DARK SOULS (Angels and Demons Book 2)

by Brenda L. Harper

  After a minute, Dylan let her hand slide slowly down the side of Wyatt’s face, resting it along his jaw. She pressed her forehead to his and whispered something no one but Wyatt—and Stiles—could hear. She said, “Okay.”

  After a long second, a second that allowed Josephine to believe her mother was going to heal her father, she turned her head just enough to see her daughter’s face. Josephine might not have seen it, but Stiles knew Dylan. He saw the grief in every line of her face, and would have felt it even if their souls weren’t connected.

  “Leave,” she said softly.

  “You’re going to fix this, right?” Josephine asked, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You’re going to make him better?”

  Pain sliced across Dylan’s face. Matthew recognized it. He took Josephine’s arms and pulled her back against his chest.

  “Let’s go, sweetheart,” he said close to her ear. “Let’s give them some time.”

  “No,” Josephine said, trying to wrench free from her husband’s touch. “I won’t leave. Not until she promises to fix him.”

  “Jo…”

  Harry stepped in front of Josephine and blocked her view of the bed. “You need to calm down, Josephine,” he said. “You have the baby to think about.”

  “My baby needs a grandfather. Momma, please…”

  Tears began to roll slowly down Dylan’s face. But she didn’t move to help her daughter. She knew Matthew could do better than she could. She stared into Wyatt’s eyes, her hands slowly, methodically, stroking the side of his face.

  “Come on, Jo,” Matthew said, drawing his wife toward the door. She was sobbing, tears rolling down her cheeks in huge drops. But she let him lead her away this time. Harry hesitated, turning to watch Dylan and Wyatt for a moment. He opened his mouth to say something, but clearly thought better of it. He just nodded slightly, and then turned and followed Matthew and Josephine out the door.

  Dylan’s body jerked as the door closed. She pulled back as Wyatt began to choke again, carefully guiding him to the bowl that was already nearly overflowing with bile. Then she glanced over her shoulder at the exact spot where Stiles was watching her, wishing he could do something…anything to make this easier.

  “You, too. Please leave us alone.”

  I won’t go far.

  I know.

  Stiles slid through the door and moved into his human form. The others were in the living room, still trying to calm Josephine.

  “He’s dying,” she said between sobs. “And she’s not doing anything. What’s the point of having an angel in the family if she won’t even heal the man she supposedly loves?”

  “Don’t do that,” Stiles said, his voice was like steel. “You don’t know what she’s going through in there.”

  “She can fix this!” Josephine cried, pointing a finger at Stiles. “The two of you, playing God all the time. You can’t choose who to heal and who to allow to die. It’s not right!”

  “And you’re being selfish.”

  The color drained from Josephine’s face as she jumped off the couch and stormed toward Stiles, her finger jabbing into the center of his chest.

  “I’m selfish? What about her? She won’t heal him because she wants to be with you!”

  “If you believe that, then you know absolutely nothing about your mother. You have no idea what she has done for you, for all of humanity. Or how much she loves Wyatt.”

  “Just because she made some sort of stupid choice—”

  “It wasn’t just a choice, Josephine. She saved humanity. She ensured that you and your children and grandchildren will always have a place here. And now—”

  “All I care about is my dad. I can’t…” Josephine began to crumple, her knees growing weak as she started to fall. Matthew caught her and Stiles pressed a hand to her forehead, instantly sending her into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  Matthew swung her up into his arms. “She’s just grieving,” he said to Stiles.

  Stiles inclined his head slightly as he watched Matthew take Josephine to her childhood bedroom.

  The silence was heavy as Stiles tried not to overhear Dylan’s grief—her desperation.

  “Is this what it was like?” Harry asked, moving up behind Stiles. Stiles turned, almost too overcome to look his son in the eyes. He nodded. “She loved you,” Harry said.

  Stiles studied his son for a minute. He could see a need in him despite his insistence that he’d forgiven Stiles for letting Rebecca die. He touched Harry. He pressed two fingers to his temple and gave him a memory Stiles had never imagined he would share with anyone.

  “You are the love of my life,” Rebecca said softly. “There is nothing you can say now that could change that, no secret that I haven’t already suspected or figured out. There is nothing you can truly hide from me.”

  Stiles ran his hand along the side of her head, smoothing her hair—once such a deep shade of black, but now a startling white—back away from her face.

  “I never wanted to hurt you.”

  “Have I ever told you how proud I have always been to be your wife?” She ran her hand slowly over his chest. “Even when you were gone and I shared my bed with Mark, I knew we would be together again. I knew you’d gone to protect me, and to protect our son. I still believe that. I don’t need to know exactly what happened in that time to know you would have stayed with me if you could have.”

  “I never forgot about you.”

  “I know.”

  “I didn’t want to leave. I don’t want you to leave now. Please let me heal you.”

  She moved closer to him and sighed softly. “I’m seventy years old, Stiles. I’ve lived a long, mostly happy life. And we’ve had nearly thirty years together. That’s almost a lifetime.”

  “Not in my reality.”

  She smiled. “But you forget…I’m not an angel. I’m a humble human.”

