Her Black Wings (The Dark Amulet Series Book 1) (14 page)

CHAPTER

THIRTY-NINE

Amalya

The obvious choice for Amalya had to be Deus’s pick of soul. The lucky bastard’s name was Brandon Smith. Elliott stood back from her and waited.

She looked at him. “Am I supposed to know what to do here?” She couldn’t keep the exasperation out of her tone.

“Well, yes.”

“And that would be…what exactly?”

He mumbled under his breath, something about that she should already know. The problem was she didn’t have a clue. Why would she?

“Just think about him and you’ll get there.”

“What in the world are you saying? I’ll ‘just get there’? Poof, is that it?”

Why can’t he just tell me what to do? But no, Mr. I want to be difficult.

“You’re a pain in my ass?”

“I do my best.” He grinned. “Now concentrate.”

Although it wasn’t necessary to squeeze her eyes shut she did. In reality it actually had helped. She focused on the letters of the name. She saw them being written by her own hand. Tracing the letters over and over again until…

She opened her eyes when she felt the air around her change. All of a sudden, the buzzing she heard ceased.

Beeeep!

Her hair blew forward as a car sped past.

Beeeeeeeep!

Another vehicle raced by her, the gusts nearly knocking her over. She was in the middle of a two lane highway. More cars headed her way as she ran for the side of the road. A car was parked on the shoulder, the driver’s side door open to a field. No one was behind the wheel. Drawn to the blue Chevy, she moved in closer.

A thin man stood about thirty feet into the roadside meadow. She couldn’t tell how old he was—teenager, or maybe in his twenties. His hair was sandy brown.

“Brandon?!”

He looked up squinting, trying to figure out who’d yelled his name. Amalya stood by the car with her arms folded over her chest. Elliott had told her nobody could see her wings unless she let them, except for angels, some innocent children, demons, or others like her. Other
dead
people he’d meant, but didn’t say.

Brandon walked toward her and his car. When he reached nearer to her, he stopped. Studied her. Maybe recognized her. She couldn’t be sure.

“Do I know you?” he asked keeping a cautious distance, looking at her odd clothing and her bare legs and feet.

“I don’t think so. I saw you stopped and thought maybe you needed help.”

He stepped closer, protective of his ride. Her invisible wings flapped, pushing his hair off his forehead. He blinked rapidly at the wind.

“It’s getting windy out here.” He looked over her shoulder then up and down the road. “Where’s your car, lady?”

“I don’t have one.” She put a hand on the hood of the car.

“How’d you get out here?”

“Poofed.” Yeah, she sounded bonkers, but it was the truth.

“Whatever, lady.” He shook his head.

Amalya scanned the area. A sign up the road read
‘M125.’
They were on the rural part south of Monroe.

“What are you doing out here, Brandon?”

His eyebrows knitted together. “How do you know my
name
?”
You don’t even want to know.

“Lucky guess. What are you doing out here?”

“It’s a long story.”

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Her feathers ruffled. One fluttered to the ground, catching Brandon’s eye. He looked up at the sky then shrugged. She bent down and snatched it off the gravel shoulder of the road.

“Wonder where that came from.”

“I don’t.” She pursed her lips.

Brandon blew out a breath and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“I’m not going to steal it.” Like she needed a car. She was a
poofer
now. “So tell me why you’re out here.”

“Look, lady, I—”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not a lady. My name is Amalya.”

“What did you say?”

“Don’t call me lady.”

“No, the other thing, your name.”

“Amalya.”

Brandon looked behind him then back at her. He grasped her biceps. “Are you fucking with me right now?”

She brought her elbows up and yanked her arms out of his hold. “No. And take your hands off me. You have no idea what the last twenty years has been like for me, okay?”

He slid in behind the wheel of his blue sedan. Gravel and dust kicked back at her as the car sped away. No way was this over. She wasn’t going back to Hell.

She concentrated on him, hoping to land in the back seat of his car.

Poof.

“You can’t outrun me, Brandon.”

He hollered. The tires squealed and the car skidded to a stop in the middle of the road. “Take it. Take the damn car.”

“I don’t want this crap mobile.”

It smelled like weed and a stanky woman’s crotch.

“What do you want then?”

“I want to know why you were parked along this particular part of the highway.”

He swallowed and gasped, “You’re freaking me out!”

“Stop yelling please. And you better start driving.”

“Where am I go—?”

