“I see,” nodded Imorean. In a way, he felt sorry for Michael. The Archangel worked incredibly hard to cover all of his bases. It was almost little wonder that he was so waspish all of the time.
“Imorean, come on. We need to move faster than this.”
“Sorry,” replied Imorean, beating his wings harder and catching up to the Archangel.
Chapter 30
Imorean couldn’t think of a time when his entire body had hurt so much. He and Michael had been flying for close to two hours now, with no reprieve. Never before had he been forced to stay in the air for so long. He wondered briefly if Michael could feel the strain of sore muscles as well. He probably couldn’t. Imorean wasn’t entirely sure that angels could feel pain at all.
A heavy sigh left Imorean’s mouth. He was beginning to become disheartened. There had been no further sign of Roxy. What if demons actually had captured her? What if she had never met up with Bethany and the girl’s father? What if demons cornered them all? What if they had been killed? Imorean wasn’t sure if he would be able to live with himself.
“How are you doing?” asked Michael, as though able to hear Imorean’s thoughts. Sometimes Imorean wondered if he could.
“I think I’m okay,” replied Imorean, faltering in the air as he turned his head to talk to Michael. He was tired and his body was burning, but he had to forge onward, for the sake of his friend … and for Bethany.
“Good,” nodded Michael.
Imorean groaned inwardly as the Archangel increased the pace. He scoured the horizon, taking in the rolling mountaintops below them, and gasped aloud. Rising from the trees in the north was a thick plume of black smoke.
“What is it?” asked Michael, drawing up and hovering.
“I think I found her,” replied Imorean. His voice was much quieter than he had intended.
Michael followed his line of sight and scowled. “It is away from our direction of flight, but I do believe you are correct.”
Imorean tilted his wings and aligned himself in Michael’s slipstream as they turned, and swept low and fast toward the black pillar of smoke. Before long, Imorean smelled the acridness in the air and felt as though it was choking him. It turned the air thick and terrible. Hardly air at all, but some cheap, disgusting imitation. He coughed and looked around. The smoke was darkening the sky. Imorean couldn’t restrain the feeling of relief as Michael pulled up into a hover, his pale eyes sweeping the ashy sky. Imorean could hear the fire raging not far away. The crackle and roar of the flames caught hold of him and held him between fear and fury. Was the fire caused by the demons too? The very mountains were ablaze. Little more than black, orange and red danced upon their summits. The air itself was charred and black, like a premature night. Imorean strained his ears. Was that laughter he could hear? Evil, nonsensical and riotous. Like a deranged beast was cackling inside the smoke and flames. Behind the fire, Imorean knew, lay charred and blackened ground. How dare they assault his home like this! A white, hot flash of anger tore through Imorean and he looked down at the ground for a moment. They were hovering above a river. Surely, the water would be able to halt the fire dead in its tracks. Then, Imorean’s eyes latched onto a bright flash of color.
A little over fifty feet below where he and Michael were hovering, piled next to the riverbank, was a cluster of rainbow colored feathers. Imorean gasped aloud and his heart froze. Without Michael’s say so, he folded his wings and dove to the ground, not caring to bother with a controlled descent. The white-haired teenager landed heavily next to the feathers. A shockwave ran up Imorean’s legs as he landed, but he took no notice of the jarring pain in his knees. He picked one up and rolled it between his fingers. It was a primary flight feather and it was most definitely Roxy’s. He would know the pattern of color anywhere.
“Roxy!” shouted Imorean, turning around, looking for her. He barely noticed as Michael landed beside him.
“Do not shout. She is nearby. I can feel that.”
Imorean nodded. His throat felt dry and he was scared. What would he find when he found Roxy?
“Roxy!” shouted Imorean again, paying Michael no heed, hoping only for a reply.
“Roxy,” called Michael softly. Imorean almost flinched as the Archangel’s voice seemed to bounce around loudly inside his head, as though the word had been thought rather than said.
“What do we do?” asked Imorean, turning to face Michael, still holding the feather tightly in his hand. He hoped the Archangel couldn’t see the fear reflected in his eyes.
