Chapter Thirty-Four - Lucifer #2
Topher blinked slowly. His gaze dragged across the room in pieces, catching on Az, then me, then Evie. For one strange second, he looked almost lucid. Then his mouth moved.
“Don’t open it,” he whispered.
Evie stiffened in my arms. “Open what?” she asked.
I closed my eyes. Not now. Not this.
Topher’s eyes rolled shut again, but this time he didn’t look like he was falling endlessly through himself. He sank back into the pillow, exhausted, breathing steady enough that the nurse’s shoulders finally lowered.
Evie twisted slightly in my arms, trying to look at me.
“Luc.”
“No.”
Her brows drew together. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”
“I do.”
“What’s this Book?”
There it was. The question I did not have the strength, time, or clean enough conscience to answer.
Not while she was pale and shaking against me.
Not while Lilith had walked in here and could have done anything.
Not while Topher was still tethered to a relic I hadn’t yet put my own hands on.
And not while I was trying to keep everyone safe.
“Not right now,” I said.
Her eyes sharpened. And I was glad. Because that was better than faint.
“Excuse me?”
“You need to be in bed.”
“I need answers.”
“You need both. Only one is currently possible.”
Her mouth opened.
I looked at Az over her shoulder.
“Wards,” I said.
He straightened.
“Now. Every entrance. Every mirror. Every shadowed seam. If Lilith so much as considers returning, I want the penthouse to spit blood and alert me before she finishes the thought.”
Az nodded once. “I’ll need Liora.”
“Take her.”
“The Reliquary?”
“After the wards.”
Evie went still in my arms. “The Reliquary,” she repeated.
I regretted every word I had ever spoken.
“Luc.”
I lifted her carefully, taking the IV pole and all, despite her immediate, offended noise.
“Put me down.”
“No.”
“I just healed Topher.”
“Yes. That is why I'm carrying you before you attempt to resurrect the carpet.”
“I hate you a little.”
“Liar.”
“Don’t be smug. I’m furious.”
“I know.”
“Lucifer.”
Full name. Excellent. She was definitely recovering.
I carried her out of Topher’s room. The nurse hurried beside us, pushing the IV pole, muttering something about “absolutely not medically advisable,” which had become the unofficial motto of the entire morning.
Az stayed behind for one moment, watching Topher. Then he looked toward the hall, his expression hardening into purpose.
“I’ll find Liora,” he said.
“Now.”
He nodded once and went back down the corridor.
Good. I needed him to stitch teeth into every threshold of this penthouse while I carried Evie back to bed before she decided to heal the furniture out of spite.
Evie didn’t stop glaring at me the entire way down the hall. “I’m not a child.”
“No.”
“I’ m not fragile.”
“No.”
“You’re treating me like both.”
“I’m treating you like the woman who just lit up like a storm while still attached to an IV.”
“I helped him.”
“You did.”
That stopped her. Only for a second. Her anger faltered, replaced by something softer and far more dangerous to my ability to function.
“He looked so bad,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“I couldn’t just—”
“I know.”
Our bedroom door opened at my approach.
A small courtesy from the penthouse wards, or possibly from whatever remained of my patience imposing itself on reality.
I carried her inside. The room still smelled like her, sleep-warm and medicinal and faint berries beneath the sterile bite of the IV. Our bed was still rumpled from both of us.
I laid her down carefully, and she tried to sit up immediately. I placed a hand on her shoulder. She glared.
“Don’t press your luck,” I said.
“My luck? I'm surrounded by people who know things and refuse to tell me anything just because I’m pregnant.”
I had no immediate argument. I hated that.
The nurse adjusted the IV line, checked the tape on Evie’s hand, then gave me a look that suggested she was beginning to understand why everyone around me required medical care.
“She needs rest,” the nurse said.
Evie sighed, “All I’ve been doing is resting.”
The nurse didn’t smile. Professional woman. Strong under pressure. Possibly dead inside, which I respected.
“I’ll be right outside,” she said, and left the room with the dignity of someone choosing not to hear whatever argument came next.
Evie turned back to me. “What Book?”
I sat on the edge of our bed. Too close, because I couldn’t help it. Not close enough, because nothing was.
“Evie.”
“No.” Her voice shook. “No, don’t use my name like that. Lilith asked for a Book. Topher said not to open it. You and Az looked like someone had loaded a gun and handed it to a toddler.” She swallowed. “And don’t you dare tell me this has nothing to do with me.”
I looked at her. She was pale and exhausted and still shaking faintly from the magic she had called with no fear for herself. And she was furious with me. My mate and my ruin.
