Satisfied, Aalia glanced down at his forearm as she clasped his hand, her forehead wrinkling in disgust when she saw the deep blue stains following the path of his veins. It was barbaric; as one of the angels’ preferred torture methods she was well acquainted with their blue fire.
Her gaze once again returned to Sam’s face. It was no longer tight with pain but that didn’t mean the pain wasn’t still there. She’d had to take him deep into unconsciousness just to get him still enough to begin even trying to heal him.
He was a mess; at first, she hadn’t even known where to start. The blue fire alone should’ve killed him… would’ve killed a lesser Sentinel. Sam was lucky his bloodline was strong; that and his obvious will to survive had kept him alive this far. She could only pray it held out long enough for her to purge the poisons from his body. Then she would see how much of the damage she could repair.
There was something else though, she thought to herself as she rose from her seat at his bedside and leaned more closely over him. Something other than the blue fire.
She inhaled deeply, almost as if she were scenting a faint trace of something on his breath. She peeled one of his eyelids open and stared thoughtfully at his enlarged pupil.
Oubli.
She grimaced inwardly. He’d taken Oubli or been forced to take it. Either way at this point it was immaterial. It had caused a severe reaction with the fire, even now it burned through his veins, destroying everything in its path.
Damn it, she wasn’t sure if she could save him at all, he was so far gone. But if she didn’t save him, she thought grimly, it would mean her life too. She didn’t dare glance around; she didn’t need to. She could feel the weight of Thomas’s stare behind her. It was like a crushing pressure against the back of her skull. If she failed to save his son, he would kill her without a second thought.
No one dared stand against Thomas. Not even his brother Marcus who, even now, hovered at his shoulder, watching with great interest to see whether his nephew would live. Not that he cared much; it was no secret that there was no love lost between Marcus and Samuel.
Aalia brushed the thought aside and turned her attention back to her patient. She would do whatever it took to save Samuel and not because she was afraid of his father, but because Samuel had always been well liked and respected among their kind. Thomas may have been feared, but his son… his son had been loved.
Thomas had always ruled their people with an iron fist; he hadn’t cared about them. Like his father before him he’d been ruled by his hatred of the angels and an overwhelming compulsion to see them expelled from Paradise or, even better, eradicated altogether.
Sam had been different.
Secretly she’d always hoped that Azariel and Thomas would just go ahead and destroy each other. With them gone, Heaven might have stood a chance at peace. If Sam had taken his father’s place as principal Sentinel, things could’ve been so different.
She wasn’t the only one who thought so.
Her sisters were nothing more than slaves. The females of their race were regarded as nothing more than brood mares. Divided into who could produce the highest lineage and the purest bloodline. They weren’t allowed to mix freely, not with their own race, not with others. They were kept locked away to keep them pure. They weren’t allowed to train as warriors, they weren’t allowed to be educated. They were chosen for their ability to breed and, once they had given birth, the male children were taken from them to be trained as warriors, the female children were returned to be raised so they in turn could one day breed.
But she’d heard rumors, disturbing rumors, barely more than whispers, of women who were unable to bear children disappearing. She didn’t want to accept it, didn’t want to believe that Thomas could be so callous as to dispose of any of their kind who didn’t fit in with his plan of breeding the perfect race, the perfect warrior.
She’d been in Thomas’s company for a long time. Ever since Issac… she shook her head and shut her eyes against the sudden wave of pain. Since she was now one of the most powerful healers he had, Thomas had kept her disturbingly close and she’d seen enough to open her eyes.
She knew exactly the kind of man Thomas was. He hated that she was a woman, he’d been furious at losing Issac. She knew she was on borrowed time; she’d heard them whispering, seen the glances cast in her direction. She knew he planned to give her to his brother. There were so few healers left, he had no choice but to breed her. With his bloodline through his brother and hers, any child she bore would most likely inherit her gift for healing.
