Beep... Beep... Beep...

A quiet, constant sound intruded on my sleepy consciousness, drawing me from the warm, comforting darkness and back towards the light.

I resisted its pull, wishing only to sink back into blissful rest, but the sound was unrelenting.

My alarm, I thought, announcing the start of another day and the need to get up and face it; another day of dreary work in the call center under Mr. Walters' disapproving eyes, followed by a few hours of uninspiring classes, homework, and then maybe—if he wasn't too busy—Jamie's somewhat unsatisfying companionship.

Maybe Jamie and I should have a talk. He'd been acting strange recently—more distant than usual, like he always had something better to do than spend time with me.

I frowned mentally. That wasn't quite right.

There was something I wasn't remembering: something about Jamie, and my job, and...

The beeping continued, and I gave in to its call, cracking open crusty lids. It felt like I hadn't used my eyes in ages, and the bright, artificial light that greeted them triggered an instant headache. In fact, my whole body felt strangely abused, and I could barely move. Could I be that hungover, or had Jamie been too rough again? I'd told him...

As I blinked, my vision cleared, and I found myself staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling in what was clearly a hospital room. Tubes and wires trailed over me like the tentacles of some horrible medical monster, and the intermittent beeping emanated from a machine of some kind. As the onset of panic brought me more fully awake, a different beeping—fast and high-pitched—sounded an alarm.

Someone appeared at my side—a doctor or a nurse, I guessed—and said something I didn't understand. She pressed some buttons and adjusted one of the tubes attached to my arm, and within seconds a warm languor spread through me like intravenous honey—a drug, I understood—and the darkness welcomed me back with open arms.

❧

The next time I woke, most of the tubes and wires were gone. All that remained was one IV in my arm, an oxygen meter on my finger, and a few electrodes stuck to my chest. It seemed I was in a different room, as well. This one had far fewer machines, and a window let in a wash of natural light. A small table held several bouquets of varying ages, a collection of stuffed toys, and a number of cards bearing variations upon the theme of 'get well soon.'

Being able to count my friends on one hand, I wondered who had brought them all; but as memory re-saturated my brain, all I cared about was the man who sat at my side and held my hand.

"Good morning, sunshine," he said, and smiled.

"Ro."

My voice was little more than a raw whisper, and it felt like sandpaper lined my throat, but it was a relief to know I could speak.

"What happened?"

He moved his chair a little closer and brushed a few strands of hair away from my brow. He looked at me like he saw something beautiful, though I very much doubted I'd want to see myself in a mirror until I'd had a shower, at the very least.

"You saved me, Ellie," he said, "so I saved you back."

I swallowed again and did my best to take stock. Relief flooded me as I found I could flex and move the muscles in my arms and legs, and the only pain I felt was a dull, persistent ache in my chest and back. Lifting the sheet that covered me a little, I saw my torso swathed in bandages, but no sign of visible damage otherwise.

"How long have I been here?"

"You were in the ICU for nearly two weeks," Ro said. "You finally woke up yesterday, and they were able to take you off life support. The doctors are calling it a miracle; but then they don't know you've got a demon anchoring your soul."

"I... I do?"

A look of pain dimmed the light in his eyes. "It was the only thing I could do—to keep you here, attached to life by a gossamer thread, while your body healed. I wondered more than once if it was cruel—all those machines, and the things the doctors said—but... I couldn't let you go."

"You promised not to," I whispered, dry lips cracking as I smiled.

"So I did," he said, and kissed my scar-laced hand.

Knowing that he wouldn't leave me, I shut my eyes and slept again.

❧

Over the next week, I slowly recovered.

Ro never left my side, and I figured either some of the hospital staff were witches, or someone was pulling strings, because no one questioned either his appearance or his constant presence. Kyrie and Janelle visited as well, and between them and Ro, I gradually got the full story of what had happened.

The tunnels formed a strange sort of labyrinth beneath the streets, a structure based on sacred geometry and designed to amplify the power of the intersecting ley lines, but Carmella had not lied. While it seemed there had once been multiple points of entry and egress, now there were only two, and my father, Lucian, and Janelle had caught Evangeline and her daemon between them. With Inguka waiting without, Evangeline had seen she had no chance of escape, save one.

Before anyone could stop her, she'd fed a pellet of some swift-acting poison to Sophie, swallowed one herself, and thus took her secrets to the grave.

With her death, whatever hold she'd had over Tobin lifted. After intense questioning by both my father and Lucian Drake, it was determined that Tobin had no memory of anything after the morning he'd gone to Evangeline's to buy a cupcake, which he'd intended to give to me as an apology for leaving me unattended in Fangs. Apparently, he'd got to talking with Evangeline, and said more than was good for him.

A raid of Evangeline's home turned up the journals she'd stolen from Al, as well as copies of several tomes of forbidden dark magic, which alone would have been enough to convict her of several serious crimes. While there was no direct evidence linking her to Jamie and Al's deaths, Lucian considered it 'more than likely' she was responsible.

