Fire & Shadows Read online

  She knew that Jade was something other, something extraordinary, something that could chill a room as well as burn it up. Nanan at first thought she would send her away, afraid of the consequences, afraid of pain rocking her household again. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. And even with her heart aching, Nanan didn’t regret. She did regret, however, Connor falling in love with Jade even though all she ever wanted was for him to find love and all she ever thought for Jade was to find happiness. They had found both in each other. And for a time, that brought Nanan joy. Now, it cut the pain deeper, straight to her bones. Because now Connor was in love with Jade, and people in love did terrible, reckless things. She had hoped that the warning to him about the risk to his life would derail him, would cower him. It hadn’t. He held steadfast, stood straighter. It made Nanan curse herself. She never should have said anything. She should’ve kept her secrets. However,But she knew deep down that she wanted Connor to keep loving Jade. She didn’t want to be alone in her fight to find her, to save her from whatever fate had done to her.

  She wanted Connor to risk his life, because he was her only hope. She loved Jade that much. She loved Connor too... and that was why she hated herself for wanting him to make this choice. She wanted him to reject the idea, but his response only tickled a hope in Nanan. And the fact that she wasn’t shooting the idea down herself proved that she wasn’t a decent old woman. She was selfish. But she did want this, and she knew that Connor would want to help too. She just wished there was another way.

  She just wished it didn’t have to be him. And even with all her wishing, she sat back against the stone of the crypt, and thanked the Spirits for their answer because at least now, she had something.

  13

  DESI

  DESI STOOD OUTSIDE of Connor’s door wringing the dishtowel. When Matt came, she thought it was a good sign that Connor was going to move on. He had a friend. But then under the pretense of school work, they had locked themselves away in Connor’s room for hours every day. Books stacked high, papers everywhere, and in the center of it all were those damn worn pages with the symbols etched along the front. When Desi had seen them, she nearly tore into the room to snatch them away from her son. Instead, she stood at the doorway, mouth open, staring. Connor had caught her gaze and shoved them into a nearby drawer. Once it was out of sight, she took a breath, but the relief was short lived when she saw the desperate gleam in his eyes. As if he was being consumed by the pages like her husband had been. As if the pages were stealing him away from her.

  Connor’s door opened with a swing and Desi jumped back, blinking.

  Connor looked at her thoughtfully. “Do—do you need something, Mom?” She tried to peek into the room, but Connor closed the gap so that she could only see him.

  “No, darling. Everything okay up here?” she asked, but she knew. Nothing was okay. Nothing was okay at all.

  “Yep, we’re good.” He gave a halfhearted smile and stepped back in his room to close the door. He waited on the other side of it, waited to hear her footsteps on the wood in the hallway walking away.

  She swallowed hard and wiped at her eyes.

  She couldn’t lose him. Not like this. Not drowning in papers and fueled by obsession. Not like her husband. As she stepped into her bedroom and looked back down the hall, she felt a sob building in her chest. What if it was too late?

  14

  CONNOR

  MATT TOOK OFF his glasses and rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand, three books open on top of each other on his lap. “I know I am practically a genius and all, but seriously, even this is weighing down on my nerves.”

  “No, really? You mean this whole ‘let’s figure out how the hell the world is going to end’ is a bit more taxing than physics?” I rolled my eyes as he looked at me aghast.

  “Have you ever studied physics?”

  “No.”

  “Then don’t be a smart ass.”

  I grinned. I suddenly wished that I had talked to him sooner in school, so that we would have had years to be like this. Perched in my room and studying, laughing. I sighed. Too late for that. I ran my finger under a new symbol. “Hey, check this out. Have anything on it?”

  I stood up and crossed the room so that he could see the page. He squinted at the page before putting his glasses back on. Scanning the page, he quickly found it. “Oh, yeah...I think I saw it.” He looked down at the books on his lap, the scroll of text and the notebook propped on the nightstand. I found it a small wonder that he could somehow balance, shuffle, and search between all of them without one falling. “Right here!” His right finger pointed to the same symbol on the text, and his other hand held up the notebook before his eyes.

