The Lariat (Finding Justus Series) (14 page)

“Did my dad know about…the way you
felt
about me this whole time? I mean, did he know we were…soulmates when I was younger?”

Cyrus’ brow mirrored the movements of his mind, “Telling one of your best friends that you are in love with his infant daughter doesn’t exactly fall off a man’s tongue. It doesn’t matter the circumstances. I didn’t love you then as I love you now. I waited for you.”

“Does it bother you, me being here?”

I frowned, “No. Should it?”

“I’m sorry, I am not speaking plainly.”  Cyrus took a breath, “Every one of us has the ability to choose who they are going to love.”

“Except us, is that it?”

“No, no. That wasn’t what I was going to say. Even having a soulmate doesn’t mean you have to be with that person. You may not choose who you love, but you can make the decision who you want to be with.”

I shook my head, “That doesn’t make any sense. I would never choose to be in love with two men. And I know I’m hurting both of you. There is nothing okay about this, but I don’t know what else to do.”

“Well, maybe you will soon. But Layla, I need you to be honest with me. Is my presence here, now, a problem since Orrin is now here with us as well? Does it bother you that we are both here? With you?”

I was so thick. How did I not know he was feeling insecure? I squeezed his hand awkwardly not knowing what else to do.

“It’s only you and me here now.” I looked around the dim hallway, lit only by the streetlights filtering through the windows. “I don’t see anyone else.”

Cyrus leaned in hesitantly. I lifted my head waiting for his lips to descend, and I wasn’t disappointed. Our kiss was short but there was nothing chaste about it. It was a promise of kisses to come. We lingered over each other, neither wanting to sever the tie. Cyrus had seeped into my heart and captured a piece that he already knew rightly belonged to him.

We climbed down the stairs and he told me a few stories about the church and the occasions it was used as a refuge for the three of them during their daemon hunting days. I was enjoying our privacy. The world outside those walls faded. The night watched us with eyes shrouded and teeth bared, a predator hunting its prey. Samael waited. Orrin waited. But I couldn’t bring myself to care about anything but the strong, beautiful man who, despite my good sense and reason, had stolen the battered pieces of my heart so swiftly. He was healing me with every smile, every kiss and touch of his hands.

I think I understood what he was getting at with his earlier question. Soon I would have to make a choice. When this scenario with Samael was over I would have to choose one man- Cyrus or Orrin. Both owned a piece of my heart, but which piece could I surrender. Which piece would I keep and which would become a memory? Which man would I keep and which would I throw away? That thought was like a razor slashing through me, giving me a small awareness of what my decision would really mean.

We exited the dark hallway and turned the corner to another leading to a familiar dead end. Cyrus flipped on the light as we passed a choir room, a few Sunday school classrooms, and the old photo of him from years ago.

“That was a heck of a mustache,” I pointed as he pulled me away.

His eyes slid to mine. His smile didn’t falter, “That’s fine. Laugh all you want. I’ve lived enough years to have gone through quite a number of fashion trends. Have you searched the internet for me yet?”

“Actually, I haven’t, come to think of it. We have been a little busy avoiding death and all that. And my phone is still in its box at the store, waiting for me to go and buy it.”

“Well, when you do, you will have much more to gape at than just my ridiculous mustache, believe me. And you have not resubmitted your thesis either.” Cyrus countered.

“My thesis is adequate.” I tapped the side of my head, “I’ve still got it all up here. I’ll put it back on paper soon enough.”

“If you aim for adequacy you will never be anything more than mediocre. You are the Beacon. Rise to the occasion for once in your life.”

I breathed heavily, “I do. I have. I…” I guess he got me there, “I’ll consider it. I don’t want to think about grad school right now. There are only two weeks left.”

“Exactly. Two weeks to improve it before you must defend it to more than just me. No more hiding, Layla.”

I grumbled but didn’t respond. We stopped in front of what looked like a broom closet. Cyrus raised his eye brows boyishly and jerked his head toward the door.

“Really?” I said eyeing him with mocked disapproval, but secretly I hoped he would throw me in and shut the door behind him, “I like the way your mind works.”

He reached above the door for a silver key that was resting on the frame. He couldn’t hear my thoughts, but he wasn’t clueless, “It’s not what you think.”

He opened the door and the room inside was in fact a broom closet. There wasn’t enough space for me and him to step inside. My face fell with the realization that making out in a tiny closet was never his intent. He was attempting to free something large from behind a shelf of cleaning supplies. It was a large flat object wrapped in sheets and tied with twine in the same fashion as the old tomes Kevin and my father were still reading in the balcony.

