A Fractured Light (Beautiful Dark)

of cinnamon and cloves. Spicy and sweet. It reminded me of so many things: the time we got stuck in the ice cave on the ski trip and he showed me how to create fire in the palms of my hands; the magical night on the snowmobile with the tiny balls of fire that floated around us like lanterns; and the night I realized how badly I wanted to be with Asher, that I couldn’t do it alone. That I needed someone. I needed him .
    I snuck a glance at his dark eyes. He needed me, too.
    It struck me that as long as I was with Asher, maybe I was home. I was safe here. The Order couldn’t hurt me. And my powers of the dark were way stronger than those of the light. Ever since the two angels had descended on my life, I’d been so against making a decision. Everyone had a plan for me, something that they wanted from me. But maybe I knew what I wanted.
    Maybe I’d already made a decision.
     
    We had to be quiet. The cabin had no electricity, and when we lit a fire, Asher closed the dusty curtains to make sure no one could see us from the woods—in case anyone from the Order was watching. They couldn’t just rely on the Sight anymore. As Asher reminded me, my powers were blurring the destiny of everyone around me. They’d have to resort to other methods.
    It took a few days before I really started to feel better. I was exhausted constantly, and Asher and Ardith took turns watching me from the chair as I drifted in and out of sleep. Jealous as I had been when I first saw her, I couldn’t help but like Ardith. When Asher was asleep and she watched over me, I’d try to get her to talk.
    “How long have you known Asher?” I asked one night. The moon hung high in the black sky, shining light across the floor of the small bedroom. I was curled on my side, the quilt pulled up under my chin, and Ardith sat in the rocking chair across the dark room. Every time she rocked forward, her face would emerge from the shadows.
    “A long time,” she said. “Since we were very young. We used to beg to be sent to Earth on missions like our parents. And each time they told us, ‘Not until you’re older.’” She smiled at me. “Then when we were older, we wanted to be young again. The things we’ve both seen.” She shook her head. “We wished we’d never asked.”
    I hesitated. A shadow passed in front of the moon, and I couldn’t see her face anymore.
    “Why?” I asked.
    “Being a Rebel, it’s not easy,” she said. “The constant chaos. Reacting to the Order’s plans. It’s not easy being a Guardian either, but that I do not know firsthand.”
    “It must be hard having only those two options. Dark and Light and nothing in between.”
    A wry smile cracked her face.
    “You of all people should know how that feels, Skye.”
    It was true, but the more I thought about it, the more it didn’t seem right. There had to be a middle place. Otherwise, how did someone not lose her mind? How would I not lose my mind?
    I lay awake for a long time, thinking and watching the pattern of moonlight shift on the wood floor. When I looked up, I realized Ardith was asleep. It seemed strange to me that an angel would need sleep, but then I remembered what Asher had told me. When we’re on Earth, we take on human form, human desires, human needs. I wondered what they were like when they weren’t on Earth. What were angel needs?
    I was feeling restless. Quietly, so as not to wake Ardith, I pulled back the blankets and crept out of the room. I shifted my weight slowly on the old wood floor, careful not to step on any creaky planks as I tiptoed down the hall and crept gingerly down the stairs. I kept close to the wall and peered into the large main room of the cabin. Asher sat hunched forward on the couch near the fireplace.
    But there was no fire burning within it.
    Instead, it had risen from the hearth into the air itself. Orange and red and yellow and blue flames crackled above him in the dark room, casting shadows that danced on the walls. As I watched, the flames fanned out in a circle, and he sat below it, his head in his hands. What was he doing?
    Asher’s back rose and fell rhythmically, with each breath. He looked so controlled, like he was doing everything in his power to breathe steadily. Given to following his every mood and whim, Asher wasn’t exactly good at self-control. Watching him now filled me with a strange sense of awe. I wondered what he was controlling.
    As I stood there, his breath hitched and his chest spasmed