Wounded Angel (The Earth Angels)

by Gail, Stacy

  “You half-breeds might be able to see me, hunt me, and even hurt me,” Dantalion surprised him by agreeing. “But as you said, it’s a two-way street. While tussling with you might make me lose what precious power I’ve managed to store up, I promise you—I can and will kill you this very night. Your kind are nothing more than prey to me. And you, a muscle-bound bird without wings, will be the easiest prey of—”

  An arrogant lift of a head produced a momentary sitting back on the heels, and that was all Nate needed. He sprinted forward, the white-hot power in his muscles given full rein for the first time in his life. His fists connected like pile drivers into Dantalion’s featureless head; had he launched such power at a human skull, the punch would have plowed right through it. As it was, the demon’s head rocked back almost ninety degrees, his body arched backward. Then in a whiplike move Dantalion somersaulted with the momentum and landed in a half crouch in a move that would have looked right at home in The Matrix.

  “Guess you didn’t see that coming,” Nate said, all the while readying himself for the inevitable retaliation. “It’s just occurred to me that you haven’t been able to read my mind in any way, unlike Richard and Ella. I’ll bet you can’t even read how I plan to finish you off, can you, you whiny little bitch?”

  “Shut up, you mistake of nature.”

  “Your embarrassing lack of power at Ella’s house was also obvious, now that I think about it. When I stepped in front of her, cutting her off from you, your face went blank—literally. And you just admitted you could only zero in on my location through Archibald’s mind and the mind of your unstable proxy. A telling admission if there ever was one.” Nate’s smile was sharp enough to cut; he just hoped Dantalion could see it. “Damn, it must suck to be you. Not only are you vulnerable to the descendants of the Nephilim when it comes to physical attacks, you also can’t feed psychically off of us, can you? It’s just like my visions showed me—you can’t see us. However will you survive the next few minutes?”

  “That should be your concern, not mine.”

  They attacked simultaneously. Nate’s body was almost incandescent with inner heat, and it seemed as though Dantalion had shifted into slow motion, so much so that it was child’s play to dodge while pouring all his energy into his assault against the demon. His fists were nothing more than a frenzy of motion as he landed blow after blow—head, chin, stomach, ribs, throat. The relentless barrage whipped the hell spawn around in less than a second, and out of the corner of his eye he saw his enemy’s side kick coming. With his focus honed to razor sharpness, Nate suddenly saw what he needed to do. He grabbed the flying leg instead of dodging it, and used the momentum to toss his opponent to the ground with such strength the impact reverberated through the soles of his feet.

  He bent and went nose-to-nothing with the demon, a feral grin splitting his face. “That’s for Briella and Gabrielle. Now, time to make confetti out of you for targeting Ella. Say good-bye to your limbs.”

  “Richard!” The screech that erupted from Dantalion sounded urgent, distressed. It was music to Nate’s ears. “Richard, get out here! I need you!”

  “Even if your personal battery wasn’t out like a light, Richard is rather tied up at the moment.” From out of the shadows across the massive room Ella emerged, adroitly keeping her distance. “You’re on your own, Dantalion.”

  Nate couldn’t stop a laugh. Damn, she was hot.

  Another heat wave of power surged through him and with a sense of rightness Nate let it all go, unleashing another flurry of blows even as Dantalion screamed. Amidst the violence he became aware of a sick buckling beneath his fists, like he was pummeling a sack full of rocks that was fast disintegrating into gravel, then sand. While part of him vaguely registered that he was turning his own hands into raw hamburger, the undeniable crunching was the sweetest victory he’d ever known. The concrete underneath Dantalion caved in under the assault, a spider web of fractures that grew to a crater that deepened with each jackhammer-like hit, and with every blow he did it in the name of all the innocent victims the demon had left in his wake. One way or another, they would be avenged.

  Suddenly Dantalion’s body wavered, as if it was in danger of being washed away molecule by molecule. He flung an arm out toward Ella, the screech of his voice echoing from everywhere. “Come to me.”

