Out in Blue (19 page)

Chapter Twenty-one

Wren ran a hand over his face. He hadn’t meant to blurt out his intentions; he’d wanted to plan a proposal. Dinner. Candles. But the words had other ideas, it seemed.

Ginger lifted her eyebrows and her lips parted.

“Living in this colony with me is one thing. I want more than that, Gin. I want to bond in the strongest possible way with you.” He took both her hands in his and led her over to the windows, to the warm, late afternoon sunbeams that angled into the room. He kissed her fingers, taking in the sweet jasmine scent of her skin, and pressed his forehead to hers.

“Will you be my mate, Ginger Magellan?”

She trembled under his touch, but she held his gaze with a steady intensity.

“Yes, Wren.” She enunciated each syllable, her voice firm. “I love you, and I want you as my mate.”

Her affirmation all but knocked his knees out from under him, but he found his balance and pulled her as close as he could without hurting her. He curled his wings forward and laced his flight feathers together behind her.

She pressed her lips to his and wove her fingers through his hair. Without breaking the kiss, he lifted her off the floor, swinging her around for good measure. He swept his wings out of the way and gently shoved her backward onto the bed.

“Hey!” Laughing, she swatted at him as he covered her with his body and pinned her down.

“Mine.” He drew the word out, letting his voice go dark and sultry. He laced his fingers through hers, holding her hands over her head on the sheets, and nibbled on her ear. “I love you so much. I promise I’ll be a good mate to you, Gin-love.”

Sunlight illuminated her ginger hair and inspiration hit him. He released her hands. “Hold on to that blanket.”

She gasped and clutched the blanket as he hauled her off bed and held her to his chest. He crossed the room and stood before the glass French doors.

“Would you mind getting that?” He shook out his wings.

She turned the brass lever and shoved the doors open. He carried her out onto the railing-free balcony, kicked the doors shut behind him, spread his wings, and leapt off the edge.

Her body relaxed against him, and the corners of her mouth curved upwards, but she shivered. “Wren, where…”

“It’s not far, I promise.” He squeezed her. “And I’ll keep you warm.”

He skimmed the treetops and headed away from the colony. The thick evergreens near the lake gave way to hardwood forest, the trees at the peak of their fiery autumn colors. After less than a mile, his destination came into view.

He dove toward a large tree that stood taller than its neighbors and landed on one of the thick, twisted branches. Bending to avoid neighboring limbs covered in thick, red foliage, he walked along the branch toward a platform of weathered planks. Despite the passage of time, the construction appeared sound.

“Still sturdy.” He set her on her feet, took the blanket from her, and spread it out.

“This is…” Ginger turned in a circle, her eyes wide and her lips parted. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

He followed her gaze. Many archangel tree houses dotted the forest around the colony, but as a kid he’d been partial to this ancient oak, the oldest tree he’d ever seen. The platform encircled the tree’s trunk a hundred feet off the ground, supported by branches wider than his body. Smaller limbs had been trimmed away to create open space. Sunlight backlit the deep red leaves that surrounded them.

He guided her down to the blanket. “I knew you’d like it. When we met, you told me you weren’t afraid of heights. Considering your heritage, I bet you prefer them, don’t you? It’s in our nature.”

“Yes.” She shut her eyes. “My heritage…it’ll take me a while to get my mind around it.”

He covered her, making sure his wings blocked the cold air, and kissed her until she arched under him. “I have no words for how happy you’ve made me, Gin-love. We’ve been through so much in so little time. I’d decided to ask you to be my mate, but I planned on waiting for a better time. Not the day you fell victim to a madman and almost lost your father.” He stroked the side of her face. How could skin be so soft? “Please forgive me for that.”

“Nothing to forgive. I need to move forward from what happened this morning.” She dug her fingers into his shoulders. “I need
you
.”

“And I need you,” he whispered, trailing his lips along her jaw.

She reached to his low back and unhooked his shirt under his wings like an expert. In no time their clothing lay scattered around them, her sweater snagged on a branch overhead. Her hands on his skin and his feathers, her legs wrapped around his middle, her lips on his, all the contact made his soul expand with warmth. He made love to her until she trembled and his own limbs buckled in exhaustion.

Keeping a wing over her body, he spooned against her back and gave her his arm to rest her head. She ran a hand along the underside of his wing, and her fingers paused when they reached the small bald spot where he’d been shot. Lifting her head, she kissed the bare patch of skin.

