“Michael’s playing telephone.” A flicker of annoyance.
Imorean laughed. “I’m on a riverbank in the middle of the woods. There’s a waterfall nearby and the riverbank is stone. Not sure how much that helps.”
“More than you realize. Imorean, you zapped yourself some distance away from where you flew with Roxy. We’ve combed the area and there’s been no sign of you. Is there anywhere on a river that you felt secure or holds a place in your memory?”
“Not really. I … I used to take Rachel and Isaac swimming in a river when I first started driving.”
Imorean stopped and turned. Ghost figures of memory flickered. They ran before his eyes, translucent and shadowy, but still there. He saw a younger version of himself, complete with younger Rachel and younger Isaac. He could hear their laughter, muted and soft. Images from the past. Rachel and Isaac crashed into the water, squealing at the cold. Young Imorean ran in behind them, making sure to soak them both. He knew this place. Of course, he did. He had brought his younger siblings here as a rare treat, just as his father had done with him.
“Huntfish Falls,” said Imorean, the words tumbling from his mouth.
“That helps,” returned Gabriel. “See if you can manipulate your element to set up a beacon for us.”
“Gabriel,” snorted Imorean. “My element is fire. If I even knew how to summon it, I would burn the forest down.”
“Not if you do it on the astral plane. It takes a lot more power than you have right now to affect the physical world from the astral plane.”
“But if I’m here, none of you will be able to see it.”
“Michael can go on the astral plane and help find you.”
“But –”
“Imorean, trust us. We know what we’re doing. Set up a beacon.”
“But how?”
“Use your emotions.”
Imorean groaned as the contact diminished again. What did Michael and Gabriel – and all the other Archangels for that matter – not understand? He didn’t know how to do what they did. Harness his emotions? He looked back at his human body.
“You’re useless, you know that.”
Cross-legged, physical Imorean said nothing. Annoyed, quite literally, with himself, Imorean turned away and looked at the starry sky. Fire. How on earth was he supposed to summon fire with all the trees, rock and water around him? There was nothing even remotely fiery about any of them. There was nothing fiery about himself. He paused and sorted through his emotions. He was nervous, yes. He was in pain, but pain wasn’t exactly an emotion. He took a breath. Focus. His home had been ransacked by Vortigern over six months ago. He had been left a taunting message. He had had everything taken away from him. One of his best friends still lay in Vortigern’s clutches. Two had been murdered. The answer came. After everything he had seen today. After everything that had happened. Angry. He was angry. A cold stone lodged itself in his chest, next to his heart. He flared his wings, shaking his head. Anger should have felt hot. But now, all he felt was cold. The fury brewing inside him was the coldest thing he had ever experienced. His wings raised up high over his head. They acted of their own accord. He would find Vortigern. If it was the last thing he ever did. He had to. There was no power on Earth that would stop him. His chest heaved, the cold stone upended itself, burning. Hot.
Out of the back of Imorean’s mind, a memory surfaced. Sand whipped his face. His teeth were bared. Blood-spattered sandstone. Black ash gathered at the base of a small structure. One black feather lay on top of it, unharmed and perfectly oiled. The blurred memory turned. A killing field. An entire squadron of angels lay slain. The tang of blood seared his nostrils. The very sand around them was shiny. Charred to glass.
Astral Imorean cried out, one hand shooting to the sky. Every muscle tensed. It took all the effort in his body for him to look up. White fire leaped from his palm, lighting the night sky. From his peripherals, he spotted his wings. They too were alight, white flame licking the feathers harmlessly. He could feel his body draining of energy. Imorean groaned aloud and stumbled backward, falling into his own body. He felt too aware of his body’s jerk as his astral self reentered it. Physically, he shuddered. Sit. Be still. Catch his breath. He was exhausted. He lay back on the stone. He needed to rest. Going to the astral plane and working with his element had drained him. He hoped it had been enough to attract the others. Against his better judgement, his eyes closed. He held onto consciousness only by a thin string, trying to stay aware of the world around him. Nearby, a snarl split the night.
