“Why is that picture here?” asked Imorean. He heard his own voice quiver.
Michael gave him a sidelong glance. “I do not know.”
Imorean glared at Michael. “Do you think my family might be alive?”
Michael sighed hard and pocketed the picture. “I do not want to give you false hope, for it is worse than no hope at all. This picture proves nothing. It does not give evidence that they are alive or that they are dead. Do not take my words to mean that I am trying to discourage you finding Vortigern and exacting vengeance, for I am saying quite the opposite. What I am saying is that you must bear in mind that this photo may be bait for you to do something rash. Provocation to lure you out of hiding.”
“Then why leave it?” snapped Imorean, a horrible fury boiling under his skin.
“To taunt you. To hurt you. There could be a myriad of reasons. It serves as a message for us, though.”
“Saying what?”
“It has given us a lead on where Vortigern may have taken to hiding. I will not give up hunting him, Imorean. This I promise you.”
Imorean crumpled the envelope in his hands and hurled it at his empty trash can. “No, we won’t.”
Chapter 19
The steering wheel felt nice under Imorean’s hands. He had missed driving. Flying was wonderful and was the embodiment of freedom, but driving was mundane, normal. It reconnected him with the world he used to know. He swallowed, trying to push away his earlier feeling of anguish at finding the picture of Houska Castle on his pillow. Maybe it was time to accept that his family was gone. For the first time in a long time, he wished he wasn’t alone. On their return to the hotel, Michael had sent himself to the astral plane for a meeting and Imorean had found himself alone with his thoughts. It hadn’t been a good feeling. A terrible cold stole across his chest. Was he so easy to abandon?
He shook his head and turned up the radio. No, he couldn’t start getting weepy or emotional now. Besides, Michael had to prioritize. He was the Chief Archangel. Meetings had to be the center of his attention. Imorean adjusted one hand on the wheel. He needed his space anyway. Space away from Michael would be a good thing. He wouldn’t be alone all evening, after all. He refocused himself. He was meeting Diniel, Roxy and her family at the top of a hiking trail off the Blue Ridge Parkway. Roxy’s first flight in front of her family. He was looking forward to seeing it. He darted a glance out of the windshield at the sky. Diniel and Roxy had chosen a perfect time. The sun was in the middle of its set, shedding late spring, early summer light across the ridgetops. Already, a blue haze was settling around the peaks. It was this very haze that had given the Blue Ridge Mountains their name. Imorean pulled Michael’s rental into an overlook stopping point and got out. He breathed deeply. Clear, mountain sweetness filled his nose with a heady smell. If Blowing Rock was no longer home, then the mountains themselves certainly were. Happiness here was genuine. There was no reaching for it. No falsifying it. Imorean turned as he heard fragments of voices. Roxy and Diniel must already be here. He crossed over the road and shot onto a trail. It was one he and Roxy, and he and his family, had hiked many times before. He knew the way.
A few minutes later, Imorean broke onto a wide, flat-topped rock formation. It was nearly at the mountain’s summit, overlooking the range beyond. A smile worked its way onto his mouth and he itched to take to the skies. To his right, he could see the outline of Grandfather Mountain.
“Imorean!” called Diniel, catching his attention.
White wings pulled tighter against his back as he spotted Roxy, her parents and Diniel nearby. Roxy’s father, Robert, made Imorean feel apprehensive. The expression in his eyes was always cold. Roxy’s mother, Sadie, was little better. Her eyes, if anything, were kinder. They lacked the sharp edge that Robert’s so obviously had. Imorean tried not to narrow his eyes as he approached the small group. Just before he reached Roxy’s parents, he paused at her side.
“How are you doing?” he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.
“I’m okay,” replied Roxy, looking up at him. “Go and say hello. I need to stretch out my wings.”
Imorean sighed. “You really know how to put a guy in a painful situation.”
“That’s part of a woman’s power,” smirked Roxy.
Imorean took a deep breath of mountain air and crossed the remaining space between himself and Roxy’s parents. He forced a smile and stuck his hand out to shake Robert’s. He knew Robert had disliked him ever since he had stuck up for Roxy during a family dispute. It was that dislike that had kept him from spending much time at Roxy’s house over the last few years.
