"What is up your ass?" I growl.
Nathaniel stares at my pocket. The edge of the Crossing Key is just barely hanging out. Dammit. I didn’t want him to know I had that.
"You have a Crossing Key! You could've used it when the Bunker was imploding," he accuses.
"It's not that simple," I reply.
"Bullshit. What if things had gone to hell!"
"Then I would've used it. It's got two uses. It's not something you waste on a simple deadie attack."
"It was a lot more than a simple deadie attack," Nathaniel argues.
"No, it wasn't, and you damn well know it," I reply.
"You know as well as I do that there were bigger powers behind that than a simple undead mob or locust swarm," he counters.
"If we’re talking about what I ‘know’ then tell me, what are you hiding about Bunker 4?” I say, attacking. “I know you know more than you’re saying."
It creates the effect I want. Nathaniel's face flushes red with anger. He starts to speak but only a sputter comes out.
"Yeah, exactly," I say, pressing my advantage. "Let's talk about who's being honest and who's not."
Efram appears behind Nathaniel. "Keep it down," he hisses. "She's going to hear you."
"Dammit," I curse. "See what you've done now."
Efram looks between Nathaniel and me, then shakes his head. "I don't know what's going on between the two of you, but it needs to stop—now. Aviella's under enough stress. We're her protectors. That has to override all other concerns."
Nathaniel regains his composure. His face is back to its normal, stoic, hard look. He nods sharply to Efram, glares at me, and then spins on his heel and walks away.
"What in the hell was that?" Efram asks me.
"Oh, you know," I say, giving my best smile. "Just a little friendly rivalry."
Efram shakes his head and walks out of the kitchen. An emptiness forms in the pit of my stomach. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. Damn that angel. I can’t let him get under my skin. Slamming cans and pots, I take out my frustration on the food I’m preparing.
Chapter Three
"Would you like more?" Rafe asks.
I can't hide my surprise. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah, there's plenty to go around," Rafe says, smiling.
"This is incredible," I say.
Rafe grabs my tray and goes back through the food line. I take the opportunity to look around the dining hall. Nathaniel walks in, and we lock eyes across the room. The now-familiar tightness in my core happens as soon as we see each other. He looks like he's about to walk my way when Rafe returns to the table. Nathaniel frowns, the smallest break in his façade, and turns away.
Rafe sets the tray down in front of me and returns to his seat across the table. I devour my second helping. The food itself is nothing outstanding, but the quantity of it! It's standard fare for Bunker life, Nutrimeal and simple grains that are grown hydroponically underground, but I've never seen it in such abundance. In the orphanage, “seconds” wasn’t a word anybody knew.
I'm halfway through my second tray, with Rafe grinning at me the entire time, when I decide to confront him. Nathaniel told me about the Crossing Key that Rafe has. The angel says Rafe could use that to open a portal we can travel through. His argument is it would've gotten us out of the dangerous situation we were in when Bunker E247 fell.
"So, about the Crossing Key —" I say, letting it hang between us.
Guilt is an adorable look on Rafe. His eyes widen and his grin falters.
"I’m saving it for an emergency," Rafe says.
"Uh-huh," I say, encouraging him to continue.
"Look," he says, "it's only got two uses. It's not something we want to pull out early."
I let him dangle on the hook for a while longer as he tries to explain. Mostly I'm giving him a hard time because I do understand. I can’t help that I like watching him squirm.
"So, being surrounded by undead, the Admin, and his shadow masters, that wasn't time for the big guns?" I ask.
"Aviella, I'm afraid it could get much worse," Rafe answers, unusually serious for him.
"Or when I was being drained by the Dementor-thing on the train," I continue.
"We had that under control," Rafe responds, desperation in his face and voice.
"Yeah?" I ask, enjoying the teasing.
"You're teasing me," he says, a statement not a question.
"I would never," I say, unable to suppress my grin.
