Falling Read online

  How could ice be so hot? How could blind eyes see fire?

  Flames licked and grew higher until the ice grew thin, and it cracked, melted away from his—not his eyes. Because now Hunter knew that this wasn’t his nightmare. Someone else was navigating him through this horror.

  He woke, panting, a scream on his lips, looking across the camp at Patrick, who lay still and asleep. However, Rex’s eyes came wide open in panic.

  “C-c-cold…”

  His lips were blue, his face deathly pale, and Hunter quickly wrapped him in his own blanket, tossing extra wood onto the fire. Rex recovered quickly, for in truth, the cold was from the dream, not from reality. They huddled for a moment, grounding themselves in the comfort of touch.

  “Did you dream of ice? Fire?”

  Hunter nodded, wrapping his arms around Rex, pulling him tightly to his chest.

  “I set a ward and something tested it… Couldn’t get in.” Rex still shivered from the cold.

  “So it invaded us in a dream.”

  Rex nodded jerkily toward where the Irishman slept. “You think he’s all right?”

  Patrick appeared to sleep peacefully. Could he have been the source of their monstrous visitation?

  “He seems to be all right. But it’s hours yet till dawn.”

  “I’ll keep watch,” Hunter said.

  Truthfully, Hunter didn’t think he could return to sleep. He didn’t want to return to sleep if all that waited him was ice and fire and fury. Whatever—whoever—had shared that dream was fearsome and terrifying. Nothing he knew, nothing he remembered could have prepared him for that outpouring of pain. He was afraid, but more to the point, he pitied that being. So much agony, and there was nothing he could do to help.

  Rex was no longer shivering, and he’d clearly dropped back to sleep in Hunter’s arms. When the entity had struck out, Rex seemed to take the brunt of the attack… If that’s what it was.

  He lowered Rex back to the ground and the Sidhe curled up on his side, arms and legs held tightly to his body. Hunter leaned down and brushed a kiss against his cheek. He sat close to Rex, gazing out into the foggy night. The fire seemed small and insignificant against the weight of the darkness.

  Memory had not been his friend this past year. It taunted him, teasing him with images that dissolved like mist when he looked. Remembrance slid into his mind’s eye, slipping away as quickly as it came.

  The turn of a head, the smile of…someone. The tone of a bell or the sound of a voice. White marbled halls and the fragrance of roses drifting lightly on the air.

  Hair the color of starlight. Celestial blue eyes, the colors of the many moods of the sky. An enemy who wasn’t—a friend who was.

  Hunter gazed at the night sky, seeing but not really remembering.

  A woman with smiling eyes, her tongue trailing down his smooth, hairless body, looking up at him through a fringe of silver-white hair. Her lips moved, but he couldn’t hear her speak. His heart swelled with joy at the long awaited consummation of their love…

  A friend, arm draped lazily over his shoulder, laughing as he urged him along…somewhere…

  A scream, more screams… A sword over her head, coming down in a blaze, leaving nothing in its wake but empty space. A sword, suspended over his head… Hands wrenching his mouth open as the glowing hot metal was brutally shoved into his throat…

  Hunter tried to scream, to wake, but the dream had him and wouldn’t let loose.

  Flat on his back in the damp dirt of a Scottish meadow, the thing of fire and ice roamed his body freely. Flames licked his skin, warm heat nudged his cock, drawing it to painful sweet erection. Faster than he could comprehend, he was pulled to climax, his seed drawn into her ravenous mouth. Again, hard…painful…glorious…release pulled all the strength from his body…again and again.

  He heard a scream and thought it was his own as the hungry mouth began again, torturing him with the sweetest agony. Another scream, this one ripped from the bottom of his lungs, tearing over his scarred vocal cords.

  An answering scream…and another…

  Hunter fought past the flames of lust and fear. He beat them down, struggling to wakefulness. For a moment, he thought the world had gone to hell and back. Rex lay thrashing and struggling, a red glow wrapped his body, stripping him of his glamour. His face was wan and pale, his eyes fevered and partially open.

