Fierce Dawn

by Scott, Amber

  Sadie half listened, absorbing her surroundings, glimpsing down aisles, listening to shuffling pages, smelling the book-fragrant air. Hearing the thrumming of her heart.

  He might be here today. And if he was, she was going to make contact. Because the dream seemed to be begging her to. Because she had to see for herself if it was the same him, namely, if he had wings. Which, of course, was ridiculous. Of course he didn’t have wings.

  “Are you coming?” Ben urged from inside the elevator. She had missed the telltale ding. Rubbing at the heat in her cheeks, she joined Ben, careful to avoid the metal lip her toe liked to kiss.

  “What’s up with the chipped blue polish?” Ben asked, pushing four. “Don’t go Goth, Sadie. It won’t suit your freckles.”

  Sadie looked down. Uh-oh. She hadn’t scrubbed all the oil paint off. She’d better before three. Her sister would just love the idea of Sadie painting again.

  “I’ll bet that black eye makes Cynthia’s nose hurt, too,” Ben was saying as the metal cart lumbered upward. “See if she can sniff at me now.”

  “Ben, I think she has allergies,” Sadie said, mentally rejoining the conversation.

  “Bullshit. She thinks she’s better than me. But look who got clocked. I wonder who did it….” Sadie’s attention wandered.

  What the hell would she do if he did have wings, anyways? Run and tell someone? Uh, no. Her belly did a somersault.

  The elevator opened. Ben was awaiting further response.

  “Really?” she said, struggling to recall what else he’d said. She kept pace with him to the rear office for their first re-shelving load.

  “Yes, really….”

  Rows of empty computers hummed in the background. Somewhere nearby, someone coughed. Sadie’s eyes scanned for a glimpse of black. He wore black. Black shirt, black buckle-laden boots.

  Except in her dreams. Her dreams were drenched in blues, even those of him in bloody battle, red flames licking the edges. Blues dressed in black. Except when he wore nothing at all. Nothing but bare glistening skin and gossamer wings. Heat spread over her neck just thinking of the shimmery things tickling over her arms and thighs as he nuzzled the sensitive spot behind her ear.

  Goosebumps raced over her forearms. Sadie rubbed at them.

  “…in the aisles all the time while they think no one is looking. He looks like he could be violent, too.”

  Hearing the word ‘violent’ tugged her back to the present.“Who?”

  Ben rolled his eyes. “Nevermind. You’re distracted. And I know why.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course. You’re not the only heart skipping beats hoping Angel Eyes will be here again. But once we take in a long drink of him, you head straight up there and see for yourself. It’s her left eye.” He swept a forefinger under his eye with flare. Sadie tried to imagine Ben ever having the opportunity to get a black eye. Not likely. Who could possibly punch such a cherubic face? “You tell me if you don’t see a puffy dark area under all that concealer. Promise?”

  “Promise.” She glanced down an aisle, scanning the north end set of tables. Movement caught her eye. A shot of black. Tingles blossomed through her chest and belly.

  He was here.

  God, if she could tell Ben about the dreams. But she couldn’t. He’d devour every detail, particularly the secret message part. Who wouldn’t? But then he’d give her ‘the look’. That wary stare reserved for the certifiable that Sadie never wanted to witness again. Once in anyone’s life is too much.

  “Yes, yes. He’s here,” Ben sang. He picked up his stride, took her forearm and pulled her into the closet sized office. “But I don’t think he’ll be coming back.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Huh-uh. First, m’lady, I bear a gift.” With a grand flourish, he bowed. Ah, Ben and his whimsy. “Three guesses,” he said.

  She didn’t want to play this game. But Ben could be a pit bull with his gossip. “Okay, okay. You talked to him and he fell madly in love with you?”

  “I like it, but alas, no.”

  She hated this. “You followed him to his hotel and found his plane ticket and he’s leaving today.”

  “Better.”

  “He was on America’s Most Wanted.”

  He crossed his arms, jutted his hip. “Bite your tongue, girl,” he mouthed. “Our boy may be bad, but not criminal!”

  Sadie managed to laugh, pulling her favorite, limp-free cart out. “You met Cher and she’s leaving her wigs to you?”

  “I wish.” Ben rolled his eyes but grinned.

  “I give up. I have absolutely no idea.”

