Blood Redemption (Angel's Edge #3) (22 page)

“About that.” Ethan held me at arm’s length and wiped the tears from under my eyes with his thumb.

I blinked against the brightness of the sun.

I blinked again. It had been late afternoon when we left; now the sun blazed as if it were high noon. “Ethan,” I said uneasily, interrupting him. “How long have we been gone?”

“A day and a half, give or take a few hours.”

I swallowed hard. No wonder he’d been so upset. I hadn’t given him any warning. To be fair, I hadn’t had any warning to give; Asheroth had swooped down and stolen me away before I could formulate a proper plan. It explained some of his anger.

“This is important,” he insisted, pulling me with him toward the Lodge. He didn’t look to see if Jack was following. Half the crowd had dispersed, leaving just a few familiar faces waiting for us in the shade. “While you were gone, Whitfield was attacked.”

My mind froze, refusing to process his words. “But that’s impossible. Time runs at a different pace in the Dark Realms, I know, but Belial was there with us. He couldn’t have attacked. Unless he sent separate forces…”

Ethan shook his head. “Belial didn’t do it, Caspia. This time, it was Hunters. And it’s bad.”

We left Blackwood Lodge in Logan’s car. Cassandra sat in the front seat with my brother while I stayed squashed between Ethan and Jack. I longed for a window seat, but there was no way I was forcing those two to sit next to each other. Jack hadn’t stopped glowering at Ethan since we left, and Ethan was doing his best to ignore the situation, a sure sign that he was pissed off. Tall trees lined both sides of the poorly kept road, casting shadows across the cracked asphalt. Although I wasn’t sure of the exact location of Blackwood Lodge, I knew all the Gates were on the very fringes of the town. As greenery passed by us in a blur, I hoped it wouldn’t be a very long ride.

Sick of the tense silence that gripped the car, I blurted out, “How could they have done it? Gotten through, I mean. I thought the whole town had protection against that sort of thing. Isn’t that why Belial had to use an agent to get to me?” I thought of Dr. Christian and shuddered. I hoped he was having fun in the Dark Realms, the last place I’d seen him. He deserved it.

Logan’s knuckles were white on the gear shift. I watched in fascination as Cassandra slipped her hand over his. That small gesture from her was enough to make my brother’s whole body relax. Interesting. “They had to have help from someone in town. Someone powerful enough to let them through.” I saw his grimace in the rear view mirror.

“But why couldn’t Belial have done that?” I asked. “He had help from an insider.”

“Two possibilities,” Ethan said. “His agent might not have been strong enough. And he might not have been interested, Cas. He wanted you, and your abilities. Not the town itself.” He squeezed my hand. “Of course, that will probably change now that he knows the forces of the Light are using Whitfield as a staging ground.”

I was silent for the rest of the ride, my insides in a knot. I didn’t want to ask how bad the damage was yet; I knew I was about to find out first hand. I wanted to just lean my head against Ethan’s shoulder and pretend none of this was happening.

My denial couldn’t last, however. Soon enough we hit the outskirts of town, familiar houses and places of business looking the same as ever. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least the Hunters hadn’t decimated everything.

But as we weaved through ever narrower streets, approaching the heart of Whitfield, I began to see some of the damage. Trees had fallen down on top of cars, smashing them. Windows were shattered, their glass splattered like ice chips across the road.

“The innocents think it was a powerful storm,” Cassandra explained. “In a way, I suppose it was. It helped that it happened in the middle of the night. Everyone else… let’s just say they’re laying low.”

I said nothing at all as I surveyed the damage. I just kept squeezing Ethan’s hand tighter and tighter. To his credit, he didn’t complain, although I must have been close to breaking the bones in his hand. But when we pulled up to Old Town Square, nothing could keep me from crying out.

Six of the huge, graceful Live Oaks had been uprooted and flung several feet away. The fairy lights that usually hung from their branches were smashed, lines frayed or snapped. They lay on the ground like dead snakes. Streetlights had been snapped off at the base like broken Tinker Toys. The destruction was horrible, but what really caught my breath was the fountain. Several of the strange, but beautiful statues that lit up at night had been pulverized. I couldn’t even tell what they had once looked like. Colored glass and chunks of marble floated in the still, brackish water.

