Her Black Wings (The Dark Amulet Series Book 1) (28 page)

CHAPTER

SEVENTY-SIX

Amalya

Amalya’s head hurt. Her surroundings fuzzed in and out. She fought her way back from the land of unconsciousness.

Brandon’s hand shook, and if he wasn’t careful his finger would slip.

“Brandon, fight this,” she whispered, hoping he would hear her. Montgomery groaned, twisting and bucking against his ropes. The barrel slid off his head.

“Oomph.” Amalya got acquainted with the floor, tossed aside by Aba’s beast. A familiar sharp, shooting pain stemming from one wing weakened her. She lay sprawled, her heart racing.

Aba raised his hands above his head. A blue flamed sword, the one he’d conjured up in Netherworld, materialized. He twirled the large blade over his head and ended the drama with both hands on the hilt.

She lost sight of Aba as he went around and came up behind her, yanking her torso off the cold cement by her hair.

“Ow!” With her neck unprotected, she knew what to expect. She closed her eyes and prayed.
Elliott…

Someone screamed. Her eyes snapped opened. She couldn’t tell who. On his knees, Brandon rested his ass on the heels of his shoes, face in his palms. The gun was on the floor.

Montgomery looked too still, but the gun hadn’t gone off. The man’s lips moved and he let go a wail. Despite the blood stains, his face paled. A bright beam like someone switched on a flashlight lit the man’s face and glinted off his eyes. She couldn’t turn her head to see the light’s source.

Amalya’s upper body slammed back down. Her chin banged onto the floor, causing her teeth to grit. Using her forearms, she dragged herself out from underneath Aba. She screamed as he pinned her legs. Fierce kicking and jerking freed her. He hadn’t trapped her, he’d fallen on her.

“Run, Amalya! Get out of here!”

Elliott! What do you know, praying worked.

She wasn’t leaving. Her angel was no match for the Devil by himself. She struggled to her knees and managed to turn herself around, and out of the way, still close enough to jump in if needed.

Aba reared up and roared. A red flame burned a hole just left of the center of his chest. Elliott, with an expression of determination, withdrew his sword and shoved Aba to the floor with a boot to the ass. The beast grunted. He wasn’t dead, of course, but defeated. Had they won? Was she free now? She wasn’t sure if she dare believe—

Her mouth opened wide and she projectile vomited, clear gooey liquid followed by charcoal tasting and smelling black mist. With her diaphragm and esophagus still in Taint-ridding convulsions, Amalya could only watch what happened next.

Clink.
Metal scrapped the bare cement floor.
Whoosh!
The blue flamed sword re-ignited.

“Noooo! I won’t go back to Hell!”

Elliott gasped. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. Damien stood behind her angel with Aba’s sword in his hands, blood dripping from the blade. The flame no longer burned. Elliott fell to his knees, clutching his chest.

“No! What’ve you done? No…” Not caring about her broken wing or that Damien still held the sword, Amalya lunged for Elliott. When she reached him, she rolled him over. Hovering over his face she kissed his cheeks, his lips. “D-Don’t…l-leave me…I-I need you.” Her bottom lip quivered making it difficult to speak. “Oh God…please…”

“Oh, God, please. My ass,” Aba mocked as he stood up, the hole in his chest now a smoldering wound. “Gimme that.” He swiped the sword out of Damien’s hands. “Oh, and Amalya, tell Deus, he can take my dollar and shove it up his—”

“Go to H-Hell!” she yelled.

“Gladly. Well,
Reed
, I think the Void is too good for you now.”

“No. No. N—” The rest of the protest was cut off. The Devil and his soul disappeared in a puff of smoke.

CHAPTER

SEVENTY-SEVEN

Amalya

Amalya placed her hand over one of Elliott’s. Blood puddled beneath him from his stab wound. There was no way to stop the massive blood loss.

Montgomery and Brandon remained in the same spots as before, watching the angel die.

Elliott coughed, turning his body to the side before blood could spurt out of his mouth and into her face. His body racked as he hacked. After exhausting himself, he rolled onto his back again.

