by Anne Hope
“You two know each other?” Emma’s voice pierced his thoughts, yanking him out of the past and into the present.
“We—”
Tina didn’t give Adrian a chance to answer. She spun toward Marcus, her crinkled face flushed with anger. “You lied to me. You never told me you were bringing me to him.”
“I didn’t lie,” Marcus defended himself. “I promised I’d deliver you to your daughter, and that’s precisely what I’ve done.”
Tina ignored him, rounding on Emma instead. “What are you doing with him?” She pointed an accusing finger at Adrian. “He’s no good for you. He never was.”
“Mama, please!” Emma squinted in confusion. “Adrian’s the reason I stayed safe. He’s been watching over me this whole time. You have no idea the risk he took bringing you here.” She wagged her head, her disappointment as clear as the sky was blue. “Why are you acting this way?”
“Because she blames me for your sister’s death,” Adrian supplied, his tone raw and listless. Emma may have absolved him of his sins, but her mother obviously hadn’t. Old, familiar guilt surfaced, threatening to consume him again.
“No,” Tina shot back. “I don’t blame you for her death. What I blame you for is taking her away from me.” Her voice broke. “You deprived me of the last few precious months I could’ve had with her, and I’ll never forgive you for that.”
“I had no choice. It was the only way to protect her from Kyros.”
“Quiet. Both of you.” Emma spread out her arms to silence them. “How do you two know each other? And when did Adrian meet Angelica?”
Suddenly everything stopped. Adrian knew the precise instant when the truth dawned on Emma. Her body grew statue-still and the color drained from her face. “Angelica is Angie,” she whispered, more to herself than to anyone in particular. There was reverence in her voice, and a hint of horror. “And I’m Angelica.” She hugged herself and fell onto her haunches, rocking back and forth in dismay. “Holy hell.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
After Emma’s meltdown, Marcus suggested they take the drama inside, where they could sort things out like civilized adults. Tina had put up a fight, but eventually Marcus had convinced her to cooperate.
So far, this reunion hadn’t gone well. Emma was in shock, Tina was livid, and Adrian felt like he’d been sucker-punched. Only Marcus still had some control over his faculties, and for the first time, Adrian was grateful his father was around.
The Watcher ushered them all into the kitchen and ordered them to sit. Then he took a seat across the table from Adrian and waited for the women to calm down. When the dust settled and some semblance of peace descended over the townhouse, he finally spoke. “Okay, now which one of you is going to tell me what the hell is going on?”
“I will,” Adrian volunteered and instantly felt the heat of three pairs of eyes on him. “Remember when I first met Angie, back in Manhattan?”
Marcus nodded. “You asked Cal to cloak her because Kyros was after her.”
Adrian inhaled a bolstering breath. He had absolutely no desire to revisit the past, but he knew it was necessary to do so. “Kyros wasn’t the only threat to her safety. There was another one. One I was powerless to protect her against.” Bitterness pooled in his mouth. “Angie suffered from acute lymphoblastic leukemia.”
“You told me she died of meningitis,” Emma interrupted. The accusation in her tone both shocked and disappointed him. Did she think he’d purposely misled her in an effort to conceal the truth?
“She did die of meningitis. The leukemia was in remission at the time.” He paused to gather his thoughts. This wasn’t going to be easy, especially with Emma sitting here watching him with that betrayed look in her eyes. All he wanted to do was pull her to him and comfort her, but he couldn’t. Not yet. “Tina, hoping to provide a bone marrow transplant for her daughter, conceived a child. She refused to tell anyone who the father was, something Angie never really came to terms with. She couldn’t understand why her mother was being so secretive.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” Tina said in her own defense. “I couldn’t tell her the truth.”
Marcus silenced her with a raise of his hand. “You’ll get your turn soon enough.” He gave Adrian an encouraging nod. “Go on.”
