Marcus growled out his frustration from between clenched teeth and lightning slammed into the fields around them, filling the morning with deafening crashes of thunder and blinding flashes of light. He clutched Amelia to him and pressed his lips to her forehead, and wished with all of his heart that Einar hadn’t been able to save him either.
Marcus frowned when she shifted in his arms. He must have imagined it. She moved again and he drew back, looking down at her, and his eyes slowly widened as she lifted out of his arms.
Everyone stopped, turning towards Amelia as she floated up into the air as though suspended by her waist, her arms and legs hanging limply below her, and silence fell over the corn field.
Long sheer white material flowed around her, covering her breasts first and then wrapping around her ribs and her waist before finally encasing her hips. It fanned outwards from there, forming a long skirt and gradually turning indigo near her feet.
Marcus stared at her back when something glittered there as she hovered above him.
Pure silver feathers sprouted from her pale skin, knitting together to create the backbone of what looked like wings. Feathers grew out of them, filling the shape, each row larger than the last, until she had wings similar to his, only brighter and so pure they caught the light and dazzled him.
Her bare feet dipped downwards and she righted in the air, until she stood above them, the wind buffeting her dress so it danced around her legs.
The lacerations and burns on her skin faded, leaving pale unmarked flesh behind, and then her hair grew out, stretching far down to the small of her back. Silver spread from the roots, cascading down the full length of her hair until it had completely changed colour.
Marcus couldn’t take his eyes off her or believe what he was seeing. It seemed his fellow warriors couldn’t either because Einar was suddenly beside him with a sword in his hand. Marcus rose to his feet and focused with great effort. It was slow to come and the deep pain it caused him to use so much energy brought him close to passing out but his blue armour gradually materialised. It covered his chest and back, encased his forearms and shins, and a sense of calm washed through him as he felt the weight of his weapons at his waist.
Amelia didn’t move.
She hovered there with her eyes closed.
If she even was Amelia now.
“What is this?” Lukas voiced his question so perfectly that Marcus wondered if he had sent it to him telepathically.
There was no such thing as a female angel.
The rest of the group gathered behind him and his heart pounded as he waited, unsure of what was going to happen.
Amelia’s eyes slowly opened and she stared back at them.
Marcus stepped forwards and reached out to her. “Amelia?”
Her only reaction was to look at him and coolly say, “I do not know that name.”
All of Marcus’s hopes shattered again and anger blazed through him, turning his blood to flame. He turned, locked eyes with Apollyon, and drew his blade with his left hand.
“This is your fault,” he snarled and flicked his hand outwards, extending the handle of the blade into a staff. “You did this.”
Apollyon didn’t react when Marcus charged at him, spear raised and body screaming in agony with each step. His hands trembled, arms weakening as pain tore through him, stripping away what little strength he had regained.
“Desist!” The sharp female voice stopped him in his tracks.
Marcus looked over his shoulder at Amelia. She descended gracefully and silver shoes appeared on her feet before she touched down on the scorched ground.
“Why do you fight?” she said, her voice distant and cold, nothing like the Amelia he had known and loved.
The Amelia he had lost.
Marcus lowered his spear so the blade rested on the dirt and relaxed his shoulders. His head spun, the world distorting with it, and he clenched his jaw against the weakness sweeping through him, battling to remain upright. He couldn’t retain his grip on the staff of his spear. His fingers opened, lax against it, and he barely kept hold of it. His pulse raced, driven by both his lust for vengeance and the pain beating fiercely in his heart.
“Because you do not know me,” he whispered and her silver-grey eyes briefly softened before turning cold again.
“I know you all.” She regarded them in turn. The spark of hope that had flared back into life within him died again when she continued, “The guardian, the warrior, the mediator, and the destroyer.”
Apollyon scowled at her and Marcus could feel his anger growing again, the strength of it now matching his own.
“There are always four of you. I recall that much.” She looked at her surroundings and then back at him.
“She might remember more in time,” Lukas said softly as though she wasn’t standing there. His words didn’t draw a reaction from her. She continued to watch him with her eerie silver eyes. “It might be temporary.”
Marcus didn’t dare hope that it was. Amelia had died and had been reborn in a way similar to that which angels experienced, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe that she was one, or that she would remember anything about him. Whatever she was now, she was no longer Amelia.
Wind beat against him and then Amelia landed beside him, close enough that he could smell her. He ached inside at the familiar fragrance. This was a torture he couldn’t endure. He wanted to scream and lash out at someone or something, wanted to tear Heaven itself down in order to release the pent up fury locked deep in his heart. He couldn’t live like this, seeing her and smelling her, but knowing that it wasn’t his Amelia who stood before him now. She was gone.
He turned to face her and she surprised him by reaching up and gently laying her hand on his cheek. A hint of concern warmed her eyes and her touch soothed him in a strange way, as though life was pouring back into his tired body from the palm of her small hand. His heart beat harder when she looked deep into his eyes and spoke again.
