by Diana Duncan
“Why does everybody keep— I’m not—”
He bounded upright. “There’s no mistaking you, m’lady. We’ve been waiting eighteen centuries.” Grinning, he sliced an attacking monster’s head off its body, black ooze gushing everywhere. Oh, ick.
“Finn’s the name, smiting demons is the game. Follow me.” The intrepid warrior, with Connor battling at his side, hacked a gruesome path through the chaos to reach the raven.
“Up you go, then.” Offering his cupped hands as a stepladder, Finn hoisted Delaney onto the bird’s back. He spoke intense, private words with her brother, then boosted Connor behind her.
“Slàinte mhor!” Finn saluted Delaney with his blade. “My regards to the MacLachlan. Tell the lucky bastard to be yanking his head from his arse and begin looking upward.”
The raven launched into flight. Just as they’d nearly cleared the battle, a lethal scorpion stinger whipped toward Connor’s face. Delaney twisted, chopped with her sword. The stinger sliced off, the barb grazing her right thigh with a cold burn before it tumbled to the ground.
They soared into the sky. “Connor, is this a dream?”
“Afraid not.”
“But even if it is, the dreaming me might have you say it isn’t. Argh, never mind. Where are we?”
“I’m not exactly sure, but it seems to be a mutant parallel universe.”
Her leg was really starting to throb. “How’d you get here?”
“Screwing around with crap I hadn’t a clue about.” Her brother’s low reply vibrated with fury. “And I stupidly got you messed up in it. I should’ve known you wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t stay away from me.”
“Like you’d abandon me if our positions were reversed. So you brought yourself here?”
“Not on purpose…but…I suspect so.”
“Then you know how to go home?”
Tense silence behind her, frigid wind howling past her ears. The bird banked sharply, wheeling over a dark, jagged canyon that appeared to be a bottomless crack in the ash.
Ice crept up her leg, into her right side. Was it getting colder? She started shivering. Couldn’t stop. “Connor?”
“Yeah.” His arms tightened around her waist as the raven swooped in to land between bony remains of burnt trees at the canyon’s edge. “I know what I have to do.”
He jumped off the raven’s back. Reached to help her down. When she tried to stand, her right leg gave out, and she stumbled, mere inches from the ravine.
“Careful!” Connor caught her, hugged her close. “You okay?”
“Fine.” Delaney gritted chattering teeth against the freezing ache spreading through her and forced herself to stand up straight. “Are we going home now?”
“You are.”
“What do you mean? What about you?”
“Believe me, I want to go…but I can’t. Balor and his witch have spellbound the perimeters, and my essence will burn to nothing. I’m joining Finn and his men.”
Horror assaulted her. “But I killed that Balor thing.”
His laugh held no humor. “Hurt him some, maybe. Pissed him off, definitely. But ending him is gonna take a whole lot more than a couple of rocks.”
She clung to her brother. “I came clear to Hell to get you, and I’m not leaving without you. I’ll stay and fight, too.”
“You can’t, sis.” His quiet reply was steady. “There’s no food. No water. My essence doesn’t need them anymore, but you’re embodied and you do. And if Balor caught you— He rapes and tortures for sport.” Connor shuddered. “He obliterates souls—no Heaven, no Hell—forever.”
“I don’t care.” Hot tears spilled down her face. “I’m staying.”
“I’m sorry, Lanie.” Connor smoothed back her hair. “I love you. So much.” He kissed her forehead. “Remember me in your dreams.”
Then he grabbed her arms and pushed her away. Hard.
She staggered, toppling backward into the black chasm.
The raven shrieked, or maybe it was her own scream echoing in her ears as she plummeted in an endless freefall.
Until once more, a rippling seismic boom shattered her apart.
* * *
Delaney peeled open swollen eyelids. Dark nighttime sky wheeled over her, stars glimmering between the clouds. A giant glowing cross towered on a nearby pedestal.
Okay. She’d traveled in the right direction this time.
Then why did every inch of her body hurt? Why still so cold?
When she tried to move, pain ripped through every nerve. Her moan died in the cool, damp air. “Connor,” she whispered. “Where are you? Can you hear me? Talk to me, Connor!”
