his mirror, his window into the lives of his followers, shattered along with Amir.
Splinters of glass showered down upon David like rain, cutting into his exposed flesh, his hands, ripping open his suit. One pointed piece of glass fell slowly, almost deliberately, slicing the side of his face through the center of his eye down his cheek to the curve of his jaw. As the blood began to trickle from his open wounds, into his eyes, he fell to his knees blindly, the remnants of the mirror crunching underneath him, and prayed to Zachariel for leniency. “Heal me, heavenly Father,” David begged. “Restore my vision. Allow me to serve in your holy image until you have been avenged, until our purpose has been achieved!”
David shivered as he felt the hand of Zachariel touch the crown of his head and he felt his wounds ebb into his skin, felt the two disjointed pieces of his eye fuse back together, felt the blood lift and disappear. Such a wonderful, charitable god, David thought, but Zachariel was not through bestowing gifts upon his most loyal disciple. If David was to win this war, he needed every advantage. He felt Zachariel’s touch travel from his head to the middle of his spine and then he knew what Amir felt like just before his body exploded.
“Ahhhh!!!!” The pain that ripped through David’s body was agonizing. It was as if two jackhammers were placed on opposite sides of his back and were drilling holes through his skin, past his muscle, into his bone, until they emerged through his chest. “Ahhhhh!!!” David’s scream flooded the room. He wanted to form words, but his mind wasn’t functioning, it was only processing the arrival of a beautiful, breathtaking pain.
When he felt the first wing rip out from his shoulder blade, he lurched forward, palms crashing into the floor, splintering the wooden slats, he barely had enough strength not to collapse entirely. The second was even worse, and the excruciating pain sent him flying forward, facedown onto the floor. He stayed there, fists clenched, eyes shut tight, as he felt the wings lengthen and grow until they took up almost the entire space of the anteroom. By the time his wings started to flap gently, stirring a cooling breeze in the room, the pain was a memory and David realized the transformation was complete.
Standing up, he saw that Zachariel had restored the mirror. He no longer saw Amir or the rest of his subjects, but he could see his new glorious self. David smiled as he saw two magnificent, powerful black wings flutter behind his massive shoulders. Finally he looked exactly like the archangel he so devoutly worshipped.
Inside, darkness was given more power to reign even as the first rays of light returned to resurrect the outside world.
chapter 24
Whether light returns after an evening of darkness or after an hour of unnatural shadow, it is welcomed. It’s a reminder that no matter how bleak, no matter how disheartening the world might look, there’s always hope. Standing on the shore of Inishtrahull Island, wet and exhausted, Ronan had to remind himself of that when he saw the fog evaporate completely to reveal Michael standing in front of Saoirse, but dangerously close to Jean- Paul.
“Get away from them!”
Jean-Paul turned his head so quickly, the long strands of his hair whipped out and brushed against Michael’s cheek, causing him to flinch, reel his head back so it looked to Ronan as if he had been struck. Without warning, Ronan sprang toward them, his face contorted into a warrior’s scowl, fangs bared, only one thought raging through his mind: Kill Jean-Paul before he can hurt the two people he loved the most. Michael had other ideas.
“No!”
Stepping in front of Jean-Paul, Michael caught Ronan’s arm at the wrist and held it tightly. Ronan tried to break free, but couldn’t. Michael’s grip was too strong, stronger than ever before, and more than just his increased physical strength, there was something going on in his mind, something that was not going to allow Ronan to get past him.
Confused, Ronan stared into Michael’s eyes, the only thing he recognized was the color. He was here to save Michael from whatever this French git was planning to do to him and Saoirse, and this is his reaction? This is how he expresses his gratitude? What the bloody hell happened up there in that fog? Ronan thought.
“Nothing happened!” Michael shouted.
So you can read my mind when it suits you? “That’s not what it looks like to me!”
Michael couldn’t believe this. Ronan was the one who up and disappeared, leaving him alone to keep Saoirse safe, and instead of thanking him, he was jealous, he was accusing him of cheating on him while trapped in Phaedra’s fog with Saoirse clutching his hand the entire time. It was absurd! “Are you calling me a liar?!”
Yes! No! I don’t know!! Ronan didn’t know what to think; all he knew was that Michael found Jean-Paul attractive and that he had been alone with him before and now the jerk was here inches from Michael’s face. He couldn’t imagine he would’ve done anything, especially not with his sister so close, but still, why did he have to be here? Why did anyone else have to be here? Why couldn’t everyone just leave them alone!?
Ronan yanked his arm away so suddenly and with such force that Michael stumbled back a few steps. If Jean-Paul hadn’t grabbed him by the waist to steady him, he would’ve fallen onto the beach. “Don’t touch him!!” Ronan ordered.
“You should not treat him like you own him!” Jean-Paul yelled back.
“I don’t own him!” Ronan cried. “I love him!”
“Eef that’s zee way you water vamps express your love,” Jean-Paul said quietly, “I am so very happy I am not one of you.”
“Trust me, Frenchie, so are we!” Ronan shouted.
For a few moments no one spoke, but no one let their fangs recede either. Jean-Paul, Ronan, and even Michael were still ready for battle if it came to that. By the way Michael was glaring at Ronan, it was unclear if they would be fighting as a team or against each other. Why is he mad at me? What the hell have I done now? Ronan couldn’t figure it out and he knew he wouldn’t get any answers until he and Michael were alone. Unfortunately, Inishtrahull Island was about to get a little more crowded.
“Jean-Paul!”
The sun had returned with such strength, such vigor that they had to squint in order to see Nakano run toward them. He was running so quickly, they could hear him panting like a wild dog from fifty yards away, the sand flying out at his feet mixing with the sunlight to surround him and almost make it look like Kano was floating toward them. They just didn’t know if he was so eager to reach them to fight or to reunite with his boyfriend. Once he arrived, Nakano didn’t know either.
He looked at Jean-Paul, beautiful as ever, and Jean-Paul was staring back at him, but his expression was unreadable, practically stoic. He didn’t know what was going on underneath those breathtaking features. Was he happy to see him? Was he happy to see that he was alive after he jumped into the fog and left him alone? Or would he prefer that he curl up on the beach somewhere and die so he could be alone with David?
He turned to look at Ronan and he felt like a merciless hand was squeezing his heart, squeezing until it burst and it was useless, dead, he was so overwhelmed with feelings of jealousy. He looked so smug, so condescending with his boyfriend at his side, the boyfriend he chose over him, and that freak of a sister behind him. Why did Ronan have everything? Why did he have a loving boyfriend, a family, friends who would fight alongside him, and why did Nakano have nothing? Why was everything that Nakano ever had, ever wanted, taken away from him?
The scream roared in his head, but Nakano didn’t allow it to seep out of his mouth. He kept it contained, kept it to himself so no one would know how distraught he was, how lost. He wanted to destroy, he wanted to unclench his fists and rip the flesh from their bodies. First Michael, then the girl, then sink his fangs into Ronan’s neck, his thick, muscular neck, and suck out every last drop of his blood. He wanted to connect to something, he wanted to latch on to someone, to as many people as possible, and destroy them, make them feel the pain that he was feeling, the absolute anguish that was living and breathing just underneath his flesh. But instead he did nothing.
When he turned back to Jean-Paul, he was ecstatic that he was still looking at him. He was interested; he hadn’t turned away. He had so many questions that he wanted to ask him. He heard the words in his head, the sentences were formed, they were ready to be spoken, but as usual, he was afraid, so he remained silent. He
