Monsters, Book Two: Hour of the Dragon

by Heather Killough-Walden

  That day long ago, she’d known she was going to have to leave her town, her school, everything she had ever known, and worse – her best friend. Surrendering herself to Jarrod had meant one more compromise she had to make, another piece of herself she was being forced to lose. So much, so fast.

  Why hadn’t he seen that at the time? Why now, when it was far too late?

  And he hadn’t stopped there with her five decades ago. Her day hadn’t even been over yet. Jarrod had known there was one more gruesome, trying task ahead, one he desperately hoped she would perform with him. When she agreed to accompany him to the warden battle aftermath that night, he’d been thanking his lucky stars that she was the selfless person she was. That she could help him save at least one more life.

  But now… as their eyes met over the space filled with all of those memories and all of his dawning epiphanies, he felt just the opposite. This wasn’t something to thank the stars for. It wasn’t good fortune that she’d become a resurrecting angel, scarred by the souls she’d pulled from the abyss one after another. Because who she was and what she was willing to do was what had brought her right here, right now, to this place of unpleasant choices. It meant that she was required to suffer, kneeling between two people she’d loved and lost solely because of what she had become the same day she slept with Jarrod Sterling.

  If he could only take it all away from her. So she would never have to face this choice again.

  Jarrod watched more tears slip free from the lavender pools of his friend’s eyes. “Not again,” he found himself whispering, not even meaning to say it out loud. “Never again.”

  But she heard him. They all did.

  Annaleia’s grip on her friend’s hands visibly tightened. He watched as something strong moved through her, something fate-changingly important.

  And then the woman who had surprised him so much fifty years ago surprised Jarrod once again.

  Her body went completely still, her muscles flexing. Her gaze hardened, lavender to amethyst. Her chin lowered, and her teeth clenched. She looked straight at him, through him even, and he absolutely knew in that moment that everything had changed.

  She shook her head, just once. Very softly she said, “No. Not again. Never again.”

  With an incredible burst of speed, Anna spun back around and released the limp hands she’d been fruitlessly holding. She then pressed her own hands to the women’s chests instead.

  There was the briefest flash of movement as Antares must have used dragon speed to attempt to reach down and stop Annaleia, perhaps trying to grab hold of her, pull her away from her friends – anything. But she was determined, and after that everything happened in what felt like a single blurred heartbeat.

  As power instantly flooded her palms and spread with unprecedented, mindboggling speed to fully engulf the deceased forms of both of her friends, Annaleia Faith threw back her head and screamed.

  Jarrod at once recognized what she was trying to do, and he knew the attempt would destroy her. She was going to try to resurrect them both.

  But there was no time to try to stop her. Jarrod had never seen anything like it; it was a like a dam breaking, a supernova brightening of which Anna was at the epicenter. The light cast everyone in flash photography black outlines and blinded Jarrod before it developed into a sudden burst of energy solid and strong enough to slam into the people around her like a shockwave.

  Jarrod felt the impact as if someone had struck him in the chest with a wrecking ball; he flew backward through the garage, and he wasn’t alone. In the sidelines of his inflight trip, he witnessed the other wardens in the room equally airborne. He barely had time to register the phenomenon before he was slamming into the garage’s far wall, the impact rattling his teeth.

  He slid to the floor, somehow managing to keep his feet beneath him. Then he bent at the waist and braced his arms against his knees, closing his eyes in an attempt to remove the stars that swam in his vision. It wasn’t the impact with the wall that had him out of sorts, it was the impact of Annaleia’s magic. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt anything so potent.

  No, he thought again, looking up toward the center of the garage through the wayward locks of his black hair. No, Annaleia, what have you done? With dread mounting once more in his heart and climbing his throat, Jarrod remained where he was and watched.

  Annaleia was bent between the bodies of her fallen friends. The light she’d filled their bodies with was still there; they were glowing as if they’d been irradiated.

