Shadows in the Silence

  “You’ve done so much to save yourself already,” I said. “You’re strong, Cadan. You just need to realize it.”

  “I have,” he replied, his smile widening as he watched me. “You make me feel strong, like I can get out of this hell I was born into. I love the way you make me feel. I love you, Ellie. I really do.”

  “Cadan—”

  “I know you don’t think it’s real,” he said, cutting me off. “But it is. Nothing fake can feel this powerful, this invincible. I’m aware of the effect you have on all reapers, but I don’t feel what the other demonic do. None of them feel the way I do about you. I know what this is because I’ve felt it only once before. And I won’t let things happen the way they did last time.”

  “I’m not Emelia,” I said, my lip quivering.

  He squeezed his eyes shut for a heartbeat and his fingers spread into my hair. He opened his eyes again, and the bright orbs captured mine. “I know you aren’t. No one ever will be her, but no one will ever be you, either. Nothing that has ever set foot on this Earth in countless millennia could be compared to you. And I know you’ll never be mine.” His voice broke on those last words and his jaw tightened.

  I exhaled, speechless. Nothing I could say would make him feel better. I cared about him deeply, but the limits to what I felt for him would never be enough to satisfy him.

  “I know you’re his,” Cadan breathed, “but please, one kiss. That’s all I ask before I give you up forever.”

  I swallowed hard. “If I’m his, then I can’t kiss you. I won’t. Not even once.”

  He pushed his chest into mine, dipping his head so close I could taste his scent. He was all over me, filling my every sense.

  “Please give me just one kiss. I only want to know—”

  “Cadan, I am going to slap you.”

  When I felt his lips brush mine, I hit him. He nearly fell to the ground, but he let me go and hobbled to his feet. He pressed one hand to the wall beside me to catch his balance and he touched his blazing red jaw with his other. His opal eyes stared wide at the floor in surprise and after a few moments, he blinked at me.

  “I’m so sorry,” he gasped.

  “That was wrong,” I told him firmly. “If you know the difference between right and wrong then you have to feel like an asshole right now. I’m not going to kiss you when Will is lying on his deathbed a thousand miles away. Cadan, you are my friend. Don’t ruin this.”

  He turned his back to the wall and slid down to the floor, his shoulders slumping and his head hanging heavily. “I am such an asshole.”

  “Yeah, you are.” I dropped to sit beside him. “How’s your jaw?”

  “Hurts like hell,” he replied, moving his jawbone back and forth with a hand. “If you’d actually put some force behind it, it’d be broken.”

  “Well, I wasn’t going to punch your jaw right off your face,” I said. “That would make a mess and the hotel would make me replace the carpet. I have more important things to worry about than carpet and dislodged body parts.”

  “I’m sorry, Ell. I lost it for a second. I felt fearless, thinking I could have you if I took you from him. That never would’ve happened.”

  “I love Will. I have for a long time. I’m not sorry for that.”

  “I’m not him,” he said as the air rushed from his lungs in an awful, defeated sigh. “I’ll never be good enough, will I?”

  “That’s not what it’s about,” I assured him. “I can’t explain what it’s like between Will and me. If things were different…”

  “If I were angelic, you mean.”

  “No. It’s not about what you are, either. That doesn’t mean anything. It’s who you are that I care about and what makes you my friend.” I touched his jaw, which didn’t look so red anymore. “And if you were anything but what you are, like if you were human, then I’d be making a run to the ice machine to get you something for this shiner I just gave you.”

  He gave me a little smile and I released his face. I walked to my bed, pulled back the blanket, and settled into the firm mattress.

  Cadan was slower to reach his own bed. He sat on the edge and leaned forward. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled. “I’m sorry, Ellie. I really am.”

  “It’s all right,” I said, peeking up at him from my pillow. “Get some rest. We both need some.”

  “You’ve got a better heart than me.”

