Stricken (The War Scrolls Book 1) (10 page)

“You know things may get worse for her, brother,” Abriel said.

Killian looked up to find Abriel hovering at the end of the hall, his blue eyes trained on Killian. Abriel moved toward him and then glanced inside the bedroom at Aubrey’s twisting form.

“If her father had anything to do with the virus, the Dominion will end our stewardship over the humans.”

“I know,” Killian said.

No more than six-thousand Fallen remained, and they were afraid. For the first time since the Demon Wars, they were dying. If a human was responsible for that, the Dominion would have no choice but to terminate their eons-old stewardship. The rest of the Fallen would demand it.

And when they did, the demons would come for the humans, hordes of them falling upon Aubrey’s people without mercy. Unless Heaven stepped in, hundreds of thousands would die, and the Fallen would stand by and let it happen. Their survival depended upon it.

“The Dominion will condemn her.”

“I know.”

“You’ll allow it?”

Killian said nothing.

“I thought not.” Abriel sighed.

“I involved her in this.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Killian arched a brow at his blade-brother. “I gave her my word.”

“And it won’t be your fault if you must break it now.”

“Won’t it?” Killian questioned, his gaze wandering back to Aubrey’s sleeping form. She rested peacefully now, curled on her side with her hair spread across the dark pillow and one pale hand tucked beneath her cheek. Her kitten curled up against her heart, purring in his sleep. Killian couldn’t help but feel responsible for her. Had he allowed her to walk away when they found her…but he hadn’t, had he?

His people needed answers. They needed
salvation
. And he’d wanted to give it to them. For all their faults, the Fallen were needed. Human life was fleeting, a wisp of smoke. What was one human life compared to the survival of an entire race?

If the Dominion condemned her for the sins of her father, how could he stop them?

How could he not?

He was a warrior, a protector. Hunting down the demons that preyed upon the humans in their cities was the only life he knew.
Decus et tutamen.
Honor and defense. There was nothing honorable in killing an innocent for the transgressions of her father.

“We still atone for the sins of our fathers,” Abriel murmured.

“This is different.”

The weight of his peoples’ sins demanded atonement. They had cast honor aside and lain with demons. They had created a world of monsters out of pride and foolishness. And instead of killing their monstrous offspring, the Dominion had placed their survival above humanity a second time, unwilling to risk another Fallen life in war to right the wrongs they’d caused. To save themselves, they’d allowed their demonic children to walk the earth for millennia, picking off humans.

If Aubrey’s father had anything to do with
La Morte Nera
, Killian could not believe it was for such a cowardly purpose as that which the Fallen had hidden behind for millennia. From everything Aubrey had said, her father had loved her. Had feared what a virus like
La Morte Nera
might do to his children. Would he have willingly jeopardized their safety to satisfy his own curiosity?

Or was her father more like Killian’s own father?

Killian sighed.

He was contemplating what-ifs and maybes when he didn’t yet even know if there was reason to do so. There were too many questions left to answer. And who knew where those answers would lead? All he knew was that Aubrey wouldn’t suffer for this, regardless of what answers they found. He wouldn’t allow it.

Turning the knob to adjust the lighting in the room, he dimmed the lights enough to let Aubrey rest without leaving her completely in the dark when she woke. He glanced over at her one final time and then pulled the door closed.

“How’s Dom?” he asked, striding down the hall.

“His wounds have healed fine.”

“Good.” Killian paused outside the living room. “Was he able to deal with the vampire?”

“Barely.” Abriel ran a hand down his face. “The doorman called the police.”

Killian nodded, not surprised. The doorman had not been one of the humans who pretended not to see the questionable things happening in front of him. Too many of them turned away from their fellow man, refusing to involve themselves. That carelessness and lack of empathy appalled Killian. The Fallen had a thousand failings, but at least they tried to make things better in their own messed-up way. Too many humans didn’t even bother to do that much. Killian had never understood how they could love so fiercely, yet ignore one another so completely.

“Are they looking for her?”

“Not yet. They didn’t even go into her apartment. They didn’t have probable cause, according to Dom.” Abriel snorted, shaking his head. “He’s watching
Law & Order
.”

“Heaven help us,” Killian muttered—though, it relieved him that his blade-brother could still find joy in such dark times. Nothing could shake Dom’s spirit or silence his laughter for long. “Did you torch the shifters?”

“Yes. And Dom’s burning the vampire now.”

