SOUL MATES (Angels and Demons Book 3) (13 page)

That seemed to soothe something deep inside Ellie’s soul. A tear slipped down her cheek as she drifted off to sleep, and an obvious break in her ankle healed right in front of Stiles’ eyes. He knew that if he touched her, he would feel the healing process significantly speeding.

It wasn’t the toll Joanna had taken on her body that had slowed her healing abilities. It was the guilt she’d carried around for forty-five years that had done it. Now she would be all right. Whatever that meant for her future, he was unclear, but he was glad this chapter of all their lives was finally being put to rest. Maybe now they could all look forward to the future, whatever that might bring.

Dylan studied this dark soul as she had countless others, noting the differences in it. The colors were unsteady, the darkness undulating like a breeze on the surface of a pond. The others, their darkness was steady, calm, and overpowering. This one, it was as though something was fighting the darkness even as it overtook everything that was once pure about the soul. Like it had been in Ellie’s soul—only more.

“Stiles told you this?”

Wilhelm nodded. “He spoke to her and she actually responded. He’s the only one she’s spoken to since she separated from the other’s body.”

“Oh, Joanna,” Dylan sighed. “Things could have been so different. They should have been different.”

The soul shifted, but that was its only response.

“He’s up there in heaven now,” she said softly. “He died of cancer. Too soon. But he’s happy up there. I’ve seen him.”

Again the soul shifted.

“And Jimmy. He’s gone now, too. For years. But he lived a good, long life. He married again and had more children. He loved them so much.”

He always wanted a houseful,
she said, her voice reverberating inside Dylan’s head as it had years ago when Dylan was near her time with Josephine.
He always loved children.

Dylan bit her lip to keep tears from flowing freely. “He did. He adored his granddaughter.”

The undulating colors took on a new hue, a lighter hue, as Dylan spoke.

“Jimmy was so good to me. He gave me advice that I will never forget. He talked about you sometimes. He told me once that you were one of only four women he’d ever truly loved.”

The soul moved closer to the bars of the cell where it was confined.

He loved me.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Dylan said. “He was a man who loved with all his body and soul. Surely you knew that about him.” A soft smile touched Dylan’s lips. “Wyatt was that way, too.”

My boy,
Joanna whispered softly.
I never wanted to be a mother. But the moment I saw him…

“Wyatt was like that. He made people want to love him.”

The colors faded even more, allowing a peek of Joanna’s human face to appear. Dylan couldn’t help herself, she had to touch it. Her fingers began to glow with the colors of her ethereal form as she reached for her, their colors mingling for a moment.

“He loved you,” Dylan said. “Even after everything he knew about you—after all the lies—he still wanted to know more about you. He wanted to know where you were and that you were okay. It’ll be so nice to be able to tell him now that I know what happened to you all those years ago.”

Tell him I’m sorry,
Joanna whispered.

The last of the darkness disappeared and, for an instant, Joanna stood before Dylan as a fully formed soul. She was beautiful, just as she had been in her human form, the bright light at the core of her soul shining with an intensity that should have been painful to Dylan’s human eyes, but wasn’t. And then she began to dissipate, her soul breaking up into nothingness and becoming one with the energy that existed all around them.

Tears flowed freely down Dylan’s cheeks.

“Goodbye, Joanna.”

It was a long moment before Dylan got control of herself. She turned, intent on telling Wilhelm…something. She couldn’t really remember what it was she had intended to say because she caught sight of Stiles the moment she turned, leaning ever so casually against the wall at the bottom of the stairs—in Stiles’ style. But there was a war going on behind those calm, gray eyes of his. He turned away, disappearing before he’d taken a full step.

“No, Stiles…”

She knew where he’d go. She knew him like she knew herself. She knew where he went when he was hurting and knew his favorite hideaways just as she knew she preferred bananas with her breakfast toast.

“You’ve got to stop running from me.”

He was leaning against a tree. The tree. It was the tree under which they’d kissed for the first time.

She couldn’t help herself. It felt good to laugh, to really laugh with a rib-aching intensity. It seemed like the first time in a lifetime. And, hearing Stiles’ voice join hers, it was nice. Laughter wasn’t as much fun when there was no one to share it with.

