Angel Fire: Angel Fire, Book 1

by Johnston, Marie

  “Duh.”

  She glared up at her sister. It wasn’t worth asking her how she could be so callous. She had every reason to be cold regarding him.

  Jagger spoke next. “Their goal is Bryant’s wings. They’ve gotten the director out of the way. With Bryant out of the way, they can get to his team and to you two.”

  Odessa drew in a shaky breath. Not his wings. “What do we do?”

  “The senate still hasn’t heard the whole story. One of us needs to get into one of their sessions and tell them.” He scowled again at Felicia. He probably wanted to be the one to do it, but he couldn’t ditch her sister. “It’d help if we could prove who killed your father. Or even how they got the weapon.”

  “All of Bryant’s gear was in the house. He kept his stuff downstairs since that’s where he’d been sleeping.”

  Felicia crossed her arms. “Anyone could have sifted through the rubble and found a knife.”

  “They can’t prove Bryant did it,” Odessa pointed out.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Jagger said. “Numen don’t practice human law. If Stede can convince the senate Vale’s guilty, that’s all they need. They’ll take his wings.”

  “Where’s the big guy at?” Felicia asked looking around.

  “They’re keeping him somewhere else. An isolated cell.”

  Jagger shook his head, his blond hair flying. “They’re after his wings. They won’t waste time before trying him for the murder.”

  Odessa grabbed the bars, wishing her rage and fear equaled strength and she could just pry them open. “I need to get to him.”

  “Anything we do is going to make it worse,” Jagger said grimly.

  “Let me go to the house Father lived in,” Felicia said. “It’s close enough to the senate’s headquarters. Maybe we can find out what’s going on.”

  “You’ve been to his place?” She’d been under the impression they’d had nothing to do with each other.

  “It’s where I last talked to him. We had words.” Felicia didn’t elaborate beyond that, but from the glint of pain in her eyes, her talk with Father was not him telling her how much he loved her and how he’d failed her. “But I didn’t kill him.”

  Jameson stepped forward, but refrained from touching Felicia. “We’d better go. At least it won’t look as suspicious if we’re snooping around the senate’s campus.”

  “Find him.” Odessa was two heartbeats away from panicking.

  Her sister and Jagger disappeared. She looked around. Dammit. A full-on panic attack would do no good in this place.

  So now what?

  * * *

  Bryant’s shirtless torso stretched over the post. His hands were tied to a bolt in the floor, his feet bound in the same chains behind them—also secured to the floor. Dread gripped him.

  What the hell had he gotten himself into?

  Winger stood over him, waiting for the final announcement. Nobody knew his real name. He was the angel who took wings from those doomed to fall. The male was massive. He had to be. Once he took hold of an angel’s wings, there was no wrestling away. The only thing that came next was the slice of the blade. And it kept coming until the wings were severed.

  His fucking wings.

  Bryant had tuned out the hushed conversations of the senators long ago. All he thought about was his wings. An extremity he never gave much thought to. Took them for granted, really. Sure, he liked to fly—barely did it. They were good in a fight, had saved many a blade from entering his heart. It burned like a motherfucker when they got sliced, though. Like a foot-long paper cut.

  The asshole pressing for his de-winging was a senator called Kenton. Bryant had never crossed paths with him. In the hour he’d been in this position while the blowhards debated the fate of his wings, it was clear the senator didn’t like him. The guy was gunning for his feathers. With Stede’s help.

  Stede painted a convincing picture, all right. Years of resentment due to blaming Senator Montclaire for his team’s demise. Senator Montclaire trying to save Odessa from him. That was the first Bryant had heard. Stede was lying. Even the mansion’s tragedy was laid at his feet.

  The only thing Bryant was grateful for in all this was that Odessa was not implicated as being responsible for her father’s death. Stede had tried, but Senator Naasim shot him down. She’d known the Montclaire sisters their whole lives and she wouldn’t see them dragged into this. Bryant had always liked that one. She was centuries old but looked like she was sixty in human years. Her mate was still a warrior. They’d probably live forever and kick ass and take names the whole time.

  To his surprise, even Odessa’s ex, Crestin, had spoken in her defense. Bryant still hated him. Just a little less now.

  “It’s time to make the official proclamation,” Senator Kenton intoned. “I hereby decree, Bryant Vale, fallen.”

  Gasps echoed off the marble walls of the circular auditorium.

  “Ready for this?” Winger spoke so low, only Bryant could hear.

  To answer, Bryant laid his head down and prayed.

  * * *

  A roar ripped through the air. Odessa ran for her life.

  No, not her life. Bryant’s.

  Felicia and Jagger had discovered Bryant was being tried and came back as Odessa was being released. She’d been found innocent.

  All three of them flew to the senate auditorium and landed as close as they could to the entrance and Odessa sprinted the rest of the way. The others were close behind.

  Guards stepped in front of the door. Another bellow echoed from within the chamber. Adrenaline laced Odessa’s blood. She punched the guard on her right, ignored the agony in her hand, and dodged the one on her left. She spun around them. Surprise made them slow, so by the time Odessa had the door open, Jagger and Felicia had engaged them.

