Page 136 of Stealing Embers
The kiss is soft and sweet. Something it’s never been before.
But it also feels a lot like a goodbye.
When he pulls back he cradles my face in his warm palms.
“No. You can’t come with me. This fight is mine.”
He slides his hands off my cheeks and mounts his ride once again.
“Stay safe.”
He starts the engine and a moment later I watch him drive through the academy gate.
He doesn’t bother with a backward glance, and in a way that’s a small mercy, because if he looked back, he would have seen the tears dripping down my face.
Chapter Forty-One
The first time I phased into the spirit dimension that co-exists with our own, the air smelled like fresh honeysuckle. Light danced in the air on iridescent waves of sound. Pale pink clouds lounged in a lavender sky. I’d never seen beauty of that caliber. The world was filled with wonder and joy I hadn’t known in my short life.
It was a glorious five minutes.
Until it wasn’t.
The monsters appeared in short order, and what I’d mistaken for paradise was actually Hell in disguise.
I haven’t thought of that day in some time. Maybe watching the blood and gore slide off my skin and snake toward the drain shakes the memory loose. Certainly the tang of exhaust left on my tongue from Steel’s retreating motorcycle has nothing to do with the melancholy settling over me like a heavy blanket. I’d have to care about him for his sudden departure to cause me even a drop of sorrow, and I resolved not to be weighed down by regard for the maddening angel-born. So it has to be something else.
The water running off my skin has gone from reddish-brown to a pink hue that might be considered pretty if it wasn’t tinted with my own blood. As a Nephilim, I heal quickly, but even so, my body is marred with faded green bruises. I’m sure a few hours ago, I was covered in black and purple marks.
I scrub with a coarse loofah until I’m free of dirt and grime and my skin is pink from abuse. After a final rinse, my hair and body are free of the physical evidence of the last several days. Mud, sweat, and blood circle the drain before being washed away for good.
If only memories could be disposed of so easily.
I reach for the dry towel hanging neatly on the rack outside the shower and pain spikes from twin slashes on opposite sides of my spine. Snatching the cloth, I wipe away the layer of moisture fogging the mirror and twist, convinced I’ll see scars, but my skin is unmarred, having knitted together perfectly after my gold wings folded back into myself.
How over twelve cumulative feet of wingspan is able to disappear into my back is a mystery I’m not likely to solve.
Steel’s whole body expands when he shifts forms. How does that work?
Shaking my head, I remind myself I’m not allowed to think of him right now. Chalking the unknown up to magic, I nudge him and other curiosities out of my mind.
I pull the tie on the terry cloth robe tight before opening the bathroom door. Taking a fortifying breath, I do my best to shrug off the despondency. We just located the missing Durand twins and won a battle against the Forsaken, and every angel-born returned to Seraph Academy—perhaps a little worse for the wear, but alive. All things worthy of celebration, not mourning.
Ash is my favorite person in the world, but the girl doesn’t know the meaning of personal space. I’m not in the right head space to answer questions, so I need to leave this bathroom looking as if I don’t have a care in the world.
Using a hand towel, I squeeze the wetness from my hair and then emerge from my hiding place. A wave of steam heralds my entrance. “That was the best shower of my entire—”
“Ahh!” Ash’s squawk interrupts the sonnet I’m prepared to spew about my love of running water.
She’s hunched with a textbook raised above her head, staring at the bookcase. I almost miss the streak of sparks that zips from under my bed to the messy shelf.
I blink and the streak fizzles out.
“What the angel-fire is that?” Ash asks me, the textbook still raised in the air.
“I’m not sure?” That wasn’t supposed to come out as a question. “But I’m worried I may have an idea.”
Tiptoeing forward, I stretch my arm to reach for an overturned book on the shelf.