7. Chapter 7
The pain in Izzy’s scrunched expression spoke like a dying wish against Daxton’s mind.
He winced, a cool twinge of worry replacing his burning frustration.
He slid Cornelius’s journal across the table to Izzy—a Fallen trapped between Heaven and Hell to suffer for he didn’t know how long.
Her eyes glittered with curiosity even while internal pain weighed in them.
“Simon can answer more of your questions as I skim this.” She rose and moved with an unnatural grace to the room Simon blasted music from.
Every movement was poised and dignified despite the tendrils of pain that leaked along the link.
If it weren’t for that connection, he would have believed she shoved the emotion straight from her mind like a robot.
Instead, that glimpse into her turmoil explained her hardened edges, and showed the warm and broken woman hiding underneath.
He longed to stretch out his hand and stroke her caramel-blond hair if only to startle her from her controlled manner.
She opened the door to Simon’s room, and modernized orchestrated music blasted into Daxton’s eardrums.
Simon sat in a high-backed leather chair, squinting at a computer screen and holding his teacup to his lips.
A box of glazed doughnuts rested on the otherwise bare furniture.
Tidy furniture made up the rest of the space.
The heavy bass drum and beating strings vibrated from rectangular speakers flanking the room.
“Simon,” Izzy yelled into the room.
Simon whipped around and snapped his finger against the keyboard. The music went quiet.
Izzy cleared her throat. “You can share your work with Daxton, but no other information.”
As Simon’s gaze locked on Daxton, Izzy headed back into the living room.
“Come on in then,” Simon muttered, turning back to his screen.
Daxton walked closer, and curiosity getting the better of him, he peered over Simon’s shoulder. He was reading an article with more acronyms than words, like P53, LANA, and KSHV. The jargon made Daxton’s head spin, but he picked out a few understandable terms like phenotypes and genes.
Genetics. Fascinating topic. It seemed both of them liked research.
She had stated Simon was her butler, but the relationship Daxton read between them wasn’t just of a boss and employee. Even with Izzy’s impersonal attitude, a strong bond had to have been forged between them for her to share her secrets. A flare of something he didn’t want to name heated his spine.
“So, what is this work?” Daxton asked.
Simon swiveled around calmly, but protectiveness lined the squared and forward set of his shoulders. “What do you want with Izzy?”
Izzy might have acted indifferent, but this man cared about her deeply.
“I mean her no harm,” Daxton said. “We are just trying to learn more about each other.”
Simon leaned back in his chair, regarding Daxton with a glare. “We’ll share names first. Real names. I’m Simon Worthington.”
“Daxton Dyamur.” He held out his hand, wanting to build rapport.
Simon seemed to appreciate the formality and gave a slight grin before he stood. He shook Daxton’s offered hand. Simon’s clammy hand had a strong grip, and his eyes gleamed, showing a depth beyond book-smart, as if he was much older than he appeared.
Daxton turned toward the two flashing monitors to his left as something moved on the screen. A dialog box titled “mortality” had a bar filling up with purchase orders.
“What’s that?”
Simon looked at the monitor and stuck his chest out. “MNRVA—an AI program I put together to help Izzy and me.”
He stepped around Simon to look closer.
Simon said, “It goes through databases and compiles the found information into distinct categories or discards it based on its credentials, peer-reviewed, and what have you. Then it summarizes the information, so it’s easier for us to decide what we want to read or purchase.”
Daxton had to hand it to Simon for creating such a complex program.
He wasn’t good with computers. Learning more than the basics was time-consuming, and he had employees for anything else needed.
But Daxton understood business. He already had a value and market in mind for the software.
His other side—the dragon in him—wanted the research for his people.
The information could allow them to monitor human knowledge of dragons.
“Could I get my hands on it?” he asked.
Simon’s eyes crinkled as a smile took over his face. “It’ll cost you.”
“I’m sure we can work out a price.” Simon’s enthusiasm made it seem like it wasn’t often he sold his programs. “What kind of contract are you in with Izzy?”
“I’m not inclined to answer that question.”
Daxton scratched the stubble on his chin. “How old are you?”
“It’s not polite to ask someone’s age.”
“I skip politeness when I want answers.”
Simon chuckled. “All right. You can get the extra office chair from my closet, and I’ll show you what I have on Izzy.”
