Her Guardian Angel 4-Her Angel Series (31 page)

He
lowered his gaze so he was staring down into the street below them
with his face turned away from her and whispered, “I would like
that more than anything, because being with you when you are no
longer Amelia is killing me… and I wish that Apollyon had finished
me off.”

He closed
his eyes, turned, and walked back into the apartment, leaving her
alone on the balcony staring at his retreating back.

He wished
for death?

That
shocked her and left her cold.

Her
knight wanted to die because of her.

She
looked down at her hands and then at her body, and then gazed at
her reflection in the full length window beside the
doors.

Who had
she been?

She had
to remember because if she didn’t, she would lose her knight, and
she didn’t think that she could bear that.

A flash
of images danced over her reflection.

Moonlight. Palm trees. Dark waves lapping at a white
shore.

And then
her knight. Marcus.

Carrying
her through the water to the shore, his eyes locked with hers and
so full of passion that she was hot all over, burning for
him.

It wasn’t
passion heating her now though.

It was a
single feeling that crashed over her like a wave and swept her
away, leaving her dazed.

Love.

She had
fallen in love with Marcus that night.

***

Chapter 19

Marcus
woke to the sound of an argument. Rather than hearing two familiar
voices locked in noisy combat, he only recognised one—Apollyon. The
object of his wrath was a young male voice but one filled with
anger that almost matched Apollyon’s. Marcus couldn’t sense the
power of the other angel. Apollyon’s eclipsed it, pressing down on
the apartment so heavily that Marcus was surprised it hadn’t woken
him before the shouting had.

He rose
to his knees on his uncomfortable makeshift bed on the floor next
to Amelia’s bed, his muscles stiff and sore from healing, and
checked to see if she was still asleep. Her eyes were closed and
she didn’t seem awake, although how she could sleep through such a
racket was beyond him. He sleepily rubbed his hair and then caught
the topic of the argument. It purged the tiredness from his body in
an instant. He stood and called his armour to him as he strode to
the door, and opened it. Apollyon stood in the middle of the
spacious living room with his back to him, his black armour and
wings making him as dark as ever and a sharp contrast to the
paleness of his surroundings.

Marcus
didn’t recognise the other angel. He wore armour similar to
Apollyon’s, black with gold edging, but seemed younger and not only
in appearance. How old was this angel? Too young to be let out into
the world if he was foolish enough to argue with Apollyon about
something.

The
confidence that shone in the youth’s blue eyes surprised Marcus. It
didn’t waver as he and Apollyon stared each other out.

“I can’t
leave without her,” the blond man said at last, casting a look in
Marcus’s direction. “A mission is a mission.”

“Leave,”
Apollyon snarled and the room darkened for a moment, the sense of
anger pervading it intensifying and then ebbing away.

Marcus
looked across the room towards the kitchen door. Einar, Taylor,
Lukas, Annelie and Serenity all stood there in a group. Einar and
Taylor were wearing what looked like the clothes they had chosen to
sleep in, both in dark shorts and loose t-shirts, and Serenity was
wearing a short pink dress. Lukas was dressed in his armour. He had
come to relieve Marcus and take over the watch this morning. Marcus
glanced at the brass circular sun-like clock hanging on the wall
near the group. Only a couple of hours ago. When had the newcomer
arrived?

Judging
by the fact that the bedding was still down in the living room,
arranged with one set in the L of the beige couches, and the other
set where Apollyon now stood on the other side of the couch that
had its back to the front door, their guest had arrived when most
people had still been sleeping.

“I keep
saying I can’t.” The blond folded his arms across his chest. He was
slimmer than all of them, scrawny in comparison to most angels that
Marcus knew. It was strange to see such a weak looking man facing
off against Apollyon. Marcus hadn’t been able to defeat him. This
boy wouldn’t stand a chance. He wouldn’t even survive the initial
blast of Apollyon’s power.

“I won’t
let you take her,” Apollyon said and turned his head slightly to
one side, enough that he could glance over his shoulder at Marcus.
“I won’t. I have done enough to cause others pain. I will not allow
this to happen too.”

“Sorry,
old man… I wasn’t giving you a choice.”

Apollyon
laughed. “I seem to be getting that a lot recently. It doesn’t
change anything. You can try to take her, Lysander, and you will
die trying.”

Serenity
went to move forwards to Apollyon but Einar caught her arm, holding
her back. Her brow furrowed, her hazel eyes locked on the man she
loved, and Marcus could feel a glimmer of her pain in her power.
She feared that he would fight again. It must have been difficult
for her to see Apollyon trying to kill him and killing Amelia and
not be able to do anything to stop it. It must have been difficult
for them all.

Marcus
looked at Apollyon’s back and his broad black wings. Especially his
old friend.

“Listen,
kid—” Apollyon started.

“I told
you never to call me that.” Lysander cut him off and the room
darkened again and Marcus sensed the barest thread of Lysander’s
power through the mask of Apollyon’s. He could take him out if
necessary but, judging by the way Apollyon was acting, it wouldn’t
be. Apollyon would deal with this man for him. Lysander tipped his
chin up. “I was under your wing for six centuries and I’m not a
child anymore. I never was.”

Apollyon
made a dismissive motion with his hand.

“What
right do you have to order me around anyway? You’re retired. Out of
the game, remember?” Lysander said and Serenity looked nervous.
What had she seen crossing Apollyon’s face? Einar and Lukas looked
concerned too.

“If I am
‘out of the game’ as you put it, then what was yesterday all
about?” Apollyon took a step towards Lysander and the young blond
man stepped back, keeping the distance between them steady. It
seemed he had some sense after all. Apollyon was strong enough to
take such a weak angel down with one blow and he had been looking
for someone to level his anger at since the event that had brought
them to this point.

