by A. K. Morgen
Aubrey inhaled then licked her lips nervously. “He was a molecular virologist with the University of Wisconsin.”
Killian’s eyes widened, surprise shooting through him like an arrow from a bolt.
Shock rippled through Abriel too.
“He focused heavily in microbial pathogenesis…” Aubrey looked at Killian with a question in her eyes.
“I know what it is,” he assured her, schooling his expression.
She bobbed her head, seeming relieved she didn’t have to explain exactly what her father had done. “Anyway, he did a lot of research on diseases caused by microorganisms, trying to predict the ways they might mutate and how they might spread from one species to another.”
The Fallen could have used someone like him to help them find answers.
Too damned bad he was dead.
“He and Aaron talked some about the potential for a virus like La Morte Nera to spread from one population to another. As you pointed out earlier, the difference between the Elioud and an ordinary human is a simple genetic mutation,” Aubrey said. “My father knew too much about viruses, I think. He worried there might be something out there that humans knew nothing about, diseases that could hurt me and Aaron. I always thought their conversations were just talk, though.”
“You don’t think that now,” Killian said.
She worried her lip between her teeth as Abriel pulled to a stop at an intersection, and then she shook her head. “I don’t know what I think, but nothing else makes sense, does it?”
He didn’t disagree with her. Her father had dedicated his life to studying viruses and how they operated. Now La Morte Nera ravaged the world, killing those like her and her brother in a matter of days. Those who, for reasons unknown, kept hunting her down when experience suggested they should have been too far gone to undertake such a task.
What were the chances they were hunting her for some other reason? One not related to her father? Slim to zero. It didn’t take one of the human rocket scientists to figure that out.
“How would he have gotten ahold of the virus?” Abriel asked her. “Your father died long before it became active, and until recently, not even the oldest Fallen believed it to be real.”
“I don’t know. I just…”
“You just what?” Killian asked.
Careful, Killian, Abriel’s thoughts whispered through him, cautioning him not to push her too hard. Her memories were not easy to revisit.
His blade-brother didn’t elaborate, but Killian could feel his shifting emotions.
Abriel admired her strength too.
“Before he died, he tried to tell me something,” she whispered. Her shoulders hunched, her eyes locked firmly on the little ball of fur in her lap. “He said ‘they’ would need me, and I was the only one. But I didn’t understand what he meant, and he never had a chance to explain. I saw Aaron’s body, and I—” She flinched, folding in on herself. “I lost it.”
Killian’s heart twisted at the broken expression on her face. After her confession in the elevator, he should have realized she had witnessed the fire that had killed her family and sent her to a mental ward, but the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.
He’d burned countless bodies in the last months, and the stench of charred flesh and burning blood…well, that was almost tolerable compared to watching a corpse blister and peel, skin cracking and smoking with the heat of the flames. He would not wish that on anyone, especially not the beautiful, confusing girl beside him.
First the Halfling and then her family.
Sweet Heaven, she’d been little more than a child!
God truly was an unmerciful bastard if He’d force a child to endure all of that.
“How did the fire start?” Killian asked her.
She shook her head, refusing to answer.
“Aubrey,” he prompted, wishing he could leave it alone as she wanted, but he couldn’t. “We need to know.”
“Arson.” The word trembled on her lips. “Someone set it.”
“Did they ever find out who did it?”
“No.”
“Did your father have any enemies? Anyone that would want to harm him?”
“No,” she said again. “Nothing like that. He volunteered with the Red Cross and coached my softball team. He helped Aaron look after the other Elioud kids in the area…the ones who could shift like my brother. He took dinner to our elderly neighbor every night. Everyone loved him.”
“You’re sure? What about your brother?” Killian pressed as gently as he could. The Elioud who shifted were some of the strongest. They felt the same battle cry the Fallen did. Her brother easily could have made an enemy or two along the way, and they couldn’t afford to chase down false leads or false hope. They didn’t have time.
“No. There was no reason for anyone to do that to them. No reason,” she whispered with fierce certainty. Her expression crumbled.
“Don’t,” Abriel warned when Killian opened his mouth to press for more.
Killian heeded his blade-brother’s warning and closed his mouth. Aubrey had nothing more to give him today. Twin tears fell from the ends of her lashes.
She didn’t look at him when he moved closer, instead keeping her gaze locked on the kitten sleeping in her lap, but she did allow him to pull her into his side. No sound passed her lips as she cried. She simply rested against him as little tears made silent tracks down her porcelain cheeks.
Killian’s heart hurt for her.
The Fallen were immortal, but not indestructible. As the Demon Wars had taught them eons ago and La Morte Nera reminded them now, even an immortal life could be tenuous. The Fallen understood loss and grief. They experienced those painful facts of life exactly as humans did. Killian had never met his mother and had been shunned by his father. He’d lost friends in battle and had even hefted the blade that had felled some of them. But those hurts, spread out over two centuries, seemed like little more than the sting of bees compared to what Aubrey had endured in a few short years.
And still, she kept fighting.
The angel blood running through her veins might have been weak, but she had the heart of a warrior. Killian admired the hell out of her.
