Authors: Amy Miles
It is only a matter of time before Lucien realizes what is happening.
Someone will smell Malachi on her and when that happens, her only lifeline to the outside world will be removed.
She leans her head back against the wall.
Her gaze roams the ceiling, searching for an escape route.
The ceiling is domed high overhead, much too high to leap through, even if she had her former strength.
The walls are rough but slicked with a layer of grime.
It might be possible to climb the wall, but once she reaches the center of the room, her escape will be thwarted by an angel hair wrapped metal grate.
Each time she closes her eyes she becomes acutely aware of the shift within her body, the poison slowly eating away at her soul.
She can feel her thoughts being tainted by Lucien’s blood traipsing through her arteries, altering her essence.
It sickens her to think of any part of him inside of her.
She shudders, loathing herself for growing anxious for Malachi’s next visit.
She finds herself beginning to rely on him, something she would rather die than admit.
Her thoughts turn to Gabriel and the last time she saw him.
He looked different, beautiful, despite the blood that clung to his clothes from the battle.
How did he find her?
Why didn’t he come for her?
The dark plays tricks on her mind, making her doubt the love she felt when he called for her.
He could have saved her and Sadie, but he didn’t even try.
A single tear slips from her eyes.
She brushes it away, angry with her weakness.
Gabriel must have had a reason.
It’s the only explanation.
He will come for her.
She knows it.
Seven
N
early five days pass with no sign of Elias.
Seneh remains annoyingly silent, refusing to say anything more about Gabriel’s tasks or how they affect Roseline.
Elias had told him there would be three in total.
He has already passed one.
Two more remain.
Katia has taken up the hobby of watching him, studying him at night when the only light in the cabin is from the roaring fire.
She remains oddly aloof, always looking to Seneh before speaking directly to Gabriel.
He’s not sure if that is because of her broken English or if she worries she might say something wrong.
Her relationship with Seneh is an interesting one.
In the evening, once the chores are done and the dishes put away, Seneh and Katia settle in for a game of chess.
Gabriel has enjoyed seeing a softer side to his guardian.
Never before has he seen a more fierce looking man, and yet when he is with Katia, his tough facade seems to melt away.
Even though Gabriel has adapted to this new lifestyle, he yearns for freedom.
To race through the mountains and stretch his legs or just to be alone for a while.
He spends his days on the ridge where Katia first discovered him, perched atop a rock or fallen log with his sketch book in hand.
Some days he focuses on the minute details of the forest life around him or the endless sea of clouds that span the valley below, but normally his thoughts linger on
her.
Roseline is ever in his thoughts, taunting him, accusing him.
He can’t shake the feeling that she needs him.
He knows she is hurting, he can sense it.
The knowledge that he is helpless to change her fate is maddening.
So he draws, digging into the pages with such ferocity that the charcoal snaps in his fingers.
Now all he has left are small crumbs of coal.
His fingers cramp as he attempts to squeeze one last picture into Enael’s book.
There is little room left to draw, save for the borders of the creased pages.
Gabriel groans, chucking the last crumble of coal into the forest.
He plunges his hands into his hair, gripping his head as he bends at the waist.
He closes his eyes, fighting against the urge to lash out and destroy something.
What am I doing here?
This thought has nearly driven him mad over the past few days.
I should be out there, searching for Roseline.
She needs me.
“I thought I might find you out here.”
The voice drifts down from above, deep and lilting with laughter.
Gabriel stiffens, then his handsome features shift into a deep scowl.
“So now you return.”
He closes his book and carefully tucks it into his shirt.
He despises the scratchy texture of the woolen shirt Katia loaned him.
It clings to him, making him feel as if he’s suffocating.
He never dreamed that he would miss the robes Sias gave him back at the monastery, but somewhere along the way he grew fond of them.
“Where have you been?” Gabriel asks, refusing to look up at his mentor.
He knows, judging by the direction of Elias’ voice, that the angel is perched in the treetops of the pine a few feet ahead.
“I had a task to attend to.
I apologize for the delay.”
With a great rush of wind, Elias leaps from the tree and lands lightly in the snow.
Gabriel glances up, ready to unleash his anger, but he stops short, his mouth dropping open.
Elias’ chest bears fresh burns, gaping wounds from shoulder to waist.
The flesh around the burns is charred, shriveled and dying.
His pants are singed and torn, as if by an animal’s claws.
“What happened to you?” Gabriel breathes, surging to his feet.
His mentor motions for him to sit. Gabriel throws his leg over a fallen log and perches with his hands pressed against the bark.
Elias winces as he sinks heavily onto the ground. Once his back is against the tree, he scoops great handfuls of snow onto his chest.
His teeth clinch in pain, but the grimace slowly fades as the ice begins to melt, trickling down his bare skin.
“I made a mistake,” Elias replies.
His lips press tightly together as he shifts, digging out a fallen branch from beneath him. He chucks it into the forest before meeting Gabriel’s concerned gaze.