“Imorean,” said Robert stiffly.
“Rob,” replied Imorean, tightening his grip against Robert’s. It felt that Roxy’s father was trying to crush his hand.
“Quite a grip you’ve got there, son. You didn’t used to have that.”
“You haven’t seen me in three years, Rob.” Imorean shrugged. “A lot’s changed.”
“Yeah,” replied Rob, looking at Roxy. “You’re right.”
Imorean turned away, riled. Unsettled. His skin felt as though it was crawling. Perhaps being around someone else’s family after today was rubbing salt in the wound.
Sadie crossed the tiny rock bluff and pulled him into an unexpected hug. “How have you been?”
“… Fine,” replied Imorean, pulling away as gently as he could.
“We were so sorry to hear about Amelia, especially after she came to see us.”
Imorean balked. He didn’t have a response. Instead, he pinned another false smile to his lips. “Are you excited about seeing this?”
“As we could ever be,” said Rob, folding his arms. “You. You’re one of them, aren’t you?”
“Dad!” shouted Roxy, a sneer on her face.
Imorean’s blood boiled. His Archangel nature had taken a long time for him to warm to. To have someone insult it now cut him to the quick. His temper was already near boiling point. His left hand twitched.
“Yeah. I am. I’m one of them. Is that an issue, Robert?”
Before Robert could reply, something cracked hard across the back of Imorean’s head. He stumbled forward half a step, dizzy. He heard Michael’s voice in his mind.
“For my father’s sake, keep a lid on your temper! An angel is never supposed to pick a fight with a human. It is our duty to protect them, not –”
Imorean covered his stumble and turned away from Robert and Sadie’s prying eyes. “All right! All right! I get the point!” he snapped back. “Where are you anyway? I thought you were in a meeting.”
“Note the past tense of the verb, Imorean. I am here on the astral plane. I would not be so stupid as to leave you alone. You have a knack for attracting trouble.”
Imorean coughed to cover the snort he made. He didn’t attract trouble. Trouble liked to find him.
“Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” said Diniel, beaming.
Imorean flared his wings, pushing away his annoyance. He was glad of her interruption. It dissolved the tension somehow.
“You ready, Roxy?” asked Imorean, trying to keep his voice as gentle as he could.
“Yeah,” she nodded. For a second, she closed her eyes and breathed. “I’m ready to show them I’m still me in spite of these wings.”
Imorean smiled at her, then turned his eyes to the open sky. “Come on. You first.”
Roxy looked at him in amused surprise. “I thought the squad leader went first.”
“Get in the air or I’ll push you,” he grinned.
“Fine, fine,” replied Roxy.
Imorean pulled his wings against his back as Roxy flared hers. The late evening sun caught the colors, enhancing their tropical hues rather than draining them. He felt breathless for a moment. Roxy’s wings were like spun glass. Perfection and symmetry in a world of uneven chaos. Color blurred seamlessly to color. She wasn’t a ‘parrot’, as Michael so basely called her. She was beauty embodied. The perfect creature unto
uchable by the imperfect world. Imorean grinned as Roxy leaped up into the air. A faint trail of rainbow color followed her into the purpling sky. He stood spellbound as Roxy ascended.
“Go on,” said Diniel, nudging him. “A macaw wouldn’t be safe without a falcon.”
Imorean shook himself, flaring his wings. He gathered power in his legs and ran forward. Tennis shoes touched the edge of the exposed stone and he fell through the air. He snapped his wings open, tucking and rolling before he crashed into a treetop. He banked hard and swung to face upward. He beat his wings down, hurtling into the air. He grinned as he stripped through the evening sky. To feel the air under his feathers was a relief. A sense of freedom. Peace. The air above the Blue Ridge Mountains meant home. He closed his eyes and ascended through the cool air to Roxy’s height.
“Want to show them what we can do?” she asked, her voice shaking in eagerness.
“You go,” he said, hovering. “This is your moment. I’ll just watch.”
