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  “Planning for what?”

  “War.”

  The moment I became a Protector, the Council warned me that this day would come. The Archangels survived the Holy War, so they know what they’re talking about. After centuries of nothing but minor battles, I’d come to the conclusion that it wasn’t true and history wasn’t going to repeat itself.

  But demons are working together now. They’re sharing their knowledge and expanding their abilities. War is coming. Of all the years to finally strike, they had to pick the one when I stand to lose everything.

  My chest tightens at the thought of Maddy and the upcoming war. My reasons for being here are even more justified. I glance over my shoulder at the other angels. They’re tinkering at their stations, though I’m sure they’re listening. I sigh, then move closer to John.

  “I don’t wish to take advantage of our relationship,” I begin, “but if I asked you to make something for me—off the books—would you do it?”

  I had planned on him making this so I could give it to her next Friday, but I can’t wait any longer. Now it’s not just for my own peace of mind. Now it’s necessary for her safety.

  He hesitates, leaning his head to the side and fixing his gaze on my face. His index finger taps his thin lips.

  What do you require? he asks, using Cerebrallink.

  I hand him my bag of Segrego Stones, then respond in the same manner to ensure no one overhears.

  A gift for someone of high importance.

  He’s silent while I use Cerebrallink to launch into a detailed description of her birthday present. When I finish, he stares at me—brows narrowed, lips pursed, scowling.

  He shouldn’t feel emotions, but somehow I think I’ve angered him. Has Maddy’s ability affected all beings, whether they have contact with her or not? If so . . . we’re in big trouble.

  “Look, John,” I say out loud, “forget I said anything. I’ll figure something else out.”

  He smiles. “It worked! You thought I was angry, didn’t you? I’ve been waiting for someone to request a secret project. I admit I hoped it would be you, the Original Protector, but I didn’t think it would actually happen.”

  A sense of relief floods me. “So why the theatrics?” I ask.

  “Oh, that! Don’t tell anyone,” he says, leaning closer, “but I altered my Time Keeper to pick up something called ‘television.’ I’ve been studying facial expressions and practicing them in case I’m called upon to go down there. A favorite show of mine is about a spy named Bond. Mostly he’s an ordinary spy, except he works with a man named Q, who creates ingenious weapons that help him battle evil and save the world.”

  “So that’s where you’ve been getting your inspiration?”

  “Every artist needs a muse. When do you need this by?”

  “Could you have it ready today?”

  “I think so.”

  “Fantastic. Let me know when it’s ready. I have to stop at the Vestimentum for more clothes before meeting with the Council.”

  We shake hands, and I leave him so he can make the only thing I can think of to help keep Maddy safe.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Justin

  The moment MJ leaves, I stand beside Mads’s bed in the Veil of Shadows. I’m glad he left.

  He should have took her and run after what happened at the park. I wanted to. I thought going to the Acquisitioner would solve everything. For as much as he wants that contract signed, I thought for sure he’d just tell me her weakness so I can stop wasting time, have her sign, and know she’s safe. But he didn’t seem to care.

  No one does.

  It doesn’t matter, though. I’ll protect her on my own—without the Acquisitioner’s help—if I have to. I will find out who the demon was, and I’ll make sure he never touches her again.

  When she came back, she was different. Her confidence wavered. She’s looking to MJ for her source of strength, asking his permission to defend herself, though I don’t know why. She’s always looked to herself. I admired that about her.

  Even now, he’s affecting her. She’s tossing and turning, struggling to find rest. She tossed and turned a little bit back when I used to watch her sleep, but not to this extent. With all the things she’s experienced in the last week, it’s no wonder she can’t sleep. He should be here, comforting her and helping her process this. Instead he’s rushing off to heed the call of the others. He’s made them his priority and left Mads in the hands of two pathetic excuses for Protectors.

  I should take Mads just to teach him a lesson.

  But instead, I’ll stay here, by her side, watching over her and keeping her safe.

  . . .

  It takes several hours for her to fall asleep. Now that she’s not moving, I slide in beside her.

  Something’s wrong.

  The air around her is fifty degrees cooler. She’s freezing. If I help her, I’ll have to step out of the Veil. They’ll know I’m here. While seeing the expression on their smug faces would be enjoyable, it wouldn’t help me figure out her weakness.

  I’m close. Whatever the answer is, it’s simple. Right on the tip of my finger. I’m sure I’ll figure it out tomorrow. But first, I need to stop whatever is happening to Mads.

  As much as I hate to admit this, MJ needs to return.

  I purposely cause the bed to squeak, and the two Protectors jump from their positions near the window and door. A half second later, they’re beside the bed watching as Mads’s breath turns to ice.

  Come on, you idiots. Call for MJ. It’s obvious she needs help.

  If they don’t summon him in five seconds, I’m gonna use the Requiem Aeternam on them. Then I’ll take her. I swear.

  I move to stand behind the large male. Five, four . . .

  Chapter Nineteen

  Maddy

  A chilly wind blows over me. Alexander and Tamitha must have opened a window. But when I open my eyes, I’m facing a red door.

