I stumbled forward under Nissa's guidance, unaware of anything but the pounding of my heart, and the trembling of my limbs. Nauseous and soaked in sweat, I struggled to move in the direction Nissa was dragging me.
Arasinya and Goren appeared in my peripheral vision; Goren was gesticulating wildly at his bonded partner. The Fae Queen shook her head and resolutely strode towards the battle, her sword already unsheathed. She'd swapped out her usual elegant gown for the leather tunic and trousers worn by Fae warriors and her long blonde hair had been drawn back in a long, messy plait.
“My daughter is a true warrior,” Keenan announced with no small amount of pride in his voice, his sword swinging in almost perfect rhythm with his words. “Goren would prefer she escape through one of the portals, but Arasinya insists on staying to fight.”
I pulled up short, turning to Keenan in dismay. “What happened to the Red Cap?”
Keenan swung the sword again as a Naberius lumbered towards us, the barbed tip of its tail swinging back and forth treacherously. “He is still in Epimetheus' tent,” Keenan said nonchalantly.
“They left him there?” I shrieked.
Not waiting for a response, I turned and ran back to Epi's tent.
Chapter 35: Revealed
Dwarblrl'g Whetstone was still in the chair, his ankles and wrists restrained. The ropes had been replaced with heavy leather straps, and I suspected even those struggled to restrain him; from the tent entrance, I could see the way the leather was stretched and creased from the pressure he exerted against it. He greeted me with an expression of murderous intent, confirming he'd been abandoned.
Nissa stepped into the tent, a split-second behind me. “Angel, you need to get to a portal! I cannot guarantee your safety if you remain here,” she announced. There was a distinct hint of panic in her orange eyes.
I inclined my head toward the little creature, who was hurling insults in our direction. “We have to release him first.”
“If you release him, we lose our opportunity to discover the meaning of the message,” Nissa warned. “I doubt Goren of Blamen will find another opportunity to acquire a Red Cap.”
“Lying elf, lying Seelie Fae. Dwarblrl'g was not acquired. Dwarblrl'g was kidnapped, stolen from his people by the wicked Seelie Fae,” the little creature spluttered, tugging at the restraints in a renewed attempt at escape. “Lying, cheating, nasty creatures! Stealing Dwarblrl'g Whetstone from his home—”
“I don't care. I'm not leaving him at the mercy of the Drâghici,” I argued, hurrying across the tent. “I won't have his death on my conscience.” My fears had been pushed back – although threatening to overwhelm me at any second – because I couldn't leave this creature to perish.
“We do not have time for this, Angel!” Nissa snapped, grabbing my arm. Her grip was powerful and she tried to draw me out through the tent opening. “Leave him!” I heard that heightened sense of emotion in her voice again; an indicator of how stressed she was about our current circumstances.
I shook her off and made my way to the Red Cap's side, watching for a split-second to gauge his behavior. Now that I'd reached him, I contemplated available options. I'd seen what he'd done to Goren and Gilborg and the other Fae. While I feared death at the hands of the Drâghici, I suspected I took my life in my hands by releasing this furious little Fae. Although his size made him seem innocuous, the drip-drip-dripping of blood from his diminutive cap, down over his neck and onto his shoulders, along with the stories I'd heard, confirmed this was a creature that was truly dangerous. Even so, I couldn't leave him to die. Given the contempt the Fae treated him with, Aethelwine's troops would no doubt kill Dwarblrl'g Whetstone, and if they didn't, the younglings or the demons would. Making up my mind, I knelt beside him and began to tug at the leather straps binding his ankles.
The Red Cap continued to mutter; huffing, and panting and eyeing me with ferocity in his eyes. “Lying cheating Seelie Fae, nasty, lying cheating Realm runners, stealing from the Red Caps—”
“This is extremely unwise,” Nissa remonstrated. Another loud explosion sounded, so close it almost seemed to erupt in the tent with us.
I turned to glare at her. “Look, you can either help me get these straps untied, or you can stand there and argue while I try and get them loose – but either way, I'm not going anywhere until he's free.”
