Chapter 20

TWENTY

Willow

I don't know what I expected when I demanded Gabriel talk to me. Definitely not this. He's been so confident—full of himself, really—since the first night I met him at the cathedral. But now, he's shaking in my arms.

His anguish is a physical presence in the room. I wouldn't be surprised to find it standing over his shoulder trying to strangle him.

We stay locked together until his sobs fade. "I understand now why so many humans hate to cry," he says and sniffles loudly. He won't look at me, pinning his gaze to the floor.

"Oh my God. You've never cried before?" I grab tissues from the small bathroom and wipe his cheeks. "I know you said the celestial realm is…" I wave my hand vaguely, "paradise, but people cry because they're happy too."

"It is far from paradise." He takes the tissues from me, blows his nose, and disappears into the bathroom. Water runs in the sink. He returns with a fraction more composure. "The longer I spend in this realm, the less I want to return."

"So stay. Zoe said her lieutenant wanted you to join the Bureau." For a brief moment, I can almost picture a future where I'm still alive. Where Gabriel kisses me like I'm his oxygen and the Blade is nothing but a painful memory.

"Seraphiel will never allow it."

Those five words send me crashing back to reality so fast, I'm surprised I don't break a bone. Or three.

"You can't…I don't know. Protest? Appeal? Go to Celestial Resources and tell them Seraphiel has no business managing anyone?"

With a wry laugh, he shakes his head. "There is no HR Department for angels. The Almighty does not concern herself with our petty disagreements."

"But this isn't petty. This is Seraphiel abusing his power." I'm on my feet again, my mind spinning with outrage. I don't know why I think I can fix this. How does that saying go? Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons because you're crunchy and taste good with ketchup? Me trying to outwit one of the Seraphim is like an ant going up against a dragon. Still, I can't let it go. Not when Gabriel looks at me like he can't quite believe I'm real.

"You said humans have free will. That fate was…well…"

"I believe my exact words were ‘complete and utter bullshit.'" He smiles, and though his eyes are still sad, the beauty it brings to his entire being is almost enough to render me speechless.

Almost.

"If we can choose our own path, why can't an angel? Sin and Maddox live here. So there's precedence." I plant my hands on my hips, daring him to challenge my logic.

"Sinclair and Maddox are not archangels. Mad was only allowed to stay because Azrael did not want to admit he'd fucked up and allowed a vial of celestial sand to fall into the hands of a coven of witches determined to live forever."

"Well…shit. What about the other archangels? You said…one of them was a defender. Could he—wait. Celestial sand? There's sand up there?"

When Gabriel laughs, he does so with his whole being. He braces his hands on his thighs, almost gasping for breath. Fresh tears gather at the outer corners of his eyes. "Fuck me. I am crying. Again."

"But I bet it feels a lot better this time." Winding my arms around his waist, I rest my cheek against his chest. I have to remember this moment. How strong and steady he is. The sound of his heartbeat. The way he holds me—like I'm precious, but not fragile. His scent.

Fate might be complete and utter bullshit, but magic is very real. Generations and generations of whisper keepers have all chosen to end their lives. If none of them could find a way to destroy the Blade, my chances are about as good as the chance of finding a four-leaf clover in the middle of the desert.

"I wish I could stay," he says, his lips skimming over my hair. "Leaving you…will destroy me."

Kunchin is in the dining car when we venture out for food. We're somewhere in the Sierra Nevada mountains, and a light dusting of snow makes the trees sparkle.

The yeti holds a delicate cup of coffee in his massive fingers. His three-piece suit is slightly rumpled, and I wonder what he looks like to everyone else. Probably some sort of stockbroker. Or a basketball coach.

"How do the perception filters work?" Most of the lunch rush is gone by now, and I keep my voice just above a whisper.

Gabriel runs a hand through his dark locks. "It is a form of disguising magic. Killian is quite good at those types of spells. I am certain he would love to explain. In great detail."

"What if it fails? How would he know?" The server drops off menus and two bottles of water. I take a healthy swig from mine as Gabriel levels me with his stare.