  I know this door.

  I’m standing on the wooden porch of Elizabeth’s cabin.

  It’s a dream.

  My feet and calves tingle with a burning sensation. Everything below my knees is buried in snow. I shiver in my pj’s, and a puff of condensed vapor appears as I exhale. Having already had a dream like this, I know I’ll be cold and miserable when I wake up.

  This sucks.

  At least I’m already on her porch, so I won’t get as cold as last time, when I had to trudge all that way through the snow. I know I can warm myself up by the fireplace while they talk so I won’t wake up with hypothermia.

  Should I knock or let myself in? Seeing as I can’t interact with them, I guess I should let myself in. It feels impolite, but I don’t want to get frostbite.

  My arm shakes as I reach for the doorknob. I grab it, but I can’t make it turn. It’s not locked; it just won’t move. I can’t open the door.

  Oh no.

  The masked demon opened the door last time. Why hasn’t she done it now? If she’s watching me, she knows I need her help.

  But then I remember what she said about how draining it is to help me. She already helped me today in the park—she doesn’t have the strength to help me so soon after. I’m truly on my own here.

  Maybe I can pass through the door like a ghost. I’m not physically here. I know my body is in my bed. Here, I’m just my subconscious or soul or something.

  I take a deep breath and race for the door.

  I collide with it. The all-too-real force of the hit sends pain rippling through me. My freezing fingers rub my forehead, where I hit the door the hardest. Now I’m cold and I have a headache.

  I can’t turn the knob, and I can’t go through the door. Am I just stuck out here, then?

  The wind howls, whipping frozen flakes up my back. I shiver, and my teeth rattle together. What’s the point of this dream if I can’t even open the damn door?

  No.

  I’m not powerless. I don’t need anyone’s help. I can figure this out myself
.

  I take another deep breath and cough. My insides hurt as if they were already beginning to crystalize.

  Come on, handle. Turn, dang it! I can do this. It’s just a door. A door inside some sort of crazy dream-memory I don’t have any control over.

  I whimper as fear sets in. I don’t want to find out what happens if I die here.

  Please open the door, Elizabeth. Walk outside for something so I can slip in. My fingers are turning blue.

  I pound on the door, but it doesn’t make a sound.

  “P-please open the d-d-door!”

  A crunch sounds behind me, then an immense heat consumes me. It’s so hot it steals my breath away. But it’s such a welcome relief to the bitter cold.

  My muscles, bones, blood, and skin all feel energized. I feel strong, powerful, in control. I relax and let the feelings continue to coat over me. Without even thinking, I give them complete control.

  . . .

  I pause on our doorstep, taking a moment to silence the screams inside my head. Even here, at my sanctuary, they follow me, trying to taint the goodness I have found.

  Trepidation claims my barren soul. Only she could instill such a foreign sensation inside me. It has been far too long since I have seen my Elizabeth. It is the cruelest form of torture to tear myself from her side, but I cannot risk anyone discovering her. She must be kept safe. She matters more to me than my own existence.

  The door opens, and I enter our home. Every time I come here, she has made an adjustment to the décor. If I could risk coming up here more often to help her, I would, but some of my siblings are becoming suspicious of my actions.

  “Damien!” Elizabeth’s face illuminates with a smile as she rushes toward me. She is the only one who has ever been excited to see me. Words cannot express the joy that fills me each time I see the happiness my presence brings her.

  My body aches to embrace her and be overcome by the soothing, ecstatic, affectionate feelings that stem from her contact.

  Our lips join, giving me exactly what I crave.

  . . .

  With their kiss, I’m finally able to separate from Damien.

  It took seeing Elizabeth through his eyes for me to realize what happened. I’ve never connected with someone’s mind right away like that. I typically have to choose to enter someone’s body and accept his or her thoughts. But Damien entered me. I felt warmth and power, and I didn’t care what caused the feelings. I just . . . gave in. I caved and became exactly what I don’t want to be anymore. I became a puppet.

  Why was it different this time?

  Maybe a small part of me knew it was Damien even before I connected to him. The heat and powerful feelings should have been a big enough clue. And those dark thoughts about the screams torturing him—the screams most likely belonged to the souls trapped in Hell.

  Demons.

  I need to remember that they’re demons and that they did something to deserve being sent there. Even the masked demon is there for a reason.

  Suddenly I glance at Damien, taking in his all-too-familiar black eyes. Damien is a demon too.

  I should have pieced it together last night when I learned what Justin is. But I was just so overwhelmed by everything. Now that I know the truth about Damien, it’s even more ridiculous that Elizabeth expects me to trust him.

  I don’t know if he’s an Influencer like Justin or if he’s . . . whatever the masked demon is. I don’t really want to find out. What I do want to know, though, is how he can love Elizabeth. Demons and angels can’t feel emotions unless they come across me, yet Damien cares and loves Elizabeth in his own way. So are MJ and Justin wrong—are there others out there who can make angels and demons feel? And if so, is Elizabeth one of them? Or is something else responsible for giving Damien emotions?

