Out in Blue (22 page)

Ginger lifted her head. A tall female archangel stood between the two poachers. Dark eyes stared down from a heart-shaped face. Brown hair matched her feathers. Every inch of her oozed beauty in a stereotypically angelic way.

“Hello, Wren,” the archangel said in a sweet voice.

Wren’s tone sent a chill along Ginger’s spine. “Trinity.”

Ginger clenched her jaw.

“It appears congratulations are in order,” Trinity said, kicking dirt toward Ginger’s bandaged hand. Ginger jerked her hand away.

Wren fisted his hands and spoke again in that cold voice. “What the fucking hell are you doing?”

Trinity’s face remained an emotionless mask. “One does what one must do to survive. It’s me, or it’s you and the others. I
am
sorry about this, Wren. Truly.” She turned away and disappeared into the trees, her flight feathers swaying behind her.

“Thornton?” Ginger whispered.

Wren shook his head, hatred in his eyes. “I doubt it. She hasn’t changed a bit.”

“Let’s do this,” a poacher said. A heavy, brown leather case hit the ground. He knelt down and lifted the lid. Inside were bone-cutters and two large blades that would have been effective at taking the head off a bull.

Wren cursed and lifted his wings, but one bent at an unnatural angle, broken by a bullet.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Ginger screamed at the poacher who approached Wren with one of the heavy blades.

The poacher from the café knelt and stared at her. He spoke in a condescending tone. “Oh, don’t worry. He won’t suffer…for long. He’ll bleed out fast.”

Ginger flung a fistful of dirt at his face. She tried to move her legs, but below her waist numbness spread, rapidly replacing the pain and any other sensation. Damn it, she’d been shot in the back.

The armed poacher knelt near Wren’s head and gripped his wing. Her mate struck so fast she sucked in a surprised breath. Wren seized the poacher by the leg and shoved a hand under the cuff of his jeans.

An unholy scream filled the air, as did the scent of burnt flesh. The poacher collapsed to the ground, silent and still. The blade landed in the dirt out of Ginger’s reach.

“Fuck!
Fuck!
” the remaining poacher hollered. “Fucking devil!” He cursed some more, staying well out of reach, and drew a gun.

“No!” Ginger shouted, but the gunshot drowned out her voice.

Pain erupted from Ginger’s shoulder, but the blood poured from Wren’s. He screamed and panted into the ground. The poacher bent over and picked up the blade.

With his good hand, Wren reached out and gripped Ginger’s arm.

“I can’t let you watch this, Gin-love,” he whispered.

“Wren—”

The healing heat spilled over her skin, and the wounds in her legs and back started to mend. Darkness flooded her vision, and though she fought it, unconsciousness claimed her.

Chapter Twenty-five

Ginger summoned every ounce of control she possessed and stayed still; she didn’t want her captors to know she’d woken. She clenched her teeth together to hold in the screams and tensed her muscles to subdue the shaking. Wren… What had they done to her mate? Was there any chance he was still alive?

Hands tied behind her back, she lay on her side in a fetal position, her eyes closed. Cold, damp leaves cushioned her cheek. She’d woken to an argument and recognized the poacher’s baritone voice and Trinity’s cold alto.

“What did I say about speaking without my permission, Devil?”

Trinity cursed. “She’s human. One of
you
.”

“Like I give a shit. Why the sudden bleeding heart?”

“I…” Trinity’s voice hitched.

The poacher’s voice grew chilly. “Are you hiding something from me?”

“No.”

“Bullshit!”

Trinity gasped, a panicked, choking sound. Ginger cracked open her eyelids. The poacher had the brunette by the throat with one hand, a sharp blade against her ribs with another.

“What are you hiding?” the poacher demanded, giving Trinity a good shake by the neck. “Does this girl have talents other than killing and healing?”

“Not that I know of, you greedy fuck.” Though strangled, Trinity regained her controlled, indifferent voice.

“What then?”

Trinity screeched as the poacher drew the knife across her skin below her halter top. The archangel twisted at the waist, her wings giving her momentum, and threw the poacher off her. He crashed into the bushes.

Ginger’s eyes widened. Trinity seized the poacher’s knife from the ground and dashed over. The archangel lifted her wings, dropped to her knees, and dug the knife into the rope that secured Ginger’s hands.

“Run back to the colony,” Trinity hissed through her teeth. “Don’t stop. The poacher wants to keep you to sell your healing talent.”

Ginger stared, dumbstruck. “Why are you—”

The poacher scrambled to his feet and lunged. Ginger shouted, but Trinity persisted with the knife. The human landed on the archangel’s back and forced her down into the dirt at Ginger’s side, both hands wrapped around her neck.

