Redemption (The Arotas Trilogy #3)

by Amy Miles

  Apart from when I attacked him, she thinks. Quickly, she pushes that thought from her mind. She didn’t kill him. She rubs her hands against her filthy clothes, trying to clean his blood from her hands.

  “We have to go.” Malachi grabs her arm to pull her to her feet.

  “No!” She yanks out of his grasp. The blood rushing through her veins has made her strong and defiant. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Enael was right. You’re the monster. You only do what’s best for yourself.”

  His jaw flinches as he grabs her arm, unwilling to let her go this time. “If you stay, you will be the monster. Is that what you want? To become like Lucien? Trust me when I say, it’s not a pretty sight.”

  “What do you mean?” Her voice wavers far more than she would like.

  Malachi looks away. “I think he is evolving into something else, something more. I don’t know what happened to him, but I think whatever is in your blood is affecting him.”

  Roseline stares down at the young monk, wishing that she’d been able to save him, to repay him for the kindness he showed Gabriel.

  “What about the other monk? Did he say anything useful?”

  “No. He never spoke.” Malachi’s expression pinches with regret. “If I had thought there was any chance he could help you…”

  “Save it. I don’t want excuses or false regrets. You did what you did, end of story, now let’s get out of here.” She slowly rises to her feet. “Do you think we can make it?”

  “Doubtful,” a voice calls from behind them.

  Together, they whirl around to find a red-haired woman slinking in the doorway to the pit. Roseline’s brow furrows as she tries to remember where she has seen this girl before.

  “Ainsley,” Malachi growls, pulling Roseline up beside him. His grip is firm, leaving little doubt to the danger he perceives. “You should have stayed away. You know this won’t end well for you.”

  “No,” Ainsley shakes her head. Her hair shifts in waves of fire about her beautiful face. Her cheekbones are high and her eyes wide and expressive, filled with hatred. “You are the one who’s going to pay. You betrayed me, Malachi.”

  “Lover’s tiff?” Roseline asks.

  Malachi grinds his teeth and nods, not breaking eye contact with Ainsley. “If you walk away now, I will let you live. If not…” he lets his threat trail off.

  “You won’t hurt me, Malachi. We are bonded.” Ainsley steps forward out of the shadows, and Roseline catches the glint of steel as she raises a sword. Its blade is curved and newly sharpened. Ainsley drops low into a crouch. “You belong to me.”

  Roseline opens her mouth to speak but finds herself flying through the air. The sound of snarling echoes around her as she slams into the wall and crumples to the floor. The impact hurts far more than it should have after a healing.

  She rolls to her side, clutching her chest. Her fingers press deep into her side and she gasps. She actually broke a rib from that push. Although she feels strong, evidently she is still fragile.

  Rising gingerly to her feet, she watches the death match before her. Malachi moves with smooth, fluid motions while Ainsley is more abrupt.

  Lunge. Parry. Repeat.

  The clash of steel against rock sends sparks raining onto the floor. Ainsley grunts and slashes at Malachi’s stomach. Her arc is good but her footing is off. Malachi spins and shoves her face first into the wall. Roseline smiles at the sound of crunching bone.

  Curling his fingers into Ainsley’s hair, Malachi yanks her head back. Her shattered nose gushes blood into her open mouth. Her lips curl into a snarl as she spits out several broken teeth.

  Malachi snatches the sword from her hand and presses it against her throat. Ainsley laughs. “You don’t have it in you.”

  Roseline pushes off from the wall. “Just get it over with or I will. We don’t have time for this.”

  Ainsley locks her vicious glare on Roseline, spitting droplets of blood in her direction. “This is all your fault. He loved me.”

  Malachi growls and whips her around. Reaching to the back of his head he yanks out a few strands of hair and lassos them around her neck. Her gargled protests rise as she claws at her throat, clearly terrified.

  The angel hair digs deep into Ainsley’s flesh. A line of blood seeps from the wound as Malachi grunts, his biceps flexing as he pulls tighter. Roseline can feel her stomach churning, overloaded with far too much blood, but she refuses to turn away when Ainsley’s gurgling cries cut off. His hair slices cleanly through her spinal cord and she falls limp in his arms.

