Rebel (13 page)

Thank God he didn’t hesitate. People often took my visions with a grain of salt, questioning me, trying to find a different interpretation. But Raziel didn’t take chances with his beloved, and he tore up the main flights of stairs like a madman, with me on his heels.

Others joined us as we raced up those endless stairs—Rachel, Tamlel, and . . . goddamn it, Cain—but I couldn’t slow down or even think about them. We had to get to Allie before the unthinkable happened.

Why did they have to live at the very top of the great house? It seemed to be taking us forever to reach their rooms, but Raziel never slowed, and neither did I, and in truth, it would have taken just as long for him to run outside and fly up there. When we reached the landing I wanted to collapse in breathless exhaustion, but instead I followed Raziel as he slammed open the doors and strode in.

I heard his cry of agony a moment before I got there. Allie was lying on the floor, unconscious, one arm protectively around her belly even in sleep. But it wasn’t sleep, and Raziel was scooping her up,
cradling her against him, and the second vision hit, harder than the first one, a slice of pain so deep I cried out.

She was safe. The baby was safe. The dark presence was gone, scared off. But not gone far.

And then it left me, as everything else abandoned me, strength and muscles and will. I couldn’t breathe—all my air had been expended on the mad dash up countless flights of stairs—but I managed something.

“They’re all right,” I gasped. “We got here in time.” And then I gave in to the blackness, falling.

I
WAS SAFE.
Warm. Protected. I hadn’t felt that way since Thomas had died, and in the lush darkness I reached out for him. But it was different, more encompassing, somehow more intimate, and I sank deeper, letting myself be soothed and pampered, no need to run and fight and hide. Safe. I could stay there forever, I thought dreamily.

“Is Martha all right?” I recognized that voice, even through the heavy mists that swirled around me. Raziel. What had been so important? It didn’t matter now—all was well, the danger had passed.

My face was pressed against a warm shoulder; hard arms were holding me with unexpected gentleness. Not Thomas. Thomas was dead. I needed to wake up.

But I didn’t want to. Visions often did this to me, and I had had two of them in quick succession. It was as if I were covered in a dark, viscous cloud, something to keep me still and safe while I recovered. But this time I wasn’t alone. This time I was cradled safely, and I could let the cloud in, to heal me. I didn’t have to fight it.

It felt strange, the ripples dancing through my body, chasing out the danger, and the heat of the one cradling me was like a warm blanket. The heat between my legs, the sensitivity in my skin, the longing . . .

And then I knew who held me so tenderly, so at odds with his teasing, taunting nature. It was Cain. But why him? Why now?

I struggled toward the light, toward consciousness. I couldn’t let this happen. I couldn’t let him hold me while I healed. I couldn’t—

“Be still,” his voice whispered in my ear.

For some reason, my body obeyed, wiser than my troubled mind, and I let the darkness close in once more.

I
T WAS DARK
outside my window, only the faint glow of the one lantern illuminating my perfect garden, and I was alone.

I managed to sit up. The small light by my bed
was enough for now, and I shoved my curls out of my face. My hair was growing more and more out of control, and no matter how I tried I couldn’t flatten it into obedience.

I had a mild headache, not nearly as bad as the usual aftermath of two such clear visions, and I pushed the covers aside, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. So far, so good. Allie and her baby were safe. We had gotten there in time, and that was what mattered.

Who would want to hurt Allie? Who would want to rip away the first sign of hope for the Fallen?

Cain was the obvious answer, one I resisted. It wasn’t him. Cain was capable of all sorts of underhanded behavior, but I instinctively knew this was one thing that would cross his own particular, twisted sense of honor.

I wanted to laugh. The thought of
Cain
and
honor
in the same sentence was absurd. But I could only go with my gut instinct. He wouldn’t hurt Allie. He wouldn’t make war on women. Except, perhaps, me.

I pushed myself to my feet, standing for a moment on weak, shaky legs. I knew who had held me when I’d fallen in Allie’s room. I knew who had brought me here, tucked me into bed. I could still feel him, feel his hot, smooth skin all around me, and I needed to wash away the sensation before I did something stupid. I needed the cold, bracing waters of the
ocean to bring me to my senses, to restore and strengthen me.

