He stared them for a moment, apparently lost in thought. “Okay, Lexine. While he’s training, you’ll meet me here. It’ll be our secret for now.”
“Thank you, Raphael.”
…
Lexine pressed apples all night, enjoying the exercise and delicious scents. Some of the cider she sealed into large mason jars and refrigerated to pass out at the market. Most she added to barrels for wine. Several barrels of straight up apple wine. Several with spices. By the time the sun rose, her whole body felt like the mashed remains of the fruit.
Time for a swim. She needed to be ready for the training to come. There’d be no point if Raphael went easy on her.
She changed and made her way through the morning quiet of the colony until she reached the lake. She dove in, the cold water drawing a scream from her throat as she returned to the surface. A V of Canadian geese flew overhead, headed south, only to scatter as an archangel shot right at them. She laughed.
The archangel flew low enough that she could make out the black markings on his wings. Wren tipped sideways, a familiar greeting, and flew higher until he disappeared into the clouds beyond the lake.
Floating on her back, she relaxed, letting the water support weary body.
“Hey, Lex.”
She maneuvered herself upright in the water and followed the sound of Jett’s voice. He stood on the shore, leaning against a tree.
“What are you doing?” he called out.
“Swimming, of course.”
“Why?”
“It’s fun.”
He made a face.
She swam to the shore but stayed in the water. “All demon kids are taught to swim before they grow old enough to spark fire and develop a dislike of water. I loved swimming lessons, and I never outgrew finding enjoyment in the water.”
Jett made a dramatic show of cringing.
She laughed. Such a rare sight to see him act silly. “They let you off again so soon?”
“Yes and no. Remember I said I meant to take you with me to my father’s office?”
She nodded, pushed her wet hair back from her face, and draped her arms over a rock near where Jett stood.
“The trip is both personal and business.” He knelt and touched her cheek, his fingers hot after the cold water. “As part of my training, I need to read the material Dante put together for Guardians in training. Lark insisted I not put it off any longer and sent me on my way. I also look forward to seeing my father’s space and getting to know him a little bit. Are you still willing to accompany me?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll have a lot of reading to do. I don’t want to bore you, but your presence would mean a lot to me.”
“I’m sure I’ll also be able to find something to read. I spent all night pressing apples and am exhausted, so this sounds perfect.”
“Thank you.”
She climbed out of the lake, the tank top and shorts she’d worn plastered to her skin. Jett whistled.
“I need to change first.”
“Hmm.” He folded his arms, his gaze blazing a hot trail down to her feet and back up. “We tried this yesterday and never made it to the town hall.”
“Are you going to behave this time?” she teased, looking up at him from under her lashes.
“Doubtful.”
“Well then, how about I go change, you get us some food, and we meet at the town hall?”
“We have a plan. See you then.”
Chapter Eighteen
After eating breakfast on the lawn, Jett climbed the town hall’s central staircase and let Lexine guide him down the hallway to the right. At the end of the short walkway, the hall opened into an atrium—a compact but striking space with a glass ceiling and exterior wall. Only a few plants filled the space, but one was a tree, situated in the center of the room. Among the thick, green foliage, splashes of orange caught Jett’s eye. “An orange tree?”
“Yes. Do you remember it?”
“No. Should I?”
She bit her lip.
He stared at the tree for a moment longer and rubbed a leaf between his fingers. No memories came to him, but, “For some reason, I’m relieved to see it. It must be difficult to keep a tropical tree alive so far north, even inside.”
“There is a special light used in the winter.”
Footsteps sounded in the hall, and a moment later, a Guardian appeared. He nodded in silent greeting, crossed the atrium, and entered a series of codes into a panel to unlock a set of double doors. After propping the doors open, he retreated without a word.
“After you.” Lexine lingered by the tree.
Jett stepped to the threshold. The scent of leather and old books wafted from the room. Thick curtains covered the windows, but Jett’s eyes adjusted to the dim light in a second. He lit the demon fire lantern on his left for Lexine’s benefit.
“Have you ever been in here?”
She joined him and brushed his shoulder. “No.”
Jett stepped further into the room. Like with the tree, no memories came, but a heady sense of belonging did. The scent. So familiar. “I know this room. I must have spent a lot of time here.”
He approached the desk, the dark surface covered with neatly arranged odds and ends. Beyond, books and journals lined floor-to-ceiling shelves. “I was old enough to remember. Why don’t I?” He lifted a leather journal from the center of the desk and smoothed his hand over the cover. “Lawrence spent a lot of time with me the first few years, teaching me about the ‘evils’ of demons. His words made no sense to me, and I kept trying to correct him. He punished me for that. Over time, he convinced me the life I thought I remembered was only a dream, and like dreams, the memories faded. It was when I killed the lab assistant that I finally broke and the memories vanished entirely, leaving me with only Lawrence’s version of the truth.”
“Lawrence didn’t break you. You wouldn’t be here now if he had.” She encircled her arms around him from behind and a soft, feminine body pressed against his back. He turned his head and kissed her.
“Go on,” she said, a solemn curve to her lips. She stepped away, gazing out the window.
He sat in one of the room’s thick leather chairs and opened the journal. Plain, neat script filled the pages, but Jett stopped at the first words.
Today, my son, Juneau, was born.
Lawrence’s brainwashing had gone far enough to erase his name? Elbow on his knee, Jett rested his face in his hand. But as he sat there, his body processing dry, soundless sobs, a memory from the lab surfaced.
Lawrence hadn’t renamed him. The human never called him anything at all, except for “the demon” or “the subject” or, when he was angry, “boy.”
“The lab assistant kept asking for my name, but I didn’t want to tell her about my ‘dreams.’ I made a name up. Why didn’t anyone say anything?”
“Raphael thought you should hear it from Dante.” She dropped her gaze to the journal. “Um, what would you like to be called?”
He ran a fingertip over the handwritten sentence, the letters faintly indented in the page from the heavy hand of the writer. “‘Jett,’ at least for now. It was a survival tool, a way to keep the part of me who answered to Juneau away from that tiny prison. I don’t think I’ll be able to step all the way back into Juneau’s shoes. Not any time soon.”
Lex returned to his side and ran her fingers through his hair. Arching under her touch, he tilted his head back and stared up at her. “That drives me crazy.”
“In a good way?” She scratched her nails over his scalp.
“Definitely.”
He set the journal aside and turned around in the chair, getting up to his knees. Holding her head in his hands, he kissed her, focusing on reading her reaction. Her skin warmed with a faint flush and her hands on his back trembled ever so slightly. The brush of her emotions against his mind spoke of a longing as deep as the one that swelled in his chest.