The Guardian Read online

  The pain weakened, but only slightly. I felt like I might puke. There was a light knock on the door that was gunshot-loud in my head, and I hurt so much I couldn’t even answer.

  “Warren?” Fury asked, coming into my room. “OK, I know you like the sword, but this is stepping into some seriously codependent territory.”

  “Shh.”

  “What’s the matter?” she asked quieter, but not nearly quiet enough. “Oh shit. It’s a migraine. Adrianne and Chimera are gone.”

  I tried to nod, but I had no idea if I was successful or not. The side of the bed dipped, and I felt her—I assumed it was her ass—press against my shoulder. “What can I do?” Her quiet voice was gentle. Concerned, even.

  I shook my head.

  “Let me try something.” Both her hands pressed against the sides of my skull. She squeezed.

  The pressure inside my brain eased, even if only a little. “What are you doing to me?”

  “I’m not sure. It never made them fully go away, but it helped Anya when she would get the migraines. Try to relax.”

  Yeah right.

  I lost track of how long she held my head, but after some time, I could crack open my eyes. “You’re more powerful than you think.”

  “Hmm. Maybe.” She had the slightest hint of a smile as she moved off the bed. “Better?”

  I was able to sit up. “Definitely took a bite out of the pain. Thank you.”

  “I’m afraid it won’t last, and we have a helicopter to load. Flint’s ready. Can you make the trip?”

  “Yeah.” I stood, then wobbled. Fury caught me around the waist. “I’m OK.”

  She laughed softly against me. “No, you’re really not.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  Her hands grasped my sides and pulled my shirt up. I flinched. “Whoa. What are you doing?”

  “You have to get dressed.”

  “I can dress myself.”

  “You can’t even hold your eyes open.”

  My eyes are closed? I hadn’t even realized I’d closed them again. I forced them open, and the dim sunlight through the window burned all the way through to the back of my skull.

  She pulled my shirt up again. This time, I didn’t stop her. “Do you care what you wear?” I heard her moving stuff around in my bag.

  “Got any of the Father’s blood stone?”

  “Unfortunately not.” Eden-fabric came over my head. Too bad it didn’t contain enough of home to dull the throbbing in my head. “Arms up.”

  I stuffed my arms into the T-shirt, then she helped me put on a button-up over it.

  When she finished with the buttons, her cool fingers slide under the waistband of my shorts. Tingles rippled through me, and I scooted back until I bumped into the bed. “Oh no.”

  “It’s not like there’s anything down there I haven’t seen bef—oh wait. Is there anything new postmortem?”

  I pried my eyes open to see her smiling as she stared at (hopefully) the front bulge of my shorts. “I’m telling your dad you said that.”

  “He’d probably be thrilled. Seriously, are you capable of doing this yourself?”

  “Of course.” Most likely not. “Can you put some jeans on the bed?”

  “Just jeans? Are you going commando? I know you don’t wear anything under those gym shorts.”

  “Underwear too. And then leave. Please.”

  “Here.” She put my underwear in my hand. “When did you become so modest?”

  “I’m not modest. I’m just a little vulnerable right now.”

  She took a step so close her breasts brushed against my chest. “Because I’m in control?”

  I pointed toward the door—I think. “Fury, out.”

  “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

  It only took a few tries to get my pants on. I put my underwear on backward the first time, then tried to stick two feet through the same leg of my jeans.

  “You OK in there?” Fury asked from the hallway.

  “Yeah. You can come in.”

  I stood, and the blood surged to my head again. Pain spread like wildfire through the left side of my brain. Lights exploded behind my eyelids.

  Then everything went black.

  When I came to, I was on the floor. Flint was on his knees, leaning toward my face. “Hi, Warren.”

  “Hi, Flint. What’s going—”

  He compressed my chest. Crack!

  I screamed out in pain.

  He stood.

  “What the hell?” I curled up on my side again, this time holding my chest as well as my head.