And then the laughter died a natural death and his eyes met hers, laughter still dancing in them. She was so used to the sadness that often filled his eyes that she didn’t recognize them with so much merriment in them. It made her feel weightless, like she was floating in the light in his eyes.

Then his lips touched her and it was as if her heart shuddered to a stop.

She was so young and naïve then. But she knew there was something special about his kiss. It lifted her up in a way Sam’s hadn’t, in a way that not even Wyatt’s ever had. There was something about Stiles that took her to places no one else could ever go. They were connected on a level that was more than love, more than friendship, more than everything two humans could be to one another. They always had been.

She knew it now. She had chosen him. It wasn’t a coincidence that Jimmy had pulled her into the past at the moment Stiles was standing there beside that warehouse, waiting for Joanna to come along. She didn’t tell him he would become her guardian just because that’s the way it had always been. All of these things happened not because of some tentative connection to Jimmy, nor because of her connection to Wyatt. All of those things had only brought her to this moment, to this understanding, but they hadn’t been the point.

Stiles was the point.

Stiles was her soul mate.

“Maybe you should stop chasing me.”

He felt her move closer to him—felt her hand land on his shoulder. He pulled away, stepping away from their tree, this place where spontaneity overtook him for the first time in—well, ever—and he kissed her. He regretted it afterward, too aware that it was already too late. She was in love with Wyatt and probably had been from the moment she first saw him. If he had been the first to appear to her, if he had gone to her that morning as he had intended, would things have been different?

A part of him knew it wouldn’t have been. And that part was glad for it. That part of his soul that had loved Rebecca with every fiber was glad that Dylan chose Wyatt and that he’d had that time with Rebecca. But the part of him that was drawn to Dylan from the moment she appeared to him beside that warehouse in Jimmy’s little survivor colony would never forgive Wyatt for stealing her affections and giving her the one thing Stiles would never be able to: a child.

“I thought you would be happy to know that Joanna finally crossed. She’s gone now. She won’t ever hurt any of us again.”

“I am glad for that.”

“But you’re angry with me.”

He shook his head. “I’m resigned.”

“Resigned to what?”

He didn’t even want to say it. It felt petulant, like a child complaining about a parent’s favoritism toward a sibling. But he didn’t want to play this game anymore, either.

“For more than sixty years I’ve watched over you, Dylan,” he said, turning to look at her. “For more than sixty years I’ve given up everything to ensure that you became what God wanted you to be, to make sure you fulfilled your destiny, or whatever humans are calling it now. I’ve been patient; I’ve been understanding. But I…” He shook his head even as the sight of her—the color on her cheeks and the happiness dancing in her eyes made his heart swell and break all at the same time. “I can’t compete with a ghost.”

“Neither can I.”

His eyebrows rose. “What ghost are you competing with?”

“Rebecca.”

He groaned. “You know that Rebecca and I…that was a human relationship, a human love. It’s nothing like the soul mate connection.”

“Isn’t it?” She came toward him and pressed her hand against his chest, just over his heart. “Tell me it didn’t kill you when she died. Tell me that you don’t still think of her every minute of every day, and I might believe you.”

He stepped back, the feel of her touch was too much for him in this moment. It was either step back or take her into his arms and make that first kiss look like a chaste peck on the cheek.

“Tell me Rebecca means nothing to you and I’ll never bring it up again.”

“That’s not fair.”

“How is it not fair? You had Rebecca for nearly as long as I had Wyatt. She provided you with something you needed, a calming presence that helped you grow as a man, as an angel and as a guardian. And Wyatt…he taught me so many things—I would not be the person I am now if it had not been for him.”

“Things I couldn’t teach you?”

“Maybe.” Dylan laughed, a humorless sound that fell from her lips like so many bricks. “I don’t know. You were always my guide, the one who had all the answers, even when some of those answers were lies. But now…we’re forging a path no one has ever walked before. We’re both lost.”

Stiles stared at the ground for a moment. “Are we?” he finally asked.

“Are we what?”

“Are we forging a path together?”

“You’ve always known. I don’t know how, or why, but you’ve always known that it was meant to be you and me. How can you ask me that?”

“Because I can feel your thoughts and your emotions. I know everything that goes through that pretty little head of yours.”

“Do you?”

He turned away, no longer interested in playing this little game. He’d been patient for all these years. He wasn’t doing it anymore.

