Redemption (The Arotas Trilogy #3)

by Amy Miles

  “Someone you know?” A tiny sliver of jealousy nags at her.

  He nods stiffly. “She’s my sister, Katia.”

  “Sister?” Her words hiss between her teeth. “But you never told me…”

  “I thought she was safe.” Roseline winces at the force of his grip but does not try to pull away. Despite the pain, she finds his righteous anger comforting. She has no doubt Alexi will be among the first to fall.

  “You have to go after her.” His jaw tightens as he shakes his head. “You must. She’s your family.”

  The hoard across from them appears to ripple outward. Roseline stiffens, standing her ground as the crowd parts and a single man appears. Loud hissing rises from the Eltat along with the cries of approval from the immortals.

  Sadie gasps beside Roseline, obviously shocked by Lucien’s true nature. Roseline catches Nicolae’s frown from the corner of her eye, but she does not acknowledge it. He needn’t know Lucien’s real face to know he needs to die.

  The hunters grow restless behind them. She can hear their grips tighten on cross bow and sword hilt. Many hunters will die here today, but their deaths will be honorable. She will see to it that their families hear about it.

  “Thank you,” she whispers to Grigori, turning just enough that he knows to whom she speaks. He bows his head, his lips pressed into a tight line. “If we survive this day, I will owe you a pint when we return home.”

  A shadow of a smile lights his face before he refocuses, calling out a gruff command to one of the younger hunters. Roseline follows his gaze, noting the boy isn’t that much older than Enael was. She prays that he dies well and swiftly.

  When she turns back, she notices William’s absence at Sadie’s side. She breathes a sigh of relief, thankful that he actually obeyed Fane. To be fair, William’s protests had been weak at best. The battlefield really was no place for him.

  Fane steps up from behind and places a hand on her shoulder. She reaches back and squeezes it, grateful to have him fighting beside her once more. His presence is reassuring as she stares across the frozen lake at Lucien.

  “You can do this,” he whispers in her ear before he steps back.

  Gabriel turns, casting a glance back at Fane. It is neither combative nor possessive. Roseline is surprised to realize that, in his own way, he is thanking Fane for his help.

  “Do we just let him walk all the way out here to chat?” Sadie asks as Lucien heads their way.

  “No,” Roseline hears Nicolae reply. She braces, waiting for him to give the order to attack. Holding her breath, she knows this is the calm before the storm and possibly the last breaths she will ever take.

  Twining her fingers through Gabriel’s, she knows that this is the only place she wants to be.

  ***

  Lucien’s eagerness is threating to bubble over as he approaches the small rise that separates his vast army from the pathetic one that has gathered around Roseline. He can see her, achingly beautiful to a normal eye, but glaringly hideous to his. His eagerness ebbs as he narrows his eyes, noting how vibrant she looks.

  Curse you, Malachi, he hisses silently to himself. He doesn’t know how the angel did it, but her transformation has been ruined. He grinds his teeth together, blunting the razor sharp incisors he planned to sink into the flesh of her throat after he wiped out her army. This will not do. She is meant to be his.

  “Greetings,” he calls out with false affection.

  A murmur carries on the wind from his enemies’ side. His eyes widen with genuine surprise when he spies out numerous black-clad hunters mingled in with immortals.

  What is this? Have my enemies gone soft? He chuckles to himself, rubbing his hands together as his excitement begins to build. This battle will be one to remember.

  “I have no desire to fight any of you,” he calls, pausing to let his words travel the distance. “I only came for Roseline Enescue. Hand her over to me and I will let you live. If you do not…” he allows his words to tumble into silence as he shrugs indifferently.

  He waits, searching through the crowd for any sign of weakness that he can play on. He growls, realizing that the hunters stand firm in their decision to fight alongside Roseline.

  “So be it.”

  He raises his hand and flicks his wrist in the air. The sky begins to darken, churning with crimson and ash. The winds rise, whipping at Lucien’s black cloak. He raises his hands to cover his face as crystals of ice lash against his skin.

  A terrible roar pierces the low cloud cover before two clawed feet appear, followed by armor plated scaly legs and the underbelly of a monstrous beast. Roseline’s army backs away, mouths hanging open at the sight of the onyx talons that dig deep into the frozen earth.

