God of Destruction (35 page)

“Where’s Hayden?” Alex gasped, noting his
emphasis on
you two
.

“She’s fine,” he replied matter-of-factly. “I
had her checked out and she’s waiting downstairs while your parents
come to see you. She’ll be here ‘til you’re better.”

She breathed a heavy sigh of relief, until
she returned her thoughts to more pressing matters. “So Natalia’s
just walking around out there?! A dangerous criminal! She’ll kill
us!”

“I won’t let her, Alex, relax,” he pleaded.
“She doesn’t matter.”

“You say that a lot, James!” she accused
stubbornly. “Telling me that some things don’t matter! And when it
does matter, you won’t tell me anything!”

“I—”

“I love you, James. That’s why I wish you’d
let me in on whatever this…second life is you’re living.”

“There’re just some things I can’t—”

“What do your bosses do when angels break the
rules?” she demanded.

“Alex, don’t make me answer! Please,” he said
softly. “I need to ask you something—”

“Just answer the question. What would they—?”
she halted when a nurse entered the room, a sugary-sweet smile
plastered on her face.

“Is everything alright?” she inquired,
looking from Alex to James and back again.

“I think we’re ready for some pain
medication,” James replied, all evidence of duress gone from his
face.

“Alright,” she nodded absently, leaving the
room to retrieve the medicine.

“They would clip my wings,” he finally
replied. “They’d make me mortal.”

“That doesn’t sound so—” she said.

“Don’t you dare say bad,” he hissed. “I’m an
angel, Alex. That’s who I am. That’s what I’ve been for thousands
of years. And this is what I was always meant to do, help people.
Without that, I have nothing, I
am
nothing! And I won’t do
it, Alex, not even for Claire.”

They sat in silence for a moment, not even
bothering to thank the nurse when she returned with the morphine.
Alone once again, Alex built up all her courage to meet his gaze.
“James, you’ll always have me.”

“I know that,” he said.

“I wouldn’t call that
nothing
.”

He heaved a sigh, rubbing his hands down his
face. “You’re right, Alex. As long as I have you, I’ll never have
nothing. And that’s why I have to ask you something.” He knelt
beside the bed again, pulling the arm that wasn’t attached to
machines down with him.

“What—?” she gasped.

“I didn’t really expect that I’d be asking in
a hospital room, but, ever since I told you what I really am, I
knew I’d have to ask sooner rather than later.”

Alex openly gawked at him. “James—”

“Alexandria Clove, I love you, and I want to
marry you. So, before we go running into anymore dangerous
situations, I need to know. Do
you
want to marry
me
?”

“Of course I
want
to, James, but there
other things here that we have to think about,” she replied, her
words slurred by the morphine hitting her system.

“Like what? Getting Claire back? Saving the
world? Don’t you think that would just be a better reason to be
married now?”

“I—” she began, shaking her head to clear
it.

“I’m not asking you to hop on a plane to
Vegas with me, Alex. We don’t have to get married this week, or
even this year. We could wait until we get Claire back to be your
maid of honor if that’ll make you happy. I’m just asking you: will
you marry me?”

A fog rolled into her head, exhausting her.
“I…” she yawned, closing her eyes. Her body curled into the soft
sheets of its own accord, searching for sleep so desperately that
she didn’t even feel her fractured rib protest. Before
unconsciousness claimed her, she managed to breathe a low,
“Yes.”

James wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly.
“Yes? Did you say yes?”

The black crescents her eyelashes made
against her cheeks didn’t flutter open for the rest of the night.
He stared down at her tranquil face, his
fiancée’s
face,
with a smile, wishing he had a ring to give her. Proposing wasn’t
something he’d planned on doing for a long time. It was just
something he knew he had to do, knowing that she would accept him,
whatever he was, and love him for it. Nearly losing her in the
fight with Mainyu had definitely had a hand in it, as well.

