Abra Ebner - [Knight Angels 02] Read online

  I turned on my heel. “Patrick, I’d like to have a mix of these two, please.”

  Patrick’s lip curled, trying to understand what I’d seen in the truth. “Of course.”

  “For me?” Avery swooned.

  I looked into her beautiful, powdery blue eyes, round and innocent like a doe. The light of her soul was still there, wavering and afraid, though not for long. “Sorry, Avery.” I paused, looking down at the bottles in my hand. “But this one’s for me.”

  The light in her eyes leaked away like ink draining from a bottle. The shadows descended in its place.

  The game had begun.

  1993:

  “Daddy!”

  I heard a girl’s scream through the thick pines of the woods, her voice cutting through the silence. I was tracking Greg, and I knew that at the source of this scream, I’d find him. He’d left a trail of death and blood for the last few months, angry with my return to Glenwood Springs and determined to make things as uncomfortable as possible for me here. Though I’d left Winter Wood for good, I couldn’t leave the area. I couldn’t risk missing my chance to find her.

  “Daddy! No!”

  I heard smashing glass echo through the trees, chilling me to the bone. I took to the sky, my wings forcing me closer to the sound of imminent death. There was a break in the trees up ahead—a road. I flew faster, a rush of urgency washing over me like never before. I carelessly dove down toward the road in my hurry, my wing clipping a branch and sending it crashing to the ground beside me as I landed. It skidded to a stop only once it hit the ditch, leaving a trail of debris the width of the highway. Stepping toward Greg, the pavement under my feet crackled from my weight, causing the fresh wreckage of a car to shift and moan. My fingers were clenched and my wings tightly secured behind me in a battle pose. Greg stood triumphantly over the remains of a Subaru Outback. The tires were still spinning, the bittersweet smell of gas polluting the air.

  “Gregory…” My voice was thick and low, traveling over the pavement toward him.

  His torso twisted and he faced me, already laughing. “Brother! I see you’ve finally caught up with me.” He threw his hands in the air, spattered with blood. “Took you long enough.” He stepped down from the wreckage as metal bent, revealing two bodies that had been lying behind him. They were half sprawled on the pavement, half still within the car. My chest felt tight as an unexplainable pain pulsed through me. It was a feeling like never before, a feeling that made my gut wrench.

  I was too late. There was too much blood.

  I approached the wreck, shoving Greg to the side and sending him stumbling into the ditch beside the branch. His cockiness faltered, surprised by my unexpected strength in this moment.

  Struggling to regain his composure, he righted and brushed himself off, pleading his side of things. “Come on, Max. You know this is the right thing to do.”

  It wasn’t the right thing, though; it was murder. I leaned over the man’s body, his face down against the pavement. I touched him, feeling a faint flicker of life seep up my arm. Leaning back, I glanced, almost nervously, at the other body that was balled under a nearby hunk of the hood. It was unmoving and small—just a child. Unable to stare for too long, I turned my attention back to the man before me. Many of his limbs were visibly broken, blood flowing freely, his life draining. I grasped him under his shoulder and carefully rolled him on his back, surprised to find he was still conscious. Seeing his face, the reason for my pain was affirmed. I knew him. He’d been a member of the Priory. His eyes fluttered hopelessly as he gasped shallowly. I quelled my pain.

  “John,” I whispered.

  “Maximus.” John’s words were forced.

  “You’ve got to hold on.”

  He grabbed my arm. “Maximus, please… save my daughter.”

  I was confused. He had never mentioned a daughter before. “You’re daugh—”

  My words stopped when I once again forced myself to look at the small body beside us, heart racing uncontrollably. My body was alive in a way I hadn’t felt for years, and something about it made me wish I’d been here sooner. She was wearing a pink jacket, her blue jeans stained with so much blood that I felt my throat tighten. She moved then, slowly twisting her head to face me. Her dark brown hair tumbled from the hood that had been covering it. Long, brown, soft ringlets soaked with blood on the road. My heart stopped as my eyes met hers. A wind tickled through the forest and over us, blowing her scent toward me like a melody. Breathing deep, the tight pain in my chest threatened to crush me. The scent of tea leaf and rose overwhelmed my senses.

