Redemption (The Arotas Trilogy #3)

by Amy Miles

  “Of course.” She grins. “Aren’t you?”

  She can tell he struggles to keep a straight face as he shakes his head. Any other time he would be laughing right alongside her, but today he is a leader and must act like one or risk his men losing faith in him.

  He steps forward as the SUV slides to a halt less than ten feet ahead. His boots punch through a newly fallen layer of ice. The blizzard broke earlier this morning, leaving clear blue skies overhead. It is beautiful here, remote, but absolutely beautiful.

  The doors open and hunters spill out onto the ground. A couple of them clutch their stomachs as they double over onto their knees. Others grip the car doors with pale fingers as they will their legs not to give out on them.

  A broad shouldered black man slips out from behind the steering wheel, his grin wide and genuine. “Made it in record time,” he boasts.

  Fane steps forward, his lips drawn into a line of displeasure. “You could have gone a bit easier on our...guests”

  Enoch waves off Fane’s poorly veiled reprimand. “They had fun. Just look at them. Like kiddies on a merry-go-round.”

  Sadie smothers her grin as Enoch claps Nicolae on the back and trudges past. He tosses a wink at Sadie before disappearing into the compound.

  “I trust your flight went well,” Nicolae says, stepping forward to grasp Grigori’s hand.

  His scars stretch tight as he scowls. “Much better than the drive here. Three hours with that maniac. Who’s idea was that?”

  “Mine.” Fane steps forward. “Although I warned him of the danger of provoking you and your men.”

  Grigori’s chest puffs up slightly. Sadie smirks behind her hand, impressed with how well Fane is able to stroke Grigori’s ego when necessary. “Well, I’m sure it was just a bit of harmless fun, wasn’t it, Bogdan?”

  The man swears loudly as he pushes up to his feet from the snow. His skin is pale and almost sickly in appearance. His hands shake slightly as he clutches his stomach. “If you think I’m going to let that beast treat me like that, you’ve got another thing coming!”

  Claudia and Ambrose hiss behind Sadie. Although she can’t see them, she knows they have dropped back into a fighting stance. “We are not beasts,” Ambrose snarls.

  Bogdan’s laughter rumbles deep in his chest as he flexes his hands, as if itching to reach for his sword. Costel Petran places a warning hand on his companion’s arm. “He was merely having fun.”

  Sadie watches as he squeezes Bogdan’s arm tightly. The swordsmith relents, but not without a withering glare in Ambrose’s direction. Claudia sheathes her blade. Sadie turns, surprised that she never even heard Claudia remove it. Claudia winks at her but quickly returns her attention to the hunters.

  Sadie has often wondered what sort of fighter her new friend is. Claudia walks with the stealth and quiet of a lioness on the hunt. She always keeps her waist length blonde hair wrapped into an intricate braid at the back of her head. Sadie watches as Claudia places her hand on her hilt, realizing that she is seeing the deadliest of hunters: One that is always prepared for battle.

  “Your rooms have been assigned. They aren’t much, but they should suit your needs.” Grigori dips his head in acknowledgement at Nicolae and then motions for his men to follow. There are eight of them. Sadie only recognizes a couple of them from the truce meeting in Romania a couple days before.

  “Is this it?”

  “No.” Nicolae shakes his head. “This is just the first group.”

  ***

  The clanging of metal startles Roseline from a dream. For the briefest of moments, a smile graces her lips, but reality comes crashing back in as she spies the beady eyes of an Eltat through the bars.

  “Dinner time,” it rasps. Its teeth are long and pointed, spilling out over its lower lip. This one has a blue tint to its scales, but its eyes are still as red as freshly spilled blood.

  She turns, raising her nose to the air as she catches a faint scent of something.

  Enael is on his feet, racing forward before the food even hits the floor. He clutches the moldy bread, shoving it into his mouth before Roseline can stop him. He moans, sinking back against the wall as he struggles to chew.

  “You’re not very bright,” she mutters, wrapping her arms about herself.

  Enael glares at her, obviously offended. “I am so.”

  “Oh really?” She sits forward, wincing at the tenderness of her tailbone. “How long has it been since you last ate?”