  Ben leaned in. “Okay. But I’m warning you. Do not try to kiss me. Promise?”

  Sadie nodded, adrenaline sparking in her veins.

  “Are you ready?” His eyes glinted, his fingers twittering in the air. “I have his name.” He covered his loud gasp.

  “His name? What is it?” Her heart hiccupped into triple time. Her cheeks flushed hot. She would die if anyone else witnessed how much this affected her. Ben binged on her reaction, prolonging the moment.

  Before she went to strangle the name from Ben’s writhing body, he spoke. “Elijah. Stokes.”

  Elijah? His sculpted features, his mahogany eyes, the shadow of stubble along his angular jaw. The quiet, serpentine way he moved.

  She blinked hard, suppressing the urge to clap and squeal in delight. “Elijah Stokes?” Her tone sounded impressively even considering the riot in her belly.

  A name shouldn’t mean so much. Yet it did.

  Sadie sagged into a chair, struggling to compose herself. She bit her inner cheek. “Elijah, huh?” she said, forcing herself to sound casual.

  Those mahogany eyes staring into the ether, his mind snared by some observation within the books he scoured week in and out, strong hands toying with whatever hung from the long gold chain around his neck.

  Ben pressed his lips together, nodding, triumphant. “You’re welcome.”

  “Elijah Stokes,” Ben affirmed, framing an air name plaque. “It suits him, don’t you think?”

  “Definitely.” Now, for the more important question. “Why did you say he won’t be back?”

  “Yeah, so, he came in yesterday and I made it my mission. I mean how long can you go on thinking of someone as ‘Angel Eyes’ or ‘Tasty Treat’, right?”

  Maybe she’d strangle Ben after all. But she knew rushing him would shut him up. Plus, the name Angel Eyes gave her pause. No wonder she’d given him wings. “He was here yesterday?” Sadie lined her cart, her palms sweating. Maybe Cynthia would add Thursdays to her schedule. If she could get the microfiche machine down.

  “Yep. Jealous much?” Ben started on a cart, too. “So, yesterday, I figured if I lingered around him long enough, his girl would say his name.”

  His girl? Probably the honey-skinned one with runway legs. Sadie swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Oh?”

  “Oh and she was wearing the most divine nude lace-up corset and these velvet jockey pants. Divine. I had to get a closer look. And I figured, if she didn’t say his name, I could go up and ask him, you know, compliment her, segue into an introduction. But I didn’t have to.”

  Conversation? Yeah, right. Cajones, Ben did not sport. “So she said his name?” Lovingly? Passionately? Was it too much to hope she wasn’t his girlfriend?

  “No. He got a phone call and answered ‘Elijah Stokes’.” Ben paged through a book before sticking it in his cart. “And then she said something about coming back one last time tomorrow, which means today. Come back for what, I couldn’t tell you, but I’ll be trying to find out, if you know what I mean.”

  Last night’s hot kisses came into sharp mental focus. Her first cart alphabetized, Sadie hurried to finish the next. Keeping her hands busy tempered her rapid heartbeat.

  “So, you’ll never guess who the history department….”

  She tuned Ben out.

  She couldn’t lose control over her reactions. She couldn’t
let him see how much the idea of never seeing Elijah again panicked her. She couldn’t reveal all those dreams. And because she wanted to keep her only sort of friend, she couldn’t pad his already extensive Sadie files.

  The books smelled fusty and good, the plastic covers crinkled against her fingertips. Sadie focused on the smells and the lull of Ben’s voice.

  “I’ll start with this up on main,” Ben said, leaving her two more carts to categorize.

  Sadie nodded and smiled tightly up at him as he strolled to the elevators. Sadie’s rush returned. The seconds crawled by as she waited for the elevator’s ding, the cart’s clank over the threshold, the groan of moving metal. Forever ended and she pushed the pent up energy from her tight lungs in a loud whoosh.

  Alone at last. Well, alone with him—Elijah—at last. Save for the other patrons here and there, or, possibly, his “girl”. A pang shot through her. Was she his girlfriend? Not like Sadie could just go up and flirt with him yet, anyhow. What would she say? “You won’t believe this but I keep having erotic dreams about you. And you can’t keep your hands off me.”

  Yeah, right.

