***
“You were very brave.”
“Thank you.” It was a three mile walk back home. The cold wind dried my muddy clothes till they were just about stiff enough to stand up on their own, and patches of gray mud flaked off as I moved. Asher was right, I was just being stubborn, but I’d had enough of the bippity-boppity-boo shit. I didn’t want him to bend time or space or whatever the hell he did to move things around like he did. I sure as hell didn’t want to fly again. Ever. So I walked home in my water-logged sneakers, and he stayed by my side the whole time. It was sort of sweet of him; I might even forgive him for nearly drowning me, someday.
I limped up the back step to my house and felt around for the hidden key. Lord only knew where my house keys were; I’d dropped them in all the excitement. They might have been at the bottom of the pond or in some farmer’s field. I just added that to the list of things I needed to replace, along with my car, my sanity, and my dignity. And Asher’s shirt.
Dad’s car wasn’t in the drive-way, so I’d gotten lucky and he was still at work. There was just no good way to explain my ruined clothes, much less the new scratches and bruises I carried, or the mud in my hair.
I kicked off my shoes and peeled out of my socks on the porch, since I didn’t want to track mud and muck all over my kitchen. Asher’s brows shot up. Like he had any room to judge; he was still walking around shirtless. And he looked perfectly comfortable doing it. “I’m not dripping nasty stuff all over the floor. It’s not like I’m stripping in front of the neighbors,” I said, testily. I swear he turned a little pink, but maybe it was my imagination.
I opened the kitchen door and dumped my shoes and socks in the trash can, then headed for the laundry room. “Wait here a minute, ok?”
“Of course.”
I stripped out of my disgusting clothes in the laundry room and emerged wearing my dad’s bathrobe. It swallowed me whole, but I couldn’t track that stuff through the house. I’d never get it all vacuumed up. The clothes went in the trash along with my shoes. I tied the bag up and set it on the back step; I’d worry about it tomorrow. The important thing was not to get caught by my dad.
Asher’s hand caught me by the wrist as I past him, and hauled me back. My heart kicked up a notch. Obviously, the stupid thing didn’t know that we were still annoyed with him. “What is it?” I tried not to stare at him, but there was a lot to look at. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and silently counted to ten. It didn’t work.
His finger traced down my cheek, and across my chin. “You have scratches.” He touched lightly above my right eye. “And a nasty bruise, just here.” I had a hard time swallowing. He was too close.
“I, um…” Wow, it got hot, all of a sudden. “I need a shower. I’ll be right back.”
“Alright. I will wait for you.” His eyes were soft when he looked at me. I was in serious trouble.
I stayed in the shower till the water was cold. If my dad got home anytime soon, I would hear all about that. There was just too much filth to wash off. Mud and leaves, and even a few feathers washed out of my hair. Ewww. And also, I might have been avoiding a certain Angel of Death. It was chicken shit of me, but I really had no idea of what to do about him. I had a few ideas of what to do with him, however. Maybe I should’ve stayed under the cold shower longer.
Asher was as good as his promise; he waited for me to clean up. He was propped up in the chair next to my bed when I came out of the steaming bathroom wearing my frumpiest pajamas. They were fuzzy and pink with turtles all over them. Very sexy.
He held the picture of my mother in his hands, studying it. He looked up and smiled at me. “You have her eyes,” he said. Most people never noticed that. They only saw that I had my dad’s hair, or his dimples. Of course, there weren’t that many people around who still remembered my mom.
“Thank you. She died when I was born.”
“I am sorry. It must have been hard, growing up without her.”
I really looked at him then. He meant that. “It’s ok. It happens. It’s kind of nice to know she went onto something else, and that it wasn’t the end for her.” I took the picture from him and placed it back on the table where it belonged.
“You should feed, to heal your injuries.”
“Yeah, probably.” I sat down on the edge of my bed, ran a comb through the tangles in my hair, and avoided making eye contact with him. “About that: are there other ways for me to take energy besides leeching it away from other people, or draining you?” I hated even asking, but I didn’t want to be completely dependent upon him.
