Angels Defying (Angels Rising Book 3)

by Harriet Carlton

  “No,” said Michael, sitting down on the table and shaking his head. “I wanted to tell him, but I could not. If he had known, his reactions to everything would not have been authentic and Vortigern would have suspected a ruse. If that had happened, I would have lost all chance of getting close to him.”

  “You’ve betrayed Imorean,” said Roxy, shaking her head. “You will be the reason he gets killed.”

  Roxy turned on her heel and stormed out of Michael’s office, furious and terrified on behalf of her friend. The other students filed out behind her, until only Colton and Ryan were left in the second office with Michael.

  “This is an odd hour for the seven of you to be awake,” mused Michael.

  “And for you too, sir,” retorted Colton, folding his arms.

  “I find it difficult to sleep when the angel I care about so much is in a horribly dangerous situation.”

  “Why did you have to send Imorean into this?” asked Ryan.

  “Like I said, because Imorean is the only angel that Vortigern would yield like this for. Imorean is the only angel he would be willing to capture and take back to a base camp. If I had seen any other way to lure Vortigern out into the open, I would have done it,” said Michael, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. “And I know that Imorean is going to hate me after this.”

  “I don’t know,” said Colton. “I mean, he’s going be mad that you lied to him, but I don’t think he’s going to hate you. You’re his commander and he trusts you.”

  “Perhaps you are correct, Colton,” mused Michael. “The two of you should get some rest. I am hoping that by this time tomorrow we will be on our way to rescue Imorean.”

  “Yes, sir,” nodded Ryan, turning and taking his leave.

  “You too, Colton,” said Michael.

  “Sir, why are you up this late?” asked Colton, not moving.

  “As I stated earlier, I care for Imorean a great deal. He is of my blood. I find it impossible to be at rest when I know he is in danger and that I was the one who put him there. Missions like this are so unpredictable.”

  “How are you going to get his coordinates?” asked Colton. For the first time that evening, Michael smiled.

  “I gave him an old compass of mine before you all set off. It has been connecting me with him as you moved from landing point to landing point and showed up on the map behind me. As I stated earlier though, the coordinates sometimes take several hours to show up. As yet, Imorean’s current ones have not shown themselves.”

  “Do you think he’s okay?” asked Colton.

  “I can only hope so, Colton,” said Michael, sighing and shaking his head.

  Chapter 23

  Shuffling movement. Unfamiliar smells. Uncomfortable. Imorean’s eyes opened slowly. His head was pounding. He was sitting up. Was he in a chair? Something was covering his head, blocking his vision. He shuffled, his heart jumping in his chest when he realized his hands were immobile. With a grunt, Imorean pulled. He moved his fingers. He felt rope. His hands were bound behind him. He felt wood. Bound behind a chair? He lifted his head and sat up straighter. No sooner had he moved though, the sack was taken off his head. Imorean groaned and looked around. He was in a dimly lit room. Most of the light was pouring in from the floor to ceiling length windows next to him. He looked left, glancing out of them. This place, wherever it was, was high above the ground. Imorean could see a few clouds scudding by and make out the edges of a fjord far below. A neighboring mountain peak was capped with snow. Had he been taken back to Baffin Island? He struggled to center his mind and extended his senses. He could smell damp stone, hear the echoing of feet in hollow halls. A stone room. There was someone else in this room with him. A soul that wasn’t quite a soul.

  “Hi, Imorean.”

  Imorean turned so sharply he hurt his neck. In the murky lighting, he could make out Bethany. His heart skipped a beat. While he was afraid of Vortigern, when he saw Bethany, he was filled with a fury unlike anything else he had ever known. There was no word in the English language terrible enough for her. She was the one who had sold the location of his family. Like a hunter, she moved, coming to stand in front of him. He bared his teeth at her and cursed her.

  “Well, well, well,” said Bethany, grinning and turning away. “That wasn’t very nice… and after all I’ve done.”

