“Allow your doubts to sharpen your senses,” said Michael.
Imorean hummed in the back of his throat. Something didn’t feel right. He didn’t know if the others could feel it, but something just wasn’t settling. Vortigern knew their movements. He knew what they were up to. He knew they had just been to Houska. Would he be able to predict where they were going now? Imorean shook himself and beat his wings fast a few times, catching up to Michael and Gabriel ahead of him. A few droplets of dark water landed on the white plumage and a shiver worked its way up his spine. He lifted his gaze across the black water. The first fringes of violet lingered on the eastern horizon. Dawn was on its way.
Chapter 68
Dizzy. Exhaustion felt as though it was dragging him down. It was all Imorean could do to keep Michael in his sight. They had ascended quickly from sea level to mountain foothills. Chaparral terrain. Imorean swallowed and pressed a hand against the side of his head as he flew. He had to wonder if it was the sudden change in altitude or the lack of sleep over the last few days that was making him feel so odd.
“Make ready for the descent toward the forests around Sarkis!” called Michael.
Imorean took a deep breath, relief swamping him. He hadn’t known how much longer he would have been able to keep up this pace.
“Well done,” said Gabriel, coming up alongside him.
Imorean laughed, then glanced over his shoulder. “How do you think the others are doing?”
“I’m sure they’re doing fine, Imorean. They’ll be coming along behind us at a much slower speed. They’ll have spent less energy on the travel itself. I wouldn’t worry about them. Just worry about the landing and keeping as low key as we can for the next day or so.”
Imorean nodded, glad as he tilted his wings and began the descent toward the ground. He adjusted his wings to make the short descent through tree branches and scanned the forest floor for a landing spot. A few branches nicked at his wings as he shifted toward the ground and landed, trying to keep his weight light.
“Not a bad landing,” said Gabriel, shaking out his green and tawny wings.
A smile crossed Imorean’s face. “Thanks. It’s been a while since I’ve had a soft one like this.”
He glanced over at Michael, who was looking around, green eyes narrowed, setting a perimeter. Imorean shrugged off his pack and sword, stretching out his back. Something caught his bare forearm.
“Ow!”
“You all right?” asked Gabriel, turning.
“Yeah. I just got stung by something,” replied Imorean, as he rubbed his arm. A small welt was already forming.
Gabriel moved over and snorted. “Just a nettle. You’ll be just fine, I think. This is hardly life-threatening.”
“Nettle?” asked Imorean.
“Tall plants with spiky leaves.” Gabriel nodded at a cluster of plants nearby.
Imorean frowned at them and moved closer to where Gabriel had set down his belongings.
Gabriel looked up. “Raphael says that some kind of leaf helps with it. I wouldn’t know which ones, though. You’re asking probably the two most useless Archangels when it comes to anything to do with healing.”
“It will fade,” said Michael, turning. “If I were you, I would rest. The night may turn chaotic as soon as Raguel, Ryan, and their teams arrive. Rest while you can.”
Imorean looked Michael up and down. When he spoke, his voice was quieter than it had been before. “Michael, I haven’t really been sleeping for the last few days.”
Michael nodded and copied his quieter tone. “I wondered when this would happen. You are more Archangel than human. It was expected that eventually you would not need to employ as many of the human practices as you did before.”
“This is normal?”
“Normal for a hybrid, yes,” said Michael thoughtfully.
Imorean swallowed. Regardless of what Michael said, he was still losing fragments of humanity. They dropped away from him like petals from a withering flower. How much more could he lose and still remain himself? Michael’s hand on his shoulder made him jump, jerking him out of his thoughts.
“Go and lie down.”
“I’ve told you, I don’t need to sleep.”
“I did not say sleep. There is something that you and Gabriel need to do on the astral plane. It is something I think, particularly in light of Houska, is necessary.”
“What is it? You know I don’t like it when you don’t tell me things.”
