“No! I won't stop until I have her,” Archangelo retorted. “Only then will I be satisfied.”
Bran stood up, his considerable height exaggerated further by the long grey cloak he wore around his shoulders. “Archangelo, calm yourself,” he demanded sharply. “Remember our goal. And remember,” he added cautiously, “that our attempts to defeat those residing in the angel city have failed.”
“It won't take much longer. One attack, maybe two. The numbers are being greatly reduced each time we assault the city.”
“They are being reduced in numbers, of that there is little doubt. But whilst they have the walls to hide behind, it will be impossible to defeat them entirely.”
“They will be defeated,” Archangelo announced. He studied his fingernails with relaxed nonchalance. “I'm bored with waiting around - why do we not go back and finish this?”
“The Drâghici insist on continuing with their terror campaign, attacking the groups residing outside Zaen.”
Archangelo pouted like a child who'd been refused his favorite toy. “Why is it necessary to wait? The Drâghici are foolish old men. What does it matter if we kill a few more vermin now, or later? The real endgame is inside the walls of Zaen.”
Bran searched the room, as if he expected it might be wired with a listening device. “Silence, Archangelo. Your tongue is going to get us both into trouble.”
“Bah!” Archangelo spat, his contempt obvious. “I don't care what they think.”
“But I do!” Bran retorted. “It is better for our plan if the vermin have been annihilated before we take over. Why not allow the Drâghici to complete the dirty work? It will make it easier for us in the long term.”
Someone knocked at the door to the room and Archangelo turned towards it. “Enter.”
One of the Drâghici guard appeared, dragging a young girl at his side. She appeared to be in her late teens, a pretty girl with long curly hair and pale green eyes. When she spied Archangelo she attempted to back away from him, crossing herself and speaking rapidly in a foreign tongue.
Archangelo licked his lips and grinned, revealing his fangs. “Excellent. You've brought lunch.” With preternatural speed he crossed the room, gripping the girl by her shoulders. “Consider yourself lucky, la mia bella donna. Not everyone gets feasted upon by someone as handsome and charming as myself.” He leaned in towards the girl and pressed a gentle kiss against her neck, extending his tongue to lick her skin. The terrified young girl shrieked and struggled, to no avail, desperately trying to wrench away from Archangelo's attentions. Losing interest in his game, Archangelo bared his fangs and bit into her neck. My screams intermingled with hers as blood spurted in pumping jets from her punctured vein.
“Charlotte, wake up! Charlotte!” I woke with a start and found Rowena perched on the edge of the bed, gripping my shoulders. Ben materialized in the doorway, his hand gripping the door jamb as he absorbed my distress. This had become a never-ending routine over the past few weeks, the nightmares repeating every night in the six weeks since Lucas's death.
I shook my head, taking deep breaths until I was calm enough to speak.
“What did you see?” Ben asked, joining Rowena on the edge of the bed.
“Archangelo was feeding on some poor girl the Drâghici brought to him. Fortunately for her, he didn't feel the need to rape her first.” I rubbed my eyes tiredly with my fists.
Ben cursed explicitly beneath his breath. “Anything else?”
I thought carefully, reliving the nightmare and collecting little strands of information I'd been privy to. “Archangelo is under the impression he killed both Lucas and Conal,” I explained. “Bran seemed… annoyed with him over the fascination he has about me. He called it… an outrageous obsession and said Archangelo has to stop portalling to Zaen on… unscheduled visits.”
Ben and Rowena exchanged a worried glance. “Do you think that's why we haven't been attacked?” Rowena queried. “Perhaps Archangelo has been here and we've been unaware of it?”
Ben shook his head in denial. “To what purpose? Without attacking, he has no way of seeing Charlotte.”
“Archangelo and Bran say the Drâghici are concentrating on clearing out the 'vermin',” I continued. Observing their startled looks, I managed a feeble smile. “Their words, not mine. It sounds like they're continuing with the slaughter of other groups around the world, then they'll turn their attention back to us.”
“Was there anything else of importance?” Ben pressed.
