He stroked her cheek again, and a static buzz crossed her skin. She was certain this strange creature—this Envoy—was watching over her. She knew he wanted her to live—to hope, togrow old.
But he yanked his hand away, and Hailey jerked awake with a yelp, blinking wildly. As she sat upright, the wisdom and maturity of her eternal soul faded. The memory of her Envoy dream dissolved.
Heart racing, she scanned her dark bedroom as a shadow crept forth.
Chapter one
A Good Man
“All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.” – Edmund Burke
Professor Simeon Woodfork shuffled into the observatory shivering wildly and waving his papers, as expected.
Asher knew he was coming—he’d sensed his approach. Still, standing behind his telescope, Asher made no movement to acknowledge the professor at all. His eyes never shifted, never broke their gaze into the clear winter night.
“It must be exciting,” Asher said without a hint of interest, “if you’ve made your way here in stocking feet.” He blinked, resetting his eye color to the violet he preferred and finally turned to observe the man standing in front of him.
Woodfork stood coatless and covered in frost next to the door. He glanced down and seemed shocked to find he’d also forgotten his boots. Looking up, he attempted an announcement.
“Th-th-th-they’rrrrr…” he began, still shivering as he held his papers high.
“Forget her, Simeon,” Asher boomed, his voice echoing inside the dome. “Forget them both. I cannot protect them. They’ll be dead before your semester starts.”
Asher was well aware the girls had applied for scholarships at the school and that Woodfork had today discovered their essays. He’d seen it inside the man’s mind.
Woodfork stared at Asher in astonishment for some time. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and turning to leave said quietly over his shoulder, “This is evil, you know.” He waited a few seconds for a response that wouldn’t come. With a heavy sigh he shook his head and walked out.
As soon as Woodfork left, Asher blinked and quite unexpectedly found a tear had escaped his eye and was traveling down his perfect cheek. He plucked the drop from his face and stared at it in awe. Rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger, he realized…
Sadness.
That must be what he was feeling.
Another tear trickled from his eye and dropped to the observatory floor, reflecting the starry night above. Asher watched it, his brow furrowed in concentration. Of course he knew what a tear was, but he’d never actually produced one. He’d come close once—on the night he first saw her magnificent soul. Naturally, she was deep asleep, and her soul, like all human souls did, had wandered into the Aether in what humans call a dream.
Asher was there. He was always there, in the Aether. Half in and half out. That was his curse. Three thousand years he’d endured it—shackled to the Earth, trapped among the humans, condemned to exist in both worlds—longing, always longing to be wholly in his home in the Aether.
It was there that he’d noticed her standing lonely and lovely, looking very curiously at him, which itself was a rare occurrence, as humans usually didn’t see Envoys in the Aether, but that wasn’t as rare as what she’d done next. Instead of avoiding his penetrating gaze, which most humans cannot tolerate, she met it. And smiled.
It was rapture.
And he hated her for it.
Soon after she’d smiled, she’d turned and run from him. And though he hadn’t meant to frighten her, he knew why she’d fled—he was a monster after all…an ender of life, and he shouldn’t blame her for fleeing.
But it was devastating. And enraging.
Since that night, he couldn’t stay away from her. Like a Siren, she drew him in, and she’s challenged him like no other dared, her delicate voice ringing with scorn and defiance and forgiveness all at once. It was maddening—and addicting. She’d infected him.
His eye released another tear.
Asher found this “sadness” utterly unpleasant and realized he would not take the advice he’d just given Woodfork. He would not simply forget the girl with the beautiful soul—the girl who’d found him in the Aether. The one—the only one—he ever wondered about, ever cared about, ever—resented. After all, she was of no practical use to him alive. But in his three thousand years stuck on this Earth, of the millions of souls he’d seen come and go, it was hers he longed to know, longed to reveal himself to. Always hers.
And as deplorable as it was for an Envoy to express such a sentiment, Asher could think of nothing other than his sudden, intense desire to see her in her waking life—to rescue her or kill her—he didn’t know which he wanted more. But he did know that any interference in her fate was dangerous—akin to suicide, really.
But it wasn’t interference ifshecame tohim. That was Woodfork’s plan, and Asher hadn’t stopped him.
“No,” he growled in the darkness.
