Stained (23 page)

Cayne shook his head. Her caring voice sliced through the dizzying misery of his memories. It comforted and repelled him. He didn't deserve it.

She sighed. "You don't have to carry me anymore. I can get on your back."

"I'm all right."

"Look, Cayne, just put me up."

"I don't mind carrying you a bit longer."

Julia's mouth hung open.

"What?"

"Your voice. It sounds...I don't know, different. Like, Irish or something."

"Scottish."

"That doesn't..." He could see the wheels turning. Just another moment and-- "
Oh
. Oh my God!"

He nodded, looking out at the black sky, and she didn't say anything more. He knew he should keep his mouth shut; anguish was necessarily private, and his could easily boil over if he wasn't careful. But a moment later her discontent was so obvious that he said, "I remember some things. For instance, I was born in Scotland."

The biting breeze danced with her glossy hair, and she shifted, her movements oddly jerky. "I really want to get on your back now."

Cayne was still lost somewhere between the real and the memory, and holding her, he was ashamed to admit, eased the discomfort. But he slowed so she could move.

For several minutes she said nothing. Then: "How?"

"Something Samyaza said... freed my memories."

"When were you going to tell me?"

Cayne closed his eyes. "When I was ready."

She didn't speak until a cloud covered the moon, and then softly, she said, "I understand. About needing space."

Julia laid her head on his back, and he flew for half an hour longer, trying with no success to organize his mind. He wouldn't fall to pieces. But he could, if he let himself, get close.

Julia stirred, and for a moment Cayne ached to tell her everything. She should know he wasn't the person he'd been hours before. That she shouldn't give herself to him in sleep. His memories had clarified everything, adding texture and lines to the blank figure he'd been, making him dark.

And dark he had always been.

Chapter 30

Her name was written across the billboard. It was large and red and very real under the glow of the spotlight that yawned across the landscape, slicing the blue night in two. Julia couldn't see from where the light came; it was a bright line stretching over the curve in the earth.

There were other words underneath her name, but they were much smaller, and, sitting cross-legged several miles away, Julia couldn't make them out. She thought she saw a cross as well.

Demons and Nephilim circled the moon, high over the great crystal pyramid, closer than they had ever been. Rocketing through the night sky, one of each kind dove together, impossibly in tune, and Julia's heart beat faster because she was sure that they would not right themselves, that they would crumble into the earth in twin piles of bone and blood.

But at the last second, demon and half-demon pulled up, flapped their great wings, and floated to join the rest.

Julia searched the sky for Cayne, but she couldn't see him. She stood and called at the group of winged men, but he didn't come.

Sighing, she walked in the direction of the billboard. Maybe he'd left a note? She'd never seen Cayne's handwriting, but the tight, blocky letters that spelled her name looked like they could have been his.

Julia walked until the night turned to day and she couldn't walk anymore. Just as she was about to give up, she saw a bike under a wide, mushroom-shaped tree. It was the kind that all little girls were supposed to ride but none (that Julia knew, anyway) did. It was pink with white handlebars that ended in purple streamers. There was a basket in the front, and a bell.

Julia mounted the bike, and soon found herself close enough to the billboard to read the message under her name. But her eyes were drawn to the cross instead.

Julia had found Cayne.

His gorgeous charcoal wings were spread behind him, nailed to the billboard. Dark blood oozed from behind his feathers and trickled down the white canvas. His hands were nailed as well. His body hung limp. The Stain, the starburst, was seared into his chest, just as it had been on the biker that he'd killed.

Julia ran to him as fast as her legs could move.

The sun peeked above the horizon, and its light bent through the pyramid, magnified, and became fire. The earth was ablaze and Julia used all of her will to not become a cinder. She had to get to him; there was still time, she knew, it if only she could run faster...

When Julia opened her eyes, she was lying under layers of quilts in a rusted iron bed in the center of a room she'd never seen. Cayne sat in a rocking chair within reach.

"Welcome awake," he said.

Julia tried to swallow, but her throat was blocked by what felt like a giant ball of bubble gum. "Water," she rasped.

Cayne disappeared through a swinging door and returned with a bottle. Julia gulped it down, sighed, and glanced around the room. It was all shiny cedar, with fans hanging from exposed rafters, Native American art, a real-looking bearskin rug, and a pink stone door that led to a roomy porch. Through a big window beside that door, Julia saw a rectangular hot tub, and beyond it, trees with leaves in Crayola hues. She was in a cabin.

