She'd kept his secrets as her part of their oath, but his betrayal no longer bound her. Did he assume she wouldn't act upon her promise and share his secrets?
A sense of powerful calm entered Stella's room as a large white orb with an electric blue hue materialized next to Conner. The orb continued to shift into an angel with exquisite blue-tipped white wings. His back was to Delilah, but she knew who had arrived.
Michael.
Conner's face bore such pain, but a glimmer of hope floated across it. Delilah took one last glance at Conner as her sinister resolve deepened. There'd be no turning back, but Delilah realized she didn't care anymore.
"Delilah."
Her name exploded inside her head. She gasped as Michael stood before her in all his glory. Delilah glanced away and willed her body to be calm, fearful he'd notice her churning emotions.
"What are you doing here?" Michael's accusation sounded like a father catching his child where she shouldn't be.
She swept her arm toward Stella's room. "I felt his pain, Michael. I know I shouldn't have come, but I had to see for myself that he wasn't hurt." She bent her head, hoping to hide the resentment burning in her eyes. "I was just leaving." She buried her clenched fists in the folds of her dress. "I'm sorry," she whispered, not trusting her voice.
His silence pressed against Delilah while her heartbeat pounded in her chest. Donning her serene facade, she hoped he believed her.
"I understand it's difficult for you−"
"Thank you, Michael. I'm glad he finds comfort in you." She smiled at him, making her tight face want to shatter into a million pieces. "I must return to my charge. Goodbye." She glided by him.
"Goodbye. And Delilah..." She paused, looking back at him. His strong jaw set, his stern blue eyes pierced her. "Don't seek him, or his family, ever again."
Delilah nodded at his veiled threat and left. Her dark anger propelled her through the hall, away from the source of her heartbreak, fueling her desperate departure to get far away from the room occupying the man she loved but was forbidden to have. Hot tears of luminous silver trailed down her face.
How dare Michael treat me that way? Ban me from Conner like I'm nothing? He'll pay too!
The night's desolate darkness greeted Delilah outside the hospital, matching her despondent frame of mind. She flew past cars scattered in the well-lit parking lot to its edge, where a small seating area lay nestled inside a circle of stark, barren trees. Delilah landed on the bench and let her emotions tear open under the evening sky. She cried as malicious words spilled out, lashing out at her newfound enemies. All the while, her plan percolated beneath the solitary canopy of trees. And it felt good. She'd have the last say and punish those who had hurt her, used her.
But her new charge's innocent face flashed before her. The sweet baby boy she'd help guide and protect during his lifetime. She dared not make the same mistakes as she did with Conner. Her heart lurched. What if he grew to reject Delilah too? Could she handle that rejection again?
No.
Delilah swiped at her tears, wiping them and the memories of her charge away like newfound dirt on her pristine dress.
Delilah froze. A swirl of frigid air crept around her. She frantically scanned the parking lot in search of what had found her alone. At first, Delilah thought it was the play of the overhead lights making the shadows shift. But the rolling mass of black smoke advanced toward her. She jerked up and readied herself with her only weapon. Palm out, she made a circle in front of her. A vibrating force field formed around her, giving her precious time to escape.
A dark figure materialized out of the smoke. He was tall and lean, dressed in black jeans and a faded black t-shirt with tattoos swirling up both arms. His platinum hair hung to his shoulders, framing the face of a young man, except for his evil eyes. Inside black pools lay a neon green iris with a bright green ring around it. Short black horns swept back from his temples, seemingly pointing at his black wings, which were covered in sharp crow-like feathers. His stark white skin glowed against the inky night's sky.
Panic seized Delilah. A Fallen, powerful enough to split her shield and easily kill her. She started fading into an orb−
"Delilah," he called out, reaching for her. "Stop! It's me, Zar. Remember?"
Her eyes grew wide as his husky voice sparked faint, ancient memories. Zar. A friend, an angel... until the Fall.
