Shadowman stumbled out into the waning light of the day. He would not let go of Layla’s arm. He gripped her too hard, and was sorry for it, but he needed to keep her by his side. The feel of her arm in his human hand astonished him.
She should not be here. She should be dead. If he could have felt her emotion, sensed the glow of her soul, he might have thought her return possible, but this absence of her feeling and the surfeit of his own confused him.
Layla hurried them down the street, beyond her old car to a sleek black one behind it, and spoke fast. “Rose couldn’t have gotten this far yet, so we should be okay, but we still need to hurry. If I know about this place, she does, too.”
She held out a black fob and the car answered with a flash of its lights. He’d seen the swift rise of automobiles, but so far, he did not care for them. “Where are we going?”
And wasn’t Adam taking care of the devil?
“New York Segue bunker,” she said, opening the passenger door for him. He should be opening the door for her, like a gentleman. When she smiled, waiting, he reluctantly released her and got in. Settled into the black leather.
She slid into the driver’s seat and looked over while starting the engine. “Kev reported you didn’t want to go to the Annex to ask the angels for help.”
“I had to find you, and they kill my kind,” Shadowman answered, and braced himself as she made a tight turn with the car.
Her eyebrows went up as she smiled. “And what kind is that?”
In her expression, he could finally sense a giddy mirth mixed with her determination to get them to safety. She was happy to see him. Welcomed him in any state. Delighted in this particular one.
Shadowman exhaled in relief as the car swiftly accelerated down the street. “I believe I am a mage, a mortal who can wield Shadow. A very long time ago, a mage or two crossed into Twilight. I was trying to do the same to find you, yet I have not had time to master the craft.”
“I know why the angels want to kill me, but why would they want to kill you?” she asked.
She seemed so blithe as she talked about her death. As soon as the angels knew she had returned to Earth, they would renew their attack on the gate. But in his mortal state, he could no longer protect her.
“Because while magery draws from Shadow, mages are not bound to Twilight, and can therefore wreak just as much, or more, havoc on Earth as the devil. Long ago there was a great war between Heaven and Shadow. Mages, being mortal, were crushed first, and then the fae eventually bowed to the dominion of The Order.”
She shrugged, scrunched her face. “What makes you think that’s still the case? I mean, you yourself said it was a very long time ago.”
“I built a gate to Hell. They wish to destroy it and me.” Ballard would strike him down right now if he could. And Layla next.
Her expression smoothed. “Good point. No angels, then.”
“Eventually they will come for me, but I want to spend as much time with you as possible.” They were both mortal, yet in the schema of this callous universe, it was still impossible for them to be together.
“Aside from the gate business, we’ve got all the time in the world.” She sent a quick self-satisfied smile his way. “Got that out of Moira, too. Just about spun that frickin’ thread myself.”
Very few mortals cheated Death. Fewer still, Fate. Shadowman was astonished, and yet, he believed. To alter a fate was impossible, but if anyone could, it was Layla. Hadn’t she promised, upon her first death, that she would be back? Well, here she was beside him, radiant as ever. Dare he hope they could survive it all?
“Tell me everything,” he said.
They merged onto a main thoroughfare, traffic moving at a ferocious speed. She told him about the ghost clinging to life, the flight through Twilight, Zoe’s mastery of the scythe, which made him again bereft at its loss. And then her capture by Moira, the sisters of Fate entrapping her in his winter.
“Your mind stayed sharp?” That was the first wonder of her escape.
“Oh, no, I was plenty crazy toward the end. But at the same time, everything made a weird kind of sense as well. It was like a nightmare or a dream where all the surface stuff stops mattering and what’s important confronts you head-on, albeit in a twisted way.” Her gaze flicked to the rearview mirror, connected with something, then regarded the road again.
“Yes,” Shadowman said, “Shadow is exactly like that.”
“Anyway, I think I’ve got the hang of it now, though I wouldn’t want to vacation there or anything. It did help me deal with Rose Petty and her mind games. Now I know anything is possible.”
So it would seem.