Kitabı oku: «Renegade Angel», sayfa 3

Chapter 3

Ember woke in a cold sweat, thrashing her way to the surface until she realized that all she was fighting were her sheets, twisted around her body.

She’d had the nightmare again: a red desert. A gaping hole in the sand full of living, writhing horrors … a hole she had created. And all the while, the beautiful, terrifying man with the wings looking on approvingly. He had given her the words, though by now she knew them by heart … and as it always did, power had poured out of her like rain in a summer storm.

Not like when she was awake, living life as an undercover mutant without a cause. Though she didn’t think she would ever want that sort of power in her real life.

She’d had dreams like that off and on since she was a kid, an awkward little redhead with few friends, a dad whom she’d never met and who was only ever referred to as “that good-for-nothing scumbag,” and a mother who alternated between ignoring her and hating her. They were always scary. But in a way, they’d been kind of comforting. At least the man with the wings, the Bad Angel, as she’d always thought of him, hadn’t judged her so harshly as everyone else. He’d liked the things that made her different.

Too bad he was just as unreal as her stupid dreams. Then again, she wasn’t completely sure she wanted to meet that guy in real life. Not that he’d ever hurt her, but she’d never been able to shake the impression that he’d be a much nastier customer in person than she could ever be in her worst moments.

A soft, tapping sound jerked Ember from her jumbled waking thoughts, bringing her crashing back to the dark silence of her room. Or near silence. Ember lay utterly still, warm beneath her covers, hearing nothing but the faintly ragged sound of her own breathing. Moonlight poured in her window, the wind making the shadows of trees dance across her wall.

Ember exhaled slowly.

Calm down, she told herself. It was just her frayed nerves playing tricks on her, that was all. There was no doubt that her week had been one of the weirdest in recent memory, and she could pinpoint exactly when it had started: the second the tall, dark and strangely irresistible man had wandered into her shop and sent her sex drive into nuclear territory. She hadn’t had a reaction like that since puberty had hit her like an oncoming train, but even so, this time had been different. She’d never felt called to a man like that.

Of course, Ember was pretty sure she’d never seen a man quite like that. Period. But still …

She’d just begun to relax, accepting that she was only freaking herself out, when she heard it again.

Ember blinked the sleep from her eyes, and everything in the dark room came into sharp relief. As annoying as her weirdness could be, being able to see in the dark occasionally came in handy. She slowly sat up, telling herself that it was nothing, even as adrenaline began to pump through her system.

Then she saw them, twin red coals watching her unblinkingly from right outside her window. Her heart stuttered in her chest, and Ember barely stifled a small scream as her hand went to her mouth. The red pinpoints bored into her, unblinking …

Then it fluttered its wings, and the illusion was bro ken. Moonlight glinted in eyes that were no longer red. Wind lifted shadows that became feathers.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Ember found herself fending off a fit of nervous laughter. It was a crow. Not a demon, not Poe’s ominous raven, but a common crow, probably cold and taking a breather from the tempestuous night wind. Except …

Ember narrowed her eyes, taking a good look at it. It couldn’t be the same bird, but damn it, it looked just like the enormous crow that had taken up residence at her shop. It had been there all week, perched on the sign, or the window-sill or the tree planted in the sidewalk just down from her door. Weird, she thought with an involuntary little shiver. Even weirder was that she hadn’t been able to shake the sensation that the bird wasn’t just hanging around, but watching her. Which made no sense. As little sense, in fact, as her continuing obsession with the fact that the crow had arrived on Monday afternoon, not long after she’d seen Raum in Mick’s, the bar across the street. And he had been watching her then.

She’d broken three more bottles of essence after that.

“Not thinking about it. Not going there,” Ember said aloud, hoping the sound of her own voice would add a little more reality to the decidedly surreal night. Bolstered, if only a little, she addressed the bird on the sill.

“Fly away, birdie. Go home. No vacancy.”

It really was a beautiful bird, Ember thought as it watched her unblinkingly, the largest crow she’d ever seen, at least up close. She knew they were scavengers, but they were supposed to be really smart, too. This one certainly looked as if it had its wits about it. But enough to follow her home from work?

As she watched, it held her gaze, leaned forward. Then:

Tap tap tap.

It wanted in.