“There are, but you can take whatever you need from me.”
“I know,” I glanced up quickly, then wished I hadn’t. His eyes were intense, and dark as he watched me comb my hair. “It’s just, sometimes you may not be around, and maybe I would need to, um, feed, for whatever reason.”
“There is energy in every living thing; in plants, animals, humans. All you have to do is learn to focus your Will, and you should be able to draw from any available source. Does that answer your question?” I nodded. I needed to practice, and learn to focus on something besides him. “Good. Come here, then.”
Chapter 15…Asher
Isabel sat, chin in hand, through another incessantly boring class. To the casual observer, she paid close attention as she went through the motions of note-taking. I, however, was not just any casual observer. I enjoyed studying her in those rare moments when she did not catch me doing so. It was not such an easy thing to do; her awareness of me grew on a daily basis.
Even as I watched from the long, rectangular window cut into the classroom’s door, I knew she sensed me. I smiled as she twirled a long lock of dark hair around one delicate finger and gave me a tiny wave with her pinky finger. The cuts she had taken were gone, as was the large bruise over her eye. It had been a few days since her attack. I remained close by at all times, now. I simply could not bring myself to leave her, not knowing she was in danger.
I had known an attack was a possibility; she was too much of an unknown, but I had no idea that it would come so soon, or from a Lesser Demon, of all things. That troubled me. Why would a Lesser want her? It made no sense. They were scavengers and watchers, not kidnappers.
Carefully, Isabel laid her pencil down on top of her desk. Lips pursed in concentration, she shifted her attention quickly back from her teacher to the pencil. Two tiny frown lines formed between her brows. The pencil twitched, then slowly spun around once, before clattering to the floor. After her attack, she took every opportunity to practice focusing her Will. At least she had stopped fighting me, and seemed to be accepting her gifts. That was something to be happy about.
She turned a lovely shade of pink as she ducked to fetch her pencil. Only a few of the students around her turned to see what had happened to cause the noise. Her eyes were bright as she lay the pencil in her open book with exquisite care. It was progress, after all of her diligence.
“This is vastly entertaining, Asher. Do you do this all day long?” Grim slouched up against the lockers across the way from Isabel’s classroom, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets.
“Hello, Grim. What brings you here?” I turned towards him, the warm, happy feelings I had felt quickly disappeared at the sight of him.
He pulled his hands from his pockets and crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes were somber. “I thought you might appreciate a little warning. You’re out of time, Ashrael. That little mess with the Lesser the other night was nothing but a warning shot.”
My mind raced with the possibilities. “Details?”
“I have it on good authority that there are a dozen Reapers headed this way. Now.” He cocked his head, listening carefully. Very faintly, I heard the inevitable sound of wings. “I suggest you take your little friend, and run. Far and fast.”
“Running has never been my first choice, Grim. You know that.” Running would do no good; there was no place on earth I could run with her to escape Fate. I had kn
own it would come down to this, eventually, but I had hoped that we had more time. Isabel was not ready for this.
A slow grin lit up his face. “So, we fight?” His eyes burned red with anticipation. Grim always enjoyed a good fight.
I nodded. “I must, but this is not your fight.” First, I had to get Isabel to safety, before all Hell broke loose. The sound of wings grew closer.
“I think, for once, you may need my help, Brother. If it’s all the same to you, I believe I’ll stick around for a while.”
“As you will.” I had no more time to waste with talking. I stood beside Isabel’s desk with no more than a surge of Will. She looked up at me, lips parted, eyes huge. I could still surprise her.
“What the…” She glanced around at the other students. I had frozen time when I came for her. Twenty young faces were fixed in various stages of expression; most looked half-awake or bored. They would get over that soon enough.
“There is no time to explain. You must trust me. We have to leave. Now.”
She did not ask questions, just pushed to her feet, and grabbed her books. Her head turned slightly, and the books slipped out of her suddenly limp hands. I did not need to ask why. Outside the windows lining the classroom, the skies began to blacken. Lightning sizzled up from the ground and a cluster of tornadoes formed just north of the school. It was pure over-kill. Whomever led this group of Reapers had a flair for the dramatic.
