Chapter 16

SIXTEEN

Willow

Zoe keeps her arm around my shoulders as she leads me through a sea of desks to a set of stairs at the back of the building. "Don't stare at the shifters," she says softly. "They don't like it."

I keep my gaze pinned to the floor. Safer that way. I don't want to be ripped apart. Or haunted for the rest of my life. All around me, conversations stop or drop to whispers until we're at the top of the stairs.

"Okay. No one else is around. You can breathe now." She swipes a plastic badge over a sensor along the wall, and a metal door slides open. The conference room looks like something out of Star Trek . Huge, glowing blue screens line one entire wall, with terminals spaced around a glossy black conference table. In one corner, a fancy beverage machine sits on a small cabinet, surrounded by a handful of cups. "We got lucky," she says. "This is the only room with its own coffee machine. The sludge downstairs will eat a hole in your stomach. Well, unless you're a shifter or a vampire. They can heal so quickly, they could be drinking battery acid all day and be fine. Do you want a cup?"

"God, yes. I feel like a zombie."

Zoe cringes. "Um, some of the ghouls identify as zombie cryptids. Don't let them hear you say that."

I can feel the blood drain from my cheeks. The Blade might not get a chance to kill me. The wrong word or sideways glance in this building and one of the other agents could tear me apart.

"Sinclair and Gabriel will be up in a couple of minutes." She slides a steaming cup in front of me. "They have to smooth things over with our Lieutenant. How does your neck feel?"

My fingers skim my throat. "Better. I'm…um…sorry about last night. If I offended you. Or Sinclair."

"You didn't." She peers at me over the rim of her mug. "Ask."

I almost choke on a sip of coffee. "Ask…what?"

"Anything." Her smile is reassuring. Warm. "I was you a few weeks ago, Willow. This world is still new to me too."

"But Gabriel said you were…a Seraphim. This is your world, right?" I'm so confused.

Zoe's cheeks tinge with color. "Do you know what a Seraphim is?"

"No." The coffee warms my hands but does nothing to steady my nerves.

"I'm a daughter of Seraphim. The highest of the angels. The watchers. My body's human. It's only my soul that's celestial. I was sent to this realm centuries ago to trap a demon's consciousness in Hell. But I failed. One of the other angels was…well…really fucking pissed."

"Not Gabriel?" The way she talks, this isn't a good story. What if Gabriel isn't the man—angel—I think he is?

"No. Not Gabriel. Long story short, he trapped me in a prison of my own body until I had ‘learned my lesson.' Then eventually sent me back here a second time—to do the same damn thing—with no idea who or what I was. If I hadn't been partnered with Sin…I might not have remembered until it was too late." She shudders, a shadow passing over her face for a brief moment.

Something hits the door behind us, and we both jerk. A little of my coffee spills onto the table.

Zoe rolls her eyes. "Gabriel, I know you can hear me. Tell Sin to let you go and get in here. We need to call Mad and Killian."

I don't know who Mad and Killian are or how Gabriel can hear us through the heavy metal door, but a moment later, the two men walk in, breathing heavily. A drop of blood stains Gabriel's lip. Sinclair pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes his knuckles.

"Men," Zoe mutters. "What was it this time?"

"The archangel called me an ass," Sin says, his tone so mild he might as well be ordering a turkey sandwich. "I was merely earning the title."

Gabriel sinks into the chair next to me and takes my hand. "You are tired, deliciae. I wish you had slept more."

His touch calms me like nothing else can. "You keep calling me that. What does it mean?"

" Deliciae ?" He stares down at our joined hands. "It is ancient Latin for…well, darling would be the closest translation. If the word makes you uncomfortable…I will not use it again."

I try to force the lump in my throat away, but the damn thing won't budge. We've known each other less than a day—unless you count the few moments we spent at the cathedral weeks ago—but we're connected in a way I've never experienced before.

Do all angels have this effect on humans? Or…witches?

"Willow?" Gabriel skims a knuckle along my cheek. I blink hard, then meet his concerned gaze. "You were somewhere else."

"This…this isn't real." My eyes burn, the first hint of tears pricking at the corners. "None of this. Angels, demons, my whisper…it can't be. I'm in a coma. Or dead. Or?—"

Gabriel's lips crash against mine. His tongue demands entrance, and I part for him. The kiss sets me on fire. I grip his arms, my fingers digging into the firm muscles as if he can ground me in this reality I so desperately want to believe in.

