Chapter 13

Luke pulled up the computer monitoring in that shed an hour later. Nope, still a damn mess. Evidently, the maintenance droid couldn’t handle that level of vomit. He should have just turned on the auto sprayers.

He glanced at the woman. Morrigan. She was lying down on his couch, resting, which made him feel strange.

Why would she lie down in a stranger’s home, without a care in the world? She hadn’t moved, and he figured she must be asleep.

Probably a good thing, because he couldn’t get over the feeling that he knew her.

Why he wasn’t sure. But he did.

It was something deep. Like primal.

Back in the shed, when she’d touched his skin, he’d felt it. It hit him like a brick, honestly. But he didn’t trust her. He couldn’t. Too skeptical of her Novian powers. They all could do shit.

Even with the protective implants, he still didn’t trust that the Novians couldn’t work around them.

He’d seen the contraband that Dumol kept stashing. The Novians were bringing in a lot of illegal materials. What kinds of stuff were they sneaking in that would overpower the implants?

Obviously something. How else had she caused that mental kick he’d gotten before?

Novian War Priestesses were smart.

Oh, he’d recognized the sticks in her hair—an excellent disguise of the weapon—and knew that they were a weapon. The stippling on the ends gave them away. Even Dumol hadn’t realized that’s what they were, or she wouldn’t have left them in her hair when she’d detained her.

Of course, Transdot should have confiscated them when she’d entered The Colony. How did he know them, but no one else did?

Their bad.

The only reason Luke took her sticks was because he’d studied so many during the war. Studied. Downloaded. Programmed. It was all the same. While he’d heard of Novian with their wings and weapons, and crossing to that other existential plane, he knew very little.

She could have black eyes that erupt when she drinks a soul as some accounts recorded. This could all be part of an elaborate plan for her to take him when his guard was down.

Hence, Luke never let his guard down.

Regardless that he felt a connection to her. It was probably manipulated, anyway.

He rubbed his ear, where the chip had been implanted to protect his mind from being messed with by Novians.

But tech didn’t mean crap against some of those damn powers. He’d seen them manipulate minds with fucking songs of all damn things.

It was best he kept his distance.

Though he’d made her a promise. He wouldn’t kill her unless he had to.

Did he hope he wouldn’t have to?

Not exactly. But he wasn’t against letting her live. She seemed nice enough. And he couldn’t help liking her a little bit for fighting back.

That was kinda hot...

He shook off the thought.

Her hair fell in a wavy cascade, and it reminded him of a dream, waves of dark shadow mixing with light gold, a crash of color. She shifted, turning away from him, and it pulled her shirt tight across her back. He could see where the wings would have been anchored, the long line down each side of her back.

The full things must be impressive up close.

He’d never seen one personally. Story went the War Priestesses picked the dead and living in battle. Since he’d only once almost died, he’d never had the pleasure of seeing them choose. What she was doing here, he didn’t know.

Sure, he could guess—missing wings, maybe she was on her own somehow, and needed sanctuary for a while. That would bring her here.

Not unlike others here.

He couldn’t imagine, though, why she’d be on her own. As far as he knew, she was the only priestess here.

And Hell, she was pretty.

It was evident from the moment he’d walked into the shed. He hadn’t known what kind of state she’d be in after Dumol had told him about her. He expected her to be beaten and bloody. And Dumol might have done that.

She might have super-fast healing.

He didn’t know.

And that’s what bothered him about so much of this. He didn’t know what the details were. After spending so many years following orders blindly, not asking questions and being a good little soldier, Cadell was tired.

He was so tired of only knowing what he had to know. He wanted to be the one in control for the rest of whatever he had left in this life.

Little over three years, if he made it through The Colony contract.

But if Dumol keeps her shit up, he will be lucky if he makes it that long. Hell, Dumol probably has Novians ready to take him out, in case he got out of line. Dumol worked both sides of everything, she always had. Whatever she was up to this time, he didn’t want to be a part of.

He’d seen his share of war.

The Novian sighed in her sleep.

Yeah, he wanted to know the details about this Novian, and what the hell was going on. He was determined to make sure she wasn’t hurt unnecessarily.

He’d been that guy tied to the chair. He wouldn’t put her through that. Not for a damn vision.

Visions were just possibilities. They weren’t fact.

He yawned.

Damn, he was tired. But he couldn’t possibly rest, not with her here.

He touched his pocket, where her weapons were and wondered...

She had her back to him...

Was she faking it?

He laid the sticks on the table, in perfect view for her, crossed to his only other chair, and took a seat. He put his feet up and leaned it back, allowing the chair to put him in a reclined position.

He’d give her, what, five minutes? See if she went for the weapons...

He sat still, slowed his breathing down, even closed his eyes, mostly.

Time ticked by.

Moment by moment.

He waited.

She didn’t seem to notice anything in the room.

Maybe he’d been wrong... Maybe she really was asleep. After all, it had been years since he’d been at war—

She shifted on the couch.

Turned like she was still asleep.

But she wasn’t, her eyes were open and very alert.

Boom. There it was... He immediately closed his eyes, his senses on high alert, pretending to doze himself.

Inward pretty pleased with himself.

He fucking knew it. She was a fighter. One would hope an angel of war would be. Would make this a lot more fun.

He kept still. Through his lashes, he watched her rise from the couch in a graceful movement. She glanced at him, then at the table, and she darted for her weapons.

He didn’t let her get to the table. He hit the button on the armrest, and it launched him upright, practically throwing him out of the chair, and he dove for her, just as her hands reached for the sticks.

He tackled her to the floor, and they landed face to face, and hips to hips.

And that’s when his own nightmares came to life, right before his eyes.

The Colony faded away, and he was back on the battlefield. Fighting a band of Novians. He’d pinned one down, and the male struggled beneath him, teeth bared.

“No!” Cadell cried out.

The beast threw him to the side, and he landed hard on the ground, rocks biting into his back, the blaring sun overhead blinding him. The Novian’s shadow against the light, coming for him.

A glint of claws.

A slice.

It should have hurt. Instead, the cut was so sharp, he felt nothing, just...disconnection. The light got brighter, and the shadow came back.

This was it. His death moment...

The Novian moved in.

A woman... Curls of blonde tumbling around her face, as she leaned over him, angel wings spread wide.

“It is...” Her words stopped. Her face went ashen. The light grew brighter.

So, this is death...

“Cadell!”

He felt a slap across his face.

And when his eyes opened, he jerked.

It was the same. The Novian was over him, just like in the moment of war.

She was the same, minus the wings.

The exact fucking same...

He screamed.