“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.