Aamon returned hours later with a case of beer tucked under one arm. He didn't bother explaining until Zeth's puzzled stare lingered a second too long.
"Seemed like we could all use one," Aamon said, sliding the case into the refrigerator. "Jade most of all."
Zeth's expression dimmed as he glanced at the closed bedroom door. "Speaking of…"
Aamon's eyes swept the apartment, quick and sharp. "Where is she?"
Zeth lifted a finger to his lips and pointed. Sleeping.
Aamon nodded once. For a moment he stood too still, like his body had more energy than he could afford to let loose inside the small space. Then he tilted his head toward the patio door.
Zeth followed without a word.
Outside, the night air was cool enough to bite. The city beyond the apartment complex looked half-dead, streetlights pooling on asphalt, distant cars whispering past like they didn't want to be noticed. Aamon leaned his forearms on the railing, beer in one hand. With the other, he sparked a cigarette to life. The ember flared bright, then settled, a small, steady star in the dark.
Zeth shut the sliding glass door carefully, as if sound itself might bruise Jade through the wall. He leaned beside Aamon, eyes on the cigarette like it had personally offended him.
"What did you get yourself into, Aamon?" Zeth asked quietly. The words came out half-joking, half not. "Seriously… what is this feeling?"
In the Dark Realm, emotions were clean, distant things. You could observe them, weaponize them, ignore them. Here, in the Mortal Realm, the air seemed thick with human feelings, like fog that sank into the skin whether you wanted it or not.
Aamon exhaled smoke, slow and controlled. "You feel it too?"
"I shouldn't care. Not like this." Aamon's eyes narrowed slightly as he spoke. "And yet." He pressed a hand to his chest, rubbing at a tightness he couldn't explain.
"You spend more time here than I do. You're telling me you've never felt this before?" Aamon questions Zeth. Looking for anything to explain away the uncertain feelings twisting his insides.
"Nothing like this." Zeth's jaw tightened. "It's… uncomfortable." He glanced through the glass door, toward Jade's room and shakes his head slowly. "I can't explain it either."
Aamon's gaze dropped to the beer can, the way condensation gathered on the metal like a quiet leak. His fingers flexed once, denting the aluminum a fraction. "I've been annoyed by mortals. Entertained by them. Disgusted by them." His voice went flatter. "I have never…" He paused, as if searching for the right term and resenting the fact it existed. "I have never wanted to keep one safe."
Zeth looked back to Aamon sharply. Aamon didn't look at him. His attention stayed on the beer can. "It doesn't make sense," Aamon continued, the frustration sharpening. "Her pain is… old. It's done. It's in the past." His jaw clenched. "And yet it sits in my chest like a live coal."
Zeth rubbed his sternum again, as if he could scrape the feeling out. "I feel it too. A pull, something dull and sharp at the same time."
Aamon's tone turned colder, edged with irritation at himself more than anything else. "And I don't know what frustrates me more. The fact that her story made me feel something I don't understand… or the fact that if I tried to comfort her—"
His hand tightened around the beer can. The metal creaked, warped, and heated a bright red.
"I'd burn her." Aamon said, watching the hot metal drip from his fingers and hit the cold concrete, sizzling as it settled.
Aamon took a long drag from his cigarette and flicked ash over the railing, then stared at his fingertips as if they were the problem. "It's absolute. A law. Not a choice." His eyes narrowed. "Mortals are not meant to bear my touch. Not mine, not ever."
Zeth listened quietly, watching the smoke escape Aamon's longs as he spoke. Zeth swallowed. "The rule isn't flexible. It was meant to keep the balance."
Aamon didn't deny it, but his eyes landed on Zeth, annoyance clear on his face. "There's nothing I can do for her." Aamon finally said, letting his gaze fall back to the night.
He took a slow drag, then blew the smoke out in little rings, staring at it like it had answers.
"I could have done something. If she'd signed a contract," he muttered, "this would be simple. If she asked me for happiness, safety, comfort… I could grant it." Aamon sighed heavily, disappointment and frustration seeping out of him with the cigarette smoke. "But like this.. There is nothing I can do like this."
