For a heartbeat, he remembered the sword in his hands, burning golden with the force of the divine presence within him. In Thorne’s hands, the sword would be dulled, polluted, dying, not to mention a terrible danger.
But the sword was not a woman, alive, breathing, in danger herself. And willing to give up her sanctuary to protect the old people from the tenebrae while protecting the tenebrae from the league.
The fiery sword—which he could not be a warden without—was not Bella, fiery in a different way, without whom he might be nothing at all.
He looked at Liam. “Permission to transfer to the B team.”
Nim chuckled. “The dark side, you mean? You don’t need to wait for an okay.”
The league leader waved his hand. “Go. Don’t believe she’ll appreciate your interference though.”
Fane raced for the Porsche. No, he didn’t believe that. But he needed to be with her regardless. Needed it with a burning passion like the abraxas which had once gone through his chest. He loved a demon. And he’d never believed anything so clearly in his life.
Chapter 13
Bella hung the old reliquary from the light fixture over the front door—the last unshielded opening in the nursing home—and glanced with a frown toward the big picture window in the living room.
The sleigh and reindeer ornaments twinkled prettily in the reflected glow from the icicle lights hanging over the porch, but she didn’t like the look of the real ice starting to form at the tips of the plastic icicles. She hadn’t trusted the balding tires on her hatchback and so she’d taken a cab to the nursing home, but it was going to be a bitch finding a ride back to the Mortal Coil.
Back to her empty, exposed loft.
But she was not going to bring the tenebrae that stalked her here; she’d gone to too much effort to make sure any tenebrae would be repelled from the residents. The talyan would have no reason to destroy the starveling tenebrae emerging from the bombs.
Damn it, this was supposed to be a rebirth season. No one—not the old people, not a bruised and lonely bartender, not even a demon—should have to die.
Most of the residents had gone to bed for the night, but a few lingered, including Sera’s father, in front of the TV with cups of dark cocoa afloat with soft white sugar-free marshmallow stars. Nanette moved among them, patting hands, tugging up blankets, adding more marshmallows.
One old woman reached for her sleeve. “It’s Christmas, and no one has come to see me.”
“It’s not Christmas quite yet,” Nanette said soothingly. “Be patient. They’ll come.”
And if no one ever came, as no one had come for Mirabel in her need, what would the angelic possessed say then? If Bella hadn’t known better, she would have thought the angel-woman was completely oblivious to the demon-stuffed glass piñatas strewn around the grounds outside. Maybe a certain peace and calm came factory standard with the uploading of a divine entity.
Except that couldn’t be right. Fane had no such tranquility. Just the thought of him set her nerves humming with lust and frustration. On the plus side, thinking of him kept the creeping knowledge of her oncoming tenebrae tormentors at bay.
She was an idiot. She should have used Fane’s credit card to buy every bauble in the old man’s tent. She should have lured the angel-man into her bed with every lie he wanted to hear and kept him there until dawn broke.
She should at least scurry into the activity room to hide out with the tenebrae-snuffing talyan and their pretty purple eyes. She was pretty sure Nanette had given them something stronger than cocoa.
But instead? She was going to head out into the icy night to confront her demons. This was her last Christmas in hiding. Either her fiendish cousins would finally finish her off or she would stand against them, once and for all. No blesséd babies, no glittering glass, no saint’s knucklebone, no drink or drugs, nothing. Just her.
This was the downside of hanging around with repentant warriors and angelic possessed.
At least she still had Mirabel’s box cutter.
If only she could have one cup of cocoa spiked with something… No, now she was just dithering. She opened the reliquary and lit the candle holding the shards of the ornament with the angelic warden’s blood. The votive was a good one from the club and would burn most of the night. When she closed the reliquary, silver flickers lit the rock crystal windows from within like little stars.
Without a word to Nanette, she headed for the front door. She would buzz herself out. No need to answer anyone’s questions. She couldn’t explain anyway.
She triggered the door lock and reached for the handle before it latched again.
The door slammed open.
She had to jump back, and her heart stumbled worse than her feet.
Fane stood in the doorway, his eyes as bright as the reliquary, but instead of silver stars, he glowed like the golden sun.
She looked away, denying the heat that tried to melt her from the inside. She needed to stay hard, as hard as the ice outside. “I have to go.”
“You’re not going anywhere.”
She slanted a glance behind her. Nanette had looked up from her rounds and was heading toward them. Bella hissed at him, “I have to go. Now. You know why.”
“I’m not letting you put yourself in danger for no good reason.”
Nanette joined them. “Mr. Fane. I heard you were with the other talyan tonight.” Her glance shuttled between them. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” Bella said.
“Yes,” Fane shot back. He took an aggressive step forward to loom over Bella. “You’re not going out there alone.”
Nanette frowned at him. “Of course she wasn’t.” When Bella didn’t answer, Nanette turned the frown on her. “It’s not a good night to be out. The weather is atrocious. And the tenebrae, of course.”
“Exactly.” Bella finally looked at Fane. His furious gaze cut at her, hot and shattered as the glass in the reliquary. “Sometimes a bad reason is a good reason.”
Nanette shook her head. “What is that supposed to mean?” She beckoned, and from the open doors of the activity room angled toward the lobby, Ecco emerged as if he’d been watching. “Ecco, tell Bella she should stay.”
Bella groaned and shot an accusing look at Fane. “You’re making this worse.”
Ecco sauntered up. “Nanette says stay. Stay. Have a cup of cocoa. You wouldn’t believe the marshmallows are sugar free.” He held up his gauntleted fist, letting the razor studs shine. “See? I ate half the bag and no sugar shakes.”
Bella dragged her gaze off the sharp edges to look at the talya. He crossed his arms, gauntlets bristling, and he was not smiling. He obviously had no intention of letting her walk out against Nanette’s wishes.
She lifted her chin. She knew one way to make them let her go. Hell, they’d kick her out so fast maybe even the tenebrae couldn’t catch her. Assuming the league didn’t kill her outright. “You don’t want me here,” she told the big talya.
“Nanette says stay,” he repeated.
“She doesn’t want me here either.”
Nanette sputtered. “That’s not true. You came here to help. Of course we want you.”
“Bella.” Once again, the warning was back in Fane’s voice.
But she wouldn’t be stopped by threats, not from him, not from the tenebrae, not anymore. And all she had to do was let go of the fear and the lies. Inevitability was its own sort of peace.
She squared her shoulders and slipped off her glasses. “I am an imp.”
Nanette recoiled. She must have heard the ring of truth. Ecco was slower, or more skeptical. He let his arms fall ready at his sides and took a step closer. As he glared into her eyes, his irises took on the violet glow of the teshuva within him, incisive and lethal.