lucky I’m feeling charitable. I’d let you burn on this one just to prove a point, but sacrificing all of humanity seems a bit extreme.”

I’m able to keep my groan internal as I drop back into a chair and rest my throbbing head in my hand. “What did you find out?”

I don’t need to look at him to hear the derision in his voice. “What’s wrong, oh omnipotent one? Too much pressure? Job too big for you?”

I lift my head and stare him down. “What did you find out?” I repeat in syllables.

He shrugs off the post and it disappears. “Marchosias has only made casual contact with the family, but he’s using his usual tactics.”

“Which are…?”

His expression is pure condescension as he looks down his nose at me. “Where have you been all these millennia? Under a rock?” He smiles, cold and sharp. “No. That would be the company you’re keeping. I think the demon’s rubbing off on you, Gabriel. You’re looking a little ragged around the edges.”

I haul myself out of the chair, not wanting to think about what I have in common with Luc, and step up within a foot of him. “Is there any chance of getting a straight answer out of you?”

He leans in, his face inches from mine. “Is there any chance of getting someone competent in your job?” He puffs out his chest as he steps back.

“The path you’re treading has been trod before,” I say, struggling to keep my voice even. “And it didn’t work out so well for Him. Pride is a dangerous thing, Aaron.” I drop back into the chair. “Marchosias?” I bark, fed up. An unintended wave of power erupts from me with the word, knocking Aaron back a step.

He fights for balance and, when he has it, he looks down at me, eyes wide. “He’s been following the youngest two.”

I bound from the chair. My aching body protests, but I swallow the groan. “Grace and Maggie?” Frannie would never forgive me if anything happened to her younger sisters. “What is their status?”

The surprise clears from his face and is replaced with ubiquitous contempt. “Grace knows what he is, of course, so she’s shied away from him, but Maggie is intrigued. Apparently, she harbors some feelings for her older sister’s…” his face twists with disgust, “… friend, and thinks Marchosias bears some resemblance, which, obviously, he does. So how would you like to handle this, oh great one?”

“You know why I sent you in the first place. I need someone with your experience to protect that family. I want you on Maggie.”

“Already done,” he says.

I cut him a hard look. “Despite what you think of me, you know how important this is, and I trust that you won’t let our … history … interfere with your doing your job.”

“I don’t need any coaching from you on how to do my job,” he jabs. “I’ve been doing it longer than you’ve existed.”

“Then go do it,” I say, wearily, hoping he doesn’t notice.

He glares me a dagger as he fades out. I just stand here for a long moment trying to get myself together and steel myself for the shift back to Frannie.

I can’t fully contain the groan as I slide back into corporeal form and grasp Frannie to me. She stirs and I loosen my grip and kiss her forehead.

She’s flushed and clammy, her face twisted in pain with some image or memory.

I stroke her hair and let my peace wash over her. But I’ve noticed it doesn’t seem as effective as it used to be, because she continues to twitch, then lets out a groan and her eyes flutter open.

“Gabe,” she rasps and reaches for me.

“I’m here, Frannie.”

She pulls me closer and I hold her as she shakes. Her breathing becomes deeper, slower, and her breath on my neck is driving me insane.

I fight the feeling. I know what it is, but it’s only recently that I’ve allowed myself to acknowledge it. But when she burrows tighter into me, and I feel her body—so close—I give in to it and press myself closer. I rub her back and the contented moan that purrs up from her chest drives me to want her more.

She settles deeper into me, mostly asleep, and I distract myself by turning my mind to what our next step is. I need to know Lucifer’s weakness, and Frannie’s the only one who can get that information. We need to hone her Sway, fine-tune it and sharpen it to a point. And we don’t have long to do it.

I’m wrenched from my thoughts as Frannie’s hand glides up my chest. I breathe back the wave of desire.

Think, Gabriel.

“My angel,” Frannie whispers, and when I look into her face, her eyes are still closed, but she’s smiling.

I trace my finger over the lines of her jaw. “I’m here.”

Her lips are on mine before I have time to pull away. Soft. Warm.

Everything inside me explodes. My breathing is rapid and irregular as I struggle for oxygen. My head swims with the sensation of my need. Her hands are on me, burning me with the intensity of her touch.

