SOUL MATES (Angels and Demons Book 3) (7 page)

Dylan bit her lip as she again looked at Stiles. He had his arms crossed over his chest as he listened to Ellie, a dark cloud settling in his eyes as he worked out what she was saying in his own mind.

“Those that are left, they’re all here because they have some sort of unfinished business?”

Ellie shrugged. “Or they were just too lost to understand that they could let go of the darkness and go home.” She rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands. “I don’t know. I just know that they were still here and Joanna took full advantage of it. She was building an army, one soul at a time. And, with every soul she converted to her side, she grew stronger. She was the one who learned how to possess humans, how to infuse the humans with the anger and the darkness that we carried around. She learned all these things that the dark souls were capable of doing and she taught it to Jack. Then, one day, she just disappeared.”

“When I made my choice.”

Confusion darkened Ellie’s eyes. “Choice?”

Dylan took Ellie’s hand. “You’ve had enough,” she said kindly. “Why don’t you get some rest and we’ll talk again later.”

Ellie stood and started to walk toward the door with Stiles’ arm under hers to help her stay on her unsteady feet. But then Ellie paused, and her gaze fell on Dylan again.

“When I was like that,” she said, gesturing vaguely, “time seemed to stand still. It’s…it’s hard to explain, but it feels like no time has passed. But it has, hasn’t it?”

Dylan stood and took both Ellie’s hands in her own. “It’s been nearly forty-five years since the day you died.”

Ellie’s eyes widened with surprise, but then her head rolled forward and, for a minute, Dylan thought she might collapse. But she was stronger than that. She focused on Dylan again, tears clouding her eyes.

“Wyatt?”

“He lived a good life, Ellie. A long, fulfilling life.”

Her tears spilled over the corner of her eye and she simply nodded before she turned and accepted Stiles’ help again. Dylan watched as they walked to the door, as Stiles handed her off to one of the gargoyles who was waiting to escort her to a proper bedroom down the hall. The moment she was secured, Stiles turned and shut the door.

“She just confirmed everything we pretty much knew already,” Stiles said.

“It makes a lot of sense,” Dylan agreed. “Joanna…she was so angry when she died.”

“Her soul was trapped because of the angel disease,” Raphael said. “But she retained enough of herself to use the darkness to her benefit.”

“Leave Joanna to do something like that,” Stiles grumbled as he fell into a chair. “She was building an army, planning to come after us again. But then your choice stopped her.”

“And she disappeared. But Jack James didn’t.”

“He’s the key to it all,” Raphael said. “He’s the one fueling this; he’s the one leading the army now.”

“And he’s the one we have to take down.”

“But how?” Dylan smacked her hands on the top of the table, frustration boiling over in her chest. “We’re just back to square one.”

“But now we have a new question to answer,” Raphael pointed out.

“How many other angels are there trapped as dark souls?”

Dylan thought it would be best to remain at Wilhelm’s little research building until Ellie was strong enough to travel. They took turns sitting with her as she rested, unaware of their presence, as her body fought to regain her strength. It was Stiles’ turn now. He sat forward in his uncomfortable chair, staring at his hands as he listened to her steady breathing.

Dylan was down the hall, resting in another of the small, poorly furnished rooms. She wasn’t asleep. He could hear her thoughts more strongly now than he ever had before. Despite her hesitation in accepting him as her soul mate, their connection continued to grow with every passing hour.

She was worried about finding a way to stop Jack James before he could do any more harm than he already had. Stiles had the same fear. He knew that this was his fault, that it was the act of turning Jack over to the Redcoats that had allowed him to remain stuck and so full of anger in this place even after Dylan’s birth freed him to return to heaven. And it was that that had made him such a target for Joanna.

Even after death, Joanna couldn’t stop this overwhelming need to punish Stiles.

But that wasn’t the only thing that kept Dylan awake. She’d seen Wyatt in heaven. He wasn’t sure when or why, but he could feel the confusion—the love and grief and hurt—that it had caused Dylan. He could imagine how hard it was for her. If he was allowed into heaven and he saw Rebecca, he might have come away from it with the same list of emotions. It was hard enough missing someone who’d moved on. But to see them again and to know it was only a temporary reprieve? It was worse than never seeing them again because it just opened the door to possibility, allowing the opportunity of living with one foot in the past. It wasn’t healthy.

He couldn’t do it. And he knew it would eventually tear Dylan to pieces. The sooner she chose her soul mate and accepted her duties as the guardian of humanity the better. For her, and for everyone who loved and needed her.

Stiles stood and began to pace the small room. It bothered him, seeing Ellie in this place. There was something not right about it. He walked over to her and touched her hand as he had already done several times already. He felt what he expected to feel: her human form, her human skin and her human pulse. Under that, there was that throb of angel power that seemed to always be just below the surface, the power of the soul and the connection to heaven that was never truly absent. Touching Ellie was just as it should be; just as it would be if Stiles touched Raphael or one of his legion.

But there was something different about it, too. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it was there nonetheless.

He hadn’t known Ellie well. He’d met her for the first time at the same moment Dylan had met her, while the wild pig was chasing after her and Sam. He knew she was different, but the fact that she came from Genero explained it well enough at the time. And her fascination with Wyatt was actually a relief to Stiles. It meant that Wyatt was less focused on Dylan, allowing Stiles to prepare her for what was coming next. But he should have seen what was coming sooner than he had. He knew Ellie worked with Davida, but he thought he could still trust Davida. It was he, after all, who’d placed Davida in Genero as Dylan’s guardian and it was he who’d arranged for her removal and placement in Jimmy’s camp when it had become clear that Dylan would need help on the outside. He’d thought Davida was trustworthy. He’d thought wrong. Davida was a loyal part of Luc’s army despite the help she’d offered Stiles when Joanna had left him for dead. She never changed her loyalty and never accepted the truth Stiles tried to show her. She’d simply waited until the time was right and then she turned on him, on Dylan, and on everything that had mattered. And she’d paid the ultimate price for it.

