Sorry for the late update, I caught a cold and spent most of the weekend sleeping it away. Thank you to JoVersify for her support and to all of you who are reading and reviewing :)
Issa couldn't stop dreaming about her angel dying. He died screaming when they killed the Acolyte boy. He died buried beneath Yassper's cathedral. He died carved in two when she killed the demon.
She tossed and turned, waking up drenched in cold sweat over and over again. Her heart raced as though she'd run the full length of Koprivnica to Eden. Several times, she'd gotten out of bed, a hand on the cottage window as she'd readied herself to run to her angel only to realise it was going to cause trouble for everyone else. So she comforted herself with her Keeper bond. Ironically, the thing that reassured her was Edvardiel's mysterious injury—the dull ache that echoed with his every heartbeat. Pain meant he was still alive.
It wasn't just the nightmares.
It was the dread as well. She was connected to a full-blooded angel. She'd hit a gold mine. She should've been excited. She should've asked him how to stop the Apocalypse. But every time she thought about asking, she was filled with dread so crippling, it bordered on terror.
She dreaded the demons waiting for them outside. Dreaded pushing her blade into yet another body. Dreaded the silent expanse of death beyond Eden's gates.
Haven't you lazed around enough? her dream angel asked. Don't you have things to do?
"It's barely been a day," she said, as the familiar imaginary feathers floated down around her once more.
I've only ever needed a few hours for recovery, he scoffed. So would any seraphim worth their glory.
"Well, I'm not seraphim, am I?"
The feathers around her fluttered.
Are you not worried about your precious Edvardiel?
That made her sit up. "What about you?" she shot back. "Aren't you worried about your son? What are you doing in my head anyway? Why don't you man up and actually go talk to—"
The door opened and Jacob poked his head in. "Who are you talking to?" he asked, looking around quizzically.
The feather rain vanished.
"Nobody," Issa said.
"I figured you might be up." Jacob held up a tray with a steaming cup and some apples. He caught her eyeing it and grinned. "Weird combination, I know, but hey, I stole what I could. Can I come in?"
She nodded and watched him set the tray on the bedside table. "Does Rosalie know about you stealing this?"
Jacob rubbed his neck. "Rosalie seems to appreciate it this time."
"Where is she? Where is everyone?" Issa asked.
"Alice is keeping an eye on your boyfriend. Last I heard, he's still out but he's not in danger or anything. The rest of us are taking turns making sure no one finds out where you are." He glanced at her bandaged wrists and nodded at the apples. "Want me to cut that for you?"
"It's a scratch," she said dismissively. She picked up the fruit knife, setting it to the apple.
The sharp silver edge flashed in the light.
You know what I do with disobedient children? I take away their favourite toy.
The tinkling of broken cathedral windows echoed in her ears, blurring with Lilith's voice, until she realised that it wasn't broken glass she was hearing but the sound of the knife hitting the floor.
"Are you all right?" Jacob looked concerned.
Her heart raced. "Fine."
Jacob picked the knife up, watching her with a frown. "You don't look all right."
The red of the apple blurred before her eyes, turning into the deep red of blood. Her hands were covered in blood. And then they weren't. "I'm fine," she said, putting down the apple.
"What about the tea?" Jacob raised his brows. "Aren't you—"
"I'm not hungry. I think I'm just going back to bed."
"But—" Jacob protested.
"I'll call you if I need anything." She was pushing Jacob out of the room before she knew what she was doing. She shut the door and sank down against it. Her hands shook and she clenched them into fists, trying to steady herself with deep, slow breaths.
There was something very obviously wrong with her if touching any knife—even a fucking fruit knife—brought her back to the night Yassper died. It was as though she had her own personal void in her head. How was she going to fight like this? How was she going to protect anyone like this?
The feather rain returned.
She was sweating now on top of shaking. She expected her dream angel to say something snarky but he surprised her.
Do you know why a Nephilim's glory is stronger than a Seraphim's?
"Why?" she bit out.
You feel more than we do. I see now that it's a curse as much as it is a blessing.
She paused. "Are you actually being nice to me?"
I'm always nice, he sounded miffed. It's clear you haven't met many Seraphim.
"I don't think I want to."
The suffocating feeling in her chest ebbed and she stood, crossing the room to collapse on the bed. Exhausted from absolutely nothing, she finally fell asleep. This time, she dreamed of apples, angelfire and anger. Then she dreamed of being cradled in a familiar, wonderful warmth, and her sleep turned deep and dreamless.
She woke up to find her head resting in the crook of someone's neck. Edvardiel was in bed next to her, his arms wrapped around her and his wings cradling them in warmth.
When did he get here? Was sleeping through important things yet another terrible habit she was developing together with the flashbacks?
"Edvardiel?" she whispered.
He opened his eyes. Softness surged through their bond as he held her gently to him, kissing her temple, her cheeks, her nose before he captured her lips. He kissed her until she melted against him, boneless.
"How are you feeling?" he asked her, brushing back her hair.
"Fine," she said. Now that he was here, she felt better than fine. She looked him over. There were no wounds on his skin. Despite everything that happened, her angel glowed with life and strength like she'd never seen before. "You're all healed," she said in amazement.
"Thanks to you, I've never been better." The glory in his eyes and his wings were so piercing that she blinked. Everything felt fuzzy and dreamlike, and she realised it was the overpowering calm gushing through their bond. She blinked a few more times, trying to clear her head. There was an odd tension in his shoulders and a tightness in his eyes that didn't match up to the emotions coursing through their bond. She inhaled and smelled the faint but bitter scent of something burnt.
She frowned at him. "How did you find me?"
He put a hand to her cheek, pulling her close again, and she couldn't resist the wonderful warmth and safety of his body, and the tenderness emanating from every pore. She craved this. She craved to be cherished and treasured and loved, and she knew that he would give her exactly that. She could lay the weary, shattered pieces of herself in his hands and trust that he wouldn't break them.
"I'll always find you," he said. "Always, Issa."
"Your wing—" She remembered the wing he'd shoved through the gates and reached for it only to find it good as new. "It's healed too?" She frowned again.
"For someone heartless, you sure fuss a lot." He wrapped the wing around her instead, the soft feathers tickling her, and she giggled. He smiled and drew her close to him again. Their bond overflowed with a lulling comfort that made her press her cheek against his neck and sink deeper into him.
"I'm not dreaming, am I?" she asked.
"No. I'm right here." He caressed her hair.
Just before she fell asleep, she felt a flicker of anger escape his tight control, and wondered what she'd missed.