  “No!” The vision that greeted her drove her to her knees.

  Bryant was chained down. His chest and stomach draped over a large wooden stump. His bloodied hunk of wings hung from a scowling, menacing male.

  The one called Winger dropped Bryant’s pewter wings. They landed with sickening thump, feathers crooked and splayed, blood splattered across the floor.

  He flipped a metal latch. A metal clang rang through the open auditorium as the chains holding Bryant released.

  His groan spurred her on. She popped up and raced through senator seating.

  Winger’s spotted her and his forehead furrowed. “You know the rules.”

  Bryant would never be dead to her. She’d never forget him. She sped toward her mate. The bloody pits in his back threatened to either make her sick or attack Winger with all her rage. Rage was winning. She’d turn that knife of his on him.

  Bryant shifted to gaze at her. He was gray and shaking, his breathing raspy. The muscles of his strong body rippled as waves of pain crashed over him. His warning expression made Odessa slow. Only slightly.

  He shook his head. Was he ashamed to be seen by her? Did he expect her not to care? Or was he afraid she’d risk her own future by not disowning him?

  Winger bent down and yanked Bryant’s arm.

  “Stop!” she screamed. She was almost there.

  They disappeared.

  Odessa pulled to a stop in front of Bryant’s limp wings. She searched the sky for them, but Winger had transported away.

  “He was innocent! You fools!” she shrieked to the silent auditorium. She glared at the audience. Her brain registered no familiar faces even though she knew everyone in the room.

  Dropping to her knees, she sunk shaking hands into the warm feathers. Burning tears streaked down her cheeks. Bryant’s deep gray wings were soft under her fingers. So soft. She remembered how they had felt when he draped them over her during sleep. How they looked when he held them high.

  Footsteps rushed from behind her.

  “Oh my God, Ode.” Felicia stopped next to her, but Odessa couldn’t look up. She didn’t want to hear it. She wanted nothing to do with these people.

  There wa
s only one place she wanted to be. Odessa stormed back out the way she came. No one stopped her. Once outside, she descended.

  * * *

  Calcutta.

  “Yep,” Winger answered. “It’s Kolkata now.”

  Bryant hadn’t realized he said it out loud. He sagged on all fours on the ground, not bothering to look around. He recognized the sights and smells.

  His back. Huuuurt.

  “What happened to dropping me in London?” It’d be a miracle if Winger understood him. His normally gravelly voice was thick with pain.

  “Senator Kenton gave me instructions before your hearing.”

  “It wasn’t exactly a hearing. It was a witch hunt.”

  “We expected no less,” Winger agreed.

  Yeah. It went exactly as they had thought. Until the last ten seconds.

  “Odessa.” Bryant groaned her name. How the hell had she gotten there? If she left the enforcer’s prison, they could still try to punish her.

  “Don’t know, man.” Winger dropped his hold on Bryant. “Made it look believable, though.”

  “Whaddya mean, believable?” Bryant staggered under his own weight. “It was real.”

  “Yeah. It was.” Winger wasn’t a male of many words. But he was a good angel, despite his job. “Remember what I told you?”

  “Yeah,” Bryant answered, fighting to a standing position. “You remember the address?”

  “Yep. You got twenty-four hours.”

  “I’m in fucking Calcutta.”

  “Kolkata,” Winger corrected. Bryant shot him a dirty look. The male shrugged. “I have a lot of downtime. I travel.”

  Bryant tried standing in a position that didn’t aggravate the molten volcanoes burning in his back. Nothing helped. “You have a way out of here for me then?”

  “Nope.” Winger turned his attention toward Bryant. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out. See you in twenty-three hours.”

  The executioner of the senate left in a blink.

  Bryant slowly turned in a full circle, leaving a swirl of blood droplets on the ground. At least Winger had dropped him in a private section of the city. A rundown, gritty area, but Bryant would make it work.

  Maybe.

  What was he going to do? His fallback plan was set in London. Not fucking India.

  All right. First things first. He needed a towel and a shirt.

  * * *

  Bryant had spent at least two hours looking for a kind soul that was willing to let him make an international call. His scarred appearance and lurching form made humans rush in the other direction. He couldn’t see his back, but he was sure blood from his injury was seeping into his shirt.

  Twenty-one hours left. To get halfway around the world.

  Keeping to the shadows, Bryant staggered until he found what he was looking for.

  A dude on a phone.

  It wasn’t a good idea to start off a fall by committing a crime. Not when he wanted to get his wings back.

  Twenty-one hours.

  Bryant hung out, watching people pass. He bided his time, waiting for the right target.

  More than luck was on his side when a young man stepped into the shadows. He was frantically typing into his phone. Bryant glided up behind him and knocked him out. The phone dropped and clattered on the ground.

  Bryant lunged for it. Swearing, he picked it up.

  Score, it wasn’t a smart phone.

  It took a lot of calling around, more than a few informational calls, until he was finally connected with his target.

  “Hello?”

  “Matthias Perez?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re going to help me, and I’ll tell you why.” Bryant filled in the astounded angel on how he knew about him and Junie, and exactly what he needed. He couldn’t call his parents, or they’d pay for being in contact with him. “You’re a chaperone. Get here.”