"Zar?" She studied him closer, searching for signs of the lost angel she had mourned. "What are you doing here? Why−"
"I saw you in there with Michael." He cocked his head back toward the hospital. "Sounded like nasty business." He put his hands in his pockets, but his eyes never left hers.
Anger shot through her. "Well, that's none of your business, and you need to go before I signal him here." Delilah's voice was full of bravado.
Zar watched her with guarded eyes, making no move against her. She should leave, but an impulsive curiosity got the best of her. Delilah's red hair spilled across her chin as she tilted her head sideways, examining him. "Why do you dare approach me? We are enemies now."
He took a tentative step closer. Fear prickled at her neck. He was too close for Delilah's comfort. "When you two were talking, I saw how upset you were. But that clod didn't even notice your anger or sense your pain. I understand your emotions. Helpless, with no control. I remember that's how I−"
"Don't you compare yourself to me! We have nothing in common anymore! You left—"
"I hate Michael, too." His voice, so deep in understanding and unafraid to speak his truth, wrapped around her like an embrace. "He's one of the reasons why I left." His admission stunned Delilah. Angels and man loved and admired Michael.
"I thought−"
"Lucifer promised us a different world. Something better than simply adoring an Almighty and his heinous creation. Free−"
"Stop! I won't listen to your hateful words." She turned her back on him, afraid he'd find what lurked inside her. The ugly dark part that wanted his life. Did Zar find what he craved in Lucifer's promises? Was he free to do as he wanted, love who he wanted, be who he wanted to be?
An eerie quiet settled among the trees.
"I'll be here tomorrow at this time if you wish to know more."
She turned, but he was already gone, leaving behind a small wisp of smoke and a dare she just might take.
Chapter Eighteen
Olivia
The dawn cast a glow through the white metal blinds in Mom's drab hospital room. Olivia leaned her head against the chair, wishing the morning rays would wrap around her and chase her chills away. The scratchy blanket covering her did little to ease her shivers. Olivia's eyes raked over her mom's still body, closed eyes on her mom's bandaged, pale face, trapped inside the metal side rails of her sterile hospital bed. The various beeping monitors, blood pressure cuff and IV lines were all periphery.
Mom... Please wake up....
Mom... I love you.
She shifted her stiff body on the worn-out vinyl recliner, lying parallel to the bed. Olivia linked their hands, her ring reflecting its rich hues. She had prayed during the night for Mom's healing and hoped its blue glow illuminated the inner strength she required. She curled deeper into the blanket as another shiver sliced through her.
"You're going to be good as new, Mom," Olivia whispered, squeezing her hand. "I'm right here. Just wake up, and we can go home." Her throat closed, but she promised herself she wouldn't cry anymore. Olivia wanted to radiate her optimism, not her fears. Still, Mom's eyelids stayed closed.
She stiffened at the soft click of the door. She dreaded that it was either her Dad or the doctors, suspecting neither of them brought great news. Dad entered the room quietly for such a big man. He carried two coffees with a white paper sack swinging from one hand.
"Good morning." He held out a to-go coffee cup, nodding to her. "Black with two sweeteners." The rich aroma filled her senses as she reached for the cup with the familiar logo.
"Thanks." Olivia to
ok the first delightful sip, letting the hot liquid roll over her tongue and down her throat. She closed her eyes, giving thanks to the coffee gods. "That's excellent."
A small smile cracked on his tired face. "Figured only Cuppa Joe's would do." He took a sip in appreciation. Opening the white bag, he plucked out a brown iced danish. "Joe said bear claws were your favorite, so−"
"That's nice, but I'm really not hungry." She peeked over the cup's lid.
Dad raised the danish toward Olivia. "We've been here for three days, and you've hardly eaten. She will wake up soon, and we'll need our strength to take care of her." He wagged it toward her again. "Please, for your mom."
She sighed, taking the danish. "For Mom." She looked him square in the eye. "But don't use that guilt thing again." She took a small bite, trying to hide her pleasure at the tasty explosion of sugar and cinnamon in her mouth.