With a huff of exasperation, Nissa strode across the tent, taking her blade in her hand. The little Red Cap squeaked in alarm when she reached him, lifted the blade high… and slashed it down through the leather at each of his ankles, and then swiped through the straps tying his wrists to the chair.
I took a step back, anxious over what he would do. In the instant when the leather binding him was released, he jumped to his feet, eyeing Nissa and I with contempt. “Nasty, evil Seelie Fae,” he muttered. “Evil, lying girl, pretending to be a Child of Nememiah Angel—”
Before I could say anything, he turned and shot out through the tent flap, disappearing into the pandemonium.
“And that,” Nissa said heavily, “will be the last we see of him.”
“It doesn't matter,” I said, cringing when another loud scream echoed nearby. “I couldn't leave him to die.”
“If we don't get away from here soon,” Nissa announced, and even she flinched when a blast shook the ground underneath our feet, “we're both going to die.”
We rushed through camp, meeting up with Keenan and Ripley as they approached Epi's tent. Ripley had been involved in an altercation; his shirt sleeve ripped and his trousers torn, revealing a nasty slash in the muscle of his thigh. Although deep, the tissue had already started to regenerate.
“She released the Red Cap,” Nissa said, by way of explanation. I detected disbelief in her voice, knew she couldn't understand what had possessed me.
“It's Charlotte's way,” Ripley confirmed, even as he grabbed my arm. “Get on my back,” he demanded. “I'll get you to a portal. We're running out of time.”
I did as he requested, and wrapped my arms around his neck, sniffing disdainfully at the stench of demon blood coming from his stained shirt. “Let's go.”
Ripley sprinted at vampire speed across the encampment, Nissa and Keenan swiftly falling behind. “Is Patrick safe?” I demanded. Ripley would have insight into what was happening with his telepathic skills.
“Acenith went with him, they are both safe. He's with Misaki and Kazuki, and they have Katie too.”
“What about my Dad?” We were rocketing past a group of younglings; perhaps seven or eight of them working in tandem with a vampire I recognized as Qadesh. The petite woman was fighting Striker, and my heart plummeted to my toes when I saw them. Striker had Qadesh on his back, tearing at his chest and shoulders with sharp teeth and nails, and two other younglings stalked towards them with bloodlust in their eyes and fangs dripping with blood. Holden bit at the neck of one of the creatures, and kicked out at another, his face a grimace of concentration. I had no chance to warn him of the other youngling that crept toward him – she was as tiny as Qadesh and there was a crazed countenance in her eyes. She'd picked up a Fae sword from somewhere and I watched in shocked fascination when she swung the blade. It was almost bigger than she was, but she wielded the weapon effortlessly and before I could shout a warning, it was too late.
She'd decapitated Holden.
I screamed, long and loud, squeezing my eyes shut. Before I could explain to Ripley, warn him of what had happened, they'd disappeared far behind us, Ripley keeping up a relentless pace.
Although Ripley hadn't seen Holden's murder, he stumbled fleetingly when the link to Holden's thoughts was cut off, and he cursed, even as he increased his speed. “Holden is no more.” He twisted and turned between tents, and I sobbed against his shoulder, devastated. “Matt is still working with Clint and some of the others humans with their weapons. Don't worry, they're close to a portal and they're going to fall back just as soon as the last of the group are throu—”
Ripley's voice w
as cut off as he fell heavily to the ground and I was somersaulted from his back and slipped through the mud, the momentum he'd built up leaving me to slide across the ground until impact with the side of a tent slowed my velocity. “Ripley!” I shrieked, but in the smoke and confusion, I couldn't see him. The flare of burning fires created grotesque shadows all around me, making it difficult to work out what was real and what was created by my frightened imagination.
I knew without doubt that one thing wasn't a part of my imagination, no matter how much I might wish otherwise. Striding across the muddy, bloody battlefield, dodging between the fighting creatures as though he was completely untouchable, Archangelo appeared, his blood-soaked lips breaking into a crazed grin.
≈†◊◊†◊◊†◊◊†≈
“Angel,” he spoke calmly, seeming oblivious to the chaos and confusion all around us. “You betrayed my trust. That bitch, Nissa, she helped you escape, didn't she? I'll have to kill her, as I did all those other Fae bastards who failed to stop your escape from the villa.” He glanced around casually, surveying the nearby area. “Where is she?”
