Deep in Crimson (A Return to Sanctuary Novel)

by Sarah Gilman

  “What the hell was that?” Jett jerked his chin toward the body.

  “That was Richard Elks. Pastor. Demon hunter. Poacher, though his religion motivated him, not money. I hired him for his skills and enthusiasm. But he turned on me when he figured out I wasn’t in it to kill the archangels but to use them to heal the sick. He accused me of doing the devil’s work.”

  “Well, you’re no saint, that’s for certain.”

  “You’re just a demon, what do you know?” Lawrence’s eyes narrowed. “The only goal I ever had was to ease human suffering. I failed to find a way to harness the rapid healing ability you, as a demon, possessed, so I turned to the archangels. When I learned of Raphael, I knew I’d found the answer.”

  “Raphael is not a tool to be used. Neither are the infants. You’re a murderer and a monster, everything you accuse demons of being.”

  “You do not talk back to me, demon. Remember your place.”

  “I’ll talk to you however I damn well please, and you deserve a far more violent death than the one I can give you in front of your grandson.” Jett leaped off the floor.

  Lawrence fired the gun.

  Ignoring the pain that exploded from his leg, the same leg that had already been shot once, Jett grabbed the human by the shirt and hauled him out of the room. He dragged the struggling piece of shit down the hall and into the kitchen.

  “You had me kidnapped during an attack that killed my father. My mother has never recovered from her grief. You treated me like animal. You sent more men to the colony recently, murdering and kidnapping again. If there is a hell, there is a special place in it for you.” Trusting that Andrew hadn’t followed, Jett made a fist and struck Lawrence in the jaw.

  And struck him again.

  And again.

  “I can’t even begin to make you suffer the way you deserve.” Jett delivered another satisfying punch. “I just want to be done with you. I’m going to kill you and move on with my life. You never broke me.” One last punch.

  Lawrence slumped against the wall and sank to his ass on the floor.

  Jett, not wanting him to die quickly from a bite, grasped the bastard’s neck and squeezed.

  The skin on Jett’s arms prickled. He must have stepped too close to a mental edge, facing Lawrence like this, because he had the distinct sensation of heavy hands on his shoulders. Warm, comforting hands.

  “Juneau.”

  Jett released Lawrence’s neck and spun around, searching for the source of that voice, as the human gasped and choked.

  “Jett.” Drew stood in the little archway between the kitchen and hallway.

  Jett forced back a string of profanity. “Go help your mother.”

  Drew’s lip trembled.

  “Drew. Go.”

  “No!” Drew shouted, staring beyond Jett. “Grandfather, don’t!”

  Jett turned back to Lawrence. The bastard had a small gun in his hand. He pointed it at his own head, not Jett.

  “If I’m going to hell, I’ll see you there, demon. But you don’t get to kill me.”

  He pulled the trigger.

  Jett dove for Drew, shielding the child’s view. Drew wailed. Jett held him, carefully keeping his body between the boy and the corpse.

  His vision swam and the floor tilted. What the hell?

  He leaned back, blinking, shivering. He sat in a pool of blood. The bullets he’d taken to the thigh must have clipped an artery.

  The sensation of heavy hands on his shoulders returned. The lights flickered. Or was that his vision? He couldn’t tell.

  “Juneau,” a voice said. Deep, male, familiar.

  Impossible.

  “It’s not impossible. I’m here, son. You can hear me, this close to death.”

  Was he hallucinating? He removed his jacket and tore his shirt, unable to shake the strange presence. Had to be a side effect of bleeding to death. He tied the fabric around the top of his leg, as tight as he could. “I’ve been this close to death before.”

  “And I was waiting for you to join me. But you survived, and you will survive again.”

  Jett pulled out his cell phone but paused. What was the point? No one from Sanctuary would get to him in time.

  A dry laugh escaped his lips. Well, Lexine’s dream had been wrong.

  What he would give to hold her one more time.

  “Jett?”

  In his daze, he’d nearly forgotten the kid was there. “Go to your mother.”

