Chapter 20

CHAPTER20

“Grab what you need. We have to move,” Ashen orders to the others before striding toward me. He squats down next to Ediye, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Tell me what supplies you require. I will gather them.”

Ediye starts slurring a list of ingredients. Rare herbs. Distilled nectars. Stamens clipped from a night blooming flower. Bones and feathers and claws, burnt and ground to fine powder.

I leave them to it, rising to approach Wynter and Roman as they search quickly through the undamaged ampules and pouches, Roman pocketing some as they go.

“You said you need a Healer,” I say, and they exchange a dark look before resuming their search.

“Yes,” Wynter replies.

“Ediye is a powerful Healer. She’ll need a few days to recover, but she can help.”

“In exchange for what?”

“A Resurrectionist,” I say, my heart rioting as I watch another wary glance flick between them. “We will pay. And Mr. Hassan was going to bring materials for an angel to endure the Shadow Realm. We want that too.”

Wynter’s red-rimmed, glassy eyes snap to mine in an accusatory glare. A heated blush blooms beneath a smattering of light freckles that dust her nose and cheekbones. “Why? What are you planning to do to the angel?”

Do to the angel. My blood heats in my veins. So this is what it feels like. This is a taste of what Ashen endures, the distrust at every turn, the loathing, no matter that you’re trying to do the right thing or protect the ones you love. I wouldn’t mind trying to smack those freckles right off her pretty face. The red glow creeps into my eyes despite how hard I wrestle with my rage. “The angel is family. Stop assuming the worst before I lose interest in proving you wrong.”

“You said you needed epiphyllum oxypetallum?” Ashen interjects, and Wynter’s face loses all ferocity as her attention shifts to the Reaper. I don’t miss the hint of desperation in the quickening beat of her heart.

“Yes.”

“Excellent,” Ashen says, showing the label of the ampule they’ve been searching for in his hand. His fingers curl around the vial to hide it from view. His expression turns menacing. My Reaper is clearly done with dicking around. “We will give it to you once you’ve done as we’ve requested. Get the other supplies we require and come with us. Now.”

There’s no further argument, only action.

Wynter lists out materials with precision and efficiency as Ashen and Roman gather them, putting everything into Ashen’s backpack. I stride over to a bookcase on the far side of the room, looking through the titles on the desiccated leather covers of the oldest volumes. Greek philosophers. Roman ledgers. Egyptian incantations. And one, bound in rich brown leather and a layer of filmy preservative, the title in Sumerian. Amagi Dugnamtar.

Book of the Fatespeaker.

Well. That’s about as close as I’ll probably get.

I pull the ancient volume from the shelf and slide my jacket off to wrap the delicate manuscript before starting back toward the others. I halt by the entrance of the kitchen where Mr. Hassan lays motionless. Clutching the book to my chest, I drift as though pulled toward him, even though I’m afraid to see what’s left of the empty shell that once held a warm and caring soul. When I stop at his side, I kneel, knowing I’ll never forget a single line on his resting face, or the way his lips are parted as though ready to exhale a breath that will never come. I’ll always remember the way the blood has dried at the corner of his mouth, smearing across his cheek.

Good luck, shakhs shabun. I will keep you in my thoughts, he said to me once.

“Good luck, old man,” I whisper as I place a kiss to his forehead. “You’ll be in my thoughts too.”

I turn away and join the others in the living room just as Ashen picks Ediye up, shards of broken glass tinkling across the floor as they drop from her arms and hair like rain. I stuff the book in Ashen’s backpack and grab the helmet, casting a wary glance to Roman and Wynter, the vampire’s arm tense where it rests behind her back.

Just as we’re about to walk out the door there’s a sound above us. My heart lodges in my throat.

They’re on the roof.

“Move,” Ashen hisses and we bolt down the stairs. We make it to the bottom before we hear the door to the roof open several stories above us. People stare as we burst onto the street with our injured friend cradled in Ashen’s arms, but they part from the demon like water as he slides through the crowded market. Every step we take makes us harder to find, and soon we lose sight of the building behind us with no one on our heels. At least not yet.

“We need to split them up,” I whisper, leaning close to Ashen in the hopes the street noise will drown my words from Roman’s keen vampire hearing. “We’ll put Ediye in a cab with the vampire. You take Wynter on one bike, I’ll take the backpack with me on the other.”

Ashen nods. I know he already hates this plan. I can feel his worry erupting in my chest. I can’t say I love it either. But we both know we can’t keep those two together. Splitting them up is the safest option if we want to hold them to their word.