As for me, Ro's claws had done some damage, and my wings had reopened the wounds on my back. A mugging gone wrong was the explanation given for how I'd been stabbed so many times, and thankfully no one pressed me when I claimed not to remember it. The doctors were pleased I remembered anything at all, given their initial prognosis, which had not been an optimistic one.

Meanwhile, my magic had retreated deep within me—a self protective measure, Janelle thought—locked away once more.

"It's for the best," Janelle said, when I described how I couldn't even sense it. "When you're ready, we'll start over with your training—take things slow. It'll be easier now we know what to expect, but you gotta be ready. Can't just leash a wild tiger and not expect to catch some claws."

I saw the look of guilt that crossed Ro's face and cast him a smile. "What about when the tiger leashes you?"

Catching my drift, Janelle laughed. "Well, now that would be one very special tiger, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah," I said. "It would."

❧

One person who didn't visit me in the hospital was my father. Later I learned he'd been kept away by Ro, but he was waiting for me when I was finally well enough to go home—not to the little room above Janelle's, but to my father's house.

He hadn't been idle during my convalescence and had straightened everything out with the human authorities. The investigation into Jamie's death had been closed—just one more case gone cold in a city full of strange mysteries—and I was free to go about my life as I pleased, picking up the broken threads and making what I could of them.

Or so I thought; my father had other ideas.

"I've found there are advantages to being dead," he said, as we sat at the dining table the morning after my return. "I've decided to remain that way."

"That can easily be arranged," said Ro, who stood leaning against the wall near the window. He appeared relaxed, but even as he picked dirt from beneath his nails with studied disinterest, I noted how his eyes tracked my father's every move.

And yet, to my surprise, it seemed the two had struck a truce of some kind, though neither was comfortable in the other's presence. Ro would never forgive my father for what he'd put him through, and my father would never trust Ro. On the other hand, it seemed they now had a common interest—in me.

Shooting Ro a look, I addressed my father. "What do you mean? Doesn't everyone know you're alive now?"

"No. I've asked Lucian to keep it close to the vest. As of this moment, only he, you, and your... er... 'acquaintances' are aware of my Lazarushian return."

"And if you attempt to fuck with anyone's memories, I will fuck with you," Ro said levelly, "and not in a remotely pleasant way."

My father raised a brow. "Janelle said the same thing, though with more colorful phrasing. Don't worry—in exchange for their silence, Lucian will ensure the safety of Janelle and Kyrie's little operation, and the vampire is smart enough to keep her mouth shut. Given the limitations of my new daemons, I hardly have the capacity for such high-level magic, even were I so inclined."

"New daemons?" I asked.

"Yes. They're not nearly as powerful as Ro, but combined, they'll serve my needs well enough for the time being."

I looked at Ro, and he shrugged.

"Tobin and Luke," he said. "Don't worry—I've ensured their contracts are fair, and if I hear the faintest hint they've been abused..." He blew on his nails and polished them against his black silk vest. "Besides, they volunteered."

"They felt responsible for their part in what happened," my father said. "Even after Lucian and I determined they were not, technically, at fault, they wished to make reparations. Meanwhile, I couldn't allow them to continue to run free, unbound to any witch—especially if Evangeline had shared their true names with anyone else. I gave them a choice: to be banished, or to bind themselves to me. They chose the latter."

I poked at my omelet. Ro had made it for me, and it was delicious, but I still had little appetite for solid food.

"What if I freed them, like I did Ro?"

My father frowned. "Even if you could use that kind of power again without killing yourself, it would be terribly unwise. You'll have to keep Ro's status as a 'free agent' a secret as it is. If anyone got word of a free daemon running around, there'd be hell to pay—maybe literally." He shuddered. "Gives me chills just to think of all the laws he's breaking just by standing there."

"If it's what Tobin and Luke really want, I guess I can't complain. But what will you do? Go play golf in Bermuda, or something?" I asked, hoping that wherever he went, it was somewhere far enough away that I, too, could go back to believing he was dead.

"Hardly," he scoffed. "Whatever Evangeline had planned, she wasn't alone. In my experience, groups like hers—and the ideas and motives they represent—are like the hydra: cut off one head, and two will grow in its place. I will continue my work—continue to hunt the true leaders of the cult—without the troublesome duties of a Throne."

"Who will take your place, then?" I asked, as an unpleasant suspicion took hold.

"You will, of course," he said, confirming my fear. "Al was right about that. It may seem counterintuitive, but I believe you'll be safer in the open, as the Ivy Throne, than you would be in the shadows. More importantly, you'll be my eyes and ears among the Council."

"Do I have a choice?"

He sighed. "Obviously. I couldn't force you if I wanted to—not with him on your side." He nodded at Ro. "But you won't be safe until we unmask the Throne behind all this; and when we do... I think we'll discover the one responsible for Leila's death, as well. For her sake, as much as for your own, I hope you'll help me."