Cursing, Ginger wrenched her arms. Trinity hadn’t cut all the way through the ropes, but had loosened them enough for Ginger to wiggle free. Partially covered by Trinity’s wing as the archangel struggled, Ginger reached up and seized the poacher’s wrist.

She saw Wren’s face in her mind’s eye as she let the deadly heat gather on her skin. Not a single flicker of regret burdened her as the poacher screamed and his skin burned under her hand.

“
Devil
,” she spat at him as his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed on Trinity’s back. He jerked as if suffering a sort of seizure, then lay still, his eyes and mouth gaping up at the forest canopy.

Trinity struggled under the body but Ginger sat on the poacher’s back, pinning the archangel to the ground. Ginger put both her feet on an outstretched wing. Furious brown eyes stared up from under long, curled lashes.

“Get off, halfling!” Trinity snapped.

Ginger leaned forward, wondering briefly how Trinity knew of her heritage. But only one thing mattered at the moment. Tears ran in hot lines down Ginger’s cold skin. “What happened to my mate?”

Trinity dropped her head to the forest floor. “What do you think? He’s dead. Can’t you tell?”

Ginger covered her chest with her hand. Wren had said the mating bond would persist after a death, but would assume an eerie quality, like sensations from a missing limb. A knot throbbed near her heart. Focusing on that discomfort, she searched for information. Was Wren nearby? In pain? Hungry? Cold?
Anything
?

Nothing. The sensation in her chest took on a pins and needles quality. A sob hitched in Ginger’s throat. “You…you killed my mate.”

“The
poachers—
”

“You are as guilty as they are! Don’t give me that crap about protecting yourself. You were walking around unbound. You could have escaped instead of leading them to us. You could have dropped them when you flew them to that mountaintop—”

“No.” Trinity’s voice was a growl. “If they had
your mate
locked away somewhere, you’d have done no different.”

Ginger paused, a fresh wave of sickness washing over her stomach. “You’re mated?”

“To a human, for three years,” Trinity murmured. “He insisted on going back to Chicago for a funeral last week, where our Guardians couldn’t follow. The poachers kidnapped him. He’s still alive. I can still sense him, and his hunger. They haven’t fed him for days.”

“Why not kill you both? They’re
poachers
, for the love of—”

“My psychic talent. I can sense the location of other archangels. They intended to use me to hunt many, not just Wren.”

“That’s how you found us.” The murderous heat gathered at her fingers, but Ginger kept her hands in her lap.

“Yes, and that’s how I know you’re pregnant.”

Ginger stared, her mind a complete blank for several seconds. “What?”

“Twins,” Trinity said, her eyes dropping to Ginger’s middle. “That’s why I tried to convince the poacher to free you. I can sense…three. You and two young. My talent can detect archangels within hours of conception—” She coughed. “Do you mind letting up? I can’t breathe.”

Ginger stood and helped roll the poacher’s body off Trinity. But she seized the archangel’s arm as she got to her feet.

“You wouldn’t.” True fear lit those brown eyes.

“Wren would never have hurt you,” Ginger replied, feeling as cold as she sounded. “Don’t be so sure about me. You were trying to protect me from the poacher because I’m pregnant? Bull. Why the hell should I think you give a damn?”

“I do give a damn, halfling! I take it you know what happened between me and your mate. Yes, his gift disgusted me. I felt nauseous every time he touched me. But that doesn’t mean I wanted him dead. I had no choice. The poachers knew Wren was in the vicinity and called me on it when I tried to lie.” Trinity stared with a small, bitter smile. “Your young, however, I could hide from the poachers. Maybe a thank you is in order?”

“Don’t push it.” Ginger let go.

Trinity pulled away, rubbing her arm, and spread her wings. She pointed through the trees. “The colony is a few miles straight that way. I suggest you get back. You’ll need your father-in-law to keep those young alive. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my Guardians in Eden and see about saving my mate.”

Trinity took flight over the river and disappeared through the gap in the canopy. Ginger watched her go, then dropped her gaze. She covered her lower belly with her hands, sank to her knees, and let the grief hit her. Sobs wracked her body and she collapsed on the forest floor, consumed with a pain far worse than anything her body had ever produced.

For a long time after she’d exhausted herself, she remained on the ground, staring at the rushing water. Wren had described the death of a mate perfectly. Like an amputee without an arm, still feeling their fingers. The connection she had felt with Wren since the mating still tickled her senses. Like she was in a dark room. He was with her, she just couldn’t see—

She jerked into a sitting position. She
could
damned well see! Under the waves of her grief, she hadn’t considered her psychic talent.

Death didn’t need to separate them entirely.

“Wren!” She jumped to her feet, screaming. “Wren!”

