Her Black Wings (The Dark Amulet Series Book 1)

by A. J. Norris

  “Then how come, if I was the intended target, did we get free?”

  “Because you thought the target was me. You saved me. Abaddon was trying to trick you.”

  “I seem to making a habit of saving people. I’m a real hero. And just look at how far it’s gotten me.” She moaned.

  Oh my God, Abaddon was short for Aba. That liar.

  “All things considered, you made out all right, but you have some work to do.”

  “Work? Are you kidding me? I’m dead, remember?”

  Elliott laughed. The sound could only be described as rich. “Deus made a deal with the Devil for your soul.”

  Oh, is that all? Great.

  “But I saved an angel’s life.” She winked.

  His reaction surprised her. He blushed. But it faded quickly.

  “I know, but when you,” he let out a breath, “when you…”

  “When I what?”

  “When you were with Abaddon, he poisoned you with Taint.”

  Her eyes widened. “Taint?”

  “It’s hard to explain.” He looked at his hands, examining the nails.

  Amalya watched him. Apparently one of the nails might not be quite short enough. “Well, try me.”

  “Taint is Aba’s essence. It stays with you. Everyone lives with a little and it’s manageable for most people. It takes many forms; jealousy, anger, distrust, paranoia. There’s more, although they aren’t pure forms.”

  “Why do I get the feeling what I have is pure?”

  “Afraid so. You were poisoned directly from the source.”

  “But I don’t feel the Taint. I mean—”

  “You wouldn’t. It grows stronger over time.”

  My wings.

  She suddenly felt protective about them, gathering them in close to her body. Taint had caused them to grow. She sensed Elliott’s eyes on her.

  “Your wings are beautiful. I wanted to touch them as soon as I saw them.”

  She flushed. The thought of him touching them made her shiver. “They’re black.”

  “I know.” His eyelids were at half-mast. She could guess what he was thinking and smiled.

  “You can touch them if you want.”

  Placing a hand on the cushion at her hip, he leaned down. He ran a palm along one of the top arches of her wings. She closed her eyes and moaned, carried away by the new sensation. His touch felt erotic. What was the deal with that? He seemed to enjoy it as much as she did. Then he stopped, got off the couch, and went to gaze out the sliding glass door.

  The angel stared outside. When he didn’t move for five minutes, Amalya became curious to see what he was looking at so intently through the glass. She pulled herself to a sitting position. Straightening out her legs, she placed her bare feet on the putrid yellow carpet. When she took a step toward him, she almost tripped over one of the shoes Aba had given her. She looked around for the other pump. It was missing. Damn; she’d liked them too.

  She stood beside him about to take her first glimpse of Earth in ten years. The fact that it had only been a couple of days for them didn’t matter; she was nervous. All she could see was an overcast sky, reminding her of the last moments of her life. She had to step closer to the glass to get a better view. The balcony beyond the door-wall was enclosed with a black wrought iron railing. They were up high, maybe on the top floor of a ten or so story building. She expected to see snow on the ground. Instead, grass covered the courtyard below. What had happened to winter?

  “I thought you said only ten years had passed? There was snow on the ground when I…” Died.

  “Time stands still in Netherworld. Another few hours were wasted in negotiations and two days were…look, you were out of it and had to soak in those healing baths or whatever…” Elliott’s face tightened like someone trying not to cry.

  Her eyes widened. Two days equaled ten more years.

  It’s been over twenty years?

  The look on his face made her forget how much time she’d lost. It didn’t seem important anymore. “Are you okay?” Amalya asked.

  “Just tired. I need some sleep.”

  “It’s fine if you’re—”

  “Please…I’m so tired.” Without saying any more, he turned and left the room.

  She followed him into the kitchen.

  He took a knife out of the butcher block, twirled it on his palm, point down. “Elliott, whatever you’re thinking. Don’t.”