  Fury crouched beside me. “You passed out and hit the nightstand. Broke it and your collarbone.”

  I swore.

  “Sorry about that. We had to set the bone. It wasn’t healing right,” Flint said. “I’m going to start the bird. You kids about ready to go?”

  No. I was too busy writhing on the floor.

  “We’ll be there in a few.”

  “You need some help getting him outside?”

  “I got it.” Fury’s short nails raked through the side of my hair. “I knew I should’ve helped you.”

  “Just let me die.”

  It hurt to think, but I was pretty sure this was the first time anyone had ever seen me agonize through one of these things. In all my time on Earth, I’d gotten used to suffering alone.

  “How long will it last?” Fury asked quietly.

  I lifted my shoulders. “Been a long time since I’ve had one.”

  A long time was an understatement. It had been about a century, counting in Eden time. On Earth, my last full-blown migraine had been when Sloan and I were still together. When I was still part human. When I was still a resident of this realm.

  “Be right back,” she whispered.

  I held up my thumb.

  After a few minutes? hours?—I’d lost all track of time—Fury returned. I felt the vibrations of the floor as she crossed the room. Then her hand was on my shoulder rolling me onto my back.

  My eyes opened to slits. She was rolling something in her fingers. Then she pushed something into my right ear canal. An earplug. I could’ve cried with appreciation. She did the left, and then put her hands on my chest.

  I covered her hand with mine and squeezed.

  She squeezed back. “Let’s get you into the helicopter before it gets any worse.” Her voice was muffled, but the sound was so much more tolerable. I could’ve kissed her.

  She hooked her arms under mine and helped me to my feet. “My stuff,” I croaked out.

  “Already in the helicopter.”

  She put my sunglasses on my face and led me through the house. As soon as we stepped outside, the whomp whomp whomp of the helicopter’s blades ricocheted around my skull. When I finally settled in the back, she fastened my seat belt around me and put a headset over my ears.

  With a moan, I slouched deep in my seat and closed my eyes.

  “Here.” Fury’s voice was muffled through the headset and earplugs.

  Before I could look, something covered my head. Something soft and light. Breathable material that blocked out most of the sun. A jacket, maybe. Or an extra shirt. Whatever it was, it smelled like her. Sweet and spicy, half the things she was not.

  “Thank you.”

  She didn’t respond, or if she did, I didn’t hear her. I laid my head back and took a few deep breaths. The helicopter rocked forward as we lifted off the ground, and when it pitched my head forward, I winced from the pain.

  Laying my head against the window, I prayed for death. Ironic, I know. God, migraines are no joke. I felt like I could see my brain bleeding on the backs of my eyelids. Even my scalp burned.

  After a few minutes, it was painfully clear that nothing would help the headache. And the vibration of my skull against the glass only made it worse. I straightened and pulled Fury’s…jacket off my head. It was black and embroidered with the Claymore logo.

  I draped it over her thigh.

  “Not helping?
” she asked.

  I leaned toward her. “No. Will you squeeze my head again?”

  She gripped my forehead and the back of my skull this time. As the pain began to assuage, I realized the paradox. This woman, who had once caused me so much pain was now the only thing that helped.

  “How long until Asheville?” I asked, my head still in her magical hands.

  “We’ve got a two-hour-and-forty-three-minute flight time until we reach Asheville,” Flint said.

  “Fury, what’s the plan when we get there?” If I wasn’t dead by then.

  “We’ll land at Wolf Gap, and Nathan will drive us to his ex-girlfriend’s house.”

  “Should be interesting.”

  “I know, right? Do you really think she gave birth to an angel too?”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “Geez.”

  “My sentiments exactly,” I said, pulling away from her hands. “Thank you.”

  “Is it better?”

  “It’s more tolerable. What’s after our visit with Shannon?”

  “Completely up to you. I have zero business in Asheville except getting on the plane to Oregon. Try to rest while you can. We’ve got a long way to go.”

  “Flint, thanks for the ride,” I said, settling back in my seat.

