Archangel's Shadows (22 page)

Janvier drove them back not directly to Manhattan but to the Enclave lookout he’d brought her to on the bike. Leaving the car, the two of them walked to the edge of the cliffs and took a seat notwithstanding the snow, their legs hanging over the side and the Hudson flowing smooth and deep below them.

The Manhattan skyline glittered in the distance, the Tower a spear of light. The brilliance of it caught on the wings of angels who flew in and out, turned the glass of nearby skyscrapers into dazzling mirrors.

“Every time I go to Banli House,” Ashwini said, “I want to break her out, take her to some place better. Only the thing is, there is nothing better.”

Even Arvi had accepted that.

Tanu had round-the-clock care at Banli House and friends among the other long-term residents. She was never mistreated, the staff scrupulous in following the rules about not making physical contact with her unless she initiated it or it was absolutely necessary. When it was, only a small group of people were authorized to touch her, all individuals whose minds wouldn’t hurt Tanu.

If no one on the cleared list was available, Banli House called Ashwini or Arvi. And when Tanu was lucid and herself, the staff made sure she had access to whatever she wanted, be it the freedom to walk the pathways in the woods behind Banli House, eat a particular meal, or paint the hours away on a large canvas.

Once, she’d surprised Arvi by turning up to take him out to lunch. But that had been a long time ago. Tanu didn’t leave the grounds now, didn’t trust herself to remain coherent and rational for long enough. The voices were too loud.

Janvier held her gaze. “Your sister appears at peace.”

“Sometimes I almost believe it, but—” Shaking her head, she said, “I have to start at the beginning.”

Janvier turned sideways, placing one of his legs behind her, his knee bent so she could lean against him, and his hand warm on her nape. “I am here.”

“M
ost everyone,” Ashwini began, drawing strength from his unwavering support, “thinks my parents and Tanu all died in that car crash when I was nine. The truth is, only my mother and father died on impact. Tanu was badly injured but she survived.”

“That is the cause of the wounds to her mind?”

“No.” Terrible as that would’ve been, it wouldn’t have torn what remained of their family to shreds. “Before I tell you about Tanu, I have to tell you about our mother.”

Grief pulsed in her heart at the memory of her parents; it had dulled with time, but it would never leave her. Because while they had made mistakes, unable to understand a daughter who was so different from everything they knew, her mother and father had loved her, loved all their children. “You know my mother was a professor of literature—what I didn’t tell you is that she was like me, able to see into people with a touch.”

Placing one hand on Janvier’s thigh, the muscle warm and taut beneath her hand, she anchored herself. “Tanu had it, too. No one in our family ever acknowledged it, ever even joked about the way they’d both occasionally know things they shouldn’t. There was always a tinge of fear beneath the surface I didn’t understand at the time.”

“Wait.” Janvier ran his thumb over her nape, a scowl on his face. “Were you and your sister both in that place at the same time?”

Ashwini shook her head. “She was moved to a satellite facility when I was moved in. Because I grew up thinking she was dead, it was decided that my coming face-to-face with her would be too big a shock.” Everyone had already thought her unstable.

“But the thing was, a couple of the people who regularly interacted with me, touched me, had touched her, too. I thought I was going insane when I started getting flashes of her as if she were still alive.” For a while, it had convinced her to take the medication that made her feel so fuzzy and lost.

Unlike Tanu, she hadn’t needed the drugs. The medication had simply made things worse. “Then,” she continued, “I realized I only got the flashes near certain people and it began to make a terrible kind of sense.”

She’d confronted Arvi once she was free of Banli House, made it clear she knew the truth. “Arvi eventually told me Tanu had had a psychotic break a month before the car accident, had spent seven nights under psychiatric hold. She said the voices wouldn’t leave her alone.”

Ashwini couldn’t imagine Arvi’s pain as he watched his vivid, brilliant twin disintegrate in front of his eyes. Because the psychotic break couldn’t have been the first sign—and Arvi and Tanu were too close for Arvi not to have known. Ashwini would bet her life on the fact that Arvi had tried desperately to get Tanu help, that he’d fought to save her. But Tanu was already lost.

“As soon as she was mobile after the accident, my sister apparently went into the hospital bathroom and tried to slit her wrists.”

Janvier bit off a hard word. He might still never forgive Arvan Taj for what he’d done to Ash, but he could better understand the scars on the man’s heart that had led to the terrible decision to institutionalize a teenage girl who’d simply been a little different. He must’ve believed history was about to repeat itself.

“Arvi moved Tanu temporarily to Banli after her suicide attempt.” Ash looked out over the water, but he could tell she didn’t see the skyline beyond. “He thought it’d be a better environment for her than a hospital ward, but the temporary stay kept being extended. Each time they thought she was better, she’d go into screaming fits for days or try to harm herself.”

