Ivory Guard (15 page)

SIXTEEN

Maion’
s lids twitched, as if struggling to function, and then finally, slowly cracked open. Only to close again. “Ah, fuck.”

His voice was gruff with sleep and Lillian almost chuckled.

One eye opened, squirming at the soft candle light illuminating the room. “Where the hell am I?”

Lillian leaned into his field of vision.
“Our safe house in Oregon.”

He seemed to take that in and then suddenly scowled.
“Am I sober?”

“
Uh, yeah.”

That
scowl only darkened. “What the fuck happened?”

“I called you and you landed on our kitchen table. It was
…messy.”

“Don’t remember that.” He slowly got up, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed as if they were heavy tree logs. Bracing his arms
at his sides on the bed, he frowned, looking over his shoulder and at his injured wing. Broken before it was now healing up, thanks to Becca, but Lillian was sure it still hurt.

“You cu
t your pinky and broke your wing.”

Lifting his hand he stared at it.
Four fingers. His eyes traveled to Lillian and the jar she held out to him – with his pinky in it. “What the fuck?”

Shrugging, Lillian explained, “I didn’t know how fast you would heal.
Or if you would heal. Given all the alcohol in your blood…Before throwing it away, I thought it best to…, you know, just in case.” She thrust the jar out and at him.

“Thanks.” He opened it and took out his finger. As he held it to his hand a soft light emanated from it and suddenly his hand was healed.
Five fingers and all. “Only a shade can
kill
us. The only other way to…
incapacitate
an angel – and to make him mad as hell – is to cut off the wings or head while he’s earthbound. Takes time and hurts like hell.”

Lillian swallowed, a bit
nauseated by the image his words painted, by the thought of the incredible amount of pain suffered and by the ruthlessness that was needed to inflict it.

Then
Maion took in the room, noticing the candles and their deliberate placement around the bed, the herbs. His gaze flicked to her, suspicion and alarm rising, “Lillian, what did you do?” His eyes widened before narrowing on her and with a hiss he demanded to know, “And why the hell can I sense an Ebony within these walls?”

It was in that moment that Lillian decided she preferred drunken Maion over the sober one. Drunken Maion at least was laid-back, this Maion was…well, the exact opposite of that.

“Calm down, please. I can explain. You know me, Maion, so please, just listen to me.”

His jaw clenched, as did his hands beside him, but in the end he did as she had asked. He listened as she told him about their fight in the woods, about the Ebony almost killing Matt and threatening her parents.
And about Becca and Quinn.

When she finished and silence filled the space between them, Maion groaned and buried his head in his hands before rubbing them through his hair and pinning her with his gaze.
Lillian almost squirmed, not because of his fierce stare but because it reminded her so much of another angel she fought so hard to forget. Yeah, she
really
preferred him drunk.

“Dammit, girl.
Wh...” For a moment he was at a loss for words. “Fuck! Why does this have to happen on my watch? God, he’s going to have my head for that.”

What?
“Who?”

He thrust a finger into her face. “What’s done is done. You’ll find out as much as you can about the witch and the Ebony. You chose your path, finish it on your own…and live with your consequences. But make sure not
one
word of what you did, of what is happening here, will ever be uttered outside these four walls. Or it will be the death of us all.”

Maion’s
eyes were hard as steel and yet gentle with…understanding? She had no idea how he managed that, but it gave her enough strength to ask, “And what about my parents?”

“
Last time I heard, they were alright.”

“You checked on them?”

Maion opened his mouth, but then shut it with a snap. “Yeah.”

Why did that sound like a lie? Frowning Lillian catalogued that for later to ponder and persisted, “Well, you’ve been out of it for a while. Care to check on them again? Maybe have someone shadow them for a while?”

He nodded, his face soft again. “Don’t worry.”

Relief flooded her. At least today, when she needed him the most she could count on him. “Thank you.”

Raz found Maion in a bar in Chicago, staring at the bottom of the empty glass in his hand as if he could find all the answers there.

“Where the hell have you been?”

A few years ago Raz would have simply enjoyed the dim light, bluesy music and  a glass of good whiskey, but now the atmosphere didn’t even register while he was barely able to keep himself from throttling his brother - and only because he wanted him to have enough air to answer his questions. They had been supposed to meet yesterday, as they always did after his brother went to see Lillian.

What the hell was wrong with Maion? It wasn’t the first time he wondered. No, it really wasn’t.
There were so many questions that needed answers, and yet he, the angel of mysteries couldn’t see them.

“In Oregon,”
his brother said, not quite drawling yet.

Lillian.

Raz swallowed. Just the thought of her and his mouth went dry and his heart started drumming against his ribs. “How did it go?”

“Splendid.”

Anger rising and eyes narrowing, Raz had to battle for patience. “What the hell is wrong then?”

“What’s wrong?” Maion softly repeated before facing him, surprising Raz with the sudden lucidity in his eyes. “T
he whole fucking system, that’s what’s wrong. Then that’s what it is…a system. We’re all expandable. The Ivorys, the angels, the humans.” Shaking his head Maion went on, “You have no idea how it feels. Every time when I go to see them… and Lillian, for just one flash, has this hope in her eyes…wishing it wasn’t me but another angel that would come to her.”

They had been through this before and yet it always cut him.
Raz could feel every muscle tense, his heart hurting as if being squeezed in his brother’s hands. “As long as she’s okay…”

Maion’s
snort cut him off. “Okay? Lillian
functions,
but she’s not okay. Not deep inside where it matters, that place only one person can ever reach. That one person who makes everything better, brighter and worth it.”

