Tears rolled down her cheeks as she walked through the camp. So much pain. And it was all because of her.
She wanted to leave, wanted to let the dead rest in peace. But she came here for a reason.
She picked up a blanket that was lying under one of the trees. It was Wyatt’s. She remembered seeing it that morning, over the pallet where Ellie was sleeping. She must have missed it in the rush to gather her things that day.
Dylan held the blanket against her chest, the rough material scratching her bare arms, the tender skin under her chin. She closed her eyes and let the scrambled memories turn into a coherent one.
The Redcoats attacked without warning. They marched into the camp in a line, their swords at the ready. People ran, but the Redcoats followed. They swung their swords. None of the people had a chance. The Redcoats were bigger, heavier. Faster. No matter where they ran, no matter where they went, the Redcoats found them.
Dylan began to shake, her emotions blurring the edges of the memory until it all became clouded. She thought about Davida, and suddenly the vision came back into crystal clear focus. The images moved as though she was being shown the events a she flew overhead, the massacre she had been watching shifting and moving until the vision settled again over a small group of people huddled in a small depression on the ground. Jimmy was there, and the other adults he was always consulting, the group Dylan had come to think of as his council. And Davida, her body tucked underneath Jimmy’s. He was protecting her.
But what he didn’t see was that she was actually the one protecting them all.
Each time a Redcoat came close enough to see their prone bodies, she signaled them. It was subtle. Even Dylan didn’t recognize it at first. She didn’t move and she didn’t seem to be transmitting any thoughts. But each time a Redcoat came this direction he would pause and turn when he was within a few feet of the depression. And then he would walk away.
Dylan watched it happen over and again, more than a half dozen times. And then she saw it.
Davida was doing something with the energy that naturally existed in the air around them. It was like she had built a wall out of air. Dylan walked up to it, touched the memory of it that still hung in the cool, predawn air. And when she did, she felt a spark. Then the vision faded and she wasn’t able to see anything more. It was as if touching the wall had wiped out whatever it was that allowed Dylan to see these things that had happened in the past.
She turned, looking back over the camp that had housed the people who took her in, the people who looked to her as their salvation, even those who hadn’t trusted in who and what she was. Even that was gone. All she saw now were the few items of clothing that had been abandoned in the rush to get out of harm’s way, the piles of dirt where survivors had buried their loved ones. All she saw was the land that was before they came and what it would be when they were long gone. The memories, the pain and the fear, and the energy of those memories were gone. Wiped out almost as if they had never existed.
She didn’t understand.
What had Davida done?
Chapter 36
Dylan moved slowly over the countryside as she made her way back to Wyatt and the others. She looked for some clue as to where Davida and Jimmy and the others had gone. She knew now that they had survived. But she still couldn’t sense Davida, couldn’t feel her presence or hear her thoughts. She felt cut off, as though someone was blocking them intentionally.
Is that what Davida had done during the attack? Had she blocked the Redcoats so that they would not find her and Jimmy? Or was there something more going on here?
Why did Davida send Carver and Bobby with her and Wyatt when they fled the Redcoats? Had she known who they were? Had she known that they were working with Lilith?
She wasn’t even sure what that meant.
Lilith was not going to survive much longer. Dylan could feel it, could feel her wasting away each time she thought about her. Her death—or whatever it was that was coming for her—seemed as though it should be a victory for those fighting against her. But Dylan wondered if it really would be.
This war had been going on for decades. Most of the humans were dead or so deep in hiding that Dylan could sense them when she was like this, in her ethereal state, but had no clue where to look for them. There were many cities, many of them populated and ruled by angels. But it was difficult to tell if those humanoids were really humans, or angels and gargoyles in disguise, or hybrids like Dylan. Like Wyatt. It felt like the point of the war had gotten lost somewhere.
Did any side really know what they were fighting for now?
Dylan knew what had to happen. She knew that everyone had the right idea, but none of them had the right plan. The gargoyles wanted to save the humans. But at what cost? And Luc and Lily wanted the planet to themselves, to turn it into some sort of paradise for angels. But that would mean too much sacrifice, too much death for those who had chosen to remain true to their original purpose, to save the humans. And the angels…
The image Dylan had seen in Joanna’s thoughts was of an explosion, a huge detonation that would destroy everyone and everything on earth. Except for two people. A man. A woman. In Joanna’s mind, the man had been Wyatt. The woman, however, had been a faceless image, a small, petite woman who seemed to embrace everything that was conventional of the feminine form. A perfect specimen meant to take Wyatt’s seed and repopulate the earth. A new start. A new world. A stronger humanity.
But it came at such a high price.
Joanna was willing to sacrifice herself, to sacrifice Jimmy and all the other humans in the world. All the humans, the gargoyles, the hybrids, the other angels who had sacrificed their place at God’s side to fight against Luc and Lily. Joanna was willing to sacrifice everything with her hope for the future placed in just two people. Adam and Eve. Wyatt and his faceless partner.
