Isabel threw herself onto Grim’s back, presumably to choke him when he got his hands on Gwen. I still do not know what he planned to do with her, but she sank her teeth deep into his forearm. She worried the arm, like a dog with a particularly fine bone; it was a bloody mess. It took him no time at all to throw them both off of him, after that.
Gwen went flying one way, and Isabel the other. I managed to catch Isabel, but not before I heard the sickening crack of Gwen’s head meeting fieldstone. Isabel stopped struggling, and went utterly still in my arms. She had seen her friend fall.
No sound came from Gwen. No sign of life, whatsoever. I heard Isabel’s heart speed up. A moment passed before she looked up at me with wide, accusing eyes. She pushed against me with considerable strength. I could not hold her without hurting her, but letting her go to her friend would be a mistake. The damage was too great. The scent of blood was already heavy in the chill night air.
“Isabel, stop.” Her nostrils flared as she scented the blood. Her eyes were wide and wild as she realized what had happened.
“Let me go, Asher. Let me go to her.” Her voice was ragged, desperate. I ached for her.
“I cannot, Isabel. She is passing.” Tears welled up and made the emeralds of her eyes swim. There was utter disbelief in them. Disbelief and betrayal. I tried to soothe her, but she shoved me away and ran, stumbling, to her friend.
Grim got to Gwen’s side before Isabel did. “Don’t you dare touch her, you sonofabitch.” Isabel’s voice had gone cold as ice, but rage boiled just beneath the surface.
Grim never acknowledged her. His face was a mirror of surprise and pity for the girl at his feet. The rage was gone, burned out, in the fire of sorrow.
Gwen lay broken and pale upon the ground. Her head was at an odd angle, the neck was possibly broken. Blood spread from the wound at the back of her head, mixing with, and staining the gold of her hair. It was not her time, but she was too grievously injured to live. He had done that to her. He knelt beside her, prepared to harvest the life he had stolen. Every line of his body bent with grief; his black wings folded against his back as his shoulders sagged under the weight of his guilt. Too late, I realized that he had come to care for this girl. She had been more than a toy to him, after all, and now it was too late.
I could not just stand and witness this. The Reaper’s anguish was devastating to behold. Tears swam in Grim’s eyes. Grim, who cared for nothing; who felt nothing. Isabel did not see. She did not know him as I did. Never have I seen him weep for the death of a mortal. I caught her about the waist and hauled her back a few feet to give him some room. A shudder went through him as he reached for the broken girl, about to place his palm over her heart to stop its last beat.
“Get. The. Fuck. Off. Asshole.” The voice was faint, but grew stronger with each word she uttered.
“Gwen!” Isabel clawed her way out of my grasp and ignored Grim as she launched herself at her friend’s side.
The injured girl’s eyes fluttered open as her lips parted. She spat blood upon the ground, thick and dark. I strongly suspected that it was not all her blood. Isabel knelt next to her, suddenly sobbing and at a loss for words. She smoothed golden hair away from a face gone pale as milk.
“Gwen, are you ok?”
It surprised a laugh out of her friend. As laughs go, it was a wretched one; thin and pained. Gallows humor. “No, I’m not ok. I’m pretty sure my damned neck’s been broken. And a few other things,” she said weakly.
“Don’t try to move. Where’s your phone?”
“Really, Iz? Seriously? Because I don’t think calling 911 is going to help.” Gwen straightened her neck with a hiss that turned quickly into a whimper. “Shit, that stings.” The girl was in pitiful shape, but she would live.
Grim backed away, slowly. I walked up to him, and put a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t understand.” His voice cracked as he spoke. “She was dying; I felt it. You saw her.” He made a helpless gesture with his hand.
“I believe I understand what happened.” I pointed at the blood on Gwen’s mouth, then at the wound that was quickly healing on Grim’s arm. The rather large bite she’d taken out of his arm had saved her. Who knows, it might have been from the wound she’d opened on his ear. In any case she would live to fight another day. With him, most likely.
“Oh, bloody Hell!” He blew out the breath he’d been holding and ran both hands through his shaggy, black hair. His shoulders shook, and it only took a moment for me to understand that he was laughing. “You can’t be serious.” Relief was written clearly on his face. “Oh, that is rich. The joke is on me, this time.”
