A Gift of Wings (14 page)

He went through the same series of exercises that he had executed before, with greater speed and increased agility, as his abused body recalled from the depths of muscle memory the precise and sometimes minute shifts and movements necessary to maneuver through the twists and rolls. When he finally brought himself to a horizontal dead-stop from a high-speed dive that ended barely a foot above the top of the training center, he was breathing hard and had added several new muscle aches to his already considerable quota, but he was grinning from ear to ear and filled with a greater sense of accomplishment than he had felt in a long time.

With a single beat of his wings, he swooped upward and then lowered himself to the sidewalk in front of the building. He flipped the mental flame switch to the off position and retracted his wings, pleased to find that he was able to perform both actions smoothly and without hesitation.

“It’s nice to see that you are in such good form so soon,” Zeke said, taking shape beside him. “You fly almost as if you’ve never been without your wings.”

“Thanks,” Aidan said, the self-satisfied grin still on his face.

Zeke smiled back at him. “And it’s more than nice to see you looking pleased with yourself. That I haven’t seen in a long time.”

Aidan lost the grin and eyed Zeke with suspicion. “You haven’t seen
me
in a long time. Have you?”

“The fact that you renounced our world didn’t mean we renounced you. I’ve been keeping an eye on you in my own way. I have resources of my own, you know.”

“Oh, trust me, I know,” the young man said, adding after a slight pause, “which means I should have realized that you would be aware of my every move over the past two years. Once you’re on Zeke’s radar, you’re never off, are you?”

Aidan thought he caught a glimpse of something resembling hurt in the ancient angel’s eyes, but if he did, it was gone in an instant. “Not your
every
move, Aidan. I wasn’t spying on you—well, technically, I suppose I was—but it was not my intention to violate your privacy.” He captured Aidan’s gaze with his own and held it as he continued, “I just wanted to be sure you were safe. There are some over whom I will always keep a watchful eye—as long as it’s in my power to do so.”

“Sorry,” Aidan muttered, looking down and away from Zeke’s penetrating gaze.

Aidan didn’t really believe Zeke had spied on him for any nefarious purpose, but he was finding it difficult to let go of the bitterness and sense of betrayal that had led to his perhaps precipitous action two years ago, and which had been his ever-present companion since. Now, though, he was beginning to realize that he needed to put it all behind him if he wanted to get on with his life. And that entailed not only forgiving Zeke and Kev, but forgiving himself. He was getting closer to coming to grips with the former, but the latter was going to be a lot more difficult.

“I am available to talk,” Zeke said, as if reading his thoughts, “whenever you are ready.”

In his current mood, the angel’s tone set Aidan’s teeth on edge. “Patronizing much?” he asked, all attitude again.

Zeke sighed. “Go home, Aidan. Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Zeke inclined his head in a slight bow and then dematerialized.

Aidan cursed under his breath before focusing his own energy so he could disappear himself. He rematerialized high above Lake Michigan a few miles out from the city, wings extended but not in flames, and glamoured so that humans couldn’t see him. He executed a few easy loops, trying to reclaim the sense of satisfaction he had felt earlier, but it seemed to have abandoned him. Feeling his fatigue reassert itself, he abandoned the effort and pointed his wings toward home.

He dropped to the ground in an empty alleyway about a block from his building and, after dismissing his wings, released the glamour that kept him hidden from human eyes. Emerging from the alley, he made his way to his building on foot, as if he were the ordinary human being he had pretended to be for the past two years. When the doorman greeted him, observing, “You look like you’ve had a hard day,” he felt the corners of his mouth lift in exhausted amusement.

“Yeah, you could say that,” he responded.

CHAPTER 10

When his alarm buzzed the next morning, Aidan hit snooze and turned over, hoping to catch a few more minutes of shut-eye. His hopes were short-circuited by the wide-awake Harley, who pushed his nose into Aidan’s face before catching the blankets between his teeth and pulling them down. As the cool air hit his bare skin, Aidan sighed, “Seriously, ferret, there are days when I wonder what I was thinking when I took you in.”

He’d really had little choice in the matter; Kev had presented him with the ferret after his mother’s death, hoping the little animal would help coax Aidan back to life. And Aidan had to admit that, as annoying as the little guy could be, the gift had been a pretty good call.

Sitting up, he switched off the alarm, raked his hands through his hair, and then rose and padded into the adjoining bathroom. In the shower, he turned the cold on full blast, hoping the shock would not only wake him up but help prepare him for the many physical discomforts he would undoubtedly face before the day was over.

Showered, dressed, and breakfasted, he pulled on his leather jacket and started to hit the door. Then he stopped in a moment of stunned surprise as he realized he didn’t have to use the door. He could dematerialize from anywhere; he didn’t have to be outside to do it. He shook his head at himself, thinking about how very human he had become in the past couple of years. It hadn’t even occurred to him the day before to dematerialize from the apartment. And, once he had left the building by the door, he needed to return the same way. He didn’t want the security cameras to record him exiting the building but not record him returning. Not that anyone would probably ever notice, but you never knew. He didn’t want to raise any questions.

But today he would neither exit nor enter the building. As far as anyone knew, he would have stayed inside all day. Still shaking his head in wry amusement, he dematerialized and reformed in front of the training center. Here, he had no choice but to materialize outside. The building was protected by wards that made it impossible to dematerialize or materialize inside it. Since it was where the members of the Forces underwent numerous kinds of training, it had a security system of cosmic proportions.

