No other guards came out to meet me. They were there, but they were hiding or holding back on my father’s orders. Either way, I ignored them and turned into my non-corporeal self. I moved up, floating to the podium my father stood on.
He didn’t non-corporealize. He waited, studying me, sensing into me. He was probably picking up things I didn’t want him to know, things I didn’t know myself, so I tried to resist him. He was my Master, and I was his son, so a thread of resistance was built into me when I was born. It was the natural order for a son to defy his father.
I had been using that muscle the entire time I was gone, building it up, making it stronger. It was now my spinal cord, and it throbbed under my father’s perusal.
He took the form of an old man, his skin wrinkled, his hair white. He had a slight hunch to his back, but it was all a guise. He could take any form he wanted—human, animal, alien. He could even show his wings, though I’d only glimpsed them once in my life.
“I’m here,” I told him. “Tell me why I’m here.”
He hissed, glaring, the wrinkles moving around his mouth. “Respect, my son. It still works that way down here.”
Maybe.
My spinal cord retracted, growing veins and roots, grabbing hold of my other nerves and bones with a firm grip. I was still non-corporeal, but I could feel my resistance shifting, adapting. It was molding, making almost a new skin. I wondered what I would look like when I retook my human body.
But I was more powerful in this form. “I am here. That is a form of respect. You know I’ve defied you, remaining above and with Shay.”
He hissed at her name, coiling backward. “You will not use her name. I can smell her on you. It’s disgusting.” His eyes flashed, smoke coming from them.
“She is my soulmate. You will show respect for that. I am bonded with her.”
“I’m aware. I can feel her presence even now. She’s more powerful than you think. She can see things you don’t want her to see, read your thoughts. She’s in your mind when you don’t know she is. She is a plague. I never should’ve let you go above to get her for me.”
For him.
I defied him there first, staying and not returning with her. But he wasn’t entirely displeased.
“What is it that you have to share with me?” I asked.
This was not the most respectful conversation with the King of the Underworld, but he would not have called for me if he didn’t want to have it. I would not have been allowed entry as easily as I was. Entire armies could have stood between myself and him, but none of that had happened.
In his way, he had given me a path of gifts. I had murdered them, but that was the gift. That told me everything.
He wanted me to hear whatever he had to say.
I just needed to wait him out. That, and try not to get killed.
He was silent a long time. I remained quiet, also showing respect in this way.
“There is a prophecy,” he finally said.
There it was. I knew it.
I hated prophecies.
FUCKING PROPHECIES
YES, I’M STILL KELLAN
I could feel Shay calling to me, pulling at me to return to her.
I was moving, still traveling in my non-corporeal self, but I kept her locked out of my mind. I needed space to think about what my father had told me.
“A fallen messenger is coming. His wings were taken, and he will amass a great battle to win his way back to the heavens. He will find his answer in your soulmate. She is bonded to you and, therefore, seen as a plight to the Messenger ancestry. He will seek to eradicate her and further take out the good in you. He will then battle you, sending you back to the Underworld, ridding Earth of both ends of the soul-bond. When this happens, his wings will be returned to him, and he will be allowed entry back to the beyond. This is how it is said.”
When the words left my father, I knew they were true. I felt the power of the prophecy, felt the roots they stemmed from, and it was not from him. He had not created the prophecy.
If Shay were killed, he was right—she was the only good in me. I would be a full-blooded demon if I weren’t bonded to her.
“Kellan.”
I felt her now, heard her voice in my head, and I allowed her in.
“What’s going on?”
She felt my concern, and now I could feel hers.
“I’m coming back to you.”
“What did your father say?”
I let her go through my thoughts.
When she was done, I felt her withdrawal before she asked, “You think he’s telling the truth?”
I moved to her, prodding into her mind. I wanted access to what she was thinking. I could feel her fear and also her surprise that my father would be truthful.
“You think he’s telling you this because he’s your father?”
“I don’t know.”
“I can sense your worry, but we’ve battled other messengers before.”
I didn’t respond because this would be different. The prophecy had already been spoken. It would happen. This messenger was unlike the others. He had a mission, a quest. He would be committed. He would be brimming with power.
I could already feel the battle coming.
I would have to prepare Shay, but that wasn’t for now.
I needed a distraction. “Tell me about the holiday plans you have. I know you’ve been conspiring against me while I was gone.”
I sensed her smile as she relaxed, just a little. “I have!”
She told me while I traveled back to her.
Damien’s fraternity was having a party. Some of Shay’s college friends wanted to do a Christmas cocktail event on a rooftop of a building. It was going to be classy, so we needed to dress up. There would be caroling. And a hayride with eggnog.
And the worst one—
“I want to put a Christmas tree up in our house.”
IT’S MY TURN
SHAY
Kellan was scared.
That said everything.
I knew he was shielding parts of the prophecy. I could feel his walls, and I probed, but he didn’t want me to hear it all. I didn’t understand why, but I had to trust him. He was my soulmate. He wouldn’t keep it from me unless I wasn’t supposed to know. But I knew he was scared.
And now I was, too. Immediately, I felt his regret.
That’s why he didn’t want me to hear it all. He didn’t want this result.
I made a concerted effort to shove out my fear.
I replaced that with trust, love, and assurance.
Kellan could feel me doing this, and he knew why. It was my way of letting him know it was okay, the way he wanted to fight this prophecy. I would let him take the lead.
“I love you.”
He landed, and I heard him out loud, then felt him.
I whipped around, and there he was, turning into his corporeal self in the kitchen, right behind me.
I stood up from the couch, where I’d been sitting, and got only two feet toward him.
He finished finalizing his transition, and then he caught me.
I was in the air, in his arms, and his mouth was on mine.
“Home. You’re mine,” he said.
I sighed. “You’re mine.”
We went upstairs.
His mouth was commanding. His tongue moved in.