Chapter 31

Chapter

Thirty-One

“Michael!” Nia yelled, terror flaying her.

Lore lay on his side, unmoving on the ground, a ground she could see through him.

Oh, God, please, please ? —

The archangel appeared on the other side of Lore. He carefully touched him, but his hands slipped straight through Lore’s chest, and his entire being shuddered like a hologram glitching. A groan of sheer agony escaped him.

“Michael, what’s happening? What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know. Whitefire can be brutal, from what I’ve heard, but something must have gone wrong during his fall. He shouldn’t be…” His features grim, he shot to his feet. “He’s dying. Keep talking to him. I’ll be back.” Michael vanished in a swirl of dank cave air.

No, no, no! Her heart lodged in her throat, she whispered, “Lore, I’m right here, my love.”

He didn’t respond, unconscious now. His fuzzy silhouette settled into a solid form, but she knew it was a lie due to the occasional glitches. The coppery odor grew stronger. She couldn’t see any blood?—

His back!

She scrambled to her feet and hurried behind him. Her breath caught, pain shimmering through her.

Oh, dear God!

The brightening morning sun highlighted every gruesome detail. His beautiful wings were gone, revealing the true horror of the wounds running down his shoulder blades like excavations. Snapped bones protruded where his wings had been, and blood gushed, seeping into the ground.

Tears crowded her eyes and dripped down her face as she gently wiped the blood from his back, only for her fingers to slip through him, distorting his body again.

“Stay with me, Lore,” she choked out. “Michael will find a way to heal you, save you. I can’t lose you.”

Just silence answered her.

The only thing she knew that got to him was when she was hurting. And God knew she was right then.

“I have a few things to say to you,” she said, keeping her voice firm when all she wanted to do was cry. “How could you think I would move on without you? In those few hours after you left, until I learned the truth, I thought I would never be happy again, not like the way we were at the abbey during those stolen days?—”

A slide of rubble had her jerking to her feet.

God, please, please, let it be a small, stray animal.

She crept to the entrance. A hand on the cold stone, she peered outside but couldn’t see what had disturbed the quiet. Her heart in her throat, she stepped out.

A small brown creature with four dark stripes down its back scuttled past. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it looked like a mouse, though much larger. It settled in some dry weeds caught under a boulder.

Exhaling a huge breath of relief, she turned back into the cave and stilled.

A brilliant light inside had her blinking. Michael didn’t glow so brightly. Her sight adjusted, and she frowned. This male wore white robes, his massive, multiple pale gold wings sweeping the ground. The angel leaned over Lore.

Was he healing him? Oh, thank God!

She didn’t dare make a sound and distract him. She just wanted Lore better and back to his cool, aloof self with that slight amusement in his eyes.

“I am sorry, Loráed,” the angel said. “We’ve known each other for a long time. I had hoped whitefire would have taken care of this. Alas, I cannot go against the Supreme Seraph’s order.”

What the hell?

His hand lifted. Silver glinted in the darkness. The blade came down?—

“ Nooo !” Nia charged across the cave.

The angel twisted. With a casual flick of his hand, he sent her flying across the cave like a rag doll. She collided with the rough wall before crashing to the unyielding granite floor. Stars exploded, blinding her. Pure agony splintered her skull, flooding every inch of her. She lay there, so sure she’d fractured something. Every breath felt like a battle. Speaking was beyond her.

The angel glided to his feet and floated over to stare down his thin nose at her, his short, blond hair emitting a glow.

“So, you, human, are the one for whom he gave up his divinity, hmm?” His tone was affable, his eyes curious. “A little throw, and you can barely move?” He nudged her painful hip with his foot.

Agony flooded her, and she bit her inner lip to stifle a cry. Tears seeped.

“Loráed has truly lost his mind. But it is far too late for him.” He smiled, the sight horrifyingly chilling in its friendliness. “Where our Power and Throne have failed, it seems I finally have to eliminate the tiresome, hard-to-kill descendant of Zarias’ line.”

