Page 83 of Vampire's Choice
He was aware of Yvette and Charlie’s attention, but in this moment, all that mattered was the truth between them. “Yes. I do. Thank you, Ruth. I’m grateful.”
She blinked at the formal response. He squeezed her hand, returning it to her lap, and looked toward Yvette, his gaze moving between her and Charlie. “Care for her.” Then he pivoted and followed Marcellus.
“Did that little bastard just order me to do something?” Yvette noted, her brow arching.
“He’s not that little,” Ruth muttered.
The healer suppressed a smile as Yvette shot Ruth another reproving look. Ruth closed her eyes, dipping her head. “Sorry, my lady.”
“Hmm.” Yvette snorted.
“So I’m okay, but I’m thinking it will make Lady Yvette feel better if she hears you say it, Charlie.”
Charlie gazed at her with that intent, focused look that seemed at odds with her physical blindness. “She was severely weakened,” she told her Mistress, “but with more blood and a prolonged sleep, she’ll be restored. He did her no permanent damage.”
“Look at me, Ruth.”
Ruth wanted to ooze to the floor and embrace her post-dawn coma a couple hours early. However, at the Circus Mistress’s sharp command, her eyes snapped open and her spine straightened.
“It seems your experience with the Georgia territory vampires earlier in the evening didn’t make an impression. So let me point out what should be all the more obvious. Being as vulnerable as you are right now, even for a short time, could be catastrophic around other vampires.”
Ruth pressed her lips together. “It was an in-the-moment thing, as risks like this sometimes have to be. Now that we know the results, we can plan better. And when I’m with him, I’m as safe as I could possibly be. What did Marcellus say to you?” she asked, an attempt to change the subject.
The Circus Mistress gave her a neutral look. “If he’d wanted you to know that, he would have addressed all of us. I’ll leave you in Charlie’s hands. While I take issue with Merc’s delivery, I don’t disagree with the order. Follow her direction and restore your strength. We don’t employ shirkers around here.”
She marched out of the tent.
This time Charlie didn’t hide a smile. “You should see the face you just made in auric form.”
Ruth sighed. “It sucks to be the youngest immortal in the room.”
She wondered what Marcellus wanted to talk to Merc about. And vice versa. But she didn’t feel like she had to worry about him. The others might think Merc’s behavior today was a big change, but Ruth was beginning to believe that shift had happened well before today. In his rare moment of vulnerability, Merc had as much as said so. Today was the day that change became manifest to the world around him. And she was a part of it. She had to believe that.
Even if she was falling for an immortal whose mind and plans were still mostly a mystery to her.
Marcellus took flight when Merc emerged from the tent. Merc had to maintain a swift but not insane pace to keep up with him, but they were still moving faster than a mortal eye could track.
He'd always assumed Marcellus, being pure angel, could move faster than him, since Merc stubbornly asserted he wasn’t much of an angel at all. But that didn’t feel as true today, not with the revelations he was having simmering in his mind.
He needed to stop calling them that. Revelation was too dramatic. Too biblical. Jumble of thoughts. That was better.
When they kept ascending, far past the clouds, Merc realized where they were going. When Merc banked, uncertain, Marcellus paused and gestured him forward until they hovered together, looking toward their destination.
The silver and ivory spires of the Citadel pierced the seven layers of heaven. It was headquarters for the Legion angels, the warrior class who fought the enemies of the Goddess. Right now, they were in third heaven, Machanon, which overlooked the Garden of Eden. At this distance it was a green valley cut by a glittering river, the two trees of lore arched over it, branches intertwined like lovers.
While battle strategy and other Legion work was done in Shamain, the level closest to Earth, Machanon was an oasis of sorts, a place for the angels who regularly had to fight the Dark Ones to take their ease.
Merc had had to accompany Marcellus here in the past, but he’d taken up a post on one of the available turrets, keeping his distance from the other occupants.
Fortunately, Marcellus turned them toward Eden. Merc followed him to the bank of the river. Marcellus crouched by the gurgling water, his dark green glossy wings unfurled as he dipped in a hand. A small school of fish leaped out, sliding across his forearm, and continuing with the current.
Merc stayed standing. “This has never felt like home. Nothing has ever felt like home.”
“You have never set foot in the Citadel. Perching in the spires like a wary vulture does not count.”
“You think putting my feet on the flagstones would make it feel like home to me?”
“I think when you are born without one, home is what you build throughout your life. Even when you are born with one, a soul may find it has to move and find another home, better suited to what life and experience bring.”