Hades (45 page)

“For your information God wants people to be happy,”

Mol y went on defiantly. I had the sense that she was trying

to build a case like she’d seen in school debates. “Go forth

and multiply, right? I remember that much from Sunday

School.”

“Those directions were given to man,” Gabriel said very

quietly.

“So you don’t get to be happy? You can’t want a life?”

“It’s not question of wanting. It’s more a question of

design,” Gabriel said, and Mol y looked defeated. “You

need someone to love you the way you deserve. I promise

to watch over you every day of your life.” His voice was

tender. “I’l make sure you’re always safe.”

“No!” Mol y was yel ing like a spoiled child now. “That’s

not what I want.” She shook her head vehemently, causing

some of her copper curls to come loose and fal across her

pale face. Mol y was too caught up in her whirlwind of

emotions to notice, but Gabriel’s expression seemed to

shift as he watched her. On his face, I read a compulsive

desire to reach out to her—this strange, tumultuous

creature that he did not understand. His hand twitched and

he slowly lifted it, like he might be about to brush away her

tears.

Then Ivy stepped into the room wearing a bathrobe. She

looked surprised by the commotion and Gabriel quickly

dropped his hand, his face returning to its usual impassive

mask. A moment later Mol y bolted from the room, silent

tears stil streaming down her face.

Ivy shot him a sympathetic look. “I wondered how long it’d

be before that conversation happened.”

“You knew? Why didn’t you say something? It might have

helped me handle it better.”

“I doubt that,” said Ivy with quiet insight. If there was

anyone who could hope to understand Gabriel it was her.

While he remained complex and unreadable to people and

angels alike, Ivy had always had the uncanny ability to read

his thoughts.

“What should I do now?” It was rare for Gabriel to seek

counsel on any matter, but the nature of teenage love was a

complete mystery to him.

“Nothing,” Ivy replied. “These things happen. She’l get

over it.”

“I hope so,” my brother replied in a voice that made me

wonder if it was only Mol y he was thinking about.

Ivy lay down and turned out the light. Gabriel sat on the

edge of his bed, chin cupped in his hand, staring into the

darkness. He sat there, unmoving, long after Ivy had fal en

asleep.

28

Misery Loves Company

RETURNING to the constraints of my physical body came

as a rude shock to me. Being with my family and feeling

like part of their lives again had made me forget my current

predicament. Now I was back in my cramped cel in the

reeking chambers of Hades, where the space was so tight I

couldn’t stand up. As if to add to my woes, the air around

me was fil ed with the acrid stench of sulfur and continuous

lamentations for help. I had no idea how long I’d been

projecting, but I knew it must have been a while because al

my joints were stiff and my muscles ached when I moved.

Someone had thrust some dry crusts and a tin cup of

water into my cel . I sat in my nightgown, so besmirched by

muck that its original color was almost undetectable. I tried

to slow my breathing to fend off the escalating panic in my

chest. I huddled in the corner with my head tucked up

against my shoulder. Several times a shadowy warden

walked past to further torment the captive souls. He was

identifiable only by the fiery embers of his eyes and the

metal prongs he rattled along the bars. For some reason he

didn’t stop at my cel . Once I was sure he’d gone I pushed

myself over to the tin cup and took a long gulp of water. It

had an unpleasant metal ic taste. My whole body was sore,

but the sharpest pain was coming from behind my shoulder

blades. Now that I couldn’t even stretch anymore, my wings

ached worse than ever. I thought if I didn’t release them

soon I would go insane.

To distract myself I thought about Mol y and Gabriel. My

heart went out to them both. Whatever strange connection

existed between them had no hope of developing. Mol y

didn’t ful y grasp the concept of divine love. This was love in

its purest form, unaltered by human interpretation and

encompassing al living creatures. It was a celebration of

creation. Although he might be confused by the intensity of

Mol y’s emotions, I knew Gabriel would be fine. He would

not deviate from his purpose. He wouldn’t even need to

think about it. Mol y on the other hand would suffer badly

from the perceived rejection. I hoped Xavier would help her

through it. He’d grown up in a household ful of sisters—

he’d know what to say.

I knew Jake would show up eventual y and sure enough,

his silhouette appeared a moment later, hovering in the

darkness. His face emerged from behind the bars lit by the

long torch he carried. I could smel his spicy cologne and I

noticed that his presence no longer had the usual alarming

effect on me. In fact, it was the first time I was actual y

relieved to see him.

I inched forward, scraping my skin on the concrete floor

of the tiny enclosure. I would have liked to send him away,

but I couldn’t. I would have liked to express my anger, but I

wasn’t strong enough. We both knew I needed his help if I

didn’t want to perish in this hole in the wal , buried alive until

my body wasted away and my spirit was crushed.

“This is an outrage,” he hissed under his breath when the

torchlight revealed my condition. “I’l not forgive him for this.”