Chapter 21
Not now. Please, not now. Imorean opened his eyes. For a change, couldn’t things just go right? Red eyes gleamed at him from out of the trees. Imorean stood, his weak knee trembling under his weight. He knew those eyes. He wished he didn’t. A Hellhound, no doubt attracted by the spike of supernatural energy, watched him from the woods.
Imorean swallowed. He felt calmer than he should have been. “Michael, Gabriel, I’ve got a Hellhound for company. If you could hurry, that would be great.”
There was a surge of horror, but Imorean blocked Michael out as best he could. He needed to think and think fast. He was injured, alone and unarmed. Perfect prey for the Hellhound. Imorean lowered his stance and braced his feet apart. If a Hellhound could find him, it was too likely that so could something much worse.
The night to its advantage, the Hellhound padded out of the woods. Imorean kept his eyes trained on the its red ones. His wings were still wet. Flight would be difficult, if not impossible. He bent down and picked up a loose stone. At the very least, he could throw something at it. The hound seemed to smile at him. He was trapped and the monster knew it. It lunged. Imorean leaped out of the way, throwing himself to the ground. The hound was behind him immediately. Huge canines opened as it moved to snap at him. Imorean hurled his stone, hearing it thwack off the hound’s muzzle. He scrambled to his feet. The demon dog shook its head and bared its teeth at him. Desperate now, Imorean turned and raced toward the woods. For once, his luck held. A sizeable tree branch had fallen close to the edge. He grabbed it just before the hound lunged. Turning and swinging hard, he beat the monster across the face. A few maggots flew from its skin. The hound turned its attention away. Imorean held steady. Hellhounds never got distracted from their targets. He scrambled backward as the hound swung in again. Its teeth splintered the branch in half as though it was nothing. The monster screamed and reared backward. Imorean launched away. Escape was his only defense. A great, rotting paw swiped in the darkness. He barely had time to raise his arm. The only weak defense he had. Claws tore straight through his shirt and slashed his forearm. A cry was torn from his throat with ease. He crashed to the solid rock. Glass shattered. Overhead, the stars spun. His shirt was sticky.
A low rumble brought Imorean to his senses. The hound circled him. He gathered himself, clawing his way back up to his knees. Did he have enough energy left? The hound grinned in the night. Teeth glinted under the moonlight. Imorean centered himself. He extended his senses as much as he could. The hound charged. Imorean raised his hands. White gathered at his palms, flashing up along his fingers. A single tongue of flame snapped across the hound’s muzzle. A cry unlike anything he had ever heard before split the night. He collapsed to his side against the ground. Vision darkened. Failing eyes saw the hound regroup. It stared at him, red eyes filled with a drive to hunt. It turned again. Imorean’s vision blurred. He couldn’t move. He had no strength left. The ground thundered as the hound charged in.
Rainbow color pierced the darkness. It landed just in front of the hound. Imorean thrashed as hands landed on him, lifting him. Confused, he stared at the fading patch of color. In the darkness, a figure. Two figures. Roxy and the hound. The dog was dead. Voices. They were muffled and far away. Someone said his name. Imorean allowed his vision to fold and turn black, the last of his energy draining away. He didn’t have the strength to respond.
Chapter 22
Stress. Hot and tangible.
It felt as though it could have been cut with a knife. Brown eyes flickered open as Imorean came awake. He lay settled in a hammock, a thick blanket over him. Comfortable. Through the boughs of the trees above him, he could see the night sky turning dawn. He sat up, wincing. He felt like he had been hit by a train. Everything was sore. His knee, his chest, his hands, his forearm, his face. Everything hurt. Groaning, he looked around. Two more hammocks were strung between trees. The faded-blue tips of Roxy’s dyed hair hung over the rim of one. A few bluey-black feathers slumped out of the other hammock. Diniel. Her blue-gray, heron wings were nearly indistinguishable from Raphael’s. Imorean trembled as a rush of attentiveness hit him.
“Imorean.”
Body stiff, Imorean turned toward the source. Michael walked through the woods toward him. Over Michael’s shoulder, Imorean could see the exposed rock where the Hellhound had been the night before. Its body was gone. All that remained were blotchy bloodstains on the stone. He shuddered. How much of it was the Hellhound’s and how much of it was his?
