Cassandra
Egypt
"As sorry as I am to say it, I really don't know what else I can do for you," Stohl insists, trudging through the narrow tunnels with Elijah and I in tow. "We've scoured through every document in my possession. We've traveled to every location that could possibly carry such an artifact. I've spent any favors I had with the Vatican."
After an entire month running around in circles, coming up with nothing concrete, I refuse to throw in the towel. "You confirmed it to be of Egyptian origins, Stohl."
"And I meant that. I do believe in my years I have seen it. The problem is even if we find it, it means nothing without the proper documentation. You say you require the meaning of this... this code you are in possession of."
We enter the main room, more of a library than anything. Packed-full of vampires, the room lowers to a hush at our entry. Many of them recall the power I exerted in my downfall to darkness years ago, traumatizing a creature for questioning Elijah. I could barely restrain myself then, feeding on Samael's intelligent words and the endless possibilities of my mind and body.
I felt invincible. I was invincible, and it nearly destroyed my spirit.
Since arriving weeks ago, excited with our new victory, a step closer to freedom, our anticipation has gradually decreased, like air seeping from a pinprick in a balloon. Our days end and begin on the hunt for an impossible formation of lines.
"We cannot give up on this, Stohl. Cassandra and I cannot," Elijah insists.
"If I knew what this was in regards to..."
I lace my arms together, chilled. "We told you. We can't say... but it's important."
Stohl studies me closely, nodding to himself. "Yes, I suspect it is. With you two, only matters of life and death seem to follow."
Elijah rubs his temple with his knuckle. "It's certainly not by choice."
The monk grabs my hand, his thumb nudging the ring on my finger. "You should be enjoying each other. If you really are human now, Cassandra, as you say you are, and if he doesn't plan on changing you, you must cherish this time. It will be gone in a flash."
The matter of Elijah's immortality and my lack thereof is not a subject we broach, ever. Being so focused on victory, there is no time to contemplate what happens if we win or what happens if we lose. All I know is Jehovah has promised a future for us, one that is worth this terror.
"If you cannot help us any further, we'd understand, Stohl—"
Stohl sighs, squeezing my fingers. "I'd never turn you away."
***
"If we are caught," I say, out of breath in our current excursion, "tell me, what I should expect?"
"Jailtime, for certain."
I slide down the grainy bricks of stone with blind trust until I feel Elijah's cold hands on my thighs, softening the fall. "Oh, that's comforting."
There is no light that can enter this far underground, not that there was much above ground this late at night. Although I'm blinking, waiting for an adjustment, there is only darkness surrounding us. The tunnel has a murky smell and a stuffiness that makes my human lungs struggle to function properly.
"Since this place is off of any known map, I doubt we'll be discovered."
"Still, jail doesn't sound too great right now."
"A jail cell cannot hold a vampire. I'd have you out within the hour."
"Is that supposed to comfort me?"
Elijah's laugh echoes around us as he leads me into the unknown, sure of his surroundings. "Need I remind you that you've faced much worse than police holding? Hell, for example."
"You're such a smart-ass."
"Watch your step. Careful here." He cautiously helps me down a broken ledge, lowering his voice. "I think we're here. Hand me a match."
I hear the friction of the stick skidding against the wall and the whooshing sound of a flame igniting before I can finally make out the shape of him, and then the walls that are closed in on us. There is open space ahead but first Elijah grabs the toppled lantern left on the ground by the last mysterious explorers before heading inside.
"This place gives me the creeps."
"Well, it is a tomb. They aren't meant for comfort."
I grimace, squeezing his hand, recalling a time, back in what feels like ages now, when he was sentenced to such an eerie fate, forced to endure a slow death, and after that, the madness of purgatory. Shivers move through me when I think of how long he remained like that, resigned to believe I would never be able to reach him, trapped in slabs of concrete.
"You know, we can go, Elijah... We don't have to..."
He glances back at me, a wry smile on his face showing little signs of trauma. "Do not concern yourself with me, luce mia." He places a hand on the back of my neck, guiding me down with him as we enter a room with an unusually low ceiling.
"Do you see anything?" I whisper, secretly wondering if we're in the presence of spirits.
"It's definitely been raided. Recently, I'd suspect, considering the littering. Thankfully, what we're looking for would be on the walls, Stohl said."
