Bound by Time (12 page)

Damien crossed his arms on the island top. “When he was brought before Timotheus, Januarius saw the demon within the man and knew the evil must be stopped; however, Xapar is an ancient demon and very powerful. Januarius didn’t have the strength to banish him. Not all blessed with the powers are blessed with the same amount. When it came time Januarius had already made his decision, and he faced the demon without fear, which is essential when dealing with Xapar. An upper level demon can and will use even the smallest shred of fear against you.”

“What did Januarius do?” Isobel whispered.

“As he died, he pulled Xapar from Timotheus and trapped the demon within his own body.”

Isobel’s skin crawled at the thought.

Damien continued, his eyes unfocused as he looked back into the past. “Though the demon was gone, Timotheus was still quite mad, and he continued on the path the demon had set him on. Eusebia watched the final blow befall Januarius and it was indeed she who gathered the vials of blood. Though she actually gathered five, not just the two recorded by history. There was a window she had made of stained glass a year or so before, perfectly round and subtly designed with a blending of symbols. It was one of the first windows made with stained glass, though history places the oldest stained glass windows in Germany. She gave it to the chapel of Naples at the time.

“Eusebia knew she didn’t have the power to banish the demon. She also knew Saint Januarius’ body wouldn’t be able to hold the demon imprisoned long. Eusebia used one vial of the blood to pull the demon from Januarius and sealed him in the window. She buried another vial at the base of the chapel wall where the powerful blood of Januarius would keep Xapar from reaching out from his prison.”

Damien looked at her, and Isobel knew her part in this was coming. “Eusebia knew that one day a channel, which is what you are, would be born with enough power to banish Xapar. She felt secure in where she had sealed him. Between the power of the blood, both in the sealing and in the vial buried beneath the wall, Xapar should have been thoroughly trapped.”

“But he wasn’t,” Isobel said, understanding dawning. She was the one with the power to banish Xapar. She shied away from the idea. Rihanna had died facing a demon.

“It wasn’t the fault of the seal or the blood,” Damien said. “The original chapel came down, and the window survived. Because of Eusebia, it can’t be broken. Another chapel was built in the sixth century and though the blood was shifted and moved, it was still close enough that its power held Xapar. Still another chapel, the
Cattedrale di San Gennaro,
was built on top of the ruins of that chapel. Again the window was used. Eusebia’s work held strong.”

Isobel rubbed her forehead. “I’m guessing the window didn’t stay there.”

“No, it didn’t.” Damien studied her for a moment. “Would you like me to order some food? I noticed it’s afternoon, and since you look like you just woke up you are probably hungry.”

Isobel nodded. It felt like a lifetime ago since she woke up and Damien had saved her. “Surprisingly enough, I’m hungry. You’d think all of this would make me lose my appetite.”

Damien chuckled and pulled out his phone. “What would you like?”

“Something simple, like pizza. Just no olives. I can’t stand black olives.”

He smiled as he scrolled through his contact list. “No olives it is.”

Isobel raised an eyebrow. “You have a pizza delivery in your contact list?”

“I don’t always like to cook you know.” He was pleased to see her taking everything so well. If only she would embrace her innate power as easily.

“After we eat, I’m getting a shower. I can’t believe I’m still walking around in my night clothes at this time of day.

Damien appraised the lightweight shorts and the T-shirt that did little to hide what was underneath. “I don’t mind it.”

As he turned to talk into the phone, Isobel felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. She wasn’t even wearing a bra and though she wasn’t big in that department, she wasn’t small either. Isobel looked up at his muscular back and gasped. Two folded black wings covered it like tattoos from the top of his broad shoulders to the small of his back. The most realistic tattoos she had ever seen. The light in the kitchen almost simmered off the dark feathers as the muscles in his back shifted. Memories tickled her mind, but though she strained to see them, they wouldn’t come.

He tapped the screen and looked up at her, enchanted by the soft, pink glow that infused her cheeks. “The pizza will be here in about half an hour.” Damien took in her wide eyes and closed his own for a moment. Damn. He hoped she was ready for this.

“What are those?” she whispered. “I’ve never seen tattoos like that before.”

Damien opened his eyes. “They are part of what I am.”

“And what are you?” her voice trembled, and she clasped her hands together so tight her knuckles turned white as if she expected something awful.

He walked around the island to her, gently laying his hand over hers. “I am part of an ancient order. Born again and again over time, we come into our powers and memories of our past lives around the age of sixteen. We are always raised by another member of the order so we are prepared for it when it comes.”

Isobel stared at him with wide eyes. “What kind of order? What do you do?”

“A very old order. We protect and help defend against demons.”

“Demons. So…” Isobel tried to sort through the possibilities. “Like a guardian angel?” He certainly didn’t look like what she thought a guardian angel would look like. There was a hardness to him. Edges made rough by too much experience with darkness. Angels were supposed to be soft and light weren’t they? Damien was a predator hunting predators.

“We aren’t your normal guardian angel. Though there are those too. Our task is much darker and far more dangerous both to us and to those under our protection. Actual guardian angels never have to die for their charges. We have different rules as well.”

Isobel unclenched her fingers and turned them to take his hand. She traced the lines on his palm, noticing that Damien’s lifeline was splintered in numerous places. Like her own. Isobel’s lifeline had unnerved Amelia. “How are they different?”