Silence from her brother.
She became aware of whooshing traffic, wailing sirens. A jet trailed through the bejeweled clouds above. Hell had giant ravens. Heaven had 747’s?
Delaney cautiously eased her head to one side and spied the top half of the familiar Portland skyline.
She was sprawled on a large flat rooftop, again wearing her own clothes. Best guess…atop Sisters of Mercy Hospital’s helipad. That explained the lighted cross.
Thick, salty warmth dripped down the back of her throat, trickled out her nostrils. Her nose was bleeding. Warm liquid also seeped out both ears, trailing down the chilled skin of her neck.
Never a good sign.
Did I go to the roof after visiting Connor, needing air, or privacy to cry…and get mugged? Did a concussion cause the hellish hallucinations?
Why can’t I remember?
Delaney tried again to sit up. Paralyzing torment shrieked through her muscles. Inch by agonizing inch, she slid tentative fingertips across the pebbled asphalt, searching for her purse containing her cell phone. The mugger had probably jacked it.
Irony: dying mere steps from Portland’s crack trauma unit.
Sighing, she closed her eyes and tried the only route she had left to summon help. If the mental communication was a delusion…well…at least she wouldn’t cash in her chips just laying here, not even trying to save herself.
Rowan?
And if MacLachlan truly was the Angel of Death, maybe she could talk him out of taking her. After all, she’d saved him on the beach…although…what sort of scary entity could beat up an angel?
Rowan? I’m on Mercy’s roof. I’m not feeling too healthy.
Miserable time elapsed. It may have been minutes.
It dragged past like hours.
A door slammed. Pounding bootsteps. Then Rowan knelt beside her, leaned over her.
Thank God. Illusion or no, she’d never been so glad to see anyone. The paralysis seemed to have spread to her vocal chords, because she couldn’t tell him so. Breathing wasn’t so easy, either.
“Well, you’ve had a rough go of it, haven’t you, luv? I’m glad to see you, too.” Holding her gaze, he cupped her face between his hands and began to chant.
She started. What are—?
Shh… He crooned softly in a language she’d never heard before, an exquisite, lyrical refrain. Sea green spilled into his irises. Warm energy washed through her, easing her pain, soothing her chilled body.
Okay, definitely an angel. If this was dying, it wasn’t so bad.
Another slam. More rapid, heavy bootsteps. “Delaney!” Archer’s deep bass shouted. “Where are you?” His stunned expression swam into view as he squatted down. “Oh shit, baby girl.”
Where had Archer been while she was getting mugged?
Rowan’s concerned features superimposed Archer’s. “Hang on, lass. I’m going to pick you up.”
“Over my dead body,” Archer growled.
“If you insist.” Rowan’s voice was as cold and smooth as glass. “I’ll be finished with her shortly. Get in the queue.”
No! She couldn’t speak, but their unique link flared open. Don’t hurt Archer!
Close your eyes, now. Rowan’s hands holding her face trembled, and the splashing music of a waterfall sang in her ears. Heat lapped inside her belly, flooded her veins. H
er bleeding stopped. Peace stole over her, and her eyelids fluttered. Sleep. This confrontation must happen. It’ll be over quickly.
She resisted losing consciousness. Leave him alone! Do your Death Angel thing and just take me.
Rowan’s liquid jade gaze caressed, comforted. I’m no angel, sweetheart, and you’ll not die on my watch. But it’s best you don’t see this. Go to sleep.
Screw. She concentrated, pushed back at him with every feeble resource. You.
His quick smile flashed. I doubt you’re up for that sort of strenuous workout.
Great, she’d gotten a smart-assed celestial being.
Rowan raised his head to tilt a dark brow at Archer. “‘Tis as much as can be done to jumpstart the process. She’ll hold.”
Archer studied her. “Are you hurting, Delaney?”
Warm waves of Rowan’s Power muffled the jackhammering pain. Weightless, floaty, and as giddy as when she’d taken Percocet after having her wisdom teeth pulled, she offered a slight headshake.
“I’m more than capable of satisfying all her needs, Guardian.” As Rowan stood, his complexion paled, and he staggered. Was energy transfusion like a blood transfusion—had he given her too much?
