by Kat Bastion
With a shudderin’ exhale, Brigid finally relaxed in his hold.
Then a different kind of warmth suffused through her being. His warmth. Akin to love. Carin’, for certain. Protective. From his heart.
And Brigid found she no longer wanted to leave his embrace. She sighed, closed her eyes, and placed her cheek over his beatin’ heart. To be held, to be wanted—for her, exactly as she was, as she’d turned out to be—felt amazin’. Made her feel almost…human…again.
A sudden thought skipped through her mind. She glanced up at him. “But you dinna know somethin’ about the thread. When you began to ask, I sensed your surprise.”
“Ah, yes.” Skorpius gave a slow nod. “The surprise wasn’t what you’d felt, or from whom. My shock? That you’d felt the tether at all.” His expression shifted into renewed puzzlement.
“Why?”
“Only angelkind has ever communicated through energy tethers alone.”
One more connection to his world, to her origins. “Mayhap, my bein’ here, when I’d found your journal, sourced angelic magick into me?”
“All evidence is leading that direction.”
“Weel, then. You’re sayin’ you know the ‘from whom’?”
“Yes.” Skorpius gave her a light squeeze, then broke their comfortin’ embrace.
He offered a hand toward her.
But when she hovered hers over his, a spark of energy flared to life within the slight space between their palms.
And he began to rotate his sideways.
Delighted with the new power surge, she mirrored his motion, palms hoverin’ together as they rotated to maintain their energized connection. Till hers rested directly below his.
“You wanted to meet Orion and Cass? That time appears to be now, for they’ve detected your arrival. Your presence is requested in the courtyard.”
Brigid glanced up from the sparkin’ energy between their palms and stared into his blue-green swirlin’ eyes. “The courtyard?”
“Our public space. Where others’ presence will be there to witness the monumental event.”
“Monumental event.” She couldna help repeatin’ his heavy words. They sounded verra dire.
“The first time a goddess has graced our realm.” He tipped his head toward their hands, and the energy between their palms sparked brighter.
Then she realized Skorpius had positioned their hands in such a way with intention, for her to take the lead. She glanced back up toward him, and he gave her a gentle nod. Follow the thread.
A sudden nervousness buzzed through her. But then she banished the worrisome feelin’.
She’d conquered magickal beasts and masterful druids.
What was there to fear from a court of angels?
Instead, she centered her awareness on the vibratin’ tether within her, then surged magick along the line, from the root outward. And once the energy surge traveled the point where the tether vanished at her breastbone, she clapped her palm up onto his to clasp his hand tightly.
The boomin’ tone of his voice echoed through her head as they vanished from the darkness. My family would like to meet you.
Chapter 22
Skorpius drew no conclusions about the growing list of unprecedented events concerning Brigid.
That he’d initially been tasked to handle the remarkable situation mattered little.
In deeper than he’d ever imagined possible, he vowed to remain with Brigid for the duration.
Regardless of the dual tethers.
No matter the ultimate outcome.
Yet a frisson of trepidation tripped through him at her unorthodox summons.
Although he’d teased Brigid—had led her to believe he’d felt her same summoning tether—he’d actually felt nothing at all. Nothing aside from his two mission-related leashes that continued to vibrate in one degree or another, depending on the threat level.
Not one part of his makeup harbored guilt over the omission: the deceit was slight, he learned much from her sharp observations, she learned the most from the exercise. Sometimes masters employed sleight of hand to tutor their apprentices.
Divulgence or not of trivial details, the real mystery lay not in the fact that Brigid had felt it. The greater enigma? The creation of an angelic tether connecting to her at all.
Skorpius suspected its manifestation had been rooted by something more than her renewed presence in the angelic realm: that she’d appeared without aid in his solitary and inaccessible corner of it.
But how had Cass and Orion detected Brigid if she’d transported the two of them directly within his refuge—where his sister and brother could detect nothing at all?
Paramount to that, how in the worlds did Cass and Orion create their own tether of communication. And why to Brigid?
Point of origin mattered not when any angel reentered their realm, nor did a last departure point influence the location of rearrival; return into their home realm always, without exception, filtered through their mist-laden entryway. Skorpius’s unique darker nature allowed him to leave any other world from his personal self-made portal, but unseen gatekeepers ensured no one arrived into their domain unannounced.
As always, the cool, bright, near-sentient iridescence avoided his darker nature like water danced around oil. But not so with his traveling companion.
The glittering frostiness surrounded Brigid, gilding her in a shining opalescence.
She closed her eyes and smiled wide, reacting to the air-current caress with a deep inhalation as she threw her arms wide with unbridled joy.
And Skorpius found his joy in staring at her, unable to look away.
When she opened her eyes, they grew wide with wonder as she looked beyond him to take in the nuances of their ethereal realm.
Beautiful, isn’t it? He’d taken the phenomenon for granted when he’d been untarnished, when he’d still been a part of the fabric of his world. From a darker lens, splendor exists in the light.
The iridescence glittered with energy at the subatomic level. Nearly imperceptible sparks fired as molecules vanished while infinitesimal puffs burst forth, reigniting their existence. The process ebbed and flowed ad infinitum, a microscopic lightshow within billowing mist.
