Redemption (31 page)

Twenty-Six

A
snowflake falls from the heavens, landing gently atop Roseline’s arm.
 
She looks down, confused by the odd texture.
 
It isn’t cold or wet but it is soft and warm, caressing her arm just before it catches on a gust of wind and sails away.

She looks up at the overcast sky.
 
More white flakes have begun to fall.
 
A few here and there.
 
Glancing around her, she realizes that she’s not the only one who has noticed them.

Fane lifts his hand to catch one.
 
He rubs his finger across the rise of the object, his eyes widening in wonder.
 
“It’s a feather.”

“But that’s impossible.
 
There aren’t enough birds in the area.”
 
Roseline blinks, staring in wonder at the silent fall of thousands of feathers.
 
Most are white, while others are brilliant gold, silver and red.
 

She turns at the hitch in Gabriel’s breathing.
 
A wide smile brightens his pale face as he stares back at her.
 
“Angels.”

Looking to the heavens, she can’t see anything above but the low hanging clouds.
 
Surely, if there were angels above, she should be able to see them just as easily as she can see Elias.
 

The tall, golden winged angel smiles down from above.
 
He plucks a feather from the sky and holds it close to his own wing.
 
Although crimson in color, it is an identical match.
 
“They have come.”

A murmur quickly spreads through the ranks.
 
Immortal and hunter alike search the skies but to no avail.
 
“Why don’t they land?” she asks.

Elias releases the feather, watching as it slowly drifts to the white ground.
 
“They will fight from above.”

Staring out across the blustery plain, she knows Lucien is out there somewhere.
 
She can hear the distant clacking of Eltat claws against the ice and the hiss of their flickering tongues, but they are not alone.
 
The whisper of a thousand feet and the clattering of sheathed swords drifts on the wind.
 

Never before has there been a battle of this magnitude among her kind.
 
She has seen men rise up against each other and fall to their graves but never her brethren.
 
Not like this.
 

She tightens her grip against her blades, drawing reassurance from their even weight.
 
The battle axes strapped to her back sit comfortably along her spine.
 
Metal tipped darts line her belt, waiting to be plunged deep into Lucien’s heart.
 
He will pay for his treachery. She will make sure of it.

Behind her, Nicolae shifts.
 
She glances over her shoulder to see immortal and hunter standing side by side, ready to fight together, in one accord.
 
She never would have dared to dream it, but Nicolae did.
 
Perhaps he is far wiser than she gave him credit for.

She dips her head in acknowledgement of Grigori’s authority.
 
His nose still carries the wounds from their previous encounter, before her truce with Nicolae, but it is not anger that stares back at her now, but respect.
 

Perhaps there really can be peace.
 

A hand slips into hers. She looks up and smiles back at Gabriel as he squeezes her hand.
 
“Are you ready for this?”

“I was born ready.”

“So was I.”
 
He doesn’t release her hand as they turn together to face the coming hoard.
 

***

T
hey appear from the north, a mass of snarling beasts held back only by their master’s command.
 
Roseline scans the crowd, meeting eye to eye with many of her brethren, men and women she knew and loathed for their love of depravity.

She spies out Mastus the Greek first.
 
The violent winds tear at his ridiculous white toga.
 
Beside him is Alamesia.
 
The red-haired gypsy sways her colorful skirts back and forth.
 
Roseline can hear the tinkling of the bells at her ankles.

Leif, a blue-eyed Scandinavian stands just beyond them, clutching a silver hammer as if he were Thor himself.
 
Two rows back she spies out the broad, almond-skinned Keli, whose victims are typically passed off as shark attacks along the warm coasts of Hawaii.
  

Milap and Hakan, twins from the Cherokee nation stand side by side with a black braid draped over each of their right shoulders.
 
Kuma and Aiko look completely out of place in their full-length crimson kimono robes.
 
A samurai
katana
hangs from each of their waists, hidden just under the sashes that hold their robes closed.

Mateo is further back in the ranks.
 
His insatiable appetite for blood created the myth of the Chupacabra in the Americas.
 
With the hulking frame of a small bear and long spikes imbedded in his back, he didn’t have any trouble convincing the locals that he was a beast.
 
He began draining farm animals first, but quickly moved on to wilder game like coyotes and mountain lions.

Roseline shudders and looks away.
 
This fight will be bloody.
 
Too many lives will be lost for one man’s greed.

The grip on her hand suddenly increases and she whips her head to the side to stare at Gabriel.
 
His jaw is clenched, gaze riveted across the tundra.
 
She follows his gaze, realizing his intense focus is on Alexi, a small Russian whose skill with a blade is renowned.
 
A girl stands beside him, her arm trapped within his grasp.
 