He shrugged. “Because of the dangers we face, dark angels are allowed more freedom. We can fall in love, which can be both a blessing and a curse at the same time. Guardian angels aren’t allowed to fall in love. They have multiple charges at once. It would compromise the others if the angel cared too much for one of them. They are also restricted on what they can do to protect their charges. Dark angels are allowed to do anything and everything within their power to protect their channels. In a back alley, a guardian angel can try to scare away or block an attacker from reaching his charge. A dark angel can end the attacker’s life if need be.”

Dark angels. It sounded like something that should come from hell. Like most things, it wasn’t what it seemed. “How many charges do dark angels have?”

“We don’t have charges. We have channels. And just one.” Damien smiled. “Aiden watched over you too once he became a free agent. He was a good man.” He brushed her hair over her shoulder. “I have always been born no more than a handful of years before you. Our souls have always traveled life together when we were in the world at the same time. Those times I was born into the world and you weren’t it was very lonely being a free agent.”

“What did you mean Aiden
was
a good man?”

“Aiden has passed on like we all do.”

“Oh, Damien. I’m so sorry.” Tears welled in Isobel’s eyes as she thought of the old man who had invited her to dinner and had been so nice to her the night before.

“Do not grieve for him.” Damien smiled. “He is an old friend I will see again the next time we are brought to this world. There is no sadness in the passing of a dark angel.”

“Do angels have funerals, or do you make other arrangements?”

“When our spirits go to wait, our bodies become dust. There is nothing to bury.”

The doorbell rang and Damien raised an eyebrow. “That was quicker than I thought it would be.”

Isobel watched as he walked to the door digging cash out of his pocket. The wing tattoos on his back rippled and moved, the feathers almost seeming to flutter.

They sat on the couch in the family room to eat. Occasionally, Isobel stole glances at the ceiling. Of course, Damien wasn’t up there dead and bleeding. No more than there had been a dead man in her kitchen or her own self swinging by the neck from a rope. Still, she remembered the feel of the blood dripping down on her clearly.

Damien ate his pizza without paying much attention to it, or to the show flashing across the screen on the television. Instead, he watched her out of the corner of his eye, aware of every movement. He finished eating and washed it down with water.

After the fifth time she looked at the ceiling, he glanced up to see what interested her so much. Nothing. There was nothing up there, not even a fly. “What do you find on the ceiling that interests you so?”

Isobel gazed at her food for a long moment. She hadn’t told him that part. “When I woke up there was blood dripping on my face. It was warm and wet. I could feel it as easily as I do this pizza in my hand. You…you were pinned to the ceiling by arrows.”

When she finally looked up, the devastating loss in her eyes took him by surprise. Damien remembered that day, the desperate and futile attempt to reach Isobel before they hung her, the pain of each arrow hitting him.

Damien reached out and stroked her cheek. “That was several lifetimes ago. What you saw today wasn’t real. It was Xapar getting inside your head and playing with what he found there.”

Isobel nodded and slowly set her pizza into the box. “I know.” She took a long drink of her soda. “But it felt real. It still feels real, especially now that I can remember that day. How is it that Xapar can make me remember?”

“He isn’t making you remember. His proximity is bringing your power to the surface. With that comes your memories. Xapar can’t make you remember, he can only use what is already there. What he’s doing is amplifying those memories as they return, making them feel real to you at the same time he magnifies your fear back at you.”

Isobel stared at the floor, her desire to leave the house rising once again. “Can we leave?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere. Your house or someplace far from here.”

Damien gathered Isobel into his arms and leaned back, pulling her with him until he reclined against the edge of the corner cushion. Isobel snuggled into him. Damien bent his head and breathed in the scent of her hair, thankful for the chance to love her again. “My house would offer no comfort. I felt the energy last night. He can reach you there. The seal weakens daily and as it does his power grows. Now that he has found your mind, there is nowhere you can go that he will not be able to reach. Beyond that, once the seal breaks, there is much he can do. You would condemn the lives of too many to count if you were to try and turn your back on this. You are the only one who can do this.”

So she really was trapped here. In her heart, Isobel knew she couldn’t walk away. Enough memories had returned that she knew she’d always been ready for this. And really, what would be the point of running if the demon could reach her anywhere now?

Isobel lay against his chest and closed her eyes, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. As his hand stroked over her hair, she became keenly aware of the heat from his bare skin, of the flat, hard plane of his stomach and the muscles of his arms. Warmth curled into her stomach as her body responded to his closeness, to the familiarity it had recognized even before her mind did.

Damien crooked a finger under her chin and urged her face toward his. The hardness in his eyes softened as he tenderly brushed a strand of hair away from her face.
“Meae deliciae.”
His deep, husky voice made her ache with emotion as he called her “my love” again. Deep in her soul she remembered lifetimes where he had always called her “
meae deliciae.”

Her body reacted the moment his lips touched hers. Isobel shifted and tangled the fingers of both hands into his hair as his tongue slipped past her lips, teasing and tasting. She pressed against him as the warmth in her stomach spread to the rest of her body.

Damien’s hands went around her back, pulling her closer as they rolled onto their sides. He trailed kisses down her neck, and every moment of every time like this shared together with him combined with the present. Isobel ran her hands over his back, feeling the raised relief of the tattoos. He was hers; he would always be hers.