He picked up his fallen blade. “First, you shall see what your little fight for freedom has resulted in when I take out our Power.”

Rage tore through Nia. “Touch him, a-and I will k-kill you.”

He angled his head, eyeing her like she was a flea. “I don’t see how, mortal. You are barely able to move a limb, with a fractured rib. And I am here…” He knelt near Lore’s glitching body again.

God, please!

He lifted the blade, met her gaze with a cool stare, and thrust down?—

“ Nooo! ” Terror and adrenaline surged, and she somehow flashed herself between the angel and Lore, and with all the rage in her, she shoved him hard with both hands. Eyes wide with shock, he flew back as if tossed aside by a tornado. Blood pounding in her head, Nia grabbed his fallen blade and plunged it into his evil chest. “You will never touch him, you fucking ass!”

His body jolted.

A stream of white light shot skyward, and the angel vanished.

Barely able to breathe, her ribcage searing, Nia crawled to where Lore lay on his back, unmoving?—

A burst of noise and color split through her mind. Power exploded in a dizzying white light inside her skull then warm sunlight streamed down onto the rolling green hills… Angels were everywhere.

She groaned and grabbed her head.

Her own pain diminished as darkness embedded with pinpricks of light consumed her mind. The universe sped by. An explosion of the galaxy flooded her in a riot of colors, and she moaned, feeling as if her skull were compressing with dead weight, her agony amping up.

Something warm dripped from her nose, over her mouth, the smell of iron so strong.

With a gasp, she reared back, struggling to tighten her mental shields before her mind exploded?—

Shit! I absorbed the angel’s powers!

Before she fainted from the influx, because this was far worse than Lore’s ever was, she crawled back to him.

Please, please, let this work!

Back at his side, she held her palms an inch above Lore’s chest, and with everything in her, she set free the angel’s powers.

In a glimmering wave, they slid from her into him?—

No, through him, seeping into the ground…

His body shuddered.

“No!” She jerked her hands away, and the outpouring of power stopped. He remained transparent, not shifting back to corporeal. “You have to hang on, my love. Don’t leave me, please…”

Michael appeared at her side. “What happened? I saw an angel’s soul light depart?”

So, she killed the bastard? Good!

“One t-tried to k-kill Lore…” Her breathing stuttered, as if a knife was embedded in her ribs. “He-he said he h-had to carry out his o-orders.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed. His gaze skimmed her face. Then he was in front of her, crouching. “Did he do this to you?”

She nodded.

His jaw hardened. “Allow me.”

He touched her side, and warm heat flowed through her. The blistering agony from her ribs to her head eased. She inhaled sharply, filling her burning lungs with oxygen.

“Thank you,” she whispered, wiping her tear-wet cheeks with her hand. Then she picked up the hem of her sweater and cleaned off the blood from her face.

Michael rose.

“I-I heard a noise and stepped outside for a second,” she said. “When I returned, the angel was kneeling next to Lore with a blade in his hand.” Her teeth clenched, just recalling that. “I tried to push him away, but he threw me against the wall. He wanted me to watch him kill Lore before he eliminated the hard-to-kill descendant of Zarias’ line —his words.”

“How did he die?”

Her rage returned tenfold. “He was about to kill Lore. I shoved him, picked up his fallen dagger, and stabbed him!” She thrust the angelic weapon at Michael. “And I would again for what he was about to do. Where were you?”

Frowning, he stared at the dagger. “Up on the mountain. I had to summon?—”

“Me.” A low, melodious voice murmured.

The cave brightened as a tall form appeared.

The woman seemed so regal and otherworldly, Nia felt as if she should bow or something. Instead, she knelt there frozen, staring wide-eyed at the vision.

Gilded hair flowed down to the woman’s knees like the shimmering rays of the sun, framing an incredibly beautiful face of rich bronze. Green swirling tattoos spread from her brow down to her cheeks—the color the same hue as her eyes, the epitome of spring, bright and green, as if giving life to all that met her gaze.

“Who are you?” Nia whispered.

“I am Gaia.”

The goddess Gaia? As in Mother Nature?