“No way,” Ember murmured, amazed. She’d sure as hell never seen a bird wanting to visit inside someone’s house before. Obviously, all it would do if she opened the window would be to either fly off into the night, or worse, to come in and then freak out about what it had thought it wanted. But … what if it was tame? Someone’s escaped pet, caught in the oncoming storm? What if it wasn’t used to being outside and would wind up dead if she left it in the cold?

What if it needed her?

That was the sweet spot, right there. The one she couldn’t resist indulging.

“Oh, honestly,” she muttered. “Fine. Let’s be stupid.”

She got out of bed and padded to the window, the moonlight painting dappled images on her bare skin. It was probably idiocy, but she was never going to feel right about it if she just let the poor crow sit there. And anyway, she had few enough friends. That was one of the overarching themes of her life: alone. Who was she to shun a fellow creature based solely on species?

Her fingers had just flipped the latches when there was a flurry of motion behind her, a rapid scuttling noise, clickity-clickity-click, like a small animal scurrying across her floor. The window slammed up of its own accord just as the claws sank into her shoulders.

Ember had only a vague impression of something huge and black exploding into her room from the night, just before she was hurled across the room as though she weighed no more than a doll. For a moment, she was weightless. Then, in a lightning-quick burst of instinct that came out of nowhere, she tucked herself into a ball, rolling rather than slamming into the floor or wall and ending quickly in a defensive crouch on the far side of her bed.

There was a split second of recognition that, under other circumstances, she would have thought her move had been pretty damn cool. Then she heard an inhuman, outraged shriek, and something deep inside her roared in response. A sudden wave of bloodlust crashed through her like a tidal wave. All her carefully constructed barriers crumbled in an instant, and the daylight creature she fought to be evaporated in the face of the night creature she truly was.

There was a crash, the sound of shattering glass. And a fierce growl that stirred Ember in ways that had nothing to do with violence. So familiar … she had to see, to know. In a single, nimble leap, Ember cleared the bed and immediately found herself confronted with a sight straight out of a horror movie.

The two creatures grappled by the window, reduced to shadows where they fought, backlit by the moon. One of them, the one she knew immediately had drawn the blood that had already dried on her shoulders, was truly the most hideous thing she’d ever seen. Its skin was a deep and angry red even in the darkness, and its squat and muscular body strained as blood poured from a gash across its head. And that head … stubby, curved horns protruded from the forehead, and its snout pulled back to reveal a maw full of dagger-sharp teeth.

As Ember watched, the creature drew back its arm and slashed its claws across the cheek of its opponent, earning, amazingly, no more than a pained grunt for its trouble.

“You’ll pay for that, you nefari piece of shit,” snarled a voice that she recognized the second she heard it. She would know that voice anywhere. The wings, however, sprouting from his back with a kind of strange majesty, took her utterly aback.

Just like in my dreams.

His blazing eyes, a hot and angry green, connected with hers for only a split second, sending a jolt through her that seemed to set every nerve ending she had aflame at once. Stripped of her inhibitions, Ember let the connection between them ripple through her, the siren song of pleasure promised far greater for her than the interest in the fight.

Sensing it, the horned creature’s attention moved completely to her. It quickly forgot Raum in favor of its initial prey and shoved away from him to stalk toward her, gleaming red eyes full of blind hatred and a terrible hunger.

This time, the warning growl that filled the air was Ember’s. Her body felt loose, agile, and she realized that all her fear had evaporated. It had been replaced by a sort of breathless anticipation. That, and a complete confidence that when she and this creature went for one another’s throats, she would win. Which was good, because Raum’s presence had her blood singing. If she had to tear through this thing to get to him, so be it.

Ember growled louder, her claws extended, her long and deadly incisors bared.

Come and get me, you son of a bitch.

It leaped, and Ember propelled herself into the air, ready to clash, to meet it in a biting, tearing frenzy. All of her passion, her pent-up energy, sizzled through her veins in anticipation. She would make her kill. She would teach this thing a lesson.

And then it was gone, stolen from her out of midair as Raum swooped out of nowhere and slammed it against the wall. Ember had the wind knocked out of her in one harsh breath, one swift blow to her gut sending her hurtling back to the floor. There was an almost piglike squeal, followed quickly by an ear-piercing shriek of pain so intense her ears throbbed with it.

