With the gurgle of water, his hands itched to wash her. With the moan of the mattress as she lay down, he groaned. With the rustle of sheets as she likely settled beneath them, he closed his eyes and imagined her right next to him.
It seemed like a long time before the house was quiet but for the sounds of Emma’s deep REM sleep coming from her room.
It was time for Venn to make his way to the tunnel and seek the wisdom of the Divine Tree.
* * *
There were times—not many, but a few—when Venn hated going down into the tunnel and underground. He felt like the earth would give way and he’d become buried beneath its crushing weight. As he heard the echo of his steps reverberate off the stone walls, he realized this evening was one of them.
What if Custos didn’t have a solution? He slowed his steps, thinking. What if Emma had to die once more and they were doomed to repeat the vicious cycle over and over again? He stopped, his hands sweating, his heart thudding in his chest. What if Custos told him there was no way to save both Emma and the tree?
Reaching for the light, he turned it off and stood utterly still in total darkness. He closed his eyes, opened them. No change. It was difficult to understand which was up or down, left or right, except for the reference to his own body. And that was how life was without Emma. Empty and dark. He had purpose as a guardian, but no light, no love.
There had to be a better answer than losing her again.
His hands shook as he turned on the lamp and resumed walking. He entered the tree, undertook the anointing ritual and wound his way down into the catacombs.
Once inside, he traveled to the center of the room, to a platform created by knotted roots upon which sat the Crown of Knowledge. The uneven combination of high and low wooden spikes, formed in the shape of a crown shown with a glow of gold and the essence of light. Each spike stood jagged and sharp and irregular, pointing upward, and as far as he could tell, made of a unique substance that was a cross between live and petrified wood.
The tree’s usual groaning and scraping sounds, like a house settling, made him feel at home. He chose a spike at random in the circle. Paused. Inhaled.
“How can I help you, Guardian?” The tree’s ancient, raspy voice startled him.
“I need answers.” He set his jaw.
“You know you should not,” Custos admonished.
“I’m well aware of the rules.” He also knew this was the only way to obtain information beyond that which the tree would willing share. And by law, there were limitations as to what could be shared. Venn rolled up his sleeve.
“Guardian, don’t,” the Divine Tree warned.
Venn positioned his hand over the spike and forced it downward, stabbing his hand with the point. Splinters pierced his skin, each digging far deeper than the inch of flesh it penetrated until tendrils of energy and heat wound through him and converged with his mind and heart and gut. He gritted his teeth at the pain, like a million bees buzzing within him, stinging.
And then he grew numb. Euphoric. The trip of all trips. Must focus.
He must remember his purpose. Remember back to the day of Amelia’s death. Find a way to save Emma.
Slowly, his memory settled on the day in the park and his final moments with Amelia, as clear as if they were happening in that very moment. No, doubly clear, for he was both spectator and participant.
He silently thanked Custos for directing him to this particular moment. But how long could he hold on? For a time he would be suspended between the two worlds, and he didn’t have that long to get the job done. The muscles in his forearm twitched violently in a spasm. What if he didn’t seize the right details? His distractions were great, for as much as he needed this information, he was also desperate to get back to Emma.
Pinpricks of light cartwheeled across images of Emma as she was in her previous life. His heart tripped over itself like a stuttering lad, anxious to relive the delight she wrought yet fearful of the shocking outcome.
Her lips pulled into a teasing smile as she accepted the peach he’d plucked from their picnic basket. She sank her teeth into it with sheer joy, the juices running down her delicate chin, and then she passed it back to him. He could smell the sweet bright aroma, taste it as if it were the first peach he’d ever eaten.
He ate from the precise spot she had partaken of and passed it back to her. She repeated the ritual, and on taking his turn again, he could taste Amelia’s flavor laced with peaches. Exquisite.
Venn squeezed his eyes shut and breathed in.
On a level separate from that of his trance—in the “real world”—a gust of cool air brushed the back of his shoulder. Venn ignored the sensation. He needed to stay with the memory. He needed whatever information the tree was about to impart.