  “Soul Bound.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, when I pulled apart the meanings of the lines and symbols in other parts of the text it meant To Unite Souls.”

  “Is—do you think that is what happened to Jade?”

  “I—I don’t know.” He peers back down at the page. “I mean... is it that Dejanira is in fact a completely separate entity? Or is Dejanira the manifestation of the demonic part of Jade?”

  I blinked at him, hoping that this was one of those questions he would splutter out the answer to, but he just blinked back at me. “I don’t know.”

  Matt hit his forehead with the notebook and let his head fall back exasperated.

  “What’s the difference? I mean...how will that help us?”

  “It means, numb-nuts, that either we need to figure out how to undo the Binding, or figure out how to suppress Jade’s demonic nature.”

  “Well, I think that is what she has been doing this whole time...suppressing it.”

  Matt looked back down at the page and let out a long sigh. “From what I understand, neither have zero consequences.”

  I waited for him to continue, but it looked by the slight flush of his cheeks that he didn’t want to. “Well?”

  “Both could mean...that Jade is, I mean, from what I can tell, both...would, um, ruin Jade.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Well, the unbinding seems to be against nature and will strip the souls of part of their essence, and the suppression can lead to such a weakening of the dominant entity that it...dies.”

  I slumped back into my chair. Dies. Jade could die. I combed my hands through my hair and pulled, frustrated. “Dammit.” I clenched my fist and bit down hard.

  “Hey, hey! Don’t go all cannibalistic on me. This is just what I am gathering so far. I am sure there is more in here... something that will keep Jade... your Jade.”

  I dropped my hands into my lap and sat up straight. My Jade. I breathed in deeply. He watched me, probably seeing the cogs in my mind slowly jostling themselves back into place and back into life. “My Jade,” I said aloud... I wanted to hear it aloud, just because I liked the sound of it. Just because it riled up a host of feelings, and all I wanted to do was to fight and protect and to see my Jade again. “Keep reading. I have to go talk to someone.”

  15

  JADE

  IT HAD BEEN two days of walking. Two days of frustration and searching. Two days of muffled curses and cold soggy footprints. “I know we are close to the line,” Giovanni said, stopping ahead of me. He was a massive creature amidst bare tree limbs.

  “How do you know?” I didn’t approach him. I stood in an icy puddle, unmoving, waiting for whatever he was going to say.

  He closed his eyes slowly and rolled his shoulders. His face twisted into a foul curve of lines all smooshed together. “I feel it,” he said through gritted teeth. “It’s like an… emptiness in the air, sucking at me.”

  I looked around, practically expecting leeches to be floating in the air, their mouths gaping and poised for attack. I felt nothing but crisp, cold air biting at my nose and fingers. “I don’t feel anything,” I said, still looking around.

  Giovanni studied me before exhaling, “No. You probably wouldn’t.”

  “What do
you mean?”

  “The demonic energy wouldn’t rob from you like it would—” He paused, his eyes flicking to me then away.

  “Someone who isn’t of demonic origin?”

  At first, I didn’t think Giovanni would respond. He looked uncomfortable and uncertain. Then he said, “Right.” Giovanni looked toward the sky, body alert. I craned my neck to look, too. He let out a relieved sigh, hoisted his pack off his back and started to remove the weapons strapped to every limb. “We haven’t been followed in a while. No one is trailing us. We need to train.”

  Train. I wasn’t in the mood for humiliation and pain. “Sure.” I also wasn’t in the mood for dying in the near future because I was incompetent. I pulled off my own pack slowly. I was going to take my time. Delay the inevitable.

  He didn’t wait to attack. My pack went flying, just as his palm slammed into my throat, and I was flung back. My head snapped back in a loud crack. Training had begun.

  Giovanni stepped forward and I flinched back. I may have been trying to pretend I was ready for another drill, another round of torture, but my body wasn’t. It still remembered each blow, and it didn’t want more. Giovanni clenched his jaw, his lips pressing into a hard line. He closed the gap between us in three long strides so that our bodies were only inches away from each other. Too close, too close...my heartbeat screamed. Too close.

