Evermore, an Arotas Novella (The Arotas Series) (5 page)

Six
months later…

Roseline
stares out over the frozen tundra spread before her, gripping
Gabriel’s hands tight enough to shatter bone. The winds are no
less vicious than the last time she stood here. The cold bites at her
cheeks and nose. “You can do this,” he whispers against
the gusting winds, his breath warm against her ear.

A
part of her wishes she never had a need to return to the Senthe Base,
to the place where she lost so much, but duty demands it. No, not
just duty, a gut feeling. Something has been calling her to this
place for the past two weeks. She can’t explain it. It’s
not something as explicit as a message in a dream or a vision, but
the reality of the need is no less urgent.

After
their time spent abroad, they returned to Romania as planned. The
past three months have been consumed with training. The halls of Bran
Castle now echo with the near constant clash of steel swords and the
thud of arrows hitting their targets. Immortals train alongside
hunters each day, learning from each other. It is a sight that
Roseline never dreamed could be possible, but Nicolae’s vision
of a new world finally came true with the official signing of the
truce between these two groups of warriors. Roseline and Gabriel
remained at Bran Castle long enough to take part in this momentous
ceremony before leaving for their own journey.

Now,
instead of attacking each other, hunters and immortals band together
to track down the remaining pockets of Lucien’s army that
scattered across the globe. Many of them have dug in deep, forcing
the warriors to be gone for months on end. Others give in to their
thirst and come into the light of day and are easily squashed out.

No
matter how many of her enemy are found, Roseline can’t shake
the feeling that something more is coming. Something big.

She
releases her vise-like grip and offers Gabriel a tight smile. “It
was right to come here.”

His
gaze narrows, searching her face. How many times has he looked at her
in this same manner over the past few months? Analyzing her words
against the emotions he knows she bottles up inside.

She
has never let him see the pain Fane’s death has caused her. Not
out of wanting to hide from him, but because it is too personal. She
loved Fane once, more than life itself. Admitting this openly to
Gabriel is something she would rather not do.

So
she keeps her pain locked firmly away in the recesses of her heart. A
part of her feels as if it has continued to wither in his absence.
She suspects that Sadie knows of her inner turmoil but is able to
offer little help now that she has returned to America.

It
had taken a great deal of begging on William’s part to get
Sadie to leave Nicolae’s side long enough to return and finish
school. Sadie, of course, saw no point in going through the monotony
of it all, forcing herself to pretend to be a normal teenage girl for
the sake of appearances, but she went out of love for William and his
need to immerse himself back in reality. Roseline has a sneaking
suspicion that Sadie also wants the opportunity to flaunt her new
look a bit to all of the “in crowd” who shunned her over
the years.

Roseline
knew her friend’s parents would be furious over their
disappearance when they arrived back home so she and Nicolae
skillfully worked to tie their absence with the string of murders
Lucien swept across the world. William certainly still had enough
bruises and cuts lingering to pull it off well enough. Sadie added a
few of her own wounds at the last minute to make it believable.
Outrage turned to tears as their parents embraced them on their
doorstep, marveling at how much Sadie had changed.

For
any normal person, the transition from mortality to immortality would
be such a drastic change that people would notice immediately, but
Sadie… Well, her flamboyant love of character roleplaying
helped smooth that one over nicely.

Roseline
and Gabriel had watched from across the street, standing in the
shadow of night. She had felt Gabriel’s sadness as if it were
her own. Felt the tremble in his hand as he gazed toward the lighted
windows of his former home before he turned away.

She
had said nothing as they walked back to the car to drive to the
airport. This was his choice to make.

Now,
only a few months later, she can still feel his burden, his sadness.
She knows he would never change his fate, not at the risk of losing
her, but sometimes she wonders if they will ever truly be able to
share their pain together. He always wants to prove that he is strong
enough to bear this burden.

“Is
anyone still manning this base?” he asks, drawing her from her
thoughts. Roseline notes that after months of practice, Gabriel’s
Romanian accent sounds less disjointed. She still loves it when they
speak in his native tongue, but there is something definitely sexy
about hearing him speak Romanian to her in the dark of night.

