gates, the walls, the wards were there for their protection, forged to keep the demons at bay. Their continued existence depended on the strength of the community. Even those who chafed under the discipline of the Rule acknowledged the value of its precepts. Scire, servare, obtemperare.
How could the Fallen regain even the shadow of their former perfection except through the pursuit of knowledge, the preservation of their kind, and the practice of obedience?
Yet every now and then—once or twice a year and then not again for three years or five—Zayin would wake in the night to a feeling like a feather drawn across his neck.
Flyer.
He couldn’t save them all.
But he always went after them.
* * *
Ozone charged the air. Moisture spangled the windshield, gleaming like fish scales against the dark night.
Justin lowered his window to feel the damp air against his face, his heart pumping with relief and adrenaline.
“You did it.”
“Not really.” Lara flipped on the headlights.
He glanced across the seat, caught by her tone. In the blue glow of the dashboard, her face appeared tense and unhappy.
“You got us out. You saved my neck back there. Literally.”
“It wasn’t me. Not only me. You got us through the barrier.”
Thunder cracked and rolled. He could feel the swirling energy of the approaching storm cell. That moment when the engine roared, when something inside him surged, powerful and fluid, to meet her need.
He shook his head. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You have power.”
He had nothing.
Better for both of them to remember that. To believe it.
As soon as they reached the coast, he’d be gone, and she’d be going back to . . .
Axton.
The thought stuck in his gut.
“If you say so.”
“Don’t you care?”
He hunched his shoulders to relieve the knot forming between his shoulder blades. “That crap matters to you, not to me.”
She gripped the steering wheel tighter to negotiate the unlit, narrow road. Or maybe she was imagining her hands around his neck. “Aren’t you even curious to know what you can do? Where you come from?”
“I can’t go back,” he said. “That’s all I care about.”
“How do you know?”
His mind blanked. How did he know?
Memory slammed into his skull like an iron spike, riveting his brain.
He stood on the deck of the thirty-foot boat, his knuckles white on the rail, his heart threatening to pound through his bony ribs. The earth groaned. The water trembled. The wolfhound tied to the mast behind him shivered and barked.
“Go,” Conn commanded. In the cold dawn light, the prince’s face was brutally, brilliantly clear, his eyes the color of rain. “Do not come back until I summon you.”
Justin’s throat burned with swallowed tears. He tasted salt. The air shook as the ground rumbled again. Or was that the sky?
“Justin?” Lara. Her voice was a lifeline in the storm. He grabbed it, struggling to focus on her face.
“Are you all right?” she asked anxiously.
His head throbbed. Was he all right? He swallowed, dragging himself back to the present. “Fine.”
“You remembered something.”
“It’s gone now.”
Everything gone, lost, vanished beneath the waves . . .
Lightning struck over the hills. The air was thick and still. Against the low backdrop of clouds, a pitched roof loomed, swallowing the road ahead. A bridge, with a wide barn mouth and rough hewn walls.
“I could help you remember,” she said. “I’m not as experienced as Zayin, but I’ve had training.”
Justin eased back in his seat. “Is Zayin the big bastard in black?”
She bit her lip. “Yes.”
That dark voice, sliding like a knife into his dreams, slowly prying him apart . . .
Justin set his jaw. “No, thanks.”
“You promised to listen,” she reminded him.
“I don’t make promises.” Not anymore. Especially not to women. But they heard what they wanted to anyway.
The car rattled onto the bridge, the sound amplified by
How could the Fallen regain even the shadow of their former perfection except through the pursuit of knowledge, the preservation of their kind, and the practice of obedience?
Yet every now and then—once or twice a year and then not again for three years or five—Zayin would wake in the night to a feeling like a feather drawn across his neck.
Flyer.
He couldn’t save them all.
But he always went after them.
* * *
Ozone charged the air. Moisture spangled the windshield, gleaming like fish scales against the dark night.
Justin lowered his window to feel the damp air against his face, his heart pumping with relief and adrenaline.
“You did it.”
“Not really.” Lara flipped on the headlights.
He glanced across the seat, caught by her tone. In the blue glow of the dashboard, her face appeared tense and unhappy.
“You got us out. You saved my neck back there. Literally.”
“It wasn’t me. Not only me. You got us through the barrier.”
Thunder cracked and rolled. He could feel the swirling energy of the approaching storm cell. That moment when the engine roared, when something inside him surged, powerful and fluid, to meet her need.
He shook his head. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You have power.”
He had nothing.
Better for both of them to remember that. To believe it.
As soon as they reached the coast, he’d be gone, and she’d be going back to . . .
Axton.
The thought stuck in his gut.
“If you say so.”
“Don’t you care?”
He hunched his shoulders to relieve the knot forming between his shoulder blades. “That crap matters to you, not to me.”
She gripped the steering wheel tighter to negotiate the unlit, narrow road. Or maybe she was imagining her hands around his neck. “Aren’t you even curious to know what you can do? Where you come from?”
“I can’t go back,” he said. “That’s all I care about.”
“How do you know?”
His mind blanked. How did he know?
Memory slammed into his skull like an iron spike, riveting his brain.
He stood on the deck of the thirty-foot boat, his knuckles white on the rail, his heart threatening to pound through his bony ribs. The earth groaned. The water trembled. The wolfhound tied to the mast behind him shivered and barked.
“Go,” Conn commanded. In the cold dawn light, the prince’s face was brutally, brilliantly clear, his eyes the color of rain. “Do not come back until I summon you.”
Justin’s throat burned with swallowed tears. He tasted salt. The air shook as the ground rumbled again. Or was that the sky?
“Justin?” Lara. Her voice was a lifeline in the storm. He grabbed it, struggling to focus on her face.
“Are you all right?” she asked anxiously.
His head throbbed. Was he all right? He swallowed, dragging himself back to the present. “Fine.”
“You remembered something.”
“It’s gone now.”
Everything gone, lost, vanished beneath the waves . . .
Lightning struck over the hills. The air was thick and still. Against the low backdrop of clouds, a pitched roof loomed, swallowing the road ahead. A bridge, with a wide barn mouth and rough hewn walls.
“I could help you remember,” she said. “I’m not as experienced as Zayin, but I’ve had training.”
Justin eased back in his seat. “Is Zayin the big bastard in black?”
She bit her lip. “Yes.”
That dark voice, sliding like a knife into his dreams, slowly prying him apart . . .
Justin set his jaw. “No, thanks.”
“You promised to listen,” she reminded him.
“I don’t make promises.” Not anymore. Especially not to women. But they heard what they wanted to anyway.
The car rattled onto the bridge, the sound amplified by
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