The Wanderer's Children

by L. G. O'Connor

  He slipped inside. The door latched closed with a soft click.

  Settling down beside her, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Hey, I could feel your distress from the kitchen. Is there anything I can do?”

  Cara loved Michael for his compassionate nature. He’d been a comfort to her many times since she’d entered this crazy life.

  “Beside beat some sense into Simon? No,” she said, sniffling. Leaning her head on his shoulder, she breathed in his cologne and relaxed. “I don’t know what to do. Simon overheard something he shouldn’t have. I can’t deny I’ve loved Kai. But, it’s not like that now. I’m crazy in love with Simon. I wouldn’t cheat… ever. And neither would Kai.”

  “Just give Simon some time to cool down.” Michael kissed her forehead, and paused. “But you need to know that Kai’s not over you no matter what he’s told you… even if you’re over him.”

  She jerked her head back and crinkled her nose. “Michael, he’s never led me to believe he’s wanted more than friendship.” That wasn’t a surprise given his situation. Then it hit her. “Wait… how would you know that?”

  Michael looked away.

  “Michael?”

  He gave her a sheepish look. “I think it’s easier for guys to see it in other guys, but married or not, Kai is still in love with you.”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry, what?” Michael had no idea how much she would have begged to hear those words two months ago before she’d met Simon. How was that even possible? Could she have been too blinded by all those years of thinking he never loved her to see it? Even though Kai’s confession on the roof had been a complete shocker, he’d spoken about his feelings in the past, not the present.

  Michael squeezed her shoulder. “If it helps, he’s fighting those feelings. He loves you too much to interfere with your relationship. And please, don’t ask how I know.”

  He spoke with an authority that meant Kai had told him… or he’d read his mind. Cara couldn’t count the number of times that Michael knew things about her that she’d never told him. On more than one occasion, Constantina had hinted that Michael had hidden abilities.

  Oh. My. God. He could read thoughts… her personal thoughts, Kai’s personal thoughts.

  Cara stiffened, wrenching herself from Michael’s embrace. Her eyes bore into him. “You’re a Telepath, aren’t you? That’s one of your gifts.”

  Michael reared back as a surge of bitter lemon fear rippled through him. No use denying it. She could taste the truth.

  MICHAEL

  Panic coursed through him, his body ready for flight. “Cara… I…” He popped up onto his feet ready to bolt. He’d gone too far this time and accidentally exposed his secret.

  Does no good deed go unpunished? he wondered, feeling like a coward and wanting to avoid the brunt of her rejection.

  She grabbed his arm. “Wait.” Her green eyes held his, questioning as if wanting to understand.

  He had to look away. “Please don’t tell Sienna,” he whispered. If she found out, she’d push him away too like his closest friends had done when he was a child. He’d stopped sharing his gift after that. The few times he’d tried as an adult, friendships had cooled when those he thought cared for him turned away in fear.

  He wasn’t ready to abandon the glimmer of happiness he shared with Sienna the night before. He planned to see her again later, hoping for a second night. Miraculously, his old nightmares had not returned to ruin his world but Sienna finding out about his telepathy might just do it.

  Wrapping his arms around himself in a hug, he shifted uncomfortably on his feet, taking Cara off guard, who stared at him with her mouth ajar. Not able to control his movements, a tremor of anxiety shook him from head to foot.

  What will they think of me now? Will Cara and Simon shun me?

  Without warning, Cara drew him into a tight hug. “It’s okay, I’ve been there myself. Breathe with me,” she whispered, referring to her history of panic attacks. She expanded and contracted her chest against him. His breathing steadied and he relaxed in her arms, resting his head next to hers. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Couldn’t. No one knows. Please don’t tell,” he pleaded, fighting the paralysis of his vocal cords.

  Cara’s warm hands rubbed his back, comforting him. “Shh, I won’t say anything. It’s your secret. But you should at least tell Simon.”

  The thought of telling Simon curdled his stomach, but not as much as Sienna finding out.

  “Still friends?” he asked, sounding pathetic and confused, loathing his weakness. Their role reversal unnerved him.

