It matters.
A haunting reminder that no matter how he denied it to Zad, his attachment to Aurora was far more than spectacular sex.
“But why do you demand their souls?”
“It’s the ultimate proof.” He owed her nothing, yet the need to tell her everything consumed his reason. “If a potential client is willing to sacrifice the possibility of ever being reborn, just to save the one they love in this life, then maybe the missing one is worth searching for.”
“Reborn? Are you saying people really do reincarnate?”
“Only if they possess a soul.” He couldn’t stop the bitterness in his voice. “Otherwise once you die, that’s it. You’re gone forever. No second chances.”
“Wait.” She frowned, oblivious to how astonishing it was for a mere mortal to say such a thing to an archangel. “You return the one they love, and at the same time take away the chance they may have of getting together in a future life?”
That was exactly the conclusion he wanted her to believe. She would retreat, and this strange connection between them would shatter. Their relationship would be based exclusively on sex, and his fascination with her would fade.
Except the suicidal desire to leap to his feet, drag her into his arms, and tell her the truth thundered through his brain. Did she really think so little of him that she could believe he’d demand such a thing?
Despite the price his clients believed they paid, all he did was wipe their minds. They retained only a hazy memory of having approached him, or what he had done for them. But the rumors persisted that he demanded not only his client’s soul, but also their life as payment.
And still the desperate sought him out.
He crushed the illogical urge. Let her believe the worst of him.
“That’s right.” To his disgust, he sounded belligerent.
“But that’s ridiculous.”
His grin was feral. Her lack of respect was breathtaking. Mortals had died for far less. Why, then, did he find her irreverence so damned exhilarating?
“What criteria would you use?” he demanded, as though she was his equal and her opinion mattered. “How would you prioritize which case to take and which to leave?”
With the right one, sex can heal the soul. But Aurora was not the right one. And his soul was beyond salvation. But curse the gods, he didn’t want to lose this fragile thread that had inexplicably woven them together.
She gazed into the chest and trailed her fingers over the contents as though she was clairsentient and could discover secrets from touch alone.
“You’d need harsh criteria.” Reluctant acceptance threaded through her words. “Otherwise you’d be swamped.”
“That’s why I’ve never suppressed the rumors.” To hell with it. He wanted her to know the truth, because she hadn’t condemned him. How fucked up was that? “What would I do with a million souls?”
Her smile was soft, accepting, and every reason why he’d convinced himself to put distance between them evaporated like morning mist.
“You’re looking for a child, aren’t you?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. There was no need, when the contents of the chest told its own tale. “How old is she?”
“Four years old.”
“Do you,” she hesitated, then took a deep breath. “Do you want me to help? I’d like to.”
She wanted to help?
She had no idea what to look for, and he didn’t need her. But despite that logic he acknowledged, with a sense of fatality, that he wanted her help.
Even if all it amounted to was simply keeping him company.
Chapter 25
Aurora
Curled up on the sofa, Aurora stifled a yawn. She had no idea what the time was, but it had been dark for what seemed like hours. The remains of another mouth-watering meal Gabe had brought back a while ago was strewn across the coffee table, and he was at the other end of the sofa, focused on his laptop.
Surreptitiously, she indulged her obsession and gazed at him, soaking in the glow of his hair, the sculpted perfection of his face, and his total concentration on the task he’d set himself. Besides loading intel onto her laptop, he had suggested she go online and research.
She sifted through the information Gabe had received from Evalyne’s father and uploaded to her laptop. There were a lot of family pictures, and she never would have guessed these people were aliens and not humans from Earth.
She couldn’t stop scrolling through the pictures that catalogued the little girl’s life, from the celebration of her birth, to what were clearly birthday parties.
It was all so … normal. Nothing like the aliens she’d seen at Eblis’ club.
The last picture showed Evalyne cuddling with an older woman. They were both laughing, and the bond between them shone through. Aurora hitched in a ragged sigh, but just as she was about to close the folder, something caught her eye.
Frowning, she enlarged the image, and eerie shivers raced along her arms. She hadn’t imagined it. Around the little girl’s neck, partly obscured but still recognizable, was a replica of Aurora’s own necklace, and the vibrant shimmer of rainbows and gold dust was clearly visible.
Before meeting Gabe, she’d never seen anything exactly the same as her necklace. But in the space of three days she’d come across three identical to her own. Belatedly, she remembered she hadn’t told him about the one she’d discovered around the throat of a suspected victim of the Guardians, just before Mephisto had turned up.
It couldn’t be a coincidence. There had to be a connection between the two abducted girls who had possessed archangelic artifacts.
“I’ve found something.” She turned the laptop around so he could see the screen. Gabe glanced up, a frown of concentration etched across his brow. “Look at her necklace.”
Gabe looked, but didn’t comment.
“It’s the same as mine.” Except what she really wanted to say was it’s the same as your daughter’s.
He wrapped his arm around her. She had the strange impression he didn’t even realize.
