Fifteen minutes later, we stood waiting outside the cottage with luggage in tow. A different driver arrived in a Range Rover, as Shannon had told him there were four of us. I suspected Kel was hanging around to have the conversation about my destiny, but I preferred to delay it as long as possible. That said, I owed him to hear him out, especially after he’d half killed himself for Booke at my behest.
I helped Booke into the back, Kel climbed in after me, and Shannon got in front with the driver, who was peering at the ghost cottage with a puzzled expression. “It looks different,” he said. “Less ominous. Like any regular house.”
“It’s just old,” Shan told him.
The guy shrugged, clearly uninterested in further debate as he maneuvered the vehicle around. “Where am I dropping you?”
It was an excellent question. I hadn’t thought much past getting Booke out of the cottage where he had been trapped for so long. But before I could reply, the phone rang. Eva’s number showed in the ID box, and I answered.
“Got something for me?”
She didn’t protest my terse response, knowing the situation with Booke. “Yeah. The guy I know is working in London. I’m texting you his address.”
That was the answer to the driver’s question. I thanked her, disconnected, then said, “Take us to the train station, please.”
“Very well.” The driver turned to Shannon, who responded to his overture with a tired yawn.
Booke reached for Butch, who went without protest. I watched as he petted my dog with fingers that held a slight tremor. It must be overwhelming to be moving after so long. I mean, he’d been in cars before, but it had been half a century. I couldn’t even imagine the isolation. He was watching the scenery with a fierce focus, even when it got too dark to see.
I turned to Kel with a questioning glance. “Do you want to have the discussion I deferred now or later? Are you on a schedule?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve withstood many punishments over the years.”
Guilt flared in a hard, awful twinge. “I don’t want to be the reason you get hurt, Kel.”
He shook his head, his smile haunting and melancholy in the dying light. “Don’t concern yourself with my fate. It will not change, however much I wish it.”
That sounded ominous. But he turned away, shoulders toward the door, making it clear he was uninterested in pursuing the conversation right then. It was hard to credit that we’d been close—he’d confided in me. It felt like a lifetime ago.
The ride went in silence until the driver stopped at the train station. I paid him in cash, then we unloaded. I had lost my sense of time in the real world; how long had it been exactly since Shan and I got off the train? Now we were heading back to London to look for Eva’s contact. I checked the address in my phone, then bought us all tickets. It was late by the time we boarded, and Booke was looking worse. What’re you doing? I asked myself. Maybe it would’ve been better to let him die in familiar surroundings, but it seemed so wrong. That he should pass on without ever seeing anything of the modern world firsthand. I wanted to show him everything, but there weren’t sufficient moments left for that. So I had to pick and choose.
I helped Booke get settled. Then Shannon sat beside him, which left me to take a seat behind them with Kel. It was full dark by this time, no scenery to admire. But I needed to talk to him anyway. And I could tell that he was looking at my blurry face in the glass, not peering beyond the reflection at the night sky.
“Go on, then. I’m ready to listen. You’ve been cryptic in the past, talking about me being important, hinting I have a destiny. Now, you’ve said you’re to recruit me?”
“Time to give the pitch,” he said tiredly. “The archangel to whom I report has been building alliances, preparing to wage a war against demonkind.”
“What has that got to do with me?” I asked, puzzled.
“The duality of your nature. You’ve tasted white magick and demon power. Ultimately, you rejected the demon queen and returned home. Thus, my archangel believes you’ve chosen a side.”
“That seems . . . far-fetched. Just because I didn’t want to stay in Sheol, it doesn’t mean I want to . . .” I trailed off, unsure what I was being asked to do.
“Fight?” he supplied.
“Would it come to that?” It didn’t sound like a viable option for me. I wasn’t exactly the warrior princess type.
“If Barachiel has his way, it will. He wants to conquer demonkind utterly. He’s been building toward this confrontation for centuries.”
“Why does he want me? What would I be doing?” Already, the rejection trembled on the tip of my tongue. I had learned the hard way that if powerful creatures sought you out, it was almost never to your benefit.
“If you agree, he’ll explain everything to you personally,” he answered.
I stared. “Isn’t that like asking me to sign on the dotted line without reading the contract first?”
“He’s not accustomed to being refused anything he wants. To his mind, you should be honored to be chosen.”
“Like in the old days when an angel appeared in a halo of golden light and the peasant scrambled forth in an adoring stupor to do his bidding?”
A reluctant half smile curved Kel’s mouth. “Precisely. He has not adapted well to the Information Age.”
“Then . . . I have to decline. I’m sorry. But it’s not fair to ask me to accept something like this without more details.”
“Nobody ever said life was fair,” he murmured, turning away.
“Ignoring me won’t work,” I whispered.
He shifted, so he was gazing at me full on again. “What is it, Corine?”
“What aren’t you telling me? I know you well enough to realize something’s bothering you about all this.”
Surprise flickered across his impassive features. Doubtless it was my assertion that I knew him. He tried to be remote and untouchable as a mountaintop, but I had scaled his heights, breached his imperturbable silence. And now I knew how to interpret his minuscule expressions.
Kel clenched both hands into fists, balanced them upon his knees. “I’m trapped, Corine.”