Page 122 of Drown Like Heaven
It was a constant, addictive push-and-pull between us.
Not anymore.
Never again.
The wind shifted, carrying an acrid scent to my nose.Necrichor. Looking around, I tried to take in my surroundings, but I didn’t really know where I was—not that it mattered. I left my car parked on the side of the highway and started down the shoulder, trudging through the grassy ditch separating me from a housing development still in construction.
Every house looked the same, and all of them were empty, plastic wrap still on the windows and the interiors still wooden skeletons. The scent of necrichor was stronger as I walked,strong enough that there had to be at least three or four demons. It didn’t make me nervous, though. All I had to do was hold my breath for a while, and I’d become stronger than all of them combined. And multiplied by ten.
Unfortunate I couldn’t consistently control all that power.
Every once in a while, I tried to defy the odds, and learn how to actually harness my Thrausian nature, but it wasn’t physically possible. With Micah, I’d been able to use him in combination with my own mental fortitude to get a better grip on it, but I didn’t have that anymore.
Some elements were usable without fracturing, but those splits were what generated the most power. Physical strength, lightning-channeling, small electric bursts of energy. Those were things I could do without risking a loss of control. But the bigger things came from fractures, and those required external influence to harness.
Through the window of one of the houses, I saw two glowing yellow eyes.
I recognized him instantly, my blood going cold.
That specific shade of amber, thegoldin it, only meant one thing.
Aamon was back.
I didn’t hesitate for another second, rushing back to my car, praying he hadn’t seen me. But even if he hadn’t seen me just now…he washere, in Washington. Micah deserved to know that he was about to die.
Sigeians weren’t hunted at the frequency that Aiglens were hunted, but there were more of them on Earth because of that, and thus, they became the target when the golden-blooded angels ran out. Micah would’ve been safe had Aamon not taken interest in him all those years ago.
But that was no longer reality.
I jumped in my car, and set off driving towards Micah’s house, internally despising the fact that I knew where he lived. I wished I didn’t know anything about him.
Pulling up his driveway, I cut the engine and hopped out, my legs feeling stiff and my chest tight with dread. I didn’t want to do this, not really. But since it was my fault in the first place, I figured I owed him a warning. I raised my fist to knock on the door, hoping that seeing him a second time would hurt less than the first time had.
The door opened a minute later.
The sight of him knocked the breath from my lungs.
“Why are you here?” he asked flatly.
“Let me in,” I forced myself to say, aware that I couldn’t talk about a subject like this out on his front step. Though I wasn’t sure I’d be able to tolerate being in a contained room with him without wanting to kill him.
“How did you figure out where I live?”
“Internet.” It was a half-truth, but he didn’t push me.
After a minute, Micah stepped to the side and I walked past him into the house.
It was spacious, decorated tastefully in dark tones. Worn wood, masculine textures. Steel accents and polished surfaces. His bookshelves were full of heavy engineering textbooks and other worn novels, showcasing all the years of study that had taken him away from me. A clear bottle of aither sitting on one of the shelves was brushed with a light layer of dust, like he sipped it slow. Like he didn’t drown himself in it.
It was the opposite of my apartment. It actually looked like someone lived here. It almost looked like ahumanlived here—if the bottle of aither had been whiskey.
“Explain,” he demanded.
“Do you do anything related to being an angel anymore?” I asked, ignoring his demand as my eyes darted around the space.There was a plant sitting on the windowsill, drooping but still alive.Of course he keeps it alive.
“No. I have a different life now.” Which he probably blamed me for—maybe even despised me for.
Or maybe he was happy now. I had no way of knowing.
