Lover Reborn (78 page)

But she had not been all the way there. The critical part that had been missing was a sense of herself not as somebody who was unworthy and had to be punished, but as an individual with value and a life to live beyond the tragedy that had defined her for so long.

As she stepped forward, it was not as a servant or a maid, but as a female of worth… one who was going to go to her male, and embrace him, and be joined with him for as long the Scribe Virgin deemed.

Except she didn’t make it.

She was not even halfway across the foyer when her body was struck by some kind of force.

She could not comprehend what o’ertook her: One moment she was
striding toward Tohr, answering his silent plea that she come to him, crossing over the floor, zeroing in on the one she loved.…

And the next, a great light fell upon her from some unknown source, halting her in her tracks.

Her will commanded her body to continue to Tohr, but a greater force laid claim to her, and take her it did: With a pull that was as undeniable as gravity, she was drawn up from the earth, into the light. And as she was lifted upward, she heard Lassiter screaming, and saw him surge forward as if he wanted to stop her departure—

That was what energized her to flail against the current. Struggling fiercely, she fought with all she had, but there was no freeing herself from what had captured her: No matter how she battled, she could not alter her ascension.

Down below, chaos reigned, people racing forward as Tohr dragged himself up off the floor. As he regarded her, his face was a mask of confusion and disbelief—and then he began to leap up as if he were trying to catch her, as if she were a balloon, the string of which he sought to palm. Someone grabbed him as he lost his balance—John. And the Primale rushed to his side. And his Brothers…

Her last image was not of any of them, not even of Tohrment, but of Lassiter.

The angel was beside her, rising as well, the light consuming them both until he disappeared and so did she, until she was nothing at all, not even conscious.…

When Autumn came to once again, she was in a vast white landscape, one so wide and so long that it had no horizons.

Before her was a door. A white door with a white knob and a glow around its jambs as if there was a bright light awaiting her on the other side.

This had not been what had greeted her when she’d first died.

Back years and years ago, when her consciousness had returned to her after she had inflicted that dagger upon her own stomach, she had found herself in a different white landscape, one that had trees and temples and rolling lawns, one that was populated by the Scribe Virgin’s Chosen females, one that she had gone on to live in without question, accepting her fate as not one of her choosing, but the inevitable result of her choices down below.

This, however, was not the Sanctuary. This was the entrance unto the Fade.

What had happened?

Why had she—

The explanation came to her in a rush as she realized that she had finally let the past go and opened her heart to embrace all that life had to offer… thus freeing herself from her own In Between—even as she had been unaware she had been within it.

She was out of the In Between. She was… free.

But Tohrment was down below.

Her body began to shake, rage shooting through her, the anger so deep and abiding she wanted to claw through the door and have a harsh word with the Scribe Virgin or Lassiter’s Maker or whoever the sick bastard was who dealt out fates.

After having traversed the great distance from where she had first started, only to find that the prize was nothing but another sacrifice, she was livid to the point of violence.

Not holding anything back, she let herself go, throwing herself at the portal, beating at it with her fists, tearing at it with her nails, kicking at it with her feet. She uttered curses that were vile and called the holy forces names that were villainous—

When arms shot around her waist and began to drag her back, she attacked whoever it was, baring her fangs and biting into the thick forearm—

“Fucking hell! Ouch!”

Lassiter’s indignant voice cut into her temper, stilling her body until she just heaved to catch her breath.

The damn door was utterly uninjured. Uncaring. Unmoved.

“You bastards,” she hollered. “You bastards!”

The angel turned her around and shook her. “Listen to me—you’re not helping here. You need to calm the
fuck
down.”

With a force of will, she pulled herself together. And then promptly sobbed. “Why? Why are they doing this to us?”