She is white with terror and she hasn’t stopped looking at Gabriel since she arrived.

“Someone you know?”
 
A tiny sliver of jealousy nags at her.

He nods stiffly.
 
“She’s my sister, Katia.”

“Sister?” Her words hiss between her teeth.
 
“But you never told me…”

“I thought she was safe.”
 
Roseline winces at the force of his grip but does not try to pull away.
 
Despite the pain, she finds his righteous anger comforting.
 
She has no doubt Alexi will be among the first to fall.

“You have to go after her.”
 
His jaw tightens as he shakes his head.
 
“You must.
 
She’s your family.”

The hoard across from them appears to ripple outward.
 
Roseline stiffens, standing her ground as the crowd parts and a single man appears.
 
Loud hissing rises from the Eltat along with the cries of approval from the immortals.

Sadie gasps beside Roseline, obviously shocked by Lucien’s true nature.
 
Roseline catches Nicolae’s frown from the corner of her eye, but she does not acknowledge it.
 
He needn’t know Lucien’s real face to know he needs to die.

The hunters grow restless behind them.
 
She can hear their grips tighten on cross bow and sword hilt.
 
Many hunters will die here today, but their deaths will be honorable.
 
She will see to it that their families hear about it.

“Thank you,” she whispers to Grigori, turning just enough that he knows to whom she speaks.
 
He bows his head, his lips pressed into a tight line.
 
“If we survive this day, I will owe you a pint when we return home.”

A shadow of a smile lights his face before he refocuses, calling out a gruff command to one of the younger hunters.
 
Roseline follows his gaze, noting the boy isn’t that much older than Enael was.
 
She prays that he dies well and swiftly.

When she turns back, she notices William’s absence at Sadie’s side.
 
She breathes a sigh of relief, thankful that he actually obeyed Fane.
 
To be fair, William’s protests had been weak at best.
 
The battlefield really was no place for him.

Fane steps up from behind and places a hand on her shoulder.
 
She reaches back and squeezes it, grateful to have him fighting beside her once more.
 
His presence is reassuring as she stares across the frozen lake at Lucien.

“You can do this,” he whispers in her ear before he steps back.

Gabriel turns, casting a glance back at Fane.
 
It is neither combative nor possessive.
 
Roseline is surprised to realize that, in his own way, he is thanking Fane for his help.

“Do we just let him walk all the way out here to chat?” Sadie asks as Lucien heads their way.

“No,” Roseline hears Nicolae reply.
 
She braces, waiting for him to give the order to attack.
 
Holding her breath, she knows this is the calm before the storm and possibly the last breaths she will ever take.

Twining her fingers through Gabriel’s, she knows that this is the only place she wants to be.

***

L
ucien’s eagerness is threating to bubble over as he approaches the small rise that separates his vast army from the pathetic one that has gathered around Roseline. He can see her, achingly beautiful to a normal eye, but glaringly hideous to his.
 
His eagerness ebbs as he narrows his eyes, noting how vibrant she looks.

Curse you, Malachi,
he hisses silently to himself.
 
He doesn’t know how the angel did it, but her transformation has been ruined.
 
He grinds his teeth together, blunting the razor sharp incisors he planned to sink into the flesh of her throat after he wiped out her army.
 
This will not do.
 
She is meant to be his.

“Greetings,” he calls out with false affection.

A murmur carries on the wind from his enemies’ side.
 
His eyes widen with genuine surprise when he spies out numerous black-clad hunters mingled in with immortals.

What is this?
 
Have my enemies gone soft?
 
He chuckles to himself, rubbing his hands together as his excitement begins to build.
 
This battle will be one to remember.

“I have no desire to fight any of you,” he calls, pausing to let his words travel the distance.
 
“I only came for Roseline Enescue.
 
Hand her over to me and I will let you live.
 
If you do not…” he allows his words to tumble into silence as he shrugs indifferently.

He waits, searching through the crowd for any sign of weakness that he can play on.
 
He growls, realizing that the hunters stand firm in their decision to fight alongside Roseline.

“So be it.”

He raises his hand and flicks his wrist in the air.
 
The sky begins to darken, churning with crimson and ash. The winds rise, whipping at Lucien’s black cloak.
 
He raises his hands to cover his face as crystals of ice lash against his skin.

A terrible roar pierces the low cloud cover before two clawed feet appear, followed by armor plated scaly legs and the underbelly of a monstrous beast.
 
Roseline’s army backs away, mouths hanging open at the sight of the onyx talons that dig deep into the frozen earth.

Fiery eyes lock onto Lucien as fire puffs between gaping jaws, each tooth sharp and reeking of death.
 
Two horns protrude from the dragon’s head, and spikes run along the curve of its back, trailing down to its coiled tail.