Breathe

Chapter 9

Cian

The night air was on that blurred border of chilly and cold, yet humidity, relentless in pursuit, clung to me. My chest, slick with sweat, stuck to my shirt, and I slipped my hands into my pants pockets to keep Nick from seeing how much they were trembling. I wasn't afraid of him. I was afraid of what he had to tell me.

I followed him away from Felix's house and down the street, which was mostly vacant save for some wandering drunk couples; this part of town was littered with late-night bars and nightclubs, and thus intoxicated patrons stumbled across the sidewalks in the late hours. When ten minutes passed and Felix's house was a blur over my shoulder, I grew anxious. "Where are you taking me?"

Nick waved me off over his shoulder, not turning. "I'm not taking you anywhere. You're following me."

"Don't tell me you wouldn't have taken me by force if I hadn't agreed."

He said nothing, and I got the message. At least he was smart enough not to lie.

Finally, he took a sharp right turn into a back alley. An alleyway was the last place I wanted to be at night, alone with this guy, but I didn't have any other options. This guy was powerful, though I hated to admit it. He'd almost killed Caprice; messing with him, resisting him, was the last thing I was going to do right now. Maybe if I just complied, whatever he needed from me wouldn't take long.

The back alley opened up into a parking lot, lit by tall yet flickering streetlights. Nick waltzed out underneath one, the pale light of it turning his skin to porcelain. He flashed another million-dollar grin. "By now, Mr. Horne, you must know how miraculous you are. Am I correct?"

I stuck to the shadows, leaning back against the cold brick of the alley wall. I shot Nick a confused look. "Miraculous? My brother is the one who died and came back. Compared to him, I'm the average Joe."

It was in a blink, but Nick was before me. Demonic speed, no doubt; not even an angel—one with wings, of course—could move that fast. He gripped my shoulder, a bit too tightly. "Oh?" he mocked, then dug his nails in. I winced as they burrowed underneath my skin, felt the tear of the scar tissue that marked where my wings had once been. Shivering, I cried out and slid to my knees. I hated to cower before him, but my back was pulsing with pain, each movement a dart of agony. "Those scars...they're not like your others. The ones on your face are a livid reminder of your failure that night. The ones on your back, however, are a sign of hope."

I hung my head. "Hope?" I gasped.

"An angel without wings that isn't fallen? Still able to see souls, yet not remove them? No one knows how to classify you—"

"I don't care how people classify me!" I exclaimed, my throat hoarse. I swallowed down my pain, managing to get one foot on the ground. "I'm...I'm tired of all these people asking me what I am. For G—goodness sake, I don't know. But who cares anymore? I know that I'm not one of you, and for now that's all that matters."

Nick scowled. "Ouch. Do you hate us that much?"

"What did I just say, you idiot? You took Lucie's brother away from her, killed people. Just because I have your scars doesn't mean I am you."

"Oh, just listen to yourself, fighting for nothing," Nick hissed. He stepped forward, crunching my finger beneath his shoe. I grunted, thought I heard something crack. From my vantage point, Nick was a demon himself, dark eyes and equally dark expression. "Each day you go on living like this, is a war between what you think is good in you and what's not. You know that one day one of those sides has to win. But look at your choices, my angel friend! You get your wings back, you leave your brother and your lover behind. You don't get them back, you stay as lost as you are now. If you join us, however—"

"—Oh, I'd never—"

"—you get power. You join us, you get immortality. It's easy. You already know you belong here. The Order doesn't care about you, Cian," Nick told me. He moved his foot an inch, brought it down on another finger. "You're just a mortal to them. You're everything to the fallen angels. If you come now, it makes everything easier. Give up your heavenly blood. It's a poison."

"I..." I dropped my head again, squeezing my eyes shut, as my vision was starting to blur with the discomfort. My fingers were throbbing, my shoulder buckling. I couldn't stand. When I reached my good hand to my back, I felt blood soiling my nails.

I saw Vinny's smile, felt Lucie's hand in my own, heard both of them say my name. I couldn't leave them. I wouldn't.

"I won't," I said. "I'm sorry, Nick, but you're wasting your time."

"Then we'll have to do this the hard way."

I barely had time to question what he meant before his foot connected with my face. I rolled onto my side, hopeless. If I had my wings, I could fight back, but I had nothing now. No weapons, no skill, no strength. I could only imagine what Lucie would say when I came home and she saw the bruises. If I came home.

"I heard that you found the little present I left in the park for you."

My eyes widened, my mind making sense of it. The girl's confusion, her unconsciousness. And now Felix, having the same blank expression as she had. I started, "What—"

Nick shrugged, threw another kick at my ear, causing it to ring for a few moments. I felt blood trickle down my neck. "Demon possession has proved very useful for me, for my people. Oh, and I lied."

"Surprising," I murmured, which I regretted when another kick knocked the wind from my chest. I had tried to roll out of the away, but was too slow and weak.

"Your brother and your poor little damsel are a long way off from safe. You don't come to us, more innocent people will die, including them. The best part is that the possession makes them do it to each other," Nick said, rattling off excitedly. "I love the look on someone's face when they come to, and realize they've just murdered their loved one in cold blood! Tell me, Cian, would it be better if your beloved brother died first? Or Little Dempsey?"

I couldn't take it anymore. I reached out with my good hand, grappling Nick's ankle. My grip shook, but I didn't let go. "You won't touch them. You won't touch them, or, I swear on my own grave, I'll burn your insides to ash."

"They'll regenerate."

"I'll keep doing it until you beg for your own miserable death," I hissed. "If this is about me, then it's about me, not them."

"My God, you're foolish," Nick responded, shaking his ankle free of my grip. "Foolish and feeble. Look at you, on the ground here, bleeding through your clothes. Is this where you want to be for the rest of your life? I can change this, Cian. I can change you."

"What makes you think I want that?"

Nick sneered. "I know the contents of the human heart, Cian Horne," he told me, then leaned down and peered into my eyes, his acidic breath in my face. It was all I could do not to turn away as he offered another vicious grin. "I know them and I know them well. So don't doubt that I'll break you."

He gave me an annoyingly affectionate pat on the head, then called his demons forth. The ink-like creatures appeared before him, then swallowed him. He vanished before me, leaving me shivering in the night.

I laid there for a while until I conjured enough strength to stand. My shoulders were aching, my fingers were swollen, and a bruised lump was already forming on my cheek. As I began to limp my way home, I had only one thought:

I was royally screwed.