Roxy hesitated and Imorean smiled at her. He watched her finally turn away and fall through the air back toward the ridge. He grinned and snapped his wings against his sides. He was high enough for a good dive to the ground. He moved, ascending a few more yards, building up speed, then tucked and spun. The world blurred crazily as he hurtled toward the ground. Brown eyes closed as Imorean enjoyed the feeling of his fall. They flashed open as he flared his wings wide. He soared past the outcrop where Roxy’s family and Diniel still stood. Emerald light flashed a few yards away from Diniel. There and gone in a split second. Imorean grinned widely and drew his wings up above his back, pushing the humid air under them. Here he was free. In this moment, he was content to be both Imorean Frayneson from Blowing Rock, North Carolina and Imorean Frayneson, the only Archangel-human hybrid in the world.
Wings sliced the air as Imorean made one more loop beneath the purple clouds. That was the moment. The near-set sun turned the sky beyond Grandfather Mountain lavender as the blue of night crept in. The final fingers of pink and orange were leaving the sky. That was the moment. Cold crashed over him. So aggressive and hostile that he slammed to a halt in his flight. He breathed with a shudder, unseen fear creeping up his spine. In the air, he turned. Somehow, amid these blue-hazed mountains, he knew he faced home. He shivered, breath tight in his chest. A blast of freezing air hit him like a blow. A hand of ice closed around his neck. He panicked. How could he possibly defend himself from an invisible adversary? The hand constricted, cutting off his breath. He flailed. There was no one to fight. Flailing hands, feet and wings met nothing but thin air. The hand pushed. He was falling. Clouds and sky. He was no longer a part of them. Powerless and frozen. He couldn’t even scream. That was when he heard it. A voice. His name. Tenderly, it spoke into in his ear – Imorean could practically feel gentle fingers running along his cheek – but was filled with a horrible sense of foreboding. In his soul, he knew this voice would like nothing more than his head on a plate. His eyes fluttered shut. His blood iced. A voice he loved. One he thought he would never hear again outside of a nightmare. His mother’s voice.
As he fell, Imorean reared back and screamed. A wild, panicked energy seized him. He needed to be away! He needed to be hidden! Now! White broke his vision. Terrible, jarring pain. And the world fell to nothing.
Chapter 20
Imorean rolled over. Someone must have replaced his mattress at some point during the night as a prank. How the rest of his squad got into his room without a key, he didn’t know. All the bedrooms at Felsenmeer could lock. He had a feeling Ryan was to blame. Or Dustin. But how had they sailed the idea past Toddy and Colton? They probably thought it was funny, too. He shook his head, but stopped when something rough rubbed his cheek nearly raw. Had they really replaced his pillow, too? That was probably Mandy’s idea. He furrowed his brow. Dustin? Toddy? Mandy? No, that couldn’t be right. They were … they were all gone. Toddy kidnapped. Mandy and Dustin dead. They were gone, so none of them could be at Felsenmeer, could they?
With a cry, Imorean came awake. Stars shone down brightly overhead. Not Felsenmeer. The dim shadows of black trees against an inky sky jarred him. Crickets chirped in the underbrush. Definitely not Felsenmeer. He pushed up. Water. He was in water. He tasted blood in his mouth. The skin beneath his nose felt as though it was cracking. He was wet from the waist down. One of his hands was submerged in the water. Even his wings were soaked past the primaries. Panicky and disoriented, he writhed onto dry land. Land? No. He rested a hand back against the surface. It was rock. Slowly, his eyes adjusted. He pulled his knees under himself and tried to make out his surroundings. The woods, obviously. A river? There was certainly water nearby. He had woken up in it. He looked up again. A baleful half-moon stared down at him. Its silvery light did little to help him see. He shivered. It was cold.
“Where am I?” Imorean whispered to himself.
He bit the inside of his cheek and climbed to his feet. He buckled under his own weight. The knee he had hurt during the fight in Norway failed him. Palms slapped against the rock and he cried out. That had hurt much more than it should have. Under the moon, he tilted his hand. His palms were dark. He could see a few pieces of ragged skin raised above the normally smooth surface of his hand. He swore. He was alone by a river in the middle of the woods, unarmed and injured. His wings were too soaked to fly. He was a sitting duck.
