“Yes.” Blaéz spoke, said something about Aethan bringing her back and who Echo was, but Darci simply stared at him. She’d barely adjusted to immortals living in this world and who Blaéz was. Now, she felt like she’d been thrown into an alternate universe as she tried to understand what he’d just revealed.
Echo was a descendant of an angel—the Watchers. But she looked so normal, not counting her mismatched eyes.
Blaéz continued, “It didn’t matter that Echo awakened again, the prophecy came into being, allowing the Watchers’ descendants to rise. With the powers some of them would wield, they could wreak havoc on this realm. Think Apocalypse. It would be beyond imagining. Seems we’re into the next phase of its unraveling.” He straightened away from the door, crossed to her and gently squeezed her hand. “It is a lot to take in—”
“You think?”
Amusement gleamed briefly in his eyes.
“So, Echo is the first descendant of the Watchers to come into her power, and now this other person could be one, too? A psionic?”
“Echo, yes. As to the other—” He frowned. “We won’t know for sure until we find whoever it is. However, not all were born with vast powers, we have to find those that are, and bind their abilities before all hell breaks loose on earth. Not only will evil be after them, but the human authorities, too. And that we cannot allow to happen.”
Darci rubbed her brow. Two weeks ago, life had been so simple. She lived happily clueless as to what was happening right on her doorstep. “Bind them, how?”
“That’s Michael’s domain. He’ll probably summon one of the seraphim and they will bind the psionic’s ability so the human could live a normal,safelife.”
“I read about that, about an entire race of angels who were annihilated for mating with mortal women. How sad.”
His mouth tightened. “It’s how the Absolute Laws came into being. It may have started as an angelic one, but it now applies to the pantheons, too.”
Her gaze whipped to him. “That’s why those assassins came after us? It’s not just about stopping immortals getting involved with humans, but to prevent possible pregnancies that result in children like Echo and this other person…” As the implications of what he’d said seeped into her, Darci shook her head, shock leeching her strength. “No. You cannot mean that—you can’t.”
The tic on his jaw pulsed harder. “I have no soul. I cannot bond with you. There will be no young for us.”
No—no! Darci shook her head, stricken. She spun around and made straight for the dressing room, unable to think past what Blaéz had just revealed. His words reverberated in her skull like nails piercing and draining her last hope. She slid open the cupboard. He stopped her. “What are you doing?”
“I-I need a shower.”
Then she wanted to crawl into bed, and hoped that when she woke this would all be a bad dream. She pulled out underwear and a sleepshirt from the closet. Head lowered, she slipped past him to the bathroom. Or tried to.
He stepped in her way. All she saw were his booted feet, leather-clad thighs, and powerful forearms. The corded tendons flexed taut like steel cables with his hands clenching. “Dammit, Darci, talk to me.”
“You should have told me”—she fisted her underwear, not the sexy lacy silk things he’d bought her but her own white cotton, her comfort wear—“I accepted I would never have a normal relationship with you but this,thisyou should have told me.”
“And say what? Had you known the truth when we first met, yes, indeed, you would have welcomed me with open arms.” His voice dripped sarcasm. “I will never be normal. This is what I am.”
Darci inhaled a trembling breath. She had no idea what she would have done had he told her the truth then, she only knew she needed time—needed space to grieve the life that had been so suddenly ripped away.
At the pained fury in his gaze, she whispered, “I can’t do this now, Blaéz. I just can’t.” She stumbled into the bathroom and shut the door, despair flooding her. Leaning against the wood, tears burned her eyes. She wanted to cry, to yell, but at whom?
Not only could Blaéz never love her—well, not in the way she wanted—but she wouldn’t have children to love either, have nothing to complete her.
* * *
Blaéz thumped his head against the closed door, eyes squeezed tight. Even with the wooden panel between them, her anguish ate at him like acid.
Let her go. You can never give her what she wants.
The heavens knew it was the right thing to do…but at the thought of her being with someone else, with a human who could love her and touch her, Blaéz wanted to put his fist through the wood. Before he shocked her with his violence and destroyed everything around him, he walked out of the castle and dematerialized downtown.
He stopped in a derelict backstreet. Voices drifted to him. He stared blankly at the flickering flames the vagrants nearby had lit in a trashcan. Darci’s shattered expression imprinted in his mind. One he doubted he’d ever forget. The look of devastation when she’d realized he could never give her what she wanted. Love—children. The latter, something he’d never thought of or wanted. Instead, she’d found herself tied to a shell of a man.
He headed for Dante’s bar up the street. He needed a drink to fill the coldness taking hold of him again. Hated the slide from roiling emotions to his usual empty shell.
Moments later, he entered the bar. The clashing balls from the pool table drowned the jukebox playing an oldie. The odor of sweat and leather drifted in the air, along with the smell of liquor and burgers. However, it wasn’t the sight or scent that alerted him to another immortal in this place, but a prickle along his psyche. No, not a Guardian, but one he was all too familiar with.
Blaéz didn’t seek his usual table. Stopping at the wooden counter, he ordered his whiskey.
