Jonah Read online

  Jonah snorted, reaching for the matches on the table and lighting the end of his roll-up. Uninterested in the conversation that was unfolding, he fidgeted, and I thought then that he was growing anxious to speak with me alone. If I had tuned in a little more closely, I’d have realized it was because he needed to feed.

  “I’m not wrong. You saw a Pureblood in Henley. You saw me end it. Differs somewhat from the demons you’re used to killing, no?”

  Phelan shook his head. “The Devil has many servants, Lailah, and they take many forms. Don’t get it twisted—just because the demons disguise themselves to resemble us, it doesn’t mean that they were once us. The Devil’s own will never reveal—”

  “Their horns,” I said, cutting him off. “Yeah, I remember someone else in your family saying that.”

  Phelan finished his drink. “Aye.”

  “Have you bothered to ask Ruadhan or Brooke? They’re demons, you know.” As soon as I said it, I realized it was a silly question; he would never take the word of a Vampire, “reformed” or otherwise.

  “Hey, who you calling a demon?” Brooke piped up from the corner, her nostrils flaring.

  Ruadhan jumped in. “You’re quibbling over semantics. Little love, what Phelan is trying to say, in the way he understands it, is that since you’ve been gone, the sheer volume of Vampires roaming around has increased dramatically. As have the number of people being found dead, drained completely dry.”

  A sudden spike in Vampires? Why? Zherneboh had left the third, but only right at the last second before I did, and only when he thought I was about to blow it all to kingdom come. The other Purebloods, and I didn’t know how many there were, could have escaped at any time.

  I ran my fingertip around the rim of the tumbler, tracing the outline of a circle, which reminded me of the blazing blue ball that had ridden the river.

  That’s it.

  When I had struck the third with light, the towers, the moats, and the river had all heated. The scavengers had ripped one another apart to consume the dark matter before it was no longer in liquid form. By taking away their supply of dark matter, I had left the Purebloods and their scavengers with nothing to drink—their river had run dry.

  “Lailah?” Ruadhan said, and I realized that everyone, Gabriel included, was watching me, waiting for what my mind was churning on.

  “There was a river of dark matter, a sea of souls.…” I trailed off, and Jonah exhaled a plume of smoke as he met my gaze, sharing the memory of the horrors we had seen in what felt like mere minutes ago.

  “A sea of souls?” Phelan repeated.

  Cameron came out from behind the kitchen counter, positioning himself more squarely in the room. I almost didn’t want to offer my theory with him within earshot. He might now be legally classified as an adult, but I still saw the shy, lonely kid that I remembered from this morning—what was this morning to me, at least.

  “Heaven might have Angels, but Hell has some help, too. We call them scavengers. They travel to Earth with the sole purpose of pulling in the dark energy, or the soul, of a mortal in death. They were depositing that energy into a system, which gave life to, and sustained a river full of, churning, dark matter. Or put another way, a sea of souls.”

  “You saw this, too, lad?” Ruadhan’s eyebrows lifted as he glanced toward Jonah.

  Jonah tugged on his cigarette before necking his fourth shot, his pupils dilating as he returned Ruadhan’s stare, giving my makeshift father the confirmation he was seeking.

  “I spread light into the darkness. I caused the dark matter to heat, and it began to evaporate.” I sucked in a breath. “I took away the Purebloods’ supply of souls.” For Phelan’s benefit, I added, “They feed off them. Without the souls, they are relying completely on the dark matter they take from a human, here on Earth, through their blood.”

  The Purebloods were creating more Second Generation Vampires, but not just to add to their armies: They needed the Vampires to steal more humans for them to drink from. Which would account for the increasing number of dead, hollowed-out bodies being discovered.

  Jonah nodded at me in quiet understanding before exhaling smoke through his nose.

  “Would certainly explain why so many mortals are being killed,” Ruadhan said, confirming my thoughts.

  Phelan leaned across the table. “So, what, did you destroy this sea of souls for good?”