  One way or another, Damien really does care for her, and he wants her to be safe. If she does make him feel, that means he would go back to an emotionless existence if he were to lose her.

  That’s how he feels about her, yet he still killed her.

  He’s a demon.

  I should have detached from him sooner, but being inside Damien this time was so much more enticing than the previous time. My body craved the intensity of his emotions and physical power. I felt invincible. Even now, my body itches to move closer to him. To reach out and touch him so his essence can fill me again.

  For all the times I’ve felt MJ’s essence, I should be used to it, but I’m not. I yearn for his touch. The rush of energy that flows through my veins as soon as we’re connected makes me feel better.

  But Damien’s essence is different. It has all the same feelings as MJ’s essence, but with Damien’s, they’re more intense. More powerful. It’s weird because he’s a demon and I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but it goes beyond feeling. It’s knowing. I know I’m strong and not even close to utilizing my full potential, even though I don’t know what my full potential is yet. Once I do know, I will be able to protect myself against all of them.

  “Are you feeling well?” Damien asks, stroking Elizabeth’s pale face. “Your cheeks are less rosy than the previous time I was here.”

  She smiles, but it’s forced. “I’m fine. The winters are a little harsher than I expected. As soon as winter is over, I’m sure I’ll be all right.”

  This is all new. A new dream. New is good. New means answers.

  Damien takes her hand, and he leads her into the living room. They sit on the oak couch with the fluffy red pillows. It looks comfy, but I can’t sit down. I’m still bursting with Damien’s essence.

  “I am sorry things are not progressing as quickly as I had hoped,” Damien says. “Leaving the family business is more difficult than I anticipated. Know that I am doing everything in my power to get out so I can be with you permanently. If I could offer you more details, I would. However, the nature of my work would upset you.”

  As great as his essence makes me feel, I still don’t trust him. He’s a demon. They’re evil, deceitful murderers.

  Damien stole her away from her family and then just left her here, alone. Every time she’s thought of her family, he’s compelled her to forget them. Why did he take her? Why did he bring her here? And why does he only visit instead of staying with her?

  I glare at him, watching on as he caresses her cheek. As much as I don’t want to, I can’t deny the fact that he’s telling her the truth about being unable to discuss what he does for work. It doesn’t change what he did to her, though.

  Elizabeth places her hand on his cheek, staring deep into his eyes. “I want to know everything about you,” she says. “But I want you to tell me when you’re ready. I trust you. I know you’re doing what you can, and someday soon we can have the life we want. I miss you when you’re gone, but I know you’re only gone because you don’t have any other choice right now. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I will wait for you. However long you need.”

  And people call me naïve. Damien is gone for months at a time, and Elizabeth has no idea when or if he’ll come back. She just stays here, waiting around for him to grace her with his presence whenever it’s convenient for him. He’s turned her into his pet.

  They stare at each other for a moment, then he kisses her with such passion that I blush and turn away.

  “I have something for you,” he says. A nervous smile is on his lips as he reaches behind him. Suddenly a black square box is in his hands. He holds it out for her and says, “Happy birthday, Elizabeth.”

  Her birthday. I glance around the space for a calendar to show me the date, but I don’t see one.

  Her mouth falls open. It widens as he opens the box, revealing a diamond necklace. In the center is a blue stone.

  Elizabeth recovers from her shock and frowns. “Everything I have is from you. You didn’t need to do this.”

  “Needing and wanting are two different things. I wanted to get you something special. When I was on my last errand for my father, I saw this and thought of yo
u.”

  She turns away. “I can’t accept this. I can’t let you spend this much money on me.”

  Pain flashes in his eyes. She hurt him.

  Suddenly I think of my family. I’ve never liked getting gifts. Gifts show someone you care about them—love them. When I found out I was adopted, I refused their gifts—refused their love. I’ve hurt everyone who loves me.

  Damien stares at Elizabeth’s back in silence for a while, then he softly says, “You love my gift, Elizabeth. You will wear it every day.”

  Suddenly, she turns back around, smiling. “Thank you. I love your gift.”

  It’s such an immediate change, I can’t help but wonder if Damien compelled her to accept it. The times he’s done that before have been—in his eyes—for her protection. But this is just a necklace.

  Damien closes his eyes for a moment. When they reopen, they seem lighter, even though they’re still black.

  “Now for your next gift,” he says. He whistles, and out of nowhere a huge dog appears beside him. It’s black with red eyes. Its face is scrunched, like a bull dog’s. It’s the ugliest dog I’ve ever seen.

  Elizabeth stands and steps away. “Damien, I—”

  He stands and closes the distance between them. “You are lonely, Elizabeth. That is my doing. This dog, she is here to watch over you and keep you company while I am gone.”

  Elizabeth stares at the dog, clearly not thrilled. I don’t blame her.

  Damien exhales, and that same sadness fills his eyes as he turns Elizabeth to face him.

  “This is my dog,” Damien says in a smooth voice. “And I am leaving her here to keep you safe. This is a good thing, Elizabeth. You are happy to have my dog.”

  “I am happy to have your dog,” she repeats.