“Think Darla think,” she quietly whispered to herself, fighting to recall the events that had brought her to this place. Vague memories danced in her mind. The dining room at Mama Grace’s… the group all assembled… the door exploding… blinding light… then nothing. Darla’s breath caught in her throat. Where am I?
The wall opposite contained a shuttered window. Was it closed to block out the light while she had slept or perhaps something more permanent? Moving swiftly and silently to assuage her fears her heart sank to find the shutters not only closed but securely locked and refusing to budge no matter how hard she tried. Silently she crossed to the door, gently testing the handle. Locked!
Darla looked around the room that had now become her prison.
Sinking to the corner of the bed she drew her knees up to her chest and closed her eyes fighting the rise of panic. Now was not the time to lose her cool. Clearing her mind she focused on the night’s previous events. Quinn had been angry with the prophecy – nothing unusual there, but Larissa… Larissa had tried to warn them just before the explosion had occurred. The facts pointed at only one thing, whoever had been looking for her had finally found her.
So where she was now and with whom was what she now needed to discover. Without knowing the fate of the others she had very few options to consider. Either sit and wait to become the sacrificial lamb, therefore fulfilling the prophecy or take destiny in her own hands and attempt to find a way out.
To hell with fate, bring on destiny!
First would be to arm herself. The room had been stripped of all personal affects no doubt to stop her from harming herself or her attacker. Checking the drawers as silently as possible, each one turned up as empty as the last. Clearly they had anticipated her every move removing anything that could be of use. Or had they? Her hand flew to her hip, grasping at the small cylindrical weapon Quinn had presented her with. Either her captors had stupidly over-looked it or they had dismissed it as insignificant not realising what it was - huge mistake on their part.
Struggling to activate the mechanism that released the staff to its full length, Darla made one final twist and the solid pole extended. Experimenting with the weight of the unknown metal she twisted and twirled the staff between her hands, familiarising herself with the way it responded to her expert touch.
Her eyes welled realising that even now Quinn was doing as he’d promised, protecting her to the end. Had he also survived the attack? The possibility of him being harmed caused a dull ache in her chest. Furiously swiping at the tears she tried not to think about it. Now was not the time or the place for sentimental emotion; now was the time to fight! She would gain her freedom and somehow no matter what it took she would find him.
With the weapon clasped firmly in her hands and a few steadying breaths she was ready to face whatever threat awaited her on the other side of the door. Tapping tentatively so as to appear non-confrontational she waited with baited breath.
Almost immediately there was the sound of the lock disengaging confirming that her presence was of high enough importance to require the use of guards at her door. Not a good sign!
Using the element of surprise the instant the door opened, Darla lunged forward slamming the end of the staff into the unsuspecting face of one of her captors. Ignoring the sickening sound of crunching bone, she watched as the impact from the blow sent him reeling backwards, slamming awkwardly into his accomplice and causing both to fall against the wall behind. Pushing the injured man aside the other male leapt to his feet, his face a mask of rage as he stalked towards her displaying a look of harmful intent.
Momentarily mesmerised by his strange elongated face and extended arms, Darla only just managed to avoid his swinging blow. Sliding beneath his arm her staff trailed skilfully behind before slamming into his unprotected back, producing the sound of cracking ribs. Seeing him fall painfully to his knees she spun the staff in a powerful arch rendering him unconscious with a swift blow to the back of his head.
Pausing only long enough to check that the first assailant was still breathing, she immediately took stock of her surroundings. Standing in the centre of a long corridor she edged cautiously towards a nearby flight of stairs before pausing to listen. The soft murmured sounds of numerous voices drifted up from the floor below. Although the steps looked tempting - with the strong possibility of several assailants to overcome there was no alternative but for her to turn and head in the opposite direction.
Moving swiftly on silent feet she flew down the length of the hallway, frequently glancing behind for any signs of discovery or raised alarms. At the end of the hall she pressed her back against the ancient stone wall, cautiously peering around the corner. What she had hoped was another section of corridor with an alternate flight of stairs to the floor below was instead an alcove with a flight of stone stairs leading up to the floor above.
Hesitating for no more than a second she realised there was no other alternative. Up would not have been her first choice of an escape route but unfortunately it appeared to be the only one available, beyond returning the way she had come and risking capture by whomever those voices had belonged to.
Up it is then!
Climbing the steps two at a time, she reached the top in seconds, relieved to discover that the heavy wooden door blocking her escape was unlocked. Praying that wherever it led, there would hopefully be another way down safely away from the voices she’d heard below, she pushed against its heavy weight swinging it wide and her heart sank immediately. The stone staircase had indeed led to the outside world, but from what she could see, she was as much a prisoner as before.
The simplest of glances told her that her prison was a castle and her bid for escape had been in vain as she now stood in the centre of one of its isolated towers. Adding to her despair raised voices from the hallway below signalled the discovery of the fallen men. Silently closing the heavy carved door, Darla used her metal staff to secure the lock, blocking anyone who might track her escape route. Knowing it would not save her indefinitely she could only pray it would buy her some time to think.
