The Redemption Series

by Melynda Price

  Liam pulled his gaze from Olivia long enough to glance up at his friend. Balen stood on the other side of her hospital bed, staring down at him in disbelief.

  He shrugged, knowing just how crazy it sounded. “I can’t think of anything else it could be. When she died, she smelled of heather. Where else is there an abundance of heather?”

  “Scotland?”

  “Not funny. It’s been a week and still she sleeps. Her body is healed. I can feel our connection, and yet I cannot get her to wake up. Then again, if she was in purgatory, I shouldn’t be able to feel her as strongly as I do.”

  “Maybe she just needs time, Liam.”

  That was the problem—time was something he didn’t have. For the last three days, he’d been ignoring the summons from the High Court. Urgency had been placed on the directive of his immediate return, and he suspected he knew the reason for their decree. Then again, it could be any number of things. He’d committed multiple violations over the past two weeks—for starters, returning to Earth without authorization. He simply hadn’t had the time to go through the court, and considering how he’d fallen the last time he’d come here, it was highly possible they’d have refused his request. It had been easier to act now, beg forgiveness later. Looks like “later” was coming sooner than he’d expected.

  “Mortal bodies are funny like that. Every now and then you hear of people who’ve been in comas and no one knows why, then suddenly they wake up as if nothing ever happened. She’s been through a great trauma.”

  Liam sighed, dragging this hand through his hair. He stood from where he sat beside her and started pacing. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. It might be easier this way. I’m not sure I could stand to say good-bye to her again, but then, how can I leave her until I know she’s going to be all right?”

  An unexpected surge of panic flooded his veins. Waves of dread had been hitting him off and on over the last week, further adding to his suspicion that Olivia’s soul was trapped, keeping her bound by unconsciousness. Liam walked over to her and tenderly brushed his hand over her cheek, whispering softly in his angelic tongue. The language always soothed her.

  “You’re not leaving her—not really. And it isn’t like you have a choice right now.”

  Liam tensed, locking eyes with his best friend. Balen held his stare—bold, unwavering—knowing… But how? He hadn’t told Balen of the summons. Neither of them spoke for a moment, and he let out a humorless laugh to cover the painful stab of betrayal.

  “They sent you to bring me back,” he accused in disbelief, failing to mask the sharp bitterness in his voice. He wasn’t a criminal, dammit, and he resented like hell being treated as one.

  “If you don’t go willingly, then yes, Liam, I’m to take you back. But I know it won’t come to that. You’re going to do the right thing here.”

  The right thing? “The right thing would be supporting your best friend!” he snapped.

  Balen winced, casting his regretful gaze to Olivia. Liam’s followed. She looked like Sleeping Beauty, lying there so serene, her hair a dark halo, disarrayed from the countless hours Liam sat beside her, running his fingers through the raven silk. If only this were a fairy tale and he could awaken her with a kiss.

  When Balen’s eyes met his again, the determination in them was rock solid. “I don’t know why they want you, Liam. And I’m not going to ask. I don’t want to risk being called to court to testify against you. You’re my best friend. Do not test the bounds of our friendship over this.”

  A frustrated growl rumbled in Liam’s throat and he resumed pacing. The air crackled as his energy stirred. “You can go now. I’d like a few minutes alone with her, if you don’t mind.”

  Balen nodded, casting one last regretful glance Olivia’s direction, and silently left the room.

  ***

  Olivia woke to the sound of hushed voices whispering over her. She tried to open her eyes, but climbing out of this black hole of unconsciousness was like swimming through a pit of quicksand. The harder she fought, the deeper she sank. She’d once heard that hearing was the last thing to go and the first thing to return—they were right.

  “It’s been a week and still she sleeps. Her body is healed. I can feel our connection, and yet I cannot get her to wake up. Then again, if she was in purgatory, I shouldn’t be able to feel her as strongly as I do.”

