Out in Blue (23 page)

“Gabrielle. You’re looking lovely, as always.”

Ginger’s mother narrowed her eyes at the demon, folded her arms, and turned to Wren. “Your murderer is going to prison, the place of fire that spawns the demons. But a spirit such as this one is only contaminated by evil, not consumed by it. The fire prisons will eventually incinerate the evil he’s accumulated in his lifetime, at which point he’ll be freed—”

“Fucking devils! All of you! I’ll kill you—” The poacher ranted.

Gabrielle sighed and rubbed her head. “Some toil in the prisons longer than others. He enjoyed tearing you apart while you suffered. He’s looking at a couple thousand years until his spirit is pure again.”

Wren lifted his eyebrows. “Evil can be
burned
?”

“With demon fire, yes. Demons are the wardens of the prisons. They keep the fire burning.” She nodded toward Balam.

Balam stopped in front of the poacher and the flames arched high into the air. The poacher screeched and thrashed.

“You’ll thank me one day.” Balam reached out and grasped the human’s arm.

“Fuck you—” A burst of flames cut the poacher off. Squinting, Wren covered his eyes.

The light faded a moment later. Wren blinked and dropped his arm. The crowd of archangels stood in silence around an empty clearing.

“Where…” Wren inspected the ground. No burn marks or footprints marred the fallen leaves.

“The fire prisons are in the world we come from. Demons were born of the fire. Archangels were born from the air itself. The spirit realm. Heaven and Hell. We simply call it
home
.”

Wren rubbed his temples.

“You’ll understand better when you see it.”

“How can I be getting a headache if I’m dead?”

“Wren.” Gabrielle touched his arm. “You’re not dead. I’m so sorry you suffered, but archangels are creatures of light and air, not material beings of earth. This is your true self.”

Wren paced the cliff edge, rubbing his sternum, the remains of the mating bond an ache deep in his chest. He flicked his wings, causing the shadows of nearby trees to dance. Separated by death, he and Gin should no longer have a connection through the mating bonds. Maybe instinct was enough. Icy fingers clawed at his chest and though he no longer had a heartbeat, a thrumming pulse beat in his ears. Ginger’s pulse; he heard it.

“Gin…Gin is afraid.”

Gabrielle’s silver eyes flared and she scanned the valley below. She extended her wings and stepped to the cliff edge. “Follow me.”

Chapter Twenty-six

Ginger stopped running, leaned forward, and braced her hands on her knees. She took deep, heavy breaths through her mouth. The forest surrounded her, silent save for the birds and chipmunks and the rushing water of the river.

“Wren?” she called out for what must have been the thousandth time, her throat sore.

A squirrel took off through the underbrush.

Ginger sighed and stared down at her feet, sore and bleeding from running through the woods. She stepped down the short bank into the river, which she had been following. The frigid water soothed the cuts on her soles. Shivering, she climbed back up to solid ground and began walking in the direction of the colony.

“Wren!” she shouted again, refusing to give up. He’d find her. If the dead moved on to another place, he’d at least pause to say goodbye. She could beg him to stay.

Cold slammed into her and she staggered. Rubbing her arms, she turned full circle, giddy as hope swelled in her chest. “Wren! Are you there?”

The temperature dropped further and violent shivers shook Ginger’s body. “Wren?”

“
No
.”

The single word chilled her more than her psychic talent. She turned toward the smug, tenor voice, her mouth dry as sandpaper. “Thornton Bailey.”

A shadow moved on the forest floor, taking an upright form of a man. As if made of tinted glass, Thornton’s spirit lacked the defined features and colors that had given a semblance of life to Lark’s transparent figure. Standing there in perfect stillness, staring at her, Thornton could have been a translucent, black ice sculpture. If she hadn’t known of all the horrendous acts he’d committed, she’d call the apparition beautiful.

Ginger straightened her spine and lifted her chin. “What do you want?”

Thornton didn’t move or speak. He stared at her, the tiniest lift to the corners of his mouth.

She met his dark gaze for a long moment and took a step back, keeping her chin high and her shoulders set. “You can’t hurt me. You’re a spirit. An immaterial ghost. You should accept that and move on to Hell, where you belong.”

He simply stared.

