CHAPTER 15: DREAMS
Why would the Shadow warn me that I shouldn’t wake the angels when I didn’t even have the power to do it? Andrew, lying next to me in the dark, was quiet. The complete silence was broken by the whirring of the heater, and I jumped. My mind wasn’t working in this tired state; my thoughts were nothing more than an incoherent babble in my brain.
“Gabriella,” Andrew said in a delicately inflected voice. He reached out and tucked my hair behind my ears. “Please, say something.”
“I—” I didn’t know how to respond. He waited patiently, something I was not used to. “We . . . Well, we need to find the others.” What other options were there? Something was afoot, and we couldn’t figure this out on our own, prophecy be damned.
Again, there was nothing but silence between us, and the dark was like a velvet curtain over my eyes.
“How do we do that?” he whispered gently with benign interest.
“We, um . . .” I knew what we had to do, but at the same time I was highly against it and knew he would be too. “We let the FBI capture us.”
He exhaled a long, heavy breath. When he spoke, his voice was calm, serene. “We’ll talk about it in the morning. Sleep,” he commanded, and suddenly, unexpectedly, he brought his warm lips to my forehead. There was a spark that lit between us, a tiny bolt of lightning.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, not thinking.
His body shook with silent laughter. “Goodnight, sweet Illuminator.” His tone was as smooth and rich as melted chocolate.
I was still aching with curiosity, however. “Andrew?” I asked, my voice almost inaudible. “Are you going to sleep? I mean, do you sleep?” I’d never known an immortal before. The possibilities, I thought wryly.
His laugh was low and throaty. “Of course I do, but I’ve been ‘asleep’ for years. I’m not tired.”
This time I was silent, barely acknowledging his explanation with even a yawn. I anticipated the sleep that was about to dominate my greater senses. I was exhausted and knew I needed rest. As I faded toward a dream state, Andrew’s warm arms wrapped around me, his hot breath in my hair. He kept the blanket between us. Perhaps he was just trying to soothe me, and honestly, he was. I didn’t object as I fell comfortably onto his shoulder, tucked beneath his arms, and soon I was asleep.
Flowing auburn hair glittered against the sun like molten copper. A knife tucked securely into a holster around a leg. Glacial blue eyes turned toward me over a perfect shoulder, staring, cautioning me. Her face was that of an angel; her body that of a goddess. The tattoos that covered every last inch of her skin were intricately woven in a pattern that seemed to have no beginning or end.
She turned away from me, her short, white dress billowing in the wind. It was silk-like, so thin I could see through it. Her tattoos went beyond her arms and legs; they snaked up her back to circle around the shape of two arrows crossed together.
Automatically, my hand reached out to trace the symbol. It was familiar. As I took a step toward the goddess-like warrior, another hand reached out and yanked me back. The skin was dark brown and beautiful, just like the angel before me. My head moved, as if in slow motion, to see whose face belonged with the hand.
He was tall, roughly six-four. I had to look up and up.
“Luke?” I whispered. He was not threatening, though his light-blue eyes bored into mine. The hair falling toward his face was the same shade of auburn as that of the woman’s.
He was scared, anxious. Naturally my eyes scanned the area around us to see where the threat was. Behind me, in the distance, a small army was a moving sea of leather. Weapons were strapped to sheaths or in their hands. My eyes widen, but when I turned to share my distress with Luke, he was staring in another direction. There was no mistaking his feelings. He trembled with stress. What could be worse?
My movements felt dream-like—as if I were sleepwalking. I turned toward what caused his unease.
I tensed in alarm. Two women, dressed all in white, stood at the top of a small hill. Their dresses were identical to that of the goddess who stood only feet below them. Their eyes were pure white, and they unsettled me. The women were warriors, their eyes fierce, their skin intricately marked. And though it didn’t make sense, I could feel that the large army behind me was absolutely frightened of the two women. For some reason, I could feel the women’s power too, and I shook with fear.
Everything was silent, even though the wind blew around us. The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows from the beautiful women. Squinting, I shielded my eyes from the light.
The auburn hair of the angel flew up in the air, her dress clinging violently to her body. Luke staggered sideways and fell to his knees, golden tears wetting his glorious face. The goddess below the white women turned to look at him beseechingly, and I saw a single tear escape her ice-blue eyes, eloquent with despair.
It made sense then.
“Lucia,” I breathed with difficulty. My voice sounded distant, echoing. Her eyes closed, the tears seeping from beneath her long lashes, as if nodding in acknowledgement.
One of the women in white pulled a long knife from her leg-sheath and held it in the air ceremoniously. It took me a second to realize what was happening, and I went paralyzed with fear.