“Tina was sure the child she carried was a genetic match for Angie, but Angie wasn’t convinced…until the amnio confirmed that her mother was right.” He remembered the day they’d gotten the news, the joy he’d felt, the hope that had swept across Angie’s face. “For a short while, we really thought everything would work out, that Angie would be cured. All she had to do was stay healthy until her sister was born.”
“But she didn’t.” Emma’s voice rang flat. “She died the day I was born.”
“That’s because I made the doctors induce me,” Tina explained. She gave Marcus a pointed stare. “Is it all right if I speak now?”
The Watcher didn’t attempt to hide his annoyance. “Go right ahead.”
“I was positive the child I carried was going to cure my Angelica. Even when she got sick, I refused to believe she would die. It was inconceivable to me. So I had Emma two weeks ahead of schedule, thinking there was still time for her to save her sister.”
She gave Emma an apologetic look. “That was the biggest mistake I ever made.”
“Why?” Emma’s confusion mirrored Adrian’s.
“To answer that, I have to go back to the beginning.” Tina appeared to melt in her chair. Fatigue whitened her face, as did a heavy measure of guilt. “The reason I never told Angelica about the man who fathered Emma is because he wasn’t a man. Not really. Oh, he looked like a man, and he talked like a man, and he made love like a man, but he was something else. Something more.” Her expression glittered with pride and admiration as she gazed at Emma. “His name was Micah, and he was an angel, sent from heaven to answer my prayers.”
Shock rippled through the room, everyone’s attention riveted on Tina. Adrian had so many questions, but he was too busy processing what he’d just learned to ask them.
Marcus was the first to speak. “Did you say Micah?”
Adrian’s gaze shot to his father. “You know him?”
“Yeah. I had the pleasure of meeting him after I left your place in Spokane. He’s the one who took Ben.”
That explained a lot. Adrian had racked his brain trying to understand how the boy could’ve been snatched from under his roof without him hearing or sensing anything. He’d been responsible for the kid, had blamed himself for the boy’s disappearance that night. Only a ghost—or an angel—could’ve gotten in and out unobserved.
“Micah is the angel of divine intervention,” Marcus informed them. “He’s been working behind the scenes for years to reunite the Sacred Four. His goal is to find the right vessel for each of them.”
Adrian wagged his head in awe. “So Emma is first-generation Nephilim.” His suspicions had been correct all along. She was one of them. That was the reason she healed so quickly. A secret thrill coursed through him at the knowledge. If she was Nephilim, then she was immortal, which meant she wouldn’t grow old and leave him.
Emma finally broke her extended silence and said, “Is that why my blood is poison to you? Because an angel fathered me?”
“Ancients were fathered by angels as well,” Adrian told her, “and their blood is no different from mine. I honestly don’t know why your blood is so lethal to my kind.”
“I think I do.” Marcus leaned forward, hunching his shoulders and propping his elbows on the table. “Ancients were fathered by fallen angels. Micah hasn’t been cast out of heaven. In fact, he’s pretty high up in the celestial chain. Any action on his part had to be approved by the Seraphim Council, which means Emma’s existence was planned. Unlike us, she wasn’t cursed, which explains why I don’t sense any darkness in her.”
“Wait a minute.” Emma ran her fingers through her hair, gripping her head as though it ached. “If I’m part angel, wouldn�
��t I have superpowers like the rest of you? I’ve seen what you guys can do—move objects with your minds, raise invisible walls, run like the wind. I can’t as much as will a leaf to fall from a tree.”
“That’s because I messed up,” her mother informed her with a note of regret. “I never should’ve had myself induced. You see, I thought you were meant to save your sister, but I had it all wrong. You were never meant to save her. You were meant to replace her.”
Tina reached out and covered Emma’s hand with hers, affection softening her features. “Micah later explained that Angelica’s soul was incredibly powerful. So powerful that it was slowly killing her.” Sadness played around her mouth, one Adrian understood all too well.