Dad threw up his hands in self-defense, leaning back into the beige recliner. He dug out the other danish and took a big bite. She watched him through her eyelashes as she had another sip of coffee. Dad had dark circles under his eyes, and a pale pallor still lurked under his tanned skin. His damp hair and fresh woodsy scent drifted over her. Olivia took another bite, embarrassed by the fact that she looked like a critter Thunder had dragged around all night. A shower...
His voice startled her. "Do you think we can try to find some kind of truce, Olivia?" He rubbed his hands against his thighs. "We could let your mom's recovery become our common ground and set aside the other things between us." Hopeful eyes of the brightest blue implored her to say yes, but laced inside lay the same fear, sadness and heartache she'd spied in her own eyes earlier. She hated to admit it, but she would require help with Mom. Unfortunately for Olivia, Dad may be the only one who could do this, whether she liked it or not.
Olivia nibbled on the end of the danish, but it dried up like dust in her mouth. She set it on the bedside table. "All right. On one condition." She narrowed her eyes at him. "That you don't use it as an opportunity to ask me questions about my life. We only talk about Mom and her recovery." She lifted her chin and crossed her arms, daring him to push back.
"Deal," Dad said. Relief flooded his face as he reached across Mom.
"Deal." His huge hand engulfed hers. Heat traveled up Olivia's arm. A part of her craved his warmth, needed his warmth, but the door swung open, breaking the spell. Olivia released his hand, palm still tingling. Dad stood and greeted the doctor.
"Morning, Dr. Wilson."
The doctor nodded to both of them and mumbled "Morning" as he poured over Mom's chart. "The good news is her injuries continue to improve. Her lung function is good, and no sign of infection or pneumonia. Blood work and vitals are within normal ranges. We've done extremities tests, and her responses are positive." He glanced at each of them before his eyes flickered over the bed.
Olivia's chest tightened in anticipation of his next words. "The swelling to her brain is improving, but the brain takes time to heal. We won't know the extent of her brain injury until she awakens. And I can't give you an answer when that will be. We'll keep monitoring her until then." He closed her chart and tucked it under his arm. "I'll be back tomorrow morning unless something changes."
He made to leave, but Dad stepped in front of him. "Thank you for what you've done."
Dr. Wilson gazed at Mom. "I see this tragedy too often. Families destroyed and lives lost because of doped up or drunk drivers." His bitter words hung in the air. "I'll do everything I can to get your mom back." He stepped around Dad and slipped out the door. The incessant beeping of the monitors confirmed the long road in front of them.
"We're here, Mom. I'm not going anywhere." Olivia squeezed Mom's hand. She startled as Dad’s hand covered both of them.
"I'm not going anywhere either, Olivia."
Olivia didn't look up but forced a small smile. His easy words sounded so honest, but they didn't penetrate the locked door of her heart.
Chapter Nineteen
Zach
Zach ran through the arid desert on a moonless night. Darkness enveloped him, but Liv's screams filled the vast night air. Chills ran down Zach's spine as he raced toward her desperate cries. He saw a red glow in the distance−
I'm not dreaming anymore.... The demon is in my room....
A part of Zach sensed it was coming before it hit him. A sensation of being caught in a wave, the energy crashing over him, trapping him in the paralyzed nightmare. Shadows loomed in the corners under the room's dim light. Zach panicked when he discovered his smoky nemesis crouched low at the foot of his bed. Electric hot-pink eyes sizzled, locking with his.
Zach thrashed. His breathing quickened, but the invisible force didn't budge. His terrified screams reverberated against his smashed face. A peal of husky feminine laughter drowned out his screams as the figure slithered over the end of the bed, beginning its slow move over Zach's body. The field between them didn't protect him from its malicious intent or the helpless horror gripping him.
"Don't fight me, Zach. You've tried before, and it's useless." The demon's hollow voice ricocheted in his head. "You are mine."
No. No. No....
Zach kept screaming, thrashing, fighting against this paralyzing evil, but its laughter only grew more excited.