Looking down at his right hand, at the white
gold ring he wore on his third finger, he pulled it off without
missing a beat. It would never fit, but he took her left hand in
both of his and pushed it onto her thumb, where it would stay until
he could come up with a proper engagement ring.

He sat there into the early hours of the
morning, watching the even rise and fall of her chest until he
started growing restless. Remembering that there were two other
patients in the building recovering from the same fight that had
injured his beloved, he determined to go looking for the two of
them, to make sure they were alright.

He went looking for Janie’s room first.

It was easy to find it, knowing which was
hers by the crowd of armed guards standing outside the door. He
didn’t bother trying to get in, but as he passed, he thought he saw
the slight glimpse of someone in the room that wasn’t the girl. He
barely spared another glance, the familiar t-shirt he wore hinting
that it was the same man he’d spent hours sitting in the waiting
room with. Taran Banks.

He smiled, ready to go looking for Kierlan
next.

In the time since they’d arrived there, he’d
begun to feel bad about the way he’d treated the man. Kierlan had
proven himself to be nothing if not trustworthy since they’d taken
on Mainyu, going so far as to nearly have his heart ripped out,
literally and figuratively. Knowing he’d been injured worse than
the rest of them, James felt like he owed him an apology. Beside
that, he was wondering how the spy was taking
Claire’s…disappearance. And, if he was being honest with himself,
he was hoping Kierlan’s connections could possibly help them in
finding a way to bring her back.

He took his time walking down the hall,
careful not to disturb the other sleeping patients. He watched the
numbers on the doors descend until, finally, he found the bold
six-one-one etched into the only closed door in the corridor. He
grabbed the doorknob, frowning when it didn’t turn and he walked
into solid wood.

Growling under his breath, he pulled harder
on the handle, to no avail. He looked down each end of the hall,
waiting until the last of the night nurses disappeared out the door
of the ICU. Satisfied that he was alone, he stepped back, giving up
on the knob. He shoved his shoulder into the door as hard as he
could, watching as it easily folded in on itself and exploded into
a shower of wooden shards. Stepping over the splinters and shoving
the chair that had been put up against the door to the ground, he
searched the room for Kierlan. All he saw past the wreckage of his
own making was an empty, unmade bed, the white sheets marred by the
few odd droplets of crimson.

The window at the far end of the room was
wide open, the gauzy curtains blowing in the night breeze.

Chapter Thirty

Edison, New Jersey: July 14
^th
, 2012

The alarm clock woke Alex, too early, on
Sunday morning beside her peaceful fiancée, the last ray of
sunshine in her life. The black dress she’d picked out for the
afternoon’s gloomy occasion was folded over the computer chair,
more prepared to deal with the tears and the day than she was.
Slamming her fist down on the Snooze button, she sat up,
begrudgingly, and turned to shake James awake. She’d moved into his
large house when they returned from Europe a few days before and
the couple had immediately immersed themselves in wedding plans and
searching for a way to resurrect Claire.

She hadn’t wanted to go to the funeral in the
first place, too stubborn to believe that her best friend was
really dead. The only way she’d been convinced was because of
Claire’s parents.

“Wha—” James whined, rolling away from her
and trying to go back to sleep.

“Janie’s picking me up in an hour, you gotta
get up,” she mumbled, hugging him and planting a kiss on his
forehead.

Exhaling deeply, he turned his head to meet
her lips with his. “It’s today, isn’t it?”

She nodded grimly. “Unfortunately.”

With a sigh, he muttered, “Sometimes I still
wake up and think it was a nightmare.”

“So do I.” Her voice cracked. Rather than
burst into tears before the man who’d seen her cry more times these
past few weeks than she could count, she threw herself out of bed
and went through the motions of getting ready for Claire’s
ceremony.

Staring into the bathroom mirror at her
reflection as she pulled her hair into a bun, she inspected the
emphasized blood vessels in the whites of her eyes. Alex would’ve
done anything if it meant she didn’t have to cry anymore, but she
could never seem to stop.