Father above. Help me.

If He hears me, He doesn’t answer, because the only thing I feel stir inside of me is insatiable earthly desire. I deepen our kiss as her fingers trace a burning path over my back, lifting my T-shirt as they go. I yank it off, then let my hands wander over her body, every stroke taking me deeper into the maelstrom of my own self-destruction.

But it’s beyond my control now.

This was inevitable. I was foolish to think I could stop it.

Our lips part for a moment and I stare down at her. I lift my hand and trail a finger down her cheek, her neck, taking it all in. She shudders and I have just enough time to think to myself:
If this is the end of me, so be it
.

And then I notice it.

With every rise and fall of her chest, it glints in the pink light slanting through the open window. A darkened metal pendant on a thin leather lash, resting on her chest, next to Luc’s crucifix.

I lift my head to get a closer look and feel the press of cold dread on my chest. It’s a symbol I’ve seen only a few times since my creation. An Udjat. Not the Egyptian adaptation that satanic cults flaunt, but the true Udjat—a spiral eye. The mark of Lucifer Himself.

I grab it, meaning to rip it from her neck, but it scorches my hand and I pull away. The scent of burnt flesh hangs in the air as I shake her. “Frannie!”

She opens her eyes with a gasp and springs to a sit. “What…?” she says, her expression a mask of shock.

“Where did you get that?” I say, pushing up onto an elbow.

“What?”

“The pendant around your neck—where did you get it?”

She grasps the crucifix. “Luc,” she says, confused.

“No. The other one.”

Her hand gravitates to the Udjat and her eyes widen slightly as something registers. “A boy,” she says, her brow creased. She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I had a dream and when I woke up, it was there.” She lays back into the pillows and scans my bare chest with her eyes, full of trepidation.

I tuck the sheets around her. “I need to know about this dream.”

“I … it was just what I said,” she says. “I was Maggie—or in her head, at least.”

“What else?”

“I don’t know … maybe the Mage was there … and then there was a boy.” She shakes her head again. “I don’t know.” It’s almost a plea. But then her eyes lower from mine, and she shudders again as she lifts a hand and lays it over my thrumming heart. “What happened, Gabe? Just now—with us?”

LUC

Gabriel’s not on the couch when I emerge from my room, and I only need one guess as to where he is. I’m staring into the depths of a cold cup of coffee half an hour later when Frannie’s bedroom door cracks open and Gabriel slips through into the family room. In the bright morning light streaming through the living room windows, I take in his bedhead and rumpled clothes. A part of me can’t help feeling relieved that they look slept in—which means he probably didn’t take them off.

“You’re even starting to
act
human. You didn’t need to use the door,” I say with a tip of my head toward Frannie’s room.

He glances up at me and shrugs, but there’s guilt painted all over his face, making him appear far less than angelic—and making my blood boil. Rage rips through me like a shotgun blast at the thought of him in there with her—in her bed, where I’m not welcome anymore.

“I think you’re enjoying your bedroom privileges a little too much, cherub,” I spit. “Wouldn’t be taking advantage of the situation, would you? I’d hate to think of the consequences. They’re not pretty.” I’ve seen them firsthand—Matt’s wings being ripped from his body by the avengers is an image I’ll never be able to forget.

He looks away and I know I’ve hit a nerve, making me wonder just what
is
going on behind that closed door at night. She told me she couldn’t be with either of us, and I believe she meant it. But Gabriel has resources—ways of influencing her. Just as I once did. If he decided to cheat, she wouldn’t stand a snowball’s chance in Hell.

He makes his way to a kitchen chair where he sits. “We have a problem,” he says, studying his bare foot where it presses into the leg of the table.

“Only one?” I join him at the table, sliding into the chair opposite him, and glower at him, drumming my fingers on the wooden tabletop.

His eyes lift to mine. “No.”

“Okay. So give me the list.”

In answer, he swings something onto the table by a strap. A heavily tarnished metal pendant.

It takes me a second to register what I’m seeing, then the chair topples over as I spring from it. “Sweet sin of Satan. Where did that come from?”

His eyes narrow almost imperceptibly as he shakes his head. “She doesn’t remember. Something about a boy and a dream.” He looks up at me. “Could the Mage have given it to her?”