Beeeeeeeep.
“Asshole!” an irritated passing motorist screamed out his window.

“I don’t know.” Amalya shrugged. “Where
are
you going?”

Brandon’s hands trembled. Slowly they began rolling forward. Amalya remained mute for a few miles, hoping he’d calm down or at least stop shaking.

“This isn’t real,” he told himself after a while.

“Brandon, I think it’s important you tell me why you were stopped. Maybe we can help each other.”

“This isn’t real. This is a hallucination. A bad trip, that’s all.”

“You’re not trippin’.” The tunic rode up her legs. She slapped her thighs. When she saw Elliott again, she was demanding some underwear. And shoes.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Why do you think that? Trust me when I say nothing would surprise me.”

“If it gets you out of my car and away from me then I’ll tell you anything you want to hear.”

“I only want the truth, Brandon.” She stroked the feathers closest to her hands.

“Can you,
not
do that?” he said shaking his hands at the wheel.

“Do what? Say your name?” She grinned at him in the rearview mirror.

“Yes. Just don’t. Please.”

Amalya eyed his profile as he began to tell her his story. He was kinda cute, if one had a thing for skinny dudes. Brown hair flopped over one of his eyes, which were green. The last time she saw green eyes…

“I witnessed two murders here.”

“Shit.” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. “Go on.”

“Never knew either of my parents. I was abducted by this guy right off the school playground.”

“What year was this?” she asked with her eyes still closed.

“Ninety-five. It was still winter. Early March, so I was seven. Anyway, he picked up this hitchhiker. Not sure why. Maybe he wanted to bang her, I don’t know. Anyway, she found me in the back seat. Completely freaked out.”

Amalya willed herself to the front seat, not even aware of it.

Brandon jumped. “Jesus!”

“What happened next?”

“He pulled over to let her take a leak. I heard something like a cannon going off, then I realized that it was a gun. He shot her. When she tried to drive off—”

Weeping, Amalya finished the story for him. “S-She ran him over with his car. It was already too late…late for her. She prayed for the little boy.”

Unaware he’d pulled over, he turned to her. His eyes were saucers and his face pale. “That’s not all. You’re not done.”

“Something grabbed her. A beast.” Amalya buried her face in her hands. Sobs racked her body.

Brandon pressed his head to the steering wheel, sucking gulps of air in through his mouth. “How?” he whispered.

She didn’t answer. She relived the nightmare inside her mind again and again, churning up every emotion with each moment she re-experienced. The face of her killer etched on her brain. The little boy’s green eyes watched, scarring her.

“Elliott, make this stop,” she pleaded. Her head was spinning out of control. “Elliott, I can’t do this.” There was no answer from the angel. Brandon was saying something; she could see his lips moving.

She rocked in the seat and thought about Elliott’s platinum blond hair, the look of his ebony eyes. Shiny tar pits, impossible to read. A million other places existed for her to escape to, but only one came to mind.

Elliott…

CHAPTER FORTY

Elliott

Water pelted Elliott’s back. He was in the middle of a third shower in a day and a half, and still not feeling a hundred percent clean. Would he ever? The long gashes in his back where his wings had been only closed enough to make wearing clothing tolerable. The shower stung. But he liked it. Physical pain dimmed the emotions. That and the six shots of Jim Beam he’d drunk over the last half hour.

He sluiced water through his hair, shaking out the ends, making sure the shampoo suds rinsed away. When he reached to shut the spray off his shoulder and hip were pushed into the tiled wall, throwing him off balance. He grunted and scrambled, failing to stay upright.

Amalya slipped on the wet porcelain, banging into him. She fell, taking him down with her.

“Ohhhh shit!” A wet and naked Elliott landed right on top of her, getting a mouthful of her feathers. When he pulled his head back, a downy one stuck to his lip. He blew at it, but it stayed.

He sat back on his knees, water still raining down on the two of them.

“What are you doing in here?” he barked, unaware of the sharpness in his tone.

Amalya was crying, or he’d made her. Either way he felt like an ass despite the liquor.

“I’m sorry. Are you hurt?”

A whimper left her throat.

“Shit, you are hurt.” Trying to get into a position to assess any injures proved futile. Slick soapy water remained in the tub via the slow drain.

They both tried to get up at the same time and slipped, falling together in a tangled heap of arms, legs, and feathers. His face planted between her breasts. He lifted his head. Her white tunic had plastered to her body, see-through from the water. Her nipples poked the fabric from the inside. Turning his head, he snaked down her body. Big mistake. Her thighs were parted and her shirt was up to her waist. He hardened.

