All That Falls (35 page)

“Okay,” the bartender mouthed.

Merrick’s fingers relaxed enough for the bartender to croak, “All right. It’s in the bathroom. The women’s bathroom.” The bartender struggled to draw in a breath. “False panel under the last sink.”

Merrick let go, and the man dropped to the floor behind the bar.

Lysander and Merrick raced through the club and into the women’s restroom. Merrick tapped the wall under the far sink and finding it hollow, kicked the panel open, splintering the wood.

“Too small for us,” Merrick said, smashing every bit of the frame around the opening.

“Move,” Lysander said. He ripped a sink from the wall and swung it. Porcelain shattered and plaster exploded from the blows as the hole widened.

“Good enough,” Merrick said, swinging his legs through the gaping space.

Lysander followed and dropped twelve feet to land on the
floor in a crouch. He sprang forward to Cerise’s body, which lay in a pool of blood.

Her hands were pale and mottled, but her face was puffy and bluish purple like she’d been suffocated.

“Christ,” Merrick murmured.

“Blood in the sac,” Lysander said with a desperate ache in his chest. “It’s crushing her heart.”

Lysander ripped Cerise’s shirt open and sliced her bra. There were several holes in her chest.

Merrick knelt, leaning over Cerise with a somber expression and descended fangs. For a split second, Lysander considered telling Merrick to back away, but held his tongue. If Merrick felt himself losing control at the scent of muse blood, he could be trusted to police his own reaction.

Lysander pressed the point of his dagger to Cerise’s flesh and clenched his teeth. He pushed the blade inward and filleted her chest open.

“Pull her ribs apart,” Lysander said.

Merrick’s fingers snagged Cerise’s bones and spread them. Lysander sliced a hole in the bag around Cerise’s heart and blood sprayed out.

Lysander widened the hole with his fingers and felt her heart. It was an empty muscle that had been drained of blood and compressed from the pressure in the sac.

He felt for the wound where the bullet had punctured her. Finding it, he glanced at Merrick.

Merrick was sweating, clenching his jaws hard enough to crack them, but his grip was steady.

“Lean back,” Lysander said, raising his own left arm and holding it over Cerise’s limp heart. With his right hand, Lysander swung the dagger blade down, hacking into his left wrist deep enough to score the bone. He turned his arm so the pumping blood shot into Cerise’s chest. Lysander dropped the dagger and used his right hand to scoop Cerise’s heart up and tip it toward the blood shooting from his artery. He aimed the jet directly into the wound.

“C’mon,” Lysander said, rhythmically squeezing Cerise’s heart. “You’re strong enough. I know you are.”

For moments, nothing happened, even as her heart slowly
filled. Lysander’s wound closed, and he had to cut his arm twice more, the burning pain shooting up to his shoulder as his own blood throbbed out of him.

He bent his head and whispered to her. “Please, Cerise. If you die, I lose everything. My last chance. Please, try.” Tears stung his eyes. Her heart twitched in his hand.

He exhaled, feeling heat radiate from a distant point. “The angels have her,” he whispered, his hand stilling. “I don’t have the right to drag her back to this world, but she’s all I have now—” He swallowed against the tightness in his throat. He didn’t want to give her up or to lose his last hope. He didn’t want Reziel to win.

I’m selfish,
he thought, gritting his teeth. He stared at her face, pale as alabaster. She was the one. He’d fallen in love with her like a meteor crashing to the earth, hard and fast and out-of-control, in a blaze of flames to light the skies.

He lowered his head until his mouth rested against her ear. “I know the pain of a broken body. You can bear it if you’re willing. You’re strong enough. Please try.”

This was his fault. That someone so remarkable and rare had been cut down by evil. His guts knotted, twisting around a hollowness that threatened to swallow him alive. “I wish you would come back to me. I need—” His voice broke. “I’ve no right to ask, but I need you. Stay with me, Cerise.”

Her heart twitched, then squeezed. He stilled, waiting, holding his breath. It squeezed again, and blood churned as it struggled to beat.

Then he felt its rhythm catch and tears spilled over his lashes in relief. He rubbed them away and swallowed.

She’s remarkable and rare, for certain.

The thump of Cerise’s heart quickened, beginning as a limp, then pumping faster till its walls slapped against each other at a sprinter’s pace. He slid his hand out from under it gently, kissed the side of her face and whispered, “Thank you.”