  Imorean narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth. He kept her in his sights. Bethany was baiting him. Inwardly, he dared her to mention his family. If he had free rein with his hands, he would tear her apart. She moved away. Her movements were casual. Violently casual. Brown eyes stayed trained on her as she made her way down a few steps toward the center of the room. A long, wooden table lined by empty chairs took up most of the room. A few armed demons lurked near the far doorway. Imorean could see them shuffling in the shadows.

  “Oh, come on,” she said, dragging over a second chair and settling down on his level. “You’re dying to know. I can see it in your eyes.”

  “What exactly am I dying to know, Bethany?” asked Imorean, his tone more even than he had expected.

  “Where you are. Why you’re here. How Vortigern found your family,” said Bethany in a sing-song voice, running her hand through his hair.

  Imorean lunged forward, his blood boiling. His hands, bound behind the chair, held him back and he was forced to settle for snarling at Bethany.

  “I already know how he found them.”

  “I told him where to find them,” she said, grinning. “Of course, your mother let me and my father straight into her house as soon as I told her I was a friend of yours. After that, it was only a matter of time before the rest of my father’s soldiers got there. Michael couldn’t have stopped us. Gabriel couldn’t have stopped us. You couldn’t have stopped us. You should have heard the noises your family made. The Hounds loved it. Windows shattering, doors breaking in, your little brother and sister screaming as we dragged them into your kitchen. Your mother… she was begging at the end.”

  Imorean was shaking with rage. Had he been able to move any closer to Bethany, he would have ripped her throat out.

  “And your dear grandfather… Daddy said he had seen him before and how right he was… but he isn’t important right now. We’re going back, you know. Going back to get Michael, Gabriel and your friends… even little, fat Roxy. I’ve been wanting to off her since I got saddled with her as a roommate,” said Bethany, giving him a poisonous smile and settling a hand on his face. One thumb stroked his cheek.

  Imorean resisted the urge to flinch away as she touched him. He felt sick.

  “We’re going to kill them. All of them. Every. Last. One. I’m looking forward to hearing you beg for their lives,” continued Bethany, running her hand down his face. “Michael will be last. Daddy is going to enjoy killing him. Maybe we’ll even tear your squad’s souls out of their bodies like we did with Rachel and Isaac. We made your mother beg for them to live, you know?”

  Imorean lunged forward a second time, moving faster than Bethany ever could have. His open mouth clamped down on Bethany’s retreating hand and his teeth held her in an iron grip.

  “Get him off me!” shrieked Bethany, trying to tear her hand from Imorean’s mouth. Footsteps pounded across the floor as the demons at the door moved in. Imorean paid them no mind. He could feel Bethany’s skin breaking under his teeth. A wave of her blood covered his tongue just as something hard and heavy collided with the side of his head. Imorean was forced to release Bethany’s hand and crashed to the floor.

  “I’ll kill you Bethany! I swear, I’ll kill you!” he shouted, spitting a mouthful of her blood onto the stone floor. Then a damp rag was pressed over Imorean’s nose and mouth. He was robbed of his strength as the world flickered down to darkness.

  Imorean felt the world return slowly. He was groggy, as though rising from a very deep sleep. The first things he noticed were that he was lying on his side and that he couldn’t see. Everything around him was dark. There was a band of rough fabric
covering his eyes. He was blindfolded again. He moved to rub his eyes, but couldn’t move his hands. He swallowed hard and twisted his fingers. There was thin rope wrapped around his wrists, holding them tightly together behind his back. He could feel through his boots that his feet had also been tied tightly together. Imorean stilled and listened, extending his senses again, pushing away how tired he was. There was the soft, steady drip of water nearby, but aside from that the world was silent. He could smell only stone: damp and oppressing. The white-haired teenager moved to spread his wings, but they too were rendered immobile. Thin, tight cords held them folded in place.

  Imorean panicked. He couldn’t untie himself, he couldn’t fly, he could barely move, he was helpless. He writhed on the floor, trying to get loose. There was a nameless danger in the air this time. A danger that was menacing and horrible, a world away from the mockery Bethany had poked at him earlier. This was a sense of merciless danger that intended to do him terrible harm.