  Five minutes of composure-gathering later, Sadie wheeled her cart in his direction, determined to do what Ben couldn’t. To do what she previously couldn’t. To take a chance.

  Would he notice her first? Maybe he’d look up as she passed and smile. What would she do? Smile back? Wave? What excuse would get her talking to him?

  Nothing big. Chit chat. Or a question.

  He wouldn’t be back either. Ever. The idea kicked panic into her stomach and determination into her heart.

  She’d be med-free within days. Back to the strong woman she was before one minor, totally overblown freak out two years ago. Soon, she’d walk without tripping, speak without stumbling, high kick without falling over.

  She’d be Sadie again. Kickass and confident.

  She’d have a real shot at Elijah. At life.

  ~ ~ ~

  Chapter Two

  Elijah stood. “We need to leave. Now.”

  “We can’t. Sadie’s already here. Lyric can arrive, get a feed off of her and we’ll know once and for all.”

  Feed being the word he worried about. Sadie was definitely here. Elijah could feel her getting closer. That hum that was only hers. Like no human he’d ever heard. But far from immortal like Holly so hoped.

  The warning in his gut grew.

  “We’ll have to head Lyric off and relocate instead.” Damn it all. Damn Crusoe for all of this. If Crusoe hadn’t kept secrets, hadn’t fallen for Holly. If Crusoe and Elijah hadn’t been young together, Elijah would just say goodbye. Too many ifs added up to a different life.

  One that didn’t exist.

  “There’s no way to tell him. I told him to blend in. Besides, when he went off radar, he went all in. No devices, nothing.”

  Affection for Crusoe bound Lyric, Holly and Elijah together. Even now they remained entangled around what he meant to them. “My gut tells me this is a bad idea, Holly.”

  The clanging metal cart shouted Sadie’s arrival two rows away. Her gaze warmed his skin, her breathing whispered in the quiet hush of the building’s air conditioning system. Her heartbeat drummed higher. Lyric would be here any moment. Elijah had to move fast.

  “She’ll be in danger.” Elijah stole a glance Sadie’s way. She looked away but held her head high. Bright eyes, a full mouth. Blue flecks of something along her cheek. “We have to leave.”

  “Can you at least let him get up here first?” Holly asked, but stood as well.

  Lyric’s low, sickening sound approached in the nearby stairwell. Elijah collected his energy inward, pressing it down to prepare to repel Sadie. Holly did the same, her glowing tendrils nearly banking though her eyes, smoldered as they held to his. Elijah came around the table to head off Lyric.

  A quick check in Sadie’s direction revealed nervous hope in her expression and clear intent in her vibration. Not good. She intended to approach him. Sober now or always, Sadie presented a quick, delicious feeder fix with all that emotion. “I don’t want him reading her. Not yet.”

  Holly’s eyes flashed. “A little trust, Elijah.” She grabbed his arm. “Please?”

  He pulled his arm back. “I’ll trust him when I see for myself he’s not strung out.” He turned to leave and smashed right into Sadie’s cart. The metal banged his left knee. Books spilled onto the floor. His boot caught on the lip of the cart, knocking it over. He lost his balance and landed on his knees.

  “Oh my God,” Sadie said, sounding mortified.

  Holly’s cough sounded a lot like a chuckle. Elijah scrambled to his feet, hyperaware of Sadie staring red-faced and speechless. He righted the cart and met her wide-eyed gaze. The pale blue of her eyes shone so bright with determination, despite the fall, it almost hurt to look.

  “I’m so sorry,” Sadie said, shoving books at the cart only to have them fall over and off.

  Lyric was so close. “It’s okay. Really.” Elijah had to get her away, get himself away from her. Holly bent and Sadie stammered more.

  “I was…I mean, I just…you—”

  Elijah grabbed some books. “Don’t worry about it.” He’d erase her embarrassment, but how? What could he do? “I should have been looking.”

  “I’m an idiot,” she stammered. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  He was out of time. Holly nodded at his meaningful glance and walked away.

  “No, it’s my fault,” he said, too roughly. “Don’t worry about it.” He shoved a tall pile into her hands. “Here, take these.” The books scattered like leaves.

  “Oh…I…I…,” she stammered, her eyes wide, her heart beating like a hummingbird’s wings. Lyric would open that door within a breath. Fuck.

