Bound by Time (17 page)

Isobel shook her head. Damien took her hand and tugged gently, noticing the fingerprints on her arm still stood out against her pale skin. “Why don’t we go downstairs?”

She followed him, letting him lead her without protest. In her mind, darkness reigned. Maria stood in the blood and accused her over and over.

The days passed in a fog. Damien pushed food at her that she barely touched. Xapar never ceased the whispering in her mind. He never gave her a moment of relief. Damien watching her with a mixture of worry and wariness didn’t help. She knew he could block Xapar, but she said nothing to him about the whispers. She knew it took a lot of energy to do that, and she didn’t want him wearing himself down and becoming vulnerable to the demon. Damien had died enough times for her.

Instead, Isobel tried to battle the whispers on her own. She tried to open herself to the power. The few times she’d felt it before it had been accidental. She didn’t know what to do to bring it forward on purpose. Once or twice Isobel thought she almost had it until her conditioned fear rose up to block it. Isobel gave no outward indication of the menacing whispers that filled her head or her struggle and tried to function as best she could through the dark cloud of emotions that were trying to drown her.

For the next three days Damien watched her pull further away from him and silently slip deeper into the dark places in her mind. He did what repairs he could on the window and watched for signs that Xapar was pulling something like he had with Maria and the bathroom. The energy in the house remained at a constant level—low enough that he couldn’t be sure if her drawing away was due to Xapar or what had happened with the Marshalls.

Isobel wasn’t sleeping well even when his powers were flowing. Damien could block Xapar from getting into her mind while he held his powers, but he couldn’t block the images her own mind came up with. And though dark angels didn’t need to sleep like humans he still needed about three hours. Three hours that left her vulnerable.

Four days after Maria had accused Isobel of killing her, Isobel sat on the sectional in the family room. Damien stretched out on the other end grabbing the short hours of sleep he only seemed to need, his bare chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The television flickered with images she paid no attention to. Isobel got up and started toward the kitchen for a drink. Specks of blood across the carpet made her pause. They led past the cat door and into the dining room. Isobel followed them to the large, ferny plant in the corner and knelt down.

Sorsha lay next to the plant, her fur mangled, and blood smeared across her white paws. Tears sprang in Isobel’s eyes as she reached for the cat; a sob catching in her throat. Sorsha was cold and stiff.

“I told you I would take everyone from you. Including that dark angel of yours.”

Cold laughter followed as she ran back toward the family room needing to warn Damien. His body lay sprawled on the carpet. His head rolled across the floor and bumped wetly into her foot. A scream ripped from her throat as she backed away into the dining room and tripped, falling over backwards, the air knocked from her lungs when she hit the floor.

Gasping, she rolled to her side. Elizabeth’s dead eyes stared back. “You did this Isobel. You’re pathetic and weak. And now you’ve killed us all.”

Isobel scrambled to her feet with a strangled cry. The demon rose up from the other side of the couch, a massive, smoky apparition that towered over her.
“You are nothing, and now I am free.”

Stark terror ran thick in her veins as she bolted for the front door of the house. Her father lay in a crimson puddle in the foyer. His bloody eye sockets glared accusingly. Isobel choked and ran around him, her foot slipping in the warm, sticky liquid coating the floor. She yanked open the door and Amelia’s lifeless body hung from a rope on the porch, her mouth hanging open.

Isobel froze. The demon grabbed her and pulled her back into the house as images of fire and torture filled her mind. With a shriek she fought him with the strength born of too much adrenaline. He struggled to hold onto her and when Isobel managed to break free she ran for the bathroom in the foyer, slamming the door and locking it. The doorknob rattled as she lunged for the toilet and her stomach heaved.

“They are all dead because of you. Isobel, you are mine. There is no one left to help you.”

Isobel wiped her face and yanked open the cabinet under the sink. They were all gone. All dead. Her mind couldn’t take it. Xapar’s whispers filled her head with twisted promises and threats. A veil of shadowy flames fell over her eyes, and she could barely see the bathroom through the images of the fate that awaited her at his hands.

A loud pounding shook the door on its hinges.
“Isobel, I’m coming for you.”

Trembling, she yanked open a package of razors. The crushing sorrow of losing everyone and the terror inflicted by Xapar overrode any thought for what she was about to do.

Damien’s eyes snapped open. The energy thrummed at the highest level he had ever felt. He turned his head. Isobel wasn’t on the couch. His heart raced as he leapt to his feet and turned toward the dining room.

Isobel came hurtling around the corner before he could even take a step in that direction. Her face was twisted in grief.
Damn
. “Isobel?” She slid to a stop and screamed so loud it reverberated around the room. He started toward her as she stumbled back and fell. “Isobel!” He strode toward her. What the hell was Xapar doing to her?

Isobel looked through him, her face washed of all color and pure panic filled her expression. She let out a strangled cry and ran for the front door. Damien charged after her reaching to grab her, but she dodged and he missed. “Isobel, stop!” She yanked open the front door and froze, a choking sound coming from her throat. Damien grabbed her and pulled her back.