I reconsidered what I'd learned from the nightmare, trying to analyze it from every angle. “They're under the impression our numbers are greatly reduced.”
Ben nodded in approval. “Excellent. They're apparently still unaware of the numbers we're portalling directly into Zaen.” He stood up, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Rowena, could you get Charlotte some warm milk to help her settle back to sleep? I'll report the details of the nightmare to Epi and the other pack leaders.”
Rowena caught me in a soothing hug. “You stay there; I'll bring you some milk. Are you hungry?”
I shook my head, smiling at Rowena's concern. “Rowena, I'm going to end up like the side of a barn if you keep insisting on feeding me every five minutes. Besides, food only seems to make me nauseous, especially at this time of night.”
Rowena grinned. “I can't help it. It's exciting to think we're going to have a new baby in the family.”
She slipped from the bedroom and I settled against the headboard, tugging the covers over my waist. I was so tired of this, weary of the nightmares, sick of living on tenterhooks for when we would be attacked again. So tired of being lonely and alone. I missed Lucas. I missed Conal. It seemed he was as determined to avoid me as I was him nowadays and I'd heard rumors he was seeing someone. No matter how miserable it made me, I was certain it was the best thing for both of us. I couldn't love again and Conal needed a werewolf for a partner. There was no room in his future for an Angel.
“Charlotte, will you please stop deluding yourself about this,” Lucas said firmly.
“Will you please stop listening to my thoughts!” Unlike the other spirits, Lucas could tap directly into my feelings, hearing me even when I didn't speak aloud or directly to him. For a few weeks after learning I was pregnant, Lucas had been conspicuously absent and I'd worried that he was lost to me forever. When he did reach out, I'd learned that though he'd remained elusive, he was fully aware of every thought, every discussion I'd had in the meantime. His explanation for his absence was simple - he knew I couldn't bear to hear his voice and was waiting until I was better able to cope with it. Six weeks after his death, he was regularly in contact and hearing him had become a soothing balm to my unhappiness.
I heard the smile in his voice. “I can't help it, love. Your thoughts are so transparent; I can't avoid hearing them. No matter how much you protest, you are deluding yourself. Conal will never settle with another woman. He's in love with you.”
“I'm not having this conversation.”
“And I'm not accepting your decision to remain alone for the rest of your life.”
“I don't want anyone else.”
“Charlotte, I want you to be happy and I have no doubt you would be very happy. With Conal.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to hear Lucas's arguments. “I don't want to be hurt again.”
“Conal loves you. As I told you before, his feelings for you are as intense as mine.”
“But he could be killed!”
“You must take the risk, my love.”
“You've only been gone for six weeks!”
Lucas sighed. “I know. Six weeks that seem like six lifetimes.” He paused for a long time, as though considering his words carefully. “Charlotte, go to Conal. Tell him about the baby. He'll understand and I have no doubt he'll love you anyway.”
“I can't, Lucas. I can't risk loving him and losing him. I won't.”
“Charlotte, you've always risked loving him and losing him.
You were in love with him as you were in love with me. I knew and accepted that. Will it be any better for you like this? If something happens to him and you feel the way you do, will that make his loss any easier to bear because you've avoided being involved with him?”
I heard Rowena's soft footsteps on the stairs and shook my head in determination. “I'm not having this conversation. I'm going to drink my warm milk and I'm going back to sleep, and if you don't stop nagging me about this, I'm going to shut you away so you can't contact me!”
Lucas laughed aloud, the sound of his chuckle echoing in my ears. “It won't work, Charlotte. Whilst your mental barrier is extremely effective amongst my fellow spirits, it's completely useless in restraining me.”
“Goodnight, Lucas.”
“Goodnight, my love.”
Chapter 9: Wolves and Pups
The first snowfalls of winter had arrived and eight weeks passed since the attack. The people inhabiting the city were more confident, although an air of tension hovered perpetually as we waited for something to happen. Everyone was waiting for the penny to drop, as if someone's itchy trigger finger was holding a weapon to our backs - the knowledge it was there made it difficult to relax. The Drâghici were continuing their plans to eradicate packs around the world and it seemed they would leave Zaen until their mission was accomplished.
