Reckoning (The Arotas Trilogy #2)

by Amy Miles

  “What about me?” she asks, forcing her mind back onto topic. “What will Gabriel see when he looks at me now?”

  Concern burrows into her chest, lying dormant. What if Gabriel can see what lurks within her soul? Evil has always perched, ready to spring into action, should she allow it. The tenuous balance is as thin as a spider’s silky thread.

  What if she now resembles something similar to Matis? Roseline shudders at the thought.

  “He will see you just as I do. As a radiant being.” Malachi’s smile is warm, soothing like a salve to her wounded soul. “Contrary to what you may think, Roseline, you have never been a thing.”

  Her fingers dig into the second skin of her leather pants, nails piercing the thick material. “But I’m not like him, right?”

  “I’m not sure anyone really knows what Gabriel is, especially now that you have transformed him.” Malachi’s shoulders rise and fall in an exaggerated shrug. “Do you remember me telling you earlier that there are some who know of Gabriel’s presence?”

  She nods, a feeling of dread pooling in the pit of her stomach.

  “This group calls themselves the Elders. They believe Gabriel is a Fallen One, a harbinger of death. If they were to get their hands on him…” Malachi pauses, letting that sentence trail off. “The monk Guardians view him as something else entirely, a warrior of light, if you will, but only those who possess the prophecy would truly know.”

  Roseline spasms, jerking upright. “That’s it. All we have to do is find the prophecy.” Her face lights with excitement as she spins to face him. “Do you know where it might be?”

  His hesitation dampens Roseline’s spirits slightly. “There was only ever one true scroll. That was lost centuries ago.”

  “But then how do the Elders know about Gabriel, then?”

  A slow smile stretches across Malachi’s face. “They made a copy.”

  Chapter 25

  Gabriel is sure he has heard Elias wrong. “Excuse me? Did you just say you want me to fly?”

  Elias nods, his offered hand extends to wrap around Gabriel’s forearm. Heat radiates under his palm, spreading along Gabriel’s flesh. “I don’t expect you to succeed on your first attempt.”

  Gabriel’s jaw drops open. “First attempt? Are you insane?”

  “Come,” Elias says, pulling Gabriel toward him. “Seneh is waiting.”

  He stoops to one knee, offering both arms. Gabriel shakes his head, waving his hand in hasty refusal. “No way am I letting you carry me like a little child.”

  “Then what do you suggest?” Elias asks, the corners of his lips pulling into a smirk.

  Gabriel cranes his neck to look at the hole overhead. From here, it looks barely wide enough for Elias to fit through. A head peeks over the rim and a whistle, like the cooing of a dove, echoes down into the room.

  “We are running out of time,” Elias warns, his smirk vanishing. “It isn’t safe for you here.”

  Gabriel’s chest constricts. “What about Sias and the others?”

  “They are leaving tonight.”

  “Where will they go?” Gabriel asks, looking back at the door separating him from the monks. Maybe he should stay. They might need his help.

  Elias squeezes his arm, drawing his attention. “They will be safe as long as you are not with them. We must go.”

  “Fine,” Gabriel nods, walking around the expanse of Elias’ wings, “but I’m riding shotgun. I’ll just hold onto your back for now.”

  Elias cocks his head to the side, contemplating. “And this will help you to keep your pride intact?”

  Gabriel rolls his eyes but nods. “It will.”

  “Fair enough.” Elias kneels to the cold stone floor and spreads his wings wide. Gabriel slips between them and wraps his arms around the angel’s neck. “You’ve done this before, right?” he asks nervously.

  “Not like this. Hold on tight.”

  Elias’ wings sweep back behind him, pressing Gabriel into a cocoon of feather down, before leaping high off the ground. The biting night air pierces deep into his flesh at this speed, numbing him instantly. Gabriel gasps, shocked by the shiver that radiates through him, despite the warmth flooding off Elias’ back.

  He is enveloped in a golden spiral as they shoot through the narrow opening and launch toward the heavens. Gabriel’s muscles contract as he hangs on, buffered by the mountain’s blustery winds. He resists the urge to wrap his legs around Elias’ waist as the flapping wings pummel his legs, striving for greater heights.

  He glances behind him, watching until the slice of a hole disappears into the icy landscape. A twinge of regret stabs him in the side. He did not get to say goodbye to Enael. He did not get to thank Sias for saving his life or have the pleasure of taking Ordin down a notch in the jousting match tonight. He prays that Elias is right, that they will be safe without him.

  Gabriel shields his face behind Elias’ head from the frigid winds as they break through the clouds. An ocean of stars shimmers around them, blotted out only by their shadow companion who trails behind them.

  “Who is Seneh?” Gabriel croaks.

  “Your guardian angel.” Elias’ laughter rumbles under Gabriel’s arm. “Don’t speak until we land. You’re not acclimated to this temperature at this altitude yet.”

  “How long?” Gabriel grunts incoherently.

  Elias shifts his eyes to look back at him. “A couple hours. Care to reconsider your current position? I doubt you will be able to hold on that long.”

  Gabriel’s jaw has locked in the cold, but his stern response would have been the same, either way. “Suit yourself,” the angel chuckles, and ascends higher.