  Hunter looked to the other side of the fire, and Patrick also struggled in his sleep, the faintest red mist hovered over his form then drew back as though repelled. That wasn’t what held Hunter’s eye…

  He crouched, gathering Rex into his arms, only marginally aware of the sweat and the semen that soaked his clothing and coated their bodies.

  Rex screamed and thrashed as his body arched into another impossible climax. His tail thrashed wildly, catching Hunter like a whip over his back, his legs and even his wings. Hunter stood firmly, ignoring the pain. Rex’s scream devolved into laughter, a morbid mingling of joy and fear and ecstasy.

  Patrick was now awake and on his feet, black hair spilling to his hips in glossy waves. His naked skin was no longer human white, but the color of moonlight, glowing in the coming dawn. Huge, black-feathered wings rose above his back. He stepped forward then halted, looking around in surprise. As Hunter watched, the ebony sword he brandished began to glow with an unearthly white light. He stepped away from his bedding, pushing, as though at an obstruction.

  The red haze clung to Rex, pulling the very life from his body. It had taken form, a vaguely female shape. She clung to the Sidhe yet looked up at Hunter, desperation in her eyes. Her lips moved but she had no voice. She bent back to Rex, her lips brushing his face.

  Save him…from me…

  The smile was gone from Patrick’s eyes. In its place was deadly intent, reflected in the flame of his sword. He was crossing the camp, but, clearly, his intent was not to aid Rex.

  “It is as I feared, Kokabiel. The demons are drawn to your side.”

  “How do you know my name?” Hunter stepped back. Rex felt light in his arms, as though he was losing substance. He glanced at the Sidhe, and from the corner of his eye saw his own wings rising bright and magnificent in the darkness. He pulled Rex tightly against his body, even though the hazy entity still clung to his body.

  “Who are you?” he asked Patrick.

  “You do not know me?” The angel faltered for a moment, a look of confusion in his eye. It was quickly gone.

  “You know me well. I loved you and called you friend. But you are no longer that person I loved. It is in the honor of God’s Star that I slay you this day.”

  Hunter took another step back, thinking quickly, but finding no answers.

  “Who are you to me?”

  “I am Azrael. I am the Bringer of Death.”

  “And you have come for me.” It wasn’t a question.

  The succubus left Rex, her incorporeal form a barrier between the two of them, as though she was protecting Rex—and Hunter.

  That black sword blazed in the death angel’s hand. He slashed through the red mist and chased the scattered remnants of the red phantom, as though it was smoke. His intent was clear.

  “The demon might have sought me out, but it meant to harm me, Azrael. Why do you foil the demon when it clearly shares your purpose?”

  Again, confusion flickered in the dark angel’s expression. Rex moaned slightly, and shifted in Hunter’s arms.

  “This Sidhe has done no wrong by the laws of our people. I will not allow him to die, nor will you take his life just to reach me.”

  Hunter was desperate for time, for inspiration. He remembered enough to know there was a rigid code of conduct among the angels, and he prayed that the Blessed Ones were off limits.

  “Stop hiding behind your lover.”

  “He is one of the Blessed. Allow me to tend his health. I will face you then.”

  Azrael slowly lowered his sword, allowing Hunter to place Rex on the ground. His pulse was fast and errat
ic, his skin held a dangerous pallor. It wasn’t good. Hunter knew he had to save himself in order to save Rex.

  “Tell me, Azrael. What crime am I guilty of?”

  “You know.”

  “I have no memory of any wrongdoing.” He looked up from Rex’s still form. “I have no memory of your face or name. I believe you speak false when you claim that we were friends. No friend would behave as you have.”

  Azrael flinched as though he’d been slapped. Hunter sorted through the fragments of his memory and nowhere did he recall a black-winged angel. But he remembered the ugly role these dark ones carried out at the behest of others. Briefly, he felt pity for Azrael.

  “Did they cast you out as well? You are dark, therefore you must be better suited to the evil things that you hunt here on Earth.”

  “I am Heaven’s Angel of Justice.”

  “No, Azrael, you are a flunky. You are the bringer of death because no others will soil their hands. I remember little, but before I fell, I was as white and spotless as all the others. When I woke here, my hair was the color of flame.”

