Chapter Twenty-One One of the Seven
That night, Brie dreamt of the accident. The car seats stained red around her, her mother’s gasp of horror. The chain placed around her neck, the miraculous healing of her wound, a beast of shadow ripping her mother away. But instead of seeing the moment of her mother’s death, the wraith with its hand in her chest, the way her face had paled a moment before going forever blank, the image shifted. She found herself in a round, white room with a single painting hanging inside. She floated, as though disembodied, through the featureless expanse, for some reason trying to look anywhere except at the painting. But there was nothing else in the room — no windows, no doors — and soon enough, she found herself face-to-face with it.
It was her mom. In fact, it was an enormous oil portrait of a very familiar photograph, one she kept tucked up behind the sun visor of her car. Her father had taken it, catching her mother in an unguarded moment by their kitchen window, just turning her face to him and reaching out her hand.
Brie knew every angle and line of that photograph by heart. But the painting unsettled her somehow. Something was wrong. Although she couldn’t say why, she knew that this wasn’t her mother at all.
She floated closer, puzzling over what it might be, inexplicably afraid. She lifted a hand in a gesture mirroring her mother’s, stopping just before her fingertips touched the canvas.
All at once, it clicked. The eyes. Those weren’t her mother’s eyes.
One was green, and one was blue.
As she leaned in to take a closer look, they moved, flashing to the right and staring straight at her. Then a hand made of oil paint reached out of the canvas and grabbed her wrist.
She let out a wild scream.
The eyes followed along as she tried to stumble backward. The painted hand stretched and twisted with her attempts to escape. But there was no escaping that iron grip, and there was no containing it. The paint began to spread up her arm and down her hand, covering her like a second skin in colors of flesh and light. She struggled uselessly against it, but it was like trying to escape her own body. She cried out and tried to tear it off with her fingernails, only to find her other hand trapped in the oil as well.
The rest of the painting started to melt into a hateful tar, dripping and spreading across the floor. The drops grew into dark, dense pools where they fell until the whole of the room was drenched, and it threatened to swallow her up. All the while, those eyes glinted and followed her.
“Please!” she screamed, over and over. “Please!”
When she woke up, she was still screaming.
Cameron was there, trying to calm her down.
She gasped for air and raked her fingernails down her arms. Angry, red scratches appeared for a moment before immediately healing themselves. He drew closer and held her as her eyes flew wildly around the bedroom, latching onto every familiar sight and possession to reassure herself it was only a dream.
“It’s alright. It’s alright.” He chanted it over and over like a soothing mantra, holding her against the steady beat of his heart. It took a few minutes before hers began to match the rhythm. It took another few minutes for her to catch her breath. When at last she was quiet, he glanced down at the top of her head.
“Was it the girl?” he asked quietly. “The girl from the hospital?”
She remained silent.
“It’s enough to give anyone nightmares,” he murmured, tightening his grip. “Just knowing there’s someone in your hospital, someone you work with, who would poison a child like that.” He shook his head and held her closer still. “Such an evil, arbitrary thing to do.”
Her blood ran cold as she realized that in all the drama and madness of the evening, she hadn’t even told him yet. So much had happened, it didn’t even feel like the same day.
She pulled away slowly, gazing up at him. “It wasn’t the girl,” she said. “And it isn’t someone in the hospital.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“It was the woman, Cameron. The woman I saw,” she clarified, “the one who was talking with Matthews. The girl saw her, too. Only…”
“Only what?”
“Only Kylie said she had silver horns.”
Cameron tensed for a moment, before paling with a look of irrepressible dread. When he finally managed to speak, it was in a voice so quiet, Brie could barely hear. “I need you to tell me exactly what happened at the hospital today.”
? ? ?
“Tell me again.”
Brie was sitting at her kitchen table, a mug of basil root tea untouched before her. Cameron paced frantically around the kitchen island.
“Which part?” she asked wearily.
“All of it.” His voice had taken on a wild tremor she’d never heard before.
“I think that Kylie saw the same woman I did,” she repeated for what had to be the tenth time. “She said she used ‘bad fairy dust’ to make her sick. I think it’s the same person I saw talking to Matthews. I don’t think anyone else can see her, and I don’t think she shows up on cameras.”