Daxton grabbed the chair and positioned it near Simon’s desk. “What are you to her?” Daxton hadn’t anticipated the possessiveness in his tone as he sat.
Simon’s smile mocked Daxton, in a way that said, good luck, chum.
“To be frank, she’s not my type,” Simon said. “I prefer blokes.”
His assertion didn’t make Daxton’s dragon any less territorial. Fire still burned at the back of his eyes. He fought back, knowing how silly it was for his dragon to want her all to himself.
“And how did you meet her?” Daxton asked.
“She saved me from the streets.” Simon scratched the back of his neck.
That’s a story I’d like to hear. Izzy acted so reserved and inhuman in ways. It was strange to imagine her having such philanthropic concerns, but Daxton believed there was a soft side hiding under her hard edges.
“Anyway.” Simon swiveled his chair, rummaged under the doughnut box holding a dozen that didn’t seem to affect his lean size, and grabbed a black book.
“I created this manga to pass the time. I used to draw political comics back in the day. This is the fastest way to explain her kind, even if it’s meant to be fictional. ”
Daxton accepted it and flipped through a few sheets containing cartoonlike characters with large eyes and exaggerated expressions. He was familiar with the Japanese-originated manga style because Sarah’s niece loved them.
“Flip through it. The educational parts are on the first ten pages. I’ll be here if you have questions,” Simon said, turning around.
“Thanks.” A thrumming tension whisked past Daxton’s Insight—excitement. Simon must not have shown this to anyone.
After opening to the first heavily illustrated page, Daxton read through to find the story mirroring what Izzy had told him. After ten pages, he lifted his head. “They kill demons to collect their feathers?”
“To return to Heaven, yes. The only problem is it’s impossible to gather all their feathers within one human lifespan.
Many have tried. All have failed. Izzy and I have been researching how to extend her life long enough to achieve it, but some days I think she’s lost hope.
When they pass away and are reborn, as a baby, mind you, they start over with no feathers. It’s bollocks, huh?”
Simon turned toward Daxton and steepled his fingers together.
“Most of them go insane, unable to take the ongoing cycle of reincarnation. Like scornful children, they seek revenge against the Supreme and become Archfiends to hurt humans. Izzy has turned to researching anything. Seriously, she has a wall of diplomas.”
Daxton’s heart throbbed in his chest. Intelligent women were his weak spot. Especially those with goals like pursuing an education since it had been so hard for him with his dragon’s inability to sit still.
“I’m sure Izzy will drop her identity here as Camilla without finishing her degree.” Simon rubbed his eyes. “This assailant worries me. He must have known where her body would be if he attacked her. It’s only a matter of time. She needs to return to her body.”
“I agree.”
“What is she even doing in there?”
“Reading.”
“Ah…that makes sense. She becomes blind to everything, even her own health when she starts on a new topic. Thank you for helping her.”
The gratitude kicked him in the shin. I should have killed the Tattered One that night.
“Is she safe?” Daxton again used his Insight to search the premises for any signs of a Tattered One. They left a distinctive spirit energy of evil, malice, and rotting blood. He sensed nothing.
“Once she returns to her body, she will be. The Archfiend would have to kill her spirit, then her body to absorb her power. I don’t know how an Archfiend found her.
If they identified her from the media, maybe they’d know she attends college here.
The Fallen stay in the same family lines with each reincarnation, their faces barely changing—another part of the punishment.
Some Fallen can recognize each other even after generations.
Along with keeping her life seamless with each reincarnation—money, what have you—I have to protect her, but it’s hard to keep her out of the public eye sometimes. ”
Having the same face generation to generation would be a handicap. Why would she attend college or be in a public setting if she feared an Archfiend from her past would identify her?
“But that wouldn’t explain how he tracked her down to Maine,” Simon continued.
“She can transport anywhere she wants. Her spirit is, in the simplest term, energy, and travels at almost the speed of light. She would have traveled to Maine and back to Tennessee with no problem had she not run into the Archfiend.”
Daxton squeezed the bridge of his nose as a headache built. The more he learned about the Fallen, the more remarkable they became. But she was also turning into a nightmare to protect. He couldn’t just demand she stay put while he hunted for the Tattered One.
“So, what else is in this manga?” Daxton asked.
A blush reddened Simon’s cheeks, and he avoided Daxton’s gaze.