by C. J. Bahr
He cursed himself once again, for failing his father. If he had he might have the answer he needed now to save Laurel. Now he was failing her. Grief and helplessness flooded him. He couldn’t save her.
Simon stared at her hopeful face. Had she discovered something else about the Orb? Was there a built in defense? There was too much he didn’t know. The Orb was known as the fiery stone, and he was the son of fire. He was dithering while Laurel slowly bled out. He had to do something. Have faith. Something he sorely lacked. He’d never trusted his father, himself, or anyone, he realized. It was time to let go his anger, his distrust. It was time to believe in something…someone.
He believed in Laurel, his angel. He could have faith in her. Walk through fire, brave death for her. She would not die. In a blink, he made his decision. Uriel, help us, if not for me, but for her.
Simon attacked, praying he’d catch MacKenzie by surprise before he could shoot. He leapt over Laurel who had collapsed back to the ground and barreled right into MacKenzie. The gun went off. Another deafening boom in the chamber, but he ignored the shot. With both hands he grabbed the Orb and glared MacKenzie in the eyes.
“Your family motto, luceo non uro, is wrong, neach-dìolain. You burn not shine,” Simon growled.
Alex grappled with him for the stone, but he didn’t let go.
“Hear me, Uriel. Manu forte!” With the last of his energy, he willed it into the Orb.
The results were immediate. Simon vanished as the relic gave a blast of energy then burst into flame, engulfing Alex.
MacKenzie screamed in agony, his cries echoing through the chamber. He fell to the ground, still clutching the blazing stone. Yellow flames crawled over his body, creating a human torch. The Orb flared and a pulse of light flashed outward, piercing Simon’s ghostly self, thrusting him back into solid form. His body thrummed with energy, his skin tingled like a million spiders were crawling all over him. He vibrated with energy. He felt powerful as he watched his enemy dying at his feet.
A low rumble joined MacKenzie’s death cries. He tore his gaze from the burning man to the chamber’s entrance and saw rocks fall from the ceiling. He acted without thought. He spun and dropped, throwing himself over Laurel.
Rumbles became crashing thunder as the tunnel collapsed.
Chapter Fifty
An eerie silence descended though Laurel’s ears rang with the aftermath of the cave in and Alex’s horrible screams. She shivered beneath Simon’s hard weight, willing the phantom death cries away. And the smell, the musty scent of dust didn’t hide the hideous cloying odor of cooked, burnt, meat. She swallowed hard as her stomach churned.
Simon shifted, lifting his body away and taking his warm sheltering presence away from her.
“Mo anigeal? Laurel, are you all right?” His hand caressed her cheek then tucked a trailing strand of hair behind her ear. “Open your eyes, lass.”
She did as he asked and saw him gazing down at her, his pale eyes filled with concern and a hesitant smile on his lips. She coughed as the dust swirling in the air continued to settle.
“He’s dead?” She murmured, afraid to look around.
“Aye, lass.”
Her stomach twisted and roiled. She sat up with Simon’s help. Clutching his arms with her hands, she peered past his shoulder. The Orb still glowed, resting in Alex’s charred skeletal hand. She followed his bony hand to a blackened wrist, to his arm and saw no more. The collapsed tunnel covered the rest of his body as well as the entire entrance to the chamber.
Laurel slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle the scream desperately wanting to escape. There was no way through the rubble. They were trapped.
Simon wrapped his arms around her, and she tucked her head into his chest, shaking in her fear.
“Hush, anigeal. It will be all right. I’m here.”
Oh, God, she was going to die. Her breaths hitched before exploding in short exhalations, the pain in her leg ignored as terror clenched both mind and body.
She didn’t know how long she stayed that way. Simon continued to murmur to her in English, sometimes in Gaelic, but she never truly heard or understood the words. Eventually she quieted as exhaustion replaced fear. She didn’t want to move. She wanted to stay sheltered within his arms forever.
“Laurel, sweetheart. We need to look at your leg.”
She moaned her protest when Simon gently pushed her upright.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes. It does.”
