by Amy Miles
His gaze narrows, searching her face. How many times has he looked at her in this same manner over the past few months? Analyzing her words against the emotions he knows she bottles up inside.
She has never let him see the pain Fane’s death has caused her. Not out of wanting to hide from him, but because it is too personal. She loved Fane once, more than life itself. Admitting this openly to Gabriel is something she would rather not do.
So she keeps her pain locked firmly away in the recesses of her heart. A part of her feels as if it has continued to wither in his absence. She suspects that Sadie knows of her inner turmoil but is able to offer little help now that she has returned to America.
It had taken a great deal of begging on William’s part to get Sadie to leave Nicolae’s side long enough to return and finish school. Sadie, of course, saw no point in going through the monotony of it all, forcing herself to pretend to be a normal teenage girl for the sake of appearances, but she went out of love for William and his need to immerse himself back in reality. Roseline has a sneaking suspicion that Sadie also wants the opportunity to flaunt her new look a bit to all of the “in crowd” who shunned her over the years.
Roseline knew her friend’s parents would be furious over their disappearance when they arrived back home so she and Nicolae skillfully worked to tie their absence with the string of murders Lucien swept across the world. William certainly still had enough bruises and cuts lingering to pull it off well enough. Sadie added a few of her own wounds at the last minute to make it believable. Outrage turned to tears as their parents embraced them on their doorstep, marveling at how much Sadie had changed.
For any normal person, the transition from mortality to immortality would be such a drastic change that people would notice immediately, but Sadie… Well, her flamboyant love of character roleplaying helped smooth that one over nicely.
Roseline and Gabriel had watched from across the street, standing in the shadow of night. She had felt Gabriel’s sadness as if it were her own. Felt the tremble in his hand as he gazed toward the lighted windows of his former home before he turned away.
She had said nothing as they walked back to the car to drive to the airport. This was his choice to make.
Now, only a few months later, she can still feel his burden, his sadness. She knows he would never change his fate, not at the risk of losing her, but sometimes she wonders if they will ever truly be able to share their pain together. He always wants to prove that he is strong enough to bear this burden.
“Is anyone still manning this base?” he asks, drawing her from her thoughts. Roseline notes that after months of practice, Gabriel’s Romanian accent sounds less disjointed. She still loves it when they speak in his native tongue, but there is something definitely sexy about hearing him speak Romanian to her in the dark of night.
He turns away to stare at the snow-covered compound, its entrance barely able to be seen on the horizon. Certainly invisible to the human eye.
Over the next rise lies the battlefield. The blood will have stained the layers of ice, hidden beneath a thick layer of snow but still there. She can smell the tangy, metallic scent carried on the breeze as if it were newly shed. Somewhere out there is the field of bodies that were left open to the elements. Fallen Ones, hideously deformed beings that fought against them in the battle, were left behind. No one cared to give them a decent burial.
Beyond that, a great mound of frozen flesh is sure to be found where the dragon finally fell, never again to breathe its fire upon the land. What will the humans think when they someday discover its remains? Roseline glances toward the horizon, wondering if Lucien had any other pets that he kept hidden from the world.
“No one is here right now. It’s too remote,” she says, knowing that no one would be eager to volunteer to come back here. “They have all been called back to Romania for assignments, but we still need to prepare.”
Her boots punch through the top six inches of ice-crusted snow as she leads the way. Her hands tremble slightly at her sides as unease swells in her stomach. Her chest clenches as she catches the scent of death riding the wind from over the hill, but she does not slow.
As she steps into the shadow of the entrance, Gabriel reaches out to stop her. “Maybe I should go first. We don’t know what could be inside.”
Her initial response is to tell him to stop being silly, but she catches herself. He needs this, to feel like her protector. She steps aside and lets him pass.
It has been hard to learn to rely on Gabriel. Not that she doesn’t want to, it’s just challenging to walk beside someone who is your equal after so many years of being alone. No, not alone. She was never alone… but she was stubbornly independent.
The metal door closes with a resounding boom as the wind rips it from Roseline’s fingertips. She is instantly thrust into complete darkness. The hairs on the back of her neck rise and her lips instinctively peel back over her teeth as she breathes deep. She can hear Gabriel doing the same thing and relaxes as nothing dangerous leaps out at her, yet something in the air feels different. A sort of electrical charge that she can’t place her finger on.
Flicking the switch of her flashlight, she hands it to Gabriel and follows as they weave deeper into the base. It is eerily silent without anyone else around. The doors to the rooms stand partially open. Evidence of blood and bandages still linger on some of the floors and tables.
They left in a hurry. No one wanted to stick around longer than necessary to collect the bodies after the remnants of the enemy fled to the border, as far from Canada as possible.
The command room appears at the end of a long hall, the dark interior making it seem much farther than she knows it to be. Gabriel opens the door and motions for her to enter. She turns to flick on the light switch but stiffens. The scent hits her first, masculine and strong.
Gabriel calls out a warning, but her dagger is already spiraling through the air. She catches a glint of metal in the lowered flashlight beam. There is no sound of it hitting its mark. She blinks in confusion at the sound of clapping that arises from the dark.
