A Witch's Beauty (Daughters of Arianne 2)

Mina narrowed her eyes. Well, her thoughts about that were far less confusing, if unexpected. She had no claim on David, and angels had that magnetism-like vampires, she reflected sourly-that made every woman feel like they were "supposed to touch." It didn't make her think any less about breaking those slim fingers if they reached toward him.

David took a step sideways in reaction, and his heel hit a trash can, clanging and startling him.

Diane's expression became pensive. "And even weirder than that," she continued, the teenager returning to her voice, "is that while I know I want to touch you, there's something more important than that. I feel like everything about these babies hinges on your willingness to touch me."

"No," David said. "No." And his voice, like his expression, was terrible.

"Please." Diane's voice altered, became pleading. "I know you. In my heart, I know you."

As David refused to move toward her, her hand wavered in the air, abruptly dropped. The air became heavy, oppressive, whatever spell holding the three of them broken as the desert heat returned. Diane blinked, looked at Mina as if she'd forgotten David was there. "Maybe I should give them up for adoption," she said wearily. "Everyone says little white babies go to good homes, that they'd be loved and wanted, but, oh, God, I just don't know." She dropped to her knees abruptly, ignoring the crate. Covering her face with her hands, she began to sob again.

Mina studied the tableau before her. An unresponsive and vengeful angel, a child weeping in his implacable shadow, trying to make a woman's decision all by herself.

Vengeful. Where had that come from? But that was what was in his face. Something she'd never seen there before. A dangerous, frightening David. The threat of uncontrolled violence simmering, waiting to strike in any direction it chose.

Not the David she knew, who was fierce only when it came to protecting those he perceived in need of protection.

It was clear the Schism was demanding something. Or was it offering? Something David didn't want, wasn't prepared to want.

Reality and illusion. Mina shifted her gaze between the two of them. David, dead as a mortal at fourteen. He'd said he was thirty now. This girl, sixteen, pregnant with twins.

Mina stepped forward, realizing Diane might really be in danger.

But in that same moment, something altered in David's face. Slowly, so slowly, he dropped to one knee, then the other, and bent his head over the waitress, so that the hair falling over his forehead grazed her crown.

"Oh." Diane raised her face, made a soft sound. He kept his head down, averted so that he wasn't looking at her, but their bodies and faces were so close together. His shoulders tensed as she lifted her hand.

Considerable energy was gathering, sharpening Mina's senses. If a horde of Dark Ones were sweeping toward him, he wouldn't flinch, but he was trembling at the threat of one young woman's touch.

It was as if something were eating him from the inside, tearing through vital organs and muscles, ripping open veins and arteries so he'd bleed to death where no one could see. It was a horrible thing to witness, particularly when he was so still, becoming a shell of himself before her eyes.

It provoked something unexpected in her. A need to protect. She took another determined step forward, her demeanor far less friendly. "You will not harm him." She said it not only to Diane, but to the energy around her. "I won't permit it."

Instead of following through on that anticipated touch, Diane backed onto her heels and rose to her feet, carefully avoiding contact, but staying close, her hand hovering within inches of his tense shoulder.

The confusion and pain in the glance she sent toward Mina was reassuring, though her words weren't. "I'm not sure, but I think I already have."

She looked back down at David, who was still staring at a point in the ground as if she weren't there, though the quivering of his body said he was very much aware of her every move.

It's all right, David. I'm here. Never in her life would Mina have thought she'd be offering such a reassurance to an angel, but she was no longer intrigued by the Schism. It was pissing her off. Whatever this was, she wanted it to finish. Or back off.

"It wasn't your fault," Diane spoke softly. "Not any of it, you understand? It was mine. And if I could have done it over..." She stopped, swallowed. Her hand came to lie over her stomach. "I guess that may be what's happening, isn't it?" She blinked, swayed. "God, I'm not sure what I'm saying. But please touch me. If you don't, I don't know if I can do it. Please, I'm so sorry." Tears were coming again, falling. "Just let me know it's going to be okay."

The diamond drop fell, hit his shoulder. Then another. David's head bowed lower, and the fist he had braced against the ground tightened. Then he gave an almost imperceptible nod.