  “It is a sign of your corruption.”

  “I am not corrupt, Azrael. I am still the bringer of Knowledge and Truth. Look upon me.”

  It didn’t really work that way. Hunter needed to touch in order to see, but Azrael’s tortured eyes told him what he needed to know.

  “What is my crime, Azrael?”

  “Treason.”

  “What did I do? My life was one of beauty and music. They thrust a white-hot blade down my throat and killed my song. They stripped the memories from my brain. A woman, someone I loved. She is no more because of me. What did I do, Azrael?”

  He stood and faced the angel.

  “Were we truly friends?” He searched the dark angel’s face for something familiar. If they’d been friends, shouldn’t he have known him? Shouldn’t he…feel?

  “What attacked us just now? You and I broke away, but her main target was Rex. Why?”

  The blade vanished from Azrael’s hand, and his shoulders slumped forward. He looked defeated. Despairing.

  “What was my crime, Azrael?” He moved closer, palms open and empty.

  A terrible expression crossed the dark angel’s face. Tears and anger chased each other through his eyes. “I do not know, Kokabiel. I am commanded, and I obey.”

  “Were you truly my friend?”

  Azrael looked at him with pain-filled eyes. “You don’t remember. If you remembered, I would see it on your face. You never could lie, Kokabiel.” His voice was low and rough. Pain radiated from his entire being.

  “My name is Rion Hunter. I stopped being Kokabiel when I landed burned and nearly mute in a sheepfield.” Hunter moved closer and looked up into the other angel’s face. “What did we mean to one another?”

  Azrael caught a breath. It very nearly sounded like a sob.

  “All shunned me but you, Kokabiel. When I was born to become the Angel of Death, I was marked like this.” He bowed his head, his ebony wings spread slightly. “All my life the others turned their backs, even my parents. I walked through the Celestial Halls and all turned away, save you. You smiled and remained my friend. You and my sister—”

  “What did I do to be banished?” Hunter demanded.

  “I do not know.” He hung his head in shame. “I am commanded, and I obey.”

  Slowly, Hunter reached out and clasped his arm. “Look upon the truth, Azrael. Look with knowledge. See my heart.” Distantly, he was aware of the glow that grew and enfolded them both. Azrael’s eyes grew large with fear…horror.

  “They took your voice. They took your memories…”

  “Who was she?”

  Azrael shook his head mutely. He opened his mouth but did not speak.

  “Can you see the faces of my betrayers?”

  “No. They used magic to cloud your memory. I’m sorry, Kokabiel.” He seemed to wilt, to somehow grow smaller, though he stood taller than Hunter.

  “The Sidhe stirs. The demon drained off some of his vitality. He’s immortal, so he’ll recover.”

  “What was it? I only know it was female.”

  “A demon. She’s a succubus.”

  Azrael looked around as though he was searching for something…someone. “She will come again and has called attention to you. Reux is marked. Others will come now. The essence of immortals is a divine taste upon the lips of the dark ones. They will seek you both out and feed from you forever.”

  “Shit.”

  Hunter turned to see Rex balancing on wobbly legs. He turned back to Azrael.

  “She didn’t touch you.”

  “No, but I tasted her. Now I will hunt the demon as she hunts you.” Azrael had recovered his dignity. He straightened, purpose clear in his expression.

  “Like I said… Shit. Not that being fucked to death is a bad way to go.” Rex stepped, staggered and went to his knees. Hunter hurried to steady him as he rose again.

  “That thing was a she? A succubus?”

  Azrael nodded.

  “Well, evil or not, she’s being tortured. That wasn’t an act of malice so much as fury and pain. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have allowed it.”

  “I felt it as well.” Hunter looked at Patrick. Azrael. “She was conflicted. She acted from desperation. She had no choice.”

  “She was once one of us. A Fallen. She embraced evil and is now a demon. I will find and destroy her,” Azrael said.

  He turned away, and before their eyes the wings faded and before them stood Patrick Feehan with his merry face and shining blue eyes. His smile had fled.

  “We part ways here. I cannot complete my mission and kill you without knowing more, Kokabiel.”

