Moonlight Mist: A Limited Edition Collection of Fantasy & Paranormal)

by Nicole Morgan

  He released her as suddenly as he grabbed her yet didn’t move away. Looming over her, his chest heaved. Sweat trickled from his forehead and down the slope of his nose. A vein throbbed in his temple. A vein…throbbed.

  “You’re human.”

  He flicked away the sweat and snarled, “This was your plan all along. To make me weak at the very moment I need to be my strongest. To make me care about more than the portal and my duty.” His voice lowered and radiated with emotion. “To make me think my suffering would be at an end, give me hope for death when that meant failing my duty, my oath. Make my heart beat for you alone and damn me to Hell.”

  His haunted eyes filled her vision. “No. Your redemp—”

  He shook her. “This is my redemption! To be human. Weak! So that I can’t guard the portal.”

  Another bead of sweat trickled from his temple. She caught it before it slipped off his cheek.

  “But I will give my last to defend this realm.” He jerked away, leaving only the drop of sweat balancing on the tip of her finger. And the reality of her actions.

  Chapter Ten

  Human. He’s human. The word banged around her head. That could only mean one thing. Warrant had found his redemption, not by regaining his grace as she had hoped, but by gaining humanity and a soul. Both just as precious as grace. With those key elements, he had a chance at eternity in Heaven.

  “I did it,” she whispered. How did I do it? Power of the pussy? That bullshit she didn’t believe in, but something she did had turned him from the dark to the light. But what? She hadn’t a clue. In the end, it didn’t matter. Everything she wanted to achieve, everything she’d always wanted, leader of her own squad, acceptance in the elite ranks, the respect, all hers.

  So where was the euphoria? Aurora looked at Warrant’s retreating back.

  It just walked away from me.

  Aurora locked down her emotions. She hadn’t come this close to lose her resolve because of a handsome face. The twisting of her heart called her a liar. Besides, she’d won. She could walk out the front door, shed her borrowed form, and take her place back in Heaven where she belonged. Not here bound to the filth, disease, and desperation constituting humanity. Yet her feet remained mired in the very filth and muck she reviled.

  A decision had to be made, and quickly. The longer she wallowed in indecision, the faster a choice would be ripped from her hands. With her task complete, Michael would arrive. At any moment, she would ascend…and never see Warrant again.

  Never to know what happened to him. If he enjoyed his humanity or despised his mortal condition. Did he find love, someone to share the journey toward his inevitable death? What about children? Did he leave a part of him behind? A little boy? A little girl? Who would that woman be, that child resemble?

  She was beside Warrant in the next instant, the sword heavy in her hand, her decision made. Together, they faced the portal. “What’s going to happen?”

  “Anything and everything. You wanted to stay. Still sure about that?”

  “Yes.” Though not for the reasons he thought. Determination stamped his now stoic features. He seemed resigned to the outcome, while the impulse to grab him and run was almost unbearable.

  “Whatever happens, you will stay behind me, guarding my back.”

  She nodded and blinked away the threatening tears. He’d just guaranteed his death.

  “Neither of us can touch the portal. Understand.”

  Guard his back. Don’t touch the portal. Simple enough, yet she wanted to know why. That information Michael hadn’t imparted. “I understand.”

  His mouth slammed down on hers. He plundered her depths with a desperation bordering on brutal. She gloried in his bruising passion, his arms crushing her to him. The glide of his lips and thrust of his tongue, he kissed her as if he’d never see her again. He needn’t have worried. She had no intention of going anywhere but right where she stood. By his side.

  He broke the kiss. His breath fanned her temple because he still hadn’t released her. With her hand on his chest, she imagined she could feel the racing heartbeat beneath the layers of armor, skin, muscle, and bone. She was happy, happy that she had helped return a measure of what he’d lost. Though not the same, just as precious.

  He delved beneath the neckline of the tee, stroked her skin as he scooped out the pendant. The orb sizzled and hissed in his palm. “Keep this close. It may just save the day.”

