Lysander
wrapped one arm around both of her wings near her shoulder blades,
effectively pinning them, and grabbed a fistful of her silver hair
with his free hand. He yanked her head back and she looked up into
the cold eyes of the guardian angel.
He
towered over her, his immense power washing through her, keeping
her on the ground as much as Lysander was.
She
stared at him. He might be powerful, but his strength was nothing
compared with what she had felt in Marcus the other night. Her
heart reached out to him. Her only hope. Her guardian
angel.
The older
angel smiled slowly and drew one of his curved silver
blades.
Amelia
screamed.
“Marcus!”
***
Chapter 21
Lightning
split the sky above Paris and Marcus looked up at the raging
clouds. Was it his doing? There was so much darkness in the world
and in his heart right now, fury that threatened to seize control
of him and lead him into unleashing his burning desire for
destruction. The feeling pounded in him like a drum, a beat which
his heart followed, growing darker by the second as he watched the
thunderstorm.
He
screamed at the sky and a bright purple fork of lightning slammed
down into the heart of the city, shaking the earth and sending car
alarms blaring. It wasn’t enough. The darkness within him needed to
be sated and he was growing weary of resisting the urge to unfurl
his wings and fly after Amelia. He wanted to see her again and he
would do anything to achieve that. He would disobey his orders and
go to Heaven. There were ways in, methods that he could
use.
He needed
to see Amelia.
What
would she think of him if she saw him like this and knew the black
feelings he held within his heart? If she knew the limits of his
desire to reach her and the lengths he would go to in order to
achieve it, she would no longer believe him a good man.
He
wasn’t.
The image
she had of him was a lie.
He would
kill all in his way in his quest to find her again. He couldn’t be
the good man that she wanted him to be, not when he was feeling
like this. The lust for violence was too strong to
ignore.
He hadn’t
been able to contain it during the discussion with the others and
had left when the women had started to look afraid again, seeking
the balcony so he could be alone with his black
thoughts.
Lightning
crashed down again, further away this time, illuminating the
landscape surrounding Paris. The clouds were so black that they
blocked out the day and had caused the streetlights to come on.
Rain poured, saturating him, slicking his black hair to his head,
but he didn’t care. He relished the cold feel of it against his
skin, sapping his warmth, and stood staring out at the city, his
heart burning in his chest, ablaze with the desire for
vengeance.
Lysander
had taken Amelia from him. Heaven had taken her from
him.
He wanted
her back.
The
streets were empty below him. The park was void of life. The
sensible residents of Paris had remained indoors. That knowledge
only weakened his grip on his power. With so many hiding away in
the buildings, he could unleash Hell on Earth with only minimal
casualties. If anyone was foolish enough to be outside when a
thunderstorm of this magnitude was hanging over the city, then they
deserved what they got.
Marcus
frowned and clenched his fists. Amelia would hate him for thinking
such a thing. She had offered him forgiveness and it hadn’t changed
him. He wished that it had. He wanted to be a good man for her, one
that she could love, but it was impossible when he was in so much
pain.
“They
don’t deserve your wrath,” Einar said from behind him and Marcus
looked over his shoulder.
Einar’s
tawny long hair was already soaked through, unruly curls of it
tufting out behind his ears. His deep brown eyes held Marcus’s
silver-blue ones, and a sense of peace grew inside him, chasing
away some of the darkness in his heart.
“You are
even starting to scare Taylor… although she does her best not to
let it show.” Einar moved forwards and leaned his elbows against
the buckled black railings.
The rain
continued to pour down, sticking Einar’s black t-shirt to his
chest. Water trickled in rivulets down Marcus’s skin beneath his
blue breastplate and soaked into his loincloth, making him
uncomfortable.
He closed
his eyes and drew long deep breaths to calm himself and claw back
control over his power. The thunder eased and the rain lightened to
drizzle that chilled his skin. Long minutes passed before the
lightning ceased completely and he found some balance. They would
depart for Hell soon and he would be able to find out more about
Amelia’s destiny and why Heaven had made Apollyon kill her. The
memory of that moment threatened to push him out of control again,
sending pain deep into his heart until he felt as though he was
dying again.
Amelia.
He wanted
to see her. He wanted to make her smile and make her feel
safe.
She had
been so scared.
He
realised that now.
When she
had gone with Lysander and Marcus had seen that her eyes were
normal again, that she was becoming the woman he loved, he had been
too confused to take in the feelings in her grey gaze. It was only
now that he had replayed that moment countless times that he could
see that she had been afraid of leaving him, but she had done so
anyway, had gone through with it so he and his fellow angels
wouldn’t have to fight again.
She had
wanted to spare him pain but he was suffering more now than he
would have been if a battle had ensued.
He needed
to see her.
Orders
meant nothing to him anymore. He wanted to believe in Heaven, just
as Lukas did, but their actions had stripped him of his faith and
had left him broken. He no longer trusted them. After centuries as
their obedient soldier, as a dutiful son of Heaven, he was finally
following his own orders. It was difficult for him to adjust and
disobey his master but he had to. They had driven him to
this.
The rain
let up and the clouds began to lighten, drifting away and breaking
apart to reveal patches of blue sky.
Marcus
drew a deep breath and made his decision.
He
couldn’t wait to see what Hell revealed.
He needed
to go to Amelia.
He went
to unfurl his wings but they wouldn’t come. This time, they didn’t
appear at all, not even for the briefest time. He focused on them
and a familiar prickling sensation formed where they should have
been. The curse. It had bothered him before too, prior to Heaven
ordering him to remain on Earth.
