Dark Halo (An Angel Eyes Novel) (32 page)

“Their wings. That’s where the music’s coming from.”

Carefully, I wrap my arms around his waist. But it doesn’t matter how careful I am; I feel the skin of my arm tear again, and my anger flares.

The Prince has taken everything from me.

I can’t move without thinking about him.

Without knowing what he’s stolen.

I can’t move without remembering I traded my sight away.

“That’s right,” I say, struggling to keep my voice even through the pain. “It’s their wings.”

“Sabres,” Dad says, his eyes moving from one to the other. “These are the ones who took your mother.”

I don’t answer, but I don’t have to. Dad’s made peace with the fact that Canaan’s beyond lying. The wind rages, and Dad has to yell to be heard over it.

“Which one was it? Which one is Virtue?”

I squint into the wind, scrutinizing the angels before me. The Palatine have backed away for now, leaving all twelve of the Sabres alone in their worship. Unmuted by demonic forces, a pure, almost blinding silver light mingles with the red and orange of the Celestial. I have to believe he’s healed by now. It’s been long enough, hasn’t it? But it’s hard to see the Sabres’ faces; they’re all so bright, and their blades obscure everything.

“He’s there,” I say, pointing to a kneeling Sabre. I see only his profile, but it’s enough. On his hands and knees, he faces the
tallest tree in the orchard, old and gnarled. His perfect silver form presents a haunting, almost gothic beauty contrasted against it.

Dad pulls away, moving toward the trees. He’s not rough, but it’s too much for my arm. I fall to the ground, cradling it against my chest. I call after Dad, but he can’t hear me. Not over the wind.

And now Jake’s at my side. He slides his hand up my sleeve. When he withdraws his fingers, they’re wet with blood.

“We need help,” Jake yells, wrapping his hands once again around my arm. “I can stop the bleeding, but that’s not—” & Olivia𠄚

“Healing,” I say.

“Look!” Kaylee screams. We turn to the orchard where my dad stands, staring up at the sky. The Sabres are now high above, a new wave of attack coming from the horizon. They continue to sing as the dark warriors approach.

It’s not the Palatine. It’s the Prince’s Guard. I can tell by their armor, by their size. I count them quickly, twenty-four. Their number is twice that of the Sabres.

The Guard divides in two, and the Prince soars to the front.

My hands shake at the sight of him. I know it’s fear, but there’s anger mixed with it too. He’s the reason I’m blind. The reason I hurt.

I stand, Jake helping me, keeping a hand wrapped around the dark halo.

“That’s him, isn’t it?” Kaylee asks. “That’s the Prince.”

“Why is he here?” Jake asks. “He has the Palatine. The Guard. There’s no reason for him to risk—”

“He said he’d come,” I say.

Jake’s eyes meet mine, incredulous. “What?”

“I should have told you,” I say. “I didn’t think. I’m so sorry. It’s my fault.”

Jake cries out. Something angry. Indistinguishable. “No. He did this. It’s his fault.”

“It doesn’t matter! He’s here because of me! How do I take that back?”

Jake stares at me. “I don’t know.”

I’m stupid and foolish and most certainly brash. But if any created being knows how to get the dark halo off my arm, it’s the Prince.

“Hey!” I yell, waving my uninjured arm.

“Elle,” Kaylee hisses. “What are you doing?”

I grab her elbow and walk her back toward house. “Go inside, okay? I’ll be there in just a sec.”

“What are you going to do?” she asks.

“I just . . . I’m going to go talk to Satan.” There’s a tenacity in her eyes now, and I have to beg. “Please. Go inside. It’s too hard with you here.”

She stares at me for a long time before I can see she’ll honor my request. “What about your dad?” she asks.

I turn toward him. He’s still there, beyond the veil, staring up at the sky. The &tiinowSabres are keeping their distance from the Prince and his Guard, but their wings send off shards of lightning that the Guard has to block. Two demonic warriors are destroyed as I watch, their movements too slow for the Sabres’ worship.

