Rowan dragged herself back from the painful memories. It was her birthday. Tomorrow night she was going on a date. She snatched her hand from Brad’s and speared her fingers through her hair, pressing her forehead against her palms.
She knew she was destined to die young. But had he really needed to thrust that down her throat today of all days?
“Rowan.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ve less than nine months left until I turn twenty-seven. I don’t know what’s going on, but I do know one thing. I won’t find the answer here.”
Dread seeped into her heart. There was only one place that might hold the answers he was searching for.
“You can’t seriously be thinking of going to Romania? They might not torture our kind like the Strigoi do but—”
“This half-life isn’t enough anymore.” Savagery underpinned every word. “The only chance of finding out the truth is going to Romania. That’s where our history is, Rowan. Christ, I need to get away from here. I’m sick of the lies.”
Although it was the end of February and there was a hint of snow in the air, her room was warm. But shivers chased over her arms and chilled her blood. She got through each day by not thinking about her mortality, by not dwelling on the knowledge that she was now the second oldest dhampir in residence.
Ten years ago, she had been the eighth.
But now Brad was stirring up all the confused feelings and unasked questions that had seethed beneath the surface of her existence ever since Steven’s death. She didn’t want to face them. Didn’t want to dig deeper. All she wanted was a normal life.
“You can’t trust any of them.” His whisper was so low she had to strain to hear his words. “Bottom line, Rowan. Vampires won’t turn against their own for us. You have to remember that.”
She couldn’t bear seeing him so broken. “Brad.” She took his hand and focused on his knuckles. It hurt too much to look at his grief ravaged face. “Don’t make any decisions about your future yet. I know how much you’re hurting, but things will get better. It took me a while, but I recovered after what happened to Steven.”
Lies. She’d only pushed that night into the deepest recesses of her mind, but she hadn’t recovered from it. How could anyone get over something like that? But pretense was all she had to offer Brad.
His lips twisted into a travesty of a smile, but his grip on her hand tightened. He knew what she was doing. And the hollowness of her words reverberated around her brain like a malignant echo.
Brad didn’t have an unknowable future stretching out before him. He didn’t have the advantage of time on his side for things to get better.
None of them did.
She leaned her head against his shoulder, the way she had so many times in the past, and the silence enveloped her and sank into her bones.
There was nothing left to say.
Azrael
The following afternoon Azrael teleported to a narrow country lane on the outskirts of a village in Cornwall, where Gabe had made his home with Aurora. He eyed the large stone house, with its rambling, snow dusted gardens, that looked as if it had been standing for more than three hundred years.
He rapped his knuckles on the door. Contacting Gabe wasn’t as simple as it used to be. Now he was mortal, he’d lost the archangelic ability of telepathic communication.
He didn’t want to think about everything else Gabe had lost. The price of saving Aurora’s life had been Gabe’s immortality. How could he bear to survive as a human?
Gabe pulled open the front door. “Hey, stranger.” Gabe thumped his back and grinned, as if he wasn’t living in purgatory. “Come in, it’s freezing out there. You’re letting the heat out.”
He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. For Gabe to appear haggard? But he looked great. Better than great. And something else that he couldn’t place but gnawed at the edges of his mind.
“Nice place,” he said, as he stepped over the threshold and glanced around the flagstone hallway. A magnificent central staircase led upstairs, and although it was completely different to the villa Gabe used to live in, there was a surreal sense of similarity.
“No one’s lived here for as long as Aurora could remember. It was falling apart and when we managed to hunt down the owner, he didn’t want to sell. Something about it holding nostalgic memories from his childhood.” Gabe grinned. “That’s when I discovered I haven’t lost all of my powers of persuasion.”
“Is that the only power you’ve retained?”
“Az. It’s okay. I haven’t changed my mind. I don’t care that I’m no longer immortal. Not when I have Aurora.”
It was unnerving, the way he spoke about Aurora. It was blindingly obvious how much he adored her. For sure, she was unique, a remarkable human whose heritage straddled two different dimensions. But that extraordinary union of DNA wasn’t the reason he was reluctant to meet her. It was because she was also the reincarnation of Gabe’s first love, Eleni.
And Eleni had been part Nephilim.
Nephilim, the beloved children of archangels, weren’t supposed to be able to be reborn and the revelation had seared the embers of his heart.
Long before any archangels had fallen, their great goddess had proclaimed any offspring conceived between her personal creations and mortals, and all their descendants, were soulless. Unable to ever reincarnate.
He’d believed her without reservation for their goddess would never lie to them.
How wrong I was.
Were the souls of countless Nephilim eternally trapped in an obscure fracture on the astral planes? Was that why it was so difficult for them to return to the corporal plane?
“Hi, Azrael.” A woman walked across the hall towards him. There was a guarded note in her voice, as if she wasn’t sure of her reception.
The blood pounded in his temples. She looked nothing like Eleni. Not that he had expected she would. What are you?
“Az, this is Aurora.” Subtle warning threaded through each word, and the implication that he might snub the beloved of a fellow archangel grazed his soul.
