Angel's Assassin (32 page)

Damien felt the stirrings of panic. He had to
get Aurora out of here. If it were just him, he wouldn’t care about
those instruments. He had felt their painful touch before.

Aurora began to struggle. “Damien,” she
gasped.

Mother tightened his grip around her
neck.

Her struggles immediately ceased.

Damien stepped toward them. “Get your hands
off of her.”

Roke’s taunting laughter reached his ears.
“This is just the beginning. Mother’s hands on her will be the
least of your worries.”

Damien’s grip tightened around his
weapon.

“The longer you take to obey me, the longer
her agony will be. It really is in your hands.”

Damien grit his teeth. Slowly, he lowered the
sword to the ground.

“Kick it away,” Roke commanded.

Damien used the toe of his boot to push the
weapon across the room. It skidded across the stone floor, its
polished blade glinting off the candlelight and sending reflected
beams dancing to the ceiling.

“Now the rest of them,” Roke commanded.

Damien hesitated. He knew he could take Roke
out like he had Cyclops. But Damien had no doubt Mother would kill
Aurora. A violent twist of her head and her neck would snap. How he
wished he had taught her to defend herself. But he had been there
with her, so there had been no need. He thought he would always be
able to protect her. Always.

Damien took the two daggers out of his belt.
He looked down at his blades. What a fool he had been. His
reflections stared back at him from each dagger, one shadowed in
darkness, one glowing in light, the man he was and the man he
wanted to be. Two halves of the same whole.

And then through the distorted reflection at
the tip of the blade, Damien saw a table behind Mother, next to the
bed. He raised his head. Five lit candles danced mockingly on the
table. If he missed, they would punish Aurora.

They were going to hurt her anyway.

He closed his eyes, steadying his nerves,
calming himself. He took a breath, opened his eyes and flung the
dagger.

It flew silently through the room toward
Mother.

Mother saw it coming and shifted his
position.

The dagger flew past him and landed with a
thud against the small table. The table teetered for a moment, then
fell, toppling to its side.

Mother smiled; his grip around Aurora’s neck
tightened. “You missed.”

D
amien held
his breath, ignoring Mother’s mocking smile. He watched the fire
from the fallen candles catch the bed curtains and race up them
like the wick of a candle being lit.

With a puff, the curtain behind Mother
ignited into a tower of flames.

Mother swiveled his head toward the
eruption.

Damien moved quickly, sending the other
dagger flying. As soon as the handle was out of his hand, he
started sprinting forward, his arms pumping at his side, his legs
taking large strides that ate up the distance between them. He had
to reach Aurora.

Like an arrow, the dagger flew straight to
its mark, slamming into Mother’s turned head, just below the ear.
Mother jerked with the impact and then stood absolutely still. For
a horrifying moment, Damien thought the rumors of Mother were true.
He was indestructible. Mother wouldn’t die, not even a dagger in
his throat would kill him.

Then, Mother began to crumple.

Aurora lurched forward, freeing herself from
Mother’s strangling hold.

Damien caught Aurora around the waist with
one arm and grabbed the dagger in Mother’s throat with his other
hand, pulling the blade free. He turned, sheltering Aurora from the
gruesome death, and kicked Mother back into the flames eating away
at Roke’s bed.

Damien backed three steps away from the
searing flames that grew, climbing across the top of the bed,
reaching for the ceiling. His gaze swept the room as he moved,
coming to rest on Roke who slowly, patiently stalked toward them.
For all outward appearances, Roke appeared calm considering the
dire circumstances he was in, his trusted elite guard dead, his
solar igniting in flames. But Damien wasn’t fooled. Roke’s thin
fingers curved, claw-like, around the handle of his sword,
trembling with the ferocity of his hold.

Damien quickly drew the dagger through the
ropes binding Aurora’s wrists. He allowed himself a second to gaze
down at her, to reassure himself she was real and unhurt. His
solemn gaze brushed over her face, touching every gentle curve. His
silent reassurance eased the fear he read in her wide eyes, a fear
matching the terror in his heart. But she was safe. And she would
soon be free. His slitted stare shifted to find Roke through the
flames.

“Damien,” she whispered and touched his arm,
a stroke of reassuring solidarity.

