Stricken (The War Scrolls Book 1)

by A. K. Morgen

  “One guard stationed out front, but we’re not sure if they take extra precautions after business hours,” Abriel said, positioning himself midway between Killian and Dom. He didn’t even try to hide what he was doing. “We figured we could sneak her in tonight.”

  Killian hesitated a moment before meeting his brother’s gaze. “She’s not going in.” He said the words softly but adamantly. He wouldn’t drag Aubrey to the lab, not when coming here was already hard enough on her. He owed her that much.

  “We need her,” Dom said.

  “She’s not going.”

  Dom’s jaw clenched, his shoulders squaring.

  “Dom and I will go without her,” Abriel said, forestalling any further argument. “You stay with her. Make sure she’s safe.”

  A stray thought trickled through to Killian.

  “There are Fallen-kin here,” he said. “Elioud?”

  Abriel nodded, his mouth compressed into a grim line. “We’re not sure if it’s her friends or not, but we picked up the trail a few miles outside of town.”

  “Dammit.” Killian sighed, not sure if he wanted it to be her friends or not. Not sure what she wanted or which would be best for her. They needed answers, but hadn’t she suffered enough because of his kind?

  Whatever they found in that lab could condemn her.

  The thought frightened him.

  He would not let his people harm her, no matter what dark secrets they unveiled here.

  “Shit,” Dom said.

  Killian glanced up to find his brother shaking his head.

  “You’re falling for her.”

  Killian closed his eyes, unable to lie to him. Dom might have been playful, but he wasn’t stupid. He could read Killian as easily as Abriel could. Neither of his blade-brothers spoke for long moments, both trying to process this new information.

  Abriel didn’t seem surprised.

  Neither did Dom, for that matter. But the disappointment in Dom’s mind sounded far louder than in Abriel’s.

  That surprised Killian more than it should have.

  Dom was as honorable as Abriel, but he viewed the world differently. Abriel did what was best for the Fallen. Things were not so black-and-white to Dahmiel. Honor, to him, was fluid, ever-changing. In Dahmiel’s opinion, the right thing to do shifted based upon situational circumstance. Sometimes, that meant protecting the Fallen above all else, and sometimes that meant protecting the innocent from the Fallen. To him, Aubrey fit the second category. Dom would protect her because he believed she deserved his protection. And it bothered him that Killian could fall for someone he’d pledged to defend.

  “You know where this is heading,” Dom said, the accusation gone from his voice. “She’s human, Killian.”

  “I know that,” he muttered. Didn’t matter, though, did it? Honor hadn’t stopped him from getting too close.

  “Do you?” Dom asked.

  Killian opened his eyes to glare at his blade-brother. Of course he knew Aubrey was human. He’d never understood how his father could have impregnated a human, how the mighty Fallen could have let himself get close enough. He’d never met his mother, but he understood his father’s dishonor now.

  He shared it.

  Apparently weakness ran through his veins right alongside his father’s Fallen blood.

  Dom sighed. “The Fallen won’t be as forgiving toward you as they were toward your dick of a father, Killian. You’re Nephilim, and you swore an oath to live as a Warrior of Light. If anyone finds out about this, not even Caitria will be able to prevent the Dominion from exiling you.”

  “I know what oaths I swore, brother,” Killian said, clenching his jaw. Oh, he remembered those oaths well. To live as Fallen, forsaking any human family he might have had. To accept banishment should he ever choose another path. He’d been the only one of his warrior class forced to swear in front of the entire Dominion. “And it won’t get that far with her. I can control myself.”

  “Can you?” Dom held his hands up as if to say he came in peace. “I’m just saying, if you’re already hiding out over here, maybe you shouldn’t be the one to watch her. Chance favors the prudent.”

  “I can watch over her,” Abriel offered.

  “No,” Killian snapped. He knew all about tempting fate, but that didn’t matter. He would take care of Aubrey, and he would control himself as he had since she’d saved his life what felt like an eternity ago. He had to do so because not seeing her at all seemed a whole lot more intolerable than being near her without being allowed to touch her.

