6 Under The Final Moon (6 page)

“I don’t get it,” I said, pushing the laptop closed. “Why would the Grigori be after Will?”

“They’re not after Will, Sophie. They’re after you.”

There was something in the way Vlad said it, his voice edged with a severe finality, that made a fist of terror grip my heart.

“Because I’m the Vessel.”

Vlad nodded.

“So, the fallen angels want to kill me and now so do the Grigori.” I opened the laptop up again, in a panic, and began reading. Finally, I pointed, my body breaking out in a cold sweat. “There! There! It says there was a flood and they were all wiped out. Right? So maybe all but that guy. Or, or, maybe he’s not even really one of them, maybe he just got the sword, you know, at a garage sale. And this is all a huge, funny coincidence that we’ll laugh about. Ha, ha, ha.” I forced a loud, high-pitched laugh that came out sounding more psychotic than confident. “Right?”

“There were two hundred original Grigori. Some of them mated with human women and created the Nephilim, but some of them didn’t. They were left to walk ‘the Valleys of the Earth’”—Vlad made air quotes—“until Judgment Day.”

“But if they were cast out of Heaven and made to wander around . . .” Nina began.

“They were ripe for the picking. They turned even darker. They want the Vessel of Souls for themselves,” I said.

“Or for the person they’re working for.”

I sat down with a hard thump. “Let me guess. For Satan? Dear old dad strikes again.”

I wanted to hyperventilate. I wanted to scream. I wanted to gut myself and dig out whatever the hell the Vessel of Souls was with a soup spoon and pass it off to anyone who wanted it, anyone who could guarantee that Will would make it home alive.

“I have to call the hospital.”

I slammed the door to my bedroom and dialed the hospital, then paced while they put me on hold. The computer voice told me that my call was important, and would be answered in three minutes. And maybe it was—but every second that passed dragged on and on and I was growing more certain that Will was splayed out on some emergency room table, dying.

“Screw this.”

I grabbed my jacket and the Grigori dagger and cut through the living room.

“Where are you going?” Nina wanted to know.

“I’m going to check on Will. Then I’m going to take out what’s left of the goddamned Grigori.”

I must have driven with blinders on because I made it to the hospital in record time. I don’t know if I stopped for any lights or, hell, if I even stayed on the road, but me and my car made it in once piece so I considered that a plus. I dialed my phone as I crossed the parking lot.

“Grace?”

“Alex? It’s me. You need to come down to San Francisco General right now.”

“Lawson?” His voice grew tight. “Are you okay?”

“It’s the Grigori.”

Alex was silent for a long beat before he breathed out an almost disbelieving, “Shit.” Then, “I’m on my way.”

A stout nurse with her lips set in a deep frown led me into Will’s room. The curtains were drawn and only a pale light above the bed was on, giving Will a terrifyingly corpse-like look.

“You’ve only got ten minutes,” Nurse Frown said. “Ten minutes.”

I could see Will’s eyes moving behind his lids. Then his eyelashes fluttered delicately and my whole body tensed. He looked so incredibly fragile—every inch of him, even the ones that weren’t covered in bandages or hooked up to tubes. His breath was a steady in-out, his chest rising and falling, but every second I expected it to stop, expected the sick joke that had been this night to continue on and steal Will away from me.

“Will?” I whispered.

His lips broke. “Soph?” His voice was soft and hoarse, something akin to a whisper, and it broke my heart.

“Oh, God, Will, are you okay? How are you?”

“Been better.” He smiled, then winced.

“Don’t try and move. Just—did they say—did they—”

He opened his eyes and blinked at me. “Did they say that I should start saying my good-byes? Nah. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

I let out the breath I hadn’t known I was holding, and the tears rushed over my cheeks. “Will, I’m so sorry—this whole thing is my fault! If I hadn’t made you come look for Cerberus—” I fisted my hands, feeling the tight skin of my palm split as my fingernails dug in. “If you hadn’t met me, none of this would ever have happened!”

“It happens, love. I’m your Guardian. This”—he gestured vaguely to the enormous bandage strapped over his stomach and chest—“is part of the job.”

“It’s because of me!”

“Yes, of course it is.”

I stopped crying abruptly. “That’s a terrible thing to say.”

“I’m just agreeing with you.”

“If you weren’t my Guardian . . .”

“But I am.”

He edged his hand out of the blankets and gripped me by the wrist. His eyes, his face—everything—went deeply serious. “Did you get the dagger to Alex?”

I reached for my shoulder bag and pulled the thing out. “This?”

“Good Lord, love, put that back. Don’t they have security around here?”

“Not as much as you’d think. I know about the sword, Will. I know about the Grigori.”

I waited for him to reel back in stunned amazement. Or to hang his head, ashamed that I had uncovered the secret of the warriors he was guarding me from.

“That’s good. With me out”—again, he tried to move, his breath coming in shallow huffs—“for a bit, you’re an even bigger target.”