She bit her lip when he straightened her wounded leg. The piercing pain that had been her constant companion since Alex stabbed her was down to a dull throbbing ache. Even she knew that wasn’t a good sign, especially since it was still bleeding.
Simon reached past her and pulled the linen altar cloth over to them. He tore a strip off and then folded the remaining large piece into a tight square. He pressed it down on her open wound and a groan escaped her.
“I know, lass, it hurts.” He took her hand and placed it down on top of the cloth. “Keep the pressure on the gash.”
“Simon, stop. It doesn’t—”
“No!” His shout of denial jerked her head up to gaze at him. His expression was fierce, lips pressed thin, his silver eyes filled with anger, glowing almost in his need. She was caught by his strength of will.
Did it really matter? She nodded once, giving in to his demand. She watched as he tenderly raised her leg to slip the strip of linen beneath her. He twisted the fabric and started to pull, she slipped her hand out of the way. Quickly, he jerked it tight, causing her to grunt. He made a knot and then tucked the edges under the fabric. Her leg was back on fire with pain.
He knelt beside her, head bowed with hands fisted at his sides, unmoving. She reached out and placed her hand on top of his head. Her fingers gently stroked the silken black threads before trailing down his face to grip his chin and tilt his face up. Her breath caught.
He was silently crying. Tears dripped down his cheeks, to fall wetly on her palm.
“I won’t...” his voice broke. He swallowed and cleared his throat. “You can’t die. I won’t let you.”
“Oh, Simon,” she moved her hand to cup his cheek. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes. Yes, it does.” His voice filled with determination. “Everyone I’ve ever loved has been stolen away. I’ll find a way to save you.”
“How, Simon? Don’t you see—”
“No. There’s something I can do.” He pulled away from her and raked a hand through his hair, shoving it off his face. He glanced at the rubble filled entrance, then down to the Orb before meeting her gaze. “I have energy, more than I ever had. The stone did something. I can get outside. Get help.”
“Where? The church is miles from here. The nearest neighbor is buried next to us. There isn’t enough time.”
“There is. We’ve stopped the bleeding.”
“No, Simon. We just delayed the inevitable. Now I’ll just slowly die when I run out of air, or starve. Even if there was enough air and you miraculously found someone immediately, it would take days to clear the passage.”
He shook his head. Grief etched on his face.
“Simon. Please,” she held her hands out to him. “Hold me.” He gathered her into his arms once more, tucking her in close. She sighed and closed her eyes reveling in his strength. It comforted her, made it easier. “It’s all right, you know? Forever is overrated.” She opened her eyes and looked up at him, smiling gently. “I love you, Simon.”
“I love you, too, anigeal.” His hand stroked her hair.
She shifted and pain lanced up her leg. This had to stop. She didn’t want this drawn out, before her courage gave. Laurel reached down and tugged at the knot of the tourniquet. “Help me?”
His swallowed curse cut right through her, but soon his arms unfurled around her. His hands engulfed hers, taking over and released the knot. Blood instantly bloomed, seeping up through the linen.
She leaned back against his chest, and Simon wrapped his arms a
round her.
“I’m okay. It’s okay. Just hold me,” she whispered.
His lips pressed a kiss to her head. “I’ll stay with you, lass. I won’t leave you.”
“We’ll meet again. In heaven, you know?”
She felt more than heard Simon’s grunt. “What? Your duty’s finished. The Orb is safe, buried here with us. Alex is dead. No one else knows. You’ve earned your peace.”
“Aye, I wish that was true. You have more faith than I.”
“Simon, how can you say that when you know God actually exists as does his angels? You called out to one of his Servants and were answered. Faith? You have plenty. You don’t realize it yet.”
“Aye, I do believe. That’s the problem. I have nae been a good man,” Simon’s accent thickened as his voice became emotional. “I couldna protect my family, betrayed my da. I was selfish. And now, I canna save you.”
“Oh, Simon,” her voice broke. “You don’t need to save me. You are a good man. The best man I’ve ever met.”
“Ah, lass…” his voice trailed away. He pulled her closer and rested his head a top hers.