  Fiery eyes lock onto Lucien as fire puffs between gaping jaws, each tooth sharp and reeking of death. Two horns protrude from the dragon’s head, and spikes run along the curve of its back, trailing down to its coiled tail.

  Lucien grins as he returns his gaze to Roseline. He can see her fear, but also her determination. The dragon was a surprise, no doubt. The legend was that the last of their kind died out thousands of years ago. Of course, he was the one who started those tales.

  “What is that beast?” Katia’s voice carries from behind him.

  Lucien grins, answering for her. “Maelstrom the Wanderer. My pet.”

  He stretches out a hand and runs it along the rigid plates that cover its nose. Humid air hangs before its great nostrils, melting the snow with each exhaled breath. “He is a fine specimen. The best to ever come from my hatchery.”

  Staring across the clearing, he grins, enjoying the unease that ripples through Roseline’s forces. Fighting immortals, Fallen Ones and Eltat was something they were prepared for. The thought of fighting a dragon has given him the advantage.

  He waves his hand before his face, annoyed with the feathery snow that steadily falls from the sky. “You have no chance of survival,” he shouts. His gaze sweeps across the clearing once more and lands on his son. Lucien’s lips peel back over his sharpened teeth as he notices the boy’s elevated breathing and the faint sheen along his brow.

  So, that’s how she was healed. His grin widens as his mind spins through countless outcomes, each one leading to Gabriel’s inevitable death. He continues to rant about the miracle of his dragon to the fearful army assembled before him, all while silently plotting his next move.

  He turns toward Maelstrom and shouts a command. The great beast’s wings unfurl as it launches into the air, hovering just over his head. “The time has come for you to choose. Return to me what is mine and you will live to fight another day.”

  His gaze narrows on Roseline as she flushes with anger. Gabriel tries to grab her arm, but she blurs out of sight as she yanks a cross bow from the hand of green-eyed hunter beside her and releases the arrow directly at her brother-in-law.

  Lucien leaps to the side as the arrow spikes high into the air. “You missed,” he laughs staring up at the arrow as it plummets to the earth five feet away from him.

  His laugh cuts off as a second arrow slams into his shoulder, narrowly missing his heart. He lifts his gaze to stare into the blackened hatred of Roseline Enescue.

  “I never miss,” she growls. Tightening her grip on her swords, she leaps into battle.

  Twenty-Seven

  When the battle first broke out, Gabriel had clear sight of Katia. She was just over Lucien’s shoulder, terrified but trying to appear brave. After Roseline sent off her first arrow, he knew exactly where he was going. The problem is…all hell broke loose.

  The light of his fire sword makes it easier to see in the smoke that rises around him. It penetrates the dark, slices through his enemy with ease, but still he can’t find her.

  Roseline is off to his left, grunting and twirling, downing immortals with finesse. Under different circumstances, he would love to stop and watch her and admire her skill, but he has to find Katia. She isn’t trained for battle and hardly knows how to protect hersel
f against the supernatural.

  “Katia!” he shouts over the din of clashing swords and screams of the dying. He steps on the chest of a dead hunter, whispering his apologies as he rises onto his toes to see. Just through a break in the haze he catches a glimpse of her racing toward the trees. A group of Eltat chase after her, barely five feet behind.

  The stark terror on her face is enough to get him moving again. He dips and dives, rolling over Claudia’s back. “Thanks,” he shouts as he races toward the tree line.

  Low hanging branches tear at his face and arms as he runs at a full sprint. He clutches the hilt of his sword tightly in his hands as he leaps over a fallen log and slashes down at the slowest of the group.

  It squeals like a pig as its chest opens, the wound instantly cauterized by the sword. He leaps over the writhing Eltat and races on. The next two go down as easily as the first, but the final two turn and fight, each flying at him from different directions.

  Their whips are made of angel hair, unbreakable and deadly. Near the tips, bits of glass and sharpened metal have been wound, creating a vicious weapon that tears into his flesh each time he moves a fraction of a second too slow.

