Authors: Stephanie Stamm
Tags: #Paranormal Romance, #chicago, #mythology, #new adult, #Nephilim, #Fantasy, #Young Adult, #Angels, #angels and demons
Apparently, his brother had had the same idea. At the far end of the room, Kev was moving through the familiar postures of
tai chi
. Like Aidan, he was wearing only a pair of
gi
pants. Squelching a momentary flare of resentment at finding the gym occupied, Aidan reluctantly acknowledged that some company might be welcome. Padding down the length of the gym, he positioned himself beside his brother, and taking a few deep breaths to center himself, he picked up the routine at the point Kev had reached, letting his breath and physical movements fall into the rhythm Kev set.
His body remembered the postures, knew them well. Although he had left much of his training behind when he renounced his wings, he had kept up with his
tai chi
practice. For the first six months or more, it had been the only thing that had prevented him from drinking himself into a stupor more often than he had. Now, the concentration required to move through the slow, deliberate postures was exactly what he needed. As his body flowed from posture to posture, the movements and controlled breathing gradually stilled his mind.
***
Pain ripped through her entire body. Nausea so intense she craved the release of vomiting—which didn’t come. Then numbness—starting at her abdomen and radiating outward, downward to the soles of her feet and upward through her chest and shoulders to her head, a welcome relief from the nausea. When the wave of exhaustion slammed into her, she was grateful to let go.
***
She was standing in a vast expanse of darkness. Far away on the horizon, she could see a gleam of light, faint, more moonlight than sunlight. Darkness stretched away from her in every direction. And this darkness wasn’t a mere absence of light; somehow it was palpable, as if pulsing with presence. She could feel it sliding along the bare skin of her upper arms, like smooth, cool hands. She shivered and took a step toward the distant light. Her feet and legs were heavy, and moving through the darkness felt like swimming in molasses or honey. The phantom hands tugged at her arms, as if trying to prevent her movements. She took another slow step. And another. And another. She could feel herself perspiring from the effort required to put one foot in front of the other, and she was breathing as hard as if she were running, but with each step, the movement became the tiniest bit easier. And gradually, the hands on her arms fell away, no longer trying to pull her back. She didn’t know if she could ever reach the light. She only knew that for some reason she had to try. Then she stumbled and fell, her knees and hands striking something that felt as cold and sharp as ice. She cried out as the icy substance morphed into something the consistency of sludge and rose up around her, engulfing her and pulling her under.
***
When he stepped under the shower spray, Aidan wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he’d climbed out of bed and made his way down to the gym. After a lengthy
tai chi
routine, he and Kev had practiced hand-to-hand sparring. Then they had made the circuit of weight machines that lined one end of the room. Then they had sparred again, until both of them were drenched with sweat, and Aidan at least was aching all the way down to his bones. Finally, by silent mutual agreement, they had settled into another round of
tai chi
to make the circle complete. Aidan’s muscles had trembled through the last slow, careful movements.
As the warm water ran over his body, rinsing away some of the aches along with the sweat, he noted gratefully that the intense physical exercise had had the desired effect. He was still worried about Lucky, but he no longer felt like he was going to jump out of his skin. And he was tired—both physically and mentally. Maybe he’d be able to get a little sleep after all. Finishing his shower, he dried himself off, pulled on a pair of boxer shorts, and walked down the hall to the room he was using. It took only a few minutes after he’d climbed into bed for him to fall asleep.
***
Josh’s childhood room. Toys and sports equipment scattered on the floor. Clothes tossed over chairs and desk. She and Josh were sitting cross-legged on the bed, a game board between them. She remembered spending afternoons like that, playing with Josh. But they weren’t children anymore. The Josh sitting across the game board from her was the Josh she knew now, the adult Josh. There was something about him, something she couldn’t remember, but which filled her with a sense of misgiving, of dread. He moved a piece forward on the board and looked at her. One of his eyes was its normal warm brown; the other was red, feral, inhuman. She glanced down at the board to determine her next move, but she couldn’t see the board. It was covered with some kind of dark cloud. She put her hand into the cloud, feeling for the game pieces. The pain was immediate. Crying out, she jerked her hand back out of the cloud. It was covered with blood.