I was out of the car the second it rolled to a stop. I ran to the fountain, horrified. It had been my favorite thing about the square for as long as I’d been alive. I couldn’t believe someone―anyone―had been able to destroy it.

I let my gaze wander past the square itself to the four streets that lined it. The businesses that were usually so busy, no matter what time of day or night, were all shuttered or closed. Some had clearly been attacked: one of my favorite restaurants looked like it had a brick thrown through its window. Pepper’s Bakery was boarded up. I noticed Cassandra’s pinched white face and reluctantly turned in the direction of her gaze. Sure enough, the New Age herb and crystal shop she ran with Mrs. Alice had been ransacked. The beautiful, bright glass shelves that had once displayed crystals and gemstones of all kinds were jagged and shattered. Strings of dried herbs lay ground into the carpet. The tea lights that had once lined the windowsill were nowhere to be seen. Cassandra had tears in her eyes as she held my brother’s hand.

“I can’t believe this happened,” I said, my voice tight and strained. I kicked at a loose chunk of cement. “Was anyone hurt?”

Silence. Alarms began going off in my head.

I stepped away from Ethan and whirled on them all. “Who?” I demanded through clenched teeth. “What aren’t you telling me?”

After a long moment, Logan finally spoke. “There were several minor injuries. Scrapes and bruises, even some broken bones.” His eyes were hooded.

“And?” I prompted. I just knew there was an “and.” Something they weren’t telling me. Something they were
afraid
to tell me.

Ethan came for me once again. I was rigid in his arms, terrified of what he wasn’t saying. He tried to hold my hand, to rub my arms and make me relax, but I shook him off.

“Markov,” he said at last. All the air left my lungs in a rush. I thought I’d misheard him, but he repeated the grim news. “They got to Mr. Markov, Caspia. He’s in intensive care. They’re not sure he’s going to make it.”

I gaped at him. I seemed to have lost the ability to understand plain English. “Mr. Markov is… hurt?” I repeated dully. “But… he’s powerful. And kind. And good. Why would they hurt him?” I wrapped my arms around myself, at a sudden chill. The square was so dead, so silent. There was no rush of water from the fountain, and few leaves to rustle in the wind. “He’s just an old man.” I heard the beginnings of a wail buried in my voice.

He was all I had left of my coffee shop family, a family I’d had since I was sixteen. Nicolas and Amelie were gone, hunting the Summer Court, and the shop itself had been destroyed by fire; I couldn’t lose him, too.

“I’m sorry,” Cassandra whispered. “I miss him too.”

“I want to see him,” I said, wanting a supporting arm to lean on. I didn’t even have to look; Ethan was there. “I
need
to see him. He doesn’t have… anyone else.” My words dissolved as the full impact sank in. “No family,” I finished in a hoarse whisper.

“Shh,” Ethan said into my hair. “He’s in intensive care,” he repeated. “No visitors. I’m sorry.”

I don’t know how long I stood there. Ethan held me tight, perhaps determined to lend me the body heat I so desperately needed. The situation was too much to take in. It seemed like forever since I’d been happy, felt normal.

“Take me home,” I said at last. “I want to go home.”

“It’s not safe.” Jack spoke for the first time since leaving Blackwood Lodge. “Anyone could find you there.”

Beside him, Logan nodded his assent.

“No place is safe,” I said, drained. “I just want my own bed. My own bath tub. My own messy apartment, even if just for one night.”

“I can set up some elementary wards,” Cassandra offered. “They won’t be as good as the ones Mr. Markov cast.” She winced a little at his name. “But they should hold for one night. And then tomorrow, we’ll meet up with the rest of the Guardians.” She looked grim, but determined, as disheveled blonde hair framed narrowed eyes and a stubborn jaw. “We have a war to plan.”

But I didn’t care about tomorrow. I didn’t care about wars. I wanted nothing more than to have some semblance of my old life back, even if it was just for a few hours. I leaned into Ethan, and let him lead me home.

y mind spun as we walked back across the square. Broken glass from the fallen fairy lights crunched underfoot. I had never seen the square so deserted, had never imagined that one of my favorite places in the world could be so barren of life. Deep down simmered the fear that everything was my fault.

“Try to let it go,” Ethan whispered, taking my hand. He knew me so well. His index finger brushed lightly across my knuckles. “I know it’s hard, but try and relax. We’ve got a few hours respite, at least. Let’s try and enjoy them.” He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it.