The Sinner by Emma Scott

Twenty-Five

The journey to my apartment was slow and dreamlike. Every muscle ached, each step leaden. I trembled with cold, drenched with rain and covered with mud and blood. Casziel’s blood. There was so much of it… The warm light and Dad’s presence guided me to my bed where I clutched the black feather in my fist.

My head touched the pillow and I slept, and there were no dreams.

Hours later, I woke with a gasp and bolted upright, panic surging through me. The panic of having lost something precious…

Breathing hard, I glanced around. My T-shirt and sweatpants were clean and dry. The scratches and snakebites on my arms and legs were gone. Sunlight had broken through the storm, streaming into my place with silvery light.

“No.” Anger, fear, and panic surged in me like a high tide. “No, it’s not over. It was real. It was…”

I found the black feather under my pillow. I held it up to the light. Nearly a foot long, it had heat to it and smelled faintly of smoke and ash.

Grief wrapped around me like a tight band. Suffocating and merciless. Nothing felt real. My apartment was a set on a stage, the books and dishes and dead houseplant, all props. Only the feather—and who it had belonged to—was tangible.

A great sob rose in me, but I pushed it down and breathed like a woman in labor, waiting for the clenching pain to ease. It did but lurked, ready to tear me apart if I let it. I couldn’t let it.

“Daddy?” I whispered.

Nothing.

My phone chimed a text from Jana.

RU OK? Missed you yesterday. Big stuff happening with our tennis star. Things moving quickly. Come in here and run this show, girl! <3

The idea of showering, dressing, taking the E train across town, and then facing everyone at work was the most ludicrous thing I’d ever imagined. But if I stayed home alone, flashes of Cas lying in my arms, bleeding—dying—would come for me. I’d be overwhelmed by living nightmares—demons with black eyes and slashing swords and Ashtaroth’s outstretched hand, offering me a way out…

I texted, Be there soon.

Moving like a zombie, I headed out. At Ocean Alliance, the feeling of being on a movie set intensified. Jana hurried to me with a huge grin on her face that fell when she saw me.

“Woah, hey. Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“Lucy—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, my voice sounding unlike me—firm, strong, and leaving no room for argument. “Let’s get to work.”

Jana agreed but only because I didn’t give her a choice. She sat with me, going over my research, now and then shooting me concerned glances that I ignored. Somehow, I made it through the day.

On our way out, Jana took my arm, stopping me.

“Listen, I don’t know what happened. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me, but I need to know you’re okay. Are you okay? Did something happen with Cas?”

His name was like an arrow into my heart. I managed a faint smile. “I can’t talk about it yet, but you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Too late for that.”

“I’ll be okay. Promise.”

Okay felt like a million miles away—a million lifetimes—but there was nothing Jana could do. It was unfair to burden her with the mountain of pain that wanted to pour out of me.

“See you tomorrow,” I said and began the trek home.

Inside my place, I went directly to the black feather, safely stowed under my pillow. I’d wanted to bring it to work, carry it with me everywhere, but that was impossible. If I lost it…

I lost him.

The pain slugged me in the chest like a cannonball, but I pushed it down and made dinner that I didn’t eat. I dressed in pajamas and held a book I didn’t read. The next morning, I got up and did it all over again.

And the day after that, for three days. I was first to the office, last to leave; I hardly ate and stayed up until three in the morning attempting to read so that I’d fall asleep—exhausted—without allowing my mind time to replay the events of the last few weeks. But I was doing just fine. Everything was back to normal. There was nothing wrong.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew it couldn’t hold, but I was surviving. Even Deber and Keeb had nothing to say.

I’ve slain my demons…

I came home from work and my phone rang as I stepped in the door. Cole was one more vague text away from jumping on a plane, so I answered. Audio call, not FaceTime. If he saw my face, he would jump on a plane and ruin his final exams.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hi,” he said pointedly.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been…busy.”

“We’ve both been busy plenty of times. This is different. What’s going on, Luce? Please tell me.”

Tears threatened but I blinked them back. What could I tell my best friend? That the love of my life—the love of my every lifetime—had been killed in a battle of demons in the empty lot behind my apartment? That there’d been flies and snakes and a candle that burned in the rain? That for a few precious hours, I’d found what I’d been missing and then it was ripped away?