Within minutes, her breathing evened out into the deep rhythm of sleep.
Even then, tears slid silently down her cheeks.
***
Killian stood in the doorway to his bedroom, his eyes on Aubrey’s sleeping form. She hadn’t stirred once since he’d carried her from the van and tucked her into his bed hours ago. Tears no longer fell from her eyes, but she stirred restlessly, tossing and turning in her sleep. Every few minutes, her lips would move, but her soft voice never sounded. Even in sleep, the inner workings of her mind and the grim details of the memories haunting her remained as out of Killian’s reach as ever.
He didn’t much care for that.
Over the years, he’d become accustomed to the narrow scope of his Talents. But he would have given anything for even a whisper from the little Elioud female sleeping in his bed.
How could one small human survive so much?
She remained a mystery to him, an enigma.
She seemed so vulnerable. Long-dormant instincts bubbled to the surface the more time he spent near her, demanding he protect her, comfort her…help her. That alarmed him almost as much as his pledge to her. He was a Halfling, true, but he’d lived among the Fallen his entire life. Once upon a time, he’d longed to know this human side of his heritage, but he’d lost that desire long ago. He’d willingly given up the chance to live as a human in exchange for the life of a Fallen warrior.
Save to fulfill his duties, he’d had no interest in interacting with or understanding humans.
Since meeting Aubrey, he couldn’t help but wonder if life was so brutal for all humans. Had his mother experienced such tragedy in her lifetime? Had she, like Aubrey, watched the people she loved die one by one?
He hadn’t asked himself such questions in a long time, and he did
n’t like doing so now. His life was coming to an end. He’d accepted that when it became clear La Morte Nera would win. He didn’t want to waste time regretting things he’d never known or wondering what would become of the little Elioud sleeping in his bed when he was nothing more than ashes.
“You know things may get worse for her, brother,” Abriel said.
Killian looked up to find Abriel hovering at the end of the hall, his blue eyes trained on Killian. Abriel moved toward him and then glanced inside the bedroom at Aubrey’s twisting form.
“If her father had anything to do with the virus, the Dominion will end our stewardship over the humans.”
“I know,” Killian said.
No more than six-thousand Fallen remained, and they were afraid. For the first time since the Demon Wars, they were dying. If a human was responsible for that, the Dominion would have no choice but to terminate their eons-old stewardship. The rest of the Fallen would demand it.
And when they did, the demons would come for the humans, hordes of them falling upon Aubrey’s people without mercy. Unless Heaven stepped in, hundreds of thousands would die, and the Fallen would stand by and let it happen. Their survival depended upon it.
“The Dominion will condemn her.”
“I know.”
“You’ll allow it?”
Killian said nothing.
“I thought not.” Abriel sighed.
“I involved her in this.”
“No, you didn’t.”
Killian arched a brow at his blade-brother. “I gave her my word.”
“And it won’t be your fault if you must break it now.”
“Won’t it?” Killian questioned, his gaze wandering back to Aubrey’s sleeping form. She rested peacefully now, curled on her side with her hair spread across the dark pillow and one pale hand tucked beneath her cheek. Her kitten curled up against her heart, purring in his sleep. Killian couldn’t help but feel responsible for her. Had he allowed her to walk away when they found her…but he hadn’t, had he?
His people needed answers. They needed salvation. And he’d wanted to give it to them. For all their faults, the Fallen were needed. Human life was fleeting, a wisp of smoke. What was one human life compared to the survival of an entire race?
If the Dominion condemned her for the sins of her father, how could he stop them?
How could he not?
He was a warrior, a protector. Hunting down the demons that preyed upon the humans in their cities was the only life he knew. Decus et tutamen. Honor and defense. There was nothing honorable in killing an innocent for the transgressions of her father.
“We still atone for the sins of our fathers,” Abriel murmured.
“This is different.”
The weight of his peoples’ sins demanded atonement. They had cast honor aside and lain with demons. They had created a world of monsters out of pride and foolishness. And instead of killing their monstrous offspring, the Dominion had placed their survival above humanity a second time, unwilling to risk another Fallen life in war to right the wrongs they’d caused. To save themselves, they’d allowed their demonic children to walk the earth for millennia, picking off humans.
If Aubrey’s father had anything to do with La Morte Nera, Killian could not believe it was for such a cowardly purpose as that which the Fallen had hidden behind for millennia. From everything Aubrey had said, her father had loved her. Had feared what a virus like La Morte Nera might do to his children. Would he have willingly jeopardized their safety to satisfy his own curiosity?
Or was her father more like Killian’s own father?
Killian sighed.
He was contemplating what-ifs and maybes when he didn’t yet even know if there was reason to do so. There were too many questions left to answer. And who knew where those answers would lead? All he knew was that Aubrey wouldn’t suffer for this, regardless of what answers they found. He wouldn’t allow it.
Turning the knob to adjust the lighting in the room, he dimmed the lights enough to let Aubrey rest without leaving her completely in the dark when she woke. He glanced over at her one final time and then pulled the door closed.
“How’s Dom?” he asked, striding down the hall.
“His wounds have healed fine.”