Archer surged to his full height. “Prove it.”
The men faced off, antagonism snapping between them. Archer offered a curt nod. “Greetings, Enforcer. I thought I sensed you before, but you shield like a sonofabitch.”
“Greetings, Guardian.” Rowan nodded back, menace in every lithe motion. “Rowan MacLachlan, Chieftain, Clan MacLachlan.”
What the—? What’s with the Enforcer/Guardian thing?
“I know of you, MacLachlan. I heard you’d been offed. By a woman.”
“I’d have that hearing checked.” Rowan’s lip curled. “I don’t know you.”
Archer nodded again. “Archer.”
“Your name isn’t in the Legion.”
“No. Yet I’m Oathed to Delaney. Very obliging of you to lead me to her.”
“Not on purpose,” Rowan intoned dryly. “She survived her quest. You know what that means. She’s mine now.”
Yours? Think again!
“Not unless you can take her from me,” Archer insisted.
The buff Scot assessed his equally matched adversary. “Don’t make the mistake of believing I won’t.”
Archer laced his fingers together, cracked his knuckles. “So, we’re gonna do this.”
“Aye.” Rowan’s feral smile sent fear quaking up her spine. “That we are.”
Stop! Delaney transmitted with every ounce of strength she had left. Back off, MacLachlan!
The time for talking is past, lass. The solid thunk of a mental barrier slammed between them.
Rowan shrugged off his black duster, and it floated to the pavement. When he tugged a gun from his back waistband, she tried to scream a warning, but he merely dropped it onto the coat. Then he squared off in front of Archer. “Let’s have a go at it, mate.”
“What’ve you got?”
Rowan thrust his right hand skyward. “Ni Dìobair!” Out of thin air, he drew a long, clear sword. Mist curled around the coldly glittering weapon, entirely made of…ice?
“Excellent.” Archer grabbed the neck of his tank top and ripped it in half, tossed it to the ground. Both hands shot up over his shoulders and from behind his bare back, he brandished two wickedly curved knives. He rolled his shoulders, grimaced, and then…
Holy, holy crap!
Archer had wings. A huge expanse of gleaming brown and cream feathers ruffled out around him, like an immense hawk.
The left wing, on the same side as his tattoo, was bent and twisted. It’d been broken and never healed correctly.
Archer was an angel, too? Her guardian angel, trying to stop Death from taking her?
“Ah.” Rowan’s glance locked on the misshapen wing. “And now I know your story. Changed your name, did you? Don’t blame you there.”
“You gonna use that nancy blade?” Archer snarled. “Or just talk me to death?”
Almost faster than she could track, Rowan lunged, his sword hissing a murderous arc at Archer’s throat.
Archer dodged and swung both massive arms. One knife clanged on Rowan’s sword, then the other. Lightning bolts erupted from the crossed knives, knocking aside the sword’s blade.
Rowan pivoted, attacked again. Archer parried, drove him back, and the sword of ice clashed with knives of fire.
Delaney lay quivering with helpless anger and fear as the men spun and twirled in the terrifying dance.
Archer gained the advantage, pushing Rowan faster, farther to the rooftop’s edge. Mixed emotions wrenched her. Of course she wanted Archer to win. But for reasons she didn’t want to examine too closely, she couldn’t bear to see either of them hurt.
Archer’s blazing knife missed Rowan’s jugular by a fraction, and she flinched. Or worse.
Rowan stepped into Archer’s relentless attack, his sword-tip grazing Archer’s lean abs. A crimson line bloomed and Archer sucked in a breath between his teeth.
“First blood.” Rowan retreated. “Satisfied?”
Archer snorted. “Satisfaction is a whole different game. No quarter, Enforcer.”
Rowan bared his teeth in that primal, scary smile. “None given then.”
Time sped up as the battle grew vicious. Too many bloodied wounds welled on both grimly determined warriors.
Cold dread seeped into Delaney. This couldn’t end well.
And she couldn’t stop them.
Archer struck a blow to Rowan’s side, tearing another scarlet slash among dozens in Rowan’s black T-shirt.