  Drew shook his head. He grabbed Jett’s jacket and pressed it against the wounds.

  “You’re a good kid.” Jett leaned back against the kitchen island. He sent a text message to Lark as the invisible grip on his shoulders tightened.

  “Lawrence is dead. I’m not going to make it back. Give Raphael my apologies, and send Lexine my love.”

  “Juneau,” his father said again. “In my office, there is a safe behind my journals. The code is your birthday and the contents are intended for you. I love you, son.”

  Jett shuddered, the cold overpowering. “I love you, too. Sorry, but I think I’ll be seeing you soon.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Lexine held her breath, waiting for Raphael to speak.

  “There isn’t time to tell the whole story, but I’ve seen it,” she insisted. “He’ll die on that godforsaken mosaic floor.”

  Raphael shut his eyes.

  “Please.”

  Wren came over. He whispered, “We can’t.”

  “But—”

  “I don’t wish Jett ill, at all, but his job…”

  Lexine’s heart hammered. Yes, his job was to die for them if need be, not the other way around, and he was on a mission meant to protect them. But that didn’t mean they shouldn’t do every possible thing to keep that from happening. Right? She covered her mouth with her hand.

  Raphael opened his eyes, his silver gaze sharp. “He’s not just our Guardian. He’s a friend.”

  “I know,” Wren said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “It’s dark. It’s a rural area. It’s a manageable risk.”

  “All right,” Wren said. “I’ll go. I’m faster.”

  “Absolutely not. You’ll stay here with your mate and your children.”

  “Father—”

  Raphael flicked his wings. “I can fly damned fast when I need to.”

  “That’s not what I’m really worried about.”

  “This is dangerous.” Raphael nodded. “But we must help, and I’ll be the one go.”

  Wren’s feathers stood on end, but he nodded. “Be damned careful.”

  “Thank you,” Lexine said.

  Raphael headed for the flight deck.

  “What about Lark?” Wren brushed his wing against Raphael’s.

  “No time to argue something he’ll never agree to. I’ll apologize to him later.”

  Lexine shivered and clasped her shaking hands together. “I can’t just wait. I’m going to get a car and—”

  Raphael turned and cocked his head. “You’re coming with me.”

  “Here.” Ginger held out a jacket. “This will fit you. You’ll need it.”

  “You’re serious?”

  Raphael returned and took her arm. “I can only carry so much weight. I won’t be able to fly Jett back. He’ll be unconscious from being healed. You’ll need to drive him, and it’s better if we don’t have to wait for you to get there by car. I won’t drop you. I promise.”

  “I’m not worried about that.” How many times had she wished for a chance to be carried by one of the archangels? She could have asked, but she didn’t, it seemed too personal a thing when Wren carried Ginger. Now she had the chance, but not for enjoyment—to save the life of the male she loved. “Yes, I’ll come.”

  “Good luck.” Ginger hugged her.

  Raphael led her outside as she pulled on the jacket and secured the hood over her head.

  Lexine clung to Raphael as he spread his wings, massive and stark white under the exterior lights. Her sto
mach flipped and crawled up her throat as he dove off, dropping ever so slightly at first, then rising. Fast. Faster. The beat of his wings filled her ears, the noise as loud as the air roaring over them.

  Darkness surrounded them. How high were they? Specks of light dotted the ground, but blackness dominated the rural, nighttime landscape. She shook so hard her teeth rattled, nothing to do with the cold. She shouted over the noise. “Raphael, how can you tell where we’re going?”

  “I can sense what direction I’m headed in, and how high I am. Other than that, I’m blind in the dark.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll get us there. I saw the house’s location on the computer. Easy to find. You’ll see.”

  She closed her eyes, forcing out of her mind the fact that they careened high over the earth in the middle of the night and focused on Jett. His honey-and-tea scent. His dark crimson eyes. The sexy way his voice changed when there was no one else to overhear them.

  “We’re nearly over Morgan,” Raphael said after a short while. “Those lights must be it. See the moon reflected below? That’s Lake Seymour.”