“My knight.” She ran her fingers into his messy black hair. “My guardian angel.”
“Do you know me?” Pain cracked his voice and he didn’t think he could bear it if she said that she didn’t, not when she was beginning to look as though she did.
She smiled and it warmed his heart to see it. He had fought for that smile. He had come close to dying for it. But now it didn’t seem real. It wasn’t the smile he had wanted to see one last time. It was given to him by the same lips but not the same heart.
“I would know my knight anywhere.”
“Do you remember me?”
A frown creased her brow.
“No… but I know you.” She lowered her hand away from his face and touched the spot over her heart. “I know you in here… beyond conscious memory… I remember you but not in that way.”
She knew him beyond conscious memory. Did that mean that Lukas was right and there was a chance she might regain her memories given time? Whenever he had been reborn with a sense of knowing something, but not understanding why, he had eventually remembered it, although it was always centuries after his rebirth when that finally happened.
He could wait centuries for her to remember him. He would wait forever if it took that long.
Amelia knew him in her heart. That eased some of the pain inside his and gave him the strength to continue as her guardian. His duty wasn’t done yet. Whatever this mission was, it wasn’t over. He could feel it. Heaven hadn’t released him from it and hadn’t called him as they would have if it was finished, and that meant he had to stay by her side and continue to protect her.
He only hoped that he wasn’t going to have to protect her from Heaven itself.
He wanted blood for what they had taken from him, and it was hard to remain here when he wanted to return home to Heaven and force an explanation from his superior, but such a rash reaction would only place Amelia in danger. Not only Amelia. There was no way he could defeat his superior should the angel choose to fight him. He wasn’t strong enoug
h.
As much as he hated it, as much as he needed to find out why Heaven had killed the woman he loved and why they had made him guard her so closely if they only wanted her dead, he had to bide his time. Heaven would call him to them eventually. They needed to issue new orders to him now and would require a report on what had happened. He just had to be patient and he would have his answers.
“We should leave this place,” Einar said and Amelia looked at him, the cold returning to her eyes, and dropped her hand to her side. “I don’t know what’s going on… but someone is going to realise something has happened here and they’ll come looking.”
“We should report to Heaven and see what they have to say about this event.” Lukas stepped forwards and Marcus noticed for the first time that his casual clothing was gone, replaced by his white and gold armour, and his white wings were out.
“Maybe we should take a moment to assess the situation before trusting anyone,” Taylor said, gaining a dark look from Lukas.
Marcus could understand Lukas’s loyalty to Heaven but he couldn’t side with his old friend this time. He would go to Heaven, but it wouldn’t be before they called him or he knew more about what was happening. He needed to go in there prepared, not blind with rage as he was now.
“Heaven made Apollyon kill Amelia, and it was willing to destroy me too.” Marcus moved away from her, leaving her at the periphery as he moved into the group. She didn’t follow him but he could feel her eyes on him, closely tracking his every move. “Veiron was right. Heaven knew that this was happening. They wanted her dead.”
“You can’t know that,” Lukas interjected and turned his glare on Marcus.
Apollyon heaved a sigh and everyone looked at him. He stood with his eyes downcast and his black wings tucked against his back. Serenity stood beside him, her hand on his, slowly stroking it.
“I do not care much for what Heaven made me do… or the fact that they forced me to do it against my will,” Apollyon whispered in a low voice. “But you are a fool, Lukas, if you believe that running to them is the right answer.”
“What would you know?” Lukas strode up to him, stopping only once their chests were almost against each other, and tilted his head back to stare into Apollyon’s blue eyes. “It is right that we go to Heaven and report what happened. They will know what to do.”
“Lukas is right. Heaven will help us,” Annelie said and didn’t wilt when Apollyon turned his stare on her. She defiantly flicked her red hair out of her face and held his gaze. “They’ll know what we need to do.”
“You are both fools then. Did Heaven care about helping Amelia? They wanted her dead… they made me kill her and they didn’t care that I almost killed Marcus in the process!” Darkness descended as Apollyon scowled at them both, stealing the light from the world, and his fists trembled at his sides.
Serenity murmured soft words in French to him and continued to stroke his arm, her motion rhythmic and slow, designed to soothe a man on the verge of unleashing Hell on someone. Marcus wasn’t sure that such a small action could quell the rage in Apollyon’s heart but it was certainly keeping him from attacking Lukas. The old Apollyon that Marcus knew would have been at Lukas’s throat by now. They had fought each other over less in the past.
Einar intervened, pressing his hands against both men’s breastplates and trying to force them apart.
“Desist!” Amelia said and everyone looked at her again. “I will not allow anyone to leave. I will destroy any who try.”
Marcus frowned. Destroy? She looked strong for a moment as she stood tall, her silver wings outstretched and bright in the darkness, and then wavered. Marcus rushed to her, shutting out the pain caused by moving so quickly, and caught her before she hit the ground. Her wings disappeared and he looked down at her. Without them, she looked much as she used to and he could easily fool himself into thinking that Amelia was alive again. The silver hair made it impossible though. It shone like starlight, otherworldly in its luminescence.
