Chapter Thirty-Five
HE DIDN’T DROP QUICKLY. Instead, he collapsed with a sliding motion, as though his legs seemed to give up on holding him upright and bent, allowing him to ease to the floor. His legs straightened out, and the seat behind his back propped him up. Candra’s responses belatedly kicked into gear, and she rushed to him. She wasn’t in time to do any more than place her hands on his upper arms to settle him. She looked back beseechingly to the others standing at the altar. It was only a short distance, but distance didn’t matter. In a blur between when she reached for Sebastian and whipped her head around to plead for help, she saw Brie go to step forward. Both Gabe and Lofi held her back.
“Help him,” she demanded. Her lungs stung; every breath she inhaled was laced with pure, unadulterated dread. This is all wrong.
When it appeared no help would be forthcoming, Candra reached into her pocket and pulled out the small black healing stone she always carried, running her thumb over the smooth surface. Sebastian’s cold hand closed around hers. Her eyes locked on his, desperate and completely unselfconscious about panting, as if she had been running miles. She couldn’t manage to fill her lungs.
“It won’t do any good,” he told her weakly.
She knew already. She understood. Sebastian was leaving her again, and she knew that this time, it was forever.
“What have you done?” Candra blinked her eyes to clear her vision because she had to see Sebastian.
He smiled, revealing his perfect white teeth, whiter than ever against the dirt smudged on his face. “I didn’t sleep with Ananchel.”
“I know,” Candra sobbed, unable to stem the flow of tears. “You were trying to protect me.”
His tongue darted out to skim his top lip, and Sebastian closed his eyes before shifting to sit up straight. Candra heard crying and shushing words but refused to take her eyes off Sebastian to see the source.
“What did you do?” she asked again.
Sebastian didn’t answer. His hand released hers and gently skimmed over her heated flesh, tracing a line up the entire length of her arm and over her shoulder. His fingers trembled and left goose bumps in their wake before cupping the back of her neck and tugging her toward him. Candra didn’t resist, even though there was no strength behind his hold on her.
She scooted nearer and placed her palm on his neck, smoothing her thumb over his stubbled jawline. His pulse was weak, hardly causing any stir at all in his artery. Her own thundered, as if attempting to beat for both of them. Sebastian closed his eyes again as Candra’s lips drew near, his breath in stark contrast to the temperature of his skin. His spicy scent enveloped her, making her want to crawl into his lap, but she didn’t. Sebastian seemed so breakable, she wasn’t sure he would be able to hold her weight.
“Please let me heal you.” She breathed against his bloodied lips, and tears spilled from her eyes over her flushed cheeks.
“Kiss me,” he said in a whisper.
Candra closed the space between them, firmly pressing her mouth to his. His lips parted a little and deepened the kiss, swallowing hard and tightening his grip on her neck. Nails scraped across her skin beneath the disheveled braid that was beginning to unravel. Candra’s body responded to him as it always did, with fire in her belly and a raging heart. She took everything he gave, took every ounce of passion Sebastian poured into that one kiss. The world disappeared. They could have been anywhere—it didn’t matter. Time didn’t matter.
Candra tasted the salt of her tears mingled with the metallic sweetness of blood in her mouth. She devoured the taste of him. His fingers dragged down the length of her spine, roughly pulling her closer when he reached where her shirt ended. His cold skin caused her to quiver, and his strength appeared to increase with each velvety stroke of his tongue against hers. A dull ache throbbed through her body as her fingers splayed flat over Sebastian’s chest and hard stomach.
She sat awkwardly, leaning across him, her legs curled under her and her torso partially touching his. She could feel his strained breathing and his heart working overtime, despite his weakened pulse. Candra hands moved without conscious thought, exploring his body, overwhelmed with an unquenchable thirst for him. Sebastian’s fingers clawed into her skin to the point of pain, but it was such sweet agony because his desperation proved his yearning for her rivaled hers for him.