  Purgatory? Was that the place where the demon had come and tried to take her? Tension filled his smooth, deep voice. Wait, she knew that voice—loved that voice. She’d heard it daily, over and over, since she’d been trapped in this darkness. Normally, it was soothing, the rich cadence calming her, coaxing her to fight, to open her eyes. She wanted to, she really did, but no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t get her body to listen to her commands. But this time, the voice was different—tense with worry, gruff with frustration. The rhythmic brush of his fingers through her hair paused.

  “Mortal bodies are funny like that. Every now and then you hear of people who’ve been in comas and no one knows why, then suddenly they wake up as if nothing ever happened. She’s been through a great trauma.”

  Was that why she couldn’t wake up? Was she in a coma? “Great trauma?” What “great trauma?” What was he talking about? Again, she tried to force her eyes open—nothing but darkness surrounded her. Olivia’s pulse quickened. What if she stayed like this forever?—a prisoner in her own body? The man sighed heavily, and his comforting weight left her side as the mattress springs gave protest her lips could not.

  “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. It might be easier this way. I’m not sure I could stand to say good-bye to her again, but then, how can I leave her until I know she’s going to be all right?”

  Say good-bye? He was leaving her? Panic flooded her veins in a rush of dread. “Don’t leave me!” she heard herself scream, but her lips remained still. Her head ached, and each minute she battled her way back to consciousness, the throbbing intensified, the shackles of darkness cinching tighter, dragging her deeper and deeper into... Oh shit, where was she?

  “Shhh…” his voice whispered beside her ear. His hand gently touched her cheek, his thumb stroking past the corner of her eye. “Rashema kanti-ami. Unaust-si-kata…” His words floated over her like a gentle caress, instantly taking the fear and panic away. The beautiful cadence of his voice lulled her into surrender and Olivia stopped fighting, letting the waves of unconsciousness pull her under again.

  ***

  She was going to be all right. At least that’s what he told himself in order to find the strength to do the impossible for not once, not twice, but the third and what he vowed would be the final time.

  The High Court was demanding his return and not being very patient about it. To discover his best friend had been sent to retrieve him was a low blow that meant one of two things: either they’d found out about Haden and the court was in an uproar to discover a Nephilim still lived, or they’d discovered what he’d done—some of it, all of it—who knew? But it was too late for second thoughts or regrets. What’s done was done. He’d just have to return and weather the storm—if that’s what the case may be.

  Unable to put off the unavoidable task any longer, he called Olivia’s parents and explained to them that she was in the hospital—in Duluth—in Minnesota. And they were—in an uproar.

  Understandably, they’d been less than thrilled to hear from him. They blamed him for breaking their daughter’s heart three years ago, for ruining her wedding, and now for this. Obviously, Olivia had kept them in the dark about her “gift,” and assuming she had her reasons for keeping it, and him, a secret, he patiently endured their wrath and then answered their questions as honestly and as vaguely as possible. Not an easy task for someone who couldn’t lie. Her parents were taking the earliest flight out and should be arriving in Duluth within the next few hours. He planned to be long gone by then.

  With Rhen and Cale dead, the immediate threat to Olivia was gone. He could only hope the Da
rk Court would grow tired of losing their minions and would stop sending them after her—for a while, at least. After a failed assault, they tended to recluse, biding their time and waiting for another, more favorable opportunity to strike. There was no reason to think now would be any different.

  She was safer here. That was partly why he hadn’t brought her home yet. It would take the Dark Court a lot of time and many long hours of searching to find her here—Haden being the exception. And considering the brawl he’d left him in, Liam honestly didn’t know if the Neph was alive or dead.

  He hadn’t seen him since he’d scooped Olivia in his arms and ushered her out of the bar, leaving the Neph to fend for himself. It wasn’t like him to leave a friend, or even a foe—as was this case—to those odds. Haden’s behavior to this day still baffled him and left him wondering why he’d helped spare Olivia’s life. And why had he genuinely seemed concerned when she’d been lying on the floor drowning in a pool of her own blood?

