nothing remained
on the beach except the Fallen, his two surviving sentinels, Evie
and Trick. Breathing heavily, her sword still glowing white hot
with the passion of her righteousness, she knelt down next to his
still body. Laying aside her sword and cradling his head in her
lap, she kissed his lips, now cold. So cold.
She said very quietly
and very clearly, “Bring him back, Baron. Bring him back to me. You
are the Fallen. I know you can.”
Though he was nowhere
near her, she could feel the immense aura of his power, dark and
hard as tempered steel. He was far older and far stronger than her.
The two sentinels turned to dogs and cringed, whimpering and
fawning at his feet.
After a time he
spoke. “Nothing comes without a price, even for an Angel.”
She looked up,
meeting his flat gray eyes, unflinching. “Name it.”
The Baron swept her a
courtly bow worthy of the eighteenth century aristocrat he so
resembled. Raising his sword, he walked towards her.
Chapter 14
Trick's eyes fluttered open, those sea green
eyes. Lifting his hand he rubbed them as though waking from a deep
sleep. He yawned and then smiled at her, a newborn smile of
dazzling honesty.
“Hello, Angel.”
Evie sobbed.
He was up on his
elbow in an instant, his face creased with concern. Looking down he
saw the blood on his chest and above it, a small white scar.
Everything came rushing back in a whirlwind. A kaleidoscope of
images: the swarm of demons, Marcus, the evil dagger, his desperate
effort to save Evie and the Fallen's unexpected help. Finally, the
thrust of the knife into his chest. The relic had been cold, a
terrible cold that choked him, pulling him into the darkness. A
darkness that had turned to light in those long, last moments as he
remembered the Angel.
In Evie's eyes he saw
those events mirrored, watched as they filled with tears, spilling
down her cheeks one silver drop after the other.
“I'm so glad Trick,
so very glad.”
He reached round to
grab her shoulders, pull her to him and kiss away the tears.
Automatically his hands sought to avoid the thick bones of her wing
blades. Inexplicably one hand slid right over.
Almost afraid to
look, he felt the flat shoulder blade where her magnificent wing
had been.
“Evie, your wing.” He
gave her a stricken look. “Where is your other wing?”
She flushed, folding
the remaining wing behind her back, hiding her shame. Trick felt
the emotions running through her. Courage, pride, remorse. Then she
stared into his eyes with that uncanny vision and he saw the
rest.
“You did it for
me.”
“This was the only
way to save you. He brought you back. The Baron.”
“For your wing.”
She nodded, “That's
what this was all about, Trick. Marcus had a bargain with the
Baron. Why you were supposed to kill me. For my wing. Even with all
his power he couldn't take it from my living body. I could...” Her
voice caught in her throat. “I could, however, give it to him of my
own free will.”
He grasped her hand
and said so softly it was just a whisper, “I'm not worth
saving.”
She thought of what
she had seen each time she looked into his heart and soul. Yes, his
soul was still there, right where it should be though he knew it
not. Part of the demon's magic, to hide such small comfort, make
him think all links to God's ear severed. He should have more
faith.
“Nathan McKitrick you
are worth saving a thousand times over. You, too, are meant for
great things. Far greater than your brother.” Extending her one
wing she brought it around, caressing his face gently with the
long, flexible flight feathers.
Running his fingers
lightly over the feathers, he said, “Let me see.”
Her tank top had been
burned to threads in the flaming. Folding the wing away, she turned
her back to him. Where her wing had been was a wide, raised
scar.
He reached out to
touch it, then pulled back as though afraid. “Oh, Evie, Evie. I am
so sorry to have been the cause of your fall from grace.
on the beach except the Fallen, his two surviving sentinels, Evie
and Trick. Breathing heavily, her sword still glowing white hot
with the passion of her righteousness, she knelt down next to his
still body. Laying aside her sword and cradling his head in her
lap, she kissed his lips, now cold. So cold.
She said very quietly
and very clearly, “Bring him back, Baron. Bring him back to me. You
are the Fallen. I know you can.”
Though he was nowhere
near her, she could feel the immense aura of his power, dark and
hard as tempered steel. He was far older and far stronger than her.
The two sentinels turned to dogs and cringed, whimpering and
fawning at his feet.
After a time he
spoke. “Nothing comes without a price, even for an Angel.”
She looked up,
meeting his flat gray eyes, unflinching. “Name it.”
The Baron swept her a
courtly bow worthy of the eighteenth century aristocrat he so
resembled. Raising his sword, he walked towards her.
Chapter 14
Trick's eyes fluttered open, those sea green
eyes. Lifting his hand he rubbed them as though waking from a deep
sleep. He yawned and then smiled at her, a newborn smile of
dazzling honesty.
“Hello, Angel.”
Evie sobbed.
He was up on his
elbow in an instant, his face creased with concern. Looking down he
saw the blood on his chest and above it, a small white scar.
Everything came rushing back in a whirlwind. A kaleidoscope of
images: the swarm of demons, Marcus, the evil dagger, his desperate
effort to save Evie and the Fallen's unexpected help. Finally, the
thrust of the knife into his chest. The relic had been cold, a
terrible cold that choked him, pulling him into the darkness. A
darkness that had turned to light in those long, last moments as he
remembered the Angel.
In Evie's eyes he saw
those events mirrored, watched as they filled with tears, spilling
down her cheeks one silver drop after the other.
“I'm so glad Trick,
so very glad.”
He reached round to
grab her shoulders, pull her to him and kiss away the tears.
Automatically his hands sought to avoid the thick bones of her wing
blades. Inexplicably one hand slid right over.
Almost afraid to
look, he felt the flat shoulder blade where her magnificent wing
had been.
“Evie, your wing.” He
gave her a stricken look. “Where is your other wing?”
She flushed, folding
the remaining wing behind her back, hiding her shame. Trick felt
the emotions running through her. Courage, pride, remorse. Then she
stared into his eyes with that uncanny vision and he saw the
rest.
“You did it for
me.”
“This was the only
way to save you. He brought you back. The Baron.”
“For your wing.”
She nodded, “That's
what this was all about, Trick. Marcus had a bargain with the
Baron. Why you were supposed to kill me. For my wing. Even with all
his power he couldn't take it from my living body. I could...” Her
voice caught in her throat. “I could, however, give it to him of my
own free will.”
He grasped her hand
and said so softly it was just a whisper, “I'm not worth
saving.”
She thought of what
she had seen each time she looked into his heart and soul. Yes, his
soul was still there, right where it should be though he knew it
not. Part of the demon's magic, to hide such small comfort, make
him think all links to God's ear severed. He should have more
faith.
“Nathan McKitrick you
are worth saving a thousand times over. You, too, are meant for
great things. Far greater than your brother.” Extending her one
wing she brought it around, caressing his face gently with the
long, flexible flight feathers.
Running his fingers
lightly over the feathers, he said, “Let me see.”
Her tank top had been
burned to threads in the flaming. Folding the wing away, she turned
her back to him. Where her wing had been was a wide, raised
scar.
He reached out to
touch it, then pulled back as though afraid. “Oh, Evie, Evie. I am
so sorry to have been the cause of your fall from grace.
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