They had
left her so he could walk right up to her.
His foot
slipped into something and he frowned down at the pale marble floor
and the grooves on it. They emanated from the altar where Amelia
lay, forming an intricate pattern that created a circle around her.
There were grooves in the altar too, deep cuts at intervals along
the edges and down the sides.
For her
blood to run into.
Marcus
tightened his grip on his silver blade and stepped
forwards.
The
moment he set foot inside the circle, white-blue light shone up
from it and he fell to his knees. His blade clattered to the floor
beside him and he curled up, clutching the sides of his head as
pain ripped through his skull and then down his back, burning
through him until he was on the verge of passing out.
No.
Marcus
screwed his eyes shut and fought the words in his head, refusing to
listen to them and acknowledge the order that was being sent to
him.
He
shouldn’t have come.
He had
been a fool to think he was strong enough to refuse his
duty.
There was
no need to guard Amelia from him when they had wanted him here, in
this room with her, within this mark. The power of it flowed
through him and tears stung his eyes as he tried to resist the
command racing through his blood, pushing him to stand and take up
his spear.
He
wouldn’t.
He hadn’t
come here to kill Amelia.
He had
come here to save her.
Apollyon
had risked his life for him, to give him this chance, and his
friends believed in him. Amelia had believed in him. She had
trusted him and he had to prove himself worthy of that trust now.
He could be the man she believed him to be. He could be a good man.
He could be worthy of her love.
Another
wave of power tore through him, stronger this time, and forced him
to his feet. He shook his head and fought it, pain beating in his
heart at the thought of betraying Amelia. Heaven had used him,
deceived him, and it had shattered his world and broken his heart,
tearing at his soul. He couldn’t do that to her too. He loved her
too much to sacrifice her.
Marcus
focused on that feeling and looked at her, using the sight of her
to reinforce the strength he gained whenever he thought about her
and his love for her. He fought the command to take up his spear
from the ground and pierce her heart with it, grasping the side of
his head and twisting his black hair into his fingers. He wouldn’t
do it. They couldn’t make him.
The
command that came this time was so strong that he couldn’t disobey.
His limbs moved of their own accord, beyond his control now, and he
held his left hand out. His silver blade rose into it and the
moment he closed his fingers around the grip, the staff
extended.
He didn’t
want this.
But
neither had Apollyon, and his friend hadn’t been able to stop
himself either.
It was
inevitable.
It broke
his heart.
Amelia’s
eyes fluttered open and calmly came to rest on him, all the sorrow
in his heart reflected in their silvery irises.
“Have you
come to kill me again?” she whispered and Marcus closed his eyes,
unable to bear the sight of the hurt in hers. It stabbed deep into
his heart until he felt as though he was bleeding
inside.
Doomed to
failure.
“You will
die with me,” she said in a quiet voice and then inhaled shakily.
“You have the past three times you have killed me. I have taken you
with me into the darkness.”
Those
words cleaved at his heart until he couldn’t take any more. Tears
slipped from the corners of his eyes and he looked at her, had to
see in her eyes that she had remembered the terrible things that he
had done to her and that she didn’t hate him. There were tears on
her cheeks too, diamond drops that sparkled in the bright light
engulfing the room.
It was
fitting that he died with her. Did he go out of choice, because he
loved her and couldn’t bear what he had done, or because he paid
the price for spilling her deadly blood?
His heart
said it was the former. These realms were nothing without her at
his side. He could never live knowing what he had done to her. He
deserved to die.
The
command came again and he struggled against it, gritting his teeth
and holding his left wrist, desperate to stop it from moving. It
shifted against his will and he battled it, trying to hold it back.
He was stronger than this. He couldn’t kill her.
He fought
the order, wrestling with his arm and trying to regain control, and
cursed Heaven for what they were making him do. His left hand moved
and the grip of his right began to loosen. He spat out a curse
aimed at himself this time. Fury burned through him, hatred of
Heaven filling him with a dark need to tear the realm asunder and
destroy it. This wasn’t how his mission was supposed to end. This
wasn’t right. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t hurt her. He loved
her so much, with all of his heart. It was hers now. He was hers
now.
His
heart, his soul, his body. All of him. She was his master, the one
who ruled him and the one for whom he would do anything.
Marcus’s
right hand shifted to grip the staff of his spear and he raised it,
unable to stop it from moving. Amelia stared at him with wide
fearful eyes and they were grey again, not silvery as they were
when she was angelic. Tears stung his eyes and he growled through
clenched teeth as he turned his spear so the blade was aimed at her
chest. He couldn’t stop himself.
His gaze
met hers and a shiver coursed down his back and spread over his
limbs.
Amelia.
She
smiled at him through her tears.
The smile
he had ached to see these past few days.
“I love
you, Marcus.”
***
Chapter 25
Amelia
flinched away and braced for impact when Marcus brought his spear
down. The sound of metal rang out, echoing in her ears until she
couldn’t hear and reverberating through her body until her
fingertips tingled. She waited for the pain to come, her heart
breaking over what Heaven had put Marcus through, and wished that
it hadn’t turned out this way. She loved him so deeply, with all of
her, and seeing him suffering because of her had been unbearable,
but it was over now.
Wasn’t
it?
She
cracked an eye open and then screwed them shut when Marcus brought
his spear down again with such force that her legs echoed with the
vibrations of his powerful blow and her feet tingled.
