Rage and Ruin (The Harbinger 2)

I rose and walked toward the ledge that faced the street below, still feeling the cool pressure on the nape of my neck. Hopping up on the parapet, I knelt and waited as cars traveled the narrow street and the laughter and shouts from the people below faded into the background.

“Where are you?” I spoke to the night, knowing in my bones he would come.

I didn’t wait long.

A few minutes later, I felt the intensity of coldness increase. My grace simmered and then sparked. I kept myself still, holding my breath until I heard the thump of him landing on the roof.

He spoke first. “The last time I saw you, you were unconscious.”

“In case you don’t realize this,” I said, staring straight ahead, “it’s inappropriate to knock a girl out and leave without saying goodbye.”

“I could’ve killed you, darlin’, but you’ve made me curious.”

My jaw ached at the endearment. “Could’ve. Would’ve. Should’ve.” I rose then, pivoting on my heel, and dropped down to the roof. He was standing in the center, his hair nearly the color of the moonlight. Dressed all in black like he was the last time, he appeared otherworldly. “Why are you curious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he queried. “You’re like me.”

“I’m nothing like you. I don’t give off Abominable Snowman vibes.”

“No, you’re like a volcano, always seconds from erupting.”

“Thank you,” I replied. “Why do you throw off so much coldness?”

“Because my soul is cold.”

“Well, that was disappointingly cliché.” Stopping, I braced myself in case he charged me. “Not only are you rude, you’re not really creative.”

“I’m a lot of things.” His head tilted. “None of which you know.”

“You’d be surprised by what I know.”

“Doubtful.” He chuckled. “Because if you knew, you wouldn’t be standing there, charming me with small talk.”

“I’d be killing you?” I suggested. “Because I’m more than happy to get to that if you’d like?”

“No. You’d be running.” He took a measured step forward, then stopped, turning his head to the left. “I was wondering when you were going to show up.”

The graceful arcs of wings appeared on the other side of him as Zayne rose, having dropped out of nowhere. “I wouldn’t miss this party for anything.”

There was a hint of a smile when he spoke. “Protectors. The loyal hounds of Trueborns.”

I sneered. “He’s not a dog.”

“Loyal they’re not,” he added as if I hadn’t spoken. “I had a Protector once. He was my age, and we were raised together. He was my best friend. A brother.”

“I really don’t care,” I said. “Just being honest.”

He turned his head toward me as Zayne kept a distance between them. “I killed him. Pulled his heart straight from his chest. I didn’t want to. I had to.”

“Cool story, bro.” Zayne’s wings swept down. “Sorry if I sound repetitive, but I don’t care, either.”

“But don’t you want to get to know me? Know how it’s possible that there’s another Trueborn? My name? Or how long I’ve been watching? Waiting?” He paused. “You two have been very naughty.”

“I’m not sure what part of I don’t care is confusing to you, but let me repeat myself. I don’t care what your name is or who your daddy is.” I felt the grace roar through me. “All I want to know is how to break the wards trapping the spirits in that school—”

“You don’t want to know about Misha?” he interrupted.

My heart faltered.

“What he told me about you—I wouldn’t do that if I was you,” he said, picking up on Zayne’s quiet advance from behind. “I’m in a charitable mood, Protector. Do not test it.”

“I’m in a murderous mood,” Zayne snarled. “Please do test it.”

“If you force me to kill you, I have a feeling everything will go south quickly.”

“The fact you think you can kill me just proves how far south things have already gone,” Zayne shot back. “You may be a Trueborn, but you touched Trinity, and that alone gives me more than enough strength to shatter every pathetic bone in your body, one by one. I won’t kill you, though.”

“No. You won’t.”

“I’ll just force you onto your shattered kneecaps, so she can deliver the death blow.”

God.

I wanted to kiss Zayne, right here and now.

“Speaking of delivering death blows,” he countered, focusing on me. “Interesting you and I can tick killing our Protectors off on our shared-experiences list.”

“I don’t care what you have to say about Misha,” I said, and I almost believed myself. “I want to know how to break the wards.”

