Iridescent (Ember 2) (35 page)

Sebastian stumbled backward and caught himself on one of the high stools scattered around the room, shocking Draven further with the wide-eyed expression of terror that morphed his features into someone unrecognizable. He didn’t release his wings as Gabe did; he should have. Even with the liquor in his system, protecting himself should have been instinctive. Draven couldn’t wrap his head around the change in the Watcher before him.

“No,” Sebastian raged, clutching at his hair. His eyes darted to Gabe, crazed and angry. “How could you do this to me?”

Gabe’s eyebrow drew down sharply. His hands lifted, palms forward, as though attempting to temper the over-reactions of a small child or approach a frightened animal. “Sebastian…”

“Enough,” Draven thundered. They didn’t have time to pussyfoot around Sebastian’s delicate sensibilities or to pander to his usual tormented bad boy antics. He hoped Sandal had the sense to keep any human customers from paying attention. However, even if they did hear anything, no doubt they would write it off as the demented ramblings of a lunatic.

“You are a damned idiot, Sebastian.”

As if a light switch flicked on, a visible shudder wracked Sebastian’s body before his wings burst forth. The radiant white and gold captured the meager light in the room, reflecting it back like glass. With the three of them exposing their true form, there was barely an inch of space to move without inadvertently brushing off another.

“I was damned long ago, Draven,” Sebastian said blackly. “Now you know why.” The slight quake of his fingertips betrayed that he hadn’t sobered completely.

Evidently, Sebastian managed to convince himself somewhere along the way that he was responsible for everything that had happened to them. Draven had always known Sebastian carried the weight of the war on his shoulders and dragged it behind him like iron chains, something that always kept him living in the past. This went one step further, as if he’d stepped off the edge, fallen into some form of deranged lunacy.

“I don’t know what I know,” Draven fired back.

How could Ananchel remember the way Sebastian accused? He would have known. Draven trusted her with his life. He had trusted her with Candra’s life. A spike of pain ripped through his gut. As much as he wanted to dismiss it, a niggling doubt bristled over his skin, and the hairs on his arms rose. Nathaniel’s warning about Ananchel slammed into him like a sledgehammer to his chest. Maybe a part of him had known and had tried to write it off.

His hate for Sebastian bubbled up, hissing in his muscles and craving to take over. Draven wanted nothing more in that instant than to tear Sebastian limb from limb but held tightly to the reins of his control. He wondered if it was because he knew it was possible Sebastian had stumbled across a verity that held the potential to decimate Draven’s closest relationship—his family.

“Are you saying you were oblivious to all of this?” Gabe asked, his massive warrior shoulders rolling back. His eyes tightened reproachfully, but he stayed well back. Draven suspected it was so he wouldn’t appear threatening or provide a spark to this already combustible situation. Gabe had come here as a mediator, not as an instigator to a fight between them.

Still, the question offended Draven, the insinuation he’d played a willing part in Ananchel’s scheming, if there was any at all. He wasn’t entirely convinced…yet.

“What? You actually believe this bullshit?” Draven waved his hand, making it clear he referred to Sebastian’s presumptions. “You believe Ananchel has devised some master plan to destroy the Arch and is in cahoots with Lilith against me?”

“Not against you,” Sebastian reminded him. “For you.” His lips twisted into a sneer. He raked his fingers through his hair roughly, clearly reaching the end of his rope and evidently still drunk, but sobering quickly. His cheeks were ruddy and his eyes shadowed by purple smudges.

Acid filled Draven’s stomach, and his mind reeled, scrambling for some excuse, anything that would dismiss the charges levied against Ananchel. Pain drummed inside his skull, as if accusation was a battering ram repeatedly slamming against a door. His toes curled against the grubby wooden floor, allowing the stimuli flooding his body to escape. The sights, sounds, smells…it was all too much to assimilate on top of his raging emotions.

“It’s not possible,” he murmured. His wings pulled in to settle along his spine as his argument deflated. All these years, he’d kept Ananchel as his closest confidante. He, of all people, appreciated what she was capable of doing. “Tell me everything.”

Sebastian recounted his story, every single sordid detail of his encounter with Ananchel, how he had taken Candra to the lake and allowed her to read into his words. Sebastian glared at his rival while explaining how Ananchel had convinced him Draven couldn’t be trusted.

By the time Sebastian finished, Draven was convinced his slow placing back and forth should have worn a groove in the wooden floor. He watched Sebastian now and then from where he sat, head in hands on one of the low stool scattered around. Gabe remained by the side of the pool table. All three still displayed their wings but kept them folded in.

“How could you think I would betray Candra so badly…and the Arch?”

“How could I not?” Sebastian retorted coldly. “You turned your back on the Arch long ago, and you can’t deny your connection to Candra. How can I trust what you are capable of?”

Draven shook his head sadly. “You never understood, did you?” He looked up to see Sebastian’s jaw clench and wondered if they were wasting their time. He wasn’t sure Sebastian would listen to reason at this point. Perhaps this situation had already gone too far. His eyes stung from so long in the smoky atmosphere, and his body felt like he’d been dragged through a wringer, as though it had been an eternity since he’d rested.

“I never turned from the Arch. I don’t know of many who did. That was never what any of this was about. We fell in love with life. We wanted to live…It didn’t mean we forgot who we are or turned away from the Arch. You, of all people, should understand our capacity for love knows no bounds. Our decision wasn’t about choosing this life over the Arch. We weren’t created to understand that we couldn’t have both.”

“Are you blaming the Arch?”

Draven groaned and scratched the back of his neck roughly. “Why does anyone have to take the blame? Why can’t we just move on?”

“Because that’s the way everything works.”