  “It won’t do any good,” said a voice from close by. Imorean stilled. Vortigern. It could be no one else. The source of his fear was now apparent. It felt as though a cold hand had taken his heart in a vice grip and begun to squeeze. His pulse slowed, reverting to a primal instinct as he hid inside himself. If he couldn’t be found, he couldn’t be harmed. Imorean’s eyes darted back and forth beneath his blindfold, looking around sightlessly. A screech echoed in front of him and Imorean tried to scramble backward. He needed safety. He needed to see. He needed to be away from here. He went rigid when a well-aimed kick slammed into the center of his chest, sending him crashing backwards to the stone floor. Before he could come to his senses, he was rolled onto his stomach and a knee landed in the center of his back, pinning him to the floor. Vortigern was behind him, trapping him in place. Fear spiked all the way through Imorean and he flailed on the ground, writhing like a landed fish.

  “Sensory deprivation is a funny thing, isn’t it?” said Vortigern. Imorean tensed and went still as he felt Vortigern rest something pointed and sharp in the center of his back.

  “People say it heightens all the other senses. Does it?” asked Vortigern. Imorean hissed loudly as sharp metal rested against his fingers. He couldn’t hold back a whine as the metal started to burn and sear the skin on his hands. A small scream broke from his throat. He could hear and smell his own flesh burning. Suddenly, it was gone. The weight was removed from Imorean’s back and his blindfold was ripped off. There was very little light here. Only a few dim torches burned in their brackets. It was enough though, for Imorean to make out vague shapes. Vortigern was standing in front of him, jet black wings half open.

  “Consider that your first proper taste of demon steel,” said Vortigern, tossing the blindfold over one shoulder. “We haven’t managed to temper it quite like the metal of the blades you angels use, but I suppose it works, doesn’t it?”

  Imorean didn’t reply, instead twisted around and pulled himself up so that he was sitting on his knees. He desperately wanted to even the distance between their eyes. To not feel so small. He raised his chin slightly and Vortigern smirked before speaking again.

  “Welcome to Teufelsschloss. My Greenland base. It translates to Devils’ Castle. It’s fitting, isn’t it? You know, we noticed something interesting when we brought you in,” said Vortigern, walking behind Imorean a second time. Imorean stiffened when the demon commander walked out of his line of sight. The skin on his hands was raw and still burning.

  “Most angels by your stage of training are armed and they are always armed when they go out on patrols. You, however, had nothing more than a little knife on you. No sword in sight. What did you do with it?” asked Vortigern.

  Imorean jumped in surprise as Vortigern’s face appeared at his shoulder. He lurched forward as the thin ropes around his ankles were cut through. He barely managed to steady himself and only just avoided crashing down onto the rock floor.

  “I didn’t have one,” said Imorean. “I was never given one.”

  “You’re lying,” said Vortigern.

  There was no time for Imorean to fight against the boot that landed in his back and kicked him savagely forward. He had no use of his hands to break his fall. There was an audible crack. His nose went numb. His mouth was flooded with his own blood. He spluttered to draw breath. Vortigern had broken his nose.

  “Don’t lie to me, Imorean,” said Vortigern sweetly. A hand buried itself in white hair and pulled Imorean back up to his knees. Vortigern crouched down, putting himself on Imorean’s level and smiled. “I don’t like being lied to. It’s so impolite.”

  Imorean spat, blood sitting hot and metallic on his tongue. “I was neber giben one.”

  His voice sounded thick and clogged. The blood pouring from his nose was stopping him from talking properly.

  “Cute,” said Vortigern, smiling. “I like your spirit, Imorean. I really do. It’s part of what makes you a good opponent. I’ll get the answer about your sword out of you in a little while. We’ve got plenty of time play around and I think you and I have a lot to talk about.”

  “You–” began Imorean thickly.

  “Oh, please,” said Vortigern, rolling his eyes. “I think the broken nose suits you, but the voice is irritating.”

  Imorean groaned as the blood was drained from his nose, but a moment later, he could breathe properly again. His nose had not been fixed.

  “Better?” asked Vortigern in a condescending tone.

  “You killed my family,” said Imorean, glad to hear that his voice was his own again.