***
“Any news?” Aidan asked, pulling off his wet leather jacket and hanging it over the back of one of Zeke’s dining room chairs.
The Cherub, who had been staring out the rain-slicked window, turned toward him and shook his head. Eyes alighting on the girl behind Aidan, Zeke added in greeting, “Good morning, Mo. May I offer you anything—coffee, tea?”
“I’d kill for a cup of coffee,” Mo responded with a shiver, removing her own rain-soaked jacket and shaking her head from side to side, flinging water droplets from her hair into Aidan’s face.
To his surprise, Aidan found himself laughing, despite his worry. “Watch it, Mo. Who raised you, anyway? Dogs?”
“That would be the local Chicago wolf pack, thank you very much,” she responded, with another toss of her head. “Didn’t Lucky tell you I was raised by wolves?”
Aidan chuckled. “She must have forgotten to mention that.”
He was glad Mo had called him that morning. She had been hoping for better news about Lucky, and when none had been forthcoming, she had asked if she could come over and wait with them. Zeke had had no objection, so Aidan had gone to pick her up. Even though he, Zeke, and Kev all agreed that the chances of her being in danger were minimal, they’d decided it was best that she not walk to the brownstone alone.
“Really?” Kev asked with mock surprise, as he strolled into the room. “She told
me
about her friend the wolf-girl. As I recall, she especially warned me about her ‘nasty, sharp, pointy teeth.’” As he uttered the last words, he held his curled fingers up by his mouth to mime fangs.
Mo bared her teeth at him and growled, then laughed and settled into the chair before which Zeke had just placed a steaming mug of coffee. “Thank you, Zeke,” she said, inhaling the fragrant steam. “This smells wonderful. You may have just saved my life.”
At her words, the laughter faded from all their faces.
“Isn’t there something else we can do, Zeke?” Aidan asked. “It’s been over twenty-four hours. Can you pick up anything from Malachi?”
“I can implant commands in the minds of others, Aidan—”
“Yeah, don’t I know that?” Aidan interrupted.
“—but I cannot read minds,” Zeke continued as if Aidan hadn’t spoken. “I would know though if Malachi were in danger of losing consciousness or getting lost in the darkness himself, and I have sensed nothing of the kind. We just have to wait.”
“We don’t have much time,” Kev inserted, “if the Making is to be at midnight. And the ceremony can’t be performed if she doesn’t regain consciousness.”
“She will,” Zeke said softly. “She has to.”
***
The darkness in which she floated was so thick she could feel the weight of it pressing on her. And it was cold. Far, far on the edges of her consciousness, she heard a faint murmur. No, it was gone. At least the nausea had abated, and the pain had lessened to a dull throb. She was tired, so tired. She let the cold weight of the dark take her under once again.
***
Light. Just a pinprick at first. But growing larger, pushing back the dark, to surround her with the soft red-gold glow of an autumn sunset. She was sitting on a hill, an island in a sea of red-gold light. She could feel the cold mass of the darkness behind her, pulling like a magnet, trying to keep her from the encroaching light. A few yards away was a huge tree, its silhouette black against the fiery sky. She tried to move toward it, but the darkness tugged her back. A soft breeze ruffled the leaves and blew her hair away from her face. The air smelled like fall, dusty and crisp, but with some other scent mixed in, something strong and smoky, almost like incense.
The wind blew harder, and the leaves began to tumble from the tree. As they fell to the ground, she saw that they weren’t leaves at all. They were birds. Crows. Hundreds, thousands, of crows, fluttering out of the tree to the ground. She watched, curious, but detached, feeling the deepening chill as the darkness drew closer at her back. One of the birds separated from the crowd and marched toward her. The red-gold light glinted off the rich, iridescent black of its wings. It stopped just in front of her, cocking its head first one way then the other as it looked at her with amber eyes.
“Lucky?” it cawed.
“Yes,” she said, leaning toward it, holding out her hand. The darkness at her back wrapped strong arms around her, and she leaned further forward as it tried to pull her away from the amber-eyed bird.
