by A. K. Morgen
Had her dad known it then? Could he have known it?
She wasn’t sure, but the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach didn’t bode well. If her dad had had any inkling the virus wasn’t a myth, he wouldn’t have simply let it go, would he?
No, he wouldn’t have.
He would have done everything in his power to protect her and Aaron from harm. But whatever her dad knew about La Morte Nera was long gone. His knowledge had died with him, burned to ash with everything else in their house. If she told Killian about her dad, what would he do? Drag her back there to face the things she’d run from? Kill her?
Aubrey watched him out of the corner of her eye, taking in the sheer size of him and the bitter expression on his face. Remembering how quickly he’d killed the shifters.
If you value your life, say nothing, the little voice in the back of her mind warned.
For once, Aubrey heeded that part of her, following Killian into the garage in complete silence.
Chapter Four
A familiar van sat in one spot in the massive garage. A truck was parked beside it, and two cars, one sporty and a flashy silver, and the other a more sedate and inconspicuous black, were parked behind it. Shovels and torches hung on pegs along the walls. A long bench piled high with sharp weapons was shoved into one corner.
Killian led Aubrey toward the silver car and then held her door open for her. She climbed in and buckled the seat belt in place as he bounded around to the other side. He folded his large frame into the driver’s seat with a grunt. His knees pushed against the dashboard.
“Odd choice for a car,” she said when he turned the key and the ignition purred to life.
“It’s fast.” Killian shrugged and hit the garage door button clipped to the visor before backing out.
Aubrey gasped when she caught sight of the house in the growing morning light. It was a massive plantation, very dramatic-looking, situated on the edge of a dying neighborhood on the east side of Memphis. “Your house is beautiful, Killian.”
“It’s a business, but thank you,” Killian said, guiding the car out into the road.
“You run a business?” Aubrey blinked in confusion. “You don’t live here?”
“We live on the upper floor. The lower floor is a studio of sorts. Before the virus, Abriel, Dahmiel, and I taught some of the younger warriors sent here to train.”
“Are your brothers Nephilim too?”
“No. They’re Fallen.”
“Oh.” Aubrey had never considered that angels might have jobs. The mere thought was foreign, unfamiliar. The Fallen were larger-than-life to her, a biblical group of warriors thousands of years old. They were more frightening to Aubrey than their half-demon children. Perhaps because she understood demons better than she did angels.
The minister of her childhood church had frequently preached about demons. They were the villains in movies and books so often—their motives were no surprise to anyone. But the Fallen…well, the Fallen weren’t as easy to figure out. They lived on the fringes of her reality, separate even when walking among her people. They guarded the world from their own children. Children they killed to protect humanity.
How could any parent do that?
She’d never had time to ask her dad that question. Wasn’t even sure if he’d known the answer. What little he’d known of this world, Aubrey and Aaron’s mother had taught him. Their dad had passed on what he could to Aaron, but whatever they’d known had died with them. And Aubrey had done her best to push all thoughts of this world away. She didn’t want to know about the fallen angels when their world hurt so much, but she didn’t have a choice anymore, did she?
“You’re in school?” Killian asked.
“No.” Aubrey turned away from him. She didn’t want to talk with him about her life. She wanted to go home, crawl into her bed, and forget everything she’d seen in the last twenty-four hours.
“Why not?”
“I start nursing school in the fall,” she said. Would she even be alive then?
“Oh. Do you work?”
“Yes.”
“What do you do?”
“I work in the playroom with the younger kids at St. Jude’s.”
“That must be hard.”
Aubrey shrugged in response. Her job was difficult, but it was also rewarding. Maybe that’s why she found the thought of La Morte Nera so abhorrent. She understood exactly how horrible disease could be.
“Where are we going?” Killian asked when they reached a four-way stop heading back into the hustle and bustle of Memphis.