  “Technically, I didn’t kill them,” said Vortigern, grimacing in mock apology. “The fire that they burned alive in did. Well, I’ll admit it, I killed your grandfather, but everyone else I only indirectly killed.”

  Imorean lurched forward, wanting to attack Vortigern as he had done Bethany. To kick him, punch him, do something to expel the fury he was feeling.

  “Ah, ah, ah,” said Vortigern, smiling and poking Imorean in the chest with the knife. Imorean hissed. The metal burned straight through his clothes down to the skin. “That wasn’t very nice. Don’t be rude. It’s a shame to see that Michael hasn’t taken the time to teach you manners.”

  “He’s taught me how to kill demons. Why would I waste good manners on scum like you?” snarled Imorean.

  Smack! The back of Vortigern’s hand landed hard on Imorean’s cheek. He was knocked off balance and could feel the skin stinging. His eyes watered. He righted himself and glared back up at Vortigern. The demon was smiling again now.

  “You’re cute when you’re angry,” said Vortigern. Imorean leaned away, but felt an odd glimmer of satisfaction. Behind Vortigern’s icy smile and amenable façade, he knew the demon commander was angry. Vortigern smirked and Imorean’s satisfaction was extinguished. There was danger in that smirk.

  “I have a proposition for you, Imorean.”

  “I don’t want anything you can give me,” snapped Imorean.

  “Oh, Imorean, I’m hurt,” said Vortigern. “Lance me through the heart. Not very nice. You wouldn’t want anything from me you say… What if I told you I could bring your family back to you?”

  “You’re bluffing,” said Imorean, glaring.

  “Not at all. Yes, demons lie. We do it all the time, but I’m not lying right now. All I require from you are two little things.”

  “… What are they?” asked Imorean, inclining his head.

  Vortigern knelt. “I’m sure you know the score by now. I want you to come under my command. You’re worth much more to me alive than dead. I want to kill you, yes, but I want you as part of my army more. Coming to me will save your life. I need the coordinates for Gracepointe, Felsenmeer and Upper Morvine. I also need your loyalty. You’ll swear your unwavering devotion to me and you’ll hand over the location of Gracepointe. After we’ve taken down Gracepointe and the rest of their schools, you can have a normal life again. You can have your life back and I know you’ve been wanting that. I took your family from you,
yes, but I can give it all back.”

  “I…” began Imorean. He sat back on his knees and looked up. He could have his family back. He could fight for Vortigern. The war would certainly be over more quickly. All it would take was a simple affirmative answer. A single word. He hesitated. This could be over in moments. All he would have to do… Vortigern was smiling now, gray eyes shining with a red light.

  “What’ll it be, Imorean?” asked Vortigern. “Fight for Michael and die or work for me and live? Seems like an obvious choice to me.”

  “Y…” began Imorean. Again, he hesitated. Vortigern’s smile had widened so far that Imorean could see the fanged teeth at the sides of Vortigern’s mouth. Upon seeing them, Imorean remembered the sight of his destroyed living room. His mother’s terrified eyes. The blood of Michael’s sister that he had seen splashed on Roxy’s mirror over Christmas break. Roxy. The squad. They would never know what had happened to him. What if he had to fight against them? What if he had to fight Roxy? What if Vortigern ordered him to kill one of his friends? He couldn’t do that. He just couldn’t. He remembered how Michael had valiantly protected him when Vortigern attacked the day Roxy had attempted to escape the angels. Even though Michael’s personal wish had been to kill the demon commander, the Archangel had stayed with him. Imorean realized suddenly that Michael had always seen him as a little brother. A member of his family. That was why he had done his best not to lash out at him. That was why he had tolerated his outbursts. That was why Gabriel had always tried to look out for him and the rest of his squad. That was why Gabriel had always stood between them and his older brother’s anger. That was why both Archangels had been so willing to put themselves in harm’s way to ensure that they got out of dangerous situations safe and whole. He had been adopted by the angels. They were brothers. All of them.

  “We are family,” said Imorean, mouthing the words. He could tell Vortigern where Gracepointe, Felsenmeer and Upper Morvine were and would get his family back, but at the price of the lives of his brothers and sisters. The destruction of one family in return for another.