Blood Redemption (Angel's Edge #3) (12 page)

“Actually, it’s been more like fifteen,” a voice I recognized too well said acerbically. Asheroth. Trust him to be the one to break us apart. It took me a moment to realize I had spoken out loud. I blushed. Even Ethan seemed sheepish. I broke the kiss to bury my face in his leather-clad shoulder.

“What do you want?” I growled.

“Oh, nothing. I was just thinking of how I fought to save your life back there. You’re welcome, by the way.” Asheroth’s tone was one of barely restrained fury. “And while we’re at it, I think the events of a few minutes ago deserve some discussion. Don’t you?”

“If we must,” Ethan said softly, smoothing back my hair. He wrapped an arm around me and moved me until he had tucked me into his side. I fit perfectly against him, our hips touching, and the sides of our bodies locked together. I never wanted to leave.

And I really, really resented Asheroth for the interruption. I nuzzled Ethan’s neck, ready to forget about mad Fallen angels for an eternity.

But mad Fallen angels weren’t ready to forget about me. I barely had time to register the cold, statue-like hand that wrapped itself around my arm. He yanked me from Ethan’s grasp and held me away from him.

But not so far that I could ignore the burning rage buried in his diamond eyes.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he shouted at me. I winced at the force of the anger in his voice. “Do you have the faintest idea what this has cost us?”

Ethan was at my side in an instant, pulling on Asheroth’s arm. “Let her go, Ash,” he said with a growl lacing his words. “It’s not her fault.”

“I would have thought you’d be happy to see me,” I said to him. My eyes snapped silver in the moonlight; I could feel my own banked fury boiling over.

“You have broken our wards,” he hissed, low and deadly. “By bringing that… creature here, you have ensured that he can do it again, and again, and again… as many times as he wants.”

“Put her down, Asheroth,” Ethan said again. There was steel buried in his voice now, and even the mad Fallen angel noticed. I looked to see Ethan holding Azazel’s sword in his hands once again. The blade was still dark with blood under the shadow of the half moon. “Let her go, or I swear I will cut you down.”

He stood, straight and tall, unafraid for his own safety. Inwardly, I wanted to cheer. There was little which Asheroth was afraid of, but this blade was definitely on the list. I knew because I had once cut him with one of my daggers, made of the same material as the blade Ethan held now.

I realized that Belial must have them now. I had given the demon the ability to injure angels and humans alike when I was taken to the Twilight Kingdom. With a pang of fresh guilt, I knew that this really was all my fault.

“You’re right,” I said in a whisper. “Asheroth’s right. None of this would have happened if not for me, and my stupid plans. I should never have tried to shut the both of you out.” Fresh tears sprang to my eyes. “Never.”

All of a sudden, the punishing hold Asheroth held me in turned into a bone-crushing hug. “If you ever, and I mean ever, do something like that to me again, I will hunt you down and… haunt you, or something.” He buried his cold face in my hair. I thought―for just a minute―that something like a tear wet my cheek. But it must have been my imagination, because angels, even Fallen ones, didn’t cry.

Did they?

“We’re not safe here,” Asheroth said into my hair. He lowered me gently to the ground. “The compound has been compromised.” He didn’t remind me again that it was my fault, for which I was grateful.

“What are our options?” Ethan asked. He was at my side again, his arm around my shoulder possessive and strong.

“Stay here and risk Belial coming back for her, or travel… elsewhere. We’ll have to go to one of the other Guardians,” Asheroth said. “To Blackwood Lodge.”

Blackwood Lodge was where we’d hidden Logan. No matter what the consequences of my actions would be, at least I would get to see my brother again. I ignored the warning that clenched in my gut: that my presence would make it easier for Belial to find Logan, and focused on the silver lining, however small, instead.

stood beside Ethan, his arms wrapped tight around me as we stared into the portal to Blackwood Lodge.

“Remind me why I’m doing this again?”

My voice shook a little as I lingered in front of the arch-shaped vortex. It swirled with dull colors: dingy white and smoky gray, shot through with threads of black. It looked hungry and angry. “You want me to walk through that?” I asked again, for the tenth time since I’d first seen it. Doubt and fear rocked me, even though two of the people I trusted most in the world stood on either side of me.

“It will be fine,” Ethan whispered into my ear. I shivered a little at the sensation, and pulled closer to him.

On the other side of me, Asheroth actually groaned before enunciating as if for a very small, and not particularly bright, child. “This is the portal that will take us to the Western Guardians. The Blackwood family, remember them?”

“How could I forget?” I eyed the hellish-looking opening warily. It didn’t inspire confidence.

“You’ll like Blackwood Lodge,” Ethan promised, taking my hand in his. “It’s… different.”

