Angels target, p.25
Angel's Target, page 25
part #1 of Elemental Angels Series
“There!” Rose pointed toward the river bank while her feet continued to carry her away from the scene.
Chrome ran ahead first, followed closely by Tung. The others landed somewhere in the middle, with Steel and Bronze staying closer to her. Brass and Iron quickly followed the others. Confusion and tension dotted their features. All manner of weapons were out and proud as uncertain gazes swung left and right, searching for a target.
A low whistle wove through the lapping river water as Chrome holstered his gun, dropped to one knee, and reached in his back pocket for the gum he kept there before popping a piece into his mouth.
“Damn,” Chrome remarked in between chews. “I’m impressed.”
At what the others clearly considered Chrome’s all-clear, they scrambled closer to the river bank. Bronze was the first to clamor into the river, not at all concerned about the water sloshing up to his ankles around his boots. He leaned down and grabbed the severed arm by the wrist. Water sluiced off the thing in great rivulets. Rose shuddered as Bronze dangled it for everyone to see, like salami on a rope being subjected to the close inspection of an expertly picky Italian grandmother who knew her way around dried meat.
“Would you look at that? You know, I can’t say I’ve ever seen such fine work of charmer dismemberment before. It’s usually such a hack job, but the lines here are so clean.” Bronze awed at the gaping end, which would have eventually led to a shoulder had it obviously not met with something sharper. “I don’t often admit this, but I’m with Chrome. A solid ten out of ten. I’m definitely impressed.”
“Where’s the cuff?” Tung’s voice of reason chased away the chuckles and groans. The prime sentinel stood in front of Bronze, arms crossed and jaw clenched as he eyed the appendage. The question had everyone’s attention.
“Don’t know. You thinkin’ it’s an elite? Mystics don’t usually have this much muscle.” Chrome mulled over his question as he scratched the underside of his chin with the backs of his fingers.
“It’s an apex.”
Rose and the others turned at the softly spoken bass of Iron’s voice. But the giant angel didn’t immediately address any questioning looks. He merely stepped toward Bronze and took the severed arm from him as if it was a baby in need of swaddling. Iron laid out the length of it perpendicularly across his forearms and began examining the juicy gruesome end.
“Are you sure?” Tung asked.
Iron nodded grimly. And not for the first time, Rose’s concern for the quiet giant flirted just beyond curiosity and had begun its gradual left turn toward worried territory.
“The elite always have trim nails. Better for hand-to-hand. But the apex often keep their thumbnails long. It helps them cast their magic. Easier to swipe out a spark on the fly by catching it on an abrasive surface so they can quickly funnel their magic to it.” Iron’s gaze, as well as the others, fell on the long thumbnail that extended three-quarters of an inch off the nail bed and crested with a rounded-off point. It reminded Rose of lead guitarists in rock bands who chose to keep their thumbnail long to use in place of a guitar pick.
“Do mystics keep all their nails long, then? Those are the magic users, right?” Rose winced at how squeaky and quivering her voice sounded, but then she remembered she was well within her right to show a little discomfort. Because, hello, severed arm.
Iron lifted his gaze to Rose and pinned her with those dual-colored eyes. “Yes. They typically engage from a distance, so there’s no need for them to worry much about maneuverability or—”
Those hazel and brown eyes dropped from Rose’s gaze and flew to the severed end of the arm. Though she’d have to take Bronze’s word on the whole clean-slice thing, her stomach still threatened to revolt at the exposed tissue and muscle wrapped around severed bone.
Impatient boots shuffled nearer to Iron as he brought his head down closer to inspect the cut end of the arm.
“What is it?” Tung asked, stepping alongside the giant and peering down at what Iron was inspecting.
“Iron. Iron filings left behind, wedged between the muscle and bone. From one of my axes.” Iron whipped his head around and stared off at the choppy Ellis River behind him. As his angel fire bloomed high, a glowing sheen of topaz brightened within Iron’s eyes before he dropped the arm. The giant angel took two long strides, then leaped into the air, flesh shimmering into menacing iron, and spread his wings. That hungry topaz gaze swept back and forth over the small white caps that licked and crashed along the craggy landscape of the water. Rose ran to the edge of the water while the others took to the air in the same fashion, obviously unsure why but never doubting their brother.