Whether she was Eleni or not, she was still the one Gabe had chosen. He respected that, even if he couldn’t agree with it.
“It’s an honor.” He took her hand, and her touch ignited a blast of psychic power, as images streaked through his mind. Of another time. Another life. Of an ancient civilization that had nurtured the archangels in their youth.
The same civilization that had, millennia ago, been mercilessly destroyed.
Renewed guilt scorched through him. As raw and devastating as the moment he’d realized his fatal error so many thousands of years ago.
And the blistering betrayal of his goddess, that had shattered the fundamental core of his being.
He’d fooled himself into believing he’d overcome the guilt, buried the betrayal. But the two were inextricably entwined. He didn’t deserve to forget any of it, even superficially.
“Aurora.” His voice was hoarse as the last sliver of doubt vanished. Gods, it was true. Now he’d met her he knew she really was Eleni, the last surviving descendant of the Archangel Zadkiel.
And she had no idea that her untimely death had been all my fault.
The tension in her face faded. “Yes.” Her smile was understanding. “I know this is strange and awkward. But’s it’s really me.”
He released her hand, and Gabe threaded his fingers through hers. And then it hit him. The eerie sense of something being just out of reach.
Gabe looked happy. Really happy. Shock clawed through him at the realization of how long it had been since the other archangel had looked so contented.
He’s no longer an archangel. But did the fact he’d lost his immortality really change his heritage?
They went into the kitchen, which resembled a demolition site.
“Renovations.” Aurora plugged in a kettle. “Did Gabe tell you we’re funding new science research facilities at several universities?”
He hadn’t. Then again, s
ince the immortality draining incident, he and Gabe had only spoken once, when Azrael had arranged to come and visit them today.
“Aurora’s idea,” Gabe said. “I planned on building a private research lab, but this way we get countless perspectives.”
Their ideas were fascinating. To investigate the fringes of science without preconceived notions. But throughout the entire conversation his blood thundered in his temples and heart thudded against his ribs.
They wanted to achieve so much. Explore psychic development—or the lack of it—in humans and undertake archeological digs to discover the ancient histories that had been hidden for millennia.
But it was futile. They’d never manage to accomplish even a fraction of their dreams. Within a few score years at most both Gabe and Aurora would be dead.
“Anyway.” Aurora glanced at Gabe before turning back to him. “You’re going to stay for something to eat, aren’t you? We thought we’d go to the local pub.”
His gaze dropped to their entwined fingers, and inexplicably it reminded him of the woman he’d met last night. Not for a second had he imagined she’d leave, when the desire between them was so potent. It must have been one hell of a family emergency. But he’d not detected any panic or shock radiating from her. Just frustration.
No woman had ever turned him down. But it added to her air of mystery. Anticipation sizzled through his blood. In a few short hours he’d see her again. And then he realized Aurora was still waiting for his reply.
“Sorry. Can’t make it tonight.”
Her look was calculating, as if she could see straight through him. “You have a date, don’t you?”
Gabe gave a derisive snort of laughter. “Archangels don’t date.”
Gabe had got that right. He never dated. Except asking Rowan to join him for dinner tonight suddenly sounded very much like a date.
He hadn’t meant to ask her out. But she’d looked so appealing with her hair tumbling around her face and her lovely green eyes filled with disappointment. The words were out before he’d realized.
And he didn’t regret them.
“Don’t judge everyone by yourself,” Aurora said. “Azrael, your date is more than welcome to join us tonight if you’d like.”
“Yeah, because an immortal would really want to hang out on planet Earth with a couple of humans.” Gabe appeared to find the scenario amusing.
“You don’t know that he’s seeing an immortal.”
“That’s more likely than him hanging out with a human.”
They continued to discuss his dating status, and it was fucking surreal. It was like he’d tumbled back in time, to when Gabe and Eleni used to be just like this.
They’d gently mocked his aversion to becoming even superficially involved with any of his lovers, and he’d let them—let everyone—think it was because he didn’t want commitment.
He didn’t, but not for the reasons they imagined. Unlike many of the archangels, he’d believed in their goddess’ edict that they were forbidden to fall in love with humans.
She had created her archangels to worship and adore her, and only her.
He’d loved her unconditionally. Trusted her implicitly.
Had never, not even for a fleeting moment, imagined she was part of the cursed, recurring visions that had plagued him for decades and driven him on endless quests to uncover lost civilizations in the hope of unlocking ancient secrets. Knowledge that would give him the power to prevent the destruction of the Nephilim in the coming apocalypse.
The answer had never been hidden in the past. It had been staring him in the face all along. In the corrupted guise of his loving goddess.
I need to get out of here.
“Gabe’s right.” He shot them a sardonic grin. “I don’t do dating. Sounds way too complicated.”
“You should try it sometime.” Aurora shot a pointed glance in Gabe’s direction. “You might be surprised.”
“That’s the kind of surprise I can live without.”