  Giovanni’s nostrils flared. He was angry. I could always tell when he flared his nostrils or narrowed his eyes that something was building within him and he would explode into anger... as if his emotions were volcanic in nature. His body shed heat like a raging fire; it rose off him in waves. His chest was heaving in great breaths. He was a beast poised for attack. I took another step back, feeling my body healing itself, but not fast enough. Never fast enough.

  Giovanni did not strike out in a rage though; instead, he swallowed hard, the violence seeping out of the blueness of his eyes into something more tender and soft. His jaw clenched and his chest rose and fell in a faster rhythm. “Don’t—move,” he said, his voice catching on its own roughness. He took my elbows into his palms, squeezing them gently. The motion brought our bodies closer. I held my breath, bracing for a surprise attack. Instead, he closed his eyes, leaned his head back and whispered something softly to the air. The words where long vowels, melodic and lovely. As he spoke, the heat that drifted off him intensified and reached for me, wrapping us both in his cobalt aura of energy. It was a whirlwind of heat, of lightning, of something tangible and powerful, like strong hands were tracing my body with sweet caresses and fixing the broken pieces. The heat was its own sensual, delicious energy and it held me close, soothing me into an intoxicated state of euphoria. I let out a sigh, muzzling the heat, reaching out to grab it and pull it closer. I leaned into the feeling; it was a sensual heat of power and healing. I could feel my body regenerating. ; it didn’t occur to me I was leaning into him.

  When he suddenly stepped away, I found myself pitching forward unsteadily. I fell square into his chest, my fingers clenching is forearms. I looked up at him. His eyes were alight with surprise and vulnerability. He looked younger somehow. He looked like someone who could be my friend and not someone who terrified me. He looked...familiar. I cocked my head to one side and narrowed my eyes. Giovanni’s momentary shock dissipated and hardened into his familiar set of lines. He pushed me upright. I felt invigorated; my senses sharpened.

  “What—what just happened?” I asked, looking at my flexing fingertips, suddenly aware that all ten of them could be lethal.

  “I shared my energy with you.” He stepped back a few steps as if I would reach back out and steal more.

  “Does that—make you weaker?”

  “No,” he said simply. “You needed it. You needed a bit more of Seraph on you. A bit more warrior.”

  “Why didn’t you do that before?”

  He looked agitated then. “Maybe I hoped you wouldn’t need coddling. Maybe I—”

  “All right! I get it. You were hoping for something better, stronger, more powerful. I got the memo.” He had shared his energy with me. The idea rocked me harder than the experience itself. How did that even work? What did that even mean?

  I stared at Giovanni for a moment, and for the first time, noticed a slight shift in his weight, an uncomfortable slant of his shoulders. His wings were tucked under his trench coat, but I could see where their bulk added to the size of his shoulders. I had never seen them released, but I would find feathers around camp the size of my forearm. They were as soft as clouds and I remembered thinking what a strange match the two were: feathers that were soft attached to a man who was unyielding.

  I had taken a feather and hid it in my backpack. I didn’t tell him that I would take it out and run my fingers over its length to be comforted.

  I met his unreadable eyes in the silence. He thought me weak, but kept pushing me. I wish I was unstoppable and fearless, and yet, with the energy simmering just on my skin, I almost felt that I could have that wish.

  “Thanks for the angel mojo, Seraph.” I set my shoulders. This wasn’t about humiliation. About pain. This was about not staying down. I was part Seraph. Part warrior. I was going to save the people I love no matter the cost. I curled my fingers into fists and crouched down low, ready to strike. My breathing was a seamless line of silent inhale and exhales. My muscles taut with anticipation, not fear. I nodded to Giovanni and with an even whisper, I said, “Again.”

  His strike was precise and brutal, but this time, I did not fall. This time, I was ready.

  It had been almost a week of drills and marching north. Every day, I felt stronger, more determined. The sword felt solid in my hands, the footwork felt like a seamless dance, my punches made impact and I was relentless. I would feel my body break, rebuild and fight through the pain, gritting through my teeth and laughing at the blood dribbling down my chin. I rarely won, but I no longer was helpless. Giovanni rarely acknowledged my improvement. He would just stop, nod, and say “Enough.” Just a small slant to his mouth would betray him, an ever-so-slight grin, and a casual gaze that seemed to last two seconds too long.

