Grave? She understood loss far too well, and she drifted closer to him. But was it for his comfort, or hers?
“You have another sister? A Horseman?”
“Human.” He kept fiddling with the tree, rearranging ornaments and lights. “My real mother, the sex demon, abandoned me with a human female who raised me as her own. Of course, she wasn’t much better than the demon mom. My human mother left me alone to fend for myself so much that I think I was malnourished for the first twelve years of my life. Almost died in a fire once, because there was no one around to save me. I’m still not sure how I got out if it.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I didn’t know she wasn’t my mother until I was an adult.”
“That’s when you were cursed to be a Horseman, right?”
“Yeah.” He moved a red bulb next to a blue one. “My human mother gave birth to a girl a year before our curses.” Affection drenched his voice. “Ariya was great. The one thing that really made me happy. I didn’t see her as much as I should have… I was always out drinking and whoring. And then, after our curses, we all kind of went insane for a while.”
She’d read about their killing rampages, the destruction they’d caused everywhere they went. Reseph, having been cursed as Pestilence, had been given the power to inflict plagues on people, animals, and crops, and his swath of death had been widespread.
“When I finally went back home during a period of lucidity, I found that, as usual, my mother had left Ariya alone. I tried to take care of her, but…” His big shoulders rose and fell a few times before he continued. “But I went crazy again, drinking, sexing, killing. It was just two days, but by the time I got back home, Ariya was gone.”
“Gone where?”
“A demon took her. I tracked that fucker to Sheoul and made him suffer for days before I killed him.”
“And your sister?” Jillian asked weakly.
“She died when the demon took her through the Harrowgate.” He swung around, devastation etched into his expression. “Since she died in Sheoul, her soul is trapped there for eternity to be tortured by any demon who can detect souls.”
Horror sifted hot and cold through Jillian like dry ice, and she slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God,” she mumbled into her palm. “That’s…” There was no word for it, so she gave up trying to find one.
“Yeah.” He inhaled, taking a very long time. “I buried her in the nicest part of Sheoul, and I didn’t leave her for months. I didn’t eat. Didn’t drink. I slept beside her grave. Limos finally found me and dragged me out of there. But it hurt like hell for so many years. After that, I guess I never wanted to love anyone like that again. I know I never wanted to feel like that again. Easier to be happy and unattached. Take the easy road, as Ares put it.”
“But you did get attached again, right?” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “You got attached to me.”
He laughed bitterly. “But would my old self have gotten attached? No. I’d have f**ked you and left you so fast your head would have spun.”
His ugly words drilled a hole in her chest, but she soldiered on, determined to talk some sense into him. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You aren’t that person anymore. And you’re not the evil demon who tried to start the Apocalypse.” On some level, she still couldn’t believe she was saying things like that.
“But I’m not the Reseph you knew, either.”
“He’s the real you,” she insisted in what Reseph had called her stern frying-pan voice. “He’s the one who came out when there was no history to mold his personality.”
“Maybe.” He walked over and sat across from her on the coffee table. “Whoever I am, I’m going to fight for you. I want you in my life. I want you to be my mate, and I want you to bear my children.”
She blinked. Holy shit, she was going to fall over. When he jumped into something, he jumped all the way into the deep end, didn’t he? No testing the waters.
“You don’t have to answer now. I’m willing to wait. It’s probably best anyway.”
Maybe she was still reeling from the mate and children thing, but she was confused as hell about that last bit he’d said. “Wait? It’s not that I disagree, but… why is it for the best?”
“Because I’m still not sure I can keep Pestilence at bay. I’m not sure I can patch my head up enough to protect you.”
Her heart sank. Plummeted right to her feet. “Then we can’t be together,” she croaked.
He stiffened. “What do you mean?”
God, how could this be happening? “I can’t go through this again. I can’t be with you and wonder if someday you’re going to leave because you don’t have faith in your ability to control Pestilence.”
“It won’t be like that.” He took her hand and squeezed, tugging her closer. “I’ll be here for you. I might need time now and then, but I’ll be here. It might just be a while before we can settle down with a family.”
“How long?”
There was a long silence. “I can’t answer that. Not yet.”
“Exactly. I’m not waiting around for years, only to have you one day say it can’t happen.” Her eyes stung, and her vision blurred as she peeled away from him and got to her feet. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone, and I know I can’t live through that pain.”
She steeled herself against the hurt in his eyes. The man she loved was in there, but until he realized it himself, she couldn’t back down.
“Go, Reseph. I love you, but I can’t be with you until you can trust in yourself the way I trust in you. I’m not going to compromise on what I want.” She’d done that with every man she’d been with, and her relationships had always ended badly. Reseph, more than any of the others, had the power to destroy her.
Reseph moved to her, but she sidestepped and gestured to the door. “Dammit, Jillian, I won’t give up.”
“That’s your choice,” she said. “But know that I won’t give in.”
The moment the door closed, Jillian sank to the floor in a pool of blankets. She wouldn’t cry. Not again.
She told herself that over and over, but the tears came anyway.
Thirty-five
“Is everything in place?”
From inside the khote, Gethel looked down on Jillian Cardiff’s little farm. “Yes.” She turned to Lucifer, who shared the invisible space. “The Aegis believes I’ve given them the tools to capture and hold the Horsemen. First thing in the morning, their plan kicks off.”
Lucifer, his black eyes glinting, smiled. As an angel, he’d been handsome. As the second most powerful fallen angel in Sheoul, he was stunning.
“And our plan kicks off shortly after that.”