I was wearing a long, loose nightgown that covered me from neck to ankle. I didn’t want to consider who’d dressed me in it—the possibilities were too disturbing. I took a robe from my closet and moved slowly to my door. Cain wouldn’t hear me—my less-than-perfect instincts told me that much. I was alone in the annex.

Forced to hold on to the wall as I made my way down the endless corridors that eventually led toward the sea, I paced myself, stopping to rest every now and then. Sheol was asleep for the night. I could move about with no fear of being seen.

I stepped out into the night air and paused, taking it in. A warm breeze danced across my skin, bringing with it the smell of the ocean in all its wildness, something that couldn’t be controlled or tamed. It felt like a caress, one I wasn’t going to compare to any other caresses—this was feather light and soothing. Oddly enough, it started the same ache inside me, the same tension and yearning that had been haunting me since I’d first dreamed of Cain, the same ache that had intensified with his presence, with each time I’d seen him. I wanted him, I might as well admit it, and it was never going to happen. I walked down to the water, then glanced around me, considering. On rare occasions I would swim naked,
if I could be absolutely sure no one would see me. My luck hadn’t been good of late, and I dropped the robe on the sand and walked straight into the water in my nightgown, its skirts flowing around me as I dove beneath an oncoming swell.

The icy ocean closed over my head, and suddenly I felt alive again, my whole body jump-started like a car with a sluggish battery. I shot up into the air, and I could breathe for the first time since I’d been in Raziel’s top-floor apartment. I flipped backward, moving through the water, letting it cradle me, and I wanted to laugh out loud. At times like this I was a goddess, and anything was possible. I was all-powerful, and I would live forever. I looked up into the scattering of bright stars overhead, and the vastness of everything soothed me. I turned and dove beneath an approaching wave, moving deeper into the water’s embrace, a goddess of the sea, a mermaid. I lived in a world of demons and fallen angels and blood-eaters, monsters like the Nephilim, and yet mermaids and fairies were nothing but stories. It wasn’t fair.

The water was too cold to stay in for long, and I started toward the shore in long, clean strokes, standing when I was close enough. I was walking out of the water, my gown plastered against me, before I realized someone was standing on the beach, watching me. And I knew who it was.

C
AIN STOOD STILL, DECEPTIVELY
relaxed and loose-limbed as she moved closer, her eyes meeting his before skittering away. “You certainly pick odd times for a swim,” he said, deliberately casual. “I was about to come in after you.”

“Why?”

“I was afraid you were going to drown yourself.”

She laughed. He wasn’t sure if he’d heard her laugh before. He found the sound surprising. Enchanting. Damn it. “The only bad thing in my life is you, and you’re hardly worth dying for. I simply happen to love the water. I find it healing.”

That startled him for a moment. “It can’t be. You’re not one of the Fallen.”

“I realize that. It doesn’t heal me in a physical way, but it soothes my soul and centers me.”

“I see.” It wasn’t all he saw. She had gone swimming in her long nightgown, and now it was plastered against her body, outlining everything. Her dark, cold nipples pressed against the wet cloth, and if he put his mouth on her he would taste cool salt water before he warmed them with his breath. He could see her lovely legs, the lines of her body, the enticing shadow between her thighs.

“Seen enough?” she said pleasantly. He was holding her robe, just in case she felt like stripping off the dress, but she simply took it from him.

“Not nearly.” She wouldn’t know it, but he could see the scars. Something had ripped across her belly, and if the claws had gone deeper they would have gutted her. Another tear across her shoulder, across the plump curve of one breast before sliding beneath the other. The Nephilim. He knew without having to see them that there were scars on her back as well, and he wondered what she would do if he asked her about them. They were cruel and terrible, for all that they had healed, and he understood her well enough to know they haunted her.

He wasn’t such a fool as to break their sudden accord. “So I gather you’re feeling better?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?”

“You were pretty well wrung-out this afternoon. Do visions always take that much out of you?”