Releasing me, we start at opposite sides of the small room, studying the walls for symbols in the faded art. Unfortunately, from lack of maintaining, there is almost nothing legible anymore. I figure that out about halfway through, and Elijah agrees, reluctantly.
"If it were here, we wouldn't know it."
I sigh, bending, nervous about the durability of our surroundings. "So far, we've got what? Death, sand, moon, afterlife? It seems like all Jehovah is pointing us to is alchemical elements."
"We have a month. All hope is not lost."
"I know. I just... I don't see how us running all over the world is going to work. Even with Damien and Paris helping us, and Erika working from the inside, we don't have nearly enough time to locate every single one."
"It's frustrating. I know. But we will figure it out. Stohl said he will continue the search once we have gone. I trust in his word."
"I know."
He bends, inspecting the underside of a piece of fallen limestone. "We'll reconvene with Damien and Paris, see what progress they've made."
"Okay."
The complete stillness of the underground reminds me of some places in Hell, places I'd go to escape Samael's eyes and ears, the demons working overtime to appease him. I would never be alone for long but the time I did have helped immensely. I came to find the barriers of darkness soothing.
There isn't much to see here but what there is, is history.
"Cassie, come here."
I bend down beside him, looking at the limestone he is fascinated with. His slender fingers trace the faded story written in hieroglyphics. "This man was important. Close to the pharaoh." Elijah points to the drawing of a pharaoh. "This means God. He spoke of premonitions... it was his job."
I smirk. "A psychic. Interesting."
"He died with respect. Guided the pharaoh through famine and conquests of war."
Time has erased the markings on portions of the stone. Some of the story is missing. I gaze at Elijah, amazed by his mind, how vastly knowledgeable he is of the world. He reads on, unperturbed by my studying.
"He was believed to be touched by divine right, his words given by God. He foretold a great war in barren land, led by the God of the Sky, foreseeing... um... extinction."
Although there is more legible story to read, Elijah falls silent. I stare at the stone, feeling my chest ache with fear. Minutes pass and tension only grows with the passing.
"Maybe this is what we were meant to find..." I whisper eventually.
"You said our journey would end in desert, right? Jehovah told you that?"
I nod. "Yes, but he said nothing had been decided on the outcome. He said he couldn't force an outcome regarding this. We are doing this to save humankind... I don't understand."
"Perhaps we're reading too much into it. These were probably just ramblings. Besides, it speaks of a God of the Sky leading the charge. Unless Jehovah plans to send down some help or come himself, I don't see how this fits our situation."
He sets the slab down carefully, finished with its newfound words of warning. As he stands, my eyes follow him, feeling a sudden bleakness. It comes on strong.
God of War.
My God of War. My God of the Sky.
"Elijah..." I breathe, rising from the dusty ground. He glances back at me and his features instantly fall. He's by my side within seconds, grabbing onto my arms and then my face.
"Christ, you're white as a ghost."
Tell him.
Tell him, Cassandra.
I close my eyes, unsure if I'm finding it so hard to breathe because of our location or my own arising panic. I open my mouth, and absolutely nothing comes out.
He caresses my cheek softly, eyes emanating concern. "Darling?"
Water builds in my eyes when I realize I can't warn him. Hopelessness is crushing. "It's nothing. I just... I..."
"It's clearly not nothing," he insists, flashing a brief, slightly nervous smile of confusion.
He is my husband, my partner, my friend. Secrets are not our way.
I don't want to keep this from him. I never did.
Due to my silence, Elijah continues to reassure me. "Listen, if it's about what we read, you don't have to worry. It wasn't what we came for. It's probably some eerie random coincidence meant to throw us off track. Maybe Samael even planted it."
I nod, weakly grabbing his waist as he pulls me into him, embracing me tightly.
Extinction. Failure. Death. War.
Elijah de Ricci will face it head-on... and I'll have to watch.
***
"We come bearing news!"
Unpacking our bags, just hours after arriving back in Italy, I look up to find Paris strolling in through the door with Damien right behind him. Both of them are still in their traveling gear, clearly just off the plane. Elijah leans back in the chair, taking the book from Damien's hand.
"Were you successful?" Elijah asks, smiling amusedly.
