Channeler's Choice (40 page)

“
You don’t have to take my word for it. Caitlin actually beat the truth out of Bridget,” Aiden added after a sniffle.

Bending down, she lifted his chin and wiped the tears from his cheeks. Seeing and feeling his pain was so much worse than experiencing her own. She couldn’t stand it for another second.

“
Your word is all I need.”

The pain drained from his eyes with the last of his tears. He rose up and kissed her. His lips were like the sweetest of medicines that rebuilt her shattered heart with one taste. The next thing she knew she was in his arms, their bodies pressed together as she pinned him to the bed. She felt an overwhelming need to lay claim to him in the most complete way. Her power rose up from her center and she didn’t fight it.

Most unexpectedly though, Aiden did. He didn’t just fight it; he stopped it as surely as if he’d submersed her in an icy mountain stream. Confused, she pushed herself up on her elbows and looked questioningly at him.

“
I want you more than anything in the world, E. But I want it to be at the right time, for the right reasons. I belong to you and only you forever, nothing and no one will ever change that.”

For reasons that had nothing to do with pain or betrayal, Eren found herself choked up and fighting tears again. She should have known he’d sense her desperation and know the reasons for her actions. Shaking her head, she brushed a strand of hair from his brow.

“
I love you,” she told him.

“
I love you too,” he said as he gave her that gorgeous half-smile of his.

Lying down, she curled herself around him and let out a deep breath. The world was right again, well as right as it was probably ever going to be for one of her kind.

“
I gotta say, I’m pretty proud of Caitlin,” she said with a smile.

Aiden laughed and pulled her closer. “Me too,” he agreed.

Her fingers played with his hair as she struggled to say what was eating at her. Finally, it came pouring out. “Promise me that from now on we won’t keep anything from each other, no matter what it is.”

Pushing himself onto an elbow, he fixed his intense hazel eyes on her. “I swear, full disclosure. Promise me that you’ll never try to handle anything on your own again. We’re in this together,” he said in a quiet voice.

Her heart pounded against a ribcage that suddenly seemed too small to hold it. “I promise.”

That night Eren slept so heavy the end of the world wouldn’t have woke her. Nothing else mattered when she was wrapped in Aiden’s arms, not even the fact that Luke was still out there somewhere, or even that now he had help.

Her power wasn’t something to be ashamed of. Fighting it and denying her nature, was. She knew that now. It was part of who she was, a part that would help keep her and those she loved safe. And the memory of Nicolai’s dark power and darker message made her think she was going to need every advantage she could get.

About the author:

When she’s not writing Heather can be found on the slopes, the hiking trails, or on horseback. As a native Oregonian, she enjoys the outdoors nearly as much as the worlds she creates. No need to travel to the Great Northwest though, you can find Heather on her personal blog where she shares her author’s journey, or on her critique group’s blog. Currently Heather is working on the next novel in the channeler series, look for it in spring of 2012!

http://heathermccorkle.blogspot.com

If you liked Heather’s channelers then you’ve got to meet Christine’s angels. The following is an excerpt from
Lacrimosa
, an urban fantasy about angels and demons of a very different flavor.
Christine Fonseca’s
Lacrimosa is due out March 22
^nd
from
Compass Press
.

Chapter 1 – Unwelcome Feeling

Nesy

I shift in the booth, careful to remain hidden in the shadows. My human form feels foreign, awkward. Nothing about tonight’s assignment seems right; not the constant thoughts echoing through my mind or the ever-present feelings I can’t seem to shake.

I tighten the muscles across my back, desperate to escape the confinement that comes with this new body. One I never wanted.

My senses register each scent, each sound, adding to the noise of too much mental chatter already ricocheting in my head. Sweat and too-strong perfume from the tangled mix of bodies on the dance floor burn my nostrils. My heart pounds against my ribs and unfamiliar twinges of fear cloud my vision. Feelings I can’t decipher crawl through my skin, sending chills throughout my body.

I may have prepared for this task, but nothing could prepare me for being a seventeen-year-old girl.

Again.

I slip further into the booth, surveying the scene. Lights pulse around me, synchronized to the blaring sounds that pound from the speakers. Clubbers sway to the music in intoxicating rhythms, casting a spell throughout the room.

And somewhere in the crowd lurks the one I came for. The UnHoly.