  She didn’t ask how he knew it was there. Instead, she wanted to say it’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay, but didn’t because of the dirt, rocks, and timber pouring from the ceiling.

  “Cave-in!” Aurora grabbed Warrant’s arm. He fought her attempt to shield his body, so instead she dragged him away from the portal.

  “It’s not a cave-in,” he shouted over the growing din of the collapsing house.

  “Don’t care. Gotta go.”

  The room tilted and pitched her away from Warrant. Only his quick reflexes kept her from tumbling into a growing fissure that split the chamber in two. He latched onto her wrist and flung her to one side of the fissure, away from the portal, while he leaped to the other side of the growing divide.

  “Why-why did you do that?” She regained her balance and prepared to leap the distance separating them.

  “No!” He held up a hand to stop her. “I know why you’re here, Aurora. This is your chance to prove me wrong.”

  Well, yeah, she was here for him. He already knew that. So what was he going on about? “You want me to leave? I’m not going.”

  “I want you to fight. Be the warrior you long to be. Stay there and help me defend the portal.”

  Stay here? Away from him. That’s what he meant regardless of what he said. He meant to convey his trust, but all she saw was his fear, and not fear of the entire house splitting apart all the way until the cloudless night sky appeared between the shredded infrastructure and the Darklings streamed through.

  What she couldn’t tell was if he was afraid for her…or because of her. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and focused on the horde bearing down. Their screeches and the leathery flap of their wings, the sound was deafening,

  But they diverted at the last second away from her and attacked Warrant en masse. Warrant held his own, slashing at each creature until ashes from their remains littered the ground. Blood ran freely from wounds to his head and face. Red blood, even the darkness couldn’t hide the color.

  “Leave him alone!” Unleashing her aura, Aurora hoisted all the debris from the cave-in and crumbling house, and pitched everything into the swarm. Many died, though not a single Darkling turned her way. Why were they ignoring her and only taking him? And how much longer could he last?

  She wasn’t strong enough to use her aura again, not without the aid of her pendant. Not yet, whispered in her brain. All wasn’t lost enough to use her final option.

  She backed up until a wall blocked further retreat. Then ran full out toward the fissure. Her muscles bunched in preparation for the leap. She threw everything into propelling herself forward. A rumble vibrated the air surrounding her and the fissure widened, knocking her strides off course.

  Aurora knew she’d fall short. She skidded to a halt, teetering on the edge.

  Calling out for Warrant and diverting his attention, possibly getting him killed, she wouldn’t do. She flung her sword onto the other side of the fissure and shouldn’t have glanced down. A bottomless void had her head spinning.

  Aurora closed her eyes and backed up. By the time her back touched the wall, the vertigo had stopped. A deep breath in and out, and she ran, legs and arms pumping toward the fissure. At the last second, she jumped.

  She met the far side of the fissure with a crunch that had air whooshing from her lungs in a painful gasp. Dazed, she held on. Precious seconds ticked by while she regained her senses and listened to the escalating sounds of battle—Warrant’s grunts and the Darklings’ dwindling screeches as they died.

  Head cle
ared, Aurora scrambled out of the fissure. The number of beasts had diminished, but they were far from defeated. They attacked without a care for their lives as if born for this mission and nothing else.

  “Hey! Over here!” She grabbed up the sword, but not a single Tiny Terror turned her way.

  Aurora sliced into the nearest one. Ear piercing shrieks echoed in the space. Its neighbor spun and clawed at her hair and clothing. Thrown off balance, she fell to the rocky floor. The sword skittering away from her outstretched hand.

  A Tiny Terror diverted its attack on Warrant and dived toward her. She lurched to her knees and lunged for the weapon. Another beast knocked into her, while another’s wings beat her back. She expected their claws raking into her body, instead, they battered her.

  One snatched the sword up and burst into flames. Its flambéed carcass careened and cascaded into ten others. They ignited, causing an inferno. Darklings couldn’t touch empyreal steel without suffering a slow death. Empyreal steel acted as a poison. Lower caste Darklings, like the Tiny Terrors, instantly burned.

