by ML Guida
Scythe’s softened. “But not you?”
“No,” she sniffed. “Rosemary…”
Her throat closed up.
Rosemary stuck out her chin. “I would dance naked to keep him off her.”
She had lured her father off Heather’s bed many times by doing a seductive dance. She had given him a sexy, flirtatious smile, and he had grabbed Rosemary’s wrist, pulling her to him. Shame rolled off Heather. She should have told someone, anyone. God, she’d been such a damn coward.
A cloud passed overhead. A shadow fell on Rosemary’s face. “Worked like a charm.”
Heather let out a strangled sob. “I’m sorry. I hated him for that, but I couldn’t…couldn’t...”
Scythe knelt next to Rosemary. “You were mad it worked?”
“What? No,” she said. “I didn’t want him to touch her. My job was to protect her.”
“Don’t lie.” He narrowed his eyes. “I’m a dark angel.”
“I protected her, but she didn’t appreciate it. Not once. She treated me like a skanky whore. That’s why I hated her.”
Heather winced. “No, Rosemary, I never—”
Rosemary slapped her across the face and knocked her to the ground. Blood swirled in her mouth. She deserved this. The Xanadu monster laughed and licked its chops. How many times had her mother done the same to Rosemary while Heather watched and did nothing?
Scythe clutched Rosemary’s wrist. “Touch her again…”
“What? I’m dead. Please.”
Heather pushed herself up. “Scythe, no, leave her alone.” She wiped her blood on her arm.
Scythe glared at Rosemary, but kept his hands on his thighs. She wasn’t fooled. Any minute he would lunge at her sister.
“Rosemary, is that what you think? That I didn’t appreciate what you did.”
Her sister folded her arms across her chest. “Did I just speak another language? Yes, that’s what I thought. You never gave me a reason not to think this.”
“Rosemary, it’s not you I was ashamed of.”
Rosemary turned her back. “Like I believe that.”
“Don’t you get it? It was me. I’m the loser. You’re my idol.” She touched her arm.
Rosemary jerked. “Leave.”
“I love you,” Heather said. “I know saying sorry is pathetic, but it’s all I…”
Rosemary held up her hand. “Go. We’re done.” She headed toward a trail that led into a thick forest. Pine trees lined the route and their branches intermingled, creating a dark green canopy.
Heather ran after her sister, grabbed her shoulders, and spun her around. “No, we’re not done. Every time Dad touched you, a piece of me died. Every time Mom rejected you and hugged me a part of my soul blackened.”
Rosemary lifted her arms and broke the hold. “Then why didn’t you do anything?”
“Because I was afraid.”
“Bullshit. You thought I was a whore.”
“No, I didn’t. You weren’t a whore. You were a victim. You did nothing wrong.”
Tears streaked down Rosemary’s face. “Then why did you treat me like shit?” Her voice cracked. “You never invited me to hang out with your new college friends. You never invited me to go out with you. You only wanted to meet with me at my house or yours or Aunt’s. Do you know what that did to me? I was the deep dark secret nobody talked about. The one that nobody believed.”
Heather hung her head. “I know. I didn’t know how to handle it.” She looked at Scythe. “I should have been like you. You never turned your back on Blade. No matter what.”
“Blade?” Rosemary rubbed her red eyes with her knuckles. “He was your brother?”
Scythe sat on a nearby boulder. “Yes, he is.”
Rosemary flicked her hair behind her shoulders. “How could he do that?”
He stiffened. “He was in pain.”
“That’s not an excuse,” Rosemary spat. “Because of him, I’m dead.”
“Really? So, the very first time you took a hit, it was Blade’s fault?”
“I told you what happened.”
He flashed his eyes over her. “You were in pain?”
Rosemary hesitated. “But mine was different. I—”
“Pain is pain,” Scythe said. “Being an angel doesn’t mean we don’t feel. We’ve killed and committed atrocities that would make your hair fall out.”
Confusion flickered in her eyes. “But God…”
“Ordered Noah to build the ark and then flooded the Earth? Sent us to kill Pharaoh’s son and all the Egyptians’ firstborn?” He tapped his temple. “Any of this ring a bell?”