  “Anytime, son. Anytime.”

  Miraculously, I fell asleep. Or maybe I passed out again. Who knows? Either way, I was lost in blessed darkness until the helicopter pitched slightly forward.

  I opened my eyes.

  “Flint?” Fury asked.

  Flint groaned over the headset. His hand was on his chest.

  Shit.

  Fury leaned forward. “Are you OK? What’s the matter?”

  “I…I don’t know. I don’t feel right.” He gasped and pulled at his shirt with one hand while keeping the other on the helicopter’s control stick.

  Fury unbuckled and climbed across me and into the front seat beside him. She settled in front of the copilot’s gears and turned to him. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Pain…pain here.” Flint pounded his fist below his breastbone. His voice was strained, like his vocal cords were tied in knots, and his skin was turning pale gray. “I can’t…can’t feel my legs.”

  Death, a tangible force, had its grip on Fury’s father. I felt it in my bones…because part of me was killing him.

  The helicopter was beginning to sway and tilt out of control.

  “Flint, can you land?” Panic was clear in Fury’s voice for the first time ever.

  He didn’t answer.

  “I’m taking the controls!” she shouted. “Hang on. We’ll get you help.”

  All I could see below us was trees. The helicopter’s alarm bells sounded. Ernng! Ernng! Ernng! Fury had grabbed the copilot’s stick.

  Flint slumped forward, but I grabbed his collar and held him back from leaning on the controls.

  “Fury, can you fly this thing?” I asked.

  She steadied the helicopter. “I’ve had a few lessons, but no. Check his pulse!”

  I didn’t need to. The spirit of death inside me could sense it. Hear it, almost. His pulse was rapid and weakening. Fast. “I think he’s bleeding internally.” I unbuckled my seat belt. “He’s dying. Can you land us?”

  “Dying?”

  “Yes. Fury, can you land?”

  She swore. “Sure. If you don’t mind landing in a fireball!”

  The helicopter lurched sideways, then nosedived for the trees.

  I hooked my arm around Fury from behind, jerking her backward over the seat.

  “No!” she screamed, fighting against me. “Dad!”

  My hand shot toward the door, and my power blasted it off its hinges. The aircraft spun.

  Pulling her against me, I dove out the door.

  Chapter Nine

  Trees.

  Dirt.

  Pine needles.

  Rocks.

  We’d been too close to the ground for me to execute a proper landing, so I’d held Fury tight against my chest and curled my wings around us. We landed hard on my shoulder and tumbled down a steep incline until…

  Whump!

  My back and ribs connected with a tree trunk.

  Tears sprang to my eyes as the air was knocked from my lungs. My hand was on the back of Fury’s head, holding it under my chin. I released the pressure enough so she could look at me.

  Her sunglasses were gone, and her mismatched eyes were wide with terror.

  “Are you OK?” I choked out with a cough that sprayed her forehead with a bloody mist.

  She nodded, panting against me.

  My wings relaxed and dimmed. They would be invisible to most humans—Fury was not most humans. And luckily, there was no one else around to witness two people fall from the sky and survive.

  We were in the woods, halfway down a mountainside.

  In my arms, Fury went limp. Her face buried into my shoulder, and her whole body convulsed. There was no sound, but she was crying.

  My fingers tangled in her hair as I held her. “I’m sorry, Fury.” I wheezed, and something gurgled in my chest.

  “He’s gone,” she sobbed.

  “He obviously loved you very—” I coughed and spewed more blood. Blinding pain ripped through my side.

  Fury pulled back, sniffed, and blinked a few times. “Let me look at you,” she said, rolling out of my grasp before sitting up beside me.

  “I’m OK.” I coughed again.

  “Stop talking.”

  I nodded and slid away from the tree enough to lie on my back. Fury put her hands on my sides. “Breathe in.”

  I wheezed again, and we both heard an audible crackle coming from my ribcage. Her face soured. “Broken ribs.”

