“She’s got you there.” Lucian laughed.
Worry, frustration, and concern flickered across Elijah’s face. “I apologize; you are right. You don’t need my permission, and I will always follow where you go.” His hazel eyes looked pained. “I would rather you didn’t. Please, mi dulce, don’t push this.”
Lucian rolled his eyes. “You two are disgusting. Already calling her “my sweet” and falling all over yourself.”
Elijah shot him a glare before turning an imploring look on Amelia. “Besides, how can you leave only Rose and Isaac to handle Xapar and what he may bring here?”
“I suppose you’re right. This time.” Amelia smiled at him.
Damien draped his arms around Isobel’s waist and pulled her back against his chest. He lowered his head and whispered in her ear, “They are cute together, are they not, meae deliciae?”
Isobel nodded and then ducked as a spoonful of potato salad came flying in her direction. It splattered Damien’s shoulder. Lucian, still holding the spoon, shook his head. “You two are just as bad.”
Damien wiped the food off his shoulder with a paper towel and narrowed his eyes. Isobel squealed and ducked away as Damien lunged, a spoonful of coleslaw sailing from his hand. It hit Lucian square in the forehead.
Before Isobel knew what was happening, there was a three-way food fight in the kitchen with Amelia and Elijah using one end of the island as a shield to duck behind. Isobel and Damien used the other, and Lucian paid no mind to the food that smacked him.
“What in the name of the Higher Powers is going on in here?” Isaac’s yell cut through the shrieks and shouts.
Everyone froze, their eyes on Rose and Isaac who stood on the far side of the bar, each with a platter of grilled meat in their hands. A glob of coleslaw clung to Isaac’s hair; the white juice ran down his forehead and dripped off his eyebrow. Isobel exchanged abashed looks with Amelia.
Lucian shrugged nonchalantly. “War is messy.”
Isobel didn’t look at the older couple while she tried unsuccessfully to extract baked beans from her hair, though she couldn’t help smiling. After weeks of stress the food fight had been too much fun for her to regret it.
Rose narrowed her eyes and walked into the kitchen stepping carefully around splatters of food on the floor. “I hope you know you four are cleaning this up.”
“Absolutely.” Damien nodded, a smile on his face. He glanced down as Isobel grabbed a paper towel to wipe away the baked bean juice that ran down her neck. “I can help you with that.”
Isobel laughed as he kissed her neck, his tongue sending quivers of pleasure across her skin.
Lucian shook his head. “I see war hasn’t tempered you two one bit. You sodales in aeternum types are impossible.”
Amelia giggled and tried to shake coleslaw from her shirt with Elijah’s help.
Isaac frowned while he wiped his head with a napkin though it looked to Isobel like he was trying to keep from smiling. “I hope there’s enough food left to eat.”
Lucian snorted. “There should be. Amelia and Elijah bought enough to feed a small nation.”
Rose shook her head. “You can clean this up after dinner. Right now you can help bring it all to the table. Maybe we can eat it before you decide to start throwing it again.”
Everyone grabbed a dish and headed for the dining room. As they sat down some of the happiness from the food fight faded. Isobel ate dinner without really tasting it. In the morning she, Damien, and Lucian would begin the long drive toward a city full of demons.
Isobel sat quietly staring out at the dark countryside as Damien guided the car down the road. Soft snores from the backseat underscored the quiet music flowing from the speakers. Lucian had bunched up his tall frame across the backseat to catch the few hours of sleep he needed so that one of them would always be awake later that night.
They had left Tulsa behind about an hour ago and the darkened landscape slide by with no definition other than the distant lights of farms. Isobel yawned behind her hand, wondering why riding in a car for hours was so exhausting. She glanced at Damien as the car slowed and he steered onto an exit. “Where are we going?” Ahead, the lights of a small truck stop lit up the night.
“You need to sleep. I’m going to find a motel for us to stay in for the night.” He reached over and laid his hand on hers while using the other to direct the car once they reached the bottom of the exit.