There was a soft knock on the door, and then Alex poked his head in. I was about to say something when I noticed Nurse Frown coming in on his heels. “You’ve got two minutes.” She jerked her chin toward Will. “He needs his rest.”

She shot withering glances, first one to me, then one to Alex, before stomping out the door.

Alex’s gaze swept to Will. A slight flicker of emotion went through his eyes and my heart broke a little more.

“Tell me what you know about the Grigori,” Alex said.

Will opened his mouth and I stepped forward, placing a hand gently over the bandage on his chest. “You don’t talk. Rest.”

I filled Alex in on our attack, first giving a brief overview of my run-in with the three-headed dog. Alex opened his mouth to respond, but Nurse Frown stuck her head in a second time. “Say good night. He’s discharging tomorrow so y’all can come get him then and talk all you want. But visiting hours are over,” she said, punctuating the word “over” with a scowl.

“We’re leaving.”

Alex followed Nurse Frown out the door, but I paused, looking down at Will. Though he was shirtless, his shoulder muscles and biceps slim but bulging, he looked so vulnerable. The tears started again, and Will lolled his head to the side, then back again.

“Oh, Sophie, geez.”

“I’m sorry, Will,” I said, snatching a tissue from the box on his nightstand. “This is all my fault.”

He huffed. “This is my job. And if you’re going to sit here and pine for me for the rest of your life, well”—a smile cracked across his face—“that’s okay. But not right now.” He waved toward the door. “You need to get a move on. Even if you have to do it with angel boy over there.”

I stood, silent, until Will’s eyes narrowed.

“Go! I’ll be fine.”

I said a hasty good-bye, then joined Alex in the hall. Once the door closed behind me, I looked over at Alex. He was staring at the doors, jaw set hard.

“So you know about the Grigori, too?” I asked him.

He nodded slowly, chewing the inside of his cheek. “We’ve met.”

“Did you know they were coming after me?”

“I knew they would eventually.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, feeling the first white-hot flames of anger. I don’t know why, but Alex’s admission was like a betrayal. “How come you never said anything to me?”

He turned to me, his blue eyes clouded, his lips held in a tight expression I didn’t understand. “Because I never believed it would come to this.”

“This?” I asked with a shrug.

I watched Alex’s Adam’s apple as he swallowed. “Armageddon.”

I pranced to keep up with Alex as he made a beeline through the parking lot. “Armageddon? What are you talking about? Things like this—things like this happen all the time. I mean, Ophelia came back and she brought an army of fallen angels after me and that wasn’t Armageddon, that was, well, that was just a really shitty week. Why is this any different?”

Alex stopped and sucked in a sharp breath. “The man who was burnt to death.”

“Lance Armentrout?” I asked, confused.

“Have you been following the news?”

I wanted to say that I had, wanted to sound like I did something other than tune in to marathons on HGTV and Lifetime. But Alex knew me better than that.

“There have been three suspicious fires in the last two days.”

“Well, yeah, I know that.” I gestured back toward the hospital. “Will told us. He even showed us a crazy video where a homeless guy was screaming.”

Alex straightened. “What was he screaming?”

I took a deep breath, knowing that I was proving Alex’s point—whatever it was—for him.

“He was screaming in Latin. He was—” I stared down at my sneakers on the mist-dusted concrete. “He was calling on Satan.”

Alex nodded. “Strength of the flame.”

A stripe of fear shot up the back of my neck. “How did you know that?”

“Because that’s what happened at both of the other fires, too.”

My breath caught. “What does it mean?”

“Fires, Cerberus, the Grigori?”

“Yeah. What—what’s happening?”

“Look, Lawson, we’re no longer dealing with someone trying to summon the devil. We’re not dealing with someone fiddling around with spells or potions, trying to open the gates of Hell.”

“How do you know that?”

His eyes were fierce and they pinned mine. “Because the gates of Hell have been blown wide open.”

I blinked. “I—I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“First of all, do you still have the sword?”

I patted my shoulder bag. “Uh-huh.”

“They let you bring that into the hospital?”

“Yeah, security is not what it used to be. Why does it matter?”

“We need to get rid of it. He’s going to come back for it and if he doesn’t, another member of the Grigori will.”

“Okay.” I nodded, gripping the straps of my shoulder bag more tightly. “We should go to the wharf. We can drop it into the bay. Or maybe we can burn it? You know, melt it down?”

Alex shook his head. “It’s not that easy. The Grigori swords aren’t made from standard materials.”

“Okay, well, what are they made from? I’m sure we could burn or bury or drown just about any kind of metal.”

“It’s not of this world.”

I cocked a brow and then blew out a defeated sigh. “Of course it’s not. Because that would be too easy.” I yanked the thing out of my bag. “So what the hell are we supposed to do with you?”

