Rage and Ruin (The Harbinger 2)

“You will not live to regret that,” Gabriel warned.

“I’m going to rip you limb from limb,” Zayne snarled. “And then I will burn your body right next to his.”

“I was waiting for this moment.” Gabriel’s tone was smug—too smug. Warnings went off. “I knew you’d come.”

There was a gasping sound, and Zayne took a step back, his wings lifting and then falling. Roth shouted.

“Do you now know why Trueborns and their Protectors are forbidden to be together?” Gabriel’s voice was a whisper that carried in the wind that began to pick up inside the chamber. “Love clouds judgment. It is a weakness that can be exploited.”

I tried to see what was happening, but I could no longer lift my head.

“Bitterness and hate will fester and grow inside her, just as it did with Sulien and with those who came before her. She will gladly spill her own blood against a God that could be so cruel.” Gabriel’s voice was everywhere, inside and out, vibrating in my broken ribs. “You took my son, but you have given me a daughter in return.”

There was a ripple of golden heated light, and then silence.

“Zayne,” Roth called out. “My man...”

I saw Zayne’s legs crumple and fold. He went down on his knees, his back to me. I tried to say his name. His hand moved to his front, to his chest. He grunted as his body jerked.

A dagger fell to the ground.

My dagger.

Then he, too, fell.

Zayne landed next to me, on his back and broken wing. Why would he fall like that? I didn’t understand what was happening, why Roth was suddenly there beside Zayne. The demon was shouting for someone—for Cayman and then Layla, trying to hold Zayne down, but Zayne pushed Roth off and rolled onto his side facing me.

I saw his chest—I saw the wound over his heart and the blood that gushed with every heartbeat.

“No,” I whispered, a great horror sinking its claws into me. “Zayne...”

“It’s okay,” he said, and blood leaked from the corner of his mouth.

I tried to lift my arm, and all I managed was a twitch that made it feel like I’d been run over by a dump truck. Panic rose like a cyclone as I tried to reach for him again. Suddenly, Roth was behind me. He scooped me up and laid me down so I was right next to Zayne. “You can’t. No. Please, God, no. Zayne, please...”

Roth carefully took my hand, placing it on Zayne’s cheek. The movement hurt, but I didn’t care. His granitelike skin was too cool. It wasn’t right at all. My fingers moved, trying to rub heat back into his skin. Those pale wolf eyes were open, but they... There was no light in them. His chest wasn’t moving. It was still. He was still. I didn’t understand, didn’t want to. I rubbed his skin, kept rubbing his skin, even as it stopped feeling real.

“Trinity,” Roth began, voice all wrong. He rocked back, hands dropping to his knees, and then he looked away, rising to his feet. He staggered a step, hands lifting to his hair as he bent over. “He’s—”

“No. No.” I searched Zayne’s face. “Zayne?”

The only answer was the bond wrenching deep inside me, as if it were a cord stretched too tight. It snapped free as a keening wail tore through the air, ripped from my very soul. I no longer felt the bond.

And then I no longer felt anything.

42

Hell wasn’t just being trapped in a broken body. Hell was being unable to escape soul-deep grief while trapped. I thought I’d experienced the worst possible loss with my mother, and then with Misha, but I’d been wrong. Not that their losses were any less devastating. This was...different and it was too much.

This was like purgatory.

Over the course of several hours that turned into several days, I learned I could heal from any wound as long as it wasn’t fatal. Broken bones knitted back together and popped into joints they’d been ripped from. Torn flesh stitched back together without the aid of needle and thread, something I hadn’t known was possible and apparently neither had Matthew, who’d stitched many of my wounds in the past. Now I understood why Jasmine had been so surprised by the head wound I’d received that night in the tunnel. Severed veins and nerves reconnected, bringing back sensation to places that had long gone numb.

The process was painful.

Slipping out of consciousness only when it became too much and I needed to escape the burning pins and needles along my limbs as blood flow returned, I was awake for most of the healing. I was awake when Layla sat down beside me with tears streaming from her eyes and told me that Zayne was gone.

A part of me had known that already, and she didn’t need to go into detail. Too much time had already passed. When Wardens died, their bodies went through the same process a human body did, except it happened much faster. Within a day, there’d be only bones left, and it had been many days. Zayne was gone. His laugh and the smile that never failed to cause my stomach and heart to do strange, wonderful things. His wry sense of humor and his kindness that set him apart from everyone I knew. His intelligence and unending loyalty. His fierce protectiveness that had been apparent before we’d been bonded, something that had annoyed me as much as it had strengthened me. His body and bones and beautiful face... All of it gone before I even regained consciousness.

