by L. L. Muir
She immediately looked down, to see if they’d fallen, but the ground in and around the arena was empty except for the stone slab and Jamison. With his eyes shut and his head ducked, he stumbling toward the altar, then beyond it. A panel in the wall opened and a white-clad arm reached out and dragged him inside.
No!
She tried to jump to her feet, but the belt cut into her hips.
Calm yourself. I have young Jamison. He is safe for the moment.
“Who are you?” she said quietly.
A friend. Now, you must return to your rooms. Forget me. Clear your mind. And whatever happens…comply.
Skye looked at the women to either side, then all around the stadium. Everyone rubbed at their eyes—everyone but the Somerleds in the cages, a few still standing guard by the doors, and herself. People talked again, the moratorium on speaking aloud had apparently been lifted.
“I can’t see.”
“Can you see?”
“This isn’t permanent is it?”
Skye lifted her arm over her face again, not because her eyes were hurt, but because Pilot was unaffected too. He was standing at the back of the stage, his fingers spread against the wall, and his eyes were frantically searching the crowd.
She let her mind go blank, saw only the black insides of her eyelids, and waited like the rest.
~ ~ ~
Jamison’s eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness while Buchanan cut his wrists free. At least he hoped it was dark because he couldn’t see much. He reached for a small object in front of him. It was a knob on the wall. Beneath it, a tiny sign with little glowing letters. He thought it read, Altar or Alto, but his eyes wouldn’t focus. The larger glow of a Somerled robe stood a few yards away and Buchanan’s cheerful face gradually became clear above it.
“It’s really you? Not a duplicate?” Jamison whispered.
Buchanan shook his head. “Not a duplicate. I did notice they’ve captured a big one that resembles Lucas. It happens, but that’s a rare thing.” He waved Jamison forward. “Come along. If you can see me, you can walk on your own.”
Jamison followed. Small lights, near the floor, lit the narrow, dark hallway and though they were probably dim, they drilled into his brain. He watched Buchanan’s back instead.
Jamison forced himself to speak up. “How did you find us?”
“I’d been following Skye for hours before you found her. After they took you, I thought it prudent to stay with her.”
“Too bad they got her anyway.”
Buchanan snorted. “She chose to come, to rescue you.”
The news hit him in the stomach and Jamison stopped and bent over, ready to puke from the guilt alone.
“That girl cannot be stopped,” Buchanan said. “You should not be surprised.”
Jamison got his breath back and straightened. Buchanan urged him on, but he shook his head. There was something else gnawing at his guts and the threat of puking was still real.
“As long as we’re sharing bad news,” he said. “Uh… That Lucas guy asked me to open my mind to him, and I did. I didn’t have time to think…”
Buchanan grinned. “That was me.”
“What?” Wild, happy relief flooded over him and the contrast proved just how stupid he’d been feeling.
“Having hope and faith doesn’t make you stupid, Jamison. And I am glad you did it. Let’s just say Lanny kept me at her compound, and in the dark, on purpose. I’ve learned much, but there was something personal I needed from your memories that I couldn’t have found elsewhere.”
“What’s that?”
Buchanan grimaced. “An emotion. I once knew the thrill of fighting for the woman I loved. I had begun to feel it again, but I wanted to make sure that’s what it was, before I acted.”
“You’ve been in love?”
The angel nodded. “It’s been nearly fifty years, but apparently I still am. For all the good it will do me.” He started down the tunnel again.
Jamison followed. “Can’t you take the loophole? Become mortal? And find her? Maybe Lanny can figure out where she is…”
“Oh, Lanny knows where she is. And now, so do I.”
Jamison didn’t have the stomach to ask who it was the angel had fallen in love with because he was afraid he already knew.
Yes. Buchanan stopped and faced him. “Gabriella,” he said aloud, then stomped away. After Jamison recovered from the shock, he followed.