“For now, Imorean, just do as I say. I will set myself on watch, then Gabriel will join you on the plane.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Evening always looked different on the astral plane. The purples were more violent, the reds deeper. Imorean felt jittery. The colors offset him, though he didn’t quite know why. Around him, the Grecian forest was still alive as ever, but Michael and Gabriel were strangely absent. He couldn’t detect their presences. There was no sign of them. Perhaps that was what had him so distracted. He swallowed. No. It was the tension, the expectation in the air that bothered him. Olympus lay before them. The final obstacle before Vortigern. He glanced south. He and Michael couldn’t be in combat against Vortigern together. There was too much potential for Vortigern to use their connection to his advantage. So, who would pursue Vortigern and shut the entrance to hell in Antarctica? Would they do it together? Imorean clenched his jaw. Michael had the better chance against Vortigern. He was the logical one to carry out the final mission. Imorean closed his eyes, shutting out the vibrant colors of the astral world. As long as his family was rescued, he didn’t care who went to Antarctica, who faced off with Vortigern. It didn’t matter.
Imorean jumped, eyes flashing open, as someone cleared their throat. He knew who it was before he turned to face the sound. Gabriel. How he hadn’t noticed Gabriel’s purple aura, he didn’t know.
“You all right?” asked Gabriel. “You looked a bit lost in thought.”
“You have no idea,” replied Imorean, a small smile tugging the side of his mouth. It fell a moment later. “Michael said something would be necessary for us to do here?”
Imorean shook his wings out as Gabriel approached him. His shoulders were stooped, his mouth drawn. Imorean frowned. Something was bothering him. Deeply. His eyes flicked down as two wooden, training swords appeared in Gabriel’s hand.
“Training session?” asked Imorean. “Isn’t it a bit eleventh hour for that?”
“Michael and I have been saving this one. For the eleventh hour.”
“Why?”
“Imorean, Vortigern knows our game. He has for a while. We all know it.” Gabriel extended a sword to him. “It’s likely that when he saw you through Toddy’s eyes, he predicted what our next move would be. You haven’t sparred with anyone for a while and it’s been some time since you last saw Vortigern face to face. This might be the last chance we have to give you a refresher.”
Imorean nodded, taking the wooden sword from Gabriel. It felt too light. “Why here? We could have sparred in the real world.”
“There are some things that are easier for me to do here. The astral world magnifies power, makes it more malleable and fluid.” Gabriel paused and gave a small smile. It looked forced. “I’m going to cast two illusions. I’m the Archangel best able to do them. Try not to lose your head. Michael would like you to try to manipulate your own powers here, too.”
Imorean bristled. There was something apologetic in Gabriel’s smile. He didn’t like it. He tightened his grip on the wooden weapon and fell into a defensive stance. Brown eyes narrowed as Gabriel raised one hand to his own face. Imorean’s knees weakened as Gabriel’s brown hair blackened at the roots, his shoulders narrowed, muscle vanished away into thin air. Gabriel laughed and dropped his hand away from his face. But it was no longer Gabriel’s face. Vortigern’s had replaced it, gray eyes dancing. Imorean stopped. Panic snatched her hands at the back of his throat, in spite of Gabriel’s words. Was this some trick? Could Vortigern have been possessing Gabriel
just as he had done with Uriel? Would he be fighting for his life again now?
Vortigern-Gabriel launched at him. Imorean swung his wooden practice sword and spun away. There was a satisfying thud as wood met opponent. A snarl split Imorean’s face and he snapped his wings open, feet planting on the ground.
“No hesitation. I like it already,” said Vortigern-Gabriel, turning.
Imorean stopped himself. The voice was Gabriel’s, but the face … the face was definitely Vortigern’s. He drew a shuddering breath. An illusion, Gabriel had said. Just an illusion. He was the best at them. That was why he was doing this. Vortigern-Gabriel spun his sword. Imorean stiffened. A muscle in his jaw twitched. Flex his powers? He gathered himself. It was time to see how much energy this really took from him. The last few times he had done this, his emotions had already been high. It was time to control them. Vortigern-Gabriel paced around him.
“Still not one for going on the offensive, are you, Imorean?”
