Broken Wings (An Angel Eyes Novel)(39)

Pearla interrupts with a shake of her head. "He's been healed. Not long ago, by the Prince himself. The Prince sent him to Stratus. Demanded he bring your two charges to Danakil."

Canaan flashes red with anger.

The Commander's face turns hard, but his words are measured. "Cold-blooded creatures like the desert, friend. The dragon is no exception."

Pearla knows Michael was one of the angels who ministered to Christ after his own time in the desert. After his own time of testing. Does the Prince have similar designs for the boy before her? For the girl with celestial eyes?

"It's true he was sent here for the two of you, but I think Damien has designs of his own as well," Pearla continues.

Canaan's golden brow creases. "Do you know what they are?"

"He's expressed interest in a bracelet. He's engaged help to secure it. A woman by the name of . . ."

"Olivia," Jake says, his eyes wide. "Olivia Holt."

Pearla nods.

Jake's voice is so very human, desperate. Pearla's never understood such desperation. "They have the halo, Canaan. Olivia has it. They'll be after us next. We can't leave her. Canaan, we can't."

Pearla doesn't understand Jake's reference to the halo, but she dare not interrupt. Emotions are running high, and she's only a Cherub. She's to observe and report, not engage.

Canaan's wings tighten around his charge. "We'll leave you, Commander. It seems Jake and I have things to discuss."

The Commander clasps Canaan on the shoulder. "Blessings, friend. If you find yourself needing a demon to destroy, you are welcome in our ranks."

"Perhaps I will take you up on that one day. For now, God be with you."

"And you."

Pearla watches as Canaan turns away, his face pointed to the ground. He falls hard and fast toward the earth below. Toward the terra firma humans are so comfortable inhabiting.

"Follow them, Pearla."

Michael's instruction confuses her. "Commander?"

Emerging from the celestial sky, Loyal appears at Michael's side, snorting, ready for battle. The Commander's wings lift him high above the animal before lowering him onto the warhorse's back.

"That boy's face told me everything I need to know. Canaan may counsel against it, but Jake's going after the girl."

"But he could die . . ."

The Commander's face takes on a soft glow. "He loves her, Cherub. Her life is worth more to him than his own."

"Yes, sir." It seems Pearla will have a chance to engage after all. She rather likes the idea.

"My prayers go with you, little one. Fly fast."

Pearla nods and dives after the Shield, her mind sorting through this new assignment. It's the greatest expression of love, she knows, to lay one's life down. But she wonders if humans know just how unique the ability is to do that. Death is not something an angel has to offer her loved ones. How glorious it must be to have one's days numbered by the Father.

How precious it makes each and every one.                       
       
           



       35



Brielle





Elle?"

Kaylee stands on the porch stairs, her phone in her hand, her face white. And though it's my name lingering in the air, her eyes are not on me. She's staring at Damien-who, for reasons passing all understanding, is standing between us in his human form.

"Go back inside," I tell her.

It's a stupid thing to say. She's no safer there, but at least I won't have to see the terror bubbling from her eyes, snaking like an adder down her cheeks.

Dad steps onto the porch. Damien is three feet from me, but the thing that grabs my attention is Dad's empty hand. He's relinquished his death grip on the beer bottle's neck. I hope he chose to do so before downing the last few gulps.

"Who are you?" he says, looking Damien up and down.

"Dad . . ."

"Inside," Damien growls. "All of you."

"Says who?" Dad is indignant.

Damien strides to the porch. Kaylee tries to back away, but trips over the top stair. She lands on her backside, her elbows smacking the wood flooring. The fear running down her face multiplies, and I see Damien sniff at the air and grin as he bends and yanks the phone from her hands.

"Hey!" Dad says. "What do you think you're doing?"

Damien jerks upright and slides Kaylee's phone into his pocket.

"I said inside. If you want either of these girls to survive the day, you'll comply."

Dad's ruddy face is splotchy now, red and white and ticked all over. Indignant, he's unpredictable, but tipsy and indignant, Dad is just plain stupid. He takes a swing at Damien.

I groan and squeal all at once, but Damien avoids the blow. He steps back, his black dress shoes crunching in the gravel. Dad tumbles past Kaylee and down the stairs. He lands on his hands and knees at Damien's feet.