She shuddered at the thought. It wasn’t the first time Marcus had been given females to breed with and she’d been the one called in to heal those poor women after he’d finished with them. She was under no illusion about the kind of man Marcus was and there was no way she wanted to find herself in his bed.
Aalia sighed quietly as she soothed Sam’s brow with a damp cloth. The only reason she was allowed out of the women’s quarters at all, was because of her gift of healing. There were very few healers more powerful than her. It must have been somewhat of an irony, that females were regarded as inferior and yet she was more powerful than most of their highly skilled warriors.
It still didn’t mean she was free.
If anything, Thomas kept her on an even tighter leash, after Issac…
She shook her head almost imperceptibly, she couldn’t allow her thoughts to drift there, not even for a moment.
Sam moaned, rousing Aalia from her thoughts. Once again, his head began to loll from side to side and his eyelids fluttered. He was fighting the sleep incantation. Good, she thought to herself, it meant he was fighting; that was all that mattered.
She placed both her hands on his chest and released a flood of power into his body. His body spasmed and arched off the bed, a cry tearing from his lips.
It would hurt; even in his semi-conscious, fevered state he would feel the pain intensely, but it couldn’t be helped. He’d already demonstrated the sheer will it took to survive this far, she had to believe his heart was strong enough to survive a purging.
His body slumped back, sinking into the sweat dampened sheets, breathing heavily, his eyes rolling wildly. She allowed him the barest second to catch his breath before releasing another wave of power. His chest glowed a deep muted red as he arched off the bed again, crying out in agony.
The power swept through his body burning away the poison, but it still wasn’t enough. Aalia closed her eyes to better concentrate as sweat misted on her upper lip and bloomed across her forehead. Her thin robe clung to her armpits and a film of moisture stuck the delicate material to the skin between her shoulder blades.
She could still feel the poison in his blood; as fast as she was burning it away it was replicating. She had no choice, she would have to take him to the very edge and pray that he was strong enough to come back from it, pray that they both were.
Her skin began to glow and pulse with the strange golden light, until her whole body was consumed by it.
She felt it increasing, building impossibly high, until it was like trying to hold back the entire weight of an ocean. She let go and felt the wave roar through her and into Sam, blasting through them both with the fire and heat of an exploding sun.
She dropped back into her seat, breathing heavily, drenched in sweat, her heart hammering in her chest and ears, her hands trembling.
Sam had slumped back onto the bed, unmoving. She stared at his chest, still as a marble statue, his skin chalky white against the purple bruising beneath his eyes. His black hair looked too harsh and unnatural against his pale face.
She felt Thomas shift dangerously behind her, heard his breathing change. She could sense the danger in the air, like a doe scenting a predator. She felt Marcus shift restlessly next to him, his fingers wrapping around the pommel of his blade.
She leaned forward and placed her hand on Sam’s chest. There was nothing.
Her hand trembled against him as she bowed her head
. She heard the slow steely hiss of a blade being unsheathed, as she closed her eyes.
Suddenly, Sam’s eyes snapped open and he drew in a sharp loud breath.
She jumped to her feet, leaning over him as she cradled his face in her delicate hands. His skin, though still pale, had lost the chalky white pallor and the color gradually returned to his lips.
He blinked, his gaze still confused and unfocused as he growled in pain. There was no trace of the poison left in his body, but the damage it had left behind in its wake was severe. It would take some time but now that the poison was gone, she had a chance of helping him.
Her gaze was drawn to his lips as he tried to speak, but whatever he was trying to say was expelled from his mouth as nothing more than a wheezing whisper.
She leaned in closer, turning her head so her ear almost grazed his dry lips.
‘Scarlett?’
She heard Thomas suck in a sharp angry breath behind her and had no doubt he’d heard the forbidden name on his son’s lips.
She drew back slowly, staring at Sam in puzzlement. His eyes filled with pain as he looked back at her.