“If anything happens, Lu, you need to get to the Shadow Realm and shut the corridor. I will make sure the Nephilim don’t take you.”

This stubborn demon.

I won’t leave this realm without him. I won’t.

I glare at Ashen and he glares right back.

My jaw tightens. His brow creases.

My cheeks heat. His pupils flame.

A coil of need snakes low in my belly as Ashen’s gaze drops to my lips. Danger and desire twist like twin serpents in my chest.

“S-stop eye fucking and just p-promise not to lose one another,” Ediye slurs from Ashen’s arms.

I smile, and Ashen does too. He gives me a nod and I give one back. That’s all the promise I need.

Ashen’s eyes don’t leave mine as we stop at the bikes, calling over his shoulder for the others to hail a cab. Roman waves one down and Ashen breaks away to speak to the driver in Arabic as he slides Ediye into the back seat.

I hand the helmet to Wynter and she pauses before taking it. “Roman, ride with Ediye. Wynter, you’re with Ashen.” Wynter’s mouth pops open to argue but she shuts it when I give her a fierce, glowing red glare. “That’s my best friend in there,” I say as I point to the cab, shifting my gaze to the vampire. “Keep her safe.”

Roman gives Wynter a long, conflicted look as he shakes his head. “I can’t—”

“You can. You will. Ashen will look after Wynter. I promise you.”

“It’s okay, Rome,” Wynter says. Her lips are set in a resolute line. The fear in her eyes is equal to her determination. Roman swallows a deep breath before squeezing Wynter’s arm. It looks as though it takes everything in his soul to turn away, confusion following him in Wynter’s expression as he goes. A last, fleeting look passes between them as he slides into the passenger seat and the taxi pulls from the curb.

“All right, vampire?”

Those words reel me right in. My flighty gaze stops hunting for anyone moving too quickly, anyone looking at us too long, anyone out of place. It comes to rest in Ashen’s cognac eyes, lit with the afternoon sun. I realize for the first time how much cognac is like copper. Diluted, liquid copper. Rich and warm. The world shrinks and grows, both at the same time. All I see is him. And all I feel is everything good the world still has to give.

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

Ashen catches a lock of my hair and twists it, denying the wind of more chaos. He tucks it between the other strands gripped tight by my ponytail. “Safe driving. If anyone gives you trouble, just remember the second most important truth.”

“What’s that?”

“You cannot pilot a submarine.”

I guffaw an incredulous laugh. Ashen’s eyes brighten as a devious smile breaks through his stoic facade. “How is that supposed to help me?”

Ashen lifts a shoulder, then pulls the first strap of the backpack up my arm. “You are competitive and motivated by spite. I know you’ll do anything to one-up me, even if it means killing a contingent of Nephilim to survive just so you can learn how to be a better submarine pilot than me.”

“You know me so well.” The next strap slides up my arm, then Ashen is standing before me, tugging the loose ends tight as the sphere hums against my spine. “And what’s the first most important truth?”

Ashen stills. The world is no longer the city that surrounds us. It’s not the creatures who hunt us. It’s not the strangers who judge us. It’s just him and me. He takes a step closer, folding his hand behind my neck, his palm warm against my skin. “That you are loved beyond measure, my wife.”

I reach up and frame Ashen’s face with my palms. My gaze shifts between his eyes. “I adore you, Ashen of House Urbigu.” The worried tension softens in Ashen’s face as I pull him into a kiss, the heat and need and hope bright enough to make up for how short this moment needs to be. We part before it seems fair. I don’t feel ready, but I smile and try not to show it. “I love you. Drive safe, my sexy submarine pilot husband. And take care of her,” I say, nodding toward Wynter as she watches us with clinical interest, as though trying to solve a complex equation. “I promised her boyfriend you would.”

A fiery blush flares up Wynter’s throat and into her cheeks. “He’s not my—”

“I will deliver her back to her lover safely, my vampire,” Ashen says with a conspiratorial smile before pressing his lips to mine once more. When we part, we turn to our bikes, swinging our legs over our machines. Ashen is an adorable combination of demonic sexiness and deep discomfort as Wynter slides behind him and wraps her arms around his waist. He scowls at my amused grin and we start our bikes and then we’re off, chasing after the taxi in a sea of vehicles.

We weave through the chaos, speeding down Gawhar El Qaed Street, flowing as though swept in the current of buses and taxis and motorcycles and scooters. It doesn’t take long to catch up with Roman and Ediye’s cab, the plate number burned into my memory. Roman turns in the front seat to look at us through the rear window, the relief almost palpable through the glass.

