by C. L. Parker
Bloody hell . . .
He jumped up from the bench and sprinted into the house to find his father. Tori could be as angry as she wanted to be at him, but this was definitely not something that should be kept a secret. Because if the sinking feeling he had in his gut was even close to right, Tori was in a whole hell of a lot of trouble.
Hovering over the journal now lying on the center of Drew’s desk, Dante’s father as well as Tori’s parents looked ashen. Tears streamed down Kerrigan’s cheeks as Dominic molded her into his side with a comforting arm around her shoulders.
“It’s okay, Querida. Everything’s going to be okay,” he reassured her. Even he didn’t sound convinced by his words.
“How can you say that, Dom? The terror she must have gone through . . .” Choking sobs cut off her words, but they didn’t need to be said. Everyone knew what she meant.
“If I had known,” Dominic said through clenched teeth. He released Kerrigan and his knuckles came down hard on the desk, startling everyone. “I should’ve known, goddamnit! I’m her father, and I’ve got Guardian Angel blood running through my veins! How could I not have known?” He stepped away from the desk and began to pace around the room with his hands fisted in his hair.
“There’s more,” Dante said, flipping through the pages. When he got to one of the drawings of the man in her dreams, he twisted the book around toward his father, watching and gauging his reaction.
“It’s . . . it’s not possible,” Drew said so quietly Dante almost didn’t hear him.
Dominic rounded the desk to look over Drew’s shoulder. “What the hell is this shit? Who is that guy?” Dominic asked, putting his hands on his hips. He’d developed a tic in his jaw from his effort to stave off another outburst.
“Drew?” Kerrigan said when he hadn’t answered.
Drew stood and went to a bookshelf on the far wall. “If I’m right . . .” He paused, fingering the ancient book spines until he found the one he was looking for and pulled it out. He opened the book and turned the pages as he walked back to the desk. “If I’m right, that guy is this guy.”
Drew put the book on the desk and pulled Tori’s journal next to it so everyone could see the comparison. The picture staring back at them was a near-exact replica of the man Tori had drawn in her journal. Only their attire and hairstyle had differed.
“That’s not telling me shit, Drew. Who the fuck is he?” Dominic asked.
“That would be Adam, the first man created by God.”
Kerrigan looked stunned and then confused, and with good reason. “Why would he be in Tori’s head?”
“I knew I’d seen him somewhere before,” Dante took Tori’s journal and flipped it to the drawing of the statue before replacing it. “Look what else I found. Do you see the resemblance?”
Drew looked from the journal to his son with a furrowed brow. “Blimey . . .”
“What?” Kerrigan asked.
“That was my reaction precisely,” Dante said.
“What?” Kerrigan repeated.
“Have you any idea what this means?” Drew asked Dante.
“Mind if we know, too?” Dominic barked, not appreciating the fact that he and Kerrigan had all but been left out of the conversation.
Drew shook his head. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry, I’m just astounded.”
“What? What? What?” Kerrigan was clearly aggravated.
Drew turned Tori’s journal around to face Kerrigan and Dominic. “This statue is in our garden.”
“Yeah, so?” Dominic prompted him to continue.
“So . . . I’ve always believed that to be a statue of Eve.” Dante crossed his arms and waited for their reaction. Kerrigan and Dominic just looked more confused. “As in Adam and Eve.”
“Okay, and?” Dominic looked like he was about to blow at any moment.
“Look at it again. Does it look like anyone you know?”
Dominic pulled the journal closer so he and Kerrigan could examine it more thoroughly.
“It’s Tori,” Kerrigan whispered with her hand to her throat. “Oh, God. It’s Tori, isn’t it? What does that mean?”
Drew sat slowly as if he was afraid his legs might fall out from under him. After a moment, he said the words Dante had been afraid to say out loud, but knew to be true.
“You and Dominic know better than anyone about past lives. You’ve seen your own play out before you.”
“You’re saying Tori is the reincarnation of Eve?” Dominic gave a humorless laugh. “Drew, you need to get your boy across the pond for some fresh air. I think all this London fog has seeped into his brain.”
Drew steepled his fingers under his chin like the British gent he was. “My family has always had an active interest in the story of Adam and Eve, mostly because they were the first woman and man in existence. We’ve tried to trace our line back to their time to discern how we came to be. After all, our existence had to start somewhere. Written in my family’s journals is a belief that because the first sin was committed by Adam and Eve, they could never exist on Earth simultaneously again and that there would only be one reincarnation between the two.”
“So what does that have to do with my baby girl?”
“Nothing good, I’m afraid. The beginning signals the end.”
“Drew, man, you’re talking in riddles here. English?”
“Everything must come full circle. Based on that theory, if the end reaches the beginning, then we’re talking about the second coming. If Tori is the reincarnation of Eve and she’s reunited with Adam, it could have catastrophic consequences. Speaking on an apocalyptic level.”
“How do you mean?”