  “No shit.” Groaning, I draped my arm over my eyes.

  Fury pulled my shirt up. “Nothing came through the skin. That’s good.”

  “I’m OK. Just give me a minute.” My ribs were already starting to shift and click and pop back into place. I writhed on the dirt and pine needles, and she grabbed my hand and held it.

  “Breathe, Warren.”

  “I don’t need to breathe, remember?” It was a good thing too. It hurt too much to inhale.

  The splintered bones ground against each other as they healed. Still, I wasn’t sure what hurt more: them or my splitting head.

  “What can I do?” she asked.

  “Be quiet.” My earplugs had been knocked out of my ears in the fall.

  All I wanted in the world was darkness and silence. Out here in the woods, in broad daylight except for the canopy of trees, darkness wouldn’t be possible. Besides, there was a helicopter nearby we needed to find.

  Soon.

  My sword was still in it.

  With a painful wince, I forced myself to sit up.

  Fury stared through the woods. Her face was covered in dirt, streaked mascara, and dry speckles of my blood. Her eyes were glassy…and lost.

  “You OK?” I asked.

  “Flint was…he was…” She took a deep, shaky breath. “I’ve done nothing but fight with him for weeks.”

  I covered her hand with my mine, but she immediately withdrew from it. She sniffed again and wiped her nose on the back of her knuckles.

  “If it’s any consolation, I’m sure he was gone before the helicopter hit the ground. I think it was his heart.”

  Her thick lashes blinked a few times before her eyes finally met mine. “A heart attack?”

  “Worse. He was losing blood. A lot of it. Must’ve been internally.”

  She sighed. “An aneurysm, probably.”

  “Made weaker by my presence.” My shoulders slumped. Why the hell did I think I could rescue Anya? I couldn’t even get us there without killing someone, much less actually—

  “Don’t do that. You couldn’t have known.”

  “Yeah. But this is the exact reason Azrael refuses to fly. I should’ve known better.”

  I started to get up, but Fury pressed her hand dow
n on my leg. “You need to rest.”

  I shook my head. “We’ve got to find the helicopter. My stuff’s in it.”

  “It can wait a minute. I still hear your ribs grinding back together. How’s the head?”

  “Excruciating.”

  She got on her knees and moved behind me. Then she squeezed my head again. My eyes nearly rolled back in my head. Whatever she was doing really did help. The tension in my neck released, and the searing blade that seemed to slice through my brain dulled.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, slowly opening my eyes.

  “No. Thank you.” She stood and walked around to face me. “You saved my life.”

  I arched my spine to make more room for my fusing ribs. “Happy to finally return the favor.”

  At that, she smiled and nodded her head.

  Once upon a time, Fury had saved my ass in Iraq when my Marine Corps unit was ambushed. I had thought I was in a secure, hidden position with my sniper rifle. I’d been wrong. Dead wrong.

  Luckily, Fury had been watching my six.

  That was the day we first met. A long time ago—even longer for me than for her.

  I took a deep breath, and it didn’t hurt as much, thank the Father.

  She stood, then turned back to offer a hand up. I took it and let her pull me to my feet. My head swirled, and I must have swayed because she grabbed my arm to steady me.

  “You all right?”

  I nodded and dusted off my clothes. “I think so.” Squinting against all the freaking sunshine, I took in our surroundings. We were deep in the woods. No roads. No trails. No nothing except trees and foliage as far as I could see in any direction.

  I listened carefully and heard a stream nearby and the crackle of a fire. Our fire most likely. I could smell burning fuel.

  Fury patted her pockets. “My phone’s gone.”

  I did the same. “Mine too.” I put a finger to my ear and tapped into my other communication system. I called out to the Angels of Death. “Hey, does anyone know where the hell I am?”

  Static popped in my ear. “I can’t detect you anywhere, Warren.” The voice was Samael’s, the angel who guarded the spirit line.

  I swore.

  “What’s the matter?” Fury asked.