§

Wren blinked, disorientated. He lay face down in a pool of blood, as he had before he’d lost consciousness. His blood had spread across the ground, mingling with leaves and a few stray feathers, for what had seemed like a small eternity. Unable to comprehend anything but the pain that had engulfed his body, he’d just watched as his life flowed across the ground. Eventually, cold had overcome the agony, and Wren had drifted to sleep.

Had he somehow survived? Feeling fine, strong even, he flattened his hands in the congealed goo and pushed himself up. He stared down at the sight of his own face, his eyes closed, his skin blood-spattered and pale. Survived? No, definitely not. Grim reality took hold and he got to his feet. Unable to look at the remains of his butchered body, he turned away.

Ginger. Where was his mate?

Wren pivoted in a circle, surprised the mechanics of movement worked the same as they had in life. So much felt the same, he realized: the damp air on his skin, if he could call it skin anymore, and the uneven ground under his feet. Absent, however, was the pounding of his heart as he scanned the clearing and saw no sign of Ginger. The lack of air in his lungs didn’t stop him from shouting.

“Gin!”

She’d be able to hear him, after all. Her talent. Had Trinity and the poacher taken her? He refused to consider that they’d killed her. Besides, she’d be standing there with him if they had, right? Had they left her, and she’d already woken? How much time had passed? He tried to calm his mind.

Fog. The mist had thinned but hadn’t cleared off; it was still morning. Wherever she was, she must still be asleep.

One blessing
, he thought, as his wingless body caught his eye again. At least she wouldn’t see
that
when she woke.

He tore out of the clearing and found himself instantly at his intended destination, the ruins where he’d mated Gin the night before. Speed of thought, Lark had said, about moving as a spirit. The demon hadn’t exaggerated.

One glance around revealed an empty space. “Gin!”

The mountains didn’t send his voice back as an echo. A raven pecking at the remains of the orange peel didn’t react to his presence.

Wren hurried to the rocky outcrop at the edge of the ruins and stared down at the misty valley. He had to search for Ginger, even if he couldn’t physically help her if he found her. In life, the mating bond would have given him a clue how far away she was, in what direction to look, and whether or not she was in pain. Now, all he sensed was…nothing.

He hesitated at the edge. As a spirit,
could
he travel through the air, or was he limited to walking and mentally jumping from location to location?

As he anticipated leaping off—what was the worst that could happen?—light in his peripheral vision caught his attention. He turned his head to the left, and if he’d had a heart, it would have frozen.

Wings. His incorporeal self had wings, but nothing like those he’d had in life. Silver light stretched out to either side of his body, which he now realized glowed as well. He held his hands up to his face. The brilliance made him squint.

Wren moved his wings and found he lifted,
floated
, off the ground with little effort. He stared out at the valley again, a little hope rising in his chest.
Gin, I’m going to find you
—

“Wren.”

Wren folded his light wings and sank back to the ground. He pivoted.

He blinked.

The ruins were awash in silver light. Archangels, dozens of them, stared back at him.

Wren sucked in a sharp breath.

All the transparent male and female archangels glowed with silver light. They stood in doorways, in trees, and on crumbling rooftops. A few whispered to each other while glancing in his direction. Most just stared. One female perched on top of the fountain, her silver eyes peering at Wren with unabashed curiosity. She spread her wings, dropped lightly to the ground, and approached Wren at the cliff’s edge. Barefoot, she wore a typical archangel halter top and pants, both white.

Wren’s gaze drifted from the delicate curve of her jaw to her large eyes and to her ginger-gold hair. He’d recognize this archangel anywhere.

She stopped in front of him and smiled. Her silver eyes scanned him from wing to toe. “Wren. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a long time. I’m Gabrielle.”

Wren stared at Ginger’s mother for a long moment, then at her offered hand. He dropped his gaze to his own translucent fingers.

Gabrielle laughed lightly and took Wren’s hand with a perfectly solid grip.

Wren took a step back, his heels at the cliff’s edge. “Excuse me if I’m not so easily amused. Ginger, my mate—”

The smirk disappeared from Gabrielle’s face. “You can relax, Wren. My daughter isn’t in immediate danger. She handled her captor quite well.”

Gabrielle swept her hand back toward the glowing crowd. A cluster of archangels parted, and two particularly tall individuals stepped forward, their wings extended and lifted, like vultures in the sun. They held a transparent, human spirit between them, who struggled. Wren recognized the poacher.

“Let go of me, damn it!” the poacher hollered at his keepers. His gaze landed on Wren and his eyes widened. “
Son of a bitch!
”

Gabrielle clicked her tongue. “Be careful what you wish for, human.” She turned toward the forest and raised her voice. “Balam! He’s all yours.”

A spirit stepped out of the shadows. Awash in amber light and blood-red flames, the demon grinned, revealing impressive upper and lower fangs.