Flipping on the light switch Roseline finds herself less than fifteen feet away from the largest man she has ever glimpsed. His skin is ebony with a sheen along his bare chest that makes her wonder if he has been rubbed down with oil. Muscle piles atop muscle along his arms and calves. His waist is nearly double her width. His chest rises to meet shoulders so broad that he would be forced to walk sideways down the hall.
His head is shaved clean apart from a single ponytail of black hair that reminds her of a horse’s tail, thick and coarse. Strange markings scrawl out from the corners of his eyes, winding down his cheeks and neck to coil over his shoulders and down his back.
A great curved sword hangs from his waist. A leather belt built sturdy enough to hold the weapon’s great weight lassos his hips. His legs are the size of tree trunks, spread wide, knees slightly bent, as if preparing to attack. His feet are bare.
Roseline notices all of this with the first sweep of her gaze but immediately perceives the most startling feature. A pair of sapphire-blue wings rise from behind him, arched above his shoulders and tapering down to the floor. In total, the man must be at least eight foot tall and his wingspan double that.
“Seneh spoke highly of your woman, Gabriel,” the man says with a hint of admiration as he flips Roseline’s dagger in his hand and then holds it out for her to take.
“You know Seneh?” Gabriel asks, his voice raspy with disbelief.
“Can’t you see the resemblance?” Roseline steps forward, noting how bright the whites of his eyes and teeth appear against his dark skin. “You’re related to him, aren’t you?”
The man tilts his head, contemplating. “We do not have siblings like you mortals do, but in a way, yes, Seneh was a brother to me.”
Gabriel blows out a breath and lowers his sword. He tucks the flashlight into his pocket and steps forward to retrieve Roseline’s dagger. She watches him as he strug
gles to find the words to express the pain she knows he has felt since his guardian’s death. When he comes up with nothing, she places a hand on his arm, accepting her weapon from him.
“He knows,” she whispers. Gabriel nods, offering the angel a pained smile.
“Who are you?” Roseline asks, turning her gaze back onto the man. “Why are you here?”
“My name is Ashir. I have come at Elias’s request.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Gabriel mutters under his breath. He places his own sword on top of a nearby table and lowers into a chair with a groan. Roseline follows suit as the angel ruffles his feathers and sinks down onto the cold concrete floor, his legs crossed before him, hands placed upon his knees.
“There is a great unrest within our realm.” He begins. His dark eyes watch both of them carefully. Roseline realizes his irises are a couple shades darker than his sapphire wings, making them appear almost black.
The lights buzz and flicker overhead. In a distant part of the compound, she can hear the generator groaning in protest as it struggles to warm up.
“After Lucien was killed by Roseline, the hierarchy of the Shadow Lands began to crumble with no one to lead. Powers and principalities, as your Bible would know to call them, began to rise from around the world, each one determined to take Lucien’s place. There were great battles. Scores of dead mounting on both sides of the battle lines. I lost many friends to the battle.” The great man’s deep voice bears hint to a small waver. He clears his throat before continuing. “This is where Elias has been these past few months, on the front lines, trying to keep our realm from spilling over into yours.”
“What of the Fallen Ones? They are part of our world,” Gabriel says, leaning forward. His elbows dig into his knees and his hands begin to redden with the intensity of his thumb rubbing against his palm, evidence of his growing tension.
“They were sent here a long time ago, cast out in one great horde, but there are countless others waiting to enter. We are all that stands between them and your world.”
Roseline blows out a breath that she has been holding. She knew something like this would happen. Fate taught her long ago that a good thing never lasts.
“So you want us to fight.” It is a statement, both as obvious as it is painful to say. She has spent three hundred years fighting, for her life, for her freedom, for the people she loves. One war melds seamlessly with the next in her mind. Fighting is all that she knows now.
Ashir nods. “You are already preparing. We have seen your soldiers fighting alongside immortals. Your castle is no longer a home. It is a training ground. What purpose could you have for such work if you do not intend to put these warriors to action?”
“In our world.” Gabriel protests. “Against immortals who attack humans. Not against spirit beings that we know nothing of.”
Ashir looks at Gabriel with a soft, knowing smile. Roseline bristles. “You are one of us, Gabriel. The prophecy gives proof to that.”
“No!” Gabriel surges to his feet. “No way. I played my part.” He spins and jabs a finger at Roseline. “I gave up the one thing I loved most in this world for the sake of that stupid prophecy. We killed Lucien. That was all that was expected of us.”
Ashir’s gaze turns thoughtful, then shifts into something Roseline can only guess expresses utter sadness. He places his hands upon the ground and rises slowly to his full height. She has to crane her head back to look up at him as he spreads his wings. Even in this large room, he is unable to fully extend them. “The prophecy is not done with you two.”
He turns and walks toward the door. His wings slowly fold back toward his body. He topples metal chairs and shifts tables as he passes. At the door, he turns back and the look in his eye makes Roseline shiver. “This war is coming to your doorstep whether you like it or not. Sooner or later, you will no longer be given a choice.”
