“No! Stop!”
Imorean almost hesitated. The desperation in Michael’s voice … He didn’t stop. Fenrir raised his head. Imorean met the wolf’s eyes. He gathered himself. Monster jaws opened. Saliva dripped off the fangs. Imorean closed his eyes. He didn’t have to see. He only needed to feel. The way past Fenrir was through deception. A way the wolf would never expect. Imorean knew his way. Four giant canine teeth. All his senses extended in the same instant. He knew exactly how fast Fenrir was biting down. He could feel how close those teeth were to snapping his spine. Seconds left. A few feet left to go. Saliva dropped on a wing. Imorean hurled himself round in a corkscrew. Fenrir’s jaws snapped shut just as his boots cleared the other side of the wolf’s mouth. Imorean opened his eyes. Raphael lay ahead of him now, the snow bright red with blood. Dim blue eyes looked up. Imorean grasped his sword, the faithful weapon returned again to its scabbard. His sword flashed down once more through Gleipnir and the short length of chain broke away. It was instinct more than anything else that caused Imorean to grab the chain before it fell to the snow. He skidded to a halt, snow churning around his ankles. Fenrir’s head swung once more toward him and Raphael. Imorean balked. He only had two hands. He could drop Gleipnir and use his sword to save Raphael. Or he could save himself and leave Raphael. Fenrir lifted his back paw, howling in anguish.
“Grab Raph!”
Imorean turned. Gabriel stood almost under Fenrir, his sword buried in the wolf’s paw. Imorean needed no prompting. He grabbed Raphael under the arms and tried to pull him away. He was too heavy.
Gabriel shouted again. “Look out!”
Imorean looked up. Stop. The paw hurtled down. He and Raphael were directly beneath it. There was no further they could go. Imorean looked at Gabriel. His hazel eyes were desperate. A fragment of life flashed in front of Imorean’s eyes. He saw his mother’s face the morning he had had his car accident. Terror and horror had stricken her face. Gabriel’s face was the same now. Imorean’s heart thumped. He thought inexplicably of Roxy. He could see her face in his mind. That bright smile. Her dyed hair. His best friend. He didn’t want to die here. He didn’t want to be crushed to death. Anywhere but here. Any way but like this.
A surge of power enveloped Imorean. Something. Something. Something. He had to do something. If they were just fifty feet further away, they would be safe. All four of them. Microseconds remained. A yell formed in his throat. His muscles tensed to rear backward. Anything to move.
Chapter 14
Imorean crashed backward on the snow. It was powder soft. He was dead. He had to be. But the air was calmer here. Something was different. He cracked his one good eye open. Fenrir’s paw had vanished. He was lying on a bed of fresh snow, unsullied by blood. Raphael was next to him. One black and blue wing bloodied and broken almost beyond recognition. He was unconscious. His chest, though, was rising and falling. Imorean rolled onto his side and looked up. Warm blood dropped from his nose, running down into his mouth. The iron flavor of it forced him to his senses. Not dead. He was alive. By some miracle, alive. All four of them were. Gabriel was nearby, picking himself up off the snow.
“Imorean, when did Michael teach you that?” whispered Gabriel, looking at him in wonder.
“I never taught him that.”
Imorean turned. Michael stood just behind him. “What happened?”
“You moved us,” said Gabriel. “You brilliant, little Archangel.”
“How did I do it?” asked Imorean, moving to stand up. One of his knees was still numb. It failed him this time and he flopped back to the cold snow.
“Stay down,” said Michael, crouching next to him. “I would say it was pure instinct, but we can figure out the details later. We need to get you and Raphael into care as soon as possible. Gabriel, do you think you can take us halfway?”
“Of course I can.”
“What about Odin?” asked Imorean. “Shouldn’t we tell him we got what we needed?”
“We will send a messenger. He will understand,” said Michael. Imorean inclined his head. There was a quietness to Michael’s voice. A tone that sounded close to pride.
“Come on,” said Gabriel, grabbing hold of Raphael’s arm. “Let’s go home.”
Imorean relaxed as Michael rested a hand on his shoulder. His eyes drifted back to Fenrir. The fog was closing once more, gray and endless.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Night had fallen on The Main of Upper Morvine. Night, though, did not mean there was no light. All the campus lights were on. A team of nurses and doctors was already waiting.
Imorean stumbled hard as his feet crashed into the ground. Someone caught him before he fell, pulling his arm across their shoulders. He looked up. Michael. Of course Michael had caught him. They’d been right next to each other.
Michael’s eyes narrowed, confused. “What on Earth? Did you do this, Gabriel?”
“Not me,” said Gabriel. “Let’s just be glad they’re here. They must have known we were coming.”
Imorean pulled himself straighter, trying not to lean his entire weight on Michael. “Who are they?”
Gabriel turned to him. “These angels are part of Raphael’s emergency medical team. Equally as good as he is.”
Raphael was loaded up onto a stretcher and moved toward the hospital wing. Imorean jumped as one of Raphael’s staff touched him on the wing. A young, female angel. There was a kindness in her eyes, just like Raphael’s. Her dark, red hair was swept up in a tight bun. Only a few hairs curled down around her face. Imorean started. There was something about her that reminded him of his mother. He realized with a start that she, too, was wearing square, wire rimmed glasses, identical to Raphael’s.
