Ignite (39 page)

In a quick motion, he reaches out and takes my hand in his, tearing my mind away from Azael, away from Hell. I sit perfectly still, holding my breath.

“Pen.” His voice is warm and sweet.

I can’t fight it anymore, and my eyes rise to meet his.

“What I did and what I said are unforgivable.” He watches me with large, glossy eyes that I could drown in. That I
am
drowning in. “There is nothing I can say to make it up to you.”

I snag my teeth over my lip and stay silent. I don’t trust myself to speak.

“I heard you,” he continues. “Looking for me. It took all I had not to answer you. Your voice was all around me, and what you were saying—I realized you hadn’t lied to me.”

He heard me.

“How could I have been so stupid to not see the truth that was right in front of me?”

My voice is so small that I can’t tell if he can hear me. “I’m a very good liar. Especially when lives depend on it.”

He pauses. “I wanted to call back to you, but it was too late. Ariel and Sablo—angels I thought were meant to protect me—they came to my room and beat me when I returned. They kept me unconscious. I don’t know if they were told to do so or if they thought it would be an easier way to keep me… restrained.”

I look closer at his face, at his shoulders, and see the shadow of deep bruises. Even after healing himself, the blood is still pooled under his skin in blues, greens, and purples. How many times had they beaten him? How many days was he unconscious?

“For so long, everything was dark. I couldn’t hear your voice anymore, and I thought I was dead. I would have preferred to have been dead. But I wasn’t. They were still deciding my fate, I guess. No need to rush the decision.” He stops and looks at me, his eyes a shade of blue I never would have thought possible. “There were brief episodes when I would regain consciousness, but it was never for very long. I would only catch a snippet of a conversation before the darkness swallowed me again.”

“Michael…” I lower my eyes to my lap. I can’t bear to imagine him broken and beaten, crumpled on the hard floor of his room. Angels show about as much mercy as demons do. An inflated sense of righteousness is just as dangerous as evil.

“The first time I was conscious enough to stand, they marched me to my death. But even when they were going to execute me, even when I thought I had lost everything, when I wanted to die… I remembered your poetry. I thought of
you
. I suppose I was meant to see my life flash before my eyes, but I had no life to remember. I only had you. You were my life, and the only thing I saw was your face.”

He saw me.

“I just wanted to hear your voice one more time, and I remembered how you told me to fight for myself. So I did. I didn’t want to die before I had a chance to apologize to you.” He leans towards me, his faces inches from mine. “I once asked you to fight for yourself, to wake up and see what I saw in you. And then I gave up on you. But even then, you never gave up on me. I was weak and foolish.
You
were the strong one. You always were.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek.

“I don’t know how I could have been so blind. It’s you, Pen.” He reaches out and traps my hands in his. “My heart beats for you. How has it taken me this long to see that?”

“Michael,” I murmur, lowering my eyes. I drop his hands and push away from him, standing up.

“Wait!” Michael scrambles to his feet unsteadily. He grabs my hand and pushes it against his chest, over his heart, right where he was bleeding from moments ago. The dried blood stains his chest a strange orange. “Do you feel that?”

His heart beats, strong and steady. I look up at him and nod. “Of course.”

“That is not just my heart, not just my soul. It’s yours.” He pauses. “‘Love and harmony combine / And round our souls entwine,’” he quotes. It’s William Blake. He found his poetry. “‘While thy branches mix with mine / And our roots together join…’”

I pull my hand away from him, leaving a darker red handprint over his heart from my still wet hand, and cross my arms over my chest. “It’s not fair to quote poetry at me.”

He smiles sadly. “I can’t always find the words myself. Poetry has put what I want to say to you in strings of words that make sense. You make it difficult for me to think clearly.”

I look away from him, over the icy lake. “I’m not staying here,” I say suddenly. My amulet feels bulky under the collar of my shirt.

He’s silent for a moment, shifting on his feet. “Where are we going?”

“Where am
I
going,” I correct.

He freezes, his gaze meeting mine, searching my eyes and forcing me to look away. “Where are you going?” he asks quietly.

I said my goodbyes to Azael that night under the stars before my world with Michael had crumbled beneath me. But after Michael had left, I clung to the voice of my brother. Even though he was far away, his words, however harsh and crude, kept me sane in my despair. I caught onto him, like the fingers of someone sliding down a sheer mountain side finding purchase on a narrow ledge. He saved me in his own way, just by being himself. He was simply
there
. I promised him I’d see him soon, and I can’t take that promise away from him. Not without one final goodbye.

“Back to Hell.” I glance at him quickly.

His face falls. “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he says softly.

My chest aches, and I tighten my arms around myself.

“I have little hope that I’ll ever see you again.” His voice is sad and wistful. “But I won’t try to stop you, as long as you are doing this because you want to. Not because you have no other choice. Not because of what I did…”

I don’t say anything.

“I will let you go, Pen. And I won’t follow you. Just promise me one thing.”

I look back up at him.

“Stay safe.”

It’s the same prayer I said for him. My resolve nearly breaks, and I let out a muffled sound like a whimper.

“You need to run,” I tell him flatly.

He quirks his head to the side. “I don’t understand.”

“Run!” I yell at him, backing away and pressing myself to the rough bark of a tree.

He steps forward, a look of concern spreading across his face. “Pen, are you all right?”

“You need to get away from here, away from me!”

My arms are snaked around myself, squeezing so tight I can’t breathe. I feel my pendant pulse once and I’m shaking.

Pen, what’s wrong? Is that Michael?
Azael’s voice invades my thoughts. I hear him laugh and it sounds like nails on a chalkboard.
Just in time. Kill him.