  Again, my resentful gaze settled on Jonah, but he didn’t falter when his eyes locked with mine. “Maybe, maybe not,” I said. “Jonah pulled me out before I had a chance to—”

  “Before you had a chance to what, Lailah?” Gabriel demanded, pushing the sleeves of his sweater to his elbows.

  An expectant silence descended. “To destroy the darkness. To finish what I started. To end it.”

  “To give your life for it.” The veins in Gabriel’s neck jutted out. I might have lost half of my sight, but his pain was all too easy to see.

  “I had already bartered my life away before I entered the third. I saw an opportunity to take the Purebloods and their world along with me, so I took it. At least, I tried to take it.”

  Gabriel’s brow creased in confusion. He had no idea I had rewritten the past and what I’d had to offer to strike that deal with the universe.

  “So you didn’t defeat the Devil, and you didn’t close Hell’s gates, but you did manage to bring about the apocalypse. Not an altogether successful trip, now was it?” Phelan said.

  I tipped my glass back, letting the warm scotch burn the back of my throat before swallowing. “No.”

  Cameron piped up with childlike enthusiasm. “It doesn’t matter. Lailah will save us all. She’s said the Savior.”

  “I’m sorry, the what?” I said, unable to stop myself from shooting Ruadhan a glance. That was a word he, too, liked to pair with me.

  “The Savior—”

  Phelan cut Cameron off. “She’s not the Savior, Cameron.”

  Now I looked to Ruadhan for an explanation.

  “Christianity teaches of the Second Coming,” he said. “Of a time when Jesus Christ would return to Earth, at the Last Judgment. The Sealgaire have awaited the return of the Savior for centuries, believing that she would once again die for our sins, sacrificing herself so that God and mankind could be reconciled.” He pawed at the stubble on his chin. “We believe the Savior will destroy the Devil himself, and in doing so, she will expel the evil from this world, thus delivering freedom to humanity.”

  “And you think that your Savior, Jesus Christ, would return as a woman?” I said with a hint of sarcasm. As far as I was concerned, religion was entirely man-made, a product that packaged women as second-class citizens. It was rather strange that the Sealgaire would suggest that their Savior would undergo a gender swap.

  “Long ago,” Ruadhan said, “a seer foretold of the apocalypse, and with it, the return of Christ. He was clear in his description that the Savior would walk among us, female.”

  “A seer?” This was not the first time I had heard of a prophet who foretold the story of the end of days.

  “We saw what you did.… To that demon, I mean.” My attention shifted back to Cameron as he cut in, hope and excitement spread across his face.

  I couldn’t help but feel like that rotten person who delivers the news that there is no Father Christmas. “Sorry, Cameron, it’s just a story.”

  “You’re wrong,” he replied swiftly.

  I yielded a little. “All right, if you believe there is a Savior due your way, then I’m not going to argue with you, but I will tell you that it’s not me.”

  “Too right it’s not you,” Phelan grumbled. “I think I’d know the Savior when I saw her.”

  “Now, now,” Ruadhan said. “Are you sure about that? You thought Lailah here was a demon when you first met her.”

  “Actually,” I said, “I think for once, this is something Phelan and I can agree on.”

  Phelan sighed. “You’re not the Savior, but my men are tired and th
e Devil resides here, on our doorstep. If you are on our side, then you want the same thing we do.” Though it wasn’t a question, it was a statement Phelan expected some form of agreement with.

  I looked at Ruadhan, Gabriel, and Jonah. “I want those I hold dear to be safe. I want them to live in a world that is free. In Zherneboh’s eyes, I saw his story firsthand. I know what he wants. As we thought, his desires are set on bringing Styclar-Plena to an end. But perhaps even stronger is his desire to force Orifiel out and into the second. He doesn’t care about mankind; he’ll do anything to succeed. We have to stop him.” I glanced at Ruadhan and said, “I have to try.”

  Gabriel shook his head but said nothing, and Jonah’s defensive body language said it all. Neither welcomed my decision to fight. Ruadhan, however, placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed, reminding me that he was true to his word—he would stand beside me.

  Phelan slid his chair back. “Well then, while here in this room we can agree that you are not the Savior, to my men, to the people of Lucan, they need to believe that’s exactly who you are, because right now, they could do with some hope.”