A flick of Iron’s wing was all the warning Rose got before the angel took off like a pelican dive-bombing for a fish. His massive frame broke through the water’s surface until his boots were the last thing to be swallowed up.
“Wait! What’s going on?” Rose hollered to the others, but no one even so much as looked her way. One by one, they all followed suit, diving into the water.
And then, nothing.
The Ellis River had been a significant resource for this region back when the mill was first established. And rightly so. The waterway was a far cry from a sleepy creek or babbling brook. The Ellis could be as lively as she was long. Rose recalled some of the local fishermen in Aurora bragging about their catches during the height of the fishing season. She could give a fig about fish at the moment, but she wasn’t so quick to dismiss the memory.
Because that conversation had also told her the depth of the river. About ten to twelve feet.
Shit. What the hell is going on?
Rose paced a mean streak into the bracken along the river bank. But while her feet moved frantically, her mind kept a different measure. One minute . . . Two minutes . . . Five minutes . . .
A whole seven freaking minutes later and the water finally broke. Flapping wing tips of varying silvers and tawny browns poked through the river. As the water cleared and the metallic forms of men gleamed before her, grunts and bellows replaced the sounds of the river’s ramblings.
The six angels rose above the river. Anguish was etched along all their faces as they struggled to lift something that was huddled in the center of their cluster. But what, exactly, she couldn’t tell.
Rose ambled up and down the river’s edge to get a better look as the mass of them slowly, agonizingly descended toward the bank. When they finally touched down, the effort was met with groans and full-body exhaustion. Tung and Chrome slid to the ground instantly, their metallic chests heaving as if they’d just run back-to-back triathlons. Steel and the others looked just as bad, reaching out to grip anything and everything for support.
But as the angels fell away one by one, the cause of their strain—and the reason for Iron’s swan dive into the river—glared back at Rose.
Titan.
The angel was in his titanium state. His wings, usually glorious in their span, were splayed haphazardly in awkward directions, as if they hadn’t been able to deploy fully in flight. His face—that handsome and alluring face, which had somehow always managed to calm Rose, yet still take her breath away—was twisted into an expression of panic. Eyes wide, lips strained. The whole picture spoke of sheer terror.
A bright glint in the morning light had Rose’s eyes dragging down his frame farther, until they landed on the object responsible for the reflection.
A single shining gold cuff. The very one she was willing to bet her mediocre savings on belonged to the apex who was currently missing a very significant appendage.
And her heart broke.
Oh, Titan. What have you done?
She flew toward him on shaky legs. As soon as she was within reach, she jumped and threw her arms around his solid neck. God, he was so cold. So lifeless. Like a frozen statue that had once been a vivacious, molten element but had been quenched and cooled for the pleasure of others.
“What happened to you? Oh, Titan . . .” The worry and fear in her words made her voice unrecognizable to her own ears. She gripped his neck more tightly and waited for the edges of his wings to curl around her, for the rasp of his beard to turn into her and tickle her cheek.
Nothing. Just cold harsh metal biting into every point of contact along her body.
“Hang on, baby. Just hang on. I can do this.”
Rose clenched her arms more tightly around the statue of Titan’s body, closed her eyes, and reached down to access that secret warmth within her. As the familiar heat spread from toe to fingertip, she willed every single beam of light into Titan’s body. The bright energy pulsed and danced around them until it encased them both in blazing torrents of healing energy. In the background, Rose vaguely registered crunching leaves under shuffling feet as the others no doubt scrambled away from her light show. But she quickly refocused her attention on the angel in her arms and deepened her concentration. Willed every ounce of her soul into the angel who had once claimed hers.