He stopped pacing and sat in the chair before her, leaning forward and gripping both her shoulders in his hands. “Tell me exactly what she looks like, Brianna. Exactly .”
“She’s tall. Thin. Ice-blonde and gorgeous. Bright green eyes. Too green. You could cut a diamond on her cheekbones, and she has perfect taste in shoes.”
Brie paused, trying to think of anything she might have forgotten. “Oh, and she may or may not have hooves. And silver horns.”
The angel sat back in his chair. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”
“I did.”
“You didn’t tell me you thought she had hooves , Brianna. That didn’t strike you as being particularly relevant information in light of recent events?” he demanded. “I thought she was an entitled hospital donor who gave you a bad feeling. A human woman who had you spooked. You didn’t think that telling me the woman might have hooves would be pertinent?”
Brie drew back, stung by the accusation in his voice. “I didn’t know if any of that was real. I’ve spent the past five years thoroughly convinced I’m crazy. Five years of a highly reputable psychiatrist telling me that I suffer from a combination of PTSD and a vivid imagination. Hooves ? Forgive me for erring on the side of self-effing doubt.”
He stared at her a moment before pushing to his feet. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” he muttered, raking back his hair. “The woman you’re talking about isn’t some low-level wraith, and whatever she’s up to, whatever plan she’s trying to bring to fruition, you can be absolutely sure you don’t want to be anywhere near this place when she finds out that you are the person who got in her way.”
Brie shivered in spite of herself, wishing he would sit back down. “I don’t understand. You know her?”
“Everyone in my world knows her,” he replied without thought. “Everyone in Heaven and everyone in Hell knows her.” He stared out the window as though she might be standing right on the other side. “She’s a Knight of Hell, Brianna. She’s one of the Seven.”
“The seven what?”
“The Seven Fallen Ones. The Seven Deadly Sins. Whatever you humans call them in your grotesquely inaccurate mythologies. Though I can promise you, nothing that has ever been written even comes close to conveying the depths of depraved power they wield.” He started pacing, then turned back all at once. “And she, your blonde woman, is one of the worst of them.”
A crow flew past her front porch. Cameron was at the window in a flash, pulling back the curtain and looking out on high alert, as though any movement might be a harbinger of doom. It was nearly dawn. The sky was full of clouds, and a dim light had just begun to filter up from the horizon.
“I can’t imagine what she’s doing here,” he muttered. “ Here , of all places. Here , of all times.”
“Who is she?” Brie’s voice was barely a whisper.
“Mammon.” He turned to face her. “Greed. She’s Greed, Brianna.”
There was a beat of silence. “I don’t know what that means.”
“Think of it this way,” he began, “everything humans pour their energy into, everything humans worship with their time, their money, their love… every single act of devotion makes the thing they’re worshiping more powerful.” His eyes burned into hers. “How powerful do you think Greed has become after all these centuries? How powerful, after all these generations, all these billions of humans slicing and sacrificing one another for a fistful of coins?”
Brie realized she’d forgotten to breathe. “Why does someone — something — as powerful as all that need someone like Matthews to do her dirty work?”
“She doesn’t,” Cameron replied. “She can kill with a thought. Why she’s meddling around with humans? Why she needs a child sacrifice? I have no idea.” He paused, then continued in a rush. “And I cannot have you anywhere near this place until we know.”
In a flash, he was kneeling beside her. “Brianna, I know you don’t want to, but you must trust me. You have to trust me. You need to come to Elysium. Whatever’s going on here, it isn’t a coincidence, and it isn’t safe.”
His hands reached for hers for a moment before dropping helplessly to his sides. “I know you don’t want any of this. You’ve made your feelings very clear. Everything you said back at the pub was true,” he continued softly. “I haven’t protected you. I haven’t helped. Since the moment I’ve come into your life, it’s been filled with chaos. I saw how much it hurt you to lie to Sherry and how much it hurts you to feel isolated from your friends. I couldn’t save your mother, and I don’t know if I can keep you safe. You must think I’m a curse.” His eyes tightened for a ghost of a second before locking onto hers. “But please, I beg you. Let me protect you from what’s coming.” He reached out and took her hands after all. “You must believe me: once it is upon you, there will be no escape.”