“This is mine.” He heaved it above his head and backed out of the closet. “I left this here many, many years ago. After I was the preacher, but long before I knew James and Kevin.”

He began to unwrap something the size and shape of a large picture frame.

The lights in the hallway remained off, but late afternoon sunshine still filtered through, so I was able to see exactly what he wanted to show me.

“Like I said. No more hiding, Layla. That extends to me as well. I didn’t want us to leave this church without showing you this.”

It was, in fact, a painting. The brush stokes revealing skin so flawless, so perfectly pure he must have been inspired by an angel.

It took me a few seconds, but when realization hit me I gasped, “She looks like…me?”

He nodded, but I paid him no mind. I stared in awe at the large canvas. The picture of a girl maybe my age, maybe a bit younger, with long dark hair and riveting brown eyes. Her head was slightly bowed, but her eyes were focused on something far away. Half of the girl’s face was shadowed, but it didn’t detract from the easy beauty or the grace of the image. I could see determination and self-assuredness, but only in her features that were touched by the light. The other side of her shadowed face captured her anger, pain and fear.

“It’s absolutely breath-taking.” I looked into his eyes, “Did you paint this?”

He nodded again.

“But how did you know what I would look like? If you painted this decades ago…how could you have known?”

He smiled, “I have always been able to see you.” I looked away from his intense gaze and he continued, “My heart, my soul and my life have always been fixed on you.”

My fingers touched the canvas though they itched to touch him. It was like staring in a mirror, except the girl in the portrait was infinitely more striking than I was. It was an impossibly perfect portrait. Of me. I couldn’t wrap my brain around it.

“The girl in this picture is beyond beautiful- you overdid it there. And half of her is concealed by darkness, and the rest, not. Just like me.” I was amazed at his skill. With nothing but time on his hands, he was able to become a master in many different arenas.

“I do have one problem though.”

He cocked his head and sounded appalled, “Really? And what would that be?”

“Well, it’s not very realistic.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The girl. She’s breathtaking. But she’s surrounded by darkness- it’s reached inside her even. It’s become a part of who she is.” It was me. I was describing myself now. I was in awe that he could even see me this way, “The dark, those shadows. Her face isn’t even visible through it. But you seemed to make them beautiful too. How could someone like that still be so lovely?””

He touched my shoulders gently, pulling me out of my stupor, “There is darkness in us all. You said as much when you were defending Orrin this very afternoon. Why can’t you see that about yourself too? The part of you that is concealed in darkness is just as beautiful as the rest of you.”

20

The whispers came in the night. They swirled around my head like morning mist. I lifted my head to see my entire group sleeping in a circle around me. A hard male body slept behind me with an arm tossed over my waist. I gently moved it and rose with as much early-morning stealth as I could muster.

The voices swooped around my head like buzzing insects swarming around me and herding me down the stairs. I remembered back to another instance similar to this one, when the voice of my mother was alerting me to a daemon in my house. She didn’t know if she should reveal herself to me. Up until that time I always thought she was dead. I thought she was visiting me as a ghost. It was much later she revealed the truth- she could never be the mom I needed growing up because she was actually an angel.

Since the revelation of my birthright, she has come back from time to time. But our mother-daughter bonding moments have passed. The times she had come, she was more like a confidant than a parent. But I do love her. After all, it’s not like I have another mother I can turn to- at least one who didn’t want me dead.

The stairs creaked announcing my descent into the sanctuary. The voices flowed behind me guiding me to the large doors at the front of the church. The iron handle was a midnight cold I hadn’t felt since before my birthright. There was a strange urgency within the voices around me. They didn’t feel menacing, but they were frantic. I turned the large deadbolt which kept the world from seeping in. I looked back over my shoulder. What I was about to do was wrong, and anyone of the people upstairs would try to stop me. I latched onto the handle and pulled.

Outside the doors everything was still and black. Night covered downtown sending all the tourists back to their hotel rooms. It was alive and listening. A lonely street lamp stood at the corner of the street to the left, to the right was a long dark paved street which lead to the river and the San Antonio business district.

If they could have pushed me out, they would have. Instead the voices beckoned, they pleaded, but from where I was, I could say no. Inside the church I didn’t have my strength, my powers or my obligations as the Beacon. But as a normal human girl, my curiosity got the better of me.

The slam was sudden, the moment I stepped onto the sidewalk. I screamed as I was hit from behind, or maybe pulled and sent into the shadow-covered street.

“
Layla,
” Cyrus’ voice echoed from inside as soon as my body hit the cracked pavement.