Then, silence, except for the blood still rushing in her ears. Ember gasped as her lungs shuddered back to life, dragging herself to a sitting position while she grappled with a barrage of coughing. Her eyes darted around the room as she tried to brace herself for another attack.

Raum rose to his feet on the other side of the room, over the crumpled form of the creature that had attacked her. Without even glancing at her, he pulled a small pouch from his pocket and sprinkled something over the body, murmuring words she could barely hear. She began to make her way over to him, slowly, deliberately, maintaining her crouch and silent as a ghost. She’d take him down first and ask questions after, she decided, trying to keep in mind that he’d come tearing into her house uninvited and ready to fight.

But it was the prospect of having him pinned beneath her as she straddled him that moved her forward, silent as a cat in the dark. The body of the dead creature began to smoke, then vanished in a burst of orange flame. Ember’s mouth fell open, her eyes rounding in disbelief as she stopped short.

This had to be more of her nightmare. Had to be. Except it all felt terribly real. She shuddered in a breath, pinched herself with claws that drew blood with sharp little pinpricks of pain and made her hiss. But it couldn’t be real, Ember thought. Because if it was …

“Raum?”

Raum turned to stare at her with green eyes that glowed brightly in the dark. All at once his scent flooded her nostrils, an exotic musk that reminded her of candles and incense. The scent of dark places, of mysteries undiscoverable. She could hear him now, his slow, steady breathing, the thudding rhythm of his heart soothing the erratic beat of her own. Ember started to get to her feet, then staggered as an unexpected wave of dizziness knocked her off balance.

Immediately, his arms were around her, pressing her into a chest that felt like hot stone. Ember shivered from the warmth, leaning into his heat even as she fought off the escalating light-headedness.

“Don’t,” she protested weakly, knowing full well that she was already an active participant in this little embrace. She was going to get herself killed. He could be getting ready to shred her even now. All her stupid instincts demanded she get as close to him as humanly possible. Her head was so foggy all of a sudden … Why couldn’t she think?

“I’m not going to hurt you, Ember,” Raum said, making no move to let her go. “You have plenty to worry about, but not that.”

His voice was stern, but somehow that was a comfort. Especially because she was suddenly having a hard time keeping her feet under her.

“Raum,” she murmured, her speech going slurry. “I feel kinda funny.”

In response, he ran his hands over her shoulders, and Ember was surprised at the dull and throbbing pain at his touch.

“Ow,” she complained, jerking her shoulders so that his hands returned to her back.

“Your wounds are deep,” he said, and the anger in his voice made her shiver again.

“It’s only a flesh wound,” she informed him, then giggled foolishly. The laughter made the dizziness worse, though, and Ember brought her arms up to wrap around Raum’s waist. She groaned as her stomach gave a sudden, violent lurch.

“I’m going to be sick,” she announced, and her knees began to buckle beneath her.

He sighed, taking on more of her weight. “You’re going to be a lot worse than that if we don’t get you some help. Stupid demon. I don’t know who sent him, but he seems to have forgotten his orders. If I hadn’t killed him, his master would have … “ He trailed off, squeezing her tighter. Concern darkened his voice.

“Ember? Stay with me. Okay?”

“Hmm? You have the nicest voice,” she said, darkness beginning to encroach on her vision. “I could listen to you talk forever. Would you tell me a story?” Sleep was barreling toward her, though, and Ember frowned at the injustice. “Whassa matter with me, Raum?”

He bent, and in one quick motion caught her behind the knees and scooped her into his arms, cradling her like the child she suddenly felt like. The world spun nauseatingly, and she buried her face against the soft cotton of his shirt.

“Ohh,” she groaned. “Not good.”

“No,” he agreed, “it isn’t.” That undercurrent of anger in his voice had grown stronger. “Listen to me, Ember. That demon stuck his claws in you, and it looks like he was poisonous. You’ve got to try to stay awake, all right? I have to find someone who can help. So just … No, look, don’t do that,” he said as her head lolled back. He shoved it back against his chest and gave it a little shake for good measure. It didn’t feel great, but it pushed the darkness back a little.

“Are we flying?” she asked, remembering the wings.

“Mmm-hmm,” he replied, jostling her, and she realized, albeit dimly, that he was swinging a leg out the open window.