Dylan couldn’t let that happen.
There had to be a way to end it all without destroying anything. She just had to find it.
To do that, she needed to gather the ones she trusted the most. And Davida was at the top of that list.
Where was she?
She arrived back at camp just as the sun was rising above the horizon. She settled back on her pallet and listened to the slow, even breathing of her friends. Her eyes slid closed, and she thought for a minute she might actually be able to get a few moments of sleep. She was actually on the edge of that cliff, preparing to jump off, when a thought burst unexpectedly through her mind.
Here. You must lead her here.
The thing was, the thought wasn’t hers. It wasn’t meant for her mind. She must have left her mental wall down, must have forgotten to protect herself from the thoughts of those around her. Funny that she hadn’t sensed anyone’s dreams, hadn’t felt or seen any images emerging from her friends’ minds as she usually did when that wall was down. She just heard those words and saw a ruin where there were no buildings, just huge shapes. Circles and squares, boats with no water to sail over, train tracks moving high into the sky with no trains to ride on them.
She had seen it before.
Dylan sat up and stared at the open window of the building where Wyatt slept. But it wasn’t him. Even though she had seen him in that place once while she was dreaming, it wasn’t his mind that had received the words. The image. Wyatt’s mind was still. For the first time in days, he was asleep without a riot of dreams torturing his mind. It wasn’t him.
But who was it?
For once, she couldn’t read any of them.
She had no clue.
Chapter 37
Dylan walked behind everyone else. She was tired, but that wasn’t what made her lag behind. She didn’t want anyone where she couldn’t see them. Wyatt continued to lead them, though he walked so quickly that they had all given up trying to stay with him long ago. Anger still rolled off of him in waves, anger and confusion and a sense of betrayal. She wished she could do something to fix things for him, but her healing powers only wor
ked on physical wounds, not mental ones.
Sam walked beside Ellie. They seemed friendlier these last few days. Maybe Sam’s feelings had changed. Maybe it had always been Ellie for him.
And then there was Stiles.
With everything else going on, Dylan found herself looking at him in a new light. He had just been Stiles before, the awkward, pale boy she had to protect from Wyatt’s distrust. And then he was Stiles, the gargoyle who had appointed himself her guardian angel. Ironic, really, when she thought about it now. A guardian angel. That was, quite literally, exactly what he was. That, and so much more.
He made her laugh. And they had laughed, deep, belly rumble laughs. She hadn’t felt that good in a long time. Not since before Davida left Genero. And then he grew serious, those beautiful eyes still dancing with merriment, making her head spin with something that went beyond the lightheadedness of amusement. And when his lips touched hers…
Wyatt’s kisses made her feel a tightness in her belly. It made her heart begin to beat with a different rhythm. His touch made her nerves beg for more.
But Stiles?
His kiss lifted her up. Made her feel as though she were capable of anything. And when he took her hands and pinned them to the tree above her head, when he deepened the kiss and explored her in a way Wyatt had attempted to do but had been in too much of a hurry to do properly, she stopped thinking. And that was saying a lot.
She didn’t want to remember what that felt like.
He didn’t seem to be thinking about it. He had hardly shared two words with her all day, and he never once looked her in the eye since they left camp. But he walked at her side, as though afraid if he moved behind or in front of her, she would disappear.
“I need to stop,” Ellie said about midday. “My feet are killing me.”
“Wyatt!” Sam called, trying to alert him as Ellie perched on the edge of a tree stump and began working her boots off her feet. Wyatt didn’t respond. He didn’t seem to hear as he continued to stomp away just this side of the horizon.
Stop, Wyatt, Dylan said, throwing the words toward him. He turned and shielded his eyes as he looked back at them. She could tell he was frowning, even from this distance. He shook his head, turning back toward the road he had been following with a gesture that suggested they did not have much farther to go. Dylan tossed up her hands in her own gesture, indicating Ellie and her sore feet. Wyatt began walking back toward them.
“Are they blistered again?” Dylan asked, turning her attention to Ellie.
“No,” she said, holding one up where Dylan could see it. “But these boots rub.”
Dylan turned her foot this way and that, looking for something that needed to be healed. But she couldn’t see anything obvious. Just Ellie being Ellie, she decided, dropping her foot before tossing herself down onto the cool grass a few feet away and lying back, the sun warm and comforting on her face.
“Do they really hurt?” Sam asked Ellie in a soothing voice Dylan noticed he reserved just for Ellie. “I could rub them.”
“That would be great,” she said, sighing.
Dylan bit her lip to keep from saying something she might regret later. Instead, she threw her arm over her eyes and tried to pretend she wasn’t enjoying this break and that she wasn’t thinking very seriously about taking a nap.
“Restless night last night?” Stiles asked as he moved into her sunlight and settled down beside her.
“You could say that,” she said.
“Shouldn’t go off on your own.”
She lifted her arm enough to peek at him. “What makes you think I did?”
