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Jonah stayed leaning over her, his hand curled in her hair, watching her lips, occasionally brushing them with his own. Not enough to interrupt her, but as her eyes began to droop he moved to one eyelid, then the other, then back as she let them close. Her fingers curled on his chest, slowly relaxing, then relaxing some more, until the music died away and her even breath told him she'd fallen asleep again, taken away to dreams by her own enchanted voice.
He studied her a long time, then he picked up the knife she'd used to cut an apple right before bedtime. She'd had a desire for the raw fruit Maggie left in appetizing display on the kitchen table. Anna had been amused when he'd tasted it and indicated he liked it better in the pie. Carefully, he severed a lock of her hair, long as his hand. He braided it with deft fingers and put it around his wrist, interweaving the ends to form a gleaming golden brown bracelet. When he passed his hand over it, he'd imagine tunneling his fingers through the silk of the thick strands.
But it would be nothing like bringing her close, touching her, dancing with her. She was better off without him, that was a given, but he disliked the idea that she thought he might not be coming back because she'd simply been an instrument and her part was done. At least that's what he supposed her thinking was. Her apparent acceptance of that, that he would be so superior, so arrogant, annoyed him further. But it didn't matter. Maybe taking the lock of hair and leaving her the feather would tell her differently. Because he knew whatever happened next, she was right about one thing. He couldn't come back to her. Not this way. For her well-being.
Rising with a stifled curse, he arranged the covers carefully over her, pressed one last kiss to her forehead. Inhaling the smell of her hair, the traces of the sea, he closed his eyes. Damn it all, things used to be so much clearer to him. If he loved her, he needed to leave her be. The simplest adages were always wisest. A fish and a bird didn't belong together, particularly if the bird had manic depressive tendencies which had managed to get the fish almost killed several times during their brief association. There was a darkness in his soul he knew did not bode well, not for a fragile creature like Anna.
He wanted her more than he seemed to want anything else these days, and yet she was the one thing he still had the presence of mind to know he shouldn't have.
While dressing in the human clothes that still felt odd, he reflected they at least did not feel so constricting any longer. According to Anna's explanation, this was because denim stretched.
When he headed for the darkened staircase, he forced himself not to look back. If he saw the shape of her body under the covers, the silk of her hair spread across her bare shoulders, the serenity of her delicate face, he'd never leave.
Despite the fact he and Anna had both strongly admonished Matt and Maggie there was no reason to get up and send him off, Matt was standing on the front porch.
"Do you ever not have a cup of coffee in your hand?" Jonah observed as he stepped out, shouldering the pack Matt had loaned him last night for a few essentials. Water to replenish his human form, the battle skirt for his angel form. The talismans he'd decided, with some manly embarrassment, to carry: the three shells from yesterday, a pressed purple flower from the field where she first became a pixie . . .
Matt considered the cup. "I put it down when I have to go save angels and mermaids in the desert."
"For which I count myself fortunate." When Jonah held out his hand, Matt clasped it. "I've fought so long on behalf of humans, I forgot there might be some worth saving. Though that may make little sense to you."
"It makes perfect sense to me." Matt flashed his teeth. "I've lived among humans all my life."
Jonah nodded. "She wants to stay until tonight. Another of my kind will come for her today. If she stays well, she can stay. If she starts to decline again, he must take her. She's willful, but you and he are bigger." A smile touched his lips. "Though I suspect any man would have to be deaf, dumb and blind not to be persuaded to do anything she asks. Take care of her. I would consider it yet another debt I can never repay you."
He'd never trusted a human before. Even now, he suspected what had tipped trust in their favor was the way Matt and Maggie loved each other. That made him certain Matt would understand the significance of what he was asking.
Matt nodded. No species barrier existed in that moment, just two males who understood what was most important. "I'll protect her. And, as far as the other . . . my wife will heal from what happened yesterday. That debt's paid, right there. We won't be here much longer. This was what we were here to do, and it's done. We dedicated five years to it. There comes a point when you've given enough to one thing, and it's time to move on to the next."
"What would the next be?" Jonah asked, turning at the bottom of the steps.
Matt gestured. "Probably taking Maggie back home. Having a baby. She wants to adopt two or three as well, but have at least one that looks like us. Hopefully more like her than me."