  Malachi breathes heavily as he shoves the body away and approaches Roseline. Blood stains his hands and clothes. Roseline draws her gaze away from Malachi’s fallen lover.

  “How do you feel?”

  He shrugs, stepping a wide path around her. “I feel nothing. She would have run straight to Lucien if I hadn’t taken care of her. It’s better this way.”

  Roseline nods in agreement. “You cared for her?”

  Malachi looks up to meet her gaze. “She was a bit of fun. Nothing more.”

  Although he hides his emotions well, she can tell he’s lying. At one time he did care for Ainsley, much like she cared for Fane. She shivers at the thought of ever being put into a position where she must make such a choice.

  Roseline walks past the fallen immortal without giving her another glance. Ainsley was a traitor, loyal to a man who has caused only pain and fear in Roseline’s life. Good riddance.

  “This way.” She follows Malachi’s lead as they step through the reinforced cage doors. The hallway is empty, as are the three corridors beyond that. The maze of tunnels seems to stretch on endlessly as they weave around corners, ever alert for what might be lurking on the other side.

  The fact that they have seen neither immortal guard or Eltat is a concern. Where have they all gone? Has their escape been noticed? Are they are walking into a trap?

  Although her sense of direction is greatly hampered underground, Roseline gets the distinct feeling that they are moving away from the main part of the house. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Through an old escape route. Lucien thinks he knows all of the tunnels down here, but he’s wrong. This one will bring us out on the outskirts of town.”

  Roseline glances down at the state of her clothes in the flickering candlelight. “I’m pretty sure someone will notice me.”

  Malachi snorts. “Well, they’ll certainly be able to smell you.”

  ***

  Lucien paces in his room, annoyed with Malachi’s delay. He sent for him nearly half an hour ago. “What is keeping him?”

  The Eltat guarding his door appears to shrink within itself. Small needle-like spines run down its neck and disappear into its shirt. Its skin has a bluish tint and its forked tongue flickers out into the air, no doubt testing to see just how angry Lucien really is.

  But Lucien isn’t angry. He is enraged. Malachi has never made him wait before because he knows better. When he is summoned, he comes.

  “Go find him!”

  The Eltat squeals and whirls toward the door, accidentally burying its claws deep into the wood. With a grunt, it yanks back on its arm to free itself and topples backward onto the floor. Lucien closes his eyes, squeezing the bridge of his nose as he sucks in a deep breath.

  “I’m waiting.”

  “Yessss Masssster.” It hisses in common tongue, scurries to open the door and then slams it behind him.

  Lucien drops heavily onto his couch, tapping his fingers against the supple leather. Something is wrong. He can feel it.

  Lurching to his feet, Lucien crosses the length of his room in four long strides and throws open the doors. A small group of Eltat guards are huddled together near the end of the hall. Upon hearing the door open, they immediately part and stand to attention.

  “Find Malachi. Bring him to me. Now!”

  Seventeen

  Fane raps the back of Sadie’s legs with a tree branch stripped of leaves and bark. Thi
s time is harder than the last. With each mistake, he increases the pressure. Already a large array of welts has risen along her thighs and calves.

  “Again.”

  Sadie’s eyes flash with anger as she tosses her sword away and plops down on the ground. “No.”

  “No?” He steps forward, his fingers tightening around the branch. “You do not have time for childish tantrums, Sadie. War is upon us and I would think that you would like to survive it.”

  “I’m not going to if you insist on beating me like a dog,” she spits back. With the back of her hand, she swipes away the sweat clinging to her brow. The sun beats down on her from overhead, counteracting the blissful Arctic winds.

  Fane grits his teeth. “You are the most stubborn”

  “I’d stop right there if you have any hope of her getting up today,” William calls through a tiny crack in the compound’s front door. “Berating her only ticks her off even more. I should know.”

  Sadie grins, nodding in wholehearted agreement. Fane releases a heavy sigh. “So what do you suggest?”

