Black Fallen (14 page)

By the next hour, everything changed drastically.

He, Rick Morgan, Andi, and Tristan were in Ellie’s room when her body jerked. That
blasted intubator began to sound its alarm, and within the next second the monitor
indicating her heartbeat let out a long, solid scream. Gawan knew well and good what
that meant. He and Rick Morgan yelled “Nurse!” at the same time.

The nurse ran in, took one look at Ellie, pushed past Gawan, and slammed her fist
against a round silver button on the wall, sending off an alarm overhead.

A code was called.

He was losing Ellie.

The curtain to Ellie’s room was yanked, and in a matter of seconds was filled with
all sorts of hospital staff, squeezing past one another to get to her. A doctor—not
the one who performed the surgery—ran in and yelled, “Someone get these people out
of here!”

And then what his Ellie would have termed A Fiasco ensued. Again.

Because, by the bloody saints above, Gawan wasn’t going anywhere.

While he didn’t want to interfere with Ellie’s care, Gawan knew he could not leave.
Not for one bloody second. He willed the doctor and other staff to ignore everyone
else and simply do their jobs, which they did.

Meanwhile, everyone from the waiting lobby poured out to wait by Ellie’s room. Even
the Grimm ghosts had shown up.

Gawan paced, glanced over shoulders, and swore. Everything was chaotic, Bailey was
crying, Andi was crying, and the men were cursing in various languages.

Gawan lurked in the physician’s mind.

She’s gone.

“Nay!” Gawan yelled at the doctor. “Stay your course. Do you hear? Keep to your bloody
task!” Fury rolled inside him like a great North Sea wave, his insides burned with
it, and as he watched the lifeless body of his beloved laying there, unresponsive,
Gawan let out a battle cry he’d not released in centuries.

And as all eyes turned to him, everything, everyone in Ellie’s room grew completely
silent. No beeping machines, no curses, no commands from the doctor, no weeping. Silence.

With his eyes locked on Ellie’s face, he released something else. An ancient Welsh
verse. Rather, a plea. A barter.

His life force for Ellie’s.

And just that fast, without hesitation, it was done.

A white light boomed into the room, and, silently, everyone squinted against its brightness.
The stillness was deafening.

Like a bolt of lightning, the memories Gawan had shared with Ellie of Aquitaine flashed
through his mind at top speed, yet he saw each one with perfect clarity. And just
at that last second, that last breath of a heartbeat, just before Gawan of Conwyk
vanished into thin air in front of the entire ICU, Ellie opened her eyes and their
gazes locked.

And then Gawan disappeared.

I blink, and the whole scene washes away, and I’m eye to eye with Gawan of Conwyk,
back in the Crescent’s courtyard. I cock my head at the ancient Pict warrior.

“You gave your life force to save Ellie’s,” I say. “Impressive.”

Gawan merely smiles at me, those chocolate brown eyes turning liquid in the courtyard’s
lamplight. “I had no choice.”

We both share a smile, and Gawan nods at Eli and strides across the courtyard to the
Rover. I know now that I want to know lots more about Dreadmoor and Grimm. Hopefully,
I’ll get the chance.

With the team behind me, we watch the two big warriors, along with a somewhat smaller
warrior, climb into the Rover and pull out of the wynd.

“Nice to see chivalry isn’t dead after all,” Ginger says beside me.

Eli’s arm snakes around my waist, and I lean against him.

“Yeah,” I answer. “Nice.”

As we all stand there in the light of the Crescent, me clutching my new scathe, I
glance around at the souls who will have my back and whose back I’ll have. I don’t
really know them, yet I fully and wholeheartedly trust them. I know that the hell
about to break loose in Edinburgh within the next few hours will be unimaginable.

I know we’ll all fight together to end it.

The one thing that bothers me, though, and it’s something I just can’t seem to shake.
I hate it. I wish like hell the thought didn’t exist, but it does.

One of us won’t make it out alive.

Despite my DNA, I’m still the most vulnerable. It may very well be me.

I don’t want to hear you think that again. Ever.
This from Victorian. Moving my gaze to his, I stare. The furrowed dark brows, the
narrowed eyes, and pursed lips all express fierce anger. Even a little fear.
Nothing will happen to you. Do you understand me?

I give a slight grin.
Whoa, step back, my crazy Romanian bodyguard. I’m just being realistic. Keeps me on
my toes.
I frown.
And get out of my head. You promised.