Examining the tower she ran the circumference of the boundary wall peering over the edge with the hope that there would be something, anything that could be to her advantage. Perhaps a window inlet that she could safely lower herself down to and wait until the coast was clear. But everywhere she looked there was nothing but sheer stone walls plummeting to the ground far below. Any further thought of escape was futile.
Dejectedly looking out from the tower she realised how hopeless her attempt had been. Wherever the castle stood, it was far from the beauty of the great forest. As far as her eyes could see there was nothing but barren wasteland. Empty and desolate. Even if she escaped the castle her abductors would have found her without the slightest difficulty. Escape was no longer an option. It was either surrender or… …
Darla peered over the edge once more. The castle was enormous and the turret where she stood was three, possibly four storeys from the hard rock below.
Her mind raced and her pulse thundered.
The prophecy dictated that she was to be sacrificed at a specific time in a specific way. What would happen if she was to change those specifics? Surely the prophecy would become void. Didn’t Maisey say that Lucifer had dealt with the threat to his realm by altering the outcome?
Darla peered over the wall once more at the vast drop below certain of one thing. A fall from this height would kill her outright. No pain. No suffering and most importantly Heaven would be saved.
So why did she hesitate? Wasn’t this how she had arrived in Redemption? Surely God would not refuse her entrance to Heaven this time, not after making such a sacrifice. To finally be re-united with Adam wasn’t that what she had always dreamed of? So why the doubt?
The jump from the bridge now seemed almost a lifetime ago, but in reality little more than a few days had passed. What had changed in that time? Any given day over the last two years she would have willingly taken the leap
without the slightest of hesitation. Yet now something held her back.
Her mind had always been so clear, so focused, so devoid of emotion… and that was the truth of it. Before she had jumped nothing had mattered to her. She had felt nothing! She’d had no-one! But now… now there was a small tenuous thread anchoring her to this world. A want maybe…..? A desire…..? Unclear of precisely what it was, she knew with unequivocal certainty was that now there was Quinn!
Angry, frustrating, arrogant, insufferable, argumentative and not forgetting incredibly arrogant Quinn! Had she listed arrogant twice? Smiling to herself she had to admit that he had more than an abundance of the trait. And yet why was it that whenever he was around her she felt… what?
Excited! Passionate! Alive!
Was it simply a case of unbridled lust, overwhelming desire or even plain and simple infatuation? Or could it possibly be so much more? Surely it could not be….. love?
“Oh!” Darla’s breath broke apart in her throat. Panic rose, swelling into a tight ball in her chest. The idea of never seeing him again swamped her with the echoing emptiness of the last two years.
Dear Lord she loved him! His strength, his passion, even the most simplest of touches, she craved them as much as the air that she breathed. Somehow unbelievably she loved him.
Was it even possible to find love in such a short span of time? Could such a thing as love at first sight truly exist? It had been the furthest thing from her mind when she had first peered up at his angry face confused and disorientated. But what she felt right now had unknowingly grown and developed in the hours spent with him since that first encounter. From her feelings of relief when Maisey had ordered she stay with him right up to their encounter in Mama Grace’s kitchen he had picked away at her barriers, barriers she had unknowingly allowed to crumble without even being aware. Quinn had done what she had always believed impossible he had melted the wall of ice encasing her heart and entrenched himself deep within.
And now she would never know if he could have ever put aside his hatred of humans and learned to love her in return. The price for such a dream was just too high. For a simple moment in time just to declare her love would allow the prophecy to be fulfilled and heaven would fall. Her conscience could never permit such a price no matter how much she loved him.
Darla knew what needed to be done. It was simple, one life to save millions. One brief act and her son’s soul would be protected for eternity.
Tears filled her eyes and her hands trembled as she clumsily climbed onto the thick wall of the tower. Looking down at the sheer drop below Darla couldn’t supress the hysterical laugher that escaped her lips. The irony of the situation was not lost on her. Such a short time ago she was in the exact same position, the only difference then, she had been desperate to jump, to be reunited with someone she loved dearly, and yet now, it would seem that she must jump thereby forfeiting any chance to be with the one she loved. Life could be so cruel and yet she knew what she did was the right thing to do. Yet again she felt that fate had brought her to this place.
Closing her eyes she cleared her mind and prepared to take the one simple step that would reunite her with her beloved son and snatch Quinn away from her forever. She edged her foot tentatively forward, moving one step closer to oblivion.
“Not yet!”
Darla gasped out loud, her body frozen. Clutching frantically at the pillars either side of her she steadied herself holding onto the cold hard stone of the ancient castle desperately trying to calm the panicked rush of her heart. A mixture of apprehension and fear coursed through her body as she slowly and tentatively turned her eyes wide and alert.
This cannot be! The voice!
The disembodied voice that had answered her pleas every night for the last two years…here…now! How is that even possible? And yet the truth was undeniable. The only difference this time was the voice was not inside her head, it was here, on the roof of the tower with her.
Her eyes frantically searched every shadow looking for the one to whom it belonged.