He tightened his hand on the wooden shard. His palm grew wetter as blood oozed between the joint junctures and trickled over his knuckles.
Amelia stood. “Let’s dance. Here, on the green carpet of grass. You are my knight, and I your lady.” She stepped from the quilted spread and waltzed in a circle, her skirts billowing outward. With a theatrical show, she faced the tree and dropped to a low curtsy. “My king.”
Venn’s eyes widened at a detail he’d forgotten. They had been speaking of the Middle Ages. Of knights and kings and dragons and castles and ancient traditions. A time he had actually lived through that didn’t possess nearly the romance she’d imagined.
As she turned back to him, her smile was infectious. He was ready to join her play.
Another wisp of cold air stuck his back.
Again, he ignored it.
He swallowed hard. Next, she would die. As impossible as it was not to close his eyes, as much as he longed to deny and separate himself, he stood firm with the task of reliving what he knew would come. He deserved the agony. To torture himself once more. To make certain he didn’t forget he’d failed to protect her. To make certain he didn’t forget how deadly Io was. As if he could actually forget.
Emma’s eyes met his, her face warm, loving, playful. Then the arrow sailed from out of nowhere and pierced her breast. Stunned incomprehension erased her lovely smile as she glanced down at the arrow, then up at him.
The seconds elongated. Her eyes were huge, sorrowful, and eventually perceptive as she realized her fate.
“Nooo!” The guttural, wounded scream burst from his lips and oddly echoed within the tree as if it happened in real time.
He saw himself dart to her, faster than humanly possible, as he caught her before she touched the ground. He knelt and cradled her in his arms. There was no healing her. The blade of the arrow jutted from her back, having gone clear through. Her blood flowed from the wound.
Terror clutched his heart. Helpless, he smoothed her hair and declared his love.
Helpless, he bargained with the Divine Tree, with God, with Fate.
Helpless, he watched her die.
But why?
Must have answers.
He grabbed another spike, with his left hand this time, and shoved downward once more. Maybe the more surface involved, the deeper he’d be able to tap into the tree’s knowledge. At this rate, his entire body could end up pierced.
“Venn, stop. You’re not allowed to use the tree for your gain,” Seth uttered in a biting, disapproving tone.
The gravelly warning hurled from behind made Venn stiffen. Had the archangel followed him, or was it his natural, impeccable sense of timing that brought him here. “Go. Away,” he said through clenched teeth.
Tears wet Venn’s eyes, just as tears had wet his cheeks those centuries ago. Only now, looking at it from afar, he noticed an odd phenomenon. Something he had not detected in the agonizing moments following Amelia’s death.
On the red-stained ground beneath his mate, the roots of the tree moved and grew and multiplied.
The Divine Tree released a rustling sigh, filled with awe. “You see, Guardian. She anointed me with her blood. And in the process, it changed all three of us.
”
The statement was shocking, but more than the declaration, it was what the tree didn’t say that bothered him. Had a bond formed between the oak and Emma? Was that admiration in Custos’s voice?
“Well, Shakespeare’s eyes,” Seth choked out. “So that’s what’s different about Emma.”
Venn jerked his hands free, disregarding the burn and throb and blood, ignoring the pain-in-the-ass angel. An immutable measure of jealousy swept through him like the north wind of the old country.
All along the tree had something Venn had not: a part of Amelia.
The sour taste of resentment spread into his gut, quickly and illogically. His heartbeat amplified in his head, and his beasts clawed to get out. He needed to calm down.
“I wanted her to return, also,” the Divine Tree divulged. “Sad. So much knowledge and no power.”
“So that’s why you requested that I bring her back. You used me,” Seth muttered with annoyance to the tree. Then he tossed Venn a piece of cloth that had mysteriously materialized from out of nowhere. “Here. You’re bleeding all over the place.”
Venn nodded his thanks and dabbed at his hands, still trying to absorb the information.
