Her hands shook so she clenched her fingers into tight fists to steady them.
She couldn’t lie to herself.
But she could face her fear.
Amelia tilted her chin up, straightened her spine, and tucked her wings against her back. She walked with her head held high. Her heart beat hard in her chest and blood rushed in her ears. Marcus would be here soon. She just had to hold it together until then and she would be safe.
Lysander turned right at the end of the long aisle and she followed him down another corridor lined with columns on her right and a wall on her left.
Bright golden light shone out of the doorways at intervals in the white wall, warming her as it touched her as she passed.
She glanced inside one of the rooms and froze as cold swept through her from below.
Amelia stared at the raised white marble altar in the middle of the large bright room and her eyes widened when it was suddenly overflowing with blood, the crimson stark against the clean marble. Her heart stammered and she couldn’t breathe when an angel appeared in front of it, his back to her, silver-blue wings spread so they covered her view of his arms.
He lowered his hand to his side and her gaze fell with it. The sight of it chilled her down to the marrow and she felt as though her heart would stop. Blood ran down the length of the curved silver blade, dripping from the gleaming tip to the grooved white marble floor under his feet. She panted hard, panic pushing her to the limit, and forced her gaze back up to his head.
He turned his head to one side but moved at the same time and his large wings concealed his face from her.
He was so familiar.
A shiver tripped down her spine and spread over her arms and thighs, reaching right down to her fingertips and toes.
Lysander tugged on her arm and the vision faded, leaving a clean white room behind. She stared at the altar, unable to shake the terror that had gripped her.
She was in danger.
Lysander yanked her arm and she stumbled forwards and into him. He grabbed her other arm and she tried to break free, fear driving her to escape. She stamped on Lysander’s toes, kicked him in the shin with the flat of her foot, and then kneed him hard in the groin. He released her and she turned and ran for the vast columned room. She only made it a few steps before he grabbed her from behind, restraining her arms. With a low growl of frustration, she beat her silver wings, battering him in an attempt to force him to let go of her. His grip tightened until she cried out and he twisted her right arm hard behind her back.
An older looking sandy-haired angel wearing blue armour like Marcus’s appeared at the end of the corridor near the cathedral-like room she had run towards. Two bright curved silver blades hung from his waist. His cold eyes fixed on her.
Amelia’s gaze darted to the altar in the room to her right, fear rushing through her veins. Her head spun.
They were going to kill her again.
She struggled with all her might, kicking and writhing and beating her wings as the older angel approached her, his steps measured and slow, driving fear deep into her heart. Lysander tightened his grip on her arms and she cried out again when her right shoulder almost popped out of its socket. Intense pain swept through her and she sagged forwards for a moment, and then rallied and threw her head back, smacking it into Lysander’s nose. He stumbled backwards with her and she broke free of him. Before she could beat her wings, he had caught her right wrist and twisted it, forcing her to bend forwards to stop her arm from snapping. Her knees gave out and she hit the white marble floor hard, the impact reverberating up her spine.
Lysander wrapped one arm around both of her wings near her shoulder blades, effectively pinning them, and grabbed a fistful of her silver hair with his free hand. He yanked her head back and she looked up into the cold eyes of the guardian angel.
He towered over her, his immense power washing through her, keeping her on the ground as much as Lysander was.
She stared at him. He might be powerful, but his strength was nothing compared with what she had felt in Marcus the other night. Her heart reached out to him. Her only hope. Her guardian angel.
The older angel smiled slowly and drew one of his curved silver blades.
Amelia screamed.
“Marcus!”
CHAPTER 21
Lightning split the sky above Paris and Marcus looked up at the raging clouds. Was it his doing? There was so much darkness in the world and in his heart right now, fury that threatened to seize control of him and lead him into unleashing his burning desire for destruction. The feeling pounded in him like a drum, a beat which his heart followed, growing darker by the second as he watched the thunderstorm.
He screamed at the sky and a bright purple fork of lightning slammed down into the heart of the city, shaking the earth and sending car alarms blaring. It wasn’t enough. The darkness within him needed to be sated and he was growing weary of resisting the urge to unfurl his wings and fly after Amelia. He wanted to see her again and he would do anything to achieve that. He would disobey his orders and go to Heaven. There were ways in, methods that he could use.
He needed to see Amelia.
What would she think of him if she saw him like this and knew the black feelings he held within his heart? If she knew the limits of his desire to reach her and the lengths he would go to in order to achieve it, she would no longer believe him a good man.
He wasn’t.
The image she had of him was a lie.
He would kill all in his way in his quest to find her again. He couldn’t be the good man that she wanted him to be, not when he was feeling like this. The lust for violence was too strong to ignore.
He hadn’t been able to contain it during the discussion with the others and had left when the women had started to look afraid again, seeking the balcony so he could be alone with his black thoughts.
Lightning crashed down again, further away this time, illuminating the landscape surrounding Paris. The clouds were so black that they blocked out the day and had caused the streetlights to come on. Rain poured, saturating him, slicking his black hair to his head, but he didn’t care. He relished the cold feel of it against his skin, sapping his warmth, and stood staring out at the city, his heart burning in his chest, ablaze with the desire for vengeance.
