The Watcher (21 page)

“Ready?” he asked.

As soon as I nodded my answer, he bent his legs and leapt into the air, taking me with him. Uneasiness stirred in the pit of my stomach. I fought the urge to scream as the ground disappeared beneath us, the houses and lights shrinking at a dizzying rate.

“Relax. You’re safe,” Michael said. “Breathe.”

I was so fixated on the ground speeding away from us that every muscle in my body tensed. I forgot I’d been holding my breath and gasped for air. Although Michael’s arms were strong and solid beneath me, I needed something to hold on to, so I linked my arms around his shoulders. Even in the cold air, his skin was warm to the touch.

And that was when I saw his wings. In the past, I’d only seen a faint blue outline around him or blue gossamer around Arielle. Nothing, not even my dreams or memories, prepared me for how his wings really looked. They were huge, not white exactly, more iridescent, with a featherlike covering that reflected all the rainbow colors, even in the dark. They weren’t actual feathers, not the kind you’d see on a bird; they were filaments of solid light. Joining at his back, they stretched out at least ten feet on either side from base to tip. Beating powerfully behind us, they made a sound in the air like wind hitting silk sails.

“Can people see us?” I asked. The wind rushed my ears and I had to speak loudly even to hear myself.

Grinning, he shook his head. “Don’t want to set off Homeland Security.” For the first time, I noticed that his halo had enveloped both of us. It shimmered and rippled, a mirror reflecting the night sky. We were invisible.

While everything in me said that flying was impossible and that I should be terrified, I wasn’t afraid. The wind carried us so high that cars buzzed like fireflies on the streets below, and across Elliot Bay, the freighters and boats could have easily been toys. Michael swooped low over water reflecting distorted city lights and we glided under the West Seattle Bridge. His wings beating against the wind currents, we looped around and ascended again over the tall buildings of the downtown core.

The wind kicked up colder and whipped my hair against my face, and yet in his arms I was surprisingly warm. My blood thrummed through my veins. I looked at Michael’s face again and realized he was completely in his element, completely at ease. Flying was as much a part of him as breathing was for me. I was safe, and with his heart beating against the side of my ribs, the strength and warmth of his arms around me, I felt closer to him than ever.

After making another wide sweep of the harbor, we glided effortlessly back across the water to the beach at Lincoln Park. Although his landing was smooth and graceful, as soon as my feet touched the ground my knees buckled. Michael quickly grabbed my elbows to steady me.

“You okay?” He furled his wings securely behind him. “Did you have fun?”

I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out, so I nodded my response. My heart pounded wildly in my chest and I realized I was shaking. My whole body hummed with adrenaline; I had to remember to breathe.

“You’re sure?” He released my elbows and backed away from me. “You can stand on your own?”

I had foal legs, but I could stand. The edges of his halo shimmered as he tucked it around himself, and his wings shifted to their blue outline as though he had sheathed them with the air.

“It was amazing!” I said once I found my voice. My heart hammered against my ribs.

“Walk a bit. It’ll help you adjust to being on the ground again.”

He took my hand, dispelling any cold from the night air, and we strolled along a dimly-lit path that followed the rocky shore. His wings stretched out behind us as iridescent as starlight, visible only to me. Since it was the first clear night in days, there were a few other people on the path and Michael adjusted his wings to avoid touching them.

“How do your wings work?” I asked after I’d fully recovered from flight. “I usually see them as a blue outline, but when we were flying they were more real.”

“They’re inter-dimensional.”

“They’re what?” I asked in disbelief.

“They exist in another place, a different dimension so to speak, and I bring them into this one when I fly.”

I was completely baffled.

“It might be better if I show you,” he said, walking us out onto the beach, away from the street lights, out of the view of the ferries and houses in the distance. “We’re going to be invisible for a bit. Best to not attract attention.”

His halo tingled as he extended it around both of us, its phosphorescence rippling against the dark sky. A golden light glimmered behind him, extending from his back, and the blue outline of his wings flickered. Then, soundlessly as morning snow, his wings appeared, as though pulled from an invisible sheath.

