She’d cried out, desperate to cease the transfer of power she shouldn’t have. All that came out of her mouth was a weak, garbled sound. She had the knowledge, yet no way to use it with her immature vocal cords. No way to wield the power with her premature body. She opened her eyes to a fuzzy, cold world she’d wanted no part of.
And angry voices. The tone of one resonated inside her body. She’d known him because he was a part of her, fused to her soul. A new link in her DNA. Mother. Father. Braile. She focused her eyes and stared into the face of her savior.
A beeping monitor, the antiseptic scent of lemony bleach, combined with the pain in her arm and the ache in her abdomen forced Amaya to blink away the tears blurring her vision. Concrete was softer than the mattress under her back. Too bad she was too weak to climb off. What happened?
She’d never been sick. Broken plenty of bones, but never ill. So why the hell was she in a hospital bed?
The memories rushed back: The fight with Bane. Running into the field. The Spaun. Her miscalculation. Falling through the earth and landing at Bane’s feet. She lurched into a seated position. Only to be flung back and pinned to the bed.
“We meet again.”
The Spaun had her by the throat. Glacial blue eyes in a face too pretty for Hollywood. What a waste. The change in appearance did nothing to lessen his strength. She connected with a fist to his jaw. The blow knocked his head back, but lacked its normal strength. Why was she so weak? She almost felt…human.
She struck him again and earned a laugh, and a set of fractured bones. He climbed on top of her. She bucked, trying to dislodge him.
“Keep moving. It speeds the process.”
What process? The hand around her throat prevented speech and she was too weak to pry him off. He yanked her to the edge of the bed and positioned her head and neck over the edge. The odd angle had her holding on to him instead of pushing him away. It was then the wetness on her neck registered and the steady ping of her blood striking metal.
She fought harder, but already weak, now being bled, she had no chance. Yet, she kept fighting, wouldn’t stop, even as her vision wavered, and her heartrate plummeted.
Bane tore through the emergency department, dodging around the pacified workers. He skidded to a halt at the threshold to her room. A man had Amaya’s limp body in his arms, using her as a shield between the two of them. Blond, slightly taller than Amaya, better than average build. His teeth were lodged in her neck. Her eyes fluttered opened and her gaze locked with Bane’s. The vibrant emerald now muddy, the gold lightning bolt gone.
In front of Bane, the man changed. His face elongated, skin peeled away like an orange, and what emerged had six rows of teeth and waxy parchment, skin covering the red orbs that were his eyes. No nose. No ears. His back bowed and he hunched over to run on all fours, his forearms elongating, his hands transforming into claws.
The Spaun faced him. Bane rushed forward, too late to halt the demon from ripping open Amaya’s throat.
“No,” he screamed and caught her tossed body. He clung to her as the Spaun picked up a pail full of Amaya’s fragrant blood and stepped into a dimensional pocket. He didn’t need to turn to know the identity of the four UnHallowed at his back: Chay, Kush, Dag, and Riél.
Amaya made a gurgling sound in his arms and Bane clutched her tighter. Her skin was ashen, her neck open down to her spinal column, yet she still lived. But for how much longer?
“We have to go after the Spaun,” Kush stepped around Bane and Amaya, and moved deeper into the hospital room.
“Wait,” Daghony ordered.
Bane ignored everything except the woman in his arms. “Forgive me.” He cupped her cheek. Her steady gaze seemed to ask why. “I’ve failed you.” She blinked once. “Failed you in every possible way.” She blinked again. “I will make amends.” He had no idea how, but he would. Her hand rose. He took it and brought her cold fingers to his lips, then watched as the little bit of light left in her eyes extinguished.
His anguish too great to overcome, the overhead lights exploded in a shower of sparks and glass. Bane rose with Amaya in his arms. He knew what he had to do and could only hope he wasn’t too late.
31
Through the shadow conduits, Bane carried Amaya’s body clutched to his chest. A part of him registered her cooling body. Exactly one percent. The rest of him refused to acknowledge her death because it wasn’t possible. Halflings were harder to kill than a bite to the neck and draining the blood. A warning tickled the back of his mind. He ignored it as the shadows peeled away and he stepped into the burial cavern of Braile.
