Blood Redemption (Angel's Edge #3) (20 page)

“There,” I pointed, indicating Jack’s room. “He came to me from that one. I’ve never been inside. I couldn’t make the jump.” I grimaced. “But he could.”

He eyed me critically. “I won’t risk you now, Caspia. I will go and retrieve this boy if he is there to be found. You must stay right here and wait for us.” He poked me squarely in the chest with a cold, unbending finger. “Remember what you promised.”

I nodded miserably. I didn’t want to stay here, alone, but knew I had no chance to make it across to the other balcony, and to insist that Asheroth carry me, if he even could, would only slow him down. I looked at the rocky ground far below and thought of falling to my death. “Be careful,” I squeaked, tearing my gaze back up to his. I thought I saw him smirk.

“Don’t worry, Caspia Chastain.” He flexed his abyss-wings as he climbed up onto the edge of the balcony railing. “I’ll be right back.”

This high up, the wind was strong enough to whip his hair into his eyes. And then he leapt with the predatory grace of a large cat, landing on the railing of the other balcony effortlessly. He gave me an enormous, Cheshire-cat grin, and disappeared through Jack’s doorway.

Leaving me alone again in the Twilight Kingdom.

strong blast of wind almost knocked me off my feet. I grabbed on to the railing for support and wished I was wearing something more substantial like a heavy coat or something. Everything was cold here: the stone hallways, the floor beneath my feet, the sharp biting breeze across the balcony.

I brushed my hair back from my face and watched the door Asheroth had disappeared into. I couldn’t see anything, not even a light. I tried to ignore the feeling of apprehension that clawed its way up the back of my neck. What if Jack wasn’t there at all? What if he’d switched rooms, or was training with the other Nephilim? Or worst of all, what if Belial had him again? I remembered the time he’d come to my apartment, his back shredded by a Hellhound.

No. I wouldn’t think that way. Asheroth would find him. He had to. I had come because we needed Jack to fight both the Light and the Dark, but standing there surrounded by a demon’s wasteland, I realized he was more than a human weapon to me. I was also there because I wanted him back.

Ethan was going to be so pissed.

A familiar chill swept behind me. It tugged at my memory, reminding me of… I couldn’t quite place it. I stepped backward into the threshold of the balcony door, hoping to shield myself from the cold just a little, and the feeling intensified. Alarmed now, I spun around, hands clenched into fists at my side in case I needed to use them.

And found myself surrounded by nothing more than a foggy mist. A Grey Lady hovered just in front of me, surrounding me with her incorporeal form. She floated backward a few inches and stopped as if beckoning me to follow. Spectral arms waved me further into the room, but I stayed put, more alarmed than anything else. I knew so little about the Grey Ladies. What if this one had some way of alerting Belial, or the less friendly Nephilim? What if they were on their way now? I debated calling out to Asheroth, but decided that would make too much noise. Instead, I studied the gray form as its gestures became more and more frantic.

When I refused to budge, it floated away from me, across the room and over to the wardrobe. Her mannerisms became more pronounced, to the point that parts of her appeared almost solid. Something about her seemed vaguely familiar, and I remembered the single Grey Lady who had often hovered near me during my time here. Was it the same one? She gestured to the wardrobe with what looked like arms.

“What?” I snapped, out of fear and impatience. “What do you want from me?” But she just stood there beside the wardrobe, reaching for it again and again with hands that couldn’t touch. “You want me to… what? Open that?” As she pulled with increasing insistence at the wardrobe’s door handle, her misty hands actually became firm enough to look like fingers.

I cast a long look out the door and at the other balcony. No sign of anyone yet― not so much as a flicker of light or a shadow of movement. Surely there was time to see what the Grey Lady was so desperate to show me. My conscience tugged at me as I remembered my promise to Asheroth. “Stay right here,” he’d told me.

But when had I ever done as he asked?

I stepped around the four poster bed and approached the creature hesitantly. “All right,” I told her. “I’ll open it, just stand back.” I didn’t want any part of her touching me. I remembered walking through her once before, and it had been almost pleasantly cool, but tonight was full of dangers and darkness. I didn’t want any contact with the creatures of the Dark Realms.

She obeyed, and the wooden door, ornate with carvings, creaked slowly open. Nothing hung on the clothes rod, and most of the shelves were empty. A mirror ran the full length of the back of one of the doors, and for a moment my own reflection startled me. A pale girl with violet shadows under her eyes stared back at me, her dark hair wild and tangled, wearing clothes that hung too loosely on her body. It had been so long since I’d stopped to look at myself. I almost didn’t know who I was.

