Equinox (Augarten Book 1)

by Charlie Godwyne

  I sidled up beside the door, the thought of them torturing Florian stoking my anger and fueling my focus. We sat there quietly for a long time, listening to his agony-filled prayers. I almost wished I couldn't hear anything again—the ache of witnessing one of my lovers in pain and not being able to soothe him wrenched at my soul.

  After what felt like an eternity, footsteps echoed down stone stairs.

  I slunk back, ready to spring. "I know you would not have chosen to betray us, Solomon. Ian trusts you. I know I can, too. Once I get Florian out, I will come back for you. We'll figure this out."

  Solomon looked in my direction and eventually nodded, his voice choked with emotion. "Thank you, Gabriel."

  The cell door opened and two men came in. When they tried to help Solomon up, he stumbled as if punch drunk. In the confusion as they struggled to get hold of him, I slipped out the door and down the hall to the other cell. Solomon was dragged out, but he managed to look at me and give the tiniest of smiles, his lip split open and oozing fresh blood. I nodded at him.

  In a desperate surge of hope, I reached out to the handle on the door and tried to throw the dead bolt. My invisible hand passed through the handle, yet I could not step through the door. I was akin to a ghost that couldn't move physical objects. If that was the case, even if I got to Florian, I wouldn't have enough of a body to be able to carry him out. If he was too badly beaten to walk himself—and not strong enough to subdue anyone who tried to stop us—then I would simply be joining him in his prison.

  I heaved a breath and closed my eyes, channeling Ian's wisdom, even though he wasn't with me. I couldn't think of a plan while my emotions ran amok like this.

  Steps echoed down the hall, and the head exorcist from earlier rounded the corner. I wondered whether he was the man who had dreamt of my appearance in Augarten, though he seemed pretty young to be the top dog. He wore the same black robes, pointed hood still up even though he was inside. It must guard him somehow, but something else caught my attention. Dangling from his neck was Florian's pale blue amulet. Anger burned through me, and then worry. The amulet that once drew my attention so strongly now felt nearly drained dry, like a candle trying to survive in a gale wind.

  He walked right past me to the door and set about unlocking it. It seemed to be deadbolted not only physically, but magically as well. What startled me was that he did not notice my presence at all. A chill ran down my spine—was I really so close to being dead? The man opened the door and I rushed past. Florian. He's here for you. Let's go, now.

  Florian blinked, his lips mouthing my name, though nothing came out.

  Florian! I'm here! Stand up, he's going to attack you! I shouted at him with everything I had. I reached for his shoulders and shook him, but my voice did not reach him and he did not move. Florian, please…

  The man approached. "Get up. I know you're not unconscious. Your pet ghost is here to see you."

  Oh no.

  Florian groaned, tried to sit up. He glanced at his arm, then met my eyes, the message clear. Michi's magic…in the ashes mixed with the ink of the tattoo…there must still be some left.

  I grabbed his tattoo.

  Words, muffled words of a language I somehow inexplicably knew, and symbols, symbols I knew yet had never studied flew in all directions, and into me poured Michi's midnight blue magic.

  I slugged the priest. He stumbled back. While he was off balance, I grabbed at the amulet and ripped it off him, snapping the chain.

  I reached for Florian, and this time, my hands gained purchase, solid enough to gather him into my arms. I hauled him to me and fled, kicking the door shut behind us.

  Florian cradled the amulet to his chest, tears pouring down his cheeks as he prayed his angel's name. I ran down a dark hallway and realized I didn't know how to get out. The man I'd just punched would find us, and these pathways were surely meant to keep prisoners from finding a way to the surface. Then I felt a nudge on my left shoulder and turned left. I didn't question the feeling, just ran down the next hallway, then felt the touch on my right shoulder and turned right. Down that hallway, up a flight of stairs. Someone was leading me.

  Ian? Are you there?

  Nothing but static, mixed words trying to get to me: Gab…be…ca…

  Up another flight of stairs. Florian fell unconscious, and I could feel myself losing strength, losing my solidity. Shouts farther down, boots running.