“Shouldn’t we keep driving? The sooner we get there the better, right?” she asked trying to suppress another yawn.
“You’re tired.” He smiled though it quickly faded. “I have no intention of taking you into a city full of demons when you’re tired. I want you to be rested and your mind sharp.”
Isobel didn’t argue. It wouldn’t do any good, and she had to agree with him. She didn’t want to confront a bunch of demons out for her death while exhausted.
Damien pulled into the parking lot of a small, single-story motel. Neon letters proclaimed it as comfortable as home above the vacancy sign. Isobel snorted. She highly doubted it was as comfortable as home. Then again, it probably didn’t have any demonic windows either so maybe it would be better.
Lucian woke with a start when Damien reached over the seat and whacked him on the shoulder. “What?” He pulled himself up awkwardly in the backseat, his golden hair tussled.
“Wake up, sleeping beauty. We’re at a motel. I’m headed into the office to get a couple of rooms. Try not to let Isobel drown while I’m gone.” Damien flashed her a smile as he stepped out of the car and unfolded his tall frame. The muscles under his shirt rippled as he stretched for a moment before walking toward the lit office.
Lucian growled under his breath, opened his own door, and dragged himself out of the backseat. Isobel laughed softly and stepped out into the night air. Even here the cicadas sang their late summer song. Moths flittered around the lights so convinced they needed to reach the source they forgot about living.
Isobel rounded the car and leaned against it next to Lucian as he ran his fingers through his hair to straighten it out. For a long moment only the sounds of the bugs and the ticking of the engine as it cooled filled the silence between them. Trucks lined one side of the parking lot, the idle of their diesel engines adding to the backdrop of sounds.
Isobel looked at him. “It wasn’t your fault, you know.”
“What wasn’t?” He glanced down at her briefly before returning his eyes to the night.
“My drowning.” She slid her hands into the front pocket of her jeans. “I would have died in the water if not for you. Damien should quit bugging you about it.”
Lucian snorted. “I know that, Isobel. So does Damien. I expect the ribbing from angels like him. They’re all like that.”
Isobel frowned. “Like what?”
He turned his gaze to her again. “Dark angels are always over protective of their channels. When that channel is also the dark angel’s soul mate they become even more so.”
She stared at the asphalt beneath her shoes. “Is that why you find them so amusing?”
“Exactly why.” Lucian chuckled.
Damien emerged from the office and crossed the lot. He tossed a key at Lucian. “Your room is next to ours just in case there’s trouble.”
Lucian snagged the key out of the air with ease and pushed away from the car. He opened the door and pulled his duffle bag out of the back floorboard. “See you in the morning.”
As he walked away, Damien opened the trunk and pulled out two more duffle bags. Holding them both in one hand, he slung them over one shoulder and slipped his arm around Isobel’s waist as they walked to their room.
Isobel wandered into the sparse room. Poorly rendered watercolor paintings hung on the walls and everything was a different shade of beige except the garish paisley bedspread on the single queen- sized bed and matching curtains.
The lamps, phone—even the TV—all seemed to be nailed down in one way or the other. Isobel was willing to bet m
oney that even the paintings were secured in some way. Someone would probably have to rip off the sheetrock behind them in order to remove them.
The bathroom was tiny, serviceable, and surprisingly clean. She took one glance at herself in the mirror before poking her head around the door. “I’m going to grab a shower.”
Damien nodded absently, pulling his new phone out. “I’ll call Isaac and let everyone know where we are.”
Isobel nodded as she dug through her bag for her shampoo and other necessities. The hot shower felt good after so many hours spent in the car. Damien was still on the phone when she left the bathroom draped in a towel and began rummaging in her bag for clothes. He hung up and laid the phone on the table as she pulled on a nightshirt.
Damien’s arms wrapped around her from behind, and he buried his nose in her damp hair. She smiled as he lowered his head, and his lips grazed her neck. “I love the smell of your skin, meae deliciae.”