“It’s of no significance.”
She pressed her palm against his heart.
“It means something, Gabe. My one is a fake, but what are the chances this one is, too?” She cradled his jaw and forced him to look at her. “I’m not suggesting this was made for Evalyne’s mother or grandmother. Obviously, we’re talking generations ago.” Why was she so sure about that? “But the original beloved would have passed it down to her daughter, who would have passed it down in her turn. A continuing chain of endless devotion.”
“What?” His voice was hushed, and he looked at her as though he had never seen her before. “How do you know about that?”
Unease whispered through her heart.
“You told me. The other night.” When he had first seen her necklace. And yet she had the strongest conviction she had known that fact for so much longer.
“No, I didn’t.” The words were uncompromising. “I told you your necklace was based on an ancient archangelic design. I didn’t say who we gave them to, or the tradition of passing from mother to daughter.”
So how did I know?
“Well, it’s a reasonable guess that’s what happened. And I think it’s a strong possibility that’s what happened in Evalyne’s case. I think … she could be descended from an archangel.”
“No.” There was a dread finality in his tone, but his gaze was riveted on the image of the child. “There are no Nephilim left, Aurora.”
She didn’t want to disagree with him. It was obvious who he was thinking of when he looked at Evalyne. But she couldn’t let it go. Her hypothesis might be wrong, but it deserved to be investigated.
“How can you be so sure?” Her voice was soft, and once again she pressed her hand against his chest. Against his wounded heart. “You can’t know for certain.”
Finally, he looked at her, and the sorrow of ages glowed in his eyes.
“I’m certain.” Ancient resignation p
ermeated each word. “Gods and mortals had children together from the time the Alphas discovered they were sexually compatible. At our most basic level all of us—gods, archangels, mortals—are made of the same stardust.”
“Yes,” she whispered, afraid to shatter this glimpse into his extraordinary past, but he had paused, as though he’d expected a response. Would he tell her about his own daughter? She desperately hoped he would. It would mean more to her than he’d ever know.
“Our goddess, for reasons known only to herself, wasn’t interested in procreating with her fellow Alphas, let alone mortals. She wanted more than that. She wanted to create her own unique species.”
Awe trickled along her spine. “The archangels,” she breathed. “She made you in her image.”
How twisted the truth had become through millennia.
“No,” Gabe said. “Surprisingly, considering the size of her ego. She stole DNA from all of the Alphas for her baseline, found this primitive planet in the backwaters of the universe, and experimented for millennia until she was satisfied with the outcome.”
Whoa. DNA from all the Alphas? Without their consent?
She bet that hadn’t gone down well.
“And created the archangels?”
This time he offered her a crooked smile, and it pierced right through her heart.
“Again, no. She created, for want of a better word, our cousins, the demons. You met one. Eblis.”
Eblis was a demon? What had happened to the horns and forked tail of myths?
“There was one problem with the demons, though. They bred like rabbits with the humans on Earth.”
“I suppose that would be a problem,” she said, but her mind was reeling. Was half the Earth swarming with the descendants of demons?
On second thoughts, that would explain a lot.
Gabe grunted. “The problem was the demons were spending far too much time indulging in earthly pleasures, and not nearly enough in worshipping at our goddess’ feet. And she loathed their offspring with a passion.”
His goddess sounded like a nightmare. “It always makes sense to blame the innocent.”
A reluctant smile tugged at his mouth. “Demon spawn are many things, but they’re never innocent.”
She had only the sketchiest idea of what demons were. And that information mostly came from novels and movies.
Probably not the best source of factual evidence. Then again, from what she’d discovered, neither were the myths that populated Earth’s histories.
“What happened?”
He gave a heavy sigh. “She banished her demons and as many of their children as she could find. Turned them loose in the universe and began Version II. The archangels. And this time she ensured there would be no messy distractions in the form of offspring.”
Wait. Was he telling her …? “She created you sterile?”
But that couldn’t be right. Apart from the sheer vileness of such an act, he’d already admitted some archangels had children. He’d had a child.
“She thought she did.” He leaned his head against the back of the sofa and gazed at the ceiling. She could only guess what he saw in his mind’s eye, and her heart ached. “As we matured, we, too, indulged in earthly pleasures. There was a magnificent civilization back then, Aurora. A thriving culture based on science and mathematics that had evolved over ten thousand years or more. We were the immortal ones, and yet we learned so much from them.”
Had she missed something? She’d assumed he was talking about Earth, but obviously not. No way was she going to interrupt him by asking. He might never open up to her like this again.
“In time it became apparent that, with the one who claimed our heart, we could have children. But despite the joy they brought us, we were always consumed by guilt.”
His pause lengthened. Was he waiting for her to say something? She took a chance.
“Because you were going against the word of your goddess?”
His heavenly gaze clashed with hers. “No. It was because our beloved Nephilim didn’t possess souls. Unlike the offspring of gods and mortals, who suffered from no such curse, our children—children we loved with all our hearts—could never be reborn. We were condemned to know that because of us, our precious children were destined for one life. And one life only.”