  Above her and around a foot away stood Cain, either unaffected by her blast or faster to recover than Jarrod. Beside Cain was Mace, whom Jarrod could see had been frantic in his race to get back to her. Beside Mace was the sentinel, who would not have been affected by her magic at all because he could not be harmed by anything a warden did.

  However, if the sentinel’s expression had been concerned before the blast, it was now pale and distraught. When Mace dropped beside Annaleia’s silent, unmoving figure, the sentinel stepped over one of her friends to kneel on her other side.

  Anna made a soft sound, one that made Jarrod’s insides twist. Mace managed to catch her just as she slumped forward, unconscious.

  No, he thought. Oh my God. This was it all along. No, no, no. This was really it.

  The faceless one in his vision really was her.

  Chapter Forty-two – Monsters territory garage, Austin Texas

  Ares held Annaleia’s body hard against his and gave her a small shake. She was still breathing, but she was extremely unresponsive and limp in his arms, and he was worried. She wasn’t supposed to use that much magic at once. He may have only found her a few days ago after fifty years of being apart, but he’d already at least learned that much about her ability. One resurrection, then rest. Never twice at the same time.

  “Leia, come on baby, wake up. Look at me, Leia.” When she didn’t do either, he turned to her sentinel. “Magnus, can you heal –”

  But before he could finish the request, the light that had infused Annaleia’s friends died down suddenly, drawing his attention. He watched it dissipate entirely, revealing throats that were once more whole and unbroken. The women began to stir.

  One of them frowned to herself, eyes still shut, as if she were confused about the cold, hard cement underneath her or the what were sure to be disjointed memories. After which she slowly rolled onto her side, propped herself up on one arm, and opened her eyes. But when she did, she was met with the sight of a small army of wardens, a few sovereigns, and the Monsters. So she froze in what was no doubt abject fear.

  Her formerly unconscious companion did the opposite of her friend and opened her eyes first, remaining motionless as she blinked up at the garage’s ceiling.

  Mace’s eyes skirted from one of them to the other while he gently rocked Annaleia, his hand in her hair. She did it, he thought. She was told she couldn’t do it, so of course she eventually did. That’s my girl.

  The second young woman winced a little and tried to sit up. One of the wardens immediately came forward to offer her a hand, very much taking her by surprise. She startled, and stared up at him. Then her gaze slipped to the people behind him before her eyes simply began scanning the entirety of her surroundings, and she too froze in fear.

  “Anna?” the first woman asked. She had turned around at the sound of movement behind her, where she found Annaleia in Ares’ arms.

  The second woman turned around at the sound of her friend’s voice. “Carmen!” The woman cried. “What the hell happ –” But she fell quiet as well when she saw Annaleia.

  Mace began to try to prepare himself to talk with them, to tell them what she’d done, what she’d bravely done, when he realized he felt something wet beneath his hands.

  “Oh my God, Anna… what the hell is that?” Piper asked, her face going sheet white. She was staring at Anna’s back.

  Ares experienced a cold tingling of dread in his throat and at the base of his spine. His ears began to
ring. Had they ever done that before? They were doing it now, a buzzing sound like an electric wire that hadn’t been buried deep enough while the meter was just spinning and spinning.

  He pulled back just enough to look down at Annaleia. His guts turned to lead, his hearts slowing, nearly stopping, in tandem.

  Across the legs of her jeans and the sleeves and chest of her sweater, small red marks were forming. They began as pinpricks of scarlet, darkened into garnet, and lengthened from a single point to a line. Ares knew this was happening to her back too; that’s why his hand had been wet. His guess was confirmed when he glanced at his palm to find line-like smudges of precious red.

  His gaze slid back to her sweater. The red lines across the cashmere were deepening in breadth and growing in length. “Leia, what’s happening?” He tried so hard to stay calm, at least outwardly. For her. But there was a screaming inside him, and it was maniacal.

  Annaleia opened her eyes at last and met his. “I’m… I’m sorry, Ares,” she whispered. She winced, hissing as a few more red lines showed up across her jeans. He could see pain reflected in her beautiful eyes. So much pain. “I just couldn’t do it again.”