  “Of course. What kind of silly question is that?” Her breath felt warm on his hair, and her strong arms stayed firm around him. He found her Nephilim strength eerily soothing. The taste of her sincerity resonated on his tongue with a hint of maple and he knew she spoke the truth. His eyes watered with relief and the loneliness he carried all these years disappeared a little with her acceptance. Of all his secrets, this one was the least damning.

  “I think you have an amazing gift,” she said. “I’m sorry it’s caused you pain.”

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  “I love you like a brother, you know. You don’t have to hide from me.” She kissed his forehead and let him go.

  They sat back down on the bed. He let out a deep breath, wanting to explain. “My father was the only person who knew. Not even my mother knows… But I can control it.” He searched her eyes, wringing his fingers together. “I’m not a voyeur. I don’t spy on people’s thoughts.”

  Well, not unless it’s something really important, he admitted to himself.

  “I trust you.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. Calming energy entered his hand where she touched him.

  “Changing topics, how was your night with Si—”

  Simon’s stern voice interrupted inside of their heads. “Cara, Michael, come out to the kitchen. Isaac’s been attacked.”

  Chapter 46

  CARA

  New York City. Greene Street Loft. Sunday, May 26, 7:00 PM ET

  SIMON BRUSHED PAST CARA and Michael as they reached the kitchen, apparently on his way back to the bedroom.

  “Is Isaac all right?” Cara asked with a frown as he passed. Isaac may have been her least favorite person, but she definitely didn’t want anything bad to happen to him.

  “He’s been taken to Beth Israel,” Simon replied without stopping. Cara breathed a sigh of relief knowing that Simon wouldn’t be walking straight into a battle and that Isaac was in good hands. Given Cara’s obsessive knowledge of hospital locations, she’d been stunned to learn that an Angelorum clinic was hidden in a wing of Beth Israel Hospital.

  Angel was armed and ready when she and Michael arrived in the kitchen. His dark features clouded with concern as he paced, his boots clomping on the kitchen floor. Angelic weapon hilts jangled from his belt, the blades only manifesting when summoned.

  For all the times she’d seen Angel, she’d never seen him wearing a traditional Guardianship uniform. Today, he wore the black pants and matching T-shirt. The short sleeves revealed intricate tattoos, more detailed than Zeke’s and Noah’s, covering his dark skin and adding to his tough image. His duster lay over one of the chairs next to the counter.

  Paco entered from the living room, still in the button-down and slacks he’d been wearing at Sarabeth’s. Brett and Kai filed in behind him.

  “I’ll get my weapons,” Paco told Angel.

  “No. You stay here with Brett,” Angel ordered. “Take the next patrol when Luke comes back,” he added, referring to Kai’s Guardian. “I can’t take any chances.”

  Paco’s body language clearly stated he wasn’t happy about staying behind. Cara sensed something unsaid between him and Angel. Paco’s jaw flexed and his eyes flashed before he replied, “Call me if you need me.”

  “I’ll come,” Michael said.

  “You’re not coming, either,” Simon’s firm voice said from behind the
m. “I need you here, too.” He entered the kitchen dressed identically to Angel. His blond hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck, ready for work.

  “Why not?” Michael asked, frowning.

  Simon ignored Cara as he stomped by. His masculine scent mixed with his displeasure. He exchanged a long glance with Angel most likely paired with a few silent words on their telepathic frequency.

  “I appreciate the offer, Michael, but we’re taking this one by air,” he said, walking over to the stove. He grabbed the timer and thrust it into Michael’s hand. “Here. You’re the only one I trust not to set the kitchen on fire. Take the soufflés out when it rings.” Turning on his heel, he strode down the narrow hallway with Angel. A rattling chorus of angelic weapons accompanied their heavy footfalls.

  Cara watched Simon’s retreating figure and let out a slow breath. Simon’s anger wasn’t something she’d experienced in a while. The distance it created between them gutted her. She remembered something else Constantina had told her about the Twelve: “At times love will be the Twelve’s greatest strength, and at others, their greatest weakness.”