After several turns, the traffic thins a little and we’re able to pick up speed. Every cross-street we pass fuels the hope that burns hot in my chest that we’ve left the Nephilim behind.

But it doesn’t last.

Roman turns suddenly in his seat, his arm outstretched toward us, his warning swallowed by the cacophony of engines and horns. The fire of hope snuffs out as I scream Ashen’s name.

I downshift and pull the throttle back to speed between the taxi and a bus to the right of the cab. Ashen does the same and veers to the left just as a white sedan barrels into the back of the taxi, lurching it forward. The taxi slows and I hear both Ashen and Roman yelling at the driver to keep going. The sedan hits the cab again, aiming for the left side of the bumper. The taxi drifts to the right with the angle of the impact. I slow just before the front-end wedges me against the bus. I hear Ashen’s voice through the blaring horns and the yelling of bystanders on the bus.

“Go, Lu!”

When I look over, he’s reaching through the taxi driver’s window to pull the steering wheel toward him. I glance over my shoulder as the sedan speeds up for another hit, catching only a glimpse of a masked figure before I look ahead to the narrow space between the bus and the car.

I downshift again and speed through the gap as the sound of crunching metal chases my rear tire.

It’s me the Nephilim want. Me and what’s in my backpack.

I need to lead them away. I rev the throttle and speed ahead, weaving through traffic. I spare one quick glance over my shoulder at Ashen, and then I surge between the cars, knowing the sedan will muscle through sooner or later to find me.

I speed forward, trying to put distance between us. The sounds of blaring car horns and folding metal chase after me as the sedan presses on through the fray of traffic. I don’t look back, keeping my focus on a bus several cars ahead on my left. When I reach it, I slip in front, my rear tire only an inch or two from its bumper. The deafening honk bellows at me as I drift to the left side and then drop back so that I’m parallel with the driver, hidden by the blocky hunk of battered steel. The sedan’s driver can’t see me where I keep pace next to the bus, wedged in tight between it and the oncoming traffic.

The melody of honking and disgruntled yelling grows closer. Passengers in the bus twist and crane their heads to the right. The bus driver yells, gesturing to what is surely the sedan pushing through the traffic to catch up.

I replace my right hand on the throttle with my left, then reach for the mirror of the bus and grip on to the steel. I let the bike fall away, the handlebars hitting my thighs as it loses speed and careens behind me. The driver meets my eye in a moment that seems so still and calm within the sound of frantic honking and crashing metal as my bike flips into the traffic behind us.

And then I hurtle myself through the window, hitting the button for the driver’s safety belt. I push him off his seat and take over the controls to careen the bus into the sedan. Passengers scream behind me. A wave of car horns and chaos flow from beyond the windows. I slam my foot down on the accelerator and ram the car one more time, crushing it into the smashed vehicles lining the next lane.

I feel the fleeting wave of relief through my mark as Ashen pulls up to the side of the bus, the taxi next in line behind him. They slide to a halt and Ashen whirls Wynter off the bike, passing her to Roman as soon as the passenger door of the cab flies open.

“Take her. There is no safety for any of us in this realm. We must get to the Shadow Realm. Meet us at the house. I’m taking my wife,” he barks at the vampire. Roman nods, looking relieved as he hauls Wynter in with him, bracing her on his lap as Ashen gives instructions to the worried driver and placates him with a wad of cash as he flashes more in promise of a payment to come. I get on the bike behind Ashen and grip his waist as he revs the throttle. “No more separating.”

“Agreed. Bad idea. I think you’ve probably just done Roman a solid anyway.”

Ashen scoffs as the taxi speeds past us and we follow into the clogged traffic, not looking back to see if the Nephilim driver made it out of the crumpled sedan. We weave from lane to lane and before long we’re into the suburbs where the roads are clearer. When we get to the house, Roman pulls Ediye from the back seat of the taxi and we pay the driver a thick wad of cash for emotional damage before rushing inside, heading straight for the courtyard. Ashen lights the stones of the cauldron and takes Ediye from the vampire so I can guide the two newcomers through the portal to the Shadow Realm first. As soon as Ashen and Ediye are through behind us, guards shut the lid of the cauldron.

We’re still breathing heavily, casting our glances to one another as members of the Shub Lugal surround us, swords pointed to the two newcomers, their eyes on me, awaiting instruction.

“My Queen?” one of the guards asks.

I straighten. I dust off my hands and clear my mind, squaring my shoulders. I take a step away from the cauldron, Ashen closing ranks behind me. “Shub Lugal. Give our guests a warm welcome to the Shadow Realm.”