His words knocked sense into her dim-witted head, though it was difficult to pry her eyes from the torturous pincushion that had once been his back and was now oozing bright red blood.
Pawing through the wreckage, Markus and Jordan heaved bricks and wooden planks from where they’d heard Ezekiel. The salty night air was filled with trilling sirens.
They finally unearthed Ezekiel, who had Seeley balled protectively into his chest. Grime covered them from head to toe, but not a scratch on them.
“Jordan!” Seeley said. The two embraced. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” Jordan could barely breathe in her mom’s tight hold. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“Mariah said you’d been captured, and if I didn’t come with her, you’d be dead by morning.”
“Ladies,” said Ezekiel dryly, “we’ll have this conversation elsewhere.” He pointed at the hordes of flashing lights in the distance.
“Wait,” said Jordan. “Camille. Where’s Camille and Grogan? They were standing next to the altar.” She tuned her eyes and ears to the sights and sounds of the ruins and began to determine their whereabouts. Scouring the spot where they’d last been seen, Jordan heard a whimper. “There.” She gestured to a mountain of timber. “I hear something.”
Markus, with Ezekiel’s assistance, tossed wooden beams aside as if they were toothpicks.
While exhuming Camille, Markus said, “She must’ve put some magical mojo into that dagger.”
Ezekiel nodded. “I wonder why she did it.”
Towing debris from the pile, Jordan rethought Camille’s wink. “She had a reason.”
“I see a foot. At least I think it’s a foot,” said Markus.
Jordan looked over her shoulder to see him on his hands and knees, peering into the wreckage. She then heard a crunching noise, and spinning about, noticed Seeley navigating through the mangled building. “Mom, what are you doing?” Beyond uptight, Jordan watched her mom scrambling over a beam. “You’re going to get hurt.”
“People are crying for help,” Seeley said, picking her way into the cavity of the church. “I can’t just leave them.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” yelled an unsympathetic Jordan. “Those blood-thirsty animals were foaming at the mouth wanting to see a dagger sticking out of my heart, and you want to help them?”
“You’re right. But I can’t stand to hear their pain.”
“Leave them.” Ezekiel’s sharp eyes locked on Seeley. “The first responders are almost here.”
Seeley veered to look at the city. Reverberating sirens and there rotating strobes bounced over buildings.
“We have to hurry,” Jordan said, wiggling under a haphazard bridge crafted by fallen beams.
She heard gasping that sealed her bones in ice. “I can’t see,” she told Markus who knelt to watch her squirm under a ton of rubble.
A morphing Markus sparkled to dispel the darkness with his angelic luminosity.
Camille lay up ahead. Slinking on her stomach, Jordan whispered, “Camille? Can you hear me?”
A whimper sieved through the menagerie.
“I’m coming,” Jordan called. “Markus and Ezekiel are digging you out. You’ve got to hold on.” She’d bypassed Camille’s legs and crept toward her head. The girl’s almond eyes looked fixed, and her left arm was either gone or hidden beneath her back. Exposed muscles and tendons leached a puddle of blood.
She looked dead.
“Camille?” Jordan touched the girls’ face.
Camille drew a ragged breath. “Jordan—” she said on a wailing moan.
“Good. You’re alive.” Jordan assessed the girl’s crushed body and choked on a sob. By the looks of her, she didn’t have much time. “The ambulance is coming. We’re going to get you out of here.”
Their breaths sounded loud in their tiny burrow.
The inverted crucifix had fallen. And the sculptured body had separated from the wooden cross, sheltering the girl in the crook of the its outstretched arms.
“I…I want…to…go home,” Camille gulped between the words.
“Okay, Camille. Try not to talk.”
With each breath, blood seeped through the girl’s clothes. “Ronan. ‘Member, Jor? I’m. Ronan.”
Jordan wiped at a red trickle from Ronan’s mouth. “Okay, we’re back to Ronan.”
“Sorry. Jordan—sor—” Ronan’s chest heaved, struggling for oxygen. “I’m…going…to hell.”