After everything he’d been through, after the sheer amount of agony he had to be in given the extent of his internal injuries, his only concern was for the woman, the traitor. An angel at that, possibly the one who was responsible for his poisoning in the first place.
She drew back slowly, her brow knitted in confusion.
‘Well?’ Thomas’s voice was cold as he spoke behind her.
Aalia, drew in a breath. Rising slowly and attempting to smooth down her wrinkled and sweat stained robe, she approached Thomas slowly, her head bowed as was expected.
‘My lord,’ she kept her eyes fixed on the ground at his feet, ‘the poison has been purged from his body. There has been a great deal of damage done to his mind and his body; it will take me some time to heal him completely.’
‘You said poison?’ Thomas’s icy blue eyes narrowed.
‘Yes, my lord,’ she answered, still not daring to look at him. ‘It was a strange mating of two very different types of poison. One was Oubli which is widely used by the humans, particularly those who worship the Loa. Baron Samedi’s children are known to frequently use such a potion.’
‘And the other?’ Thomas demanded coolly.
Aalia swallowed hard, knowing the effect her next words would have.
‘It was blue fire.’
‘Angels,’ Marcus hissed, ‘the whore will pay. She is responsible for this.’
Thomas stared at Sam, his eyes cold and contemplative.
‘Aalia,’ he finally spoke quietly, ‘you are to stay here. You will not leave until he is completely cured, do you understand?’
‘I understand,’ she murmured, and she did, she understood all too well what Thomas had meant. It meant she would not be allowed to wash, eat or sleep until she’d finished healing Sam, despite her need to keep her own strength up if she was to undertake such an intensive and prolonged healing. But Thomas wouldn’t have thought about that; he would have believed allowing her to live was consideration enough.
‘Marcus,’ Thomas murmured as he turned and strode from the room, assuming his brother was obediently following behind.
Once the door was closed and they stood in the stillness of the adjoining chamber, Thomas finally turned to his brother.
‘I’m not convinced Scarlett did this to him.’
‘What?’ Marcus replied incredulously. ‘She’s an angel, she could quite easily have gotten hold of the blue fire.’
Thomas turned his chilly eyes on Marcus, holding his gaze until finally his brother lowered his eyes and looked away.
‘Don’t be so simple Marcus,’ his voice was deadly. ‘There is much more going on here than meets the eye. The girl didn’t do this to Sam; she allowed herself to be captured and there is only one reason she would do that.’
‘Because she knew Tyrel had found her and there was no escape,’ Marcus sniffed.
‘No, she did it to save Samuel. She would have known there was no other way to heal him than to bring him home.’
‘Are you defending her?’ Marcus’s gaze snapped to his brother.
Thomas’s hand shot out and his fingers gripped his brother’s throat, squeezing tightly. Marcus’s face puffed up, turning slightly purple, his eyes watery as his hands tugged at the fist wrapped around his throat, cutting off his air supply.
‘I will see that bitch dead,’ Thomas replied flatly, ‘but on my terms. Once she has given up the location of Caelum and not a moment before. She is the enemy make no mistake, but it does not serve us to jump to conclusions.’
He released his fingers and Marcus slumped to the floor dragging in a loud breath.
‘Azariel is behind this, I know it,’ Thomas growled softly under his breath. ‘It would take someone very powerful to have hidden Samuel’s presence from me for so long. I should have known he was still alive; I should have felt him, yet somehow he was shielded from me.’
‘Shielded or held captive?’ Marcus coughed as he climbed to his feet.
‘That’s the question, isn’t it?’ Thomas stared across the room; his eyes speculative.
‘What are your orders?’ Marcus asked begrudgingly, as he straightened the collar of his uniform.
‘Send Tyrel to watch the bitch,’ Thomas replied. ‘I want to know if anyone gets near her. Azariel is going to try and double cross us. He will try to get the location of Caelum before us; all his focus is on the book right now. It is time to set our plans in motion.’
‘At last,’ Marcus smirked in satisfaction.