“Walk around, search the surrounding area. Hope.”
Imorean nodded slowly and steeled himself. He looked around. At the base of a tree some of the pine needles were churned up. There was a shape akin to a footprint. A spot that looked as though a scuffle had taken place. Pine needles and leaf litter were scraped away. Broken twigs. Imorean folded his wings and ran to the footprint. His brown eyes flashed over the ground, looking for something, anything else. Then he spotted blood, a small trail of it smeared across the trunk of the tree. A few vibrant, blue hairs lay on the leaf littered ground. Imorean’s heart skipped a beat. Roxy was hurt. He looked around desperately. There were drag marks in the dirt, as though something had been hauled through the dead leaves. Everything stood still as his eyes landed on a crumpled heap between two trees. A dark, green jacket, blue jeans and rainbow feathers. Roxy.
“Michael,” breathed Imorean, not daring to raise his voice. The feather fell from Imorean’s hand and he sprinted toward his friend. Imorean rested his hands on one of Roxy’s shoulders. She didn’t stir under his touch. “Roxy.”
“She is alive,” said Michael, stopping next to Imorean. “But we must get her to safety. We will wait here with her until the squadron arrives.”
“Can’t you just teleport her back?” asked Imorean, a ripple of anger washing through him. Why didn’t Michael do something?
“I cannot. First of all, I will not leave you. Second of all, if there are demons around, that would be like sending up a beacon for them and doing so could hurt her more than it could help her. I am not a medical angel so I do not know the extent of her injuries. Teleportation could hurt her horribly.”
“How far away is your squad?” asked Imorean, sitting down next to Roxy. Her eyes were closed. Imorean glanced at her and his heart constricted as he saw dark blood patches staining her jacket and trousers, along with a deep gash on her palm. The teenage boy gasped when he saw her hair was also matted with blood. A chunk of blue hair was missing. A deep, purple bruise was forming on her cheek.
“They are not far.”
“Michael … she’s hurt.”
“I realize. Hold this.”
“I thought you said you couldn’t help her,” said Imorean, taken aback slightly as Michael shoved a small, green, fabric bag into his hands.
“I would not be much of a commander if I were not trained in basic first aid. See if you can wake her up,” instructed Michael, unbuckling the belt around his waist.
“Roxy,” said Imorean, setting the box on the ground. He took hold of one of her hands and squeezed, shaking his friend’s shoulder as he did so, hoping to get some sort of reaction. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Roxy’s eyelids flicker.
“Keep going.”
Imorean looked up and swallowed hard when he saw Michael pull a large combat knife from a sheath at his thigh.
“What are you going to do?”
“She is bleeding from a wound in her leg. I must do my best to put bandages on it. While I do so, do your best to wake her up. Clean that cut on her hand if you can. There are alcohol swabs inside the bag.”
“What about the one on her head?”
“We will leave that for some time. I do not wish to make it worse.”
“Is there someone who can help her?” asked Imorean, feeling desperate. His voice trembled as he spoke, and his hands were shaking.
“Do not worry. You must keep calm. Raphael will help when he arrives.”
“Imorean,” whimpered a small, quiet voice.
“Roxy,” said Imorean in relief, looking back down at his friend. Roxy was awake.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. She seemed to be fighting to keep her eyes open.
“Rescuing you,” replied Imorean, taking gentle hold of her injured hand.
“Don’t tell me you came alone,” said Roxy, gripping his hand tightly.
“I didn’t. Michael’s with me.”
Imorean ran an alcohol pad over Roxy’s hand and she hissed.
“That stings.”
“I figured as much,” said Imorean, running a few strips of bandage over the injury. He moved so Roxy could rest her head in his lap as she turned her head slightly to look at Michael.
“Good afternoon, Roxy,” said Michael, nodding at her.
“What are you doing?” asked Roxy, her eyes widening at the sight of Michael’s combat knife.
“I –” began Michael. He stopped abruptly and looked around.