“Oh…God,” he gasped.

Beautiful. Want to kiss that.

“So s-sorry…shhhit.” Perching on his knees, he covered his man junk with his hands.

“I’m all right,” she breathed. “Just surprised.”

“Then why the tears?”

She stared at him, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy.

“Never mind. What happened? I take it you found Brandon Smith.” The look on her face told him a hug would probably be appropriate right now. Yeah. Right. A hug
and
a bonus. He snorted then chuckled at himself.

Amalya sat up with effort. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Elliott said as he laughed a little. Squeezing his eyes closed, he willed his mind not to see the humor of his current state. “Come on, tell me what happened.” he said, chuckling again on the last word.

“Forget it. I don’t know
why
I came back here.” She pushed up and got out of the tub, dragging her wings over the lip.

“Amalya, w-wait.” Elliott couldn’t stop being amused with himself. “I’m sorry. I swear I’m not laughing at you. Just…look at me.” He uncovered and stood up.

She spun around and crossed her arms, her eyes on his face. “What exactly am I looking at?” Elliott flushed and looked down his body. “Oh.” Amalya’s eyes widened, ogling his stiff cock. Everything quivered as he cracked up. “Whatever.” She strode out of the bathroom.

He chased after her. “Tell me what happened. I promise, I’ll behave. I really needed that laugh though. So thanks.”

She smirked. “What did I do? You’re the one who’s naked, not me.”

“Uh, you’re practically naked,” he said then whispered, “you don’t have any panties on.”

“Whose fault is that?”

Elliott reared his head back and roared a rich baritone laughter.

“Glad you find this all so amusing,” Amalya said, sauntering up to him with an alluring smile.

He backed up, keeping his eyes locked on her curves, his expression worried. The water soaked shirt clung to her full breasts. “What are you doing?” Closing his eyes, he turned his head away, unable to meet her gaze any longer. She was beautiful and all wet. Water dripped onto the carpet off her wings and from her soggy clothing.

She giggled even though she wanted to be in a bad mood. Not stopping the advance, she asked, “Are you a virgin?”

“No.” He turned red.

“Are you suuure?”

“It’s just…we can’t.”

“Okay. If that’s how you feel. Then I’m confused. Explain something to me. Why did you want me to see your hard-on? I assume it’s for me…because of me, I mean.”

“I’m an idiot?”

Creeping closer she sniffed. “Are you drunk?”

“A little,” he said, pinching the air.

“I thought angels were supposed to be all virtuous and crap.” Amalya huffed and stalked back into the bathroom, leaving the door open. She dumped the tunic on the floor and wrapped herself in a towel.

“Not really, at least not in the sense you’re familiar with.” Angels adhered to their own code of conduct. Although, angels generally followed the moral reasoning of man, mostly.

“What does that mean?” she asked as she appeared in the doorway to the bedroom.

Elliott shrugged. “You know the seven deadly sins…they’re a construct of humans. We aren’t in the business of harming humans. As you can see, the opposite actually.”

“Okaaay. Then why help humans at all?”

“Why not?”

She furrowed her brow. “I don’t get it.”

“It’s not to understand. Some things just are and we accept them.” Elliott sat on the end of the bed and put his head down.

“All right.” She walked around to the other side of the bed, closest to the window.

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. Elliott remained seated. He ran his fingers through his wet hair. “Amalya, I’m sorry about earlier. I need to do better by you. I…I have problems,” he confessed.

She drew the blankets back, getting ready to lie down, and paused. “This goes deeper than your wings, doesn’t it?”

Elliott pretended to ignore her, even though he knew she deserved an explanation for his inappropriate behavior. It was easier not to answer her than to deal with his past. For a long time, he’d thought everyone could be redeemed. He’d learned this wasn’t always true. The guilt of not being able to help all of the humans he’d been assigned to had built up and weighted him down. One too many failures had put him in a bad place emotionally. He laid back on the bed without saying a word.

Amalya got into the bed and flipped the covers up to her neck. “You know what, don’t answer me, I don’t even care.” Her hand stuck out beneath the blanket and she deposited the towel on the floor.

“Amalya, I’m sorry. What happened with Brandon? I wanna help you.”

“No. Forget it. Too late. I’ll figure it out on my own.”

That’s what I’m afraid of.