  “Please,” John coughed.

  I found it hard to take my eyes off the girl, but I had to look at John.

  His breathing was further taxed, blood oozing from his lips. “I won’t make it… but sh—she has to.”

  I slid my arm out of John’s grasp and looked ever continually back at the girl. Her eyes were beginning to flicker with death, igniting my anxiety. Dark clouds descended over the brown of her eyes, the color in her cheeks almost gone. I’d waited for her for so long that my hopes had sunk as the years passed with no sign, only to be ignited in their full fury now. Never did I think I’d meet her like this. Never did I consider she’d be so young. Rain began to drizzle from the sky, slicking across the cold pavement. John reached his hand out, reaching for the girl.

  “I love you, Jane.” His words were fading fast, but all I could think of was his daughter’s name—her name.

  Jane.

  Jane’s eyes fluttered closed and my body surged to life. I left John, rushing to her side. Hooking my hands under her tiny, broken body, I handled her as though she were my whole life.

  She was.

  I looked back at John in time to see his spirit leave him—his life here was already gone. I pulled the girl to my chest, at last looking at Greg.

  Greg appeared amused by the whole thing, humored in a way that told me he’d known who she was to me, knew what it meant to kill her—killing me.

  “What?” he played. “Are you going to save her?” His mocking tone was so vindictive and premeditated that it made me feel like I didn’t know who he was anymore. “Surely you won’t save her.”

  But that was exactly what I was going to do. I pulled her head beside mine, whispering in her ear. “Stay with me. Don’t cross. Don’t go.” Though she was no more than a child, she was still mine. Someday, she would mean everything to me in love—she meant everything already.

  Greg’s eyes became wide as he saw the determination on my face. “I was joking. You can’t seriously be thinking of—”

  I didn’t bother to let him finish. “Leave.” My voice was like death itself. The sound of far away sirens filtered over the cement. I couldn’t let them see me, but I had to save Jane.

  Greg, too, was lingering. This was not something he was about to miss.

  “Leave,” I hissed again. “Leave me alone!” But before I could finish the statement, he disappeared, a black cloud of smoke dissipated in the air where he once stood. Squeezing my brows together in internal agony, I looked down at Jane. Her life was fighting to leave her body as her breathing became shallow.

  “Stay, Jane. Stay with me, Jane.” I wanted to say her name a hundred times, hoping it would keep her here. I touched my finger to her brow, feeling her life pulse through my touch. I winced, the warmth of it something I’d long forgotten, but also something stronger than I’d ever felt.

  The sirens were about to crest the hill. I had to be quick. Pressing back my trepidation, I begged for her soul to stay locked with her life, in this body. I bundled her as best I could, allowing her warmth to dwell inside us both. Stoking the flame, I felt our lives twine together like a vine. Her damaged soul welded with what was left of mine. Two feeble halves became a whole. It was perfection. An overwhelming shiver trickled from my head to my toe, threatening to knock me to the ground. Her pain had become my own, and I would heal it. I swallowed it down, promising to hold it there as long as she was
alive, promising to allow her happiness, love and life. In exchange for her pain, I’d given her my strength. Together we were a full circle, sharing a patchwork soul for the rest of eternity.

  I steadied myself and opened my eyes, looking down at her. Jane began to stir, the rose returning to her cheeks. Quickly, I laid her back onto the cement where the paramedics would find her. The sirens were so close now, pressing me away. Though no single part of me wanted to leave her, when I let go I found I didn’t have to. Her life continued to pulse through me, telling me all I needed to know about every breath and every heartbeat we would forever share. She would survive, and I would see her again…

  …very soon.

  Wes:

  I was tapping my pencil against the old desk my foster father had made in high school. It was small and well loved, but practical all the same, now jammed into the corner of my room. “What’s a square root again?”