“Good.” Killian paused outside the living room. “Was he able to deal with the vampire?”
“Barely.” Abriel ran a hand down his face. “The doorman called the police.”
Killian nodded, not surprised. The doorman had not been one of the humans who pretended not to see the questionable things happening in front of him. Too many of them turned away from their fellow man, refusing to involve themselves. That carelessness and lack of empathy appalled Killian. The Fallen had a thousand failings, but at least they tried to make things better in their own messed-up way. Too many humans didn’t even bother to do that much. Killian had never understood how they could love so fiercely, yet ignore one another so completely.
“Are they looking for her?”
“Not yet. They didn’t even go into her apartment. They didn’t have probable cause, according to Dom.” Abriel snorted, shaking his head. “He’s watching Law & Order.”
“Heaven help us,” Killian muttered—though, it relieved him that his blade-brother could still find joy in such dark times. Nothing could shake Dom’s spirit or silence his laughter for long. “Did you torch the shifters?”
“Yes. And Dom’s burning the vampire now.”
Killian missed the days when burning bodies wasn’t an everyday occurrence, when he and his blade-brothers had spent as much time teaching the sword to Fallen younglings as they had tracking rogue demons. He ached for the days before La Morte Nera, when fighting the virus did not consume their lives and they were able to sleep. The days when he didn’t have to force fragile humans to face memories better left buried.
He threw himself down on the sofa and glared at the blank television screen beyond.
Aubrey might not have realized it, but unless something had incapacitated her brother first, he shouldn’t have died in that fire. Elioud shifters were quick, strong.
Someone had set the fire, Aubrey had said, and if Killian’s hunch was correct, they’d done it to hide a more sinister crime. He didn’t want to have to tell Aubrey that, though, especially if he was right. But luck was not a Fallen Talent. He would have to tell her sooner or later. And only Heaven knew how she would handle it.
Abriel took the chair beside him. “Dom asked about her.” A faint smile flashed across his face. “He wanted me to tell you she could stay in his room if you’d like yours back.”
Killian grunted noncommittally. Dom would never fall for a human; Killian knew that. But his brother’s infatuation with Aubrey irritated him, which meant Dom’s flirting would be merciless. That irritated Killian more.
“You like her,” Abriel said.
Abriel and Dahmiel were his brothers in all but biology, raised by the same mother. They had stood at Killian’s side with Caitria, demanding he be given the right to train as a warrior when most of the Dominion had sought to prevent it. They had saved his skin time and again over the years, and he would lay his life down for either of them without hesitation. But sometimes living with them day in and day out drove him mad. Between Dom’s unflagging sense of optimism and Abriel’s ability to cut right to the heart of things, Killian rarely found a moment’s peace.
“She’s had a hard life,” Abriel said, propping his feet on the coffee table and leaning his head back with a sigh.
“Yeah, she has.” Killian was tired. Bone-tired. Two and a quarter centuries of life, and he now felt every one of those years. Unfortunately, sleep did not come easily anymore. He didn’t necessarily need it like the humans did, but he missed the escape it afforded.
“And it’s not over for her yet,” Abriel said.
“Did you pick anything up from her while she was talking?”
“Her thoughts are still jumbled, but there was no avarice in her
mind. She feels guilty, though.” Abriel frowned. “Survivor’s guilt, I think.”
Killian knew a thing or two about that.
“You think she’s right about her father?”
“If he didn’t engineer the virus, someone gave it to him.”
“We need to find out.”
“I know.”
Aubrey wouldn’t be pleased, but they needed to visit his lab and retrace his steps.
Killian hesitated a moment. “Will you tell the Dominion?”
“Not until I have to,” Abriel said, his voice quiet and apologetic at the same time.
Killian closed his eyes, praying it didn’t come to that.
Chapter Nine
Dark red curtains and confusion assailed Aubrey as soon as she opened her eyes.
Where was she?
The last thing she remembered—
Elioud shifters and vampires, viruses, and Killian St. James flowed into her mind, hitting her like a hammer blow. She sat bolt upright in the bed with a gasp.
Oh God, had she actually cried herself to sleep on the warrior’s shoulder?
“Crap,” she groaned, mortified that she’d allowed herself to fall apart in front of him. No, not in front of him. More like on top of him.
Zee poked his head up from the tangled counterpane and meowed.
“Oh, Zee,” Aubrey whispered.
The kitten yawned and stretched before padding across the bed to her. He hopped up on her chest, butting his head against her cheek. Aubrey stroked a fingertip down his head and then scratched between his ears, grateful for something to focus on other than the frantic, embarrassed thoughts running through her head.
She’d let her guard down, allowing Killian to slip beneath her defenses. What had she expected? That he’d make it all better for her? Make her forget the things hanging over her head like storm clouds? The ones she couldn’t escape or forget?
She’d only just learned to live with the fact that her father and brother were dead. Not survive as she had for so long, but actually live. To laugh and smile, to let people in. To find a reason to keep moving forward. And now…well, now she wondered if her life wasn’t some big cosmic joke. One big “let’s wait until she thinks she’s moving on then pull the rug out from under her” moment crafted by God for His amusement.
