Authors: Selene Edwards
Mine
!
Sariel reeled at the screech blaring in her skull. She tried to open her eyes, but found them clamped firmly shut. She couldn’t move; she couldn’t breathe. All she could feel was the presence of the Angel rising within her, wrenching away control, and for the first time in her life, she could actually
see
it.
It wasn’t a face, exactly, and it didn’t have a recognizable body. It was more like an amorphous, billowing cloud of living energy, and somehow she could tell it was looking at her—no, looking
through
her.
You are mine,
the voice whispered.
Submit.
Sariel tried to look away, but there were no eyelids in this dream realm, and she had no body with which to turn. The Angel was everywhere, and she had nowhere to run, no way to retreat, no way to escape.
A hand clenched her shoulder, and suddenly her eyes burst open. She was in the apartment again, crumpled on the floor—and the entire room was bathed in brilliant silvery light. She was glowing, her powers and senses fully awake and alert, and Damien was kneeling over her, his hand on her shoulder. His mouth desperately lipped words, but she couldn’t hear them.
Submit,
the Angel whispered again.
Now and forever, you are mine.
Sariel tried to scream, and then her world went black.
***
“I’m sure they’re fine, you know,” Corin told Shyrah for probably the third time since they had left the Asuran base and headed for the apartment safe-house. “This place is as clean as it gets.”
“Probably,” she admitted. “But I don’t see the harm in making sure. I told you how serious this was.”
He sighed. She had just dumped all of this on him a half hour ago, including Sariel’s waning health. He wasn’t taking it particularly well.
“Yeah, I know,” he said. “It’s late, and I guess I just don’t want to think about it.”
It was just after midnight, and there weren’t many people about in this area—just a few stragglers and rebellious teenagers loitering around a holo-vid store. There wasn’t much risk of being overheard, but she lowered her voice just in case as she stopped and faced him.
“It’s a lot to deal with,” she said, “but you had to know it was too good to be true.”
“I suppose. I just don’t like to think that way.” He glanced away, lips pressed together.
She stopped and placed a hand on his shoulder. It took a moment, but he finally managed to meet her gaze. “You know what happens when we get too comfortable.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t live like that,” he told her. “I don’t think you can, either.”
He tried to twitch away, but she held him firm. She wanted to remind him that they knew better than to harbor false hope or trust anyone to help them out. It had only been a few years since they had both been Syndicate slaves, after all. But of course, he had just been a tech bitch, fixing equipment and writing software as the gang required. He hadn’t been Garaldi’s personal concubine and punching bag. He hadn’t been used and then betrayed like she had…
Shyrah released her grip and started walking again, doing her best not to scowl. Corin was cagier than most of the Asurans, but he had still been duped by a pretty face. They all placed far too much faith in one person. Some of the others had bought into the Covenant’s myths about Angels and just assumed Sariel’s power could sweep all their problems away. Others had been more skeptical, but after a few demonstrations they had quickly come around. Corin was probably somewhere in between.
“You know, someday you’re going to have to let it go,” he said softly from behind her.
She grunted. “And someday you’ll figure out why that isn’t going to happen.”
“The Asurans aren’t the Syndicate. Kronn isn’t Garaldi. Sariel isn’t Hayden.”
She twirled around and hit him hard enough to knock him from his feet. The moment her fist connected and pain surged through her knuckles, she regretted it.
“Ah, fuck!” Corin hissed as he grabbed at his cheek. She quickly leaned down over him to help, trying to ignore the jeers of the nearby teenagers.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “God damn it.”
“You’re the one who asked me to come, you know.”
“I know, I know, just get up.”
She hauled him to his feet and pulled him along past the onlookers before the scene got any worse. She had never had much use for embarrassment, but right now she could feel the heat in her cheeks and twisting in her stomach.
“I don’t know what the fuck made me do that, I’m sorry,” she told him.
“It’s fine; I just wish I hadn’t brought it up. Let’s get this over with already.”
Shyrah nodded and continued on, fighting back the sudden stinging in her eyes. The problem, she knew, had absolutely nothing to do with Corin or any of the others. It didn’t even have to do with Sariel. It was herself, and it always had been.
She had held out longer than the others, certainly. She hadn’t been friendly to the Angel at any point, and she certainly hadn’t trusted her. Not for a few weeks, at least. But then bit by bit it had started happening. She had stopped following Sariel around to see what the other woman was doing. She had stopped watching her as carefully when they were in the same room. She had even managed to sleep a few times without her pistol in arm’s reach…
Shyrah had started to believe, just like the others. She had ignored a lifetime’s worth of lessons about trusting anyone, and now she hated herself for it.
“It’s not a crime to like someone, you know,” Corin commented softly after a few minutes. “She’s never done anything to you.”
The anger flashed again briefly, but this time it had no teeth. She didn’t reply, and she could feel his gaze upon her. Not judging her—Corin didn’t really do that. He was like a hound, loyal to the bitter end. She could probably hit him again and again and he would never strike back. Some of that was surely because of the things he had seen done to her by Garaldi and his men, but most of it was just who he was.
And even though she had probably never once said it to his face, she loved him for it.
“For what it’s worth, I like this Damien guy too. He seems clever.”