I reached for the feather under my pillow and held it close, its soft tip brushing my chin. The heat of it and the ashy scent were fading. I closed my eyes.

“You were right,” I managed. “Cas and I… You were right. It was him. Not Guy. Guy’s in Sri Lanka but Cas had to…leave, like I told you. So…yeah. I’ll be okay.”

I was conscious I was rambling but hoped it all sounded like boy drama to Cole. I held my breath and let it out when the edge of concern in his tone softened slightly.

“Damn, Luce, I’m sorry. I thought he was the one.”

“Yeah, thanks. Me too.” I cleared my throat. “How about you? You sound tired. Still not sleeping?”

“Oh, the irony, I’m sleeping more but having crazy dreams… Anyway, doesn’t matter. We break for summer in a few weeks. I’ll come for a visit.”

“No, let me come to you. I need to get out of this city.”

“Even better! I can show you around, you can meet some people. It’ll be great.”

“Yep. Great.”

“Lucy,” Cole said. I braced myself. “You’re my best friend. I’m not done worrying about you. I know there’s more to the story with Cas than you’ve told me.”

A flash of a sword bursting out of his chest racked me. I squeezed my eyes shut. “Uh huh.”

“And I just want you to know that I’m here whenever you’re ready to talk. Okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Cole.”

“Love you.”

“Love you,” I said and quickly hung up.

That night, I ate three bites of dinner and went to bed, staring at the words on the page of a book, not seeing them. I forced myself to keep going until my eyes closed and I slept.

My alarm went off the next morning, as usual. And, as usual, I reached under my pillow for the feather. My hand slid over smooth sheet. I tossed my pillow aside. There was nothing but a feather-shaped smudge of ash.

“No. No, no, no…”

I tore my bed apart, shook out the covers. Gone. The dam in me nearly broke, but I somehow managed to hold myself together. I dressed for work and headed for the door. In the middle of my place, purse in hand, I stopped. Edgar was still in his pot by the open window, utterly dead. His leaves were wilted and brown, falling off one by one. I’d watered him a couple times, but it was too late. He wasn’t coming back.

I carried the plant to the kitchen, stepped on the pedal to open the trashcan, and tossed him in. The lid closed with a snap, and my bag dropped from my hand. I crumpled to the floor as the sobs shook me, breaking me down. I cried until my hands trembled and my stomach ached. Outside, the rain had returned–not a storm but a steady downpour. Inside, I cried my own deluge of tears and wondered if I’d ever get off the floor again.

But I did.

I dug deep and peeled myself off the floor. I dried my tears and went out. At the top of my stairs, I locked the door, then turned. My gasp was lost in the rain.

There was a dead body in the empty lot.

I froze, my insides constricting, my pulse slowing to a heavy clang. Not dead, my mind registered. I could see legs, moving slightly. Under the patter of rain, I heard a low moan.

I took a step down, then another.

Casziel was slowly pulling himself to sitting. He was dressed in all black—jeans, boots, leather jacket. He glanced around with a slightly bewildered look on his face. His beautiful, handsome face that I loved more than any other. His gaze landed on me, and he smiled.

“Lucy.”

The deep tenor of his voice broke me from my stasis. I wanted to fly into his arms, the surge of joy so monumental and profound I could scarcely breathe. Or believe.

I shook my head, backing away. “No. No, this isn’t… I saw you die. I held you while you died…”

“I know,” he said gruffly. “I remember. But Lucy, I—”

“This isn’t real. It’s not real,” I cried, slipping on a stair and sitting down hard. Tears started to pour again as my body struggled with a thousand different emotions. Hope flooded me while possibilities mixed with impossibilities. A demon was toying with me. Taking my worst pain and driving a new knife into the wound.

I covered my eyes. “Leave me alone. Leave me alone!”

“Lucy…”

Casziel’s voice was agonized. I heard him climb the steps, felt him sit beside me. The scent of him—fresh rain and his own warmth—washed over me, clean and good.