“What is it?” asked Imorean.
“We are not alone,” replied the Archangel. He settled the knife back into its sheath and pulled his sword from the scabbard on his back. He shot to his feet and glared around.
“What do you mean?” asked Imorean.
“Either my squad is almost here or we have unwelcome company.”
Imorean swallowed hard.
“How did you find me?” asked Roxy, resting her head back in Imorean’s lap.
“Luck,” replied Imorean. “What are you doing all the way out here? What happened?”
“Imorean, it was,” began Roxy. Suddenly, she grimaced and stiffened as though she was in great pain. She swore and started her sentence again. “You need to leave. Both of you. You’re playing into their hands.”
“What?”
“It’s you they want. Michael too if they can get him.”
Imorean looked at Michael, his eyes wide. Oddly, the Archangel did not look concerned.
“Keep your attention on her,” said Michael, moving to look back at the trees.
Imorean turned back to Roxy. Her face had drained of color and her eyes were distant. “Roxy, who?”
Her lips moved, but no sound came out. The second hand on Imorean’s watch ticked loudly, and the moments passed like hours. A gentle breeze moved through the trees overhead, briefly pushing away the smoky air. In spite of the softness of the moment, Imorean felt that he had never been more tense. Everything in him was coiled tight like a spring.
“The squad is here,” said Michael, breaking the horrible silence and replacing the sword in its scabbard.
Imorean breathed a sigh of relief and put his hand on Roxy’s shoulder.
“It’s okay, Rox. We’re going to get you out of here. We’ll get you home. Okay?”
Imorean whined as her closed eyes flickered and her grip on his hand relaxed completely. Only the steady rise and fall of her chest showed that she was still alive. What if the squad had come too late? What if they couldn’t help her? What if her injuries were too much? What if she ended up just like the angel who had watched over her?
Brown eyes looked up as seven angels landed near Michael. One of them was Raphael. Imorean felt he had never been so relieved to see the doctor Archangel.
“Get her somewhere safe as quickly as possible, Brother,” said Michael, resting his hand on his younger brother’s shoulder.
“Where?” asked Raphael.
“Anywhere but here.”
“You can take her to my house,” said Imorean immediately.
“Are you certain?” asked Michael.
“Yeah. My mom already knows about the whole angel thing and she’ll let Roxy stay as long as she needs to. I don’t know how Roxy’s family would take to having a squadron of angels in their house.”
“I see,” nodded Raphael.
“Returning Roxy to her home is also no longer an option. Its location is compromised. Brother, teleport your squad and Imorean if you must. I will stay here and clear the area. There is something not right here.”
“I can’t teleport everyone, Michael,” replied Raphael.
“Why?” asked the Chief Archangel.
“In order to make this journey as comfortable as possible for Roxanne, I can only take one.”
“I thought as much,” nodded Michael. Imorean watched as he turned to the six remaining angels in the squad. “I assume you can all manage to make your own ways back to Imorean’s home to meet with Raphael and Gabriel?”
There were nods and murmurs of affirmation.
“Good. Do so,” ordered Michael.
“What about him?” asked Raphael, looking at Imorean as he made his way over to Roxy.
“I will take care of Imorean,” replied Michael.
“I see,” said Raphael, stooping next to Roxy and slipping his arms underneath her.
“Is she going to be all right?” asked Imorean.
“Yes. Physical wounds are easy to treat. I only hope there are no underlying mental ones.”
Imorean bit his lip and frowned.
“I will do everything I can for her,” said Raphael with a kind smile. “Don’t worry.”
Imorean nodded and stumbled backwards slightly as there was a flash of blue light. When the light dimmed once again, he and Michael were standing alone. In the skies above them, the rest of Raphael’s angels were little more than dots vanishing into the horizon.
“What do you think is here?” asked Imorean, making his way across the uneven ground to where the Chief Archangel was standing.
“There is something here that is not right in the air, but as to what, I am not entirely sure,” replied Michael.