Isobel smiled as he bent and traced kisses down the side of her neck and over her bare shoulder. He gave her one last kiss then headed into the bathroom for his own shower.
Later that night, as she lay in his arms, Isobel watched the neon sign light up the curtained window, afraid to sleep. What would the next day bring? Anxiety swirled through her system. Hours ticked by before sleep finally stole over her.
The sun peeked over the horizon like a molten eye when they left the next morning, and birds sang their early songs to each other. The temperature was already uncomfortably warm, and the humidity clung to her skin. In the west, the pale crescent of the moon still hung well above the horizon. The flat scenery around them held the washed-out tones of grass and leaves that had felt the heat of summer for too long.
It didn’t take long to check out of the motel and get back on the highway. They made a quick stop a few towns later at a fast food restaurant for breakfast. Isobel only nibbled at her sandwich and hash brown. A small, nervous knot had taken up residence in her stomach and it left little room for food. In a couple of hours they would be in Wichita where the vial was, and from the sound of it, a lot of demons.
Traffic was heavy as they entered the city, the morning rush hour in full swing. Damien swore and dodged into another lane to avoid a slow moving car. “I swear people in this city either drive too fast or too slow.”
Lucian laughed. “Maybe the heat has gotten to them.”
Isobel kept a white-knuckled grip on the door handle. It wasn’t because she didn’t trust Damien’s driving, rather she didn’t trust the other drivers careening down the highway, apparently willing to tempt death just to get to their jobs a couple of minutes faster.
“Damn it.” Damien glared at a motorcycle that zipped between them and the car in the next lane, and then wove through the lanes ahead. “I don’t even know why they bother with speed limit signs. Everyone is going to go ninety except the people getting on the highway; they’re going to stop at the top of the ramp and then drive five miles an hour when they finally decide to get up here.”
“Or when they decide to get off the highway,” Lucian said in a strained voice.
Damien jerked into the next lane, fitting the car in with barely any room to spare in order to avoid hitting the car that had slammed on its brakes and then swerved to make an exit. Damien shot a glare at the car as they passed. “Stupid people. I’m astounded more of them aren’t dead each morning.”
Finally they caught the exit for downtown and Isobel relaxed. “This isn’t even that big of a city. You’d think traffic would be less hair-raising to drive in.”
“Actually,” Lucian said, “it can be less hair-raising in larger cities mainly because people there know if you stop on the highway or onramp you will be run over, no questions asked, and probably by at least ten cars before anyone realizes your car was in the way.”
Isobel gave a shaky laugh, the tension from the morning rush on the highway draining away as they made their way downtown. Traffic was still heavy, but at least it was moving at a reasonable pace. They made several more turns winding their way through the city.
The church sat on the corner of two busy streets. Damien pulled into a parking lot across the street but made no move to shut off the engine or get out. Isobel gazed at the building. It wasn’t the largest or most ornate Catholic Church she had ever seen. Savannah had a huge, stunning church. That didn’t mean this one was small. On the contrary, it was quite large with crosses rising into the sky from their place on the roof. They were parked on the north side and the sun backlit the church in a golden glow.
Cars zipped by on the roads and only a few people walked the sidewalks. Isobel looked at Damien. “Aren’t we going to go in?”
Damien and Lucian both sat tense and unmoving. Isobel was reminded again of predators facing another predator trespassing in their territory. She turned back and looked at the church. It looked fine.
Suddenly, he threw the car in reverse and tore out of the parking space. Yanking it into drive he hit the gas pedal and the car leaped forward, cutting someone off as they barreled out onto the road. It was only seconds later when they turned sharply and flew into a small lot behind the church. Isobel was tossed forward into her seat belt when he slammed on the brakes to keep from hitting anything.
Isobel looked around wildly as he moved into one of the few parking spaces available in the tiny lot behind the church. “What just happened?”