SIX
Roseline blinks against the tears that freeze as they roll down her cheeks, crystallizing along her lower lashes. Her nose feels raw and her throat tight as her fingers dig into the ice. It cracks around where she plunges them deep, but she doesn’t feel the cold. She only feels emptiness.
This is where I lost him, she thinks as a sob rises in her throat.
The scent of Fane’s blood is still strong in this spot, though his body was removed and has since been buried on castle grounds. The pain burrowing into her chest amplifies as she breathes in deep. She can still smell his fear tainting his blood that lingers, encased within the layers of ice that will never grow warm enough to truly thaw. An eternal tomb.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, wrenching her hands free of the ice. Her legs begin to quake as she leans forward on her knees and press her lips to the cold ice. Tears fall unheeded, freezing on impact with the ground. She sinks back onto her haunches and wipes at her cheeks. Her fingers are red, her nail beds seeping blood from where she broke the ice, but she takes no notice. Her hands tremble as she clutches her thighs.
“You always were better than me. More noble. More loyal. More loving.” Her voice cracks on the final word. Fane’s undying love for her had lasted through the years, never wavering in its devotion. Not even when she discovered her bond with Gabriel.
She knew how much it hurt him yet was helpless to stop it, even if she had wanted to. Fane was her past, Gabriel her future, but that doesn’t erase the years of love she and Fane once shared.
Roseline blows out a breath and a bitter laugh bubbles from her lips. “Do you remember when we first met? You had on that ridiculous mask at the masquerade that Vladimir threw not far from Brasov. I didn’t know it was you until you found me later, stark naked and dangling from one of Lucien’s infernal contraptions in the dungeon beneath the castle.” Her laughter fades off as she wraps her arms around her. “You saved me that day. Not just by helping me to escape, but by showing me there was still a reason to live. You taught me that love is not something taken, but given, in a thousand tiny ways. You taught me to be strong, to protect myself.”
A multitude of memories flutter before her eyes. A look. A touch. A whisper shared in the dark. Roseline closes her eyes, clutching her chest as if she has been mortally wounded. Fane did more than save her the day he discovered her in Lucien’s torture chamber. He gave her a reason to live, to fight back. Without him, her misery would have been endless.
Countless times she tried to take her own life, only to awaken to a beating just as painful and brutal as her suicide attempt. Vladimir was cruel. Lucien was cunning, his thrill for pain eternal.
She had no friends, no allies. The only people who surrounded her in her first weeks of becoming an immortal either wanted to slit her throat for capturing Vladimir’s attention or wanted to snatch her away and do beastly things to her in the dark.
Some tried. They would have succeeded too, if not for Fane.
He is the one who put a sword in her hand, taught her how to hunt and how to hide from an enemy. He is the one who sacrificed his own wellbeing countless times so that she might live.
Now he is gone, another sacrifice with a price too high to pay, yet he did so willingly. All for the sake of a love that she could no longer accept nor return.
Tears well in her eyes as she begins to quake. He deserved better than her. Someone who could truly love him as he deserved.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers into the wind.
She lifts her gaze to the fading light on the horizon. Pale blues and purples splash across the sky, lighting the wispy clouds above. Night will fall soon and Gabriel will begin to worry. She has lingered too long.
“I owe my life to you, Fane,” she whispers, pressing her hand to her lips and then placing it atop the ground. “You will never be forgotten. I will see to that.”
The sound of a boot punching through ice behind her makes Roseline stiffen. She retracts her hand as if the ice has stung her. Gabriel sinks down beside her, his eyes gentle and uncondemning.
“It’s okay, you know?�
�
“What is?”
Gabriel looks down at the patch of frozen ground before her. It is still possible to just make out the streaks of blood that have frozen within the ice layers. “It’s okay to love him,” he whispers.
She reaches out to take his hand, clasping it tightly in her own as she struggles to breathe. He places a hand around her waist and draws her into his embrace. Leaning her head against his shoulder, she closes her eyes to the sunset. “He was my past.”
“No.” He pulls back just enough to be able to look down at her. “He is a part of you. Your past, present, and future. Just because you are with me now doesn’t mean he is any less a part of who you are. Fane was a good, honorable man. I am grateful he was in your life.”
She holds her breath, her lips trembling too hard to be able to form a coherent word. What sort of strength must it take for a man to not only acknowledge her love for another, but to go a step further and embrace it with an open heart? she muses as she clings to him.
“Thank you,” she finally manages to whisper.
His grip on her tightens as he presses his lips to her forehead. She can feel the warmth of his lips and his heart in that kiss.
“Do you think he would approve? Of us, I mean?” she whispers as the colors overhead sink into the depths of night.
“Yes.”
“How do you know?” she asks, barely over a whisper. This is a conversation she never wanted to have with him, but now that he is here, she can’t imagine why she waited so long.
He rests his head atop hers, shielding her from the winds that whip across the frozen tundra. In the distance, they can hear wolves beginning to emerge from their dens. “Because he loved you enough to put your happiness first. Why do you think he sacrificed himself for you?”
Roseline pauses, chewing on her lower lip. Her hair flutters in the breeze, tangling in her eyelashes, but she doesn’t push it aside. A part of her feels comfort in being able to hide, even if only momentarily.