He was maybe six feet away. Instinct told me to do something – anything – rather than let him touch me again. But I was frozen, powerless to move. All I could do was watch on in abject horror, convinced there was no escape.
He took a step toward me, then another. His eyes fixed on mine, he ignored everything happening around us, as though it was all inconsequential and unworthy of his attention. And why wouldn't he, I thought in a moment of clarity – when all around him, his people were laying waste to my group, the same people who were relying on me for safety? What good had I done them? I'd been too scared to do anything, other than save the little Red Cap and by doing so – by making Ripley come back for me – I'd gotten him killed.
“Now Angel, you must come home,” Archangelo said. He was keeping his voice calm, his tone gentle as though deliberately attempting to reassure a frightened puppy. He probably suspected I would bolt at any moment, but where would I go? The Katchet and Philaris remained on the belt, my fingers too frozen by fear to reach for them. Memories of living with Archangelo flashed through my mind; overwhelming me with revulsion. I needed to run. I knew I had to escape, go somewhere far away from this man, who'd done so much to ruin my life.
“…wondered why I'd had no visions of you in my dreams. But it's that necklace, isn't it?” He eyed the pendant Gabby had created.
I clutched at the sparkling jewel around my neck. I'd missed part of what Archangelo said, but when I forced my focus onto him, I was alarmed to see he'd narrowed the gap between us. Crablike, I scampered backwards and Archangelo laughed.
“You can't escape! You belong to me. I've told you that. Besides, I'm going to destroy this rag-tag bunch you've aligned yourself with.” He waved an arm over the camp. “What I don't finish off, Bran will destroy. We're ready to set our plans in motion, Angel, and with you at my side, we'll rule over all these creatures.”
I couldn't find my voice, couldn't force words out. A couple of werewolves approached, growling as they moved into an attack formation, but Archangelo didn't flinch, showed no reaction to their offensive. In the last second before they reached him, Archangelo flicked a wrist, releasing a wave of energy which sent the wolves skyward. I watched them hit the trees, Archangelo's energy wave so precise, each wolf was staked to an individual branch, the limbs ripping holes through their chests and leaving them stranded, high in the tree, bodies spasming, and yelping in agony.
I'd forgotten everything. I'd forgotten to use my abilities, instead getting overwhelmed in a flood of paralyzing fear. I hadn't drawn any sigils on my skin – unlike Archangelo, who was covered with them. I'd forgotten I had the ability to fight back, to defend myself and others. Rather than fight, I'd let myself be overwhelmed by dread and relied on everyone else to keep me safe. Even as these thoughts tumbled through my mind, I remained frozen, panic squeezing my heart in a vice-like grip. I couldn't seem to draw breath into my lungs.
Archangelo stalked towards me, still talking. “You've been keeping secrets, Angel. It was only when I found myself in that little brat's dream that I realized what was happening. Imagine how surprised I was, to discover there was another angel? And he's your step-brother, by some twisted turn of fate!” He shook his head. “Your old man's been a busy guy, spawned two of you, and another one on the way.” He laughed at what I assumed was shock in my expression. “Yeah, the little brat showed me a lot of what's going on around here, including the fact that he's going to be a big brother.” He sneered. “I'll have to get rid of the kid and his pregnant mom – oh, and let's not forget that vampire's spawn; I know you snatched him back from the Realm somehow. They all need to be exterminated. There are only two Nememiah's Children on Earth who matter – you and me.”
My head was buzzing, fear and an escalating sense of dread reducing the din around me until Archangelo's voice seemed magnified when he spoke, the words starting to make sense. “I won't let you,” I moaned, but the words were empty, had no meaning when I knew I couldn't do anything to stop him. In that moment, I loathed myself, as much as I loathed him.
Archangelo crouched beside me, his casual pose sending me into a tailspin of fresh anxiety when I realized he was close enough to touch me. “I doubt you'll be able to stop me, Angel.”
I shook my head vigorously. “Patrick's safe.”