  She tore off after them down the hall, catching them on the roof.

  “Simon!” she yelled.

  He faced her, his expression hard and intimidating. She barely recognized him. A sliver of fear rippled through her.

  Her lip quivered. “I love you. Please be careful… I’d die if anything happened to you.” She pleaded telepathically, gripping the doorjamb to hold her steady.

  Okay, maybe that was a tad over the top, she thought. But she meant it.

  His expression softened and he gave her a small nod. “Stay inside while I’m gone,” he said, his tone less biting. Giving her his back, he faced east with Angel. Their wings slipped out through the hidden slits in their shirts and rapidly unfurled, filling the space between them. The white, downy brilliance blinded her, making her squint. She ached for their silky-feathered embrace against her bare skin.

  His wings arching high above him poised for flight, Simon gave them a good shake before he crouched and leaped into the air in tandem with Angel, vanishing before her eyes as they cloaked.

  Cara returned downstairs to find everyone clustered around the island. One thing Simon was right about: Michael was the only one of them who knew his way around a kitchen. He was hunkered down in front of the industrial Viking stove, eyeing the baking desserts while Paco, Kai, and Brett sat around trading glances.

  “What’s going on?” Kai asked her, his eyebrows knit in a frown.

  Cara shook her head. “Damned if I know. Paco? Anything you can tell us other than Isaac was attacked?” The Angelorum’s method of parsing out information on a need-to-know basis had long since gotten on her last nerve.

  Michael stood up and gave Paco a warning look.

  Cara huffed and turned to Michael, planting her hands on her hips. “You have exactly thirty seconds to spill what you know or I’m leaving.”

  “Cara—” Michael started.

  “Stop protecting me! It’s pissing me off. Between you and Simon, I feel like a damned prisoner.”

  Brett choked out a snide laugh and tucked a stray blond hair behind his ear. “Welcome to the club.”

  “Look,” Paco said calmly. “Wait until they get back and we’ll discuss it… all of it. Isaac was on his way here to brief us, so I can’t tell you anything even if I wanted to. One thing I can’t do is let you leave.”

  The timer rang. “Hold your breath and nobody move for the next minute. If these fall, Simon will have my head,” Michael said, grabbing the potholder off the counter.

  “How can you think about food right now? Who cares about the goddamn soufflés!” Cara snapped.

  Michael raised his dark brows. “I care. I’m starving.” The strong smell of chocolate filled the kitchen. Cara refused to be dissuaded.

  “Listen,” Brett said, “sounds like there’s nothing we can do. If we’re going to be prisoners, I’m with Michael. Let’s eat.”

  Cara ground her teeth. “Fine. Enjoy them. I’ll be in the living room.” She rounded the corner and threw herself down on the leather sectional. A soccer game blared on TV.

  No possible way that’s staying on, she thought, and reached for the remote and lost herself in a home decorating show on HGTV.

  “Hey.” Kai settled down next to her, close enough so their thighs almost touched. She scooted away to create some distance. The last thing she needed was to compound her problems. Michael’s words resonated in her head. Kai couldn’t be in love with her. It just wasn’t possible.

  “I’m sorry. Simon’s angry and it’s because of me. I can talk to him…” Kai offered.

  She let out a sigh and patted his leg. “It’ll be fine. He’s struggling with his own issues, and I’m not helping the situation. You haven’t done anything. Your biggest offense is that you’re male.” Giving him a small smile, she said, “And I like you just the way you are.”

  The elevator dinged open followed by a thunderous crash.

  “Cara!” Michael yelled from the kitchen.

  A jolt of fear ran through her as she bolted for the door.

  Chapter 47

  CARA

  New York City. Greene Street Loft. Sunday, May 26, 7:20 PM ET

  “ZEKE!” CARA SCREAMED as she caught sight of the Guardian’s tattooed arms. He lay semiconscious in a bloody heap. Red speckled his pale baby face, but the damage was elsewhere. His dark hair and black clothing were soaked through. Crimson slashes covered his white plumage, reminding her of a large, injured bird. The hilt of his sword was still clutched tightly to his palm, signaling he hadn’t surrendered to his enemies.