  William snaps the collar of his coat around his neck and pulls his furry hood over his face before stepping out. He hisses through his teeth as his boots punch through the ice. Hardly any skin has been left bare to the elements and yet he begins swearing almost immediately, as if frostbite has already set in.

  Fane crosses his arms over his chest. His short sleeves pull taut over his lean muscles. To say that he is annoyed by William’s distaste for cold weather is an understatement. The boy has not stopped moaning about it since he arrived.

  “Let her work with Nicolae. You know he’s got mad skills,” comes William’s muffled reply.

  “You trust him with your sister’s life?”

  “Sure. The guy is crazy about her.” When he shrugs, his entire parka rises and falls about him. “Besides, you know he’d never let anything happen to her.”

  “And what about his safety? His life?”

  William snorts. “That’s his decision to make. Not yours.”

  Fane looks away. William’s words settle uneasily in the pit of his stomach. Hadn’t he told himself the same thing about Roseline? Yet, look what has happened to her.

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” he hedges, but the firm set of Sadie’s mouth tells him that she’s not about to budge. He shakes his head. “Fine. If that’s what you want, then fine, but don’t think for a second that his hunters will like this any more than I do.”

  With that, he brushes past William, nearly toppling the boy to the ground. He ignores William’s cry of alarm as he pinwheels to stop himself from making an unwanted snow angel. Fane yanks open the front door as Sadie bursts into laughter.

  The wind slams the door shut. His boots clomp loudly on the floor. He is angry but unsure if he has a right to be. Is it so wrong for Nicolae and Sadie to be together? Yes, it goes against everything he believes in, but things are changing. Hunters are here among his brethren. Perhaps their relationship is exactly what is needed right now.

  He turns the corner and throws out his hands to stop himself from slamming into the broad chest of Nicolae’s second-in-command, Grigori. “Sorry,” Fane mutters and steps aside for the man to pass.

  But he doesn’t. Grigori moves to intercept him, waiting for Fane to look up. When Fane does, he’s surprised to see something resembling a smile on his face. “Can I help you?”

  “That depends,” Grigori says as he leans back against the wall. When he crosses his arms over his chest, Fane can easily see each well-defined muscle under his pale skin. Grigori has always been a worthy opponent, so to stand here in a narrow passage with him feels disconcerting.

  “On what?”

  “On whether or not you know how to keep Nicolae in check. I’ve tried and failed miserably. I thought perhaps you might have a suggestion.”

  Fane’s eyebrow rises. “What has he done this time?”

  “The boy is smitten. I can’t get him to focus for longer than ten minutes on anything.”

  A rueful smile stretches across Fane’s face as he nods in agreement. “Sadie is the same way. Her brother seems to think they should train together. I told them it’s a bad idea.”

  Grigori nods, absently rubbing the jagged scar that runs from his temple to his neck. Fane looks away, remembering the night he received that scar. He’d had nothing to do with it personally, but Lucien did. He can only imagine how Grigori longs to repay the favor.

  “Will you allow it?” Grigori asks.

  Fane blinks, unsure if he heard the man correctly. “You condone this idea? What about your men?”

  The tall man grunts and shifts away from the wall, letting his hands fall back to his side. “I will keep my men in check if you keep that girl of yours from sinking her teeth into Nicolae’s neck.”

  “Fair enough.” Fane dips his head as Grigori passes. It’s a tight fit but they manage to pass without touching each other.

  As Fane continues toward his room, he can’t help but wonder what horrible thing he did in his past to be landed with the responsibility of babysitting hormonal teenagers.

  ***

  Gabriel claws his way from the lake exhausted and heavy of heart. The flaming sword extinguishes the instant he releases his grip on it. Too numb to care about how the sword works, he buries his face in his hands and rolls to his back.

  Seneh is gone. The reality of this loss is almost more than he can bear.

  Strong arms wrap around Gabriel’s chest and pull him from the water. Elias hauls him off the beach, moving him toward the fire near a cluster of eucalyptus trees.