He moved swiftly through the tunnel and didn’t pause in the verdant antechamber. He trampled the lush grass and strode to the illuminated tunnel ahead. Into the center, he stepped carefully around the trees and flowers. With just a thought, he shifted three feet of earth to create a shallow grave. It almost took everything he had to stretch her body out and lay her in the ground. Too much like a funeral, and that wasn’t why he brought her here.
He brought her here for a miracle.
And that’s exactly what I’d damn well better get. On his knees, he grabbed fistfuls of dirt and covered her. A week ago, he’d never buried anyone. Now, he buried his fourth. Didn’t understand how humans survived the pain, because right now, he hurt. Bone deep agony. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this—EVER. Nothing could ease the agony other than Amaya alive and in his arms.
He held a handful of dirt. All he had to do was ignore the tremble racing up his arm and drop it over her face. Then he would climb out of the hole and finish the job. He’d never prayed, didn’t know how. And even if he did, as an UnHallowed, his plea would never be heard. Yet…
Father—
“What the fuck are you doing?” Kush barked.
Damn it, he was right back in the same situation he’d just left—answering to the UnHallowed. He didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know there were seven UnHallowed at his back. Gadreel the only one missing. It didn’t matter anyway. The prayers of the damned were never answered. Still, he took his time covering her face, then climbed out of the hole and shoveled the rest of the dirt on top of her while Zed whispered in awe.
“Those are Ghost Orchids from Cuba.” Zedekiél circled the room, pointing to a delicate white flower. “And an extinct Chocolate Cosmos from Mexico.” He pointed to a red blossom. “Over there are Lady Slippers from England and Jade Vines from the Philippines.” His shocked statement garnered everyone’s attention.
Bane couldn’t decide if they were more surprised the UnHallowed was a horticulturist, or by the glowing subterranean forest. After Amaya was completely covered, only then did Bane face his fallen brethren.
“There is only one way this tropical bounty filled with flowers from all over the world could exist inside a hillside outside of Detroit,” Zed muttered.
“Who?” said Daghony, grief heavy in his voice as he took in the beauty with everyone else.
“Braile,” answered Bane. A strangled cry came from someone. “This is where he bled out and gave the last of his grace to close the Cruor.”
Zedekiél reached out to touch a yellow and purple flower. He closed his hand before making contact. “Then he was a fool. This world didn’t deserve his sacrifice.” His voice was nothing but bitterness.
“He didn’t bleed out. Gideon killed him and took the last of his grace,” Bane said, tired of continuing the lie.
The room shook, a 4.0 on the Richter scale which they all ignored.
A collective snarl echoed in the room and ended with Sam’s dry snicker. “Tell us how a simple warrior angel of Gideon’s caliber managed to slay the Chancellor of the Celestial Army, an archangel that trained each of us. An angel none of us could defeat on our best day.”
“Gideon had Braile’s help,” Razuel answered, anguish layering his voice. “It was the only way.”
The knowledge of Braile’s suicide sunk into their brains. The enormity of his sacrifice and loss couldn
’t be quantified.
“Why did you bury her here?” Daghony changed the subject.
“Because here is where she belongs,” Bane answered.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Kush stomped around the room.
Rimmon stepped forward, his eyes closed and his head tilted to the side with concentration. “The scent…it’s the same scent at the farmhouse.”
“You’re right,” Razuel said. “That means we scented Braile at the farm. Not Michael.”
Chay shook his head. “That can’t be. The Cruor was closed six months ago with Braile’s blood. You’ve only been at the farm, what? A week?” His attention on Bane.
“It was Braile you scented, but not the archangel. You scented Amaya. His daughter.”
The room went silent and Bane waited for the explosion. Yet, no explosion came, probably because what he said made sense. They couldn’t deny the logic of Braile’s blood at the farm even while his presence, his grace, saturated the ground.
“Braile betrayed his vows,” Chay choked out.
Razuel mumbled, “It doesn’t seem possible. He was…”
“The best of us.” Rimmon finished.