She looked at him, heart heavy and throat thick with emotion.
He’s right. And he’s wrong.
It’s already upon me. And there is no escape.
She nodded. And with that simple nod, she relinquished all hope for a normal life.
“Alright,” she murmured, taking a breath to steady herself. “I have to go back to the hospital first. I need to tie up some loose ends.”
“Absolutely not.”
She glanced up in surprise, thinking the hardest decision had already been made.
“I have to. Sherry and my dad…” Her voice broke. “I need to give them a good story, Cameron, or they will never stop looking for me, and it will ruin their lives. I will not ruin my best friend’s life, and I will not put my father through that kind of uncertainty and pain.”
He opened his mouth, but she stepped right in front of him. “I can’t. I won’t.”
He slowly nodded, planning on the fly. “You’ll need to be quick. When you took off the pendant—”
She gasped in comprehension. “They saw the light. They’ll be coming. She’ll be coming here, to Yorktown.”
He shook his head grimly. “You can be assured they are already here.” When she started to hyperventilate, he was quick to add, “They can’t see you. When you’re wearing the pendant, the darkness cannot see you. I’ll come with you to the hospital. If you wish, I can take a different form to stay out of your way.” There was a slight pause. “I only wish to help. I’ve never wished to do anything more than that.”
She looked at the floor. It was too much to process, but his abject hurt was impossible to ignore. “Cameron, what I said back at the bar. I was drunk. It’s been an insane day. I’m so—”
“Please, do not apologize to me,” he interrupted swiftly. “I already have infinite regret for the way my influence has made you feel and what my presence has done to your life. If you feel any guilt or responsibility for my feelings on top of everything else, I will not be able to bear it.” He squared his shoulders. “I’ll come with you in my Elysian form.”
She looked at him. His face was like a door closing.
I can add him to the list of everything I’ve lost today.
She cleared her throat. “Whatever you need to do.”
She looked around the little house, at the books on the shelves, the coffee mugs hanging on their little hooks, and the toaster that had captured the fascination of her celestial guardian. Her eyes rested for a heartbreaking moment on her miraculously revived plant, then the picture of her mother and father holding her as a baby.
I’ve barely been here a week.
How is it POSSIBLE it’s only been a week?
A knot rose in her throat as she wondered what her life might be like if she could choose the path she wanted. If she could wake up every morning in the arms of a man she could actually be with. If she could go to work every day and do her best, and her best would be good enough. If she could come home every night and relax with her friends, safe in the knowledge that this was the life she had chosen. If she could rebuild her relationship with her dad now that he was finally ready.
But here she was, with a chain around her neck — ruled by fate, about to say goodbye to everything familiar. About to say goodbye to her entire world, to run from a danger she scarcely understood, into the unknown… a place that would not return her remotely the same, if it returned her at all.
She stood abruptly. “I need a moment.”
He nodded, turning away. “I’ll send a signal ahead to let them know we’re coming.”
He knelt to the floor, and a wide circle of ancient lettering began to glow red around him as he murmured something in a language she didn’t understand. She stared for a moment, then turned deliberately away and headed up the stairs. There was no time for wonder, no time to process.
Soon, that will be the least shocking thing I see.
She sat at her desk in her bedroom and wrote two letters on the stationery she’d bought herself on her last birthday. One for Sherry. One for her dad. Something about how it was all too hard, and she was going to take a leave of absence and stay with Cameron’s family for a while. In Europe. Croatia. Something about how she didn’t want them to worry. Something about how she was sorry this was so sudden. Something about how she’d get in touch soon.
Pretty lies, so when they pictured her, they’d think she was somewhere beautiful. She’d rather they were stung by her selfishness, than terrified for her life.
By the time she was done writing, she could barely drag in a full breath. It felt as though there was tremendous pressure on her chest, a stone monument to everything she was losing.
She walked back into the living room and placed both letters on the mantle as Cameron stood by quietly. Then she took a last look around the lovely place that could have been her home.
“I’m ready.”