Drew thought about that for a moment. “After they were driven from the garden, Eve bore two sons, Cain and Abel. In a jealous rage, Cain murdered Abel and then lied about it. Did you know that some theorists believe Cain was actually the son of Satan? That would make him something of an antichrist, though, wouldn’t it?”
Dominic pinched the bridge of his nose. “None of this is making any sense. It sounds an awful lot to me like you’re saying if Tori gets together with this guy—”
“Adam,” Drew corrected him.
“Adam, and they . . . they . . .”
“Procreate,” Drew added for him.
Dominic’s jaw clenched and he forced the word through his teeth that seemed to be wired shut. “Procreate, that she’s going to give birth to the antichrist, thereby bringing about the end of the world. Is that what you’re saying?”
“I’m afraid so.”
He leveled a steely glare at Drew as if it had all been his idea. “It’s a little far-fetched, don’t you think?”
“No more so than Guardian Angels, Guardians of the Light, ghosts, and demons actually existing.”
“Touché,” Dominic said, bowing his head. When he lifted it again, he looked at Kerrigan. “You’re being awfully quiet, Querida. What do you think about all this?”
Kerrigan rubbed her hands over her face. “I don’t know what to think, but if there’s even a remote chance that it’s true . . .” She shook her head. “I don’t even want to think about it being true.”
“I don’t really think we have a choice in the matter,” Drew said.
“So,” Dante interrupted, “why do you think Tori won’t wake up? What could that mean? And what about the nightmares she’s been having with all the demons?”
Drew sat forward and flipped through the drawings in Tori’s journal. “The nightmares could simply be a result of her demonic bloodline, but as long as I’m throwing out far-fetched theories . . .” He grabbed the book with the picture of Adam and turned a couple of pages until he found what he was looking for. “There is another belief that the forbidden fruit wasn’t really a fruit. It was the power of light and dark combined, forbidden because no one person should be able to wield its power. If Eve was the first to taste it, she might have taken that power into herself. And if Tori is the reincarnation of Eve then it stands to reason tha
t she still carries that power. It might explain why she’s having the nightmares about the demons. Simply put, they live within her.
“As for her current unconscious state, I believe it’s quite possible that she’s trapped in her conscience.”
“Her sanctuary?” Dante asked.
Drew shrugged and traded the book for Tori’s journal, thumbing through the pages. “If I found myself in mortal danger, I believe I’d think to try to escape to my sanctuary to avoid it. Maybe that’s why her scans were showing brain patterns uncommon to that of coma patients.”
“Oh, dear God. This is too much,” Kerrigan said, standing.
Dominic laid a hand on her arm to stop her. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to get my little girl. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but somehow I’m going to find a way to get her back here. Safe and sound. Where she belongs.”
“Don’t you think we should figure out a way to do that first? We’ve tried everything, and nothing has worked.”
“Obviously we have to go into her sanctuary,” Kerrigan said.
“Can’t bloody well do that if she’s not conscious to take us there. You know the rules, Miss Cruz,” Drew said, still looking through the pages. “Do either of you know what this drawing might represent?” He turned the journal around and pointed to a sketch toward the beginning.
There were two drawings there. The first of which was of her childlike depiction of her mark.
Kerrigan’s expression warmed as she traced her fingers over the indentations of the drawing. “She must have been looking in the mirror when she drew this. It’s backward.”
Under it was a roughly drawn circle of four orbs with jagged lines connecting them in a circle around a bigger orb in the center. One of the smaller orbs had the same jagged line drawn to the central body.
Dominic shook his head. “No idea.”
“Wait a minute, that’s it!” Dante said, excitedly as he took the journal.
“What’s it?” Kerrigan asked.
“I’m the Guardian of the Guardian, right? So, I have to be able to protect her . . . even from herself.”
“Go on,” Drew said.
“This is my mark, not hers,” Dante continued, pointing to the first drawing. “Father, you taught me that sometimes Guardians receive messages through their bloodlines, and they not always see them come to fruition.”
“That’s true,” Dominic said, sitting on the corner of the desk. “Availia used to say shit all the time that didn’t make a bit of sense. Like the night she died. She told me about Tori, only I thought she was talking about Kerrigan after I’d met her.”
“What did she say?” Kerrigan asked.
“I memorized the words. Hell, I can even still hear her say them,” he started. “Um, let’s see. She will be of your making. You will cherish and nurture her, and then you will set her free to do as she is destined.”
Kerrigan’s eyes welled up with fresh tears. “You never told me that. Is that why you were always so lenient with Tori?”
Dominic took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “It wouldn’t have made a difference if I had told you, Querida. Nothing would’ve kept you from worrying. You worried enough for the both of us, so I kept enough faith for us in return. Balance,” he said, leaning in to kiss the tip of her nose.
Drew cleared his throat, obviously feeling a bit intrusive, but wanting to get back on topic. “You were saying, Dante?”
“Right. This is my mark, and I’m willing to bet this central light is Tori. I’m her Guardian, so maybe our mated marks mean I can pass into her sanctuary without her having to pull me in. Which means this would be me,” he said, pointing to the orb directly connected to the central orb.
