Dark Angel's Ward (32 page)

Distantly I heard the squeak of Sara's wheelchair and the click of the door closing, but my world had narrowed down to the man in front of me, to his grip on me that seemed my only anchor to reality. The bed creaked as he sat down beside me. "It's all right," he whispered again. His free hand twined through my hair.

"I love you, Zeph," I gasped between sobs.

"I know you do." I was crying too hard to see his expression, but joy colored his words.

"No you don't, because I didn't tell you," I moaned. "And you died, you
died
and I didn't tell you."

"I'm not dead. I'm right here." His arms snaked around me, pressing me close to his side as if to assure me of it.

"But you were." I sniffled into his shoulder. "We both were."

"Perhaps so, but it doesn't matter anymore. Everything's all right now."

What the hell? First Jordan and his psychic buddy had denied it, and now Zeph didn't believe me either. And it did matter. I didn't know quite how or why, but the fact that we'd shed our mortal coil seemed terribly important. Not to mention everything most certainly
wasn't
all right now. "Did you hear all that stuff Markus said?" I asked him. "Back before you got...back at my house?"

"I heard enough," he replied grimly. "I'd only thought I understood the Society's crimes against my brethren."

"There are two Societies now," I interjected. "Haven't you heard?"

He nodded. "So it would seem. One righteous, and one profane."

"Who'd have guessed we were backing the wrong pony all these years?" I couldn't help giggling, and wondered if I might perhaps be a bit delirious.

Zeph apparently wondered, too. "You should lie back and rest while you can. Cara was right, the doctors will indeed be out in force once they learn you've woken."

"Okay. But you'll stay with me, right?"

He hesitated, as if unsure of his welcome. I suppose that made sense. I'd kept him out of my bed at every other opportunity of late. "I want you with me, Zeph." I held out my left arm to him--it was relatively free of tubes. "Now and forever."

"Do you mean that?" he whispered.

I rolled my eyes. "No. I dragged you back from the jaws of death just so I could have the last word."

A smile broke over his face. "Now
that
I believe."

"Seriously--just shut up and kiss me."

He did, squeezing my fingers as our lips met. Then he rounded the bed and slid carefully onto the mattress beside me. I settled my head on his chest, reveling in the steady drum of his heart against my cheek. "I love you," I told him again.

"I love you, too, my Jandra."

For the first time in a long time, I wasn't inclined to argue over his use of possessive pronouns. And even if I had been, I felt too damn drowsy to bother. "So what are we going to do now?" I murmured, letting my eyes slip shut. "We have to do something...something about...." Hell, there were too many somethings for me to pick which one to tackle first.

"Don't worry now. We can talk about it tomorrow."

"Hmm? Why tomorrow?"

"Because it will be another day."

I rolled my eyes up at him. "You totally blew your lines there, Scarlett."

Zeph laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard.

Thirty-Three

It wasn't as bad as I'd always thought, my little suburban nightmare. It could almost look cheerful in the right light, with the afternoon sun striking prisms off the picture windows. The hostas lining the front porch were still in bloom, their violet petals turned to the sky like trumpets to herald the final days of summer.

Gah, had I really just thought that? Maybe absence really does make the heart grow fonder. Or maybe I'd finally lost my mind completely.

Meh. Whatever.

Zeph's grip tightened protectively on my elbow as a vehicle drew up to the curb behind us. I wasn't worried. I knew who to expect without even turning, no preternatural senses required--I recognized the thrum of the engine. The characteristic slam of the driver's door confirmed it.

"Yo, boss."

"Hey, kiddo." I greeted her over my shoulder. "I'm not your boss anymore, you know."

Zeph smiled as she approached. "Hello, Cara."

"Hey, Zee. You're looking good. Finally." She stepped up beside me, ruffling my hair. "And you! Love the new 'do. I'd ask what possessed you, but...."

"Yeah. That really isn't funny anymore." I smoothed down my newly shortened locks a bit self-consciously.