He cocked his head to one side. “Patrick? Is that the name you've given the vampire's progeny?” He chuckled. “He'll never be safe, Angel. He'll be killed, along with your stepbrother and that unborn bastard. You and I,” he reached for me, yanking on my arm, pulling me up with a velocity fierce enough to have my feet leaving the ground, “will produce our own children, our own dynasty.”
I struggled against his grip, caught in a panic attack which held me as surely as Archangelo did, barring me from taking any action while I struggled to breathe. Thoughts of him killing Patrick, murdering Kazuki and Misaki in cold blood had me enveloped in crippling terror. And I hated myself for it, hated that I was doing nothing to protect myself, nothing to protect them from this monster.
I loathed the touch of his hand. Memories of what he'd done to me crowded my head, and bile rose in my throat, my stomach a churning mass. If he managed to whisk me back into the Realm, it would happen again. I wanted to fight back – even as he dragged me through the camp, calmly keeping my group at bay and killing anyone who got close enough to try and rescue me – I wanted to fight back.
But I didn't. And I hated myself for it, more with each passing second. My mind heaved, and the spirits shouted; begging me to fight, take the situation in hand and do something – anything to escape the inevitable conclusion, but it seemed my body wasn't my own. Overwhelmed with paranoia, I couldn't control anything.
When the panic reached a crescendo – at the point when I suspected I would pass out, because the steel-vice grip on my heart had squeezed it to a bloody pulp – a blur of black and grey and orange and brown barreled into us, ripping my body from Archangelo's grasp and thrusting me away from him. I watched from a distance, as though viewing a program on TV, as a group of Fae and shifters surrounded Archangelo and fought valiantly against his energy orbs with weapons and teeth and claws, keeping him busy.
That thought was replaced by knowledge that when the shapeshifters had wrenched me from Archangelo's grip, their combined energy had launched us high into the air. I watched distractedly as the ground rose to meet us, vaguely considered how painful landing would be.
At the last second – just before the ground seemed likely to destroy my body – the tiger, panther and two wolves who'd combined their strength to break Archangelo's grip on my arm swung around, ensuring they were beneath me and broke my fall. I heard one of them yelp when the pressure of our combined weight snapped a couple of bones.
Before I had an opportunity to thank my furry saviors, I was yanked to my feet, and Conal hugged me to his side, the relief in his black eyes palpab
le. “Fall back!” he shouted. “Get through the portals! Fall back now!”
And then he ran, with me still tucked under his arm, and launched us through a portal to safety.
Chapter 36: Coup
A flock of wild geese swept in over the lake, flapping their wings in perfect synchronicity before they floated along on the breeze, their shadows reflected on the water below. The scene was peaceful, the scent of rain in the crisp air, and snow already settled high in the mountains behind me.
The beauty of our surroundings did nothing to soothe my savaged psyche. Two days had passed, and over the course of those forty-eight hours, our group had progressively been reunited, with Epi working nonstop to return everyone from the far-flung places they'd been transported to across the planet. Our numbers were badly depleted; we'd lost nearly five hundred before the last escape route had been shut down – including Holden. Learning Striker had survived came as a vast relief, and he'd killed Qadesh, eliminating another of Odin's council. But her death had come at the cost of his brother – a bitter pill to swallow for everyone. Striker was lying low, mourning for Holden and I'd shed multiple tears over the loss of a vampire I'd considered a friend. While he and I hadn't developed the same closeness I enjoyed with the other Tines, it still seemed as if I'd lost someone dear to me and although I could hear him, along with the other spirits, it was cold comfort given Striker would spend the rest of his life without him.
Words couldn't express the relief I'd experienced when I learned Ripley had survived; although in the chaos of the final retreat, he'd been left behind and spent an arduous twelve hours in hiding until we could rescue him and a handful of others abandoned when the portals were shut off. His fall had come about when a demon coalesced beneath his feet – he'd suffered multiple injuries in the ensuing attack, but was recovering swiftly. Although I couldn't comprehend Acenith's flood of French words following his return, the inference was obvious – she was ecstatic to have him back.
Knowledge Protects (The Nememiah Chronicles Book 5) Page 31