  “I love you, Rebecca,” he whispered against her temple. “I don’t know how to exist without you.”

  “You existed long before me. You will exist for millennia after me.” She groaned, the pain becoming intense. “And I believe we will see each other again.”

  “I love you,” she whispered. “I’ve always loved you.”

  It didn’t hurt as much as it had, but Stiles still felt an ache deep in his soul as he watched the memory unfurl itself in his son’s mind. Harry jerked away, stumbling backward. He hit his legs on the back of the couch and fell into a sitting position. Stiles watched him, too conscious of the drama playing out in the next room to offer much in the way of consolation. As much as it hurt to lose Rebecca, the knowledge that Dylan was in such intense pain was worse.

  “I’m sorry,” Harry said, his voice suddenly hoarse. “I imagined those moments much differently.”

  “You loved her, too.”

  “I did. I never imagined I would lose her. She was always just there. And then, she wasn’t.”

  “It’s the circle of life, Harry. As much as Dylan and I want to save all of humanity, as much as we want to save the people we love, it’s just not possible.”

  Harry nodded. “I know. And I’m sure, deep down, Josephine knows, too.”

  Stiles glanced toward the hall where Matthew and Josephine had disappeared. “Josephine has always been closer to her father than her mother. She was always more like Wyatt. But, I think she’s an intelligent young woman who will handle this with the same grace and confidence she’s always handled everything.”

  Harry stood again, and dragged his hands through red hair that was still so much like Stiles’ except for the white streaks that seemed to increase with every passing year.

  “What she said about you and Dylan…”

  Stiles crossed his arms over his chest. “Dylan loves Wyatt. I don’t know how anyone who has seen them together could doubt that.”

  “No, I know.” Harry tilted his head slightly. “But there is something. Even Mom seemed to know it. Something about your angel nature.”

  Stiles glance
d over his shoulder, wanting so desperately to go into that bedroom and be with Dylan that he almost couldn’t stand still.

  “Dad…”

  “All angels have soul mates,” he said, not even looking at Harry. “Mine died after the war and I was given the opportunity to choose another.”

  “Dylan?”

  “It wasn’t my choice. I’m not even convinced it was hers. It might have been, but I don’t know. There is still so much about all of this I don’t understand. Dylan changed things—her nature, her birth—it changed all the rules of heaven that I thought I’d understood.”

  “Then you won’t be alone.”

  Stiles turned to Harry, drawn by the sudden relief in his son’s voice. “What?”

  “You won’t be alone. When I die, when my kids die, you won’t be alone.”

  “No. Dylan and I will always be together.”

  “Good.”

  Stiles tilted his head slightly. “Good? You practically accused me of having an affair with her after Rebecca died. And now you’re happy?”

  “I don’t like the idea that you would be alone, without anyone who cares about you. I know I said some things about Dylan I shouldn’t have, I like her. I always have. And I’m glad you’re going to be okay.”

  Stiles smiled softly. “You realize that the father is supposed to worry about the son, not the other way around.”

  Harry shrugged. “I don’t see why we can’t look out for each other.”

  Stiles just nodded. His attention moved back to the wall separating them from Dylan and Wyatt. He could feel her pain like a palpable thing pressing against the plaster.

  “Will we see you again? After this?”

  Stiles glanced at Harry. “Why wouldn’t you?”

  “The council. They voted to banish you.”

  “You really think that would keep me from you and my grandkids?” Stiles shook his head. “You’ll see me again.”

  And then he closed his eyes and whispered, “Goodbye, my friend.”

  Chapter 23

  As soon as Stiles left the room, Dylan pressed a hand to Wyatt’s chest, her healing magic looking for the deep source of Wyatt’s pain.

  “Don’t,” he groaned, trying to pull her hand away, but too weak to do it.

  “I’m not healing you,” she said, “I’m just taking some of the pain.”

  He laid his hand on the back of hers, a slow groan slipping from between his lips. “I remember that warmth, the way it felt when I healed you with my touch.”

  “Do you?”

  “It always reminded me of sitting by a campfire, holding my palms out to the heat.”

  Dylan nodded as she, reluctantly, stopped. Her hand slid slowly over his chest to his abdomen.

  “I could fix this.”

  “And it will come back, even faster.”

  “I could keep healing it; I could help you live for decades longer.” She pressed her forehead to his again. “Every day, I could heal you.”

  “But that’s not the way it’s supposed to go.”

  A sob slipped from Dylan’s lips. Wyatt slid his arm around her waist, pulled her with what little strength he had against him. She laid her head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat as she had millions of times in the past.

  “Do you remember when we first met?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  “You stood there, stark naked but completely unconcerned. Like it was normal.”

  “You didn’t seem to mind.”

  “I had seen naked women before. But you…I had never wanted to touch a woman as much as I wanted to touch you. And that never went away.”

  Dylan ran her hand slowly over his belly. “I thought you were an ugly woman.”

  He made a sound like a chuckle, but it turned into a harsh cough. Dylan sat up and pressed a towel that happened to be sitting close by to his mouth. When the spasm passed, she curled up against him again.