  “Already?”

  “We’re going that fast.”

  She didn’t doubt it. The force of the air hurt her skin even through the ankle-length jacket.

  “I’m bringing us lower,” he said. “The house is on the northern end of the lake, on the shore.”

  The lurch of the sudden descent nearly made Lexine heave.

  Raphael banked. “I see lights. That’s the place, where the shore juts out into the lake.”

  The wind prevented her from looking over her shoulder, but a gut feeling told her Jett was near. “Yes!”

  Raphael reversed the pattern of his wing beats, slowing them as a gravel driveway rose up to meet them. He landed and set her on her feet. Trees shielded them on either side, the lake spread out behind the house, a back road with no traffic crossed in front. No visible neighbors. Thank goodness for small towns.

  Lights shone from every window of the farmhouse. Nothing moved. No sound.

  Struck with dread, she ran toward the door, Raphael on her heels.

  She ignited fire on her skin, ready to block Raphael from any human who posed a threat, and threw open the door. The scent of blood hit her hard.

  “Jett!” She froze, facing the kitchen. That horrible floor, a pool of blood. A human missing part of his head from an apparent gunshot wound slumped against the far wall. A little boy knelt by Jett, stanching a leg wound.

  Jett, his face so, so pale, glanced up, astonishment and disbelief on his face. “Lex?”

  She dropped to her knees as the boy scurried away. Jett’s arms wrapped around her body.

  “Lex.”

  “You’re going to be all right.”

  Déjà vu overtook her as the moment from the dream played out. Jett’s hands slipped from her shoulders and his eyes closed.

  “Jett?”

  A wing brushed her arm. Raphael knelt in the blood, the liquid staining his flight feathers. He grasped Jett by the shoulder with one hand and covered the bleeding wound on Jett’s leg with his other hand.

  Lexine squeezed her eyes shut.

  “He’s going to be fine, Lex.”

  At the words, she slumped and cried into Jett’s chest.

  …

  Raphael carried Jett, unconscious from the healing, out to the SUV. When Lexine had calmed, she got in the driver’s seat and headed out.

  Instead of taking flight, Raphael went back into the house. He ignored the body in the kitchen—Lawrence deserved no mercy or even a second thought from him—and squeezed down the narrow hall, his wings tight to his body.

  Drew sobbed at the side of an unconscious woman on the bed. Raw skin on her wrists and ankles indicated she’d been bound recently.

  Another body lay on the floor, dressed in a pastor’s uniform.

  He kept his questions to himself. No need to make Drew repeat the gruesome events. Jett would explain, later.

  “Andrew, is this your mother?”

  Drew nodded, tears dripping off his chin.

  “She’s going to be all right. She’s fainted.” Raphael leaned over the frail human woman. His healing talent prickled his skin. “Interesting.”

  “What?”

  Raphael pressed his palm to the woman’s forehead and released his healing talent. Color returned to her cheeks and her breathing deepened.

  Drew’s eyes brightened. “Did you just heal her?”

  Raphael shook his head. “I cannot cure her cancer. But yes, I healed some of the damage her body of sustained from her disease and her treatments.” Raphael touched her again, reading her body. “I cannot prevent her death, but I promise you, I have set her disease progression back a few years. When she wakes later on, she’ll feel much better.”

  Drew began to cry again, the tears falling around a wide smile. Raphael stroked the child’s hair.

  “Be good to your mother, and use the time you have well.”

  “Yes, sir.” Drew wiped at his eyes.

  “I have to go.” He noted the phone on the nightstand. “Call 911 and stay out of the kitchen. In fact, stay on this side of the bed. Don’t look at the body.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You’ll be okay. I wish you well, Andrew.”

  Raphael left the house and perched in the tree, waiting, making sure help arrived for Andrew and his mother. A couple minutes passed. Sirens wailed. Police cruisers and an ambulance arrived.

  Drew and his mother would be okay, despite this wretched night. Drew would grow up strong. He had that indomitable spirit. Sneaking into the colony to get help for his mother was just the beginning of a life that would make a real difference in the world.