"My goodness, girl, you could become an excellent demon," he says.
"It's okay," I say. "I was just having fun with you. I think Nathaniel's being a bit overprotective. He's probably trying to compensate for whatever it is he's keeping from me that he knows about my dad."
"He'll spill it eventually," Rafe says, with utter confidence.
"What makes you think that?"
"He wouldn’t be concealing if it weren’t significant. Angels, unlike demons, are susceptible to guilt. He'll cave, I promise."
I laugh. It's hilarious that Rafe feels he can make such a promise, but I'll take it. Nathaniel keeps himself walled off. I only get glimpses of what he hides behind the walls, usually when we’re alone.
In a lot of ways, Efram does the same thing, walling himself off, holding himself back around me. I've been doing my best not to think about what Nathaniel is hiding, because I need a level head, especially right now. I have to focus on what's happening here and making sure that I don't pull more undue attention down on myself. Not thinking about my dad makes that easier.
Not far away, Nathaniel rises from his table and takes his tray up to the stack where the rebels will clean it. There's a small window in the wall that the tray passes through, and people take it. Interestingly enough, they use fire to disinfect the metal trays, because even here in this apparent land of plenty, there's still a water shortage. After the Wormwood incident, not to mention the multiple nuclear devices that were detonated by the governments in an attempt to control the Apocalypse, water is one of the most precious resources left on the planet.
I try to catch Nathaniel's eye as he walks past our table, but he avoids my gaze. He probably thinks we’re talking about him—which is true. We were. A pang of guilt stabs into my heart. I don't want to hurt him. It's really hard trying to balance the emotional needs of so many men.
I'll have to talk to him later. If only he and Rafe could get along better. It would make my life much easier. I suppose it’s probably easier to expect the Apocalypse to end itself. There are better odds of it actually happening.
“He’ll be fine,” Rafe says. “Trust me, I know about these things.”
“Because you’re an expert in angels?”
“Because I’m all-around awesome,” he grins.
Laughing, I stand up and take my tray. “You’re impossible.”
“Impossibly handsome? Impossibly intelligent? Impossibly clever?” he asks. “Yes, all of those would apply to me.”
I can’t help but laugh. It’s hard to be serious with Rafe, but beyond his façade I know he really is intelligent, thoughtful, and one of my protectors. He’ll do anything for me. Unfortunately, I also know, deep in my bones, he’s going to have to. All the danger we’ve been through is nothing compared to what we have yet to face. I only hope we all make it.
"There you go," I say, pulling the covers up tight around Dorna’s chin.
"Thank you," she says, smiling so big I can see her missing two front teeth.
I muss her hair, then rise. She has a small space of her own in her parents’ bunk. Makeshift walls built out of crates separate it from the main space. Her mom looks up from the cup she was staring into when I come around the false wall.
"Tea?" her mom, Nina, asks.
"That’d be nice," I agree, taking a seat at the table.
She goes over to the counter and prepares a steaming cup of tea which she sets down in front of me. It has the slight scent of licorice. I sip it, carefully watching Nina.
"I'm just glad I could," I say.
"I don't know what I would do without her," Nina says, her eyes heavy and wet.
The worry has taken its toll. Crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes and a perpetual frown make her look older than I think she is. Life in the Apocalypse isn’t easy, but I'm sure it's even harder when you have a kid to worry about.
"She's going to be fine," I tell her, placing a hand on top of hers.
My hand grows warm, and I push a small trickle of my energy into her, intending to reassure, hoping it works. It's not something I'm sure I can do, but it feels right.
So much of what I've learned about using my powers has been through instinct or trial and error. I'm rewarded this time by seeing the tension drain out of Nina's face. She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a heavy sigh.
"You're an angel," she says, smiling for the first time since I've met her.
"I don't know about all that," I smile back. "Nathaniel's the angel. I just do what I can."
"Angels,” Nina snorts. “They don’t help anyone, not the way we were supposed to believe they would. You, you actually help."