  “You’re not falling for her; you’re bonding with her,” Abriel said, shock lacing his tone.

  Killian gritted his teeth but didn’t say a word. There was nothing he could tell his blade-brothers that they would believe, anyway. They could read the tangle of emotion running through him better than he could, perhaps. Fallen love was different than human love…quicker, stronger. The emotion snuck up out of nowhere, bonding a Fallen to his destined mate in the blink of an eye.

  They were stronger then, one of Heaven’s most powerful weapons. Or at the least they had been, once upon a time when God had cared what happened to them. He did no longer, and unbonded angels sought comfort in humans, looking for something they’d never find with a mortal.

  Killian hadn’t believed he could mate like that—the bond was reserved for full-blooded angels only and happened rarely at that—but being with Aubrey had proven him wrong. Despite being a Halfling, the bond was forming for him. How or why didn’t matter at the moment, because Dom spoke the truth. Aubrey was human. The Dominion would never accept her, and Killian wouldn’t ask them to do so. For her sake, he couldn’t. When they finished this task and he’d assured her safety, he would send her away from him.

  Until then, though, he planned to stay as close to her as he could.

  “Son of a bitch,” Dom whispered, his eyes wide. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  Killian wished he knew the answer to that question, but like so much else, he didn’t.

  “Are you sure?” Dom asked. “I mean really sure?”

  Killian glared at him.

  “Don’t look at me like that; I’m serious! No angel has bonded to another in decades. None has ever bonded to a human, even an Elioud. It’s…” He shook his head. “How is it even possible?”

  As if Killian knew.

  “I don’t know,” he said between gritted teeth. He felt the bond drawing him to Aubrey as if a strand of light ran between the two of them. Even with the hotel wall standing between them, he could have pointed right to her. Could have said exactly how she felt too. Tired. Confused. Hurt. And so scared he had to fight not to walk next door and take her into his arms.

  “Damn,” Dom whispered.

  “What are you going to do?” Abriel asked him.

  “What can I do?” he muttered, lifting his head. Hopelessness churned in his gut. “We probably won’t survive this virus, and even if I could complete the bond with her, I wouldn’t, not with that hanging over our heads.”

  “But what if you do make it?” Dom demanded. “A bonded angel isn’t supposed to live without his mate.”

  “It doesn’t matter, brother. None of us will walk away from La Morte Nera alive.”

  Abriel narrowed his eyes at him. “You don’t want to survive the virus, do you?”

  Killian met his gaze again and shrugged one shoulder, not denying it. “I can’t live without my mate, can I? And like Dom said, I can’t live with her, either. The Dominion will never accept it, and I won’t endanger her life like that.”

  “Damn,” Dom whispered. “I’m sorry, brother. I didn’t mean—” He shook his head, his eyes full of regret. “I didn’t know.”

  “You spoke the truth, Dahmiel. She’s human, and I’m not.” He met Dom’s gaze and then Abriel’s. “I won’t risk her life.”

  He’d promised to keep her safe, not to drag her further into a world that haunted her. If he had to sacrifice himself to keep his pledge to he
r, he would. Decus et tutamen. Honor and defense. The Fallen creed. He couldn’t turn his back on that now. He’d lived as Fallen, and he would die as Fallen, exactly as he’d pledged to do so long ago.

  And hopefully, Aubrey would never find out about the bond.

  ***

  Aubrey wandered around the hotel room, too restless to sit still, let alone to sleep. She showered, fed Zee, and combed her hair dry. When she was done, Killian still hadn’t returned. To be honest, she didn’t know if he planned to come back to her room at all. For all she knew, he meant to hole up next door with his brothers for however long they were here.

  That would probably be best since the room had only one bed, but she didn’t like the thought. As difficult as she found being near him, Killian gave her something tangible to focus on, something other than the fear and grief threatening to drag her under. He made her feel safe, calmer.