The hall ended in a wide room with a low ceiling made of flat stone. They were beneath the stage. There was a trap door in the center with a short set of stairs beneath. Jamison could just imagine the woman fooling her captive audience into thinking she’d turned into a bird and flown away when she jumped down through the trap door.
“Watch your thoughts, Jamison. Pilot is directly above us.”
“Can you tell what he’s thinking?”
Buchanan shook his head quickly. “Not without letting him know I am here. I’ll confront him. Just not yet.”
“All but my captains, return to your apartments!” Gabriella’s voice rang out. “Prisoners to the catacombs!” A low rumbling started—probably four thousand people leaving the stadium.
Well, four thousand minus a hundred or so who had gone out through the ceiling.
“We must find Jamison at once,” the woman said in a lower voice. “I want to know what he knows and why he believes what he believes. Post two Somerleds at Skye’s door. Now. If she’d witnessed this spectacle, she would be lost to me.”
Jamison met Buchanan’s eye. “Skye was on the mezzanine, watching. She won’t be able to get back in her room.”
“I saw her. I’ll go.”
“Wait,” Jamison hissed. “There’s something else.”
“What is it?”
“My grandpa’s ghost has been hanging out with the Hearts.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. And he told them Skye was going to save them. I was hoping he would pop up so I could ask him what he knows.”
Buchanan shook his head. “You don’t want that, boy. Wherever a spirit insists on going, against the tide of his progression, he draws attention. If Kenneth Jamison appears to you, he may as well set off fireworks—he will give you away. As for the other, I can only say that it is impossible for the man to know the future. I knew him. He was no prophet. If he claimed otherwise, he lied.”
Jamison nodded. “Maybe he just wanted to give them hope.”
Buchanan patted his arm. “That sounds just like him. Now, I must go. You must hide. I will return as soon as she is safe.”
Jamison looked back the way they’d come. No sign of anyone following, but it was only a matter of time. He needed to find someplace to wait for Buchanan, but he would rather follow the man. After all, he was headed for Skye. Everything would be fine, he was sure, if they could just be together again. But he couldn’t tell if inspiration made him confident, or just wishful thinking.
He took a step in Buchanan’s direction, then froze when he heard voices again.
“Tell me, Pilot.” Gabriella said. “How can they possibly fear being cast out when that little traitor went with a smile on her face? Hmm?”
“She was seduced by Jamison’s lies. They all witnessed it. But I’m more worried we’ve lost nearly all of our elite. Or had that detail escaped you?”
She hmphed. “Of course not.”
“But did you also notice how close you came to losing me?” He hissed the last.
“But I didn’t,” Gabriella said lightly. “Nothing has changed.”
By her calm response, it sounded like Pilot, the immortal, was capable of much more emotion than she was. Maybe it was because Buchanan wasn’t the only one with feelings for her.
“How can you think nothing has changed?” he snapped. “We’ve lost our informants. We won’t know what the enemy is up to.”
“Of course I know what the enemy is up to. The enemy cannot deviate from their course. They must sit and watch as I whittle away at them.”
She laughed, a little hissing noise through her teeth. “Pilot. Stop worrying. This might even be better for me in the long run. Fewer spies among us. Fewer Ruths.”
Footsteps moved away.
“And I meant what I said, Pilot,” Gabriella called out. “I mean to find out what that boy knows. Don’t you dare hurt him.”
The footsteps stomped back. “Don’t be a fool, woman. He was obviously sent by Lanny, armed with whatever lies she’d fed him. Are you going to take his word for anything? Or believe what I’ve told you? Oh, wait…” his voice dropped. “Maybe you could find another Primary and see what they say. Do you think you could get to one…before they cut off your head?”
There was a long silence. Jamison strained to hear her answer.
“That’s right, darling,” Pilot purred. “The only safe place for you is here, in our mountain. You seem to have forgotten all I gave up to find you again, to bring you the truth. But I can help you remember. Come along.”