  Nate jerked his head up in time to see Ella’s eyes widen. “Ella, get back!”

  In less than a heartbeat, several things happened at once. Ella did step back, clearly not the brainless puppet that Richard Rainier was. The moment Nate was distracted, Dantalion took a sudden swipe at him with a hand that was hooked to resemble a claw. Nate jerked back, and in that instant the demon was up and blurring away from him. Albino, membranous batlike wings burst from the hell spawn’s back, and he skimmed low across the massive room’s floor toward Ella like a nightmare come to life.

  The air vanished from Nate’s lungs. “No!”

  No human movement could avoid a demon in flight, but fighter that she was, Ella gave it her best shot. She got no more than a few steps before she was caught up, and all her self-defensive moves did absolutely nothing as Dantalion held her by the neck as if she were nothing more than a misbehaving puppy. Before Nate’s horrified eyes, the faceless being morphed into the image of Charles Rainier, its broken, dissolving body losing height but becoming solid once more as he landed lightly, holding Ella against him so that her feet barely touched the ground.

  “For a cripple, you’re not half-bad as the angel of vengeance’s descendant. Bravo.” Dantalion’s voice hissed from the smarmy curve of Charles Rainier’s mouth. He turned and licked Ella’s cheek; she gagged and squirmed in revulsion. “Even without wings, you represent that thuggish progenitor of yours surprisingly well. Worse yet, your irritating habit of uncovering things that are hidden has been my biggest concern since I embarked on my journey to create a new hell. Lucky for me you made the monumental mistake of bringing your pet monkey with you tonight. Thanks for that. I would have lost my place in this realm otherwise.”

  Nate couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. His safety, his life, stopping Dantalion—none of it mattered if he lost Ella. “Don’t. Hurt. Her.”

  “Ah, but her hurt and her pain and her unbelievable psychic terror gives me just enough strength to stay in this world long enough to make you beg for death.” The demon’s borrowed face split into a smile of unmitigated glee. “Don’t you get that this is how I work?”

  “He might not, but I think I do.”

  The sound of Ella’s voice froze them both into place.

  * * *

  Ella wasn’t an idiot, and she’d been here before; she knew what the last few moments of life looked like. She’d suspected she was done for from the moment Dantalion sped toward her in that impossibly fast, not-human way of moving. Then, when he went airborne, the inevitability of her death was as inescapable as Dantalion. But she wasn’t about to allow this wretched thing target Nate without putting up some kind of fight. If it took what little life she had left, then so be it. To protect the one person she loved and trusted without reservation, it was well worth the sacrifice.

  The odious thing wearing the face of Charles Rainier went unnaturally still. Apparently even demons could look like a deer in the headlights. But why? What was he afraid of? Certainly not her.

  “Don’t.” The warning rippled with a wealth of promised agony, and inside the primitive part of her curled into a shivering ball. But beneath the demon’s dire tone was a shrieking sort of alarm that her skittering mind latched onto with all its might. “I don’t want to kill you, my little human power source. Don’t make me do it.”

  Before she could stop it, a frenzied flash of Stockholm Syndrome reared its ugly head. He’ll be nice and spare your life if you just don’t cause any trouble...

  Oh, how she knew that voice. That was the voice of the scared victim
looking to her tormentor, of all people, for hope and mercy. It was the voice of the powerless. The helpless. God, she hated that voice. If she never wanted to be at the mercy of another, she wouldn’t wait for mercy to be given. She would act, and she would have no regrets of the outcome.

  “When we send you back to hell, do me a favor and thank Charles Rainier for me.” Twisting around in the demon’s grip, she looked into the face of her nightmare and made herself smile. “He taught me an important lesson, Dantalion. I have to fight for what’s important, because it sure as hell won’t be given to me by the likes of him, or you.”