Memory had possessed me in those endless days I'd languished in the hospital. Thank goodness I'd hibernated for those first two weeks, because afterward I hadn't been able to sleep for crap. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw a pair of baby blues staring back at me. Brax hadn't haunted my dreams again, but that hadn't helped me forget a damn thing. And one afternoon, after waking from a fitful nap, I'd remembered the tattoos he'd claimed we both bore on the backs of our necks.

I don't know what made me go looking for it. Perhaps I expected some sort of closure. I'd been drifting in and out of denial over the whole test-tube-baby thing for days, preferring at times to believe it had all been some terrible mistake. That I was as human as I'd always believed myself to be, despite the lie the mirror told me every time I looked at my reflection.

Hell, I could see it even now in Cara's expression as she looked me in the eye. Because they weren't my eyes anymore. The gentle mossy green I'd always known had morphed into a color as pale and exotic as the jade I'd named myself after. The same color as the light that had burned from them when the Divine Will had driven me.

That fact had made it easy enough to reject Markus's claims about my nature, at first. I could pretend I was just an ordinary mortal who'd been altered by some supernatural force. I'd held strong to that belief for about a week. Then, in one of my rare moments alone, I'd fished a pair of scissors out of a first aid kit and begun hacking away at my hair like...well, like a woman possessed. Zeph had come in to find me kneeling in the middle of the floor, half bald and hysterical.

He'd said nothing, simply taken the scissors away from me and finished the job as best he could. Then he'd held up a hand mirror for me, so I could see what he'd found. It was there all right, just where Brax had told me it would be. JAN•D•RA, scrawled in ugly-green tattoo ink in a casual hand, the same way one would label leftovers for the freezer.

Zeph had held me while I'd cried. And chased away the doctors when they'd come with their instruments and questions. And kept my crowd of well-wishers out of the room while I'd smashed the mirror to bits against the side of the bed, which hadn't made me feel much better. And he'd taken me to a salon just yesterday to have my hair salvaged by a professional.

I had to admit, the new 'do was kind of cute. The back had been beyond repair, so the stylist had trimmed it down with clippers even shorter than the twins'. She'd layered what length I had left, blending the sides and front into a sweeping wedge that tucked under my chin. Mercifully, she hadn't asked why my hair looked like I'd caught it in a garbage disposal. And when she'd asked about the tattoo, I'd simply replied, "Make sure it shows." I was through with secrets.

"So, where are you two going to go now?"

I glanced up at Cara's question. She lounged against the realtor's sign, batting at the hanging tag that cheerfully proclaimed the property
Sold!
Her eyes were downcast so I couldn't see her expression, but I could sense her sadness.

I sighed, knowing my answer wouldn't improve her mood. "We're going on the road for now. We'll take a little downtime while Intelligence picks apart the facility's reports, but as soon as they have a direction to point us in, the hunt is on."

"It's important," she said, though whether she was being sarcastic or trying to convince herself, I couldn't tell.

And I couldn't help but answer back. "Yes, it is. We don't know how many more of these psychos are still running loose. Or if there are any other Watchers left alive--Markus can hardly be considered an unbiased source of information. And if they're still holding the captive angels...."
Any one of whom could be my biological father....

"Which they surely are, unless they've already killed them," Zeph finished as my voice faltered. "They need our help, too."

"Yeah, I know." Cara flashed us a crooked smile. "The whole damn world needs your superhero asses more than I do. Doesn't mean I have to like it."

I looked her over, frowning as I realized how much she'd changed in the past few weeks. I'd been too caught up in my own recovery to notice she'd lost even more weight than I had. Her layers of makeup couldn't quite conceal the shadows under her eyes. It couldn't see it being just from the physical strain she'd gone through helping nurse Zeph back to health. Jordan and Sara had already bounced back and were none the worse for wear. Speaking of which....

"Where is Sara, anyway?"

Cara snorted. "With Mr. Wonderful. Where else?"

"Cara?" Zeph cocked his head at a curious angle.

She gave him a funny look, her eyes too bright. "It's so fucking ironic, isn't it? I thought I was going to lose her to the demon guy, not to the pain-in-the-butt guy from English Lit class."

"Um...." I paused, realizing she was on the verge of tears. "Let's go inside, shall we?"

"You're still allowed in the house?"