The tingling began gradually under her skin and spread as melted butter over a warm knife through every inch of her. Then the tingling became a vibration and awoke those few last sleeping nerves. It brought her body to a heightened state of awareness, but nothing like the sensation of the Arch trying to break through. That part of her remained sleeping. Electricity raced through her, shooting jolts over her skin, and surging power made her heart pound. Her hand slid below Sebastian’s arm to his back and bunched into his sticky shirt. Not sticky in the way sweat made fabric damp so it clung to skin. It was more a syrupy type of stickiness, heavy and thick.
With a guttural noise that reminded Candra of a wounded animal, Sebastian suddenly shoved her back. She licked her lips, tainted with the fresh blood spilling from his lip. His breathing grew harsh as he held her away, fixing his wild eyes on her. The world came abruptly into focus, the dank smell of old water and moss, dead flowers and smoke from recently blown out candles. The cold flavor of stone and marble hit the back of her tongue. Wind whispered past the door and blew in, scattering trash across the central aisle.
Tears still streaked down her face, and her head pounded. The pungent perfume of incense made her gag. Candra swallowed the nausea in her throat. Her eyes widened. Sebastian’s skin was as pale and icy as the marble that made up the pillars around them, and every hard breath seemed to lance a swift pain through him.
His back, Candra thought, not sparing a moment to glance up to the hushed whispers coming from near the altar.
“What did you do?” she demanded. “What did you do?” A panic as acute and cutting as a razor blade tore her heart open.
Sebastian flinched and then fought to hold her at bay when she pulled him forward, intent on inspecting his back.
“Please, don’t look.” Sebastian disapprovingly hissed out through clenched teeth, but he was no match for her in his weakened state.
Candra gasped for breath, the sound echoing around the hollow chapel. A coating of thick, dark blood almost entirely covered Sebastian’s back. It congealed on the torn fabric around the short stumps of pearl white bone and shredded muscle protruding from where his wings should have been.
“You fell,” Candra whispered, her voice eerily calm as the smooth glass-like surface of a lake with a storm brewing in the distance.
“No. I planned to. I’ve thought of nothing else for weeks. What I told you that day we flew; I swear I meant it. I wanted to walk away from it all for you.”
Candra tugged his shirt upward, wanting a closer look. If she could see the damage, maybe she could heal it. Sebastian shifted about, although his movement had no force. She froze. A deep puncture wound about an inch in length poured blood in a steady flow. He’d been stabbed.
Candra brushed tears from her eyes and fingered the stone in her hand. It weighed so much more than it should, made heavier by its innate uselessness. It was already too late. “But you couldn’t really give up.”
“No,” he agreed with a sad smile. His eyes tightened in pain, but he made no other physical display, although Candra knew he must have been in agony. “I’m not a man. I never will be.”
“No one’s perfect,” Candra tried to joke, but the words caught in her throat, threatening to choke her.
Sebastian smiled, and his eyes closed, almost like he didn’t possess the energy to smile and hold his eyelids open at the same time. Candra brushed his hair away from his face and tucked it behind his ear. It had grown long again.
“We’ll be okay. All of this will be over soon.”
“I had to give you a chance.” Sebastian’s mouth barely moved with the utterance, and a small trickle of blood spilled over his chin. His head lolled to the side slightly, and Candra scrambled to her knees in desperation, shaking him harder than was probably wise, given his injuries.
“No. No,” she screeched, not daring to take her eyes from him to see the others. “Open your eyes, please.”
Candra imagined a great fissure inside her chest splitting. She wished she could fall into it and disappear. Then his eyes opened. There was no gold. His irises were a flat brown, the color of mud.
“I love you,” she told him, battling against the bleak certainty settling around her. A seething rage slithered into her heart and soul, blackening everything it touched, like a disease spreading through her, like the blackness that corrupted the city and beyond was slipping inside her and taking root. What did any of it mean to her without him? How could she protect everyone if she couldn’t protect just one person? “I will always love you—always.”
Sebastian tensed. “Don’t do that.”
Candra pressed her lips together to hold back the scream crawling up from her lungs.
“You can’t give up. Make my death worth something.”
A sob she couldn’t restrain burst forward. Sebastian’s fingers combed up into her hair, tightening and forcing Candra to look at him. He’d said it: he was dying, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. The blood on the blade was his. He’d been beaten…tortured, his wings hacked away, and stabbed by the Creation Blade. A wound even a curleax couldn’t heal. He was bleeding to death right in front of her.
