Angel's Curse (11 page)

“Michael is dead,
Raphael
is in control,” he looked up at me and I saw his eyes were flaming red and full of hate, “and I have been cast out.”

I shook my head slowly from side to side, the shock draining the blood from my face. “No, it can’t be.”

Danny was on me in a flash, tearing and biting at my flesh, snarling like a rabid animal.

“
Stinkin’ fuckin’ angel!
” he yelled. “
Stinkin’ fuckin’ angel. Look what you’ve done to me!
”

He gripped me tightly so that if I decided to disappear he’d be right there with me. He knew all of my tricks.

“
Oh god, oh god, help me please!
” I called out in despair.

“Typical unbeliever,” Danny sneered, tilting his head from side to side. “Always hedging your bets at the end.”

I reached out for his throat and my hand closed around it, but my fingers wouldn’t latch onto him. All I could do was crush his throat and as I squeezed he let out a guttural snarl. I let my hand drop. I couldn’t kill him. He tore at me relentlessly and continued to bite. The wounds weren’t healing as quickly now and I was losing a lot of blood. He tore at my throat with his teeth and before he could tear out my vocal chords I screamed into the night.

“
Raphael! A curse upon you!
”

I woke up in a cold sweat. Danny still slept soundly. I doubted he would still be asleep if he’d joined my dream and lived through the nightmare with me. There were some dreams I was glad he didn’t see.

I’ve got to eat,
I thought.

I dressed silently and, taking Death and my good luck charm, left the cottage to hunt on my own. I was only planning on going out for a few hours. With any luck I’d be back before Danny was awake.

9.
A Selfish Bitch

I was going to be careful. I had to be. I stayed in the lights for a few minutes while I strapped Death and my lucky charm onto my arms. When I emerged at the other side of the lights I was on the small rocky outcrop, large enough for only three people. Danny and I had kept watch from here, less than a hundred metres from the corridor, to witness the angels torturing vampires and werewolves.

My vision ranged out, not focusing on anything in particular, and I scanned the area — a three-sixty sweep — looking for movement. In the north, Amrael’s territory, I saw a sole figure running at a leisurely pace. Here was my first target of the day.

I continued to watch for a little longer and transported to a spot a few kilometres in front of where I thought my quarry was headed, and waited, leaning against a tree. Was there any point in altering my scent? Drake thought I smelled different now. Did he still think I was alive, given that none of his vampires had mysteriously disappeared in almost seven weeks? Should I keep up the charade? I knew this was not Drake though. It wasn’t a scent I recognised, but as the forest was used as a training ground I imagined there would be a high turnover of vampires who came to this region.

What the hell,
I thought,
let him smell something sweet before he dies. I’m not a cold, heartless bitch after all. I’d need to be all vampire for that!

I had my back to him, but I heard him, a few hundred metres back, slow down almost to a walk.

“Hey there!” he yelled out.

I ignored him and tapped my foot and hands against the tree, the old street hooker in me shining through. If he’d been around he’d know what it meant.

He walked up to my side of the tree and put his hands on the trunk, on either side of my shoulders and leaned in, smiling.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” he said, leaning in further to breathe in the aroma. “You new?”

“Yes and no,” I purred, writhing seductively against the tree. “Are you looking for a bit of fun?”

“Anytime you’re ready honey,” he said, licking my neck.

Ewww! That was
too
gross.

I tugged at his shirt, pulling it out of his jeans and ran my fingers over his chest before clamping my hands down.

“Ah,” I said. “Now that’s more like it!”

I pushed back on him and straightened my arms, keeping him at a safe distance. It took him a while to realise what was happening, and when he did I pulled him to me and caressed his neck with my mouth, tasting the sweetness of his blood — all thoughts of my own safety gone. He was too shocked to resist. Either he hadn’t heard about me, hadn’t believed the stories, or rumour had it I was dead. It felt so good to eat again I let me hands and lips stay on his body, even when all the blood had gone, until the head rush disappeared.

“He was
so
sweet,” I mumbled. “A girl could drown in something that tastes
that
good.”

I wondered why some tasted sweeter than others, and why he tasted the sweetest yet. Could it have something to do with what he was anticipating was going to happen? Was he newly changed, or a vintage year? Maybe I should start keeping track of my kills — age when they were changed, gender, emotional state at the time — the sorts of things that would be easy to identify.

It was such an easy kill, a good way to start out the day and build up my strength. I left the body where it was and transported to the treetops to look for others. There were quite a few couples, and large groups — not all the traditional male and female variety — engaging in sexual acts and the sickening biting they derived so much pleasure from. They were all far enough away from each other to not know where the rest were.
Must be something in the air,
I thought.
Good for me though, even if I want to puke — easy pickings.

I spent at least three hours picking off the couples — the easiest targets. The threesomes and larger groups I left alone. Why tempt fate when I’d only just regained my strength?

Danny would probably be awake by now and wondering where I was. It was early when I left, but that didn’t mean he’d sleep away all of the morning. I was buzzing from the blood, on the sort of high cocaine used to give me, only better — no withdrawals, no side effects. Maybe Danny would be up for a bit of tangoing, in or out of bed.

I transported back to the cottage, feeling intoxicated, and barely remembered to alter my scent to something more appealing to Danny.

“Hi,
honey,
I’m home!” I yelled out.

The scene inside the cottage was alarming and disturbing. Something had taken place while I’d been gone. It looked like a bear had broken in and gone on the rampage. The couch in the living room was torn up, the windows and coffee table broken. I headed into my room and found the bed and pillows had been ripped apart, as had all my clothes. The mirror in the bathroom had been smashed, the bath upended and the shower rosettes and taps pulled from the wall. Holes had been punched through the solid walls. Something stronger than a bear had done this.