"There would be screaming."

Water shoots up my nose, and I start to choke. He's out of his chair in an instant. With one hand on my back, the other pressed to my heart, he closes his eyes. Warmth spreads through my entire body, and after more than a few decidedly unfeminine grunts and one awful snort, I can breathe again.

"Warn me next time," I rasp.

He arches a brow. "About what? You asked me a question, and I answered."

He's still holding me when the server returns. "I'm all right now, Gabriel. You can…uh…let go."

The loss of his warmth is shocking. So is the confused look on his face. But it's also cute. He has no idea how funny he can be. Or what an effect he has on me.

We order—a grilled cheese sandwich for me and a veggie burger for him—and then the awkward silence sets in.

Even Kunchin—at the bar across the room—notices. He mouths, " Are you okay?" over Gabriel's shoulder.

I incline my head once, then turn to stare out the window again. "We're getting closer."

"How close?" Gabriel sits up a little straighter. "Do we need to contact Sinclair and arrange for cars at the next stop?"

"No. Not yet." Awareness prickles along the back of my neck. "She's here, isn't she?"

"In the corner behind you. She appears fascinated by Kunchin."

"Of course she is. But shouldn't she know what I know?"

"To follow that logic, you would also know what she knows," Gabriel points out. "And she seems to know quite a bit about the grimoire and the Blade that we do not. "

He has a point.

My whisper glides over to us. Her gauzy hand brushes my shoulder. A swirling vortex of emotion threatens to pull me under. My eyes burn. No. This isn't the time.

"Willow." Gabriel takes my hand. "What is it?"

I nod at my whisper. "She's sad. Really sad. Distractingly sad." To keep myself from sinking into the depths of her despair, I start peeling the label off my water bottle in long strips.

Gabriel crosses his arms and glares at her. "I will not allow you to keep hurting her. You have done enough."

She huffs, blowing one of the strips of damp paper onto the floor.

Anger prickles over my skin. This emotion is all mine. "Do you even know what you're doing to me? How powerless it makes me feel when you rip me out of my own body? I was happy. I had a job I loved, great students…a whole life . Now, I'm about to lose it all. So unless you can figure out a way we can communicate— really communicate—leave me alone until we find the Blade. I'm done. Just…done."

Dropping my head into my hands, I squeeze my eyes shut. I won't cry. I can't mourn everything I'm about to lose in the middle of the dining car.

Her regret stings the back of my throat, and I can feel her retreating, slowly. "And stop staring at Kunchin," I add before our tenuous connection fades into nothing. "It's rude."

Gabriel

I have been so fucking selfish. Willow held me for an hour after I confessed my sins. Yet even though I can sense her emotions as if they were my own, I did not truly understand until now.

My phone buzzes on the table. I would crush it into dust if I could. But until we know we are safe, it is a necessary evil.

Kunchin: What was that all about? Everything okay?

We are not supposed to know one another in case AURA has eyes on this train. I return my gaze to Willow, nod once, and shove the phone into my pocket.

The uniformed server sets plates of food in front of us. Willow is so mired in her grief, I am not sure she notices. With a single, withering glance, I send the man running for the kitchen. "You must eat something, deliciae ."

Her shoulders heave in a heavy sigh, and she lifts her gaze to the sandwich in front of her. "My mom always says there isn't a single thing a grilled cheese can't cure."

I frown. That makes no sense. "I do very much enjoy cheese, but it cannot work miracles."

She laughs, and though I have no idea what I said that was so funny, I don't care. I will say it a hundred times if I must. "Cheese cannot work?—"

"Just try a bite." She slides the plate across the table. The scent is delicious. Perhaps better than pizza. Buttery, almost glistening, with the perfect crunch as my teeth sink into the bread.

"Fuck. This is…" I have no words. Of all the foods I have tried in the earthen realm, grilled cheese is my new favorite.

"Give it back," she teases. "You have your own lunch."