“This must be finished here,” he answered. He
led Aurora into the corner near the door, far from the heat of the
flames. “If something happens to me, run. Do you understand? Do not
let Roke get control of you.”

Her hand tightened over his arm, her small
fingers clenching into his skin.

He looked at her with fierce resolve. The
tears he saw shimmering in her eyes made his heart ache and his
mind pause. Would she ask him to leave, to give up his mission? And
if she did, would he have any choice but to take her away from this
horror?

“Damien,” she whispered again, her voice
thick. “I won’t leave without you. So, you had best not lose.”

Damien’s gaze moved over her face in a
grateful caress. She was so beautiful. So achingly lovely. His
angel. He would give anything for her. Even his soul. Even his
life.

He looked back at Roke who had already
crossed half the length of the room. “I don’t plan on it,” he said
and walked forward to meet Roke. With Aurora safe, Damien could
face his tormentor, his jailor, his master, unhindered.

“You can’t win,” Roke hissed. “My men will
kill anyone who steps out of this room unless it is me.”

Damien showed no emotion as he lunged with
his dagger.

Roke swung the blade, knocking the dagger
aside. “You think to defeat me, Damien? I’ve raised you from a
child. I know you better than anyone ever has. I know what you
want. I know…” His voice lowered so Damien had to strain to hear
it. “…that you want to be good. That you want to be better than
your father.”

Shocked at the truth in Roke’s statement,
Damien reared back.

Roke slashed his sword in an arc toward
Damien’s head.

Damien ducked and whirled, but Roke had
somehow moved quickly enough to cut off his turn. Damien backed
just in time to avoid the deadly tip of Roke’s sword. Mentally, he
chastised himself. I have to ignore Roke’s cunning words. He is
guessing. He doesn’t know anything about me.

Roke chuckled softly as the flames snapped
behind him, giving him a fiendish aura. “You think I haven’t
watched? Do you think I haven’t seen what rests in your soul?”

Damien didn’t want to hear his foul words. He
swiped at Roke.

Roke sidestepped the strike, moving to his
right. “You’ve always been different from the others. Stronger in
spirit as well as physically. But this is a fight you cannot win.”
Roke’s face seemed to transform as the light from the fire kissed
it, caressed it, until it appeared long and gaunt.

Damien didn’t waste his energy with talk. He
scanned the floor for his sword. There was no sign of it. If Roke
ever stopped speaking long enough to attack, Damien would be hard
pressed to fend off his sword with only a dagger.

“To win this battle, you need to be your old
self, willing to fight heartless and dirty. Willing to win at any
cost,” Roke taunted. “I don’t think you can do that with Aurora
watching.”

“Then you are wrong,” Damien snarled. He
slashed at him, and Roke stepped back.

“The old Damien, the Damien I molded, would
not have missed.” Suddenly, Roke’s eyes widened in realization. His
lips twisted into a mocking, terrible smile and he
straightened.

Dread and confusion filled Damien. What had
Roke discovered to give him this new confidence?

Roke lifted his sword, holding it out before
him at arm’s length. Then, he opened his hand and dropped his
weapon.

Roke’s sword landed with a dull clang at
Damien’s feet. Damien stared at it, shocked. What was he up to? Had
he lost his mind? How could Roke stand before his most skilled
assassin, weaponless? Damien looked back at Roke.

“Can you kill me when I am defenseless?” Roke
scoffed.

He must have gone mad! Damien lifted his
dagger for the final strike. He pulled his arm back to plunge the
sharp dagger into Roke’s chest…

…and froze.

Roke’s grin grew in triumph. The fire flamed
behind him, leaping and catching on the wooden beams of the
ceiling, dancing to Roke’s victory. “You are good now, Damien. See
what it’s gotten you?”

Damien’s jaw clenched. How he wanted to
impale him, to finally have the freedom he desired all these years,
to have retribution for all the years Roke kept him in darkness and
pain. But his needs paled in comparison to freeing Aurora. He
wanted to kill Roke so she could live her life free from fear of
assassins. Free from Roke’s deadly influence.

Damien’s hand shook. He wanted to kill him.
With every ounce of his spirit, he wanted to end Roke’s life. But
he couldn’t. Slowly, Damien lowered his arm. He couldn’t kill him.
Not defenseless. And he couldn’t let him live. “Pick it up,” he
commanded. “Face me like a man.”