Rowan tripped, swore. He straightened, then stabbed his sword into the sky and shouted. Thunder roared overhead, and a sudden, brutal lash of rain slapped Archer backward. Needles of ice sheeted down…assaulting only Archer. He jerked up his forearm to shield his eyes.
Rowan launched a merciless offense. Archer was forced to retreat until he was trapped against the wall. Hammered by icy missiles, he deflected blow after blow.
Delaney’s horrified gaze saw Archer’s vulnerable, unprotected ribs at the same instant Rowan did.
She gasped. No!
Rowan’s gleaming blade speared in for the kill. Archer pumped his wings and shot upward, landing on the pedestal in front of the enormous lighted cross. Rowan’s blade whistled through empty space. But Archer’s bad wing obviously unbalanced him, because he listed sharply, nearly fell.
Then everything shifted into slow motion.
A teetering moment as Archer’s arms flung wide to regain his balance—
All Rowan needed.
He shouted again. The ice storming Archer liquefied to torrential rain. Rowan’s arm recoiled. He threw his sword—and the flashing prism arrowed straight toward Archer’s heart.
Chapter 6
Delaney’s scream locked in her throat. She couldn’t bear to watch. Couldn’t tear her gaze away.
A millisecond before the death blow, Archer threw himself off the pedestal, tucked and rolled onto the drenched rooftop. He came up on his knees, soaking wet. At the same instant Rowan’s sword pierced the center of the cross. The cross exploded in a flurry of sparks, shaking the building. Sizzling wires whipped around the metal frame, struck the puddle of water where Archer knelt. Neon voltage arced around him, through him, his features locked in a grimace, muscles convulsing.
With a loud pop, the lights went dark.
Archer’s limp body slumped to the asphalt.
Oh, Archer! Singed flesh and feathers smoked the air, stung Delaney’s nostrils. Smothering grief weighted her chest. She was having trouble breathing again…and didn’t care.
She closed her eyes. She’d lost both her brothers tonight.
After a few minutes of awful scraping noises, approaching footsteps made her snap her eyes open.
Rowan knelt at her side. Every bloody wound he bore wasn’t nearly enough to compensate for slaughtering Archer. “How’re you doing, lass?�
�
She was shaking uncontrollably. Get away from me, you murderer!
He reclaimed his gun, then snagged his coat from the ground and draped it over her. “I’m one of the good guys, Delaney. Eating electricity is fun and games for Guardians. He’ll live.”
When I can get up, I’m going to personally strangle the last lying breath out of you!
“I promise, by morning he’ll be right as rain. Torqued as all Hades at me, but…” He shrugged. “No quarter. His call.”
A shaft of doubt tripped her heartbeat. If you don’t work for the “other side,” why did you fight him?
“The Guardian challenged me to prove I could defend you. I had to oblige.”
Is he really alive?
“Aye.” He thumped his fist to his heart. “I swear it.”
But you did try to kill him!
Rowan grinned. “If I’d truly wanted him dead, he’d be dead.”
What are you?
“I’m here to help you. I promise I’ll explain everything. Unfortunately, energy surges like this don’t go unnoticed. Let’s get you safely away and patched up, then we’ll talk.” Rowan tucked the coat beneath her. “I’m going to pick you up. Tell me if it hurts.”
I don’t want to go with you.
“I don’t recall taking a vote.”
I don’t like you. At all.
Aye, lass. He didn’t speak aloud, but she heard him loud and clear. And when I’m finished with you…you’ll likely hate me.
And didn’t that sound promising. Which makes you different from every other man, how?
“Damnation,” he gritted.
If you don’t want me to tune in, hide your thoughts better.
“Duly warned.”
He lifted her in his arms, and she bit back a moan. His metaphysical painkiller was wearing off. She glanced around in panic at the empty rooftop as he strode toward the elevators. Where’s Archer?
“I concealed him behind the chimney stacks. When he comes to, he’ll head home.”
I want to see him!
Rowan heaved a sigh, but carried her around the tall brick structures.
She stared at Archer’s battered body. His wings had disappeared, and to her surprised relief, the slashes in his skin had begun to heal. We can’t just leave him exposed! If you’re really a good guy, prove it.