Their footsteps moved away and Jamison heard nothing else. He spent half an hour wandering around, looking for a space big enough to conceal him, but couldn’t find anything. His best hope was to hide his hair and arms and pray the rest of him would blend into the shadows.
He sat on the steps below the trap door and hoped no one dropped on his head while he waited for the big Somerled to come back.
Gabriella Somerled, Lanny had called her, making Jamison believe she was immortal. Then she’d smelled like toothpaste, but laughed at the suggestion she was human. Had she been messing with him? She had to be. Because if Pilot thought she could lose her head, she could be stopped the hard way, if necessary.
He hoped it didn’t come to that, for Buchanan’s sake. What he wondered, though, was whether his friend had fallen in love with her as an angel, or as a human. Maybe it would be easier for the big man to fight against a face he wasn’t familiar with.
“Skye is safe,” Buchanan said as he emerged into the room.
Jamison relaxed.
“And no. She was no mortal when we fell in love.” Buchanan leaned his hand on a low beam over his head. “We were Somerleds together…once.”
Jamison was mortified to be caught thinking such things about the woman Buchanan loved.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just found out she’s human. I’d been worried she was invincible.”
“I’m not offended, son. I admit I’ve been preparing for the worst case scenario myself.”
Jamison was relieved but sad for the guy who had helped him through some of the toughest hours of his life. He couldn’t imagine being able to kill the girl he loved even if the whole world depended on it.
“You should know Pilot has taken Gabriella somewhere. He didn’t sound happy with her. She might be in danger.”
Buchanan nodded solemnly. “I will see what I can learn.”
“But you’re sure Skye’s all right?”
His friend smiled. “She’s safe inside her rooms. I’ve taken care of the guards at her door. She wants to see you, but I said I’d have to ask—” He laughed as Jamison jumped to his feet and rushed past him.
Finally. Finally!
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Jamison was on adrenaline overload. Buchanan stopped him and gave him Somerled robes to wear so he wouldn’t stand out, but it took forever to change in the tight little hallway.
A door led into a corridor that then opened into a lobby, and by the time they stepped into a stairwell that actually led upward, he was already winded. A few stories later, they stepped out again. Clearly visible from the landing, two Somerleds flanked either side of the door Buchanan pointed to, and Jamison jumped back.
“It’s all right. They’ve recently changed sides.” Buchanan waved him forward.
At the door, the guards nodded at Jamison, but said nothing. His heart was pounding on his ribs, hammering in his ears.
She’s in there!
His friend knocked on the door twice, then pressed the handle and headed inside.
Jamison caught his arm. “Do you really need to go in? ‘Cause I got this.”
Buchanan raised an eyebrow. “Yes. I do. But don’t worry, bro. I got your wing, man.” He rolled his eyes and stepped through the doorway.
Jamison bit his lip and followed, trying to brace himself for disappointment. It wasn’t going to be anything like he’d imagined.
I should hope not.
Hey. Get out of my head, okay? And stay out?
Done.
Buchanan closed the door behind them and gestured Jamison toward a large sunken living room. “I’m going to stay here and watch the hallway.”
Jamison cheered up immediately.
“My ears still work.” Buchanan gave him a pointed look.
Jamison nodded and braced himself, walked to the edge of the hard, black floor, and stepped down into the room. Skye wasn’t there. His gaze darted from corner to corner while his heart let him know, with a sharp pang, that it didn’t appreciate the false start.
“Hello.”
He turned. She stood on the step, biting her lip and mindlessly poking her finger through the holes in a metal decoration on the wall.
“Skye!” He ran to her, grabbed her up in his arms and spun around. “Skye,” he said again. This time his voice didn’t break. “I thought I'd never see you again.” Then he remembered he was hugging a stranger, so he set her down and stepped back. “Sorry. Couldn’t help myself. I’m just so glad you’re all right.”