“She did this to you,” Roke snarled in
disdain. “She made you noble. She turned you into something
honorable and decent.”

Honorable? Decent? Stunned, Damien could only
stare at the monster before him. He was honorable and decent? Yes.
Yes! He straightened from a combatant pose to his full height. He
almost smiled. With Roke’s acknowledgement of who he had become,
Damien realized that he was truly free. After so many years locked
in shadow and darkness, he had finally shed the image of the dark
assassin and become a man of goodness, a man of light. Honorable
and decent. A man worthy of Aurora. Triumph soared inside him,
giving him strength and courage and conviction. He had become the
man he saw in Aurora’s eyes. She had transformed him. Her love made
him whole. “Yes,” Damien agreed. “And now you will surrender to me
and be charged for the crimes you have committed.”

Seeing the victory in Damien’s eyes, Roke’s
eyes darkened and reflected the flames spreading to engulf the
room. “I will not go alone. I will take you with me.”

Damien shook his head. “No, Roke, I will no
longer follow in your footsteps.”

The red curtains on the floor behind Roke
caught fire with an angry explosion. Burning embers shot into the
air to mingle with the churning fury of flames bursting across the
thick wooden beams of the ceiling above their heads.

“Damien!” Aurora called in warning.

Roke’s gaze shifted to her and loathing
altered his features into contempt. “She is much more dangerous
than I have given her credit for,” he snarled. “She cannot be
allowed to live.”

A crack echoed through the room. A large,
burning piece broke off from the beam that ran the length of the
room and plunged to the floor.

The fallen timber sent a wave of heat toward
Damien. He lifted his arm to fend off the blanket of searing
warmth. The chunk of wood burned feverishly on the floor off to his
left. He could hear the fire biting into the wood with hissing
bursts of sound. Smoke started to form high above them, growing
ever thicker.

Damien gripped the dagger tightly in his
hand, keeping his gaze focused on Roke. Throw it, a voice inside
him urged. Throw it straight into his black heart and be done with
it. Throw it now! His hand remained at his side, the dagger a
powerless slab of metal in his fingers. He opened his fingers and
let the dagger fall to the ground.

Roke was on him immediately, his hooked
fingers wrapping around his throat, pushing him back until he
slammed hard into the wall.

Beside them, the tapestry ignited, sending a
scalding blast of heat at them.

Roke released Damien and staggered back,
covering his face from the gust of hot air.

Damien ignored the wave blasting him in the
face and struck back against his former master, hitting him hard in
the stomach with two solid blows.

Roke doubled over and scurried back away from
the assassin, dashing across the room. He picked up a flaming side
table and threw it at Damien.

Damien swatted the small burning table aside
as if it were nothing more than a pesky firefly. He took a step
toward Roke, but stopped as he saw him bend to grab the dagger he
had just dropped. The blade glinted in Roke’s hand.

Around them, the room disintegrated. Larger
pieces of the ceiling began to fall, igniting the furniture and the
tapestries on the walls until the room roared like an inferno. The
growing smoke and fire made it difficult to keep perspective.

Damien’s eyes burned and he could hardly
breathe.

Roke smiled, showing his jagged teeth. He was
the true monster.

And then, a thunderous crack resounded
through the room and the beam above them came crashing down. It
struck Damien hard, sending him to his knees. A veil of blackness
floated across his vision as pain ravaged his head. He struggled to
stay conscious, forcing the dark curtain away from his eyes. He
lifted his head to see Roke standing over him. Through the fog
engulfing him, he watched Roke lift the dagger to strike. He tried
to lift his arm, but it wouldn’t obey.

Roke brought the dagger up high for the final
blow.

The flames from the ceiling suddenly flared,
spitting a steaming wind at Roke. He staggered back, covering his
face from the tongue of heat lapping at him. The flames seemed to
come alive, separating from the fallen beam on the floor and
surging toward Roke. Like little fingers, the flames grabbed at
Roke’s cloak. He whirled, trying to escape the fire. But it was
everywhere, catching on his shoes, racing up his cloak. He could
not escape the fiery tendrils as they curled around him in a hot,
damning embrace. Roke opened his mouth and stretched out a hand to
Damien.