Damien eased the car into park and turned off the ignition, a grim expression on his face. “Demons.” When she jerked in her seat to look around again he said, “They can’t come here. It’s holy ground. They can prowl all over the place but they can’t set foot on the land of any church, especially a Catholic, Jewish, or Islamic place of worship. It’s less so for the Protestant churches, but still safer than any other property. It’s why Father Thomas hasn’t been off the grounds since I showed up to talk to him.”
“So we’re safe?”
Damien gave her a half grin that held no humor. “For now.
Isobel saw a smoky figure skulking in the shadows across the street. A woman walked right by it without even glancing at it. “How does she not see that?”
“Normal people can’t see them anymore than they can see the light of an angel,” Lucian said as he opened the door and got out.
Damien nodded. “He’s right.” He opened his door and stepped from the car.
Isobel’s eyes slid toward the demon. There was another one. Embracing her power just in case, she climbed out of the car. “Do we go in the back?”
“No, we’ll go around the front like everyone else,” Damien said and started along the side of the church, careful to stay on the grass between the church and the sidewalk. “You can drop your power here. You’re safe.”
Isobel reluctantly let it go. She could guess why they avoided the smooth stone of the wide sidewalk. In the grass they were on church property. The sidewalk belonged to the city. “Why are the other churches you mentioned safer than a Protestant church?”
Lucian, who bracketed her from behind so that she walked in-between the two much taller men, answered, “More history, deeper roots. Ground blessed by a Native American shaman is good too, so are the kivas used by some tribes. Those left by the cliff dwellers are extremely safe.”
They rounded the front corner and Isobel gazed up at the entry fronted by archways. Several steps led up to three sets of tall wooden doors. Damien opened one of the doors and they entered the quiet sanctuary of the cathedral.
The ceiling of the cathedral soared over their heads making the inside of the church cavernous. Rows of empty pews sat in quiet attention. The massive space seemed to swallow sound creating a silence so profound it pressed on her ears.
A deep sense of peace seeped into her easing her worries and making it feel like she could really breathe for the first time in weeks. A collection of candles gathered along one wall near the front, some of them with flames burning steady on their wicks. Stained glass windows lined the walls, castin
g the light of their colors across the pews and the floor.
Isobel stopped and stared at their beauty. None of the evil that she felt from the window in her house was present here. Not even from the round window lighting the choir loft. The energy of the Higher Powers filled the very air. The empty cathedral was a great, silent sanctuary from the darkness in her life, and Isobel felt she could sit in one of those pews for hours absorbing the peaceful energy it offered.
“Isobel?” Damien whispered, his eyes searching her face.
She turned to him with a radiant smile and said quietly, “They’re here. I can feel them, and it’s beautiful.”
Damien gently brushed the side of her face with his knuckles. “They are always in places like this, meae deliciae. It’s the concentration of energy.”
An older man approached them, the white in his collar proclaiming him a priest. Damien turned to greet him. “Father Thomas.”
The man, several inches shorter and much slighter than the tall, muscular angels stopped and nodded to Damien. “I see you have returned. Do you have the channel with you?”
Damien shifted so the Father could see Isobel better. The priest stared at her for a long moment. Then he whispered, “It is as it was written by the priest in 1456. He said your eyes are always the same, and he went on to describe them in detail. He also said you were always Isobel.” He stepped closer and took her hand in his. “It is a pleasure to meet you, young lady. You will have to pardon my forcing your trip here,” he smiled apologetically, “however, the instructions that have been passed to those of us who were trusted with the vial were quite explicit that the vial should only be given up if it was being placed into the hands of the channel that was the key to the demon’s removal.”
“It’s fine, Father. In fact, I’m happy I came. This,” she let her eyes sweep the inside of the cathedral again, “is the most peaceful place I’ve been since the beginning of summer. Maybe ever.”
A happy smile spread across his face. “It is as close to God as we can get on earth.”
Bound by Time: A Bound Novel Page 18