  The sword fell, straight into the fissure, headed for oblivion. Arms extended, body outstretched, Aurora dived for the only weapon she had and caught it by the sharp tip. It burned, but she held on. A strong hand latched onto her ankle and hauled her back. Before she could orientate herself, she was on her feet, standing at the edge of the fissure with Warrant’s blade at her throat.

  The Darklings fell silent. The flapping of their wings and the combined heavy breathing of her and Warrant, the only sounds. Blood ran from his hairline and dripped off his chin. Swelling had partially closed his left eye, yet he continued to remain unbowed.

  “What are you do—”

  “You will not touch the portal.” His gaze dipped to her bloody hand and the blade in her grasp.

  What the— “I don’t want to touch the portal!” she said to Warrant, her attention locked on the strange behavior of the Darklings. Why weren’t they attacking? They hovered in the air, their red, beady eyes expectant.

  “Drop the sword and step back, Aurora.” He pointed to the side, away from him and the portal.

  “Why? I’m here to help you.” He needed her help. Neither one of them would leave this place without each other.

  “Step. Back.” His face was contorted from pain and leashed violence.

  Aurora listened to his words, heard the brutality in his tone…and stepped forward.

  The edge of the blade bit into her skin. The Darklings shrieked at the trickle of blood oozing down her neck. The cut was incidental, the true pain came from somewhere near her heart. “Why are you doing this? I’m not your enemy.”

  A stark, desperate sigh left his cruel mouth. “You are worse than my enemy. You’re my Achilles’ heel. They sent you here thinking I wouldn’t kill a woman, thinking I’d fall for you, find you irresistible.” The blade didn’t waver, though the savagery on his face had lessened and seemed to transform into something akin to grief. “Thinking I’d forget my duty and cleave to you. But I can’t. I won’t.”

  Now, the blade wavered. A slight quiver, though it may as well have been an earthquake. Unfortunately, she couldn’t tell if the movement came from him, or her. Images pounded the inside of her skull. They flashed behind her eyelids like film on a broken eight-millimeter projector. A pit, hot chains searing her wrists and ankles, unbearable cold, unending hunger for light, for life. Her insides churned while her muscles yanked against her skeleton.

  She shook her head and the images ended. “I’m not your Achilles’ heel, Warrant. I’m an angel sent by Michael to aid in your—”

  “Sweetheart, Aurora, you are not here for my redemption.” Warrant’s gaze shifted from her face to just over her shoulder.

  Stifling air fluttered her hair and fanned the back of her neck. She felt a presence behind her, nebulous and encompassing. The blade dropped from her neck and she touched the area. Her hand came away coated with black ooze, not blood.

  Aurora turned and faced the big winged bastard that entered the house earlier. The beast was monstrous. It filled her vision with its fangs, white saucer-sized eyes, and wings as large as full blown sails fashioned from leathery hides. Was it always so huge or had it grown since the last encounter? The name of the animal came to her, an ancient, demonic name long buried, and the title bestowed upon the beast—The Overseer. The last of his kind. She struggled not to weep.

  She glanced at Warrant, confused by the panic sapping her sanity and the unimaginable reality grinding into her cells. Flanked on all sides by Darklings, he fought as if he had nothing to lose when he had everything on the line.

  No!

  Her burning flesh scented the air. She tightened her grip on the sword. Warrant would not die alone. She had to reach him, right after she killed the bastard breathing down her neck.

  Aurora spun and raised her weapon. The beast barreled into her. The blade slid through its vulnerable abdomen and lodged in its spine. She released the sword, intending to drop and roll to safety. Claws pierced her sides and shoulders. It dragged her to the portal, just as a group of Darklings seized Warrant. They pulled him away from his place in front of the gateway to Hell.

  Warrant’s yell came from a mile away, as if that could halt her trajectory and spare her the impact. The Overseer released her, but hovered close by, watching with blatant eagerness as she slammed into the portal, and stuck to the surface. Something icy clung to her clothing, then crawled up and sliced into her shoulder.

