by Sarah Gilman
“I said now!” Wren stepped into Ginger’s line of sight and she sucked in a sharp breath. Wren appeared to be made of light, and looking at him hurt her eyes. His extended wings, brighter still, stretched so far to either side of him that she couldn’t see their tips through the thick trees.
But the glow came from all directions. Ginger turned her head. Several other archangels stood amongst the trees. One of them met her gaze. Recognizing Gabrielle from the photos, Ginger’s heart kicked into high gear.
“Mom?” she whispered.
“It’s all right, sweetie.” Her mother smiled.
Wren stepped closer to Thornton, eliciting more curses. Thornton shielded his eyes and took a single step back.
Wren spoke slowly, growling each word. “Get away. Now.”
“Wren…” Ginger fought the suffocating fatigue, but found it increasingly difficult to draw breath, much less stay awake.
Wren met her gaze, panic in his eyes, and seized Thornton by the collar. He lifted the spirit and threw him through the trees. The other archangels surrounded Thornton, but Wren knelt at Ginger’s side.
“Gin-love,” he said, touching her face. She felt nothing, but the sight of his fingers on her skin calmed her.
But Wren, as a spirit, drew energy from her, too. The fatigue won and Ginger let out one last exhale—
Energizing heat rushed into her body, shocking her like a jolt of electricity. She sucked in air and lifted her eyelids. Staring into Wren’s glowing face and his silvery eyes, she realized he leaned over her in a kiss.
Ginger didn’t feel his lips or taste his mouth, but vitality rushed to every corner of her body.
“Gin-love.” He pulled back an inch. “Don’t worry. Thornton won’t be back. Please tell my father, Thornton will know justice for all that he’s done.”
“Wren, wait.” Ginger sat up as he backed away.
Sadness filled his smile. “I need to go. But I will come back. I promise.”
In the distance, Thornton screamed. Wren turned and disappeared.
§
Wren walked away from Ginger. Had he just lied to her? He’d yet to discuss his options with Gabrielle, but he suspected he had few.
“I have to leave her, don’t I?” He spoke the question as a statement, as he joined the other archangels. Gabrielle and one other held Thornton down.
Gabrielle cocked her head. Her hair spilled over her shoulder. “We need to deal with Thornton. We’ll talk after.” She wrenched the spirit to his feet, his hands bound with a strange, metallic cord, and pushed him toward Wren. “You deserve to do the honors, if you wish.”
“Fuck you,” Thornton spat the words at her.
She narrowed her eyes at him and turned to Wren. “This spirit is nothing like the poacher Balam carted off earlier. ‘Evil incarnate’ is the only way to describe him. Consigning him to the fire prisons will end his existence. No redemption awaits him.”
Thornton just laughed.
Wren grasped the fucker by the arms. “Show me the way,” he said to Gabrielle.
Gabrielle grinned and touched his arm.
Wren felt the lurching pull of being transported by Gabrielle’s will to another location. He blinked and the forest vanished, replaced by the ocean and a rocky beach. Waves crashed against the shore and heavy mist pelted his face.
Staring over Wren’s shoulder, Thornton started laughing again, the sound of insanity. Wren turned and gazed inland.
A forest fire raged over the land, framing the trees and cliffs. Staring at the inferno, it took Wren a moment to realize the trees resisted the flames. Green leaves persisted under the assault. Birds flew from tree to tree. A deer darted into the blaze, not out.
“Demon fire,” Gabrielle said, as she began walking toward the forest. “It will not hurt us. This is the island of the demons, their home and the location of the prisons.”
Wren followed, noting the other archangels had vanished. Alone with Ginger’s mother, he pulled Thornton along. The human spirit struggled and still flinched from the light Wren and Gabrielle produced. The flames increased Thornton’s distress. As soon as they stepped off the beach into the flaming woods, he started screaming.
“Despite who he is and what he’s done, we should be quick about this. Letting him suffer is below us.” Gabrielle quickened her pace.