  Absolute panic gripped Ares. “Magnus! What the hell is happening to her?” he demanded as he took hold of Annaleia’s arms and pushed up her sleeves. He knew what he would find when he did. And he was horrified, but not surprised, to find that his instinct was right.

  Her scars were opening up again. All of them, as if they had never healed in the first place. Every last one of the wounds that had appeared but immediately closed and scarred when she had resurrected someone was now un-healing, peeling apart and turning back time to bleed pain and injury throughout her entire body.

  “Annaleia, I need to heal you,” said Magnus. He took her from Ares’ arms, and her sleeve slipped back down. Ares was grateful for that small thing. By now, her clothing was turning a uniform shade of red. Knowing it was her blood was…. And knowing it was her and not just anyone, knowing it was the single most important person in his existence… had the most unpleasant effect on Ares.

  But Magnus seemed to have no pity on him as far as the clothes were concerned, because as soon as he had maneuvered her so that she was laying down where she’d been kneeling earlier, he slid the sleeves of both arms back up, exposing the cuts that painted a martyred picture across her body.

  Part of Ares wanted to separate from the rest of him, move away and protect itself by simply not believing. The rest of him was steadily growing sick. From the greenish pallor of her resurrected friends as they watched her undergo such a horrid and fast transformation, they were feeling it too. Even the warden crowd was affected. It was no different for them than coming upon one of Randall Price’s murder victims – but while she was still alive and bleeding.

  Except this was worse. The wide eyes, tiny pupils, and hushed, disturbed whispers of some of the more hardened people in the garage gave away their true emotional involvement. This was not just any woman, it was a warden. And this was the warden who could resurrect.

  They were watching the destruction of an angel.

  Why wasn’t the sentinel moving faster? How could the bastard stay so calm? Fucking heal her, damn it! But Magnus ignored the obvious frantic waves coming off Ares. He moved with gentle deliberation, remaining calm in the face of disaster – which was what you wanted from a guardian. But right now, it was driving Ares slightly mad.

  Magnus leaned down and cupped Annaleia’s cheek, peering into her eyes as if she were the only person in the world of any import to him.

  Which she was. Ares knew that. Heal her now. Ares gritted his teeth, bit back a growl, and felt time scrape along his nerve endings like a cheese grater. It was excruciating.

  “Hang in there, Anna,” Magnus told her with a reassuring smile, as the same kind of white light that Anna had created earlier finally began to emanate from beneath Magnus’ palm. Annaleia immediately closed her eyes, and her breathing slowed. Ares could hear her heartbeat settle down too.

  Ares had once read that the best feeling in the world was not sex or an orgasm or winning a lottery or even being praised for good work. The best feeling in the world was when the pain stopped. It was when suffering was taken away from you. The quote was something like, There is no greater pleasure than the cessation of pain. Yes, that was it. Leave it to him to remember it word-for-word in the most dire of times.

  But as Annaleia’s bleeding wounds stopped bleeding and steadily commenced sealing up again, Ares was betting she would agree with that pain-pleasure assessment right about now too. Thank the gods, he thought. Thank the gods that Magnus waited.

  Ares looked over his shoulder to find Rafael and Dante standing together not far away. He met Rafe’s gaze and thought, So this is what you meant when you stopped Magnus. You knew he needed to be here for this.

  Rafael couldn’t read minds, but Ares knew the Gemini dragon wouldn’t need that ability to know what Ares was thinking and to be able to tell that Ares was grateful. Rafe nodded at Ares and Ares returned the gesture, hoping against hope that in that one signal, Rafael would understand just how indebted Ares was.

  He returned his attention to Annaleia, who continued to heal before his eyes. As he bore witness to the miracle that was her sentinel, he did not fail to grasp that this was yet another person he had likely misjudged. Clearly you could be both beautiful and very good at your job. Ares vowed to try his damnedest to be a little nicer to them from now on. If nothing else, it would win him brownie points with Leia.