Archangelo became increasingly frustrated as the days passed. In a welcome turn of events, Lucas divulged that he could 'see' Archangelo and report when he drank the sleeping potion. Owing to Lucas's vigilance, the Drâghici gathered no useful intelligence during Archangelo's sleep cycles. Lucas warned us when Archangelo took the potion, and I ensured I was doing something innocuous. As soon as Lucas sounded the warning, I'd run to the cottage and stare at the ceiling until Archangelo awoke. His ability wasn't as powerful as mine - Lucas explained that Archangelo only saw myself and my immediate surroundings. Epi said it was because he hadn't been allowed to mature. For whatever reason, we'd been using the tactic for a week and it was very effective.
Nobody had any idea why Lucas was capable of this, when the other spirits couldn't or wouldn't. Ben and Epi guessed it was because he had closer ties to me after consuming my blood. I didn't care why he could do it, only that he was helping us. The numbers in Zaen had swelled to one thousand men, women and children as we continued to portal, marking and bringing refugees back to the safety of the city. Tactical planning was withheld from Archangelo, ensuring the Consiliului were blind to our preparations. All in all, life in the city continued to run smoothly whilst we waited for the Drâghici's next move.
I pulled the cottage door shut and walked down the steps to meet Gwynn and William, ready to attend our morning meeting.
“Good Morning, Charlotte,” William said, his arm draped around Gwynn's shoulders. Gwynn looked glamorous, wearing a chunky green anorak with black fur trim, black leggings and sturdy boots. Her hair fell in gentle waves down her back and shoulders, its coppery tones adding to the festive nature of her clothes.
“You don't look well, Charlotte. Are you feeling okay?” Gwynn queried, scrutinizing my pale skin.
I glanced in either direction, confirming we were alone. “Morning sickness,” I muttered.
“Oh, poor you,” Gwynn said. She captured my mitten-clad hand in her own and we walked towards the meeting hall, tramping through the snow which had fallen heavily overnight. “Can Jerome give you something for it?”
“I don't know. I've been nauseous for a couple of days, but this is the first time I've been sick. I haven't seen him since it started,” I explained. I had an almost overwhelming urge to drop onto the ground and create a snow angel, despite the morning sickness. There was six inches of clean white snow lying over the ground, perfect for making snow angels. Zaen was beautiful in winter, the cottages reminiscent of a postcard of the English countryside. If I could grab some spare time later, I wanted to sketch the scene. Although relaxation was in short supply, I'd been spending what little time I could garner on sketching. It was soothing and a departure from the daily stress, although more often than not, I found myself creating yet another portrait of Lucas. Or Conal.
We turned up an alleyway leading to the inner courtyard. Everything was blanketed with snow and icicles hung from every roof, twinkling in the weak sunlight like Christmas tree lights.
“We should start thinking about Christmas,” Gwynn mused, echoing my own thoughts. “It's only a week away. We should find a way of making it special for the children.”
“Maybe Epi could procure a Christmas tree to put in the courtyard.”
“That's a good idea. I'll ask him.” Gwynn grinned. “No doubt he'll advise me we have more important things to think about.”
“Gwynn Blackheath, I am not some two-bit magician!” I giggled, mimicking Epi's standard response to special requests. The smile faded and died when I glanced up at the meeting hall.
Gwynn followed my gaze and came to a halt beside me. She squeezed my fingers, but I was barely aware of the contact as I stared wordlessly.
Conal was leaning against a marble pillar, holding a girl in his arms. I didn't recognize her, but Conal apparently knew her very well if I was to judge by his arms wrapped around her and his hands on her backside. He was kissing her with enthusiasm and she had her fingers entwined in his dark hair.
I stared in disbelief, tears brimming against my eyelashes and threatening to fall. I'd heard rumors regarding a girlfriend, but seeing the evidence I couldn't force my feet to move. Why was I was reacting so badly? We'd hardly spoken in eight weeks and he'd been avoiding me as much as I'd evaded him. Watching him with another woman made every viable reason for keeping away filter from my mind, until all that was left was pure jealousy.