Maybe he’d go back to Dytonia and look up that young, nubile girl. Caryn. That was her name, wasn’t it?

“I choose you,” Dylan said as he began to step into his ethereal form.

And it was as if a bomb had gone off.

Leaves and debris burst into the air with dirt flying so high that it was like a tornado threatening to crush everything around them. Stiles was pulled backward, his soul tugged with a force that threatened to pull it completely out of his human form. And Dylan, she was there, in his arms with laughter and tears streaming from her lips and her eyes, dripping over the bottom edge of her chin. And then the orb that he’d buried under the tree dug itself out, the box bursting into a million pieces as the orb grew and swelled, suddenly exploding in a rainbow of colors, the light so bright that he had to close his eyes to protect them from the intensity of it all.

Stiles was thrust backward as the light rushed over him and Dylan. He was actually lifted off his feet, Dylan too, and her hands searched for his as a rush of power like nothing Stiles had never felt rushed through his body. He could feel change; he could feel his natural angel abilities changing, growing, and becoming something more. He was no longer just an angel. He was now an archangel—more powerful than even Raphael was. His body was brimming with things he never could have imagined. He looked at Dylan, suddenly appreciating the struggle she must have lived with if her gifts were even fractionally as intense as this when they first manifested outside the walls of Genero.

Just as suddenly as it all began, it ended.

Stiles fell to the ground, landing on his feet like a falling leaf.

“We have to go,” Dylan said, grabbing his hand.

“What? Why?”

“I know,” she said, laughter spilling from her full lips again, filled with joy this time. “I know how to stop them.”

They landed in Dytonia as humans screamed and fled to their homes. Other humans, possessed with demons, rushed after them, weapons in their hands. More demons descended on the town in huge droves, the sight something like the heavy clouds that hung in the sky just before a powerful thunderstorm. It was as though something had called them to this place.

In the center of it all was Gabriel, his hands lifted to the sky.

“It’s Jack James,” Dylan said, gesturing to Gabriel. “We have to get him out of that body.”

Stiles didn’t question her. He simply let go of her hand and approached the fallen angel.

“What are you doing, Gabriel?” he asked.

Gabriel turned and smiled that beatific smile that made something inside of Dylan turn to jelly each time she saw it. “Finishing what you started, my friend.”

Stiles held up his hands to show Gabriel he offered no threat. “I didn’t start anything.”

“Oh, but you did. You took my daughter—my only child—away from me, and you turned her against me. You turned me over to those monsters and let them do horrifying things to my body. You let me writhe in pain—let me suffer. For that, I will make you and all these other pitiful creatures suffer.”

“Jack,” Stiles said—his guilt a weight Dylan could feel. She could feel everything.

They were connected in a way that transcended their earthly bodies. Stiles was her and she was Stiles. They were one. And it was pretty trippy.

She walked up beside him and took his hand.

“Rebecca is happy now, Jack,” she said. “She’s in heaven with the people she loves. And she can see you—she can see what you’re doing.”

Gabriel’s head shook, Jack’s soul imbedded deep inside of him denying the truth.

Chaos reigned around them. People were screaming, mothers were grabbing children off the street and yanking them into the relative safety of their homes only to find that their husbands, their sisters, or their mothers were possessed and out to hurt them in unimaginable ways.

Dylan had to stop it. But she knew the only way to do that was to stop Jack.

And the only way to do that was to prove what she knew to be true.

Gabriel was an angel.

She lifted her hand and Gabriel’s soul, with Jack’s darkness wrapped tightly around it, easily separated from his body. Ellie might have been able to hide from Dylan’s touch forty-five years ago because of Joanna’s darkness, but that was no longer the case. Dylan was stronger, Stiles was stronger, and, together, they were formidable.

Gabriel’s body fell to the ground as Dylan and Stiles followed his soul out of this world and into heaven. Stiles hadn’t been able to return to heaven since he’d fallen—with the exception of the brief period he’d returned when Dylan ended the war—so it was an emotional moment for him that Dylan felt like fireworks going off inside a clenched fist.

“Stiles?”