Her earlier sorrow is fading quickly now. Maybe her mother is right. If so, I will order a grilled cheese for every meal until she is safe and I must return to the celestial realm.

For now, I pick up my burger. The first taste is strange. "There is something wrong with this. Meat should not have this…texture."

Another laugh, and her cheeks tinge pink. "You didn't pay much attention to the menu, did you? That's the veggie burger."

"I thought that meant it came with vegetables." Every day I spend in this realm I discover something new. How will I survive the rest of eternity without this…excitement?

Or without Willow?

"Here," she says. "Take mine?—"

"Absolutely not. What kind of angel would I be if I stole something so precious, it can work miracles?"

Her smile is worth a thousand veggie burgers. And a thousand grilled cheese sandwiches. For the first time in my existence, I feel a sense of peace. I thought I knew happiness. Or at least, contentment. Satisfaction. I was wrong.

This moment is greater than the sum of every single second that came before. Elegant in its simplicity. Sharing a meal with Willow, seeing her smile, despite the darkest of threats…

I would do anything to stop time for an hour—even a minute. But if I could, that might make what I feel now less precious. So I pick up my burger and take another bite, savoring the unique flavors. Even the texture I found so off-putting at first is palatable now. Pleasant, even.

"Oh!" Willow's eyes light up, and she plucks several potato chips from her plate and dumps them on mine. "Try another one of my mom's brilliant ideas. Put the chips between the burger and the bun."

I arch a brow. "Why?"

"Trust me, Gabriel. Or…trust my mom. You won't regret it."

"Your mother is a genius."

The food is long gone, and we found two seats on the upper deck of one of the train's viewing cars. The domed, glass ceiling lets us see for miles, and though I wish we could hide safely in our room, remaining in public might help draw out the bastards hunting her.

Willow chuckles and settles closer to me. We hold hands, and though she's tense, the overwhelming sorrow she felt earlier is still at bay. "Mom was a physicist. Dad worked for the CDC. They're both retired now."

After a beat, the sadness returns.

"I wish I'd been able to see them one last time."

Turning to her, I cup her cheek. "I can take you to them right now."

"Gabriel, no. They're on safari in the Serengeti. I can't just…magically appear in the middle of their tent—with an angel— tell them I love them, and vanish again. Either they'll drop dead from shock or spend the rest of the trip thinking they're in the first stages of dementia." Her expression softens, the silver flecks in her blue eyes catching the light in a way I never want to forget. "It's better like this. The last time we talked was right before… everything . They were about to leave for Africa, and they were so excited. I told them I loved them. I know they love me. It's okay."

"It is far from ‘okay.'" The words are harsher than I intend, but Willow only offers me a sad smile.

"You're right. None of this is okay. Or fair. It's completely fucked up. I should be grading papers or working on my lecture about the rise of paganism in the nineteenth century."

I feel the exact moment her sadness turns into outrage. "This magic I had no idea existed a month ago is going to take everything from me. I shouldn't have to choose between dying and being a pawn in some sick plot to kill millions."

My shoulders stiffen, and I ball my hands into fists. "You will not have to make that choice."

"You're right. Because if you can't destroy the Blade, there is no choice. We won't find it tonight. We're too far away. But it's still calling to me. It knows I'm coming. I'm terrified we'll get there—wherever there is—and AURA will be waiting. I can't let them take me again. I won't."

A single tear trails down her cheek before she swipes it away. My heart breaks for her. I have never felt so helpless in all of my existence.

I take her hands in mine. "What do you need? Tell me. I cannot sit here and do nothing."

"I need you ." Her anger is gone—replaced by something new. "I don't want to waste what little time I have left. I'm here. Now. With a handsome, protective angel I want to strip naked and do very sinful things to."

Shock steals my ability to speak for so long, the hope in Willow's eyes starts to fade.

Do something. Now!

"Fuck it." I haul her into my arms and claim her lips. Her taste, the way her tongue tangles with mine, and her low, throaty moan shatter my control. This woman is mine, and I am hers. Damn the consequences.