  “And what’s important to you now, you hairless monkey? Your life? Your next breath?” The hand around her neck squeezed for just a moment, and she felt something grind together in her throat. “Your next frail heartbeat?”

  “Him.” She could only mouth the word before she cut Dantalion out of her vision and focused on Nate, and suddenly all was quiet inside. Dantalion’s grip loosened perceptibly, and crystal-clear understanding whispered like a miracle through her. “My fear and pain is the only thing holding you in this existence after that ass-whooping he gave you, am I right? Too bad for you, I’m done feeding you negative energy.”

  His roar sounded like fingernails on a blackboard. “You can’t do anything to stop it, you arrogant little ant. I’m a demon and you’re—”

  “Capable of love.” She let go of all the self-protective defenses, the insecurities that held her back, and simply allowed herself to feel. Nate, and everything he’d brought into her solitary world, was the greatest gift she’d ever been given. By simply existing, he was a never-ending source of happiness, of trust and unquestioning acceptance of who and what she was. He believed her scars gave her strength, not damage, and he had a touching faith that she was strong enough to deal with the scars that belonged to him. When she was by his side, she knew there was a welcoming, loving place for her in the world. That knowledge made her heart complete.

  She loved him.

  A watery ripple washed over the thing that held her, and she looked back in time to see Charles Rainier’s face vanish as if melting into formless wax. A scream that was pure frustration filled her ears a moment before they shot straight up toward the glass ceiling overhead, the sting of cold night air hitting her face as they flew through the blown-out panel, and Nate’s anguished yell hit her heart with the accuracy of an arrow. In seconds they were high over Navy Pier, the lake a vast and empty darkness behind them and the sprawl of Chicago’s towering skyline outlined in lights before them. Terror all but strangled her heart to a standstill, her stomach lurching in a sickening jolt as they came to an abrupt halt. They hovered, impossibly high over the bright carnival-like lights of Navy Pier’s amusement park a moment before the arm that held her reared back.

  “My parting gift to your crippled half-breed,” Dantalion hissed. “Let’s see if your capability of love can save you now.”

  No, no don’t—

  A strange purple-white streak erupted from the roof of the Crystal Gardens even as Dantalion threw her fastball-style toward the ground.

  I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead...

  She hurtled so fast through the air it was like being caught in a vacuum; there was no breath even to scream. Not that breathing mattered anymore. Dead people didn’t need to breathe. Blackness edged her scattering awareness, and she was thankful for it coming to claim her. It would cushion that last instant of agony, both the physical and the emotional. To die like this was horrific enough, but to die with the regret of not telling Nate she had learned she could still love thanks to him... That was an absolute tragedy.

  Something caught her on her downward trajectory and pulled her parallel to the ground as the patterned concrete of the pier rushed up like a mind-numbing nightmare. The G-forces tugged at her, creaking at her bones and threatening to detach her internal organs from their rightful places. The concrete seemed almost close enough to touch, before her arc slowly eased and U-turned upward, hovered a moment, and settled somewhat gracelessly on the pier’s edge. Air rushed back into her lungs and the dancing blackness seeped away so that clarity once again reigned supreme.

  Alive. She was alive. Somehow.

  “Ella.” Strong arms gripped her. A deafening rustle sounded. “My Ella. Oh, God. I almost lost you.”

  Slowly she peeled open eyes she couldn’t remember closing, amazed that she could feel her heartbeat shake her whole body. She shouldn’t have a heartbeat. She should be splattered against the pavement, not held against a hard body radiating nuclear-like heat.

  A hard body...?

  “Nate.” It was barely a whisper, but the arms that held her crushed her that much more in response. As if he had no more strength in his legs they both sank to the ground, with her body cradled like a lifeless doll in his lap. She began to shiver uncontrollably, and as her teeth began to chatter she huddled against his chest, only to find it bare. That made no sense. Hadn’t he been wearing clothes? “I...I...”