“Not the best. Better,” Sammiél growled. “I would say it wasn’t possible, not Braile except…there has to be a deeper reason.”
“He couldn’t have just fallen for a woman and…” Zed spat and slammed his fist into a wall.
“And screwed her? Knocked her up? Had a kid?” Tahariél shouted in mock horror. “Well, apparently, he did.”
“And lost his immortal head over it,” Daghony said in a quieter tone.
Zed strode forward to the burial mound. “So, his child,” said with a sneer, “is dead. Bringing her here is a desecration of this sacred site. You should’ve dumped her in a human cemetery where she belongs. Not. Here.”
Nods and murmurs of agreement circled the room as a stronger rumble shook the ground.
“Dig her up!” Kush demanded, his skeletal wings rattled with aggression. “Or I will.”
Weapons freed and clutched in his hands, Bane stepped to the former Archangel of Atonement. “Touch her and I gut you.”
Tahariél wedged himself between them. “Explain why you brought her here, to hallowed ground.”
Eyes still on Kush, Bane shrugged. He didn’t have an answer for that question. Instinct brought him here. Instinct instructed him to place her in the ground here, and nowhere else. “I had no place else to take her because here is where she belongs.” Bane met each UnHallowed’s gaze in challenge. He didn’t back down and neither did they. There was only one way this would end and it wouldn’t be good.
Chay cleared his throat and pointed to the burial mound. “Don’t mean to interrupt, but can someone explain why the ground is moving?”
32
The burial mound heaved and another rumble passed through the ground. Bane took a step closer, then halted when crunching sounded. The grass once lush and green was now brittle and dead. The Ghost Orchids with their dainty white petals shriveled and turned to ash in front of his eyes. Next the vibrant red petals of the Chocolate Cosmos faded to black and crumbled to the dry grass, followed by the Lady Slippers and Jade Vines. The trees, the grass, everything green and alive, died, taking all the light out of the room. However, the UnHallowed didn’t need light to see.
“What just happened?” Rimmon demanded.
“No idea.” Bane moved to the burial mound and jerked to a stop. Fingers, clawing through the soft dirt, appeared first. Next, her head, shaking free of the dirt clinging to her face and hair. She heaved into a seated position and sat there for a moment, breathing. Then she went preternaturally still.
Bane didn’t know whether to stay away or reach for her. This was what he wanted, except something, besides the obvious, was wrong.
Amaya kicked the dirt from her legs and climbed to her feet, only to groan and drop to one knee. He took a step toward her. Two sets of hands halted him from proceeding. He fought to be free, but, from behind, arms banded around his chest as a scream ripped from Amaya. Hunched over on all fours, the hospital gown parted revealing her sleek back. She screamed again, a wretched sound which had Bane fighting his way to get to her.
“Wait,” Daghony hissed in his ear.
“Release me or—”
A shaft of light erupted from sudden slits appearing on either side of her spinal column. Bane’s back ached in symbiotic remembrance. He knew what those slits meant, yet couldn’t absorb the event unfolding in front of his startled eyes.
She went into the ground a dead Halfling and emerged as a…what? What kneeled in front of him? She cried out again as the bony framework of a pair of wings slid from the new openings. Shiny, new skin formed, then downy newborn feathers sprouted as she slumped back into the makeshift grave.
Daghony’s arms dropped from Bane, but he was too stunned to move.
“What the f—”
“Holy sh—”
“Oh. My. G—”
“Kill it!” shouted Kush, raising his blade, and storming forward.
For the briefest moment, Bane agreed. Kill it! But it was Amaya. Not a thing to be slain. Where the other UnHallowed moved out of the way allowing Kush access, Bane stepped into his path, prepared to die defending her.
Lightning struck the ground behind him, between Bane and Amaya. Bane spun and had to shield his eyes. Lightning didn’t appear in a cave. The flash was gone before he managed a single step, and Michael stood in the space. “She is not to be harmed.”
Kush snickered. “I’m not gonna harm her. I’m gonna hack her into pieces.”
Wobbly, she climbed to her feet. In the scant space of time since the lightning struck the ground, her newbie appendages had grown into a set of arched bi-level wings with large snowy feathers. A shudder wracked her body, which made her wings flutter as if caught in a storm. She hunched over to brace her hands on her knees.