  The knife clanged into the stainless steel sink. Grabbing the edge of the basin and counter, he roared. No words, only sorrow and regret in the form of noise.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Elliott

  Amalya’s body heat warmed Elliott from behind. When her hands snaked around his waist, he stiffened. “I…” his breath caught, “this isn’t a good—”

  “Relax. It’s just a hug.” She flattened a cheek between his shoulder blades. A white t-shirt covered his scars. “Is there somewhere we can lie down? I’m tired too.”

  “Uh huh.”

  She released him and took his hand. “Where? Show me.”

  He faced her. “Amalya, this isn’t…”

  She smiled and mouthed, Relax.

  “It’s just we have work to do.”

  “I thought I was the one who had work. And I say we both need sleep first. Whatever it is can wait.”

  He groaned but led her down a hall to a closed door. They stopped and he knocked.

  “What?” a groggy man’s voice asked.

  “Need the room. Tired.” Elliott was about to say something else when the door opened.

  The angel standing inside the bedroom looked them up and down starting with their feet. Elliott had talked to the other angel when he first arrived at the apartment. They were both surprised and happy to see each other. Elliott had practically dropped Amalya, forgetting for a second he was carrying her. For over twenty years, Elliott’s best friend, Joelle, had waited for his return. Elliott had expected things to change between them, but he was still the same old Joelle, a straight up smart-ass.

  “Okay, here you go, don’t get your panties in a twist.” Joelle stood aside to allow Elliott and Amalya to enter the bedroom.

  “I wasn’t.”

  “Grumpy,” the white winged angel said examining Amalya’s wings. “I’ve never seen black before, well, there was that one—”

  “Who are you?” she said, glowering at him.

  “No one,” Elliott answered.

  “Someone’s cranky. Is that how you introduce your best friend?” The other angel shook his head and stuck out his hand. “Joelle.”

  “Amalya.” She offered her hand to shake, but Joelle brought her knuckles to his lips instead. An awkward grimace appeared on his face. His eyes locked on her.

  Elliott sneered at him.

  Joelle let her hand go.

  Elliott edged her behind him. “Don’t. Touch. Her.” He poked a finger into the other angel’s chest with each word. He’d noticed Joelle eyeing her since they’d arrived and he didn’t like it.

  Joelle raised his hands in front of him. “Take it easy, man. What’s your problem?”

  “I don’t have a problem. Just don’t touch her. She’s—” Mine. “Tainted.”

  “Hey. I can hear, you know.” Amalya said.

  The angels ignored her.

  Joelle’s brows raised. “Well that ain’t good.”

  “No shit, Sherlock. What was your first clue?”

  They both smirked at each other after a tense moment of chest puffing.

  Joelle’s taut posture eased. “Listen, man, you know I have your back. And I didn’t tell you before, but I’m sorry about—”

  “Don’t say it.” Elliott’s voice caught.

  Joelle took a deep breath. “I forgot earlier, but Deus wanted me to give you something. He said you’d know why.” He produced a pair of black ridged spiral horns from the side pocket of his cargo pants and handed them to Elliott. The winged angel left down the hallway wi
thout another word.

  “Um, what was that all about? I’m tainted?” Amalya’s eyes were wide and her hands were spread out in question.

  “We talked about this already.” Elliott ushered her inside the room, shutting the door behind him. There were two additional doors inside the bedroom; he walked toward the walk-in closet and opened the door. He groped around in the dark until he found the pull-chain for the light bulb. The bare bulb was bright; he averted his eyes until they adjusted. Up on the shelf above the clothing rod, he located a Nike shoe box. The contents clanged as he pulled it down. He flipped the lip open and tossed Aza’zel’s horns on top of the many others.

  Elliott put the box back where he found it and shut the light off. When he turned to exit the closet, Amalya was standing at the doorway staring at him.

  “What are you going to do with those?” she asked, breaking the silence.

  He brushed past her and sat down on the bed.

  She gaped at him with arms crossed over her chest. “Elliott?”

  “What? You said you wanted to lie down. Do it.”

  Amalya huffed. “But I thought I was tainted.”

  “Do you want to rest or not?”

