FALLEN (Angels and Gargoyles Book 3) (2 page)

And Joanna. Was it really possible to be that happy?

Dylan got lost in the memory for a moment. She had never known a life like that. Her life had been structured, controlled. She lived in a dorm with sixty other girls, sharing her guardian with three others. As she grew older, two of her sisters had gone, and she only shared Davida with Donna. The two of them were lucky compared to the other girls. They had more attention, more affection. But it was nothing like what she was seeing in Wyatt’s memory.

What was it like to feel that close to someone?

The memory disappeared. It didn’t fade, it simply disappeared.

Wyatt had begun to connect.

Dylan went along for the ride. In a second they found themselves looking down on Jimmy. He was in a dark place, curled into a ball on a floor that appeared to be made of some sort of stone. There was blood drying on his temple and a bruise that ran the length of his jaw. His clothes were torn, and his body underneath was thinner than it had been the last time they saw him, as though he hadn’t had any significant nourishment since that time.

He wasn’t alone.

Settled around him were others, some standing, others sitting, a few lying in the same child-like position as Jimmy. All of them showing signs of violence. Dylan recognized most of them as the people she had thought of as Jimmy’s council, the members of the resistance he worked the most closely with. A few she had never seen before. But she suspected they were human, too, other humans trying to fight against the angels, against Luc and Lily.

Wyatt cried out when he saw his father. The sound reverberated in Dylan’s mind. She reached out for him, forgetting where they were and what they were doing.

“Father,” Wyatt groaned as he moved close to his dad. “Father, I’m here.”

Jimmy made no move to indicate he heard him. It wasn’t like when Dylan searched for Wyatt during their times apart. He didn’t seem to know Wyatt was even there.

But someone else did.

Jonath
on?

Dylan felt Wyatt’s body tense, felt it with the part of her that was still sitting on the grass beside him, her hand still pressed lightly to his forehead. Dylan turned from Jimmy’s body where it lay on the ground and searched the faces of the people around him. None responded to her. None seem to be aware of her, just as Jimmy didn’t appear to be aware of Wyatt.

Where was she?

Dylan slipped out of the darkness, out of the room where Jimmy was, and found herself floating around a tall, square building with too many windows to count. It was familiar, somehow. Not this place, but the smooth walls, the long corridors, the colors and feel…something she couldn’t really put her finger on.

There were people everywhere, humans huddled on the ground with their families. Or others. She wasn’t sure which were humans, which were hybrids like her and Wyatt, and which were other creatures hiding in plain sight. It was too easy for the gargoyles and the angels to disguise themselves. For all she knew, they were all creatures of one type or another.

So many. She didn’t understand. What was this place?

And then she saw her.

Joanna was sitting in a corner, her back to the wall and her knees pulled up tight against her chest. Her eyes were closed. Dylan went to her, hovered over her with her consciousness, or whatever it was that allowed her to see these things.

What is this?

Joanna’s chin came up. She opened her eyes and focused almost exactly on the spot where Dylan looked down on her.

“You brought him here,” she said aloud, clearly not concerned that those around her would wonder who she was talking to.

He wants to help his father.

“He better hurry, then,” she said. “They plan to execute him.”

What do you mean, execute him?

Joanna gestured around herself. “This is Luc’s prison, Dylan. This is the place where he brings the humans who somehow managed to survive arrest by the Redcoats. This is where they are put on trial and executed for crimes against the angels.” She looked up to where she thought Dylan was, but her eyes were off just a little. “This is the end of the road for humanity.”

Then what are you doing here?

Joanna laughed. That’s all. She just laughed for a long time, the sound worse than the squeal of a butchered pig, the pain of a dying child. It was worse than anything Dylan had ever heard before.

It was the sound of an angel who has lost hope.

Dylan opened her eyes back in the green grass where her physical body sat. She pulled her hand away from Wyatt, and he almost instantly opened his eyes, too.

“Why didn’t he talk to me? Why didn’t he respond when I called to him?”

“I don’t know,” Dylan said.

She had no answers for him. She could see the questions before they even formed on his lips, could read the pain in his eyes. There was nothing she could say to him.

She climbed to her feet and walked to a little stream that worked its way through the trees that edged the field where they sat. Not a stream, really, but more like the runoff from a heavy rain some distance from where they were. It was water running through a crack in the earth that was overflowing with mud and sediment from the field and the trees. Dylan bent low and cupped her hands, taking some of the water and splashing her face with it.

You have to tell him.

Dylan groaned. She looked up, but there was nothing to see even if her view hadn’t been obscured by the trees. And she knew there wouldn’t be.

“Go away,” she called. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

Why not?

She ignored the voice, leaning over the water once more. It wasn’t drinkable: there was too much dirt and junk in it, but it still felt good against her skin. Which brought her thoughts to the immediate future. They needed supplies. All of their things were left behind when Ellie, their friend and companion, had turned on them and forced them to walk into Davida’s camp. Dear, sweet, frightened Ellie. The same Ellie who had pulled a weapon on them, a weapon she used to paralyze Stiles.

Guilt settled heavily on her shoulders as she remembered how quickly, and painfully, he fell to the ground.

“Where are you?” she asked.

He immediately materialized beside her, leaning against a tree in that cocky way he had. His red hair was so bright it was almost unnatural, and it set off his pale skin in such a way that it had been easy to believe he was a gargoyle. No else could possibly have pale skin like that and be normal. But even that had been a lie.

She looked him up and down, telling herself she was searching for wounds or some other side effect of the weapon Ellie had used. But, in truth, she was really just happy to see him. Happier than she should have been.