Exhaustion claimed her, and her eyelids fluttered closed. She shivered, as a chill chased through her. It grabbed her, sinking deep. “I’m cold,” she murmured.
“I’m here, mo anigeal,” he whispered. His arms tightened around her as her mind began to drift.
“Laurel?”
She was too tired and cold to answer, causing him to swear and then pray.
“God, don’t let her die,” he pleaded. “I’ve not asked for much. I’ll happily suffer a thousand more deaths to save her. Punish me. Let her live. Please.”
A bright light flashed, causing stars to appear behind her closed lids. Her eyes snapped open. She couldn’t see. Light filled the chamber, blinding her.
Chapter Fifty-One
Laurel cried out against the searing pain of the bright blaze. Simon’s arms closed tighter around her, sheltering her from the unknown intrusion. As fast as the blinding light had appeared, it disappeared. The room was once again reduced to the simple warm yellow glow cast by the Orb, but now, they were not alone.
She stared as her eyes adjusted. For a brief moment, two figures had been overlaid in an after-burn image from the white-hot radiance. A giant figure, standing over seven feet tall, glowing with impossible wide wings unfurled from its back to caress the chamber’s walls and ceiling superimposed then resolved into a man. He was tall as well, but on a more human scale. There was a presence about him, belied by his casual dress of jeans and a plain T-shirt with the words ‘Jesus Rocks’ plastered across his chest.
Power exuded from his darkly bronzed skin and intelligence gleamed from the depths of his dark amber eyes. His face was chiseled, all hard angles, like a knife slicing through clay, giving him a harsh but stunning beauty. The only wildness about him was his long pure white hair falling to his waist. Everything else radiated calm.
Laurel, trapped by his golden gaze, was mesmerized, all her pain and fear forgotten, while looking at this impossible stranger. Simon exhaled softly and released her in order to edge himself slightly before her, a not so subtle signal he protected her. She reached for his hand. Their fingers clasped, twining together. Who was this man to appear out of thin air? Another ghost? Had she really seen wings?
The silent man released his strange hold over her when he dropped his gaze to the glowing Orb. A smile curled his lips before he glanced up and pierced them once more with his gaze.
“Retribution delivered and balance restored,” his deep voice intoned. “Well done and well met, MacKay, son of Murdoc, heir of the covenant and child of my heart.”
“Uriel?” The gravelly one word from Simon conveyed his mixed emotions. Disbelief warred with awe, yet underneath it all a hint of anger, causing her to worry.
The stranger dipped his head in acknowledgement.
Simon stiffened beside her, and she squeezed his hand in caution. After all Uriel was also known as God’s Angel of Retribution. But Simon didn’t heed her unspoken warning.
“You come now?” He taunted. “After all these years?”
“Simon, please.” She wrapped an arm around him and rested her head on his shoulder, anything to break his angry fixation on the angel. “You can’t…stop…” She didn’t know what to say.
It might have been to reassure her, or maybe keep her close to protect her, but Simon tugged her from behind him and wrapped his arm around her waist, tucking her head against his chest. However his attention never wavered from the human manifestation of the Archangel.
The Archangel Uriel. Laurel studied him from the shelter of Simon’s body. She’d never dreamed or even imagined she’d meet an angel. Oh, she believed in them, just as her belief in God, but it was another thing to be confronted by reality. Uriel was strikingly handsome and not at all how she would have envisioned him through her fact-finding trip. She had expected wings, but jeans and a holy-T-shirt. Really? She had always envisioned shiny armor or maybe a gown-like thing or even a robe.
“No, lass,” Simon responded, drawing her attention back to him. “I want answers, but more, I want Uriel to heal and save you.” His grip tightened at her waist. His tension radiated throughout his hold. If this kept up, he was bound to do physical violence. She didn’t want him hurt, there been enough of that in his life already.
“While here in this chamber,” Uriel replied, ignoring the heated tone of Simon’s words. “Time stands still. Ask your questions.”
“I have no questions. Only a demand. Heal her. Now!”
Laurel realized blood no longer seeped out of her thigh, and all her various body aches were gone. “Simon.” She placed her hand on his arm and shot Uriel a grateful look. “Simon, look at my leg. It’s not bleeding.”
