Chapter Twenty-Two
Headache. Blackness. Cinnamon buns. Smoke. Ferns. Steel. Marble. Dizzy. So dizzy.
I struggled to see past the initial haze as I wiggled against my bed.
No, it wasn’t a bed. Was I on the couch?
No, it wasn’t pillows. Was I still at my mother’s?
No, I smelled the baked-goods scent of my own flickering candles.
My detergent. The lingering familiarity of my everyday perfume.
What was more, I smelled Caliban. I had to be home.
I wanted to embrace it, but I winced against the pain as I struggled to look up at him.
It was the worst headache I’d ever felt in my life.
Aneurysm. Meningitis. I struggled for a third traumatic reason that might pop up if I did a medical search of sudden severe migraine. It hurt too much for me to fully open my eyes. I couldn’t move my head. I exhaled a whimper, hand going to my temple as I muttered a faint, “Ow.”
He rested his hand against my cheek, pushing the cool tips of his fingers into my temple. Relief flooded me like morphine. I relaxed, realizing the unfamiliar shape was the cradle of his arms. Even after jumping, he hadn’t set me down.
The knots in my shoulders unraveled as the threat against my eyes relented.
“It’s the blood loss,” he murmured.
“What is?” I asked, rubbing my eyes as I sat up.
I examined the room to find that it wasn’t just Caliban’s mist and Azrames’s smoke.
I looked around to see if Fauna had jumped with us, but there was no evergreen or sea-spray scent to be found.
A hollow, tinny sensation followed. I told myself I was relieved that she’d given me space, but that empty echo felt suspiciously like disappointment.
I didn’t have the space to dwell on my thoughts of Fauna for much longer, as my gaze fell to where Silas slumped against the wall, knees partway to his chest on the far side of the living room floor.
I looked at Caliban with renewed intensity.
“You’re undergoing a similar change,” he said quietly. “His is…substantially more severe.” With a dry mutter, he added, “I haven’t exactly offered him my services.”
“You have to,” I said, righting my spine.
His expression wavered.
I shook my head. “It’s not out of sympathy.
Fuck his feelings. My mom implied…” I gnawed my lip uncertainly.
“I shoved Fauna out because of what Silas showed me. And after what my mother said…I don’t know if I was right.
I don’t know his role in this, or if the two of them were working together. I’m not sure that I trust him.”
“What do you mean?” Caliban asked, words stretching with eerie stiffness.
I continued to glare at Silas.
“He was at the house when Fauna and I were there, before I ever got to see Hell. He was working with my mom to stake Heaven’s claim.
He told me to ‘think of home,’ which sent me back to Lisbeth’s.
And it’s something my mom said during our fight about his promise to bring me back.
I just… I don’t know for sure whose side he’s on. ”
For the first time in my life, Caliban directed his ire at me. “But you called him.”
I got to my feet, satisfied when my equilibrium leveled quickly. Whatever he’d done to heal me, it had worked unfailingly. “I had no choice,” I said defensively. “You were fighting for our lives, and I only had one card to play.”
Caliban stood slowly. “But you played that card not sure if he was for us or against us? You tossed a coin as to whether you were calling in aid or ending the fight by eliminating me?”
“No, no. You’re misunderstanding me. I—”
“No, Love, I don’t think I am,” he said.
“I’m hearing you say that you genuinely believed Silas had orchestrated the attack.
You thought he and your mother had conspired to end your life and take us down.
Even if you thought his feelings for you would keep you safe, you believed he hadn’t defected, and by extension, that when he arrived, he would fight with the other angels.
If you had been right, Azrames and I would be dead. ”
I displayed my open palms. “That’s not it. You’re not hearing me. I had no choice, Caliban. I panicked. I wanted to help—”
“But”—he lifted a hand—“if you didn’t know whether he was on our side, then you didn’t call him for me. You called him for him.”
The relief at Caliban’s healing was short-lived. My mouth dried. Fear knotted in my throat. I fought the urge to look at Silas.
“That’s ridiculous,” I breathed.
“Is it?” he pressed. His face was stony as he said, “You wanted him there because you feel safe around him even if part of you believed he was working for your mother. You called him whether or not he’s on your side. I’m trying to be understanding here, Marlow.”
I stiffened. Across the room, even Azrames went cold.
I blinked at him with glacial slowness. “What did you call me?”