  Are you leading me out? I asked whomever was nudging my shoulder at the end of each hall. I'm not sure I can make it.

  Another nudge, turn right, then left, now up those stairs.

  Then a voice of a thousand ages shot through every fiber of my soul, pulling me at the seams. Bring him to me.

  My heart pounded in terror. The amulet poured magic into my chest, even as Florian went limp and got colder. I did not know the voice, and yet I did. I knew beyond a doubt that his was a voice I had last heard before I lost my memories. A voice that could speak into the most warded catacombs below Vienna, where Ian could not reach me.

  I began to see sunlight, or rather, to sense it. I was getting closer to the surface. I could almost feel its rays on my face, and still the hand nudged me this way and that. I ran with everything I had.

  Ga—iel!

  Ian! Ian, we're coming, but I left Solomon—

  The arch—el is—

  I burst through one final door and into the daylight.

  Gabriel!

  Ian swooped toward me, his expression terrified. Before I could shout, he tackled me, the force ripping Florian from my arms. My back smacked against the ground, and we skid across the square to slam against the walls of Saint Stephen's. Ian protected my head and broke the fall with his arm, his wings covering us.

  But then I snapped right back to the position I had been in a moment ago, as if the last second had not just happened. Ian shouted from somewhere to my right, and I still held my unconscious boyfriend in the doorway to the catacombs. Above us flew an enormous angel, scorching fury blazing in his eyes, seven sets of wings on his back. The force of the power radiated off him so strong I could barely stand. I lifted Florian up, like a sacrificial lamb. The archangel reached for Florian, and everything went white.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  A fathomless blast seared through every molecule in my body, and then my physical human body truly was no more. I erupted, blasted apart, torn asunder by the sheer immensity of an archangel's touch upon the lover I'd held up in offering.

  After so, so long, the white-hot sunlight faded, but Vienna was gone. Surrounding me, I found only darkness. Then through the aching pain of death, the desolate fear of a permanent void, grace found me in the form of someone grabbing me by the arms and pulling me close. No longer nearly so afraid, as I knew I was not alone, I chanced to open my eyes. I knew it had to be him, and so long as I had him with me, I knew I could summon the courage to weather my fate. He was truly the one I'd held in sleep-waking dreams from another life.

  Dishwater blond hair hung down in front of me, tickling my nose. Reaching up, I tucked the lanky strands behind a pale ear spotted with freckles, and the angel's grey eyes widened, searching me for answers I did not know.

  "It's you," I said. "I knew it was you." Even though he had denied it, deep down I'd known the truth.

  A gasped inhale, and he held me closer, nearly nose to nose. "Did it work? Are you there?"

  "…what?"

  Doubt flashed through his eyes, but it was overrun by a desperate hope. "Do you know my name?"

  Any joy I'd felt the moment before died in my chest. "Isn't your name Ian?"

  Pain laced through him, and he choked back a sob. Yet hope refused to relinquish its hold, surging in one last desperate attempt. "And your name? What is your name?"

  With everything I had, I wished to give him the answer he sought. "I'm sure it's not Gabriel, but that is the only name I know."

  A moment passed, wherein I watched the hope in my angel's eyes fade away. Then he lowere
d me to the ground, out of his lap, and pushed to standing. Ian wore jeans and a long-sleeved buttoned shirt that hugged a slim form. He looked nothing like the Ian I had known back at Augarten. This one was around my age, skinny and stressed-out, with dark circles under his eyes and long tangled locks that reached his shoulders.

  I sat up, and Ian proceeded to lose his shit.

  Grabbing at his hair, he cut a frantic pace in front of me. For a second, I could do nothing but stare. The Ian I'd known was older, a stern teacher, or like a mature older partner. The Ian I knew wouldn't be caught dead in jeans and a long-sleeved flannel, like a thirty-something lounging around on the weekend reading books and having sex, rather than a stern professor stiff-arming the chaos of the world into some semblance of order. Even when he withheld the truth from me, my Ian had always known what was going on, had always kept things put together. I had but to follow him, to meditate and read and work and study and live and do exactly as he said. But apparently that Ian had always put up a strong front with me. Now, my guide was lost.