To my surprise, instead of a smart-ass remark, or, more Vic’s speed, a dirty remark,
he stares. Scowls. Then turns away.

Silence.

I mentally shake my head and sigh. Without thinking, I scan the Crescent, up the aged
stone of the former school until my vision rests on a window. My window.

The little white-faced girl stares back at me.

Although my initial reaction is anxiety, it’s over in an instant. I’m not scared of
her. I don’t know why, but I’m not. Something about her intrigues me, and I have a
strong feeling she’s probably the same creepy kid who scared the life out of that
professor so long ago. I wonder what she wants. I have to remember to ask Gabriel
about her later. There has to be a reason why she is seeking me out over all the others.

I hold her gaze for a moment more. I think we might be having a staring contest, and
since I’ve had several with not only my baby brother but also with my dog, Chaz, and
won them all, I’ll see how I hold up with a naughty, creepy Victorian kid spirit.

Several moments later, she disappears.

Riley, one. Creepy little dead girl, zip.

The creaking of the Crescent’s gates draws my attention, and I notice they’re closing.
Peter is hurrying to a side door and quickly disappears inside. As a group, the WUP
team begins to move toward the front entrance. I glance up at the dark sky. Clouds
shift, stretching across the half-moon, and a few stars shine through. A coldness
drifts across the courtyard and whisks in through the doorway behind us.

And with it, that thing I’m starting to recognize more clearly. It’s actually becoming
a nuisance.

Dread.

And that’s when I hear it. Softly, at first—so barely there I almost think I imagined
it. Then I hear it again. It sounds like it’s coming from the street. By Bene’s, maybe?
Close. It’s a kid’s voice. A boy. Teenager. He’s whimpering. Without a thought, I
stand, listening.

“Ri, you coming?” Eli says from the doorway.

“Yeah, just a minute,” I answer. I glance at him. “I’ll be right in.”

Eli stares at me for a moment, then cocks his head. “You okay?”

I smile. “Yep,” I answer. “Just gathering my thoughts. I’m coming.”

More stares, then a nod. He follows the others inside and closes the door. Eli learned
a long time ago to allow me space. This is one of those times I need it.

I hear the whimper again, and I turn my gaze toward the gates. I focus on the boy’s
voice, and everything silences but him. The gates are crystal clear, and I head straight
to them. In one leap, I’m over the wrought iron and am hurrying along the cobbles
to the street. The boy’s voice, his whimpers, is closer. Clearer. I turn left and
jog up the sidewalk. Another set of gates come into view, and, glancing around, I
leap those, too. It’s a church. The whimpers are coming from behind it. I hug the
wall, easing around the old stone building. A cemetery stretches out behind the church,
and across the graveyard I feel it. Another presence. With the boy. No heartbeat,
though. Not a good sign. At least I hear the boy’s heart. Fast, but strong.

Hurrying across the graveyard, I slip over the ground soundlessly. I see shadows coming
from a hollowed-out tomb. Peeking inside, I find the boy crouching in the corner.
Alone. His eyes widen when he sees me, and I press my finger to my lips, shushing
him. The boy shakes his head, and his eyes dart behind me. I glance. Almost too late.

I leap high, bounding off the wall of the tomb, and land in a crouch several feet
away. Before me, bathed in moonlight, an otherbeing. I’m guessing a vampire. Tall.
Wearing dark jeans. Black T-shirt. Black jacket. Gray skully. Maybe midtwenties. At
least, that’s how old he looks.

“Plus a few hundred years, darlin’,” he says in a heavy brogue. “You’re a nice surprise.”

I glance at the boy, still crouched in the corner of the tomb. “Run, kid. Get out
of here. Now.”

The boy doesn’t move. He’s quivering in his shoes. And from the smell of it, he’s
peed his pants. I use a stronger suggestion. “Get outta here, kid. Now. Go home to
your family. Stay off the streets.”

This time, the kid scrambles out of the tomb and hauls ass out of the cemetery. When
I turn back to the guy, he’s right in front of me.

His face suddenly blurs, shifts form, and his fangs drop. Not just two incisors. All
of them. Jagged, sharp fangs that look like they can bite a head off.