“After they took my wings, I still thought I was clear. I fought, but there were too many, a giant ball of limbs and pain. One of them found it on me. He was a crazed kid; he didn’t even get a look at it—just a weapon to him. He got me in the back before I wrestled the blade off him again. I killed him, and none of the others saw. I switched them, you see. It worked.”
Candra shook her head, biting down on the raw skin inside her cheek until the sweet tang of her blood mingled with Sebastian’s.
“I will find you again,” he whispered. “I swear. Even if I have to cross time and space, if I must claw my way from the bowels of hell or endure a thousand lifetimes of nothingness. It’s no more than I deserve. I have committed despicable atrocities, the worst of which was denying my heart.” He paused and closed his eyes a moment to suck in a gurgled breath.
Candra desperately wanted to shush him. She wanted to beg him to conserve his strength, even though she knew in her heart that it was already too late and it was better to allow him to say what he needed to say.
“This can’t be the end. I don’t believe that anymore. What I feel for you is too strong to fade away to nothing. I will have my moment before the Arch. I must be good…I must be worth saving, because you loved me.”
Candra nodded in agreement. “I do love you still. I will love you always.” She wished she could believe his words. She wanted to believe she would see Sebastian again. She wanted to cling to the Arch’s words that nothing ever truly ceased to exist. Her heart wouldn’t allow her to hope right now.
“Take her out of here.” Sebastian instructed at full volume, keeping his eyes fixed on Candra’s. “Don’t let her watch.”
Candra wrenched her face away and spun around viciously, practically snarling at Draven, who had stepped forward with Brie just behind him.
“Don’t you dare,” she screamed.
They both froze mid-step, and Brie gasped and sucked in a breath that made the tendons in her neck strain. Candra knew she was glowing; she could feel the light all over her, flowing through her body like molten lava, ready to destroy anything that threatened to move her. It wasn’t like before, when the Arch had forced the light to the surface. This time, Candra had found a way to tap into that strength, to use it for her bidding. She panted harshly, her heart thrumming behind her eyes and in her ears, filled with a hopeless dread. The sound was hollow, the fissure inside her tearing her apart. She felt as if she was pushing against an immovable force—death…death got them all in the end. They were all equal in its eyes. Like air, death was nothing tangible but always there, a shadow they all lived under.
Draven looked at Candra with such grave eyes, almost as if her warning caused him physical pain. She couldn’t think about that now; she couldn’t worry about Draven. She thought that if a hand had torn her heart from her chest in that moment, they would find it cold, as cold as Sebastian’s quivering skin. There was simply no room in there for anyone else. Not if she wanted to make it through the black tunnel she found herself in.
“I’m staying,” she told Sebastian, pulling him across her chest to lie in her arms.
He nodded a little but didn’t speak. Her trembling fingers traced up through his hair, smoothing it away from his forehead and hushing him as if he were only drifting into slumber. The iridescence had left her skin, and she looked like a normal girl once more, not a young woman holding her angel lover until death stole him away. Death was the only inevitable.
She was vaguely aware of whispers and a door closing—the others giving her space to say her goodbyes.
He never spoke again, and only a few short minutes passed before his quiet heart stopped and the last hushed breath left his lips. The world fell silent. Black shadows and amber light thrown by the sun through one of the leaded windows cast beams over his still chest. They seemed to have a sentience and energy, laced with unavoidable menace.
His head rested on Candra’s forearm, eyes closed and his expression serene. He looked younger and more beautiful than ever. The edge of anguish that always seemed to haunt his features had finally been erased. She leaned down, placing her lips over his, feeling their last warmth already fading, and caressed his cheeks with the backs of her fingers.
Candra’s only thought was that this couldn’t be it; death couldn’t be all there was after they had been through so much to be together. Candra remembered all the nights she had woken from nightmares to find him sitting by her bed with his iPod playing and his eyes on the ceiling. She had watched the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest until it calmed her. She had rarely seen him sleep soundly, not until the first night she’d spent in his arms. He looked just the same now as he did then—her sleeping angel.