I gathered the girl to my chest. “Close your eyes. I will get you to safety, and then come back to take care of this bit of business.”
Her eyes widened as she pushed away from me, and ran for the door. “I can’t leave, I have to get Gwen.”
Isabel slid to a sudden stop as she flung open the door to find Grim standing there. Gwen hung at arm’s length, by her shirt collar. She growled and did her best to reach his arm with her teeth. He had managed to immobilize her. Otherwise, I was sure she would have been kicking at him wildly.
“You!” Isabel’s eyes were huge as she looked him up and down. He had left an impression at their first meeting.
“Hello, Darling, did you miss me?” He shoved Gwen into her friend’s arms. ”I’ve brought you a little present. You may thank me later.”
Isabel, always pale, turned the color of fresh milk. Accusing eyes sought mine. “Asher?” That look wounded me. She doubted me, utterly. In an instant, the trust I had worked so hard to build, began to crumble.
“I will explain later.” If she would listen to reason.
“I hate to interrupt this conversation, kids, but we have a problem on our hands far greater than your little melodrama.” He pointed his finger towards the windows, a mere second before the glass imploded. The girls screamed and ducked under their arms to avoid the flying glass. Grim was right. We were out of time.
“Run. Don’t look back. Find a safe place to hide. I will find you.” I released the hold I had on the class as I shoved Isabel towards the door.
Chaos erupted, immediately. Desks were overturned as screaming students fought their way toward the door. Isabel’s dark head disappeared around the corner, into the bowels of the school. Someone set off a blaring fire alarm, although there really was nothing that could save them from this particular disaster. It was too late to hide Isabel, but I could still fight for her.
I leapt past half a dozen terrified students as they ran to save themselves. From the corner of my eye I saw Grim doing the same, and his smile was terrifying to behold. My wings ripped through my back and unfurled as I went through the broken windows. If Isabel had any chance of survival, I would have to buy us some time.
A few powerful strokes, and my wings caught air. I climbed quickly to meet the Reapers before they could get any nearer the school. Grim was right. There were at least a dozen of them descending quickly. A lightning bolt shot past my head, barely missing me. It turned out to be only one of many. They were not playing. Ozone burnt my nostrils, sharp and strong; I could almost taste it. I rolled in midair to avoid the onslaught, and redirected a few bolts of my own.
Grim had already engaged a couple of our attackers. I heard him laughing as he burned the wings off his opponent. At least one of us enjoyed this. Of course, no one ever said that Grim was in his right mind.
Below us, students and teachers scrambled to find hiding spots. From their perspective, a sudden squall of freak storms had blown up, and destroyed part of the school. It was late October, true, but storms so late in the season were not unheard of. The damaging winds and lightning strikes would be attributed to Mother Nature’s fickle behavior. The survivors would tell stories of the inexplicable storm, for years to come. It was so much better than the truth: that war had broken out, and Death was everywhere, with little hope of escape.
I had to do something quickly, only a few Reapers were bearing down on me; the rest were headed towards the school. Towards Isabel. I grabbed the first Reaper to come for me. He was young, and arrogant, and foolish enough to think he could win a fight with me. His wings made a sickening sound as I ripped them from his back; his screams were fueled by panic and rage. Hot blood sprayed the air around us and rained down on those below.
It was a cruel thing that I had done, but cruel things happen in times of war, and make no mistake: this was war. The young one’s wings would grow back in time, but it would take years, and a wingless angel is no better than a human. I had no pity for him, however. He had followed blindly, more than willing to slaughter the innocent, and now he had paid the price for his stupidity.
I wasted no more time on him. There were angels destroying the school, picking it apart brick by brick, in search of Isabel. The outside wall collapsed to a chorus of panicked screams. I threw the bloodied Reaper towards his companions. He made a useful wrecking ball.