“I don’t understand why the fact that she lived was kept from you. Your grief must’ve been devastating.” Broken or whole, Tanu was Ash’s sister, was clearly
loved
by his hunter.

“Tanu didn’t want me to see her that way,” Ash said, her voice rough. “Directly after her first psychotic break, she told Arvi that if she was ever institutionalized, I was to be told she was dead.” Breathing in harsh gulps, she gripped his thigh more tightly. “And with the car accident . . . Arvi just said she’d died from unexpected complications.”

A lie, Janvier saw, that a heartbroken child would have had no reason to disbelieve.

“Neither Tanu nor Arvi has ever said so,” Ash continued in that voice shredded with pain, “but I think they wanted to give me a clean slate, no preconceptions about my future . . . because Tanu’s ability was stronger than my mother’s had been, and my mother had also begun to exhibit signs of mental illness in the months before the crash.” Agony in her every word. “I was meant to be the one who made it . . . and I turned out the strongest of us all.”

Staggered, Janvier saw that he’d been wrong, that until this instant, he’d had no real idea of the root of Ash’s fear about immortality. “You believe the older you become, the greater your chance of becoming as she is.” And a vampire’s madness could last an eon.

“It’s a certainty with our history. Tanu’s initial psychotic break happened at twenty-eight and I’m only six months away from turning the same age.” A long exhale. “It’s why I’ve always encouraged the other hunters to see me as a little kooky, a bit crazy.” Her smile was faint. “Not that I’m not, but I figured it’d make it easier to hide the first signs of degeneration.”

Refusing to listen, Janvier tugged her against his chest, his jacket open. She came, swinging up her legs to lie along the cliff edge, her head on his shoulder and one arm around him as they faced the city skyline.

“Two women in a family doesn’t equal an inevitable pattern,” he said, his heart tearing at the idea of losing his Ashblade to the insidious illness that had consumed her sister. “You said yourself that your ability is stronger than your sister’s, and yet you’re not showing any symptoms despite being so close to the age she was when she suffered her first psychotic break.”

Ash pressed a kiss to his chest, searing him through the fabric of his tee. “I can feel the darkness licking at me, whispering ugly, vicious things just out of my hearing. It’s coming.”

“
No.
I won’t accept this.” More than two hundred years he’d waited for her, and now she was telling him he’d lose her in a heartbeat? No.

“I tracked down my maternal grandmother’s medical records.”

Janvier’s blood turned to ice.

“I never knew her,” Ash said. “My mother told me she died when my mother was twenty-one. What she didn’t tell me is that my grandmother spent fifteen years in a psychiatric facility.”

He shook his head in mute denial, but Ash wasn’t finished.

“It was much harder to track my great-grandmother, but I finally found one of her girlhood friends.” A ragged breath, her body rigid against him, and he knew she was fighting the same rage and pain and screaming sense of loss that had him in its grip. “She told me my great-grandmother hung herself when she was about forty, after ‘the ghosts would not leave her alone’—as they hadn’t
her
mother.”

He knew what she was trying to tell him, didn’t want to understand it.

“I’m so sorry, Janvier. I should’ve stopped us before—”

“Don’t you say that. Don’t you
ever
say that.” He crushed her to him. “You were always meant to be mine.” His eyes burned, his chest so painful that it felt as if his heart had burst. “Whether it’s for a year or a century, it doesn’t diminish who and what we are together.”

Ash didn’t fight his hold, the kiss she pressed to the pulse in his neck an agonizing tenderness. “I’m yours.” Her fingers trembled as she curved them around the side of his neck. “Only ever yours.”

He couldn’t speak for a long time, and when he did, he had to see her face. Releasing her so she could sit up, he said, “No more walls, no more distance.” He wanted to shake her for keeping this from him for so long, for protecting him at the cost of the life they could’ve had together. “And never
any
apologies. Not between us.”

His fierce, beautiful, wild storm of a lover cupped his face in her hands, her own face strong and proud and so damn vibrant it was impossible to imagine her fading into a nightmare twilight. “No walls, no distance.” Raw power in every word. “You’re in my soul, Janvier.”

He wanted to say the same in return but his throat was too thick, too filled with the anger inside him.

Ash wouldn’t let him look away, wouldn’t let him hide his fury. “I want a promise, too.”

“Anything.” He’d split his veins for her, if that was what she wanted.

“If we’re going to do this, we do it full throttle.” The darkness of her eyes caught him, held him. “We live for today, not in mourning for the tomorrow that hasn’t yet arrived, and we don’t allow the rage to drown us.”

Jawbones grinding, he defied her to look out over the water, but if the Hudson held an answer for him, it was mired in the silky dark.

