The Saving Angels Series: Books 1-3 (54 page)

I closed my eyes, attempting to connect with the soul of the Daemon. I saw nothing but darkness. No images, no pictures, just vast nothingness. I didn't care, though. I wasn't looking for a soul to save. I projected every negative emotion I could think of: anger, hate, deceit, vengeance. Suddenly, a great wall of fire appeared in my mind, rushing toward me like
a
unstoppable force.

My eyes were opened as the Daemon released me, dropping to the floor, gasping for air. It wasn't just him. The six remaining Daemons struggled on the ground, grasping their throats in search of the air that was quickly leaving their bodies. With no strength left to fight, they laid in a heap on the floor, unconscious.

Robert and Lynn rushed to my side just as my own legs collapsed from under me.

"Krista!" Lynn yelled. "Robert
help
her!"

I could barely make out anything that was being said. The only thoughts I had were of Mark. He couldn't really be gone, not the man I have loved my entire life. Sounds echoed through my ears making me want to cover them, but every ounce of energy was gone from me as I curled up in a ball on the floor. I could hear Sam comforting Shawn, but I could only stare at them with blind eyes as my soul threatened to collapse. I was not strong enough to handle this. I could not live without my Protector.

I could hear another voice from far off as Sam and Shawn's faces drifted away and Haniel's replaced them. Vaguely I realized the annoying sound was coming from me. Haniel knelt beside me and clasped my hands firmly in his. His face disappeared in a haze as I finally allowed the tears I had been holding back. I could feel the warmth of Haniel's touch working to repair what was broken in me.

It took several days after the Daemon attack to finally be able to talk about what had happened, and take stock of the damage to our group. Shawn thankfully was okay, and only had a few broken ribs and a concussion from the blow to the head. Injuries among us was scattered between broken bones and cracked ribs. The deaths of Grace, Thomas, Faith, and Michael were a blow to our group and we all felt the loss of them greatly.

My loss of Mark was a taboo subject that no one brought up. Haniel's claim that Guides could survive without their Protector proved to be true, but I was unsure at what price. My soul no longer felt like my own, and I felt like a lost ship at sea.

Haniel took care of cleaning up the mess at Mark's house that we had left behind. None of us had stepped foot in there since that fateful night, nor did we have any inclination to do so. The house was now the very essence of evil to all of us.

The funeral for our lost friends was both heartbreaking as we met the rest of the Links and the children of our new friends. My heart wept when I held Timmy, Grace's and Thomas's sweet curly-haired toddler for the first time. He was the perfect mix of both of them, with a happy nature that made me smile sadly. He would never know how fabulous his parents were and just how much they had loved him.

Our new friends departed the day after the funeral to go home and recover from the rest of their injuries. Sam and I wept openly as we hugged Kieran and Jaime one last time.

"You're going to be okay," Kieran whispered to me, hugging me tightly. I nodded mutely. I had no choice but to be okay.

"We'll be back soon," Jaime promised, giving us one last hug before she scooped Timmy up in her arms.

"We'll see you soon," Shawn said to them as he slung an arm around my shoulder, lending me the strength he knew I needed.

The ride back from the airport was quiet, and I sensed my friends' eyes on me, but I kept my gaze firmly on the landscape we passed. I knew they didn't approve of today's destination, but I had fought them over it.

"I'm going with or without you," I finally said, and the battle ended there.

Shawn pulled the used Explorer that we had bought by pooling all our resources together after leaving Mark's new Navigator behind, into the crowded parking lot. I climbed out, looking at the bright lights of the amusement park in front of me. My friends thought it was a terrible idea to re-open my wounded heart by visiting our spot, but they were wrong. My wound hadn't scabbed over yet, it was just a gapping painful hole.

I needed to visit here.

I needed to walk on our beach or all of it would drag me under. I had nothing left of him. The dreams were gone and my soul fluttered around helplessly, searching for something that was no longer alive.

It was a constant battle for me to tamp the grief that threatened to take over the now vacant spot in my soul. Haniel had helped me overcome some of it so that I could survive the now broken Link, but it took everything in me to keep moving forward. My soul screamed at me to let it be and wanted nothing more than for me to curl up in a ball and waste away. Every fiber in me agreed with my broken soul, but only one thought kept me
moving on.
I would not let the bastard win by proving he was right, that our Links caused more harm than good.

