Cian

Lucie was a jewel in the passenger seat of the Cadillac, elegant in her white dress and glimmering silver jewelry. I couldn't keep my eyes from surveying each inch of her, each curve accented by the dress's fabric, every single centimeter of beautiful brown skin. It was all I could to do to focus on the road.

My hands trembled a little as they gripped the steering wheel; I tried to clear my head, to still the rising tide of apprehension in my chest. In an hour, maybe less, I would be Nick's possession. Was I okay with that? And how would Lucie respond?

"Define 'someplace nice.'"

Lucie's voice pulled me from my own head. Startled, I managed a smile, glancing sideways in her direction. "What?"

"On your not-stalkerish sticky note," she clarified, crossing her arms. "You said you were taking me someplace nice. What is that even supposed to mean?"

"Oh," I frowned. The truth was on the tip of my tongue. "Look, Lucie...I might be...going away for a while. I'm coming back, though, I promise. Right now, I just need you to tell me you won't worry."

I didn't look at her face, couldn't look at her face, but the concern was evident in her voice. "Cian, what are you talking about?"

The car stilled as we pulled up at a traffic light. I forced myself to look at her, the vibrant lights of the city and everything inside of it painting streaks of color in her ebony eyes. I hated to do this to her, but I had a reason. If this was going to be the last night I was...home...for a while, I was going to spend it with her.

It was possible this had been an awful idea, as I hadn't told Nick I was bringing any guests. Regardless, there was no turning back now.

I gnawed at my lip. "Tell me you won't worry, Lucie."

She shook her head. "What is it I'm not worrying about?"

I sighed. This was harder than I'd been expecting. I should've known Lucie wouldn't take anything so vague. "Where I'm taking you tonight," I said, "I'm taking you there because I want to be with you. This may be the last chance I get for a while."

"Hell," Lucie muttered. She turned away, eyes flitting toward the window. The light changed, and I hit the gas pedal, powering the SUV forwards. Caprice's club was coming up on my left, which meant the old concert hall wasn't far from here. Nick's invitation, shoved in my suit pocket, crinkled each time I moved. "This is about that fallen angel, isn't it? The jerk who took Dempsey from me."

I offered a sheepish grin. "Maybe?"

"I'm guessing we're meeting with him?"

I offered another sheepish grin. "Maybe?"

"So much for date night."

"He doesn't have to get in the way," I said. "I won't let him get in the way."

Lucie grumbled under her breath in reply. I knew that grumble—it was Lucie's way of letting me know she was on the verge of frustration, and lately, I'd been getting that grumble way too much.

The concert hall loomed up ahead, the neon sign in operation just for tonight, it seemed. Golden fluorescent bulbs shone down on the street, spelling out the hall's name: The Destiny. There were no cars parked in front of it, no evidence of any event tonight, none other than an unpromising shadow lurking near the double-door entrance. Unease creeped up my spine, plucked at each hair on the back of my neck.

I parked the car a few blocks away, where it was untouched by any streetlight or sign's illumination. Around here, the night was subdued, Black Winged Nightclub the only pow-wow place for night owls to run free in this area. The music from Caprice's place thumped all down the avenue; I could feel the bass jumping in my blood even from here—at least a half mile away.

As the engine died, I unlatched my seatbelt, but didn't move to get out of the car. I turned towards Lucie. "Lulu," I said.

Her eyes burned into mine. I couldn't tell if it was with anger or desire or fear, but either way, I felt their intensity like a tangible sensation. Lucie had a way of doing that, of taking things one shouldn't be able to feel and changing them into something corporeal. It was fascinating, as every aspect of her was.

I asked, just to say something to keep my lips from doing what they really wanted to, "What are you thinking right now?"

She said, with a surprisingly straight face, "That you're so attractive I want to punch you in the face."

"Oh," I murmured in response. "That would be rash."

"I know. That's the only reason I haven't done it."

"That would defeat the purpose, too," I added. "To punch me in the face would be ruining my face's attractiveness."

"What if I punched your face with my face?"

My lips pulled up a bit. "That, Lucie, is a rather convenient loophole."