I rush to his side, but Dad's on his feet again before I can intervene.

"I wouldn't, Mr. Matthews." Damien's use of our last name is too intimate, too real.

I wrap my fingers-all ten of them-around Dad's forearm, praying he'll see reason. Praying he'll tame his temper for a few brief moments. But he shrugs me off, more irrational than ever. He curses and shoves passed me, but I throw myself between him and Damien. I'm sure it looks like I'm protecting Damien-this demon-man who just assaulted my father-but really, the opposite is true.

Life would be unbearable if Damien took Dad from me.

"Please, Dad. For me. For Kaylee. Let's just go inside. See what he wants. What he has to say."

Dad glances at me, but it seems to be Kaylee's sobs that move him to sanity. She's shuddering now, trying to breathe, but her large, gulping breaths succeed only in sucking copious amounts of black fear into her mouth and down her throat.

She gags, and Dad grunts his begrudging assent.

Damien stands at the door now, smiling, gesturing us inside like we're his dinner guests. The thought itself is disturbing and I don't linger on it. Instead, I focus on the good example thing and stomp up the stairs, my bare feet making dull nothings on the steps.

I pull Kaylee up as I go, and Dad follows us inside, cursing. Always cursing. Damien shoves Dad as he passes, sending him into the island. His face is a furry tomato now, but before Dad can turn his ham-sized fist into a ball, before he can swing again at Damien, I grab his hand and twist my fingers into it.

"Dad," I say, clearing my throat. I need to be clear. Dad must hear me. "This is Damien. He kidnaps children and sells them to pedophiles. Ali found out, and one of his men killed her. He was the mastermind behind the scenario at the warehouse this winter."

The blood drains from Dad's face-a tomato no more. "But you said-"

"Regardless of what you thought-"

"Of what I was told-"

"Regardless," I say firmly, "this guy is-"

"Capable of anything," Damien finishes, pulling a gun from his waistband. He points it at Dad's head. "Now sit."

It's a gun. I know it is, but all I see is a dagger. Sharp and bloody. And I know this guy will not hesitate to deal out death today.

Dad steps forward-stupid, stupid-his forehead bumping the barrel.

"Daddy, please." The words pour like tears from my lips.

"Yes, Daddy," Damien growls. "Please."

Dad doesn't move, doesn't back down, so I grab his hand and pull him away. I know he's letting me pull him, and I'm grateful for this small concession.

Kaylee walks in front of us. Her sobs are silent now-it seems she's gained some semblance of control. She curls onto the sofa, and I sit next to her, Dad on my other side.

"Where's your boyfriend?" Damien asks.

Dad's grip on my hand becomes vise-like, and I have to struggle out of it.

"I should have known this had something to do with him," Dad says, moving to stand again.

Damien stops Dad with the barrel of his gun. He presses it into Dad's shoulder, his lips curling back to reveal two rows of impossibly white teeth. "Mr. Matthews, I am out of patience now, and since your own life seems to matter little to you, let me make this clear: I've killed your daughter once. I will not hesitate to do it again."

Dad looks to me, his beard a prickly creature standing out from puffed, angry cheeks.

"He's not lying, Dad." I nod, trying to convey every bit of my own terror. He could use a little fear right now. After a second he sinks against the cushion, silent.

"Brielle," Damien says. "I asked you a question. Where is Jake?"

I pray an angel falls through the roof, a thousand of them maybe. But after a moment, I know the answer to my prayer won't be that simple. Kaylee's hand is suddenly on my knee. She squeezes, but I answer before Damien notices her movement.

"He's not here," I say.

"I'm aware of that." His head tips down, and his eyes constrict like a croc peering at me over still waters. "New eyes, see. Where has he gone?"

I shake my head.

I can't tell him.

I won't.

Damien points the gun at me. He yells, "Where is Jake?"

Dad throws his arm across my chest. I feel it tremble against my rib cage. "If you want the kid, find him yourself. She has no idea where to find him. She told you as much."

Damien's gun hand falls to the side, and he takes a knee before me. Dad's arm tightens across my waist, and I pull my feet off the floor-anything to get away from Damien. But he doesn't touch me. He just stares. And then I hear his voice in my head.