“Amalya,” he wheezed, “I…”

“Don’t try to talk. It’s okay.” Her eyes searched his face—those hauntingly beautiful eyes still shiny despite the agony.

There were footsteps on the stairs. Amalya curled her body around her angel.

Max stepped off the last riser. Without a word, he squatted beside her and Elliott, knees touching the floor. Her angel stuck his hand out and Max grasped the offering. “Right here, Redeemer.” He smoothed Elliott’s hair off his face.

“Are you just going to sit there or are you going to do something?” Amalya pleaded.

“What is it that you want me to do?” Max asked.

“Aren’t you a Healer? Heal him.”

He shook his head. His lopsided smile pissed her off.

“Why not?”

“I can’t heal a wound from a blue flamed sword.”

“What if I told you it wasn’t from—”

“It is. I know these wounds.”

Elliott let out a whimper and swallowed hard. “S-S-Sorry…wanted…to t-tell you…”

“Tell me what?” She couldn’t breathe. Someone had taken all the air out of the room. A new sheen of sweat moistened her brow.

“Y-you’re not s-stupid.” Elliott’s eyes closed for the last time. He could no longer exist in this realm. She knew in her heart he’d be stricken.

I love you too.
“You’re not stupid either,” she gushed, hoping he could still hear.

Elliott took a last breath.

No!

White light shot out from every available opening—ears, mouth, stab wound—encompassing his entire body in seconds. He became light. Then the illumination faded into nothing.

Her mouth felt like cotton. “Light’s good, right? He’s not ash. He didn’t turn into ash.”

Max looked away. “Yes, but you won’t see him.”

Panic set in. “You mean…
forever
?” She loved Elliott; wanted him with her. Always.

“I dunno. It’s not up to me. He’ll move on. He completed his final task.”

“I’m not a
task
, you asshole! I’m a
person
with
feelings!
” She tried to push his shoulders. He bounced backward out of the way before she made contact. The lurch forward, jarred her broken wing. The intense pain which normally accompanied a fracture was dimmed by the emotional hurt. Fresh tears overflowed her eyes.

Max stayed silent. His serenity had a calming effect on her. Gradually, the weeping stopped.

“Your wing is broken, please, let me fix it,” he said.

Remembering the how Elliott “fixed” her previous broken bone, Amalya shook her head. The angel put his palms up. “It won’t hurt, I promise.”

“Okay,” she sighed.

Max ran his glowing cupped hand over the crest of the broken wing, skimming the feathers. The wing reacted. Although she wasn’t in any discomfort from the healing process, the pressure caused her back to arch. She could almost feel the bone knitting back together. “Thirty more seconds and you’ll be able to fly again.”

“Are Healers the only ones that can do this?”

Max’s hand returned to its normal color. “On Earth. Listen, Amalya, I didn’t mean to say you were a task and—”

She waved him off. “It’s all right. I know that. Just so
you
know, I did all the work, the tasking.”

The angel in white wings stood and smiled. “Not surprised. You were supposed to. I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. You did a great job.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

Max put his hand out to help her off the floor. In her former life, she would have batted it away; right now, she could use the crutch. The angel pulled her up by one strong, steady arm and held on. The embrace meant for propping was more like a hug than something utilitarian and she needed it.

“There were several tasks, actually, and you completed them with ease.”

Amalya furrowed her brow. Her angel was gone and once again, things turned to shit, except…not everything this time.

“I can see you’re confused. There were three to complete. Elliott’s job was over the second you left Netherworld.”

Really?
Elliott had stayed for as long as he had, for her. “Oh…you mean…wait, did he know this?”

“It’s hard to say. Not everything was made clear to him. Deus is like that.”

She curled into his chest, shivering even though she wasn’t cold. “So, the other tasks…were mine?”

“Uh huh,” Max answered, resting a cheek on the top of her head. His warmth and calmness relieved the tremors. The ache in her heart however, remained.

“Does that mean I’m a Redeemer?”

