Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
Loyalty is earned. It can’t be bought.
LUCA
Celine is on fire. Smoke curls up from her wings; orange, hungry flames licking at the doorframe. If we’re not careful, we’re about to find out if this colossal compound has a working sprinkler system.
“I can get you weapons,” Ciprian says, eyeing Celine’s wings warily. He backs away, his lips pressed into a thin line, and shoots me a look that says, Do something about this. I send one back that hopefully communicates, Fuck off, I’ll do my best.
“We’re with you, baby,” I tell her. “For whatever you need.”
She nods, brushing angry tears away. Alistair opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again. “Do you need to make use of my contacts—”
Riven steps directly into Celine’s path and grips her shoulders. “What is happening?”
I tense. If he even thinks about hurting her . . .
“Breathe, darling.” His chest rises and falls dramatically, and when she follows his lead and inhales shakily, he nods with satisfaction. “Good. Now tell us what you read. Please.” He tacks the last word on as an afterthought.
Celine’s wings dip, the flaming tips hovering dangerously close to the plush hallway runner.
“Malach was under my father’s thumb, but not by choice.
He’s been controlling him through the silence rune branded on his hip.
Malach thought he could break the hold if he was near me, but it wasn’t enough.
In the monster realm . . .” She gulps, then rolls her shoulders back.
“In the monster realm, he gave up on getting free and decided to sacrifice himself instead. His plan was to kill my father himself, so I wouldn’t have to. ”
Alistair and I exchange a glance. Celine was right, at least in part. She’s been adamant about Malach’s innocence, but none of this explains her white, tearstained face and flaming, bladed wings.
“What else?” Alistair asks. “Did Malach send the package through the gateway?”
Her spiky, wet lashes flutter shut, before opening again to reveal brown eyes blazing with resolve. “Lyklan sent it,” she says. “Malach explains in the letters, but they’re written as if he only intended for me to read them after he was dead. They’re a goodbye.”
Oh, baby, no. My heart sinks, and not only for Celine.
I love her, and I want her to have everything she could want, including Malach, but gods, he was my friend, too.
His dry sense of humor, that endless sweet tooth, and his unique moral code.
He’s one of us. I might never see him again.
And I hate that he might have died alone.
“Angel—”
“Flames and blades,” Riven interrupts Alistair again. “You’re emotionally preparing for war, not grief. There must be more.”
“He’s not dead. Lyklan disobeyed Malach’s orders.
” Celine holds up a wrinkled sheet of paper.
I still can’t read it, but it’s short—nothing like the words I would write to Celine if they were my last. “He sent me Malach’s journal before he was supposed to and opened a gateway.
” She points to the last line. “This? This is Lyklan telling me to come save Malach, or live and die as a piece of shit.”
“He said that?” Alistair hisses.
Celine shrugs. “It was politer than that, but I can read between the lines.”
“It could be a trap,” Riven says. “Your father is highly motivated, and it wouldn’t be the first time he’s orchestrated an elaborate scheme to get to you.”
“It could be a trap.” Celine crosses her arms over her chest. “But I’m going, anyway.”
She’s braced for an argument, but she won’t get one from me. If she left Malach to rot, she wouldn’t be the woman I love. I’m fucking terrified, but I won’t get in her way—I only want to be by her side.
Voices echo around the corner, then Ciprian appears, loaded with weapons.
There’s a pistol shoved in his waistband, what appears to be a flamethrower strapped to his back, and a sheathed sword slung low on his hips.
It bumps against his thigh with each step.
In his arms, he’s carrying a large case, leaning back to accommodate its weight.
“I’ll return them all, I swear,” he shouts over his shoulder before continuing toward us, his eyes burning with determination.
“Ciprian . . .” Celine’s jaw drops. “A sword would have been plenty.”
“Please, babe.” He tugs the pistol out of his pants and jams a clip in. “This isn’t the Middle Ages, and you aren’t King Arthur. Everyone is better off with a Glock than a sword.”
“That’s a Beretta,” Alistair says drily.
“And this is a fire extinguisher.” Ciprian pulls the red cylinder out and brandishes it, glancing at Celine’s wings. “I brought it along for no reason at all.”
Celine’s lips curl, and the flames go out. “If you spray me with that, we’re going to have problems.”
Ciprian nods. “Heard. Burn down whatever you want, hot wings. Sheena can fix it.”
Gently, I grab Celine’s upper arm and clear my throat. “Gun, sword, or not—I don’t think you should go alone, baby.”