A desperation that wasn’t his own crashed over him like a wave. Imorean shook his head. There was a certain greenness about the terror that struck him. Michael.
“Imorean?”
For the first time, Imorean sighed in relief at hearing Michael’s voice in his head. “Hey, Michael.”
“Where are you?”
“Good question. I have no idea.”
Desperation and fearful frustration clashed in equal measure. Imorean could tell, though, that Michael wasn’t angry with him. A first. He laughed. Then winced and clamped a hand to his side. “Michael, I’m hurt.”
Concern. “How badly?”
Imorean grimaced and thought about his knee, ribs and hands. “Pretty bad.”
“Can you fly?”
“I don’t think so. My wings are soaked.”
“We are looking for you. Stay where you are. Can you describe your surroundings?”
Imorean resisted the urge to snort. “Dark.”
“Imorean. That is not helping.”
“I’m by a river or some sort of water in the woods. It’s got a rocky bank.”
“This does not help me, Imorean.”
Imorean found himself feeling annoyed now. “Well, what kind of details are you looking for? Because I can’t exactly see all that much.”
“Tap into your Archangel senses for once. They are stronger than your human ones. Diniel, Roxy, Gabriel and I are still looking for you. Stay in contact and when you figure out where you are, let us know. We will be there as soon as we can.”
A groan escaped Imorean’s mouth as the contact diminished and Michael fell to near silence. There was a strange sort of static buzzing in the back of his mind. He frowned. Get in touch with his Archangel senses. Easier said than done. Imorean rolled his eyes. Much easier said than done when Michael had existed with Archangel senses all his life. Imorean pulled himself into a more comfortable position and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and pushed his senses, straining. He tried to hear more, feel more, understand more. In his mind’s eye, he tried to craft his surroundings. Was this what Michael had meant? Thoughts drifted. When had Gabriel arrived? Of course, Michael’s twin had been able to find him in a snowstorm after his family had been killed when Michael hadn’t been able to. Imorean’s eyelids twitched. There was something about their bond that kept Michael from being able to track him properly. That must be the reason Gabriel had been called. Imorean yawned. He was exhausted. Would being on the astral plane help him? He hesitated. He only been on the astral plane once and that had been with Michael guiding him. But tapping into his Archangel senses was so much eas
ier there. He paused and pushed his senses further.
Cricket chirps played a gentle song to the night. The babble of the river aided their melody. He could hear the rush of a waterfall somewhere. A small one. Water always flowed downhill, so he must be on the downward slope of a mountain. That was something. The rock beneath him was rough. That told him very little. Most rocks were rough. Taking a breath, Imorean imagined himself outside his body. His heart strained at his ribs, as though trying to escape its prison. With a shudder, he stumbled forward, flaring his wet wings as he nearly stepped back into the river. He turned. His shell was sitting cross-legged, eyes open and blazing with white, liquid fire. He shook his head. He had done it!
“Score one for me,” he muttered.
He looked back at his shell. His body’s mouth hadn’t moved. The thin line of misty, white light connecting him to his body, though, had flickered a fragment. A bright light caught his eye and astral he turned. Orange light. It emanated from all the trees, pulsing and squirming. Much smaller pinpricks of that same orange flared from inside the woods, so dense and so powerful that each tiny, orange light was nearly indistinguishable from the other. Moving. They were all moving. As though they were alive. Instinctively, Imorean knew what he was looking at. The life force of all the beings around him. An awed smile worked its way onto his lips. It was easy to forget that the woods themselves were alive. He opened his wings and snorted in disbelief at the white glow that surrounded them. It was as though he, too, was entwined with nature. A piece of it. He turned. The moon seemed brighter somehow. The orange light of the forest helped him see. Water tumbled down a tiny waterfall to his left, flowing downstream, around a corner and out of sight. He blinked. He had been lucky. He could have landed in that water and drowned. Instead, he had landed on one of the gently sloping rock faces that marked the riverbank. Yes, he had been lucky.
Gabriel’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Hello, Imorean.”
“Gabriel! How are you talking to me so clearly?”
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