A great breath rushed out of Rose as the light around her receded back into her before dimming entirely. Her limbs shook and her core shivered slightly at the loss. But she had done it and was beyond grateful the others had taken her with them to find Titan. If not, she would have been too late. Would never have been able to heal him or return him to his brothers.
To her.
She leaned back to look into his smiling face . . . and froze. Wide and unmoving terrified eyes still stared back at her. Nothing on Titan had changed. His chest didn’t rise and fall with new breath, nor did his arms and wings relax with released tension.
Nothing.
Her light, the one thing she had been prized for and the only thing that could save him, hadn’t worked.
They were all utterly helpless.
Chapter 30
“I don’t know why it didn’t work. I did everything the same. I thought we were supposed to have this amazing magical bond. This connection. Surely, that would have brought him back. Broken the spell of whatever happened to him, right?” Rose addressed her rambling, frantic questions to no one in particular. No, that wasn’t true. She aimed the words at the tense backs of Chrome, Tung, and the others as they dipped their heads in hushed conversation, trying in vain to find a way to free their brother.
It had taken most of the day, but they had finally managed to get Titan back to the den. The sheer bulk of his solid titanium was clumsy and agonizingly heavy to fly with, from what Rose had gathered. Especially with Steel being unable to help his brothers, as he had Rose to carry.
She had never felt like more of a burden in her life. A literal cause of strife and an unwelcome load.
The great room of the den had been cleared of bulky furniture. At least she had made herself useful in that regard. Her spark may have been useless in healing her soul bond, but she could sure as shit still push a table out of the way.
Titan had been settled alongside Tammy’s chamber, with a four-foot aisle separating the two, as if they were in some sort of celestial sick bay. The angels hovered frantically around their brother. The energy in the room was one of utter exhaustion and painful worry mixed with the frustrating inability to change a single circumstance.
It was Rose’s definition of fear, one she had lived with for far too long.
Chrome and Iron were crouched down in front of Titan, all manner of tools in hand as they worked to free the cuff from Titan’s solid grip. Tung and Brass, meanwhile, hovered at Titan’s back and were analyzing a mark on his right wing.
“No one’s blaming you, Rose.” Chrome bit the words out but never met her eyes as he tried to jockey the gold cuff from Titan’s frozen fingers. Iron kept his head down, adding more oil to every crease and crevice as Chrome pulled. All gentle maneuvers. None of them were willing to risk harming Titan’s frame in any way.
Tung dragged weary eyes up from Titan’s wing to address her. “You are his soul bond. That has nothing to do with what’s at work here. Your spark is irrefutable.” The words were spoken with no small amount of reverence. Almost a painful admiration. “No, there’s more at play here. Come see.”
Rose walked with lead feet around to Titan’s back. The gleaming silver feathers of her angel’s wings stuck out at odd angles, each one frozen in time in its own individual metallic shell.
“Here.” Tung traced a finger along a patch of Titan’s wing near the center of his back and just slightly to the right of where his quiver and arrows lay.
It pained her greatly that she couldn’t even remove his weapons, for they had been encased in titanium against him. Couldn’t even lighten the bulk of his frame by stripping him of the weight of numerous guns, knives, and even Iron’s ax. The ax whose metal origins, despite its titanium coating, had called to its maker and alerted Iron and the others to Titan’s location.
The angels’ weapons never took the form of their owners’ metals. The weapons were too altered and reinforced already to have their elemental structures changed further. And yet here, they were nothing more than titanium artifacts encased against Titan’s cold metallic frame. The only stand out was the cuff. That stupid, vile, tainted gold cuff that mocked Rose with its gleaming contrast against Titan’s body.
But as Rose squinted more closely at the skewed feathers Tung directed her to, a slightly off-color sheen danced in the muted light. Curious, she cocked her head. It was a one-of-these-things-is-not-like-the-other situation. The oil slick, for that was the first thing that came to mind, dressed the small patch on Titan’s back in tones of light sepia, a stark disparity to his metal’s natural color.
“What is that?” Rose whispered, itching to touch it but knowing better.