“I appreciate your obvious concern, but I will be fine.
Seneh has mended me from wounds far more serious than these.”
Gabriel watches in silence as Elias leans his head back and closes his eyes, exhaling.
“You seem on edge, young one.”
“I need answers, Elias.
I think I deserve them.”
“Indeed.” Elias nods.
“And nothing cryptic this time,” Gabriel rushes to add.
The angel’s chuckle is low and rumbling.
“I believe it is time for you to learn the nature of your second task.”
“But what about Rose”
Elias holds up his hand, silencing Gabriel’s question.
“You will have your time to speak.
For now, just listen please.”
Gabriel reluctantly falls silent, deciding it is far better to get some information than none.
Elias begins again.
“Your first task forced you to sacrifice something dear to you.
You did this by choosing to continue with your mission instead of going to Roseline.
I know this doesn’t make sense, but it was the right decision.
You should know that you are capable of self-sacrifice.
The second task is much like it and yet infinitely more difficult.”
“How so?”
Elias opens his eyes to look at him.
“The first task dealt with your heart.
The second will deal with your flesh.”
Gabriel shifts against the log, not the least bit comfortable with how that sounds.
“And the third?”
“Should you succeed with your second task, the third will focus on your soul.”
“Oh,” Gabriel says, trying for an indifferent shrug.
“Is that all?”
Elias’ gaze hardens.
“Neither of these tasks will be easy, nor should they be taken lightly.
Both will be very dangerous and death is always a possibility.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightens.
He presses his fingers into his thighs until the ache helps to drown out the fear Elias has elicited.
“Do I even have a chance of completing these trials?”
“That depends entirely on you.”
Gabriel surges to his feet, desperate to move.
His hands shake at his sides, riddled with nervous tension.
Unnerved, he turns and slams his fist into a pine tree beside him.
Splinters tear through his flesh as he withdraws his hand, staring at the hole he punched straight through the trunk.
“Feel better?” Elias asks.
“A bit.”
The angel chuckles, shaking his head.
“Still ruled by your human emotions I see.”
“I am human.”
“No.”
Elias pushes up to his feet.
“You
were
human.
Now you are an immortal, the
Arotas.
You need to start thinking like one.”
“And how do I do that?”
He rubs his hand down his arm to remove the splinters from his skin.
Elias steps forward, placing his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder.
“By remembering that today is fleeting, merely a blink of an eye compared to what lies ahead of you.”
“And Roseline?”
A slow smile spreads along the angel’s face.
“She will be waiting for you at the end.”
***
T
he sound of blood dripping against the dirt floor ignites Roseline’s carnal thirst.
She clings to Malachi’s arm, unwilling to let go, even when he shoves at her head.
“Roseline, stop.
You don’t want to overdo it.”
She snarls as she retracts her teeth from his flesh.
Malachi gingerly withdraws his arm, cupping it with his hand.
The wound is larger than normal, his flesh torn as she fought to gulp down a few extra ounces before he pulled away.
“Sorry,” she mutters, swiping the back of her hand across her lips.
Malachi no longer comes dressed like a gentleman.
His attire is plain, with jeans, loafers and a t-shirt, a far more suitable fit for this squalor.
“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” He asks, cradling his arm against his chest.
Blood soaks through the cloth he binds tightly around the wound.
It won’t take long for the skin to repair itself, but the scent of fresh blood makes it hard for Roseline to concentrate.
“I can handle it.”
She swipes her arm along her lips, staring at the crimson smear against her pale forearm.
The urge to lick at it captures her thoughts for several moments.
Malachi sighs and lowers his mended arm onto his lap.
He crosses his legs and leans backward, propped up against the wall.
“We’ve increased your feeding time and it’s still not working.
The poison is spreading too quickly and my blood can only slow the process, not stop it.”
A shiver runs down her spine as she presses back against the cold stone.
The chill never seems to leave her now.
It was the first sign that she was changing, shifting.
She should be thriving off of this damp cold, but instead she is always shivering.
“How long does Lucien plan to keep me here?
Surely he has figured out by now that I’m not transforming.”
Malachi shifts, turning his face away to hide in the shadows.
Her eyes narrow as she detects the increase in his pulse.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing.”
She snatches his arm and digs her nails into his flesh.
“Tell me.”
At first, she thinks he will remain silent, but finally he concedes.
He looks at her with concern in his eyes.
“Lucien has been…preoccupied.”
“With?”
He swallows and pulls her nails free of his arm.
“There has been a rash of killings over the past few days.
Signs left for humans to discover.”
“About us?”
He nods.
“It’s bad.
I can feel a shift in the air.
The streets are deserted at night and most of London’s nightlife has come to a grinding halt.
People are terrified of going anywhere, unsure of where the next attack may occur.
A curfew has been put into effect until a suspect is placed in custody.”