“Can you get me out of here?” I asked, hating myself for

my lack of stoicism. But seeing as I’d survived a burning at

the stake, maybe I wasn’t meant to be a martyr.

“Why do you think I came?” he said, looking pleased with

himself. He touched the lock on the cel and it turned to ash

and crumbled to the ground.

“Won’t Big Daddy find out about this?” I asked, surprised

to hear myself casual y using his nickname.

“Only a matter of time.” Jake sounded unconcerned.

“There are more spies down here than there are souls.”

“And then what?” I needed to know what the future held.

Was Jake only offering a temporary reprieve? He seemed

to read my thoughts.

“We’l worry about that later.”

He tugged at the cel door and it shifted a little, enough

for me to squeeze through.

“Hurry,” Jake urged, but I didn’t move. Moving in any

direction was difficult.

“How long have I been here?”

“Two days, but I hear you slept through most of it. Here,

give me your hand. I’m sorry things turned out like this.”

His apology caught me off guard. Jake was not in the

habit of accepting responsibility for the damage he’d

caused. He looked at me intently and I could see he had

something on his mind. His brow was creased and a look

of preoccupation had replaced his usual expression of

scornful detachment. His hawk-like gaze didn’t leave my

face.

“You’re not wel ,” he observed at last. I wondered what

made him think I’d be wel given the circumstances. Jake

was like a chameleon; he could change his manner to suit

his own agenda. Right now his solicitous behavior was

unsettling me and I couldn’t resist a sarcastic reply.

“Being kept in a cage doesn’t do much for the

complexion,” I muttered.

“I’m trying to help you here—you could at least show

some appreciation.”

“Haven’t you helped me enough?” I said, but when he

offered me his hand again I took it.

Slowly and by using his arm to support my weight I

managed to wriggle out of the compartment. I found that

although I could stand I couldn’t take more than a step or

two without my legs giving way. Jake took one look at me

before handing me the torch and lifting me into his arms.

He strode out of the chambers with a regal confidence and

although I was sure I saw eyes like burning coals watching

us through the gloom, no one made any attempt to stop us.

Outside the chambers Jake’s motorbike was waiting. He

deposited me careful y on the back before mounting and

switching on the ignition. Seconds later I was pressed

against him as the suffocating chambers of Hades

disappeared behind me.

“Where are we going?” I whispered, seeing unfamiliar

surroundings.

“I have an idea I think might make you feel better.”

Jake drove without stopping until we reached the

entrance to a deep gorge with steep cliff wal s and black

running water that seemed to flow into a channel

underground. Jake dismounted lightly, watching me with

growing agitation.

“Are you in pain?”

I nodded mutely. There was little point withholding

information from him now. There was nothing he could do

with it that could possibly worsen my situation. Jake

seemed to have anticipated what was happening to me

and seemed more informed than I was.

“Tel me,” he continued. “How do your wings feel?”

The directness of the question caught me off guard and I

felt myself blush suddenly. There was something about it I

found objectionable. My wings were one thing that defined

my very existence. I had worked hard to keep them from

prying human eyes. They were an intensely personal part of

me and I wasn’t sure I wanted to discuss their condition with

Jake Thorn, Prince of Hades.

“I haven’t given them much thought,” I said evasively.

“Wel , think about them now.”

Once Jake had drawn my attention to them I became

aware of how they were throbbing beneath my shoulder

blades, burning to be released. Every so often they sent

shooting pains down my back. I felt irritated with him for

drawing my attention to the problem. I had deliberately

chosen to ignore the issue of my wings. What was the point

of doing otherwise in Hades?

“We need to do something about them,” Jake said

decisively. “If you want to keep them that is.”

I didn’t like his use of the plural
we
rather than
you
. It

made me feel as if we were working as a team, as if we

had shared problems we could tackle together. I gave him

a blank stare.

“Perhaps what I’m trying to say might be better

demonstrated.” Before I knew it Jake was peeling off his

black leather jacket and flinging it to the ground. He turned

his back to me and pul ed his shirt up over his head. Then

he stood with his back straight and his head slightly bowed,

a humbling pose that looked distinctly out of place on him.

“What do you see?” he asked in a muted voice. I

scanned the contours of his back. Jake’s shoulders were

slender but wel formed and not unathletic. He didn’t have

bulging muscles, but every tendon was taut and lean and

rippled when he moved. He looked fast on his feet and

dangerous.

“I don’t see anything,” I replied, averting my eyes.

“Look closely,” Jake urged, taking a step backward so

he was even closer, his back bent in front of me in a white

arc. Something caught my eye then and I looked with open

curiosity. The skin on his back was smooth and

unblemished except for two rows of tiny pea-size nodules

that ran like an extra set of vertebrae under each shoulder

blade. The row of little beads under his skin, only a

centimeter or two apart, looked like scarring from wounds