Angel Of Solace (3 page)

“I’m sure I will,” Avrick whispered.

Vaelen eyed him for a few seconds, then stood and clapped him on the back. “Come. Our ship leaves in a few hours, and we need to be ready.”

Avrick nodded, glancing again to the mosaic, his eyes lost in its flames.

***

Damien awoke with a start. His muscles were stiff and he could barely move, and as he experimentally flexed his hand he found his fingers pressing against something soft and smooth…

“How do you feel?”

His eyes shot open wide and he nearly wrenched his back when he jerked his head upwards. He was lying face down on a bed, and a woman sat upright next to him. He realized belatedly his hand was kneading the thin skirt covering her thigh and he quickly pulled it away.

“What…?” The memories flooded back over him; he had been ambushed on board the
Chevalier
and knocked unconscious. He recalled a brief struggle, and then a flash of light before seeing…her?

Yes, it was the same woman who had whispered into his thoughts and then barged into the room to save his life. But in his memory, she had been sheathed in a silvery light, glowing like—

An Angel.

It took him a moment to work that through and realize what it must have meant: despite his best efforts, the Covenant had found him. She hadn’t been saving him on that ship; she had just been there to drag him away before anyone else could. But this didn’t feel like a prison or a brig…

“It’s all right; you’re safe for now,” she soothed, smiling warmly and placing a hand on his shoulder. As her skin touched his, he felt the empathic spark crackle between them, her emotions suddenly washing over his and threatening to drown him…

“Try not to move too quickly,” she warned.

His first impulse was to flee, as shameful as that was, but the pain in his chest quickly scuttled that notion. His second was to fight, but his wounds wouldn’t make that any easier, and if she really was an Angel, there was absolutely nothing he could do to get away.

Damien turned his head and let his eyes slowly bring her into focus—and his breath immediately caught in his throat. She was like nothing he had ever seen before. Her skin was pale, as if it had never once been touched by sunlight, and her irises were an opaque black that seemed to drink all the light in the room. Her hair was pure white and shoulder length, but she couldn’t have been much past twenty. Calling her exotic would have woefully understated the matter; she possessed a delicate, ephemeral beauty that seemed like…well, like something divine. She wore a snug, long-sleeved white shirt and a matching loose-fitting skirt.

He, on the other hand, was wearing nothing.

“Careful,” she warned, sensing his sudden flash of panic.

He jerked away, and a fresh lance of pain stabbed into his gut. He yelped and tumbled over on his side, instinctively clutching at himself. When he lifted his hand, it was splotched with blood.

She sighed softly and leaned over him. “You tore open your stitches.”

“Stitches? What…”

“You cut yourself in the struggle,” she explained, the regret thick in her voice. “You also took a lot of jabs with the shock stick. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them faster.”

“Who are you?” he snapped, grabbing her wrist before she could touch him again. She didn’t struggle in his grip; her arm went limp. “What the hell is going on?”

“I brought you here where it’s safe.”

 “And where is here?”

She smiled tiredly. “Solace.”

Damien tried to blink past the pain and shock and take in his surroundings. They were in a small room by the looks of it, decorated like a hotel or spartan apartment. Daylight trickled in through the only window off to the right.

“My name is Sariel,” she added softly, “or just Sara if you like. You are Damien Vendare, yes?”

He glanced up to her and realized he was still clenching her wrist tightly. He released his grip and pulled his arm back to his side; the wound was burning now. At a glance it didn’t seem infected, but it wouldn’t take much for that to change.

“How do you know that?”

“It’s nothing sinister,” she assured him. “I work for the Asurans. They sent me to make sure you escaped.”

The Asurans…sending an Angel? That made absolutely no sense. Angels were the leaders of the Covenant, even above the priests. They didn’t conspire with groups that harbored Demons like himself.

“So you were there just for me?” he asked skeptically.

“Yes,” she said, then sighed softly. “I want to explain more of this to you, but for now we need to take care of your wound. Will you let me heal it?”

He glanced down to the bloody patch. “You didn’t do a great job the first time.”

“I treated the one on your head that might have killed you and the two burns on your back,” she corrected. “Afterwards I was…weakened.” Her eyes lowered for an instant. “But I believe I’ve recovered enough to handle this.”

Damien touched his fingers to his forehead. He didn’t feel any bruises or cuts, but he did recall a sharp pain before he lost consciousness…

“You see, I know what I’m doing,” she said, her smile returning. “But you will have to trust me. Can you do that?”

He took another minute to survey the room and figure out what was going on before resigning that it was hopeless to protest. He was naked and unarmed, and while she didn’t appear physically imposing, he knew that was a façade. He couldn’t overpower an Angel, not physically or mentally.

 “Fine,” he grunted.

“I won’t harm you,” she soothed, placing a hand on his chest. Again he felt the spark of her mind brushing against his. “I promise.”

He nodded, and she adjusted herself on the bed to press against him. Her right hand moved near his wound while her left brushed across his brow. She was close enough he could feel her breath on his cheek, and her eyes fluttered closed.

And without warning, the spark between their flesh became a current of electricity coursing through his body. Whispers of her thoughts brushed against and then through him, and her emotions swirled together with his own as they had hundreds of times before with his clients back home. But this time he was not squirreling his way into someone’s mind to alter their perceptions, and she was not doing anything to alter his. They were simply connecting, their thoughts and feelings rushing together like a stream pouring into a river.