“I am with Apollyon and Taylor,” Marcus whispered and then raised his head. “What about the rest of you?”
“There is something off about what happened,” Einar said. “We should bide our time and play things coolly before deciding which side to trust. Veiron had wanted to stop Amelia from dying. There had to be a reason for that.”
“She turned into an angel.” Annelie pointed at Amelia where she lay in Marcus’s arms. “Would that be reason enough? Is there something magical about female angels?”
“There are no female angels.” Lukas gently placed his hand on Annelie’s shoulder and she frowned up into his green eyes.
“What is she then?”
“I don’t know,” Marcus answered her and looked down at the woman lying unconscious in his arms. “I want to believe that she is an angel though… and that was why Heaven had us do this to her… in order to awaken her. Some mortal souls join the ranks of angels on death. Perhaps she is one of them, and is special because she is female. Perhaps that is why they wanted her dead… so she would transcend her mortality and become like us.”
Serenity looked at Apollyon. “Why would it take your power to awaken her?”
“Because I am death… or I was. I was the original angel of death. The legion that does it now came long after my creation.” Apollyon’s blue gaze fell on Amelia. “I am not sure what she is, but her death by my hands is one of the reasons for my existence, which means that Heaven knew about her before I was brought into this world as one of the first angels. There is a chance that the power Heaven gave to me was necessary to awaken her in this form, and that death by any other hands would have sent her mortal soul to Heaven instead.”
It made sense. If Amelia’s death was part of Apollyon’s eternal duty, one of the reasons for his creation, then there was a chance that only he had been given the power to trigger her change into the angelic creature she had become.
Apollyon straightened, tilting his shoulders back, and cast his dark eyes over them all. “We are returning to Paris for now. We will discuss this matter further there.”
Marcus nodded and waited to see if anyone would argue against Apollyon. Lukas didn’t seem to have the courage and Annelie was looking less certain now. Marcus smiled his appreciation when Einar came and took Amelia from him, allowing him to stand, and then handed her back to him. Marcus cradled her in his arms and looked down at her, drowning in the maelstrom of his feelings.
He wasn’t sure who to trust anymore, but he needed answers and fast. If Amelia’s death hadn’t been his final task, then what was it? The urge to go to Heaven and question his superior was hard to ignore, no matter how many times he told himself that it was better he waited until they had more information or until Heaven called him to them.
It beat inside him, strong and fierce, compelling him to do as his heart dictated and demand payment in blood for what had happened to Amelia.
He wished that he could obey it and unleash his fury on Heaven but he couldn’t.
It wasn’t Apollyon’s decision that they would all return to Paris stopping him or the pain that still beat through him as his body slowly healed.
It was his wings.
They wouldn’t come out.
CHAPTER 17
Marcus paced the small pale uncluttered bedroom in Apollyon’s apartment. The day was wearing on and Amelia hadn’t stirred. Upon their return to Paris, Marcus had placed her on top of the light blue bedclothes on the white wooden bed in the airy room and had stayed with her, leaving the others to discuss events in the other room. Serenity had checked on him twice so far, both times asking if he needed anything and if Amelia had come around. Everyone else had stayed away, although Einar and Apollyon had checked in on him telepathically, sometimes asking him questions about his mission and other things.
Both angels were concerned about the transformation that Amelia had undergone.
Lukas hadn’t said much since they had returned. Marcus could hear everyone in the other room and
Lukas’s voice was absent from most of the conversations. Marcus could understand Lukas’s need to question Heaven about it, and even now wished that he could go there and find out from his superior just what was happening and what his final task entailed. It was the right decision to be here though and to bide their time before trusting anyone again. As difficult as it was for him, he had to endure it. He wanted to trust Heaven and believe that their plan for Amelia was worth her death, but it became increasingly difficult with each moment he spent watching over her.
He had changed out of his armour on returning to Paris and had found himself going through Amelia’s bag before he had got the better of himself. He had touched her things, held the jumper she had worn during their flight here to his nose so he could catch her lingering scent on it, and had come close to breaking down under the strain of it all. Pain continued to beat in his heart, running through his veins like acid that ate away at him, and he knew it would lessen if he left her presence, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He needed to stay with her and guard her while she was vulnerable.
He looked at her when she stirred long enough to roll onto her front, her legs tangling in the layers of soft white and blue fabric she wore and her silver hair splayed out across the pillows.
Amelia.
It killed him that she didn’t remember him or that name. She was Amelia to him, the woman he loved and needed more than anything. In the short time they had been together, she had become more vital to him than air, had given him love and awakened him to feelings he could no longer ignore. He ached so deeply for her, still craved the feel of her soft skin beneath her fingers and the warmth of her smiles. He hungered for the heat of her lips on his, the taste of her in his mouth and the smell of her on his skin, and the sound of her voice whispered in his ear. The more he looked at her, the more he could see past the changes and fool himself into seeing his Amelia.
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