Dark Before Dawn Page 3

  He cleared the space between us, reaching out his hand. I looked at it carefully before taking it. Then I turned it over and pushed up his sleeve. There, against the pale skin, was the jagged scar where broken bone had once pierced his arm, evidence of the brutal beating he’d received at the hands of the Fallen after they’d trapped us with the Key.

  I ran my finger along the scar on his arm, let my hands wander to his face, brushing away the golden blond hair that had fallen onto his forehead. The scar tissue I felt under my fingertips was rough and real on his head. I felt a slight impression in the place where Lucas, the leader of The Fallen, had crushed his skull with the Key, the same rock Cain had used to slay Abel.

  There were other wounds, wounds I knew Michael would have received in more recent service to God: protecting the persecuted, refugees or political prisoners or who knew whom from the vagaries of fate here on Earth. They would fade quickly, I knew, but they stood in witness to his continuing role as the protector of mankind.

  I brushed against the angry welt on his neck, the fresh cut above his eye that was just beginning to scab over, and he winced.

  “The battle was a fierce one,” he said, remembering, his eyes glinting as he imagined the violence again. “They were so many that the skies turned black as they swarmed upon our gates. The stench of sulfur was suffocating, the air split by their shrill battle cries. My army stood its ground, repulsing their charges, holding the line under wave after wave of attacks. Day turned to night, the Fallen growing more desperate as they failed to reach their goal. And still they kept coming; still their fiery swords shrieked as they swooped through the air, clashing on armor with a sound like thunder; still the days turned.

  “They’d never dared to storm Heaven’s gates before. And they’d never fought as wildly. But ultimately we prevailed. Many good angels fell to make it so.”

  I sucked my breath in. “Raph? Did he—?”

  Michael shook his head. “God was with him, as he was with Gabrielle, and they were unharmed.

  “In the end, we couldn’t quell the horde until Lucas himself was struck down, still clutching that damned rock in his hand like a talisman and swearing he would have his blood payment. The damn fool could have had Heaven, but he threw it away out of pride. Just like the first time.”

  He pressed his lips together in grim satisfaction as he recalled the scene, and I knew that it had been his hand that had sent Lucas to his end.

  His story made sense. And yet … I’d watched the violence that had swept the Earth as the Fallen had unleashed their jubilation upon the world, thinking that they had finally beaten Michael and could take Heaven by force. I had watched, terrified, as it ebbed and flowed. But finally the violence had petered out, and nothing else had happened. I’d thought surely that meant the uprising had been quelled. Surely Michael was victorious and could come to me.

  And yet he hadn’t, until now.

  “How long ago was this?” I asked him suspiciously.

  He stilled my hand, gripping my fingers in his.

  “Time in Heaven is different than time on Earth, Hope. There is no rhyme or reason to it. I’m sorry to have made you wait so long.”

  A wave of insecurity overwhelmed me, a feeling of rejection I’d been trying to ignore ever since he’d pushed me away in the tiny hotel room in Puy-en-Velay. I dropped his hand and stared at the gentle mound that marked my father’s burying place. My voice faltered. I hated myself for feeling the way I did; hated that I had to ask the question, but I had to know where we stood.

  “I was so afraid you didn’t want me. That I was just an inconvenience. A necessary part of the Prophecy. And now that the Prophecy is over, you don’t need me anymore.”

  I heard him suck in his breath.

  “Ah, Hope. How can you even think that?”

  “That night, in the hotel in France—”

  He groaned. “I wasn’t rejecting you, Hope. That was for your own good.”

  I stubbornly stared at the ground, too embarrassed and humiliated to look him in the eye. He tilted my chin up, ever so gently, and my vision blurred as he forced me to return his gaze.

  We stood there, silent in the gloaming, and somehow I knew I wasn’t going to make it to Krav Maga tonight.

  “Do you remember how angry you were with me after Las Vegas?” he asked.

