Now, Cornelius barks a humorless laugh, drawing my attention back to him. “With that logic, it would be like saying all angels are good.”
“Are they not?”
Cornelius and Jacob both laugh rather bitterly, and then Jacob answers, “There’s good and bad everywhere, Vivian Jones. Angels can be bad, just like devils can be good. The key is you need to have the right type of each in the right place, or else all is lost.”
“So is Gemmathedevil, too?”
“Gemma only wishes. But if she gets those keys, she will be, then we’re going to have a bad devil in charge.”
I frown again, suddenly overwhelmed with whatever hellscape of reality they’re presenting me with this time. “And what happens then? If Gemma gets the keys, what happens?”
They both just stare at me, and I swallow the sudden lump in my throat. Because, given the circumstances, no explanation is truly necessary.
“So, I can’t just ask—” Cornelius takes a jumping step toward me that has me falling back instinctively.
“You already know the answer to that, Vivian.”
I press my lips together in frustration, and then after a moment, I whisper, “But why not?”
“You know the answer to that, too,” Jacob interjects, arms crossed over his chest as he studies me.
Cornelius stares me down, and those iridescent flames back in his eyes have me whispering, “Do I know you?”
His smile is somewhat cruel as he responds, “You did once.”
Time slows. I hear the oxygen entering and exiting my lungs even as I don’t breathe. “And Zion?”
Cornelius nods. “Him as well.”
Slowly, my head swivels, focusing on Jacob, who’s just staring at me with a neutral expression. Then the world tilts and spins, and I find Cornelius off to my right, his whisper an echo that sends electricity through my brain. “I’m your family.”
Even my frown is in slow motion, my laugh missing its breath as I respond, “Cornelius, come on.”
He doesn’t share my laugh, but his eyes are smiling. My head is heavy on my neck as I turn it side-to-side, a deep comfort washing over me as I remember the deep level of familiarity that sometimes comes without blood ties.
Heat ignites at the base of my skull, and I lean over, gripping my head in my hands. “Oh, shit. What the hell?”
And then Cornelius’s voice is in my ear, “Tell me, Viv.”
I shake my head, those little zaps of electricity intensifying until I feel as if my head is going to explode. And then he says again, “Tell me, Viv. Tell me why you can’t go in there and ask her anything.”
Now I’m shaking my head in my hands, wanting nothing more than to dial back time, to undo everything that’s been done, to sink down into the earth and pretend none of this exists.
The more I shake my head, the more I push it down, the more I fight against those electrical pulses, the more they double down until all I can hear is the echo of Cornelius’s voice in my brain saying over and over again, “Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.”
Then it all explodes.
I leap at him, my hands shoving against his chest, knocking him backward. He instantly returns to the fight, obviously reveling in some kind of ritual he’s familiar with. I kick out at him, shoving with all my might, punching and cursing, but it doesn’t slow him down. He just keeps coming at me, pushing and pushing and pushing until I’m sure all those little demons in my brain are frantic to escape.
His fist connects with my jaw again, then he kicks me while I'm down, and I just manage to sweep him, sending him sprawling. I jump on him, giving him one sharp jab in the face before he manages to throw me off, and then we’re tumbling and rolling, kicking, biting, and snarling until we’re both utterly exhausted.
And then we both lie there on the ground, half-turned toward each other, bleeding and bruised, panting for breath. He swipes his hand over his mouth, wiping the blood onto his pants as he whispers, “Tell me why, Viv.”
“Because,” I barely manage to choke out. He stares at me, waiting patiently as I compose myself. I take in a few ragged breaths and spit out, “Because a de—” the word catches, and Icough, choking as the words roll around in my brain, looking for a way out.
Turning onto my front, I push myself up onto my knees, watching Jacob as he approaches and helps Cornelius to his feet. Jacob offers me a hand, and I wave him away, rising slowly and then weaving a few times before finally managing to stand upright.
Jacob and Cornelius are both silent, staring at me patiently. I spit some blood onto the ground and wipe my chin against my jacket sleeve before taking a final steadying breath.