He unfurled them, and such a sense of peace and stillness came over me. Full and white, they were glorious. Observing them filled me with a sense of wonder, as though I were witnessing something profound and exquisite, so much greater than myself. Their presence humbled me, made me realize that everything I’d ever known or believed was a tiny piece of a greater, more magnificent whole, and I was honored to even be a part of it.

Studying my face, Michael closed his wings and took a few steps toward me. “This isn’t too much, is it?”

I smiled at him and fought the strange urge to cry. It wasn’t from sadness but more the way a beautiful sunset might affect you if you’d been blind your whole life and were suddenly able to see it. Silently, Michael retracted his halo and slid his wings back to their usual placement, all the while observing me as though expecting me to  freak out.

The wind picked up, blowing through my hair. Not wanting it to tangle further, I finger-combed it and tied it into a braid, wishing I’d done that
before
we went flying. I had a few tangles but was lucky it wasn’t a mass of knots. Not having an elastic band, I used a piece of my own hair to secure the end and then tucked the mass into my collar. It wouldn’t last long, but it would have to do.

Michael leaned against a nearby rock, still watching me. With the orange-cast light from the street lamp playing off his skin, shadowing the muscles of his shoulders and arms, and the flickering of golden light his halo cast around him, he looked positively heroic, like a statue of an ancient god.

“Where to now?” I asked, approaching him.

The wind had swept his hair into a tangle of curls splayed in every direction, forming a dark, shadowy crown of their own. I reached over to smooth it, like doing so was the most natural thing in the world, and he brushed his hand up my spine. Even through my jacket, a burning heat coursed through me. Touching the back of my head, he found my braid and pulled it out from my jacket. He twisted it between his fingers, examining it, then looked up at me, his gaze open, unguarded, his pupils as wide and black as the night sky. A flush warmed the back of my neck and I stood there mesmerized by him, unable to look away.

Arcing his other arm around me, he pulled me toward him and whispered, “I shouldn’t,” against the side of my face, as though it were a confession. Then, his lips cool and salty from the sea air, he kissed me with such tenderness it made my chest ache.

But I didn’t need tenderness. I needed
him
. Since the last time we’d kissed, I’d been so careful around him, trying not to cross the invisible line that would either damn him or scare him away. I couldn’t be careful anymore. Gripping the front of his shirt, I pulled him closer, and he locked his arms around me like I’d always wanted him to, like maybe he’d never let me go. Sitting on the rock, he gathered me into him, sliding me onto his lap. My thighs straddled his hips and he let out the softest of moans, his lips grazing my throat, the side of my neck, the line of my jaw, before returning to mine.

With a sharp inhale, he tensed and stopped kissing me. His eyes flashed a warning look
—
full of fear, as though he’d gone somewhere fathomless inside himself that he’d sworn he’d never go. Standing, he guided me off his lap. When he spoke, his voice took on a deep timbre.

“We’re not alone.”

Chapter Twenty

An oily film of darkness rolled in like a black fog above us, extinguishing the street lights and stilling the air. The breeze from the water stopped, and even the waves themselves seemed to slow their undulations against the rocky shore.

Michael clenched the fleece of my jacket, in obvious pain. Behind him, something black and formless landed on his wings. Only it wasn’t formless at all: it was something whose shape was so terrifying my mind couldn’t process it. It was shiny, fanged, and blacker than the night itself. I’d seen hellhounds before, and minions that fed on negative thoughts and made people do terrible things, but this was different. Somehow it was even more frightening.

“Are you okay?” I asked, unable to keep the alarm out of my voice.

He nodded, but winced as another shapeless creature landed on him.

“I thought these types of things couldn’t get across the halo.”

“My defenses were down.”

The kiss!
So it was
my
fault.

“Can you fight it?” I asked. My throat was so tight I barely made a sound.

“If I move right now, it might come for you.”

I started to back away, but he gripped my arms so I was planted to the spot.