  “You’ve got a heart and soul of gold,” I told him. “You just haven’t quite figured out how to tap into all of it yet. I have faith in you, Cadan. I believe in you. Once you can believe in yourself, that you really can do good, you’ll see a huge difference in yourself.”

  “Thank you, Ell.”

  “Now, sleep,” I said firmly. “Don’t make me slap you again.”

  He shook his head and laughed gently. “Okay. Sleep sweet.”

  I smiled at him. “You sleep sweet too.”

  5

  I DREAMED OF WILL AGAIN, BUT THIS TIME THE landscape was familiar. The marshes in southern France were wet and earthy, but they were incredibly beautiful. The sun was rising and we followed his dream projection of myself to a nearby village after pursuing a demonic reaper who’d showed up in town. The patch of dense forest we navigated made travel even more difficult, and up ahead of Will and me, my dream self had to hack the Khopesh swords through thick brush and vines. Her gown was tattered and the gold fabric was splattered with mud, and her hair was long, wild, and loose from its ribbons. In all honesty, she was in desperate need of a shower and a pair of sweats to relax in. I remembered wearing boys’ breeches and boots during hunts back in the days when it wasn’t proper for girls to wear anything but dresses, but this hunt had been unexpected. Gowns were very inconvenient when off killing monsters in the dark.

  “Will,” I called to him, and he glanced back at me. “Why this memory? The fight has already happened and the sun’s coming up. There won’t be any more demonic out here.”

  “This was a significant moment in my life,” he answered casually, almost a little detached. Of course my dream self was in her own little world, trudging through the marsh completely oblivious to my presence and my conversation with Will.

  “How so?” I asked, but got no reply from him.

  Through the trees, I could see a clearing, and the rising sun was nearly blinding. As we approached the tree line, I shielded my eyes with one arm and followed my dream self and Will into a lush meadow. As soon as my eyes adjusted, my breath stopped. In the center of the meadow, caught in the golden glow of dawn, was a band of white horses.

  We halted just past the trees and the horses lifted their heads, jaws swinging back and forth as they chewed the rich grass. Their necks, thick with muscle, shook long, tangled white manes as locks fell down their faces and over their eyes. Some lifted their noses to catch our scents and they snorted.

  “The horses?” I asked, taken by the sight. “They’re what make this memory important to you?”

  The corner of his lips turned up in a brief, small smile, and he shook his head. “No. Never the horses. They’re just animals to me, but to you…you’ve always loved them.”

  My dream self moved toward them carefully, her tattered dress dragging through the thick, tall grass, and she clucked softly as she lifted her hand to coax them toward her.

  As soon as Will took a step forward, the white horses spooked, squealed, and galloped off into thicker brush, splashing through mud and water.

  “Will!” my dream self snapped in frustration, spinning around to glare at him. Her hair, deep, dark red in the burning sunrise, blew in the wind and strands caught on her lips and eyelashes. “You frightened them!”

  He seemed unaffected as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Animals don’t usually like reapers. You were so mad at me for scaring the horses, not that I really cared. You were such a brat sometimes—the bossiest person I’d ever met.”

  “Thanks, jerk,” I grumbled.

  My dream self began to follow the hor
ses, but she turned back to glare once more at Will. “Don’t come any closer, okay?” she asked, her voice softer now. “They can smell you and you’ve spooked them, so stay there. Please. I just want to see them.”

  She crept closer to the edge of the meadow where the horses had gone and she held her hand out once more. A large horse—the lead stallion—slowly stepped out from the trees on her left, his body flowing like foam on the sea, powerful muscle rippling beneath his white coat. He snorted and gave a throaty rumble, his gray nose questing toward my dream self’s outstretched hand. The rising sun cast a soft glow over his coat, like the golden dawn on pristine, newly fallen snow.

  “I don’t believe I breathed the whole time you were out there,” Will whispered. “The stallion could have spooked any second. Even now, I seem to want to hold my breath.”