  His neck muscles cord as he works to swallow the thick lump of bread that’s stuck at the back of his throat. He winces as it slowly descends. “First time since I got here.”

  She nods. “And why do you think that would change now?”

  His brow furrows as he thinks. Slowly, realization hits him. He rolls to the side and shoves his finger down his throat. Roseline closes her eyes to his gagging. “Lucien put you here for a reason, make no mistake of that. Whatever that was that he placed in your food would probably have killed you within seconds.”

  Enael retches one last time then rises, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Thanks for that.”

  Roseline shrugs. She has her own problems to deal with, and she doesn’t need the boy causing her any more. Obviously, Lucien wants the boy dead. No doubt, he felt that she would be more willing to drink from him if he were dead. The trouble is…he is probably right.

  “Just do me a favor and stay alive.”

  He snorts, tucking his robe tightly around him. “That is the plan.”

  “How long was I asleep?”

  “Hard to say,” he says, pulling his legs into his chest. “A couple hours. Maybe more.”

  “Malachi has not returned?”

  Enael shakes his head. His patchy beard is more pronounced than it was when he first arrived. A light stubble of growth clings to his chin. She grinds her teeth, infuriated over the impossibility of judging the passage of time. “He should have been back by now.”

  “Yep. Told you he wouldn’t help us. I know his type. They save their own skin, no matter the cost.”

  Roseline clenches her fists, hoping that Enael isn’t right. For once, she thinks he probably is. “We’re going to have to do this on our own.”

  “How?” He stares at the metal grate overhead. “You’re not strong enough to reach that and there’s no way I can.”

  Slowly rising to her feet, Roseline takes a close look at the grate. Eight bars run in a crisscross pattern across the opening. They are made of steel, by the looks of it, easy enough to break for an immortal.

  She narrows her gaze, searching for any sign of angel hair wound around the bars. It is nearly impossible to see in this light but from what she can tell, the bars are not protected, unlike the reinforced cage door.

  “He wants me to escape,” she whispers.

  “That’s insane.”

  She looks down, startled to find Enael beside her. Her gaze flits over the dried blood caked on his skin. The scent of his open wounds makes her stomach turn over as Lucien’s plan begins to unfold before her.

  “It makes sense.” She steps back from him, exhaling before she draws in a breath of musty air. “With your blood I will ignite the final stages of the transformation. I would be strong.”

  Looking at the grate overhead, she knows she is right. “That’s our way out.”

  “We’ve been over this. You aren’t…” he turns and stares at her, shaking his head as he backs away. “No. No way! Don’t you come near me!”

  “Calm down, Enael. I won’t take much. Just enough to get us out of here.”

  “Are you insane? I’m not going to just let you bite me. Don’t you remember what you became earlier? That thing?”

  Roseline winces but nods. “Yes, but you’re not going to let that happen to me.”

  “I’m not?” he asks, surprised.

  “No. I get us out of here and you help me find Malachi. He can counteract the blood and remove it before it does too much damage.”
r />   Enael pauses, looking longingly at his source of freedom. “You really think it will work?”

  “It has to…for Gabriel.”

  With a curt nod of approval, he steps up to Roseline and rolls his neck to the side. “Get it over with.”

  Her forehead crinkles with disgust. “This would be a lot easier if you weren’t so disgusting. No offense, but you smell like you been sleeping in a garbage dump.”

  “Look who’s talking.”

  “Fair enough,” she laughs. “Now hold still. This will only hurt for a second.”

  “And then you’ll stop, right?”

  Without pausing to respond, she wraps her fingers around his neck and pierces his flesh. The delicious metallic taste that flows over her lips mingles with the scent of unwashed skin, turning her stomach.

  She tugs at the vein, clutching him tightly to her chest as heat races through her body. The fires burn hotter than ever before, almost to the point of unbearable pain. She groans, fighting to remain latched to his neck.

  Enael beats at her arm, screaming at her to let him go, but she doesn’t. Not yet. She needs just a bit more.

  ***

  Seneh’s cry of pain shakes Gabriel from his paralysis as the angel falls to his knees, a wide gash opened in his side. “Seneh!”