  ***

  Gabriel is disoriented when he wakes. Stifling heat floods his face and a brilliant light blinds him. His throat is parched, achingly so, but at least his tongue has defrosted. Agony, radiating down from his shoulders, brings their night flight crashing back into reality.

  “Where am I?” he croaks, rising to a sitting position. He hisses, yanking his hand back from the scorching floor. No, not a floor. It shifts…like sand.

  Gabriel’s eyes pop open. Cupping his hand over his eyes to block the incessant glare, he gasps. A sea of sandy dunes spreads out before him. No ice capped mountains. No green grass. No refreshing blue hues of water. Only an endless tide of steaming granules.

  “Elias,” he shouts, clutching his stomach as the hoarse shout tapers into a coughing fit. The rustling of wings pulls his gaze around. Gabriel yelps, scrambling away from the man sitting just behind him.

  If he had thought Elias was daunting, the man before is even more so - with skin as dark as chocolate, eyes of the purest white. He is clothed with countless fleshy scars, which crisscross his bare skin. Strange black tattoos weave among the scars, like scrollwork. Scarlet wings flutter behind him. His essence screams warrior.

  “Are you Seneh?”

  The man dips his head in response. Sunlight glints off his bald head and Gabriel notices that a single braided ponytail of oil-slick black hair sprouts from the middle of his skull. An enormous curved sword, like ones Gabriel has seen in an Arabian Nights movie, hangs from his waist, its tip lies buried in the sand.

  “Where is Elias?” The man stares back at him. His colorless eyes give Gabriel the sense that his guardian can see straight through him. “Not the talkative type, are you?”

  Seneh turns his face away, his gaze zeroing in on something on the horizon. Gabriel narrows his eyes, trying to determine the bird that Seneh watches. It’s probably a vulture searching for a rotting carcass.

  “Do you at least have any water?” His gaze lands on a small leather pouch at Seneh’s feet. The ache in his throat nearly makes approaching his terrifying guardian worthwhile, but finally the man shifts and tosses him the bag. It sloshes in his hand.

  Blissful relief gushes down Gabriel’s throat, soothing the pain. How long has he been here? Judging by the way his stomach loudly protests, it must be well past breakfast. Narrowing his
eyes as tightly as he can manage, Gabriel risks a glance heavenward. The sun sits overhead, lancing him with blistering heat. He clamps his hands over his eyes, vowing not to do that again. Sunspots mar his vision for several moments.

  Seneh shifts, rising from his seated position. Sand cascades from his legs and lap, but he pays no mind to the scorching desert carpet. “What’s up?” Gabriel asks, struggling to his feet.

  A single finger points to the sky. Gabriel was wrong. Seneh wasn’t looking at a bird, but an angel. At least, Gabriel thinks it is an angel.

  The being dips low, revealing its awesome presence. Six powerful wings maneuver the beast to the desert floor. Smoke rises from its fiery hide. Red eyes blink as they focus on Gabriel. The wings of the serpent-like-beast curl inward. Two to cover its feet, two to cover its face, and the remaining two aid in balancing its mighty body.

  Seneh smiles in welcome. His words, spoken in a beautiful, rolling foreign language, tug at Gabriel’s mind. They sound familiar although he is sure he has never heard them before. The creature lowers its head, relaying its message in guttural grunts and hisses.

  His guardian’s smile fades, muscles coil as his grip tightens on the hilt of his sword. The beast takes flight in a whirlwind of fire and brimstone. The gush of sulfur sends Gabriel to his knees, gagging. “What the heck was that?” he gasps, eyes tearing up.

  “Seraph,” his guardian replies.

  “So you can talk.” Gabriel blinks away the tears to look at his companion. “Do you all have such unusual names?”

  A fluttering of wings sends Gabriel sprawling to the sand. Every inch of exposed skin screams as he scrambles upright, startled by Elias’ sudden appearance. “That is not its name. It is called a Seraph. It is a keeper of God’s throne. What you have witnessed today hasn’t been seen in thousands of years.” The angel shakes sand from his feathers.

  He offers his hand. Gabriel accepts Elias’ assistance and rises to his feet. “Something major has happened, right?”

  Elias nods, sharing a silent look with Seneh. “The Old One has risen.”

  Gabriel purses his lips, expecting Elias to elaborate. When he does not, Gabriel sighs heavily. “Look, I get that secrets and cryptic answers are your thing and all, but I’m not a fan. So can we cut the crap and just be honest?”

  A worn smile crosses Elias’ face, aging him dramatically. Gabriel frowns. What has shifted Elias’ countenance so aggressively? “I’m afraid we don’t have time to answer all of your questions. Things are progressing much faster than I had hoped.”

  Tension rolls off Elias and Seneh in nearly visible waves, or maybe that is just the heat. Either way, Gabriel is hesitant to press his luck. “Can you at least tell me why I am here?” He glances around at the desolate location.

  “For your protection. Few would dare to enter the Sahara Desert at noonday.”

  “No kidding,” Gabriel winces, tugging at the collar of his robe. He thought it was scratchy before! If it were not for the boiling sand, he would disrobe to ease some of the heat trapped within the heavy layers. “So who exactly is it we are hiding from?”