  Without him, her mind bounced in a thousand different directions.

  “This is such a mess,” she muttered to Zee as he pounced around the room, completely unaffected by all the changes that had taken place over the last few days. He seemed as content in the small hotel room as he had been at Killian’s house or in her and Mel’s apartment. The kitten was resilient, more so than she, because she felt anything but comfortable.

  She flung herself down on the bed, glaring up at the ceiling.

  “You have to deal with it,” she muttered to herself. Ha! If that were half as easily done as said, she’d be a whole lot more comfortable. She shifted her gaze from the ceiling to the phonebook situated beside the phone on the small desk. Somewhere between those pages were the answers to at least some of the questions rattling around in her mind.

  What if her friends were gone?

  What if they weren’t?

  Had they spent the last four months hiding out like Killian said others had?

  Did they live in fear?

  Aubrey desperately wanted to believe her father had known nothing about La Morte Nera, but she couldn’t talk herself into trusting that desire. There were too many coincidences for her to give in to the naïve little voice whispering that he hadn’t known a thing.

  Her father had known; she was sure of it.

  And she had to find out what he’d known.

  For her sake and for Killian’s.

  Why had the warrior pulled away from her today?

  Was the thought of being with a human truly so abhorrent to him? Or was it her?

  “What am I doing?” she whispered, squeezing her eyes closed and shaking her head as if that might clear her mind of the blue-eyed Halfling. It didn’t.

  As if her restless thoughts had summoned him, the door opened, and he stepped into the room. Aubrey sat up.

  The bright blue of his eyes hit her like a fist when his gaze settled on her.

  “Hi,” she whispered after swallowing against the lump in her throat.

  He held up a paper bag. “I brought you something to eat.”

  “Thank you.”

  Neither moved.

  Aubrey stared up at him. He stared back, barely seeming to breathe.

  The memory of his lips on hers nudged at her mind.

  Would that kiss be the only one they ever shared?

  The possibility made her sad.

  “You—” Killian tore his gaze from hers and raked his free hand through his hair before depositing the paper takeout bag on the desk.

  Aubrey waited for him to say more, but he didn’t.

  “What’s the plan?” she asked, unwilling to sit in awkward silence.

  “Abriel and Dom will visit the lab tonight to see if they can find anything.” He grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from the desk and started toward her, holding it out as though it was a peace offering.

  “I’m not going with them?”

  Killian shook his head. “Not yet.”

  “They’re breaking in?”

  “It’ll be easier than trying to Persuade the guards to let them in.”

  “Oh.” She sighed, relieved she didn’t have to go, and then took the proffered paper, carefully avoiding touching his hands. Every time his skin met hers, her heart raced a little faster. “What’s this for?”

  “We need a layout if you can remember it,” he said. “Where your father worked in the building, where they stored any physical data…” He gave her a small, uncomfortable smile. “Anything helpful.”

  Aubrey bent her head over the little notepad and began jotting. Her hand shook as she drew a vague floor plan. She hadn’t been a frequent visitor to her father’s lab and didn’t remember it well. If anything had been renovated since her last visit, her drawing would be useless.

  Killian moved out of her line of sight. The smell of greasy fast food wafted through the room along with the rustle of paper and the crinkle of a wrapper.

  Aubrey closed her eyes for a moment, trying to remember anything else about the lab, but could pull nothing more than hazy memories to the surface. That bothered her. Her father’s research had been such a big part of his life, but all she could recall were vague impressions.

  The things she wished she could forget—the stench of char in the air, the sight of Aaron’s blistered, reddened arm, the way her father’s eyes glazed over as he took his last breath, and the stench of urine and floor wax permeating every inch of the psych ward…those memories were seared into her mind.

  “Do you ever wish you could forget everything and start over?” she asked Killian, popping her eyes open to look at him.

  He reclined against the wall beside the desk, watching her.

  “No,” he said.

  “Oh.” She frowned.