  “What happened?” Elias asks, propping Gabriel against a log. Elias dips down low to look at Gabriel, waiting for him to respond, but he can’t. He doesn’t have the heart to speak. Instead, Gabriel rolls onto his side and closes his eyes, silently mourning the loss of his friend long into the night.

  When he wakes up the next morning, the sun is beating down on his face. His skin feels dry and scaly with residue of the salt water clinging it. He groans and pushes up from the sand, rubbing his face with his shirt. A heavy dampness clings to the worn material.

  Gabriel freezes as memories from the previous night begin to flood back in. His lips pinch together as he fights back tears. He wishes it was all a dream that he could wake from.

  Elias shifts, his back to Gabriel as he stares out over the lake. “Seneh never surfaced,” he says softly. “I waited all night for him to return.”

  He pushes to his feet and turns to face Gabriel. His eyes are swollen and his skin is paler than normal. “He isn’t coming, is he?”

  Gabriel’s words catch in his throat, threatening to come out in a low moan instead of something coherent. He shakes his head as tears form in the corners of his eyes. The image of Seneh’s shredded body will forever be etched into his memory.

  Elias’ shoulders sag, his wings drooping so low the bottom feathers blanket the sand. His head hangs with sorrow. “Goodbye, my friend.”

  Stumbling to his feet, Gabriel rushes to the edge of the ocean grass as the contents of his stomach tumble out. Acid burns his throat while tears sting his eyes.

  “It’s my fault,” he whispers, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His shoulders quake as he fights to keep it together.

  A strong hand falls atop his shoulder. He looks up into Elias’ pained face. “Seneh loved you, Gabriel. He would want you to complete your trials.”

  Gabriel lurches to his feet, shoving Elias away. “How can you even talk to me about trials right now? Seneh is dead! Don’t you get that?”

  Elias’ jaw clamps down hard. “Death is inevitable. It will come for us all.”

  “Can you even hear the words coming out of your mouth?” Gabriel rages, plunging his hands into his hair, tugging at the blond strands. “This is insane. Seneh is dead because of my mission. Because of me. I can’t carry on like nothing happened.”

  “No one expects you to, young one.”

  Gabriel r
aises a shaky finger at Elias. “Don’t ever call me that again. That’s what they called me.”

  He spits at the ground, feeling soiled and violated by the words. Never again, he silently vows.

  Elias holds up his hands in surrender. “Seneh believed in the prophecy and in you. If you end this now, you will dishonor his memory.”

  Gabriel laughs bitterly, shaking his head as he sways in place, feeling as if he might truly be losing it this time. “Don’t use a guilt trip to get what you want out of me, Elias.”

  “It is not meant to guilt you into anything. It is a fact. The reality of your birth and your destiny has not changed since the time you entered that lake. Your friends and Roseline are still in very real danger. Will you forsake their lives just to wallow in your grief?”

  Gabriel sucks in a breath, shocked by the cold reprimand. “How can you feel nothing?”

  Dropping his gaze, Elias sinks to the ground. “Do not think that I am not in mourning for my friend. He was the closest thing to a brother to me, but he would not want this.”

  He raises his head and for the first time, Gabriel notices how Elias’ hands quiver against his thighs. “I am asking for you to fulfill your destiny so that more innocent lives may be spared. Evil is coming. It is spreading across your world and only you can stop it with this.”

  Holding the fire sword aloft, he tilts the blade and offers it to Gabriel. “I never said your trials would be easy. I warned you the opposite. This blade will aid you in overthrowing your enemy, but there is still another trial to come. One that will weaken your soul and test you to the edge of your limits. I need to know if you are prepared to face it.”

  Gabriel takes a deep breath and slowly blows it out. His mind screams at him to say no, to fight against a destiny he never asked for, but instead he nods.

  Elias smiles wanly. “Good. Then we must go.”

  “Go where?”

  “To Canada. Your friends will be waiting for you.”

  ***

  Lucien’s cloak billows out around him, brushing against the roughly hewn cavern walls as he rushes toward the pit. The greenish blood of the incompetent Eltat messenger still drips from his fingers. The nameless creature’s head will look good mounted on his wall.