“It hasn’t seen you yet,” he said. “I’ll let you know when to move.”

It? As far as I could see, there were two of them. I stood perfectly still as another creature landed on his wings. My only movement was that of my stomach plummeting to my knees. “Why does it want me?”

“I think it wants
me
.” Still clasping my arms, he touched his forehead to mine, his body shaking as more of the creatures landed on him—making six by my count. “If anything were to happen to you…” His voice trailed off and I was left to wonder, horrified at what kind of danger he was expecting.

On the path between the water and where we stood, a young couple walked a Dalmatian. Did they notice anything unusual? A chill down their spines perhaps? A pang of fear as they walked through the thick, artificially darkened air? What true horrors had the Grigori held back from us unnoticed, had Michael held back, engaged in a constant battle against darkness?

Michael gasped, steadying himself as another two creatures landed on his wings. That was eight. Just as I was beginning to wonder exactly how much pain he could tolerate, he gave me a slight nod. Instantly, he flared his halo around us and I heard faint shrieking, followed by a sizzling sound. Black smoke emanated from the creatures on his wings. A few of them fell to the ground, writhing and melting like boiled tar.

“This way,” Michael said, ushering me into the bushes.

We stopped near a twisted old tree. Its branches nearly bare for winter, it offered little shelter, but its trunk was thick enough to protect my back. Black forms gathered and surrounded us and an unnatural hissing filled the air.

I knew Michael would do everything in his power to keep me safe. But what about him? The creatures growled and shrieked behind us in a clamoring approach, and Michael was quiet and still, letting them near. Why was he doing this? I began to think he was sacrificing himself to protect me. I wasn’t worth it, no matter how glad I was that he was there.

In the darkness, Michael’s eyes flamed with golden light as they searched mine. “Is there something you love?” he asked, his body vibrating from the creatures attacking his wings.

“You,” I blurted, surprising myself. Heat rushed to my face.

He grinned, despite the obvious pain he was in. “You love me?”

“More than myself sometimes.”

That startled him. “Never more than yourself. I’d never want that.”

“I can’t help it.”

He leaned in and kissed my forehead, his lips cool and smooth against my flushed skin. There was a gentle shift in the air as he shook out his wings. “I need you to feel that love, focus on it right now. Not fear, not worry…no matter what you see. Close your eyes if you have to. This thing will try to horrify and fascinate you, so remember that love, okay? It sours the milk. Can you do that for me?”

With the heat of his arms around me, I could do anything. I nodded and he turned, flaring his halo again and stretching out his wings to their full size as though he were in flight. Only this time, instead of luminescent white they were gold, the color of the fire in his eyes.

The creatures that had clung to him fell off in clumps and skittered away. Reaching over his shoulder, he turned, and from his hand blazed his blue sword. At this close range, it appeared to be made not only of steel but of fire and light as well. He held it up menacingly, with a dangerous smile on his face, challenging them.

The sky blackened and thickened, heavy with dread, as more of the creatures arrived. There must have been a hundred of them. The air smelled foul and close, like the inside of a garbage can only a thousand times worse. There was no breeze to dissipate the stench.

Michael stood his ground as the black shapes roiled and writhed, forming a massive single unit. My chest tightened in horror as it teemed and grew taller, forming into a long-necked multi-headed creature the size of a Mack truck. It must have had over twenty heads, each of them with glowing red eyes fixed on Michael, who stared unflinchingly at the center of this black massive creature, presumably where its heart would be—if it had one.

“Be gone!” Michael commanded, his voice strong, musical. I realized this was how it was with the angelic force upon him—a chord rather than a single note. Angel versus human.

The beast recoiled slightly, then let out a ghastly laugh. “Damiel sends his greetings,” it hissed in a wet, glutinous voice.

“You’ll never win, Azazel,” Michael said. “Neither will he.”

One of the demon’s heads nipped at him in defiance. I flinched reflexively, horrified by the damage those teeth could do! Unyielding, he parried with his sword, and the beast rose on its legs, directing its many heads right at him.