Aubrey gave him directions and settled back against the seat to stare out the windshield. The Fallen weighed heavily on her mind, too heavily for her to remain quiet. “Can I ask you something?” she asked when she could stand the nagging feeling no longer.
“Yes,” he said, not looking at her.
“If you can heal people, why don’t you?”
“We aren’t allowed,” he said, pulling out onto the road. The engine purred as he hit the gas, sending the car shooting toward the speed limit in a matter of moments.
“Why not?”
“The Fallen remain loyal to Heaven even if Heaven has forgotten the Fallen,” he explained. “Before the Demon Wars, the Fallen healed any human in need. Eventually, they realized Healing left a mark, like a brand binding their souls to Heaven. When Hell found out, massive wars broke out between the Fallen and demons. They nearly destroyed each other. To end the Wars and save themselves, the Fallen made a pact with the demon council. The demonic hordes agreed to leave this world to the Fallen on the condition that the Fallen honor the standing agreement between Heaven and Hell by allowing humans the free will to choose their own path.”
“Then why did the Fallen mate with the demons?”
Killian’s expression darkened as he eased the car through the city streets. The speedometer never wavered more than five miles over the speed limit. “Pride,” he said. “When demons agreed to the pact so quickly, the Fallen were foolish enough to think they’d won some great concession. They failed to remember that demons don’t do anything without reason. The demon hordes left this world as promised, but not before mating with the Fallen. They knew what those unions would bring. The Fallen did not.” Killian’s lip curled upward as if the thought disgusted him.
“The vampires and werewolves.”
“Among others. The ignorance of the Fallen created thousands of corrupted souls, many with a thirst for human life that rivals that of the worst of Lucifer’s legions.”
“Is that why the Fallen kill the demons, then? Because they gave birth to them?” Aubrey asked.
Killian nodded tersely. “Yes. When the Fallen realized their mistake, they knew Heaven would demand they take responsibility, but their numbers were nowhere near great enough to risk another war with Hell. To save themselves and keep from angering Heaven, the Fallen vowed to take charge of their corrupted children, allowing them to live so long as they did not harm a human. To this day, those who violate the order are sentenced to death.”
“And Hell?”
“Has no room for complaint,” he said. “Heaven refuses to accept those corrupted with demon blood, so Hell automatically gains the soul of any of their children sentenced to death for harming a human, exactly as the demon council planned when they convinced the Fallen to mate with them after the Wars.”
“They don’t care when the Fallen execute their children?”
“No.”
“What about the Fallen? Doesn’t it bother them? Not all of their children are evil,” she pointed out. Despite being half-demon, they had souls. Some were decent, kind even.
“The Fallen still suffer for their mistakes, as they should,” Killian said as if that explained everything. “Their pride and selfishness cost the human race countless thousands of lives.”
They rode in silence as she contemplated his explanation. When he drove into her neighborhood ten minutes later, she was no closer to understanding why the fallen angels c
lung to their self-inflicted punishment when her people had stopped deserving their protection long ago. She gave up trying to make sense of the issue as Killian slowed the car to a crawl, scrutinizing the area.
Aubrey watched him as he peered out the window, seemingly checking every shadow they passed. Eventually, he nodded to himself and pulled into the driveway of the high-rise she pointed out. She hesitated over unbuckling her seat belt. Now that they were here, she wasn’t sure she wanted to go in. Her building was more than big enough for an entire group of Elioud to hide behind.
“Is there anything here?” she asked.
“I don’t think so,” he said as he cut off the engine. Pocketing the keys, he pulled out the flare he’d taken from the weapon cabinet. “Take this, and if you see anything, crack it in half. It’s bright and creates a lot of smoke. The infected don’t like that.”
She reached for the flare before hesitating with her hand hovering over the tube. “Is it dangerous?”
“Not to you,” he promised, pressing the weapon into her hand and closing her fingers around it. “It’s an emergency flare, but Dom rigs them to burn and smoke instead of shooting off.”