The inferno caused Wren no discomfort and his eyes adjusted to the intense light. They hurried through a small village, buildings and landscaping unaffected by the omnipresent blaze. Dozens of demons crowded the street, moving out of the way as Wren passed. They hissed and growled at Thornton, baring their fangs.
“The entrance to the prisons is just ahead.” Gabrielle nodded to demons as she passed.
They reached the other end of the village, marked by thick, dark evergreens. A cool, pleasant breeze fanned Wren’s skin. Thornton squirmed and bleated. Wren spoke in the poacher’s ear. “This will be over for you faster than it was over for my mother.”
“Here.” Gabrielle stopped in front of a simple stone hut. Balam stood in the open doorway, his arms folded.
“Another one? Busy day.” Balam inspected Wren’s prisoner and recoiled, hissing. “Ah, Thornton Bailey. You’re very late.”
“Come to think of it, why has he been running amok for the last eighteen years?” Wren narrowed his eyes at Gabrielle. “Why wasn’t he brought here after I killed him?”
Gabrielle frowned. “Most spirits are compelled to cross over upon their deaths, and we deal with the few who require cleansing in the fire prisons. But not only did Thornton resist crossing over, by the time his existence came to our attention, he had already stolen Lark’s body. Safe in a mortal body, we couldn’t touch him.”
Wren cursed and stepped toward the door to the hut. Inside, the flames burned a deeper red. For the first time since stepping into the inferno, an uncomfortable heat swamped Wren.
“That’s as far as you can go,” Balam said, stopping Wren at the threshold. “The flames in there mean business. Even I can only stand it for minutes at a time. Just give him a good shove and be done with it—”
“Wait!” a female voice shouted.
Wren pivoted toward the familiar voice. “Mother?”
Kora appeared from the direction of the village, holding up the skirt of her yellow sundress as she ran. She reached the hut and approached Wren, her gaze locked on Thornton, her eyes lit with fury.
Bailey laughed. “Look at you, bitch. You’re in one piece again.”
Kora lifted a hand and smacked Thornton across the face so hard, Wren felt the reverberation in the human’s arms. Then she stepped back, folded her arms, and nodded. “Be done with it.”
Wren shoved Thornton, who had burst out laughing again, into the hut. The scarlet flames flared and Thornton’s voice silenced. Squinting into the red light and the heat, Wren saw no sign of the monster who’d plagued his family for so long.
“It’s done.” Balam gave a lazy salute, shut the door to the hut, and strode off toward the village.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Wren turned away from the stone hut. A spirit of a human man had joined Gabrielle. The man gazed at Wren with familiar blue eyes. Ginger’s biological father nodded, then he and Gabrielle turned and walked back toward the demon village. Wren faced his mother.
“My son.” Kora touched Wren’s cheek.
He pulled her into a tight hug. Tall and frail, yet strong. The scent of roses. She was just as he remembered her.
“Come.” She pulled back. “Harmless or no, I can never get used to standing in the middle of a forest fire.” She held out her hand.
Wren clasped her thin fingers and with another disorientating lurch, dematerialized to another location.
No flames. The moist sea air and a night sky full of stars surrounded them. They stood on a small island; Wren could see the entire circumference of the rocky shore. An arrangement of furniture resembled that of a large house, but no roof or walls enclosed the space.
&
nbsp; “This is the family home, so to speak,” Kora said, with a wave of her hand. “This was your father’s home before he fell to earth.”
Wren scanned his surroundings. “He lived here?”
“Yes. For over a thousand years.” Kora ran her fingers along an end table made of drift wood. “Everything here is as he left it. I’ve changed nothing.”
Wren felt the corners of his mouth drop. “You’re all alone?”
She laughed lightly. “No, not at all. This world is actually quite crowded. Living on this little island gives me some privacy. The mainland is just out of sight, across the water,” she pointed to the left, “and the demons’ island is back that way.” She pointed to the right, where a slight orange haze colored the horizon.