  I nodded, not sure where he was going with this. Las Vegas was a bitter memory—a time where the flame that glowed within Michael had overpowered both him and me in a fit of emotion, burning my body and marking me with scars that only faded once the light had gone from his eyes. It was our time in Las Vegas that had sowed the doubt and distrust that had led me to hide things from Michael, which ultimately led to Michael’s death.

  “Do you remember what you said?” he prompted me patiently.

  I had said a lot of things. I just shook my head, no, allowing him to continue.

  “You hated me for leaving you with just a memory, a memory of a kiss that you thought you’d never experience again. That was just a kiss, Hope. How could I, knowing that I was about to die, do so much more? And do it in sadness when making love to you should have been a moment of joy? I couldn’t do that to you. I just couldn’t. It wouldn’t have been fair, especially when I didn’t know how it was all going to turn out.”

  I wanted to believe him.

  “Hope,” he breathed, “I had to stop because I love you. None of this would have mattered if I didn’t love you. You understand that, don’t you? None of it. My death was meaningless without you. It only became a sacrifice when I had something to lose.”

  I began to cry, silent tears shaking my body. The memory of us huddled together on the cold stone floor of the chapel came rushing back to me.

  “I felt the life seep out of you. I couldn’t stop it. And it was my fault.” The words came out in broken bursts. Betrayed. I had betrayed him.

  “Hope, look at me. It wasn’t your fault. It was meant to happen.”

  I shook my head; my guilt was a cancer eating me alive, and I needed to put it out there.

  “I betrayed you,” I said. “Gabrielle told me I would do it. That day on Skellig Michael. I didn’t believe her, but in the end, she was right. I gave the Key to Lucas, Michael. I fulfilled the Prophecy. You died because of me!”

  I was shaking so violently now that I didn’t know if I would ever be able to stop. I was waiting for his rejection. Waiting for the tiny splinter of belief that had embedded itself in my heart to leave me to bleed and fester.

  “Hope.” His voice was gentle, a balm to my soul. “You misunderstood Gabrielle. Giving the rock to Lucas wasn’t your betrayal.” He paused. “What hurt was that you kept things from me—most importantly, that your Guardian Angel was still with you. I knew that circumstances made our … situation … complicated. Uncertain. But I thought that you still knew we were on the same team. That we were like a rope, the individual fibers of our souls woven and coiled tight, stronger together than we were on our own. But there was rot at the center of the rope, Hope. Distrust. That was the betrayal. Nothing more and nothing less.”

  A fresh surge of shame overtook me as I remembered how I’d confided in Henri, my Guardian Angel, while I’d let Michael think Henri had abandoned me. It had turned out that Henri had been spying for the Fallen all along, playing me for all it was worth.

  I dropped my gaze to the floor, Michael’s gentle rebuke too much for me to bear. But again he nudged my chin up, forcing me to look at him.

  “I don’t like it, but I can understand it,” he said. “And I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago.”

  I gulped hard and nodded quickly, dashing another tear from my cheek. He might have forgiven me, but it would take me a bit longer to forgive myself.

  “As for the rest, it was meant to be. You couldn’t have stopped it, Carmichael—nor should you have even tried,” he said, slipping effortlessly into his casual nickname for me. “It was meant to happen. And whether you want to admit it or no
t, by being part of the story, by helping it come to pass, you saved the world.” He spoke the words almost reverentially, pulling me into his embrace and pressing his lips to the top of my head.

  “It has not gone unnoticed,” he whispered against my hair.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, taking a shuddering breath to stop my tears. I looked up into his eyes. They shone with excitement. He drew my fingertips to his lips and kissed them, sending a shiver down my spine.

  “Look,” he said, turning my palm over in his hand. “You can still withstand my heat. Just like I never left. Like we were meant to be.” He kissed the heart of my palm, and then, distracted, he murmured against my skin: “The Heavenly courts have granted us an opportunity. A choice.”

  I frowned. “I haven’t liked the choices Heaven has presented me with so far.”