I ran to the library. The books had been gathered into two piles — one on each couch — and set alight. They still smouldered and smoked. Not a single one remained intact. Even Danny’s prized scriptures that were centuries old. The bookcases had been smashed into kindling.

Danny must have transported to safety when this had begun, unless he was in the ballroom.

“Please, God, let it be empty,” I said as I climbed the stairs two at a time.

All the mirrors had been smashed, the chandeliers pulled from the ceiling and the pots upended and strewn around the floor. Someone had taken to the parquetry with an axe and it saddened me that such beauty had been destroyed. Some of the busts had been pulverised into piles of marble dust. Others had been used to punch holes through the niches and were broken beyond repair — for me at least.

“Thank you, thank you,” I mumbled as I ran back down the stairs.

How had the garden faired? I walked through the doorway, the front door pulled from its hinges and lying on the ground. Everything was gone — burnt, trampled or pulled out. I headed to the back of the house and was not prepared for what I saw — a giant cross, constructed from the dead wood of the trees in the forest, rose a little over two metres from the ground. Why would someone erect a cross here?

I walked around to the other side of the cross and dropped to me knees — Danny had been tied to it, bloodied and bruised. He had been crucified! Danny raised his head to look at me.

“
Dear god, no!
” I yelled.

“Somehow Raphael found the cottage,” Danny whispered, his voice raspy. “I’m only grateful you weren’t here when they came.”

Oh god, my nightmare. I had screamed out Raphael’s name. What if it wasn’t only in my dream that I’d yelled his name? I had been known to talk in my sleep.

“I have to get you down and away from here.” I said, and rose to untie the bonds around his feet first.

This wasn’t any rope I’d seen before, and I’d seen rope — bondage had been a favourite of the preacher. I tugged at the knot to no avail. I unsheathed Death and tried to cut through it, but I may as well have been using a butter knife for what it was worth. In frustration I bit the rope.

“
Stop,
” Danny cried out, and I sat back on my knees, his cry distressing me, “stop. You don’t understand. Once bound the ties can only be unbound by the one who bound them. To struggle or to try and remove them only makes them restrict faster. This is
not
like it was for Christ. I will
not
be going to heaven. Raphael is making an example out of me for the other angels. When all the bindings have cut through my flesh I will be cast out, an angel no more.”

I stood up and reached out my hand to touch his cheek. It was still warm. I checked the bindings on his wrists — they had barely cut into his flesh. We still had time to work out what to do, how I could save him.

“Can’t I transport you away?” I asked.

“I am bound to this cross as the moon is bound to the earth.”

“Then I’ll change the orbit of moon if I have to!” I yelled in frustration. “Don’t give up Danny, there
must
be a way.”

“There is,” he said.

I looked into his eyes. I wanted to see hope there. All I saw was sadness.

“I’ll do anything to save you, Danny. Tell me!”

“Kill me.”

I reeled back from the shock of those two words, a shiver running up and down the length of my spine. It was not what I was expecting him to say. Danny was a resourceful angel. I thought he’d find a way, not give up so easily.

I shook my head and said, “
Anything but that!
”

“Helena, remember what you once told me about dreams?”

I nodded. I remembered every single word I’d ever muttered to him.

“Sometimes you have to learn to let go,” he said, and for a brief moment I saw happiness in his eyes.

“Please don’t ask me to, I can’t,” I cried.

“Would you rather
condemn me
to the life of a demon?” He wasn’t angry at me, only sad again.

“Yes,” I whispered, “if it meant you didn’t have to die.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking.
Please,
” he begged.

“No,
you
don’t know what you’re asking!” I yelled bitterly. “I won’t do it! I don’t care if you think I’m a selfish bitch, you can’t make me do it. I’d be as bad as the rest of them.”

My heart felt like it was going to burst from the aching and pain, like a hot knife, spearing it through. How can one soul endure such pain?

“Helena, I have lived a long life and am ready to die. I am
not
ready to become a demon. The past ten months, since you came into my life, have been the happiest for me. You have given so much and asked little in return. It pains me that I must ask you to keep giving of yourself, but there
is
no other way.”

“No,” I yelled, and transported away.

I was in the forest, a few hundred metres from the cottage. Danny could no longer see me, but if I let me eyes lose focus I could see him clearly, bound as he was to the cross. I could watch what happened from here and he, not knowing I could see him, wouldn’t know I was still close by. If I wasn’t there in front of him, he wouldn’t call out beseeching me to end his life and effectively drive a knife through my own heart.

Had it really been ten months?
I thought.

I grabbed handfuls of hair and clenched my fists, pulling until I could feel the roots protesting. I was going crazy, out of my mind. It had to be another nightmare, and yet I knew it was true, that it was real and it was happening now. Butterflies were now fluttering in my stomach — instead of the garden — and I felt sick. My heart continued to ache. I wanted to cut myself, to take the focus off my stomach and heart, but I’d heal too quickly for it to make a difference.

I stopped thinking about the aching and fluttering to concentrate on the task at hand. Danny wasn’t going anywhere for a while. I had time. Should I seek out Drake and ask for his help? Being so old he might know of a way, though I’d forgotten that Drake thought Danny was dead and may think it was a trap. Not only that, if he wasn’t at the temple I’d waste precious hours trying to find him, only to end up in the middle of a fight anyway. Oh, I’d
like
a good fight now, but with Raphael rather than Drake. I didn’t care that angels’ blood tasted disgusting. I’d kill him
and
enjoy it!