Killian missed the days when burning bodies wasn’t an everyday occurrence, when he and his blade-brothers had spent as much time teaching the sword to Fallen younglings as they had tracking rogue demons. He ached for the days before
La Morte Nera
, when fighting the virus did not consume their lives and they were able to sleep. The days when he didn’t have to force fragile humans to face memories better left buried.

He threw himself down on the sofa and glared at the blank television screen beyond.

Aubrey might not have realized it, but unless something had incapacitated her brother first, he shouldn’t have died in that fire. Elioud shifters were quick, strong.

Someone had set the fire, Aubrey had said, and if Killian’s hunch was correct, they’d done it to hide a more sinister crime. He didn’t want to have to tell Aubrey that, though, especially if he was right. But luck was not a Fallen Talent. He would have to tell her sooner or later. And only Heaven knew how she would handle it.

Abriel took the chair beside him. “Dom asked about her.” A faint smile flashed across his face. “He wanted me to tell you she could stay in his room if you’d like yours back.”

Killian grunted noncommittally. Dom would never fall for a human; Killian knew that. But his brother’s infatuation with Aubrey irritated him, which meant Dom’s flirting would be merciless. That irritated Killian more.

“You like her,” Abriel said.

Abriel and Dahmiel were his brothers in all but biology, raised by the same mother. They had stood at Killian’s side with Caitria, demanding he be given the right to train as a warrior when most of the Dominion had sought to prevent it. They had saved his skin time and again over the years, and he would lay his life down for either of them without hesitation. But sometimes living with them day in and day out drove him mad. Between Dom’s unflagging sense of optimism and Abriel’s ability to cut right to the heart of things, Killian rarely found a moment’s peace.

“She’s had a hard life,” Abriel said, propping his feet on the coffee table and leaning his head back with a sigh.

“Yeah, she has.” Killian was tired. Bone-tired. Two and a quarter centuries of life, and he now felt every one of those years. Unfortunately, sleep did not come easily anymore. He didn’t necessarily need it like the humans did, but he missed the escape it afforded.

“And it’s not over for her yet,” Abriel said.

“Did you pick anything up from her while she was talking?”

“Her thoughts are still jumbled, but there was no avarice in her mind. She feels guilty, though.” Abriel frowned. “Survivor’s guilt, I think.”

Killian knew a thing or two about that.

“You think she’s right about her father?”

“If he didn’t engineer the virus, someone gave it to him.”

“We need to find out.”

“I know.”

Aubrey wouldn’t be pleased, but they needed to visit his lab and retrace his steps.

Killian hesitated a moment. “Will you tell the Dominion?”

“Not until I have to,” Abriel said, his voice quiet and apologetic at the same time.

Killian closed his eyes, praying it didn’t come to that.

Chapter Nine

Dark red curtains and confusion assailed Aubrey as soon as she opened her eyes.

Where was she?

The last thing she remembered—

Elioud shifters and vampires, viruses, and Killian St. James flowed into her mind, hitting her like a hammer blow. She sat bolt upright in the bed with a gasp.

Oh God, had she actually cried herself to sleep on the warrior’s shoulder?

“Crap,” she groaned, mortified that she’d allowed herself to fall apart in front of him. No, not in front of him. More like on
top
of him.

Zee poked his head up from the tangled counterpane and meowed.

“Oh, Zee,” Aubrey whispered.

The kitten yawned and stretched before padding across the bed to her. He hopped up on her chest, butting his head against her cheek. Aubrey stroked a fingertip down his head and then scratched between his ears, grateful for something to focus on other than the frantic, embarrassed thoughts running through her head.

She’d let her guard down, allowing Killian to slip beneath her defenses. What had she expected? That he’d make it all better for her? Make her forget the things hanging over her head like storm clouds? The ones she couldn’t escape or forget?

She’d only just learned to live with the fact that her father and brother were dead. Not survive as she had for so long, but actually
live
. To laugh and smile, to let people in. To find a reason to keep moving forward. And now…well, now she wondered if her life wasn’t some big cosmic joke. One big “let’s wait until she thinks she’s moving on then pull the rug out from under her” moment crafted by God for His amusement.

And why not? She’d survived death twice when she shouldn’t have, first with the Halfling and then the fire. Maybe this was God’s way of punishing her for thwarting His grand design. She’d always believed she should have died instead of Aaron. He’d had the chance to become someone great. He had been so smart and compassionate, and he’d had a plan for his life, like their father. Together, they could have cured cancer, or AIDS, or any other number of diseases.

