Dark Angel's Ward (22 page)

"Agreed."

So we arrived at my doorstep sweaty and out of breath for no particular reason. I unlocked the front door as quietly as I could and held a finger to my lips, motioning Zeph to follow me. The living room was dark, but I'd never needed a light to find my way around in here.

I crept up the stairs, keeping my eyes fixed on the rim of brightness that marked the bedroom doorway. As I got closer, I saw it had been left slightly ajar. Whoever sat inside had probably heard our every stealthy movement on the way in.

To hell with it, then. I straightened up and strode the last few steps, shoving the door open as casually as if I'd just come home from work. And froze as I found myself staring into the face from my dreams.

He was even better looking in real life than he'd been in my head. Unruly dark curls tumbled around his fine-boned face. His long body lay stretched casually across the mattress, as if he owned the place. His eyes--wide, guileless pools of blue--lit up as they met mine. He looked for all the world as if he were genuinely happy to see me.

On the far side of him lay Sara, nestled into the pillows with her eyes closed. But for the wire binding her wrists to the wrought-iron headboard, she could have been napping peacefully.

Zeph fetched up behind me where I'd stopped short. That little jolt freed my vocal cords from their paralysis. "You!" I cried, pointing an accusing finger. Then I whirled around in surprise as I realized Zeph had echoed my cry of recognition.

Twenty-Three

"You know him too?" I demanded, and again he echoed my words in perfect unison. As we stood gaping at each other, a lazy chuckle drifted over my shoulder.

"Well, now. Don't everyone rush over and hug me all at once."

"Shut up!" Zeph snarled. I'd never heard such a tone from him before. Instinct kept me planted firmly in his path, barring his entrance to the room. We couldn't afford for things to erupt into violence now. Not while Sara lay so vulnerable. I did my best to convey those thoughts to him with a meaningful look, then turned back around.

"All right, you...Abraxas, isn't it?"

He inclined his head, surprise flitting over his handsome features. "So you do know how to listen after all." He sat up and smiled at me. "But you, dear heart, may call me Brax."

"Brax, then," I repeated.

His eyes drifted shut as if my voice were music to his ears. "Mmm. Say it again."

"Don't you dare speak to her!" Zeph dodged back and forth behind me like a dog desperate to be let off the leash.

"Cut it out,"
I ordered mentally. "
Check on Sara."

"She seems well enough."
His reply came immediately, which told me he'd assessed her condition as soon as he'd laid eyes on her. Good to know he still had a little bit of focus left and hadn't gone totally alpha male on me. "
She sleeps, but it's not natural sleep."

"I haven't harmed her," Brax chimed in, reminding me he had the ability read minds in my dreams. Apparently he could in the waking world just as easily. "I have no orders to do so, either. She's merely a bit of incentive, as I'm sure you've already guessed. She's not even tied all that tightly." He patted one of her limp hands. "You can come and check on her if you'd like."

"No." Zeph slammed a restraining arm around my middle. "Don't get close to him."

Brax arched a dark brow. "You mean you haven't told him about us yet?" he asked, flashing me a reproving look that somehow still managed to be a smile. "Darling, I'm hurt."

"There is no 'us!'" I growled, shaking free of Zeph's grasp. "How could there be? I've never even been in the same room with you before."

"Oh no? Then how is it you know me, sweetness? How can you stand there and read my face like a book?"

I planted a hand on my hip. "'Cause I'm crazy, Cupcake. Everyone knows that. Sometimes I have nightmares, and apparently they sometimes come true."

"Now, now, Jandra." His brow furrowed. "Tell the truth. You haven't had a nightmare in years. No matter how many screams you've heard, no matter which pills you've swallowed, your delusions have never followed you into sleep. Have they?"

"And how in the hell would you know?"

"Because I happen to take great pride in my work," he replied with a shallow bow. Even half reclined, he managed to make the gesture look elegant.

"You work for the Society!" I spat it like a curse.

His sour expression suggested he took it as one, too. "Regrettably so, as do both of you. But I have my own stake in this as well."

"Well, bully for you. Meanwhile, what does any of this have to do with me?" Despite Zeph's involvement, despite Sara's kidnapping, the whole scenario had a distinctly personal feel to it. This...this person had invaded my home, my dreams, my very mind. Why?