But as he left, with half-meant promises to keep in touch, an uneasy certainty weaved through his mind. It was more than simply sex he wanted with Rowan.
He wanted to unravel her mysteries and discover her secrets.
Did that sound like a date?
No. He didn’t get involved. Ever. Rowan could keep her secrets.
He took a deep breath, and the chilled air filled his lungs. One mystery at least had been solved. Eleni truly had been reborn. But that reality only threw up a thousand more questions. Because her existence forced them all to face something they never had before.
Had any other Nephilim returned during the centuries?
Chapter 5
Rowan
Rowan parked the Mercedes McLaren in a private car park behind a small apartment block, using one of the many resident permits and gate keys she possessed. Not only was this space gated and secure, it was only a five-minute walk from the King’s Road.
It was only seven-forty-five, so she had plenty of time. And although all the articles she’d ever read urged her to be at least five minutes late, she had no intention of playing that kind of ridiculous mind game.
She didn’t want to risk him thinking she wasn’t going to turn up.
Heart thudding against her ribs she slid out of the car. A frigid wind blasted her and in the same instant she tensed against the chill, the unmistakable odor of rogue vampire hit her senses.
No. The denial shrieked through her mind as she froze against the open door of the car. She’d ignore it. Holding her breath, she shut the door, but still the foul stink of decay sank into her flesh like a putrid blanket of fog.
She gritted her teeth and folded her arms as she strode purposefully in the opposite direction to the scent. But it permeated her mind, like skeletal fingers scraping across a chalkboard. A primal imperative to hunt that was as much a part of her biology as her need to consume blood.
“Shit.” The word hissed into the night, a puff of infuriated white mist. Clenching her fists, she marched back to the car and wrenched open the door. She retrieved her katana, concealed beneath the plush carpet, and grabbed a couple of hawthorn stakes. Of all the bloody times, she had to run across a rogue right now.
Sure, she was supposed to be out working. That was the only way she’d managed to escape tonight. Sakarbaal and his entourage were, it seemed, staying in London for a while.
Luckily her long leather coat hid her dress. Because who went hunting wearing a dress? Generally, she never bothered leaving her hair down either, but no one had remarked on it.
Not even Meg.
Swiftly she followed the reek of decaying blood. She left the dimly lit car park and strode down the narrow, gloom filled alley, towards a hunched shadow. There was no need for stealth. This vampire, lost in the bloodlust of attack, radiated only primitive cunning and need.
Rogues, whether they had once been civilized or had always groveled in the gutter, couldn’t be allowed free rein. They drew too much attention with their undisciplined attacks and unregulated killings. Other vampires might want them destroyed but they rarely wanted to destroy them themselves.
They left that to the dhampirs.
The creature whirled, blood dripping from its fangs. Rowan bared her teeth. She was wearing her brand new high-heeled silver boots, completely inappropriate for fighting in. And they’d be ruined if they got splattered with blood.
The rogue dropped its victim, who began to crawl sluggishly into the gutter, and advanced towards her. There was no spark of intelligence behind those blank, bloodshot eyes, only primal instinct. He was likely newly made and had been left to fend for himself by a vampire too ignorant or arrogant to give a shit.
Which just made her job a whole lot easier. If he had never used his inherent vampiric powers, the chances were he had no idea he even possessed any. She leaped out of the way as he jumped at her, and his shock at her speed radiated from him.
He hadn’t a clue what she was.
Undete
rred, he turned to leap at her again. God, what was the time? She didn’t want to be late for her first date in more than seven years. She gripped her katana with both hands and severed the creature’s head from its neck in mid-air, then hastily jumped out of the way. Had she managed to avoid the blood? How mortifying if she turned up with blood in her hair.
She stepped over the head and slammed her foot on the creature’s abdomen. His hands blindly reached for her as she whipped out a stake and thrust it into his chest. Then, using the sole of her boot, which was going to completely ruin it, she hammered the stake all the way through the rogue’s heart.
Its body crumbled, vanished and she glared around, looking for the victim. Although she didn’t possess the power to completely wipe the memory of an attack, she did have the means to close any puncture wounds. And if there was no evidence, who would believe the rantings of a traumatized human?
She just hoped the victim wasn’t so badly injured that she’d have to take further action. Why had this happened tonight? She could go weeks without finding a random rogue. Usually dhampirs hunted specific targets.
A faint scuffling caught her attention. The victim, a teenage boy, peered up at her through glazed eyes. Trying to curb her impatience, she gently eased his head back so she could get a look at the damage. Didn’t look too bad. Lucky she’d caught the rogue when she had.
“Was that… a vampire?” His voice sounded strangled as he gripped her wrist.
“No.” She unhooked his fingers so she could get the phial secreted in an inside pocket of her coat. Unlike full blood vampires her saliva didn’t contain the healing properties required to close puncture wounds, but their pharmaceutical geniuses had come up with an impressive substitute.
Nemesis: Paranormal Angel Romance (Realm of Flame and Shadow Book 2) Page 4