  “Are you sure? I might contaminate the bed.”

  “Not the first time.”

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-SIX

  Amalya

  “Is this a bathroom?” Amalya asked, wandering over to the other door off the bedroom.

  Elliott nodded. “Towels are in the cabinet behind the door.”

  She closed the door, grateful for the reprieve, and grabbed a fresh towel then set it on the vanity. The room actually had two doors; one that opened up into the hallway and the other the bedroom. It had enough room for a full-sized claw-footed tub among the usual sink and toilet. The floor and halfway up the walls were covered in tiny white and black octagon shaped tiles. Frosted round light bulbs lined the sides of the mirror over the sink. Whoever had decorated this place did so a long while ago.

  When she looked into the mirror, she didn’t recognize the person staring back at her. Sure, her eyes were the same shape; her nose, lips, and hair color were all the same. But nothing else fit. The crests of her black wings rose several inches above her head and formed a heart shape at her back. They worked much like another pair of arms.

  Zeroing in on the front of her dress, she searched for the stab hole. There was none. The dress was pristine; a fact she’d overlooked earlier. Sighing, she turned away from the mirror. She wouldn’t find answers staring at her reflection. Leaning into the tub, she turned on the spray. The frock dropped to the floor. No panties to worry about.

  Amalya stepped over the lip of the tub.

  Ahhh…water.

  Crystal clear and odorless. After an uneventful shower, thank God, she wrapped the white terry cloth towel around her torso. She left the dress on the floor and made a mental note to burn it later.

  “Ow…shit.” She threw the towel down onto the tile and examined her stinging hip. The tattoo would go down as one of the dumbest decisions ever. She slapped her hip hoping to dull the bite. “Oh shit!”

  Elliott barged through the door and stopped dead. “Oh, Amalya. Oh…God.” He clamped his lids shut.

  “I’m fine…it’s just…” she panted.

  “What is it?” the angel asked as he turned around.

  Amalya held her hand over the tattoo. She took deep breaths. The pain ebbed. “I’ve got this tattoo and it started hurting again.”

  “Again?” The angel turned his head toward her, keeping his eyes averted. “What’s it look like?”

  “I don’t know. A circle with swirls surrounding triangles.”

  “Shit. Those probably aren’t swirls. Are you kidding me? When did you get it?”

  “For my sixteenth birthday. Why?” When she looked up he was facing her with his eyes centered at the hand on her hip. “Naked here.”

  Bending down he said, “Let me see it.”

  She peeled her hand off and looked over his head. Her hip no longer hurt. Warm fingers ran over the tattoo. The startling reaction of her body was worrisome. Heat flooded between her legs and her skin flushed.

  Yes. Nooo. You’re Tainted. Ruined. That’s what this is about. You don’t want him.

  “Yeah, those are sixes, not swirls,” he lifted his eyes and met hers. “Where did you get this design from?”

  “It’s from a pendant I lost.”

  “Do you still have it?”

  “Didn’t you just hear what I said? I lost it.”

  “Where did you get it?”

  “My mother. She had a case of old costume jewelry she inherited when my great aunt passed away and it was in there. I thought it was pretty, so she gave the necklace to me. “Why, does it mean something?”

  He blew out a breath. “It’s a sigil. I think it’s reacting with the Taint.”

  “What is that?”

  “Sigils are used to conjure demons, and in this case, Abaddon.”

  Fantastic.

  “That is some wonderful news. Thanks for sharing.” She swallowed hard.

  “You asked.” Elliott eyes were difficult to read. Black on black. She couldn’t tell if his pupils were dilated or if he even had any.

  Sweat dribbled down between her breasts. “How do I get rid of it?”

  “The symbol doesn’t really mean anything by itself. But the amulet you lost was probably Tainted. I’m assuming you wore it.”

  “For years.” Her tongue became too large for her mouth. His steady gaze made her self-conscious.

  “Where did you lose it?”

  “Well actually, I don’t know. It was stolen, I think.”

