FALLEN (Angels and Gargoyles Book 3) (9 page)

Something different happened this time, however. Instead of the light simply dissipating as it had with Stiles, it built and grew, encompassing both Lily and Dylan in its warmth. It pulled them together, allowed Dylan access to Lily’s thoughts in a way she had never had before…and hoped to never again.

She struggled to lift that mental wall the protected her from the thoughts of those around her. Struggled like she had never done before because she didn’t want to see all Lily had seen, didn’t want to know all that Lily knew. She had seen too much already.

She also did not want Lily to see her own thoughts.

Dylan waved her hands, unsure why or what she had thought she would accomplish, but the movement seemed to draw the light back into herself. With it came Lily’s illness, all the darkness that had filled her human form, everything the light had healed. It had an immediate impact on Dylan. Nausea burst through her belly, her chest hurt almost like she had been pounded by a hammer, her head pulsed with a pain more intense than anything she had ever felt. It was a mistake, she realized too late, to take that light into herself. She should have let it go, allowed it to dissipate into the air as it had done with Stiles. But it was too late.

For the second time in so many days, Dylan lost consciousness.

“This world was never meant for us.”

Dylan floated above the ground, her feet dangling as though she were being held by something…someone. She thought for a moment her angel wings were expanded, but she couldn’t feel them protruding from her shoulder blades. There also wasn’t that sense of lightness she often felt in one of her angel personas. It felt more like it had when Luc held her up by the bodice of her dress. Except there was no one in front of her.

“Where am I?”

“You’re dreaming,” a voice said quietly behind her ear.

Dylan turned, but there was no one there.

“Who are you?”

“A friend,” came the immediate reply, this time from in front of her.

Dylan turned again, felt the silky material of her dress swish around her calves. “What do you want with me?” she asked the voice, still searching the darkness around her for a face to go with the voice.

“To warn you.”

“Warn me about what?”

“Of what will happen if you make the wrong choice.”

Light flooded the room where Dylan floated, so bright that for a long moment all she could see was whiteness. That began to fade, replaced with little pinpoints of light that slowly moved into one, coherent vision.

It reminded Dylan of the first time Lily had visited her dreams. Lily had shown her the world before the war, the way in which the humans began to destroy one another. There was a lack of love and compassion among the humans then. That was followed by destruction, by the weapons that would destroy not only the humans, but the world around them. It was that destruction the angels and gargoyles had risen up to fight, the beginning of the war Dylan was now a pawn in.

“The fallen have made mistakes,” the voice said to Dylan. “But they are not completely without truth.”

“What do you mean?”

An image imploded on the…wall, or whatever it was, in front of Dylan. Angels fighting in a perfectly blue sky while below them, scattered over perfectly green grass, were hundreds upon hundreds of gargoyle bodies. Dead. So many dead.

“They think that by destroying the humans, they will find paradise here. It is true: they will find paradise. But there is some doubt that they will be able to care for it in a way the humans did not.”

Dylan studied the images. “You’re afraid they’ll destroy each other.”

“Angels and gargoyles are children. They think they know what they want, but they have never had to make their own choices, have never had to truly care for themselves.”

“I don’t understand.”

The voice sighed, a sound that was like the frustration of a guardian attempting to explain a difficult concept to a toddler. “They do not have free will. They must do as God instructs them.”

“Then why doesn’t he tell them to go home?”

“It’s not that simple.”

Dylan searched the room around her again, looking for the face that belonged to the voice. “Why not?” she asked. “If they do not have free will, why does he not take them out of the equation.”

“Because you do have free will.”

“Me?” Again she turned, her body twisting and spinning like a child’s toy on a string. “What do I have to do with this?”

“You and the others like you, you have free will. God can call Luc and Lily and others like them back to Heaven, but you and yours will still be here. You will still be a threat to humanity.”

It was like she had fallen into a river fed by glacial waters. Her skin was suddenly cold, her breath coming in quick gasps. “We don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Not now. But what about the future?”

The images on the wall changed. This time it looked similar to the first images Lily had shown her. However, there was still a lack of modern conveniences, suggesting to Dylan that she was seeing a ruin that had been reutilized, that had been reoccupied. A child was playing in front of one of the buildings, pushing small vehicles around on the ground, when a shadow fell over it. A shadow with wings. The child cowered and tried to hide, but the angel swooped down and lifted him in her arms, flying away as the child’s mother came running out of the building screaming.

“You don’t know that would happen,” Dylan insisted. “What reason would we have to kidnap human children?”

“Most, like you, cannot have children of your own. After a few hundred years, this will become a reason for the hybrids to develop jealousy of the humans.”

Another image burst across the wall. Angels, their wings outspread, attacking humans as they simply walk down the street. And humans, throwing rocks at angels flying over them. Hatred on both sides.

“You cannot coexist,” the voice said.

“We can find a way.”

“Humans have been tortured for far too long by the angels,” the voice said as yet another image filled the wall. This time it was not of the future. It was of the past. Of now.

Humans, cowering in dark corners. Children suffering, their bodies withering away from a lack of nutrition. Adult humans locked away in dark rooms, not unlike the one where Jimmy now waited for Wyatt to come and rescue him. Adults working in dark mines, living in deplorable conditions as angels watch over them. Humans hiding in ruins, conspiring with gargoyles to attack and stop the angels. Angels flying overhead, trying to get out humans hiding in the darkness.

“There is too much distrust.”

“What are you saying?”