"Do you object?" she asked me, her dark eyes glittering with mirth.

"Not at all."

A laugh escaped her as she stretched over the console, brushing her fingers adoringly across my cheeks before her eyes fluttered closed and she locked her lips with mine. I exhaled shakily, reaching up to caress her, her body pliant in my arms. I let my fingers explore her: tugging gently on the curls that fell across her face, moving over her hips, brushing the tender skin of her thighs. The cramped space of the car was the only thing that limited us, and regardless, everything seemed so endless with her here. Every sense of mine exploded with pleasure when she kissed me, her tongue grazing mine, her lips smooth against my scarred ones. It was moments like these, with Lucie so close me, that I felt so much like the world was ours. It was moments like these that I was going to miss the most.

Lucie's fingers grappled my suit, slid the jacket off the shoulders. It was then, with her mouth still pressed to mine, that I silently pulled the keys from the ignition. She didn't notice when I dropped them in the pocket of her coat.

I didn't stop her, not until she began to fumble with the buttons of my dress shirt.

Our lips detached, yet I still breathed her air. "Lucie, as much I'd love to continue, we do have a fallen angel to meet," I told her. "And I do have to look presentable."

She sighed, dropping her head to my chest. I let her settle there, stroking her hair. "Right," she murmured. Her breath heaved a little, as did mine, as if we'd exhausted ourselves. "Sorry. Did I punch you too hard?"

I chuckled, pecking her on the forehead. "Hardly."

When Lucie and I managed to detangle ourselves from each other, I stepped out of the car first, tugging my jacket back on as I did. I walked around, opening the car door for her. She tugged her dress down a bit, brushing her hair back from her shoulders. "I don't look like I just made out with someone, right?"

"Yes, yes you do, and you look like you enjoyed it, too."

"Cian."

"I'm kidding," I assured, looping my arm through hers. Together, we began to approach the concert hall. I tried to act like the fear wasn't beginning to rise again. "You look perfect. And Lucie, what I said about you not worrying? I meant it."

It took a moment for her to respond. "Don't do anything dumb, and we won't have a problem."

I decided not to say anything to that.

The unpromising shadow lurking near the entrance was not far from my hypothesis. He was a Silhouette, I realized as I came closer. He was clothed in a clean, crisp tuxedo, black hair slicked back from his face. His eyes, dark as the starless night above our heads, watched me as Lucie and I approached.

We were a few feet from the door when he stopped us, his gaze sliding from me to Lucie. "You're Little Dempsey, aren't you?" he asked, and when Lucie just glared at him, he took that as an answer. "Fancy seeing you back here, after all that trouble you caused your big brother?"

"Oh, quit it," she snapped. "Like I'm the one that ruined his life. I'm not here about him, anyway. I'm not here for any of you."

"Why are you here, then?"

Lucie gave me an expectant glance; I produced the note from my pocket, holding it out to the Silhouette. He took it, examining Nick's scrawl. "We're Nick's special guests. The whole reason you're here in the first place."

With a grunt, the Silhouette tossed the note back at me and pulled open the door. Something cool glinted in his eyes when he said, "Enjoy yourselves, in that case."

The hallway Lucie and I were ushered into was dimly lit and eerie, the only evidence of human presence the twinkling light at the end of the corridor. I squinted at the walls, reading the old advertisements for symphonies and operas and theater productions. I was beginning to feel strange, as one often did when seeing things that had once existed. Once upon a time, this hall had been glimmering and lively, filled to the brim with eloquent people all there for their love of the arts. Now, however, all that was left was this empty hallway.

The hall ended.

Before us opened the main hall: the chandeliers restored to their original, golden glory, illuminating the cleared floors where chairs had once been. An orchestra of fallen angels and their subordinates was set up upon the stage, the swell and fall of crescendos and decrescendos filling the air. Numerous demon wielders mingled, chatting and laughing with drinks in their hands, likely from the lengthy refreshment table set up in the center of the rotunda. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust the sudden brightness; I couldn't suppress a laugh. Nick had outdone himself. It was hard to tell—from this room, at least—that the Destiny was no longer in use.