  Elias closes the gap between them, pulling Gabriel’s sleeve up to reveal the two halves of his cross tattoos. As soon as Elias’ finger touches the tip of the cross, blue light flares to life. A cooling flood rushes through his veins, energizing him.

  His thirst vanishes. Discomfort erases. Renewal falls over him like a fresh spring rain. Gabriel sighs with an audible relief.

  “There are others who know of your origins, Gabriel. If they find you before you complete your trials you will not survive.”

  Gabriel latches onto his slip of information. “Trials?”

  Elias smirks at his eagerness. “Yes. There are three in total. Each one harder than the last.”

  “I always hated tests in school,” Gabriel grumbles under his breath. “It’s always pass or fail. So boring.

  “Trust me, these tasks will be far from boring.” He drops Gabriel’s arm, as if burned. A grim veil settles over his stunning features. “These trials aren’t pass or fail. They are pass or die.”

  Chapter 26

  Roseline stares blankly out at the manicured grounds from her second story balcony. The sun bathes the estate in a dazzling array of snowy rainbows. She silently bids farewell to the overcast sky on the horizon, its low-lying clouds pregnant with snow.

  She was grateful to discover that Matis had not stepped foot inside her allotted room. If he had, she doubted she would have crossed the threshold. Malachi had been gracious enough to personally show her the way, while Fane and Nicolae wearily wandered up to the third floor to find their room.

  Sleep eludes her. She knows she should try to rest, but anxious energy nibbles at her mind. Roseline obsessively analyzes each word Malachi spoke earlier. Angels, Fallen Ones, an ancient prophecy…are such things even possible?

  Roseline used to believe in God. Her mother had made sure her rear end was firmly planted on the front pew of the village church each weekend, but when the devil handpicked her to be his wife, she stopped believing in those fairytales. God no longer exists in her world.

  What if she is wrong?

  Roseline grips her temples, kneading incessantly. Pressure builds behind her eyes. Sleep deprivation makes it hard to think. If only her mind came equipped with an on/off switch.

  A knock at the door draws her back from the balcony. She quickly crosses the elaborate floral rug that fills the majority of the overly lavish room. Only a small edging of hardwood can be seen near the perimeter of the room.

  “Coming,” she calls, slipping into the robe she found laid out for her in the bathroom. She turns the lock and opens the door to find Fane leaning against the doorframe. She smiles. “Can’t sleep either, huh?”

  “Not with that foghorn you call a friend blowing nonstop. That boy has lungs, I’ll give him that,” Fane grins, brushing past her into the main room. A grunt of disapproval escapes his throat as he twirls around. “Unbelievable. You get the master suite and I’m stuck with snoring beauty in a glorified broom cupboard.”

  Roseline chuckles, tying a knot in her robe. She heads for the bed in the adjoining room and sinks back into the mountain of pillows. She pats the bed beside her but Fane casts her a pained look. It lances straight through her heart and out the back. “Sorry. I forgot.”

  Gone are the days when they can snuggle up together and just talk. A pang of regret furrows her brow.

  Fane sinks heavily into a stiff backed armchair, no doubt meant for visual appeal instead of backside pleasure. “Don’t worry about it,” he sighs, tossing his hands over the armchair wings. He crosses his leg over one knee, struggling to find a comfortable position. “I guess we just need to get used to this…whatever this is.”

  She chides herself for being so careless. Exhaustion is really starting to impair her judgment. She must at least try to sleep at some point today. “So, what’s up?” Roseline asks with a forced airy tone. She tucks her legs under and pulls a pillow into her lap.

  Memories of the many nights spent like this, hidden away from peering eyes at the castle, tug at her mind. Fane risked much to visit her in her private chambers at the castle, but it was those times, those hours of laughter, that had kept her alive shortly after her transformation. Now it just feels painfully awkward.

  He opens his mouth, as if ready to blurt out his thoughts, but thinks better of it. He groans, pressing his head back into the chair.

  “Is this about Malachi?”

  Fane snorts, eyes narrowing with disgust. “Don’t get me started on that…man,” he spits out.

  Roseline chuckles and moves to rest her head atop the giant throw pillow. “No, I came to check on you. I’m worried about you, Rose.”

  Her laughter subsides. Fane’s pet name for her no longer brings happiness but a reminder of her longing for Gabriel to call her by that name.

  Pain seems to be waiting to flood back in when she least expects it. Judging by the way Fane’s
hands clamp down on the armchair, she is doing a poor job of hiding it. “I’ll be ok. Just a rough few days is all.”

  Fane sits forward, letting his leg drop back to the floor as he slips into their native tongue. “This is me you’re talking to, Roseline. You do not have to sugar coat it for me like you do with that hunter upstairs. I know you’re hurting.”

  She looks away, fighting back the tears that sting her throat. How can she speak of this to him, especially after everything she has put him through?

  “Please,” he begs. She hears the whisper of his shoes against the carpet. The bed sinks next to her as he shifts closer. His fingers gently pull her chin around to face him. “I’m still your friend.”