A Dance with Darkness: An Angelfire Novella (HarperTeen Impulse) by Courtney Allison Moulton Page B
Authors: Courtney Allison Moulton
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to him, shaking my head in sadness for him, and I brushed my fingertips over his cheek soothingly. “You don’t have to fight her. Come away with me, away from this horror.”
He loosed an ugly noise that was not quite a laugh. “And do what? Forsake my people for yours?”
“It doesn’t have to be about people —”
“As if the angelic would welcome me with open arms?” He scoffed. “Don’t be a fool. I don’t need protection and I’m not afraid of fighting her. I want to fight her. I want what she has.”
“What does she have that you don’t? You have family and someone who believes in you with all her heart. You don’t need Evantia’s power and position to feel worthy of anything. You have everything you need right here in front of you.”
His eyes dimmed and grew cold. “No. I don’t.”
My lips trembled and I swallowed, fighting back tears. “Is my love not enough?” I asked him. The words came out thick and strangled.
His jaw clenched and his gaze broke from mine. “No. It is not enough.”
A pang of despair hit my heart like a fist, but I refused to show how much he hurt me. “Why do you need this book so badly that you’re willing to kill for it?”
“The Preliator,” he said. “I’ve discovered a way to destroy her soul for good so she can no longer be reincarnated.”
“Bastian, no ,” I moaned, feeling my heart break. “If you destroy her, then the demonic will devour the human race. Why would you wish that?”
“She kills us!”
“She’s only protecting human souls!” I cried. “When the demonic take souls, they’re sent to Hell—even the righteous and pure! That is a terrible, horrible thing that can’t be allowed to happen. Don’t you understand that? You can’t—”
The back of his hand struck my jaw so hard and so suddenly that I hit the floor, cracking my knees. I cried out in agony, but clamped my mouth shut in fear when he knelt over me and his hot breath blasted my ear.
“Do not tell me what I can and can’t do,” he snarled.
“Bastian,” I whimpered, and looked up to meet his eyes.
Life seemed to come back to him all at once. He straightened as I pushed myself off the ground and he blinked several times before stepping away from me. “I’m—I’m sorry,” he stammered, finally snapping awake. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I cupped my jaw as it throbbed. “It doesn’t matter if you meant to or not. You still hurt me.”
His expression began to slowly draw cold and vacant, as if all the feeling in him had been spent and there was nothing left. No reaction, no emotion. Nothing. “I’m sorry,” he said flatly. Then he turned his back to me, crossed the room, and was gone.
Bastian did not trust me, and I no longer trusted him. He wanted to use Antares’s grimoire to destroy the Preliator, and I could never let him do that. He was right that I killed the demonic and could not condemn him for killing the angelic. And I could not sit idly by while he killed our last hope to protect humanity. I did not want him to be my enemy, but if he made himself so, then I had no choice.
I grabbed the satchel containing the grimoire and clutched it to my chest. I fled, spreading my wings in the night air, and left the manor as quickly as I could.
I burst through Nathaniel’s door and let out a sigh of relief when I found him home. He grinned at me, happy to see me, but his face quickly changed when he realized that something was wrong. I threw the satchel on the wooden table.
“You have to destroy this,” I said, my voice and entire body shaking.
He gave me a puzzled look and dragged the satchel toward him. He flipped open the leather flap and pulled out the ancient book. He examined the worn cover, running his fingers over the pressed seal written in Enochian, the language of the divine. “What is this?”
“The grimoire of Antares.”
He dropped the book and it hit the table with
He loosed an ugly noise that was not quite a laugh. “And do what? Forsake my people for yours?”
“It doesn’t have to be about people —”
“As if the angelic would welcome me with open arms?” He scoffed. “Don’t be a fool. I don’t need protection and I’m not afraid of fighting her. I want to fight her. I want what she has.”
“What does she have that you don’t? You have family and someone who believes in you with all her heart. You don’t need Evantia’s power and position to feel worthy of anything. You have everything you need right here in front of you.”
His eyes dimmed and grew cold. “No. I don’t.”
My lips trembled and I swallowed, fighting back tears. “Is my love not enough?” I asked him. The words came out thick and strangled.
His jaw clenched and his gaze broke from mine. “No. It is not enough.”
A pang of despair hit my heart like a fist, but I refused to show how much he hurt me. “Why do you need this book so badly that you’re willing to kill for it?”
“The Preliator,” he said. “I’ve discovered a way to destroy her soul for good so she can no longer be reincarnated.”
“Bastian, no ,” I moaned, feeling my heart break. “If you destroy her, then the demonic will devour the human race. Why would you wish that?”
“She kills us!”
“She’s only protecting human souls!” I cried. “When the demonic take souls, they’re sent to Hell—even the righteous and pure! That is a terrible, horrible thing that can’t be allowed to happen. Don’t you understand that? You can’t—”
The back of his hand struck my jaw so hard and so suddenly that I hit the floor, cracking my knees. I cried out in agony, but clamped my mouth shut in fear when he knelt over me and his hot breath blasted my ear.
“Do not tell me what I can and can’t do,” he snarled.
“Bastian,” I whimpered, and looked up to meet his eyes.
Life seemed to come back to him all at once. He straightened as I pushed myself off the ground and he blinked several times before stepping away from me. “I’m—I’m sorry,” he stammered, finally snapping awake. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I cupped my jaw as it throbbed. “It doesn’t matter if you meant to or not. You still hurt me.”
His expression began to slowly draw cold and vacant, as if all the feeling in him had been spent and there was nothing left. No reaction, no emotion. Nothing. “I’m sorry,” he said flatly. Then he turned his back to me, crossed the room, and was gone.
Bastian did not trust me, and I no longer trusted him. He wanted to use Antares’s grimoire to destroy the Preliator, and I could never let him do that. He was right that I killed the demonic and could not condemn him for killing the angelic. And I could not sit idly by while he killed our last hope to protect humanity. I did not want him to be my enemy, but if he made himself so, then I had no choice.
I grabbed the satchel containing the grimoire and clutched it to my chest. I fled, spreading my wings in the night air, and left the manor as quickly as I could.
I burst through Nathaniel’s door and let out a sigh of relief when I found him home. He grinned at me, happy to see me, but his face quickly changed when he realized that something was wrong. I threw the satchel on the wooden table.
“You have to destroy this,” I said, my voice and entire body shaking.
He gave me a puzzled look and dragged the satchel toward him. He flipped open the leather flap and pulled out the ancient book. He examined the worn cover, running his fingers over the pressed seal written in Enochian, the language of the divine. “What is this?”
“The grimoire of Antares.”
He dropped the book and it hit the table with
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