Page 14 of Left Hand of the Divine
Ihadn’t let go of his hand yet. There was something familiar and comforting about the way his fingers felt around mine, and I couldn’t bring myself to let go. I somehow felt that if I did, I’d be losing some part of me.
There was also something nagging at the heart of me, plucking at the strings of my soul. A whisper of memory that grew louder every time I looked at him. Something in meknewhim. Knew the intricate planes of his face beyond a mere acquaintance. And it yearned for him in a desperate way.
I couldn’t make sense of it. I’d never met this man before, despite him saying I’d been in the Vault before and stolen the Diadem. How the hell I’d ever gotten that far before, on my own, I did not know. I’d struggled getting to the heart of the Vault as a powerful Reaper with two Hellhounds, a vampire king, a nightmare demonandthe God of Death.
I had to admire that pluckiness of my previous self if I’d gotten to the Diadem all by myself before. I mean, that was impressive, wasn’t it?
I looked at my companion, drinking in his otherworldly features and Victorian attire. “Have you always dressed like that?”
He looked down at his clothes, a pinched frown on his face. “No, but this is the style I was wearing when I arrived. I assume fashion has changed considerably since I’ve been down here. I will have to learn all the latest nuances.”
“No,” I practically yelled before blushing horribly and looking anywhere but at him. “I mean no, um, I like your clothes. They suit you.”
“Then I shall keep them if they please you.”
And why did that thought make the spot behind my solar plexus heat with warmth?
He stared at me for a moment, those bright red eyes glowing in the low light. I could feel his eyes roving over my face, his gaze a physical caress over my skin. The tugging sensation in my soul started again the longer our eyes were connected. I didn’t understand it, but whateveritwas, it felt like it was woven into the very core of me. Something inevitable and undeniable.Whycouldn’t I remember who this man was? What was it that had such a hold on me?
I reached out and brushed a lock of his shadow-black hair away from his eyes, and a spark of lightning tingled in the end of my fingers. “Who are you?”
The light dimmed in his eyes, and shadows played about the lines of his face, making them appear sharper. “You really do not remember?”
I shook my head, a little stab of sadness hitting me as the light faded further from his eyes.
He frowned and looked away, muttering under his breath. “I don’t understand why it hasn’t worked. It was supposed to work.” He gazed at me again, his eyes fierce and determined. His hands gripped my upper arms, squeezing tightly. “You were supposed to remember!”
“I’m sorry,” I gasped, his fingers bruising in their grip. “I don’t—“
He growled and turned away, thrusting his hands through his hair and pulling at the strands. He paced frantically, mumbling to himself like a madman. “Where is she? She was supposed to be whole. Complete. Not thisfragment.”
He slammed his hands against the wall in rage and frustration, shadows flowing from his fingers like he had no control over them.
The light started to fade from the corridor, slowly eaten up by the man fracturing in front of me. I was torn between the part of me that was sad at seeing him falling apart and the need to defend myself, caught between my fight or flight response. I needed to pick a side soon, or I was going to be lost to the darkness.
My scythe materialised in my hands, and I widened my stance so that I was ready for battle. “I think you need to take a breath and calm down.”
He spun on his heel, and I flinched at the pure unfiltered rage and pain pouring from his eyes as they hitmine. The shadows tugged at his hair, making the strands float as if they were in a breeze, and his eyes glowed impossibly bright.
“Calm down?” he seethed. “For centuries I have waited for this moment. I planned it down to the last possible detail, taking account of every possibility, and yetyou’rehere. An imposter. A mere shadow of my love, and you want me tocalm down?!”
Well, when he put it that way, I probably wouldn’t calm down either. I clenched my hands around the handle of my scythe and centred myself. “Look, I’ll help you figure this out.”
He barked a laugh, and the shadows around him pulsed and crackled with forks of red lightning as he stalked towards me menacingly. “Figure this out? And how are you going to accomplish that? Will you wave your little scythe and hope for the best? Use that weak magic of yours to pull some answers from the Underworld? Tell me, Reaper, how will you ‘figure it out’?”
I sighed; he had me there. “I don’t have all the answers, but I want to help. Surely that counts for something.”
“Without her, there is nothing. Nothing but pain and loneliness and this empty hollow that exists here.” He slammed his fist against his chest. “Mere answers will not bring her back. And now my plan has failed, and I willneverget her back.”
His voice was raw and cracked, and it pulled at those damn strings around my soul. “No, but it’s a place to start. Please.”
There was such distrust in his eyes, and I couldn’t bear the weight of it in his gaze.
“Please,” I begged again. “Just let me help.”
I bravely—or foolishly, I wasn’t sure which—took a step towards him. I kept my movements slow and steady, like I was approaching a feral Chimaera on the cusp of singeing more than my eyebrows. The shadows around him thickened, swirling around his legs until I could barely see them.
“What are you doing?” he hissed, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper.