Hayden woke on the sour-smelling ground of a Varden alley between a mangy cat and a Dumpster. His splitting headache told him that he’d blacked out again. It seemed like no matter how many of Griffin’s seizure pills he popped, the blackouts were getting worse.

The last thing he remembered was heading to Di Vetro to put a bullet in that bitch Tamberi Jacobi. Merrick’s big henchman had said Merrick and his archangel friend would deal with her…but she was slippery, like an eel. A shrieking biting sea snake was exactly the way he thought of her.

He touched the swollen bruise on his neck where she’d torn his flesh and drained his blood. She’d violated other parts of him, too. He wanted to smash her into a million pieces. He wanted to watch her die.

At moments he hesitated, knowing he was just a musician; he had no business taking on a stone-cold killer like her. But another part of him simmered with the kind of rage no man could stand. He had to try to kill her before anyone else did.

He dragged himself to his feet. Despite the blood transfusion he’d gotten at the urgent care center after escaping Tamberi’s attack, he still didn’t feel 100 percent. It was the seizures. Lately, they left him exhausted and aching. He worried that they’d turned into more than staring spells. The way he felt when he woke up made him wonder if he was having full-blown
grand mal seizures now. Falling to the ground? Foaming at the mouth?

It turned his stomach and embarrassed him. What if it happened onstage? The late nights and flashing lights could trigger them. Or that’s what the specialist had told him and Griffin. But neither he nor Griff had ever had a problem onstage. It was only offstage, in the quiet and lonely places they sometimes haunted that the blackouts hit them.

Hayden needed to hustle if he wanted to get to the club in time, but he smelled like hell. Would the Di Vetro bouncers even let him in when he smelled like a pile of garbage? Doubtful.

He stepped out of the alley and realized he was only a block from Crimson. He could get a quick shower in Merrick’s building, in the apartment where Jersey was staying. He checked to be sure he still had his gun. It smelled like smoke and liquor.

He took the clip out. Jesus, there were several bullets missing. Had he fired it? His gaze darted down the alley. There was no one around. If he had fired the gun, wouldn’t someone have called the cops? Wouldn’t they have found him in the alley? Yeah. Maybe the clip hadn’t been full to begin with. He hadn’t looked closely. That must have been it. The jerk gun dealer had given him a partly empty clip. V3 ammunition was ridiculously expensive. The guy had probably pocketed a few to resell them.

Hayden heard a snapping noise and looked sharply over his shoulder. There was no one behind him. No sign of movement. He glared at the shadows then turned back to the street and picked up his pace. Not because he was afraid. He had a gun full of ventala-killing bullets, after all. He was just still shaky from the seizure and from Tamberi’s attack. He’d feel better after he had a chance to rest. And after she was dead.

“She’s strong,” Lysander said as the wounds closed.

Merrick nodded. “Especially with your blood poured into her,” he said, standing.

“These wounds were from man-made weapons. If they’d been from a demon’s blade…a different outcome. I have to do more to watch over her during a fight.”

Cerise groaned, her lids fluttering. Lysander clasped her
hand. “I’m with you. I know the pain’s bad. It’ll fade. Just hold on.”

Merrick unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off. “She needs this,” Merrick said, holding it out to Lysander.

Lysander covered her with the shirt, and Merrick stepped back, checking his cell. “I can’t get a signal down here. As soon as it won’t damage her to be moved, let’s roll.”

“You go. Walk the tunnels and see if you can find the source of the demon stench down here.”

“The shooter’s long gone by now, but I’ll take a look.”

“If you find an exit, use it. You can take the car. My wing’s healed. I’ll bring Cerise back to your building when it won’t cause her too much pain to be lifted.”

Merrick nodded and disappeared down a passageway.

When Cerise’s flesh closed, her eyes opened, looking especially dark against the pallor of her skin.

She pulled her hand free of his. He glanced at her hand, which she rested near her side, then back to her eyes. She blinked away tears and cleared her throat.

“I knew…knew we were too good to be true. You lied.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Her lids closed, and she took in a sighing breath. “Help me sit up.”

“Your ribs—”

“I feel them,” she said, grimacing.

So stubborn.