“How are you?” asked Michael, stopping a short distance away.
“Sore,” replied Imorean.
“Diniel did really well with you.” A second voice.
Imorean turned. Gabriel walked out of the thick woods and joined Michael. It was eerie seeing them next to each other. Mirror images, but they could not have been more different from one another. Gabriel’s shoulders were squared up and he looked well-rested. Michael, unlike usual, looked tired. His shoulders were slumped forward in something like defeat. Imorean inclined his head, wondering what was weighing him. Gabriel seemed not to notice and plowed onward.
“She stopped the bleeding almost as quickly as Raphael could have. She really did him proud last night.”
Diniel’s hammock swung as she sat up. Her eyes looked bleary. “Stopping the bleeding is easy. Sadly, I have nothing with me to take away the pain of the aftermath.”
Roxy’s hair disappeared as her hammock swayed. She sat bolt upright. “I thought you said you’d wake me up when he woke up.”
“You were quiet,” said Gabriel, smiling at her. “It seemed too good to be true.”
Imorean swung his legs out of his own hammock. His knee joint cracked and the muscles around his chest and stomach burned. He ached. But greater was his concern for Roxy. She had been the one to launch between him and the hound last night.
“Are you okay, Roxy?”
“Of course.” She inclined her head. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You killed a Hellhound last night,” said Imorean. He watched as she got out of her hammock. She avoided his eyes as she moved, then she folded her arms. Imorean could sense how uncomfortable she was.
“It would have killed you. Killing it got you safe. That’s all I care about.”
“And you have Roxy to thank for us finding you,” said Gabriel.
“He’s right,” nodded Diniel. “We didn’t know where we were going. Roxy guided us most of the way until Michael saw your beacon.”
“How far away am I from where you were looking?” asked Imorean.
Gabriel answered. “Around fourteen miles.”
“What happened?” asked Roxy, her voice wary. “You were there one minute, the next you were gone. Why did you zap out?”
Imorean turned, looking at Michael. Intense, green eyes stared silently back at him. Michael had been quiet, not speaking a word for the last few minutes.
“My mom. I heard my mother, Michael.”
Roxy gasped loudly. Gabriel made a strange, strangled noise.
Michael was silent a moment more, then he sighed, the sound even heavier than it should have been. It held their small space of summer forest in a grip harsher than the strongest winter.
“I know. I heard her voice, too.”
“What?”
“I heard her voice across the astral plane. Vortigern is playing a new game with you. I do not know what it is, but I can assure you it is nothing good. You will return to Felsenmeer posthaste.”
Imorean sat up straighter. “No. No, Michael, you promised me two weeks here.”
Michael’s eyes flashed neon green as he looked up. “Frayneson, first I cannot convince you to come here, now I cannot get you to leave. Now is not the time to argue. My decision is not up for debate. I need you out of danger with all urgency. I have already bought tickets back north.”
Imorean ran a hand through his hair. Then paused. The buckle of his watch had not caught against his hair. White bandages ran from his elbow to his wrist. A few small lines of blood shadowing tainted the wrapping from the underside. His watch – the last heirloom from his father – was missing. He paused. It was the one thing he couldn’t afford to lose.
“Where’s my watch?” he asked, turning to Roxy. She looked away. His heart sank. “Don’t tell me it’s gone. Please. Someone, please say you have it.”
Diniel shook her wings. “I didn’t see it on you.”
“I have to find it,” said Imorean, ignoring his knee cracking as he shot to his feet.
“Take it easy, Imorean,” said Gabriel, starting to move to his side.
“Take it easy?” snapped Imorean. He rubbed his wrist frantically, a cold fear growing in his stomach. His hands shook. “You don’t understand. That watch is the last thing I have of my dad. I can’t lose it. Not now. I need to find it.”
“I’ll help you,” said Roxy, resting a hand on his uninjured forearm. Imorean tried to smile at her, but the expression was shaky and slid from his face before it fully formed.