  But as Ares was thinking all this through, he found himself leaning further over Annaleia in something between puzzlement and wonder. With an unwitting tenderness that he felt to his core, Ares’ fingertips grazed over the places on her arm where the cuts had once been. Even the blood that had stained her skin and clothing began to dispel beneath his watchful gaze. The smell of iron in the room grew ever fainter, dissipating along with the blood.

  Under Ares’ fingertips, the few remaining lacerations on Anna’s arms grew smaller and thinner. Little by little they waned until they at last disappeared altogether, each one followed closely by the blood it had shed.

  When Magnus finished, he allowed himself a relieved expression and lowered his hand. Out of sheer curiosity, Ares lifted the edge of Annaleia’s sweater and stared at her freshly healed body in wonder. There were no wounds there either. There was no blood in sight.

  But most astoundingly of all - there were no scars.

  Chapter Forty-three – Garage, parking lot, Austin Texas

  “Holy hell,” someone said. “Even the scars?”

  “It looks that way,” someone else answered.

  Anna tried to open her eyes but didn’t quite make it.

  “But why? How did this happen? You’ve healed her before, right?” That was a third person.

  “Yes.” That was Magnus.

  “And her scars remained afterward?” That was someone she didn’t recognize.

  “Yes.” Magnus again.

  She tried again to pry her eyes open. It was weirdly hard this time around, almost as if it were the first time she was opening them in her life.

  “She’s coming around.”

  Now, that voice, she definitely knew. He was close, somewhere just above her. It was the dragon… her dragon. He still hasn’t shown me that, she thought randomly. He got to see me use my ability. I want to see the dragon.

  With great effort, she finally managed to peel her eyelids fully apart, her vision clearing to a pair of cosmic eyes she could forever fall into. “There she is,” he whispered as if he spoke to her alone.

  The boy she’d fallen in love with half a century ago held her in his lap and against his chest. But as her mind came more fully awake, time and place and circumstance caught up to her and she remembered. Despite the dragon’s nearness and the way it always messed with her head, there was one thing she urgently needed to know.

  “Did it work?” she asked, knowing he would understan
d what she meant.

  “Bruja, you saved us.” Anna turned her head to see Carmen and Piper standing together to her left. “That was some crossroads deal you made.”

  Their cheeks were wet and their clothes were a little dirty, but there was no blood. There was no horrible, jagged rip in either of their throats.

  “Holy crap,” Anna muttered. “Help me up.”

  A host of arms and hands attempted to do exactly that. “Hey!” Ares brushed most of them aside. “Grabby!” he admonished, only to be jostled or punched in the arm good-naturedly. “I got this,” he insisted as he stood and lifted her with him.

  But he wound up doing so slowly, because the moment she had her feet beneath her, she was hit with a wave of light-headedness. She bent a little at the waist and rode it out while Ares supported her. It struck her as a little odd considering that the last time Magnus had healed her, she’d been completely fine afterward. Then again, at the time, she hadn’t tried to pull what she’d pulled tonight.

  The spell passed fast thankfully, and then Ares was shoved aside and Anna was pulled into such a crushingly hard hug, she had little to think about anything but breathing.

  “Oh my God, amigita, I swear I thought that was it. I thought, ‘I’m gonna die for real this time, and I have to go on a night when I’m sick? Throwing up has to be the last thing I ever do in this life? How messed up is that?’ And then you – you were, ay Dios – just what the hell kind of amazing shit was that?” Carmen was both crying and laughing at the same time. Craughing? Anna thought wildly.

  But then Piper yanked her out of Carmen’s arms in turn and squeezed her just as hard. Anna made a slight wheezing sound that went utterly ignored by both her friends. “Oh my God is right, Anna,” said Piper rapidly. “Everything Carmen just said was absolutely true. She really wouldn’t shut up about having to die after puking. On and on about it she went. It was embarrassing.”