“Hello, Imorean. My name is Diniel. Let’s get that eye and knee looked at. Can you walk?”
“I don’t think so,” replied Imorean. He put some pressure on his left leg and faltered. Michael caught him again. “No. Definitely not.”
“We’ll look after you, don’t worry. Gabriel, there’s a team waiting to aid you too.”
“Thank you, Diniel. Imorean, Michael, I’ll see you in the morning.”
There was a pause as Gabriel walked away, then Imorean heard Michael talking to Diniel. He couldn’t help but feel relief. He was too tired to talk.
“His knee needs looking at. And his head. He has a few cuts and bruises, but fine aside from that,” said Michael.
Imorean flinched as Diniel rested a thin, strong hand on his and Michael’s shoulders. He stumbled for a third time that evening. Smooth stone greeted his feet. A shocking change from grass. Diniel had taken them to a private exam room in the hospital wing. Imorean turned his head and looked longingly at the exam bed. They were not known for their comfort, but he was exhausted. He’d have gladly taken a seat on stones by this point.
“Sit down,” said Diniel, taking him under one arm and guiding him to the exam bed. Her hazel eyes flicked to Michael. “What happened?”
“Perhaps too much.”
“Don’t be cryptic with me, Seraph. I need to know exactly what happened so I can start making him better.”
Michael raised his hands in defense and stood at the base of the bed. “He did his first astral plane projection this morning –”
Diniel’s eyebrows knit together. “A tiring exercise.”
Michael snorted and went on. “We attacked Fenrir, the wolf of the Norse gods. It was a fast but nasty fight. Raphael was badly injured. Imorean was nearly eaten. Twice.”
Imorean looked at Michael and swallowed. “Gleipnir. I don’t know where it is.”
“Gabriel has it. Do not worry. We did not leave without it.”
“Imorean, what else happened?” said Diniel, her soft voice pulling his attention.
“I was thrown backward. I think I hit a rock or something.”
“He did his first teleport today,” said Michael.
Diniel nodded. “Okay. You’re drained of energy for sure. You need rest and a lot of it. I can prescribe some good
painkillers and anti-inflammatories for your knee. From what you say, I would say you twisted it. I’ll give you a brace when you leave here. As for your head, you may have a concussion. We will test for that soon. Right now, I want to get your eye cleaned up. If you have damage to it, that will have to be resolved before we can handle the concussion.”
Imorean was glad Michael stayed nearby as Diniel put on rubber gloves and slowly began cleaning away the dried blood with cotton balls and rubbing alcohol. His stomach turned at the scent of the rubbing alcohol. He’d always hated the smell. There was something reassuring in the movement, though. Being taken care of.
“Has he vomited at all?” asked Diniel, addressing Michael.
“No. I saw no immediate signs of a concussion. If anything, after this injury, he was more aware and more capable in battle.”
“Unusual.”
“He is a hybrid,” shrugged Michael.
“Could you not talk about me like I’m not here?” asked Imorean, keeping his eye closed as Diniel continued to clean away the blood.
“My apologies,” said Michael. “Diniel, how did you know we were here?”
“You know, funnily enough, it was your friend Roxy, Imorean,” said Diniel, talking to him as though he had asked rather than Michael. “She was discharged this morning, but came back this afternoon in hysterics. She said you were in trouble and that you were all coming back. We were expecting you to be the most injured one.”
Imorean started. He had thought of Roxy just as Fenrir’s paw hovered over his head. Had he somehow made contact with her? He felt a push at the side of his head and sent the question toward Michael, who sent back a rush of confirmation.
“How is Raphael?” asked Michael, breaking the quiet.
Diniel sighed. “In surgery for his wing. We’ll be able to give you a better update tomorrow. What happened to him?”
“Fenrir stepped on him,” said Imorean. He shuddered at the memory.
Diniel dropped the cotton swab and gasped. “What?”
“Correction. Fenrir stepped on one of his wings,” said Michael. Imorean heard a note of amusement in his voice. “You sound surprised, Diniel.”
“I just never think about Raphael being injured in battle. It’s so rare for him to be in the thick of one.”
Michael’s voice softened. “Raphael is an Archangel. He will be fine, but he may not be flying for a while. You, of all his doctors, should know that, Diniel.”
Imorean yawned and Michael turned back to him. “Can he go back to The Terrace tonight, Diniel?”
“Give me a few minutes, Michael,” she snapped, sounding annoyed. “I still need to look at his eye.”
“Can’t you just do angel stuff and heal it for me?” asked Imorean, stifling another yawn. He was exhausted. All he wanted was a shower and his bed.
“I have to at least know where to heal. Plus, you’re a hybrid, so I prefer to use human methods where I can.”
“Has Raphael not told you?” asked Michael. “Imorean is more angel than human.”
Diniel tilted her head and frowned. “I understand that, but as I said, I know how hybrids are and how sensitive they can be to angel healing techniques.”