He woke from a light doze when a shrill cell phone ring split the air. He frowned, stretched out his wing, and dragged his discarded pants within arm’s reach. The small screen on the phone indentified Sanctuary’s leader.

“There should be a ring for good news and a ring for bad news,” Ginger muttered. “I really don’t want any bad news.”

He squeezed her, kissed the nape of her neck, and connected the call. “Vin.”

“Wren. Lark is stable. He’s still unconscious because Raphael has healed his injuries, but he should wake soon. Can you come?”

“See you in a minute.”

Ginger arched an eyebrow, and he relayed the message. Stroking her hair, he added, “I’ll take you back to the house if you prefer.”

She yawned and rubbed her eyes, but shook her head. “Of course, I’ll stay with you.”

He pulled her to her feet and eyed her sweater dangling from the branch overhead. Jumping straight up, he beat his wings to gain the necessary extra inches to grasp the sleeve. Handing the soft bundle of wool over, he said, “Regardless of Lark’s innocence, this is going to be difficult.”

Her diamond-blue eyes held his gaze, and she squeezed his hands, a silent support that meant more than any words. He leaned in and murmured, “Staring into your eyes is akin to flying on a cloudless day. I could get lost in their blue depths.”

“Nothing wrong with that.” She tilted her head back and kissed him.

Minutes later, after he’d managed to keep his hands off her long enough to get fully dressed, he picked her up and took to the sky. No more stalling. Time to face Lark.

Chapter Twenty-two

Jett cursed with every step he took. His feet carried him toward the godforsaken northeast corner of Vermont.
Sanctuary
. A pretty name for a rat’s nest full of more creatures like Lark.

“
Fuck
.”

The idea of seeking help from the demons gave his mouth a sour taste, but he clenched his teeth and kept moving. The need to see for himself that Raphael was safe and being treated well drove him forward. Why the hell would Raphael want to return to a hive populated by demons? The archangel’s trust in the Guardians had landed him in Lark’s cellar in the first place.

Jett increased his pace as he maneuvered around a human town, sticking to the forest as much as possible. He’d discarded his bloodied, torn shirt and jacket, but still had blood on his skin. Now, dressed only in his black fatigues and boots, running kept him warm.

Jett had headed away from the colony after the encounter with Devin, but concern for Raphael’s welfare had made him stop. He couldn’t sit still, wondering if the archangel’s new Guardian was trustworthy. But the closer he got to the colony, the heavier his old memories sat on his shoulders. He growled as one scene played in his head for the hundredth time that hour.

Slumping in his chair, Lawrence sighed and rubbed his forehead. The balding human had never had a kind face, but the frown made him downright cold. “Are you even listening to me?”

Jett, eleven years old at the time, frowned at the book open in front of him. He had to lean forward at the waist; his ankle shackles, attached to the wall by a chain, prevented him from pulling his chair closer to the table.“May I ask a question, sir?”

“Does it relate to your lesson?”

Jett pointed to his textbook, to the photo of the woman and her infant. “Was my mother like this woman?”

Lawrence’s face turned as red as his tie and his eyes widened. The human stood, lurched around the table, and smacked Jett so hard he tasted blood. The proximity startled Jett as much as the strike; the humans never came this close to him unless he wore that metal clamp around his head to cover his mouth.

“
This
woman is the Virgin Mary.” Lawrence spat at him. “How dare you!”

Jett’s eyes stung along with the side of his face. “I remember a woman who looked at me the way Mary looks at her child. Before I lived here.”

Lawrence slammed his fist down on the table. “Silence, boy! Your mother is a demon, like you. A heathen. Demons do not love their children. They are incapable of such an emotion. When we raided the colony, she left you alone and ran to save herself. That’s how much she cared about you.”

Jett sniffed. “But—”

“You should show more gratitude to us. We’ve given you a much better life then she would have.” Lawrence reached forward and slammed the thick book shut. “Your lessons are over for today. For not completing your assignment, you’ll go without dinner.”

“But I’ll finish!” Jett reached for the book.

Lawrence tucked the book under his arm and smacked Jett’s hand. “Too late. Next time, stay focused on the material.”

The ceiling lights vibrated when Lawrence slammed the door behind him. After Jett wiped the tears away, he turned to get into bed, only to be stopped by the shackles. Lawrence had neglected to unlock them. Jett slumped to the floor and pulled his knees to his chest. He slept on the floor that night.