"Goddess willing," Jonah said gravely, and Matt laughed.
"I guess life then will be about teaching them how to give more than take. It's hard to say, all in all." He shrugged. "With our limited life spans, we mere mortals have to figure out what best to do with our time so that when it ends we aren't ashamed to put our name on it, call it our life."
Jonah considered that. "I think you and Maggie are doing very well in that regard. Yesterday, you saved something very much worth saving." He looked up toward the window of the bedroom where Anna slept, hopefully with dreams worth having, that would last.
"Jonah." Picking up one of the shotguns leaning against the wall, Matt came down to offer it. "I put a box of shells in your pack last night, as you may have noticed. Just in case."
He met Jonah's gaze. "I've never been the type of man to tell another man what he should do, let alone an angel, but I want to say this. You can be doing what you were born to do, and still get lost. Some men are born to be warriors. Doesn't matter where you find them. When the need comes for a fight that can't be solved any other way, they'll be the ones that step to the front line, protecting what's important. For everyone who wants to make that kind of sacrifice, there are powers that want to take it. And the two sides are different. Don't forget that."
Matt shifted. "I guess what I'm saying is that while you've got the high ground, there are those of us that are always fighting to hold the low ground, to give you one less thing to do. Good luck to you."
"As I said, I'd forgotten there are humans worth protecting. Thank you for the reminder." Jonah found the words were thick in his throat. Matt overlooked it, shook his hand once more. The silence that passed between them, heavy with words unspoken, was one Jonah recognized from fighting side by side with other males, in so many other times and circumstances.
As he looked up at the window again, he held the grip an extra moment. "Whatever happens to me, Matt, she's the most important thing. Take care of her. Please." When he realized how long it had been since he'd said that word, he wondered what that said about him. About who he'd become.
"No harm will come to her while she's in my care. I mean it. I'll watch over her the same way I watch over Maggie."
Jonah nodded. Despite the reassurance, he had to bite back the sudden feeling he was abandoning his responsibility to protect Anna. How many times had he told his men, those whose comrades had fallen next to them, that they could not be everywhere, protect everyone? That they must rely on others to help, in order to focus on the most important thing: defeating the enemy. He understood that, damn it. But he equally, fiercely felt that it wasn't a matter of an army here, but Anna. Anna was his to protect. Care for. Make smile . . . give her someone to tease, someone to kiss her body, make her undulate in those sensual moments of pleasure. Shelter her back while she slept.
Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode away. He'd wondered if it was possible to feel less comfortable with who or what he was, or more confused, than he had been these past few years. Now he found it was, and bleakl
y decided it was likely to get worse, the further away he got from Anna.
But she'd be better off. She'd be safe.
She'd be alone.
MATT had given him the landmarks, and Anna had described Mina's mindmap to him. It was therefore relatively easy to follow their directions in daylight with his senses now tuned to just the one thing. Or perhaps the energy of the Schism was just getting stronger.
According to Matt, the magical fault line, while ever shifting to a certain extent, ran for an unknown length. Despite that, they suspected its breadth was fairly narrow, no more than a few hundred yards. He'd also noted what Jonah already knew. It was impossible to open when it had no desire to be open, or when the seeker was not meant to find it. Matt had discussed the parameters with a certain resigned humor, but having been exposed to magic for his entire existence, Jonah recognized it as no more than the basic principles governing most magical energy.
In fact, in past, more lighthearted days, he'd made the dry observation that magical energy reflected a great many of the characteristics of the divine feminine energy likely responsible for its existence.
The remembrance gave him a faint smile as he walked. The heat was not bothering him, but still he stopped to drink from the water bottle occasionally, since he was in human form. Matt and Maggie's house had disappeared after he crossed over the first rise and then turned to begin following the geographic markers for the fault line. Anna had done a good job keeping them aligned within its range of influence, but it was an ominous indication of how closely the Dark Ones were watching for his movements, that they'd attacked so swiftly when they wandered off course, outside where the Schism or Mina's mindmap had apparently been providing some extended umbrella of protection.
He shouldn't be leaving Anna. Not until he knew she was safely back in the ocean. What if . . . He stopped, clutching the straps of the pack. He'd lost his mind. What on earth had made him decide to leave her before he knew for certain she was safe?