At least one of them cared enough for him to catch him. I took advantage of their distraction and redirected a tornado into their path. Above me, blood and feathers fell nearly as heavily as the rain that lashed us. Clearly, Grim was keeping himself busy. He loved a battle; I could hear him laughing as he fought. Crazy bastard.
A Reaper broke away during the confusion, and headed for the school. She looked like a young girl, with auburn curls hanging to her waist, and an angelic face. Mairya. Cruel and capable, a Reaper with ice water running through her veins in place of blood. She loved a show; I had found the leader of this sorry mess. I didn’t hesitate. I shot lightning straight for her spine. Her back arched, and her glossy black wings folded to her sides. She crumbled to the ground like a broken butterfly. It was no killing blow, but it would slow her down. Killing a Reaper is about as easy as drowning a fish. Immortal cannot kill immortal, but we can certainly make each other hurt. And she was hurting now, if the bloody burn across her back were any indication. Instead of stopping her, it only fueled her rage; I had made this personal for her.
I took a hit from above as I started after Mairya; my right wing was on fire. The rain pouring down with the storm might have been enough to put the fire out, but it spread too quickly. Pain seared along my nerves and down my spine. It served me right for letting myself become distracted. I tucked my wings and went into a dive before I had no other choice. Someone above me screamed in pain or fury; probably both. For once, I was very glad to have Grim around.
The ground met me at a sickening pace. I spread my wings at the last possible moment to control my descent and rolled as I dropped to the wet grass. It was effective in putting my wing out, but the stench of burnt feathers surrounded me, and nearly made me gag.
The school grounds were in total chaos. Things exploded inside, glass shattered, and overhead, the storm raged on. Quickly, I searched the area for Mairya. I expected her to take advantage of the situation and attack, but she was nowhere to be found. The tone of the screams coming from inside the school changed, and my blood ran cold. It was no longer just terror of the storm, but raw panic that I heard. It left little doubt as to which way Mairya had gone.
Students and faculty poured out of t
he school, not nearly as frightened by the storm as they were by this new threat. There was a trail of bodies in the hallway. Mairya had been killing whomever got in her way, apparently. Reaping, just for the sake of doing it, is forbidden. This attack had to have been authorized by Fate. No Reaper would dare do such a thing, not without her permission. It was a tragic waste of human life.
Utter shock and horror were clearly written on the faces of the students and faculty who ran past me. Even in this state, they would neither see, nor acknowledge me. There would be time enough to make sense of it all later, I supposed. They would convince themselves that the storms took their loved ones, and the tornadoes brought sections of the building down around them. I did not have time to help any of them. I had to find Isabel before the Reaper did.
Fire alarms blared as the smoke from the explosions set off the sprinkler system. I found her in the gymnasium, backed against the farthest wall. Isabel had her friend tucked into a corner; she did her best to guard the taller girl from the threat coming for them. Mairya was mere inches away from Isabel. The two figures were almost the same height, but Mairya stood a little taller, confident in her abilities, and righteous in her anger. I was too far away. Even if I used the shift, I would never reach them in time to stop her.
Mairya could not take Isabel’s soul, not with the binding that I had placed on the girl, but she could damage her body irreparably. She would die, and she would wander as a Sorrow, and she would be lost to me. My chest tightened and my breath stopped. This was it; I was going to watch her die, after all. It would not have surprised me if I had taken to bleeding inside. There was an inhuman scream coming from somewhere, and only when I felt my throat grow raw, did I realize that it was coming from me.
It was but a moment in time, but it seemed almost to play out in slow motion. I rushed forward, knowing all the while that I was too late, but unable to stop myself from trying to save her. Mairya’s burned back was already healing; she was badly damaged, but not beaten. Her hand came up, caressed Isabel’s pale cheek. She spoke softly to her as she laid her hand against the girl’s heaving chest. The Reaper smiled; her mission was at an end. There was no threat here, nor even a challenge. Satisfaction was written large on her lovely face.
Wings of Darkness: Book 1 of The Immortal Sorrows Series Page 14