  “I told myself the only reason I took you with me was because my dad pounded into me how important it was to keep an eye out for a blond girl wandering outside of Genero. But that wasn’t the real reason. I just wanted to get to know you. Even before we touched the first time, before we kissed, I knew there was some connection between us.”

  “I was so jealous when you flirted with Ellie.”

  “I was only trying to get your attention.”

  “I know.”

  She could feel him growing weaker. He was quiet for a few minutes and it was only the sound of his heartbeat that kept her from panicking, from believing he had left her already. She didn’t want this, she wasn’t ready. She wanted another twenty or thirty years. She wanted another lifetime.

  “Josephine needs you.”

  She felt his guilt as the words left her mouth, felt his grief. She regretted it even as she hoped it would make him want to stay.

  “It’s time, Dylan.”

  “I can’t—”

  “You need to let go of me. I’ve known it for years now. I knew it when the angel disease raged through the communities.” He paused, sucking in breath. “Our connection is broken.”

  “Just the angel stuff. We still love each other. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

  “You,” he touched her face and raised her head so that he could see her eyes, “special, so special. It’s selfish to keep you to myself.”

  “This is what I want.”

  “But…so much bigger…than just you and me.”

  “It doesn’t have to be.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her lightly. The movement made him cough again, a touch of blood coming away with his sputum. She wiped it away, her heart breaking as she felt the damage the cancer was doing to his body. It was growing so fast, unnaturally fast, as though it were catching up on the time it had lost with each healing.

  “I don’t need to be an angel; I don’t need to save the world. We could go somewhere, just the two of us, and live on a beach, or in the middle of some desert. We could go for walks every day and talk about your Western novels and the past and anything else you want.”

  “That would…” He sighed. “Perfect.”

  “Let’s do it, Wyatt. You promised me.”

  “Where you…” He choked again, a little more bile coming up. She wiped it away, tears blurring her sight.

  “Where you go, I go.”

  A smile twisted the pain-filled grimace on his face into something else—something almost normal. But it disappeared almost as soon as it had come.

  “I can’t,” he whispered. “Not this time.”

  Tears rolled down Dylan’s face and dripped from her chin to stain the thin t-shirt over his chest. “I love you,” she whispered. “It’s always been you and me; there’s always been a connection.”

  “Always will be.” He wiped the tears from her cheek with the back of his hand. “Just…different.”

  She shook her head, pressing her lips to his chest to smother a sob. He touched her again, his hand sliding up her back, but so much weaker than before. He was going fast, too fast. She needed to stop it, needed to heal him so desperately she could feel the warmth of the power on her fingertips.

  But she didn’t.

  “Stiles…”

  She sat up, rubbing tears from her face. “Don’t. He’s not important.”

  Wyatt nodded his head, weakly, but determined. “Is.”

  “Wyatt—”

  “He will help.”

  The pain was back. She could see it in his eyes, and could feel it radiating from his chest. The cancer had grown, not just the nugget she’d felt in his abdomen weeks ago, but many nuggets, in his chest, lungs, liver, intestines, and even his kidneys and bladder. It was choking him, shutting down his organs and forcing him to drown in his body’s own poisons.

  She pressed her hand to his chest, determined to heal him despite his words, despite the fact that she knew he didn’t want it. And he didn’t stop her—he couldn’t stop her. He was so weak that even his thoughts wer
e a jumble she wasn’t coherent enough to unscramble.

  But she didn’t.

  “I love you.”

  He closed his eyes as his body slowly gave up the fight. As it did, his soul grew stronger. And his soul still had so much to say.

  I let you down, he whispered in her mind, his voice was the voice of the young, nineteen-year-old kid she’d met in the desolate desert outside of Genero. I let them pass that stupid law to kick you and Stiles out of the cities. But I only did it because I thought it would be the push you would need to step up and take the role you were meant to fulfill. I’ve known, Dylan, I’ve known all along that you were meant for so much more. And I never meant to hold you back.

  She shook her head, tears again flowing freely. “You never held me back.”

  I did. I showed you what it was like to be human, and that was what you needed. Then. But now, now it’s time to be an angel, to watch over humanity and do so much better than Lucifer ever could. It is your time, my love. Yours and Stiles’.

  His heart slowed, and then stopped. She lay with her ear pressed to a chest that would no longer offer her the comfort it always had. She watched his soul part from his body, and saw her Wyatt, the Wyatt she’d fallen in love with, the Wyatt she’d raised her child with. He was happy—free of pain and the burdens of day to day life.

  I will always love you, he said. And we will always be connected. But I’m not your soul mate. Maybe I never was. Stiles is and he will make you stronger. It’s okay, Dylan. You aren’t betraying me; you’re simply being who you were meant to be.

  She couldn’t speak. Her heart hurt too much; her throat was swollen with tears. She nodded, and then buried her face in his quiet chest. She didn’t want to see him leave. But she felt it. She felt him move away from the house, the city, and then felt him float high into the sky. She felt the moment he reached the gates of heaven, and the moment he was greeted by all those he loved who had left this world before him. Jimmy was there, Rebecca, old friends from the resistance, and friends he’d made in the forty years they’d lived in this city. And he was happy.