  He laughed, a hearty guffaw that shook the silence of the cemetery. Then he clasped my hand, pulling me in even closer. I let my body sink into his, letting my armor melt away as I molded myself to him. His familiar scent—leather and hay, honey and sunshine— flooded my senses, confirming once again that I wasn’t dreaming. This was real.

  “Hope, God has made us an offer. He’s given us the chance to be together. Forever.”

  I held my breath. Forever? I looked up into his eyes, confused.

  “How?”

  He smiled. “Here’s one of your choices: I can become human and join you here on Earth. I can be Michael Boyd forever.”

  I frowned. “Not forever. If you become human, you’ll die.”

  “Eventually,” he acknowledged with a nod of the head. “But if we’re lucky, not until after living a very full life. Together.”

  I rolled that around in my head. “What are my other choices?”

  “Only one other: you can join me in Heaven and become an angel.”

  He paused, tilting his head to look at me thoughtfully as he gauged my reaction.

  “I’ve learned too much about prophecies and promises to believe that this is a straightforward offer,” I answered, not bothering to quell the bitterness in my speech. “If I join you, I have to say goodbye to my family, don’t I?”

  He didn’t answer at first. “There is precedent,” he acknowledged. “Enoch, for example.” Suddenly, he grinned. “He sends his regards, by the way. He’s very sorry about the mix-up with Lucas, you know. He feels just terrible.”

  I knit my brows together. “You make it sound as if he were late for dinner or something.”

  He chuckled. “I don’t mean to downplay it. It’s hard to put into words just how remorseful he feels. He always had a soft spot for you.”

  I thought about Enoch for a moment. “Enoch’s allowed to pose as a human. So even though you and all the other archangels are allowed to pose as humans, I will not be?” I challenged.

  He shook his head. “We don’t do it to maintain dual lives,” he countered softly. “Only in the pursuit of our heavenly mission. You would be expected to do the same, giving up your particular human ties to embrace your duty to humanity as a whole.”

  “My particular human ties,” I echoed, the very thought of abandoning my family plunging like an icy shard into the center of my heart. “And I can’t just wait them out?”

  “You mean, live with them as a human until they have slipped their mortal bonds? No,” he answered. “No, it doesn’t work like that.”

  “Michael,” I whispered. “What have you been doing? While you’ve been waiting, what have you been doing?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been protecting the chosen ones. Me and Gabrielle.”

  I raised an eyebrow. Michael’s missions had always been solo ones in the past.

  He kicked his boot into the dirt, looking sheepish. “Even after I rose, I never fully recovered all my abilities.” A fresh wave of shame washed over me. We both knew that the loss of Michael’s intuition was my fault. I had sucked it away from him, absorbing it myself. “I needed a guide to help me find my way. Gabrielle was the only one willing to do it. Once we’re together, though, I won’t need her. I’ll have you.”

  My spine stiffened in protest. I stared at the line of trees surrounding the graveyard and forced myself to engage in the debate he was hoping to avoid.

  “You’re assuming I’ll go with you,” I said. “You could come to me. We have that option.”

  He paused. “I am not entirely confident that my duties would be borne well by the others.”

  I nodded. “Raph didn’t like you choosing a mere human.”

  “No. He didn’t. Nor, honestly, does Gabrielle, though her reasons are different.”

  I let his words roll around in my head. After all this time, after everything I’d done to prove myself, I still hadn’t won them over. I felt defeated. Exhausted.

  “So the choice we’ve been offered was—and is—a false one. I have to give up everything for us to be together.”

  He didn’t dispute nor confirm my conclusion. The wind whispered through the pines again. It was a lonely sound.

  “You see why I couldn’t ask it of you. Why I had to keep it to myself, to protect you until you’d recovered from your father’s death. But now, I know you’re ready. We can be God’s sword and shield, protecting God’s people from the Fallen who refuse to accept their chance for salvation, even now.” He paused for a moment. “And the people need protection. Lucas has been defeated, but his exile is only temporary. He’ll be back. Far sooner than I’d like, I’m sure.”