“Aye, child,” she answered Nia’s unspoken question. Her gaze settled on Lore’s prone body. “He is on the precipice of death.”

Pain flayed Lore in an endless cycle. He could do nothing but remain where he was, unmoving. Oblivion hovered at the edges of his mind, beckoning, promising peace.

You have to hang on, my love…

He knew that voice… Nia.

His soul sighed in happiness. He struggled to hold onto her but couldn’t seem to do so. Nothing tethered him.

Nia, his beautiful Nia, faded from his sight like wisps of mist as he drifted farther and farther away from her…

“Arise, fallen angel from the Celestial Realm.” A lyrical voice drifted through his darkening thoughts, dragging him back to consciousness like a star pulled from the void. A tormented groan escaped him.

“Lore!” a female cried out.

“Don’t!” a male warned.

His eyes snapped open. Power lifted him to his feet like a puppet, but unable to stand on his own, he collapsed to his knees in front of a being who glowed like the dawning sun, the light warm and comforting.

No… It had to be another trick from the powers that be, not yet done with him for choosing to fall…for breaking his vows.

He lowered his head, staring at his translucent hands. He could see the ground through them?—

His heart thudded, remembering his fall… Someone wanted to kill him. Fury raged at the thought, and his molecules shifted and dispersed. He could see them floating away from his hands like sparkling particles?—

“Lore, no!” Hands reached for him and went straight through his arm, causing his body to shudder. “You have to calm down.”

“Calm, warrior.” The soft order from another female flowed through him.

He took a deep breath, causing more pain to swamp him.

“I am Gaia.” The being’s warm voice filled his mind, and he stilled. “Warrior of the angelic realm, you are without direction, having fallen. Offer me your pledge, become this realm’s Guardian, and I will grant you life again, give you purpose, powers, and a chance to reignite what you broke.”

Misery lashed him, the torment deepening like a crater in his chest. Every breath he took stripped a layer off whatever remained of him?—

Lore, a whisper of plea flooded his mind and tugged at his heart. Don’t leave me.

He wanted to lift his head but couldn’t, held in impossible anguish. A small figure knelt opposite him. Her scent wrapped around him, comforting, even if she couldn’t stop his mind from fracturing…

Offer me your pledge… Gaia’s request echoed through his mind. Subservience to another?

For Nia, he would.

“Yes,” he croaked his oath to the being awaiting his response.

“And so it shall be,” the goddess said. “It’s good you still have a fighting spirit,” she added, tone dry. “Since you can’t seem to stand or control your dispersing molecules at the moment.”

My love is who keeps me here and upright. The thought sailed through his scattered thoughts.

Soft laughter coasted through him. A light touch to his shoulder and warmth enclosed him, like an embrace. He swallowed hard, the pain receding, and he sank to his ass, his form solid once more.

Fiery heat scorched his biceps, and he jerked in irritation.

What the hell?

“Choose,” the goddess murmured.

He lifted his head. The ancient goddess held out an array of obsidian daggers.

What? His mind not processing, he glanced at the weapons, and his gaze settled on the one with tiny amber stones glinting in the black guard. He picked it up, but the blade slipped from his listless fingers.

“I got it,” Nia said.

Finally, he could lift his gaze to hers, and he found her staring at the glowing dagger.

She glanced at him, her eyes warm and teary, and a smile that squeezed his heart trembled on her lips. Stars, he wanted to kiss her.

“Before I take my leave,” Gaia murmured, “know that your powers will manifest soon. Different from what you knew as an angel, but no less potent.” Her spring-green eyes softened. “Rest and adjust to this new existence. You will need your strength when Michael deems you ready to take up your duties as Guardian. Your experience as an angel negates the usual training I require of my warriors.”

He didn’t know about all that. His gaze lowered to his once more solid hands.

Inhaling deeply, his first breath as a reborn, he met Gaia’s quiet stare again.

