Carry On Wayward Son(31)
“It cannot be true—how are you—”
“Long story. Ancient.” Her whisper drew him closer. “I am telling you the truth, Zach. I will do what is needed, you will let them go.”
She held her breath, waiting for his temper to explode. He pulled her off the wall, down the hall, stopping at the front door.
“Do it, now, I will let them go.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“You are an angel. It cannot be any more simple.”
“It can cost both our lives if I don’t do it right.” She spoke quietly, to keep her voice from carrying, pretty much certain that Simon was at the basement door, waiting for his chance to burst in. “Not only does it have to be outside, but it has to be the right time, with certain preparations. And you have to accept all the conditions that come with it.”
“What do you mean, conditions?”
Taking his hand, she lowered her voice. “No matter how much I prepare you, it is going to be traumatic, and it is going to be painful. There’s nothing I can do to prevent that. Falling violates all that we are. The desire to be human isn’t supposed to appeal to angels—we are better, above them. But you want more. You’ve been down here, among them, before you were exiled.”
“Yes.” He swallowed. “The emotion was overwhelming. And I could feel none of my own, share nothing with them. It was unbearable. Do you know how long they kept me down here, expecting me to stand apart?”
Sighing, Claire sandwiched his hand. “I have an idea. How many years?”
“Two hundred.” He jerked free, started to pace, and she saw the anger she thought she had managed to subdue flare around him. “Two hundred years of watching, with a wall between us, because I could not feel. I could not understand their joy, their sorrow, the random emotions they experienced every day. But I wanted to; it reached a point where I needed to. That was when they brought me home.”
He didn’t have to tell her what happened next. Claire understood now how he ended up Between. He asked to go back. To become one of them. That would have been tantamount to treason.
“Zach.” He turned around, and the anguish on his face tore at her. One of his perks, and punishments, of being Between was the ability to feel, just enough to interact with the people he was sent to help. “You have to be absolutely certain. Once I start, there is no turning back.”
“I have been certain—for every moment of the three hundred years I spent Between.”
Heaven above— “You have been a guardian for—I am so sorry. But I needed to know this wasn’t a whim, a way to escape—”
“You have no right to accuse!” He leapt forward, his fury slamming into her a moment before he did. “You sinned, otherwise you would not be here. You feel, you laugh, cry, touch—and you freely offer to commit the greatest sin.” His breathing uneven, he let her go and backed away. “I want to be human, more than life. For that desire, I was punished, forced to live among the mortals, never able to be one of them. I can no longer bear the pain of it.”
“Zach.” Her heart ached for him. “I will help you, but you need to—”
“Free me, and they will no longer be needed. Until then,” he fisted his hands, visibly controlling his temper. “Until then, they are my leverage. And they stay.”
“Please. I already promised you—”
His fist clipped her jaw and knocked her into the wall.
He trapped her there, one arm braced on either side of her. “I know now that hurting you will do nothing to me in return.” Exhaustion draped him. “But I am desperate enough to harm them, regardless of the injury to me. Do not make it necessary.”
Pushing off the wall, he left her alone. Claire slid to the floor, dizzy and nauseous, her jaw throbbing. She cradled her head in both hands, careful to avoid what she knew would turn into an ugly bruise. How could I have been so wrong about him?
She hoped Simon had broken his promise and stayed in the basement.
It was time to change tactics.
FOURTEEN
“Simon—I know you’re here.” Claire stepped to the floor of the basement, listening. “I need your help.”
He moved out of the shadow cast by a pile of boxes. “You know me too well. Can I say I told you—damn it.” Sprinting forward, he cupped her chin, careful to avoid the bruise she could already feel. “He did this.”
“It was my fault—I thought I had him pegged. I was wrong.” Flinching, she eased out of his grasp. “He has more rage built up than he can control anymore. I have to get the others out, before he explodes.”