“No,” I screamed an inarticulate yell of rage and took the first step to run toward her. Their power pulsed through the air and stopped me dead.
Lucia looked behind her again, staring at Luke. She whispered something, her lips moving inaudibly. Luke, already on his knees, fell forward on all fours. He put his head to the grass and tore at it, shaking with grief.
The army behind us didn’t move but stiffened with terror. Why weren’t they fighting? I wanted to scream at them, “Fight back you cowards!” Tears rolled down my face, and I wiped them away with my fingers. The wetness was gold against my skin.
The woman with the knife held it at an angle, a perfect position for stabbing. Luke looked up, his face glittered with gold, and there was cold fury in every line of his face.
The knife sliced through the air and plunged deeply into Lucia’s chest. She bent over with the force. The shock rooted me to the spot, and a sick feeling of nausea rose in my throat. The knife slid into her as if into butter, and she lifted her head to the heavens as a scream of unendurable agony tore from her lips. The noise pierced the silence like a bullet. She writhed and shrieked and fell to the ground.
I tried to look at something else, anything else. Her dress was no longer white but a sickening, dripping scarlet that spilled wastefully onto the grass—the crimson liquid spread over the white like a disease. Iron bands tightened around my chest as I tried to digest the horrible image before me. Her blood wasn’t gold, and I realized that this was the end for her.
I didn’t hesitate this time as I tore past Luke and sprinted toward Lucia. Someone, help her, I pleaded silently. Two men rushed past me, though I didn’t see their faces. All I could see was Lucia.
I approached and stared down at her, transfixed, as if my will could force her to mend. She stared back at me without seeing. Her head lolled to one side, blood trickling from her lips. She didn’t move, and her chest was no longer rising. I looked behind me, towards Luke, begging him to tell me it was a lie. His eyes sparkled with golden tears. It wasn’t a lie. Horror rose in me, quick and rough.
A pair of hands seized me. I screamed, and a hand covered my mouth—suffocating. I grasped at the fingers. Then, it was as if I was ripped from my body.
“Shh!” whispered a deep, frantic voice in my ear. I blinked in the velvety darkness; it seemed as though the sun had just given up on the Earth and plummeted away. Darkness pressed in all around me. I fought against the hand over my face, the hot body pressed over top of me. I couldn’t breathe, and I kicked—anything to move, to get oxygen. Each attempted breath tore at my lungs.
All I could think about was Lucia and how I desperately needed to get to her, to bring her back, although deep down I knew she w
as lost. I ached with the thought. My throat grew sore from the constant scream trapped in my esophagus.
“Please, Gabriella,” the distressed voice pleaded. “Quiet.”
All my breath had gone from my body. It was then that I realized I wasn’t breathing through my nose, and that was why I couldn’t get air. I took in a shuddering breath, gasping like I’d been doused with cold water.
“Yes, good. Calm,” said a soothing voice I recognized. “Breathe.”
Andrew. I instantly relaxed in his grip, my whole body going limp. I felt wilted—numb—after what I had seen. I mentally chanted that it was all just a dream, but it had been so real. Too real. I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the vertigo-inducing image. It didn’t work.
Andrew removed his hand from over my mouth and reached over to turn the lamp on, bathing the room in a blinding golden glow. I blinked in the sudden brightness, and the light left an imprint in my eyes. Squinting, I could see Andrew hovering over me, like a tiger about to devour his prey—except his eyes were pleading, anxious.
“The FBI are here,” he breathed. “Be very quiet.” His voice was unearthly, the most beautiful sound in the world, though his words stunned me into silence. I’d been optimistic to the point of foolishness; of course they would find us.
Despite the danger of the men on their way to capture us, the urge to hug Andrew to my chest was almost overwhelming. I was so happy to be away from the horrible nightmare. Instead, I nodded. The rustling noise of footsteps echoed in the hallway. There was no time to run or escape.
Andrew pulled on his jeans but left his shirt lying on the floor, discarded. He was just as shockingly beautiful as he was the first time I saw him. I was immediately ashamed of myself for thinking about him that way, considering our distressing situation.
The doorknob shook, and I jerked up, pulling the covers over me to protect my exposed skin. Andrew’s eyes zoned into the movement like a homing missile. The door flung open, and at the same moment, Andrew pulled me from the bed in such a lightning-quick movement I had to blink a few times to reorient myself. One arm held me behind him, protecting me. Men in bulletproof vests swept over the threshold and flooded into the room, guns raised, all pointing at Andrew.