Imorean didn’t reply. Gabriel’s voice coming from Vortigern’s mouth was terrifying. His first mentor and his worst nightmare fused together. His breath tried to catch in his throat. He closed his eyes. His center drifted sideways. Deep breath. His blood ran hot. Focus. Vortigern-Gabriel raced in, wooden sword low. Brown eyes opened. Vortigern-Gabriel was on him. The skin under his watch seared. Imorean snapped his wings open and launched into the air. A tongue of flame leaped from his hand, lashing into Vortigern-Gabriel’s face. Vortigern-Gabriel fell, sword tumbling from his hand. Twin raven wings rested in the grass. Imorean coasted back to the ground. He paused. A feeling of foreboding ran cold through his chest. Had he injured Gabriel? The night before a major battle, had he injured one of the most powerful Archangels?
“Gabriel?” he asked, taking a step forward.
“Mercy will get you nowhere, Imorean,” said Gabriel’s voice. “It won’t be given to you. Why should you give it out?”
Imorean swallowed. Before he could form an answer, Vortigern-Gabriel pushed off the ground. Imorean stopped, not knowing whether to grip his practice sword tighter or drop it completely. Black hair turned brown and he relaxed. Gabriel was changing back. Then the hair elongated. It hung like curtains past Gabriel’s face. Black wings shrunk away to nothing. Thin air. The figure changed. Imorean’s heart slowed. He wasn’t sure it beat at all. Cold. Any fire in his veins snuffed out. He didn’t need to see a face to know who Gabriel had shifted into.
“You need to be prepared for anything he can throw at you, Imorean.”
Imorean’s knees hit the ground. The practice sword tumbled from his hand. He felt insubstantial as vapor. The voice hadn’t even been Gabriel’s. Tears welled up in Imorean’s eyes. Of course, Gabriel could imitate that voice. He and Amelia had spent enough time together. It had been his mother’s. His mother’s voice. He lowered his head and closed his eyes, fighting the urge to curl into a ball.
“Don’t. Don’t do this.” Imorean had to force the words from his mouth. “I can’t … I won’t fight my mother.”
Boots crunched on the grass in front of him. Imorean looked up, vision cloudy. Gabriel was back – no illusions, brows creased with apology. Imorean felt his own shoulders sag and he rocked backward, forcing himself off the astral plane. The breath was driven from his chest, as he stumbled and nearly lost his balance, his body closing around him. Nearby, Gabriel’s body trembled and hazel eyes opened. He was uninjured.
“Dirty trick,” snapped Imorean. Words that had failed him before tasted sharp on his tongue now. He walked toward Gabriel, his blood still hot. “Why did you do it?!”
Gabriel stood firm. “I, we, had to know how you would react.”
“You could have warned me!”
Underfoot, the earth juddered. “Imorean!”
Imorean folded his arms, fury not abating. Gabriel was upset. Good. So was he. They were on the same page. Who exactly did Gabriel think he was?
“Imorean, you understand that Vortigern has your mother, don’t you?”
“No, I’ve been completely ignorant to that. Thank you, Gabriel, for imparting that knowledge on me.”
“Listen to me.” Gabriel’s voice was tense and his eyes dangerously close to purple. “Are you listening?”
Imorean jumped as Gabriel’s hands landed on his shoulders, gripping tight. “Yes! I’m listening!”
“He has your mother, your siblings, the people you care about most in the world. I know you don’t want to fight them. I don’t want to fight them either. I care about your family. You know I do. But do you think, even for a moment, that he won’t use them against you or me in any way that he can? You have to be prepared for that. If Vortigern plans to use your family against you, do you think he’ll warn you?”
Imorean huffed. He didn’t know when he had started shaking. “No.”
“Precisely. Hope for the best when we face Vortigern, but, Imorean, I beg of you, put nothing past him. You and I have to prepare ourselves for him to show us the very things we fear and the very worst of our expectations. The people we care about are tools for him. Remember that. Please.”
Chapter 69
Tense. Imorean swallowed. Tense, tense, tense. His body felt wound tighter than a coiled spring. Nothing he did could abate the nervousness he felt. He drew a shuddering breath, eyes on the sky. Dawn was still some time away. He hadn’t slept. There had been too much pent-up anxiety coursing around his body. He glanced over his shoulder. Raguel and his team had arrived just after nightfall. All of them save Raguel had been resting for the last few hours. Imorean scanned the dark sky. Surely, Roxy and the others had to be drawing close by now.