“What do
you mean?” The confusion in Lysander’s blue eyes caused Marcus to
frown.

Heaven
must have done some serious cover-up work to hide Apollyon’s battle
from the angels of death, or any angels in fact. Apollyon’s power
was so destructive and so intrinsically linked to Heaven and their
master that most of them should have been aware of its use the
other day. Had Heaven somehow shielded the power so other angels
didn’t realise what had happened? Why would they do such a thing?
The part of him that had been loyal to Heaven and his duty all
these centuries said not to question them and to obey their orders,
but it was becoming impossible to trust them. They had wanted
Amelia dead and had succeeded, and now they had sent an angel of
death to retrieve her.

Apollyon
heaved a sigh. “Go home, Lysander, and tell them you were never
here.”

“They
know I’m here… and now I want to know why. They tell me to come to
your apartment and that I would find a soul here that required
transport to Heaven… and then you tell me that you can’t let me
take her… and everyone here seems to know something I don’t. I want
to know what that is.”

Marcus
could sympathise with Lysander. He was feeling the same way and had
been for a long time now. His demand was redundant though. No one
here knew what was happening either.

“No, you
don’t. Just get out of my apartment and go home. This isn’t your
fight, kid. Leave.” Apollyon waved towards the door.

“I’m not
leaving until you tell me—”

“I killed
her,” Apollyon interjected and stalked towards Lysander, grabbed
him by the throat and beat his wings. He slammed Lysander into the
wall beside the front door, causing Serenity to gasp and reach out
to him, and tightened his grip around the young angel’s neck. “Do
you understand that? Is that clear enough for you? They forced me
to kill her and I cannot let you take her away… not again… not from
Marcus. I took her from him once… and I have to make it up to him
now.”

“They
made you?” Lysander said, his eyes wide as he stared into
Apollyon’s.

“Mon
ange,” Serenity whispered and held her hand out to him, a pleading
look on her face.

Apollyon
sucked in a deep breath, glanced over his shoulder at Serenity, and
then released his grip on Lysander. The young angel dropped to his
feet and sagged against the wall, rubbing his throat.

Apollyon
smiled sourly. “I was a fool. There is no leaving. Never. It killed
me to do that and to do something against a friend’s wishes, which
is why I must make it up to him now… and why I cannot let you take
Amelia.”

Marcus
started when Amelia brushed against him in the doorway, her silver
eyes full of sleep and confusion. They brightened as she took
everything in and then narrowed when she saw Lysander. Marcus moved
in front of her, blocking Lysander’s path. He doubted that Apollyon
would back down without a fight, and that should be enough to drive
Lysander away, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. He wouldn’t
allow Lysander to take Amelia from him. She had been through
enough.

Apollyon
moved back another step. “Do not make this into a fight, kid. You
would not win.”

Lysander
sensibly remained pressed against the wall but made no move to
reach for the door.

“I can’t
go without her. I’m sorry, I really am, but they know that I’m
here. They’re watching me.” Lysander looked up and then back at
Apollyon, and then past him to Marcus. “It doesn’t matter what you
all want. I can’t go without her. If you won’t hand her over, then
I will have to fight you, and I won’t be alone.”

A shriek
from the group gathered near the kitchen door snapped Marcus’s
attention to them. Annelie rushed into Lukas’s arms and he pulled
her close, his gold and white spear at the ready, as three more
angels of death came into the room, pushing past the group and
crowding around Apollyon. Serenity moved to one side, coming closer
to Marcus, and colourful threads of magic wove around her fingers
and up her arms. Her power grew, swamping Lysander’s, and almost
reaching the level of Apollyon’s.

Marcus
drew one of his blades with his left hand and kept Amelia behind
him with the other.

“It
doesn’t matter how many angels you bring to this fight or whether
my actions go against Heaven’s decree, I will not let you take
Amelia from me.” Marcus flicked his hand out to extend the handle
of the blade into a staff. The silver engravings flashed under the
lights and Lysander looked past Apollyon to him.

Apollyon
held his hands out in front of him. Twin curved golden blades
appeared in his grasp and he brought them both down to his sides,
cutting swiftly through the air.

Einar
materialised two silver swords and handed one to Taylor. She
shifted into a fighting stance.

Amelia
lightly touched Marcus’s left hand, warming him to the bone with
the soft caress, and nudged it downwards, as though telling him to
lower his weapon. He wouldn’t.

Her
fingers trailed over the back of his hand and she moved out from
behind him. Marcus grabbed her wrist to stop her and she turned to
face him, her expression detached and cold, a reflection of how he
had looked so many times in his month on Earth. She placed her hand
over his and removed it from her arm, and then walked out into the
space between the couches.

Everyone
watched her in silence.

“I will
go with you,” she said and he swore that he heard fear in her
voice.

Marcus
shifted his spear to his right hand and held his left one out to
her, the pain spreading outwards from his heart threatening to
consume him. He silently begged her to take it and come back to
him. She didn’t have to go with Lysander and these
angels.

“I will
go,” she said with more conviction.

“No,”
Marcus ground the word out and she looked at him with wide eyes. “I
can’t… won’t let you go.”

He
reached to her again and for a moment she looked as though she
would take his hand but then she turned away and lowered her
head.

“Too much
blood has already been spilt because of me,” she whispered and
Lysander edged around the outside of the room, as far away from
Apollyon as possible, and came up beside her.

“No.”
Marcus shook his head. This wasn’t happening. He hadn’t meant to
make her feel as though she had to leave. It had been a moment of
weakness that had made him say those things to her last night. He
wasn’t ready for her to go. Not yet. Not ever.