  He swiped his tobacco products off the table and stuffed them into his cargo pants pocket as he stood.

  I rose to meet him.

  “Brooke,” Phelan said, eyeing me, “do summat about her face.”

  Turning to leave, he pushed Cameron out ahead of him.

  “Do what with it?” Brooke said with a tone.

  She’d never been one for taking orders. Skip ahead three years and nothing had changed.

  “I don’t fecking know,” Phelan said. “But do something. Paint it, dress it, whatever, just make her look how a Savior should. Make her look beautiful.” For my benefit, he added, “No offense, like, but folks buy things more easily when they come in a pretty package.”

  My appearance was a trivial matter; the lack of sight in my left eye was my paramount concern. But as my gaze found Jonah’s, I flinched. I cared what he thought, and despite myself, I didn’t want him to think of me as ugly. When my time here was up, and death came to call, there was only one face I wanted him to remember me by, not two.

  “You’ve got until this evening. We leave for the North Star at six o’clock.” With that, Phelan ushered Cameron out of the motor home, slamming the door behind him as he left.

  I didn’t know whom to address first—Gabriel or Jonah. Both seemed as anxious to have a private conversation with me but I wanted to speak with Ruadhan too—jump straight into discussions about how to begin waging our war to protect this world.

  Brooke hustled me across the living room and made my decision for me. “You heard him, let’s get to work.”

  “Where do you think you’re taking me?” I said.

  “Brooke stays in the Winnebago,” Ruadhan said. “Her things are there. Gabriel and I reside here.”

  I pushed my weight down, shrugging Brooke off easily. “Gabriel, you don’t stay in the house with Iona?”

  Gabriel scraped his hand through his blond hair as he shook his head. “Why would I?”

  “I … I guess … Never mind.”

  Brooke tugged my wrist. “Come on.”

  “Go, little love, take some time, catch your breath,” Ruadhan said. “We will be here waiting for you when you’re ready.”

  I was hesitant to go. As angry as I was with Jonah for pulling me out of the third against my will, I couldn’t deny the nervous flutter in the pit of my stomach, born from the knowledge that he had come for me, that he had risked himself to save me. When I had thought he was lost, he had felt so far away that now I just wanted to be near him.

  Jonah winked at me, letting me know he’d be okay. He wasn’t about to disappear into thin air; our conversation could wait a little while longer. Gabriel, on the other hand, didn’t know where to put himself. The dark circles under his worried eyes showed how tired he was, as though he had aged more than the three years I’d been gone. Guilty as I felt to be the cause of his sadness, I knew deep down it was for the best. Short-term pain, long-term gain, I reminded myself.

  Once outside, I made a point of walking slowly to Little Blue. I breathed in the fresh dew from the grass and welcomed the cold air against my bare arms.

  For just a second, I savored being alive.

  SIX

  UNLIKE THE LARGER MOTOR HOME, the Winnebago had changed. The stained flooring had been replaced with a hard-wearing carpet striped in pastel tones. Heavy white wooden shutters had taken the place of the filthy orange suede curtains. The small table that sat in the corner had been upgraded, painted in a duck-egg blue and finished with a cracked varnish. A variety of fragranced candles sat clustered together in the center. Most noticeable, though, was the smell. It no longer reeked of stale cigarette smoke. Instead, a pleasant aroma of chamomile drifted through the air.

  Brooke’s makeover had given Little Blue a new lease on life. Now it was time to see if she could do the same for me.

  I placed my hand on the sideboard next to the door as my mind continued to catalog every change to Little Blue—from what I assumed to be the purposely staged scattered deck of cards to the newly reupholstered sofa. Examining every detail wasn’t a deliberate intention, but these days my brain processed things more keenly than it used to.

  Brooke walked toward the linen curtain that separated the living area from the driver’s quarters. “Want a mirror?”

  “No.”

  Brooke stopped. “You sure about that? I think I’d want to see.”

  I took a seat at the table and shook my head. “I’m more bothered by the fact that I’m blind in my left eye.”

