‘The dreams?’
When I simply hold her gaze she draws in a sharp breath and I know I’m only confirming her worst fears; the ones she has kept suppressed even from herself. And I understand why. Having someone like Sammael force himself inside your head, control what you see … It’s a vile poison.
She shivers and I have to fist my hands to halt their gravitational pull towards her.
‘You just had one, didn’t you?’ It’s the only downside of being back in her world: I don’t get to instantly know what goes through her mind, but I’m willing to bet that that’s why she looks like she’s just seen a ghost.
She presses her lips together and nods.
‘Tell me,’ I say, keeping my voice relaxed, even as I try to prepare for how bad it might be.
She swallows hard. ‘There are trumpets sounding from everywhere. And it feels much more like a memory than a dream. Just not mine, you know?’
I nod her on.
‘The dragon was there and I watched as it carved through lines of warriors all dressed in white, all … magnificent.’ She breathes the last word in awe. ‘But it’s always the presence in the centre that the dragon focuses on, and so do I. I try to see beyond the army of white, but I can’t see him.’ Her head snaps up as she puts the pieces together. ‘It’s Michael, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘You are seeing the angels at war.’ Which makes me want to grab her and run. But there is no place I can keep her safe.
‘This time, there was this awful battle cry and then I could see the one riding the dragon, with a huge sword in his hand. I recognised him instantly,’ she said quietly, her shoulders shuddering at the memory of the dream. Every part of me wants to reach out and comfort her, but I don’t.
‘He screamed out … It was pure … bloodlust and it urged the dragon forward.’ Her breath quivers and I know what she is about to say. ‘It was Sammael. And when I realised that, he changed. His armour suddenly turned into his suit and he was wearing his glasses when he looked right into my eyes. There was blood on his lips and he smiled. At me – through the dream.’ She jolts and finds her way through the memory and back to me before she continues.
‘He’s controlling the dreamscape, isn’t he? He’s really there with me.’
I don’t answer. I don’t need to. A part of her has been waiting for all of this since the moment he took her blood. And she knows as well as I do that these games he is playing are all to ensure that he succeeds in luring her into his trap.
‘Phoenix,’ she begins, her voice catching, and I wait for her to ask. Finally she is ready. She swallows again. ‘Why does he want me?’
I don’t look at her. Instead I grip my thighs so hard I can feel them bruise.
‘Because you’re the rainbow. The link between the realms.’
‘The covenant,’ she whispers.
‘Partly. But there’s a chance that it’s much more,’ I say.
She doesn’t push. Instead, she simply accepts it. ‘Well, he’s never going to get the chance to do whatever it is he has planned.’
‘You think you’re that strong?’ I ask, intrigued. I know she is. I know she hasn’t even begun to accept how powerful she is.
I risk a glance in her direction and she licks her lips. I look away quickly.
‘I’m a better fighter than ever. The full force of the Academy is behind us. We can beat him.’
I look out the window. ‘And what if it was just him and you?’
I can feel her smile and I make sure not to look because I know that it will carve me in two just to see it.
‘Then it would be a good day.’
I understand. It would be her preference even if it meant unimaginable pain for her. It was an acceptable price to pay so she would not have to stand by and see those she loves hurt.
Especially him.
I’ve watched her these past two years. I’ve understood her pain, and as a consequence of sharing my essence with her I even feel a shadow of it. It is unlike anything humanly or angelically bearable.
How she survives it, I will never know.
CHaPteR tweNty-fOUR
‘Do not turn to mediums or necromancers; do not seek them out, and so make yourselves unclean by them …’
Leviticus 19:31
the first time I went to New York I was overwhelmed by the number of exiles populating Manhattan. Arriving in New Orleans was not dissimilar. And yet it also reminded me of a particular sense of foreboding that I could only associate with my first impressions of Santorini.
We had travelled to Santorini to try to stop Phoenix opening the gates to Hell, and I had discovered that the island was under the control of a lone exile: an ancient by the name of Irin who had fathered a number of children with a human woman he would eternally mourn.