“Driftwood. Bobbing between worlds on the current is your namesake in this cycle, isn’t it? Blood meant nothing to you, whether it be your mother or Fauna, but that’s okay. The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb, after all.”
My eye twitched. I knew the saying. I’d heard it in communist texts, in war histories, in anecdotal proverbial pocketbooks. And Fauna had said it. It meant blood was about choices, and bonds, and battle. Not about something beyond one’s control, like familial ties. But he didn’t stop there.
“You’re mad at me,” I said. In my years of foolishness, of mistakes, of ignorance, he’d never been truly angry with me before.
“No, I’m seeing you,” he said. “I’m so devoted to your soul that I’ve been routinely failing to see this body, this iteration, this cycle. And in this life, you aren’t just Love. You’re Marlow, too.”
I opened my mouth, but there was only dust on my tongue where a plea for understanding should have been.
“You’ve won over realms. You’ve convinced long-standing enemies, fringe supporters, and even an ally who hasn’t talked to gods in thousands of years to stand with our cause.
Because of your recent acquisition, gods are opening up to the public, and humans are turning to us in droves.
Vexa responded to your stunt, her army has galvanized overnight, and they’ve spent the last twelve hours flooding socials with reactions to the concert, to the morning show, to the deities all around them. But you were always you.”
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hear the end of his thought.
“This is the only life you’ve been awake. This is the one that matters. You’re making choices for every realm. You’re making choices for where many of us will end up. You’re making choices for where you will end up. Who are you choosing?”
I nearly hiccupped on my breath. I moved toward the window, soaking in his full form as I stared at him. “What are you asking?”
“I’m asking why you called an archangel. You weren’t sure whether he’d orchestrated that event. In that moment, he could have ended the war by killing me.”
“I didn’t—”
“You thought he was our enemy, and you called him, Marlow.”
I flinched. My name was poison on his lips. “Don’t call me that.”
“But this name is a part of you. You aren’t just your soul; you’re also this human, this body, these lived experiences. And maybe Marlow wants a different fate for herself.”
I shook my head noiselessly.
Once again, he was a god in the midst of an utterly human apartment.
Light from the windows created a halo around his shock of arctic fox hair as he stood with his back to the island.
It was so hard to look at his face as his eyes burned silver with pain, metallic irises set on fire by the early sunlight.
“Pieces of you thought he was on Heaven’s side.
Apparently, those pieces still do, even now.
And while locked in battle with his brother, you called him.
It could have been Heaven’s one true shot to end me.
He would have had a clean slice. I would have blinked out. ”
“But you didn’t! He showed up on our side! I was wrong!”
“But,” he said, voice dropping, “you gambled.”
I clutched at my chest, hating the lace that rubbed between my fingertips. “Didn’t you? When you called in that top-tier favor? Wasn’t that a roll of the dice?”
“Yes,” he agreed solemnly. “With my life. With my kingdom. With the future of everyone in every realm other than you…but you didn’t gamble for. You gambled against.” His shoulders slumped as he dragged his hand through his hair. He shook his head.
My mouth opened, lips working in mute, fruitless rebuttal.
“Marlow, I—”
“Don’t.” I swallowed the word. I didn’t have the luxury of remembering my past lives. But I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he called me Love in all of them.
Caliban looked at Azrames.
“I’ve got her,” Az said. “I’ll watch after her, I mean.”
“I think,” Caliban said slowly, “she needs some time with Silas, without the pressure of who or what she has to choose.”
No. Gods almighty, no.
“The wards on this apartment are tight. And even if he’s been cut off from Heaven, Silas remains a powerful entity. I’d never leave her in danger.” Then to me, he said, “Part of taking care of you is allowing you to be you and giving you the space to figure out what you want.”
My hummingbird pulse was causing me to short-circuit. “You…you can’t be doing this. Are you…are you breaking up with me? Is that what this is?”
He cupped my jaw, brushing a thumb over my cheek. “No. Of course not. But…you’ve always been my Love. I need to let you decide whether or not I’m yours.”
I looked at Azrames, choking on my helplessness. “Az—”
He rounded the island from where he’d been slumped by the counter. He grabbed me by the elbow, guiding me to the couch. “I’m going to have to go,” he said, voice low.
I tried to deny him. I attempted to voice my demands, but nothing came out amidst my speechless trembles.