  “I’ve got you.” His mouth burrowed into her hair, and out of nowhere came the memory of that long-ago moment when he’d found her once before, wrapped his arms around her and brought her out of the darkness. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

  “Thank you.” As she wrapped her arms around him, she was almost too numb to be surprised when she encountered the thick, sturdy frame of wings. At their base sprouted dark, almost bruised purple feathers that flowed into an iridescent white at the tips.

  At last, her wounded angel had gotten his wings.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The first hint of a new day was making the sky blush when Ella straggled into the hotel room with Nate. Without pause she put out the Do Not Disturb sign before locking the door behind them. Every nerve in her body screamed for sleep, though part of her feared that if she took the risk of lying down she might never get up again. Though several hours had passed since her plummet to near-extinction, her muscles still felt doughy. The simple relief of slumping on the edge of the bed almost brought her to tears.

  “I’m hoping Chicago’s finest are done with us now that they have Richard Rainier in custody.” Still wrapped in his duster and the sweater they’d blatantly stolen off of Rainier to hide his newly emerged wings, Nate loosed a weary sigh as he sat down beside her. “Considering that family’s talent for spitting out fucked-up psychos, the cops should be more than happy to accept that Rainier’s trolley has left its tracks in a big way, and leave it at that. What else are they going to do with his epic tale of a shape-shifting zombie girlfriend who sweet-talked him into killing Briella Fields, Gabrielle Litte and Jasmine Sims, as well as making an attempt on your life?”

  “It does help that he sounds like a nut who didn’t fall far from the family tree.” It was the most natural thing in the world to curl up on his lap and wrap her arms around his neck. When she settled against him, the ragged jangling of her nerves quieted at last. “It’s funny.”

  “What?”

  “I keep thinking about Nero fiddling as Rome burned. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if Dantalion really had been behind it all. Richard’s mind has been completely shattered by that demon’s influence.”

  The arms that held her tightened. “You’re not feeling sorry for that spineless rat bastard, are you?”

  “Not in the least.”

  “You sure?”

  She nodded. “Dantalion’s influence can be fought off—I did it. But obviously Richard had no problem with letting the dark places inside take over. He gets what he deserves in this life, and in the next. The only thing I’m worried about now is his demon handler returning to push him into taking more lives.”

  “When Dantalion took off, he didn’t look like he even remembered Richard Rainier existed,” came the drawling reply. “And considering that our not-so-friendly neighborhood hell spawn doesn’t do wel
l surrounded by a lot of people in his semi-manifested state, I suspect he’d rather move on to greener pastures than try to hang around with what will probably be a heavily medicated jailbird and a few thousand of his closest incarcerated friends.”

  “Dantalion could easily bring someone else under his influence, another jailbird who wouldn’t be medicated.”

  “Yeah, but where’s the fun in getting a soul that’s not so innocent to do your dirty work? There’s no real punch of power in that, and for now gaining power and becoming fully manifested is all Dantalion is interested in.”

  “I don’t even want to think about that.” She shivered at the memory. When the demon had tried to take control of her mind it had felt like a snake coiling around itself inside her head. “Trust me, he’s powerful enough.”

  “After our fight, I doubt he had enough power to even remain in this realm.”

  A bloom of pride exploded in her chest. “You were amazing. Dantalion was so weak he couldn’t even use his powers against me.”

  “That was your strength, not his weakness.” There was a light in his eyes that touched her soul, and she realized after a moment that he was just as proud of her. “That demon met his match in you.”

  “In both of us.” Moved beyond words that he could look at her as though she was the answer to all of his problems, she touched his whisker-darkened cheek. “I had no idea you could move like that.”

  “I’m beginning to think my progenitor was quite the bruiser.” He glanced down at one hand, the knuckles now a spectacular rainbow of purples, reds and blacks. “Dantalion didn’t seem to be too surprised by my Hulk-smash technique. Apparently finding hidden things isn’t all a descendant of an angel of vengeance and punishment can do.”

  “Dantalion thought you were wounded. A cripple.”

  “So did I.”