Damien grins, planting his hands on his hips. "Look and see. Look at the binding."
Inspecting the cover and then the sliver of hard binding, Elijah's eyes widen. "You found it."
"We found it!"
Elijah chuckles, standing up. "What does it mean?"
"Well, the book was written by an American who claimed to enter Heaven while at death's door. He made a miraculous recovery, claiming he was sent back and given a second chance at life. He said that very symbol came to him upon his return."
Elijah purses his lips. "He came back to life?"
My skin crawls. I look between them all, aware I am in possession of gigantic secrets, secrets regarding their master... their father.
"He did. We figured this has some correlation with you, perhaps. And how Cassandra raised you from the dead? Maybe it means resurrection or afterlife?"
"I don't see how it would aid us, in that respect." Elijah places the book beside the rest of our findings. "I don't see a pattern in this code, not yet." Grabbing Damien's shoulder, he gives them a fond look. "But we are one step closer, thanks to you."
"We are glad to help."
"Also, very glad to be rid of America, as well. No offense, Cassandra."
I hold up my hands. "None taken."
"Erika will be glad to hear of your progress. We should go to her." Elijah beckons Paris closer. "But first, come. Tell me of your travels."
***
The beating water raining down on my face washes away the tensions of the day. Under the hot water, the shower massages the knots that have formed under my skin, leaving me achy and frustrated. The concoction Elijah makes of lavender and rosemary for my body softens my skin, while the mint shampoo reinvigorates my tired mind.
"Mind some company?"
I open my eyes at the covert intrusion, blinded instantly by soap. "Ah! Shit! Fuck!"
I see Elijah grimacing between my ferocious blinking, and can't help but laugh through the pain, shoving my face back under the water.
"You usually know when I've entered a room. Your mind must really be preoccupied," he says, stepping in behind me. He runs his hands through my hair, pushing the soapy suds away from my face. While his entrance startled me, his apology brings my heart-rate back down to a calm, steady pulse.
Eyes closed, no longer on fire, I bask in his gentleness, appreciating the moments we have this.
"You seemed... tense at dinner. I wanted to see if you were all right."
"Just stressed," I chuckle.
"This isn't easy but I'm sure it will work in our favor in the end."
"When have things ever worked in our favor?"
"It's been a while." He kisses my shoulder. "We're due."
I laugh, nodding, agreeing with him. We're definitely due. Grabbing his arm, I shift, leading him under the water. His height makes it difficult to reach his hair so he does that while I rub soap onto his body, offering him the same quiet affection he regularly gives me.
"A quiet life is sounding very appealing right about now," he says, rubbing his face under the stream. Rubbing hard muscle, I smile wider, kissing the cold flesh of his back.
"We can become shut-ins. Never leave the house."
I hear his smile rather than see it. "I'm sold."
"Oh? That easy?" I tease. Elijah presses a hand to the tile. It isn't the fact that he does it that raises my awareness, but rather the fact that he feels around for the firmness as if blind that makes my smile fade. "Elijah?"
Within seconds, he's down. Falling. Collapsing. Too large for my arms to catch. His weight cracks a portion of the floor upon impact. I drop to the ground with him, wide-eyed, speechless for a single second, shaking as I turn his face to me. Then I begin screaming.
"Damien! Paris!"
Whether their blood warned them of their master or they sensed my panic, they barge into the bathroom alert, freezing when they see Elijah, nude and laid out like a dead man, beside me.
They jump into action. "Holy God! What happened?"
"He...help me get him up!"
Paris shuts off the shower, grabbing Elijah's arm and then his waist, lifting him up with no difficulty. Damien holds out a towel to me, terrified as I wrap it around myself hastily.
"What happened? What's wrong with him?"
I fumble through incoherent words, already hyperventilating. Damien gives up asking me for answers, following me into the bedroom where Paris has laid Elijah on the bed, covering him modestly with a sheet.
"We'd all know if something was truly wrong, so that's out of the way. He's not gone." Paris rubs his face, pinning me with a serious look. "Did he say anything? That he was out of sorts? Is it Samael? Has he been summoned?"
I shake my head, at a loss for what to say. "I... I don't know. I don't think so. He didn't say anything. We were laughing and then... and then he fell."
