The 13th Prophecy

Page 16

“Angels are creatures of habit,” he whispered, gazing over the frozen land. He turned to me, explaining, “It’s the same type of encampment they made last time. The tents are made from ethereal linen and blend in almost perfectly. But there are ways to tell.” He grinned. “See the circle around the camp?” I nodded. “It’s from their sentry. It’s the guard’s line, the perimeter that they are protecting. And the center of the camp is squashed flat. Basically it looks like a massive circle depressed on an area, leaving a rim of untouched ground around it.” He shrugged. “It’s easy to find when you know what you’re looking for.”
Tugging my hand, Eric and I moved closer to the Martis camp. If Shannon was still alive, she was in there doing something mundane—the equivalent of washing dishes because of what Eric did to her. We’d effonated to this point to avoid the Dreanoks. But other things screamed out in the night in this place. Things that made my blood run cold. I wasn’t certain exactly where we were, but Eric said we were still in New York, close the epicenter. Close to home. Close to where the gates of Hell stood wide open.
I followed Eric until he stopped at the base of what had been a massive oak tree. All that remained was a splintered trunk that jutted out of the earth like a massive hand. He pressed me to the tree, protectively, looking past me to the camp. The bloodlust whispered at the back of my mind.
I fixated on Eric’s lips as he spoke, “Shit. There are more here than there were this morning. And, is that?” His face fell. He looked down at me with wide eyes. He leaned his head into the tree, pressing me harder into the stump as he sighed. The broken tree base was the only thing between us and the camp.
“Eric,” I breathed. He was suffocating me.
He looked down at me, still crushing the air out of my lungs, “Your heart’s racing.” A faint smile lined his lips.
“I’m about to die. Of course it’s racing.” Eric’s brow pinched as he removed some of his weight from my body. “Don’t give me that look. And that wasn’t what I meant, but thanks.”
He lowered his gaze toward the frozen ground, “You’re talking about my curse, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. I am.” I looked up at him. Eric’s amber eyes met mine. “You know as well as I do what’s going to happen if I use the stone. There isn’t anyone left, is there? Everyone you cared about is dead. I know. I saw. It’s part of your curse.” Eric looked away, not wanting to hear my words. “You never let yourself get close to anyone, but you screw up every once and in a while. You loved Lydia and it was the reason she died such a horrific death. You cared about Al, and the curse twisted that death so that it was by your own hand. Despite how hard you’ve tried to make me hate you, I don’t. And I know you care about me, which means I’m next.”
Eric’s lashes concealed his eyes as he looked down. His heart beat slowly under his shirt. “You shouldn’t say such things. It’ll only...”
“No, it won’t. You can deny stuff all you want, but the curse isn’t going to ignore it because you do.” Eric’s face was still downcast. I tilted my head to catch his eyes, “Our futures are intertwined. The repercussion of me using the stone is the only variable.” I paused, “Eric, I’m going to die no matter what. You’ve gotta know that by now. Even if I survive using the stone, and your curse doesn’t lead to my death... there’s still something else. Something I can’t escape from. The death angel’s gotta be following me around, waiting, because it’s only a matter of time. I’ve accepted it. Now, you need to.”
Eric’s golden eyes watched me, but neither of us spoke. The wind whipped across the land, tangling my tendrils in its frigid breeze. Eric’s hair lifted and blew into his eyes. He didn’t reach to smooth it down. Finally, he said, “The stone won’t kill you.” He glanced back across the field, speaking softly, “It has to take a price, but death won’t be enough.” He paused looking down at me. “I’ll help you learn to bear it, Ivy. And survive whatever comes next.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead, softly. Completely unlike anything that Eric’s ever done.
Confusion wrinkled my brow, “What was that for?”
A soft smile spread across his lips, “Ancient traditions. That’s all.” His hands were pressed to the tree, holding me in place. Eric’s mask slipped, and what I saw made my throat grow tight. Sincere affection, and admiration burst through, shining transparently on his face. I smiled. I couldn’t help it. He leaned in, touching his forehead to mine, and said, “Stop doing that.” I hadn’t meant to, but I melted the veil away and got a glimpse of what he was feeling for a second. I grinned at him.
When he looked up, he released me, and his veil was back. It instantly blocked the softness that I’d seen. Glancing across the field, he took in a deep breath. His smile faded, and I could see the worry in his eyes.
Conniving, ruthless, Eric was worried. This wasn’t good.
I twisted around to see what he was looking at, using the tree to shield me from being spotted. Eric’s hand rested on my shoulder, and he pressed into my back, whispering in my ear. “The camp is set up as a place to heal the wounded. Shannon would have been healing if I hadn’t...” he paused. His hand rose next to my ear, his finger extending to a tent the same brown and blood red color as the ground, topped with snow. “Earlier today, she was in there. But, the angels weren’t here then. I don’t know how to get past them. They’ll sense us if we take another step toward the camp.” He dropped his hand and turned. A burst of cold air took his place at my back. He stepped away from me, pressing his fingers to his temples.
“What’s wrong? So there are a few angels? So what?”