Wren lifted his eyes to the sky. Lights streaked across the star-speckled expanse like a meteor shower, except they didn’t go out. They darted around, as if the stars were engaged in a game. “Are those…”
“The archangels.” Kora lifted her face, smiling as she watched them. “They never seem to have their feet on the ground for more than a few minutes at a time.”
Wren lifted his wings and sat on a cozy, backless couch. She joined him, sitting with her legs folded under her. The humor left her face. “My Wren. I’m so happy to see you, but you shouldn’t be here yet.”
Wren pressed his hands together. “Is it possible to visit earth?”
“Yes.” She leaned back and gazed up at the stars and the archangels. “But the trip is exhausting, especially for human spirits, so it is rarely done. We can look in on our loved ones from here. Either way, we are powerless to help, and I’ve been so frustrated all these years…” With her eyebrows low over her green eyes and her lips curved in a sharp frown, she turned her face away. She sighed. “Lark has been a blessing. He refused to leave your father’s side, except to visit me every now and then, to assure me things would get better.”
“How do I get back? I need to go back. I took a mate last night.”
Kora nodded and her mouth lifted into a smile. “Ginger.”
“Yes. I can’t leave her…”
Kora rubbed her chin. “Visiting her will be difficult, my son. Her psychic talent will allow her to see you, but the energy drain will be a constant hurdle.”
“Yes…but I promised.”
Kora took one of his hands in both of hers. She bit her lip. “You have…another option.”
“I do?”
“You can fall.”
Wren stared at his mother, the three words she’d spoken ricocheting inside his head. Hope swelled his chest. How had he not thought of it? He jumped to his feet. “How—”
Kora sighed and held up a trembling hand. “Falling is something you can only do once. Be certain it’s what you want. Falling is very traumatic. Humans cannot survive the metamorphosis at all. Demons and archangels can only survive the process once in their thousands of years of existence. If you go back, the next time you die on earth will be the last time, whether it be tomorrow or hundreds of years from now.”
They sat in silence for a long while. Wren watched the archangels dart across the sky. He flicked his wings and lowered his eyes, glancing around the little island, his father’s previous home. Raphael had never spoken of it, of course. None of the fallen had any memories of this world. “Earth is not the friendliest place for archangels. Why did Father and the others fall in the first place?”
Kora arched an eyebrow. “Many reasons, always very personal ones.”
“And Father?” Wren pressed.
Kora twirled a lock of her dark hair in her fingers, her eyes focused on the horizon. “Dreams in this world are very curious. By daydreaming, we can observe people close to us on earth. It’s rare, but sometimes dreams show us glimpses of our future.
“In this world, archangels and demons are created spontaneously; there are no families. Rumor has it, Raphael caught a glimpse of you and me in a dream, and fell to earth that very night.”
Wren lifted his mother’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “I need to go back, Mother. If I only get one more chance at life on earth, I want to spend it with my mate. I want a lifetime with Ginger above all else.”
Kora nodded. “Then go with our blessings. I’m very happy for you.” Her breath hitched in her throat. “And proud of you. Be a good mate to your girl. I’ll see you both back here one day, hopefully centuries from now.” She winked.
“Can’t you come with me, Mother?”
“I’m afraid not. For humans, death is a one way street. But I’m okay, don’t worry. One day, your father will return here, and I’ll be waiting.”
Wren gripped her hands. “I’m not even going to remember this, am I?”
“No. Memories never survive the fall.”
Wren tensed, pain clenching his chest like a vise. “What about memories of my life?”
She smiled. “You’ll remember your life, Wren. Like your father, I’ve seen glimpses of the future. I promise, you’ll wake up and recognize your mate.”
Wren took a deep breath. “Come visit us. Ginger and I will both be able to see you. When you feel up to the trip, please come see us. And bring Ginger’s parents as well. Please.”
She kissed his cheek and pulled him to his feet. “I will, son. Now, I can’t in good conscience keep you here while Ginger is mourning for you. If you’re ready, I’ll see you off.”
Wren nodded. Kora kissed him again and held him tightly, then led him by the hand to a large rock that jutted out over the shore. Looking down at the restless waves, Wren sensed that the water was deeper, much deeper, than a few feet.