  Liam had plenty of questions for the half-breed and when he finished with court, finding those answers were going to be priority number one. Answers to questions like, what was he doing in a demon bar with Olivia?—and how had she gotten there in the first place? She should have, would have, been safe back at the resort.

  Then again, maybe “safe” was a relative word. Mitch had been there—naked. Just the thought of that manipulative bastard lit the fuse of Liam’s already fried nerves. Speaking of which, the guy had been nowhere to be found when he’d gotten back to the resort with Olivia that day. When he’d checked at the main desk, they told him Mitch had already checked out. Perhaps Olivia had spoken to him, after all, not that it explained the scene he’d walked into last Sunday morning.

  And that was the second reason he hadn’t taken Olivia back to Evercrest. If Mitch had left and gone back home, the last thing he wanted to do was leave her unconscious and vulnerable in the same vicinity as that bastard. There was no telling what manipulative shit he would pull.

  Sighing, Liam dragged his hand down his face and continued to pace off some restless energy. His heart slammed inside his chest, beating counterpoint to the clock across the room, ticking down his last seconds here on Earth.

  ***

  The next time she woke, it was to hear him whispering her name—the sense of urgency was unmistakable, and her pulse quickened with apprehension. His weight was beside her once again, caving the mattress, and she leaned into his hip. More than anything, she wanted to open her eyes and wrap her arms around him, clinging to him like a lifeline anchoring her to sanity. The man’s voice spoke straight to her heart. She could feel that he loved her—knew it instinctively.

  “Olivia, sweetheart, open your eyes for me.”

  Didn’t he know she was trying? But the darkness was just too strong.

  Again, he sighed. He’d been doing a lot of that lately, and the sound made her heart ache something fierce. His fingers combed through her hair—light, languid strokes that instantly soothed her.

  “Sweetheart, I have to go away for a while. But you’re going to be okay, you hear me? And don’t worry, you’re not alone. You have a lot of friends and family who love you and need you to get through this. Do not be afraid. Forget the past, live for your future, and know I’ll always be with you. I love you, Olivia.”

  The heartache in his voice brought tears to her eyes. Moisture pooled beneath her lids and rolled down her temples, streaking into her hair. She tried to speak, to beg him to stay, but nothing would come out. His hand settled on her cheek as he whispered to her in that hauntingly beautiful language.

  Softly, his lips brushed against hers—lingering… She breathed in deep, drawing his breath into her lungs. The moment she inhaled, radiant heat suddenly infused her body, right to the very depths of her soul, and she could feel it breaking the ties that bound her to this dark prison.

  One kiss—that was all it took for her soul to find its way back to him. As if a switch had been flipped, Olivia was finally whole again. “Don’t go!” she cried as her eyes flew open. Her arms came up to circle the neck of her savior, but she caught only air. He was gone.

  ***

  Olivia had no more tears left to cry. Every time she inhaled a hiccupping sob, the monitor attached to her finger would alarm. After the third or fourth time, the nurse finally stopped coming in. She’d done her best to reassure Olivia that she was all right, telling her these feelings were normal. It was perfectly natural to be overwhelmed after coming out of a coma, blah…blah…blah… She wasn’t overwhelmed, she was heartbroken. Lying here in this hospital room, Olivia had never felt so completely and utterly alone.

  The backlight from the monitors stung her photo-sensitive eyes. The intermittent chirping alarms hurt her ears. Rolling to her side, she turned away from the door and wiped her tear-swollen eyes with the back of her hand and her runny nose with the sleeve of her nightgown.

  Although she’d been sleeping for what felt like an eternity, exhaustion still dogged her. Yet, she was terrified to close her eyes, afraid if she did, she’d find herself shackled to the darkness again, except this time she had no one to save her.

  The soft reassurance of his husky voice—gone. The comforting weight of his hip against her side—gone. The soothing, rhythmic stroking of her hair—gone. Another round of gut-wrenching sobs attacked her, and the monitor behind her alarmed. She yanked the covers over her head to drown out the shrill ringing. A moment later, there was a soft knock on the door she didn’t bother to answer. The nurse should know by now she was just fine.

