“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I had nothing to do with this.”
“Yes, I know,” she said. “But … you came back.”
I knew why she was so shocked. If the situation had been reversed, she would not have come for me. She would have gotten help—she’s not a monster—but she wouldn’t have rescued me herself.
“I had to,” I whispered. “As nice as Aaron is, he’d have hunted me to the ends of the earth if I let you die before your time. Now, there’s only one guard on this level. I didn’t want to disable him, in case someone noticed. I’ll go do that now. Count to ten and follow.”
Before I could go, she laid her hand on my arm, stopping me.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Hold that thought. We’re not out of here yet.”
The guard was easily dispatched, and the way was still clear. The only problem was the hike to civilization after we escaped, but we stayed away from the roads, so it was merely long and cold, until finally we saw lights that suggested a place where we might find a cab.
As we headed across a field to reach the lights, Cass said, “You have my apology, Zoe. I know that’s important to you, so I’ll give it.”
“Even though you still don’t think you did anything wrong?”
She glanced over, green eyes shimmering in the dark. “No, I do not. The relationship wouldn’t have lasted.” She turned forward again. “They say that, for vampires, this is our afterlife. If so, then that is our hell—everyone we care about will die. If it happens often enough, you learn that the only way to protect yourself is not to get too attached to anyone or anything.”
“Even other vampires?”
“Perhaps. Everything can die.”
That’s why she’d betrayed Aaron. To drive him away. Obviously, it hadn’t worked. Sometimes the pain of forced separation—knowing your beloved is still out there—is worse than death. I could understand her reasoning, but I didn’t agree with it. Attachments are all we have. Yes, a vampire will watch their world crumble over and over, but there’s always something that follows, something new and filled with promise. And the memories remain, sweet and bittersweet.
“I did what I thought was right,” she said. “But you are correct that I interfered, when I should not have. I didn’t trust you to handle the situation. For that, I will apologize. Sincerely.”
“Thank you.”
We continued on in silence. Her mission was accomplished. Both of them. She’d been forgiven and the council would have a new delegate.
Mine had been accomplished, too. I got my apology, and it only cost me three hundred bucks. Rudy’s guys had done well. I’d need to buy them a round the next time they were at Miller’s.
OFF-DUTY ANGEL
Getting an audience with the Fates is like getting an invitation to tea with the Queen. Most people in the afterlife never receive one. To actually wrangle one yourself? Damn near impossible. Unless you’re me: Eve Levine—dark witch, half-demon, part-time ghost, part-time angel. I’m in their throne room so often, they might as well install a revolving door. Most times, I’m getting hauled in and chewed out—a fake chewing-out, as the Fates pretend to upbraid me for breaking some rule or other on a mission, while they’re really just relieved that someone got the job done.
Today, though, I’d requested the audience. So they were making me wait in their reception room, watching the mosaics subtly changing as the story of life and death played out on the walls. Finally, the floor turned and deposited me in the throne room, at the foot of the Fates’ dais.
“I have a deal for you,” I said to the oldest Fate, as she snipped a length of life-yarn.
“We’re honored,” she said, peering down with a withering look. “The answer is no. We’ve had quite enough of your deals, Eve.”
“Really? Huh. Then how about you undo the one that makes me a halo-slave for six months a year? If you’re regretting that, we can renegotiate. Or just forget the whole thing.”
She morphed into her sister, a middle-aged woman with long, graying blond hair. “You wouldn’t want that, Eve. No more than we would. While I’m quite certain any offer of yours is not to our advantage, we’ll hear you out.”
“Good.” I reached back to pull off my Sword of Judgment, so I could lean on it, as I usually did in the throne room—if only to make the eldest Fate sputter. But I didn’t have it. I was off duty. Which was the problem. “I’d like to offer you seven extra days of my time. I’ll voluntarily go back into the angel corps for the next week. In return, you give me a week off during my regular shift. You can schedule my downtime whenever you want it. Anytime things get slow, you give me shore leave. Totally at your convenience.”
“Kristof’s still in court, I presume?” The middle Fate had returned.
“Sure, but that’s not why—”
“It is exactly why.” The oldest Fate now. “Your lover is busy. You are bored. You want us to entertain you. Absolutely—”
“Not so hasty, sister.” The middle one came back. “I believe her angel partner would be very happy for her assistance right now.”
I perked up. “Trsiel’s hunting? Who? Or what?”
“It’s a what. He’s hunting for answers, deep in the bowels of the Great Library. We’ve asked him to research the political ramifications of a proposed treaty between two djinn factions. We expected it to take a few weeks, but with your help …”
“Right. Um, now that you mention it …”
“You’ve suddenly remembered another pressing obligation?”
“Yeah. Sorry. Thanks for your time. And if anything—”
“—more exciting comes up?” The Fate smiled. “We’ll call you.”
I flopped onto the front-porch swing of my Southern manor. The Fates were right, of course. Kris had been tied up in afterlife court for the past week, and it didn’t look as if the trial would end anytime soon. I should point out he was the defense attorney, not the defendant. Kristof Nast would never be found in a defendant’s seat. He always bribed, threatened, or manipulated his way out of trouble long before it reached that point.
So he was busy and I was bored. That sounds bad, as if I rely on him so much that I don’t know what to do with myself when he’s gone. But I’d spent most of my mortal life by myself—or with our daughter, Savannah. Even now that Kris and I had been reunited after death, we were often apart, for my angel gig and his job. We’ve even kept our own afterlife homes—my manor and his houseboat—though if we’re in the same plane, we rarely sleep in separate beds.
I was bored because I was nearing the end of my latest shore leave. Whenever I first returned from angel duty, I had a long list of things to do. Check on my mortal guide, Jaime Vegas. Check on Savannah. Check on Kris’s boys, Sean and Bryce. Check on my afterlife contacts, see if they had anything interesting for me. Call in some chits. Chase down new contacts. Explain to them why it’s really a good idea to have Eve Levine in their Rolodex. Just maintaining my contact network is a job in itself.
But that work was long done. This was the time when I truly would be enjoying a little R&R with Kris. Even after nine years here, there are endless nooks and crannies and planes and dimensions we haven’t explored. I suppose I could go on my own, but it really wasn’t the same.
A figure turned onto my block. A man. A couple of inches taller than my six feet. Late forties. Thinning blond hair. Broad shoulders. Carrying some extra weight, but his big frame hid it, as did his expertly tailored suit.
I flew off the swing, sending it rocking as I raced down the steps. Along the front path, through the gate, down the road, like a war bride spotting her discharged husband.