I take the necklace off, throwing it across the shore, breaking our connection. The stone scrapes across the ice and slides to a stop.

Azael knows. He knows Michael is back.

“Please,” I scream, my voice high and tight. “Please, run!”

He can still escape. I’ll let him run, hurt myself, and tell Azael he put up a fight. He has the archangel sword, and Azael would have to understand. I’ll accept whatever consequences his freedom means, even if it’s endless torture. It’ll be worth it, because killing him would be more painful than anything Hell could do to me. There’s still a chance…

Michael freezes, standing perfectly still in front of me next to the bloody sword. In his eyes, I see the light of understanding. “You have to kill me.”

Shakily, I take in a gulp of air and nod, not breaking our stare. His eyes hold me captive and I convulse again.
Go!

He shakes his head. The sun has completely set, and the lake is only lit by the large, low hanging moon. He walks towards me cautiously, his arms stretched out in surrender.

“I won’t run.”

“Yes you will. You have to.”
Please run. Please go.

“No. I left you once before and it was the biggest mistake I have ever made. I won’t do it again, no matter the cost.”

“The cost is your life!”

“So be it.” He looks at me with a small smile. “If I am going to die, I want your face to be the last thing I see. The real you, not just a memory of you. Even if you are the reason I die, I want you to be with me.”

Run—please go!

“I won’t live another moment without you.”

I shake my head weakly, but he only smiles at me and nods. His eyes shine with unshed tears and his golden hair seems to glow in the moonlight.

“Pen, I understand.”

But I don’t.

“I am asking you to kill me,” he whispers. “It is the only way I can guarantee you’ll be safe. I’ll give you my life to protect yours.”

I’m staring into his bright face. I feel my dagger pressed against my leg, its metal blade cold on my skin. I can’t kill him. I won’t kill him. I’m going to be sick…

“There’s honor in sacrifice.”

I want to scream. I told him his life was too big of a burden for me to carry. I need to tell him this, but I can’t find my voice. My protests are strangled in my throat.
No
.

“Before you kill me, though, I have one last selfish request.”

He looks at me meaningfully and I stare back at him.

“A kiss.”

He closes the distance between us in two large strides. Only the smoke of our breath stands between us as he brushes a piece of hair away from my face, curling it behind my ear, his fingers delicate and hesitant. I look up into his eyes and feel a horrible twisting in my stomach.

Slowly, he lowers his mouth to mine, his soft lips hot against my own. A warmth envelops me, swelling up like water, and I close my eyes. I let the feeling pull me under, surrendering to the overwhelming sensation. He whispers his apologies on my lips and places his hand at the base of my neck, bringing us closer together. This kiss is desperate; this kiss is sacred. A single tear falls down his cheek, the saltiness slipping across my lips.

This kiss is a goodbye.

Underneath the sadness, I feel something else. It’s something so strong that it crushes my chest and weakens my knees. With effort, he steps back and lets go of me.
Too soon, it’s all too soon.

“Thank you.” He turns around and walks over to his sword. He picks it up carefully and turns it over in his hand. With the ghost of a smile on his lips, he extends the handle towards me carefully. “I’m ready now,” he says.

Numbly, I grab the sword from him. I’m shaking as I stare down at the sharp tip and the obscured inscription in confusion. I don’t understand why his sword is in my hand; I don’t understand anything. His blood isn’t even dry on the blade yet and he wants me to spill more.

He waits, his arms by his sides and his eyes locked on mine.

I shake my head insistently as panic floods my veins. “No. I can’t.”

“It’s okay,” he says as he lowers his chin and stands up straighter. “I’m ready to die. I’ve already done it once before.”

Please run. GO!

“I’m ready,” he says again.

“I’m not going to kill you!”

He waits, but I don’t. I throw his sword down and it skitters across the ice, coming to a stop next to my pendent. I run towards him and throw my arms around his neck, burying my head against his chest, his heart beating furiously next to my cheek. He catches me in his embrace, unsure and surprised, and circles his own strong arms around my waist. A small word dances on the tip of my tongue.

Love.

As if he heard the word reverberate in my head, he squeezes me to him, his large hands pressing against my back, bringing me closer to him. He leans back and I look up to him. In his eyes shines a fire so bright, so fierce I can feel its heat. It’s hope, wild and unstoppable, and he stares at me unbelievingly.

“Pen?” His voice is full of wonder, timid and hesitant.

I can’t kill him because I could never live without him. Not now, not ever again. If he were to die, I would die with him. It’s like our lives have become inextricably woven, tangled together like strands of DNA. There is no separating us without destroying us, no pulling us apart because we are both unwilling to let go.

“Michael,” I whisper back.

I’m sure he can see my desperate need to keep him alive, to keep us together, reflected in my eyes and written all over my face. I’m sure he can hear it in the slight hitch in my breath at his touch.
I can’t be without you
. I stand on my toes as he tips his chin down and our lips collide, dancing together dizzyingly. The world seems to be spinning faster around us and I cling to him tighter, as if I’m trying to press us into one being.
I never want to let go
.

His voice is golden and musical in my head, so powerful I feel my knees buckle.
I love you
.

I gasp against him, but don’t let go.

He repeats it over and over again.
I love you, Pen. I love you.

I shiver against him and he opens his mouth to mine. Suddenly, I feel like we are back under the stars again, breathing each other in, starving for the other’s air.

It’s like the world that shattered after our perfect kiss is being pieced back together, shard by shard, until it is whole again. Until
we
are whole again. The hammer of his heart beats under me, echoing in the empty cavern of my chest. He shares his heart with me just as I share my breath.