“Och!” She gave his hand a firm squeeze. “’Tis as if bright moonlight set our Highland mists afire with life. ’Tis no longer a mystery why you’ve been frequentin’ our castle.”
Not following, he furrowed his brows. “Why? Does our current location explain something to you?” She’d admitted that she’d first arrived directly within his refuge—without deception.
But when she bit her lip and looked down, guilt tightened her expression.
It hit him that she hadn’t been surprised at all by the unusual mist of the rest of their realm. Nor had she greeted the animated element as anything other than a welcomed friend. “You’ve been here before. Outside of my ‘lair.’”
“Aye,” she admitted freely. Still staring down through the glittering particles, she ran a hand back and forth through the mist, creating swirling eddies. But her other hand continued to hold his, grip firm and trusting.
The pure male part of him, primal and possessive, liked her hand clasped around his. However, his ashen heart and burned soul—strengthened by his hardened warrior mind—obliterated the absurd romantic notion.
“But how?” He ignored the fact that she’d been able to deceive him and puzzled out the logistics. His journal had connected her two essences through time, which unbelievably explained her path from her castle’s wall to find his mortal-life’s chronicle. The same location, where after his mortal death, he’d been miraculously deposited with whatever energy had remained of his essence…to be resurrected into the darkest angel.
Brigid’s face rose slowly. Her gaze met his right as the most obvious answer struck him. “The wall,” they concluded in unison.
The magick wall in Iain’s map room served as a protection device for his castle and was made of the same darkened mater
ial as in his lair, as was the cornerstones of their castle’s curtain wall, the support beams in their keep’s great hall, and a special box that held the secrets and powers of angelkind. But the wall alone also served as a portal into the same misty arrival hall they stood within, if used correctly. And clearly Brigid held the key to do so.
But because no physical doorway existed from his dark refuge to the rest of the angelic realm, and Brigid had only recently learned how to time-space jump, she only had the option of returning to Brodie Castle. But then she had reentered the angelic realm, a separate time.
“Only the one other time?” Each exposure may have suffused her with an additional surge of genesis magick. Even their present visit likely energized her even further.
“Aye.” She gave a definitive nod, no deception in her tone.
Additional thoughts assaulted his mind.
Brigid had sensed his arrival at their first encounter—with her aggressive flying-arrow welcome—not only because she’d traveled into his world, but because she’d already begun to absorb their powerful source magick. Which had awakened her latent spelled-at-birth magick and had immediately begun to transform her into something other than human.
That Skorpius had been tethered to Brigid without assignment details, and that she’d had a connection to him through the timeline all along, shed light on one possibility he had not yet considered: Perhaps he hadn’t been sent to guard her after all, maybe the protective bond spontaneously arose for a different reason altogether. One that explained his lack of information. A causality that arose more…organic.
But before he further interpreted the relevant clues, the obscuring mist dissolved.
Without my direction.
The mist continuously shrouded the entirety of their world. Only when an empowered thought sprang forth did an object, person, or location manifest.
Yet he had not envisioned their destination.
Which meant, Brigid had.
Therefore, she’d not only entered their misted world on her second visit. She’d instinctually connected deeper, into angelkind’s shielded existence within it.
Anyone within their world need only imagine where they’d like to be and there they’d suddenly appear. But to be able to envision a place, one has to know the place. Otherwise the mist kept tight security, their near-sentient camouflage an excellent protector.
However, the laws that governed elemental magick in the angelic realm applied to angels. And the Traveler. Yet idiosyncrasies had clearly manifested with goddess powers at play.
Within seconds, their clean-lined glittering cityscape took shape on the far horizon. The structures, fashioned of microscopic faceted crystals, reflected light in prismatic colors, like an untouched Earth-realm snowfield on a sunny day. All had been erected solely from angelkind’s architectural imaginings. Manifested into existence from pure creative thought energized into physical matter.
“You’ve only ever seen our city, correct?” Gut instinct told him she had beheld their world, but hadn’t ventured beyond mere peripheral exploration. She’d been a childlike spy tiptoeing into a discovered fantasy world.
Through the connection of their clasped hands, he transported them the rest of the way into angelkind’s inner sanctum, directly into their garden courtyards, where his brethren would be gathered.
“Aye,” she whispered after they arrived inside. “Skorpius, ’tis…so…verra…” Their inner sanctum rendered her speechless.
No translation necessary.
“Breathtaking.” Unable to tear his gaze away from the heady draw of her youthful exuberance, he agreed.
But their private exploration ended, as all good things were doomed to.
Others took notice of their arrival and wandered in their direction.
And within seconds, he and Brigid became the object of harsh, scrutinizing stares. Whispers buzzed ever louder as the curious edged closer.
All around them, a sea of snowy wings arched like the crest of an endless rolling wave. Countless sets of platinum eyes glowed, brightening with offended rage. White hair rippled around pale faces drawn gaunt with their dislike, teeth bared.
Brigid pressed tighter into his side, inexperienced with such blatant unprovoked aggression.