Thomas turned to him, his eyes burning.
‘We will sweep through Heaven like a plague, purging it of the angel pestilence once and for all, and when we are done,’ his mouth curved, ‘we shall rule Paradise.’
‘As it was meant,’ Marcus agreed.
‘Begin recalling the Sentinels back from the human domains of Heaven and fortifying our positions here but do it slowly. I do not want to alert the angels to what we are doing.’
‘Of course,’ Marcus nodded.
‘Summon Jairus,’ Thomas added, his eyes glittering dangerously. ‘I have a very special job for him.’
Sam blinked rapidly but his vision was still blurred. The pain in his head was excruciating, slicing through his head like a white-hot poker every time he moved.
‘Scarlett?’ he croaked.
He felt a cool slim hand at his forehead and a soft voice shushing him soothingly, as if he were a child. He blinked again but it was no use, he still couldn’t see clearly. He could make out the vague outline of a woman leaning over him, but she smelled wrong. She had a light floral scent which reminded him of spring meadows and wildflowers, not the dark earthy primal scent of his woman. He could make out long dark locks of hair, not the fiery coiling curls he was used to.
His belly clenched in fear. They’d been in a church, that much he could remember. Scarlett had held him tightly in her arms and kissed him softly. He’d sensed rather than heard her whisper in his ear and he’d felt himself drifting away.
He’d been prepared to die in her arms.
But he’d been ripped away; all he remembered was agonizing pain, burning… his body had felt as if he was being burned alive. When he finally opened his eyes, he’d found himself in a strange bed, with a stranger leaning over him offering him what little comfort she could.
Where the hell was Scarlett?
The urgent fear once again flooded his belly. Confused and in unimaginable pain, he couldn’t comprehend anything beyond his need to find her.
His hands felt numb and useless, as if they didn’t quite belong to him. He fumbled with the blankets, trying to disentangle his heavy, sluggish body. The pain stabbed into his head, causing a white blinding flash in his eyes and a heavy pant to burst from his parched lips, as he pushed himself up.
‘No,’ the woman told him firmly, pressing his weakened body back into the bed. ‘You can’t move,
your body is too damaged, you must rest.’
He tried again to push himself up, vaguely comprehending her words. It didn’t matter, it was like a primal drumbeat in his fragile mind, a cramping in his stomach. He had to find Scarlett; she was in danger; he could feel it. The need to get to her overrode every other thought in his mind.
‘I have to find Scarlett,’ he panted incoherently.
Once again, he found himself pressed back into the soft bed and suddenly a heavy kind of dreamy lassitude fell over him. He was vaguely aware of the blankets being drawn carefully over his shivering body before the darkness took him.
Aalia sat back with a puzzled frown creasing her brow. She’d had to take him really deep just to get him to stop fighting her.
Her head unconsciously tilted as she studied him in confusion.
He must have been in absolute agony considering the sheer amount of damage to his mind and body. He shouldn’t have had a conscious thought in his head. Until she managed to begin repairing the damage to his mind, he should have been operating on barely anything more than instinct and yet his one and only instinct was to get to the woman.
Scarlett…
Aalia knew who she was, in fact she doubted there was a single angel or Sentinel who didn’t know who Scarlett was. The daughter of a traitor and a thief, she was an outcast, one who’d been on the run for a long time. The woman had been accused of the murder of one of her own kind and the theft of a precious artefact from the archive. If the rumors were true, this Scarlett was not just a renegade and a traitor like her mother, but she was dangerous…. a killer… a murderer.
But… she’d been around Thomas and Marcus enough to hear whispers, whispers about Samuel and his… relationship with this woman.
She glanced down at Sam as he slept like the dead, not a single dream in his broken mind and she wondered. He’d been so adamant; his only concern was not for himself but for the woman. What was going on? One thing was for sure, she needed answers and there was only one place she’d get them.
The Veritas Page 2