I narrow my eyes, taking in the irony of the church-turned-nightclub. Tall, gothic arches adorn the ceiling. Old stone sculptures of saints and angels watch the hordes of teens gyrating on the dance floor. The altar, once a sanctuary, now houses a stage where up-and-coming bands woo adoring fans. The remaining spaces are punctuated with small alcoves designed to hide the club’s true patrons—dark creatures that feed on the lust and fear of the human crowd.

My task is simple enough: find the UnHoly and vanquish him to the Abyss. Just like the countless other assignments I’ve had over the past few centuries. But something about this task feels wrong. Something that sends fresh shivers cascading down my very human spine.

Little information was given to me about my target, only his name, location, and human age. I’d have to figure out the rest. No problem, since vanquishing the UnHoly is my specialty; whether I’m stuck in a teenage body or not.

I take one last sip of water and recite my plan:

One: Find the UnHoly.

Two: Lure him away from the crowd.
Don’t want to ruin my perfect record with collateral damage.

Three: Cast him out.

What could go wrong?

Satisfied, I settle my thoughts and prepare for battle. The sooner this is finished, the sooner I can ditch this body and escape the chaos it brings. My human form may look similar to my angelic being, with its familiar blond hair and blue eyes. But I hate feeling trapped in this flesh, stifled by the heaviness of this body. I miss feeling the air move through my wings and play across my skin. More than anything else, I miss the quiet solitude of my mind; no emotions to muddle my thinking, no angst to cloud my judgment. Necessary or not, I’m never masquerading as a teenager again.

I smooth out my clothes—black leather skirt, black tee, leather jacket and boots that stretch up my long legs—and approach the altar-turned-stage.

“Hi there,” I say to the stooge blocking my entrance. I lock eyes with him, tipping my head slightly. I may not like being human, but I do know how to use this body to get what I want. “Is Aydan here tonight?”

Of course I am
.

The lights dim and I take my position in front of the stage. Four dark shapes emerge from the shadows. The band. I scan each one as the crowd fills in behind me.

Heavy sounds from the bass guitar and drums send the horde into a frenzy. I move with the crowd and continue to search. Which one is he? The drummer? Nope, he’s definitely human. The guitarist? Maybe. He’s too dark to be fully mortal. Too demonic.

There you are.

He’s taller than I expected, wearing clothes that match my own—black jeans, a black sleeveless shirt open just enough to see his smooth pale skin, and black boots. His chiseled muscles and dye-job-black hair hanging in an unruly mess add to his allure. But it’s his eyes that draw my attention. Amber with flecks of gold.

Mesmerizing, dangerous, and. . .

Familiar. Too familiar.

I bite my lip, my mind racing. Aydan, the only apprentice to the Dark One. Feared by angel and demon alike. He’s rumored to stop at nothing to procure anything and everything his master wants. Judging by the way he hypnotizes the crowd of unsuspecting teens with his voice and eyes, I have no doubt that the rumors are well-earned. More than dangerous, Aydan is lethal.

And just my type.

I check out the club, looking for the best way to lure him outside. He’s managed to elude capture for more than four centuries. Clearly he knows how to avoid the likes of the Sentinals, the likes of me. But not tonight. Not with this body.

I focus my attention back on him as he finishes his song. There is no evidence of his true nature reflecting in his features; no fangs or claws to signal danger. No sulfur-scent or bloodlust. No proof of the demon that lurks just under the surface. Nothing except the black bat-like wings curving across his back, hidden from everyone.

Well, almost everyone.
Not expecting
me,
are you?

His voice intoxicates the crowd. The hunger in his eyes reveals his true intent. Aydan is on the hunt.

Two can play at that game.

I notice a small door at the end of a corridor adjacent to the stage. No doubt it empties to the alley that flanks the church. Perfect. Now, to get him outside before he chooses one of the screaming girls as his prey.

Aydan finishes his song as I make my way around the stage and towards the hall. I watch him turn away from the crowd.

Almost time.

The horde screams for him, begs the band to continue.

Aydan grabs the mic. “Do you want more?” he yells. Their response, a cacophony of “
Yes!
” and “
We love you, Aydan
!” rings through the rafters of the once-holy building.

I watch as he works the mob into a craze. Voices blend away. The scene shifts. All I see, all I hear, is Aydan. An unfamiliar current of electricity streaks through my body, causing my heart to beat wildly against my ribs. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stiffen with anticipation while anxiety fills my senses.

This can’t be happening.

I force my heart to slow and shove aside the silly human reactions.

The guitarist starts to strum a ballad. A light frames Aydan as he begins to sing in slow, rhythmic phrases. He scans the crowd; a predator looking for his prey.