He rose smoothly to his feet. "Ask yourself this, dear heart--who wards the Warden?"

"What are you babbling about?" I snapped.

"Nonsense!" Zeph growled from behind me. "You're no Warden."

Brax lifted one shoulder in an offhand shrug. "Well, not technically, no."

"And you're not a dark angel," I added.

That drew a laugh from him. "Of course not, silly," he scolded in a playful tone. "
You
are."

"What?"

"Don't listen to him, Jandra. It's all lies!"

"Excuse me?" Brax scowled at him. "I resent that remark. I've never lied to you, sweetness."

"And why should I believe you?"

"Because, to use a trite old line, you know it to be true." His gaze shifted to include both of us. "I find dishonesty utterly repulsive. I've been the target of it more than often enough to lose all pleasure in spreading it."

Something in the tone of his voice struck a chord in me, resonating with an odd pang of pity. I'd been there and done that, of course, and knew exactly what he meant. But damn it, I shouldn't be sympathizing with the enemy. I looked away, though I could still feel the weight of his gaze on me.

"Besides," he added, "I couldn't lie to that sweet face even if I wanted to. Go on, ask me anything you like."

There was no mistaking the note of challenge in his tone. Nor could I deny my own temptation, my curiosity. Maybe if I could just make sense of everything, I could figure out what I should do. "Well...how do you know so much about me?"

His smile returned, knowing and amused. "You already know the answer to
that
, don't you?"

My face warmed at the thought of all the knowledge he'd gained during our midnight trysts. "But it wasn't real. You've never been
real
before."

"Haven't I? Come, take a closer look."

I shook my head, planting my feet firmly. "I don't trust you."

He sighed. "Fair enough. I suppose it's nice to see you exercising a little forethought for a change. But you
do
know me, dear heart. Your body recognizes me, even if your mind refuses to. You know the scent of my skin, the taste of it. You'd know the strength of my hand if only you'd let me touch you...."

"Jandra, stop!" Zeph grabbed me by the shoulders, making me blink. I stood almost within Brax's reach--I'd been drifting toward him as he'd spoken, with my gaze fixed on his lower lip. Which curved devilishly upward.

Growling, I shook my head to clear it. I'd actually been sniffing the air, trying to catch a whiff of his scent. Instead I smelled a vague, nasty odor that had grown thicker as I'd advanced into the room. I opened my mouth, ready to accuse the creep of leaving poor Sara to soil herself, but Zeph tugged me sharply backward before I could speak.

I turned my eyes up to him instead. "Maybe the better question is how you two know each other."

He scowled. "He's the one from my nightmares. The one who lurks behind you, threatening you."

"Not so, nephilim. I've never threatened
her
, only your tenuous hold on her."

"All right, stop it!" I pressed my hands to Zeph's chest, blocking him again from lunging at Brax. Fighting wouldn't get us anywhere. "Let's try a different line of questioning, then. What the hell do you mean,
I'm
a dark angel? That's not even possible. I'm only twenty-four years old. I was born in Las Cruces, for God's sake. And I have never once laid eyes on the Collessium." It had taken me days to remember it, but that was the name of the old building I'd seen in Zeph's memories.

"You're confusing your terminologies, dear heart," Brax explained. "I didn't say you were nephilim. Well, I think they've worked that into one of the new politically correct terms somewhere. Neoneph, or some such." He waved a hand. "I can't keep all that nonsense straight."

"You're wrong. I know who I am." For all my bravado, a note of desperation colored my voice. I couldn't quite squelch it. "I'm a Warden," I concluded, clenching my hands into fists.

"Yes, indeed. Bred and born for a specific purpose."

"What...purpose?"

He shook his head. "Didn't I tell you this would all take far too long to explain? The bad guys aren't going to stay away forever, you know."

"You
are
the bad guy," Zeph snapped.

"Hardly. I'm the least of your concerns."

"Oh yeah?" I saw an opportunity and leapt on it. "Then prove it. If you really don't mean Sara any harm, let her go."

"Hm? All right, if it'll make you happy." Brax reached into a back pocket without hesitation, producing a pair of wire cutters. How handy, he'd come prepared. "But may I ask a small favor in return?"