He shook her again. “
Listen
to me. I don’t want you to open that door—just stay here. I’m going to do what I can, okay? I don’t have a lot of pull, I may not have any at all—but I’ll give it a fucking shot. You stay right where you are, and for the love of God, do
not
open that thing. Once you do, you’re in the Fade and I can’t do shit. Are we clear?”

“What are you going to do?”

He stared at her for a long moment. “Maybe I’m finally going to be an angel tonight.”

“Wha— I don’t understand…?”

Lassiter reached forward and cupped the side of her face. “You two have done so much for me—hell, we’ve all been in our own In Betweens, in a way. So I’m going to offer up everything I’ve got to save the pair of you—we’ll see if it’s enough.”

She clasped a hold on to his hand. “Lassiter…”

He stepped back and nodded to her. “You stay here and don’t get your hopes up. The Maker and I have not had the best relationship—I may just get incinerated on the spot. In which case, no offense, but you’re screwed.”

Lassiter turned away and walked into the whiteness, his big body disappearing.

Closing her eyes, Autumn tucked her arms around herself and prayed for the angel to work a miracle.

Prayed with everything she had…

D
own below on earth, Tohr felt as though he was losing his ever-loving mind. Lassiter was gone. Autumn was gone.

And a terrible sense of logic was making him wonder why he hadn’t guessed at the mechanisms they’d been working under for the past year.

Wellsie had been trapped in the In Between by him.

And Autumn… had been trapped in the In Between by herself.

Then by loving him, and forgiving not just him but herself, she had been freed—so just like Lassiter, she had been granted what she had not even known she was in search of: She had been given at long last the entrance to the Fade, that which she had been denied when she had taken her own life in a fit of terror and agony.

Now she was free.

“Oh… Jesus…” he said as he let himself fall into John’s strong arms. “Oh… fucking hell…”

Now, like his Wellsie, she was gone from him, too.

Bringing a hand up to his face, he rubbed hard, wondering if maybe he’d wake up from this… like maybe this was just the worst
nightmare his subconscious could possibly dream up… yeah, like he’d wake up at any moment and drag himself out of bed to get ready for the Fade ceremony, where in the real world this would not be the outcome…

There was only one problem with that theory: His back was still stinging from the salt and the branding. And his brothers were still milling around, talking over each other in a panic. And somewhere, somebody was yelling. And all around, the glow from candles provided plenty of light to tell who remained in the foyer and who had left.…

“Oh, fuck…” he said again, his chest suddenly so empty he wondered if he hadn’t had his heart removed and not noticed.

Time passed, and shit sank in, and he was taken into the billiards room. A drink was pressed into his hands, but he just let it sit on his thigh, his head falling back as John Matthew comforted Xhex and Phury talked to Wrath and some plan was made for the king to go confront the Scribe Virgin.

At which point V stepped in and volunteered to hit up his mother.

Which was promptly shot down. Only to have Payne’s offer to go with the king accepted.

Blah, blah, blah…

He didn’t have the heart to tell them all it was a foregone conclusion. And besides, he’d already been through the mourning process once—so he had a core competency in recovery, right?

Yay.

For godsakes, what the fuck had he done in an earlier life to deserve this? What the hell had he—

The sound of the doorbell going off was a dim noise behind him. Nonetheless, everyone froze.

Anybody who knew about the mansion was already here.

Humans couldn’t find them.

Lessers
shouldn’t have been able to.

And the latter was also true for Xcor—

That doorbell let out its throaty demand once again.

On a oner, all the brothers as well as Payne and Xhex, and Qhuinn, John, and Blay, outted weapons.

Fritz was bodily prevented from going over to the vestibule; Vishous and Butch did the duty of checking the screen.

And even though he didn’t give a crap whether it was the Scribe Virgin herself on the other side, Tohr focused on the foyer.

A shout went out, an excited shout with a Boston accent. And then there were lots of shouts, a legion of them, too many to decipher.

Someone in a white robe came in with V and his boy.

Whatever—

Tohr jacked up onto his feet, sure as if someone had hooked his ass up to a car battery.