“I love you.” Kora squeezed his hands and stepped back.
“I love you, Mother.” Wren glanced over the edge in trepidation. “Do I just jump?”
Wren gasped as his mother seized his wings from behind, near their base. She pressed a bare foot into his spine and pushed with incredible strength. Wren heard rather than felt his light-wings rip free of his body. His light dissolved, leaving him and his mother in darkness. He stumbled forward, over the edge.
The ocean swallowed Wren, and he kept descending, picking up incredible speed. Water roared past his ears and his skin felt like it would shred free of his body from the force. Pain overtook him, and freezing cold. Wren pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around himself as he barreled through the seemingly unending darkness.
§
Ginger stared down at more than a hundred tiny flickering lights. All of Sanctuary, every last colonist, lingered on the lawn and gardens around the house, each holding a lit candle. Despite the crowd, silence permeated the air. She stood on the granite deck, wrapped in a blanket against the frigid evening, listening to the reverent silence.
Raphael had stood by her side for a long time but finally turned away, a shadow of the presence he had once been, a shell who could barely stand upright. She was the only person he would speak to, but even for her, he only muttered a word or two. Now he sat inside, his face in his hands.
Devin and Vin stood in the crowd below. Devin met her gaze, his face ashen. Vin stared at the ground. Jac and Lexine stood nearby, studying their flickering candles. The wind picked up, and Ginger’s tears froze against her skin.
The spicy scent of demon fire and smoke carried on the breeze, and Ginger lifted her face to the mountains in the distance. The peak where she and Wren had mated twenty-four hours before was crowned with the blood-red flames. At Raphael’s request, she’s instructed Lark to torch the ruins after setting up Wren’s remains on a funeral pyre. Now, the smoke hung in the sky like an encroaching storm.
Ginger lowered her eyes and exhaled. She stared at her hands, still wrapped in white cloth. She’d wear the white bands for three days, as was tradition. Death would not stop her from honoring her mate.
A sudden, brilliant light banished the darkness. She shielded her eyes. The hundred or so individuals below her look around in confusion. A brilliant star shot across the sky, leaving a curving trail of
light in its wake. But unlike common falling stars, which burned out in seconds, the orb grew brighter.
A deafening concussion rocked the atmosphere. The sound reverberated in Ginger’s chest and vibrated the windows. Even the granite below her feet trembled. A collective murmur rose up from the crowd.
Rubbing her ringing ears, Ginger’s gaze tracked the falling star. The blaze descended into the woods north of the house and disappeared behind the trees.
Ginger shuddered as pain slammed into her body. A cry escaped her throat. The sting started at her palms and washed over her skin in waves. She stared at her hands. The agony…it was just like…
…like the mating ceremony.
Blood seeped anew from the barely healed cuts on her palms, staining the white bandages. Ginger staggered and caught herself on the wall of the house.
“Wren?” she whispered and looked toward the woods where the falling star had disappeared. The pain faded and she straightened, stretching her limbs and rubbing her hands.
Raphael appeared in the doorway. As his gaze locked on her bloodied hands, his feathers stood on end.
Ginger sprinted past Raphael into the house, down the stairs, and out the ground level door, pausing only long enough to snatch a demon-fire lantern from a hook. The crowd parted between her and the forest, wide eyes staring from ashen faces, but she barely noticed. Taking in rapid gasps of air, she ran, full tilt, into the woods.
The river snuck up on her as she bolted through a stand of young pine trees and she fell into the icy water. The stumble slowed her only a second. A force that defied her bruised knees and wet clothes kept her on her feet and moving forward.
She sucked in more air. Her throat stung from the cold. “Wren?”
She kept running. The mating bonds…yes…she sensed him. She knew exactly where to go in the dark woods. Getting closer. Almost there.
“Wren!”
No answer. She breached a thick cluster of bushes, her sleeve catching on a branch. She spun around, a sharp curse escaping her throat, and ripped the fabric free.