His shoulders hunch, and then he looks almost angry. “I don’t believe you. The utter lack of consequences, of conscience, is what makes it fun. Perpetual irresponsibility…what could be better than that? To give it up for a mere girl…”
I shoot him a dangerous look and he holds up a hand.
“If you’re set in your course, I’ll not sway you,” he says, deflated. “Your secret is safe with me.”
I believe him. Not that I have a choice. Time will tell how foolish I am to bare my soul to a demon.
I drain my glass in one gulp and set it down hard. “Give me some money.”
Ambri frowns. “What for?”
My eyes widen.
“I meant, how much does my lord require?”
“All of it.”
He rummages in his coat and pulls out a wad of American money. I take the entire roll—several thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills by my cursory count—and stuff it in my trouser pocket.
He sighs dramatically. “I had plans with a lovely little tart this evening…”
I smirk; he’s a dramatic little tart himself. Ambri has collected enough wealth on This Side over the course of his three hundred years that he’ll not miss what’s in my pocket.
Sure enough, his cocky grin returns. “I can always plead that I’ve been mugged. Sympathy is a sure ticket to a human’s heart. And bed. They enjoy caring for the downtrodden…when they’re not busy killing each other, of course.”
I nod. Lucy cares for others. Even those scarce few lifetimes in which her despair drove her to sleep her way from one human to another or fill the emptiness with drugs or alcohol, her light has never dimmed.
But how she suffers…
I never dreamed her love for me was as bottomless as mine for her. I never imagined my corruption would condemn her to endless lifetimes of loneliness, searching for me without ever knowing whom she sought. I’m Forgotten, until she dies and Crosses Over. Then the memories rush back in, and she calls my name. But I’m not among the heavenly host; I’m in hell. Then she Forgets and begins a new lifetime with the same nameless hunger.
A vacancy in her heart where I once lived.
By the time I realized she hadn’t let me go, it was too late. My sins guarantee there will be no redemption for me. No second chance. Her best chance at freedom from this terrible cycle is my Oblivion. Perhaps then her soul will finally understand what she does not—that our love died in the bowels of the ziggurat.
And it’s never coming back.
Sixteen
Casziel didn’t come back.
He wasn’t there as I got ready for work Wednesday morning, which was bustling due to Kimberly’s upcoming honeymoon and the disaster in Sri Lanka. Guy was busy making his own departure plans, and Abby hinted more than once that he might ask me to go along with him.
“And you’ll say yes, of course. You and Guy…close quarters in a foreign land. Perfect, right?”
Just a short week ago it would have been perfect. My favorite romantic fantasy come to life. Instead, all I could think about was Casziel. Something had happened after we left karaoke, but I couldn’t remember. Just like everything else with him, it danced at the edges of my awareness. He lived at the edges of my awareness like an unspoken promise. But it seemed every time I tried to grasp the truth of it, it slipped away.
I dragged myself through the workday, then rushed to get home. My place was empty. I wondered if Cas was in trouble with that terrible Ashtaroth. God, even the name sounded monstrous and evil. Or maybe he went back to the Other Side. Except he had eleven days here, which was sort of random, when I thought about it.
He’s not coming back, Deber offered. He grew bored with you—Silly Lucy and her silly, uneventful little life.
My apartment’s silence became deafening. Twilight became full dark, no stars, and still, Cas didn’t return. I heated some leftover casserole, changed into my sleep shorts and T-shirt. I checked and double-checked that my window was open, then went to bed to read. But for the first time, the romance couldn’t hold me or make me fall in.
I shut off the light and lay in the dark, trying to remember what happened after karaoke night. My thoughts began to scatter, turn slippery and indistinct…except for the woman at the warrior’s homecoming. She appeared, and I teetered on the edge of sleep, watching as she
waits for him on the upper floor. She has already greeted him properly with the family, and now her heartbeat is a drum when his heavy footfalls enter the room. She can hardly see his face; the lone candle’s light is low and the night, thick. But she can feel how his eyes burn with want. She rushes into his arms. He’s real and solid, after living in her dreams for years. He smells of ale and sweat, of cloves and honey. His mouth captures hers in a brutal kiss.
“Too long,” he moans, his hands roaming her back, his fingers sinking into her thick black hair. “It’s been too long. You’re so much a woman now. Gods, a treasure…”