Damien gasped, and he felt her do the same. No, this was not a normal bond; he wasn’t sure he had ever felt anything this intense, not even with Vala. He could feel Sariel searching around for something, and then a flicker in her thoughts when she finally found it—

“There, just relax,” she repeated. Her voice was even softer now, a siren’s call that was impossible to resist. The burning pain in his side soon became a cool stream of water, and in only a matter of seconds he felt completely refreshed, perhaps more than he ever had in his life.

He turned his gaze upwards to her. Her face was strained, and he could feel her muscles tensing. But most impressively, the silvery radiance he had seen on the ship had returned. It was like her skin itself was glowing from within.

And then suddenly her emotions shifted. A spike of pain tore through her thoughts and a crimson streak spread across her white shirt—in exactly the same spot where his own wound had been.

 “What are you—?”

Her fingers shifted from his cheek to his lips to silence him. Her eyes fluttered rapidly, and Damien touched his side. The wound was gone, just as if it had never been there at all. But her…

On impulse, he reached out to her shirt and slid it upwards just above her taught belly. There her otherwise flawless skin was splotched with blood, just as his had been. He started to speak, to try and understand what she was doing…but then suddenly he felt her pain waning. As the moments passed, the splotch began to fade, and in less than a minute the wound was gone completely.

The Angel’s eyes opened and she seemed to regain her senses. She looked down upon him with a tired smile. “Better?”

He touched the skin on his chest where the wound should have been. “I don’t understand.”

The soft glow surrounding her slowly faded. “I know. But you will.”

He shook his head, his thoughts returning sharply to the fear he had felt only moments before. “You said you work with the Asurans,” he murmured. “How is that possible? Aren’t you with the Covenant?”

Her smile faded and she glanced away. “No. I have nothing to do with them now.”

“I see,” he replied softly, though of course he didn’t. He had never heard of an Angel leaving the Covenant before. It didn’t even seem possible. Weren’t their powers supposed to be directly from God? How could they abandon Him?

“You touched my mind,” she reminded him. “I know you have little reason to trust me, but did you feel any deception?”

He shook his head. The sensations had been so overwhelming he hadn’t really been able to sort them out. Still, he hadn’t felt anything overtly sinister, for whatever it was worth.

“I can’t offer you much in the way of hard proof until we speak with the other Asurans,” she said. “But I can at least answer a few of your questions—once you get something to eat and feel a bit better.”

“All right,” he said, leaning up. His muscles felt fine; in fact, he felt totally revitalized. But he was thirsty. “Where are they?”

“Spread throughout the city, usually in small safe-houses,” she told him. “We can’t afford to stay out in the open with the Covenant and Elassian authorities hunting us.”

“The Elassians hunt you? I thought they didn’t care about Demons?”

She smiled tiredly. “It’s not quite that easy, unfortunately. This is actually one of our safe-houses. I wanted you to get something to eat and have a chance to adjust a bit before meeting the others.”

“How did you manage to get me off the ship? How did you get past the customs officials?”

“Just eat something first,” she insisted. “I promise I’ll do what I can to explain everything.”

He nodded and took her hand. She helped him stand, and he abruptly remembered his nakedness.  

“Er…what happened to my…”

“All your things are over here,” she said with a wry grin. “Come on, let’s get you moving.”

***

The name Incubus conjured up a very particular image—a perfectly sculpted man with a sharp tongue, soft hands, and a willingness to use both. It was the reason the Covenant had chosen such a name, first labeling all of them Demons and then picking a more specific mythological creature. It kept people cautious and mistrustful, almost terrified of a pretty face lest he or she be crawling through your thoughts, sifting through your most private fantasies and darkest secrets.

Damien was that man. His physique was carefully molded as if from a statue, and his long brown hair spilt delicately across his shoulders. His brown eyes were as soft as they were dangerous, betraying a mind that was both compassionate and calculating all at once. Even now that he was fully clothed, Sariel felt drawn to his presence.

Drawn to, but not compelled by. The distinction should have made her happy. In the midst of all that was going on with her and with the Asurans, she didn’t have time for an impulsive tryst with a Demon. She needed to get him prepared to see Kronn and the other Asurans, and that meant focusing on the task at hand.

But instead she had to fight off a fresh wave of despair. The part of her that still felt lust—the human part—grew more dull and listless by the day. A fraction of her mind still tingled at the thought of brushing against him, of wrapping her arms around him, but her body…her body felt nothing at all. It was just a symptom of the wasting disease that was slowly eating away at her, drowning out her humanity piece by piece until nothing remained. 

She turned away and went back to washing the bloodstain out of her shirt before it set. He was dressed and almost finished eating, and she needed to get him acclimated. If she had any hope of surviving this, he was the only thing that mattered.

In a very real, tangible way, he might have been her only hope.

“I apologize for the limited selection,” she said as she walked out of the washroom. He was sitting at the table finishing off the last few bites of some kasha stew. “We ration our food supply pretty tightly.”

He nodded idly. “It’s not bad. Though I was so hungry I probably would have settled for a raw nestle.”