I stood quickly, wings extended and threw my arm out toward the door. Something instinctual had taken over me. Power left my fingertips, but it wasn’t a flame. At a full run, Cyrus crashed into some invisible shield. He rolled and quickly stood, his sword in one hand ready to fight. He felt along the empty space of the door frame trying to find the barrier that kept me from him but it was no use. I turned from the fear and uncertainty on his face. Whatever magic spell or ability I just used contained him and any other being within that consecrated space. I looked at my fingers not sure where that power came from.

“Layla, this is suicide. What are you doing?” I heard my father say from the doorway. He held a weapon too. I’d been standing in the street dumbfounded. I didn’t even notice they had all gathered in the doorway, banging on the invisible barricade keeping them safe from the danger that called to me.

“Let us out, Layla. He’ll kill you,” Kevin added. He was holding large vials of liquid. Holy water?

I will never let them out. This is not their fight
.
This fight is for us.
My daemon was ready, but for what? Was it time? Was Samael here? Was I ready to die? I couldn’t have freed them if they pleaded me. My obligation to protect them was just too strong.

The voices touched my face, not menacingly, more like the promise- but of what. I had to know. They begged me forward into the shadows of the moonlit street, beyond the church, beyond sanity, to where the light was afraid to reach.

“No,” I refused them. It was the only word I could manage. Like many other times before, whether it was my daemon or my angel, there was a part of me that wasn’t human, and it knew exactly what was coming. It knew exactly what to do.

“We can do this now. And we can do this alone,” I called out, shaking free of the deceitful voices, “You and me, freak show. What do you say?”

I would ignore his sad tormenting magic act and he would face me like the megalomaniac he was, “Come on, Samael. I know you’re there.”

The shadows were visible through the narrow slips of moonlight. They moved fluidly, coming down the buildings like a waterfall into a tight circle around me.

“Layla, don’t move from the light. Don’t let him touch you.” Cyrus warned slamming his fist against the solid force field.

The voices vanished and the shadows began to solidify like the black water in my apartment. It piled onto itself and solidified, turning to black bugs. The bugs began to merge together into thin shiny snakes, slithering further up forming legs, a torso, arms and a head. The mist formed and swirled to form a thick silvery cloak covering empty space where a face should be.

“Don’t look at him. Run, Layla. Run to us,” My father warned.

But it was too late. Samael’s features came into slow focus out of the darkness of the cloak he wore over his head. He was tall and thin, like the drawing from Dad’s old book, but his face was… captivating. Perfect. His skin was deathly pale, with skin pulled too tight over high cheekbones. He smile was seductive and his black hair curled slightly around his neck. The only thing he lacked were eyes. His sockets were empty cavernous pools.

He sees my fears. What are my fears?

He didn’t charge, or move at all- he didn’t need to. He could kill with a thought.

Samael.

My daemon within me cowered, its claws sinking into my bones urging me to bow before the ruler of Hell. Something else within me kept me upright, defiant and ready. His deep-set fathomless eyes couldn’t detract from his striking features. It seems he possessed his share of dark beauty.

But he was nothing to me. The ruler of nothing, least of all me.

“Finally, Layla” his voice was a slow and sweet like melted dark chocolate, “We meet.”

I smiled sarcastically trying to hide what I knew he could already see, “I agree. We should have totally made plans to do this before now.”

“You cannot say I didn’t try. I did send a messenger. I sought you at your home, after you came to see me at mine.”

“When did I ever…” I stopped. Was he talking about the trip into Hell or breaking in to the
Montrose
- did it matter? I had gone looking for evil. I shouldn’t have been surprised that it finally came looking for me.

Samael said nothing. Occasionally his skin crawled with the scurrying creatures trapped inside his flesh. I didn’t know if his appearance was a reflection of my fear, or if this was his true form.

“I don’t like it when people beat around the bush. You have now blown up my place of work, given my professor’s husband a heart attack, tried to kill my best friend and invaded my apartment. Quit with all this petty stuff and try taking me on for a change.”

“I can take credit for all of that except the heart attack. That was not me.” He raised his hand and I raised mine. Everyone behind us yelled. Samael answered, “No, no. Fighting was never my intention. If I wanted you dead I would have killed you already.”

“Don’t listen to him, Layla,” my dad hollered.

Ava was crying and holding Ben upright. Their faces as white as Samael’s.

Cyrus was seething, his knuckles were white around the hilt of his sword. I could feel his fury fifty feet away. He stood in front of everyone, his large tan wings spread wide covering the other four as if my shield wouldn’t hold.