“Do you have an airsick bag, then?”

“Don’t even think about it,” he said. His voice was strained, and Ember thought he was probably imagining what might happen to his clothes in the absence of that airsick bag. Then she felt a rush of air, and clung more tightly to his chest as her stomach threatened to do exactly what he had just commanded it not to do.

“This is a hell of a way to start,” she heard him growl. “Don’t you dare die, Ember Riddick.”

“‘Kay,” she murmured, feeling her world tip and begin to go black again. “Raum?”

“What?”

“Are you my Guardian Angel?” she asked, and smiled at his snort, which was as much of an answer as anything.

“No,” he finally said.

She dug her fingers more tightly into his shirt, and only fleetingly wondered whether her claws had retracted. Either way, he didn’t flinch, didn’t make a sound. And it no longer mattered, because she was falling, falling, like Alice down the rabbit hole, into a darkness that even she couldn’t see through.

“Save me anyway?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. Then she was gone.

Chapter 4

Raum soared into the night sky on ebony wings, a blur invisible to the human eye as he cradled his un conscious cargo close to his chest. The death smell mingled unpleasantly with the autumn spice of the night air, fueling his urgency as he headed for a place where it would be safe to call upon the power he would need. How, Raum asked himself, had he managed to get himself into the position of playing not only Guardian, but hero? It was utterly disgusting.

He glanced quickly down at the woman in his arms, noted how pale she had become, the shallowness of each breath. Even her natural warmth, higher than that of an average human, was growing cold. Her jerked his head up and flew faster, swallowing his rising panic.

Damn whoever had chosen the cataclysmically stupid, poisonous nefari to send after him, he thought angrily. And damn him for his utter lack of sense where the woman was concerned. He should have known she’d be watched. Hell, he shouldn’t even be here.

In seconds, the mountains were all around him, the dark shapes of the trees beckoning him into their safe haven. When he found a likely spot, Raum dropped lightly from the sky and landed in a secluded clearing. This was a cool, dark, soothing place, and rife with both the rich scent of decaying leaves and the wintry promise of pine in every frigid breath. A good place. He needed privacy for this.

Raum strode to the center of the clearing, bathed in the light of a moon that was nearly full. In his arms, Ember began to shiver uncontrollably. He could actually feel the life force ebbing from her, could feel the final spark of warmth, her soul, preparing to take flight.

It would, he knew, make Gadreel happy. The rest would just see it as an easier way out of the situation and think nothing more of it. But if the Nexus had drawn Ember to it, it would eventually draw another with the ability to open it. That was the way of the old magic of Earth: it called to those who could hear it.

But beyond that, something about Ember Riddick intrigued him. Pulled at him, even more than her beauty. All week, he had watched her, solitary even as she interacted with those around her. She kept much to herself because she had to, Raum assumed. Perhaps, probably, she’d been hurt for being what she was. At first, he’d wondered if maybe the cycle was repeating itself completely and she had a nefari lover already. He’d been far too relieved to discover that wasn’t the case.

He just hoped he remembered what he was doing, because it had been an awfully long time since he’d called upon this ability. Actually, he wasn’t certain he’d even retained it after his Fall.

Nothing like having to find out under duress.

“All right. Let’s get this over with,” he said, rolling his shoulders and neck as he planted himself firmly in the middle of the clearing, legs slightly apart. He adjusted Ember in his arms, exposing her small form to the pale light of the moon. Then, with a deep breath, Raum closed his eyes. Cleared his mind. And after a moment’s hesitation, called the Light.

He arched his back and spread his wings wide, wait ing. Slowly, he could feel it filling him, the white light of healing using him as a conduit to suffuse the woman he held. It started slowly, then strengthened, filling him until it pulsed right along with his heart. The power flowed faster, brighter, rushing through him and from him with such strength that the air around him began to whip and pull at him. And now it was Raum shuddering, fighting not to recoil as something wild and sweet flooded him, something he had forgotten long ago.

Beauty. Joy. Love …

Means to an end, he insisted to himself, even as the Light began to illuminate even the darkest places within him, invading. Awakening. Just a means to an end. I do not care. I will NEVER care. I am darkness. I am sin. I am the enemy of love.

That was about the time his hands, pressed against Ember, began to sting. Then throb.