  Does he remember I’m naked?

  Why didn’t she pick up the towel or use her wings for cover? She wanted him to see her? Shit, she was a fool. They’d just met, but there was something about him that drew her to him.

  “Could I get a shirt or something to wear?”

  The question snapped him out of wherever his mind had gone and he blushed.

  After the angel left the bathroom, Amalya found an unopened package of toothbrushes and brushed her teeth. Finally. She was starting to feel almost human. With the exception of two large wings protruding from her back.

  Fabric was lain on one side of the bed and on the other, Elliott. He faced away from her on his side. She picked up the…tunic and held it up. It was drape-necked front and back, and the bottom hem was dip dyed lilac. She wasn’t sure how to put it on.

  “Ah…Elliott?”

  He rolled over onto his back. “Huh?” Immediately he redirected his eyes toward the ceiling and teepeed his knees. His hand went to his crotch, tugging at the front of his jeans.

  “How do I put this on?” She flipped the shirt over for the examination of both sides.

  “It stretches,” he grumbled.

  “Oh, it stretches, excuse moi.” She put it on the only way she could by stepping through the neck then pulling it up. Much better to have something on that wasn’t from the Devil. It fit well. Silly how something as simple as wearing clothing enhanced her mood.

  She knelt on the bed next to him, her wet hair falling forward off her shoulders. “What’s your problem anyway? You’re so grumpy. It’s not just your wings, is it?”

  “Why do you say that?” he asked, rolling onto his side facing away from her. She pulled at him, but he braced himself and remained in place. “I thought you wanted to sleep?” He yawned.

  “Fine.” Swinging her legs out from under her, she flopped back on the mattress. “Ow.”

  “Oh God, what now?”

  “I hurt myself.” Damn wings. She sat up.

  The wingless angel wrenched his neck around. “Forgot about the wings, huh? Bummer.”

  She still found him fascinating and sexy, even if his mood swings were tiresome. After all, he was a real live angel. She prepared her wings this time to lie down, easing into a comfortable position. Before long she heard Elliott’s breathing
change. Listening to the cadence put her to sleep.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Elliott

  The smell of brewing coffee reminded Elliott he’d not eaten in quite some time. Angels and other spirits could go for long periods of time; days, months, or years without eating. But when hunger struck, the Carnival World Buffet at Rio Las Vegas wouldn’t be enough. Joelle was standing at the counter when Elliott entered the kitchen. He sat down on a stool at the table, the end of which had been pushed up against the wall. It could only seat three people.

  “Want some eggs, E?” Joelle graveled.

  “What did you do, tie one on last night?” Elliott asked, wondering why his oldest friend sounded like shit. Going by his disheveled chocolate colored hair and bloodshot eyes, he felt like shit too.

  Joelle grunted.

  “Man, you get more action than anyone I know.”

  “Yeah, and what about you, you get some?” Joelle smirked.

  “What’d’ ya think?”

  “You want some eggs?” Joelle asked again, setting a mug in front of the wingless angel.

  Elliott nodded and said, “Thanks for the coffee.” Joelle got busy scrambling two dozen eggs, making a loaf of toast, and frying five pounds of potatoes. They enjoyed the solitude of the silence between them.

  Joelle sat down at the loaded table. “Man, I should’ve made more. You think Amalya will be hungry when she gets up?”

  Elliott laughed as he scanned the table. “You definitely need to make more.”

  More quiet filled the room while they ate.

  Joelle’s fork clanked on his plate.

  Uh oh. He wants to talk.

  “What?” Elliott asked pretending like he didn’t have any idea what his friend wanted to speak at him about.

  Joelle sighed. “What’s going on? Why is she here? Deus should know about this.”

  “He knows. Believe me.” Elliott set his utensils down. No surprise registered on Joelle’s face. “Why are you asking me when you already know the answer?”

  “E, listen, she—shit…last night…last night you were jealous when I touched her. That isn’t like you at all, man.” He looked toward the ceiling as if he could find the correct phrasing within a water stain.