Page 151 of Crimson Promises
She drew out a long breath. “Typically, I don’t. But lately, there have been whispers.”
“Whispers?”
“Things are brewing, Caelum, and you would do well to remember the choices you once made may not be as distant as you think.” Her gaze briefly flicked to the brand on my inner wrist that remained hidden by my long-sleeved shirt. A tingling awareness erupted beneath my hairline at the nape of my neck.
Greta spoke in riddles. Shrouded words I did not have the time or the energy to try and decode. I had more pressing matters to attend to. I’d make a mental note to mention it to Michael. Maybe he had more concrete information, and if not, it was something he could keep on his radar. Not that I cared about the well-being of the archangel, but I had only a few more weeks left until Aurora’s twenty-first birthday, and he had a bargain to fulfill. I wasn’t about to let anything get in the way of him honoring that.
“All I need is the information I came for, Greta.”
“Very well.” She turned on her heel and disappeared beneath a curtain of glass beads. They swished back and forth from the movement. I leaned against the counter.
Greta’s stall was a place of secrets and hidden truth. Ancient tomes, their leather bindings weathered and faded, whispered untold tales of forgotten realms and forbidden magic. Delicate vials, their contents shimmering with iridescent hues, looked like flashing neon disco balls.
Lost in contemplation, I stumbled sideways, catching myself on a circular mahogany table with a circle in a small stand atop it. I traced my fingertips over the surface of an intricately carved crystal orb, feeling the coolness and smoothness of the polished glass against my skin.
Could something like this be used to predict the future?
Seeking one’s future was forbidden and was tangled in the Dark Arts. I’d made some questionable decisions, but not once since being banished to Earth had I used an object embedded with demonic energy. It was a line I had refused to cross.
The lure of learning my future, Aurora’s, and my plans for revenge pulled me closer.
I was interrupted as Greta returned from the back room with a scroll of parchment delicately clasped in her hand. The soft shuffle of her footsteps and the rustle of the parchment resonated in the space between us. With a graceful bow of her head, she handed me the scroll.
“Be careful with this, Bennett.” It was the first time she had ever spoken my name aloud. “The path this will lead you down will be only the beginning of your heartbreak.”
I accepted the scroll with a nod of gratitude. I didn’t have a choice. Michael had demanded I find the necklace. I had to oblige. My eyes briefly met Greta’s as I sensed a flicker of understanding pass between us.
Heading out of Greta’s stall, I wove my way back through the maze of tunnels. I had no desire to remain here one more minute than I had to.
The scroll in the palm of my hands should have burned my curiosity to cinders, but all I could think about on the flight home was how badly I fucked up with Aurora. Again.
Each time she let me in, I pushed her away. She had the power to tear down all my defenses, and for so long, I didn’t want to give her that power, but the way she looked at me with such vulnerability, acceptance, and kindness underneath the waterfall undid me. She didn’t judge me or argue like I would have expected from her. It was worse. She accepted it without argument.
Michael had ordered me to notify him when I secured any information on the necklace’s whereabouts. I hadn’t decided if I was going to share yet.
I gracefully landed on the rooftop of Aurora’s building. If I titled my head just so I would be able to see my reflection in the windows of my own apartment. Tonight, I didn’t want to be trapped inside. So much had happened. Sitting alone in that small space made me claustrophobic. Out here, there was space to breathe. To wonder if I could risk what I wanted to do instead of honoring what I should do.
With each step, I felt a peculiar mixture of nervousness and anticipation as I moved to sit on a steel beam behind the stairway of the roof access.
Since I became an active participant in Aurora's life, the bond seemed to swell, becoming more sentient with the more time we spent together face to face, the deeper we connected, and the more my protective feelings over her grew into something more possessive and full of yearning.
Although I couldn't comprehend its origins or purpose, I had come to rely on it, cherishing the comfort it brought to my otherwise tumultuous existence.
As I sat there with the weight of the vital information I needed clenched in my hand, I hesitated. The delicate balance between keeping secrets and revealing the truth weighed heavily upon me. There would be consequences if I learned the contents of that letter, but having insight into Michael’s actual plans when it came to Aurora was more vital. Knowledge was power. It was a brutal lesson I learned long ago and one I wasn’t inclined to repeat.
My thoughts swirled like the currents of the wind. Should I unravel the secrets I held, risking the stability of our bond, or should I safeguard them, protecting the fragile happiness we had constructed? The answer eluded me, dancing just beyond the reach of my comprehension.
The scroll wasn’t sealed.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I unrolled the parchment. It unraveled like a piece of yarn, laying flat on my lap.
The parchment was written in blank ink, angry droplets painted the paper’s frayed edges, and the writing was not one I recognized in slanted, messy cursive. At the top right corner, there was a smudged date. I held it up to the night sky. It was dated three days after the necklace had been snatched from Aurora’s neck.
* * *
Afterwards, I stalked the length of the roof. I needed to move and work through everything I discovered. My molars ground together at what this all meant. Like fucking everything else lately, it only led me to more questions. Questions I knew Michael wouldn’t answer.
I read it enough times that the words had imprinted on my mind.