Eric glanced at me. “No, you don’t get it. Warrior angels are guarding the camp - Seraphim. You’re basing what you know about angels on the ones you’ve met. Seraphim don’t pat you on the head if you wander into places you shouldn’t be and then send you on your way with a cookie. They kill you.”
Watching Eric, I asked, “Is that what you were? Before you used the stone?” He glanced down at me, not meeting my gaze.
“It hardly matters now, but yeah. I was.” Eric remembered his life. The things that had been forgotten were shoved back into his mind with acute clarity when I merged his soul with his body at the Pool.
I added, “That’s why you know so much. That’s why you were a warrior Martis—the best. That’s why you’re able to help me now and know so much stuff. It wasn’t chance. It was fate.” I glanced up at his face to see his reaction, but as always, Eric remained coolly composed.
“Yeah, fate sucks like that. You spend a couple hundred lifetimes learning stuff only to get martyred—twice.” He looked at me for a moment. His lips parted. I waited for him to speak, feeling the intensity of what he wanted to say, but none of the words. Instead of speaking, Eric closed his mouth and looked back at the camp. At the problem that barred our entry.
I gazed at the camp. Figures moved inside of tents illuminated from within. An encampment filled with healers. I whispered, “Is there anyone else here? Only Seraphim and Dyconisis?”
He nodded. “And the injured.”
“Okay, the guards—they smite first and ask questions later?” He nodded. My eyes moved across the tents. I lifted my hand, pointing, “And Shan is in that tent, there is only one guard, and he’s protecting the entire perimeter?” The camp was huge. I didn’t see how that was possible. So I asked, “How is he doing it? How is he guarding the entire camp?” I wasn’t stupid enough to think that just because I couldn’t see him, that he wasn’t there. I blinked once, wildly. I would have never thought something like that a year ago. Now it was a cold, hard, deadly fact.
“Yes, it only takes one Seraphim to guard a healing camp. The circle around the camp is his path. You can’t see him moving, but it allows him to circle the entire thing at once. It’s like he is the circle. The only way to make the angel materialize is to cross the line. But we can’t. They put up wards to keep us out. And we can’t effonate inside. They’ll know the second we cross the line into the camp, and the angel appears and kills us,” he replied.
Eric’s face was blank as he stared at the trampled ground around the camp. I didn’t understand how an angel could do that. I knew angels were powerful, and I suspected they were more powerful than I was, but there was no way to know. And I certainly didn’t want to kill one. When I made the pact with Locoicia, I hadn’t thought of her killing the angel. My throat tightened. What did she want it for? Or did she just pick something I couldn’t deliver?
I felt Eric’s gaze on the side of my face and turned. “What’s going to kill you if you survive this?” The moonlight slipped across his cheeks and illuminated his amber eyes like small suns. He finally asked, “The blood bargain? That’s what it is, isn’t it? Damn, Ivy. Why didn’t you tell me?”
I raised an eyebrow at him. I couldn’t tell him if I wanted to. “That’s kind of a stupid question, Eric. It doesn’t matter now, anyway. She fulfilled her part. I’m the one who’ll default.” His hand clamped over my mouth as someone stood, walking the perimeter of the camp.
A smile flicked across his lips. He asked, “How much do you trust me?”
I snorted, “Are you kidding?” Trust and Eric were like puppies and vultures—they didn’t go together.
He looked down at me, “There’s no time for your witticisms, Taylor. Do you trust me or not?” The pit of my stomach twisted and I nodded. Once. Fear tightened my muscles. Eric smiled, shaking his head, sensing it. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out his brimstone blade. Lifting it to his hand, he sliced open the skin on his thumb. Crimson welled up in thick red droplets. He thrust his hand toward me. My eyes saw nothing but his blood. My jaw locked, not understanding, and I looked up at him. He didn’t want me to drink that. He wasn’t serious … was he?
“Quickly,” Eric said, “drink it. My blood’s not as potent as before. The demon blood is working its way out of me, because of the curse. But, it should be enough to help you relax so you don’t feed my... ah, affliction.” Comprehension slammed into me. If I drank his blood, I wouldn’t feed his fear. He could help control my emotions.
“Is that what’s happening? Back in the cage you seemed to have no trouble controlling the bloodlust. It seemed stronger. I thought you were controlling me and making it worse.”
He shook his head, quickly adding, “No, it’s the curse. It’s twisting things and making them different. Ivy, this is the only way I know to mute your terror, and we have to—or God knows what’ll happen. Drink it!” he hissed. There was a command in his voice, but I could fight it.
Eric pressed his bloodied thumb to my lips. Fear shot through me. Here I was making the same stupid choice I had to make earlier, but this was different. Eric’s future and mine were intertwined and I knew it. And so did he. Looking up into his eyes, I pressed my tongue to his wound and swallowed three times before the fear snaked out of me. The lightheaded feeling returned, and I smiled. Eric cursed as he tore his hand away. I giggled. “The initial buzz will wear off fast, and then it’ll be like before. Or it should be. But right now, you’ll have to do what I say. Let me speak when we are over there. Got it?” I nodded.