  Rex gave a dry laugh. “I’m sure he appreciates that, Patrick. What exactly does that mean?”

  Patrick turned and in the gray morning light, Hunter could see the barest trace of glamour, some powerful magic that hid Azrael from sight. It wasn’t as good as Rex’s magic, but very nearly. How had he remained hidden so completely?

  “It means that I will seek the truth. If Kokabiel is guilty of treason, I will return.”

  “And if he’s innocent?”

  Azrael had no answer for that. He looked from Hunter to Rex, and swallowed hard.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You know he’s innocent, Azrael. You saw with your own eyes.”

  Hunter saw that Patrick was truly confused. He was a bringer of death, not justice, in spite of what he’d said earlier. He followed orders but lacked the capacity to distinguish guilt or innocence. Maybe once he’d been able to discern the guilty from the innocent, but he’d blindly followed orders for countless years. Hunter wondered how much innocent blood the black angel had spilled.

  “In the meantime, Patrick Feehan, you are welcome at our hearth.” Hunter stepped up, once again looking deep into those sapphire blue eyes. He looked for the truth. He looked for mercy. He looked for any sort of memory that might live there, but saw nothing.

  “You must not stay at your farm.”

  “What?” Rex’s voice was a harsh whisper in the fog.

  “She has tasted you. Whoever holds her leash has tasted you. If you remain in one place, you will be found.”

  “No… I can’t…”

  Hunter clasped his shoulder and squeezed hard. He felt Rex’s grief run up his arm like an ache that settled around his heart. He moved closer and held the Sidhe tight to his chest, looking at Azrael through a mist of shared pain.

  “I’ve been there nigh on two hundred years…”

  “And you cannot afford to remain there another week. I am sorry.” His Irish lilt was back, and it sat poorly on his grim words. “It is only a place, Blessed One.”

  “He’s bound to the earth and forest there, Azrael. It’s like…tearing off a limb.”

  Azrael gathered his blanket and stuffed it into his pack. “When I hunt this demon and destroy her and her nest, you might be able to return.”

  He turned away, wa
lking into the mist. When they could see him no longer, his voice suddenly carried to their ears.

  “I am sorry, Kokabiel, to taunt you over the loss of your song. That was…unkind.”

  Hunter didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. He gathered Rex into his arms and rose swiftly into the sky, heedless of anyone who might see them.

  Chapter Ten

  “It’s all taken care of.”

  Hunter pulled back the curtain from the bed nook and carefully sat on the edge of the coarse mattress. Rex lay there, still pale, still not recovered from the attack. “I’ve arranged for Mistress Cameron to take the cow and chickens. I hope it’s all right… I didn’t charge her.”

  “That’s fine. She’s a widow and has little enough. The rest of the livestock?”

  “I sold the flock to Mister Brown down near the village. He’ll send a boy and a dog to gather them tomorrow. I couldn’t catch the barn cat, though. He ran from me.” He hesitated. “I told them you are ill and go to live out your days with your brother.”

  Rex rolled over to face the wall, giving his back to Hunter. It stung. Hunter stood and moved around the little cottage, gathering the few things that they could carry easily. “I kept the horse and cart. But I doubt we should take more than we can carry easily. It’ll be some time before you can walk a full day.”

  “I’ll be fine soon enough.” Rex still didn’t move to face the room.

  Hunter sighed and set down the bundle of clothing he held. He moved to the bed and carefully slid under the blankets, wrapping an arm around Rex’s waist. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Rex. I don’t know how to make this up to you.”

  That brought Rex around to look at him. “You blame yourself for this?”

  “Azrael came for me. He said the demon came for me. Where else do I place the blame?”

  “Oh, Orion, no… No. This isn’t your fault. It was time for me to leave anyway. I’ve nearly overstayed and the neighbors are growing suspicious.” He pulled Hunter closer, drawing his head down close. “I’m tired and a little sad. I’m very frightened as well—for you more than for myself.”

  The Sidhe was in his true form, his tail wrapped around Hunter’s waist, gently stroking and soothing. He ran his hand down Hunter’s dark red braid.