Zeth shook his head. "She's just not that kind of person. She doesn't ask for things from anyone, that much is clear. She's blunt, and honest and speaks her mind to a fault." A faint smile tugged at his mouth. "She has no trouble scolding you."
Aamon's eyes sharpened with reluctant amusement. "Yes. She is… bold." His voice cooled again. "Mortals who associate with me don't talk back. They don't assume friendship. They don't refuse to beg." He looked toward the apartment with a faint crease between his brows. "And they always want something."
Zeth scoffed, rolling his eyes toward the sky. "Mortals think the angels hand out blessings like candy. I bet she asked them for help once upon a time and they probably ignored her. Why should she expect anything from demons? From anyone."
Aamon's gaze lingered on the glass door, as if he could see through walls. His expression shifted into something sharper. Determined. "Then maybe we should correct that."
Zeth blinked. "What do you have in mind?"
Aamon turned, leaning back against the railing. His eyes swept the cramped apartment behind them with a judgmental disgust. "We start by getting her out of this place."
Zeth frowned. "Do you think she'd make a deal for that? She said this place was all she needed."
Aamon's smile was thin and cold. "Who said anything about a deal?"
Zeth's eyes widened. "If she doesn't make a deal, how do you plan on helping her? We can't go against the rules Aamon, not so close to.."
"The rules prevent us from giving mortals what they want without a contract." Aamon said smoothly, cutting off Zeth mid-sentence. "But. They do not prevent us from obtaining material things." His mouth curved slightly. "If Jade happens to be nearby when my circumstances improve… Well, I'd call that luck."
Zeth's grin returned, bright and boyish. "Oh. Loopholes."
Aamon's voice turned into command. "Summon Zoe. Tell her the plan has changed. Tell her to bring the biggest options she has."
Zeth didn't waste time. He crouched and, using ash scraped from Aamon's cigarette, drew a sigil on the stone. Aamon stepped closer, letting demon-fire bleed into the mark. Crimson-black flame flickered to life, silent and unnatural, as Zeth murmured Zoe's name like an order the universe had to obey. A voice answered on the wind.
Zeth spoke quickly, location and instruction packed tight. The flame dimmed. The ash dispersed. The patio returned to normal, as if nothing had happened. Zeth stood and stretched, rolling his shoulders. The strange tight feeling still lived in his chest, but now it had direction. A plan. A purpose.
Aamon stared out into the night again, cigarette burning down between his fingers, eyes narrowed like he could intimidate the world into behaving.
Inside, Jade woke in darkness with a headache that felt like punishment. Her throat was dry. Her eyes burned. The crying had drained her so completely she felt hollowed out, like someone had scooped her clean and left the shell behind.
She sat up slowly, one hand cradling her head. The apartment was quiet, too quiet. No movement, no voices, no strange presence pressing at the edges of the air.
They left.
The thought hit like a bruise she hadn't expected to hurt this much. Jade swallowed hard and forced herself out of bed. She didn't bother turning on the bedroom light. She didn't want brightness. She didn't want clarity. She wanted numb. She opened the door and stepped into the living room.
Empty.
Her stomach sank anyway, as if some part of her had still been hoping she'd see one of them lounging somewhere, bored and unapologetic. She stood there for a long moment, listening to nothing. Of course it was nothing. She felt foolish for trusting Zeth's words.
Foolish stupid girl.
She made herself move, because standing still felt like surrender. The kitchen light snapped on, harsh and unforgiving. Jade winced and opened the fridge out of habit more than intention. She froze. Beer. A whole case of it. For a second she simply stared, brain sluggish. It didn't fit with the story she'd already started writing in her head.
They left.
People leave. That was what they all did. Her fingers closed around a can anyway. She popped it open and took a long drink, uncaring where it came from or why.
Maybe they forgot it, she thought bitterly. Maybe it was never meant for me.
She leaned back against the counter, the silence thickening around her until it felt physical. Pressing. Heavy. Familiar. Jade slid down to the floor and curled into herself, knees drawn tight to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs like she could hold herself together through sheer stubbornness.
Back to being alone, she told herself. Good. Safer. Cleaner.