“I don’t know,” I say. “But he can’t stay here.”

“I’ll get him,” she says.

“Wait! No!” I reach for her, but my arm is useless and she slips away. The wind blows against her as she approaches the tear, but she ducks her head against it and pushes on. She slows further as she steps through the tear, her head turning right and
left, taking it all in. She turns back to me, her face and clothes swirling with color.

And then I see it. The worship curling around her, lifting from her chest and lips. Tendrils of deep green fill the sky around her. I wonder what she’s saying, how she’s worshiping. But there’s no doubt that she is. She grabs Dad’s arm and pulls him toward us. They step from the orchard and back through the tear.

Dad’s in shock apparently. His eyes are wide, his mouth agape. I pat his arm as they brush by. And then Kaylee shuffles Dad back to our place, and I’m glad. Not because they’ll be any safer inside, but seeing how much I have to lose makes this all so much harder.

All the while, the Prince draws closer. He’s so close I can almost see the pale blue of his eyes.

“Elle,” Jake says, “I don’t want you to do this. Not without a Shield of some kind. Not without Canaan.”

“If God wanted Canaan here, he’d be here,” I say.

I realize now how deeply I believe that statement. How desperately that dims everything I’m afraid of.

“His will’s going to be done, right? Whether Canaan’s here or not. If I believe in providence, then I have to believe that. And I do, Jake. I know I’m not in control. Canaan’s not in control. And I know something else.”

Jake’s proud of me. I don’t even need celestial eyes to see it.

“What else do you know?” he says.

“I know
he’s
not in control either,” I say, spinning, pointing with my good arm at the Prince of Darkness. “He’s going to lie to me. I know that. But he’s here. And I’m going to tell him just how much I despise this
gift
he gave me. I’m going to tell him that he can hurt me every day for the rest of my life, but I’ll
never, ever choose his crown. Not again. He can”—I sob, but I keep going—“take my celestial eyes, he can take Dad, he can even take you from me. I’m sorry, Jake, but he can. He can take you and our happily-ever-after, but he can’t touch providence. He can’t touch God’s will, and even when it sucks, I have to cling to that. Good wins. God wins.”

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Jake’s so close. The heat of the Celestial warms his skin, and I breathe him in. One of my favorite things to do. To be close and to breathe the air that smells like the man I love. The coffee and the chocolate, the sugar on his lips, the salt of his tears, the sweat on his brow. I know now that I don’t need Jake to survive. But I want him. I want him more than I’ve ever wanted him before.

“Regardless of what the Prince says, regardless of what he threatens,
we
get
forever
. Maybe not here. Maybe not as husband and wife. But it’s ours, and he can’t take that away.”

Jake’s eyes widen. I’ve never seen them so large.

“He’s behind you,” he says.

“Don’t leave me,” I say. “I’m braver when you’re here.”

I turn quickly, wanting to get this over with. Wanting the Prince out of Stratus.

And there he is. Standing at the edge of the orchard.

He steps through the tear, and his celestial appearance melts away. I see the boy I met in the desert. Black curls, pale blue eyes, faded jeans, and a white pocket T. He’s playing to my humanity. I steel myself, because I’ve always been a sucker for a guy in a white T.

Jake’s hand finds my waist, and my heart triples in speed. He’s still here. I’m not alone. I’ve never been alone.

“I told you the war would be too much. I warned you, didn’t I? And now it seems Michael and his army have left the Sabres to
fight alone. Seems unwise. But what does it matter to you?” the Prince says, his tone patronizing, his lips pursed. “Look at you. Two beautiful people. And gifted. I couldn’t be happier with our arrangement, Elle.”

I stiffen, but find it hard to form the words. All my eloquence, all my resolve feels frail with the Prince so close.

“May I?” With a cold hand, he pulls my left arm away from my body.

Jake’s fingers tighten on my hip, but he doesn’t try to stop the Prince when he lifts the sleeve of my shirt. We just watch as slowly he rolls the cuff.

