Shadows in the Silence Page 69
I stared at her in disgust. “Are you serious? You coward. I will not hide in a hole and let the world fall to pieces because I’m too afraid to fight. How can you live with yourself?”
She smirked and her eyes flashed. “I live.”
“You are the sorriest excuse for an angelic reaper I have ever seen,” I snarled at her. “You have a duty to protect Earth and Heaven.”
Anger twisted her face and she leaned across the table. “The things I know make me a top target for the demonic. Do you have any idea what they’d do to me if I were caught?”
I scoffed. “And you think I’m not a target? That your worst nightmare has never happened to me more times than anyone can count? I’ve been caught. I’ve been torn apart. I’m still a target. And I’m still fighting, unlike you.”
Evolet fell quiet, watching me coolly. “I do like you. And I hope whatever you’re trying to do works out. For all our sakes.”
I stood from my chair, sliding it back and letting it screech across the floor. “I wish I could say it was nice meeting you. We’ve got a mission to carry out. Thanks for the tip.”
Will and Cadan followed me out of the café and into the streets. As we headed back toward where we’d parked the car, I slowed my pace to match Cadan’s. His gaze was fixed on the ground as we walked and I hooked an arm around his.
“Are you okay?” I asked him.
He looked at me finally, his opal eyes quiet and distant. “Of course. I’ve been treated a lot worse, believe me.”
“I do,” I said. “But you’re not trash. No matter what anyone says. No one can help where they come from, and where you come from doesn’t make you who you are.”
“Not entirely true,” he replied, flashing me a sideways grin. “You’re from Heaven, after all. Need I say more?”
I rolled my eyes and shoved his shoulder. “I’m serious! I know it must be hard for you, being around so many angelic reapers who only see what you are instead of who you are.”
His smile faded and he lifted his head, gazing onward. “Not everyone will give me the chance you have, and even then with you it took time. It isn’t fair for me to hold anything against those who haven’t had the time to understand me. Besides, I’m not out to redeem myself to them. I want to redeem myself to me. And to you. That’s all that matters.”
I took a firmer grip on his arm and stopped us both in the street. He looked down at me, his jewel eyes brightening, glowing in the darkness.
“You have,” I told him, feeling a little heartsick at his words. “To me, at least. You have to let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
His grin came right back and he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulled me close, and kissed the top of my head, very big-brother-like. “You just worry about saving the world, okay? I don’t need saving nearly half as bad.”
We started walking again to catch up with Will, who had stopped a little ways ahead. He watched us, his expression difficult to read. There was no anger or jealousy on his face, only a visible effort to understand. Just as Cadan had said, it would take time for others to accept that he had turned his back on the demonic. It was especially hard for Will, given their past, and though it would take more time for him to be as comfortable with Cadan as I was, I believed with all my heart that he would arrive there one day.
21
“WE’RE HEADED TO AALST,” I TOLD AVA OVER THE phone once we were back on the road.
“Any specific location?” Ava asked. “Address, intersection, landmark?”
“None that we know of,” I replied, with a glance over at Will in the driver’s seat.
Silence, and then, “What’s the plan?”
“You and Marcus go on ahead of us,” I instructed. “We’re an hour behind you.”
“See you soon.” She hung up.
When we arrived in Aalst, I found the town to be sublimely quaint in its sleepy quietness. Will parked on the side of a steep, sloping street and we walked down a street of brick too narrow for even a car lane, with picturesque buildings painted various shades of cream and pastels lining the passage on either side of us, until we found an open pub. Since we knew nothing about the relic guardian supposedly located somewhere near the village, I hoped that perhaps he had made an appearance at some point to one of the locals.
A few burly men with their mugs of beer were scattered at booths and tables inside the pub. It seemed like the tourist crowd had cleared by this late hour and the only patrons left were those seeking relaxation and a pint after work. I longed for an end to the day myself, but we’d already decided to find a hotel to stay the night only after we had finished investigating the village. The men in the pub gave us disgruntled but curious looks as we sat on empty stools at the bar.
The balding man tending to the bar asked us in Flemish if we wanted anything. I flashed my sweetest, apologetic smile at him. “Americans,” I said, and gestured to myself, Will, and Cadan.
The bartender nodded, understanding. “American,” he echoed in a thick accent. “Need a drink?”
“Yes, please,” I said. “Do you have tea?”
He laughed and shook his head. “No. No tea. Are you three students?”
“Journalism,” I replied, thinking quickly. “We’re writing a story on local legends. Stories of flying creatures and things like that.”