I nodded, producing the key from my pocket. "It's still mine until noon tomorrow."

We moved up the porch in a close group, Zeph offering an arm which Cara gratefully latched onto. She didn't say anything more until we'd settled on the new sofa. Both my old sectional and the carpet beneath it had been unsalvageable. I hadn't been sorry to see them replaced.

"J.J.'s not so bad, I guess," Cara went on grudgingly. "Better than Douchebag, anyway."

I patted her on the shoulder. "You don't have to like him."

"That's the hell of it all. I do like him, you know? I don't want to be mad about the whole thing, I just...."

"Feel so alone," Zeph and I chorused.

Cara glanced between us, frowning. "You know, you're right. The talking-in-unison crap is pretty creepy."

I stuck my tongue out at her. "You're just jealous because you finally know someone else who can do it as well as you and Sara."

She scoffed, dropping her gaze. "Yeah, right."

I touched her shoulder again. "Sweetie, this isn't really about J.J., is it?"

She bit her lip and shook her head, the first tears tracking down her cheeks. "She could've died, Jade. And then I'd really be alone. Forever."

"But she didn't. She's fine." Damn it. Those same empty words I'd heard so frequently of late, and here I sat spouting them at her. I was working on a way to explain that Sara had been relatively safe with Brax when Cara began to cry in earnest. At that, I gave up and just hugged her, letting her tears soak into my sleeve. How could I not have noticed sooner how deeply the prospect of losing her sister had affected her?

The cushions dipped as Zeph closed in on Cara's other side, offering his support as well. "Your sister loves you, Cara."

"I know she does, damn it." She gasped a laugh between sobs. "And here I am freaking out because she doesn't want to watch B-grade movies with me after midnight anymore. How pathetic is that?"

"It isn't," I said. "Not at all. You've been putting on a brave face for her, haven't you?"

Her how-stupid-are-you look was still strangely effective despite the puffy eyes and streaking makeup. "She's the one who got kidnapped, not me."

And she'd come through it surprisingly well, too. Surely the rush of new love had helped, but Miss Sara had blossomed in the wake of tragedy. She'd become as talkative as Cara had always been, though thankfully not nearly as acerbic. Meanwhile, Cara had been gradually withdrawing. I cursed myself again for my inattention.

"So where are
you
guys going to go?" I countered, hoping the change of subject would help. "I hear the Society's offered to relocate you on their dime."

"Yeah, they did." She sat up and wiped her eyes with a tissue she'd taken from her pocket. "We haven't decided on a school yet. We're going to be hanging around for a few more weeks anyway, so the cops don't get too antsy."

The cops. Shit. "They haven't bothered you again, have they?"

"Not lately. There's a rumor going around now that Kevin overdosed at a rave, and his friends freaked out and buried him in the boonies somewhere."

I had a feeling I knew who'd started that rumor. Still, the police had already questioned the twins three times regarding the disappearance of Douchebag, and I couldn't help but worry about them being blamed. They couldn't exactly tell the whole truth and be believed.

Regardless, the lawyer the Society had hired for them assured us they had nothing to worry about. They'd dispatched agents to "clean up" my house at the same time they'd sent the cavalry to rescue Zeph and I. Only they knew what had really happened to Kevin's remains.

One of those same agents was the soon-to-be new owner of my house. He'd promised me with a wink that he'd take good care of the place--specifically, that he didn't plan to "burn it down or anything." Which gave me the impression that's exactly what he intended to do, thus destroying any trace evidence forever. This New Society, as Zeph had dubbed it, was frighteningly efficient.

In spite of myself, though, I couldn't completely dislike or distrust them. When I'd met Luther--Jordan's superior, the man who'd orchestrated our rescue--he'd been genuinely horrified by our ordeal. So much so that the strength of his emotion had made me nauseous. He'd promptly offered me a ridiculously high dollar amount in reparations. After telling him a few times to shove it, I'd finally told him if he wanted to give me money, he could put me back on the payroll. My unfinished business fit in pretty well with their ongoing investigation, anyway. Thus I was once again an official agent of the Fairlight Society, only now I'd be hunting the people I'd once obeyed.