Those eyes. They always seemed to see right through her. She lowered her arm again so that she wouldn’t have to watch him watching her.
“I need to find Davida.”
“You need to stay alive.”
“I can do both.”
“Dylan,” he said, that warning tone making her wish she could get up and walk away. But it was like all those times when Demetria lectured her on the importance of getting her lessons done in a timely fashion. Walking away would only make him more determined to make sure she heard what he had to say. “The next time you decide to go wandering around, take me with you.”
“Don’t you follow anyway?” She glanced at him again. “Isn’t that the point of a guardian angel?”
“I’m not your guardian angel.”
“Then what are you?”
He sighed. There was a lot in that one sigh. It brought to mind the feel of his lips on hers once again. She felt the blush even before the heat rose against the flesh of her arm. She hoped he didn’t see it. But a part of her knew he did.
“We’re just a mile or so from the place I wanted to camp tonight,” Wyatt said as he finally rejoined them. “We can be there before dark if you guys want to get up and move on.”
“My feet were hurting,” Ellie said, a pout so clear in her voice that Dylan didn’t have to look at her to hear it.
“We just need a few minutes,” Sam added.
Another sigh. This one not as saturated as Stiles’, but still full of emotion. Wyatt didn’t like to be made to wait when there was something he wanted. Dylan pushed herself up reluctantly, telling her tired body that it would only be another few hours. Just more time.
“We should go,” she said even as she dropped her fingertips to the ground to stretch out her back.
“Where?” Ellie asked. “Why can’t we just stay here tonight?”
“There’s a place a little farther up that I want to check out,” Wyatt said. “It was a park before the war.”
“We’ve seen parks,” Ellie said.
“You’ve never seen one like this,” Wyatt said, a smile in his voice even though his face lacked any emotion.
“Let’s go,” Sam said to Ellie. “I’ll give you another foot rub when we settle down for the night.”
Ellie pushed her bottom lip out to reflect the pout that remained in her voice. “Only if you promise,” she said.
“I promise,” Sam said with a soft smile.
Dylan’s eyebrows rose. She had never seen them talk to each other that way. She had seen others do it, young couples in the resistance. It was called flirting. At least, that was what Davida had told her. It was weird.
Dylan walked away, stepping back onto the road even though Ellie was still struggling to put on her boots and Wyatt was taking advantage of the delay by downing the contents of one of his water bottles. Stiles, loyal Stiles, was at her side. They climbed the slight incline in the road where Wyatt had been standing when Dylan called him back. It was a little steeper than it looked. Dylan was a little short of breath by the time they reached the top, so she didn’t immediately look down into the small valley below.
“Ellie sure is a handful,” Stiles said. “I don’t know how Sam can be so patient with her.”
“You’re an angel. Aren’t you supposed to have infinite levels of patience?”
Stiles shook his head. “I don’t know what fairy tales you’ve been reading, but angels have shorter tempers than humans sometimes.”
Dylan chuckled, another comment on the tip of her tongue when she finally looked down at the world below them. And saw a huge round shape, a circle in the middle of a concrete park. And the circles of a train track with no train to ride it. And she knew behind those were boats with no water on which to sail.
This was where someone was supposed to bring her. But who? And why?
“What is it?” Stiles asked.
Dylan shook her head. Was it Wyatt? He was leading them today, and it was his plan to camp there tonight. But she was pretty sure the message she had overheard hadn’t been meant for him. No one else had been this way before. No one else knew what was out here in this war-ravaged countryside. Ellie had even stopped just before they were in a place to see it. Why would she do that if she was supposed to take Dylan there? Would Sam or Stiles have stopped if it was one of them who was meant to take her there?
Nothing
made sense anymore.
“Dylan?”
She turned and watched her friends walking toward them. Wyatt was out front, charging toward them with that same determined look on his face. It was almost like a repeat. Hadn’t they been here once before? Hadn’t he led her into danger once before? And it had begun on a little rise like this one. She had trusted him blindly that time. What would happen if she did it again?
She studied his dark blue eyes, eyes that had grown so familiar in such a short time. She wanted to trust him. There had to come a point when it was no longer a thing to be debated. Either she trusted him, trusted that he wasn’t intentionally walking her into danger, trusted that if there was trouble he would have her back. Or she didn’t. It was simple, really.
So simple, she realized, she had known what she would do all along.
Chapter 38
“It was called an amusement park,” Wyatt said as he, Sam, and Ellie crested the hill to join Stiles and Dylan.
“Why did they call it that?” Sam asked.
“Because he was designed to entertain people,” Wyatt told him. “They had these things called rides, things that moved in strange ways and…I don’t know. They just found it exciting.”
“Where did you learn about it?” Ellie asked.
“I read about it in a book,” he said. “There’s a great bookstore down there. They have all kinds of books about the park and other places that used to be in the area around here.”
“You’ve been here before,” Stiles said.
FREED (Angels and Gargoyles Book 2) Page 15