“You’re going to the hospital,” Jordan’s voice cracked.
“No. Don’t…want…hell.” She seemed to be having a hard time swallowing. “Love. Want love.”
“Please stop talking. Please.”
Dislodging her right arm, Ronan inched her fingers toward Jordan. “Help me. Help me.”
Jordan pushed her arm amid the rubble fragments and clasped Ronan’s hand. “Gotcha, Ronan. I won’t let go.”
A rattling breath sailed through Ronan’s lips like a deflating tire.
“Ronan?” Jordan elbowed her way as close to her as she could get. “You’re going to make it. Do you hear me? You’re going to make it.” Straining her ears for signs of life, she man- aged to place her palm over the girls’ chest. “Oh, Ronan.”
DELIVER THEM FROM THE
HAND OF THE WICKED
RONAN DIED IN Jordan’s arms. There wasn’t any guesswork. Having to go through her death a second time was harder than the first. A chink of light had entered Ronan’s blackened heart, a miniscule ounce to eat away the darkness. With her dying breath, she’d wanted to go home. Not the home where her incestuous father had brought her up. A new home filled with love. Love had been lacking in Ronan’s short life, and love had been her ultimate goal.
God would not abandon the girl. At the end, in her heart, Ronan had been truly sorry. Penitents sway the heavenly kingdom. Jordan didn’t want to imagine what Ronan had been sorry for.
Markus had to snatch Jordan by the ankles and literally drag her, weeping, out of her wormhole. “We have to go before the police get here. You and Seeley cannot be connected with this explosion.”
“We can’t leave her buried under there.” Using her sleeve Jordan wiped her tears.
“Zeke,” Seeley said. “Can’t we leave a sign to find her body?”
“It’s here somewhere,” Markus said, looking around. Squatting, he picked up the sword that Grogan had used on Mariah.
“Give me that,” Ezekiel said, obviously knowing what Markus was thinking. “You’ve lost enough blood for one night.”
Markus set the pommel in Ezekiel’s hand.
Ezekiel slit his palm, and cupping the pooling blood, dribbled a clear blood path to where Ronan was entombed.
“There’s no sign of Grogan?” Jordan asked, taking a final glimpse around.
“None.”
“The emergency vehicles found the spot,” said Zeke. “Let’s get out of here.”
AS SOON AS they arrived at the apartment, Declan rushed and embraced Seeley and Jordan. “Oh my God. You’re safe. I heard an explosion, then tons of sirens, and I figured you and Jordan were in the thick of it.”
“It’s over, Declan.” Seeley rolled up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. “Zeke and Markus got us home safe and sound.”
Casting his eyes on the angels, Declan exhaled in relief. “I should’ve been there.”
“No, Declan.” Jordan pried away from his bear hold. “It was a mess, and you were one less person to worry about.”
Declan turned his attention to Seeley. His pan-sized hand cupped her rounded belly lump. His façade regressed into harrowing eyes and a downturned mouth. “Okay?”
“Tired. Very tired, Dec.” Seeley yawned while pressing his hand with her own. “And baby wants to rest. We’ll talk in the other room.”
Declan’s harrowed look slid from his face. “Let’s get that baby to bed.”
“Wait,” Seeley said. “I should probably see to Markus first.”
/> “No, Seeley. I’m fine,” Markus insisted. “Go to bed.”
“I’ll take care of him,” said Jordan, knowing her mom would worry.
Nodding, Seeley let Declan lead her down the hallway.
“Markus, lay on the couch, and I’ll see what I can do,” Jordan said.
“Zeke can take care of it.” His shirt, or what was left of it, was a mat of blood.
“No way, bro,” Ezekiel responded, palms up. “Jordan has gentler hands. She’ll take care of it. I’m going back to the church to see if I can dig anything up on Grogan.”
“I’m coming with you.” Markus turned to leave with Ezekiel.
“No. You’ll heal quicker if you get those pieces out of your back. We’ll meet later.”
Markus circled back to where Jordan had covered the couch with a blanket and had set a pail and linen rags on the coffee table.