  Emily let a puff of air pass her lips. “Come on, Wes. Don’t make me explain it, for like, the millionth time.”

  I glanced at her, feeling bad for asking. Her face was twisted with annoyance, like it always was, and I loved it. I couldn’t help but smile, her freckles begging me for a kiss.

  Emily’s eyes narrowed. “No.” She pointed at the paper before me with the eraser end of her pencil. “Concentrate.”

  I bit my lip, lifting my brows. “Oh, come on, Em. We’ve been doing this for hours,” I whined.

  She rolled her eyes, something she was really good at. “It’s only been…” she looked at her pink plastic watch. “Thirty-two minutes.”

  I pretended not to hear her. “I’m thirsty,” I challenged, thinking of blood—more specifically, angel blood.

  Her glare only got harsher. “Stop it.”

  I threw my pencil down. “What? I am. I can’t help it.”

  “Then get a Gatorade.”

  I laughed, but she continued to preach.

  “Just think about the principal of it. Angel blood. Blood! It’s just gross!” She shuddered, but I could tell it was a fake shudder—she wanted it too. “It’s gross,” she repeated, as though she was trying to convince herself.

  I looked down at her bag which was left open on the floor. “I bet she didn’t think it was gross,” I pointed to an Anne Rice book on the top of the pile.

  “That’s different.”

  I laughed. “How? You shouldn’t even be reading that stuff. Isn’t that what Max told you?”

  There it was again, another eye-roll. “Leave it alone,” she snapped. “I read them before, so I can read them now. Besides, I have control.”

  I snorted. “Yeah. Sure. Now you do,” I murmured, intending it to be sarcastic.

  “What?” she snapped again. “And that means?”

  I shrugged, not upset at all that she’d heard me. “You weren’t always in control, is all I’m saying. You’re track record for this type of thing sort of sucks.” I began listing on my fingers. “Vicoden, alcohol, sleeping aids… the list goes on!”

  “Shut up. That’s not fair. You know I only did all that stuff because I thought I was alone, because of all I endured… because of all I could hear. I thought I couldn’t survive without it.”

  I dropped my listing hand. “That’s exactly what I’m saying!”

  I could tell by the mounting look on Emily’s face that her anger was about to peak.

  Still, I pressed the point further. “You were stupid to do those things. Just look how great you are without all that.” I shook my head. “Besides, it’s not like I endured anything, or anything.”

  She growled, leaping off the floor and tackling me from my chair. My head thumped against the carpet, my ears suddenly ringing. “Ouch!”

  Emily’s legs wrapped around me like a vise. “Stop it. This is your last warning.”

  My thumb grazed the skin at the bottom hem of her sweater, a part of me missing the way she used to dress, but happy she didn’t dress that way at the same time. She smacked my hand away then slapped me across the cheek. It was fluid—sexy.

  I rubbed my burning skin, grinning. “What was that for?” I slid out from under her.

  She stood, collecting her things. “I hate this.” Her muscles tensed and flexed as she pushed me away. My animal instincts sensed a fight flaring.

  “Hate what? You mean us?” I wished I could read her thoughts, just once, but all I could do was sense her.

  Emily stopped, taking a deep breath. “Do you think it’s possible to start over?”

  I could feel my cheeks turning red, and not just because of the slap. “What do you mean?”

  “Start over, you know, like a first date. Forget everything that’s happened and just… start over.”

  I blinked. The idea was appealing to me, but also appalling. “You just want to forget all this?” I spread my arms wide.

  She looked flustered, shaking her head. “No! I mean, it was so screwed up. I want a clean start. Do you think we could do that?”

  I thought it over. “I suppose.” Where was she was going with this?

  “I just want to forget the first month of this year because truthfully, it sucked. I want to forget the blood, the death… Him.” Her voice got deep and dramatic. “And, yeah, even us. It’s all…” She was searching for the right words. “Topsy-turvy.”

  I just stood there, trying to look like I was listening when really, I was lost.

  She leaned forward. “Is that okay?” The expression on her face conveyed that she was waiting for something, but I didn’t know what.