Imorean shuddered and a horrible nausea rose up in his stomach as a wave of pressure descended on him and Michael. A voice echoed through the trees around them. Calm and bored, but carrying a terrible note of satisfaction and violence.
“You nearly ruined my plans, Mikey.”
Imorean jumped back as Michael whipped his sword back out of its scabbard with dizzying speed and sprinted away through the trees. He raced after the Archangel and almost ran into his back as Michael stopped dead on a flat rock overhanging the riverbank.
Imorean felt as though the breath had been knocked out of his chest. Standing on a large boulder on the other side of the river was a tall, male figure. He was studying his fingernails, looking bored. Despite his calm outward demeanor, Imorean couldn’t fight the rising surge of fear and horror that spread through his body as he looked at the man. This was the man who had haunted his dreams. This was the man whose voice he had heard night after night. This was the man he had never expected to find in the waking world. The mockery, the disdain. Imorean immediately felt slow and defenseless. Weak and powerless. His legs trembled beneath him, fear crawling through him from the ground up.
“And how are you two boys doing this fine afternoon?” asked the man, looking up and grinning. Imorean almost fell to his knees, feeling sick with paralyzing fear. The man’s smile was completely normal, except for the two canine teeth that were longer and sharper than the rest. It was his eyes, though that truly struck Imorean. They were dull, depressing gray, yet seemed to glow with a light all their own. There was a smear of dried blood on the side of his face. Every feature was sharp, as though it had been chiseled from flint. Behind the man’s shoulders was a pair of massive feathered wings. His wings though, were not like any wings Imorean had seen before. They were pure, jet black and seemed to be singed and smoldering in places.
Dimly, Imorean looked at Michael. The Archangel’s teeth were bared and his knuckles were white on his sword handle.
“Vortigern,” spat Michael, his voice echoing a hatred that sent a shiver down Imorean’s spine.
Chapter 31
Imorean shrank back behind Michael. The figure before them was the demonic commander, Vortigern. Deep down, Imorean suddenly knew it was Vortigern who was responsible for the fire and for the massacre in Romania.
“How
did you know where to find these angels?” asked Michael, keeping his sword leveled at the commander.
“One of your pretty, little birdies likes singing in my ear, Michael,” replied Vortigern, his voice mocking.
“All of my angels and my hybrids are loyal to me. I would know if they sought to deceive me.”
“Apparently you wouldn’t,” replied Vortigern, grinning nastily. “The things one of your hybrids has been telling me have been most helpful. In fact, she’s the reason you’re standing where you are. She lured you here. The one thing neither she nor I can figure out though, is the location of your Gracepointe University.”
“Specially designed,” growled Michael with a sneer. “The location is Enochian. The college stands upon Enochian ground. You have to be an angel or be invited by an Archangel to be able to so much as read its location and demons cannot read or say anything in Enochian, can they, Vortigern?”
“Special indeed. You’re more clever than I gave you credit for, General, but that’s really not saying much.”
Michael snorted, but Imorean was shocked when he made no move to attack.
“Now, who’s the little hybrid with you?” asked Vortigern, folding his arms and smirking.
“He is of no matter,” snarled Michael, flaring his wings and blocking Imorean from view. Imorean stepped fully behind the Archangel, feeling secure for the first time since Vortigern had appeared. He drew a shuddering breath, the heavy pressure seeming to ease for a second.
“Oh, I think he is,” replied Vortigern. “I’ve seen that one before. He was the one I sent my dog to retrieve, wasn’t he? Shame you killed my puppy. I liked that one. The little hybrid behind you would be so useful to me and you’ve practically gift wrapped him for me. He’s who I’m really here to see.”
“He is of no interest to you.”
“Oh, but he is, and I always get what I want in the end, Michael. You should know that by now.”
Imorean swallowed hard. He remembered all too well being hunted by the Hellhound. It was Vortigern who sent it? But why? Imorean looked up at Michael. The Archangel’s eyes were riveted to Vortigern. What had he not been told?
Angels Soaring (Angels Rising Book 2) Page 28