“Didn’t think Declan would be pleased with blood staining his couch,” she said. “Come on, lie down.”
Crisscrossing his arms in front of his chest, Markus gathered the hem of his tattered shirt and rolled it up and over his head. Besides blood, pieces of glass fell to the floor.
Jordan stared at his shredded body and wanted to cry. Her eyes drifted to his taut jaw line and bruised face. It was futile to stifle the tears as she took the ruined shirt from his hands.
“Do you mind if I throw this out?”
“It’s pretty useless.” He slid onto the couch with a groan. Laying his arms on the sides of his head, he clasped the cushion with his fingers.
Jordan knelt on the floor and balanced her thighs against the border of the couch. It was simple to pull out the large shards of wood, and she cringed as the puncture wounds overflowed with blood. Most of the pieces of glass were so slippery her fingers kept sliding off. She knew it was causing Markus pain.
“Sorry, but you’re a bloody mess, and I can’t get a good grip.”
“Just do the best you can.” He sounded edgy, talking through his teeth.
She had a great idea and dashed into the kitchen. She returned squeezing her hands into a pair of rubber gloves. “There, that’s a little better.” With a linen rag to sop up the blood in one hand, she plucked the glass and teeny slivers of wood, dropping them into the pail. Implementing a pair of tweezers for the itty-bitty pieces, she dug into Markus’s skin. All the while, he remained still and silent.
Even though she was torturing him with her clumsiness, she wondered if he’d fallen asleep. She peeked into his face and noticed his furrowed brow. Not asleep.
She’d waited to remove a severely embedded chunk of glass until the last. Pinching the glass between her fingers, she tugged, but it wouldn’t budge. “Omigosh. I’m sorry if I’m hurting you, but this piece won’t come out.”
“I think it’s wedged,” he breathed, “in my shoulder bone.”
“Can angels go to the hospital? You need tons of stitches.”
“I heal quickly,” he said. “See if you can wiggle it out.”
“You’ve got to be joking.”
“Just do it, Jordan.”
“Now you’re getting grumpy.”
“Is this payback?” he asked without a trace of humor.
“I never thought of that. But yeah. I guess it is, and stop squirming.”
“I’m not squirming. Just get the damn thing out.”
“Whoa, you swore.”
“You’re going to get an earful if you don’t hurry this up.”
She grasped the piece of glass with both hands and wiggled it in place while at the same time pulling upward. Detecting a sheen of moisture coating his face, she stopped. “Maybe we should call Ezekiel.”
He forced out a breath, and sat up. “Jordan, relax for a minute.”
“What are you doing?”
“Maybe if I move around, it’ll loosen up.”
“I don’t think that’s possible. Get back down there.” She nudged his shoulder. “Besides blood’s dripping on the floor. Mom will flip out.”
“Get a good grip and just yank then.”
Again, Jordan grasped the chunk of glass, and ignoring her angels suffering, rocked it back and forth. She felt the bone give way and with a sickening slurp, like oozing a boot out of a sludge hole, the glass eased out.
Markus heaved a relieved sigh and mopped his grimy face.
His broad back was covered in blood. As tenderly as possible, Jordan lowered a towel to soak up the fluid. The terrycloth fibers promptly turned red as she applied pressure. He moaned slightly, as if caught in a bad dream. She peeled away the cloth to see the scores of gashes begin to refill with blood.
She raced to the bathroom for a fresh supply of towels, a soapy cleansing cloth, and antiseptic. She didn’t know if angels developed infections, but she wasn’t taking any chances.
Markus was either sleeping or passed-out as she cleansed his wounds with soothing warm water. Over and over, she applied pressure to quell the bleeding. Pulling the rubber gloves off her hands, she used her fingertips to explore his back for glass shards, and noticed his muscles bunching wherever she touched him.
She was bathing his wounds with cooling antiseptic, when Markus grasped her arm, saying, “Stop.”
“I’m almost done.”
“I can’t stand it anymore.”
“I’m sorry if I’m hurting you.”