Autumn stood under the arches of the room, her eyes dazed and her hair a flyaway mess, as if she had been through a wind tunnel—

Tohr plowed through big male bodies, shoving people out of the way to get to her. And when he did, he skidded to a halt. Grabbed her shoulders. Looked her over from head to foot. Shook her hard to get a sense of how corporeal she was.

“Is it… truly you?”

In response, she threw her arms around him and held on so hard, he couldn’t breathe—and thank fuck. Because that meant she was real, right? It had to be… right?

“Lassiter… Lassiter did it.… Lassiter saved me.…”

He tried to track what she was saying. “What… what are you— I don’t understand any of this—”

The story came out several times in different iterations, because his mind just wasn’t tracking anything. Something about her making it up to the Fade, and that angel coming out and telling her…

“He said he would give everything he had to save us. Everything…”

Tohr pulled back and touched Autumn’s face, her throat, her shoulders. She was as real as he was. She was as alive as he was. She had been… saved by that angel?

Except Lassiter had said he would be free if this worked.

The only possible explanation was that he had traded his future… for theirs.

“That angel,” he whispered. “That godforsaken angel…”

Tohr bent down and kissed Autumn as deeply and for as long as he could. And as he did, he resolved to honor Lassiter, and himself, and his female as best as he was able, for however many years he had on the earth.

“I love you,” he said to her. “And just like Lassiter, I’m going to give everything I’ve got to give to the two of us.”

As Autumn nodded and kissed him back, he felt more than heard her say, “I love you,” back.

Gathering her up in his arms, he held her close and closed his eyes, his
body shaking from too much to describe. But he knew the score, and he was good with it.

Life was short, no matter how many days you were granted. And people were precious, each and every one, no matter how many you were lucky enough to have in your life. And love… love was worth dying for.

Worth living for, too.

A
s dawn approached at the end of the darkened night, and the moon sunk low in the sky, Xcor left downtown Caldwell. After that ridiculous meeting with the
glymera
, he and his bastards had reconvened at the top of their skyscraper, but he hadn’t been able to stomach any strategizing or talk of the aristocrats.

Upon ordering his soldiers to return to their newest home base, he escaped into the cold night air alone, knowing precisely where he had to go.

To the meadow, the moon-washed meadow with the big tree.

As he re-formed in the landscape, he saw it not covered in snow, but vibrant with fall’s colors, the oak’s branches not bare, but lush with red and gold leaves.

Marching through the snow, he mounted the rolling earth, stopping when he came to the spot where he had seen the Chosen for the first time… and taken her blood.

He remembered every bit of her, her face, her scent, her hair. The way she moved and the sound of her voice. The delicate structure of her body and the frightening fragility of her smooth skin.

He yearned for her, his cold heart crying out in prayer for something that he knew fate could never provide.

Closing his eyes, he planted his hands on his hips and lowered his head.

The Brotherhood had found them at that farmhouse.

The rifle case that Syphon used to keep the tools of his assassin’s trade was gone.

Whoever had taken it had come and gone during the previous night. Which meant at sunset, they had packed up their few things and scattered for a new location.

He knew the Chosen had been the cause of it. He could think of no other way their lair could have been located. And another thing was clear: The Brotherhood were going to use the rifle to prove with surety that the bullet driven into Wrath months ago had been from a weapon of theirs.

How thorough of them.

Indeed, Wrath was such a good little king. So careful not to behave rashly and without cause—and yet he was obviously capable of using any weapon at his disposal.

Not that Xcor would find blame with the Chosen—not at all. He did, however, have to find out if she was safe. He simply had to be reassured that though his enemies had wielded her, they had not mistreated her.

Oh, how his wicked heart churned at the idea that she might have been hurt in any way.…

As he considered his options, a cold wind blew in from the north, trying to cut him to the core. It was too late, though. He was already sliced in the heart.