I eyed him suspiciously. "How small?"

"A touch, dear heart. Just one." He extended his free hand, his palm upraised as if a wall of glass stood between us. "Face to face, wide awake--something you'll consider 'real.' Is that small enough for you?"

I opened my mouth in automatic protest, but the words died in my throat. Despite the uncertainty nagging at me, I frankly couldn't see any harm in it. He radiated sincerity. And even if he did have a trick up his sleeve, it would be a small price to pay for Sara's safety. If things went sour, I could still try to distract him long enough for Zeph to get to her.

"All right." I aimed a quick thought at Zeph--"
Keep your mouth shut, it's worth it"--
and, ignoring Brax's blatant smirk as he overheard, I stepped forward. I raised my own hand tentatively, mimicking his gesture.

Nothing mystical happened when our palms brushed. Brax slid his hand upward until our fingers could interlace, slowly closing his around mine. His skin felt warm, solid and real, just as it had when it formed out of the darkness in our last shared dream.

I looked from our joined hands to his face, finding his pale eyes hugely dilated. His lips parted and he drew a quick breath. Then, meeting my gaze deliberately, he began to draw his arm back, bringing my hand closer. Zeph made a noise of protest, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from Brax's long enough to look back at him.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he murmured. He turned his fingers in mine, stroking my palm with his thumb. "I protect you, Jandra. It's what I do."

"Liar!" Zeph started toward us, but he seemed to be moving in slow motion.

At any rate, Brax didn't hurry to complete his motion. He raised my hand to his lips, dipped his head and, without ever breaking eye contact, placed a soft kiss on my knuckles. He flashed me another of his wry smiles and released me with a whispered, "Thank you."

Then he moved back to the bed and went to work on Sara's bonds, as promised. Zeph caught me up in his arms a split second later, hauling me back against his chest. I watched Brax for a moment before looking up at him. "Do you know anything about this neoneph business?"

He shook his head, hugging me tighter. "Don't listen to anything he says. He's only trying to confuse you."

"Not so," Brax said again, though absently this time. He'd freed one of Sara's wrists and was gently massaging her hand in both of his, as if to encourage the blood flow. He repeated the process on the other side with the same deliberate care. Cupping her chin in one hand, he murmured, "Wake up now, sweet Sara. Your friends are here."

Like Sleeping Beauty rising from her cursed sleep, Sara blinked her eyes open at his command. Her gaze went soft on his face, and she smiled. "Hi."

"Sara?" I pitched my voice loud. "Are you all right?"

Brax rolled his eyes at the question, but faded back against the headboard as she looked toward me, her brow furrowing. "Jade?"

"I'm here, sweetie. Has he hurt you?"

She seemed confused by the question, looking back and forth between Brax and I. "No," she replied finally. "He didn't hurt me, but Kevin...Kevin, he...."

Fury whipped through me at the sound of the little shit's name. So Cara had been right about the mystery phone call after all. "What did Kevin do?" I demanded.

Before the question had even fully left my mouth, Sara's eyes darted away, down to the floor on the opposite side of the bed. She made a small noise, doubled over, and retched.

"What the fuck?" I glanced at Brax, who shrugged one shoulder and gestured grandly to the far side of the room, as if inviting me to have a look for myself.

I had a feeling I didn't want to see whatever was over there, but I did need to get to Sara. Short of crawling into Brax's lap, rounding the bed would be the easiest way.

I slid out of Zeph's embrace with only a little resistance on his part. Battling down my apprehension, I inched forward. "It's all right, Sara," I soothed as I went. She'd curled into a ball by now and was sobbing. "Try to calm down, okay? You're going to go home now. Cara's waiting for you, and...."

My singsong cut off as the stench I'd noticed before grew to choking intensity. Gagging, I clapped a hand over my nose and mouth. No way had that smell come just from the fresh puddle of Sara's vomit. I rose up on tiptoe, peeking over the edge of the mattress.

There on the dove gray carpet lay Kevin Lange, star of the college lacrosse team and junior wife-beater in training, with his neck bent at an impossible angle. He wouldn't be roughing up another coed anytime soon. If the broken neck hadn't been enough to do him in, he also had a gaping, softball-sized hole in the center of his chest, caked with drying blood.