The
chiming brought with it memories she wished that she had never
remembered, images of all the times they had done this. She could
remember dying in his arms so many times and how he would kiss her
goodbye, taking her blood into his body as she drew her final
breath and destroying himself in the process. She didn’t want that
to happen again. She wanted to live with him, wanted to love him
and be with him and escape this endless torture.
His warm
fingers closed around her right hand, the cold chains fell away
from her, and then she was in his arms.
“We need
to get out of here,” he said close to her ear and disbelief crashed
over her, swiftly followed by relief so sweet that tears filled her
eyes.
She
struggled against her desire, afraid that this was all some cruel
trick and that things were going to end in bloodshed and pain any
moment now, that Heaven was only toying with her by making her
believe that she was safe, and then surrendered to it and threw her
arms around Marcus’s neck, burrowing her face into his
throat.
Marcus’s
right arm slid around her back, holding her to him, and she wept
against his skin, catching his scent each time she sucked in a
sharp breath in an attempt to regain control and not look like a
complete weakling. She had been so afraid, had battled those
feelings and fought to keep them locked deep in her heart so none
would see them, but now they flooded her, carrying her away and
stripping her of her strength.
Marcus
murmured softly against her hair, whispered words full of warmth
and affection and reassurance, and pressed a kiss to it.
He held
her a moment longer and then said something that put an end to her
tears and reminded her they weren’t out of danger yet.
“Can you
fly?”
Amelia
thought about it. Since coming to Heaven, her consciousness and
that of the other side of her had been slowly merging into one and
she felt human again now. She wasn’t sure if she could manage to
fly because she wasn’t sure if she remembered how. She had
forgotten that she had wings at all.
“No
time.” Marcus took hold of her hand, shoved one of his curved
silver blades into it, and then slipped his right hand into her
left one. He held it tightly as they ran and Amelia struggled to
keep up. Her legs tangled in the long flowing white and blue dress
and it was hard to lift it out of the way when she was carrying a
heavy blade. The thing weighed more than she could handle and she
was afraid that she wasn’t going to be much use in a
fight.
She would
be.
She
couldn’t let Marcus do all the fighting. Two swords were better
than one, even if she had never swung a blade before. She could
help him. They were in this together.
Amelia
pulled Marcus to a halt. He started to say something as he turned
to face her but stopped when she used her blade to cut through the
irritating skirt of her dress. It was a little higher up her thigh
than she had aimed for. By the time she had finished tearing the
material away, it barely covered her backside and Marcus was
staring wide-eyed at her legs.
His
pupils dilated, darkening his silver-blue eyes, and she wanted to
kiss him when he looked like that, so full of passion and desire
for her. She wanted to kiss him for being here with her and coming
to her rescue. He had fought his order and had overcome it for her,
but she wasn’t going to let her guard down around him. She wasn’t
sure if he was free of the compulsion to kill her or whether he was
still fighting it.
She
nodded and they started running again, side by side, back through
the maze of pale corridors.
“What’s
the plan?” she puffed, fighting to keep up with him.
“Out of
here, and then upwards.”
“Out the
front door?” That didn’t sound like a good idea to her. She really
wasn’t much of a fighter and she didn’t want Marcus to get hurt
trying to protect her, or to have a chance to lose
concentration.
He
glanced across at her. The beads of sweat dotting his brow and the
pain in his eyes weren’t due to exertion from running.
He was
still fighting his orders and it was hurting him.
The sight
of him in so much pain, suffering so much, stirred darkness within
her, anger she had never felt before. Fury. She wanted to destroy
Heaven for what it had made him do and for what it had done to her.
She had never raised a hand to anyone but all that was about to
change. Heaven would feel her wrath. It would pay.
They
broke out into the open white-grassed area in front of the building
and Amelia’s fury spiked at the sight of a row of guardian angels
blocking their path, their blue and silver armour shining brightly
in the golden sunlight.
Marcus
moved in front of her, his single blade at the ready, and she
sensed his fatigue through where he touched her. It was taking all
of his strength to fight his orders. He didn’t have the energy left
to fight these angels too.
He
released her hand and extended his blade into a spear.
Amelia
had had enough.
She
wouldn’t let him suffer because of her. Heaven shouldn’t make them
suffer.
It should
suffer.
Her
silver wings unfurled from her back and, without hesitation or an
ounce of fear, she beat them, lifting slowly off the ground, anger
fuelling her. She dropped Marcus’s blade and opened herself to the
feelings colliding inside her, letting the fury flow through her
unrestrained. It swept outwards from her heart until it reached the
tips of her limbs and then came back in on itself.
She
wouldn’t let them hurt Marcus.
The rage
inside her bounced back and forth, growing stronger each time it
passed itself and with each beat of her wings that lifted her
higher into the air. She glared at the scores of angels below
her.
Beneath
her.
Amelia
unleashed her feelings in a cry of sheer fury and swept her hand
out, cutting through the air with it. Her eyes widened when an
invisible wave of power ripped through the angels in the same path
she had cut with her hand, sending them flying in all directions.
They tumbled across the white grass, spun high into the air, or
smashed into the white walls of Heaven’s fortress, creating impact
craters.
A smile
curved her lips, drawn by the sense of strength flowing through
her.