“I understand why you did what you did, and it is commendable,” she said. “But as an angel, you should know our souls anchor us to where we were born or created. Yours tethered you to the Heavens, Rania’s to Earth. Your soul-joined mate bond would have anchored you to her when you fell, saving you. Yes, it would have hurt her for a while, but it is a small price to pay for an eternity of happiness.”

He blinked at her.

“The higher-up angels do like guarding everything—especially information they deem inconvenient—closely.” She sighed. “Fare thee well, Guardian.” With a little smile, she dissolved into golden light and was gone.

“Let’s go before trouble finds us,” Michael said, crossing to them.

Lore breathed in a harsh breath, still trying to process all that had happened as Michael helped him to his feet as if he were a babe.

“I can walk.” He pushed away and nearly stumbled at his weakness.

“I should have known.” Michael snorted. “You’ll fit in well with the others. But since you cannot call on any of your powers just yet, and until those appear, consider me your crutch.” He held Nia’s hand and drew her to his other side, and Lore frowned, wanting her with him. Then Michael grasped his arm, and the cave vanished as the archangel shifted them…

They reappeared in a gloomy room. Lore pushed away from him and dropped onto the bed, trying to get his bearings and orient himself to the changes within him.

“These are your quarters,” Michael said.

Lore looked up. He had quarters?

Nothing made sense, his mind a haze. Despite the immense agony easing to barely tolerable, exhaustion consumed him. Something he’d never felt before.

Michael’s focus cut to Nia, who clutched the black blade in her bloodied hands, then back to him. “The obsidian dagger and the sword inked on your arm are Gaian weapons, but I guess you’ll discover all about them soon enough,” he said, tone dry.

“You’ll find clothes in the dressing room. Anything else you need, Hedori will be at hand to help. You will, of course, receive quarterly remittances. Gaia is most generous, but this is a deadly job. Hedori handles all those things. The warriors are still out on patrol. They should be heading back in an hour or so. And you’ll need this?—”

He disappeared in a shimmer and reappeared a second later, setting an opaque bottle on the bedside table along with an ointment jar. “The potion is for pain and healing. The salve, use it on his wounds,” he told Nia.

Michael went motionless. His expression hardened, his eyes flickering upward.

And Lore knew. The seraphs were likely throwing a fit that he’d escaped death.

“I must go. I have to do damage control up there.” Michael stalked for the door. “I’ll be back.”

Lore’s attention settled on Nia. She appeared far too pale, and terror bled off her like another heartbeat.

“What is it?” he rasped, throat raw, hurting still.

She hurried over, her features slipping to calm. “It’s nothing.

His eyes narrowed. “Nia…” Another shaky inhale. “Your terror bleeds into me.”

She stopped a foot from him, opened her mouth to speak, then shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re here. Alive…”

With his sluggish mind functioning a little better now, more details stood out. Dark shadows had left their mark beneath her pretty eyes, as if she hadn’t slept in ages. Faint smears of dried blood marred one cheek and her chin…probably his.

He frowned. “How long was I gone?”

“A week.” She set the dagger down on the bedside table. “I need to check on your wounds. Then you must rest. You heard the goddess?—”

“All that can wait.” He grasped her hands, and his gaze searched hers, trying to figure out what was frightening her. “Tell me. What scares you so much?”

A deep inhale had her chest rising, and his attention lowered to her jacket-covered breasts, then back to her eyes when she spoke. “While you were unconscious in the cave, an angel appeared. He tried to kill you.”

He stilled. “What?”

She pulled one hand free and rubbed her shadowed eyes. “I don’t know who he was. He wore a white robe, had short, flaxen hair, and three pairs of wings that glowed like the sun?—”

“Jehoel,” he gritted out. “A seraph. He did not try to kill you, too? It’s what he would do, straight up.”

And that lush mouth he longed to kiss again twisted with a wry grimace. “I wasn’t in the cave when he appeared. I heard a noise outside and wanted to make sure no dangerous creature was looking for a place to hibernate. It was just some kind of mouse.”

“Did Michael deal with Jehoel?”

“No, he’d left to summon Gaia.” She licked her lips. “So, I…I did.”