He
turns away to stare at the snow-covered compound, its entrance barely
able to be seen on the horizon. Certainly invisible to the human eye.

Over
the next rise lies the battlefield. The blood will have stained the
layers of ice, hidden beneath a thick layer of snow but still there.
She can smell the tangy, metallic scent carried on the breeze as if
it were newly shed. Somewhere out there is the field of bodies that
were left open to the elements. Fallen Ones, hideously deformed
beings that fought against them in the battle, were left behind. No
one cared to give them a decent burial.

Beyond
that, a great mound of frozen flesh is sure to be found where the
dragon finally fell, never again to breathe its fire upon the land.
What will the humans think when they someday discover its remains?
Roseline glances toward the horizon, wondering if Lucien had any
other pets that he kept hidden from the world.

“No
one is here right now. It’s too remote,” she says,
knowing that no one would be eager to volunteer to come back here.
“They have all been called back to Romania for assignments, but
we still need to prepare.”

Her
boots punch through the top six inches of ice-crusted snow as she
leads the way. Her hands tremble slightly at her sides as unease
swells in her stomach. Her chest clenches as she catches the scent of
death riding the wind from over the hill, but she does not slow.

As
she steps into the shadow of the entrance, Gabriel reaches out to
stop her. “Maybe I should go first. We don't know what could be
inside.”

Her
initial response is to tell him to stop being silly, but she catches
herself. He needs this, to feel like her protector. She steps aside
and lets him pass.

It
has been hard to learn to rely on Gabriel. Not that she doesn’t
want to, it's just challenging to walk beside someone who is your
equal after so many years of being alone. No, not alone. She was
never alone… but she was stubbornly independent.

The
metal door closes with a resounding boom as the wind rips it from
Roseline’s fingertips. She is instantly thrust into complete
darkness. The hairs on the back of her neck rise and her lips
instinctively peel back over her teeth as she breathes deep. She can
hear Gabriel doing the same thing and relaxes as nothing dangerous
leaps out at her, yet something in the air feels different. A sort of
electrical charge that she can’t place her finger on.

Flicking
the switch of her flashlight, she hands it to Gabriel and follows as
they weave deeper into the base. It is eerily silent without anyone
else around. The doors to the rooms stand partially open. Evidence of
blood and bandages still linger on some of the floors and tables.

They
left in a hurry. No one wanted to stick around longer than necessary
to collect the bodies after the remnants of the enemy fled to the
border, as far from Canada as possible.

The
command room appears at the end of a long hall, the dark interior
making it seem much farther than she knows it to be. Gabriel opens
the door and motions for her to enter. She turns to flick on the
light switch but stiffens. The scent hits her first, masculine and
strong.

Gabriel
calls out a warning, but her dagger is already spiraling through the
air. She catches a glint of metal in the lowered flashlight beam.
There is no sound of it hitting its mark. She blinks in confusion at
the sound of clapping that arises from the dark.

Flipping
on the light switch Roseline finds herself less than fifteen feet
away from the largest man she has ever glimpsed. His skin is ebony
with a sheen along his bare chest that makes her wonder if he has
been rubbed down with oil. Muscle piles atop muscle along his arms
and calves. His waist is nearly double her width. His chest rises to
meet shoulders so broad that he would be forced to walk sideways down
the hall.

His
head is shaved clean apart from a single ponytail of black hair that
reminds her of a horse’s tail, thick and coarse. Strange
markings scrawl out from the corners of his eyes, winding down his
cheeks and neck to coil over his shoulders and down his back.

A
great curved sword hangs from his waist. A leather belt built sturdy
enough to hold the weapon’s great weight lassos his hips. His
legs are the size of tree trunks, spread wide, knees slightly bent,
as if preparing to attack. His feet are bare.

Roseline
notices all of this with the first sweep of her gaze but immediately
perceives the most startling feature. A pair of sapphire-blue wings
rise from behind him, arched above his shoulders and tapering down to
the floor. In total, the man must be at least eight foot tall and his
wingspan double that.