  “Okay… so what do you want me to do?”

  She sighed. “Ask me out,” she said bluntly. Her arms were crossed now, her foot tapping.

  “Ask you… out?”

  She snorted, further annoyed. “Yes.”

  I felt hopeless. She was looking for finesse, but the only thing I lacked more than brains was finesse. “Uh…” I was suddenly sweating with nerves. I didn’t like to be put on the spot. “You want to go for pizza with me, or something?”

  Emily shook her head, her hands waving the air in front of her. “That was lame. Whatever… just forget it.”

  “What?” I didn’t understand what I’d done wrong. “Come on, Em. Give a man a break!”

  She turned to leave.

  In two quick strides, I had crossed the room, grasping her hand. “Stop.”

  Emily:

  I stopped, hoping he’d come up with something better than pizza. What was I doing? I had what I wanted—I had Wes. The problem was, I always wanted more—I always wanted what Jane had, and what she had was a little romance, too.

  Wes squeezed my hand. “Emily Marie Taylor, would you like to accompany me to Vicco’s for a gourmet burger tonight?” He was standing as straight as his giant body would allow. Despite my annoyance, I couldn’t help but smile. I could see the effort in his eyes—his thoughts.

  He was cute.

  My body relaxed, releasing the tension from my pent up emotions. “Yes, Wes. I’d love to.” I loved Vicco’s, and it was the perfect first date with a drive-in feel.

  Wes leaned in, his golden eyes sparkling. “Can I still tell you that I love you?” he whispered.

  I laughed out loud. “I suppose that’s all right.”

  He grinned, giving me a soft, almost-kiss on the lips.

  I cocked my head back. “What was that?” My lips felt neglected, dissed.

  Wes shrugged. “You’ll have to earn a better kiss. I just asked you out, remember? I don’t want to move too fast.” He was being a smart-ass.

  I frowned. “That’s not really what I was trying to say when I said start over.”

  Wes tilted his head, his lips pressed together before answering. “That’s too bad. You should have thought this through. It’s a package deal, so what’s done is done.” He snapped his fingers.

  I ground my teeth together.

  “Allow me to walk you home, my beautiful.” He bowed from the waist like a Shakespearian hero—more like Shakespearian joke.<
br />
  I faked a gag. “Bleck! Don’t call me that! That’s what Max calls Jane.” My brows knitted together, glaring at him.

  He chuckled. “That’s just the reaction I was looking for.”

  Wes placed his hand on the small of my back, leading me through the bedroom door and into the hall. He walked me home every day as though he were my personal body guard, afraid I’d be abducted in the yard between my house and his. Once we passed the threshold of any space, it was all business, all brawn and attention to detail. Wes was afraid that He would return—though I doubted it. Snake venom tainted my blood, so to Him, I was a big, green Mr. Yuck sticker—He wouldn’t touch me ever again. He simply couldn’t.

  We walked down the stairs, Wes’s watchful eye already on full alert. Until the day Greg was dead, I knew Wes would never relax. We all knew he was still alive because Max was. The best we could do was to pretend Greg was dead, and for now, that was the only way to get through it. Since the incident, none of us had yet mentioned his name out loud, let alone think it as I was now. Chills ran down my spine at the mere skip around the subject. I trembled.

  Wes held onto the pocket of my backpack like a leash, our proximity to the door reason enough to become overly protective. There was a delicate clatter of dishes in the kitchen as we passed. Wes’s foster mother caught my eye, leaning over her old olive-colored dishwasher.

  “Hello, Emily.” Her voice was soft like a whisper.

  “Hello, ma’am.” I’d been told to address Gladys properly. Wes respected the fact that Gladys and her husband had taken him in, despite the enormous dent in their grocery bill.

  She smiled sweetly at Wes, her mind filled with delighted thoughts of me, how I’d changed, and what a relief it was to see us both happy. I laughed to myself, thinking of the days my father spent with Gladys, drinking tea. It comforted me to know that he had endured the same torture of hearing that I had—the same knowing.