“Let me get this straight. You wanted to bring Amelia back, so you persuaded Seth to make it happen,” Venn asked Custos, incredulous. Then he turned to Seth, “And since archangels have special privileges and powers you—”
“I did it for you.” The angel jabbed his finger at Venn. “Custos made the suggestion.”
A rumble of laughter shook the oak. “Favorites.”
Seth scowled.
Venn had known for a long time that he got along with Seth better than most of his brothers did. After their bumpy beginning, they shared the chemistry of good friends.
But the tree… How was it that it laughed and expressed emotions? Why hadn’t he noticed that before?
Was it possible the tree had…feelings? Had Custos kept that hidden all this time?
Venn met Seth’s stare as the questions settled on him with angst-ridden uncertainty. He needed time to sort this out, and maybe Seth could help. How could he use the information about Amelia’s murder to protect Emma? With a groan, he stretched his sore muscles.
“I still don’t know how to stop Io? There must be a way.”
The tree rustled and shook, saying woefully, “How do you capture the wind? Or kill the rain? How do you control the tornado? Or harness a hurricane?”
“You’re saying that it can’t be done?” Venn asked, trying to keep his tone level.
“Not under normal circumstances.”
Seth shook his head.
He looked about. Here, inside the Divine Tree, was not the place for that discussion. The air suddenly grew warm and clingy, claustrophobic.
What should he say to the Divine Tree? Thank you for sharing. Forgive me for breaking Guardian Law.
With the cloth Seth had given him, he cleaned his blood from the spike as best he could. But the tree stopped him, saying, “Don’t. You have done enough.”
Venn decided not to dwell on the tree at the moment as he guided Seth to the exit hall.
When he arrived at the tunnel arch, he paused and turned back. Staring at the place where his blood stained the spiky crown, he wondered if his bond with the oak was also changed, deepened. It stood to reason that if Amelia’s blood forged a connection, then his might have, as well, or perhaps it already had centuries ago and he’d never realized it. From the beginning Guardians were amalgamated to their trees. So it was difficult to tell.
“Custos,” he called out. “Thank you, my friend, for allowing me to share your knowledge.”
“You are welcome.” The voice practically glowed with satisfaction.
* * *
“I’m starving,” Seth announced when they were in the tunnel near the garage.
“No surprise. You’re always hungry. I take it you want company?” Venn said, despite the fact his stomach didn’t feel too happy. He checked his watch. Eleven thirty.
Seth straightened. “Lasagna at Marco’s?”
“Too late.”
“Bella’s?”
“Also closed.”
Seth’s wings sagged. “I’ll never master human time. I bet they’re eating breakfast in Florence right now.”
“Probably. Come on. We’ll find something.”
Venn’s initial idea was to head home where Henry could whip up a delicious snack. Only Emma slept there now, which increased the likelihood of her walking in on their conversation.
Seth and Emma in the same room…not what he had in mind.
She wasn’t ready for that conversation, yet, and neither was he.
Then he remembered that the diner near the hospital was open all night. No gourmet cuisine, but at least it was better than a fast-food joint. And he’d buy the angel whatever he wanted in order to get him involved in some serious brainstorming.
With his wings hidden, Seth looked like an aging rock star, a little rough around the edges, his black braids tied at his collar. Venn led the way to a dimly lit booth in the back corner, as far as he could get from other customers. In fact, there wasn’t anyone else on this side of the restaurant.
Perfect.
After a glance at the menu, Seth ordered a plate of way too many eggs and a lot of pork. Then again, neither of them had to worry about their health. One of the perks of immortality.
“Why are you here, anyway?” Venn asked. “Am I in trouble again?”
“You’ve been the difficult one from the beginning.” Seth slid the saltshaker between his palms, passing it across the table like a hockey puck. “What do you think is happening with the tree?”
Venn blew out a frustrated breath. “Like I have all the universal knowledge that you’re supposed to possess.”