The Grey Lady appeared at my shoulder in the mirror, her soft moan making me jump. She indicated the upper most shelf. It was the only one that had anything on it. Unnerved by her closeness, I reached up and felt for the object, my hand landing on something soft, but smooth.

Leather. There was a pile of leather up there. A growing excitement made me rip down the bundle with both hands.

Black leather, a garment of some kind. I wanted to weep with relief. Instead I held it close to my heart like I would a frightened baby because I knew what it was now. Ethan’s jacket. The jacket he had given me so very long ago, the very one he had buttoned me into when we’d been attacked by Asheroth and his minions. The battle armor that had saved my life many times, that I thought had been lost to me forever.

The Grey Lady had grown still and quiet as if pacified now that I’d found it. “Thank you,” I whispered, stroking the material.

I began to unroll it to put it on. It would protect me here, and that was good, but mostly I wanted some reminder of Ethan next to my skin. It made me feel anchored, even loved.

But as I continued to unfold it, something clanked from inside its folds. Something hard and metallic. I laid the half-folded jacket out on the heavy velvet bedspread, afraid of dropping whatever was inside. With shaking fingers I peeled back the fabric, and stood stock still in shock. My daggers had been folded up inside it. My twin daggers that Asheroth had given me, the ones that belonged to the first Caspia. Now I really felt like crying. As I reached out to caress the hilts, I remembered the one and only time I had used them to cut through Asheroth’s jacket, slicing open his stone angel’s skin.

I had my weapons back. I could cut through angels and demons alike. I slid one out of its sheath, watching the shadows dance off its long straight surface. The weight of them felt instantly familiar, and I knew then the use of them was carried in my blood. Ethan had Azazel’s sword, and I had the daggers. Together, we could do serious damage to any angel, Fallen or otherwise, that got in our way. “Thank you,” I said to the near-apparition. I wasn’t sure who had saved my most precious possessions from Belial, who had thought to hide them away, but she had obviously had something to do with it. I tucked the knives into their sheaths and slipped them into the back pockets of my jeans. The leather jacket I tucked under my arm.

Two things happened so quickly I wasn’t sure which of them was first. The door to my room flew open, revealing Belial standing there with a smirk on his face. And the Grey Lady rushed me, wrapping me in her mist so completely it was like being swallowed by a storm cloud.

Images pressed themselves into my brain, so quickly it was hard to make sense of them. I saw a frost-rimed window with many panes of glass, a young girl’s reflection gazing right out at me. Honey blonde hair and gray eyes shone silver in the moonlight, and it was clear she had been crying. Behind her, a man stood watching her with ink black hair and eyes the color of diamonds. I could just make out the shadow of something shimmering white at his back.

It took a moment to sink in. Asheroth, I realized. I was looking at my guardian before his wings had turned into sucking black holes. Before he had Fallen.

But I didn’t have time to make any sense of the vision. Belial strode into the room. The Grey Lady backed away, squeezing herself into a tight corner behind the wardrobe door. Belial seemed not to notice her. Instead he advanced on me slowly, each step deliberate and predatory.

“It was only a matter of time before I got you back,” he said softly, his sightless eyes fixed directly on me. “I would have burned your little town to the ground, killing everyone in it, to possess you again. Not just because I need you, but because you ran away.” His boots made sharp clicking sounds on the flagstone floor as he approached me, punctuating each word. “But instead, you have my gratitude for making it so easy on me.” He prowled even closer. I backed up as he advanced until the cold wind from the open balcony door cut through my thin cotton shirt. He wore the same black suede trimmed with silver that was the uniform around here, and his wings were terrifying. I realized he had never extended them before. So tall they brushed the ceiling, his wings looked like they harbored fierce storms in their depths. Silver fire crackled deep within the abyss, and the edges weren’t ragged like other Fallen angel’s. Instead, Belial’s wings were rimmed with fire. “No one,” he sneered, “runs away from me. No one.”

I held Ethan’s jacket up between us like a shield, wishing hard that I’d spent less time petting it and more time putting it on. I edged a hand toward my dagger and then froze as I saw over Belial’s shoulder into the hallway behind him. It was filling up with people. And things.

Other Fallen angels, their abyss-wings unfurled, in jackets of different textures and fabrics rushed in. They were all fully armored, then. Nephilim, also in house colors, hovered just beyond the threshold. Some I’d seen before. I even recognized tiny Caroline Bedford, looking miserable beside a scar-faced Nephilim who held her roughly by her upper arm. A familiar deep snarl erupted and I backed up even further until I was all the way out on the balcony with nothing but the gut-wrenching sky above my head. Hellhounds. Caroline must be controlling them again. At least, I hoped she was, and they weren’t running wild. The room filled up even more as Belial’s forces followed him in.