His daughter.
A hard knot of anguish filled the center of her chest. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the depth of his despair. How long had he existed, consumed by such misplaced guilt?
“I’m so sorry.” They were only well-worn words, but what else could she say? And she meant them, so deeply.
“It happened long ago.” He drew in a deep breath, his magnificent chest expanding beneath her. “But that’s the reason why Evalyne can’t be descended from an archangel. We only ever procreated on Earth, and that was millennia ago.”
He had been talking about Earth. How was that possible? What great civilization did he mean?
“When we finally left the place of our creation and ventured into the vastness of the universe, we all made a vow. We would never fall again.”
His words shouldn’t hurt. She knew he didn’t love her. Knew, now, why he never could.
It still hurt.
Grow up. He was telling her everything she craved to know, and nothing came without a price.
Except it didn’t add up. There was something he still wasn’t sharing, apart from the fact he had once had a daughter. A piece of history between the time archangels had children and when they made the decision to never love again.
“Gabe.” She kept her voice soft, although it was hard to hide her urgency. She knew he considered the matter of Evalyne’s heritage closed, and maybe it was. Or maybe he was blinded by his preconceived notions. “I understand what you’re telling me. But there’s something I want to show you. I found it earlier today, just before Mephisto turned up.”
Had that really been only earlier today? It seemed like a lifetime ago.
He didn’t question her, but as the minutes crawled by, panic churned through her. Suppose she couldn’t find it again?
And then she hit gold.
“There.” She turned to Gabe, who still appeared lost in another world. “Look. She’s wearing a necklace identical to Evalyne’s.”
He took a measured breath before glancing at the screen. And then his focus sharpened, and he took the laptop from her.
“Shit.” He ground the word between his teeth. “Archangel blood. It can’t be.”
“What can’t be?” She gripped his arm. He was still transfixed by what she had shown him. “What is it, Gabe?”
There was a wild gleam in his eyes. “Something the pirate said when I interrogated him. ‘Faith that the cursed bloodline survives.’ I discounted it as the ravings of a miscreant desperate to save his own skin.”
“There were others,” she whispered. “I found three other victims whose bodies were drained. But they were only suspected to have been abducted by the Guardians. Do you think whoever took Evalyne is responsible for them, too?”
“I can’t say without evidence.”
Nausea churned in the pit of her stomach. She’d been so fixated on connecting the necklace with an archangelic heritage that she’d overlooked the obvious.
“It doesn’t mean they’ll kill her though, does it?”
He shoved the laptop onto the sofa and stood up. “I’m going to ask Jaylar about his immortal heritage.”
Chapter 26
Gabe
Gabe contacted Jaylar via the telepathic link he had established, as Aurora pushed the laptop onto the sofa and took his hand.
“Let me come with you, Gabe.”
“No. It’s too dangerous.”
“I know you’re trying to protect me. But I want to help.”
“You have already.” Because without her, it wouldn’t have occurred to him to question Jaylar’s immortal lineage. “I won’t be long.”
“But I might perceive something he says in a
different way than you.”
He wanted to tell her there was no way she could see anything more clearly than he. But he’d just acknowledged that she did.
And it was simply an excuse, in any case. The only reason he didn’t want to take her with him was because of the threat of the Guardians.
Why did she always question him?
“Aurora.” He ground her name between his teeth, but it didn’t change the facts. Her reasoning was sound, even if he wished it wasn’t. “Stay close.”
He teleported directly into Jaylar’s office, his arm wrapped securely around Aurora. The Guardians were sneaky bastards, but they weren’t omnipresent. And at the first sign of trouble, he’d get her back to his island faster than a heartbeat.
Jaylar gave a half-bow. “My Lord Gabriel.”
He’d barely replied, when Aurora whispered in his ear.
“What is he saying?”
She couldn’t understand the Medan language. For the first time, he acknowledged the foresight of the demons’ technological advances. Centuries ago they’d developed software to address this problem for their high-ranking half-bloods. Those who, unlike archangels and demons, hadn’t inherited the ability to process a multitude of languages from their Alpha forebears.
He should have established a telepathic connection with her. Then he could instantaneously translate the conversation to her. With anyone else, he’d initiate the connection right now. But with her unique brain structure, there was no way he could rush it.
“I’ll translate.” He turned back to Jaylar. “Where did your daughter get her archangel wings necklace?”
“My Lord?” Jaylar glanced at Aurora, obviously baffled by her presence. “Her what?”
Before he could translate, Aurora pulled her necklace from beneath her top. Jaylar’s focus riveted on her outstretched palm.
“Archangel wings?” He sounded confused. “We’ve never called it this. My mother gave Evalyne a necklace much like this one on her fourth birthday. Just days before she disappeared.”
Redemption: A Realm of Flame and Shadow Novel Page 19