  Heat flashed over Elijah. Another apology died in his throat. What choice did he have but forcefully repel her and intercept Lyric? He tightened his magnetism in and reversed it, hard. He glared. “Forget it.”

  For a split second, her face fell. And though she recovered, jutted her chin out, guilt punched through him. He turned and left her. He had to.

  Cruel as his actions were, they protected her. The metal door swung open. Lyric strolled forth glancing about, twirling heavy aviator goggles on his forefinger, his leonine strut confident. The farther from Sadie Elijah got, the more his magnetism steeled, like a wall, masking her energy from Lyric. Blood using or not, Lyric would never undo the past. Redemption remained to be seen.

  Elijah intercepted him within a few strides and pointed at the door. “Not here,” he said.

  Shrugging, Lyric turned on his heel and headed back to the stairwell. Holly followed. Now that the feeder had arrived, Elijah found himself a bit hopeful. Crusoe was what mattered now. Finding his brother. Before something unspeakable happened. Elijah looked back, just once, to Sadie. She was loading the fallen books, her shoulders squared. But he could hear the change in her. The urge to apologize gripped him by the throat. She looked up, blinked once and he swore, despite the yards between them, he fathomed the crystalline blue of her eyes before he looked away.

  Lyric and Elijah followed Holly to the roof.

  "My, my." The feeder's melodious voice sent a chill through Elijah. "What a fine haunt we have here." He opened his arms and spun, his sheet of black hair billowing in the air.

  Holly spoke first. "You look good." She embraced Lyric, a quick, curt hug. “It’s been too long.”

  Elijah itched to drop his careful guard and let both of them know how uncertain he was about involving Sadie. There were students below, more than usual, and he sensed at least one other immortal this side of realm lines.

  “The Aussie sends her love, Elijah,” Lyric said, which explained the aviator goggles he twirled. He’d arrived by airship and not just any, but the Renegade.

  Holly sparked. She’d never liked Elijah’s former lover and captain of the Renegade. Decades wouldn’t change the fact. “Orena brought you?” she asked.


  Lyric smiled. “She did far more than that.”

  She’d cloaked him as well then. Just perfect. Which meant Orena still had a hatchet she’d like to bury in Elijah’s back. Nothing to be done about it now.

  "What’s this? Whoever speaks first loses?" Lyric asked simply after a long moment. “You win, then Elijah. Least you can do is explain why Holly dragged me from a tropical paradise to this soul-forsaken desert hell.”

  “Lyric, you promised,” Holly warned.

  Lyric’s smirk faltered.

  Elijah felt oddly territorial. As though a secret lay within these walls that Lyric didn’t deserve to know. A secret Elijah should protect. Was it Sadie? Or was it all the time he’d spent combing for the Book of Sorrows? Or would sharing his suspicions expose him to criticism he couldn’t take? Evidence of a conspiracy, clues to where Crusoe had disappeared to. Truths he couldn’t face. "Holly told you Crusoe is still missing,” Elijah said at last.

  Lyric looked away, flexing his hands. “As if I wouldn’t already know, yes. She told me.”

  Anger pricked up his spine. He didn’t trust Lyric. Mortals wouldn’t be able to fully perceive a battle, should it come to that, but he never sensed immortal eyes watching, too. It could be an Enforcer.

  “Crusoe’s name has been linked to the Illeautians. We think they have him," Elijah continued. Lyric's unchanging expression told Elijah this wasn't news either. "We followed leads here and seem to have hit a wall. I don't know where to look next. Holly is hoping with your unique…gifts…you may be able to help."

  Lyric's eyebrows shot up at the word "gifts". Elijah ignored it and prepared for fat gloating. Instead, Lyric rubbed his jaw in thought. Silent moments passed. The year since they'd last seen each other, strangely, felt more like days. His wiry form, his long-slab straight hair, the dark glint in his obsidian eyes all appeared unchanged. If going rogue scarred a man, Lyric hid his well.

  "Holly mentioned the Book of Sorrows."

  "Yes." Elijah quirked a brow Holly’s way. She shrugged.

  Lyric laughed humorlessly. "Elijah, you’ll need to be a bit more forthcoming if you expect me to help. I knew this would be awkward, at a minimum, but you reek of hostility, my brother."