Her Angel: Eternal Warriors Complete Series Box Set

by Heaton, Felicity

  He stepped back again and she didn’t like the gap that opened between them or how it felt as though it was a vast crevasse rather than a mere few feet. He glared at her, eyes void of warmth now and full of unending darkness.

  “I can’t take it,” he growled the words and his power rose again, his fury burning through her and warning her away. “I can’t… not if you don’t remember everything that has happened between us.” He clenched his fists and they shook at his sides. “You don’t remember anything?”

  His anger faltered and hope flickered in his eyes again.

  She shook her head. “Perhaps I will in time. Perhaps the feeling in my heart… the sense that you were dear to me… will revive the memories I have lost and restore them. Would you like that?”

  She trembled as she waited to hear his answer, suddenly unsure of herself and of anything. What had he done to her? Angels were nothing but instruments. They were disposable. They were not creatures that she sought to placate and soothe. They were beings she had little care for. She had little care for anything. How had this angel changed that about her?

  Part of her was afraid. The emotion was as alien as the rest of the ones she had experienced since waking this evening and made her feel vulnerable and weak. For the first time, she was aware of the power an angel held, and it scared her. While she could take him in a fight, she couldn’t defeat him in this war of feelings. They stripped her of her defences and left her bare, exposed to him and at his mercy, and she couldn’t grasp why they were flooding her. She hadn’t asked for them, and couldn’t recall ever feeling anything for one of his kind before. In the past, she had never cared what they had thought of her, but now she stood hanging on every breath he drew, waiting to hear the answer to her question.

  He lowered his gaze so he was staring down into the street below them with his face turned away from her and whispered, “I would like that more than anything, because being with you when you are no longer Amelia is killing me… and I wish that Apollyon had finished me off.”

  He closed his eyes, turned, and walked back into the apartment, leaving her alone on the balcony staring at his retreating back.

  He wished for death?

  That shocked her and left her cold.

  Her knight wanted to die because of her.

  She looked down at her hands and then at her body, and then gazed at her reflection in the full length window beside the doors.

  Who had she been?

  She had to remember because if she didn’t, she would lose her knight, and she didn’t think that she could bear that.

  A flash of images danced over her reflection.

  Moonlight. Palm trees. Dark waves lapping at a white shore.

  And then her knight. Marcus.

  Carrying her through the water to the shore, his eyes locked with hers and so full of passion that she was hot all over, burning for him.

  It wasn’t passion heating her now though.

  It was a single feeling that crashed over her like a wave and swept her away, leaving her dazed.

  Love.

  She had fallen in love with Marcus that night.

  CHAPTER 19

  Marcus woke to the sound of an argument. Rather than hearing two familiar voices locked in noisy combat, he only recognised one—Apollyon. The object of his wrath was a young male voice but one filled with anger that almost matched Apollyon’s. Marcus couldn’t sense the power of the other angel. Apollyon’s eclipsed it, pressing down on the apartment so heavily that Marcus was surprised it hadn’t woken him before the shouting had.

  He rose to his knees on his uncomfortable makeshift bed on the floor next to Amelia’s bed, his muscles stiff and sore from healing, and checked to see if she was still asleep. Her eyes were closed and she didn’t seem awake, although how she could sleep through such a racket was beyond him. He sleepily rubbed his hair and then caught the topic of the argument. It purged the tiredness from his body in an instant. He stood and called his armour to him as he strode to the door, and opened it. Apollyon stood in the middle of the spacious living room with his back to him, his black armour and wings making him as dark as ever and a sharp contrast to the paleness of his surroundings.

  Marcus didn’t recognise the other angel. He wore armour similar to Apollyon’s, black with gold edging, but seemed younger and not only in appearance. How old was this angel? Too young to be let out into the world if he was foolish enough to argue with Apollyon about something.

  The confidence that shone in the youth’s blue eyes surprised Marcus. It didn’t waver as he and Apollyon stared each other out.

  “I can’t leave without her,” the blond man said at last, casting a look in Marcus’s direction. “A mission is a mission.”

  “Leave,” Apollyon snarled and the room darkened for a moment, the sense of anger pervading it intensifying and then ebbing away.

  Marcus looked across the room towards the kitchen door. Einar, Taylor, Lukas, Annelie and Serenity all stood there in a group. Einar and Taylor were wearing what looked like the clothes they had chosen to sleep in, both in dark shorts and loose t-shirts, and Serenity was wearing a short pink dress. Lukas was dressed in his armour. He had come to relieve Marcus and take over the watch this morning. Marcus glanced at the brass circular sun-like clock hanging on the wall near the group. Only a couple of hours ago. When had the newcomer arrived?

  Judging by the fact that the bedding was still down in the living room, arranged with one set in the L of the beige couches, and the other set where Apollyon now stood on the other side of the couch that had its back to the front door, their guest had arrived when most people had still been sleeping.

  “I keep saying I can’t.” The blond folded his arms across his chest. He was slimmer than all of them, scrawny in comparison to most angels that Marcus knew. It was strange to see such a weak looking man facing off against Apollyon. Marcus hadn’t been able to defeat him. This boy wouldn’t stand a chance. He wouldn’t even survive the initial blast of Apollyon’s power.