“Take it,” I say.

He continues to fold. “You don’t like my halo?”

“I hate it. I never wanted it.”

His fingers go still on my arm. “I thought we agreed to stop lying, Elle.”

“Don’t call me that,” I say through clenched teeth.

“If I take the halo back,” he says, “our deal is off.”

Behind me, Jake shifts. “It wasn’t your deal to make,” he says. “It was never within your power to promise.”

“Oh, look at that,” the Prince says, ignoring Jake, tucking my sleeve into the crease at my elbow. “This is out of my hands now. It’s already become a part of you.” He turns those pale eyes on me. “
I’ve
become a part of you.”

“What?” I look down at my arm. Jake leans over my shoulder to do the same.

“The halo’s grafted to your arm,” he says. He turns his attention to Jake. “But you? You tried to heal her, didn’t you? Here’s a lesson I bet your Shield never taught you. Some things can’t be healed. Some things must be cut away.”

“You can remove it,” Jake says.

“I can’t.” The Prince raises his hands. “I’m very good at getting into things, latching on. But the getting out, that’s never really been my thing.”

“So what do I do?” I don’t know why I’m asking him. He’ll only lie.

“Live with it,” the Prince says, his eyes like ice. “Appreciate that you don’t have to see pain and fear. That once I get this veil stitched up, you won’t have to see angels and demons either. You won’t have to see me.”

I can’t think of anything else to say. I have arguments, good arguments. That spiritual blindness solves nothing. But they’d be wasted words here. He knows that. He tricked me into this thing, and he’s not going to offer me a way out. But that doesn’t mean he’s telling the truth. That doesn’t mean hope is gone.

“Come on,” Jake says. “Let’s go. We’ll find another way.”

We start to back away, but the Prince’s words stop us. “Where’s the other halo?”

“Why?”

“Because you have no use for it. Blindness is your gift now.”

The truth of his words hurt; the cut they make on my heart is deeper than the one on my arm. But it doesn’t matter. I gave the golden halo away. It’s not mine anymore.

I turn my back on the Prince, on the celestial porthole behind him. And that’s when I see them. The Army of Light.

Despite the dark halo on my arm, I see them. With celestial eyes.

I don’t understand how, but I do.

They’re everywhere. They line the field between the old Miller place and my house, filling every inch of it. Warriors
hover above those on the ground, bows drawn. I recognize the Peter Pan Warrior I saw a stop fighting.”

Strapped to her chest are Marco and Olivia. She’s loosened her inner wings so that her charges can stand on the grass, but she keeps them covered. Both Marco and Olivia are taller than she is, but between their shoulders, I see her lift a finger to her lips, and I hear Canaan’s voice in my head.

“He can’t see us, Elle. Not in his terrestrial form. Not from this side of the tear.”

Jake squeezes my hand. Heat, blessed heat pushes up my injured arm, soothing it.

He hears Canaan too.

I keep walking, afraid of giving away their position, afraid of sounding the alarm. I stop just in front of Canaan.

“Give it to him,” Canaan says. The golden halo’s suddenly in his hands. I look to Olivia, my eyes questioning.

But she nods, and I can’t help myself; I glance at her arm. She turns it, shows me that the silver scars are gone. I smile at her and she smiles back. I let Canaan slide the halo onto my right wrist.

And then there’s another voice in my head. “You must hurry,” it says. I recognize it. From Danakil. My eyes find Michael’s. “The Palatine are mounting another attack. I don’t know how much longer we can keep the veil open.”

This exchange hasn’t taken longer than a few seconds, but
I’m suddenly anxious that the Prince will step back through the tear, or that he’ll transfer. I turn back, Jake behind me.

The Prince is just starting to b="181NMR">

38

Brielle

T
he Prince is burning now. Returned to the pit. Michael’s sword cut him down at the height of his misery as he twisted and cried. As he begged for forgiveness.