“What do you want then? I got a lot on my plate these days, even without your kidnapping threat to worry about.”

His features fell, “You have made my life even more hellacious.”

“And how is that?” I asked honestly.

“You have spent three years in relative peace. Your actions brought upon a judgement that brought me no peace. I have had to listen to Lillith, my wife and your mother screaming all of my Kingdom down. Now normally I would not mind the torment, but I cannot stand her any longer. I am through with her. As soon as I have you with me, I will kill her and have you. You will rule Hell with me by my side.”

I shook my head and almost laughed, “No. No, I won’t.”

“You created this dilemma. And now you will be the cure to what ails me.”

“Run, Layla.” Cyrus, my father and Kevin all started screaming at the same time.

“Cover your ears!” and “Don’t let him say the words.”

The words. Oh, God.

I wasn’t protected. I was out of the sanctuary. I was the Beacon again. He could ask me. That’s all he had to do. Just ask, and I would be his. He was telling the truth and my heart pounded with that awareness. He never meant to fight me, and I realized his game too late.

Samael’s mouth moved in slow motion, “Layla, I’ve come here today to ask for your he-”

A sword cut through the air slicing Samael’s head in two. It faded into black mist and the creatures roiling beneath his skin rose up to reform his skull giving me the time I needed to recover.

I watched the moment in horror and then Orrin was there in the space between us.

“Did you not hear them say run?” He grabbed my wrist and jumped leaving Samael behind and my loved ones protected.

Before we disappeared to only God knows where, I saw my mother, her long hair, wings extended, surrounding Samael with three other angels each pouring forth a blinding light killing his darkness and his chance to ask for my help.

***

The cold northern wind hit my face. I was in Orrin’s arms standing on a small island in the middle of a river. We jumped from the dark San Antonio street to the cold river that ran through Providence.

Our river.

Pomham Rocks.

Oh crap. I can’t be in Providence!

“Orrin, the judgement. I can’t be here.” I tried to push away, but his was a grasp from which I never truly wanted freedom.

“Layla, calm down.” He held me out, looking over my arms and body, turning me around. “Did he touch you?”

“No. No, he didn’t touch me. I’m not that dumb.”

He grabbed me and shoved me hard, “
Damn you.”

“What the hell, Orrin?”

He paced, keeping his distance, “You were dumb enough to walk out and meet him. You
have
instincts. You
have
a brain. Why don’t you ever use them?”

I laughed away the tears that threatened. I had asked myself that countless times while I poured alcohol down my throat and ached for him. My eyes sparked and my hands glowed too, “Don’t push me.”

“Or what?” He threw back.

I wanted to, I really did. I wanted to unleash three years of rage onto him, make him burn from the fire that still burned through me. But I knew it already did, and it left him as angry and raw as it left me. My body ignited with those repressed emotions and I didn’t have a bottle to dive into.

Orrin held his hand, palm up, in front of me, “Layla, eyes up here.” He pointed to his face. His voice changed and I could hear the quiet intensity of his words, “Look at me.”

My breaths, ragged and heavy, echoed in my ears. My daemon was trying to crack through my shell of humanity. One more breath, one more angry thought and it would be here.

“Hey,” Orrin kissed my lips. “Breathe for me, baby. Just breathe and come back to me. Focus on me. On this,” He put my hot hand on his chest and grimaced from the burn, “I’m here for you. It’s me. You are safe. Everyone in that church is safe.”

His mouth moved to my neck and my other hand wound around his waist. Our skin was smoldering, but it wasn’t from my fire. His kiss burned me more than any flame ever could. He kissed me like there was no Samael and like there was no danger.

He’s kissing me like there is no Daisy or Cyrus. It’s only us.

The daemon in me rolls over, enjoying Orrin’s mouth on my skin. Our hands were everywhere. We breathed in each other’s exhalations, becoming light-headed and needy.

“I need to get you out of these clothes,” His fingers touched the skin under the hem of my shirt.

“I need…I need…” My daemon urged me on. I wanted Orrin so badly, but like always, timing wasn’t our thing. There was still Samael, the church, the painting…

Cyrus…

Orrin. I’m in Providence.

“Orrin, stop. I can’t be here. The judgement. Someone, somewhere will care.” I looked up waiting for lightning and fire to rain down from the sky, “I’m sure they already know.”

“Layla, your judgement was overturned. Remember? You walked through Hell to save Daisy and they overturned your judgment.”

My mind raced to recall the details. I don’t remember much from Balmorhea, except Daisy. I didn’t think that returning to Providence was part of the deal, not that I ever wanted to go back. It had always been Orrin’s place.