Imorean shook his head as a drop of rubbing alcohol ran down his face. “How do you know so much about hybrids?”
“Didn’t Michael tell you?” asked Diniel, wiping away the drop. “I am one.”
“Really?” asked Imorean, his mouth opening.
“Diniel was changed around the time of the First World War,” said Michael. “She has stayed with us ever since. Raphael trained her himself.”
“But you don’t look over twenty-five!” spluttered Imorean.
“Thank you,” smiled Diniel. “Michael’s right. I was one of their hybrids then and decided to remain with them, rather than go back to the human world. I have aged, but accepting the hybrid side of your nature makes the aging process much slower.”
Imorean shook his head, stilling as Diniel placed a warning hand on his cheek. “I’m sorry. Accepted your hybridization?”
She nodded. “Yes. Embracing the angel half of our nature. It is rare, but it’s how hybrids ‘become’ angels – or become as close as they can be to angels. There are some who frown on our making the decision, but some of us do choose it.”
“I never knew …” Imorean glanced at Michael, who seemed to be on the verge of glaring at Diniel as she took off and replaced her gloves.
“As I said, it is rare. Far more humans choose to return to their own lives. To make the most of their survival. Existence is a great gift. It is up to us to use it with the greatest vivacity that we can. The thing about hybrids is that our lives –”
Michael forcefully cleared his throat.
Diniel looked confused. She met Michael’s eyes, her blue-gray wings twitching. “You haven’t – ?”
Michael’s eyes narrowed further. A ripple of green flashed past Imorean’s vision. A reprimand. A savage one. Diniel’s gaze dropped to the floor, then she looked up and gave him a quick smile.
“I’ve been telling Michael for a long time that he should station a hybridized angel at one of the schools to help the incoming students, but he’s disagreed every time. Says it would disrupt our empathy.”
Imorean darted another glance at Michael. A sudden change of subject. He didn’t press. He was too tired to pry at the moment. He followed Diniel’s trail of conversation.
“So, where are you normally?” he asked.
“At one of the upper schools or out in the field, but Raphael called me back here since he’s going to be in the field more himself. I prefer not to be around Raphael when we’re both working. He’s a distraction.”
Michael scoffed in the background.
“You can disapprove all you like, Seraph. It stopped bothering me long ago,” said Diniel. “Now, Imorean, open your eye. I need to check your vision.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The wooden boardwalk of The Terrace felt like home beneath Imorean’s feet. Diniel’s examination of his eyes and head had taken longer than he had wanted and the night seemed to have grown even darker. The sky overhead was endless, black as ink.
“Are you able to get back to your cabin on your own?” asked Michael, flaring and folding his wings.
Imorean leaned on his braced knee. It held his weight this time. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure I can find the way.”
His knee still painful, Imorean turned away from Michael but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He swallowed and lifted his chin. Michael wanted something, but he wasn’t sure what. Gathering the last scraps of his energy, he shoved the vague sense of a question toward him.
Michael blinked, surprise flashing through his eyes. “I need an answer, Imorean. Do you wish to return to North Carolina with me or do you want me to send you straight on to Felsenmeer?”
Imorean sighed hard. The one topic he’d rather avoid. “Michael, I’m tired. Let me have the night to think.”
“Until tomorrow, then. Otherwise, I shall make the decision for you.”
“Believe me, I know you will. I’m just tired. My brain isn’t working right.”
“You have until morning.”
“Thanks,” snorted Imorean. He pulled away from Michael and set on down the boardwalk. His steps sounded uneven on the wooden decking. He gritted his teeth as pain spiked up from his knee. What did he want? Did he really want to go back to the very place where his family had been kidnapped? To be later murdered? Could he bear that? There was already a hole the size of a planet torn through his life. Surely, going back home would only make that worse … but was it an opportunity he could pass up? The chance to go home. The chance to make peace. A weight of hot guilt settled around his stomach. He didn’t know what to do. Both decisions seemed wrong and right at the same time. He swallowed hard. Rachel. Isaac. Amelia. William. Leanne. His entire family. Half siblings, mother, grandparents. Toddy, Mandy, Dustin. His friends. They were all gone. What should he do?
Chapter 15
It was the stream of bright sunlight that woke Imorean. His curtains hung open. His room was filled with yellow light. Groaning, he rolled over and checked his bedside clock. It was nearly twelve in the afternoon. He had been asleep for almost fourteen hours. And he regretted none of it. Exhaustion had swept him mercifully down. For the first time in weeks, he felt rested. He swung his legs out of bed and dressed quickly, strapping his knee brace on over his trousers. His knee was swollen. He shrugged his wings and buckled on his watch, narrowing his eyes. There was a tear in the leather. Only small, but he still felt his heart sink. This was his father’s watch. It was one of the few items he had left of his family. He had worn it for years. The leather couldn’t be torn. It just couldn’t. He swallowed. Surely, Roxy would be able to fix it. Or Ryan. Or Colton or Baxter. Someone could fix it. A fist hammered on his door and he tensed, all his muscles ready to run.
Angels Falling Page 9