  Brooke removed her beanie as she sat down across from me. She scrunched her short red hair back into place. She’d taken out her dark hair extensions and now looked the same as the first time I’d met her. That in itself might not have been a big deal, but what it signified was that she was no longer trying to make herself into something she thought more attractive to Jonah.

  “Really?” she said. “You’ve got no vision in it at all?”

  “You can’t tell?”

  Brooke studied my left eye intently. “No. Your skin’s all messed up, like, but your eye looks all right.”

  This wasn’t the first time she’d sounded like one of the Irish. “Right, well, perhaps keep my vision problem to yourself then.” If it couldn’t be seen, then there was no need to highlight the chink in my armor to anyone.

  Brooke nodded. “I’ll keep your secret. I understand—better than most, you might remember.”

  On first glance, I had failed to give any real attention to the most important change in Brooke’s appearance: She wasn’t wearing shades. My crystal had been my security blanket, and likewise a pair of glasses had been Brooke’s. When Brooke was human, she’d been blind, and back then she’d always worn a pair. When she became a Vampire, her vision was restored, but her glasses had been a comfort she’d relied upon, and one she’d found difficult to leave behind.

  “You don’t wear your shades anymore?” I said.

  “It’s not like I need them,” she said flippantly. Though it was very subtle, I detected an undertone of pride, like a kid who had finally handed in her pacifier. “Anyway, I guess I owe you one, you know, for not telling you about your mom sooner.…”

  When Fergal was still the leader of the Sealgaire, he had thought Brooke was me. He told her that not only did he know where the Angel Aingeal—my mother—was, but he’d also arranged a meeting at her request. Of course, that mother was my mother, not Brooke’s. When I’d asked Brooke if Fergal had told her about my mother’s whereabouts, she barefaced lied to me. Then again, neither Brooke nor I knew that Fergal’s claims were actually a trap. He’d been preparing to hand me over in exchange for his brother, Padraig. A brother who, unbeknownst to him, had been turned into a Second Generation Vampire, a possibility that would never have occurred to him, because he, just like the rest of the Sealgaire, didn’t believe Vampires had ever been human.

&n
bsp; I shot Brooke a disgruntled glare. “Sooner? I think you mean at all.” But remembering she had suffered, too, I softened. “I’m sorry that you lost Fergal.”

  She didn’t respond, wrinkling her nose instead and bringing us back to business. “I’ve got a job to do.”

  She moved out from behind the table, and I swiveled in my chair to face her. She reached out, tucking my short strands behind my ears before tipping my chin up. Running her gaze over my face, she said, “So what does beauty look like to you?”

  I thought on that for a moment before offering a reply. “I think the more important question is, what does beauty look like to them?”

  “I really don’t care. We’re not doing this for Phelan, the Sealgaire, or anyone else, we’re doing this for you.” She brought her hands together. “Regardless of how low a priority you deem your appearance to be right now, trust me, you walk around looking all frazzled, and folks will stare. Then you might give a shite.”

  “Give a shite? You live in here, keeping well away from the people who slay demons?” I said, confused.

  Brooke took a step back. “Yeah.”

  “So why do you suddenly sound like one of them?”

  “Dunno.” She pushed the curtain out of her way and disappeared behind it. “I guess you just pick these things up. Been here awhile, you know.” She reappeared with a makeup bag and a hairbrush in hand. “You’ve gone waaay off topic.” She gestured for me to stand. “So when it comes to what’s beautiful, surely the only opinion that matters is yours.” And then she added with a grin, “Yours and mine, that is. What do you care whether anyone believes you’re this biblical Savior? It’s all a load of tosh anyway. Ain’t no way you’re Jesus!”

  “Phelan wants to give his people hope. I can appreciate that.”

  Brooke tapped her foot rhythmically. “And…?”

  Maybe she was smarter than I gave her credit for. “And it won’t do any harm for the Sealgaire to believe I am their long-awaited Savior. Particularly if a need should arise for them to take direction from me.”

  Brooke reached past me, setting down the makeup bag. “Instead of Phelan, you mean?”