“Like Marcus said, he needed another vessel. A vessel born of his blood that could hold not only Angelica’s soul, but that of its twin as well. Before he could merge the two halves,” Tina continued, “he intended to cleanse Angelica’s soul. But when you came early, he was left with no choice but to raise a wall in your mind to block all those old memories. Unfortunately, that wall also blocks your abilities.”
Emma slumped in her chair, weighed down by everything she’d learned. “Why did he block my memories?”
“He didn’t want them to interfere with your destiny. He said you had to live your own experiences, form new memories and opinions. In order to destroy their kind—” she indicated Adrian with a jerk of her head, “—you had to hate them. Hate everything they stand for. Hate the ugliness they bring to the world just by breathing.” Tina huffed in defeat, her sigh resonating with disappointment. “Instead, you’ve gone and fallen for one again.”
After Emma got her mother settled in the guestroom, she headed to Adrian’s room and stretched out on the bed, her body hollowed by exhaustion. The events of the day spun inside her head, rendering her dizzy.
Marcus had left earlier in the day, with the promise to return. Before taking off, he’d reassured them that his leader had cloaked not only Christina, but Emma and Adrian as well. The idea that the Kleptopsychs could no longer track them should’ve provided some measure of comfort, but Emma’s state of mind didn’t allow for it.
To think that all this time she’d begrudged her sister’s utter perfection, had felt sorely lacking in comparison, only to now learn they were one and the same. Christina hadn’t spoken of Angelica’s virtues because she longed for Emma to be like her sister. She’d spoken of Angelica’s virtues because she knew Emma was her sister. The irony wrung a bitter chortle from her.
The door swung inward, and Adrian entered the room, approaching her with hesitant steps. “How are you holding up?”
The compassion in his voice warmed her blood, even as a part of her resented the intrusion. “Did you know?” She continued staring at the ceiling to avoid looking at him. “Did you know Angie was my sister?”
“Of course not. Why would I keep something like that from you?”
“You’ve been keeping things from me since we met.” She didn’t mean to take her frustrations out on him, but she was tired of all the secrets and the lies and the half-truths. Why did everyone feel compelled to deceive her?
The mattress sagged as he sat beside her. “I swore a long time ago I’d never lie to you, and I meant it.” He palmed her cheek and turned her face toward him, forcing her to look at him. “I didn’t know about your relation to Angie. That’s the truth. As for the rest of it, I thought it was too much for you to take in all at once. Humans aren’t wired to understand my world.”
She sprang up in bed and scuttled back, pressing her spine to the headboard. “That’s just it. I’m not human. And I’m not like you, either. I’m some kind of freaky angel half-breed with no memories and no special abilities.”
Small bursts of anger erupted inside her. She was angry at her mother for lying to her all these years. She was angry at her father for messing with her head. And she was angry at Adrian because he’d loved a woman she couldn’t remember being. A woman she’d spent her entire existence struggling to live up to.
She hugged her knees and drew them against her chest. “I have to remember. All of it.” Her gaze cut to his. “Can you tear down the wall in my mind?”
A shadow fell to darken his features. “Maybe, but—”
“Then do it. I want it gone.”
The hard lines of his face softened as he reached for her, pulling her in the circle of his arms. She fought against him for a second or two, but it was no use. She could no more resist the lure of his touch than she could deny her lungs air. His embrace was like a blanket, holding her together when all she wanted to do was fall apart.
His breath brushed her hair, a soft and gentle caress. “Ever since I found you in that motel room, I’ve been obsessed with making you remember.” Guilt strained his voice. “To the point where I even manipulated your dreams.”
She gazed up at him in surprise. “The night I saw myself die?”
He gave a terse nod. “I never should’ve invaded your mind. It was wrong, but I was desperate.” His fingers stroked her cheek so tenderly her senses swam. It was so easy to lose all sense of time and space when Adrian was around. “I was an idiot. The truth is, it doesn’t matter if you ever remember your past life. What matters is that you’re here with me now.” His eyes glittered with blue intensity, right before he leaned over and whispered in her ear, “You’re enough, Emma. You’re everything I need.”