  He still watched me every night.

  We had already made camp for the evening. I sat curled on my side of the fire, eyes shut while he sat contemplative and brooding on his side. I heard the crinkle of leaves before I felt the cold metal against my throat. Giovanni had done this before, and the last time, I had made a fool of myself, but I was not prepared to fail again. I feigned sleep as I felt his heat press into me. In one swift motion, I knocked the sword up and away from me, rolled out from under him, and slammed my heel into his chest. I didn’t stop. I lunged forward and my fist connected with his jaw in a loud crack. He stumbled back, dazed. I didn’t back down. I came at him again, ripping his coat off him, twirling it into a makeshift rope as I catapulted over him, snagging his neck in the trap, choking him. He gasped. I doubted I actually hurt him, but the shock from my orchestrated blows must have flustered him.

  “Surrender?”

  “N—no,” he choked out. He snapped his head back, cracking the back of mine. The pain sent a shot through my body and I released the jacket that was choking him. He swirled on me, caught me up by my shirt and pinned me against a tree decorated with frost. His body pressed against mine, but there wasn’t anger in his eyes. He wasn’t even moving to strike or choke me; he just held me there, his breathing a ragged hot mess. A choked laugh spilled out of him. “Oh, Jade...” There was laughter in his eyes and a half smile on his lips. He raised his hand to my cheek and stroked it with his thumb. The affectionate gesture caught my breath. I froze, but as his laughter stopped and he leaned in closer, his breath and heat so close and invading, I flinched back.

  Giovanni blinked as if I had slapped him out of his stupor. “I—I didn’t—you...” He let go of me and stepped back. “You did... very, very well.”

  At first, I wanted to say that I liked the sound of his laugh. I also wanted to ask what was that look in his eyes whi
le he leaned into me. I said neither. “Shaping up, aren’t I?”

  He turned away from me. “Yes, yes you are.”

  16

  GIOVANNI

  THE GOLD SPIRES curled and twisted, reaching beyond stars and clouds as if they could pierce the universe itself. The city was gold too, shimmering and gleaming, shaming the Earth and its dullness. The roads twinkled like iridescent stones, and the glass spanned entire streets. The whole city of Heaven was a masterpiece of brilliant yellow and light. We didn’t like shadows in Heaven. We were sure to have star lamps everywhere twinkling at us so we knew that there wasn’t anything lurking. In the parades coming home from battle, the city would gather and toss the white celiza blooms at our feet. White petals rained on the marching soldiers. We didn’t cover our wings. We marched in proud, even when our gold breastplates were dented or bloody. Our wings would be perched high on our shoulders, but it was only the General whose wings were outstretched, fanning out to block the view. Samael. He was the true glory, the true pride. He was the gleaming streets and the high spires. He was the soul of our city. I always looked at him with admiration, always stared after him and wished to be closer. Because the closer you were, the more you could taste glory—something sweet and real and all consuming.

  That day, I stood behind the breadth of his wings, only beside two others. Only behind him by three strides. The glory, the light and the pride were so close I could almost taste it, almost smell it as it clung to me. He waved to the rest of the angels outside. His long blond hair had a shock of silver streaked at his temples. His days for battle would soon be over and I would be there ready to take his place. Just one more mission. Just one more task. Just one more kill, and then the glory would be mine. I rolled my shoulders back imagining what it would be like to stand at the head of this army, to be able to reach my wings out and let the glory spill out on me like heavenly rain. Movement caught at my eye. One of the blooms had tucked itself into the ridge of my armor. Celizas. Beautiful white blooms with large swooping petals, waxy green leaves and mounted crystalline centers. I smirked. I would miss these looms on blooms when I left for Earth. I sneered at the thought. Earth and its lowly civilization and all the wretched souls. I was repulsed by the thought of them, but I would take any mission. Anything to lead this army. Anything to find my own place within those dazzling curling spires.