  A scream ripped from her. Not from agony, but from the loss of Aurora Wells, who had never existed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Kerosene pumped through her arteries and ignited in her veins. The images stopped flickering inside her head and solidified into a timeline of events. Instances of disillusionment she’d brushed aside until the sinking of the boat, and the lifeless bodies—so small, so fragile—floating in the blue water of the Mediterranean Sea.

  Her rage. All encompassing. In that instant, all of Aurora was burned away. Skin withered and shrink-wrapped to her skeleton, then turned an ash color. She attacked the other Comforts around her, ripping into them with new black-tipped claws instead of the delicate hands she’d used to soothe.

  “Aurora, no!” screamed Colleen, Aurora’s best friend. That friendship didn’t save Colleen from a slashed throat. Aurora ripped into her comrades and slayed two of her closest friends who sought to comfort her.

  And she enjoyed every second of their sacred blood staining her hands.

  A spatial distortion folded the air and danger singed her senses. She released the prey she had clutched greedily to her bosom and spun to greet the new threat.

  An UnHallowed appeared. The fallen warrior paused, eyes widened she supposed in surprise. Eager for battle, she raised her claws, bared her newly sharp teeth and streaked forward on wings slowly sheading their pale green feathers.

  Slay the UnHallowed or suffer. A voice shouted in her brain. She needed no command. The awakening thirst for death had complete control.

  They came together in a clash of limbs and bodies. With strength born from a festering rage, nurtured from kernels of disillusion and discontent, she fought the UnHallowed. He dodged each of her swipes, deflected her punches, yet he never drew his empyreal sword, never struck her.

  Another UnHallowed appeared with a sword raised for a killing blow. “Merrix, don’t hurt her!” the one she fought shouted.

  “Kill her and be done, or I will,” came the reply.

  Her gaze darted between the two warriors. She had no hope of winning against both. Her hesitation cost her freedom. The UnHallowed snatched her from the sky and crushed her wings in a move too fast to follow. He captured her hands with one of his and pulled her into his body, preventing her from using her feet. She snapped at his neck, intent on severing his head. He folded the shadows around them, next she was slammed to the ground, a knife at her throat.

  She thrashed, not caring about the slashes she caused to her own fles
h.

  “Stop. Aurora, stop! I don’t want to hurt you.” The UnHallowed dropped the knife and took her face between his hands. That didn’t stop her attack. She raked his face, arms, wherever her claws could reach. “You know me. It is I, Warrant. Don’t make me do this.”

  Her wings flopped useless against him as she bucked to dislodge the UnHallowed. But he was a boulder trapping her between him and the ground, both immovable and unforgiving.

  She screeched, an ear-splitting cry. This close to him the sound ruptured his ears and the vessels in his eyes. Essence gushed from both areas and dripped onto her face. Their gazes locked, hers joyful at his suffering, his searching her face for some sign of recognition. She screeched again in a higher pitch, causing her own eyes and ears to rupture and bleed.

  He winced, and his hands circled her neck, squeezed. Her voice shrank to a whisper. Her limbs flayed and then spasmed from the shortness of air. Strength waning, vision blurring, she continued to scratch at him, fury still her fuel. Warrant’s face, her last sight before she died.

  Crumbling to the rocky floor, she landed on her hands and knees, helpless against the transformation consuming her body. The flesh on her body withered and the skin stretched over bones as her legs kicked back, and hip, knees, and ankles realigned into that of a canine appendage. Slits opened parallel to her spine and skeletal wings jutted out. The hooked claw at the joint pierced the fabric of her shirt. She waited to feel the brush of her wings, instead, cold leathery skin unfurled.

  I died. But didn’t.

  Someone shouted a word. Aurora. It had no meaning. She ignored the noise buffeting her and focused her attention on the Overseer hovering in front of her. As a Darkling, he couldn’t touch the portal. The thin veneer of humanity shielding the blight in her veins enabled her to do just this.