“I don’t understand,” Rosemary said.
“God is merciful but also vengeful.” Scythe stepped closer and towered over Rosemary. “Who do you think carries out His plans?”
“I never thought about it before,” she said.
He eased up on his I-am-king-of-the-mountain stance. “Most people don’t.”
A cold chill ran through Heather. The monster lost patience and wanted it now. She looked between Scythe and Rosemary. Couldn’t they see she was hanging on by a thread?
“She’s getting worse,” Scythe frowned.
“What?” Rosemary asked.
“Xanadu isn’t just a drug. It’s alive. It thrives on hurting and killing people. Raphael the Archangel slowed the process, but he couldn’t heal her.”
“You mean as in the Archangel?”
“Yes, the Archangel,” he said. “Xanadu feeds off guilt, drives people mad.”
“Like it did with me?”
“Obviously.”
Heather held her stomach. “God, I’m so hungry.”
Rosemary rolled her eyes. “Great, you want something to eat?”
“No, she wants the drug. It wants to be fed.”
“Rosemary,” Heather gasped. “I know what I did to you was wrong. I want to make amends to you. Please tell me what I can do.”
Rosemary turned away. The wind blew her dress around her legs and her long hair in front of her face. Her toes dug into the dirt. Ignoring the pain, Heather waited. She wanted Xanadu, but she wanted her sister’s forgiveness even more. At that thought, another piercing pain hit her and drove her to the ground.
“Heather!” Rosemary rushed to her side. “Are you okay?”
“Peachy.”
Rosemary wrapped her arms around Heather. “I don’t hate you.” She relaxed against Heather’s body. “I’m pissed at you. I can’t forget what you did to me.”
“Forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting,” Scythe said. “Forgiveness means releasing the anger and embracing acceptance—acknowledging human frailty.”
Another wave of jabbing agony swept through Heather. She gritted her teeth. The urge to attack Scythe and scratch his eyes out for not giving her Xanadu rippled through her. No, not happening. “Rosemary, I know I can’t change the past. Forgive me. Not for my sake, but yours. Don’t carry this resentment for eternity.”
“It’s not Rosemary who has to forgive you.” Scythe’s husky voice sent her chills down her spine.
Heather stared. His shimmering aura glowed. A blinding white glow blocked out the forest. “You must forgive yourself. Only then will you defeat Xanadu.”
“I can’t.”
Rosemary laid her head on Heather’s shoulder. “I don’t want you like this, Heather.” She inhaled. “I know how you can make amends.”
“How?”
“Write my story,” she said. “You can make amends by writing the book and telling people what really happened. That will heal you and me. The hardest part I ever did in recovery is forgiving myself. I had to face what I did and accept it and then learn to love myself. You must turn this over to God. He’ll heal you.”
Heather turned to her. “He will?”
Rosemary rubbed her back. “You kept silent because you were afraid. Face the fear. Tell people your part in this and mine. You’ve never told people the truth about what happened. Let children know wha
t happens when they keep deadly secrets.”
Blood thumped between her temples. Waves and waves of agony swept through her. She gripped the cross. A battle wielded inside her. The monster wheeled its ugly head again, but this time, Heather felt something different. She felt its fear. “I’ll do it,” she panted. “I promise.”
Rosemary wrapped her fingers around Heather’s chin and forced Heather to look at her. “Sis, on earth I was an addict. I know what you’re going through. You must turn this over to a higher power. Repeat after me—God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change…”
When Heather repeated the words, the monster inside her screamed. Power warmed her hand. She hadn’t even realized she was touching the cross.
“Have faith,” Raphael’s voice whispered in her mind.
Heather’s heart pounded, and each beat sent a power building inside her. Not taking her eyes off Scythe, his strength flowed through her. His light soothed her hot sweat.
“Courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference,” Rosemary said.
Heather recited the words.
“Now,” Rosemary said. “I’m dead. Nothing can change that. You abandoned me when I needed you the most. You can’t change that either.”