She looked a little worried, but at least she was in the room with him. “Got it out of your system?”
He laughed. “Yeah. I guess.”
“Hm. Too bad.” She gave him a wink and they laughed a little.
He reached for her again. She jumped back and put a hand out to stop him. They laughed again and he realized she was as nervous as he was.
Together, they walked awkwardly to a bright blue couch, both shuffling their feet as they went. They sat with a good three feet between them.
“I'm so sorry.” He gestured to the room around them. “I was supposed to keep them from getting their hands on you, and I failed.”
“Wait. Slow down. How do you even know who I am?”
He took a deep breath, wondering what part of their story would scare her the least. He could only shrug. “I thought about how I would explain everything to you. I practiced all the way from Colorado, but still, it's going to sound stupid.”
She gestured with open hands. “Just tell me.”
“Oh, I'm going to. I just wanted to warn you ahead of time. You're not going to believe a word of it.”
She looked toward the entryway where Buchanan kept watch. There was a wall that kept them from seeing the door from where they sat.
“I think you’d better start talking. And you need to promise not to grab me again.”
“Fine. Okay. I won’t.” He felt his bottom lip slide out a little, but he pulled it back in. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you. It was just…an adrenaline rush, that’s all.”
She stood up and moved to a chair. “Maybe this will help.”
His nervous laugh returned. “Yeah. That’s probably smart. I haven’t showered—”
“I’m not a hugger,” she said. “I don’t trust huggers.”
“I promise. Hands to myself.” In his head, he pulled out the script he’d been practicing. “I’ve got to start at the beginning.”
She nodded.
He laughed again and wished he could just kill himself already. But then he realized she was as freaked out too. She twisted a lock of hair at her shoulder and the end of it flashed back and forth around fingers like she was being timed while she did it.
He took a deep breath. “Okay. Well, last fall, my mom and I moved from Texas to Colorado. She and my grandpa had a fight and my mom and I moved away. We came back because my grandpa was dying of cancer. At least I got to see him a little before he...died.”
“Sorry,” she said.
He nodded and wen
t on. “That's when I met...a girl named Skye Somerled.”
She took a deep breath and let it out fast, but she didn’t comment.
He was embarrassed to have to say the rest. “Let’s just say you and she have a lot in common.”
Skye released the lock of hair and shook her head. “You don't even know me.” Then, in a move that was totally Skye, she smoothed her hair behind her ear and slid her fingers along her jaw.
He held up his hands in surrender. “You're right. Sorry. Uh, so, this Skye was a Somerled—”
“A Somerled like these cult guys?”
He lowered his hands back to his lap and tried to adjust the script. When he’d planned it all out, he hadn’t known about a mountain full of rogue angels.
“Yes. Kind of. But these guys aren't... typical. Typical Somerleds don't have anything to do with violence. Usually. The violent ones, here, aren’t real Somerleds.”
Buchanan swiped an arm to get their attention. A signal to shut up. “Someone’s coming,” he whispered.
Jamison jumped up. Skye did the same, then she hurried to him and wrapped her arms around his middle. She was shaking. He pulled her close and held on, but only half as tight as he wanted to. It was Heaven on Earth, and he didn’t want to ever let her go again.
They stared at the space where Buchanan had been standing and waited.
He bent down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then whispered, “It’s okay. You’re not alone anymore.” She nodded against his chest and held him tighter. He had no intention of reminding her she wasn’t a hugger.
He knew they were in danger, but his heart kept trying to celebrate that Skye was in his arms again—the second time in only a few minutes. Of course he had to remember this wasn't the same girl he'd known. She felt different. A little more solid, maybe. She wasn’t much bigger than her Somerled body had been, but then, she was a lot more than just a combination of angel and surface tension.
She smelled different, too. Like sweet berry pie and coffee. The first Skye hadn't smelled like much of anything, just the breeze off the drying corn stalks. Once upon a time, it had been enough.