She loved her job. She loved the brave kids with their bald heads and shy smiles. But she wasn’t her father or Aaron. She couldn’t cure those kids. All she could do was hold their hands and pray for a cure. One her father and Aaron could have found had they lived.

Instead, she’d survived while they’d burned to death, leaving her to fill shoes too big for her.

Arson.

Killian had asked if Aaron or her father had any enemies. But he hadn’t asked if
she
did. She’d long believed the fire was her fault. That her father and Aaron had died in her place because of the Halfling who’d attacked her. She’d survived his torments, and her brother had helped take his life when all was said and done.

What if he hadn’t been the only Halfling around, though?

The thought made sense to her. It always had.

She’d survived when she shouldn’t have, so someone had come back for her. Only, they’d found her father and her brother instead. They’d killed them and left her behind to live with the guilt. Could that be why the Elioud shifters and vampire had come after her? Not because her father had anything to do with the virus, but because her father’s murderer knew this would be their last chance to even the score? To kill her as they’d meant to three years ago?

“God, when will this nightmare end?” she asked, staring down at Zee.

He tilted his head to the side and mewled as if to tell her he didn’t know.

“At least I have you, Zee.” She lifted the kitten and buried her face in his soft fur, inhaling a shaky breath. “You love me, right?”

Zee wriggled in her grasp, squirming his way free. He jumped from the bed, stretched once more, and then darted across the room to the litter box someone had set up near the closet. As the kitten pawed the loose clay, flinging little pebbles from the box, someone knocked on the door.

Aubrey whipped her head in its direction, her heart thumping painfully against her rib cage. “Come in,” she croaked, rubbing her eyes with her palms and scooting back against the headboard.

Killian pushed his way into the room, a tray in hand. He’d changed clothing, jeans and a dark blue polo this time. His blond hair was wild, as though he’d run his hands through it. His gaze met hers.

Bright blue sent butterflies into flight in her stomach again.

A fleeting smile spread across his face and then vanished.

“Good morning.” Aubrey jerked her gaze away from those beautiful eyes and the hesitation in them. Her cheeks burned.

“Afternoon,” he corrected, hefting the tray. “You’ve been out for over twenty-four hours. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” she said, dazed that she’d slept so long.

“I brought you something to eat.” He moved gracefully like a dancer, his feet making barely a whisper of sound as he strolled toward her. For someone so big, so
tall
, he made little noise, period.

Aubrey’s stomach rumbled as food smells wafted from the tray in his hands. He settled it on her lap and stepped back.

“What is it?” She kept her gaze on the covered wooden tray.

“Biscuits and gravy, eggs, and coffee.” He leaned down and whipped the lid off. “It’s not much, but you must be starving.”

Her mouth watered at the sight of the feast heaped upon the plate in front of her. It was enough to feed her two or three times over. There was no way she could eat it all. “This is too much,” she said, glancing up at him. She avoided his eyes, focusing somewhere near his mouth instead.

What would his lips feel like against her skin?

Would they be fierce and unyielding or soft and pliable?

Her stomach fluttered at the thought.

She couldn’t afford to like him or to think of him like that.

“It’s been a while since you ate.” He shrugged, seeming uncomfortable with that fact. “Dom thought more was a good idea. He might have gone overboard.”

“Dom?” Aubrey picked up the fork. “How is he? Healing?”

“He’s fine. Grumbling that I owe him a new shirt, in fact.” Killian rolled his eyes as if irritated—though, his smile gave him away. He cared about his brother, loved him.

Aubrey took a bite of her eggs and nearly moaned at the taste. They were delicious. Or maybe she was starving. She’d eaten only once since meeting Killian.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep on you.” Her cheeks burned.

Killian strode away from her, the move sudden, terse. He set the lid of the tray on the chair but didn’t turn back around to face her. “You were exhausted.”

Aubrey hesitated at his sudden agitation, another forkful of eggs nearly to her mouth. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” he blurted, spinning toward her. The guilty look on his face shocked her. “I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard. You needed rest, not an inquisition.”

“I’m a big girl, Killian. You’re not responsible for me.”

“Aren’t I?” he asked and then shrugged. “Maybe not, but I shouldn’t have pushed like I did. You weren’t ready. I should not have been so careless.”

“Ah,” she said, understanding dawning. She set the forkful of eggs back down on the plate. “Because I’m not Talented, I couldn’t possibly be expected to make my own decisions about what I can or can’t handle, right?”