Heather trembled and tried to breathe, but the desire for a hit overwhelmed her. The monster put forth all its power. She focused on Scythe. He didn’t touch her, but she embraced his comforting presence. She closed her eyes and delved deep inside herself, listening to her sister’s soft voice, but another voice over shadowed hers. Xanadu.
In her mind’s eye, a red-eyed monster glared at her. “I promise to heal you if you take another hit,” he said. “All of your troubles will vanish. Trust in me. Remember how I feel.”
The monster transformed into a beautiful dark-haired woman wearing a white dress. She held a wand in her hand and touched Heather. Feelings of euphoria rushed over her. All her pain, guilt, and hate vanished. She soared higher than any eagle and had more energy than the Energizer Bunny, but then the faces of her murdered clients, their victims, and Rosemary rushed over her.
A beautiful white light formed and her hunky angel appeared. “Come to me.”
His soft voice promised peace and tranquility. She wanted to be with him. Forever. Drawing on her strength, she reached out and snatched Scythe’s hand. A bright light emanated from him, blocking out everything but his silver eyes. Power surged through her.
“Your sins are forgiven, my child.”
A gentle voice hushed in her ear.
The monster snarled and hissed, tearing away at her soul bit by bit. Heather rocked on her heels, but power surged through her. She closed her eyes. This time, a silver sword appeared in her hand. The Xanadu Demon spit fire at her. Heather swung, and the fire bounced off the sword. “For Rosemary,” she yelled. She charged the beast.
The beast roared.
“Die!”
With all of her might, she lurched and threw the sword, hitting the beast in the chest. It shrieked and clutched its ribs. Black ooze gushed out of its scaly flesh.
Heather opened her eyes. She arched her back and screamed. Red smoke poured out of her mouth. It stunk and the bitter taste burned her throat, tongue and lips. She collapsed.
Strong arms caught her and pulled her against a steel wall. Scythe. He kissed her sweating brow. “It’s gone, angel-mate. You beat it.”
Chapter 23
Heather looked into Scythe’s proud eyes. He believed in her. The terrible pain and consuming craving disappeared. She leaned against Scythe and listened to his pounding heart and steady breath. “I won.”
He stroked her hair. “Your belief in yourself destroyed it. Your guilt ceased to destroy your soul. Forgiveness kills Xanadu.”
“Oh, my God,” Rosemary cried. “What happened?”
“She destroyed it,” Scythe said.
Heather couldn’t help but smile at the pride in his voice. She turned to her sister. “Rosemary.” She held out her arms. Rosemary hesitated for one brief second but flung herself into Heather’s arms. She clung to her and her heart beat as hard and fast as Heather’s. Her sister’s familiar scent rushed over her. They held each other, laughing and crying—too hysterical inmates in Bedlam.
Rosemary pulled away. “I feel different.”
“You’ve released your anger.”
A bright white light appeared in the glen. The forest dimmed. An oak door with a huge golden lion engraved on it shone through the light. “You’re ready for the next plane,” Scythe said.
Rosemary hesitated and scanned the glen. “But…”
Scythe’s face softened. “The animals will be with you, but this time you won’t be alone.”
The door opened to a lone female figure clothed in a shimmer ivory gown. The light faded. Heather sucked in her breath. Mother. Her smooth skin astonished her. Gone were the deep wrinkles that had marred her face from years of smoking. A river of dark hair flowed over her shoulders. Her blue eyes sparkled rather than being dull and listless as Heather remembered. She held out her arms. “Rosemary.”
Rosemary flinched. “Mother?”
“Yes, I’m here. I’ve waited for this for a long time. I love you. Can you forgive me?”
Heather swallowed and held her breath. She couldn’t do this for Rosemary. She had forgiven her mother a long time ago, but Rosemary never had. She resented that she’d never believed her and had listened to their father’s lies even when social services had presented the evidence.
Rosemary bit her lip. “I don’t know…”
Scythe shrugged. “If you’re not ready, you stay here.”