She cast a suspicious glance at him. He was being
careful—at this point he was looking for information, not a shag.

“Not always. They’re usually even worse.”

He considered that, then filed it away for future use. “Did you eat anything?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Don’t bother lying. I know you’re starving.”

“Then don’t bother asking,” she shot back. “I’ll survive.”

“Won’t the magic vending machine of the Sheol kitchens make whatever you want suddenly appear? They’ve always been twenty-four/seven, though I’m damned if I can figure out how they work.”

“I hate to point out to you that you’re already damned,” she said sweetly.

He gave a bark of laughter. “So I am. How tactful of you.”

“You don’t respond to tact. You don’t respond to threats. You don’t respond to anything,” she said. “I can’t get rid of you.”

I respond to you, little girl,
he thought, keeping his expression bland. “And why should you want to? I’m handsome, charming, and available. Why not enjoy yourself for a change?”

She raised an eyebrow. The salt water had made her brown curls even wilder around her face, and he was having a hard time reading her. “If I were looking for something enjoyable, it certainly wouldn’t involve men.”

He gave her a curious glance. “I thought you weren’t interested in women?”

He’d managed to puncture her newfound calm. “I’m not interested, as you put it, in anyone. Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Maybe because you’re so damned cute.”

He knew she wanted to hit him, hard. And he knew she didn’t want to touch him. Hitting him would lead to sex as surely as a kiss would.

He kept his distance. Hell, he’d nearly been blown off his feet the last time he touched her. Sooner or later they were going to have to finish this, when the time was right. But not now.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said.

If anything, she grew more wary. “What about?”

“About your vision.” She had wrapped the robe around her wet gown and started toward the house, and he easily kept pace with her. “What exactly did you see?”

She cast him a suspicious glance. “Why? What are you trying to hide?”

He sighed audibly. “A great deal, but nothing concerning the Source.”

“Next thing I know, you’ll say you don’t prey on helpless women.”

She managed to startle a laugh out of him. “Do you really see yourself as helpless?”

She considered it. “No.”

“Agreed. The Source, however, is currently bedridden with the most unlikely pregnancy since the virgin birth, and someone got to her much too easily. What did you see?”

She paused at the threshold of the great house, looking at him with frustration. “Haven’t you heard about me? How worthless and piss-poor my so-called visions are? They’re almost never clear, never precise. This time I was simply shot with a sense of overwhelming dread, and I saw Allie lying on the floor, clutching her belly, blood pouring from between her legs.”

“But that didn’t happen. We got there in time.”

“Exactly. The vision wasn’t a true vision of the future, it was a warning of one possibility. An imminent possibility, and if I’d been asleep, I might have thought it was simply a nightmare. I have enough of those.”

He wondered whether she considered the erotic dream he’d sent her a nightmare. He’d give a lot to know what Martha’s nightmares were, and if they had anything to do with the scars that slashed across her pale skin. “But you were awake, and you knew, and you got there in time. No need to bother with what-ifs. This time the vision saved her.”

If she was grateful for his encouragement, she didn’t show it. “It could have been better! It could have at least given me a hint as to who threatened her, and why.”

“Life is seldom that convenient. What about the second vision?”

Now she was really suspicious. “How did you know I had a second one?”

“I have eyes, Martha. I was there. What did you see then?” Too late he realized he’d slipped and called her by her real name. With luck she wouldn’t notice.

“Nothing specific. Just the clear knowledge that the baby was healthy, that the vile concoction hadn’t touched it. I’ve known that all along—that the baby and Allie would come through this pregnancy alive and healthy—but Allie’s too afraid to believe me. She doesn’t even need bed rest, at least not for the sake of the baby. Rachel sent her to bed because Allie was worrying too much, and this forced her to relax.”

“It seems to me it would give her even more time to worry.”

“We take turns distracting her. Someone is always with her.”

“Not today.”

Martha frowned. A delightful little moue that he wanted to kiss, but he kept still. “No, not today. Rachel said she felt Azazel call to her. It was something inconsequential, but she was gone long enough for this to happen. Someone knew what they were doing.”