  “Have you ever read The Old Man and the Sea?”

  She nodded, setting the notepad and pen aside.

  “Do you remember how the old man always dreamed of lions?”

  “I remember,” she said. “He always wondered why they were the only things left.”

  “Memory is like that. When you shut things out, the sense of kinship you feel to the people in your life—to the places and things that were important to you—begins to fade away. Sometimes, you think the loss of kinship hurts less than what you can’t or won’t remember, that the lions guard against the more painful memories teeming below the surface. But that’s not always true.” He met her gaze, solemnity burning in the Fallen-blue depths of his eyes. “Sometimes, the lions are the enemy.”

  “I mostly remember the stuff that hurts.” Aubrey rose from the bed. “The way my father looked at me when he told me Aaron was dead. The way the fire twisted and charred the porch swing.” She shook her head. “I thought I could outrun those memories. I thought if I ran far enough, fast enough, time would wash them away and it wouldn’t hurt anymore, but I think I might have been wrong. Those bad memories are still there, and most of the time, I can’t find the good ones. I don’t remember the sound of my dad laughing or the exact shade of Aaron’s eyes. Or the smell of home. I never meant to forget those things.”

  Killian stepped forward, forcing her to tilt her head back to look up at him. He still seemed so big to her. He still overwhelmed her. But he didn’t frighten her anymore.

  “You look tired.” She fought the urge to lift her hand to touch his gorgeous face.

  “I am,” he said, the corner of his lips turning up in a half smile.

  “Oh.”

  He stared down at her, his half smile slipping. A dizzying parade of emotions swirled through his eyes. She couldn’t read them all, but she understood enough. He felt as torn as she did.

  “Will I remember you three years from now?” she whispered, her heart aching with the fear that she would forget him as she had so much else…and with the fear that she would remember him. That she would survive this nightmare and he would haunt her for the rest of her days like so much else did.

  “Do you want to remember me?” He took another step in her direction.

  “I don’t know.” She frowned, confused. “You make me feel li
ke maybe the world isn’t so bad. Like maybe I’m safe with you. I don’t think I want to forget that.”

  Killian tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and cupped her cheek gently in one big hand. “You are safe with me. I won’t let anyone hurt you, Aubrey.”

  She stared at him for a long, silent moment. He’d promised before that he wouldn’t hurt her, but even then an unspoken fear had stood between them like a wall. A little voice whispered that, if she got too close, he would hurt her as badly as the things in her past hurt. That voice had stopped whispering when he’d kissed her today, and wasn’t that odd?

  “You hurt me today.”

  He bowed his head, letting his hand fall away from her face. “I’m sorry.”

  Her heart ached a little at the agonized way he said it. As if it shamed him to know he’d hurt her. As if, maybe, he cared more than he should too.

  “Why did you?” she asked, not accusing, but curious. She wanted to understand him. No, she needed to understand him on some level she couldn’t even explain to herself. “You wanted me, didn’t you?”

  His gaze sought hers, honesty shining from his angel-bright eyes. “More than you know.”

  Aubrey took a deep breath, letting her lungs fill with air even as her heart filled with his confession. And just as quickly, the buoyant feeling vanished. “It doesn’t change anything, though, does it?” she whispered.

  “Do you want it to?”

  She hesitated for a long moment, unsure. And then her shoulders slumped, the breath she’d taken expelling in a long sigh. “I’m sorry.”

  Killian gave her a sad smile and reached for her again. He swept a finger beneath her eye, collecting the teardrop she hadn’t even realized had fallen. “No apologies,” he whispered, bringing his finger to his mouth. He stuck out the tip of his tongue and lapped that single bead of moisture from his fingertip. “You owe me nothing.”

  If that was true, why did she feel like crying?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Killian examined Aubrey’s drawing as she ate, unable to look at her. If he did, he would do something dishonorable. Such as kiss her a second time. As much as he wanted to do exactly that, she didn’t. That made all the difference in the world to him.