Her panic radiates down the bond. “I can’t risk you again, Luca. We tried that last time, and look what happened.”
“Hear me out,” I say. “I don’t think we should all go either. Someone needs to stay here as backup in case it’s a trap and you get stuck. I know the gateways can’t be activated without celestial blood, but we could track down another angel if it came down to it.”
“What are you thinking?” Alistair asks.
I shrug. “Teamwork. A strategy. I don’t know, exactly, but we need to think it through.”
Celine’s lips purse. “Lyklan said time is running out. We can’t waste what’s left creating an elaborate plan.”
“I’ll go with you,” Riven says.
“That wasn’t our agreement.”
Riven’s face glitches. “Our agreement is outdated.”
“Since when?” Her wings twitch in a clear warning.
He rolls his eyes. “You know exactly when.”
“Since you fucked me?” Celine snatches the gun from Ciprian, and I flinch as she stuffs it into her waistband. “Let me make something clear, Riven. Giving you access to my body doesn’t give you the right to control me.”
“I’m not trying to control—”
“It changed nothing,” she snaps.
All expression leaves Riven’s face, transforming his features into lifeless amber. I shift my weight. If Celine had punched him, it would have hurt less.
“I understand,” he says quietly. “I will go with you, anyway.”
“Me, too.” Ciprian adjusts his grip on the box of weapons. “My nightmares will be useful. Don’t try to tell me they won’t.”
“No.” Celine’s fingers curl. “No, no, no. If you’re all going to argue with me, then Riven and I will go. He can disguise himself longer than you can hold a nightmare.”
Ciprian sets the box down. “That’s bullshit—”
“Your family won’t survive another loss.” She softens her voice. “It was selfish of me to take you the first time, Ciprian, but I’ve learned from my mistakes.”
We’re losing her. I’ve got to think fast. “We’ll agree to the two of you going,” I say. “But only if you promise to get Malach and come right back. No side quests or assassinations.”
Celine opens her mouth, and I hold up my hands.
“We’re bonded, baby. If you die, I probably will, too.
Even if that wasn’t the case, I need you to live, and so do Alistair and Ciprian.
Get Malach. Come home. Then we’ll figure out how to kill S’lach together.
If Lyklan has flipped again, there’s a lot we’ve missed. ”
The ribbon of light flutters inside my chest. She’s agitated, but there’s nothing I can do about that.
I’m already burying every protective instinct I have by staying behind.
I hold Celine’s stare and refuse to back down.
She’ll have to ride this emotion out, and I’ll have to handle more time without her. It’s a compromise.
“Fine,” she says. “I won’t seek him out, but if he stumbles into my gun—”
“Then empty the clip, baby.” I drag her into my arms. “You’re from the Fringes; you know better than to waste a good opportunity.”
She nods, and I soak up her warmth for as long as I can. By the time she pulls back, I’ve gotten a hold on the cold fear running through my veins.
This is almost over. My basilisk knows it. I know it. And from the expression on Celine’s face, she knows it, too. What I don’t know yet is how it ends. Because this isn’t a fairy tale, this is the real world. It drips poison and blood, and good guys rarely win.
I glance at Riven, the face-shifting assassin hired to kill us; then at Alistair, his eyes blood red, fangs hanging over his bottom lip; then at Ciprian, holding a flamethrower in one hand and a fire extinguisher in the other.
Thank the gods none of us ever claimed to be the good guys.
Celine and Riven drive away in an enclave SUV, taillights glowing in the fading sun—completing step one of our makeshift plan.
The trip to Lyklan’s gateway location is only an hour away.
First thing in the morning, we’ll drive there with Idris so he can see it in person. That way, he’ll be able to portal us back and forth. Until she gets back, one of us will remain at the gateway, keeping watch and waiting.
Tonight, though, I’m meeting with Gideon and Sheena to form a bond-based backup plan.
They’re one of the few known living pairs of fated mates.
My bond with Celine is chosen. It likely doesn’t work exactly the same as theirs, but if there’s anything the bond can do to make her safer, I want to know about it.
Even if it means discussing the most personal part of myself with two people I barely know.
“Don’t mention that you’re a basilisk,” Ciprian says.
“I heard you the first nine times.” I scrub my hand over my chin and glance at the massive, bubbling fountain in the center of the courtyard.
Ciprian keeps warning me that Gideon will be curious about my shift. As an omni shifter, he can transform into any animal, as long as he’s seen it in person. Adding a basilisk to his options would be dangerous, but I can’t stop wondering why Ciprian is this hung up on it.