Heather clasped her sister’s quaking hand. “Come on. I’ll go with you.” Rosemary’s lower lip trembled. Together they walked to their mother, the same woman who had made their childhood a nightmare.
Fear reflected in Rosemary’s eyes. Heather squeezed her hand. “I won’t let her hurt you, I promise.”
Her sister nodded. Beyond the door, whiteness burned brighter than any sun, but it didn’t hurt Heather’s eyes. Serenity and warmth bathed her, chasing away all her earthly horrors.
Her mother smiled. Heather almost whooped with laughter. On Earth, her mother never smiled and if she tried, her smile never reached the corner of her eyes, but this one did. A radiant, loving smile.
She squeezed Heather’s arm. “Fallen in love with an angel? Who knew? You saved your sister and yourself, honey. I’m so proud of you.”
She clasped Rosemary’s chin. “I can’t tell you how much I ached for you. My penance was watching your life unfold and how not believing or protecting you tore you apart. I do now. You were a brave little girl. I know what he did to you. Everything. Be at peace, daughter.”
“Mom, I…” Rosemary’s voice faded.
“Come.” Her long fingers left Rosemary’s chin and she reached for her hand. “You’ll never have to fear me again.”
Rosemary’s eyes widened and her lower lip trembled.
Heather tilted her head at Scythe. “You have one of the dark angels on your side. No one can hurt you now.”
Scythe snorted, but Heather knew he’d keep an eye on her sister.
Tears welled in Rosemary’s eyes. “I guess this is good-bye.” Her voice cracked.
“Not really.” Scythe smiled. “You’ll see her again.”
“You bet,” Mother said. “You might have mated with my daughter, but I want her married to you legal and proper.”
Rosemary wrinkled her forehead. “What are you talking about?”
Their mother swept a lock of Rosemary’s hair behind her ear. “I’ll explain it to you later, darling.”
Laughing, she pulled Rosemary into the light and the door closed. Her laughter lightened Heather and she couldn’t help but laugh.
Scythe drew her into his arms. “It’s time to go, love.”
She wrapped her arms around Scythe’s neck. “You know what I would like…” She pressed kisses along his tight jaw a
nd up to his mouth.
“No, I can’t imagine.” His voice was low and dangerous.
“A hot shower and someone to scrub my back.”
“Now, that I can arrange.” Wind whipped around them, but she didn’t care. He bent his dark head and his lips captured hers. He crushed her to him and his erection pushed against her thigh. Heather relaxed against him. Love swelled inside her. She wanted to feel his naked skin and feel his lips all over her hot flesh.
Water cascaded over her. She opened her eyes. She blinked at the palm trees, bright red and orange hibiscus bushes, and ferns behind Scythe. She frowned, “Where are we?”
A wicked smile spread on his lips. “A deserted island. You did say you wanted a shower, didn’t you?”
White foamy water splashed over polished brown rocks and emptied into a clear blue pool. A bottle of her favorite shampoo and soap rested on a flat stone. He gently turned her shoulders, and she gasped. “It’s beautiful.”
He brushed his hand down her body and her clothes disappeared. She glimpsed at his hooded eyes. He caressed her bare arms, and he pulled her against his naked chest. His hard erection hit her buttocks. She trembled with desire. “I want you now.”
“I know. Now, I’ll fulfill your every fantasy.”
The cool water glided over her. Heather’s heart quickened at his wicked promise. The ache between her legs throbbed, and she thought she’d die from the mixture of want, need, and love if he didn’t take her now. She couldn’t image wanting anyone else, but him.
He faced her and released her hands. His palms covered her breasts, his thumbs stroking her nipple. She gasped. His hot look ignited a desire inside her. The way he touched her, his fingers so strong and sure, his movements determined, sent a chill of titillation up her spine. She put her hands on his massive chest, feeling the slightest movement of power. She slipped her hand lower and ran her hand along his thick shaft hot and full. He sucked in his stomach. She loved making him tremble—her passionate angel of death.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
“Yeah, right,” she murmured. “You’re saying that because I hold your manhood in my hand.” She cupped her palm on his slick cock and he grunted.