“Jealousy is a terrible thing,” he said instead. “That was Misha’s sin. Envy. He was told he was special, and he was dying to believe that. Literally.”

I stiffened.

“It’s such a human emotion.” He shrugged. “I want you to know my name.”

“I want you to just answer my damn question,” I snapped.

“My name is Sulien—”

“For real?” Zayne cracked. “Sullen? That’s your name?”

He sighed. “Not the way you’re thinking it’s spelled.”

“That’s a fitting name,” I said. “You seem like the kind of guy who strums the guitar, but only knows a few chords and waxes poetic about the girl you loved but who didn’t know you existed. Sullen and moody and cold. A real life of the party. Is that why you want to bring on the end times? Because you’re stuck with the name Sulien?”

“Actually, I’ve never loved anyone. Not even my Protector,” Sulien replied. “And I’m not bringing on the end times. I’m just here for the ride.”

“Uh-huh,” Zayne muttered. “So, Sulien, where’s Bael been hiding?”

“Someplace safe.”

“Safe from what?” he asked.

“Those who wish to do him harm. Like you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re protecting a demon?”

Sulien chuckled. “Funny you of all people would ask that, but I’m protecting the plan.”

“What plan?” I demanded.

“The one Misha died for.”

My chest seized.

“Speaking of Misha, he was exactly how you just described me, but you never saw that side of him. That would mean you’d actually thought about him instead of yourself.”

That barb was a direct hit.

“I have a feeling you didn’t know him at all,” Sulien continued. “That he did actually love you at some point.”

“You need to shut up,” Zayne warned.

“But then it all turned to hate,” he went on. “That’s why you were able to kill him. I won’t be that easy, because I don’t hate you, Trinity. I feel nothing regarding you, but you hate me.”

The corners of my vision turned white as golden light powered down my arm, the sword taking shape rapidly. Angry, hissing sparks bit into the air. “You’re right. I do hate you.”

“All that rage...” Sulien sighed as if it pleasured him. “It will be your ruin.”

Zayne lunged toward him, but Sulien dipped and spun away. I charged forward, but he was fast, moving like a streak of lightning. One moment he was between Zayne and I, and then he was on the ledge.

“I can’t break the wards,” he said. “Because I didn’t place them there.”

“Bullshit.” I stalked forward, holding the sword to the side as Zayne rose up, wings stretching out. “I know what you are. You’re the Harbinger.”

Sulien laughed, the sound like ice falling. “I’m the tool of retribution and you’re the weapon of destruction. Those are our labels and the roles we must play.”

“Do you always speak like you’ve lost all touch with reality?” Zayne asked. “Jesus. And I thought demons liked to hear themselves talk.”

He snorted. “I was feeling charitable. You should’ve asked why I’ve collected all those souls. You should’ve asked why I haven’t killed you. You should’ve asked what the final role you play is. But I know I’ll see you again, Trinity, and when I do, it would be wise for you to come alone.”

Before I could do anything—speak, go for him or take another breath—he tipped backward, falling from the ledge into the night.

34

I shouted as Zayne flew forward and landed on the ledge, wings lifted high. I darted to the edge as my grace retracted.

A laugh rose from the darkness below as I leaped up next to Zayne. Unable to see Sulien, I was able to figure out he’d landed on a balcony a dozen or so feet below. He jumped again, hopscotching from balcony to balcony until he reached the ground. My gaze swept the darkness, spotting lights on the balconies. I prepared to jump.

Zayne’s arm snagged me around the waist. “Don’t.”

“But—”

“We can’t give chase,” Zayne argued. “Not right now. That’s what he wants, and we’re not giving him what he wants.”

“Chasing him is what I want,” I reasoned, grasping his arm.

Zayne turned me from the ledge and then let go. I spun toward him, instinct demanding I knock him aside and go. He must have sensed that, because his wings spread out, an effective obstacle. “Chasing him is what you did before,” he said. “And he led you to that tunnel. We do not let him lead us anywhere again.”

Frustrated because he was right and because knowing that didn’t damper the instinct to give chase, I balled my hands and swallowed a scream. “He’s playing with us.”