I smiled, relieved. “Welcome to my Hell, Brother.”
Gwen reached up gingerly, and touched the back of her head. Her fingers came away from the wound, painted red. With Isabel’s help, she pulled herself up into a sitting position. All things considered she was healing at an alarming rate. I guessed she had taken more than just a few drops of blood with that bite. She sat rubbing her head and eyeing Grim with evil intent. “What the hell is your problem, anyway?”
“Me?” Grim’s tone was full of righteous indignation, but I could tell he was too relieved by her unexpected resurrection to put much energy into it. “What’s your problem? Do you have, um, what is it they call that? Oh, yes…PMS?” Her only reaction was a hard stare. He should shut up while he was ahead. If the girl were in better shape, she would have attacked him, yet again. “I remind you that you, in fact, pounced on me, hellion.”
“You kidnapped Izzy, jackass. Was I just supposed to let you do it?”
“You could have, if you had any sense. I was following orders. You, as usual, acted on impulse. Now, look at the mess you’ve landed us in.”
She glared at him with a withering stare. “I really don’t like you.”
He shrugged. “I really don’t care.”
She rolled her eyes and gave him the finger.
Fate watched this whole time, arms crossed over her impressive bosom, her face a mask of impatience. “I do hate to interrupt your flirting, but we have business to discuss. And Grim, darling, I told you to bring me the girl, not make another one just like her.” Grim simply stared at her. There was nothing he could say, and I could tell that he was not even slightly sorry. “I’ll deal with you two, later.”
Grim reached out a hand to help the injured girl to her feet, but she swatted him away. She used Isabel as a crutch, instead, leaning heavily on the smaller girl’s shoulder. Gwen’s rejection did not seem to bother him in the slightest. He continued to hover close by her side, in spite of the many dirty looks he received.
Isabel had no trouble balancing the girl’s weight. She was tiny, but deceptively strong. She glared at Grim. “Back off, or I swear to God I will hurt you.”
Grim backed away, but only a couple of feet, hands up in mock surrender. “Temper, temper, little sister.”
“Screw you, traitor.”
Grim lost that expression of pained amusement. “I am no traitor. I told you; I had orders to bring you here.”
Isabel looked like she wanted to take his head off. “And that makes it better? The damned Nazis had orders, too!”
“I might remind you, girl, that unlike humans, we don’t have free will.” He was quickly losing his sense of humor.
“That’s just too damned bad, isn’t it?” She spat the words at him like she tasted something foul.
“Excuse me,” I interrupted before this turned into another brawl, “but would anyone mind explaining just exactly what is going on here?”
Fate walked towards me, hips swaying, eyes gleaming silver in the moonlight. “It’s very simple. Izzy’s test is upon her.” She smiled slowly, savoring the moment. “And your test as well, Ashrael.”
“Mine? What are you talking about? I came here to make a harvest.”
“And so you shall, but first, look around you. Does anything look familiar? No?” She waited patiently.
“It’s the clearing.” Isabe
l answered, her tone bleak and harsh. “This is where my accident happened.”
“Yes!” Fate clapped her hands, delighted that someone was willing to play along. “Exactly. The clearing where you two first met. I thought it a fitting place for your parting.”
Gwen leaned heavily against her friend. “Who is this crazy bitch, and would someone please put her back on her meds?”
Grim sidled up beside her, and put a hand over her mouth. “Silence, dear girl, before you get us all killed.” She swatted his hand away. “Get your damned hands off of me.”
“Gwen, don’t.” There was something in Isabel’s voice that made my blood run cold. She focused on the clearing behind me, her eyes huge. The color quickly drained from her face. I heard nothing, but there was a disturbance in the air around us. A Reaper had landed in the clearing.
I turned slowly. Halo stood behind me, smirking, and in her arms, as limp as a broken doll, lay Isabel’s father. The bruises under his closed eyes were livid. It did not take a Reaper to know that his time was almost at an end. Fate walked between us, a frayed, purple thread pulled tight between her hands. Isabel made a strangled sound in the back of her throat as she lunged for Fate.
