She flushed, heat running up her neck and face. “It wasn’t my idea to come to you. You should know that.”
“Hypatia told me,” he acknowledged, pacing around her like a giant cat evaluating his prey. “And yet here you are.”
“Yes.” She met his gaze, unflinching. He was long and lean, cut like a sliver of darkness had loosed itself from the night and formed into a man. Perfect and beautiful and dangerous. She shoved her trembling hands into her pockets and steadied her voice. “But there are rules, Abraxas.”
A smile edged his mouth. “Rules? I did not agree to rules.”
“I need rules, or I will not stay.”
“Even for Mariel’s sake?”
Her stomach dropped. He knew her too well. If this was how he wished to play, she was already damned. “This was a mistake.” She turned to flee while she still could.
“Celeste. Wait.” And now his voice was ordinary, or at least as ordinary as Abraxas could be. His words no longer brushed against her skin like silk, no longer conjured memories of seduction. “I will abide your rules. I would not have told Hypatia to send you if I did not mean to help. But forgive me if seeing you again…” He exhaled. “It is not easy for me.”
“This is not easy for me, either.”
“You are the one who left me,” he said, incredulous.
“Because you would have forced me to choose between you and Mariel. Because loving you meant losing my soul!” She matched his skepticism with a rising anger.
“Time passes, and the flesh fades. Forgive me for loving you so much that I wanted us to be together forever.”
“By taking my soul?” she shouted in disbelief.
He growled incoherently and threw up his hands in frustration. She folded her arms across her chest, fighting the tightness around her heart. And there they were, back behind their battle lines.
Finally, Abraxas broke. “Let us walk,” he offered, gesturing down the path. “You did not come here to renew old wounds.”
She hesitated, distrustful of his change of tack.
“Not to worry. I’ll return you safe and sound, and we will put our past aside for tonight. I know Mariel’s life is at stake. I will be on my honor.” He smiled, a slice of cold comfort. “How is that for a first rule?”
She gathered her purpose around her. He was many things, but he was not the kind to break his word. “It is a start.”
They walked down Zion in the opposite direction of the camp. The road quickly succumbed to an old mining trail, the civilities of town giving way to a bitterly barren landscape. Cracked black earth, the remnants of lava flow, ran underfoot, and haphazard piles of black rock as tall as a man lined the thin path. Ash still sifted down around them, riding that ill wind, and it looked for all the world like Abraxas was leading her into some burned-out version of hell.
“I’ve never seen this road,” she said, alarmed.
“Aventum Angelorum,” he explained. “The earth plays tricks tonight. This was how it looked when it was an ancient battlefield. Here, demonkind battled the angelic choirs of seraphim until they were driven back to hell in retreat.” His eyes touched briefly on the great mountain rising in the distance, and his tone turned bitter. “And there great Abaddon fell. And now they mine his body for their progress.”
“You were with him. I remember you told me.”
“I was.” His shoulders bowed, and his gaze was distant, as if he saw the battle still.
“I forgot what this night meant to you,” she admitted. “That you would be grieving.”
“It’s nothing.” He shook himself free of the memory. “Age quod agis.”
“Latin?” It was a habit he had when he was contemplative. He had told her that it was because the old language was the closest to the demonic tongue, but she suspected he just liked the Roman philosophers.
He looked surprised that she’d remembered.
“I’ve missed hearing it,” she admitted. It was a small concession, but she could see it pleased him.
“Tell me why you’ve come to me, Celeste Semyaza.”
“Hypatia told you already.”
“I want to hear it from you.”
“Mariel is accused of killing a Virtue. They’ve taken her, and I’m afraid they will execute her tomorrow.”
“Execute her, yes. Tomorrow?” His eyebrow rose. “Unlikely. What do you know of the Virtues?”
“Only what everyone knows.”
“Then nothing.”
She bristled at that, but it was true enough.
“The Virtues consider themselves men of exemplary character,” he continued, “the Order of Chamuel in particular, as they are arbitrators of the Almighty’s own justice.” He glanced at her, a wry smile framing his mouth. “They lie to themselves, as all righteous men do, but they will grant your sister a fair trial. Or, at least, what they see as fair. Else they fear themselves at risk of heavenly judgment.”
“A trial? Not just an execution?” That was the first good news she’d heard. “With argument? And legal counsel?”
“She will have an advocate, yes, but it’s not like you imagine it. Only heavenly law rules within the Circle, not the law of man. There is no arguing of the facts, only an examination into the accused’s… spiritual fitness.”
“She’s Fallen.” She was stating the obvious, but so was he. “They will consider her spiritually unfit by definition.”
“And yet you think her innocent.”
“I know she is innocent.”
His smile stretched. “The Virtues are sanctimonious, but they make a fine point. If she is Fallen, she is sinful by fault. There is no innocence in her making.”
She had begun to relax, the old familiarity of their relationship coming back. This was a man she knew well. His familiar stride beside her, the cadence of his speech, even the way he loved theological debate. It was the side of him that those who only knew him as a demon lord did not see. It was the part of him that had felt all her own.
“Have I ever told you about the baby bird?” she asked.
He tilted his head, listening. An invitation to continue.
“It must have been late summer, and I was probably nine, and Mariel five.”
“A child Celeste,” he murmured, amused. “You must have been a fierce thing.”
“Not at all,” she admitted. “I was as timid as a sparrow. Mariel was the brave one. We still lived in the Drench back then, and a family of birds had built their nest in the eaves around the back of the house. Mariel wanted to see the babies, but I told her to leave them alone. I knew the mama could reject them if she smelled our touch on them. But Mariel didn’t listen, curious as she was, and not five minutes later, she come up to me, all proud, and showed me that baby bird sitting in her hand.”
“Alive?”
“She’d caught an older nestling, its plumage come in, and she was petting it. But she must have been too rough, because its feathers came off. She held it up for me to see, and I panicked, thinking for sure she’d ruined the poor thing. Well, she took one look at my face and burst into tears. The bird flew off, but it was still a baby, and it went careening down and crashed into the ground. Mariel didn’t see it. She was wrapped up in my arms, wailing like it was the end of her world, asking me over and over again if I hated her. I said no, of course not, and told her it was just an old bird, and she needn’t worry. But I was shaken. It was careless of her. She begged me not to tell Mama, so I didn’t.”