Why?
He needed
his wings.
Marcus
looked across at Einar. “Help me with something.”
Einar
nodded and then his brown eyes widened when Marcus removed his
breastplate and the back plate of his armour. He looked over his
shoulders, trying to see the curse marks, but they were too far
down.
“My wings
won’t come,” Marcus said and turned his back to Einar. “What do
they look like?”
Einar
stepped up to him and ran his fingers over the elaborate marks on
his back. “They are shifting like sunlight on water. What are you
thinking about?”
Marcus
tried to see them again. He had seen the marks in a mirror before
when the curse had been active and the colours had shifted then,
rippling with lighter and darker hues of blue.
“I was
going to disobey my orders to remain outside Heaven and go after
Amelia.” Marcus looked at Einar to gauge his reaction.
Einar’s
expression turned pensive. “And when did you have a problem with
them before that?”
“When
Amelia died… I wanted to go to Heaven and question my superior.”
Marcus looked up at the broken clouds and the shafts of sunlight
streaming down onto Paris. “Before that, it was when Amelia came
under attack and I saved her, just before I came to see
you.”
“When you
escaped the Hell’s angels?”
Marcus
frowned in the direction of the marks. “Do you think the curse is
their doing? A way of hindering me so they can catch
Amelia?”
Einar
stared at Marcus’s shoulders for a moment and then shrugged. “I
don’t know. Why would they want to hinder you now? Amelia has died.
Veiron had wanted to stop that from happening and
failed.”
Marcus
stared down into the street below. He needed to find Veiron and ask
him about Amelia, and also about his curse. Taylor thought that it
was demonic but the further he ventured into this mission, the more
doubts he had. Could it be the work of the Hell’s
angels?
His gaze
rose to the sky again.
As much
as he desired to go to Heaven and to Amelia, he needed to uncover
the truth about her destiny and his mission first, and something
told him that Veiron could help with that. Heaven’s message had
stated that he would be called to them and Amelia soon. He had to
trust that meant that she was safe with them for now. Once they
called him, he would see her again and he would save her from
whatever fate had in store for her.
“It’s
time.” Apollyon stepped out onto the small balcony, dressed in his
black and gold armour with his wings tucked against his back. “We
should go now.”
“There’s
a problem,” Einar said and Apollyon’s dark blue gaze darted to him.
“Marcus’s wings.”
Marcus’s
silvery wings unfurled from his back, hitting Einar and almost
knocking him over the railing. Marcus stared at them, unable to
believe that they were there now when a moment ago they hadn’t
responded to his call. What the hell was happening to
him?
He needed
to find Veiron and fast. Einar’s questions had planted more in his
head and he wanted answers.
They
played on his mind as he followed Einar and Apollyon into the
apartment, calling his breastplate and back plate to him at the
same time. The blue and silver armour materialised over his torso
and he focused on his wings, furling them against his back. They
felt stable now but for how long?
He
couldn’t shake the feeling that the curse was reacting to him just
as the medical staff had said, but it wasn’t triggered by his
emotions. The trigger was the decisions he made, the things he
wanted to do. It was rigged to respond to some thoughts but not
others. There were countless times when he had wanted to use his
wings for a purpose and they had been fine, and only a handful when
they hadn’t come when he had called. Each of those times, his need
for them had been related to Amelia. That only confused him
further. He placed his left hand on the grip of the blade hanging
from his waist and tightened his fingers around it. Resolve flowed
through him. There had to be a way to remove the curse, something
that they hadn’t tried, and he was determined to find it and free
himself.
Taylor
clicked her fingers in front of his face. “Earth to
Marcus.”
His eyes
widened and he blankly looked at her.
“You’re
my escort for the evening.” She smiled at him and finished tying
her long black hair up into a neat ponytail. She was head to toe in
black again and sporting some nasty looking knives in a holster
that fitted snugly over her black t-shirt. He counted four on
either side of her ribs, each with small rings on the end so she
could quickly tug them free and throw them, and a larger knife was
strapped to her leg. His gaze dropped to her combat boots and he
wondered where else she was concealing blades. She put her leather
jacket on, hiding the short blade that was against her back, and
her smile widened, brightening her blue eyes.
He wasn’t
sure who would be escorting whom. With an arsenal like that
strapped to her body, she could probably take down most enemies
without any problems or any need for assistance.
“I still
don’t like the idea of you flying with another man,” Einar said and
Taylor turned her smile on him. It warmed and widened.
“Marcus
will be a gentleman, I’m sure, and it’s your fault for losing your
wings.” Her smile turned mischievous.
“You are
right, it is my fault… perhaps I shouldn’t have decided to
sacrifice them so we could be together. I will just send a message
to Heaven saying that I’ve changed my mind.”
Taylor’s
smile dropped away and she stared at him. “You wouldn’t dare…
you’re mine, Romeo, and you’d better remember that.”
“Look
who’s talking. You speak to Marcus like you’re propositioning him
and then—” Einar didn’t get a chance to finish. Taylor ran at him,
threw her arms around his neck and almost knocked him off his
feet.
Einar
grinned and wrapped his arms around her, holding her against him,
and lowered his mouth to kiss her. She wriggled free.
“Dammit,
Einar, you’re all wet!” Her scowl stopped him mid-attempt to grab
her again and she caught his wrist instead and led him to their
bags on the beige couches.