She shouldn’t have died. He should have died.
Why hadn’t he died?
Other questions swirled through the crushing grief, and he found himself glaring up at the angel. Did you know she would…that she would end up that way when you brought us here?
“Of course,” Zacharel offered without any hesitation. “Her death was the only way to save you.”
No reaction. Not yet. What do you mean? She had pulled the demons from Amun and successfully released them, all without messing with Secrets. Afterward, she had been healthy, whole. Until Hate. But Hate had not been a part of Amun. So, after healing him, she could have walked away.
Oh, gods. She could have walked away.
If he had called for Zacharel then…
“Have you not realized yet? You never needed to visit hell to release those demons. You had only to learn to trust each other. That was the only way Haidee could discover the truth about her abilities. That was the only way you would let her close enough to use those abilities on you.”
Then why did you send us here? Why? I would rather have died myself. Me!
“You were sent here because nothing draws people together faster than perilous situations. More than that, I was not told to save Haidee. Only you.”
But she didn’t have to die. His motions were jerky now. We could have left before Hate found her. You could have swooped in.
“She was going to die whether Hate found her or not. She loved you. Eventually, that love would have weakened her demon. Just as your demon feeds on secrets, hers fed on hate. Ultimately, that love would have killed her.”
No. She loved before. Others loved her.
“Did she? Did they? No, she did not. No, they did not. Many overcame their dislike for her, some even came to care for her, but no one loved her with their whole heart. Until you.”
Secrets found no deception in the confession.
So Amun had killed her. Again. His love for her had doomed her for eternity. She would have lived if he’d left her alone, if he had refused to bring her down here. If he hadn’t given in to his craving for her.
He hated himself.
He hated Zacharel now, too.
They had moved her around like a chess piece. They had set her up for failure. And why? To save him.
If Haidee had survived this, Amun could have continued on with his life. Even if she’d hated him, he could have continued on, happy in the knowledge that she was out there somewhere. But this…this shattered him. She was gone forevermore, and he was responsible. The knowledge ruined him. He was raw, eternally wounded, unable to heal. And he didn’t need Secrets to confirm that.
There was only one thing left to do.
Take me home, he signed, as determined as he was defeated.
“I find I am oddly…troubled by your reaction. I did not expect this, nor do I understand what I am feeling. What I know is that I do not like it and something must be done.”
In less than a heartbeat of time, Amun’s surroundings changed. Gone were the bleak rocks he’d shared with Haidee, and in their place were the smooth white walls of his bedroom. He took no comfort from the familiar setting.
He moved to his bed and sat down on the edge. The angel never reappeared, and that was probably for the best. Amun wanted to kill him for hiding the truth—however he’d done so—and for allowing Amun to save himself and condemn his woman. And he would kill the angel. Soon, but not yet, for the action would earn him a death sentence of his own. A sentence he would welcome just as soon as he said goodbye to his friends.
That was all he had left to do.
He wasn’t going to live without Haidee; it was as simple as that.
AFTER ZACHAREL BRIEFED TORIN on everything that had happened to Amun and Haidee, gathered the rest of his angels and finally left the fortress for good, their job now done, the keeper of Disease studied his friend on several of his computer monitors. The cameras Strider had placed in Secrets’s bedroom hadn’t yet been disabled, so Torin had a clear view of his friend from multiple angles.
The warrior might be back to normal, but he wasn’t even close to being happy. Desolation seemed to cling to him. His dark skin was dulled, and his eyes were bleaker than Torin had ever seen them.
Torin ached for him. Even though he didn’t understand how Amun had fallen for such a woman, he still ached for the man. And he wouldn’t judge. Amun would get enough of that from the others. What he needed right now was compassion and unconditional support. Support Torin would give him.
Once upon a time, Torin had killed a woman he lusted after. He’d worshipped her from afar and had finally given in and touched her. Just a simple brush of his knuckles on her soft cheek, but soon afterward, he’d been forced to watch her sicken and die. He’d been helpless to save her.
Knowing he was responsible had torn him up inside. And if Zacharel was right, Amun blamed himself for Haidee’s loss. And the fact that Torin had merely lusted but Amun had loved…well, he doubted his pain could compare.
Torin tugged at an earlobe. Things were still calm here. Hunters were still missing, still disappearing for seemingly no reason, but now Rhea had disappeared, as well. As Cronus had done with Strider, he’d just popped in and informed him. So…
Whether the warriors here would judge Amun or not, Amun needed them. Needed a distraction from his guilt. That wouldn’t be the same as compassion and support, but those things would follow. Hopefully.
So Torin lifted his cell phone and sent everyone the same message. Amun’s here & sane. Angels gone. Return ASAP. He needs help.
Replies began arriving seconds after he pressed send, and soon every single one of the warriors (besides William) had agreed to come home.
On way. He OK? Aeron.
Coming. Something wrong? Lucien.
Take me out of your address book. William.
Will make it. Gideon.
Cameo & me just hit town. We’ll be there in 10. Kane.
Let me get Ash situated 1st. Maddox.
Done & done. Sabin.
Me & Paris R in the States. Might take a bit, but we’ll B there. Strider.
Had a tail 4 few days. Will show as soon as I lose it. Reyes.
Pleased at their show of loyalty amid this crisis, Torin settled back in his chair and waited.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
AMUN’S FRIENDS TRIED TO CHEER him up, they really did. They hugged him, slapped him on the back and told him what they’d been up to. Strider, fighting Hunters. Aeron, playing with his Olivia in the clouds. Lucien, guarding the Cage of Compulsion with his Anya. Gideon, honeymooning with his Scarlet. Kane and Cameo, scouring the city for any sign of the enemy. Maddox, playing nursemaid to his Ashlyn, who was “big as a house.” Her words, not Amun’s. Sabin, begging the Unspoken Ones to give back the artifact Strider had parted with. Reyes, guarding his Danika while she painted glimpses into the future. Paris, getting high on ambrosia and preparing to go to war in the heavens.
Amun spent two days with them. No one mentioned Haidee. They all avoided talk of her. But as he seated himself at the dinner table, he decided to change that. They didn’t know it, but this was to be his last dinner with them. Tomorrow he would leave the fortress. Tomorrow he would challenge Zacharel.
Tomorrow he would lose his head.
He knew what Aeron had experienced after his death. Knew the warrior’s soul had gone to another realm, a place where formerly demon-possessed immortals were supposedly to be trapped, unable to taint any other souls with their darkness. Baden was there. Pandora, too.
But Aeron, Baden and Pandora had merely died as mortals did. Their souls hadn’t been burned to ash, as an angel’s sword of fire could make happen.