“You’re sure it’s safe?” Aubrey heard the doubt coloring her tone.
“It’s safe.” He tipped her chin up with a fingertip until her gaze met his. “Stop stalling. You’ll be fine. Just stay behind me, and do what I say when I say to do it.”
She swallowed hard as she stared at him. His eyes were such a contradiction. Both light and dark at once. They radiated goodness, yet danger blazed there too. And he smelled so good.
She felt herself leaning forward, inhaling his scent. Not cologne, but pine, grass, and a summer rainstorm all rolled into one. The scent soothed her, easing aches and sorrows she hadn’t noticed until they suddenly disappeared.
“Killian,” she whispered, lulled to the edge of something vast and bright.
Killian snatched his hand back and leaned away, his gaze hardening. “Don’t.”
Aubrey blinked, his harsh tone hitting her like a slap. She shook her head, trying to clear it. “Sorry,” she mumbled, the word thick on her tongue.
He nodded at her apology, his jaw clenched.
Aubrey took a deep breath and grabbed the door handle, not willing to question the painful emotion thrumming through her veins at the cold look on his face. She pushed the door open and then climbed from the car before she had a chance to change her mind.
Killian walked beside her toward the building, completely silent. She kept her eyes focused straight ahead, refusing to glance at him as her stomach flipped and her heart raced. Not from fear this time but from something else entirely. Something she didn’t want to examine. She knew better than to get that close to one of the Fallen. As dangerous as they could be, they radiated goodness and light as if it were a drug. One not even the Elioud were immune to.
“Aubrey,” Killian started only to stop short and sigh.
She kept walking.
Larry, their elderly doorman stepped from the guard booth as they approached. Worry etched his wrinkled face when he caught sight of her. “Are you okay, Miss Aubrey?”
“Hi, Larry.” She smiled at the old man, her cheeks burning. She’d forgotten how bad she looked with her clothes covered in dirt and grime. “I had a minor fall at work.”
Larry glanced over at Killian, who hovered at her side like a menacing bodyguard, before turning back to her. “You be careful out there. We wouldn’t want you gettin’ hurt again. You know how worked up Mel can get.”
“Thank you, Larry.” Aubrey gave him the approximation of a smile this time before hurrying into the building. The doorman was a sweetheart, protective in a grandfatherly sort of way, but he talked too much.
“I let Zee inside this mornin’.”
Aubrey paused and turned back to him. “Thanks for looking after him last night.”
“No problem, Miss Aubrey.” Larry winked at her.
She and Killian continued into the old building and over to the bank of elevators. “Fourth floor,” she murmured to Killian, who pushed the button and stepped back beside her to wait. “And you didn’t have to glare at him.”
“Mel’s your aunt?” he asked, ignoring her chastisement.
“Yes.”
“Where is she?”
“On a cruise.”
“She left you here alone?”
Aubrey shot him a cool look at his disapproving tone. “I’m nineteen, not four. I can take care of myself.”
“Of course.”
She rolled her eyes at his conciliatory murmur.
“Who’s Zee?”
“My kitten.”
Killian’s brow furrowed. “What did the old man mean about you being hurt?”
“Nothing.” Aubrey avoided his gaze, choosing instead to stare at the floor while they waited for the elevator. When it dinged, she pushed her way inside as soon as the doors slid open.
Killian followed her in without a word.
The doors closed after a moment, and the elevator lurched into motion.
“How badly did the Nephilim boy injure you?” he asked then.
She looked up from her examination of the floor to find him staring at her in the mirrored wall. “Not bad,” she lied.
Damn Larry for talking.
“Liar,” Killian mouthed, stepping closer to her.
She moved away until her back hit the wall. He paced her, his gaze never leaving her face. When he stood mere inches from her, he stopped.
Her heart rate kicked up a notch.
He leaned toward her, pulling a groan from her lips when he stood so close, his aura kissed hers. He lifted a hand and tucked her hair behind her ear.