  He wasn’t the only one. I watched the white horse stretch his nose out to my dream self’s fingertips. He sniffed, snorted, drawing back for a heartbeat, and disappointment hung over her face. And then he pressed his nose into her palm, pushed it, and closed his eyes, long lashes folding shut. His entire body seemed to sink and relax as if her touch—my touch—had done it.

  Behind him, one by one, his band of white mares and small gray foals slipped through the trees and brush fluidly. They moved as a group toward my dream self, surrounding her, daring to stretch their own noses out to sniff her, touch her. She smiled brightly, her eyes gleaming in the dawn light, the color of her hair intensifying until it flickered like flames down her back and shoulders.

  “I couldn’t believe it,” Will breathed, “how they all came out of the trees like that, like they were drawn to you—as drawn to you as I was. Like they could feel you as I could. To this day, nothing I’ve experienced has been sweeter than your touch or your voice—when you weren’t fussing at me, that is. You feel and smell like sunlight, like God’s grace.”

  I forced my gaze away from the horses to Will, whose lips were parted in awe, his eyes neon green and flashing. I stepped up next to him, aching to touch him, but afraid to. He seemed trapped in a world I couldn’t join him in.

  “There were so many of them,” he continued. “Until that morning, I’d never seen true beauty in its purest form. Nothing compared to this, seeing you there, surrounded by white horses, in a moment of such quiet serenity after a night of carnage and bloodshed. I’ll never forget this for as long as I live, and longer still if I’m granted a life after this one. The image is burned into my mind, into the deepest, most untouchable regions. I’ll never forget it.”

  Though I wasn’t as close to the horses as my dream self, I remembered the smell of them, the scents of wet grass and soft earth on their white coats. The puffs of their breath against my hands, muzzles burying into my hair, the slickness of their coats beneath my fingertips. I closed my eyes and remembered myself encircled by the white horses, that strange mixture of contentment and joy. I remembered grinning ear to ear that day so long ago and looking up toward the trees at Will, who smiled that quiet smile of his, and I felt a riptide of longing and sadness drag my heart back out to sea.

  Will spoke again, his voice even softer, his gaze pensive and distant. “You were such a pain sometimes, and made it so difficult at first for me to fall into my duty as your Guardian, to obey you when most of the time, I just wanted to snap back at you. But you never gave up and you fought with everything you had. I saw your kindness, your fathomless selflessness and immeasurable, divine beauty. It was moments like these, where even wild horses couldn’t deny the strength of your presence and heart, that made me want to fight until I couldn’t fight anymore—just to be by your side. I remember this very dawn, in this very meadow among the white horses, because in this very moment, I realized that I was in love with you.”

  I opened my eyes and I was back in my body, standing next to Will in this memory-dream, watching his projection of myself, and I looked back into his face.

  “I want to return to this place,” he said with a smile. “It’s been a long time. I’d like to see it again. With you. Maybe the descendants of these horses are still there.”

  “Okay,” I said, nodding. My eyes began to burn with salty tears.

  “I know that I’m dying, and I don’t want to die,” he said, “because you will be sad.”

  “I’m going to save you,” I promised. “It’s my turn to protect you now.”

  He fell quiet, breathing softly as he watched the horses. “I can’t die yet. When I wake up, I’ve got a few things to take care of. I want this war to end and if my mother is alive, I want to find her. Then I’m coming back here.”

  “We will,” I said. “We’ll do all of those things.” I touched his cheek and turned his face to mine. “You have to keep fighting the way you’ve told me to keep fighting. Do you understand?”

  “You’ll come back for me?”

  I smiled. “I always do.”

  He closed his eyes and touched his forehead to mine. I felt myself waking up, but I fought it. I didn’t want to leave this place—leave him.

  I tightened my jaw in disappointment and pressed my body into his. “But for now, I have to go. I have to go back to the real world.”

  “I don’t want you to leave,” he breathed, his hands cupping my face.

  “I can’t save you if I’m sleeping,” I replied gently. I kissed him and forced myself to back away. “I love you, and I’ll come back for you.”