  “I won’t let you take her,” Apollyon said and turned his head slightly to one side, enough that he could glance over his shoulder at Marcus. “I won’t. I have done enough to cause others pain. I will not allow this to happen too.”

  “Sorry, old man… I wasn’t giving you a choice.”

  Apollyon laughed. “I seem to be getting that a lot recently. It doesn’t change anything. You can try to take her, Lysander, and you will die trying.”

  Serenity went to move forwards to Apollyon but Einar caught her arm, holding her back. Her brow furrowed, her hazel eyes locked on the man she loved, and Marcus could feel a glimmer of her pain in her power. She feared that he would fight again. It must have been difficult for her to see Apollyon trying to kill him and killing Amelia and not be able to do anything to stop it. It must have been difficult for them all.

  Marcus looked at Apollyon’s back and his broad black wings. Especially his old friend.

  “Listen, kid—” Apollyon started.

  “I told you never to call me that.” Lysander cut him off and the room darkened again and Marcus sensed the barest thread of Lysander’s power through the mask of Apollyon’s. He could take him out if necessary but, judging by the way Apollyon was acting, it wouldn’t be. Apollyon would deal with this man for him. Lysander tipped his chin up. “I was under your wing for six centuries and I’m not a child anymore. I never was.”

  Apollyon made a dismissive motion with his hand.

  “What right do you have to order me around anyway? You’re retired. Out of the game, remember?” Lysander said and Serenity looked nervous. What had she seen crossing Apollyon’s face? Einar and Lukas looked concerned too.

  “If I am ‘out of the game’ as you put it, then what was yesterday all about?” Apollyon took a step towards Lysander and the young blond man stepped back, keeping the distance between them steady. It seemed he had some sense after all. Apollyon was strong enough to take such a weak angel down with one blow and he
had been looking for someone to level his anger at since the event that had brought them to this point.

  “What do you mean?” The confusion in Lysander’s blue eyes caused Marcus to frown.

  Heaven must have done some serious cover-up work to hide Apollyon’s battle from the angels of death, or any angels in fact. Apollyon’s power was so destructive and so intrinsically linked to Heaven and their master that most of them should have been aware of its use the other day. Had Heaven somehow shielded the power so other angels didn’t realise what had happened? Why would they do such a thing? The part of him that had been loyal to Heaven and his duty all these centuries said not to question them and to obey their orders, but it was becoming impossible to trust them. They had wanted Amelia dead and had succeeded, and now they had sent an angel of death to retrieve her.

  Apollyon heaved a sigh. “Go home, Lysander, and tell them you were never here.”

  “They know I’m here… and now I want to know why. They tell me to come to your apartment and that I would find a soul here that required transport to Heaven… and then you tell me that you can’t let me take her… and everyone here seems to know something I don’t. I want to know what that is.”

  Marcus could sympathise with Lysander. He was feeling the same way and had been for a long time now. His demand was redundant though. No one here knew what was happening either.

  “No, you don’t. Just get out of my apartment and go home. This isn’t your fight, kid. Leave.” Apollyon waved towards the door.

  “I’m not leaving until you tell me—”

  “I killed her,” Apollyon interjected and stalked towards Lysander, grabbed him by the throat and beat his wings. He slammed Lysander into the wall beside the front door, causing Serenity to gasp and reach out to him, and tightened his grip around the young angel’s neck. “Do you understand that? Is that clear enough for you? They forced me to kill her and I cannot let you take her away… not again… not from Marcus. I took her from him once… and I have to make it up to him now.”

  “They made you?” Lysander said, his eyes wide as he stared into Apollyon’s.

  “Mon ange,” Serenity whispered and held her hand out to him, a pleading look on her face.

  Apollyon sucked in a deep breath, glanced over his shoulder at Serenity, and then released his grip on Lysander. The young angel dropped to his feet and sagged against the wall, rubbing his throat.

  Apollyon smiled sourly. “I was a fool. There is no leaving. Never. It killed me to do that and to do something against a friend’s wishes, which is why I must make it up to him now… and why I cannot let you take Amelia.”

  Marcus started when Amelia brushed against him in the doorway, her silver eyes full of sleep and confusion. They brightened as she took everything in and then narrowed when she saw Lysander. Marcus moved in front of her, blocking Lysander’s path. He doubted that Apollyon would back down without a fight, and that should be enough to drive Lysander away, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. He wouldn’t allow Lysander to take Amelia from him. She had been through enough.

  Apollyon moved back another step. “Do not make this into a fight, kid. You would not win.”

  Lysander sensibly remained pressed against the wall but made no move to reach for the door.

  “I can’t go without her. I’m sorry, I really am, but they know that I’m here. They’re watching me.” Lysander looked up and then back at Apollyon, and then past him to Marcus. “It doesn’t matter what you all want. I can’t go without her. If you won’t hand her over, then I will have to fight you, and I won’t be alone.”