She went wild, fighting with strength that surprised him, her eyes wide and feral. Damien struggled to get a hold on her. He tried to shift the tenuous grasp he’d managed when she landed a solid punch against his jaw and broke free running like the fires of the underworld were on her heels.

The bathroom door slammed.

Stunned, Damien followed his heart pounding painfully in his chest. Damn Xapar to the fiery hole he’d crawled out of. Damien tried to twist the handle. It didn’t move. “Isobel.” He really didn’t want to break down the door but he’d tear the whole damn house down if need be. “Isobel, open the door or I’ll break it down.”

The sound of retching answered him. He waited until it grew quiet before pounding his fist against the door. “Isobel! Open the door!”

Her sobs filtered through the wood. The sharp tang of blood reached his nose. Damien grabbed the handle and twisted. The lock popped as he ripped the door from its hinges. Fear coursed through him. She huddled in front of the bathtub, a razor in her right hand. Blood ran down her left arm from wrist to elbow.

Damien lunged forward and grabbed her wrist wrenching the razor from her hand and tossing it in the sink. “Isobel, look at me.”

She tried to scoot away from him but there was nowhere to go. As he reached for her with his other hand she brought her legs up and buried her face against her knees, sobbing and shaking. The absolute terror he’d glimpsed in her eyes in the second before she hid her face brought his wings out, though there was precious little room for them in the cramped space.

Isobel shook as white light flooded the small room.

“Isobel.” Damien’s voice reached her through the darkness in her mind.

The smoky hand on her wrist dissolved into Damien’s. She raised her head and saw his face surrounded by pure white light. It wasn’t possible; Damien was dead. Everyone was dead. The demon was trying to trick her again. She shrank back from him and tried to pull her wrist away. “Please. Just let me die.”

Isobel’s broken plea hit Damien in the chest like a fist and his breath caught at the physical pain the words brought him. She flinched when he reached for her face, but he didn’t stop until his fingers brushed her cheek. “
Meae deliciae,
look at me. See through what he’s showing you.” The blood running down her other arm alarmed him, there was too much, but he could do nothing until he could talk her down.

Isobel watched him warily, waiting for him to morph back into the demon. The white light surrounded her, it reached inside and drove away some of the darkness. The words he’d used slowly sank through the wild grief.

“Damien?” Her shaky whisper was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. She was coming back to him.

She raised her hand to his face. Shock glistened in her eyes as she saw the blood. “Oh God, what did I do?”

“It’s going to be all right, Isobel.” Damien’s voice was rough, but he was gentle as he took her injured arm in his hands. She stared at his face willing him to really be alive. He closed his eyes, placed one hand over her arm, and whispered something so low she couldn’t make out the words. The light flared until it was so bright Isobel had to close her eyes. The sweetness of it washed through her bringing more tears to her eyes.

When the light faded she opened her eyes again. Blood still smeared her arm, but the injury was gone. A demon wouldn’t heal her. Damien was alive! A quiet cry broke past her lips as he pulled her into his arms.

Damien held her tight and sent a silent thanks to the Higher Powers for allowing him to heal her. He buried his face in her hair and closed his eyes as she wept uncontrollably his heart breaking at the tortured sound.

She murmured something he couldn’t hear. Damien smoothed her hair back from her face and asked softly, “What?”

Her voice was ragged with grief. “They’re all dead.”

“Who,
meae deliciae?
” He tightened his hold on her, afraid she was slipping away again.

“All of them. Amelia…my dad, Sorsha…” she choked each name out around a sob.

Damien shook his head slightly. So that’s what Xapar had done. “No one is dead. Not even the cat. Xapar made you see things that aren’t real.”

“You…you were dead too. Elizabeth was dead in the dining room, and she told me it was because I’m pathetic and weak.”

“Elizabeth is a blessed one, remember?” She nodded against his chest. “Even if Xapar were completely free to roam the world he couldn’t touch Elizabeth. And she would never say those things to you.”

“Xapar!” He felt her heart leap into a gallop against his arm. “He’s free. I saw him in the family room! He chased me through the house.”

Damien tried to quiet the rage that built in his heart at what Xapar had put her through. “
Meae deliciae
, I assure you he is not free. What you saw wasn’t real. The only one chasing you through the house was me.” He slid his arm under her legs lifting her with ease as he stood.

She buried her face against his chest as he carried her from the bathroom. “I can’t look at them again.”

“You don’t have to because there is nothing to see.” He left his wings out and his power flowing. It was going to be a test of his strength and energy to see how many hours or days he could hold it at that level.

Damien settled on the couch with Isobel in his lap and held her, afraid to let go. A quiet thwack announced the arrival of the cat. Damien gazed at the long-haired, black and white feline for a long moment knowing it would understand what he wanted. Cats resided in both the real world and the afterlife at the same time, moving seamlessly between them. They saw both sides in the real world as well and communicated easily with both angels and ghosts.