I dug my fingers into his side, frightened. His heart was racing as fast as mine. Deep inside me, an intense surge of electricity was building, coiling around my insides, growing. When I gripped Andrew tighter, it shot through him—rough, hard, and hot. He jerked but held his ground. The oddest thing happened then. I could feel my thoughts and feelings rising up and flowing out of me and into him. My shock, fear, distress . . . all of it swelled in me like venom, compressing my lungs, and then it flowed between us.
His fingers found one of my hands and yanked it from his skin. A blue stream of electric thoughts flowed between the small distance. For a second I thought he was going to pull me away from him. Instead, he wrapped my arm around his body, hugging me there. I didn’t know what to think about this connective current that had been created between us, but I knew this was the best time to have such an ability.
“Let the girl go,” ordered a short, stocky man with a shaved head. His voice was deep and thundery. “Now,” he seethed, punctuating my assessment. The malice in his tone was unmistakable. This was a man who got off on his job.
“We’re not armed,” I croaked, leaning my head over to get a better view. “Please.”
A blank silence met my words. The man’s tiny, beetle-like eyes never left Andrew’s face. The blackness in them reminded me of a misty window, full of chill and emptiness. He surveyed Andrew like an enthusiastic collector who was about to claim the gold piece of his collection. “Dr. Moretti, are you all right?”
“Perfectly fine,” I cried out, my voice choked but growing stronger by the second. I was still trembling from my dream.
“I could fly,” Andrew breathed, too low for the others to hear. He sounded like a gambler contemplating his chances. My fingers tightened their grip, his pulse picking up its pace. “Yes?” he pressed.
I shook my head and another jolt of electricity burned between us. He stiffened, rigid as a waxwork. I tried to send my thoughts to him, concentrating with all my being in increasing desperation. They think I’m a victim. They won’t harm me. This is our chance to get into their secure facilities. I tried to focus, hoping he would get the message.
This time he shook his head. I could imagine him eyeing them all malevolently. “No, I won’t be able to protect you,” he whispered with a plea in his voice.
It almost broke my resolve, but after my dream, I knew we needed answers—and help. I refused to be resigned to this unsolvable mystery. Plus, he knew there was a grain of truth to my words.
“Will someone throw me my clothes?” I asked the room at large, though I was speaking into Andrew’s back. “He’ll let me go and come peacefully.”
The tension in Andrew’s body was palpable.
The tiny black eyes of the agent flickered to mine for a second, surprised out of his preoccupied longing. He motioned to someone, and they kicked my clothes toward me. My grip on Andrew slackened so I could reach for them, but he doubled the strength of his grip on my arms. Anticipating trouble, several guns in the room clicked as the men prepared for him to do something rash. He let go immediately.
I dressed hastily, feeling better at once. “Who’s in charge?” I demanded, though now I was reluctant in my plan.
The man who demanded my release used his radio to summon someone, though it was hard to understand their radio-speak jargon. The reply was fuzzy and even more difficult to make out.
Only minutes passed before a man, perfectly polished in a black suit, stepped through the sea of men still guarding the door. They parted as if he were Moses. I recognized his tall form and light-brown hair, shiny with gel. Dark eyes peeked out beneath his arched eyebrows.
“Joseph.” I practically fell over myself to get to him. “Tell them to be gentle. He’s harmless.”
Before I knew it, Joseph had pulled me into a giant hug. It was effortless, embracing him back. In my ear, he whispered, “Karen’s been beside herself with worry, and so have I.”
There are just some events, like almost dying together, that bring you close to someone. I gripped him closer for a minute before he released me and turned towards his men. “Agents? Do as she says,” he ordered.
The men surrounded Andrew, and he looked over them at me—a man of uncertainty, barely clinging to reason and restraint.
“Please,” I mouthed.
He closed his golden eyes once, slowly, as if acknowledging my plea, giving in without a challenge. His face was stricken, and it broke my heart. It felt like an ice cube was sliding down into my stomach.
“He’ll be fine,” Joseph whispered in my ear. “Karen’s waiting at the lab.”
At least they aren’t taking him to jail, I thought dryly. They threw his grey T-shirt at him, and he put it on. They were even nice enough to let us put our shoes on. They still cuffed him and held him at gunpoint as they set off down the corridor, leading him to the stairs.
We descended in silence and stepped into the cool misty darkness. The girl who had checked us in earlier stood outside, her back against the brick wall, police lights reflecting off her pale skin. She had a cigarette in one hand and was puffing away like a train. When she caught sight of me, she looked smug, her eyes gleaming with triumph.
Now I understood her hostility earlier. I shot her my most brilliant smile and showed my wrists, which were cuff free. She choked on the smoke as her eyes bugged out in disbelief. So there, I thought back, just as smugly. I barely resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at her. Very mature of me, I know.
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