Her heart lurched. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
She slid her arms around his neck and held him tight. “For always knowing the right thing to say.”
They remained that way for several minutes, wrapped in each other, neither daring to speak. The sun set beyond the windows, and darkness swept in to steal what little light remained in the room. Silence spun around them, enveloping them in a silky web that made the rest of the world seem so very far away.
Emma wanted to bask in the numbing comfort he provided, but her mind refused to quiet. “I don’t even know what she looked like,” she whispered. “When we fled Manhattan, my mom left everything behind, including the family albums.”
Other than the list of virtues her mom had seen fit to gush about, the truth was, Emma knew very little about Angelica Paxton. “I’d ask my mom about my sister sometimes, but she’d just grow really quiet, like it hurt to remember. So I never pressed her for details. But I often wondered about her. I wondered where she’d gone to school, how she’d occupied her time—” a fist closed over her heart, “—if she’d ever fallen in love.”
Adrian stroked her hair but didn’t speak. He understood she needed to get these things off her chest, and through his silence he encouraged her to do so.
“I always believed my mother evaded my questions because she was still grieving. Now I realize it wasn’t grief she felt. It was guilt.” She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with his familiar, earthy scent. “She’s been lying to me my whole life.”
It hurt to say the words out loud, but she had to. If she kept them inside, they would fester and poison her.
Silence enveloped them again, thick but not unsettling. With Adrian, she didn’t need to speak unless she wanted to, and that comforted her more than she could say. “I wish she would’ve at least shown me a picture.” Her voice was a soft murmur, muffled by the thick wall of his chest.
Adrian abruptly released her, rolling to his side and sliding off the mattress. Without a word, he headed to the trunk he kept at the foot of his bed and yanked the lid open.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for something.” He pulled out a leather jacket and tossed it aside, then continued rummaging through the trunk.
“I can see that. What are you looking for?”
No answer.
Curious, Emma went to kneel beside him. The bomber jacket he’d discarded caught her eye, and she slid her palm over it. Cool leather caressed her skin as she lifted it onto her lap, entranced. Beneath the odor of must and aged leather was a hint of
Adrian’s unique scent. Like a switch being flicked, sounds and images exploded in her mind.
A gleaming black gun. The distant rumble of a train. A gunshot, followed by a persistent ringing in her ears.
She ran her finger over the bullet hole. “Damn shame. I love this jacket.”
His eyes snapped to her face.
“That’s what you said after he shot you.”
Emotion cracked his voice. “Yes.”
“Show me more.” Excitement shimmied down her spine. “I need to know everything.”
Reluctance played around his mouth, but he nodded, handing her a brochure. The word Reach was printed across the top in bold blue letters.
Emma wrinkled her forehead in confusion. “What’s this?”
He said nothing, waiting and watching. The silence that had comforted her moments ago now only served to aggravate her. Realizing he had no intention of divulging any information, Emma opened the flyer and read the description. From what she gathered, Reach was a nonprofit organization catering to troubled teens.
Another fissure splintered the wall in her mind, and visions assaulted her. She saw herself standing behind a counter ladling soup into bowls, answering the Reach hotline, holding counseling sessions in a room with large windows that allowed the light to spill in.
“This is where I used to work.” She remembered now. A smile tugged at her mouth. “Where we met Eddie.” He used to attend her counseling sessions at Reach before he turned. She eyed Adrian suspiciously. “Are you doing this?”
Why was she suddenly recalling things so clearly? Was Adrian performing the task she’d asked of him? Was he tearing down the wall that held the memories back?
He shook his head. “You’re doing this all on your own.” Looking as baffled as she was by her breakthrough, he dug into the trunk again. This time he withdrew a stack of photographs.