She didn’t move. She couldn’t.
“How did the Halfling get to you, Aubrey?” he asked, cupping her cheek with one big hand.
She met his gaze head-on. Bright blue stared into her eyes, stripping away the barriers she’d built to keep her memories from the surface. Oddly, though, they didn’t hurt as usual. The pain was distant, as if Killian stood like a buffer between her and her past.
She listened as an explanation began to pour from her mouth in a soft whisper.
“He grabbed me on the way home from school one afternoon.”
“What did he do to you?”
“He took me to a little hunting cabin and tied me up. I was there for three days. When Aaron found me, I was dehydrated and in shock. They took me to the hospital.” She bit her lip, remembering the broken bones and accompanying agony as if they’d happened to someone else.
“How long were you there?” Killian stroked her cheek, leaving a trail of fire behind.
She squeezed her eyes closed—whether in horror at her confession or in pleasure from his soft touch, she couldn’t say. Both made something rise inside of her that seemed too large for her to contain. She fought it anyway.
“A week,” she whispered.
“Liar,” he mouthed again, tracing her bottom lip with his finger. “How long?”
“Three weeks,” she mumbled. “And then two more in the psychiatric unit after the fire.”
Killian tensed, sliding his hand away from her face. He stepped back.
As soon as he moved away, the bubble around her burst. Reality rushed toward her in a great big wave. Shame crashed over her, fracturing her heart along already scarred lines. She kept her eyes closed against the pity and revulsion she was certain filled his gaze now. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before. But seeing it from him would be worse. She didn’t want the pity of a Fallen warrior, especially not one circumstance had forced her to rely upon.
For long moments, the only sound was the soft whir of the elevator.
And then he sighed. “Aubrey, I—”
The elevator dinged, and he fell silent.
Aubrey shuddered and opened her eyes. His gaze burned her, but she refused to look at him, instead brushing past him into the hallway.
“Aubrey—”
/> “Number 418,” she said.
Killian muttered something, sighed, and then fell silent.
His heavy steps sounded behind her.
How stupid of her to let him slip past her defenses like that! She should have known not to let him get that close to her. Her past wasn’t his business, and she didn’t need his sympathy or his pity. She relied on him out of necessity only. Nothing more.
Don’t you dare forget that, she reminded herself, shoving the key into the lock on her front door.
***
Killian placed his hands over Aubrey’s, preventing her from opening the door. She met his gaze briefly before turning away. Her fingers trembled beneath his, and her cheeks were bright spots of color in her otherwise pale face.
He took the key from her with ease.
“Let’s get this over with,” she muttered, pulling her hand from beneath his to cross her arms over her chest. “I want to change clothes.”
“In a minute,” he said, pocketing the key. “Look at me first.”
She shook her head, looking everywhere but at him.
He wanted to grind his teeth in frustration but doubted it would do him the least bit of good. The girl was nothing if not stubborn. Already, he admired her tenacity. She was upset, but she clung to composure with a grace that startled him. He hadn’t expected that from a human, especially one so young.
In truth, he didn’t know what to make of her, but he felt guilty for forcing her to talk. Even half-breeds such as he had some skill with Persuasion. That Talent kept most humans in their comfortable little bubble of oblivion. But he hadn’t used his Talent for the greater good of the Fallen. He’d used it for no reason other than curiosity about this lovely girl and the secrets she kept.
That shamed him.
So did the fact that his response upset her.
She was embarrassed, ashamed for no reason. He felt nothing but anger for her and the tragedies she’d been forced to endure. He had seen hardened warriors crumble beneath the weight of the horrors they witnessed and inflicted. And Aubrey was no warrior. She was barely even Elioud.
The human mind was fragile at the best of times. It was paper-thin glass at the worst. And this little human had seen the worst. But she hadn’t run away screaming over the shifters, or the virus, or him. She faced each new terror with strength and honor. That wasn’t the problem at all.