“Lucy, it’s me. I’m back. Somehow. They let me come back and now I’m here.” I heard his ragged intake of breath, his voice rough with emotion. “Gods above, you are so beautiful. Look at me. Please look at me, Lucy. Look at me so I know it’s not a dream.”

I lowered my hands and opened my swollen eyes. His face was close to mine, his expression full of concern. And love. So much love.

“This is real?”

Cas nodded and started to speak, but I put my hand to his mouth, silencing him. He held still, his own eyes shining as I let my hands explore, holding his jaw, tracing his lips, his brows, the straight line of his nose. The aura of otherworldliness was gone, and he looked so very human—a freckle near his ear, a lock of damp hair falling over his forehead. Slowly, the solidity of him—the warmth of his skin under the cool rain—became undeniably real.

“Cas?” I whispered.

He nodded, tears standing out in his eyes. “Yes, beloved. It’s me.”

I finally let the truth sink in and reached for him, a ragged sob issuing from my throat. He gathered me into his arms, and we sat on the stairs in the rain, holding each other, his tears in my hair, my face pressed tight to his neck. We held each other softly, tentatively, then harder. He squeezed the sobs from me, and I clung to him, letting them pour out.

“What happened?” I asked eventually, pulling away to hold his face in my hands. “How are you here?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s kind of hazy. I was somewhere else, surrounded by white light. And I knew…” His voice choked. “I knew that light was forgiveness. And then I was here.”

He’s here.

“I can’t believe it,” I said, tears flooding my eyes all over again. “How much do you remember?”

“I remember us. And fighting Ashtaroth.” He shook his head, his gaze distant. “I remember what I was. Something…not human. And I remember everything that happened while I was here but not the in-between.” He nodded at the lot below. “Or what happened after I died down there.”

“You don’t remember the Other Side?”

His brows came together. “I used to know what that meant, didn’t I? Not anymore. I don’t think I’m supposed to remember. It’s like a dream. I came awake in your backyard, and I think that’s all I’m supposed to know for certain. That I’ve been given a second chance. And that it wasn’t love that condemned me. I loved you, but I hated myself for letting you die. That hate made me what I was.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I whispered, cupping his cheek. “It was never your fault.”

“I finally understood that when I was dying in your arms. I heard you, Lucy. You said you were grateful, and I realized I was too.” His voice cracked, and he looked away. “And that I…”

“What?” I asked softly.

“I never mourned them,” he said. “My parents. My sister… I watched them die and buried the grief until Ashtaroth found it. I blamed him for turning me into what I’d been, but I did that.” A trembling smile broke through his grimace. “She was so beautiful, my sister. Aria. Her name was Aria…”

I pulled him close. I kissed his jaw, his cheek, his temple. He raised rich brown eyes to me, so free of the pain that had lived in them when they’d been amber, that my heart broke at his beauty.

“Can I kiss you now?” he asked roughly. “Or if you want to start over…? Start slow?”

I shook my head. “I want you to kiss me. I want everything…”

He bent his head and pressed his lips to mine, hard yet sweet, with a small groan of relief stemming from his throat. I let out an answering cry, my own lips parting, and kissed him deeply. Surrendering to the moment, the completion. Four thousand years of lost love flowed back and forth between us, filling in all of our broken and empty places, making us whole at last.

We kissed and then simply held each other, my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. I let my fingers trace his jaw, his neck, then down. There should’ve been a scar on his throat, but his olive-toned skin was smooth. I tugged the collar down a little.

“No scars,” I said. “They’re gone.”

“But one.” He pulled his shirt down, showing the silver dollar scar over his heart. “So that I never forget the gift I’ve been given. You, Lucy. I’m here because of you. You’re my heroine. You saved me.” He took my hand and put it over the scar. “You made me whole again.”

Before I could speak, he kissed me again, and we went to bed. Our bodies fell into each other, and I drew him inside me, so beautifully perfect. He never stopped kissing me, so I couldn’t tell him he saved me too. He pulled the walls down around my little life and showed me how wide and vast it truly was. How much I had in me and how much I had to give.

But we had time now. I didn’t know how much—nothing was guaranteed. But I vowed to honor every day, every moment, with the love of my life.

This life and the next, and every lifetime to come.