Rebecca, as she had been when Dylan last saw her, was a filigree of humanity, more smoke and mirrors than a solid human being. But it was still Rebecca. She was still a beautiful woman with a beautiful heart that shone in every aspect of her. Stiles let go of Dylan and moved to her side, his touch hesitant as he reached for her. Dylan had thought it would hurt to watch him with her, but all she felt was an overwhelming joy that he was able to reconnect with someone he’d loved so deeply for so long.

Others were there. Dylan could see them in the background, whispering and wondering. A dark soul had never ascended to heaven before—it was impossible, unprecedented. That was the whole point; it was why they were dark. But here he was, Jack James, in all his confused, angry darkness.

“Daddy?”

Gabriel’s soul was fighting. He knew where he was and that salvation was only one fight away. And he wanted it. He was pushing at the darkness, trying to make it release him.

“Daddy, it’s Rebecca.”

The dark soul didn’t even respond. He didn’t want to know; he didn’t want to see what was right there in front of him.

Rebecca moved away from Stiles and approached Gabriel’s soul cautiously. Tears shimmered in her eyes almost as though she were human once again. The grief that seeing her father this way was causing her was evident in darker blues and greens that swirled through her light.

“Daddy,” she whispered. “Why?”

It was a difficult question. The soul seemed to shift and relax its hold on Gabriel just a fraction. And that was all Dylan needed. She lifted her hand and the two souls separated. Gabriel cried out, his soul dashing away from the darkness and disappearing into some other section of heaven—some place where he could find security.

Goodbye,
Dylan said to him.

“Daddy…”

The dark soul hovered over Rebecca and confusion raged inside of it that was like a shout in Dylan’s mind. Stiles could hear it, too. He moved up behind Rebecca, resting his hands on shoulders that should not have been solid, but were somehow.

“Stiles did what he had to do, Daddy,” Rebecca said. “If he hadn’t, Dylan wouldn’t be here. We wouldn’t be here. Things would have been so different.”

He betrayed me.

“He did. But it was for a good reason.”

The soul darkened for a moment. But then a little dot of gray entered it. And that little dot began to blossom as the soul continued to hover over Rebecca.

You look so beautiful. Is this really heaven? Are you really here?

Rebecca nodded. “Momma’s here, too. And she misses you so deeply.”

Harriet?

“Yes, Daddy. If you could just let go…”

The gray backed away. The demon flew over Dylan, staring down at her as though it had eyes that could bore through her skull.

You are the enemy. You brought about the destruction of my family.

“No, Daddy,” Rebecca said, coming over to Dylan’s side. She took Dylan’s hand in her filigree limb and pulled her close. “She’s my sister. She’s your daughter.”

The soul backed away as though stung by something deeply painful. He backed up against the walls of this place where they were standing and something about it burned him and forced him back down. As it came toward them, more gray appeared in the darkness.

The scientists…

And that’s when Stiles came up behind the dark soul and touched it, offering him a memory Stiles had carried around with him for far too long.

Jack lay on a narrow bed much like the one Stiles woke upon during his stay in this place, in the subbasement laboratory of Genero. His face was as white as the sheets covering his naked body, his hair was no longer black, but a gunmetal gray that would have been attractive on his healthy body. But he was no longer that healthy, robust man Stiles had once known. His body had shriveled to nearly nothing as his bones protruded in places that were unnatural and unhealthy. He looked like a skeleton on which someone had stretched a soft, pliable fabric.

“My friend,” Stiles said as he took his hand gently in his own.

Jack pulled away without opening his eyes. Stiles couldn’t even be sure he was conscious or that he was aware of what was happening around him.

He touched his shoulder, but again Jack pulled back, jerking his body against the narrow confines of the bed.

“I’m sorry. I never imagined it would end like this.”

“Traitor,” Jack spit out from a mouth missing most of its teeth—the gums bleeding and raw. His eyes were open now, staring with startling intensity at Stiles. “Leave me be.”

“You’re dying,” Stiles said. “I can help you.”

Jack shook his head, the movement pathetic, but enough to take the breath from his lungs. “I want to go.”

“I can heal you, take you from this place and back to Rebecca.”

Hope shown in Jack’s eyes briefly, but then he shook his head again. “No,” he said breathlessly.

Stiles took his hand again. Jack was too tired to pull away this time. His time was very near.

“They decided to go back east,” Stiles said quietly as he tried to infuse Jack with a little of his healing power. But something was blocking him, resisting the power in a way Stiles had never seen before. “They’re in Pittsburg.”