He tore his gaze away from the angel and carefully assessed her wound. He gave a slight shake to his head then muttered under his breath, “Nae, not good enough.” His worry and fear were etched in his face before he looked challengingly back to Uriel. “Heal her!”
“I cannot.” Uriel’s compassionate gaze stared down at them. “Her fate is not in my hands, but while I’m here, she’ll neither die nor heal.”
“Damn it, save her! She’s an innocent. She helped keep your bloody stone safe. You owe her that much.”
Uriel shook his head. “She has been granted this time, earned it by her steadfast actions, to hear your story. Given time to say farewell and leave no words unspoken. It is not up to me, whether she lives or dies.”
“I canna except that,” Simon’s grief made his voice harsh.
Laurel didn’t get happy rosy feelings as the men talked about her fate. She had already accepted and made peace with herself before the Archangel had appeared. If Uriel couldn’t heal her than her fate remained the same. At least she’d be with Simon. And right now, there wasn’t even any pain, a blessing in itself.
“Please, stop arguing,” she pleaded, wrapping both her arms around Simon, trying to comfort and give him something else to focus on. “You knew my choice before he arrived. Nothing’s changed. We’ve been given some more time.”
He stopped glaring at the Archangel, to press a kiss on top her head then with his free hand reached up and fingered a strand of her hair. “I will not let you die.” His reply was soft-spoken, intimate. Her heart melted a bit more.
“Please, Simon, I want to hear why everything has happened. Give me that, at least.”
She loved him with all her heart, and she wanted to know everything about Simon, besides it distracted her from her immediate future. If time was really standing still in this chamber, then Uriel could speak forever while she stayed entwined in Simon’s arms.
“I canna deny you anything,” he looked up and held the angel’s gaze. “Speak. Go ahead and tell your damn tale.”
“Simon. He’s an Archangel…”
He shook his head. “I’ve been tortured for two hundred years, left alone, and aided by no one, until you.” He pic
ked up her hand and placed a tender kiss on her palm. “He hasn’t earned my respect. He has denied you of healing. I owe him nothing.”
“But—”
“Hush, lass,” Simon interrupted. “What more can he do to me that hasn’t been done already? Kill me? I’m dead already.” He looked up and glared at Uriel. “Go on, tell your story.”
If Uriel was angered by a mere human’s order, he showed none of it. Instead, he stepped away from the Orb and leaned against the chamber’s carved wall. Austere and haughty, Uriel was regal making his jeans and shirt somehow appear like formal wear.
“Damned, you never were,” a smile danced across Uriel’s face making him seem more human. “As you figured out, your branch of the clan MacKay was given the Orb for protection. A covenant was signed by your ancestors, during the time of the Picts.”
“I knew it! You gave them the name MacKay, didn’t you?” It was rare for a researcher to confirm guesses when dealing with ancient history. But here and now, she had an actual eyewitness.
“Indeed,” replied the Archangel, giving her another humanizing smile before continuing. “The covenant was struck when it became clear the Orb was too dangerous left in humanity’s hands. With the growing population, evil spread as well as good, and the Orb in the wrong hands became a powerful tool of destruction. That couldn’t be allowed.
“All was fine, up until your father’s time. Alistair MacKenzie discovered the compact and hence, learned about the Orb and who protected it. MacKenzie killed your father, thinking that you would hand over the relic due to your estrangement with the MacKay.”
“But he didn’t,” Laurel inserted, giving Simon’s arm a squeeze, she was so proud of him.
“Aye, because I didn’t even know it existed.” As if the saying of his words had helped release some of his anger, Simon seemed to relax just a bit.
“True,” Uriel replied. “Alistair hadn’t planned on that. Impatient, he decided to kill you and get his answers from your mother and sister. That did not work either.”
Laurel jumped to the question she wanted most answered. “Why? Why did Simon have to suffer, be tortured year after year? Is God that cruel? Couldn’t Simon have stayed a ghost the whole time? It would have given him more time to look. Why did he have to drown for two hundred years?”