“You’re not hurting me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Your touch.” He rotated sideways on the couch, his sapphire eyes gazing into hers.
“You don’t like me to touch you?”
Markus quirked an expressive eyebrow. “Too much.”
“Too much what?”
“I like your touch too much.”
“Oh.” She bit her bottom lip as his smoldering gaze had heat spiking to every inch of her body.
“That never should have happened,” he said.
“You’re right. How could I get caught in that situation a second time? I made a covenant with Ronan to save Mom.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” His eyes flashed blue fire. “That never should’ve happened. Before you went into the church.”
The static electricity between them could’ve powered a city. It was either a terrific hot flare, or Jordan was on fire. The throbbing in her chest became an actual ache as she pondered their kiss.
Wispy hairs had rebelled from her braid, and Markus pinched a strand and pinned it over her ear. He then slipped the tie from her braid and combed his fingers through it. She didn’t know what to expect, but loved the splendid tingling, weakening her knees. He positioned his large hand on the back of her head and drew her toward him.
It was different from their first kiss. Jordan had foolishly controlled that, thinking she was going to die. She’d wanted to alter the vision and prevent his words, which she had.
Now titillated, scared and captivated by his magnificence, she wanted him in more ways than one. Her heart was a banging gong as he paused within a breath’s span.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered as his mouth claimed her lips.
Feeling as if she’d died and gone to heaven, she heard a scintillating moan and realized it had come from her. When she parted her lips, it was Markus who hummed, taking in all of her. Using his free arm, he hooked her waist and edged her onto the couch, molding her against him.
She spiked her fingers into his tufted curls, clinging to him, and laced her legs through his. An insistent hand glided beneath her T-shirt. His hot touch on her bare skin sent her into delicious spasms. She shivered as his lips lingered along the column of her throat. Her hand skimmed over his shoulder, trailing down the length of his shirtless torso. When she reached the waistband of his jeans, her fingertips outlined his prominent hipbone.
He shuddered, and his lean fingers banded her wrist, stifling her exploration.
“We must . . .” he breathed huskily and drew back until their noses touched.
“Must what?” She gazed into his
limpid pools of blue.
Markus kissed the tip of her nose, brought her hand up to lie over his chest and nestled her head on his shoulder. “Sleep. We must sleep.”
AN ULTIMATUM
“HEY, ARE YOU planning on getting out of bed?” Seeley woke Jordan.
“Wha . . .”
“It’s after two o’clock.” Seeley shuffled to the window, drawing open the shades. “A little overcast today.”
“Where’s Markus?” she asked, still groggy as she browsed the room, now bathed in light.
“Markus?” Seeley stood like a sergeant, her knuckles digging into her hips. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him all day.” She started for the door and stopped, noticing a streak of pink on Jordan’s cheeks. “Were you able to get the glass and wood out of his back? It looked bad.”
“Yes. I hope so.” Jordan smoothed her palms over her face to quench the warmth. “I’m sorry I didn’t clean everything up. I…I was so tired.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about because the living room was spotless when I got up.” She crinkled her nose. “Did smell a little like blood, though.”
Jordan rolled and sat on the edge of the mattress.
“You were too tired to get out of those dirty clothes?”
Dried blood from Markus and herself had stained her clothes.
Seeley stepped over to her daughter. “Are you all right?” She pushed the long hair from Jordan’s face. “I know we need to discuss last night. And I want to warn you. Don’t be shocked when you turn on the television. The local news has that church, or rather what’s left of it, plastered all over the place. You should hear what the anchormen are broadcasting. From a meth lab gone wrong, to an asteroid dropping out of the sky, to—”
“Did they find Ronan?” Jordan cut her off.
“The news isn’t giving out names until the next of kin are notified. There was a confirmation of fifty-six bodies found.”
“The police didn’t think it was queer that most of those bodies were wearing black robes in a church?” Irritated, Jordan drummed the heels of her feet on the bed frame. “If they investigate thoroughly, I’m sure people in the surrounding area would have a few raw stories.”
Wickedly They Dream Page 21