Suddenly, the crow grew, morphed, shifted, and a tall, dark man with dusky black wings flaring up behind him knelt before her. His mass of long braids fell loose around his black-clad shoulders, and his amber eyes searched hers as he bent toward her, thrusting out his arm and grasping her outstretched hand in his. At his touch, the cold weight of the darkness receded, and as it departed, a wave of recognition and relief washed over her.
“Malachi?”
He nodded.
“You found me. Your birds were able to find me.”
Again he nodded, as his grip on her hand tightened. “Even here,” he said.
***
She had to work to open her eyes. Her eyelids felt so heavy, like tiny weights had been implanted in her lashes. When she was finally able to lift them, she found herself looking into a familiar pair of amber eyes.
“You found me,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he responded, his own deep voice quiet. “If you get trapped in the darkness again, find the tree. We will come for you there.”
“Find it? How will I find it?”
“You will figure that out should the need arise.”
“Okay,” Lucky sighed. She still wasn’t sure she understood, but she had a feeling she wasn’t going to get any additional information out of Malachi without some very precise questions, and she was too tired and weak to think of anything else to ask.
When her stomach growled, she thought of a different question. “What time is it?”
“A little after noon.”
“It’s tomorrow, already? That means I can’t eat anything, right?”
Malachi gave her a quick, closed glance, before offering, “You may have water.”
He turned to reach for something on the bedside table, and she heard liquid being poured into a glass. Then he was lifting her head and shoulders with one arm and holding the filled glass to her lips. With his help, she drank all of it.
Malachi rested her back against the pillows and looked her, his face grave. When he spoke, his words were slow and deliberate. “Lucky, it is the day before the day of the Making. You have been lost to us for over thirty-six hours. Had Raphael not healed many of your injuries, I doubt that even I could have found you.”
Lucky felt her heart rate increase, and she could hear the fear in her own voice as she responded, “Th-the Making is tomorrow? I—I’m not strong enough….”
“Shh.” Malachi’s hands came to her shoulders as she tried to sit up. “The Making is just past midnight. But do not worry. You are more prepared than you think.”
Lucky subsided against the pillows, heart rate decreasing. She was more than willing to comply with Malachi’s demand not to worry—though she wasn’t sure it would be possible—and she wanted to believe his reassurances. But she was so tired and sore and weak. She couldn’t muster either the mental or physical energy necessary for any kind of preparatory exercises now. Of course, that meant she might not be strong enough to survive the Making itself. At that thought, she felt her stomach tighten and her heart begin to pound again.
Malachi must have sensed her renewed fear, for both his hands closed over hers. “Do you trust me?” he asked, holding her eyes with his own.
She nodded.
“Then know that you will be ready for the Making when it comes,” he said. He tightened his grip on her hands before releasing them. “Now, you need to get some real sleep.” Glancing at her blood-stained clothing, he added, “You will probably want to get cleaned up first.” He looked at her with a raised eyebrow, “Shall I send Aidan to assist you? He’s very worried about you, you know.”
Lucky frowned. She wasn’t sure she wanted Aidan to help her get cleaned up, but when she tried to sit up on her own, she knew she’d never manage to get undressed and showered without help. And she guessed she’d rather have Aidan’s help than anyone else’s. Unbidden came the image of Kev carefully undressing and bathing her, and she felt herself blushing. Why was she thinking about him? Pushing the unwanted thoughts aside, she answered Malachi’s question with a small nod, “Yes, please.”
“He will be here shortly,” Malachi said, rising from where he knelt beside the bed. From her prone position, he seemed even taller than usual. “Do not try to move until he gets here. You are very weak, and you do not want to fall and injure yourself further.”
He didn’t close the door behind him when he left the room, so she could hear his footfalls, light as they were, as he descended the stairs. Just as she could hear Aidan’s rapid ones as he ascended them. It sounded as if he were running up them, taking two stairs at a time.
He halted as he reached her door, then walked slowly into the room and over to the bed. The control he exerted to slow his movements was almost tangible. When his anxious blue eyes met hers, Lucky smiled into them. She really was glad to see him. He rested his hand against her cheek, and she could feel a slight tremble in his fingers. His touch felt familiar and right, and the relief that filled her made her turn her head to press her lips to his palm.