  Blood seeps from his arms and legs. His back stings as the glass burrows into his flesh and is yanked free. He stumbles, falling to his knees as a second whiplash tears into his side. Warm blood paints his shirt to his side.

  With a mighty roar, he rises, swinging his sword with two hands. He narrowly misses one of the pig-snouted creatures and stumbles off balance. When he goes down, he knows he’s in trouble. One leaps on top of him, pelting him with punches to his ribs and kidneys. He cries out, more furious than in pain.

  They are strong and fast. Each time he reaches around to grasp their scaly legs or tail, they shift away, always remaining just out of reach. “Hold still,” he grunts as he lifts up suddenly, flipping the creature off his back.

  Red eyes gleam from behind a tree then disappear. A scream rises from behind him and he turns to find Katia in Lucien’s grasp. His father’s face is heavily scaled and his nose is slotted like a snakes. His eyes are a deep scarlet and his fingers are elongated and curved with heavy claws.

  “Looking for something?” Lucien hisses.

  Gabriel breathes heavily, his hands clenching into fists beside his sheath as he straightens his shoulders. The fiery pain in his back lances straight through his shoulder, but he refuses to show any weakness. “This is between you and me. Leave her alone.”

  Lucien’s tongue flickers through his lips as he grins. “On the contrary. This is a family matter, son.”

  His fingers curl, digging his talons deeper into Katia’s flesh. She cries out, fighting against his grasp but Lucien only laughs. “So frail, isn’t she? Too bad she was never turned, like you. I’m sure she would have made an interesting immortal.”

  He traces a claw down her cheek, his smile widening as blood trails after. She whimpers, her eyes wide and pleading with Gabriel. His anger seethes just below the surface, but he keeps it reigned in tightly.

  “Let her go, Lucien. She’s nothing to you.”

  “True,” his father’s nods. “But she does seem to mean a great deal to you.”

  With a twist of his wrist, he snaps Katia’s upper arm. Gabriel cries out as his sister’s mouth drops in a silent scream. Color drains from her face as her knees buckle, and she falls slack in Lucien’s grasp.

  “Monster!” Gabriel screams as he dives for his sword and rolls to his feet, ready to strike, but Lucien is gone.

  Gabriel whirls around, searching the trees for his father, but Lucien has vanished. He growls, spinning around to check for any sign of his retreat but all he can see are the Eltat racing back toward the battle. He tucks his sword into its sheath, squelching its flame for the time being.

  “It’s ok.” He bends down beside Katia. “I’ve got you.”

  “You come,” she whispers, her head lolling against his arm as he lifts her up. She feels as light as a feather in his arms, much too fragile to be in a place like this. She needs to be taken somewhere safe.

  “Hold on. I’ll get you out of here.” He begins to jog, holding out his arms to keep her aloft, desperately trying not to jostle her too much. She clamps down on her lip, fighting to still her cries of pain.

  By the time he arrives on the edge of the battlefield, Katia has passed out. He searches for Fane or Roseline but can’t find any trace of them. Grigori and Claudia fight side by side against one of the hulking monsters Lucien no doubt kept hidden from the world. It is as wide as a car and covered in a sickly green fur. Horns and multiple eyes seem to be its main defense, apart from the large wooden club it swings at Claudia’s head.

  The beating of wings draws his attention and he breathes a sigh of relief as Elias lands beside him. His chest boasts several burn marks and his feathers are still smoking from the aerial battle above. “Can you take her back to William? He can watch over her.”

  Elias nods, following Gabriel’s gaze toward the hideous beast. Claudia ducks, narrowly avoiding a low cut toward her head. “It’s a troll. Nothing more.” He waits for Gabriel to turn and look at him. “Its weakness is in the center of its forehead. That’s its most sensitive spot. One clean shot and it will go down.”

  “Good to know.” Gabriel grins as he hands his sister over to his guardian. “Take care of her for me.”

  “Be careful.” With a rush of air, Elias rises into the sky, spiraling in a golden glow. Gabriel watches until Elias disappears and then rushes to aid his friends.

  ***

  Blood and gray matter splatters against Fane’s face as he slams his spiked mace into another Eltat’s head. The fighting is intense and the earth is covered in slickened gore. All around him smoke rises from the ground. Bodies lay singed as the fires smolder deep into the flesh of the dying.