Sanctuary. Hypocritical fucking name. Racing through the woods toward the place of his birth, Jett cursed the ground it stood on and the woman who’d left him for the humans.

Jett wouldn’t abandon Raphael. He wasn’t like his mother. He’d watch from a distance and make the sure the archangel hadn’t just stepped out of one hell into another.

And if he had?

Jett grit his teeth. If the Guardians mistreated Raphael in any way, they’d answer for it. With their lives.

§

The biting wind chilled Ginger to the bone by the time Wren landed at the town hall. They hurried to the medical wing, where guards parted to allow them into a room that appeared no different from most hospital facilities, except it was larger, designed with archangels in mind. Wren’s father, perched on a tall, backless chair, glanced up. He wore a heavy blue sweater, tailored the same way as Wren’s shirt, with small silver clasps below his wings.

“He’s still asleep.” Raphael stood and gathered Wren in a hug.

A mountain of electric blankets covered the demon to his chin. Standard medical equipment monitored his vitals via a tangle of wires. Slow for a demon, his heart rate ticked by at 120 beats per minute.

Vin stood against the wall in silence, his arms folded and his brow creased. He nodded to them in greeting.

“His body temperature has a couple degrees yet to climb.” Raphael returned to his makeshift perch. Ginger stayed at Wren’s side, under the comforting weight of his wing. She appraised her future father-in-law in her peripheral vision. Even sitting on the back of a hospital room chair with his wings tattered, the fallen archangel had a regal ambience about him that the earthborn archangels didn’t emanate. Not unfriendly or cold, but wise and calm, like an old tree. Had her mother given off the same not-of-this-world vibe?

Raphael had told her many things about her mother back at the house, but Ginger knew she’d be asking questions for a long time to come. Gabrielle had been two-hundred-and-seventy-two-years-old at the time of her death. Her life couldn’t be summed up in one sitting.

Ginger wondered if she’d have the chance to use her psychic talent to question her mother herself.

Minutes ticked by. Ginger slumped into a chair, dozed off, and didn’t realize until she glanced at the wall clock that an hour had passed. Lark still slept, but his heart rate had climbed to a normal 150 beats per minute, and his color looked better.

Wren stood at her back. She found his hand and squeezed it.

Raphael paced the room, stretching his wings and rolling his shoulders. He lingered near the windows and stared wistfully at the sky, his fingers on the glass.

“Raphael,” a voice whispered.

Raphael spun around, and Ginger turned her gaze to the bed. She stood and moved closer to Wren, to feel the comfort of his body. Lark gazed out from behind half-open eyes as they all approached.

“Lark.” Raphael stood closest to the demon. “They tell me I’m speaking to you for the first time in eighteen years.”

Lark nodded, a slight movement, flinched, and moved his jaw from side to side. He extracted a hand from the heavy blankets and touched the gaping holes where his fangs had been. “This is the least I deserve.”

“Bull. You’ve suffered as much as we have.”

The demon shut his eyes. “I failed. My performance is inexcusable. I have no right to ask forgiveness from you.”

“Then I give it without your asking.” Raphael leaned over the bed and rested his hand on Lark’s shoulder. Lark jerked. Raphael didn’t move. “After eighteen years, won’t you even talk to me, old friend?”

Lark sighed. “Yes, I owe you an explanation.”

“Not what I meant.” Raphael’s voice darkened. “But I do need to understand how this happened.”

Lark took a long, slow breath. “It’s true, I have a psychic talent that I concealed from the Guardianship, one that allows me to roam around outside my own skin as an incorporeal spirit.”

Vin sucked in an audible breath. Raphael flicked his wings. No one said a word. Sensing Wren’s tension, Ginger ran her fingers down his arm.

Lark continued, “I kept this skill secret, because I didn’t want to advertise such a weakness. Leaving my body left me very vulnerable to physical attack. But as a spirit, I could travel as fast as I could think, which allowed me to patrol around the colony without missing the movement of a single mouse, and I could be on my feet again in seconds if I needed to act in the family’s defense.” He met Raphael’s gaze. “I was confident I was maximizing your safety by utilizing my talent.

“I hid my body in the woods when I left it. That way I was hidden from potential discovery. But it was an attack from the living I feared, not an attack from the dead.

