That was the moment she’d drawn the disease into herself that would kill Joanna.
It was all connected.
Wyatt was Joanna’s son and Dylan’s soul mate, her lover, and the father of her child.
Sam was her brother, her friend, and her reason for healing Lily.
Ellie was Sam’s manipulator, Davida’s puppet, and Dylan’s downfall. But she was also Dylan’s truth.
And Stiles…he was there in everything. He was a part of her childhood, a part of her growth, and a part of her understanding of who she was. He’d been there when her child was born, when she thought she’d lost Wyatt, and again when Wyatt’s time on Earth was truly over. He was there when Sam and Davida died, trying to protect her and willing to give his life to hide the secret he was afraid Lily and Luc would use against her. He’d always been willing to give more of himself for her than she’d ever been for him.
She woke with a start, her thoughts so full of Stiles that she thought she saw him sitting on the end of her bed. But it was only a figment of her overstimulated imagination. He wasn’t there; he wouldn’t be there until she asked him to be. He was tired of rejection and tired of waiting. She couldn’t blame him. She knew it was time to make her choice. It was time to turn to the future and let go of the past. Even Davida and Sam would’ve wanted that for her. So why was she finding it so difficult to do?
And why was Gabriel suddenly in her thoughts?
Chapter 16
Stiles walked into Rachel’s early the next morning and found the lady herself sitting at the dining room table alone.
“Hey, stranger,” she said, gesturing for him to join her.
Stiles took a seat beside her and helped himself to the carafe of juice sitting in the center of the table.
“How’s life?”
She smiled. “It’s never been better. How about you?”
“Fairly quiet, thank goodness.”
“There haven’t been any major attacks in a while,” she agreed. “I know I should be grateful, but it actually worries me a little.”
“Yeah, me too.” He took a healthy swig of the juice, and then sat back and looked around the room. “Where’s everyone else?”
“Dylan went for a walk. And Raphael took Gabriel to meet his legion.”
Stiles nodded, tension returning to his shoulders at the mention of Gabriel’s name.
“Does he strike you as odd?” Rachel asked.
“Gabriel?”
She nodded. “I think he’s pretty nice, and he made Dylan laugh, which is a nice change. But Raphael keeps insisting there’s something not right about him.”
Stiles touched Rachel’s arm in a soft, reassuring caress. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Gabriel is just what you would call a big personality. His appearance down here seems contrary to the angel we knew in heaven, but that doesn’t mean there’s anything nefarious about it.”
Rachel seemed relieved, which was Stiles’ goal. But he didn’t believe a word he’d said. Something was not right about Gabriel and he was going to find out what it was.
Stiles returned to Wilhelm’s after hiding the orb in a place no one—with the exception of Dylan, maybe—would ever think to look for it. Ellie was in her room, supposedly resting, but Stiles could feel her thoughts so strongly that he decided to take another go at getting her to tell him what she was hiding.
He tapped on her door and pushed it open before she responded.
“Stiles,” she said softly as she watched him walk into the room.
“You should be resting. You’re still regaining your strength.”
“A girl can only sleep so much.” She stood from the chair she’d been sitting in and approached him, brushing her fingertips against the lower curve of his jaw. “You look tired.”
“Fighting a war takes it out of an angel.”
“You always seem to be fighting something.” She stepped back slightly, studying him closely. “I remember the first time we met. It was after that pig attacked Sam and me. You put me to sleep.”
“I thought you were in shock.”
“And I thought you knew who I was.”
Stiles studied her face for a long minute. “I knew you were an angel. But I thought Davida had sent you to Dylan to help her, not to take her to Lily.”
“Davida fooled you. That’s an amazing feat.”
Stiles turned away, moving around the end of the narrow bed to put a little space between them. “I still don’t understand how you’re here. Why didn’t your soul go to wherever angels go when they’re killed by an angel’s sword?”
“I don’t know. It should have.”
“Does it have something to do with Joanna tethering her soul to yours?”
He turned and glanced at her, satisfied by the shamed look in her eyes. Once again, those eyes filled with tears that fell in large drops, wetting the front of her thin tee.
“She was different after she died, Stiles. Her soul was so black…she could do things I will never really understand even though I saw it happen right in front of me.”
“Where is she now?”
Ellie shook her head, confusion burning in the blush on her cheeks. “I don’t know. I told you, she just up and disappeared one day.”
“If she disappeared, why didn’t you pass on? Or return to your human form? If you were no longer tethered to her, why were you still one of those dark souls?”
She didn’t answer. She clearly had no answer. But Stiles needed those answers, he needed to know that she wasn’t going to hurt Dylan the first chance she got.
He crossed the room in two strides, grabbed her arms and pulled her hard against his chest, reaching up to hold the back of her head in his hand. She didn’t struggle; she didn’t even moan at the roughness of his touch that he knew must have hurt her. She just stood there, her eyes unblinking as she watched him.