“Relax.”
Imorean jumped hard, his entire body tensing. “Jesus, Michael.”
How he hadn’t heard or sensed Michael approaching, he didn’t know. He really needed to pay more attention. He turned, taking his eyes off the sky.
“Just Michael is fine.” A pause. Imorean shuffled and folded his wings. Michael was building to something. He could feel it. “Gabriel says you fell apart earlier.”
“You don’t even know, Michael.” Imorean looked away. He ran a finger under the chest strap of his sword, fiddling with an imaginary twist in the leather. He swallowed, waiting for Michael to say something else. Nothing. He sighed. “I’m taking your silence as cue for me to open up and keep talking?”
“I would like to know what happened.”
“He made himself look like my mother.”
Michael sighed and shook his head. “It is now that your human affection becomes your Achilles Heel. The reassurance is, though, that there is no guarantee Vortigern knows where we are. There is no promise he is in Greece.”
Imorean shook his head. “But how likely is it?”
Another pause. Imorean turned to Michael and met his eyes. There was a small press of consciousness on the side of his head and he yielded, allowing Michael to feel all the built-up tension in his chest and inwardly pleading for honesty. Michael’s wings twitched, and Imorean could feel a glimmer of discomfort from him.
“Very,” replied Michael, raising his gaze to the treetops. “We will have more information at the end of the day.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Michael didn’t reply and Imorean saw a muscle twitch in his jaw. He was on edge as well. Imorean gritted his teeth. He wondered if Michael could still feel his nerves.
“Are you worried?” asked Imorean.
“Shh!” hissed Michael.
“Fine, fine. Just asking,” snorted Imorean.
“Shh!” Michael hissed again, green eyes darting to him. “Do you hear that?”
Imorean stopped and tilted his head. Nothing. He extended his senses, using the full range of them. In the distance, air was moving, coursing over feathers. Brown eyes slid closed and Imorean pushed further, extending his own awareness. A smile crossed his face as he detected color in the distance. Rainbow. He breathed. Roxy.
“They’re here,” he sighed, looking up at Michael. H
e realized only when one corner of Michael’s mouth quirked upward that his wings had unfurled.
“Go and meet them. I know you want to,” said Michael, shaking his head. Imorean grinned. He could see Michael hiding a smile. “They have had a long flight and we have had a long wait.”
White – marred black – wings flared and Imorean launched into the air. In just one wingbeat, he was through the tree canopy and above the green forest. Stars glittered overhead. Imorean closed his eyes and spun in the air. His wings bent, reached and pulled under the night sky as he righted himself. In this pitch, predawn light, the black scars were invisible. He smiled. He could feel the squad’s presences growing stronger as they distance closed. His wings curled tight against his back. Imorean ascended, passing through a bank of chilly air. He closed his eyes, allowing his consciousness to slip sideways. Energy filled him. Brown eyes opened and he slowed. He didn’t know if the first sight of the astral plane would ever fail to thrill him. Orange reigned. Bright and full of life. Even in the night sky, there were flickers of orange movement. Imorean looked up. In the dark distance, he could see shapes. He narrowed his eyes and counted. Five. A smile crossed his face as he pushed himself off the astral plane and flared his wings out, every primary playing the cool, night air around him. He caught a small eddy and ascended further, blinking to clear any lingering white or orange from his vision.
Imorean snapped his wings to the side, rolling as he turned in the air. He was over the squad now, coasting almost thirty feet above them. Could they not sense him? He laughed quietly and positioned his wings for a shallow descent.
“Only a bit further now!” shouted Ryan.
“You’ve been saying that since Thessalonica!”
Imorean smiled. Roxy. He would know her voice anywhere. He adjusted his wings and reset the angle of his dive, slipping into position near the back of the formation.
A flash of silver. Imorean rolled away through the air, letting gravity carry him down. He coasted for a few wingbeats, then turned onto his back, looking up at Kadia. One hand held her sword, the other covered her mouth. Imorean laughed.
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