“And what about the other ones?” Dominic asked.
Drew’s face lit up. He went around the sketch pointing to each interconnected orb, calling them out by name, starting with the first. “Dante, me, Kerrigan, and you, Dominic. We’re all Guardians.”
“But I’m not a Guardian of the Light,” Dominic corrected him.
“You’re still a Guardian.” Kerrigan squeezed his hand. “And you’re her father. It has to be you.”
“Okay, so let’s say you’re right. What does that mean?”
“We’re bound together here by our energies. So, what if I can go into her sanctuary and pull all of you in with me?”
“That’s a big what if,” Dominic said.
Dante shrugged. “What would it hurt to try? Worst case, we’re back to square one and we try to think of something else.”
“Drew, what do you think?” Kerrigan asked him.
He sat back in his oversized chair and folded his hands in his lap. “I think my son is a very smart lad indeed.”
What Dante had presented as an easy solution to how they were going to get into Tori’s sanctuary without her consciously inviting them in seemed logical at the time. Now, he had his doubts.
Sensing his son’s uncertainty—or maybe it was the fact that Dante was pacing in the hall outside Tori’s bedroom while biting his nails to the quick—Drew placed his hands on the tops of Dante’s arms to still him.
“No worries, son. This is going to work. We’ll get her out of there.”
“I wish I could be as sure as you. How the bloody hell am I to be able to actually infiltrate her sanctuary when I could see nothing of her while she was in my own?” He paused in thought and then looked back up at his father. “Christ! Could it have been the fucking wall in her sanctuary that kept me out?”
Drew started to pace then. Like father, like son. “Perhaps. It stands to reason the wall would block her mind. Kerrigan told me Lucy couldn’t get a read on her, either. It’s entirely possible the wall might have doubled as some sort of defense mechanism and Victoria never realized its power. She’s unconscious now, so, theoretically, any defenses she might have erected before were done subconsciously and would therefore be gone, or at the very least weakened in her current state.” He stopped and turned to Dante. “Perhaps a test is in order? Will that make you feel better about the challenge?”
“A test? What sort of test?”
“One where only you attempt to push into her mind. If it works, we’ll know better what we’re dealing with. If it doesn’t, then we’ll just have to figure out another way.”
Agreeing, Dante went into Tori’s bedroom with his father close behind in a show of support. Kerrigan was sitting on the edge of the bed with Tori’s hand in hers while Dominic stood at the window and looked out at the street below. Gabe sat in a chair that had been pulled up to the foot of the bed, wringing his hands, and Sinclair busied herself with cleaning nonexistent dirt from every surface in the immaculately clean room.
After explaining to Kerrigan and Dominic what he was about to attempt and gaining their consent, Colton took a quick check of her vitals and then nodded the okay. Dante took Kerrigan’s spot on the bed next to Tori. He lightly caressed her face and then lifted her hand to press a delicate kiss to her knuckles before closing his eyes to her fragility.
Everyone in the room was dead silent to the point Dante wondered if they, too, were holding their breaths. It took him a bit to calm his nerves, concentrating solely on the task at hand. Within moments, he felt his mind warping out of his physical body and ascending to that place in his mind’s eye. He pushed and pulled, forcing his thoughts to focus on Tori. His fingers stroked the soft skin of her hand, willing his energy to connect with hers. And then his mind took a sharp turn and began to speed into another direction.
Dante could sense his Angel, practically smell her perfume and taste her candied lips. He gave himself over to the sensations, letting himself get carried away to a place where he could be immersed in all that she was. There was light at the end of the tunnel; dim, but there all the same. Before he could break through to the other end, he came to an abrupt halt just at the entrance.
A chill ran through his bones, and he shivered. It was dark, foreboding in the way it slit
hered along until it found his heart, which lurched in his chest. The haze before him began to clear, and he tried to push forward again, but to no avail. Once it had completely diminished, he froze at the sight before him.
This was no sanctuary. This was Hell—a wasteland of blood, fire and brimstone, and devoid of anything remotely resembling sanctity.
A melting pot of creatures, the likes of which he would never be able to imagine in his most horrific nightmares, roamed freely. Some he recognized from the drawings in Tori’s journal. Others were even nastier. They fought over the flesh of their dead and fed off those that remained standing. Demonic grunts and snarls emanated from every direction, sounds that could invoke fear in the most devout servant of God.
And in the middle of it all, was an angel.
Tori sat alone in the center of a small patch of green grass and wildflowers dusted with a thin layer of snow. It must have been all that was left of her real sanctuary. Dante would’ve given anything to be able to see it in its full majestic beauty, but sadly, it was gone.
Her legs were folded up to her chest and her forehead rested on the tops of her knees with her long auburn hair hanging like a veil around her as she rocked to and fro. Apparently sensing his presence, Tori’s head snapped up and she looked in his direction. Her exotic teal eyes were dull and red around the puffy rims. She’d been crying.
“Dante?” she whispered, her voice full of hope. “Dante, are you there?”