Skorpius growled a low warning at his encroaching brethren. His black wings arched up and spread wide, feathers ruffling with his mightier aggression. Reborn amid the shadows, he’d been infused with the dark emotion. Vibrating with unleashed power, he discharged a measure of his potent magick.
Accustomed to their purist mist, their pristine elitism choked on his brand of cocktail.
Those pale eyes widened. Angels who’d drifted too close halted, subdued. For the moment.
“Pay no attention to them,” he rasped, voice roughened by the low growl still lodged in his throat. The ignorant make spectacles of themselves by deeming something unfamiliar as unworthy. Rise above their negativity. Prove to them what enlightenment is by example.
What he’d done from the moment his blackened heart had developed.
But it had been one thing to scorn a fallen angel thrust back among them. Darkness had always been an unwelcomed element in the angelic world.
And Skorpius had never blamed any other for reacting in an instinctual manner. Most had been unable to see through his ugly façade to the crushed heart that beat beneath the destruction. The rest had been unwilling. Cass and Orion had proved to be the exceptions. They’d known him too well, cared more than the rest.
But Brigid remained an innocent in the mess of his life—that appeared to be never-ending.
From the periphery, commotion rippled through the hostile crowd. Pairs of white wings snapped down, heads bowed in submission, and the sea parted out of respect to someone of higher rank.
The powerful presence surged the last of the gawking onlookers aside.
Skorpius hooked an arm around Brigid’s waist and tucked her behind him, beneath the protection of his wings. And another burst of his dark magick flared out.
One of his own wanted a confrontation? His entire kind threatened a full-frontal assault? They were all in for one hell of an awakening.
Orion stepped through the crowd.
Fierce displeasure marred his alabaster face.
Guard still up, Skorpius gave him a nod. They ranked as equals, no matter their differences. “Brother.”
“Skorpius,” he hissed on a whisper as he spread his wings, obscuring them from the mob. “What have you done?”
A dry laugh escaped Skorpius’s tight throat. “I’ve done nothing. My actions, as you well know, don’t scratch the surface of our impervious world.”
Come forward, all-powerful goddess. Skorpius laced his mental voice with a teasing tone. He bolstered the suggestion to show herself with the gentle nudge of a cool tendril of his magick. Not that a being as powerful as Brigid needed to be hidden. But they also hadn’t expected what stood before them. His world, his fight.
“But your actions will affect hers.” Orion lowered his voice and wings while he powered down his magick.
A strong calmness that emanated from Brigid washed through Skorpius as she stepped out from the protection of his wings. With sudden determination and clear intent, Skorpius voiced his recent revelation. “I’ll no longer…risk…Brigid.” Skorpius chose his words with care. Because he still hadn’t confessed all to her.
“But…the Authority…” Orion’s voice faltered, expression falling blank.
Skorpius leaned toward him, forehead almost touching forehead, and stared into the glittering silver eyes of his lighter twin.
Orion held his ground, his equal in every powerful way.
“Fuck the Authority.” Skorpius’s voice, dropped to a low whisper, might as well have been amplified by a microphone in a concert hall. Collective gasps rippled like a wave, from the stone he’d cast into the frigid pond. When he and Orion glared at them in unison, the fish scattered.
Orion turned back toward him, then s
ighed. “Watch your insolence, Skorpius. You know I have far more forgiveness than the Authority.”
Skorpius eased back, weight shifting toward the heels of his boots. Brigid adjusted as well, the golden currents of her gown brushing against his side, her slim hand sliding into his.
The small gesture reinforced him like a steel support beam.
“The Authority has been glaringly silent. I’ve been thrown into a bonfire and expected to rescue a kitten without singeing a feather. The Authority fails to provide me instructions or guidelines? Fine. I’ve decided their absence of direction has authorized my carte blanche.”
“I’m not a helpless kitten,” Brigid purred beside him.
“Merely a metaphor, goddess.”
Another raucous of whispers broke out along the courtyard’s garden border. Shimmering white mist swirled with the disturbance. Their audience hadn’t departed the show after all. They’d simply retreated a healthy distance from a volatile threat.
“That’s right, my elitist friends. Goddess.” Skorpius wanted that information to sink in with his prejudiced brethren. Untold power changed the game. Perhaps they’d think twice about judging with shallow minds and stubborn hearts. “And this kitten has claws. And teeth.” Skorpius couldn’t help taunting them. With the undeniable truth. For Brigid had muted her energy when the crowd appeared. Yet in their world, power determined rank.
Relax your restraint on your magick.
On a slow exhale, Brigid did as he asked. The only sounds that followed were loud gasps. Likely from mortification. Swirls of mist eddying in every direction told him they’d been left alone at last.
“The Authority has never given carte blanche,” Orion argued.
Skorpius huffed out a dry laugh. “Look at me, Orion. This is who I am. One of your own who blackened your world. And yet here I stand, still in it. I am the same, and yet forever different in all of your eyes. So be it.” Skorpius hiked a disdainful chin where the gawkers had hovered. “They expected to pick a fight with outcast angel and a human girl, one disgraced, the other undeserving. And our revered Authority allows that insidious negativity to fester. They can take their Authority-given rules and shove them where even our glittering light won’t shine.”