“I think you’re getting me confused with the Divine Tree.” Seth raised an eyebrow. “We both saw something in that chamber. Let’s exchange notes.”
Venn nodded. “Obviously, Emma’s change has to do with her blood seeping into the Divine Tree’s roots. Custos said as much. So perhaps her talent of manipulating metal, one Amelia didn’t possess, is the result of a connection to the tree.”
“It explains why Emma changed the tree but not the other way around,” Seth added quietly.
“Somehow during her reincarnation, she received alchemy powers over metal.”
“Did you catch how the roots grew and altered beneath her?” Seth asked.
“I did.” The scrape of the shaker along the tabletop grated Venn’s nerves like sandpaper. “Will you put that away?”
Seth pushed the container aside, folded his hands, and propped his chin on them, leaning elbows on table. The pose looked quite angelic. If a pirate could pull off angelic.
“So her blood formed a bond between them,” Seth stated.
“Is it possible that she has a connection with the tree that’s similar to the Guardians’? Meaning, if she dies, the tree dies.”
“And therefore you die, as well.”
“Now there’s an idea that would ring Io’s bell.” Venn glanced across the room. What exactly did Io know? “That kind of theory is too dangerous to even speak of.”
The waitress returned with coffee. Seth leaned back in his seat until she left. “Right. Then how do we discover the scope of their relationship?”
“I’ve explained to her my role as Guardian. She knows about the tree, my shape-shifting, immortality, everything—except where Io is concerned.”
“Perhaps you’d better tell her the rest soon.”
He was dreading that conversation. Everything depended on the outcome. It could bring them closer together or she could flee. He wanted to believe her soul would recognize the truth, but when it came to dealing with demons, things could get pretty mixed up. Including your head.
His thoughts turned to the bond they each had with Custos. Somehow Emma’s blood had made the tree’s emotions come alive. Venn would bet on it. And then the tree had
a part in Emma’s reincarnation. An action that led him to believe it liked Emma. Or perhaps loved her. And he wondered how far those sentiments went. How far would it go to please her?
The waitress brought their food, and Venn followed Seth’s lead and dug in. “I’m not sure what Io’s intentions are but this could be bigger than I thought,” Venn said between bites.
On a TV positioned just below the ceiling in the corner, a world news reporter’s voice saddened, growing heavy with extra emphasis regarding the horror of the current story. Seth pointed his fork toward the television. “Here that? They’re after a child trafficking ring.” He shook his head, ate a slice of bacon and licked his fingers. “Sick. This evil shit is killing us. Got to stop it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
It was three in the morning by the time Venn directed Seth to the kitchen refrigerator and opened the door. “Help yourself. Henry gets off on culinary creations and I’m sure he’ll appreciate a connoisseur in the house.”
Seth’s eyes lit at the sight of labeled containers. “Heaven.”
Venn grabbed a bottle of water. “You should know.”
They shared an offbeat snicker.
Angling the bottle up the stairs, Venn said, “The suite to the far right has your name on it.”
“Thanks. I’ll hang here for a bit. If that’s all right.”
“Suit yourself.”
As he climbed the stairs, he heard the chink of corning against granite. He grinned. That archangel had a bottomless stomach and an overflowing heart.
When Venn reached the upper hall, he paused between Emma’s room and his own. The thought of slipping in bed beside her tugged at him, but she needed her rest. Resisting the temptation, he opened the door of his room to a surprise. Emma stood at the vast group of windows, with Izzy wrapped in her arms.
A sliver of moonlight slipped in through the window, forming a misshaped triangular pattern on the floor near her feet. “I hope you don’t mind. I couldn’t sleep.” She set Izzy down. “I adore this view and—”
“I’m glad you’re here.” His heart banged against his rib cage, coursing blood throughout his body, including down south. In a few strides he stood behind her, slipped his arms around her waist, and encouraged her to lean back against him.
Awakening Fire: The Divine Tree Guardians (The Divine Tree Guardians Series Book 1) Page 17
