Bittersweet Magic (The Order #2)

He turned away, strode to the edge of the rooftop, and stood staring down at the city below. At the people going about their lives unaware they hovered on the edge of darkness. Andarta would bring that darkness and cover the whole world in despair and madness. She gained power from the suffering of others. He’d always known that, even when he’d loved her. He had no love for her now. He hated her and all that she stood for. But he kept those opinions locked inside. Christ, after two thousand years he was finally learning restraint.

“You’re quiet,” she said from behind him. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“You’ve taken me by surprise, that’s all. I assumed you would hate me.”

“I could never hate you. Everything I do is for you.”

Jesus, it was dawning on him that she was telling the truth. He really wished she wasn’t, because a plan was forming in his mind. And he wished it wouldn’t. He wished it would vanish along with Andarta.

Earlier, he’d thought that he wanted to be the sort of man that Roz would admire. Well, here was his chance. But his whole mind recoiled from the idea. He’d accepted that this could very well be the end of the world as any of them knew it. Now, from the looks of things, he just might have it within his power to stop that.

But at what price?

Was he willing to pay it? A vision of Roz filled his mind. He wanted to give her a wonderful life. He knew she was becoming attached to him, but maybe if he went now—before her feelings became any deeper—she would get over him in time.

Pain hit him in the gut. Why now? Why was this happening to him now? He had the chance to be different, to change.

Or he had the chance to save the world.

He could do this for her. All it required was words. He swallowed; his mouth dry. Then he swung back to face Andarta. He had to get this right, make her believe a mixture of truth and lies. “Tell me something.”

A frown flickered across her beautiful face. “What?”

“Would you rather rule the three worlds alone—”

“Four worlds,” she interrupted. “Heaven will be next. With the Key, nothing will stand in my way.”

Shock punched him in the gut. He forced it aside and continued. “Or would you rather rule the Abyss with me beside you?”

She went still, every muscle locking. “What are you saying?”

“Give me the Key, and I’ll be at your side.”

She studied his face for long minutes as though she could see into his soul. “Why? Why would you?” Her words held an edge of desperation, and he knew what his answer must be, though the words lodged heavy in his throat.

“Because I care for you. I’ve always cared for you—you know that—I worshipped you. But I’ve changed. I’ve come to care for other things, other people, as I never did before. For the last years, I’ve dedicated my life to protecting this world. I can’t turn back from that now.”

“You always did have an over-developed sense of duty.”

Had he? That wasn’t the way he remembered things. But he could use it, if that’s what she believed.

“I want to be with you again,” he said. “I yearn for things to be the way they were, but not at any price.”

She moved to stand next to him, rested a hand on his arm, and he only just prevented the revulsion from showing on his face. “So what are you suggesting?” she asked.

“We give the Key to the Order to be destroyed, and I will rule at your side in the Abyss. There are enough worlds to conquer there.”

“The idea of ruling Heaven doesn’t appeal?”

“I told you—not at any price. I’m being honest with you, Andarta. Ask too much of me and I will come to hate you.”

“And you don’t hate me now?”

Christ, she was being coy. He knew he had her. Who would have thought it? He forced himself to rest his hand on hers and squeeze her fingers. “I don’t hate you.” He should lie and tell her he loved her, but so soon after thinking that word in connection with Roz, he couldn’t do it.

She gazed up at him through narrowed eyes. “You won’t trick me a second time.”

“I know.”

“You would take my sigil, bind yourself to me?”

He’d been expecting it, but all the same, everything inside him revolted from the idea. He couldn’t force any words out, but he managed a brisk nod.

“For two thousand years.”

Shit. “That seems fair.”

“I know, whatever you say, that you don’t feel as you did long ago. But once we are together, you will remember the love you bore me.”

Yeah, of course he would. Like never. “Give me a day,” he said.

“I’ll give you until dawn.”

And she was gone. He should feel euphoric; he was about to save the whole goddamn world. Instead, a strange pain filled his chest. Just like his heart was breaking.

…

“I can’t do it,” she ground out for about the fiftieth time that night.

Jonas scowled. “Of course you can. You locked it. You can open it.”

Jonas was convinced that there was something locked up tight inside her. Some essential part of her being. She’d like to argue with him, but deep down—actually not that deep—she knew he was right.