  The screams of pain are horrific. Hands reach out and clutch his legs, begging for mercy, but he doesn’t have time to kill them all. He lunges and slams his mace into the back of a deformed fallen one, its face shrunken and nearly every inch covered in oozing boils.

  Its breath reeks as its death shrieks rise and stutter off into hiccupping gasps. He stomps down on its back, wrenching his mace free.

  A battle wages from above. Blood and feathers fall from the sky, shielding much of the fighting from view. The dragon roars in pain as it blasts fire into the sky, its beating wings contorting the clouds.

  The bodies of scorched angels fall from the sky, their feathers charred and blackened. Trails of smoke filter through the air as they plummet to earth, never to move again.

  Fane ducks as an angel smashes into a group of Eltat, too stupid to look up. He leaps, easily clearing one angel just to lurch to the side to avoid another falling from the sky.

  He blinks against the haze of smoke, searching for his friends. Gabriel took off as soon as Roseline struck Lucien. Fane lost sight of him as he leapt into the enemy line, his fire sword slicing cleanly through dozens of enemies at a time.

  Roseline was right behind him, rushing headfirst into danger. He tried to follow but was quickly swallowed by the hoard.

  “Fane!” He ducks instinctively as a flash of silver cuts through the air just in front of him. Pain races across his chest as a thin line of blood appears. “Alamesia,” he growls, charging after her as her colorful skirts dance away.

  The tinkling of bells is lost to the sounds of battle as she hops over piles of bodies. Some are clad in black while others wear nothing more than soiled scraps of cloth. Both sides are taking huge losses, but who is winning?

  As Alamesia prepares to leap, Fane swings his mace and buries it into her side. She shrieks and falls to the ground, curling in on herself as she clutches the mace. Fane yanks on the handle, grinning at her fierce cry.

  “Stop, please!” Her pitiful pleas are lost on him as he raises his boot and stomps down on the mace.

  He can feel her ribs cracking and shattering as his foot lowers. She claws at the crowd, despe
rate to get away.

  “Not this time,” he crows as he slams down on the mace a final time, forcing the spikes straight through her heart.

  Her scream dies off as her head lolls to the side, her vacant eyes staring up at the fire rolling overhead. Fane wipes blood from his face and tugs his mace free.

  “Good shot,” Nicolae shouts as he slams into Fane’s back, his crossbow firing at a group of Eltat crawling toward them. “Just like old times, huh?”

  Fane nods, gritting his teeth as they attack together. Their enemy’s death comes swift under their skilled hands. Nicolae growls as he twists the neck of the final Eltat and lets it drop with hardly a thought.

  “Where’s Sadie?” Fane shouts. Spotting a Fallen One trying to crawl away, he reaches behind him and retrieves a small dagger, hurling it at the creature. It howls, bucking wildly as the blade buries into the base of its neck. It falls to the ground, twitching.

  “Over there. She’s with Roseline.”

  “You left her?” Fane growls as he grabs a handful of Nicolae’s shirt and yanks him toward the direction he pointed to.

  “You needed help,” Nicolae protests.

  “No,” Fane shouts as he shoves his way toward Sadie. “You never leave your girl behind. Ever.”

  He frantically searches through the bodies, praying he doesn’t find her, find Roseline. Panic begins to heighten his senses as his grip on Nicolae’s shirt tightens.

  “Fane. Chill out, man. She’s right there!”

  He looks up, relieved to see Sadie swinging a battle ax at the back of fallen one with ease. Her footing is good, her stance wide and weighted properly. He breathes a sigh of relief and releases Nicolae. “Sorry,” he mutters and stumbles away.

  “Fane, where are you going?”

  He ignores Nicolae’s cry as he plunges over a pile of bodies, rolling to the other side. Sadie is safe for now, but he can’t see Roseline. Where is she?

  A hand grabs his leg with such force that it topples him to the ground. His hands sink into the entrails of a hunter. His face is splattered with blood from a sliced artery. Fane turns to see Ambrose clutching his leg, the lower half of her body missing.