"Ahem." Sinclair clears his throat. "If the two of you would prefer to be alone…"

Gabriel breaks off the kiss, but keeps me caged in his arms. "This is real, Willow. All of it," he whispers in my ear. Turning to Sinclair, he levels the demon with a withering gaze. "I thought a sex demon would be more comfortable with public displays of affection."

Sin straightens his shoulders, one hand curled protectively around Zoe's waist. His deep blue eyes are ringed with red. "The amount of energy you sent into the room just now was…disorienting."

Oh, my God. This isn't happening. I stare into the coffee mug to hide my embarrassment.

"My apologies," Gabriel says, his tone subdued as he scoots his chair a few inches away. "I did not think of that."

"Can we focus on the real problem?" Zoe holds out her hand for Sin's phone, then connects it to the conference room system. "Mad and Killian are waiting for us."

With a few taps to the screen, Sinclair launches a video call.

Greatest Warlock of All Time

Gabriel snorts. "You cannot be serious."

"He spelled my phone," Sin mutters. "Every time I attempt to change it, the title gets more and more ridiculous. If try again…I fear he could end up calling himself ‘ God .'"

Gabriel brushes his hair over his shoulder. "And piss off the Almighty? Not even Killian is that stupid."

"I heard that." On screen, a dark-haired man, exhausted, wearing a thick, wool fisherman's sweater, stares back at us. Next to him, a shorter man with features so much like Sin's, they have to be related, crowds closer. "We tracked down the Valkyrie, Kàra. But she's a bloody vampire, so we only had an hour with her before she had to go to ground."

"Well?" Sinclair asks.

Killian stifles his yawn. "The last time Kàra heard anyone talk about a whisper was 1756. She only heard rumors. But not long after they started, her sire—he's dead now—started hunting for the whisper's keeper. This Keeper could apparently wield an ancient weapon with so much power, every vampire, witch, and shifter was pissing themselves, convinced the world was going to end."

The other man, the one related to Sin, leans closer to the camera. "If the weapon is in play," he says, "the whisper—and the whisper keeper—will know where it is."

"Any idea what this weapon is called?" Sinclair asks.

I clear my throat, and everyone in the room turns to me. "The Blade of Liminal Transference. It…" Can I really tell them? If I do, I lose any chance to run. Or worse. Sinclair or Killian—or anyone else at the Bureau—could decide they want the power for themselves.

"Willow, you can trust them," Gabriel says softly. "I can sense your fear, but Sinclair is one of the most honorable men I know. And despite his hubris, Killian is utterly devoted to protecting this world. Maddox—his mate—is half angel. You could not have found better allies in this realm."

I force a deep breath. Gabriel's conviction infuses his every word. I want to trust him. I want to trust all of them.

With a soft stirring of the air, my whisper appears across the table.

Oh, God.

I've never been so relieved to see her and know she's okay. Gabriel inclines his head, and she responds in kind.

"I do not believe she will steer you wrong, deliciae." He strokes his hand up and down my back. Some of the tension I've carried since walking in here fades away.

"Uh, Willow?" Zoe asks. "What's going on?"

"My whisper is here. Gabriel can see her. You can't?" I gesture across the table, but Zoe and Sin shake their heads.

Sinclair frowns. "The Bureau is heavily warded. Appearing in the middle of one of the conference rooms should not be possible."

"Oh, really?" Gabriel scoffs. "Must I remind you how I first met Zoe?"

"You're a fucking archangel. The rules simply do not apply to you. Nor do you care about them." The tension in Sin's voice sends a shiver down my spine. "But that is a discussion for another time. What does this whisper want?"

She glides over to me, her shimmering eyes never leaving my face. A light brush of her hand sends warmth racing up my arm.

"I think…she wants me to trust you." Her nod is the last bit of encouragement I need. I've cursed her more than once. Wished she'd disappear and never come back. Wondered what terrible thing I'd done in the past to be burdened by this power.

But in this moment, I know she's on my side. I needed her, and she came.

I sit up a little straighter and face the screen. "There's a lot I don't know. But the Blade of Liminal Transference can siphon an Other's power and…well…transfer it to someone else. I'm the only one alive who can wield it. The device Gabriel cut out of me last night? That belongs to an organization called AURA – the Agency for Uncovering Rare Anomalies. They're supposedly part of the NSA, but that could be a lie for all I know. The two in charge—Isaac and Hannah—won't stop until they have me again. Unless I can find a way to destroy the Blade, they'll use it —and me—until they have the entire Other community in their thrall."