Inwardly, she was more determined than ever
to find a way to retrieve her friend from the other plane.
Outwardly, she tried to make herself look upset by Claire’s
upcoming funeral, but she only ended up looking really tired. She
didn’t want to be sad anymore. She didn’t want to wake screaming
from nightmares anymore, only to realize that the nightmare never
ended.

She was uncharacteristically putting on make
up when James’s body suddenly filled the doorway. If possible, he
appeared more exhausted than she did. After all, it had been James
who’d been making all the trips from their home in South Plainfield
to the protective encampment in Massachusetts where he led other
guardian angels in a search for Claire’s return, visiting his new
friend in the process.

Taran had been brought into protective
custody there and had been all too willing to help. He continued
the search in James’s place when he was home with her, but Taran
wasn’t an angel; he didn’t have the necessary connections to find
spells or past experience that could help them.

Running a hand through his blonde locks,
James said, “She’s here.”

Alex nodded. “Send her in.”

He slipped out of the room. For a moment, the
only sounds in the whole house were footsteps and Alex’s slow,
light breaths. She waited for their new friend to come upstairs,
and eventually, her red hair appeared at the top of the marble
steps.

The older girl had benefited greatly from an
extended stay in the hospital and her first shower in six months.
Since their meeting in the catacombs, Janie had gained fifteen
pounds and was slowly filling out to what she must have been before
her incarceration. The grime that had once layered her face and the
hair growth on her legs were both gone now, in favor of a tall,
severely thin woman in a clean, black dress and flats. Her frail
ankles wobbled as she clacked across the expensive flooring,
despite the crutch under her armpit, and her frayed hair had been
cut to shoulder length, now arranged in a braid.

She cracked open the door of Alex’s room and
cautiously called her name.

Alex said nothing; she gave her friend a
polite smile and led the way to the car parked in front. James was
waiting there and opened the door for her, but he wasn’t
coming.

While the women ventured to the funeral home,
James would be venturing up to Massachusetts for a meeting with
Taran and the coven. In the meantime, Janie would be staying in the
house with Alex, her only means of protection since she wasn’t
allowed in the camp and she was without Taran.

Janie drove. Alex stared absentmindedly out
the passenger’s side window, searching for color in her dim
world.

Meanwhile Janie was becoming uncomfortable.
“Alex?” she finally murmured.

“What?” the other girl grumbled, irritated by
the sudden lapse in silence.

“Are you okay?” Janie articulated, studying
her face for any sign of emotion. Anything at all.

“Fine.”

She returned her attention to the road,
leaving Alex to wallow in hidden self pity. She hadn’t expected she
would ever have to go to her best friend’s funeral. More than that,
she never expected she would have to keep a secret from the world
about said best friend. She could be consoled with the knowledge
that Claire wasn’t really dead, only banished to another plane, but
she couldn’t tell Claire’s father that.

They had yet to arrive at the funeral home,
but Alex was already feeling the full force of her burden.

Alex wondered as the building grew closer why
funeral homes were always so well-kept when they were full of
people whose last concern was the architecture. As if the images of
mowed, emerald green grass and always-fresh flowers could soften
the blow?

Janie pulled into the parking lot, lining up
with the other parked cars while Alex walked off to find familiar,
grieving friends and family. The building was small, only one
story, and made up almost entirely of windows. Two men in black
suits directed her to the appropriate room for the ceremony.

The air reeked of the cheap flower
arrangements, moth balls, and bathroom mints. Every room was packed
to the maximum carrying capacity with people, some laughing, others
crying. Alex felt almost personally insulted by the humorous
exchanges; they were convened there to pay respects and they had
the nerve to think anything was funny amongst the grieving family.
The girl they were remembering had been eighteen years old and none
of them knew anything about where she was or what she was going
through.