“Janvier.” Fingers weaving through his hair, his Ashblade’s arms around his neck. “I want to play with you as we’ve always played. No rules, no holding back. Don’t treat me as broken. Don’t do that.”

How could he deny her? He’d never been able to deny her anything. “Full throttle,” he promised, and it was the hardest promise he’d ever had to make, the anger inside him wanting to take over his skin. “I’ll show you things that’ll make you laugh in delight, scream in passion, cry for the sheer joy of it.”

Ash smiled in startled happiness at the words he’d first spoken to her on the train platform where they’d shared their first kiss and it was a beam of light piercing the oppressive dark. At that instant, he realized something else critical: his Ash would never permit herself to be imprisoned inside her own mind. She was a hunter, a woman who danced with danger on every job. When she felt the shadows begin to overwhelm her, she’d go out on a hunt one day and she wouldn’t come home, leaving him with memories of a beautiful lover who’d died doing what she loved.

No anguish like what she and her brother suffered as they watched Tanu deteriorate.

No lingering, agonizing loss. Just a clean, sharp cut.

What she didn’t realize was that he’d go with her, making a clean, sharp cut of his own. He’d lived more than two hundred years already, and the best of them, the
best
of them, had been the four since she’d entered his life.

The idea of going back to an existence where she wasn’t there anymore? He couldn’t do it. He’d never wanted to be a vampire to live forever. He’d done it for what he’d once believed was love, though he’d come to understand it for a false promise.
This
, this was love. The kind that forever changed a man.

If he survived Ash, he would no longer be the Janvier she knew—he’d be a man without a heart, his buried with her. In time, he’d become like the immortals he so despised, the ones for whom life held no meaning, and who’d attempt any cruelty in an effort to feel again.

No, whatever Ashwini’s life span, it would be his, too.

•   •   •

A
shwini knew that despite the promise he’d demanded from her, Janvier didn’t expect to come up to her apartment that night. He had too much honor to take advantage of her emotional state—but she needed him, wanted to greedily live every instant they had together now that she could go to him open and honest and without secrets.

“I’ll walk you up,” he said after parking his car in the illegal spot out in front of her building.

Taking his keys once they were through the doors, she threw them to the doorman, then dug out a generous tip. “Can you sneak the car into one of the underground parking spaces someone’s not using?” Not having a car of her own, she didn’t pay to keep a space.

“No problem.” Nic winked. “Mrs. Beachum’s in the Hamptons.”

“Thanks, Nic.” Not looking at Janvier, she walked to the elevators.

“Ash—”

“I don’t want to waste any more time.” She looked into the raw intensity of his eyes, allowed him to see her: skittering nerves, hot skin, muscles taut, she was a knot of want and need and ignorance. “I want to live, to kiss you, play with you, love you.”

He closed his eyes, shuddered. “I’m too selfish when it comes to you,
cher
, to try to convince you otherwise.”

Ashwini rose on tiptoe to run her lips down the stubbled edge of his jaw. “Good,” she whispered, her body humming at the proximity of his.

•   •   •

S
tepping into Ash’s apartment after the too-fast elevator ride that hadn’t given his spinning head and thundering pulse any time to settle, Janvier took his time in removing his jacket and dropping it on the back of one of her sofas. She did the same thing before leaning down to unzip and pull off her ankle boots. He hunkered down to take off his own boots, then watched as she walked to the glass wall that looked out at the city.

His heart felt bruised tonight, but he’d rather be nowhere else than here, with her, with his lover. Be doing nothing else than loving her, living a lifetime in a heartbeat. When his phone buzzed, he almost didn’t look at the message, but Ash turned and in her face he saw the reminder that, no matter what, the victim had a prior claim on their attention.

“Khalil,” he told her after scanning the details, “appears to have settled in for a night of public debauchery at Masque. Emaya and Mateo couldn’t get in, but a Tower vampire named Trace was already inside when Khalil went in, and he reports that while Khalil is currently indulging his appetites on the glass platform, he’s booked out a more intimate ‘playroom’ for the night.”

“Does Masque have security protocols to protect guests in the playrooms?”

“Adele’s security monitors all the rooms via a live feed.” He met her gaze. “This monster appears locked up for the night, and we’ve heard nothing back from the computer teams tracking the victim’s identity. I think,
cher
, the night is ours.”

She held out a hand.

Beyond her, the falling snow blurred the hard edges of New York, made the Tower in the distance a smudged beam of light and the other buildings luminous shadows. It was the perfect background to silhouette her beauty, her resilient strength in the face of impossible odds. When he reached her, she led him into the privacy of the bedroom, the world beyond locked out the instant she closed the curtains over the balcony doors.