Growing up, Aaron had been the same way with her. He’d acted as though she couldn’t make a decision for herself. As though, because she was fully human, she was too fragile to know her limits. When she’d broken her ankle climbing a tree with him, he’d blamed himself. He’d done the same when she skinned her knees learning to skateboard and again when she’d fallen off her bicycle and split her head open. But those had been her choices then, and so was this.

She could have refused to answer Killian’s questions about her father and the fire, but she hadn’t. He didn’t get to take the blame for that any more than Aaron got to take the blame when she’d gotten in over her head trying to keep up with him and his friends. She might not have been able to shift or kill anything with her bare hands, but she was responsible for her choices. No one else.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Isn’t it?” she asked.

“No.” He ran a hand through his hair, scowling at her. “You’ve held up a lot better than most anyone would have, given the situation. I simply meant…” He sighed, holding his hands up in surrender. “I don’t know what I meant.”

“I know,” Aubrey conceded, picking her fork up again. She didn’t want to argue with him, and maybe she’d never know strength like he possessed, but she wasn’t helpless. “I may not be able to heft a sword and kill things, but please don’t treat me like my decisions are not my own or as if you’re somehow responsible when I don’t deal well.”

“You make that sound easy. Is it?” He crossed back to the bed and then perched at the foot, examining her face. There were shadows under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in a long time. Even his aura was dimmer, the soft gold color of his skin subdued. How long had it been since he’d rested?

Zee meowed before racing across the room and leaping into Killian’s lap. The warrior looked down at the kitten and muttered something that sounded almost like
spoiled hellcat
. He reached down and scratched the kitten’s ears, though.

Zee rumbled his appreciation.

“Is what easy?” Aubrey asked, unsure what Killian meant.

He continued to scratch Zee’s head, not answering. He could crush the kitten with one hand, but he petted him as though he knew exactly how firmly he could touch. Watching him, she was struck once more with how different he seemed from her attacker. Despite having no reason to help or trust her, he’d been nothing but kind to her.

“Why are you helping me?” she asked, desperate to understand something in this entire waking nightmare. To understand why a Warrior of Light like him would pledge himself to a Talentless Elioud like her. Her people, the humans, didn’t even remember the Fallen. She doubted many would go out of their way to save them even had they known of their existence.

“Because I promised I would.” He focused on the kitten in his lap, avoiding her gaze.

“Why?” she asked again.

“My mother was human,” he said after a long pause, “but I never knew her. She died giving birth to me long before the marvels of modern human medicine.”

“I’m sorry.”

“My father could have saved her. A few drops of his blood and she would have survived. He let her die instead.” Killian glanced up from Zee, sorrow in his gaze. “I don’t know why I’m helping you, but I won’t dishonor her memory by making the same choice he did.”

“You don’t want to be like him,” Aubrey whispered in understanding.

He shrugged, turning back to Zee.

Aubrey ate quietly as he petted Zee, trying to fit this new knowledge—to fit Killian—into place in her mind. She didn’t want to like him, but the more she learned about him, the more difficult holding on to that desire became. She couldn’t let it go, though, not entirely. If she walked that tightrope, God only knew where she’d land.

Killian glanced up from the kitten when she set her fork on the empty plate. “We need to visit your father’s lab.”

She had suspected as much, but pain still twisted her heart when he said the words. She hadn’t been back to Wisconsin since she’d fled. She should have known she couldn’t hide from her home forever, but she’d wanted to do exactly that. The thought of going back and facing the friends she’d abandoned terrified her. So did the possibility that her friends were all dead.

“There may not be anything to find,” she said.

“I know, but we need to look anyway.”

“When do we have to go?”

“We need to be sure there’s no further threat here before we leave. A week at most.” Killian’s lips turned up in a crooked, apologetic smile. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

“I know.” She’d known before she ever told him what she suspected that she’d probably have to go back with him and face the past. Didn’t make it any easier, though.

“I’d like you to stay here until we leave. It’ll be safer for you.”

“That’s fine,” Aubrey mumbled. She didn’t particularly want to go home, anyway. Not after the vampire.

“You can keep my room.”

“What about you?”

Killian shrugged. “I’ll sleep in one of the other rooms. There are plenty.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she protested.

“Trust me,” he said, smiling at her. “You’ll be far more comfortable in here.”

Aubrey swallowed, not so sure that was true. “Thank you,” she whispered anyway.