Walking by the ticket booth, I passed the rides we had ridden so long ago without a sideways glance, as I headed for the steps that would deliver me to our beach. Bending down, I removed my sandals mechanically and descended the stairs slowly. Each step made my heart skip a beat. After what seemed like an eternity, I stood on our beach. A spot we had spent our short lifetimes on, together. Sinking to my knees, I felt the loss of him more painfully than ever before. My tears ran hot and fast and I sobbed for my lost love, but most of all, I sobbed for his lost soul.

Sam and Shawn joined me giving me, their strength, as my tears finally ran their course. They grasped my hands firmly in theirs after I had cried myself out, leading me away from our spot. Pausing, I looked back one last time. I grasped the necklace Mark had given me in my hand and studied the words delicately etched on it before I curled my fingers firmly around it. God's plan had backfired. We may have been created to save the
forgotten souls,
but what happens when one of our own becomes the most important
forgotten soul
of all.

(The Saving Angels book 3)

By

Tiffany King

www.authortiffanyjking.blogspot.com

The darkness that surrounded me was as oppressive as ever. I could feel it seeping into my every pore, growing heavier and thicker with each passing moment. I was too scared to move, afraid I would run into some kind of obstacle, or worse yet, step off into some unseen void. I clamped my eyes tightly closed and rubbed them with my knuckles, trying to decipher any kind of light or outline, but it was no use. The blackness continued its unforgiving assault on my senses, making me shrink in the vast nothingness. The hair on the back of my arms stood on end as a cold bead of sweat trickled its way from the nape of my neck all the way down my spine. Suddenly, I had the feeling there was someone—or—something in this dark cavern with me. Maybe it was just my own paranoia...this kind of pitch black really screws with your head.

"Who-o-o's th-there?"
I finally stuttered out in a near whisper.

I jumped at an abrupt onslaught of noises coming at me from multiple directions. My mouth opened to scream, but no sound escaped as fear tightened its grip around my throat. I was completely disoriented from the darkness and became lightheaded as I spun around trying to protect myself from a possible attack from behind. As I stood in place, trying to regain some kind of control, I suddenly realized that the noise was merely an echo from my own voice.

Relief flowed through me, as I worked to slow my breathing and calm my heart that was beating like a race horse in my chest.

Cautiously, I placed my right foot in front of me while I kept the majority of weight on my back leg in case I encountered air instead of solid footing. My relief grew as my foot hit solid ground. I raised my left foot to take another tentative step, using my outstretched hands as a guide. Before I could complete my forward motion, I heard a soft sinister chuckle close to my ear. Pulling back quickly, I stumbled in my haste to distance myself from whoever was lurking in the darkness. My feet tangled together making me land in heap on the hard ground.

I wrapped my arms around myself, cowering in fear as the single chuckle turned into multiple laughs from every direction. Choking on my fear, I tried to scoot away from the laughter by sliding across the surface on my bottom. The noise bounced off the unseen walls of the space I was in, closing in on me from every direction. I gasped in terror as a cold dead hand grabbed my arm.

"No-o-o!"

I woke choking on a scream that never seemed to find the power to leave my throat in the dream. After having the same nightmare for the last eight weeks, you would think I would lose the panic that gripped me each and every night, but instead it only seemed to multiply over the last few weeks.

Sitting up on my bed, I scrutinized my room, using the pale dawn light streaming through the windows to make sure I was indeed alone. Every morning, I awoke scared that the Daemons from my dreams had followed me into reality.

Shivering in my sweat drenched t-
shirt,
I grabbed a fresh stack of clothes out of my bottom dresser drawer and hurried to the bathroom to take a hot shower. I cranked the knob to the hottest setting and perched myself on the side of the tub, knowing the decrepit water heater in our house always took a few minutes to get the water good and hot.

When I stepped into the shower, the water cascaded over me like a warm blanket washing away the last of the cold sweat from my body. Once I felt sufficiently thawed out, I finished the rest of my shower in a hurry.

Mornings were by far the worst time of the day for me. My one goal was to get up and moving before my thoughts could take over my mind. In the last eight weeks, I had become the queen of finding ways to keep my thoughts at bay. Having people around helped. I craved the endless chatter of my friends and family to help keep my mind busy. Between my part-time job at the bookstore and extended family time at home, my days were full for the most part. As long as I could avoid the nagging reminders of what happened, I was okay.

Feline was waiting for me when I opened the bathroom door as the steam from the enclosed space behind me billowed out.

"Hi bud," I said, scooping him up in my arms. My restless sleep over the last few months had driven him from my bed and onto the rocking chair that sat in the corner of my room. I missed his presence, but looking at the tangled mess of sheets I woke up to each morning, I couldn't blame his mutiny.