Conal smiled at the girl and glanced up, catching sight of Gwynn, William and I at the bottom of the stairs. He watched impassively for a moment, then returned his attention to the girl, raising his fingers to cuff her cheek.
“Come on, Charlotte.” Gwynn tugged my hand and guided me up the stairs. I steeled myself to ignore Conal, keeping my gaze focused on the steps.
“Hey,” Conal said. Gwynn and William acknowledged him, but I couldn't bring myself to speak. Tears burned my eyes as I shoved the door open, stepping inside the warm foyer before Conal could see me cry.
William shrugged off his jacket and hung it by the door. “I'll leave you ladies alone – I need a word with Epi,” he announced diplomatically.
I kept my eyes downcast, tugging at the buttons on my coat and simultaneously trying to wrangle my emotions back under control. It wasn't very effective, as the buttons stubbornly refused to unfasten beneath my trembling fingers.
Gwynn shrugged off her coat and turned to help with mine. “Why are you doing this to yourself?” she murmured, rapidly undoing the buttons. “It's obvious, to every one of us, that you have feelings for him.”
I lifted my gaze to hers. “Lucas has only been gone for eight weeks.”
“And we all know how you felt about Lucas and Conal. But you've cut Conal out of your life as if he died,” she pointed out calmly.
“He's better off without me, and I'm not having this discussion,” I warned, as Gwynn opened her mouth to argue.
“You're hurting him.” Gwynn continued as if I hadn't spoken at all. “I know you think it's too soon after Lucas's death, I get that, I really do. But you've cut him out of your life completely and he's hurting.”
“He doesn't look like he's hurting much,” I grumbled.
“Charlotte, if you're jealous of him seeing another woman, it's glaringly apparent you still have feelings for him, despite how much you protest that you don't,” Gwynn pointed out evenly. “He's been seeing her for a few weeks. He's close to giving up on you – because you won't even speak to him. What did you expect him to do?”
The door opened, accompanied by a gust of icy wind and Conal entered the foyer. He glanced at us, his jet black eyes cool, then strode through to the meeting hall without a second gl
ance.
“Talk to him, Charlotte. If nothing else, don't destroy the friendship you have. It would be such a terrible waste,” Gwynn urged. “When you live as long as we do, you learn to cherish the friendships you have, because they can be fleeting when things go wrong.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to get a grip on my emotions before we went in to the meeting. Being pregnant was not helpful, in recent weeks I had turned into a wet blanket, crying at the drop of a hat. “I'll think about it,” I muttered, despite having absolutely no intention of doing so. I didn't want to think about Conal at all, if I could possibly help it. “I'm going to the bathroom.”
I left Gwynn and hurried towards the bathrooms, my stomach churning. I'd already been sick and the nausea didn't seem to be improving, despite the fact that I'd avoided breakfast. I made it to the cubicle with seconds to spare and slumped on the bathroom floor after vomiting again. Taking a few deep breaths, I tried to ignore my churning belly, wondering how I could make it through the meeting without barfing on the other attendees.
I heard a quiet tap on the door and stood up unsteadily to open it. Ben stood outside and he couldn't hide the little smile which curved his lips when he saw my face. “Oh, dear.”
I groaned in agreement. “ 'Oh dear' is right. Although I can think of some other choice words to describe how I'm feeling.” I ran back to the toilet cubicle, throwing up again.
“Perhaps I'll tell them you've got an upset stomach and have to miss the meeting,” Ben suggested, handing over a clump of damp paper towels to wipe my face.
“I can't do that, Ben. How long does this go on for?”
“According to Jerome, the first trimester is normal. In your case, it's difficult to say with certainty. We have no idea what will happen.”
“Fabulous,” I muttered. I dragged myself onto my feet.
“We have ten minutes before the meeting starts, I'll go to the hospital and ask Jerome if he can suggest a solution.”
The Knowledge of Love Page 6