Lysander had taken Amelia from him. Heaven had taken her from him.
He wanted her back.
The streets were empty below him. The park was void of life. The sensible residents of Paris had remained indoors. That knowledge only weakened his grip on his power. With so many hiding away in the buildings, he could unleash Hell on Earth with only minimal casualties. If anyone was foolish enough to be outside when a thunderstorm of this magnitude was hanging over the city, then they deserved what they got.
Marcus frowned and clenched his fists. Amelia would hate him for thinking such a thing. She had offered him forgiveness and it hadn’t changed him. He wished that it had. He wanted to be a good man for her, one that she could love, but it was impossible when he was in so much pain.
“They don’t deserve your wrath,” Einar said from behind him and Marcus looked over his shoulder.
Einar’s tawny long hair was already soaked through, unruly curls of it tufting out behind his ears. His deep brown eyes held Marcus’s silver-blue ones, and a sense of peace grew inside him, chasing away some of the darkness in his heart.
“You are even starting to scare Taylor… although she does her best not to let it show.” Einar moved forwards and leaned his elbows against the buckled black railings.
The rain continued to pour down, sticking Einar’s black t-shirt to his chest. Water trickled in rivulets down Marcus’s skin beneath his blue breastplate and soaked into his loincloth, making him uncomfortable.
He closed his eyes and drew long deep breaths to calm himself and claw back control over his power. The thunder eased and the rain lightened to drizzle that chilled his skin. Long minutes passed before the lightning ceased
completely and he found some balance. They would depart for Hell soon and he would be able to find out more about Amelia’s destiny and why Heaven had made Apollyon kill her. The memory of that moment threatened to push him out of control again, sending pain deep into his heart until he felt as though he was dying again.
Amelia.
He wanted to see her. He wanted to make her smile and make her feel safe.
She had been so scared.
He realised that now.
When she had gone with Lysander and Marcus had seen that her eyes were normal again, that she was becoming the woman he loved, he had been too confused to take in the feelings in her grey gaze. It was only now that he had replayed that moment countless times that he could see that she had been afraid of leaving him, but she had done so anyway, had gone through with it so he and his fellow angels wouldn’t have to fight again.
She had wanted to spare him pain but he was suffering more now than he would have been if a battle had ensued.
He needed to see her.
Orders meant nothing to him anymore. He wanted to believe in Heaven, just as Lukas did, but their actions had stripped him of his faith and had left him broken. He no longer trusted them. After centuries as their obedient soldier, as a dutiful son of Heaven, he was finally following his own orders. It was difficult for him to adjust and disobey his master but he had to. They had driven him to this.
The rain let up and the clouds began to lighten, drifting away and breaking apart to reveal patches of blue sky.
Marcus drew a deep breath and made his decision.
He couldn’t wait to see what Hell revealed.
He needed to go to Amelia.
He went to unfurl his wings but they wouldn’t come. This time, they didn’t appear at all, not even for the briefest time. He focused on them and a familiar prickling sensation formed where they should have been. The curse. It had bothered him before too, prior to Heaven ordering him to remain on Earth.
Why?
He needed his wings.
Marcus looked across at Einar. “Help me with something.”
Einar nodded and then his brown eyes widened when Marcus removed his breastplate and the back plate of his armour. He looked over his shoulders, trying to see the curse marks, but they were too far down.
“My wings won’t come,” Marcus said and turned his back to Einar. “What do they look like?”
Einar stepped up to him and ran his fingers over the elaborate marks on his back. “They are shifting like sunlight on water. What are you thinking about?”
Marcus tried to see them again. He had seen the marks in a mirror before when the curse had been active and the colours had shifted then, rippling with lighter and darker hues of blue.
“I was going to disobey my orders to remain outside Heaven and go after Amelia.” Marcus looked at Einar to gauge his reaction.
Einar’s expression turned pensive. “And when did you have a problem with them before that?”
“When Amelia died… I wanted to go to Heaven and question my superior.” Marcus looked up at the broken clouds and the shafts of sunlight streaming down onto Paris. “Before that, it was when Amelia came under attack and I saved her, just before I came to see you.”
“When you escaped the Hell’s angels?”
Marcus frowned in the direction of the marks. “Do you think the curse is their doing? A way of hindering me so they can catch Amelia?”
Einar stared at Marcus’s shoulders for a moment and then shrugged. “I don’t know. Why would they want to hinder you now? Amelia has died. Veiron had wanted to stop that from happening and failed.”
Marcus stared down into the street below. He needed to find Veiron and ask him about Amelia, and also about his curse. Taylor thought that it was demonic but the further he ventured into this mission, the more doubts he had. Could it be the work of the Hell’s angels?
His gaze rose to the sky again.
As much as he desired to go to Heaven and to Amelia, he needed to uncover the truth about her destiny and his mission first, and something told him that Veiron could help with that. Heaven’s message had stated that he would be called to them and Amelia soon. He had to trust that meant that she was safe with them for now. Once they called him, he would see her again and he would save her from whatever fate had in store for her.