  Raphael spread his wings and flew into the sea of stars overhead, eager to get home.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  With the help of two Guardians, Lexine brought Jett to her apartment. After they left, she stripped him of his blood-soaked clothes and sponge bathed him. She arranged his weapons carefully on the couch.

  As Raphael had warned her, Jett slept for hours. She lay down next to him on the bed. When he finally stirred, the sun hung high in the sky.

  His fingers brushed her hair. “Lex?”

  She propped herself up on her elbow and kissed him. Light. Tender.

  He lifted the blanket and looked under it. “I’m nude.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m healed.”

  “Yes.”

  “But I lost too much blood to survive the healing fever. How…?”

  “Raphael.”

  “Raphael went to the lake house?”

  “He’s fine. He’s back at home.” She bit her lip. “I think I heard Lark yelling from here, though.”

  Jett sat up. The ivory sheet pooled around his waist. “Why did Raphael go after me?”

  “Because I asked him to.”

  “You what?”

  She lifted her chin. “After you left, I went to see Ginger. I saw her computer and the pictures of the lake house. That kitchen floor was in my dream. I saw you die on that floor. I had to do something. I asked for help the only place I could think of.”

  He glowered at her. “Lexine.”

  She folded her arms and stared right back.

  “I love you.”

  The tension eased from her body, and she took his face in her hands. “I love you, too.”

  He pulled her down to the pillows with him. An arm over her chest and a leg over her thighs, he held her, his eyes closed.

  “Lawrence is dead,” he said after a while. “So is the accomplice who kidnapped Bryce.”

  She nodded. “I’m not glad for death, but I’m glad we’re all a little safer.”

  “Yes.”

  “Raphael called a little while ago. He said to tell you Drew will be fine.”

  “I’m glad. You’ll never believe who I talked to.”

  “Who?”

  “My father. While I was blee
ding out on the floor, I heard his voice.”

  She held him tighter. “What did he say?”

  “That he loved me, and that he left something for me in his office.”

  “Then we better go see, shouldn’t we? How are you feeling?”

  He kissed her lips and worked his way down to her throat. “I feel fine, but we’ll go out later. First, we have a problem. Two problems, actually.”

  “Oh?”

  “First, I’m nude, but you’re not.” He eased her sweater over her head. He unhooked her bra and flung it across the room. He kissed her stomach and worked her jeans free of her hips, tossing them away, as well. Her panties followed.

  “Second.” He knelt between her legs, his hands flat on her belly. “I still want you. I still love you.”

  She bit her lower lip.

  “Lex, there is a job I have to do, and a strong female I want by my side. I’ll have long hours, grave responsibilities, and my life will be in immediate danger at times. We won’t always be able to protect each other. But, if you’re willing, I want to love you and have you as my mate.”

  She sat up and laced her fingers into his hair. “Yes.”

  She’d barely gotten the word out when he seized her mouth in a fierce kiss. He ran his tongue over her fangs and sucked her lower lip into his mouth as his hands smoothed over her body. When his mouth followed his hands, he teased her with his fangs and she cried out.

  They made love, their union both a relief and an additional torment. He stilled, pinning her beneath his weight. He lifted her left hand and kissed her fingers. The back of her hand. Her palm. Her wrist. He kissed his way up the tender skin to just below the crook of her elbow, pressed down with his fangs, and met her gaze.

  She rubbed his nape with her free hand. “Yes, Juneau.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “Not yet.” He nibbled her skin. “Not until after I’ve told Lark and Raphael we’ll be taking at least a few days to be alone.”

  “Ah.” She smiled. “Good plan.”

  …

  That evening, Jett returned to the office where his father had worked for so many years. He lit the demon fire lantern on the desk. Jett pulled the journals from the shelf and set them carefully on the table. He opened the safe. Inside, a set of gold wings—fascinating in their intricacy for their inch width—rested in a box on a piece of black velvet. A note in his father’s handwriting stated that he’d made them himself, just in case his son took the path of an archangel’s Guardian.