Gabriel

It's well after noon now, and Willow is still talking. Every time she mentions Hannah—and how the woman influenced her every decision—I wish I had done much more than throw the fae across the room.

She used her talents on a woman with no knowledge of the Other world. She cut her off from her friends, her coworkers, her very life. Then convinced Willow it would be best if AURA implanted a torture device into her body.

"Fuck!" Sinclair growls. The demon stalks over to one of the workstations built into the conference table. Each keystroke is louder and harder than the last. "I had Kunchin run a GHOST search for Willow's name."

"A GHOST search?" she asks.

Zoe leans closer. "Global Habitant Optical Scanning and Tracking. Basically, it's our version of facial recognition."

"And you called it GHOST." Willow shakes her head. "This day—this world— keeps getting stranger every minute."

"Well, we are at B.O.O.," Zoe says with a little smile. "But I promise you, the system itself is very real and very effective. Sin? What did you find?"

The demon mutters an oath under his breath. "This was filed five days ago."

The center screen flickers to life, and I reach for Willow's hand. "Is that…her death certificate?"

Her horror slams into me—a physical force that almost knocks me out of my chair. With every hour—every touch—our connection grows, and I fear what will happen when my heart is no longer mine, but hers. Completely.

"Yes. It's fake," Sin adds. "Not even a good one. Sloppy."

Time of Death: 12:30 a.m.

Cause of death: Blunt force trauma to the head

Location: Fisherman's Wharf

"Why would they do this?" Willow's voice cracks. She stifles a sob. I wrap my arm around her and pull her closer.

"You said you'd taken a leave of absence from your job," Zoe says. "But you didn't officially move out of your apartment. And, presumably, you have friends?"

Willow nods against my chest. "A few. But…they're not local, mostly. From my graduate program."

Zoe sinks down into her chair and holds Willow's gaze. "They were covering their bases. Making sure that if anyone did come to check on you or report you missing, there would be a plausible explanation. They faked your death so no one would look for you."

"Or," Sinclair adds with a quick glance in my direction, "as leverage. A display of their power. They had no way of knowing how long it would take you to read that grimoire. They could not take the chance you would try to return to your life."

With every word, Willow shrinks into herself further. She shakes against me, trying to hold back the tears glistening on her lashes. "So that's it? I don't exist anymore?"

"Enough!" My outburst rattles the coffee mugs on the table. Zoe claps her hands over her ears and glares at me.

Fuck .

I cannot continue to sit here and do nothing while the woman in my arms—the woman I care so deeply for—loses everything she holds dear.

"Watch yourself, Gabriel," Sin says. Red rims his eyes, glowing so brightly, I expect his wings to burst forth any second. "You know we will not stand for this. It will take some time to straighten things out with the medical examiner and City Hall, but we will take care of it. After we put an end to these bastards and find a way to destroy the Blade."

"The other Whisper Keepers couldn't … unmake it." Willow shakes off my hold, scoots her chair a few inches away, and starts fiddling with the hem of her shirt. "That's why they all…chose to die. Because there was no other way."

"You will not sacrifice yourself for this thing." I spin her chair until she faces me. "I won't allow it."

"It's not your choice, Gabriel. It's mine." Her tears spill over, glistening on her pale cheeks. "It wants to be found. It's calling to me. Last night it was this tiny presence in the back of my mind. Like music playing in another room. But it's so much stronger now. In another day or two, I won't be able to resist it."

"But you will die, deliciae . There has to be another way." I hold her face in my hands. She's so beautiful. I memorize everything about her. The tiny scar on the bridge of her nose. The curve of her dark blond brows. The flecks of green and silver in her blue eyes.

She leans in, resting her forehead against mine. "There's no weapon in this world powerful enough to destroy the Blade. This is the only way."

How cruel is fate? To lead me to Willow, then rip her away from me within days?

Crueler than all of Lucifer's Hellions put together.

I jerk to my feet so quickly, Willow almost topples out of her chair. "No weapon in this world . That is what the other Whisper Keepers said? Those were the exact words?"

"Y-yes." Her brows knit together, a tiny wrinkle between them begging to be smoothed away. "Why?"

"There is one world more vast and powerful than this one, Willow. Its guardian is an expert with weapons. And he owes me a favor."