And yet her chest ached anyway, like her body hadn't gotten the memo. She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing shallowly, trying to force the feeling away. Tears began to build in her eyes again. She felt the dull thrum of her headache threatening to return. Flashes of memories burst into her consciousness, mixing with the sickly-sweet memory of Zeth making empty promises.
"Stupid girl. You knew better than to hope." Jade mumbled to herself, to the emptiness of the kitchen. She squeezed her knees tighter, as if making herself small could somehow make the feeling of abandonment less real.
Then warmth bloomed around her.
Not heat like a heater. Not the dry blast of a vent. Something gentler. Like sunlight slipping through a window in winter. Jade let out a small, humorless laugh.
"I must be going crazy," she murmured. "It feels like he's still here." Jade sniffed, loud and unapologetically miserable.
"That's because I am."
The voice was close. Quiet. Real. Jade jolted upright, eyes snapping open wide. Her face was red from crying, her eyes bloodshot but bright with a mixture of hope and disbelief.
Aamon was kneeling on one knee in front of her. He looked tense. Focused. Like he was holding himself still on purpose. His hands were lifted, held apart at either side of her like he was about to pull her into an embrace.
Her heart kicked painfully, suddenly she felt ashamed she'd doubted them at all. Jade didn't think. Relief surged up fast enough to drown the part of her that should have been cautious. She surged forward and threw her arms around him, her face nuzzling into his neck.
Aamon reacted instantly. Fear flashed across his face, sharp and genuine. He jerked back, breaking contact, and shoved her away just enough to put space between them. He stumbled to his feet, backing away like he'd touched something fragile and didn't trust himself not to shatter it.
Jade stared up at him, stunned. For a second she couldn't make sense of it. Then hurt snapped into place, hot and immediate.
"Why?" Was the only word she could force out. She looked at him with pain filled eyes, looking for explanation. She could not make sense of him. Had he not been holding out his arms to embrace her?
"Why would you shave me away like that?" Jade questioned again, softer, afraid of the response.
Aamon's mouth parted, but no sound came. Because what could he say?
I wasn't offering a hug. I was offering warmth. The only comfort I'm allowed to give you.
Jade didn't know that. All she knew was that she'd reached for safety and been rejected.
Her face hardened like a door slamming shut. She recoiled back into a tight ball on the floor, arms wrapping around herself again.
"If I disgust you that much," she spat, voice shaking. "Stop acting like you care. I don't need you. I don't need anyone. Take your pity and go." Jade let her head fall back into her knees as she tried to make herself small again.
Zeth, who had come in silently behind Aamon, froze at the outburst. His eyes flicked from Jade to Aamon, then back again, struggling to track the sudden shift.
"Jade," Zeth said carefully, "did you… get burned?"
Jade froze.
Slowly, her brows unknit. She lifted her arms, turning them over, checking for pain, redness, anything.
There was nothing.
Her eyes widened. "No."
Zeth stared at Aamon like the world had tilted.
Aamon looked worse.
He pressed a hand to his chest, like his own heartbeat was accusing him, then lowered it and stepped closer again, dropping to one knee. His eyes swept Jade's arms with intense disbelief.
"You're not harmed," he said, voice low. It didn't sound like a question. It sounded like he couldn't accept the answer.
Jade looked between them, confused anger fading into confusion alone. "Can you not control who you burn?" she asked slowly. "Is that why… before?"
Aamon's jaw tightened. "I can't."
Jade stared, the pieces rearranging in her head. His arms hadn't been an invitation. They'd been distance. Safety. Control.
"…Then why didn't it happen this time?" she whispered.
Curiosity sparked despite herself. Jade lifted a hand toward him again, slow and careful.
Aamon's voice cut in immediately, low and strained. "Stop."
Not angry.
Afraid.
Before Jade could argue, a knock sounded at the front door.
Aamon's eyes flicked toward it. A faint, knowing satisfaction crossed his face.
"Just in time," he murmured.
He dissolved into black mist and reformed at the entrance, hand already reaching for the handle.
Zeth glanced at Jade, as confused as she was, then moved to follow Aamon.