“In the hours before Thornton’s attack, as Kora worked in the garden, I knew something was wrong. I sensed it. Something in the air felt ominous. I left my body to give the forest around the house a more thorough security sweep, and found nothing amiss. I went with my instincts anyway, and returned to my body with the intention of sending Kora inside, locking the house down, and alerting the colony to a possible attack. But I found my body with a dark shadow hovering over it.”

“Dark shadow?” Vin interrupted, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

“Yes, that’s the best way to describe him. I’m able to see spirits of the dead when outside my body, and most of them appear as they would have in life, although transparent. This spirit, on the other hand, was like any other formless shadow in the forest, except it moved on its own.

“The shadow sunk into my skin and I launched at it, but it was too late. As a spirit, I have no affect on the physical world, and a spirit cannot be forced out of a body against its will, except by physical death. I was powerless as he stood up, took stock of my weapons, and headed for Kora…”

Raphael turned away, a hand to his face, his wings drooping off his back like rags. He faced the wall, his shoulders shaking in silent sobs. Wren slumped onto the back of the chair, leaned forward and pressed his forehead to his knees. Ginger touched his wing.

“I’m so sorry,” Lark said, his voice thin. “I am responsible for Kora’s horrific death and your imprisonment, Raphael. I came back to my body to accept formal punishment for my failures.”

Ginger held her breath. Deliberate betrayal or no, a Guardian who assumed direct responsibility for the death of an archangel or an archangel’s mate followed a ritual similar to that of the Japanese samurai: a mortal wound inflicted by their own hand, followed by execution.

Vin nodded.

“Wait a second!”
Ginger got to her feet. “Thornton Bailey is the enemy here. He killed my father and possessed him easily enough. If not Lark, Bailey would have eventually taken the body of someone else.”

Wren lifted his head and rubbed his face. “She has an excellent point. Thornton has always hated us, but death at my hands pushed him to an even darker place. He wound have found a host to act out his revenge.”

Lark scoffed. “And I would have cut him down before he came within a mile of you.”

“Yes, but…” Raphael said, standing tall again and turning around. “Ginger’s correct. Thornton is ultimately the enemy here. Thornton murdered my mate. He almost took my son, but, blessedly, Wren escaped, and now I have him back. Damn it, Lark, I will not lose you, too. You’ve been a friend for over two hundred years. I refuse to accept your death for Thornton’s crimes, regardless of debatable poor judgment.” He lifted his gaze to Vin. “You hear me? I formally renounce Lark’s responsibility in Kora’s death.”

“So be it,” Vin said.

Lark shook his head. “But—”

“Fuck you,
I said no
.”

Lark’s eyes widened. “Assuming the last eighteen years don’t count, you have never cursed at me before.”

“Hell,” Wren said. “I’ve never heard him swear before, period.”

The corner of Lark’s mouth twitched, but the amusement faded quickly from his face.

“The violence needs to stop,” Raphael said.

Lark exhaled heavily. “As you wish, old friend.”

Vin stepped forward from the wall, rubbing his jaw. “What happened
today
?”

Lark grimaced. “The blond demon…”

“Devin,” Wren supplied. “Ginger’s father.”

Lark cast a worried glance in Ginger’s direction.

“Devin’s okay,” Ginger said. “The Guardians say Thornton’s scent is gone.”

“Thank God,” Lark said. His throat worked. “I’m not surprised. Thornton took Devin’s body to walk by the Guardians and get to you. Imprisoned, Devin is useless to him. He’ll be looking for a new host now. But he won’t be able to hurt anyone in his spirit state. He’ll have to wait for a host.”

“What happened?” Wren repeated Vin’s question.

“Devin found Jett, but Jett refused his help and took off again. Devin returned here. Thornton followed in my body, ambushed him ten miles outside the colony, and strangled him to death. See, the body is merely a tool for the spirit. Thornton needed to kill Devin to force his spirit out, but by possessing the body, he reanimated it. Nothing can restart a heart faster than a spirit entering the skin. I repossessed my body, intending to use the phone to warn Sanctuary about Devin. But after so many years as a spirit, I was having trouble moving in a physical body. Thornton, in Devin’s skin at that point, was amused as hell to see me awake. I couldn’t even get to my feet, so he overpowered and restrained me. We weren’t far from an abandoned farm. He dragged me into a barn where he found the pliers.”