"This is where he told you to come?" Lucie gasped, her grip on my arm tightening. "I feel...out of place here."

I glanced down at her with a frown. These were the kinds of situations, I guess, that would always separate us from each other. I had grown up in places like this, around people in designer dresses and suits, consuming only the best of alcohols. Since birth I'd been swarmed with financial blessings and first impressions and dimpled smiles. Lucie, however, had experienced a different kind of familial love than that.

"You're with me," I reminded her. "That's where you belong."

"Cian—" Lucie started, then broke off, her tone sharpening when she spoke next. "Hold up. She's here?"

I began to ask who she was, but the words died on my lips when I caught sight of her. She was a flash of red and black at first, but then she cut through the crowd.

Eden wasn't smiling.

She was dressed in a bright crimson cocktail dress that hung loosely off her form, the skirt flaring as she moved. Her black hair was pinned up on top of her head, yet she let a few strands fall to brush her shoulders. Eyeshadow glittered around her dark eyes. I was stricken, remembering that time I'd taken her to homecoming, after much assurance that we were just going as friends. Just like that year, however, something felt twisted and weird inside of me at the sight of her so done up.

She said, "So you came."

I raised an eyebrow. "I didn't have much of an option."

Now Eden's gaze fell to Lucie, and turned unusually stoic. "And you brought guests."

"Where's this Nick guy, anyway?" Lucie barged in, deliberately avoiding looking at Eden. She had every right not to, after all; Eden had wronged all of us, sure, but I couldn't help feeling like she'd hurt Lucie the most. "That's what we're here for, so why doesn't he just show himself already?"

"Patience, Lulu," I warned. "Nick's casual. He'll show up when he wants to."

Lucie gave another one her signature grumbles. This one sounded angrier than usual.

"Yeah, he'll be here," Eden chimed in. She was watching me, an unspoken message in her eyes—perhaps a question, even. She was still unsure, I realized, about what Nick was up to, and my role in it. She was still worried about me.

But, no.

The gleam in her eyes was something different. A moment of silence passed as Eden reached up to rub her earlobe, her eyes fluttering to the floor.

She was more than concerned about me. I could tell by the look she was giving that she was afraid—but for herself.

Before I could ask, the orchestra ceased playing, and Nick's voice boomed into a microphone. "Hello, guests! Welcome to the ol' Destiny! Are you all drunk enough yet?"

This warranted a chorus of laughter, cheers, and glass-clinking from the crowd. The three of us turned to see Nick sauntering out onto the stage, his slim body fitting into his tailored suit without flaw. Cruel emerald eyes searched every face until they landed on mine, when he opened his mouth in a grin. "I say we get things started," he called. "As you might know, I've invited one of my companions here tonight. For the longest time, I've asked him to help us fallen angels rise to the top again, and tonight—tonight is the night he will make his final decision."

Lucie went very, very still beside me.

I dropped my head.

"Well, Mr. Cian Horne? Are you ready, my mortal friend?"

Whispers grew in the crowd, a verbal fungus of rumors and speculations. I tried to ignore it all, to move and make my way towards the stage—but I froze. All my fear finally climbed into my throat, and I couldn't speak, couldn't force my limbs to do what I wanted them to.

Lucie hissed in my ear, "Cian, what is this?"

I'd tried to tell her. I shouldn't have been so cryptic.

"Well, it appears he's hesitating," said Nick from the stage. "No matter. He'll speak soon enough."

Now his eyes shifted, fell to Eden instead. "Eden King, my dear, would you come up here for a moment?"

She began to move through the throng of people with so much poise and grace you'd think she'd rehearsed it. I watched her go, her fingers brushing her ear as she went, and that was when it struck me.

She'd pleaded for me to be careful, had tried to kiss me, and just now? The way she'd looked at me? You should forget about me.