  Another tentative knock and the door hinges squeaked behind her. “Olivia?”

  She knew that voice. Pulling out from under the covers, she sat up and looked to the door. “Mom? Dad?”

  Her mother let out a cry of relief and rushed over to the bed, wrapping her arms around her in a tight embrace. “Oh, honey, we’ve been so worried about you. Are you all right?”

  Olivia nodded. “I think so.” She hugged her mother and watched as her father crossed the room to stand on the other side of her bed. He put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. It felt good to see them, comforting to have them here with her.

  Drawing back, she asked, “How did you get here? How did you know where I was?”

  Her mother’s brows pulled together in a concerned frown. “Liam called us.”

  Liam? “Who’s Liam?”

  Epilogue

  If Liam was expecting a warm welcome home, he was sorely mistaken. As he approached the gate of St. Peter, two Hunturion guards were flanking the golden entrance—to take him into custody? He slowed his approach, suspicion needling up his spine. Tension filled his exhaustion-riddled body that had yet to fully recover from the battle in Sheol or his fight for Olivia’s life.

  Stopping outside the gated entrance, he waited for it to open—and waited… His temper sparked, no doubt his eyes flashing their amethyst warning, because the two “regular” gatekeepers, Anders and Kade, both took a collective step back. The Hunturions stepped forward, their expressions locked into a stoic mask of indifference.

  “Otvoriti vrata.” Open the gate, the guard commanded. Kade’s uncertain gaze flickered to Liam as if to ask “Are you sure?”

  Liam gave a curt nod, and each side of the twin golden panels slowly swung open. The Hunturion guards immediately filled the entrance and rushed forward, each wordlessly grasping an arm, bending it behind his back. With quick efficiency, his wrists were shackled with cuffs made of Immanuel’s Stone.

  As they led him through the gate of St. Peter, Anders and Kade averted their gaze, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. They were longtime friends of Liam’s and he knew they struggled with this task of handing him over to the Hunturions, officers of the High Court.

  “Budite u miru.” Be at peace, he told them as he walked past. Liam bore no ill will toward them. They were only doing their job. Clearly, the High Court was more than a little angry with him. Perhaps they felt the need to ma
ke an example of him. None of this boded well for a favorable outcome.

  As he entered the city and approached the building of the High Court, he looked ahead to see Balen charging down the steps—steps he’d fought and nearly died on so many millennia ago. The glower on Balen’s face matched his rankled steps as he marched up to them. In their angelic tongue, he snapped, “What in the hell do you think you’re doing? Get those damn cuffs off him!”

  The Hunturions froze, their grip on his arms tightening as they jerked him to a stop. “We are to deliver him to the magistrate of the High Court for processing.”

  “Deliver him doesn’t mean shackle him and treat him like a bloody criminal!”

  “Balen, it’s all right—” Liam said.

  “The hell it is,” his friend snapped and then turned his glower on the Hunturions. “You’re both just lucky he didn’t resist arrest! Treating him like one of the fallen…what is wrong with you fools? I said get these damn cuffs off him!”

  Balen was making a scene Liam could have done without. Others gathered, now watching to see if the officers would cow to Balen’s wrath. If they knew what was good for them, it wouldn’t be a bad idea. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his friend this furious. Whether it be from guilt at his part in getting Liam here, or from the grief of giving Ashley up that made him so volatile, he’d never know. But one thing he did know for certain, if these Hunturions didn’t release him it was going to get ugly.

  After a few tense moments, one of the guards snarled, “If he escapes, it’s on your head.” After a jerk and a rustle of his cuffs, they fell away.

  Liam absently rubbed his wrists as Balen barked, “He isn’t going to run. He isn’t a criminal!”

  That remains to be seen…

  ***

  (Eight Weeks Later)