In a move that looked as if it cost him, his arms weighted like an old man's, he slid them around her waist and brought her close to him, laying his cheek over her abdomen and the promises that waited there.

"Oh." Diane's sobs broke through anew. She closed her arms carefully around his shoulders, as if he were made of a delicate, brittle glass. Mina couldn't argue with her assessment, for it seemed as if the air itself could crush him.

Now though, for the first time, Diane seemed to notice his wings. "Oh my. Oh. That's... unexpected." A tiny smile appeared on her bow-shaped mouth. "Actually, I'm wrong. I don't know why, but it's not unexpected at all."

Dropping her head over his then, she laid her cheek on his hair.

It was a long series of minutes, while Diane softly wept and David held her in that strange, stiff way. Then, in a quick, jerky movement, with none of his usual grace, he dragged her to her knees and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, a frantic move of need.

Tucking her head under his jaw, Diane kept crying. Her arms slid under his and she folded into him. Rocked him. As she did, her sobs lessened. She reached up and stroked his hair. Burying his face in the tender junction of her neck, David held her tighter, his fingers pressed so hard against her back it made depressions in the pale yellow uniform. His wings had lowered, sweeping the ground behind him, almost as if he'd forgotten he had them.

At length, Diane lifted her head. For a remarkable moment, David's face looked younger, and Diane's older. But there was a harsh anguish to his expression that was unbearable to see, and Mina saw Diane's heart break at the sight of it. The way only a mother's heart could break.

"Don't kill them," he said.

"I won't," Diane promised fiercely, and youthful indecision was gone. "I'll learn how to be a good mom. I'll take care of them." Hesitantly, she put her hand up to his face and he closed his eyes when she made contact. "I do feel I need to say I'm sorry to you. But at the same time, I think it was something so bad, saying I'm sorry is an insult. It can never cover it."

"No, it can't." David's eyes opened. "But it's all I need." Reaching between them now, taking a breath, he put a hand over her abdomen. "Give all the rest to them. You need to go inside now."

She nodded and rose. While he gave her his hand to help her to her feet, Mina could tell he was done, drained. Ready for some distance between them. Perhaps half a world. Pocketing her tissue, Diane took an uncertain step back. Looked at him once more. Wonderingly. "Good-bye," she said. "Thank you." Then she turned and went back to the kitchen door. As she grasped the handle, she gave Mina a puzzled look.

"This has been a really strange day, but I think it's going to be okay. I mean, I'm scared and all, but this is what's right for me. I'm going to have my babies. Have them and keep them."

"Okay," Mina said, at a loss. "Good luck."

Diane gave her a tentative smile, then something shifted in her gaze. Something Mina had seen when the waitress had put her arms around her angel and rocked him against her breast. The teenager vanished behind the face of the woman she would become. Had been.

"Take care of him," she said.

As Diane stepped back through the kitchen door, the restaurant faded away, likely returning to the actual tim

e and place from which it had come.

Leaving Mina standing between a still-kneeling angel and a bag of warm, just-from-the-oven, chocolate chip cookies.

Nineteen

AT least the Schism had left the cookies. That made her feel a little better about the whole confusing thing, as well as the worried feeling inside, which she suspected was worry about him.

"David?" Walking over to him, she cautiously sat down cross-legged, her knee a few inches from his foot. He was still kneeling, his fist closed as if holding in Diane's touch, uncertain whether to squeeze it into nothing or imprint it forever into his skin. Reaching into the bag, Mina pulled out a cookie. Tapped on his white, strained knuckle. "Here."

His gaze shifted. Looked at the cookie, identified it, then lifted back to her face. "I can't taste it."

"Yes, you can." His eyes had returned to their normal brown. But he looked so drawn, she couldn't help herself. Putting a hand to his face, she ran her knuckles down his cheek, the gesture apparently surprising him as much as it did her, for it broke his focus on whatever inner struggle he was having.

Embarrassed, she dropped her touch and considered the natural, empty landscape again, the shimmer of energy that a few moments before had been explosive. Then she remembered what she was doing and turned her attention to the cookie in her hand. As she murmured the proper charm over it, the cookie bubbled as if still in the oven, then became solid again. "See if I got it right."