  I couldn’t even think about this last possibility yet. I felt exposed, raw. After the years of waiting, it was heady to have him here with me. I was drunk with possibility, every nerve ending on fire. But I hadn’t expected to be confronted with such a momentous decision. It was too much, too fast.

  And it was unfair.

  I turned back to face him.

  “It was my choice to make,” I said. “Not yours.”

  His blue eyes widened at the unspoken accusation. But I was just getting started.

  “It wasn’t for you to decide whether it was the right or wrong time to tell me what I’d been offered. You had no right to make that decision for me. No matter what I was going through, I deserved to know the truth, not be left twisting in the wind, wondering what had happened to you. And now you think you can just waltz in here and say, ‘Hey there! Just kidding! I really didn’t die, you know, I’ve been here all along! Sorry you suffered all those years, agonizing over whether or not I was dead or alive, believing you had been to blame! I’m here now!’ And you think we can just pick up where we left off?”

  I closed the distance between us, pushing my finger up against his chest.

  “It doesn’t work that way, Michael. I have a life, now. It may have taken me a while, but I’m getting ready to go to college. My sister is just a toddler. You want me to leave her now? It would be like tearing my own heart out. And my mother?” My words caught in my throat, harsh and broken with emotion. I turned away from him, too angry and confused to withstand his gaze.

  I knew that the alternative—Michael becoming human—was impossible. It meant leaving the world without its protector, and Heaven without its captain. With the Fallen still out there, our entire world was in a very precarious situation, one whose balance could shift in the blink of an eye. I remembered him watching the television set in the hotel room in Las Vegas, seeing the helplessness of the people he could not save. I remembered his pain as he relived the ancient slaughter in Aya Sofya. I remembered the hollowed-out, haunted, guilty look in his eyes.

  If I asked him to become human, he would look at me with those eyes, and he would blame me. Say what he would, it would never be the same between us at all. And that, I couldn’t live with.

  I thought all these things in an instant; I thought and felt them like a wound. There was too much there to unbundle, too many hurts and fears to number.

  “Look at me,” he insisted, the low tones of his voice coaxing, pulling me in. Despite myself, I turned around, dragging my ga
ze along the uneven ground of the cemetery until I was staring at the tips of his work boots.

  I felt angry, but it was anger directed at myself, because I knew that if he asked me to go away with him again, I wouldn’t be able to stand my ground. I was frustrated that with a few tender words, he could make me feel like that lost teenage girl, longing for his love, that I’d been just two years ago. How easy it was to bring back all those feelings that I thought I’d outgrown.

  I thrust that girl into the recesses of my memory, resisting the temptation posed by Michael’s warm touch.

  “I can’t,” was all I managed to say. “Don’t ask me to decide yet. You can’t come back after all this time and expect things to be the same. You just can’t. It’s not fair to me.”

  He pulled me closer and kissed away a tear.

  Ah, Carmichael, he began, as I felt his spirit entwine with mine, sending forth his energy. I’m so stupid. Of course I can’t.

  What felt like a sigh escaped from him, its whispering concession soothing my anger and pain. And then his energy began to retreat, but not before embracing each of my hurts one last time. He was leaving me, and already the empty spaces left inside of me ached. I shivered against his body, yearning for the heat of his soul, as he brought my knuckles up to brush them with his lips.

  Then he pushed my hand away and stood back, appraising me. He reached up to brush my tears away, light like a butterfly’s wing, before tilting my chin up. His eyes, deep like sapphires, gazed at me sheepishly.

  “I’m sorry. So, so sorry. I’ve never done this before. I’m not very good at it.”

  “Obviously,” I conceded grudgingly.

  “Can we start over?” he appealed, tilting his head. “I’d like the chance to earn your trust again, Hope. To win your forgiveness.”

  My face burned red. “I didn’t mean—”

  He interrupted me before I could finish. “You don’t have to explain yourself. You don’t have to defend your feelings to me or anybody else. But I’m not going to accept that our story is over. I want us to start a new chapter. Beginning today.”