Max chuckled and let go of her. “I would say so. You got Elliott to care about something again, which was—”

“One of the tasks, and the other was Brandon.”

“Now you get it. Except as far as Aba knew, this was only about Brandon’s soul. Deus knew Elliott needed an intervention, so when he saw you, he knew you were the only one who could help him.”

She put the tip of her finger up to her lips. “Um…what if I was only able to redeem Brandon?”

“You would stay out of Netherworld and still be free of Aba, of course.”

Ah.
Amalya held a hand up. “Then what?”

“I don’t know,” Max said, shrugging.

“What do you mean you don’t know? Would I just wander around Earth aimlessly?”

Max chuckled. “Maybe. I think Deus makes this stuff up as he goes along sometimes.”

Well that’s comforting.

“What? That doesn’t sound right. What if I failed in helping Elliott?”

“But you didn’t.”

“But I could’ve.”

Max grinned. “Don’t worry about. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Excuse me,” Brandon said, still sitting with his butt planted on his heels. The angels turned their heads. “Um, what’s this about me being a
task
?”

“Can…somebody…untie me? I…think…I need a doctor,” Montgomery croaked.

Max glanced at Amalya. “Don’t worry, reinforcements should be here shortly.”

Scanning the area, she could see blood and bits of Angela Bishop all over the place. And the pieces left scattered were soup or…more like stew—chunky. “Good, because somebody needs to clean this crap up. Poor old lady.”

“Nah. Not poor old lady. Bitch killed her husband. Poisoned him. She got what was coming to her. You don’t even want to know what she did with the body.” Max shivered.

CHAPTER

SEVENTY-EIGHT

Amalya

The reinforcements arrived carrying mop buckets, a wet vacuum, trash bags, and lots of sponges. Max referred to the angels as Soapers. They had radar for messes caused by other realm natives.

The four Soapers started with Montgomery, who was covered head to toe in gore. They cut him free of the ropes and vacuumed him. Everywhere the hose sucked that portion of him or his clothes became completely spotless. He stood in awe, watching two of the angels work. He’d seen too much in the last hour to be shocked by much.

“Thank you. Can my wife get one of these super vacs?”

“Not a chance,” the two said in unison.

When the vacuum artists were done with the first human, they gave Brandon the same treatment.

Amalya wandered over to Max, who sat at the bottom of the basement steps, and plopped down next to him. The dark and light angels both had their wings pressed tightly to their backs, feathers squashed under their bottoms.

“Elliott will be all right,” Max said.

“Don’t, or I’m liable to lose it again,” Amalya said. She didn’t want to hear Elliott wasn’t really dead but had moved on. He’d moved on to what? And why couldn’t she go with him? Okay…too late, the tears started flowing. Max placed an arm around her shoulders. Sobs shook her entire body. For the first time in her life she didn’t want to run. There was no reason to, she felt free. A Soaper came over and handed her a tissue.

“Thanks,” she said.

As she mopped up her tears, the last of the old lady’s entrails were bagged. Using the laundry tub, the Soapers filled the four wheeled yellow buckets with water and put them in a row. An angel with golden blond hair produced a vial of purple liquid. He squeezed three drops into each bucket. Sponges got tossed into the first two buckets and mops in the remaining ones. Back and forth, side to side they swabbed the floor, while two of the Soapers washed everything the mops couldn’t reach with sponges.

“What’s the purple stuff for?” she asked Max.

“Body fluid neutralizer, so if police ever investigate the scene, any evidence would test negative for blood.”

“Wait, would they?”

“Doubtful, though you never know.”

“What’s going to happen to Brandon and Montgomery over there?” She glanced in their direction. The two were talking together in the corner by the laundry area, out of the Soapers’ way.

“Memory wipe for Monty. Brandon, I dunno, not my department.”

“Whose depart—?”

“Yours.”

“
Mine
? Why?”

“You’re the Redeemer. At least on this one.”

“Don’t you dare tell me to give it some thought.”

“I won’t. You should though.”

“I know, I
should
but, I don’t know…” And just like that an idea popped into her head.