  “It doesn’t work like that.”

  “People die everywhere. Get here.”

  “It doesn’t work like that,” Matthias repeated.

  “You wanna be hanging out, wingless, with me? I doubt the senate will be kind to you, or your mate.”

  “Okay. Fine. Fuck.” Matthias inhaled deeply. “Give me a meeting point and I’ll get there.”

  Bryant rattled off an address he passed a few streets back. After he hung up, he dropped the phone to the ground by the human. He pitied the man’s cellphone bill.

  Chapter 29

  The sheets smelled like him.

  Odessa was curled on Bryant’s bed in his London flat. She’d been here with Bryant only days ago, after the fire. It felt like years.

  She didn’t know how much time had passed since she witnessed Bryant’s life get taken away. Her only solace was that he wasn’t dead.

  And that he had a backup plan.

  He loved this flat. He loved London. He’d be back. She’d pull a Matthias Perez and keep her mate.

  Only he wasn’t back yet. Oh God, what if he bled out before he could get here?

  Odessa sat up. Maybe she should go look for him.

  She laid back down. It was a ridiculous idea. They could’ve dropped him anywhere in the city.

  She sat back up. What if they didn’t take him to London? It would be cruel to take Bryant anywhere else, but the senate hadn’t been kind when they had ordered his wrongful punishment.

  Odessa stood to go to the window, but remembered her wings were still out. It felt a little insulting, waiting for Bryant with her wings on display.

  Oh no. If Bryant even had a key to this place, he wouldn’t have it on him.

  Heading to the door, she stopped when she heard huffing and scraping on the other side. Odessa was frozen in place, trying to figure out her next move. She’d taken on two guards already today. Sort of. Jagger and Felicia finished what she’d started.

  Okay, she’d messed with two guards already, she could take on whomever was outside the door.

  To prevent changing her mind, she marched to the door and whipped it open.

  A battered Bryant fell over the threshold.

  Startled, she caught him against her and stumbled backward. The door swung closed behind him.

  He straightened and his own bewildered expression changed to one Odessa could only explain as guarded hope.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Waiting for you.” Odessa took the chance to look him over.

  Poor guy. He was haggard and exhausted, but he still stood strong. There was visible tightness in his shoulders from the pain radiating through his back.

  “It could get you in trouble.” He was still looking at her funny.

  “I don’t care. It worked for Matthias and Junie Perez, we can make it work for us. Come on.” She turned to head to the bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Maybe my healing abilities will still work on you.”

  “Odessa.” He hadn’t moved.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I need to tell you something.”

  “Okay.” She resumed her path to the bathroom. Grabbing washcloths and towels, she called back to him. “We can talk while we get you taken care of.”

  While she was running water to warm it for the cloths, he shuffled into the bathroom. His expression had changed to a baffled concern.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked again.

  He gave his head a shake. “Hopefully nothing.”

  The sound of the front door bursting open had both of them charging out of the bathroom to see who it was.

  A male boomed. “I can’t find your girl. They say she descended as soon as I left with you. Oh—”

  Winger pulled up short. He had changed clothes since Odessa had last seen him. She was relieved he was no longer covered in Bryant’s blood. The large male was carrying an enormous duffel bag.

  He dropped the duffel and eyed her. “Well, I guess that solves one problem.”

  Odessa wanted to be angry. She felt like she should be angry, but she was confused
as hell.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked Winger. Then she looked at Bryant, who didn’t appear surprised. “You were expecting him?”

  “Y’all are going to have to chitchat later, because the sooner we do this the better. If I’d known she’d be here already, I’d have come earlier.”

  “I just got here,” Bryant answered.

  Winger grinned. “That was cutting it close. How’d you manage it?”

  Bryant shrugged and winced. Odessa finally looked at his back. Dots of blood covered the back of his shirt and lumps that must be some form of padding gave him a hunchback appearance. He needed to get his wounds tended.

  Winger gestured to the open space in the main room. “Looks like the best spot to try this.” He picked up the duffel and headed to where he’d pointed.

  “Try what?” Odessa had so many questions.

  “Try? You’re not sure if this’ll work?” Bryant followed Winger. Odessa followed Bryant.

  “I told you.” Winger drug an end table into the middle of the floor and set the duffel beside it. “It’s only a suspicion. A strong one, but it’s not like it’s ever been done before. The senate isn’t full of angels that say ‘whoops, we shouldn’t have done that.’”

  Odessa stopped, put her hands on her hips, and flared her wings out. “What are you two talking about?”

  Bryant exhaled, still glaring at Winger. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t get to you to tell you. And I thought you’d still be in the holding cell by the time Winger went looking for you.”

  Winger snorted. “Made it look totally believable, though.”

  Bryant rounded back on him. “It was totally believable. You cut my bloody wings off.”

  The other angel held up his hands in a placating manner. “I get it. It’s a sore subject.”

  Odessa was about to blow, anger overtaking confusion. Bryant turned back to her.

  “I knew my wings were goners. Stede would make sure I looked guilty. My only goal was to get you cleared. Then Winger found me.”

  Odessa’s gaze flicked back to the burly angel.