I frowned, recalling something. "Before we entered the tunnels, you asked me to listen to you. What is it you wanted to tell me?"

He glanced at Ro again. "Perhaps when we're alone."

I shook my head. "Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of Ro."

He rubbed his hands through his graying hair. He looked older than I remembered, and I wondered if it had something to do with 'trading down' from Ro to a pair of lesser daemons.

"Very well," he said, taking a breath and meeting my eyes. "The thing is, Ellie, that I loved your mother very, very much. She is, in fact, the only person in this entire world I have ever truly loved. And yes—I am well aware of the terrible failing included in that statement."

I said nothing, his words sorting themselves in my head like a jigsaw puzzle until I got what he was saying: he'd loved my mom, and he'd never loved me.

I look up to find him watching me, and see real pain in his eyes as he sees the understanding in mine.

"And that's what I'm most sorry for," he said. "When you were born, Leila feared what would happen to you if anyone ever learned what you are. No true nephilim had been born in almost a thousand years—much less one sired by a witch—and they tended not to fare well among our kind. So she took you away and locked your magic deep within. I felt—unfairly, as I have come to see—that you took her away from me, and I... resented you for it. When she died, I admit that my primary interest in you was in finding a way to get her back. I thought if I could unlock your power, then perhaps..."

He covered his mouth with his hand and shook his head.

"By the time I realized my mistake, it was far too late to make things right, so I didn't bother."

"So, you're a shitty father and a terrible person," Ro drawled. "Congratulations on becoming self aware."

My father rubbed his brow and shot Ro a glare.

"My point is, if I could go back and do things differently, I would. But time's arrow shoots in but one direction, and even the gods are at the mercy of its flight. However, being 'dead' has made me see time's value in a different light. As I told you before, I will never ask you to forgive me; however, I am asking you to give me the chance to be a better man."

I stared at him. Nothing Ro had told me, and nothing in my own experience, gave me any reason to believe he was sincere. On the other hand, if Tobin and Luke were bound to him, then for their sakes, if for nothing else, I didn't want to lose contact again.

I cleared my throat. "About the Throne. Can I think on it?"

He nodded, breaking eye contact and dispelling the tension between us. "Of course. But you don't have long—they're planning to nominate and vote on a new Throne soon."

"And will you... be living here?"

He huffed a humorless laugh. "No. I will leave you in peace. Ro knows where to find me, when you've made up your mind."

With that, he rose and took his leave, and despite all he'd said, I couldn't say I was sorry to see the door shut at his back.

❧

"Will you do it?" Ro asked as he helped me dress for bed.

I lifted a shoulder. "Probably."

"Bastard," he muttered, clearly referring to my father. "He deserves the worst, which certainly isn't..."

He trailed off as guilt shadowed his face again, as it did every time he looked at the barely healed scars on my chest and back.

"Stop blaming yourself," I said. "You weren't in control. Now you're free, and you'll never be used like that again."

"Thanks to you," he murmured, brushing his hand down the side of my neck and tracing the lines of my collar bones. "But it's only luck I didn't kill you, Ellie."

"It wasn't luck at all," I said, looking up at him and placing my hand on the center of his chest. "It was this. I know my father says we never bonded as daemon and witch, but..."

He smiled and shook his head. "My bond with your father was such an ugly, tortured thing, I had nothing to compare it to. I didn't know any better, and assumed that my bond with you was of the same sort. But your father is right: I'm not your daemon."

"Oh."

More than a little hurt by this, I turned away as he helped me into my nightshirt and then moved towards the bed.

Ro followed and caught my hand, making me turn to face him again.

"I'm not your daemon," he repeated, "and you're not my witch."

I blinked up at him, effectively at a loss for words.

"You've been questioning this all along, haven't you?" he said. "Doubting that I love you, wondering if it was just the bond, and if people could really fall in love so fast."

I nodded, wide-eyed and fearing what he'd say next.

"Well, the truth is they can, and I have. You're not my witch, Ellie. You're my other half, and I want to spend the rest of eternity at your side."

I sat heavily on the bed, and stared up at him.

"That sounds like more than your typical witch-daemon bond," I said, a bit weakly.

"Oh, it is," he said, helping me lie back against the pillows and reclining at my side. "It's much more. You'll never be rid of me now."

Blushing furiously, I returned his teasing with a dash of my own. "I thought all you wanted was to go home; I thought I was just your 'ticket to ride.'

"Well," he lifted a shoulder, yellow eyes gleaming bright, "I won't say no to the ride. But truth be told I've grown attached. Demons are possessive creatures, you know."

Staring up at him, I concealed the butterflies swarming in my chest with a frown.

"So...?"

A slow, Cheshire Cat grin spread across his face as he leaned to kiss me.

"Bad luck, baby," he whispered against my lips. "You're all mine."

~ The End ~

(For now 😉)