"Have you liked my visits so far? They excited me. You'll get used to them... You might even grow to enjoy our time together."
Its husky promise repulsed him, pushing him to fight harder, dig deeper for a way to repel the evil seeking him.
"You'll prefer this shape."
It moved closer to his face, making his flesh quiver. His last vestige of escape disappeared when the smoky shape took form. Where once smoke surrounded him, a black translucent gown flowed as long, dark hair with pink strands floated around her caramel face like she was floating in calm water. But her eyes were not calm. They held something deeper and more sinister. They held desire. The shape of a woman now hovered over his vulnerable, trapped body. She began her torturous descent, pushing him into the mattress. She smelled of heat and smoke, gagging him, solidifying his complete terror. His mark throbbed as her long-fingered hands glided over his chest until they stilled at his hips. He bucked against it, trapped in the mattress's coffin. Her excited moans were all he could hear, her malicious eyes all he could see while her wicked fingers sought his body.
Stop it... Get off me! Get−
Flattened against Zach, she lowered her open mouth. A hot-pink tongue slithered out, flicking his cheeks and neck with a wet slap. Nausea built as her tongue circled his closed mouth, seeking entrance.
"Open up, or I'll pry it open." Her sharp fingernails dug into his hips as he clamped his lips together.
Her hands left his hips, her fingernails nails scurrying up his chest like pinching crabs—
"What is this?" the demon demanded.
An angry, irritated screech pierced his ears as she lifted her dark form, no longer suffocating him. She jumped next to the bed and crouched low, sniffing the air. Her vibrant pink irises glowed as she reached for the wicked silver blade on her hip. Her jet-black bat wings surrounded him, squelching any hopes of escape if he freed himself.
"I have to kill you now. You can't share my visits. Too bad. We would have had so much fun." She sounded like a petulant child not getting her way.
She raised high the deadly blade, hot-pink sparks igniting at the point. His struggles froze, as it descended toward his chest. Zach squeezed his eyes shut. His body braced for the invasion of the knife. His horrified scream muffled against the unrelenting force field while his heart pounded its last beat−
Her earsplitting howl echoed as the world around him exploded into cascading oil and black dust. His thrashing body, now free, rolled off the bed, taking the blanket with him, landing on the floor chest-first. A set of hands touched his back. He rolled over swinging.
"Get away from me!"
"Zach!"
He froze as the voice registered.
"Mom
!" Zach's high-pitched cry was full of relief and surprise.
She fell to her knees, eyes wide as she grabbed Zach's face.
"Mom," Zach croaked as he pulled her into a desperate hug. He didn't realize he was crying until he felt the moisture against her hair. Mom's hands ran up and down his sweat-soaked shirt. He released his pent-up emotions into their embrace. Mom absorbed his tears, never wavering or prodding. When Zach's body stopped shaking, his tears exhausted, she pulled away.
"What happened?" When he didn't answer, Mom shook him. "Zach, talk to me."
Her worried face, inches from his, prompted him to tell her. It didn't matter if she thought he was crazy; maybe he was. But he was too scared to face it alone.
"I've been having nightmares−well−" Zach scrubbed his face in frustration. "Not really nightmares. More like a visitor." Mom went still, her face a mask of deadly calm. His hands clutched the bedcovers over his legs.
Please believe me.
The words tumbled out of him. "It holds me down in this weird force field as it touches my skin. No matter how hard I fight, I can't move. Then it touches me... climbs on top of me. And I can't stop it." Zach's throat was raw; his head pounded. He stared at his mom, trying to gauge her reaction, but her face remained calm. He pointed at the bed. "Tonight, I discovered it was a demon woman, and I thought... it was−"
"Shh. It's okay." She tried to soothe him; her grip tightened on his arms.
"No! It's not okay! Something stopped her because she had this... this knife. And she raised it, saying she had to kill me." Renewed panic flared as the terrifying words kept spilling out. "And then she howled and turned to dust and oil−" He glanced at the covers, but nothing covered them. Zach's shoulders slumped; his head fell forward.
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