Then smoke.

Raum’s eyes flew open in horror, and he let Ember fall to the ground just as they burst into flame.

“Son of a bitch!” he roared. Everything fled his thoughts but white-hot pain. Raum mashed his flaming hands against his chest and collapsed onto the ground, smothering the flames with both his weight and the damp soil and leaves beneath him. He closed his eyes tightly, though nothing on Earth, in the Above or the Below, could have taken him far enough away from the blinding pain in his hands.

Through gritted teeth, he began to recite some of his favorite human expletives.

His fury was rudely interrupted by a soft moan, and his anger vanished as he realized Ember was still sprawled on the ground where he’d dropped her. Raum scrambled over to where she lay, keeping his wounded hands close to his body.

She was still, so still, her face half in shadow as he knelt over her. She was still far too pale, even for one with her light complexion. But her breathing appeared to have steadied, her lips parted slightly as her breath sent small puffs of mist into the cold night air. The thin T-shirt she wore was covered in blood, still wet, and so close to her, Raum’s nose was filled with the coppery scent of it. Despite his pain, he fumbled at her shirt with red, raw hands, rending the material in two down the front of her and pulling it away where the fabric had adhered to the small, deep puncture wounds around her shoulders.

Ember moaned again, a soft, thick sound in the back of her throat that twisted like a knife in his chest. Raum tentatively brushed his hands against her skin, examining the way the blood flow had stopped, frowning as he realized the skin was knitting itself back together even as he watched. It was incredibly rare for a half-breed to be able to self-heal so quickly. But the wounds were vanishing, leaving unbroken skin beneath a thin and tacky film of Ember’s blood. Her soft skin warmed beneath his hands.

His gamble had worked. But Raum realized too late that in his haste, he hadn’t thoroughly considered the possible consequences: he hadn’t dreamed that touch ing her would become so addictive so quickly. But even as he willed himself to stop, his hands stroked and soothed with a gentleness he had thought was long forgotten.

This time when she shivered, he knew it was from the deepening chill in the air and not because she was leaving him. He gathered her up again, eyes skimming down her exposed torso as he did and lingering on her full, rounded breasts, the nipples taut in reaction to the cold. The intriguing indent of her navel in her long, lean waist.

Raum jerked his gaze away and pulled her into his chest, wrapping his wings around her as he got to his feet. The pain in his hands had lessened to a dull ache, smoke still coiling lazily from the raw skin, but concentrating on holding Ember pushed it to the back of his mind and made it more bearable. They would have been healed already, had it been anything but fire. That fire, in particular. Still, the damage should be gone by morning, though they’d be misery for a while yet.

Ember hadn’t yet wakened, but she curled into him, nuzzling her face into his chest. She sighed softly, and Raum felt a strange tug somewhere in the dark and blackened vicinity that supposedly held a heart. He had a sudden, overwhelming desire to protect her, to keep her close ….

“Well,” said a voice, “this is a new one, even for me.”

Raum hunched his shoulders defensively in reaction. He wasn’t at all in the frame of mind he liked to be in when confronting the almost always unhelpful Reapers. And this one, Jarrod by name, had thwarted him before. Raum made sure his hands were well-hidden beneath his wings along with most of Ember, determined not to let the Reaper see the damage he’d inflicted on himself. Then he might ask questions, and Raum was in no mood to answer them.

“What are you doing here, Jarrod?” Raum grumbled. “Your services aren’t needed.”

“Apparently not,” Jarrod replied, quirking a brow. The Reaper was clad as the rest of his kind always were, all in black, and with a long coat that had been known, on occasion, to hold wonders. Not that they shared, Raum thought, glowering.

The Reaper stretched his neck, trying to get a better look at what Raum was holding on to. “What have you got there?”

“None of your business,” Raum snapped, wrapping his wings more tightly around himself. Why, after millennia of Reapers avoiding him like the plague, did this one have to show up now?

“Well, I was minding my business, now that you mention it,” Jarrod said. His fair skin shimmered faintly in the darkness, a marked contrast to his severe clothes. “But see, then I was called by a woman’s departing soul, so here I am, ready to guide her into the beyond, and instead, I find a Fallen angel who thinks I don’t realize he’s hiding her under his wings. Right. There. In front of me.” He cocked his head, amusement and curiosity glittering in his dark eyes.