  Kai stepped in front of Cara, reaching for Zeke’s wrist to check his vitals.

  Placing her hand on his shoulder, she gently pushed him aside. “I have this one. Stand back,” she said, dropping to her knees next to Zeke.

  “How so?” he asked, wearing a skeptical look.

  “You’ll see.” His energy was weak, but she hoped it was strong enough to avoid a tug-of-war with Jonas over his soul. Lucky for her, there was no sign of the purple-eyed Transporter.

  Michael guided Kai and Brett back farther, knowing what would come next. She’d never tried healing a Nephil, but there wasn’t any reason to believe it would be any different than healing a human.

  Whispering her opening prayer, she called her pillar of power by shooting up her imaginary hand into the Flow and pulling down the healing energy into the top of her head. Moments later, a column of bright, white energy slammed down into her, filling her chest and circling around her heart. The energy expanded, creating a Ring of Power and ejecting Michael and the others deeper into the kitchen while engulfing her and Zeke in its blazing glow. Eyes closed, Cara mixed her love with the swirling energy, feeling it gain momentum and warm her insides. Opening her eyes, she extended her hands to Zeke. Rather than hovering like she had with the stranger on the street, she placed them directly on him to create the circuit. It may not have added much in the way of healing but it made her feel like she was giving even more than she had. If anything happened to him on her watch, she couldn’t imagine having to face Simon.

  “Keep breathing for me, Zeke,” she whispered. Healing energy flew from her left palm into Zeke, pushing out his injuries. As his weaker energy funneled into her, she spun it through her chest and reenergized it before sending it back into him, kick-starting his cells into healing at a superhuman rate.

  The blood slowly evaporated on his brilliant plumage and color returned to his face; a peaceful expression replaced his pained grimace. His blood-soaked body dried rapidly like time-lapse photography. After a while, the energy returning into Cara was equal to the energy she pushed back into him, signaling the healing process was complete.

  Cara pictured herself releasing the tendrils of energy she held in her imaginary hand, returning them upward into the Flow. And then she gave thanks.

  The white light surrounding
her and Zeke disappeared. She turned to Paco, “Can you carry him into our bedroom? He should sleep for a while. I’m not sure how long, since he’s Nephilim and already predisposed to rapid healing.”

  Paco nodded and picked him up. She turned and braced herself for the reactions of her “uninitiated” witnesses. She hadn’t bothered to cover the blazing light show this time like she had on the street.

  Michael smiled at her. “Nice job.”

  Brett stared at her open-jawed. “Holy shit, that was way cool. Can I do that?”

  Blushing, she said, “No, your gifts are different.”

  “Cara, that was amazing. I had no idea…” Kai said, looking at her with admiration.

  Down the hall, a low groan rumbled in Zeke’s throat followed by violent flapping and an ear-splitting squawk. The powerful breeze blew Cara back. Turning her head away to protect her eyes from the gust caused by Zeke’s wings, she battled forward into the gale force winds. She jumped out of the way as one of Simon’s oil paintings rattled off of its hook and crashed to the floor next to her.

  Paco called out in the angelic language, his voice resonating over the noise. Zeke ceased his wing beats and the wind tunnel in the hallway calmed as Cara reached them.

  Zeke was ass-up in a fireman’s carry over Paco’s shoulder and none too happy about it.

  “Put me down,” he barked, trying to dismount as he retracted his wings into his body.

  “Stop moving before I drop you on the ground,” Paco growled and set Zeke on his feet. He glanced down at his shredded shirt and the scratches covering his muscled forearms. “You ruined a perfectly good shirt, my friend.”

  “Sorry, I thought it was them when I came to.” Zeke ran his hands down over his body, feeling for injuries. Then he glanced at Cara and gave her a small smile. “You fixed me up, didn’t you, doll?”

  She nodded and then it hit her. “Were Simon and Angel with you?” she asked with a pounding heart.

  “No, they’re at the clinic with Isaac. They sent me back here. I was attacked on the way from the hospital.”