“Jesus, Lawson, put that thing away!” Alex was on me in a flash, stuffing the sword back into my bag, looking around like we’d just done an illicit drug deal.

“Geez, sorry, I didn’t know. Does it have a tracker on it or something? GPS?” I shrugged the bag off my shoulder and held it at arm’s length. “Because if that’s the case I’m not carrying—”

“Relax, okay?” Again Alex’s eyes darted from side to side. “There is no GPS on the thing, but first of all, it’s a weapon—a dangerous weapon. You shouldn’t just be whipping it out and flaunting it.”

I frowned, then narrowed my eyes. “I didn’t whip or flaunt.”

Alex went on, ignoring me completely. “Second of all, it is a mythical sword and it has powers.”

“Powers?” I could feel my eyebrows go up, could feel a little zing of intrigue shoot through my nervous system. I immediately imagined myself in slick black leather, my shoulder-length hair suddenly long and flowy, my A-cup boobs a solid C. I was wielding the Grigori sword over my head and people—jerks from high school and people who cut me off in traffic, mostly—were cowering in front of me.

“Lawson?”

I snapped back to attention. “So you were saying something about powers?”

“Just keep the thing hidden until I can figure something out, okay? Actually, you know what? Give it to me.” He held out his palm.

“I can keep it. I can stash a sword. I’m not a complete idiot.”

He cocked his head. It wasn’t entirely an admission of doubt, but it wasn’t a glowing expression of support, either. I sighed.

“Carefully,” Alex said as I opened my purse.

I dug out the sword, finding it blade first. “Crap!”

I stuck my now-bleeding finger into my mouth, and Alex reached into my bag, yanked the sword out by the handle, and shook off the wad of Kleenex that was stuck to it. He popped his trunk and buried the thing inside.

“That should be okay for a while.”

I put my hands on my hips and we stared at each other for a beat. “So, now what?”

He clapped a hand against the back of his neck and sighed. “I’m not exactly sure. I don’t think we should go hunting for the Grigori without more information.”

“So we research?”

Alex nodded, and I worried my bottom lip, my feet rooted to my spot on the concrete.

“What?” he asked.

“You said the Grigori and Cerberus and the fires—you said that meant the gates of Hell were blown open.”

Alex nodded.

“Why? Who would do that?”

“I don’t know, Lawson.”

I nodded then, looking over Alex’s shoulder at the twinkling lights of the city beyond. The view almost made me forget that we were standing in a hospital parking lot—and that we were talking about Hell.

Alex put an index finger under my chin and guided me to face him. “What do you really want to ask me?”

I edged my chin front him. “Nothing. That was it.”

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, and a smile played on his lips. It was a grin I had seen for years—that I had grown to love and despise and love again and now it was stuck somewhere in between.

“We’ve known each other for a long time, Lawson.”

I sucked in a breath, feeling the cool air rush over my lips, then down my throat, itching at the giant lump that had grown there. “Do you think my father could have opened the gates? Do you think it’s him—do you think he wants to start a war?”

Alex’s eyes were a deep, glistening blue with a clarity—and an uncertainty—I’d never seen before. “For you, Lawson, for the whole of humanity, I hope to God not.”

A tremor went through me and the world around me looked bleak—and fragile. Behind Alex, a hunched woman pulled a cart filled with groceries behind her. A Muni bus huffed to a stop and three girls in private-school uniforms got out, giggling and shrieking over their cell phones. A cop came out of the police department, eyes heavy, desperation etched into his face.

Alex took a step closer to me, and it was the first time his fingers brushed over mine all over again. Sparks shot through my body and everything about it—about him—felt wrong but necessary, like his energy charged mine. He cupped my cheek with one palm and I closed my eyes, leaning into his touch, wondering what it would have been like if we were regular people, just two people falling for each other—not on the eve of Armageddon, not in the face of perilous doom, not with full knowledge that our time together, because of what he was and what I am, was finite.

“I—I don’t know if I can do this, Alex. I don’t know if I can take much more.”

His arms slid around me, encircling my waist and pulling me toward him. I breathed in his familiar, cut-grass and cocoa scent, felt the warmth emanate from the crook of his neck where I settled my head. His palms were flat at the small of my back and I felt safe and comfortable and
home.

“You don’t have to, Lawson. You don’t have to do this—anything—alone. I’m here.”

The Underworld Detection Agency is thirty-five floors underground. I’ve never actually stopped at any of the interim floors between the police station and the Agency, but I’ve been told it’s nothing but old files, crap, and mole people. Anyway, the point I’m trying to get at is that we are underground—deep underground. So when I heard the telltale growl of tectonic plates shifting, the sound that every native Californian recognizes immediately, it was deafening where I was standing and I immediately crouched, gripping the two arms of a waiting room chair while all manner of demon and other scattered. The ground underneath me undulated in large waves while the carpet seemed to vibrate, shooting itchy little shock waves through the soles of my shoes.