“Just because it is, doesn’t mean it’s how it should be.”

Sebastian paused abruptly mid-step, as if stopped by something solid directly in his path. Draven went on, not waiting for an explanation.

“The cost, Sebastian. You say you appreciate that I care for Candra, so how could you imagine that I would trade her happiness and peace of mind for mine? Or that I would sacrifice so many for my own selfish desires?”

Sebastian took a long pull on the cigarette in his hand. The bright orange glow of the tip reflected in his glassy eyes, and ribbons of gray twirled around his head. He glanced briefly at Gabe but gave no clue about what was going on inside his head or if Draven’s words got through to him. Then he locked his gaze on Draven.

Draven suspected Sebastian’s opinion of him was already so low that it wasn’t a huge leap to believe him capable of such atrocities.

“No one is to blame, or we all are; what difference does it make any longer?” Gabe’s word verged on wistful, as if merely verbalizing a stream of consciousness. He picked up one of the striped balls in his hand, weighing it for a moment before rolling it the length of the table without much effort. The ball bounced off the cushion and came back toward him, eventually stopping somewhere midway.

They all watched it move over the green, as though waiting for the shining surface to reveal its secrets. What secrets they must be, Draven thought—all the deals, conversations and secrets that would have passed in this room before they could ever have imagined they would find themselves here.

“Can you swear this is the first time you’ve become aware of any of this?” Gabe asked Draven, looking him straight in the eye.

Draven suspected that if he lied, Gabe would be aware. Regardless, he didn’t intend to do so. He searched inside his mind for an honest response. Anything less, and any shards of trust that remained between the sides would be wiped out, with no going back. They wouldn’t need Lilith to destroy them; they would do it themselves.

How far did the deception go? Was it his fault he was so easily fooled by Ananchel? Anger and frustration preceded a sick, gut-wrenching physical pain and a hollowness so deep, it was as though someone had scooped out his insides—the physical acknowledgement of his heart breaking. He held on to the last shards of hope that they were wrong like a drowning man might hold rocks after falling from a cliff into a savage ocean. Maybe he’d suspected the truth all along and had simply refused to accept it. How could he know for sure?

“No,” he finally admitted. “I can’t swear it, but the question is: what do we do now?”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

C
ANDRA
R
EACHED
T
HE
B
OTTOM
S
TEP
before she recognized the customer in the gallery. He stood with his back turned to her, but she would have known him anywhere regardless. His head tilted to the side, examining a carved couple sitting on top of a bronze sculpture of a meteor. She went to check the door and found it locked. Candra presumed Gabe had left the latch off and the lock had slid into place after Philip entered. Assured there would be no other late customers, she made her way over to Philip. Her heels clicked in the silence of the soundproofed building. Brie had made it that way so people experienced the gallery as a sort of sanctuary from the bustle of the city.

“Philip,” she greeted him, friendly but business-like.

He didn’t respond. Philip stood stoically, apparently entranced by the embracing couple entwined on the pedestal in front of them.

“I had no idea you were into art. Maybe I should go get someone to help you out.” Candra ignored the goose bumps rising on her forearms. Not referring directly to Brie was intentional. Candra didn’t want Philip to know who was on the premises. It felt like a strategic move but not one she had made consciously. Pins and needles ran over her scalp.

“No,” he answered. “It’s you we want.”

Candra automatically scanned the gallery in search of anyone else. She saw no one. She considered the possibility of someone hiding in the storeroom but dismissed the thought since the door was usually kept locked.

“We,” Candra echoed haltingly. The last thing she wanted was to feel scared. The old her would have been indignant at this intrusion, but when Candra smoothed down her shirt, she realized her hands were trembling. Philip had made a nuisance of himself anytime they had met since they broke up. She couldn’t ever remember him making her feel threatened. If anything, she’d pitied his attempts to win her back because his fragile ego demanded he keep a perfect record of cast-aside conquests.

Philip rocked forward onto his toes and then back onto his heels. Candra took another step back, sensing something
off
about the situation. Her heart faltered, and her stomach knotted. The voice inside her head that she hadn’t heard in so long rang in her ears.
Go now.

Candra flinched at the demanding and distinctly male voice. Her knees locked in position. The voice came again.
Leave.

The instruction, underlaid with penetrating urgency, did nothing at all to still her shattered nerves. Her feet refused to move. She pressed her lips together, considering her next move. It seemed almost irrational to be afraid of Philip, but her instincts had never failed her so far. The internal voice was always right. In reality, she knew it couldn’t really be her father because he no longer existed. Candra hoped it was some latent memory of him left behind in this world, a ghost of the angel he had once been that remained to protect her.

Philip’s fingers twitched by his side as their protracted silence wore on. Candra found herself peering at his grubby fingernails, a reddish mud gathered underneath them. Candra blinked rapidly. No, it wasn’t dirt. It was blood…dried, encrusted blood.

Adrenaline fired up and burned through her system, creeping up her spine and awakening every sense. Her body was like a steam engine, building pressure, ready to power across open space and trash anything that got in her way. Candra’s fists clenched mercilessly, and the muscles in her arms strained as she concentrated on reeling in the power surging through her and manifesting as a faint glow across her skin. Brie…She had to remember that Brie just a short distance away. Candra closed her eyes for a moment and forced the power back down.

Philip’s shoulders rose sharply, accompanied by a deep breath. The exhale from his open mouth seemed to slice through the air like a garbage bag split open to release the rancid stink of rotten meat.

“You positively reek of goodness.”

Candra stiffened. If he could smell goodness, the vile fragrance emanating from him was pure evil.

“Time to go,” she ground out through clenched teeth, desperately trying to get a grip on the bubbling energy inside her.