  Scanning our environment, I found darkness all around. It felt as if we were in a small, cramped room with the floor and ceiling and walls painted jet black, stuffy and ill-designed. I felt as if my senses were muted in here, like I had cotton stuffed in my ears and up my nose. In this darkness, I had no name. Yet still, I had to comfort Ian. I had to anchor the man who had always anchored me.

  I scrambled to my feet. I still had my Gabriel body—and for once, with clothes—and stepped in front of Ian, blocking his path. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I realized for the first time, I was actually touching him. "Hey there. Easy, let's just take it easy. Tell me what is happening."

  He grabbed my arms and squeezed twice as hard, his eyes wide with fright. "We're fucked."

  Shit. "Okay, wrong question. Let's start at the beginning. Where are we?"

  He eased up, as if my query had caught him off guard, but I didn't let him go. "We're in the higher astral plane. This is where the angels live, you know. The lower astral is for monsters and things."

  Something tiny kicked within me, an infinitesimal flicker of happiness, like a butterfly flapping its wings. Ian was still Ian—just like always, he responded to my questions like a teacher. I could talk him down from this. But I had to be careful. This Ian was more fragile than I was used to seeing him. My metaphorical butterfly was trying to make it in a wind tunnel.

  "Okay, got it. If we're in the astral plane, does that mean I'm dead?"

  Ian huffed and dropped his arms, instead propping his fists on his hips. "Sort of. But not completely, which is unfortunate."

  I struggled to see how that was unfortunate.

  As if reading my thoughts, Ian nodded at something over my left shoulder. "He's still there, and you're still Gabriel."

  Not releasing him, I twisted around to find the terra cotta statue from my meditations, materialized out of nowhere and glaring at me as per usual. "What is my Watcher doing here?"

  "That isn't just your Watcher at the Threshold," Ian explained. "That is also your Higher Self. When you die, your lower and higher selves are supposed to unite again in the astral plane. Yet here you are."

  I thought back to the last moments I could remember. "Did the Archangel Michael obliterate me?"

  My angel gave a half shrug. "More or less. He got me too. Hurt like a fucker."

  I grinned in simultaneous complete disbelief and utter glee at this new side of him. "Okay, so we're in this together. Now, what can I do?" I hoped that open-ended of a question wouldn't set off his spiraling despair again.

  "I don't know," Ian said softly. "I'm cut off from the resources I'm supposed to have. I'm cut off from him. He won't speak to me." His tone was so defeated, I found myself at a loss. Ian met my eyes, the message clear there, and echoed in his words. "I'm shooting from the hip. We're winging it here, seriously hard."

  I scrambled for damage control. "Winging it can be good. That's something I already know how to do really well. How can I help?"

  My angel shook his head, looking around as if something in the darkness might hold more answers. "I wish I knew, Gaxbrxel."

  I froze. Ian had said a name, and my mind had clearly tried to paste the name Gabriel over it to cover it up. But the distortion had come through. Ian—or the angel known as Ian—had said my real name just now. The name by which he truly knew me. The name of my Higher Self.

  His earlier explanation finally sunk in. "If dying 'completely,' as you say, is how I fix this problem of uniting with my Watcher statue, with my higher self rather…can we delay that? Can I return to Florian and Solomon?"

  Ian glanced to the side, refusing to meet my eyes. "Augarten certainly seems willing to attempt to regenerate you, but her experiments have caused us no small measure of problems. However, if you want to remedy leaving behind an already broken coffeeshop owner and one very sad ex-priest, she is your only chance."

  As soon as the words had left Ian's mouth, a vision rolled out beneath our feet. Instead of formless darkness, vivid forest greens appeared as if painted by reality. I recognized the paths immediately, even before Maria stepped into view with her garden shears. Augarten stood nearby, the same majestic goat woman as before, and Maria cocked her head as if listening, then sheared a certain bush, seemingly under Augarten's direction.