I screamed.

I screamed when I looked around the room and didn’t see his spirit or ghost, stuck in the horrible place of being both relieved and devastated.

I screamed until my voice gave out and my throat was on fire. I screamed until I could no longer make a sound. I screamed until I thought of the senator and finally, truly understood how deep of a cut this kind of pain could make. How it could lead a person to do anything, utterly anything, to bring their loved one back.

I screamed, realizing that my decision to hold him back, to keep him outside, might have led to his death just as much as falling in love with him had, maybe even more. That it had felt wrong, and I should’ve known, should not have tried to convince myself that what was right could feel wrong. I’d never know whether the outcome would’ve been different if he’d gone in with us, or if that would’ve resulted in an earlier death.

I screamed until it became too much, until there was a sharp sting along my arm and then there was nothing but darkness until I awoke again, only to realize that purgatory was being trapped with grief and sorrow and anger.

Gabriel had been right about one thing. I was bitter and vengeful. I wanted retribution against the archangel and even God for creating a rule that had ultimately weakened Zayne, but I wanted Zayne back more, and there had to be a way. This couldn’t be it. I refused to accept it. I couldn’t. Not when I thought of how he’d said he’d go to the ends of the Earth to find me if I was taken. How he’d sworn he’d stop at nothing to get me back, even from the clutches of death.

The pain of my bones and skin repairing themselves became a fuel. Bringing Zayne back was all I could think about. I didn’t talk to Roth or Layla when they checked on me, not after they’d told me that Zayne was gone. I didn’t even talk to Peanut when he ghosted in and out of the room.

I planned.

I planned, as day turned to night once more and the stars Zayne had thoughtfully plastered to the ceiling started to glow softly. Constellation Zayne. My heart shattered all over again. Tears welled, but they didn’t fall. I didn’t think it was possible to cry anymore. The well was empty. Just like my chest, where the bond had once resided, but it was slowly filling back up with a storm of emotions. Some hot. Some ice-cold. I knew, as I stared at those stars, that I was no longer the same. The fight had broken me. The pain had shifted me. Zayne’s death had reshaped me.

And my plans breathed the life into me. I just needed my body to get on board.

A soft nudge at my arm drew my gaze. I was greeted with a flicker of a pink tongue.

I had no idea why Bambi was in bed with me, stretched out and pressed against my side like a dog, but when I’d woken earlier and found her there, I hadn’t freaked out.

Drawing in a shallow breath, I lifted my fingers on my left hand. They were stiff and achy. I tried to move my arm. A flare of pain danced across my shoulder, but it was nothing like before. I bent my arm at the elbow, wincing as the freshly healed joint ground together, and placed my hand on Bambi’s diamond-shaped head. Her tongue gave me another wave and her mouth opened, like she was smiling as she laid her head on my stomach.

Her scales were smooth and yet rough around the edges. I traced them idly, and Bambi seemed to love the attention. Whenever my fingers stilled, she bumped my hand.

After a little while, I could move my leg, bending the right and then the left.

Some time later, the door cracked open and Layla popped her head in. “You’re awake.”

“I...” Wincing, I cleared my throat. My voice was still hoarse. “I am.”

“Up for company?”

Not particularly, but we needed to talk. There was Gabriel and his batshit-crazy plans that someone had to deal with. And then there were my plans. “Where’s...Roth?”

“He’s here. Let me get him, and you something to drink.” She dipped out and returned a few minutes later with a large glass and the demon prince in tow.

As he came closer, I thought he looked different, as if he’d aged a decade. It was his eyes. A weariness was there that hadn’t been before. Peanut followed, lingering by the foot of the bed as he stared at the snake.

“I’m not getting any closer,” he said.

Bambi tilted her head toward him, wiggling her tongue in his direction. She could see him. Interesting.

Layla sat beside me. “This is ginger ale. I thought it would be good on your stomach.”

“Thanks.” I lifted my head and started to sit up, but Layla held the cup to my mouth, preventing too much movement. I drank greedily even though it burned the back of my throat.

“I see someone has been keeping you company.” Roth leaned against the wall, ankles crossed.

“Yeah, she has.” I let my head fall back against the pillow. “Is Cayman...okay?”