Eden made it to the stage, where she waltzed to Nick's side as if she didn't know anything. A smile was even plastered to her face, but after knowing her for so long, I knew it was a long way off from her purest of smiles. Underneath the ambushing light of the chandeliers, she transformed before me. I forgot about the Silhouette she'd become, forgot about how much she had hurt Vince and me, had hurt Lucie, if only for a moment. There, as Nick scowled at her, gripping her wrist so tight that she began to squirm, she was my best friend again.

It was only an illusion, but she was innocent again.

"Well, you know what you've done," Nick spat. The crowd had gone hush. "I spared you after you let the enemy walk away. I invited you to help us rebuild everything we've lost. And what do you do? You turn on me."

I saw Eden swallow. Lucie asked from my side, "What is he doing? What is he talking about?"

"Why did you do it, huh? Tell Mr. Horne all those things? I trusted you. I trusted you, and you betrayed me—your own creator. After everything I've done for you."

Eden sneered at him. "I'm not sorry."

Nick began to whisper, and even if I didn't know each word that came out of his mouth, it became obvious what he was doing when the shadowy demon began to manifest behind him, an inky mass of darkness called forth from thin air. My eyes broadened, and suddenly, my feet were unglued.

I ran.

Lucie didn't follow me, and I ran, shoving through the crowd. "No! Edie, no!"

Because she hadn't been acting strange for no reason at all.

She'd known she was going to die.

The demon's shoulder seemed to grow, the shadows merging and sharpening into a glistening point, keen as a dagger. My stomach felt sick; it was the same demonic weapon that had taken my wings from me, and it was about to take Eden's life.

A part of me was screaming at me to stop trying, to stop moving at all. After all, what was she worth? She'd vanished after the accident. She'd tried to take Vinny from me. She'd almost gotten Lucie turned into a Silhouette.

But she'd been my best friend. All I saw when I looked at the fear stricken in her tear-stained face was the girl who'd always smiled at me in the halls of our high school.

I couldn't lose her. Not like this.

"Goodbye, Eden King," said Nick coolly.

The demon slit her throat.

It did it so swiftly that I almost thought it hadn't happened. You couldn't tell, really, not until the drops of crimson bloomed against her pale skin, and she slipped to the ground.

I climbed the stage, running to her, dropping to my knees. Her eyes had rolled back in her head, her hair already sticky with her own blood, the red substance dripping down her collar and turning her dress into more of a maroon.

I pulled her head into my lap, but she was already limp. "Edie," I crooned, my voice at the edge of breaking. "Edie...please...you're okay...why didn't you tell me he was going to do this to you..."

Her eyelids fluttered. "Cian?"

"Yeah?" I said. I tried to fight the tears, but they were ambushing me, falling from my eyes before I could stop them. This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't how it was supposed to end. Not here, not now, with Eden's shivering body in my arms, her blood staining the floor and my clothes.

She'd hurt me, and she'd tried to fix it.

In the end, that's what got her killed.

Of all things.

Her voice was choked, lips stained red. "Say bye to Vinny for me, okay? I'm sorry about this."

"No, Edie, you—"

A hand snatched my collar, pulling me away from Eden's body. I tried to fight whoever was holding me, but it was no use. None of it was any use. Eden had already stilled; she was gone.

I sank.

"So, what it's going to be, Cian?" Nick hissed in my ear. "Have I shattered you yet?"

I hung my head, closing my eyes. He'd taken too much. If this was the only way to stop him from ruining anything else, I had to do this, and I had to do it now.

"Congratulations," I said, my voice hollow. I didn't have the effort, the strength, to hold out anymore. "You won, Nick. You won."

I heard the smile in his voice. "Come with me, won't you? I have so much to show you."

Nick turned once more towards the stage, waving once more at his party guests. I couldn't bear to look up. I was too lost, too desolate, too weak. "Goodnight, all! I have a new friend to show around. Would some of you mind cleaning"—he motioned unceremoniously at Eden's bloodied form—"this up? She'll stain everything. Now, Cian, shall we?"

He let go of me, and together we turned, making our way towards backstage. I didn't let myself disappear, however, not until I glanced over my shoulder.

Lucie was standing in the crowd, and there were tears in her eyes, her body shaking.

I thought I heard her call my name. I was gone too soon to tell.