  A shriek from the group gathered near the kitchen door snapped Marcus’s attention to them. Annelie rushed into Lukas’s arms and he pulled her close, his gold and white spear at the ready, as three more angels of death came into the room, pushing past the group and crowding around Apollyon. Serenity moved to one side, coming closer to Marcus, and colourful threads of magic wove around her fingers and up her arms. Her power grew, swamping Lysander’s, and almost reaching the level of Apollyon’s.

  Marcus drew one of his blades with his left hand and kept Amelia behind him with the other.

  “It doesn’t matter how many angels you bring to this fight or whether my actions go against Heaven’s decree, I will not let you take Amelia from me.” Marcus flicked his hand out to extend the handle of the blade into a staff. The silver engravings flashed under the lights and Lysander looked past Apollyon to him.

  Apollyon held his hands out in front of him. Twin curved golden blades appeared in his grasp and he brought them both down to his sides, cutting swiftly through the air.

  Einar materialised two silver swords and handed one to Taylor. She shifted into a fighting stance.

  Amelia lightly touched Marcus’s left hand, warming him to the bone with the soft caress, and nudged it downwards, as though telling him to lower his weapon. He wouldn’t.

  Her fingers trailed over the back of his hand and she moved out from behind him. Marcus grabbed her wrist to stop her and she turned to face him, her expression detached and cold, a reflection of how he had looked so many times in his month on Earth. She placed her hand over his and removed it from her arm, and then walked out into the space between the couches.

  Everyone watched her in silence.

  “I will go with you,” she said and he swore that he heard fear in her voice.

  Marcus shifted his spear to his right hand and held his left one out to her, the pain spreading outwards from his heart threatening to consume him. He silently begged her to take it and come back to him. She didn’t have to go with Lysander and these angels.

  “I will go,” she said with more conviction.

  “No,” Marcus ground the word out and she looked at him with wide eyes. “I can’t… won’t let you go.”

  He reached to her again and for a moment she looked as though she would take his hand but then she turned away and lowered her head.

  “Too much blood has already been spilt because of me,” she whispered and Lysander edged around the outside of the room, as far away from Apollyon as possible, and came up beside her.

  “No.” Marcus shook his head. This wasn’t happening. He hadn’t meant to make her feel as though she had to leave. It had been a moment of weakness that had made him say those things to her last night. He wasn’t ready for her to go. Not yet. Not ever.

  He kept his hand outstretched to her, imploring her to take it and come back to him.

  Lysander took hold of her arm.

  Light began to fill the room.

  The other angels disappeared, leaving Amelia and Lysander behind.

  As a beam shone down on her, she raised her chin and her eyes met his, and he saw them as they had been when she was human, a beautiful stormy grey. She smiled faintly.

  “I’m sorry, Marcus… for everything.”

  She was gone before he could react, the light fading and revealing only blankets where she had been. He stared at the spot for long seconds, frowning and trying to comprehend what had just happened.

  It couldn’t be. She couldn’t have.

  He pushed past everyone, shoved the French doors open so hard that they rattled, and ran out onto the balcony. He clutched the black iron railing and stared at the sky.

  “Amelia!” Marcus flung his head back and yelled at the heavens, distraught and enraged, the bitter taste of fury coating his throat and tongue. The sky blackened and the wind picked up, whipping into a howling rage around him, tearing leaves off the trees in the park.

  He dug his fingertips into the railing, bending the metal into his palms.

  “You remembered me… why… why leave?”

  Lightning crashed down into the park, filling the air with the scent of earth, and he ground his teeth together, fighting to regain command of his emotions as they threatened to send him out of control. Liquid fire blazed in his veins, burning him from the inside out, consuming him. He bit back his desire to scream out his fury and glared at the dar
kening tempestuous sky.

  He needed to go after her. His wings erupted from his back and then disappeared. He tried to call them again but they wouldn’t come. He growled in frustration as an order came through into his head and he realised that his lack of wings wasn’t due to his curse this time. His orders were clear. Heaven was closed to him pending further investigation into the events that had occurred over the past forty-eight hours and his part in them. He was to remain out of the realm of Heaven until they called him to them, and then he would be able to see Amelia again. Until then, she would be safe with them.

  Marcus’s knees gave out and he hit the tiles, cracking them, his fingers still clutching the buckled railing. He hung his head forwards and broke down, sobs racking him as he struggled against his feelings and his desire to tear Heaven apart in his search for Amelia. He couldn’t let her go so easily and he refused to believe that they meant her no harm. As soon as he could, he was going to Heaven to find her and bring her back. She remembered him.

  He had never felt so alive and relieved, yet so dead and cold too.

  A heavy hand on his right shoulder caused him to drag in a sharp breath and hold it in an attempt to stop his tears. It was Apollyon’s power flowing into him through that touch. He couldn’t let Apollyon see him like this, so weak and pathetic.

  Apollyon crouched beside him and Marcus let go of the railing. His fingertips were bleeding. He stared at them and then at the bent balustrade.

  “I will pay for a new one,” he whispered and Apollyon sighed but didn’t say anything. “She remembered me… why did she go?”

  “Because she felt it was the right thing to do.” Apollyon patted his shoulder. “She did not want you to fight and saw a chance to stop that from happening.”