“Magic. Dark magic. Another enchanted projectile of some sort. I believe it is responsible for Titan’s frozen state and why the cuff was not affected by whatever caused the transformation, unlike his weapons. It is . . . not a weapon we’ve encountered before. No, this is new.” Tung’s sigh dripped heavily with fury.
“Anyone willing to bet who threw the damn thing? I’ll give you one hint. They won’t be doing the arm movements to the YMCA dance anymore. Hokey Pokey’s out, too—” A sharp slice rang through the cavernous great hall. Chrome’s colorful dance commentary was cut short as the angel fell backward with a grunt and landed on his ass.
With a shining gold cuff in his hand.
“Got it!”
As Chrome got to his feet, Rose scrambled around Titan. “The cuff looks like the one I found at the park. The one I was holding when Titan found me. I had dropped it, though. Left it in the grass somewhere.”
“This one’s different. This,” Chrome said, waving the cuff in the air like a captured flag, “is the money one. The apex wore it when he imprisoned your sister. Brass is confident there’s still some of the asshole’s magical juice in here. Let’s stir the pot and see if we can’t at least spring your sister. Have some good come of this nightmare.”
“I believe it’s your best chance to open that chamber. You have nothing to lose.” Brass crossed his arms over his chest and nodded solemnly. He was a man of few words, but they were always chosen carefully. Rose respected that. False hope wasn’t Brass’s style or any of theirs.
“OK. I’ll try. But let me try on my own first. You’re all gassed enough as it is.”
Tung gave a silent nod of appreciation as Chrome handed her the cuff, though she didn’t miss the tense cut of Tung’s shoulders or the pained worry that briefly danced across his face. She had to fight back a cringe to grip the thing. But grip it she did, despite her revolting stomach and the guilt hammering beneath her breastbone.
They’ve lost their brother, and still they’re devoted to helping you.
Rose’s throat clogged against the enormity of a gesture she’d done absolutely nothing to deserve. But for the moment, she put the weight of her inner turmoil from her mind as she laid the gold cuff on top of the chamber, just below the plexiglass.
She dropped her shoulders, placed her hands on either side of the barrier over Tammy’s face, and concentrated. Rose’s body had fallen into the routine of calling on the spark within her. The spark that was connected to all things light and life. The spark that, up until this morning, had connected her to the frozen angel to her left.
Warmth filled her body, kissing every spare inch of her with gentle and caressing heat, from the backs of her eyelids to the bottoms of her feet. But she didn’t open her eyes. Didn’t look to see what was happening to the cuff or whether her light had been powerful enough to seep out the apex’s magic and penetrate the chamber’s seal. She didn’t need the proven or unproven potential efficacy of her efforts to cloud her goals. Rose kept her eyes shut and just continued to will everything she had into her twin’s body.
If she could offer nothing else to these men, she could at least try her hardest in this one thing.
Rose exhaled as the heated flush flared brightly before receding back into her body. The spark drained away from her as quickly as it had risen, until all that was left was the creeping chill trapped by the den’s stone walls and deafening silence.
Her lashes fluttered open and her eyes scrambled to adjust to the scene in front of her.
Which was that of a limp, sagging Tammy no longer lying in a perfect Sleeping Beauty position within the chamber. And the obvious absence of a magical glow emanating from within.
“Holy shit!” Rose dropped her hands and curled her fingers around the rim of the chamber’s lid. Chrome, Brass, and Tung joined her as, together, they heaved the lid of the chamber open, not caring a whiff about the gold cuff that fell tinkling to the floor. The hinges groaned with disuse, but they were no match for the combined resistance prying them open. Once the lid was fully open, Rose swung around and grabbed her twin by the shoulders, crushing the delicate sleeves of her sister’s crisp blue button-down shirt.
“Tammy! Oh, God, Tammy! Wake up. You’re safe.” Rose continued her gentle but insistent jostling, running a hand over Tammy’s pulse point. A strong, even thrum tapped out a regular healthy beat against Rose’s fingers. She was near tears and frantic with exuberance.