  He said nothing as the vision blurred and faded. A moment later, he was gone, and so were the horses. I woke to a different dawn from my bed in the hotel room in Colorado. I glanced over at the other bed, but Cadan was gone. The shower was running. I turned over, pulling the blankets up to my chin, burying my face into the pillow as the fabric eagerly drank my tears.

  “You’re very quiet this morning.”

  I glanced over at Cadan as I drove, but that second was long enough for me to absorb the concerned look on his face. Eyes back on the road, I decided that I couldn’t reveal to him my dreams with Will. Even I didn’t fully understand how our minds could unite through sleep. It had to be the link the angelic magic forged between us in the tattoos on his arm. The closer I become to Gabriel, the stronger it should grow, and the closer I should grow to Will. Even now, a thousand miles away from him and despite his grievous condition, I sensed him. When I closed my eyes, I could catch his scent. But when I opened them, Cadan was sitting beside me, and Will’s scent drifted away.

  “I’m focused,” I replied.

  “You’ll let me know if you need a break, right?” he asked in return, and the uncertainty was clear in his tone.

  I exhaled, but the sound was more like a growl. “You keep saying that and—seriously. When I need a break, I’ll take a break. And I don’t need a break, I need to keep going. If I wanted to bring my grandma with me, I would’ve brought her, but I didn’t, so shut up.”

  He opened his mouth to reply, but wisely clamped it shut. I pressed on the gas and the SUV surged faster. We didn’t say much to each other for the next hour and a half, until the GPS had me pull onto a narrow dirt road full of potholes. Soon enough we passed a sign for Red Mountain Ranch, and not long after, the ranch itself came into view. I pulled the SUV into the drive, rolled under a rusty iron gate arch, and clunked over cattle guards beneath the wheels. There were a few free-range steers I had to dodge, including some chickens that, flailing their pitiful wings and hopping their fat bodies short distances over the ground, seemed more inclined to get out of the truck’s path than the cattle.

  “Pull right in front of the house,” Cadan instructed.

  I aimed for a long, rambling single-story house with a rickety porch that wrapped around the front and western side. It faced a pasture filled with black cattle and spotted cow ponies. Behind the house was a barn that had seen better days, but it was age, not neglect, that wearied it. A few ranch hands bustled about their chores, leading animals in and out of the barn, dragging hoses to water stalls and pasture troughs. I shut the
car off and climbed out with Cadan just as the front door of the house swung open and a tall, lean, elderly man in a cowboy hat, plaid shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots stepped out, wiping his hands on a clean dishrag. He had a gray mustache and even a freaking twinkle in his eyes. I liked him already.

  “Cadan,” the man called cheerfully. “Wish I could say I was glad to see you, but the old lady’s in the house and I know soon as she gets a look a’ you, she’ll leave me. Even after thirty-two years. Why is it I keep gettin’ older and you’re strappin’ as ever?”

  Cadan grinned—and I swore I caught sight of a little color in his cheeks—and he ran a hand through his hair. “Good genes, I guess. Great to see you, Judah.”

  The cowboy smiled at me next. “And this…this must be her.” He descended the porch steps and reached for my hand, but before he took it, he asked, “May I?”

  I watched him confusedly, unsure if he was really asking for permission to touch me. I blinked and nodded.

  Judah took my hand at last, cupping it with both of his. “Welcome,” he said. “I know who you are, so don’ be shy. I know who that scoundrel over there is too.”

  I glanced at Cadan, who watched me almost sadly. It surprised me that Cadan would know this human and would even reveal himself to him. How much did Judah know? If he said he knew who I was, did that mean he knew my name was Ellie—or Gabriel?

  Judah let go of my hand and put his own on his narrow hips, beaming down at me. “I’ve got the boys saddling up the horses for you. I’m sure you want to be on your way. Grace’s fixin’ up pulled pork sandwiches for your trip. You should eat one before you go.”

  My stomach growled at the thought, so loudly that Judah heard and laughed. “That sounds awesome,” I said.