I move around them to sit on the bed, needing to touch him, hoping he will ground me even if he's not here. This isn't a time to lose my wits. My eyes dart around the room uncertainly, wondering if I should be expecting a certain intruder.
"This is the second time this has happened... Why aren't they sending for you?"
It's a great question. A smart question.
Of course, they'd think Jehovah or Samael would summon me. As far as they are concerned, I'm the only person in this room with divine blood. I lift his hand, holding it against my chest. "He's scared..." I whisper, searching our bond for answers.
"Scared?" they repeat in unison dubiously.
"He's... angry. Really angry."
Elijah's emotions are easy to detect. He isn't hiding them. Not even thinking to. It worries me even more.
"Then it must be Samael," Paris says.
"That's not a good thing," I state, dreading the thought of them in the same room. After China, I hoped the confrontations were over. It was naïve of me.
"We're going to guard him until he surfaces, Cassandra. We all will."
I stare down at Elijah's face masking peace. I lean down, begging him to open his eyes, asking him to follow my voice. He's under for hours, and all that time, Damien and Paris stand on either side of the bed, waiting with me. Erika, having come in to ask Elijah for advice to then find us all uneased by the current events, sits at my side, determined to wait as well.
When he finally opens his eyes, I lose the part of me that remembers to breathe.
When they open and remain wide, my stomach sinks deep with fear. He makes a noise—a loud, deep, gutting sound—before tearing himself from my grasp, surging to his feet. He's hardly taken in the sight of us around him before he's grabbed pants off the chair and left the room.
All of us on our feet, we stare at the door, suspended in disbelief, too stunned to move.
"Well, it's bad," Damien finally sighs, saying what we are all thinking.
"Go to him. Make sure he's okay," I breathe to them, fearfully, still hearing that sound. That horrible sound. They don't question it. They're all gone within seconds in search of him.
I back up slowly until the back of my knees hit the bed and I sink into the mattress, rigid, waiting on the edge. I touch the citrine around my neck, wondering if I should be afraid to be alone. I could get up and change or go to search for him too, but I don't.
I deflate, needing to sit still.
He returns faster than I expected he would, probably because he's usually wary to leave me to my own devices. What shocks me is that he returns alone, closing the door behind him, naked from the waist up. His hair is wild and untamed, rich with long curls.
Written across his face is dread. A haunting presence of dread... and denial.
"What just happened?" I ask, hearing instability in my words. "Where did they go?"
He sheds the slacks he's wearing, opening the wardrobe for something more comfortable. "Back to their rooms."
He changes as if nothing were out of place here. I blink at him, stupidly.
"We're not going to act like you collapsing isn't a big deal, right?"
"There's not much to tell."
"Were you summoned? Was it Samael?"
"No." He won't meet my eye. Disappearing into the bathroom, I hear the sink run. Not used to having to pry information out of him like this, I wait for him to return, trying to broach how to do this.
"You're exhausted. You told me so before. I bet you've been up all night," he says, throwing the clothing he shed before entering the shower earlier into the laundry. He misses a shirt hanging from the desk chair, and throws that one in too. "Sleep," he insists, firmer and with more edge than before.
I stare at the back of his head, starting to feel dread too.
Whatever happened terrified him.
"Was it a vision?"
"Cassandra."
"What?"
He clears the desk, closing The Book of Omens. "Go to sleep."
Amazed he'd think I'd take such an answer, I scoff, shifting to face him. "Not likely."
"I'm in no mood for your stubbornness."
Oh. My eyes slant, preparing for a fight. "Wow, it really must have riled you up to speak to me like—"
He whirls around, wide-eyed, giving me a hard stare of warning. There is nothing behind his eyes but questions and fear. Time ticks by while we glare at each other, neither one of us desisting. I begin to smile, testily, and it makes his head cock with anger.
"All right. I'll go to sleep."
He closes the wardrobe doors. His reply is clipped. "Thank you."
I'm halfway across the room before he's even aware of it. I throw open the door. "In Damien's room."
"Cass—"
I storm through the hallway, still in a damn towel, fully expecting him to chase after me. I'm glad when he doesn't. Now that I'm out of his sight, I can unravel, feel the weight of what's happened tonight. The moment I'm free of him, anger leaves my body, and I begin to shiver. I knock timidly on Damien's door, relieved when Paris opens it.