The training center existed at a dimensional remove from earth, the Heavens, and the Dark Realms, and its location was known to and accessible by only those in the Forces. Still, since it was always possible that their enemies could learn of its existence, it was equipped with an elaborate physical and magical security system. In addition to the building security, the area for several miles around in all directions was warded to prevent anyone unknown or unauthorized from crossing the boundary line. The troops underwent extensive training outdoors as well as in, and Zeke and the others in charge made sure they were as protected as angelically possible.

Stepping up to the door, Aidan pressed his right hand against the security panel and braced for the surge of heat and pain as the sigil on his palm flared to life. Recognizing his sigil, the door slid open, allowing him entry. The room in which he had trained with Kev the day before was empty, but he heard voices coming through the open door on the far side. Heading toward the voices, he crossed the expanse of floor, his footsteps loud and echoing in the near empty room.

As he entered the smaller room, he was greeted by three pairs of eyes that turned in his direction. Zeke and Kev were seated at one end of a large conference table. The room’s other occupant leaned against the window sill a few feet away, his legs crossed at the ankle and his arms crossed over his chest. Looking into the familiar amber eyes that stared back at him, unsmiling, from the man’s dark face, Aidan inclined his head in greeting.

“Malachi,” he said, stepping up to the man and extending his hand.

“Aidan. I understand that you have not only returned to us, but have also agreed to command our Forces,” Malachi responded, his deep voice cold. “I must say, I am somewhat surprised.”

“And what is it that surprises you, Malachi, my return or my agreeing to serve as your second?” Aidan asked, allowing his hand to drop to his side, since the other man had made no move to uncross his arms.

“Both.”

“Aidan, have a seat,” Zeke’s resonating voice interrupted the frosty exchange.

Aidan dropped into the chair closest to him, which happened to be next to Zeke, and leaning back, crossed his own arms over his chest. He was beginning to realize just what a hard road lay ahead of him, winning back the favor of those he had abandoned. For so long, he had felt as if they had all abandoned him. Now, he understood that they were going to see the situation in just the opposite light. He had been the golden boy, the Gifted one, the one they had all viewed with such promise—and he had walked away from it all, walked away from
them
, with no intention of ever returning. Malachi’s attitude would be shared by many. They would be surprised by his return, and they wouldn’t readily trust him as second. Zeke and Kev had put him in a difficult and awkward position. No, he admitted grudgingly, in this case he had no one to blame but himself. He was the one who had walked away, and he was the one who would have to re-earn their trust.

“Zeke tells me you were practicing flying exercises after we parted yesterday,” Kev said, giving Aidan an evil grin. “Good. Today, we fight in the air. And today, you have two opponents.”

At those words, Malachi stepped up beside Kev’s chair, arms still crossed, teeth bared in a predatory smile. “My battle skills have improved in the time that you have been gone,” he said.

Improved?
Aidan thought. Hard road didn’t even begin to describe the day ahead of him then. Malachi had always been one of the best fighters in the Forces. Two years ago, Aidan had been better, but just barely. Now, he probably didn’t have a prayer against the other man, let alone against both him and Kev, who was equally as good.

He rose to his feet, determined to face the music with good grace. He inclined his head toward Malachi. “Then I will have my work cut out for me indeed. I couldn’t ask for a better opponent.”

He was gratified by the gleam of respect that lightened the man’s amber eyes as Malachi inclined his head toward Aidan in turn, a few of his long braids sliding forward over his shoulder as he did so.

“Okay, fellas,” Kev said, rising to his feet and clapping his palms together, “let’s get geared up. We’ve got training to do.”

Zeke’s satisfied chuckle followed them as they headed for the weapons room.

***

Two hours later, Aidan felt as battered as he had by day’s end the day before.
Double the pleasure, double the fun,
he thought, as he parried a thrust from Kev’s sword while simultaneously dodging a well-aimed arrow shot from Malachi’s bow. All three men had multiple weapons strapped to their chests, backs, waists, and thighs, and the demands of the battle were as much mental—keeping focused and in the moment, so he could anticipate which weapon was going to be used against him and which to use in return—as they were physical. As he had anticipated, Malachi was a formidable opponent, as was Kev. So far, he had been pretty much holding his own, but it was early in the day, and his own was beginning to take a down turn.

Giving a strong beat of his wings, he shot straight upward out of range of both swords as each of his opponents came at him from opposite directions. Seeing Malachi abandon the sword to notch another arrow into his bow, Aidan changed course—and barreled straight into Kev, who wrapped him in a wrestler’s hold, pinning one wing against his back, and dived toward the ground. Aidan thrust upward with the other wing with all his might, but it had little effect against both his and Kev’s weight combined with the strength of Kev’s dive. As it occurred to him that he could pull a “flame on,” Kev brought them to a sudden stop, and he felt the point of Malachi’s sword at the back of his neck.

A well-executed move,
he thought. Another few millimeters and he’d have been facing paralysis—at least until his half-angelic body managed to heal itself.

“Uncle,” he groaned.

The other two men chuckled in satisfaction as they released him, and all three of them dropped to the ground, disappearing their wings as they landed.

“Break time,” Kev called.

He jogged over to the cooler they’d left at the edge of the practice field, where he grabbed three bottles of Gatorade before jogging back to join Aidan and Malachi.

From his half-reclined position, legs stretched out in front of him, upper body supported on his elbows, Aidan regarded his new opponent for the day. Malachi was seated in a cross-legged pose and taking slow, deep breaths as if he were meditating.

“By all that’s holy and unholy, Malachi,” he groaned, “did the last two hours have any effect on you?”

Malachi looked at his left hand and slowly rotated his wrist. “I think I might have strained my left wrist a little,” he answered, a smug smile in his voice.