  “No,” the angel holds out his hand to stop Gabriel from rushing to his aid. His palm glistens with fresh blood, his voice strained with pain. “Get the sword. It is your only hope.”

  “I won’t leave you,” he protests, taking a step toward Seneh, but he stops at the glint of determination is his guardian’s eyes.

  “Get the sword.”

  Gabriel turns and sprints forward, diving just beneath the wide sweep of a cherubim’s claw. As he passes under, he notices blood dripping from its sharp nails…Seneh’s blood.

  Gabriel feels the whoosh of air as the paw passes back over him again. He leaps to his feet, sprinting toward its tail, but the second creature is waiting, wings beating the air into an almighty gale. Gabriel leans into the wind, fighting to remain upright.

  Forced to his knees, he lowers his head and waits, praying that his senses are not dulled by the beating of wings. The pressure on him shifts just before the mighty claws swing down at him. He manages to roll out of the way at the last second, but not before the razor sharp nails tears through his shirt.

  Gabriel can see the sword blazing high overhead but realizes that it is still too far out of reach. He frantically searches for a way to climb high enough to leap for it, but the walls are smooth as glass, offering him no help. He spins and grunts as a tail smacks into his stomach like a whip, knocking the breath from his lungs.

  He goes down hard, cracking his knees against the stone. Pain lingers in his chest as he grasps at the tail, holding on as it rises high into the air. It flails about, trying to shake him loose, but he clings to it with all his might.

  Refusing to let go, he digs his fingers into the creature’s fur, searching for flesh. The cherubim’s muscles are strong and broad, even in its tail. Gabriel holds on, praying to inflict enough pain to buy him some time.

  A growl echoes through the room as Gabriel claws at its flesh. With an almighty whip of the tail, Gabriel is thrown off, slamming hard against the wall. He slides down to the floor, shaken by the brunt force.

  Seneh limps several feet away, his sword barely held aloft and his spare hand trembles as it covers his wound. Gabriel calls out to him, but Seneh doesn’t appear to hear him over the thrashing of the cherubim.

  Gabriel’s gaze trails up the curve of the beasts’ back, and a crazy idea forms in his mind. He looks to the sword and then back to the writhing creature.

  I’m really going to regret this, he thinks as he rises unsteadily to his feet. He crouches low before leaping onto the Cherubim’s hairy back.

  The monster whips around, trying to throw him off, but Gabriel is prepared this time. His fingers anchor into its flesh, pulling him along. It bucks wildly, like a horse trying to unseat its rider. “Seneh! I could use some help over here!”

  The angel nods, grimacing as he staggers on his feet. His chest heaves as he takes a deep breath and, with a mighty bellow, launches his sword deep into the meaty flesh of the cherubim’s chest.

  It roars in pain, rearing high into the air. Gabriel clings to its furry mane as it whirls around to face Seneh. Just before it lunges, Gabriel leaps from its shoulders and soars through the air, over the second cherubim’s raised claws.

  Gabriel crows with victory as he plummets to the ground, the fiery sword clenched tightly in his palm. The heat in his forearms instantly cools as the glow of his tattoos fades away. His ankles buckle under him and he goes with it, rolling several times before rising to his feet. “Seneh! I got it.”

  The cherubim’s head whips around, its massive face a mask of rage. Gabriel’s smile falters as he looks down at its foot and finds Seneh impaled on its claws.

  “No!” He screams, rushing forward.

  Blood bubbles up from his guardian’s lips as he raises his hand in warning. “Must…get…Elias…”

  Seneh’s hand falls limp, landing atop the creature’s hairy paw. His head lolls to the side, the whites of his eyes showing just before his eyelids fall shut.

  Numbness rolls over Gabriel as the creature shakes Seneh off its bloodied claws. The once majestic angel flops against the ground, broken and lifeless. Gabriel’s anger floods in as he stares into the remorseless black eyes of the creature.

  Gabriel holds the sword aloft, a growl rumbling deep in his chest. He crouches, ready to attack, but the cherubim begin to back away. “Stand and fight me,” he shouts.