She glanced off to her left as they reached the end of an alleyway. Their destination was just down that street. “He is clever. I’m just not sure he can get the job done.”
“I kind of feel bad for him. I doubt he had any idea what he was getting into.”
Shyrah shrugged. “No one ever does. Not really.”
A minute later, the two of them reached the apartment. According to their closest scouts, everything was still secure here, but that didn’t do anything to ease the sinking feeling in her gut. The fact she had been shot and nearly poisoned earlier in the day certainly wasn’t helping her paranoia. It really bothered her that the Covenant had managed such a setup, and it made her wonder what else they were about to face.
They made it up to the door when she signaled for him to wait. She pressed her ear against the door just in case. She didn’t exactly know how Damien planned to get the information he was looking for, but she did know that he was an Incubus. Putting two and two together, it wasn’t hard to imagine she and Corin might walk in on something pretty embarrassing, and the thought was enough to give her a moment’s pause.
But just for a moment. There were more important things on the line than simple modesty here.
Hearing nothing, she knocked. No one responded, and when the second tapping had the same effect, her hand instinctively reached down to her belt and pulled out her pistol.
“No signs of forced entry,” Corin said softly, eyes sweeping the empty hallway and hand pulling free his own weapon. “No signs of anything. Maybe they didn’t even make it?”
“Or something has gone wrong,” she replied, thinking about Sariel’s reaction earlier. The Angel had been afraid of the danger this might pose to Damien. If she had been right…
Regardless, there was only one option. Shyrah punched in the key-code and gave it the count of five before gently pushing the door open. She peeked inside, but no one was in the entryway. The lights were on in the adjacent bedroom.
With her left hand, she signaled for Corin to stay at the door while she crept inside. “Anyone home?” she asked softly, half expecting someone to flip around the corner and start shooting. When the only response was silence, she clenched her jaw and swept forward into the bedroom.
Damien and Sariel were both on the floor, unconscious or dead. Shyrah took two seconds to scan the rest of the room and make sure someone wasn’t lying in wait, then dove forward and checked them both out.
They were alive. Damien stirred at her touch, and she quickly felt the empathic spark when his eyes fluttered open.
“Take it easy,” she said. “Can you move?”
He nodded and pulled himself up. “What…” he trailed off almost instantly as his eyes fixed on the insensate Angel next to him. “Oh, God.”
“She’s alive, but that’s about all I can tell,” Shyrah told him.
Corin spun around the corner. “What the hell happened?”
“I was looking around,” Damien said, touching Sariel’s face. A second later he reached down and scooped her up in his arms and laid her gently on the bed. “The spirit inside didn’t take kindly to it.”
Shyrah slid her pistol into its holster. “What does that mean?”
He shook his head. “It forced me out. I can’t really describe it any better than that.” He sighed softly and moved his hand to Sariel’s forehead. “I’ve never experienced anything like it before.”
“Well, I can have Kronn head over and take a look at her. I’m not sure she—”
“No,” he said flatly. “She’s not hurt, not physically. I need to stay and try again once she wakes up.”
“Uh, what?” Corin asked. “She just knocked both of you out.”
Damien nodded “I know, and it’s dangerous, but it doesn’t matter. I could sense how close it was…it felt as if it had almost won. If I can’t figure it out soon, she doesn’t have a chance.”
Shyrah eyed him for a long moment. He didn’t seem particularly concerned about the fact he had just been knocked unconscious. Quite the opposite, really. He had that same glint in his eye that half the Asurans wore nowadays, that I’d-do-anything-for-an-Angel look that made Shyrah want to wretch. She at least expected it from the stupid men, but a lot of the women wore it too. And Damien…for some reason, she had imagined a whore would be immune to it. Apparently not.
“Listen, if this thing is going to take her over in the next five minutes, we’re all fucked anyway,” she said tartly, grabbing his arm. “We need to get Kronn over here and have him take a look. He’s the only one who might know anything.”
“He won’t be able to help her,” Damien insisted.
“Maybe not, but neither can you right now. He knows a lot about us, Damien. No offense, but right now I’d trust a doctor a lot more than a whore.”
She thought he might get mad, and in a way, she actually hoped he would. It might help him get past his starry-eyed reverence of this person he barely knew. But he didn’t; instead, he glanced between the two of them and finally just sighed.
“You’re right, but let’s not wait.”
It wasn’t the reaction she expected, but she knew better than to fight when she had gotten what she wanted. Maybe he had some sense in him after all.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” she said, standing and pulling out her phone.
Kronn responded immediately and was on his way before she broke the connection. In the meantime, Damien hung over Sariel, keeping his hand against her skin even though it didn’t seem like she was responding to his touch at all.
Shyrah shuffled as a thought suddenly popped into her head. “This may be an odd question, but can’t you just go in there while she’s out? Wouldn’t that make it easier?”
“I tried, but there’s nothing,” Damien said. “It’s actually easier for me to find memories when someone is conscious…and distracted. It was foolish for me to try something else.”
Corin frowned. “What does that mean?”
Damien bit his lip and turned to face them. “It takes an incredibly disciplined mind to be able to truly focus on something else and just let someone in without fighting it. The mind’s first reaction is always to defend itself. It’s a lot easier when their body is reacting to something physical.”