There was nothing. He felt nothing when he touched her. He could hear her thoughts, could hear guilt and fear and a mild amount of anger. But he couldn’t feel Joanna.
But he knew…
“You love her,” she said softly. “It’s not just about your purpose. You really love her.”
Stiles jerked away. He hadn’t intended to allow her to read him. He had only meant to see what she had hidden inside of her.
“Why does it frighten you so much for someone to know and understand you?”
“Why do you care?” There was something in her eyes that made his skin crawl. He backed up a few more steps. “She’s still there. Isn’t she?”
Ellie shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He charged her, grabbed her throat in one, violent movement. “I know you’re there,” he said as he slammed her backward and shoved her hard against the wall. “I know you’re in there, Joanna. And I’m not going to let you hurt her again. Do you hear me?”
Tears rolled down Ellie’s face, wetting his hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Stiles, please!”
He shoved her harder and she screamed, bringing the angel who sat out in the hallway to make sure she didn’t wander around on her own. “I know you’re there. You aren’t fooling me.”
The angel grabbed Stiles’ arm.
“Let her go!”
Stiles studied Ellie’s face. That spark, whatever it was he’d seen, was gone. He stepped back and held up his hands, showing the angel that he meant her no more harm. As he stepped back, he watched Ellie. She collapsed to the bed, her hands on her throat. The angel went to her, using his healing powers to heal any damage Stiles had done. Little tendrils of guilt were beginning to weave themselves around his heart until Ellie looked over the angel’s shoulder and met his eye.
And she smiled.
Chapter 17
Dylan watched the angel in front of her use the butt of his sword to knock a man off his feet. She heard the man’s skull crack. She’d warned them to be gentler…
And then another wave of possessed men came
toward them.
They were in London—or what was once called London—ruins that had become overrun with demons for reasons no one could quite figure out. There were no settlements in this area. So many humans had died here during the first years of the war that it was considered disrespectful to go there.
Yet, there were dozens and dozens of possessed people coming toward them and even more hidden among the rubble of the old city. When Ellie had said they were planning a massive attack, she wasn’t lying.
You shouldn’t be here.
Dylan looked up and watched as Stiles soared above the city. She knew he would say that. That was why she hadn’t told him what was happening when she’d dreamt of this attack, when the loved ones of the possessed had called out to her in desperation. She called to Raphael.
She ignored Stiles, moving into the fray behind several of Raphael’s men. She had a golden lasso in her hand, ready to snag a demon the moment it separated from the body of one of the possessed. The problem was, they weren’t separating as easily as they had during other battles. No matter how hard she pushed them with her mental powers, they wouldn’t budge. She didn’t understand. This process had worked so well in the past—
She was down. Something hit her from behind. Dylan rolled just as a possessed swung a heavy mallet at her head. It missed her by barely an inch.
She scooted away on her back, rocks and debris imbedding into her flesh. The possessed came after her, a blank stare on its face. He swung again, smashing a pile of concrete to her right, and then again, smashing another pile of to her left. She jerked her leg out of the way as he went after her ankle, but he managed to slam the head of his mallet on her toes. She screamed, pain distorting the world for a moment.
She reached for a weapon from her otherworldly armory, but before she could draw out the sword that pulsed in her mind’s eye, someone snatched the possessed off the ground and lifted it away. Another, with a knife in her hand, immediately took its place. Dylan had to get to her feet and fight hand to hand, face to face. But the rubble kept shifting under her and her foot was so painful it wouldn’t hold her weight.
She was defenseless.
She swung her hand around, encasing herself in a sort of force field, blocking the possessed from seeing or hurting her. It worked, for the moment, but it wasn’t a good solution. She needed to move. She needed to get up and help her fellow angels. She couldn’t just lie there and hide. But the moment she released the shield, the possessed would be waiting. And there were four more coming up behind her.
Dylan closed her eyes and focused on the pain in her foot until it stopped throbbing. Then she imagined all the demons bursting from the possessed. She saw it as if it was the most real thing she had ever seen in her life. But when she opened her eyes, nothing had happened.
She didn’t understand.
She got her feet underneath her and burst into a standing position as she released the force field. Almost immediately, the possessed lunged forward with the knife, snagging the edge of Dylan’s shirt even as she dove in the opposite direction. Pain again sliced through her. She swung behind her with her sword, hitting the woman with the flat side of her blade. She fell, but another stepped forward, a man with a large, thick stick.
I need some help here! she called out to anyone who might be listening.
She expected Stiles to come to her defense, but it was Gabriel who suddenly appeared in front of her, his sword drawn and ready for battle. He struck down the charging man and pushed another back against his companions before grabbing Dylan around her waist and transporting her to the small staging area where Raphael had left several of his legion behind as back up.
Gabriel set Dylan on a low cot that had been set up for just that purpose. His fingers were gentle as he moved her shirt out of the way to inspect her injured side. The wound was already healing, knitting itself together visibly as he studied it.