I caught her before she reached her target. I began to understand what was going on, and I did not blame Isabel for her rage. “You must not. Be calm.” She trembled in my arms as I tried to soothe her.
Fate smiled as she pulled the Thread of Life through her fingers. “You have a harvest to make, Ashrael.” I felt the pull, as old as time itself; that feeling of a soul in want of collection. The Summons that called me here was for Isabel’s father. This was what she meant by my test.
Isabel turned wide, terrified eyes to mine. Her hands clutched at me in desperation. “Please don’t do this. It isn’t his time. She’s just using him.” Her voice was strained to the breaking point, and angry tears stood in her eyes.
I have never questioned Fate before. There has never been a reason to. Now, however, I found that I must. “Clotho, there seems to be some confusion. The girl is right; he is not ready to move on. Would you care to explain what is happening, here?” I remained calm. There was still a way out of this, I was sure.
Isabel’s father landed onto the cold, hard ground with a soft thump. Halo’s eyes glittered like gems, hard and cold, and a look of infinite satisfaction crossed her sharp features. “Your little monkey is screwed, Ashrael, and there’s not a damned thing that you can do about it.”
Fate circled her, and stopped with her hand draped lightly upon her shoulder. “That’s an awfully crude way to put it, darling, but it’s accurate.” She squeezed Halo’s arm in a half-hearted hug. “Thank you for bringing him to me. You have done beautifully.”
Halo turned on her, anger and disappointment written clearly across her face. “You said that I could have him. You promised.”
“I have something better in mind, now do stop pouting. I owe you nothing. Be a good girl and I will let you watch and bear witness.” The dismissal stung Halo’s pride, but there was nothing she could do. One does not cross Fate without paying a hefty price. Halo stepped back, reluctantly.
Isabel struggled against me, desperate to reach her father. She was not as easy to hold as she once was; she held the strength of a Reaper now. “Let him go! He’s got nothing to do with this.”
“Well, that depends on you, now doesn’t it?” Fate smiled the smile of a child on Christmas morning. “I’ve waited an eternity for this. I cannot tell you how much I am enjoying it.” She closed her hands on the thread she held, concealing it. “Ashrael, do get on with it. I refuse to wait any longer.”
Isabel’s father lay on the ground between us, unmoving and still as a corpse, already. The pull was almost unbearable. His body was dying; his soul about to be shed.
“Ashrael?” Fate watched me, her eyes as sharp as a predator, gloating in her victory. She displayed the purple thread, pinched between the finger and thumb of both hands, stretched taut, to the breaking point. It was so ragged in spots from where she had played with it, there was a good chance that it would fray completely apart before she had the chance to snap it.
I had trouble focusing on her. This was not right. I knew the signs of a ripe soul, and Isabel’s father was not ready to transition. If he were taken too soon, he ran the risk of being lost. This was the trap I had fallen into, and it was beautiful in its simplicity. I had to take him, or see him wander as another lost Sorrow, but if I did, I would destroy the girl I held in my arms. Either way, Isabel lost her father.
Isabel whimpered in my arms. Too late, I realized that I had been crushing her. I released her, and immediately regretted it. She ran across the clearing to throw herself across her father’s motionless body. Recklessly, she placed herself within reach of both Halo and Fate.
“Do your job, Reaper. I shouldn’t have to tell you twice.” The pull became a sharp, constant pain. I started forward, unable to resist the call of the soul about to slip away.
“Asher!” It was Grim, calling to me, stalling me, trying to give me something to hold onto. My head jerked in his direction. His dark eyes warned me, held me. He was still my Brother. It was something, but not enough to resist the Summons.
Beside him stood Gwen, her teeth bared in a mute howl of rage. Grim held her across the waist in a firm, yet gentle grasp. She fought to get to Isabel, with surprising strength, given her recent injuries. I was grateful that she could not. I admired her loyalty to her friend, but this way meant death for her. There was still some small hope that Grim might get her away. Isabel need not lose both her father and her friend on the same night.
“Take the girl, Grim. Now.” The words came out low, and harsh. It cost me much to utter them.
