hadn't.
Monroe had given me a pink sweatshirt
with a picture of Betty Boop on the front. There was
a halo above her head with wings on her back, and her hands were thrown up into
the air. A tagline underneath her heeled feet simply read,
"Whatever!" The humor in it was not missed, but it was an old shirt,
and I knew by the way it kept sliding off my shoulder that it was Monroe's. She
was taller than me and definitely more built, so the shirt hung, especially now
that I had lost weight. The jeans I had on were better. They were loose, but
they were mine, brought from the Abbey by Amber during my illness.
"You're tired," Marcas said suddenly from beside me, and I looked over at
him.
He didn't look any different now than he
had the first time I had met him. He was dark, his hair midnight, his eyes a
dark blue that shone red when his emotions changed. He was clean now, his jeans
and typical black tee fitted but whole. No rips, no sign that he had just
recently been locked away in a Seal facing Demons no one should ever have to
face.
"And you're not?" I asked.
He didn't answer. I waited for a
sarcastic reply, something about Demons never tiring, but it never came.
"Who is watching us? Lilith?"
I asked.
I was making conversation. Typical Dayton version of avoiding awkward moments. Marcas nodded.
"She fears us," he said.
There was no conceit in his tone, no
superior inflection to his words. He was only stating the truth. Lilith, Demon
queen, the mother of thousands of powerful hybrids, was afraid. And she had
every right to be.
I wanted to fly away from him, maybe say
something that would make him move, but I couldn't. It didn't matter what Bezaliel said, my connection to Marcas was too strong for that. We had been to Hell and back again together. Literally. How do you walk away from that?
"Would it be corny to admit I'm
afraid too?" I asked, my voice light, playful even.
A corner of Marcas '
mouth tilted upward.
"Thinking too much again, Blainey ?"
"Of course," I admitted.
Our gazes locked.
"Overanalyzing?"
I smiled.
"Always."
Marcas ' gaze moved
forward.
"Don't, Blainey .
Don't over think it."
We both knew what he was talking about.
"It's easier for me," he said
suddenly, and I looked at him, startled.
"Easier?"
He didn't look at me.
"What I plan to do now will change
things in Hell. It will change the way hybrids think. It will change alliances.
It will give me a place, a purpose."
The wind beat against my face, and I put
a hand against my cold cheek, the warmth seeping from my palm to my face. It
was a temporary comfort.
"That's good, right?"
The landscape below us changed, and I noticed
we were lowering. I had been distracted and hadn't noticed the Abbey's sudden
appearance in the night. It was disconcerting seeing the place so soon after
losing Damon, after losing part of myself . My feet
touched the ground, and I gasped as I felt Marcas '
lips on my ear, his chest against my back, a hand wrapped around my arm.
"I'm not the one who needs
saving," he whispered.
And with that, he was gone, my thoughts
left in chaos. And when I looked up, it was my father's eyes gazing into mine.
Chapter 13
The moment she was born, I knew she would change the
world. An aberration. She was supposed to be an
aberration. Her mother knew better. The day her mother laid her in my arms, I
saw what she already knew. She was my redemption.
~ Bezaliel ~
The Abbey was aglow. It surprised me at
first because the Abbey was always dark, but the moment I saw Sister Mary
standing at the door, her face lit up in a grin, I knew the Abbey would never
be dark again.
"Dayton," she said softly when
I approached her.
I had never gotten to know Sister Mary
that well, and I was glad now that I hadn't. All of the Sisters had been
cheated out of a big part of their lives. They had been controlled for years by
something dark, sinister, obsessive, and they now had to do the same thing the
rest of us had to do — start
Monroe had given me a pink sweatshirt
with a picture of Betty Boop on the front. There was
a halo above her head with wings on her back, and her hands were thrown up into
the air. A tagline underneath her heeled feet simply read,
"Whatever!" The humor in it was not missed, but it was an old shirt,
and I knew by the way it kept sliding off my shoulder that it was Monroe's. She
was taller than me and definitely more built, so the shirt hung, especially now
that I had lost weight. The jeans I had on were better. They were loose, but
they were mine, brought from the Abbey by Amber during my illness.
"You're tired," Marcas said suddenly from beside me, and I looked over at
him.
He didn't look any different now than he
had the first time I had met him. He was dark, his hair midnight, his eyes a
dark blue that shone red when his emotions changed. He was clean now, his jeans
and typical black tee fitted but whole. No rips, no sign that he had just
recently been locked away in a Seal facing Demons no one should ever have to
face.
"And you're not?" I asked.
He didn't answer. I waited for a
sarcastic reply, something about Demons never tiring, but it never came.
"Who is watching us? Lilith?"
I asked.
I was making conversation. Typical Dayton version of avoiding awkward moments. Marcas nodded.
"She fears us," he said.
There was no conceit in his tone, no
superior inflection to his words. He was only stating the truth. Lilith, Demon
queen, the mother of thousands of powerful hybrids, was afraid. And she had
every right to be.
I wanted to fly away from him, maybe say
something that would make him move, but I couldn't. It didn't matter what Bezaliel said, my connection to Marcas was too strong for that. We had been to Hell and back again together. Literally. How do you walk away from that?
"Would it be corny to admit I'm
afraid too?" I asked, my voice light, playful even.
A corner of Marcas '
mouth tilted upward.
"Thinking too much again, Blainey ?"
"Of course," I admitted.
Our gazes locked.
"Overanalyzing?"
I smiled.
"Always."
Marcas ' gaze moved
forward.
"Don't, Blainey .
Don't over think it."
We both knew what he was talking about.
"It's easier for me," he said
suddenly, and I looked at him, startled.
"Easier?"
He didn't look at me.
"What I plan to do now will change
things in Hell. It will change the way hybrids think. It will change alliances.
It will give me a place, a purpose."
The wind beat against my face, and I put
a hand against my cold cheek, the warmth seeping from my palm to my face. It
was a temporary comfort.
"That's good, right?"
The landscape below us changed, and I noticed
we were lowering. I had been distracted and hadn't noticed the Abbey's sudden
appearance in the night. It was disconcerting seeing the place so soon after
losing Damon, after losing part of myself . My feet
touched the ground, and I gasped as I felt Marcas '
lips on my ear, his chest against my back, a hand wrapped around my arm.
"I'm not the one who needs
saving," he whispered.
And with that, he was gone, my thoughts
left in chaos. And when I looked up, it was my father's eyes gazing into mine.
Chapter 13
The moment she was born, I knew she would change the
world. An aberration. She was supposed to be an
aberration. Her mother knew better. The day her mother laid her in my arms, I
saw what she already knew. She was my redemption.
~ Bezaliel ~
The Abbey was aglow. It surprised me at
first because the Abbey was always dark, but the moment I saw Sister Mary
standing at the door, her face lit up in a grin, I knew the Abbey would never
be dark again.
"Dayton," she said softly when
I approached her.
I had never gotten to know Sister Mary
that well, and I was glad now that I hadn't. All of the Sisters had been
cheated out of a big part of their lives. They had been controlled for years by
something dark, sinister, obsessive, and they now had to do the same thing the
rest of us had to do — start
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