  Then Augarten twisted her head, fast as lightning, and locked huge kaleidoscopic eyes directly on me. I stopped breathing, her knowledge and power so foreign and strong it shook me to my bones. By comparison, Ian felt so very human.

  "She hears us," Ian said softly. "She says she's willing to try again. Especially with your consent, it may be more effective."

  "And what about the magic—the thing she says I took from her?"

  Ian kept his eyes locked on Augarten as he answered. "That deed is done. My protection is still in place. You would know if it wasn't."

  "Thank you." I did not know what else to say.

  Then Ian tore his gaze from the vision and met my eyes. "She is coming for you."

  As if on cue, an invisible force yanked me to the floor, and I collapsed with a pained cry. Ian knelt over me, fear and an echoing pain written on his features. Through the agony, I struggled to lift my hand and cup his face, even as the force pulled me into the floor. "I keep saying goodbye to you."

  Ian placed his hand over mine, one glittering, otherworldly tear sliding down his cheek.

  "I want to know your name," I said pitifully. "I want to hear you call me by my name."

  Ian trembled. "Don't break my heart right before you go."

  The force took my legs, pulling me to my hips. I grabbed his other hand and held on tight. "Say those words to me. The ones that make you sound so cool. You're my guardian angel, after all."

  I slid up to my shoulders, then my neck. Ian smiled through his tears, his gentle words suffused with love, and just enough strength to carry me through as I fell away from him.

  "I will never leave you. I never have."

  Darkness, and then I knew I was inside a dream, because Florian was younger and more carefree than I'd ever seen him. His skin was vibrant, hair longer and floppier. His eyes danced when he looked at me. Not only that, but instead of his closed-book demeanor, the suppressed energy I was accustomed to, Florian felt open and shone with love.

  "What's wrong?" he asked, eyes concerned.

  Weird…instead of German, we were speaking English, and the people around us spoke French. Furthermore, the French language held an unnamed connotation I'd never felt before.

  I scrambled to find words. "Nothing. I was just lost in thought." My voice sounded different.

  Florian reached across the café table and took my hand in his. That was when I saw our matching rings.

  I looked around. We were on a restaurant patio. It was early evening, and everywhere people were sipping wine. French music played softly in the café and all the way down the lane. We were not in Austria. This must be Paris or another French city.

/>   I searched for a reflective surface but couldn't find anything. The window next to me, separating the patio from the inside of the restaurant, shone clearly through to the mural on the opposite wall, so I could not see the ghost reflected on the glass between. As Florian rubbed soothing circles on the back of my hand with his thumb, I snatched the knife from my place setting and held it up. It gave me a reflection, but one I did not recognize.

  The man I was in Austria—Gabriel—had straight, dark brown hair and washed-out grey eyes. The man who stared back at me in the reflection of the knife had jet black hair that rivaled Florian's in attempts to catch the wind and fly away. Startlingly bright green eyes, something I was not accustomed to seeing in French people. Furthermore, my thoughts came in words I knew I should understand…my native language…

  "Michi?"

  Michi, a part of me thought, the Austrian-Gabriel part. I am Michi right now, trapped inside his mind. Florian's dead husband.

  My mind flew into a panic. I had just left Ian in the astral plane; Augarten should be regrowing me with one of her trees by now, right? Yet here I was in Michi's point of view. Then I made the connection: the amulet…Florian's tattoo ink mixed with Michi's ashes…I'd used Michi's magic to power up, to make my etheric body tangible enough that I could lift Florian and escape the catacombs. I'd become awash in that midnight-blue magic, and now I was trapped in one of Michi's memories. Ian! Ian!

  Florian grew more concerned the longer I hesitated. A rock settled in the pit of my stomach. Was this not a dream—was I actually living this? Was I dead and living Michi's memory? I did not understand what was happening, but even so, there were words I needed to say to Florian. I grabbed his hands and squeezed, locking our gazes.

  "I love you. With everything I am. Never forget that."

  Florian blinked at me, sitting up straight. "What's gotten into you?" His voice was thin and shaky. "Of course I know that. You tell me that every night when we go to bed."