“It has everything to do with you,” I said.
Her face changed. I regretted it immediately, but lies were suddenly too heavy to lift.
“Then tell me.”
“I can’t.”
Her eyes flashed. “Can’t or won’t?”
“Both.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is the only one I have that won’t make everything worse before I understand what the hell I’m holding.”
She went quiet, and it wasn’t because she was calm. It was hurt. I felt it through the bond, a small, sharp pull that slid between my ribs and stayed there.
“You don’t trust me,” she said.
The words struck harder than Lilith’s little visit.
I leaned forward. “Don’t say that.”
“Then don’t make it true.”
My hands curled against my knees. For one terrible second, I saw a dozen futures branch from that room. All of them with me failing her differently.
“I trust you,” I said, each word measured because if I let too much of myself into them, they would break. “I trust you more than I trust any being in any realm.”
“Then why won’t you tell me?”
“Because you aren’t the only one listening anymore.”
Her hand immediately moved to her stomach. The anger in her face flickered. And I hated myself for using that, even if it was true. Especially because it was true.
I reached for her hand slowly, giving her time to pull away. She didn’t. And I wrapped my fingers around hers.
“Lilith walked into our home,” I said. “The First Light pressed against your dream. Topher is tied to something ancient enough to make both of them greedy. Until I know what can hear us, what can follow what we say, and what that goddamn Book is doing, I need fewer names in the air.”
Her throat moved.
“Names are how He finds things.”
Her brows drew together, but she didn’t interrupt.
“When He punished Ediphiel, He didn’t only send her away,” I said, and the name scraped something raw on its way out. “He took her page. Tore the record of her out of Heaven and left a wound where her name had been.”
Evie’s fingers tightened in mine.
“That’s a leash. A coordinate. A way to reach through the dark and put His hand on what He thinks belongs to Him.”
Her eyes widened.
“So until I understand what He can still touch, I don’t want to give Him anything else to grab.”
“Including me?” she whispered.
I leaned forward, kissing her lips and then pressing my forehead to hers. “Especially you.”
She looked down. Her anger didn’t leave, but it shifted. She let out a shaky breath like she had finally understood.
“This is terrifying,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“I hate this.”
“So do I.”
“You’re still pissing me off.”
“Good.”
Her eyes cut back to mine, and I said, “If you can get angry, you’re still here.”
She stared at me for a moment. Then her mouth trembled, not quite a smile, not quite a sob. “God, you’re impossible.”
“Historically.”
She looked down at our joined hands. “Topher said don’t open it.”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to?”
I didn’t answer.
Her eyes closed. “Luc.”
“I don’t know yet.”
It was the truth. A terrible one. But a truth.
I lifted her hand and pressed my mouth to her knuckles. “I’ll tell you what I can when I can.”
“That’s not enough.”
“I know.”
She breathed out, long and shaky. For once, she didn’t argue. And for reasons I couldn’t name, that made it worse.
I brushed my thumb along her wrist. “Rest.”
She opened one eye. “Say that word again, and I will turn this IV pole into a weapon.”
I smiled. “There she is,” I murmured.
She huffed, but the sound was tired. Too tired. That magic had cost her, even if she wouldn’t admit it. Even if she wanted to glare me into an explanation through sheer force of personality.
I eased her back against the pillows. This time, she let me. I pulled the blanket over her legs, then rested my hand over her stomach. Our daughters were quiet beneath my palm. Or perhaps I simply didn’t yet know how to listen.
Evie watched my hand. After a long moment, she whispered, “I healed him.”
“You did.”
“I don’t know how.”
“No.”
“Did I hurt the babies?”
My chest tightened. “No.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know.”
Her eyes lifted to mine, searching. I held her gaze. “They’re still here.” The words came from somewhere deep and certain.
Evie’s eyes filled, and I leaned down and kissed her forehead. Then her mouth, because I needed to. Because when I walked in that room, Lilith looked at her like prey. And because she had stood in that room shaking and brave and furious and mine.
The kiss stayed soft, but it was barely enough. Not nearly enough.
When I pulled back, she whispered, “Don’t leave me out forever.”
I closed my eyes. “Never.”
“Luc.”
I opened them.
“I mean it,” she said.
“So do I, Love.”
There was a knock on the bedroom door, and Malach entered to check on Evie.
The penthouse was waking up with movement.
Az and Liora were adding additional wards.
Vespera was somewhere below with Damien, unless she had already killed him for being irritating, in which case I would pretend to be surprised.
And I needed to find Thyronis and Morathis.