Under normal circumstances, Grim would argue with me, urge me to fight, but he had the girl to worry about. She would surely die, if he stayed. He nodded once, resigned to follow my orders. He disappeared with the girl, kicking and screaming though she was. It was only a reprieve for them. Once she finished here, Fate would waste no time finding both Grim and the girl. Heavens help them both.
Fate’s almond-shaped eyes were bright with barely concealed madness. “Well, Ashrael, we are waiting.”
“I cannot do what you want.” It was a struggle just to get the words out. There was something wrong with me. Incredible amounts of pain spread through every part of me. What was happening to me? I had to get to Isabel. Had to, but I could barely catch my next breath, much less reach her in time to save her. The pain was in every part of me, demanding my attention.
I barely registered it when Clotho came up behind Izzy to breathe her poison into her ear. “You should know, that death isn’t the worst thing that can happen to a soul.” Isabel did not cringe away from her, just glared at her dry-eyed. “The final injury, of course, is when a reaping goes horribly wrong, and a soul is left to wander. I’ve heard it’s a Hell of a different sort.”
Isabel covered her father as best she could. Her eyes met mine across the small distance, and they were terrified. She feared me. She looked at me like I was a monster. I might have been a monster, but I loved her, and would never purposely hurt her. I could not take her father from her.
“I will not do it,” I had to bite the words out.
“Of course, you can, and you will. You are the Angel of Death. That,” she pointed towards Isabel and her father, “is a dying mortal. Harvest his soul. It’s as natural as breathing to you. Do what you are meant to do, Reaper. Let her see the monster you really are.”
The pain reached its pinnacle, burned through me, and a scream tore from my throat as I collapsed onto my hands and knees. For a moment, my vision went black and I heard Fate’s clear, ringing laughter. “Delightful,” she murmured.
I blinked hard, fought for consciousness. Did I hallucinate? Isabel had abandoned her father to come to me. She was on her knees in front of me, holding me up. “Asher, what’s wrong with you? Look at me. What is it?” Her voice was raw, panicked. She was a
t her breaking point.
“Free will, child. His lack of it, is what ails him. He cannot refuse to take your father.”
“He just did, you crazy bitch.” Small hands clutched at me, her fingers were against my skin, feverish and urgent, holding me up, trying to give me strength. “You have to fight through this. Do you hear me? You have to. I can’t do this by myself.”
Fate stood over us, gloating. “Do you know what happens to an angel who refuses his true nature? He becomes Fallen. That is what’s happening here. His refusal is tearing him apart. And why would he do that," she purred, "but for love of a human. The mighty Ashrael has Fallen.” She rubbed her hands together, gloating. "Oh, I knew that I would enjoy this. I’ve waited so long, but this is too marvelous for words."
It was agony that consumed me. It twisted and destroyed everything inside of me. My wings tore through the flesh of my back without being called, and some of the feathers drifted around me and fell uselessly to the ground. The need to harvest was nearly unbearable, yet still I resisted. I could not take Isabel’s father from her. She would despise me for it. Instead, I kneeled upon the ground and bit my lip to stop the screams from rising. I might not have free will, but I would never give that vicious bitch the satisfaction of begging for her release.
“Asher, hang onto me. Can you hear me?” I nodded, though speech was beyond me at that point. Isabel’s lips were against my ear, her breath hot, and insistent. “Take my energy. Use it. Fight her.”
It was useless. I might be able to fight Fate, but I could not fight my own nature. Isabel’s small hands clasped mine and I felt the surge of her Will as it flooded me. Too much. That small body held too much power, and it exploded through her palms and into mine. It washed through me and cooled the fire eating me alive. How she did it, I have no idea, but she did it.
The monster inside me sighed and stretched, reached for its mate, and its match. The energy flowed between us, a living thing unto itself, and it healed me.
It worked. Isabel stopped my transformation, but at what cost to her? She lay across my lap, fragile and pale. I was still weak, but no longer suffering the tortures of the damned. Miraculously, the pull of the Summons had faded to almost nothing, just an echo of an ugly memory. It was still there, but I could control it, now.
Wings of Darkness: Book 1 of The Immortal Sorrows Series Page 30