He gripped her shoulders and pulled her to a sitting position, steeling himself against the guilt that came from seeing pain contort her face.

She held her chest and gasped for breath. He resisted the urge to touch her or to lie her back down. After a few moments, she opened her eyes again.

“You lied by not telling me the most important thing of all.”

He suspected he knew what she meant, but asked anyway. “Which was?”

“If you succeed in being redeemed and are called back to heaven, what happens to my soul?”

“We’re bound.”

“Lysander,” she said in a warning tone.

“If you know now, then why ask me?”

She grimaced, holding her ribs. He reached toward her, but she shook her head sharply. “I wanted to be sure that you knew.”

“Your time on earth was always transient. What difference do a few years make?”

“It makes a difference to me!” She gasped.

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

“I didn’t hurt myself. I got shot because of you. Just the way you warned me I would.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”

She held out a hand. “What does it matter? You’re trying to get us both killed anyway.”

“I am not.”

“No? How do you see it? My understanding is that these bodies die. Isn’t that what happens if you get your way?”

“I—yes, we leave here. But not in defeat. If demons kill me before I’m redeemed, I don’t ascend. My soul is forfeit.”

“And if I’m killed by demons?”

“I can’t be redeemed. When Felice was killed, I swore an oath on my redemption that I wouldn’t let them kill another woman I loved.”

“Wasn’t that an idiotic oath to make?” she asked wearily.

“Probably, but the broken body of the woman I’d made love to for seven months was in my arms. Grief and guilt are powerful emotions. And, as my history proves, when I’m under the influence of strong emotions, I’m reckless.”

“I have plans for my life.”

“Cerise—”

“No,” she growled, then a soft sob escaped her. She rubbed damp eyes, shaking her head. “Men always act like their plans are more important than a woman’s. My father’s role as EC president. Griffin’s role as a rock star. Yours as a fallen angel seeking redemption. Your goals may be the most important things in the world to you, but they don’t have to be the most important thing to me. And they shouldn’t.”

She struggled to her feet with a sharp inhalation of breath. He rose from his knees.

“Cerise, wait. You haven’t felt what heaven is like. When you get there, you won’t regret leaving this place a few years earlier than intended.”

She narrowed her eyes, glaring at him through tears. “I understand how great heaven feels. I’ve had you, haven’t I? My soul was just surrounded by angels who aren’t fallen, wasn’t it? I felt the amazement. It was better than riding a wave of muse magic, and nothing’s ever been better than that. Don’t you think I was tempted to go with them? Do you imagine it was easy to force myself back into a dead shell of a body? Into a world of torn flesh and broken bones?”

“Then why did you come back?”

“Because you’re here,” she whispered. He reached out a hand, but she pushed it away. “Don’t. I can’t—It’s already the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” She swallowed, tears spilling over her lashes. She closed her eyes, wincing. “I’m supposed to make something of my life and my gift. I’m supposed to leave a legacy. A daughter.”

“Is that what you saw when you died? A child who wouldn’t be born?”

She nodded. “I’ve always known I would give the world at least one muse. I planned to do great things and to teach her to do the same. That’s what heaven intended for me. It wasn’t time for me to leave this world. Not today. With or without you, I have to see my life through.”

Without him? She still didn’t seem to fully understand. She thought because they’d shown her a version of what her life could’ve been, she could choose it.

Lysander took a step back and looked away. “I’m glad you’re here. So glad, but—”

“And there’s another reason I had to come back,” she said, suddenly fierce.

He glanced at her, almost unable to look at her because it hurt so much to think about having to ruin her dreams for her life. He hadn’t understood…She was right that he hadn’t considered her gift or what heaven’s intent for its use might be. He’d believed himself highest in the hierarchy and hadn’t cared about what Cerise’s loss would mean for the world. There were other muses. But Ileana might be dead, and Dorie was no great prize. Possibly Alissa could satisfy the world’s needs, but Merrick’s blood was vampire and nephilim more than human. Their daughters were unlikely to carry muse magic of any consequence. In death, Cerise had felt the truth. She might be the
world’s only hope for future muses. His stomach twisted in knots. Could he give her up? Let her have a child with someone else? Jealousy and pain streaked through him, every part of him rebelling at the idea. No. And even if he could bring himself to make the personal sacrifice, how could it be accomplished when they were bound together?