Snapping, Raz snarled. “Damn it
, Maion. You know what would happen. You’re the freaking angel of self-discipline and should applaud me on mine not push the dagger deeper and twist it for fun.”

Maion stood on unsteady legs, murmuring, “
They should be happy, they’ve earned that right.”  Then he disappeared.

And left Raz standing there, alone, his hear
t aching…his mind wondering.

Not even caring
whether someone had noticed his brother’s sudden departure into thin air, Raz slid onto the empty stool.

“What can I get you?”

He pointed at a bottle of whiskey on the shelf behind the barman. “All of that.”

And to think he had been sure that Maion, the fucking angel of fucking self-discipline, would have his ass for his feelings toward an Ivory.
No, quite the contrary. Ever since he had left Lillian, Maion looked at him as if he’d drowned his favorite puppy.

Fuck Maion.
Of course he wanted nothing more than to go back to her. It was like an instinct screaming inside of him, and Raz fought it every goddamn day. He hadn’t seen her in two years and still everything was fresh in his mind. Maybe that was also because he replayed every moment they had spent together over and over in his mind. All he had were these conversations with Maion, who would tell them how there fights had been, where they were off to next. Although he wanted nothing more, he hadn’t even watched her out of the shadows. Not really because it was too creepy but because it was too damn tempting.

I
f he saw her again, even just one more time, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to walk away. In fact, he was sure he would never be able to leave her again.

Two days later l
uck was on their side. It had finally stopped raining and nothing stood in their way to gather around the improvised fire in their back yard. The guys apparently had been rather eager and had even chopped some wood to add to their fire. Night had settled around them and sweet, damp autumn scented the air.

“Hey, let me help you with those.”
Joshua came up the steps and towards her as he saw the bowls in her hands. The bigger one contained the dough she had prepared for campfire bread, the other chopped onions and strips of bacon which she loved to add to the bread.

“Thanks.”

He grinned as he saw the crackers and a bag of marshmallows she carried under her other arm. “Dessert, huh?”

“A campfire isn’t a campfire without
s’mores.”

They had dinner earlier. With the regular fighting and t
raining to keep their bodies in shape and their senses honed, the bread and s’mores wouldn’t have been enough for them as a meal, but as a late dessert they were perfect.

They walked over to join the others
who were all dressed in comfortable, warm clothes and standing in a loose circle around the fire.

“Which shall it be?” Abby held up a Corona in one hand and a glass of white wine in the other.

After Lillian pointed at the beer, Abby gave it to her and kept the wine for herself. “Here you go.”

They clanked bottle to glass and drank.

Ah, the cool beer felt like heaven and immediately eased some of the muscles that were still tense from their earlier fight.

The evening turned quickly into dark night, their chatter a spark of life in the silence surrounding them, just like the flickering fire. At one point the boys organized some logs of wood as seating arrangements.

A thought occurred to Lillian. They had spent the last two days grilling and testing Becca and Quinn for more information, for slip-ups, basically any kind of evidence that would suggest foul play, but there was one thing they hadn’t asked yet.

Cocking her head to the side she looked at Becca. “Is it warm in hell? You know, like humans, and I myself, always imagine.
With the cozy, fiery fires and all.”

Becca grinned. “Actually, it is a little warmer there. It is brighter and warmer, like purgatory is a little colder and grayer then the real world.”

Lillian said drily, “Well, it doesn’t feel colder when it’s the middle of summer and over a hundred degrees.”

“Didn’t say
it’s cold here, just colder then the real world. The difference fluctuates. So hell has seasons as well, but nevertheless it’s a bit warmer.”

Abby sighed and wondered, “How do you know all this stuff? Is there a manual we didn’t get, or what?”

“No. I researched a lot about hell and the holes, and therefore about heaven and purgatory as well since one doesn’t go without the other, when I decided to get us out of there.” Becca stared at the flickering flames, silver tongues shooting into the night, “First black-and-white fire I’ve ever seen. So weird.”

“You get used to it.”
Joshua seemed to hesitate, but then asked anyway, “How is it in hell? Same as the holes, with all the red?”

“Almost.
The holes, that’s more like dark red, whereas hell is really red. Like blindingly so.”

At that Quinn’s hands started dancing through the air.
So elegant and peaceful. Words without words. It saddened Lillian that she couldn’t understand it.

“What is he saying?” Matt asked.

He motioned towards his sister with a nod of his head and flashed a teasing grin. Becca scowled. “No.”

“Come on.”

After a sigh, she relented, “He says my hair glows pink, and I mean really neon pink, over there.”

They laughed
and although Becca rolled her eyes she soon joined in. But something tugged at Lillian’s memory. Pink. Then she remembered the blonde pixie, hair dyed a bright pink by the hellhole’s red veil, making her way out of the portal and into the woods – and barreling into her Ebony Stalker as he held a shade to Matt’s neck.

Her eyes wide, Lillian gasped, “It was you. You saved Matt.”

Matt’s whispered, “What the hell?” was drowned by Becca’s shrug and casual, “Uh, yeah. So?”

“So?” Matt almost choked as he grappled for words. “So why the hell didn’t you say something?
While we kinda were deciding whether to off you in the woods? Or maybe before our interrogation started?”

“Calm down. What’s the saying, all’s well that ends well?”

Matt turned, his eyes seeking Lillian’s and drilling into her.
Lillian nodded subtly in understanding, while taking a moment to just watch as her guard laughed and enjoyed a glass of wine – or more. With the life they led it should have been difficult to fall into such easy normalcy…but quite the opposite was true. Moments like this kept them going, kept them sane.