But Ellie…she, too, had joined Luc’s legion the moment she had the chance. She’d worked with Davida by staying close to Dylan and pretending to be a weak survivor of Genero, by manipulating everyone around her. But when push had come to shove, she tried to show Dylan the truth. That won Dylan over, but Stiles was still unsure of her loyalties. Was she really telling the truth now?

He didn’t like to do this, but he needed to know the truth.

Stiles sat on the side of the bed and pressed his hands to each side of Ellie’s head. He closed his eyes and opened his mental walls. Little images came through, nothing that made sense to Stiles. Then they grew, and became…more. There were jumbled images of her life and many, many decades of memories. The majority of them were set in heaven, but some took place on Earth. He saw himself through her eyes—an odd image—and he saw Dylan and Wyatt. There was a lot of Wyatt in there. He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised, but he was surprised to see how much Ellie actually had loved Wyatt. There was a shared kiss and some hand holding, nothing more than what he’d already known about or suspected. And then the moment he’d been searching for.

“You have to go,” Ellie said as blood began to drip from the corner of her mouth.

“I can heal you,” Dylan said as she tugged at the sword still embedded in Ellie’s chest.

“No.” Ellie laid a hand over Dylan’s. “You have to go. You can’t face them alone.”

“I’m not alone.”

“I betrayed you. I betrayed Wyatt. I don’t deserve your compassion.” She caressed Dylan’s hand lightly one last time. “Just promise me you will end this.”

And then she shoved the sword as hard as she could, pushing it in deeper and up to the left, finishing what Joanna had started.

The light faded from Ellie’s eyes. Dylan cried as she pressed a kiss to Ellie’s cheek before she stood and reluctantly left the auditorium. But Ellie wasn’t gone just yet. Despite the fact that her human body was no longer breathing, her soul lingered inside. And someone else in the room could feel it.

Joanna dropped down from the ceiling, her soul already swirling with darkness. She reached inside Ellie’s human form and grabbed her soul, tossing it aside as she attempted to heal the body and take Ellie’s place. But something wasn’t right. She couldn’t attach herself no matter how long she tried. When she finally gave up, Ellie’s soul was beginning to wake, preparing for its journey to wherever angel souls that have been destroyed by an angel’s sword go. Just as Ellie’s soul was beginning to break down into energy, Joanna grabbed it and infused some of her own darkness into it.

But that wasn’t all she did. Something about the way Joanna touched Ellie anchored her. It made her soul more concrete and unable to pass into energy. She was unable to move on to the next level. Ellie tried. She moved away from Joanna and tried to move on and frustration grew inside of her until her soul was a mass of undulating darkness. She tried to return to her human form, tried to leave the building, and tried everything to get away from Joanna. But each time, Joanna’s soul pulled her back, as though what Joanna had done to her tethered them together.

“You,” Joanna said with a dark laugh, “are now mine. You will be my first general.”

Stiles pulled away from Ellie. He frowned as he studied her. She hadn’t lied about what Joanna had done. And…it frightened Stiles a little to think that a dark soul could so easily tether another soul to itself. If Joanna could do that, could Jack do it, too? And, if he could, what does that mean? Might he be stronger?

He also had to wonder what had happened to Ellie once Joanna disappeared after Dylan made her choice. Was she set free? If so, why didn’t she ascend to heaven? Was she simply too confused? Or was there another reason?

Whatever…Stiles didn’t trust Ellie. He’d made the mistake of underestimating her once before. He wouldn’t do it again.

Raphael relieved Stiles a few hours later. He went for a walk to clear his head and found himself standing in the same clearing where he’d once come upon Dylan practicing her angel skills. He half expected to find her there again, and was not disappointed.

She was sitting in the center of the clearing, her legs crisscrossed, her back straight and her eyes closed. He thought for a moment she was visiting heaven, but then she opened her eyes and nodded to him.

“I was just trying to clear my head.”

“Me too.”

She dragged her fingers through her hair, brushing it back from her forehead. “Is she still resting?”

“Yeah. Probably will for a while longer. She’s pretty weak.”

Dylan stretched her legs out in front of her and leaned over them, touching her toes briefly before she climbed gracefully to her feet.

“Do you think there are others?”

“It’s likely,” Stiles said. “A dozen or so angels died of the disease long before you gave it to Joanna. If the same thing that happened to her soul happened to them, then they’re probably out there somewhere.”

“What about angels like Ellie?”

Stiles shook his head. “They left not an hour after she died, remember? Joanna never had a chance to take another angel soul.”

“Good.”

Dylan turned to leave. Stiles stopped her with a comment.

“I don’t trust her.”

“Because of what happened all those years ago?” she asked, turning to look at him.

“Yes. And no. There’s something not right about her.”

Dylan sighed, but it wasn’t the kind of sigh that suggested she didn’t believe him. It was the kind of sigh that told him she already had her own suspicions about Ellie and was sad to have someone else confirm them.

“I’ve already talked to Raphael about keeping someone with her at all times. And we won’t be taking her back to Dytonia with us. I think it would be better if she stayed with Wilhelm, if he has a chance to talk to her about her time as a demon maybe we can learn something useful.”

Stiles turned slightly, his own sigh escaping his lips. “I’m beginning to think you don’t need me around anymore.”

“You’ve taught me well, Stiles.”

“You certainly aren’t that little girl who needed to be guided and manipulated into accepting her true nature.”

“I never was. I was just a girl who needed someone strong enough to tell her the truth.”