“Who are you?” she demanded, frustrated and tormented by the barren emptiness of the shadows.
Nothing!
No movement, no reply.
Listening intently, the empty silence of the tower was suddenly shattered by the sound of raised voices and rapidly approaching footsteps from the far side of the wooden door. It appeared that her captors had finally traced her failed escape route and were now eager to return her to her prison.
Darla flinched as something heavy struck the only barrier between her and her captors. The loud bang echoed around the tower; time had run out. It was now or never. To delay any further could prove to be catastrophic.
But the voice…?
Brushing her doubts aside Darla turned and readied herself for the leap.
“Not yet!”
“Who are you?” she screamed frustrated into the empty shadows behind. “If you truly are My Lord, you must know I have to do this. I will not be the instrument of heavens destruction.” Tears streamed down her face and on a choked cry she brokenly whispered, “What other way is there?”
“Not yet.”
This time the disembodied voice sounded softer and more distant. Just then the door splintered under a final blow and her staff fell away allowing it to swing wide. Darla only had a moment to see as a large exotic looking male propelling himself across the clearing towards her at preternatural speed.
Gasping with a mixture of shock and fear she leapt from the tower, her arms outstretched and her eyes tightly closed. As her body fell forward the stranger lunged just barely clasping her waist with an arm of solid steel. While she screamed aloud he dragged her backward unwittingly striking her head heavily against the stone pillar sending a white hot bolt of searing pain through her skull.
Tilting her head up Darla stared into burning amber eyes as stars burst before her own, plunging her into the darkness and oblivion of unconsciousness.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
In an action that felt as natural as walking Quinn reached out with his mind locating and locking on to his intended destination. Confirming the area to be safe his body rematerialized on top of the Mountain of Light the whole maneuverer taking little more than an instant. Slowly turning, he examined the strange barren area a little surprized that a place so bleak and desolated had been chosen as the point to summon the angels. Call him crazy but the idea of summoning a being of such reverence to a place so completely devoid of anything and everything was confounding and somehow just seemed so wrong!
Not sure of the procedure involved in calling out a heavenly host, Quinn decided on the simple, direct approach. Feeling slightly ridiculous and highly conspicuous of just how alone he actually was, he pushed his miss-giving’s aside and noisily cleared his throat.
“Michael!” he called. His voice echoed in the darkness around him, resonating in the emptiness. “I seek an audience with the Archangel Michael.”
He waited.
Struggling to hold his patience in check he strolled curiously to the edge of the mountain top and was suddenly enlightened by the choice of location in which to summon a direct servant of God. From the elevated position the entire realm of Redemption was spread out before him. Circling the perimeter’s edge he could easily see as far as the Great Forest, the vast marshlands to the west and even the rocky boarders that marked the Land of the Nephalim.
Knowing that somewhere out there Darla was being held against her will; a condemned prisoner for no other crime but innocence, his chest tightened and his anger unfurled.
Damn it!
“Michael! I need to speak with the Archangel Michael.” Raising his head along with his voice Quinn bellowed up at the swirling mass of pinks and purples that made up the glorious canopy of Redemption’s skies. With the continuing lack of response his anger boiled, making every passing moment seem like an extreme lesson in torment.
Anxiously pacing with nothing to do but wait, dangerous visions of Darla fl
ooded his mind. Images of her locked in a cell, alone and vulnerable not truly understanding the hand that had been dealt her. A responding growl unfurled in his chest, rumbling, grating, and strengthening before finally bursting free from his lips in a pure unadulterated roar of frustration.
“Michael! Goddamn you!” The words tore from his throat, the intensity of his rage now threatening to consume what last shred of reason he still possessed. “Michael!”
Quinn dropped his gaze from the sky above, bitter and frustrated at being persuaded into undertaking such a pointless mission.
Who knew what sort of treatment Darla had been subjected to while he had wasted his time on a deserted mountain, shouting up at the sky.
To hell with this shit, he thought preparing to dematerialise.
Before he could mind link with the others something powerful and strong struck the ground behind, the resulting shockwaves sending him staggering almost to his knees. Regaining his footing Quinn spun on his heels starring at the man before him.
Taller by far, the stranger had to be at least six and a half foot. Dressed in a loose white shirt, unbuttoned at the neck and soft stone coloured linen pants, his feet were more notable for the fact that they were bare. Was this an angel? He looked more like a tourist straight off a beach in some idyllic island setting than a heavenly servant of God.
Golden blonde hair fell in rumpled array to his shoulders and his face was the sort that even a heterosexual male would envy.
Jeez a pretty boy like this could even give the Hollywood studs a run for their money, Quinn thought.
The angel absently toyed with a pebble, rolling it beneath his bare foot. “You request an audience with me, a servant of God and yet you have the audacity to take My Lords name in vein. You are either extremely brave or incredibly stupid. So tell me demon, which is it?”
His disembodied voice wasn’t what Quinn had expected. Okay, so angels don’t speak, at least not in the conventional way. Who would have guessed? Not knowing exactly how to answer his comment without pissing him off, Quinn opted for the silent approach.
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