Summoning all her confidence, she turned on her heel and walked away, following the river toward the colony. After fifty paces, she glanced over her shoulder.

Thornton had followed her. She stopped and glared in his direction. He stood twenty feet away and made no move to encroach further.

“What do you want?”

Silence, but his black eyes bored into her.

She turned away again and began to walk, but her feet felt heavy, like she was wading through sand. The fatigue, the energy drain from the psychic talent. Thornton needed to leave soon or she’d expand too much energy and die—

Ginger froze mid step. She glanced over her shoulder and met Thornton’s gaze. A grin stretched across his face.

He knew.

Oh,
fuck
.

For a brief moment, she considered curling up on the ground and letting him drain the life out of her. If she died, she could be with Wren. But as if it were moving on its own, her hand lifted and touched her low belly.

Ginger launched into a sprint. She tore through the underbrush as fast as she could go, ignoring the growing fatigue and the branches that clawed her skin. But Thornton followed, and her body continued to weaken. Focusing her thoughts on the twins, she ordered her legs to keep moving, to move faster.

Though it would never happen, she pictured Wren holding the infants, his wings draped forward, protective shields that guarded them from all threats. In her vision, she wrapped her arms around the three of them and sought Wren’s lips for a long, deep kiss.

An exposed root caught her foot and she slammed into the ground. Pain erupted from her ankle and the fatigue held her body down like an invisible lead boot. Humoring the need to keep trying, she dragged herself across the ground with her hands.

Just keeping moving
, she told herself.

Ginger spotted Thornton amongst the trees, still grinning. He stepped forward and strolled in a lazy circle around her. She reached a steep incline and, unable to summon the physical strength to ascend the obstacle, dropped her head and shut her eyes.

A furious snarl reached her ears. She forced her eyelids open and focused her blurry vision on Thornton. He crouched in a fighting stance, his back to her, growling and cursing. Then, another voice filled the air.

“Get away from her. Now!
”

Wren. Ginger craned her neck, seeking the source of her mate’s voice. Light illuminated the forest, banishing all the shadows except Thornton. She squinted from the glare. Thornton howled as if acid had been thrown in his face.

“I said
now
!” Wren stepped into Ginger’s line of sight and she sucked in a sharp breath. Wren appeared to be made of light, and looking at him hurt her eyes. His extended wings, brighter still, stretched so far to either side of him that she couldn’t see their tips through the thick trees.

But the glow came from all directions. Ginger turned her head. Several other archangels stood amongst the trees. One of them met her gaze. Recognizing Gabrielle from the photos, Ginger’s heart kicked into high gear.

“Mom?” she whispered.

“It’s all right, sweetie.” Her mother smiled.

Wren stepped closer to Thornton, eliciting more curses. Thornton shielded his eyes and took a single step back.

Wren spoke slowly, growling each word. “Get away. Now.”

“Wren…” Ginger fought the suffocating fatigue, but found it increasingly difficult to draw breath, much less stay awake.

Wren met her gaze, panic in his eyes, and seized Thornton by the collar. He lifted the spirit and threw him through the trees. The other archangels surrounded Thornton, but Wren knelt at Ginger’s side.

“Gin-love,” he said, touching her face. She felt nothing, but the sight of his fingers on her skin calmed her.

But Wren, as a spirit, drew energy from her, too. The fatigue won and Ginger let out one last exhale—

Energizing heat rushed into her body, shocking her like a jolt of electricity. She sucked in air and lifted her eyelids. Staring into Wren’s glowing face and his silvery eyes, she realized he leaned over her in a kiss.

Ginger didn’t feel his lips or taste his mouth, but vitality rushed to every corner of her body.

“Gin-love.” He pulled back an inch. “Don’t worry. Thornton won’t be back. Please tell my father, Thornton will know justice for all that he’s done.”

“Wren, wait.” Ginger sat up as he backed away.

Sadness filled his smile. “I need to go. But I will come back. I promise.”

In the distance, Thornton screamed. Wren turned and disappeared.

§

Wren walked away from Ginger. Had he just lied to her? He’d yet to discuss his options with Gabrielle, but he suspected he had few.

“I have to leave her, don’t I?” He spoke the question as a statement, as he joined the other archangels. Gabrielle and one other held Thornton down.