  They bow their heads and step back onto their pedestals, murmuring their chants. The light in the room begins to dim. They sit back, perched once more in their rightful place. They look at Gabriel one final time before raising their gaze to stare into the tunnel beyond him.

  Gabriel’s grip on the sword tightens. Rage swirls in his mind and heart, begging for him to seek revenge, but as he stares down at the broken body of his friend, he knows it is wrong. Grief weighs heavily upon him as he sinks to his knees, placing a hand atop the scarred chest of his guardian.

  His howl shakes the trees in the garden beyond, echoing off the walls. Breathing heavily, he lets his forehead fall onto Seneh’s chest, his fingers splayed against Seneh’s arms. “I’m so sorry.”

  Tears stream from his eyes as he sits back. He reaches out and grasps Seneh’s sword, placing it over his chest. Then he grabs the warrior’s great hands and places them on top.

  “You gave your life for me,” he whispers, slowly rising to his feet. “I promise I will not let your death be in vain.”

  Sixteen

  A fire begins in Roseline’s mind, scorching and all consuming. She retracts her teeth from Enael’s artery, letting him drop limply to the ground. His skull connects with the packed dirt with a low thud. His head rolls to the side as his eyes fall closed, sinking into unconsciousness.

  Doubling over, she presses her palms to the sides of her head, screaming. The blood fuses with her veins, sealing in the damning poison. Roseline teeters on the edge of euphoria and agony as she sinks to the ground. She doesn’t hear her name being called until Malachi is right beside her. Her cry cuts off when he grabs her hands, forcing them to her sides in a vise-like grip. “What have you done?”

  “Had to…get away.” She falls limp against his side, moaning as heat spirals through her body. She can already feel everything shifting, the lengthening of her muscles and strengthening of her bones. She is changing. “Too late.”

  “No!” Malachi shouts, holding her with one arm as he bites into his sleeve and tears the fabric free. He presses his arm to her lips but she turns away.

  “Full.”

  “Drink!” He shoves his wrist at her again, but her eyes roll up into the back of her head. Darkness swirls around her, mingled with pain and fire.

  “Wake up, Roseline!”

  A ro
ugh crack to her temple breaks through the haze. She rears up at him with her teeth bared. He grabs the back of her head and impales her teeth onto his wrist.

  Cleansing blood gushes down her throat. She sucks greedily as the pain begins to fade. Malachi gasps as she wrenches his arm around, spilling both of them to the floor. Roseline writhes on top of him, straddling his waist as she digs deeper into his flesh, nearly tearing through his arm.

  “Roseline, stop! There isn’t much time.”

  A low growl rises from her chest, fire blazing in her eyes. She won’t let go. Not now that the pain is receding and Lucien’s blood has begun to be caged within her cells, sealing out his damning poison.

  Roseline watches as Malachi’s expression shifts toward the boy but she doesn’t relent. In the span of a heartbeat, Malachi draws a long, silver blade from a sheath at his hip and buries it into Enael’s chest. Roseline cries out, releasing her hold on Malachi’s arm as she stares at the blood pouring from Enael’s chest.

  The dagger stands upright, protruding from his chest. The sound of his blood leaking from his heart chills her as she flings herself away from Malachi, clawing at Enael with shaky hands. “What have you done? He was only a boy.”

  “What I must,” Malachi says, wiping the blade on his pants before tucking it away. He rises, ripping at his shredded sleeve and tying it as a tourniquet around his wrist. He uses his teeth to tighten it. “Trust me, this was far faster than what I was sent to do to him.”

  Roseline lashes out at him with the intent of swiping her nails across his face. Instead, she tumbles to the ground, coughing and wheezing as Malachi props her against the wall. “What is wrong with you? Do you have a death wish or something?”

  “Maybe.” She grunts, cradling her stomach. It roils with the addition of his blood. “How could you kill him? He was my only hope of finding Gabriel.”

  She stares at the lifeless boy, shocked that after all he has been through this would be his end. Enael’s mouth gapes open and yet somehow manages to look peaceful. She is grateful that he was unconscious when Malachi attacked. At least he didn’t feel fear.