“What is she?” Tahariél flanked Michael and Amaya. The rest of the UnHallowed took note and did the same.
Michael freed an empyreal sword from the folds of his long robes. Not his borrowed sword from Metatron. This weapon was unmistakable with its ivory handle encased in an intricate empyreal weave that twined around the handle and hilt. Every UnHallowed knew to whom the blade belonged. Empyreal objects bonded to their owners, becoming one with the person who wielded them. It channeled their power, directing, redirecting, amplifying. And becoming inert without that bond. He tossed the weapon.
Amaya caught the sword on the fly, with one hand. At her touch, it hummed and glowed with a radiant light that had the entire chamber illuminated. Perfect for witnessing her wings changing from the pristine white to the blood-tipped white feathers only Braile had possessed.
“This shit can’t be real,” Zed snorted.
“It’s not—not real. Not him. Not Braile,” Razuel whispered, his voice haunted.
“But it is…sort of,” Chay said.
“In the most fucked up, twilight zone way,” Riél added.
“Here we are thinking she’s a Halfling, but it’s much worse,” Sam growled, his attention on Michael, not Amaya. “Isn’t it?”
“Talk to me. Not around me,” Amaya croaked, her voice huskier and gravelly. She planted the sword and leaned on the hilt. Her gaze swept around the room, eliciting startled snarls and sharp inhales from the UnHallowed.
Her eyes! Bane stepped forward to cup her face and get a better look. Until her frigid gold-eyed glare froze him. The lightning bolt through her pupil had transformed into a thick gold band circling her green irises.
Sam shifted and his human façade stripped away, revealing a scarred flaming skull. “You’re not his daughter. He created you.”
33
Amaya listened as Michael told of her birth and her rebirth. Shoulders erect, spine straight, face impassive, she gave none of her inner fury away. Or the pain wracking her body. Every muscle in her back was on fire.
I have wings! Braile did this to me.
And Michael. Her gaze cut to the archangel. Was this their plan all along? To make me into a freak? A sideshow? Why? Why do this to me?
She gripped the sword and power surged up her arm, momentarily blinding her to the present as her mind spasmed. Leaning on the sword kept her upright. She’d not show weakness in front of these…demons.
Her gaze went to the UnHallowed, Kushiél first. Images of the gray winged, former archangel in his previous glory beat against the inside of her skull. In V formation, he flew, third in line. Next to him, Sammiél, then Braile and Michael side by side. Next to Michael, Gabriél, Zedekiél without the scraggily beard, and Rimmon without the silver cuffs on his neck and wrists. Behind the front line other angels flew in formation, their armor reflecting the sunlight in a brilliant display. She felt Braile’s grim determination not to fail in the coming war. Nothing took precedent over the defeat of the Darklings and ensuring the survival of the human race.
She shook her head to clear the images, only to have another take its place. Braile and another UnHallowed, locked in combat, their movements almost too fast to track. Their lips moved but the clash of their weapons drowned out their words. She watched this unfold as a spectator, instead of inside Braile’s skin, yet she could feel Braile’s resolve as if her life were on the line.
Suddenly, he feinted left, leaving his flank opened for the UnHallowed’s blade to slice deep in his side. A viscous, radiant liquid spilled from the wound and Braile crumbled.
Amaya dropped to one knee, debilitating grief consuming her. She didn’t want the memory, yet had no control as it swept over her. The UnHallowed flung his sword away and gathered Braile in his arms. The ground was soft beneath his back as it was under her knee. That’s when she realized what she’d climbed out of. Where she was.
Hallowed ground created by the grace of an archangel. The same place where he fought for the last time. She craned her neck around at the dead foliage surrounding her. Not sure how she knew the decayed flowers and brittle grass were wrong because that’s not what happened when an archangel bled out. This desecration was because of…she gasped and dropped her chin to her chest. The empyreal sword vibrated in her hand, magnifying her shock and despair. There was only one way it could do that. Only one way she had wings.
Only One I Want (UnHallowed Series Book 2) Page 18