Gabrielle cocked her head. Her hair spilled over her shoulder. “We need to deal with Thornton. We’ll talk after.” She wrenched the spirit to his feet, his hands bound with a strange, metallic cord, and pushed him toward Wren. “You deserve to do the honors, if you wish.”

“Fuck you,” Thornton spat the words at her.

She narrowed her eyes at him and turned to Wren. “This spirit is nothing like the poacher Balam carted off earlier. ‘Evil incarnate’ is the only way to describe him. Consigning him to the fire prisons will end his existence. No redemption awaits him.”

Thornton just laughed.

Wren grasped the fucker by the arms. “Show me the way,” he said to Gabrielle.

Gabrielle grinned and touched his arm.

Wren felt the lurching pull of being transported by Gabrielle’s will to another location. He blinked and the forest vanished, replaced by the ocean and a rocky beach. Waves crashed against the shore and heavy mist pelted his face.

Staring over Wren’s shoulder, Thornton started laughing again, the sound of insanity. Wren turned and gazed inland.

A forest fire raged over the land, framing the trees and cliffs. Staring at the inferno, it took Wren a moment to realize the trees resisted the flames. Green leaves persisted under the assault. Birds flew from tree to tree. A deer darted into the blaze, not out.

“Demon fire,” Gabrielle said, as she began walking toward the forest. “It will not hurt us. This is the island of the demons, their home and the location of the prisons.”

Wren followed, noting the other archangels had vanished. Alone with Ginger’s mother, he pulled Thornton along. The human spirit struggled and still flinched from the light Wren and Gabrielle produced. The flames increased Thornton’s distress. As soon as they stepped off the beach into the flaming woods, he started screaming.

“Despite who he is and what he’s done, we should be quick about this. Letting him suffer is below us.” Gabrielle quickened her pace.

The inferno caused Wren no discomfort and his eyes adjusted to the intense light. They hurried through a small village, buildings and landscaping unaffected by the omnipresent blaze. Dozens of demons crowded the street, moving out of the way as Wren passed. They hissed and growled at Thornton, baring their fangs.

“The entrance to the prisons is just ahead.” Gabrielle nodded to demons as she passed.

They reached the other end of the village, marked by thick, dark evergreens. A cool, pleasant breeze fanned Wren’s skin. Thornton squirmed and bleated. Wren spoke in the poacher’s ear. “This will be over for you faster than it was over for my mother.”

“Here.” Gabrielle stopped in front of a simple stone hut. Balam stood in the open doorway, his arms folded.

“Another one? Busy day.” Balam inspected Wren’s prisoner and recoiled, hissing. “Ah, Thornton Bailey. You’re very late.”

“Come to think of it, why has he been running amok for the last eighteen years?” Wren narrowed his eyes at Gabrielle. “
Why
wasn’t he brought here after I killed him?”

Gabrielle frowned. “Most spirits are compelled to cross over upon their deaths, and we deal with the few who require cleansing in the fire prisons. But not only did Thornton resist crossing over, by the time his existence came to our attention, he had already stolen Lark’s body. Safe in a mortal body, we couldn’t touch him.”

Wren cursed and stepped toward the door to the hut. Inside, the flames burned a deeper red. For the first time since stepping into the inferno, an uncomfortable heat swamped Wren.

“That’s as far as you can go,” Balam said, stopping Wren at the threshold. “The flames in there mean business. Even I can only stand it for minutes at a time. Just give him a good shove and be done with it—”

“Wait!” a female voice shouted.

Wren pivoted toward the familiar voice. “
Mother?
”

Kora appeared from the direction of the village, holding up the skirt of her yellow sundress as she ran. She reached the hut and approached Wren, her gaze locked on Thornton, her eyes lit with fury.

Bailey laughed. “Look at you, bitch. You’re in one piece again.”

Kora lifted a hand and smacked Thornton across the face so hard, Wren felt the reverberation in the human’s arms. Then she stepped back, folded her arms, and nodded. “Be done with it.”

Wren shoved Thornton, who had burst out laughing again, into the hut. The scarlet flames flared and Thornton’s voice silenced. Squinting into the red light and the heat, Wren saw no sign of the monster who’d plagued his family for so long.

“It’s done.” Balam gave a lazy salute, shut the door to the hut, and strode off toward the village.