Breathe

Chapter 21

Cian

I led Eden around the back of the house, to the dock. Of course, she hadn't really been there since the night of the collision, but I could tell that wasn't what was making her anxious. I'm not sure what, but there was something in the way she tugged at her ear—a nervous habit she'd always used to do when we were in high school—and darted her gaze nervously around her surroundings that told me it wasn't the water she was afraid of.

At the edge of the yard, I kicked off my shoes and made my way out on the dock, the wood warm and sunbaked underneath my bare feet. I didn't realize Eden hadn't followed me until I was seated, my toes dangling inches from the saltwater. I turned, beckoning her forward. "You coming?"

She looked at me for a moment, before her eyes shifted out to the sea, merely a never-ending, cerulean shadow stretching for miles. Our little dock was only a shard of one immense mirror.

Finally, she came to sit beside me, the ocean breezes making a sail of her raven-colored hair.

"You seem uncomfortable," I observed, as if saying that would somehow make her feel better, which I knew it would not. Maybe I just somehow hoped that anything, anything at all, could return our friendship. Even if she didn't know it, she had meant a lot to me. I'd searched for her after the accident, but to no avail—I guess there was a point when I was so caught up with my new status as an angel and Vinny's new one as a ghost that I just stopped looking.

I wondered distantly if she was hurt by that.

"It's because I shouldn't be here," Eden confessed, and when I started to ask, she shushed me. "Look, Cian, it doesn't matter. You just need to know, before you thrust yourself at Nick, which I know you're about to do."

I just blinked at her. "Why do you care so much? Aren't you just another one of his subordinates—"

"Sure, but I'm not his robot," she protested, crossing her arms. She reached to roll up her pantleg, dipping a toe in the water but briskly drawing it back. "He may have changed me, and I may be a demon wielder, but that's not all I am. I can see, and I can think, and Cian—I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into."

"No, I definitely don't," I agreed. "Nick hasn't said anything, hasn't told me anything about what he's going to do other than give me power—"

"He's doing more than just making you into a fallen angel," Eden told me.

I looked at her, the sun gleaming in her eyes, her lips pursed and her cheeks flushed by the wind. Eyes narrow, she watched the currents stirring across the surface of the bay. "Nick was going to use you as a figurehead. At least, that's what he told me. You were going to be a sign to the Order that they're not as powerful as they think. But lately, being with him, I've noticed...I've noticed he has something bigger planned."

I swallowed around a lump in my throat, wondering if Eden could hear the thunder of my heart in my chest. Something bigger? The phrase could mean a million different things, and suddenly, I wasn't sure if I wanted to hear any more. "Like what?" I stammered.

"He keeps saying that you're the key. I thought it was just a metaphor. But I'm beginning to think it's literal somehow," Eden elaborated. She tugged at her ear again, drawing her eyes to mine. "He's opening something, something that should stay closed—and he's using you to do it, Cian. You're the key, but no one knows to what. No one except Nick, that is."

"That's it?" I inquired. "That's all you know?"

She gave me a pained look. "I wish I knew more, but he's been keeping me in the dark—"

"Wait."

"What?"

I got to my feet, shoving my hands in my pockets so she couldn't see them trembling. "How am I supposed to trust you? You've been against me since Nick made you, and suddenly you're telling me all of this? Why do you care so much? Is this just another trick?"

"Cian," Eden groaned, gazing up at me. "Sure, Nick sent me, but everything I'm telling you wasn't ordered by him. All I was told to do was give you this."

She, too, got to her feet, producing an envelope from her back pocket. She pressed the starchy paper into my hand, careful not to wrinkle it, and watched warily as I flipped it over. In annoyingly neat cursive—better than I ever could have done—this was scrawled: To my dearest mortal angel. I grimaced. "What is this?"

"A notice, of sorts," Eden clarified. "Nick's hosting some sort of event—a ball, I guess you could say, and that's where he wants you to make your final decision, in front of all the fallen angels and Silhouettes. Either you join him, and he takes you right then and there, or you don't, and he starts building up his hell, death after death."

"Like I've said," I muttered, "I don't have any other choices right now."

"But Cian, what Nick's doing—"

"—is something bigger than you thought, I know," I finished, shoving the envelope in my pocket to open later. I knew what I was going to do now—I was going to lose myself, but Vinny and Lucie could go on, live the lives they were born to. I'd track my own path, separate from theirs, but they were both resilient spirits. They didn't need me. I, in the end, was the one thing that caused turmoil in their lives anyhow. Deleting myself would only benefit them. I closed my eyes, raking hair back from my face. "You're confusing me, you know. I want to, but I don't know if I can trust you anymore."

"Would I have let you go if I didn't care?"

My eyes opened, burning into hers. She watched me, returning a steady gaze, the breeze blowing solitary strands of midnight hair across her face. "Eden..."

"Would I have told you that Vinny was going to breathe again, let you and that girl go after him, if I didn't care about you or Vince anymore? The answer's no, by the way. God, I keep wanting to move on—but for some reason I can't let go," Eden went on. She rubbed her eyes. "You don't understand. I hate that I can't hate you."

Seagulls cawed their screeching songs in the distance, the waves a calming rhythm around us.

I stared at her, the blotches of red on her pale cheeks. "What do you want me to do?"

She hesitated, her gaze falling for a second to the dock, then lifting again. "I know I can't change your mind," she admitted, and at her next words, her voice cracked a little, "but just be careful for me, okay? Please, be careful, Cian."

Her eyes fell again, and that was when I felt it: her fingers interlocking with mine. I was too shocked to move. My voice was soft, too soft. "Edie..."

She jolted a little at the nickname, shivering. Eden took a step forward, then another, until I could feel her chest against mine, our heartbeats pressed to each other's. She looked up at me, her eyes large and sorrowful, filled with doubt. I still felt her hand within mine, so small and gentle in my grasp. I closed my eyes, trying to force air in and out of my lungs. She leaned in, reaching to press closer to me—

I dropped my head, trying to ignore the sweet scent of her in my nostrils. "Eden. I can't."

She stepped back. Her hand whipped away from mine; she looked away.

"I'm sorry," I said, "but it's not like that between us. It never has been."

"I know," she allowed. "I just...no, I'm sorry. That was stupid. Just—Cian?"

I hesitated, lingering on the pain in her voice, the dejection written all over the expression she was trying to hide from me. "Yeah?"

"Someone cares for you like that," she said. "So when I say be careful, I'm asking you not to break that someone's heart."

She turned, starting back to the yard, rubbing her ear more frantically now. I was stunned. How long, I wondered, had she wanted that? Was this a manifestation of feelings long suppressed, or a sudden rash thought? Did I want to know? "Edie—"

"I should go," she called, grabbing up her shoes. "You should forget that ever happened."

She paused. "You should forget about me."