“It’s time.” Apollyon stepped out onto the small balcony, dressed in his black and gold armour with his wings tucked against his back. “We should go now.”
“There’s a problem,” Einar said and Apollyon’s dark blue gaze darted to him. “Marcus’s wings.”
Marcus’s silvery wings unfurled from his back, hitting Einar and almost knocking him over the railing. Marcus stared at them, unable to believe that they were there now when a moment ago they hadn’t responded to his call. What the hell was happening to him?
He needed to find Veiron and fast. Einar’s questions had planted more in his head and he wanted answers.
They played on his mind as he followed Einar and Apollyon into the apartment, calling his breastplate and back plate to him at the same time. The blue and silver armour materialised over his torso and he focused on his wings, furling them against his back. They felt stable now but for how long?
He couldn’t shake the feeling that the curse was reacting to him just as the medical staff had said, but it wasn’t triggered by his emotions. The trigger was the decisions he made, the things he wanted to do. It was rigged to respond to some thoughts but not others. There were countless times when he had wanted to use his wings for a purpose and they had been fine, and only a handful when they hadn’t come when he had called. Each of those times, his need for them had been related to Amelia. That only confused him further. He placed his left hand on the grip of the blade hanging from his waist and tightened his fingers around it. Resolve flowed through him. There had to be a way to remove the curse, something that they hadn’t tried, and he was determined to find it and free himself.
Taylor clicked her fingers in front of his face. “Earth to Marcus.”
His eyes widened and he blankly looked at her.
“You’re my escort for the evening.” She smiled at him and finished tying her long black hair up into a neat ponytail. She was head to toe in black again and sporting some nasty looking knives in a holster that fitted snugly over her black t-shirt. He counted four on either side of her ribs, each with small rings on the end so she could quickly tug them free and throw them, and a larger knife was strapped to her leg. His gaze dropped to her combat boots and he wondered where else she was concealing blades. She put her leather jacket on, hiding the short blade that was against her back, and her smile widened, brightening her blue eyes.
He wasn’t sure who would be escorting whom. With an arsenal like that strapped to her body, she could probably take down most enemies without any problems or any need for assistance.
“I still don’t like the idea of you flying with another man,” Einar said and Taylor turned her smile on him. It warmed and widened.
“Marcus will be a gentleman, I’m sure, and it’s your fault for losing your wings.” Her smile turned mischievous.
“You are right, it is my fault… perhaps I shouldn’t have decided to sacrifice them so we could be together. I will just send a message to Heaven saying that I’ve changed my mind.”
Taylor’s smile dropped away and she stared at him. “You wouldn’t dare… you’re mine, Romeo, and you’d better remember that.”
“Look who’s talking. You speak to Marcus like you’re propositioning him and then—” Einar didn’t get a chance to finish. Taylor ran at him, threw her arms around his neck and almost knocked him off his feet.
Einar grinned and wrapped his arms around her, holding her against him, and lowered his mouth to kiss her. She wriggled free.
“Dammit, Einar, you’re all wet!” Her scowl stopped him mid-attempt to grab her again and she caught his wrist instead and led him to their bags on the beige couches.
Einar looked unimpressed as he released her, setting her back on her feet, and fixed his hair back in place.
Marcus smiled when she tossed a t-shirt at Einar, hitting him in the face with it, and then started to unload even more short swords and knives, tucking them into her jacket. Einar must have used his powers to conceal all that weaponry from human eyes at the airport. It was possible for him to alter the appearance of the luggage’s contents.
He looked away from them and his gaze lighted on Apollyon and Serenity. The moment Apollyon bent down, wrapped his arms around the petite blonde and lifted her for a kiss, Marcus looked away from them too. Luck wasn’t with him, but Lukas was getting a serious good luck kiss from Annelie, her slender fingers wrapped in his messy sandy hair whilst his hand splayed through her red locks, holding her against his mouth.
Marcus turned around and stared at the balcony, unable to bear the sight of the three couples. It was torture. He wanted Amelia in his arms again, her sweet lips against his and her body nestled close. They had only been together a short time, but the moments they had shared with each other had been blissful and had changed his life. He couldn’t live without her anymore. The world was dull and grey when she wasn’t with him and he couldn’t think straight. He needed her and he was starting to waver again, the desire to find her battling his need to go to Hell with the others and discover more about what was happening.
Amelia was safe with Heaven. They had told him that and he forced himself to believe it. They had never lied to him before. They had only neglected to tell him things. He couldn’t hold that against them. When his mission had begun, he had been told to watch over Amelia and that he would be given more information in time. They had kept their word, telling him that there would be a point in time when he had to protect her until. Had that point in time been her death at Apollyon’s hands? If it was, then Marcus had fulfilled that part of his mission, but his duty wasn’t done yet. Heaven had made it sound as though there was more to come. What if Amelia’s death wasn’t the end but only the beginning of something? She had been reborn as a being similar to an angel. There had to be a reason for it.
Her Angel: Eternal Warriors Complete Series Box Set Page 24
