Jessa Slade - The Darkest Night

He gritted his teeth. “I meant—”

The tenebrae maggot emerged from the wreckage, doubled back on itself, and struck again.

Fane tossed Bella to one side, but stumbled on the slick grass. He went down to one knee with a curse, hearing her scream.

His fingers found the box cutter in the grass.

There was no way his angel could take the tenebrae mass. Maybe if he’d had his abraxas…

Bella flung herself over him, which he might have appreciated more if they weren’t both about to die.

“No!” Her cry was one, lone octave, only human. “He is mine! The place within is only for me.”

Then she kissed him, and the darkness around them exploded with stars.

Silence.

Was this death? Bella kept her eyes closed, not wanting to know. But the soft press of lips under hers and the mingling of breath—not to mention the cold soaking her jeans—tempted her to believe otherwise.

She listened, and—so softly at first—she heard the song.

“It came upon a midnight clear…”

Was it midnight already? On the longest night of the year. And here it ended. Hot kiss, icy ass, and the tenebrae swallowing all.

“That glorious song of old…”

Who was singing? Fane’s shoulders flexed under her hands, and she found herself in his lap, protected from the cold earth.

He lifted his head and smiled at her. “Listen.”

“…From angels bending near the earth, to touch their harps of gold…”

“I don’t need a harp of gold,” he murmured. “Or a flaming sword. I have you.”

“You don’t sing anyway,” she said.

He shook his head. “You’ve just never heard me.” He stood, easily lifting her.

As he rose, the tenebrae recoiled, lifting like a storm cloud, and he placed her on her feet with one more lingering kiss.

On the nursing home porch, the talyan and a dozen elders stood at the rail. Nanette had the reliquary in her hand, and golden light spilled across the lawn, impossibly brilliant.

Almost as vivid as the voices.

Sera led the carolers with her clear contralto. “Silent night, holy night…”

“I’ve seen her singing along with the pop tunes at the club,” Bella said softly. “But I didn’t realize…”

Fane pulled her close. “Archer told me one of her first encounters with the league was singing a wounded talya to his death.”

“She got it from her father.”

Pastor Littlejohn stood beside his daughter, his hand on her shoulder and his deep bass carrying. “All is calm, all is bright…”

Ecco stood with his gauntlets over his chest, his mouth set tight and forbidding. Which reminded Bella why they were here.

She angled her gaze to the tenebrae worm, coiling above, held in abeyance. Had she been this afraid, this twisting mess? Had she longed for so much and believed so little?

“Let it go,” she whispered. “Can’t you let it go?”

The worm hovered.

“Sleep in heavenly peace…”

With a roaring shrieking cry, the tenebrae attacked for the third time. The thick yellow veining at the fore peeled back, revealing a gaping maw. The funnel seemed to fall in unnaturally deep, deeper than the length of the worm. Far at the other end lay a sullen nothingness more unfathomable than even the darkest night.

Bella threw herself toward Fane and he caught her under the edge of his coat. He had the box cutter in hand which he slashed across his fingers.

She cried out at the pain she could almost feel herself.

He flung his hand outward in a spray of angelic blood. The tenebrae shrank back, but not quickly enough. The spatter of red and gold burned across the worm in ragged patches, tearing holes in the ether.

“Sleep in heavenly peace…”

“Or pieces,” Fane said.

The worm tore apart without a sound. Dozens of salambe and a hundred malice fled into the night, escaping the light and sound. And love.

Bella clasped his cut hand between hers, closing it tight.

He tried to pull away. “I’m going to bleed all over you.”

“You’ve done worse.”

He stared at her, stricken, but she tugged him toward the porch. “Let’s get this looked at before you bleed out.”

He balked on the sidewalk, forcing her to turn to face him. “I never meant—”

“I don’t mind your blood on me. That will wash off. It’s your heart, beating with mine. It’s your spirit, inside me. That I can’t escape.”

“Bella…”

“And I don’t want to escape. I want to be here, with you. I want you, around me, in me. I mean that in the dirtiest way possible.” She touched his cheek with her knuckles, careful not to bloody him. “And I mean that as an angel would say it.”

Without ever glancing away, as if breaking eye contact might let her disappear, he brushed back her hair with his unbloodied hand. “Outcasts, both of us. Me from heaven, you from hell.”

Maybe it was a symptom of how far she had yet to go to be good, but she was fiercely glad he’d been cast out. So he could find her. Maybe they didn’t have the symballein bond of the soul-shattered talyan, but their wounds—and their healing—made them right for each other. “It’s like we were meant to be.”

“Together.” He didn’t smile back, his gaze so intense she thought the blue of his eyes might melt the ice. Like she was melting.

She closed her eyes and tilted up onto her toes to kiss him. A gentle touch, cool as tears, brushed her cheeks, but she wasn’t crying. She was happy.

She glanced up to see the snow sifting down. The low clouds reflected back the lights of the city in washes of silver and gold. With only the lightest breath of wind to tease them, the snowflakes wafted in lazy spirals, each finding its own unique path from heaven to earth.

Fane laughed, sending the nearest snowflakes dancing. He kissed Bella and sang softly over her lips, “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas...”

She blinked at his pure tenor, and his grin turned smug.

“I’m dreaming of Christmas with you.” He tucked her under his arm, and they walked up the sidewalk toward the talyan and the old people under a snowy winter sky.

Ecco crossed his gauntleted arms over his chest as they approached. “Had a call from the boss. They found Thorne workshop at the industrial site, but he wasn’t there. Just a bunch more bombs—most of them not even finished—and a note saying ‘Don’t Open ‘Til Christmas.’ And you just let all those tenebrae escape without sending even one back to hell. Tonight was a total bust.”

“Actually,” Bella said as they pushed by him. “This is going to be my best Christmas ever. Peace on earth and all that.”

Fane kissed her temple. “At least for tonight.”

Fane leaned back on the pillows of the big, red bed and sighed. He should have guessed grandma pillows rescued from yard sales would be cozy, especially with sayings like:

Now I lay me down to sleep

I pray the Lord my soul to keep

May angels watch me through the night

And wake me with the morning light.

He thought, as prayers went, that one he could follow.

Bella bounced on his chest. “Seriously, I can’t believe you haven’t seen The Nightmare Before Christmas ! It’s one of the greatest Christmas movies of all time.”

“It has monsters in it.”

She stared down at him. “Yeah, and?”

He sighed again, just to watch her bounce some more. “Fine. You get to pick the Christmas Eve movie, but I get to pick what we do after.”

She traced her finger down his sternum. “Sounds like a win-win.”