"Thank you," I say, unable to meet the intensity of her stare.
She has no idea how much I'm winging this. I'm trying to do what I can as I'm pulled along a dark path that I never would've asked for. I guess I can thank my father for that.
The familiar, empty ache in my chest blossoms the moment I think of him. I miss him so much. I still know, or at least I feel, that he's alive. Out there somewhere, probably searching for me. He has to be, because I don't think I could face the world without knowing he's in it.
All my life he prepared me. Telling me I was special, how special my mom was, though I never knew her. I have a vague image of a face that I associate as having been my mom. When I think of her I feel warm, like I'm being embraced in love. I don't doubt she loved me, but dad never was clear on why she left or what happened. I always figured there was time to find out later. How wrong I was.
"All right," I say, finishing my tea. "I should let you get some rest too."
Nina smiles and nods. She walks with me to the door to their bunk. When we reach it, she grabs me awkwardly and pulls me into an embrace. I return it wholeheartedly. She's a good woman, trying her best to take care of her family. I admire her determination and strength.
Leaving Nina behind, I walk the mostly empty corridors. Restless energy making it clear sleep will elude me if I lie down. My thoughts circle back to my dad, no matter how hard I try to keep them from him. I’m being obsessive and I know it.
A fluttering sound catches my attention, pulling my thoughts away from the circling drain of depression. Wanting something, anything, to focus on outside myself, I decide to investigate. Following the fluttering noise, I look into an open bunk and there’s Nathaniel.
The angel is shadow sparring with himself. It's something we've all been doing to keep ourselves sharp. My breath catches in my chest as I watch. There is grace and beauty in his motions. He's taken off his shirt and has revealed his wings, something I’ve rarely seen.
As he goes through the stances of his fighting motions, he uses his wings to his best advantage. Leaping into the air and hanging there, beautiful white wings slowly stroking to keep himself aloft. A soft silvery glow engulfs him.
Desire pounds through my veins. My cheeks warm, and my skin becomes feverish. An overwhelming urge to feel his skin against mine floods through me. It's ridiculous. Nathaniel keeps himself distant. It's not that he doesn't want me—I can feel that in his energy—it's that he won't give into it.
I shouldn't give in either. What right do I have to claim even a moment like that with everything happening around us? It would be extraneous. Also, as much as I hate to admit it, how would I balance it with the other guys in my life? I'm not sure, still, how I went from being a complete and total social outcast to the center of attention for so many strong, handsome, sexy men. It makes me uncomfortable, but at the same time it makes me feel special.
Nathaniel is floating in the air about four feet off the floor when he turns and looks at me. I smile and wave, to which he silently nods. He looks serious, but that's normal for Nathaniel. He holds up one hand and motions with his fingers that I should come closer. It reminds me, for all the world, of that scene from The Matrix when Neo and Morpheus are going to fight. Great, this is not exactly what I had in mind.
While it may not have been exactly what I intended, there is a touch of romance to it. The slight upturn at the corner of his lips, the light in his eyes, but mostly the way his energy feels. Having nothing better to do and knowing that sleep will elude me anyway, I nod and approach. He doesn't wait. As soon as I step inside he attacks, diving towards me.
I slam my forearms together in front of me, pulling my magic with the motion. It forms a shield, and Nathaniel bounces off. He doesn't hit hard, which tells me he was ready for that maneuver. He glides to the ground, and his wings disappear.
In a way, that’s a dirty trick. It's how the Angels hide among us, which they’ve done since the dawn of time. Only the sensitives throughout history ever knew of them, and of course everyone thought they were crazy or fanatics. Surprise! The Apocalypse has vindicated those poor souls.
"Well done," Nathaniel says.
"Thanks, Efram’s shown me a few tricks."
He nods with the barest of grimaces. Ignoring his expression, I settle into fighting form. He does the same, and we move through different stances before working our way back up to sparring.