Michael stepped forward, the early light of a gray morning throwing him into sharp relief. “We all will.”
Imorean nodded. He set out toward the stone riverbank where he had crash-landed the night before. He faltered half a step as he and Roxy passed Michael. A soft wave of sympathy washed over him and he scoured Michael’s face with his eyes. Inside, he knew Michael had felt his distress. Was their connection finally carrying emotion both ways?
Limping the short distance from his hammock to the riverside took more out of Imorean than he expected. He felt lightheaded by the time stone crunched under his sneakers.
“Drink this,” said Diniel, stopping beside him and pushing a water bottle into his hands.
“What is it?” asked Imorean, eyeing the blue liquid inside.
“Nectar and ambrosia. The drink of gods.”
Imorean raised an eyebrow.
Diniel laughed. “Oh, stop. You look just like Michael when you do that. It’s an energy drink.”
Imorean scoffed and took a sip. He looked nothing like Michael, regardless of what Diniel said. He heaved a breath and waited for his heart rate to come back down.
“You okay?” asked Roxy.
“Yeah. I know I landed somewhere over there,” said Imorean, nodding toward a small dip in the riverbank stone. “We should probably start there.”
“No.” Roxy folded her arms. “Stay here and collect yourself. I have better eyesight than you anyway. Join me when you’re ready.”
“Seconded,” agreed Diniel. “I’ll come with you, Roxy.”
Roxy and Diniel smiled at him and together they set off across the stone. The gray morning overhead was starting to color, the dull sky turning pink and orange. Imorean jumped as Michael walked silently out of the woods. There was still that preoccupied sense of defeat surrounding him. He watched Michael stop in the center of the stone, fold his arms and take a breath. Four emerald wings flared. Then bright green lit the rock. Michael’s wings were pulsing, pale green light flowing off them in waves. Imorean looked over his own shoulder. He could see his shadow.
“Just an angel talent. We use it whenever we need a bit of extra light to break through darkness of all kinds. Physical, mental, metaphorical. It’s pretty tricky to do. Takes a certain level of focus and determination,” said Gabriel, leaning against a tree. “He’s probably trying to silently teach you how to do it.”
“No doubt,” shrugged Imorean. “What’s eating him?”<
br />
“No idea. Probably the fact that you were right here under his protection and were attacked by a Hellhound. He feels guilty. It’s another new emotion for him.”
“Maybe …” Imorean looked away, his hand falling to his pocket. There was something there. He paused. Of course! How could he have forgotten? Silently praying that the water hadn’t damaged them, he pulled out a small strip of pictures. The edges of the photo strip were damp, but the images were undamaged. He sighed in relief.
“Gabriel,” he said, waving the strip in the air and trying to dry it off.
“Hmm?”
“Me and Michael went to … to my old house yesterday. I got something that I think my mom would have wanted you to have.”
Gabriel inclined his head and moved closer. Imorean smiled as Gabriel’s face softened in surprise. Imorean heard him choke down a small sound in the back of his throat, and his hazel eyes filmed over with emotion.
“She ... I can’t believe she kept this,” he whispered, taking the reel of photos as though it was a sacred object.
“When did you guys take them?”’
“We took Rachel and Isaac out for a movie. I saw a photo booth in a corner and I just couldn’t resist dragging your mother over to it.”
“That’s cheesy, Gabriel,” said Imorean, laughing quietly.
“I call it romantic,” replied Gabriel, slowly folding the pictures over and pushing them down into his pocket.
“And I know she must have loved it,” smiled Imorean.
He paused as Gabriel’s head snapped up, hazel eyes scanning his face. A question formed on Gabriel’s lips, but Imorean turned and walked to the riverside before he could be asked anything, a sudden drive to be away rising in his chest. He racked his memory to figure out where he had been the night before. Swallowing, he looked down into the water. It was deeper and murkier than he had first thought. He had been very lucky not to land face down in it.
A footstep crunched a few loose stones. Imorean turned. Michael.
“Hey.” Imorean, shifted his weight so that his injured knee was taking less pressure. “Finally think you’re going to talk again?”
Angels Falling Page 13