"Can I stay in here tonight?"
Paris's brows soar in question, but he wordlessly pushes the door open wider. I enter, finding Damien slipping into a robe, covering up in my presence. It doesn't really matter to me. I've walked in on them nude plenty of times. They practically live in the buff.
"This can't be good. Did he throw you out?" Damien asks.
"Didn't have to. I did it for him." I plop onto their bed, sighing. "Did you get anything out of him?"
"He ordered us to go, and we went. We know better than to instigate that man."
"I'm not afraid of him."
"Because Elijah has never shown you even an inch of his wrath."
"I think you're underestimating me," I laugh, rubbing at my burning eyes. "He threw me into a damn wall once."
"I seem to recall you made the first move there."
I nod, recalling that unspeakable time, moments before I gave Samael power over us. "I know."
"Even I fear your temper," Paris laughs, lying flat against the pillows. "Remember when she killed that poor deserter in Vienna, Damien?"
"I'll top that," Damien snickers. "The day we overtook the new tribunal and she killed nearly half of everyone in attendance?"
"Ooh, that is a good one."
"I'm glad my descent to evil amused you."
Damien smirks, leaning towards me to take my hand. "You look absolutely exhausted."
"Always. Being a human sucks."
Paris beckons me to him, lifting the covers. I plant myself in the middle of the bed while Damien fills in the space on the other side of me. I stare at the ceiling, blinking, unable to close them.
"What do you think happened?" I ask.
"Honestly?" I turn my head to the side, nodding once. Damien grimaces. "I think we all know the one thing that could make him shut down like that."
In other words, me.
"It would really suck to die after all this work," I joke, despite feeling utterly sick. It's that feeling of sickness that makes me roll on my side, praying for slumber. "Will you promise me something? Both of you?"
Paris strokes my hair, trying to lull me to sleep. It's working. "Anything."
My chest tightens, preparing for difficult words.
"If anything happens to me... you keep him alive."
I open my eyes when I receive no immediate answer, finding Paris gazing down at me fearfully.
"Why... are you saying that?"
"This is bigger than us. He... has a path waiting for him. He has to take it. We have to win this..." I swallow with difficulty. "So, if anything happens to me... promise me you will keep him on his feet?"
"Do you know something we don't, Cassandra?"
I shake my head, closing my eyes. "No. I'm just planning in advance. Worst-case scenarios."
"It would be hard. If you were gone, he'd surely..."
He'd surely follow. Damien doesn't even have to say it aloud for me to know it.
"Just promise me," I whisper.
Their vows eventually come. Reluctantly, but they come.
"I promise," Damien says.
"Yes," Paris sighs, brushing my hair back softly. I nod, relieved to feel my eyelids start to grow heavy. I welcome the void with open arms, but just as swiftly as it comes, it's taken. I'm forced to peel my lids open at the sound of whispering.
"Is everything alright?" Damien asks as Elijah sits down on the edge of the bed beside my body.
"Yes, thank you for watching over her."
"Master, if there is something you saw... something we should know..."
"All will be well," Elijah replies vaguely, slipping his arms underneath my body. I blink, peering up at him tiredly. All anger in him is long gone. He hesitates.
"Come back to bed with me?" he asks, softly, passionately.
Totally unwilling to deny him, I nod, lifting my arms to his neck as he removes me from their bed, cradling me to his chest on the way out of their quarters. He nuzzles me close as he transports me through the cold halls, his grip unwaveringly tight. Too exhausted to open my eyes, I hear the door of our bedroom close just moments before he removes the towel strapped to my chest, discarding it to lay me bare against the covers. I hear his clothes fall off too and then feel the mattress sink under his own weight.
Sliding close to me, he brings the blankets up over us both, wrapping his arm around my back.
With not a single inch of space between us, he envelops me, prepared to spend the entire night, wide awake and wrapped around me, skin to skin. Like before, his grip becomes excruciatingly tight. His chin rests against my skull.
"I'm going to keep you safe," he whispers after a while. "Nothing is going to happen to you."
Just like that, I'm awake, eyes fully open, hearing the absolute fear in those words.
A/N: OMG
HERE WE GO GUYS
I'M NOT READY