“Are you okay?” she asked as she wet her face one last time before standing, drying her hands on the front of her pants.

“Fine,” he said with a soft smile.

“Have you been hovering over us all this time?”

“When I wasn’t watching over Sam and trying to figure out what Davida has planned.”

“Did you know?” Dylan asked. “Did you know that Davida worked for Luc and Lily?”

He tilted his head slightly, as though trying to decide how best to answer her. “I knew she had a special interest in you. That’s why I was there, in Genero, all that time. Watching over you.”

“But did you know she worked with Lily?”

Stiles studied her face. “Dylan, it doesn’t really matter—”

“It matters to me.” She moved toward him, angry with herself as tears began to form in her eyes. She pushed at his shoulder, knocked him out of his cocky stance. “She was my guardian. If you knew—”

“I knew,” he said, gripping her arms just below her shoulders so that she couldn’t move away. Or, maybe, so that she couldn’t hit him. “And I made sure she couldn’t hurt you.”

“What do you call what just happened?” she demanded, trying to jerk free but aware that there was little point. Stiles was much stronger than she would ever be. “What do you call her luring us to her so that Lily could come and take me away?”

“I didn’t know that was going to happen.”

“You’re an angel. Don’t you know everything?”

He laughed, a soft sound that made her want to join him. If she wasn’t still so angry. She felt…betrayed. She jerked her arms again. This time he let her go. She stumbled backwards and nearly fell into the little stream of water.

“I trusted you,” she said quietly.

“Hey, Dylan,” he said, reaching for her again, but she was already halfway up the small incline that separated them from the grassy field where she had left Wyatt. He was there, leaning against a tree on the far side with his arms crossed, looking so much like a darker version of Stiles that it was almost unnerving. He was annoyed, she could tell by the slight narrowing of his eyes as he watched her walk toward him. But annoyance turned into surprise when she marched up to him and then continued on, marching out the other side of the field.

“Where are you going?” he demanded.

“Away from the two of you,” she answered.

Wyatt came after her. Joined Stiles as he continued to rush after her, too. She ignored them, walking faster so that they would have to rush to catch up with her.

She’d had enough. She really didn’t want to talk to either of them. Wyatt wanted to know things she couldn’t explain to him. And Stiles knew things he felt he didn’t need to share with her.

And these were the two who were supposed to help her stop the total destruction of the human race?

God help them all.

“Dylan, what’s going on?”

It was Wyatt. He caught up with her and grabbed her arm just above the elbow. She jerked away, nearly freeing herself, but then she began to fall forward and Wyatt had to grab her shoulder to keep her from falling completely. She spun toward him the moment she was back on her feet and pushed him away.

“I don’t want you touching me,” she said.

Wyatt stepped back, holding his hands out in front of him. “No problem,” he said.

Dylan took several steps backward, putting a little more distance between them. “I don’t know what the two of you expect from me,” she said. “I don’t know how any of this works any more than you,” she said, gesturing toward Wyatt. Then she turned to Stiles before adding, “And I can’t do anything about this damn war if you don’t tell me everything I need to know.”

“Dylan,” Stiles began to say, but stopped when she turned toward him.

“No more lies,” she said. Her eyes slipped over him, over his familiar gray eyes, on the sadness that always seemed to be there. Always. Except for the split second before he kissed her. It was gone then. Or maybe she just hadn’t seen it. Or she hadn’t wanted to see it.

He spread his hands out in front of him too, imitating Wyatt in a smaller, less angry way. “No more lies,” he agreed.

“What lies?” Wyatt asked. “What are you talking about?”

“He knew about Davida,” Dylan said, waving her hand at Stiles. “He knew what and who she was all this time, and he didn’t tell us.”

Wyatt turned on Stiles. “You knew she was working for Luc and Lily?”

“Yes,” Stiles said. “But—”

Wyatt didn’t wait to hear Stiles’ excuse. He swung low and fast, punching Stiles in the gut and followed it up immediately with a fist under Stiles’ jaw as his head came down in response to the first hit. He flew backward, landing hard on his bottom in the grass. But Wyatt didn’t stop there. He charged after Stiles, yelling at him to get up even as he landed a few well-placed kicks to Stiles’ ribs.

“Stop!”

Dylan grabbed Wyatt’s arm and pulled him back. “You have to stop,” she said. “You’re only going to hurt yourself.”

“When did you find out?” he demanded, turning his anger on her.

“Just now.” She let go of him and stepped back. “Do you really think I would have let Ellie walk us into that park if I knew the truth?”

Wyatt studied her face for a long second. “Did Joanna tell you?”

“This has nothing to do with Joanna,” Stiles said as he slowly picked himself up off the ground and dusted off his pants. “I don’t think she even knew about Dylan until you delivered her to Viti.”

“I didn’t deliver her to Viti.”

“Yes,” Stiles said. “You were misled. I forget.”

Wyatt turned on Stiles again. Dylan thought they were going to come to blows once more, but Wyatt stopped just short of raising his fist. “As I recall, you were along for that ride,” he said to Stiles.

“And I told her over and over not to trust you.”

“Did you?” Wyatt asked, his voice suddenly low, cold. “Funny. I told her the same thing about you.”

“I know.” Stiles stepped back a little, again fussing over the dust on the back of his pants. “Too bad she didn’t listen to either of us.”

“Quit talking about me like I’m not standing right here,” Dylan said.

Stiles looked over at her, again that sadness so clear in his eyes. Wyatt didn’t turn. His attention was stuck on Stiles, tension so tight in his shoulders Dylan thought he might give himself an injury if he didn’t relax soon.