He grabs for me, but I duck, leaping out of his grasp and rolling across the stone
and rock. I jump to my feet and he’s staring at me. His eyes are opaque. And before
I can blink, he’s got me by the throat. My toes leave the ground.

“Think you can escape me, little human bitch?” he says smoothly. He slams me on the
ground, then pushes his foot into my chest. “You cannot.” Dropping to one knee, he
draws close to me. “This will be . . . interesting.” Lightning fast, he kicks my jaw.
My head snaps to the side. He’s damn fast. And he’s grinning at me. Pissing me the
fuck off.

My hand slips to my waist, and I pull out my blade. Pressing the tip to his spine,
I smile. “Yeah. It will—”

He’s suddenly off of me, his body slamming into the trunk of an old tree. Eli is completely
morphed. “Babe, your blade?”

I leap to my feet, aim my blade at the newcomer, and throw. Hard. It buries to the
hilt. Eli backs up, just as the body begins shuddering. The vamp drops to the ground.
Dead.

Walking over, I kick my blade out of the vampire pile and pick it up. I wipe the blade
on my pants and glance at Eli. “He was about to kill a kid. I heard him whimpering
from the Crescent.”

Eli drapes an arm over my shoulder and we quit the cemetery. “I’m guessing he got
away?”

I lean into him. “Yeah. He was scared shitless. But he finally ran.” We’re under a
streetlight, and I look up into Eli’s face. “I had him.”

Eli chuckles. “I know you did. I might give you space, darlin’, but if you think I’m
going to just let you run off into the city to fight bad guys alone”—he kisses me
on the nose—“you’re crazy.”

Much later, we’re all in the study, going over maps of Old Town. In front of Eli and
me, an intricate layout of the vaults. An entire network—no, an entire town—once existed
beneath Edinburgh.

“With poor or virtually no ventilation and at times inhuman living conditions, many
inhabitants died there,” Jake says. “Candlemakers, whiskey merchants, shoe cobblers;
they all had businesses below the city. As I said before, the plague wiped out most
of them, and the vaults were left untouched for centuries. Superstitious lot, the
Scots, and for good reason.” He grins. “All those cold wisps of air and hair-raising
spectral shoves are, in fact, real.”

I just stare at him.

“There are any numbers of places to hide down there,” Darius adds. “But we’ve a suspicion,
based on what we know about these particular Fallen, that they use the vaults strictly
as a place of torture,” he says, his face solemn. “For their victims.”

I shudder at the thought. “So where will we find them?” I ask. “And how do we keep
them from knowing who and what we are?” Although one, I believe, already knows me.

“Once you’re spotted the first time, that’s it,” Jake says. “They already know of
Gabriel, me, and Ms. Maspeth,” he says, inclining his head toward Sydney, who still
pores over the old Celtae tomes. “Your element of surprise won’t last long.” He looks
at me. “Use it wisely. As for us,” he continues, “Gabriel has charmed this place.
They can’t reach beyond our gates.”

Well that’s a relief.

“Their tastes run exquisitely high,” Darius adds. “And in their search for the relics
they seek out high-priced antique auctions, among other gatherings.”

“Charity balls, for example,” Gabriel says. He looks at me. “For the women.”

“If you are part of the brethren who killed the Celtae in the first place,” asks Ginger,
looking up from her map of Old Town, “how is it you can’t read those tomes?”

Darius sighs and shoves his hand through his hair. “Because despite our daring overtaking
of the Celtae, they were wily,” he says. “They used the curse of illiteracy against
all of us.” He looks at Sydney. “The only way I could counteract it was to target
Ms. Maspeth’s fate as the Archivist.” His gaze moves back to me. “She unwillingly
sacrificed her entire life to become one of us. Left her home, her family, her job.”

“It is what it is,” Sydney says without looking up. “This is what I do now.”

Darius nods. “We’ve all sacrificed. Without it, mankind would be in peril.”

“You mean ‘serious shit,’” Noah says, looking up from his own map of the city. He
scratches his ear. “I’m restless,” he says, stands and stretches, and crosses the
floor to stand next to where I sit. “I need to go for a run.” He thumps my head and
looks at me. “Ri?”

“Yep,” I say, and look at Eli. I crack my knuckles. “How ’bout you?”

“I need Miles to stay,” Jake says. “Gabriel and I have a few things to go over with
him.”

I stand and pat Noah on the head. “Sorry, old boy,” I grin. “Maybe next time.”