“They’re different,” Dylan said. “It’s like their adapting to our strategies.”
“Is that possible?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything about them. The more we study them, the more confused we become.”
“They are like nothing I’ve ever faced,” Gabriel admitted.
Dylan pulled away from his touch and stood, pacing the small area situated between a few abandoned vehicles and the beginning of the rubble. “We’ve got to figure out how to stop these things. If we don’t…”
Gabriel moved up behind her, forcing her to stop pacing when she turned. “You need to take a minute and catch your breath. And then you need to leave.”
“I don’t think—”
“Those people were targeting you. They know who you are and they wanted to stop you by any means necessary.” Gabriel gestured toward the battle. “You can’t go back out there. Next time, they might get you down before you can heal yourself.”
“He’s right.”
Dylan turned to find Stiles walking toward her. There was tension in every inch of his impressive form, from his shoulders to his muscular arms to his dramatic stance. There was something…he was holding something back from her. She could see it in his eyes and feel it in the solid wall of his mental barricades.
“I should be out there. How can I expect Raphael and his legion to put themselves in danger if I’m not willing to be out there beside them?”
“You are more important than one battle.” Stiles came toward her, his hands raised to cradle her face. And she wanted him to; she needed to feel the familiar comfort of his touch. But he didn’t. Instead, he said, “Take her back to Rachel’s.”
A second later, Dylan felt Gabriel’s heavy hand on her shoulder and it was done. She was standing in the middle of Rachel’s office.
“Why did you do that?” Dylan demanded, swinging around to confront Gabriel. “Why did you bring me back here?”
“You were in danger,” he said, as though it was most obvious.
“I need to be there.”
She started to move into her ethereal form, but she was blocked. He was blocking her. She knew what it felt like, she’d felt it when Sam was executed. It didn’t feel any better this time than it had then.
She slammed her hands into his chest. “Let me go.”
“You are the savior,” he said softly. “The guardian of humanity. You cannot be harmed.”
Dylan slammed her hands against him again. Gabriel grabbed her wrists to stop her, drawing her so close to his body that she was suddenly aware of every inch of him, of the masculinity of his human form. The rush of pleasure that sent through her nervous system caught her by surprise. She looked up at him and found him staring down at her. And the expression in his eyes…it wasn’t just respect for one more superior.
“Dylan?”
Rachel was rushing into the room, but she paused when she saw the scene unfolding in front of her. Dylan quickly pulled away from Gabriel and went to her.
“It’s not over yet.”
“Raphael?”
“He’s fine, as far as I know.”
Rachel nodded, a touch of relief igniting in her eyes. “I heard your voice and I thought…”
“I wouldn’t do that to you, Rachel. If something happened to him, I would come straight to you.”
She nodded again, her knees growing so weak that Dylan had to catch her and guide her to a chair.
“I’m being silly,” Rachel said. “I know he’s an angel and I know it would take another angel to take his life, but I still worry each time he goes to fight one of these battles.”
“I know.” Dylan took her hands in both of hers as she knelt in front of her. “I won’t let anything happen to him, Rachel. I promise you.”
She touched Dylan’s face lightly. “I know. I trust you.”
Dylan glanced back at Gabriel, an irrational guilt burning in her chest. But he was gone.
She stayed put, deciding that Rachel needed her more than Raphael and his legion needed to protect her on the battlefield.
It didn’t last much longer. Stiles, Raphael, and Gabriel returned less than an hour later, their clothing showing signs of a rough battle, but their bodies fully intact. Rachel rushed to Raphael and threw her arms around his neck. He picked her up, kissing her more fully than was appropriate to witness. Dylan’s eyes moved first to Stiles, and then to Gabriel as thoughts she shouldn’t be having rushed through her mind.
“What happened?” she asked, climbing to her feet.
Stiles gestured for Gabriel to take the floor.
“They continued to fight for a good half hour, and then, it was like some sort of signal we couldn’t hear went up and they simply abandoned the humans and disappeared like so much smoke.”
Dylan frowned. “Just like that?”
“It was an odd thing,” Raphael said. “They were gaining ground. If they’d pushed us just a little further, they would have broken through our defenses and had perfect access to the outer parts of the ruins…to the roads that lead to the outer settlements. But they just left.”
“Like they’d served their purpose,” Stiles said.
“What purpose?” Dylan asked.
He met her eye and she knew there was something—something he knew but was refusing to tell her.
“Did anything happen here?” Raphael asked.
Rachel glanced at Dylan before she said, “Not a thing.”
Dylan shook her head. “It was quiet here.”
“It was you,” Gabriel said. “They must have realized that you’d left the area.”
“But why would they be so interested in me?” Dylan asked. “Why would they want me injured, or—”
“They were trying to stop you,” Stiles said. “Maybe they figured that if they couldn’t get ahold of the orb, they could simply kill you and leave the orb without an owner.”
SOUL MATES (Angels and Demons Book 3) Page 10
