“I have no idea. It took every ounce of strength I had to resist her.”
“And just how much did you resist her, old friend? You seem particularly disturbed by her condition.”
“Because it is our fault. My fault. I handed her over to them, knowing what they could do to her!” he said furiously.
“That’s what we agreed to do. That’s why you took her to the Dark City in the first place, took her to Beloch. Granted, we had no idea that Beloch was Uriel. I wonder if he always was, or if Uriel simply took over the Dark City and the demon who controlled it.”
“I fail to give a rat’s ass,” Azazel snarled. Raziel’s soft laugh didn’t improve his temper.
“So you did as we agreed, and then you suddenly went in and took her back, infuriating Uriel in the process. Why?” He sounded more curious than censorious; but then, when the roles were reversed, it was hard for the former student to reprimand the master. Particularly when Raziel had contravened the law in much the same way not so many years ago.
“Because she …” Because she knew nothing? He had no certainty of that. Because she was someone else? He knew that wasn’t true—behind those bright, curious brown eyes and that mop of red hair was Adam’s first wife, the one who lay with demons and smothered infants. He knew it, when he wished he didn’t. “Because I wished to,” he finished lamely, trying to hide his truculence. “And I trusted my instincts.”
“And you didn’t consider that your instincts might be clouded by the Lilith’s powerful sexual thrall? Because I hate to tell you, it’s quite apparent you got sucked in, if that’s the operative word, by her.”
“I did not get—Damn you!” He whirled on him. “She’s dying, and you dare to make prurient jokes?”
Raziel shook his head. He wore his hair longer—thanks to his wife, it was now past his shoulders—and he wore it loose, so that it swirled in the light breeze. “Allie will save her. She’s not going to die, I can feel it. You could too, if you weren’t so caught up in your emotions.”
“I have no emotions.”
Raziel let out a bark of laughter. “Then why did you sleep with her?”
“Beloch—Uriel forced me.” And then he realized how totally ridiculous that sounded. Uriel hadn’t forced him to do anything he hadn’t wanted an excuse to do. He glared at Raziel once more. “I slept with her because I wanted to. Is that the answer you want? I told myself it was to see whether I could resist her, but we both know that is nothing but a lie. Whether I wish to admit it or not, I wanted her, and I have since … I’m not sure when. Since long before I offered her to the Nephilim.”
“Honesty is always good for the soul,” Raziel said lightly. “Trust in Allie. You trusted her enough to bring Rachel here, enough to put her in Allie’s hands. I think worrying about whether Rachel lives or dies is a waste of time. She’ll live. You’ve got something far greater to worry about.”
Azazel drew back to look at him. “And what could that possibly be?”
“What the hell you’re going to do about her when she does.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
IT WAS A VERY STRANGE FEELING. IT was as if I were being born, for the first time, for countless times. Yet I knew this was for the last time—it was one of the few certainties I had. No more names, no more lives. Just this one.
The fog of pain was slowly lifting. The world was coming back into focus, and I could see I was in a hospital bed, with all the requisite tubes going into and out of my body. I observed them with distant interest. It was as if they were attached to somebody else. This broken body had betrayed me by giving me so much pain, and I preferred to keep myself aloof.
I could smell the sea. I had always been afraid of the ocean, the pull of the riptide, the waves that could crash over you and beat you down into the suffocating water.
Odd, because I was accused of suffocating infants.
In fact, old memories felt more real than my current state, half in and out half of a pain-infused nightmare. I knew my curse now. Not to kill innocent children. But to catch them up and cradle them and carry them to safety when something ended their lives.
The untouched ones were the hardest. It was called many things—witchcraft, crib death, SIDS. I carried them in my arms and washed them with my tears, each loss as wrenching as if it were my own child. It was a cruel and monstrous punishment, but there was more to it.
I comforted the women who were barren. I held them in my arms when they slept and sang to them. I went to their husbands and whispered to them, and they would rise up and take their wives and sometimes, just sometimes, the women’s bellies would fill with the children they longed for. But too often they mourned, and the husbands went elsewhere, and I could only grieve with them.
I lay down with monsters. I had a body that was used until it wore out, and then I was given another, and then another, as the foulness of their bodies defiled my human one. Their members were misshapen, barbed, clawed, and hideous, and each night my body would tear in pain, in punishment. But that was over. Long gone, and this body was new. I remembered only the acts, not the way I had felt. I was spared that much as I slowly came alive again.
I lay down with human men, always on top of them. My sin was asking questions, and my punishment was great. I lay down with human men and used them because they wanted me to, and I felt nothing.
And I lay down with a fallen angel, and felt too much.
I kept my eyes half-closed, watching the woman as she moved around my bed. She was pretty, wearing a brightly colored dress that swirled around her ankles, and she looked happy. Had I finally found a place where people could be happy?
There was color everywhere—the blue of the sky outside, the rich brown of the woman’s hair, the rainbow dresses she wore. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed color during my sojourn in the Dark City.
Day turned into night and then into day again. At times I dreamed my enemy, my betrayer, was there watching me, and I wanted to cry out. But when I opened my eyes he was gone. It was only a nightmare.