“You’re not needed here, Jarrod. Go away.” Raum pulled an arm free and waved him off with an irritated jerk, then remembered his hands.

Shit.

“You’re burned,” Jarrod said softly, his surprise evident. “Did you … ?”

The question, only half-finished, hung in the air between them. Raum considered denying it, but though he was adept at lying, anything he said was going to sound ridiculous. All he could hope for was that the truth got rid of the Reaper faster. He fixed Jarrod with a steely glare that greater beings had withered beneath.

“What if I did? It’s no business of yours.”

Jarrod looked nothing short of stunned, an expression Raum didn’t think he’d ever seen on a Reaper’s face before. The other man was silent a long moment, though he made no move to leave. Then he said, “I’d heard you were one of the defectors, you know. But I didn’t actually believe it was true.” His dark eyes narrowed slightly, considering him with unnerving intensity when Raum said nothing, which he knew the Reaper would take as confirmation enough.

Then, Jarrod said softly, “This is not the place for you right now, Raum of the Fallen.”

Raum stared. It was the first time he had ever received any information that might be remotely construed as helpful from a Reaper, who were stubbornly neutral. Jarrod’s face betrayed no emotion, though he continued to watch Raum with that look of frank assessment.

Finally, Raum said, “I know about the Nexus. We’re not going to let it happen.”

Jarrod’s smile was thin. “That’s a switch. But you’re up against more than you know.” Then he walked toward him, his stride purposeful. Raum took a step back, glaring.

“Don’t be greedy, Raum. Let me see the woman.”

“Piss off.”

Jarrod stopped and folded his arms across his chest. “She’s not so far from the borders of death yet, Raum. I want to see if you’ve done your job right.” He shook his head. “At least, I’m assuming that saving innocent humans is part of your job now?”

“Not really,” Raum grumbled, unable to let it go. He had no interest in word getting around that he was trying to get back into the white-winged contingent when it was so entirely untrue.

Jarrod stepped forward again. “Then all the more reason for me to have a look. You probably screwed it up and I’ll have to take her anyway.”

Raum bared his teeth. “Try it and lose an arm.” But he relented at last, parting his wings to reveal Ember’s unconscious form. He remembered that she was naked from the waist up, and turned her into him so that Jarrod couldn’t get a good look, gripped by another wave of unreasonable possessiveness. He could tell from the odd look the Reaper gave him that he’d noticed, but for once, Jarrod kept his opinion to himself.

Instead, he leaned over her, eyes intense. He reached out one long-fingered hand and brushed a lock of gleaming hair away from the side of Ember’s face, and Raum felt his fists clench. That was followed by a wave of nauseating pain, payment for moving his abused hands without thinking.

“Well?” he gritted out when the Reaper continued to examine her silently. Jarrod raised his gaze to him, and it was as black as a starless night.

“Why did you save her?”

Raum blinked. “What?”

“Why did you save this woman?” Jarrod repeated. “Be cause that’s what you’ve done. And considering what, and who, she is, I’m a little confused. I don’t know what it cost you, exactly,” he continued, his voice dropping, and Raum saw his eyes go to his smoking hands. “But I’m going to guess it was quite a bit.”

Raum paused, torn between the truth and keeping up appearances, though the latter would mean the end of this bizarre conversation with the Reaper. He’d never looked at the agents of Death as much more than a necessary nuisance, sometimes entertaining to bother, completely useless when it came to information. But Jarrod, with whom he’d engaged in the occasional war of words with over this soul or that, seemed to want to tell him something. And the days when he could afford to blow such an impression off were gone.

“It … she was guarded. Stupid nefari was meant to protect her and turned on her as soon as it got excited.” He shrugged. “I should have been more careful. She’s important to this Nexus business, and … Uriel doesn’t want her hurt.” It was as close as he would come to the truth, to his own interest in protecting her.

“But why you?” Jarrod asked, and he seemed genuinely perplexed.

“Because I said I would. Because this is the sorry state my existence has been reduced to.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Because it’s my fault she got hurt. Why does it matter to you anyway, Jarrod?” The words sounded foreign to his own ears, rolling strangely off his tongue. When was the last time he had admitted to anything resembling guilt? And yet it was true, all true.