"Pretty." Her mood lifted an inch, but fell a foot when she saw Cayne's face. His expression was guarded.

His memory
. It had returned, Julia remembered. She remembered how his silence had hurt her, and also what it felt like to fly.

"Thanks again for flying me last night," she said.

He nodded. "How soon can you be ready?"

"Ready for what?"

"To leave."

"Leave where?"

He looked at her like she was stupid. "Washington."

"Because--"

"Rosa is never wrong."

Was
, Julia thought, stricken by a swift stab of guilt. She wrapped her arms around herself. The warm cabin air seemed to press down on them.

"She said I was cursed. She called me Stained." Julia twisted in frustration. She felt no closer to the truth. "Why is he killing us?"

"That's the question we need answered."

"By who?"

"Your kind."

Julia frowned. "
My
kind?"

"The other Stained." He said it like he was pronouncing a death sentence.

Julia tried to hold his eyes, hoping he would come clean about what was bugging him, but Cayne glanced at his lap.

"Okay," she said after a minute. "Why don't you tell me what's new."

"New?"

"What's bothering you?"

"Bothering me?"

Julia sighed loudly. "What happened while I was asleep?"

Cayne pointed to a small stack of
People
magazines on the bedside table. "Caught up on my reading." He lifted a brow. "Lady GaGa. Crazy."

"What about your memories?"

"I don't want to talk about that," he said quickly.

"Yeah, right." Julia stared him down, but he actually looked serious. "Okay," she said slowly. "Are you like, nervous? Don't be nervous. We know each other, remember?"

Cayne shook his head.

"What?" she said.

"I told you, I don't want to talk about it."

"Not at all?"

"No."

"
Why
?"

His nostrils flared, but he didn't answer. Julia was eerily reminded of the first time they met. Except this was worse.

"But I don't get it."

"Don't try to."

"Um, how am I even supposed to do that?"

"Just do it."

"But that's ridiculous." Cayne was her new best friend. Her only friend. Her only...anything. If something was wrong, Julia had to know. "You can't tell me anything?"

He scowled at her, and Julia had a thought that made her stomach hit her toes. "Did you remember something about me? Something bad?"

What if he'd remembered something terrible, like...well, any number of terrible things. Maybe the Stained were really the bad guys, or maybe they all died by the time they were thirty, or maybe one of them killed Cayne's parents, or maybe--

"We've only know each other a few weeks."

"That's not what I mean!" The way he said it made it sound like
just
weeks. As in, big deal, a few weeks. Like it could have been a few days for all he cared. "Is it about me?"

He shook his head, and Julia had another thought. "Samyaza."

"What?"

"You remembered why he tried to kill you, right?"

"I remember a lot of things," Cayne growled. His whole body shuddered as he drew a deep breath. "That's enough!" He stood so fast that Julia yelped. He was trembling from head to foot, his face was red, and for the very first time ever Julia was actually afraid of him.

He stared at her, his face stricken, and Julia felt things shift. Like there was something toxic inside him that had seeped into her. Both marred, they could no longer connect.

She tried to reach out to him with her eyes.

"What?" The word was like a slap.

"I don't know...."

"Right." Cayne's lip curled. "You don't."

Chapter 31

Julia watched Cayne cross the cabin's lawn and disappear around a copse of pines; she was caught somewhere between shock and panic. Shock because she didn't recognize him. Panic because she wasn't sure if she ever would again.

She banished that last thought and took a hot shower. She dressed, fixed her hair, and surveyed the room. It was messy. Good. Something to do.

Julia packed their things and spent the next hour cleaning the cabin. She tried not to think of Cayne (AKA, Mr. Hyde), but that was about as successful as her campaign to rid the room of that sweat-and-blood smell.

When the place was spotless, she returned the bucket of cleaning supplies to its corner spot in the teensie laundry room and sat cross-legged on the bed. She turned on the television. She applied her make-up. She tried to watch the news.

She hated how still the room felt.

Julia wandered into the kitchen and ran her hands along the counters. She rifled through cabinets and drawers. The silverware and utensils were stainless steel, and she could see her reflection in them. All eyes.

She went back into the bedroom. Ran her feet along the bearskin rug and glanced out the window. Her knees almost buckled.