Another set of images, of people hiding. But this time, it wasn’t the humans. It was the hybrids, people like Dylan, hiding from human hunting parties. Gargoyles who tried to reason with the humans were attacked, killed for showing sympathy for the hybrids. Others joined the humans, joined in to hunt and kill anyone who looked like they might be a hybrid…just a hint of an inhuman gift led to death.

“But we’re trying to save them.”

“All they know is that it was the angels who changed the tide of the war. It was the angels who destroyed their cities, their homes, their families. They can’t tell the difference between you and the angels who hurt them. How do they know that you won’t turn on them just like Luc and Lily and the others did?”

Dylan ran her fingers through her hair. “What do we do? We can’t just walk away.”

“No,” the voice agreed. “This war must end.”

Three images played on the wall. Each different, but each with the same result. The end of this war, the end of Luc and Lily’s rule, the end of fear and destruction. But each showed a different victor.

“Isn’t it God’s role to choose who survives and who doesn’t?” Dylan asked the mysterious voice.

“God has,” the voice said, so close to Dylan’s ear that she thought she could feel the heat of the speaker’s breath against her skin. “He has chosen to allow you to make the choice.”

Dylan gasped as she came awake.

“Lay back,” Wyatt’s voice whispered beside her as gentle hands pushed her back against pillows she hadn’t been aware of until that second.

“Where—”  she began, but her voice was weak, barely more than a whisper, and her throat felt as though the flesh had been worn away by something sharp, something constant.

“We’re safe,” he said, as though he knew what she was asking. “Stiles found an abandoned building not far from Genero. No one knows we’re here.”

She reached up to push a piece of hair out of her face. Her fingers brushed a bandage. She pressed her fingers to it, followed it from the center of her forehead to the back of her skull.

“You hit your head when they dropped you in the woods,” Wyatt said, tugging her fingers away. “You were unconscious and they just dragged you out there and dumped you.”

Anger seeped into his words, although it seemed that he was trying to keep it under control. She reached for him, and he quietly offered his hand. Just that little touch showed her the scene, showed her his memory of watching the Redcoats drop her body in the woods, of running to her before the Redcoats had backed away, of Stiles’ warning reverberating in his ears. But the Redcoats allowed him to approach without a word. They seemed almost grateful that someone was there to take charge over Dylan, as though they were afraid of what she was, of what she represented.

He wrapped himself around her, bursting into his ethereal form for the first time without thought, without the hesitation and denial that often surrounded his use of his gifts. Then the journey to this house, the flight that took only a fraction of the time walking with a wounded person would have taken. And the days of watching over her, the fear that she would never wake.

Days.

“Jimmy?” she croaked.

“We haven’t been able to get much information, but we’re fairly sure he is still alive.”

She touched his forehead. He seemed puzzled for a moment, but then understood her meaning. “No, I haven’t seen him, but Luc and Lily have been pretty busy celebrating her newfound health. Luc rarely allows an execution to take place without being present, and he hasn’t left Viti.”

Dylan shook her head and closed her eyes. She was suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion.

“Rest,” he whispered, pressing his lips lightly to the tip of her nose.

She fell asleep. When she woke hours later, Wyatt was still there, curled up beside her on the narrow bed. His snores were so familiar that it caused an ache deep in Dylan’s chest. She rolled toward him and watched for a few minutes, watched his eyelids thunder with the power of his deep sleep, watched his torso move up and down with his slow, steady breaths. It reminded her of the few times she had woken in the middle of the night and found Davida sleeping in the bed beside her, vaguely aware of crying out from some nightmare or other.

Tears of belated grief welled in Dylan’s eyes. There was so much she wanted to say to Davida, so many questions she wanted to ask, so many words that had been left unspoken and shouldn’t have been. Davida insisted she did not love Dylan, that she had shown her affection only because it was her job to get close to Dylan. But Dylan knew better than that. Davida had betrayed her, but she had done it for all the right reasons. At least, Davida had believed they were the right reasons.

Davida thought she was saving the world. She believed Luc and Lily were right when they said the humans were destroying earth and only the complete annihilation of the humans would save it. That earth was a paradise that would fall to the angels when the humans were gone.

In a way, Davida had been right to watch over Dylan, to protect her, to lead her to Lily and Luc. She had good intentions..

She was just fighting for the wrong team.

Dylan thought about the different factions battling it out around her. She thought about the gargoyles who were willing to do whatever it took to protect the humans. She thought of the angels who wanted to turn the earth into a paradise. And the angels who wanted to give it back to the humans, but only the right two humans. Then she thought of Stiles’ solution, of his desire to force the angels back to Heaven and leave the humans and hybrids to battle it out over the earth.

And then she thought of the three solutions the mysterious voice in her dream had offered.

She had thought there was a solution that did not mean the total destruction of any one race of earth dwellers.

Maybe she was wrong.

A decision had to be made. Only one group could survive the end of this war.

The humans were an obvious choice because they were the first to call this place home. But they were also the ones who nearly destroyed it.

The angels seemed logical, too. They were among the first races, the first children of God, the ones this world was originally meant for. But they were children who did not know how to live a life filled with difficult choices. What guarantee was there that they would be able to be better caretakers than the humans had been?

Then there were the hybrids. A combination of the first two. An untried race, a group newly developed that still did not understand their own gifts, let alone how those gifts might benefit this world. But for the hybrids to take over, the angels would have to be called back to Heaven, and the humans would have to be completely annihilated. That would mean more war, more destruction, more of everything they were trying to end.