“Seneh
spoke highly of your woman, Gabriel,” the man says with a hint
of admiration as he flips Roseline’s dagger in his hand and
then holds it out for her to take.

“You
know Seneh?” Gabriel asks, his voice raspy with disbelief.

“Can’t
you see the resemblance?” Roseline steps forward, noting how
bright the whites of his eyes and teeth appear against his dark skin.
“You’re related to him, aren’t you?”

The
man tilts his head, contemplating. “We do not have siblings
like you mortals do, but in a way, yes, Seneh was a brother to me.”

Gabriel
blows out a breath and lowers his sword. He tucks the flashlight into
his pocket and steps forward to retrieve Roseline’s dagger. She
watches him as he struggles to find the words to express the pain she
knows he has felt since his guardian’s death. When he comes up
with nothing, she places a hand on his arm, accepting her weapon from
him.

“He
knows,” she whispers. Gabriel nods, offering the angel a pained
smile.

“Who
are you?” Roseline asks, turning her gaze back onto the man.
“Why are you here?”

“My
name is Ashir. I have come at Elias’s request.”

“That
doesn’t sound good,” Gabriel mutters under his breath. He
places his own sword on top of a nearby table and lowers into a chair
with a groan. Roseline follows suit as the angel ruffles his feathers
and sinks down onto the cold concrete floor, his legs crossed before
him, hands placed upon his knees.

“There
is a great unrest within our realm.” He begins. His dark eyes
watch both of them carefully. Roseline realizes his irises are a
couple shades darker than his sapphire wings, making them appear
almost black.

The
lights buzz and flicker overhead. In a distant part of the compound,
she can hear the generator groaning in protest as it struggles to
warm up.

“After
Lucien was killed by Roseline, the hierarchy of the Shadow Lands
began to crumble with no one to lead. Powers and principalities, as
your Bible would know to call them, began to rise from around the
world, each one determined to take Lucien’s place. There were
great battles. Scores of dead mounting on both sides of the battle
lines. I lost many friends to the battle.” The great man’s
deep voice bears hint to a small waver. He clears his throat before
continuing. “This is where Elias has been these past few
months, on the front lines, trying to keep our realm from spilling
over into yours.”

“What
of the Fallen Ones? They are part of our world,” Gabriel says,
leaning forward. His elbows dig into his knees and his hands begin to
redden with the intensity of his thumb rubbing against his palm,
evidence of his growing tension.

“They
were sent here a long time ago, cast out in one great horde, but
there are countless others waiting to enter. We are all that stands
between them and your world.”

Roseline
blows out a breath that she has been holding. She knew something like
this would happen. Fate taught her long ago that a good thing never
lasts.

“So
you want us to fight.” It is a statement, both as obvious as it
is painful to say. She has spent three hundred years fighting, for
her life, for her freedom, for the people she loves. One war melds
seamlessly with the next in her mind. Fighting is all that she knows
now.

Ashir
nods. “You are already preparing. We have seen your soldiers
fighting alongside immortals. Your castle is no longer a home. It is
a training ground. What purpose could you have for such work if you
do not intend to put these warriors to action?”

“In
our world.” Gabriel protests. “Against immortals who
attack humans. Not against spirit beings that we know nothing of.”

Ashir
looks at Gabriel with a soft, knowing smile. Roseline bristles. “You
are one of us, Gabriel. The prophecy gives proof to that.”

“No!”
Gabriel surges to his feet. “No way. I played my part.”
He spins and jabs a finger at Roseline. “I gave up the one
thing I loved most in this world for the sake of that stupid
prophecy. We killed Lucien. That was all that was expected of us.”

Ashir’s
gaze turns thoughtful, then shifts into something Roseline can only
guess expresses utter sadness. He places his hands upon the ground
and rises slowly to his full height. She has to crane her head back
to look up at him as he spreads his wings. Even in this large room,
he is unable to fully extend them. “The prophecy is not done
with you two.”