“Plus, there’s the small fact that you set my house on fire and broke my wards. There’s really no place else.” Asheroth snorted.

“And I know you want to see your brother,” said Ethan.

Logan! He was the best thing about this whole crazy plan. I would get to see him after what seemed like months of absence, when really it had only been a few days for me, and a couple of weeks for him. And Cassandra and Mrs. Alice would be there, too.

Holding tightly to Ethan’s hand, I prepared to step into the whirling gray vortex. No one was more surprised than me when Asheroth took my other hand. My mad Fallen angel was not a touchy-feely kind of guy. His preferred method of contact was to hold me by the back of the neck like a puppy. But this time, he held me lightly as if I was made of papier-mâché and might rupture at any minute. Knowing his strength, it was just possible that I might.

We stepped forward into the portal itself. It was so disorienting; the world of Asheroth’s compound disappeared around me, and I was left in what felt like a state of temporal nothingness. I was neither here nor there, but somewhere in between, with no anchor but the man I loved and the Fallen angel I feared as much as I trusted.

Just as I was thinking of Asheroth and calculating the odds of my safety, a familiar electric darkness sparked from my palms. It shocked me because always before, the Shadows appeared gradually, creeping over my hands with agonizing slowness. They had never felt like sparks before. The feeling was one of angry ants marching outwards from my palm. I felt uneasy; I didn’t like it that the dark part of me was doing something unpredictable.

And then I watched in horror as the Shadows turned into literal fireworks, sparking from my hands and exploding like a dark Fourth of July. I tried as hard as I could to force the Shadows back into myself, but I knew from bitter experience that they would not respond. There was nothing to do but let out the darkness and hope no one got hurt.

The vortex must have been feeding them somehow, providing the energy the Shadows needed to become wildly unpredictable and dangerous. Even I didn’t know the full potential of what it was that broke out on my hands, and sometimes swallowed my entire body. I knew my ability could be deadly to mortals and immortals alike. With a cry, I wrenched my hands from both Ethan’s and Asheroth’s. I was untethered now―not alone, exactly, but unpinned like I was spinning alone in space. I struggled to connect with something, anything, and could find only the vortex and my own electric fire.

Stone hands anchored on my shoulders. Asheroth. He pushed me from behind, so hard the strength of him bruised me. Asheroth’s efforts must have worked because the void vanished and fell forward through the portal. Momentarily blinded, I landed on my hands and knees. Roughly cut grass rubbed against my skin. Newly and unevenly mowed, it tickled my nose with its sharp, pungent scent. I wanted nothing more than to collapse on the ground right in front of me.

But Ethan wouldn’t let me. He pulled me up, brushing my hair from my face. “What happened back there?” he asked, quietly disturbed. I could read the urgency in his eyes. “I’m not sure,” I had to admit. “It was frightening, though. That was more powerful than anything I’ve felt before. And it seemed like I had even less control than usual.” Not for the first time, I wondered if I was a danger to my friends and allies.

To distract myself, I tried to take in as much of my new surroundings as I could. We stood in a low meadow, bright with sunlight and dotted with wildflowers. Copses of trees cast inviting patches of shadow around the perimeter. A small brook wound its way through the trees at the edge of the clearing, gurgling musically. The air smelled wonderful here―fresh and full of promise. It was even better than the air around Asheroth’s compound.

“I don’t know everything I can do yet,” I said. “I’m not sure what just happened, but I’m glad I didn’t hurt anyone. I couldn’t forgive myself if I did that.”

Ethan shushed me with a gentle kiss to the top of my head. He laced my hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“The wards must have sensed her as a threat.” Asheroth came to stand beside me.

I didn’t blame him for his caution. If normal Shadows could hurt someone as powerful as Belial, how much worse would unpredictable ones be?

Asheroth shrugged and gave me a look that was impossible to interpret. “Maybe they still sense some of the Twilight Kingdom on you.”

Belial’s realm was a bad smell I couldn’t quite shake off.

Ethan and Asheroth led me across the clearing to a large, ramshackle house. It was the oddest sort of dwelling; open porches ran the length of the front. The main part consisted of a narrow, three story structure covered in dark wooden shingles. Additions jutted off in all directions, each of them very different on the outside as if they had been constructed across a variety of eras. One small wing was built like a log cabin while another, on the opposite side of the house, was the very best of modern vinyl siding. A brick tower rose from behind the whole thing, casting a long shadow across the yard. The entire place looked as if it had been cobbled together by a child building houses out of Lincoln Logs and Tinker Toys and Legos. But the crazy architectural styles seemed to work together in a bizarre kind of harmony.