“Patricia?” Jack whispered, his eyes filling with tears.

“She’s cooking again. They have a nice kitchen there and they have a scientist who has taught them how to grow fruits and vegetables year round, so she had plenty to cook.”

Jack closed his eyes for a moment, his breathing slowing.

“It’s a subway, tunnels and rooms all underground. It’s a lot like the place in Chicago, but sturdier.”

Jack opened his eyes again. “Rebecca?”

Stiles felt tears fall from his own eyes as he nodded. “She’s on their governing board. It’s her job to oversee the farms. She loves it; she loves the science of it.”

Jack’s cracked lips moved into something that looked like a grimace, but must have been a smile. “Always liked science,” he whispered.

Stiles lay a hand on Jack’s chest and felt his soul separating from his human form. He closed his eyes as a pain burst through his heart.

“You’re to be a grandfather,” he said quietly. “A little boy, due in the summer.”

Jack reached over with the hand that Stiles was not clinging to and touched his arm.

“I forgive you.”

Stiles opened his eyes and stared into Jack’s face. He shook his head, a protest on his lips, but Jack just smiled. And, this time, it was a genuine smile.

He had so much he wanted to say, but the strength had gone out of him. His death was eminent; the separation of his soul from his physical body was almost complete. As Stiles stared into his eyes, still so bright and strong, he lowered his mental wall to listen to all Jack had to say.

I knew
, Jack was thinking, the words moving through his mind over and over.
I knew you were different. I knew there was something about you. But you were like the son I’d never had. The way you loved my daughter and the way you fought for her—I told myself it didn’t matter. And maybe it didn’t.

Jack’s eyes slid closed, but the smile remained.

I know you would not have done this if there was not a greater purpose to it. I never believed in God. I left that to my wife. But I believe in you. So, if you say my being here will make the world better for Rebecca and her child, then I believe in that, too.

“It will,” Stiles whispered as he pulled Jack’s hand up to his mouth. “I promise. The world will be a good place for Rebecca and the child one day soon.”

Make sure they live to see it.

There was warning in that thought and in the look in Jack’s eyes as he forced himself to focus on Stiles one last time.

“I promise.”

The light slowly left Jack’s eyes in that moment. As Stiles watched, his soul lifted from his physical being and moved up toward the ceiling. But it stopped there. It had nowhere to go, no home to ascend to. Stiles could feel the confusion and fear.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “What made you desirable to the scientists here will forever trap your soul in this place.” He shook his head, tears rolling slowly down his cheeks as he did. “You are Nephilim, my friend. The descendant of an angel and his human lover.”

The soul seemed to shudder as it loomed there up against the ceiling. And then it backed away, as though it felt a burning desire to escape. A moment later, it soared through the concrete wall, disappearing into the earth around the subbasement.

“Goodbye, Jack,” Stiles whispered as he let go of the empty shell of Jack’s body and stood. The wound in his back that he’d sustained in the fighting in Pittsburg sent such a shock of pain through his body that it almost equaled the grief consuming his soul.

Almost.

“But you’re not trapped anymore,” Stiles said, tears on his cheeks as they had been on that long ago night. “You can remain here. You just have to let go of the anger, of the grief, and the pain.”

There was a moment when Dylan wasn’t sure what Jack was going to do. But then the darkness began to disappear, like water down a drain. After only seconds, Jack James stood before them. Dylan had only seen him in Rebecca and Stiles’ memories, so seeing him now was almost surreal to her. He was a handsome man, so tall and dark—reminiscent of Lucifer, but in a more benign way. He stepped forward and embraced his daughter, holding her so tightly that their souls seemed to combine and become one.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes falling on Stiles. “There’s something about being trapped in that way…”

“I know. I understand.”

Jack moved around his daughter and pulled Stiles into his embrace. Dylan closed her eyes, so overwhelmed with the rush of relief and peace that flowed through Stiles at Jack’s touch.

And then Jack turned to her.

“You are beautiful,” he said, stroking her jaw lightly. “I could see that even when I was in the worst of the darkness.”

“Thank you.”

He studied her for a long moment, as though he could see something she couldn’t. And then he just nodded.

“You’re going to be okay,” he said. “The two of you, you’re going to be okay.”