Gethel shivered with anticipation. By noon tomorrow, a whole bunch of birds were going to go down with one stone. Lucifer would strike a powerful blow to The Aegis, and he’d dole out punishment to the Horsemen like they’d never seen. Reseph had made a huge mistake when he’d sought revenge against those who had sided with Pestilence. Killing Lilith had been the fatal error that sealed his fate.
Lucifer couldn’t destroy the Horsemen, but he’d devised a trap of epic proportions. “You’re certain your cage will hold them?” she asked.
“Their prison is constructed of hellhound venom, rendered from hundreds of the beasts. The Horsemen merely need to touch the cage walls and they’ll be rendered immobile. I’ll also have Sheoul’s most powerful mages continuously refreshing and renewing the walls so they never weaken or lose potency.”
“Excellent.” She knew he also planned to hang their cages above roaring fires so the assholes would roast for all eternity. Once imprisoned, even if their biblical Seals broke, they would be helpless to escape or fight on the side of good in the Apocalypse. “Don’t forget my payment.”
Lucifer inclined his head. “Thanatos’s child will be yours to do what you will with him.” He reached out and fingered the tip of her wing, and she shivered with both pleasure and fear, an intoxicating combination. “What do you plan for him?”
The child was a perfect, beautiful combination of light and dark, with unusually strong battle angel tendencies as well as a powerful demon half. So much potential there.
“I intend to exploit his demon side and raise him to be an angel assassin.”
Lucifer smiled. “Nice.”
Hardly. She had no intention of being nice. But then, neither did Lucifer. The story of the horrors he’d inflict on the Horsemen and their loved ones would be written in their blood and passed down through history.
The Horsemen would pay for turning their backs on her. And she was going to love watching them suffer.
Thirty-six
Morning came way too early for Jillian. She hated mornings now that Reseph was gone. She hated waking up alone. Hated feeling the cold side of the mattress. Hated not having anyone to cook breakfast for.
Peeling open her puffy eyes, she crawled out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom. The mirror was not her friend today. She looked like hell.
Had she done the right thing by sending him away? Doubt made her nauseous. Logically, she knew she’d done what she needed to do for her self-esteem, but emotionally, she felt wretched. Was it better to be mostly happy in a relationship filled with uncertainty or filled with self-righteousness but miserable and alone?
Alone had never bothered her. She’d never been miserable.
Until now.
She did her best to not think about Reseph as she dressed and headed out to the barn. The animals were happy to see her, as always. She scooped a bucketful of cracked corn for the chickens, and just as she got to the coop, the rumble of unfamiliar trucks coming up the driveway stopped her in her tracks.
Two military-style rigs with tented boxy sections in the rear topped the rise, and alarm spiked. There was no good reason for vehicles like that to be at her house, and her first instinct was to dart back inside the barn and grab the shotgun.
When the vehicles ground to a halt and Lance and Juan climbed out of one of the cabs, she wished she’d acted on that instinct.
Lance approached while Juan tromped through deep snow to the rear of one of the trucks.
“Nice to see you again, Ms. Cardiff.”
She smiled, but no doubt it looked as fake as it was. “I wish I could say the same. Am I going to have to get a restraining order? You can’t seem to leave me alone.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “After today you won’t be seeing us again. We just need you to contact Pestilence.” Behind Lance, dozens of men in arctic fatigues filed out of the backs of the trucks, all armed to the teeth.
“Well, that’ll be a little difficult, since I’ve never met Pestilence.”
Lance’s smile was painfully tolerant. “You know what I mean.”
“Then say it.” She dropped the bucket, and corn spilled all over the snow. “I won’t play your games.”
All trace of civility left Lance’s expression. “Good. We can get down to business then. Contact Reseph.”
“Why?”
His hand lowered to a sheath at his hip, where he caressed the thick handle of some sort of dagger. “Because we need to talk to him.”
“If you want to talk business, then I suggest you be straight with me.” She kept her tone businesslike, forceful, and prayed her nervousness didn’t show. “You don’t want to talk to him, or you wouldn’t have brought a truck and fifty men dressed like they’re prepared to do battle with Godzilla.”
A dozen of the men surrounded her, and her pulse kicked into high gear. “You want it straight, we’ll give it to you straight. The Horseman is dangerous. They all are. We have the means to capture and hold them, and we need your help to do it.”
“Why would you want to hold them?”
“Pestilence nearly brought about the end of days. Do you want that to happen again?”
What a stupid question. As if she’d jump up and down and shout, “Yes, I love apocalypses!” What a moron.
“They said it won’t. Their Seals can’t be broken until the biblical prophecy.”
Lance leveled a cold look at her, made much more chilling by the fact that he was smiling. “Some of us don’t believe they’ll fight on the side of good. And even if they do fight on our team, it could be centuries before it happens. In the meantime, these guys are loose, wreaking havoc.”
She shrugged. “I haven’t seen any havoc.”
“You have no idea what they’ve done.” Lance unsnapped the strap holding the dagger in place, but Jillian refused to acknowledge his menacing actions. “The Horsemen are responsible for the Black Death, the Antonine Plague, the Hundred Years’ War—”
“Wow. Busy people.” Jillian crossed her arms over her chest. “Were they responsible for the fall of Rome and World War Two? Maybe the eruption of Mount Vesuvius? Hurricane Katrina?”
Lance’s hand snapped out to grab her biceps. “Listen to me, you Horseman groupie. I know your kind. You’re like one of those pathetic women who defends her abusive husband because deep down he’s really a nice guy.” He jerked her close, baring his teeth. “You’re going to help us. Because your boyfriend really isn’t a nice guy.”
She spit in his face. “Go f**k yourself.”
Cursing, Lance shoved her away and gestured to Juan. “Go through her shit. Cell phone, notes, everything. There’s got to be a way to contact the Horsemen.”