"Let me show you something," Nathaniel says.
He steps behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. My skin burns where his touches it. I imagine I feel his excitement too, but I'm not sure. He places one hand on my stomach as his other slides out along my left arm. He pushes on my hips so that I rock back and forth.
"You have to keep your hips loose," he says. "It makes you able to pivot, to adjust to the changing fight."
"But how do I get my power?" I ask.
"Your power comes from your ability to adapt," he answers.
"Efram says I have to plant my feet and pull strength from the earth. That planting my feet is the base from which my power flows."
"Yes, he’s not wrong," Nathaniel says. "That only applies when you're actually punching, though. Before and after that you should be fluid and ready to move."
He continues working with me, but I’m finding it hard to concentrate with his body so close to mine. Fire burns where he touches me. I do my best to focus, pushing aside my more carnal thoughts because there really is no time for them.
We drill with his maneuver for what feels like entirely too long. It's not that I don't think it's a good maneuver, it's the distraction of him pressing against me. Is he doing it because he likes it too? No, not Nathaniel, right?
"Yes, exactly like that," he compliments me when I finally get it right.
"Yeah, I get it. It does feel better," I agree.
"There's another trick I'd like to show you," he says. "You can use the sigils I've put on you to create effects. The ones you have now will let you do something like this," he says.
He waves his hands in the air, and a mist forms in front of him. It’s a thick fog which is hard to see through. He turns sideways, steps into it, and then suddenly disappears. Before I can turn a circle, he taps me on the shoulder.
"Hi," he says, and I jump in surprise.
"How did you do that?" I ask.
"The sigils I've put on you can manipulate light,” he says. “Handy for when you need to duck out of the way.”
“Show me!” I say, excitement bubbling in my stomach.
He places his hands on my arms, sliding the sleeves of my blouse up past my elbows to reveal the silvery sigils inscribed on my skin. Warmth flushes along my exposed skin trailing behind his touch. Soft, gentle, yet firm, he
grips my wrists. Our eyes lock, and my mouth and throat go dry. My core tightens like a spring ready to explode. His lips part, soft air slipping past them. I lean in towards him, involuntarily.
“Move like this,” he says, pulling my arms through circular motions.
My body follows his, but my eyes and heart follow his face. His strong jawline, eyes like deep pools, a day’s shadow on his chin. His firm grip guiding, controlling, yet giving me control too. I step closer, rising on my toes, lips moving towards his. He pauses, staring down into my eyes, the magnetic attraction between us undeniable. He moves towards me, this is it, then he hesitates. His lip quivers with barely controlled desire.
Screw it, I’m doing this, I decide, rising to meet his lips.
A silver light engulfs me, and the room disappears in a flash….
I stumble forward, barely catching myself before I fall. My head is spinning, and I'm completely disoriented.
"Nathaniel?" I ask, trying to focus my eyes.
"I'm here, Aviella," he replies.
I keep blinking until the silver light finally clears and I can see again at last—only now we are not alone.
"What in the hell?" I ask.
Killian stands behind Nathaniel, smiling. Gavin, Ronan, and Luca are beside him, all of them focused on me. My heart skips a beat and my cheeks flush hot. The magnetic pulse of attraction with the mages threatens to override my good sense.
"Hey, there," Gavin says. "Welcome back."
Their magic weaves its way into my energy. Ronan scans me which opens the pathways between us, and I sense he’s straining to hold back the intensity of his attraction for me. It seems he’s struggling particularly hard to control it, barely containing himself. My skin burns hotter, feeling his desire so hot and barely kept in check.
One thing is for sure, the connection I have with all of the mages is getting deeper. It must be supernatural in nature. It’s overriding good sense and nature. Unbidden, an image flashes through my head of what would be like to be taken by all four of them.
Good Lord, I'm not that kind of girl, am I?
Apocalypse the Blossoming (The Power of Twelve Book 2) Page 2
