Stricken (The War Scrolls Book 1) (15 page)

The Fallen could have put a stop to the ridiculousness had they tried, but they didn’t. That fact saddened Killian. They were supposed to be humanity’s guardians, but the Fallen did a half-assed job of it. They protected the humans from demons, true enough, but they did nothing to protect the irrepressible human race from themselves. The Fallen were afraid to get too close to the most fragile beings God had created, perhaps because the Fallen were drawn to that innocence and zest for life like bees to honey. They cowered away instead and expected Heaven to welcome them back when all was said and done as if they’d accomplished some great feat of bravery by avoiding humanity and human problems as often as possible. The fools.

Heaven would never fling open its gates to those God had cast out. And soon enough,
La Morte Nera
would eliminate them altogether. They would die in silence, not even a whisper of their deaths passing human lips. How long until the human race followed on their heels, destroyed by the fear and cowardice the Fallen continued to display? After millennia of their God-given punishment, the Fallen had learned nothing. And once again, humanity would suffer for their failures.

There was nothing honorable in that. Nothing.

“Your thoughts are dark, brother,” Abriel murmured.

“
Non semper erit aestas.
” Killian shrugged his brother off with the old Fallen proverb about life not always being as light as summer, unable to answer his unspoken question. He didn’t even know where to begin speaking of the things weighing on his mind, and sharing them would not lift the weight from his shoulders any more than it would ease Abriel or Dom’s mind to speak of the thoughts and fears they grappled with.

“True enough.” Abriel sighed. He looked as tired as Killian felt.

“Did you find anything?” Killian asked.

Dom shook his head, his expression grim. “Their security is tight.”

“You weren’t able to get in?” That surprised Killian. The Fallen had centuries of practice slipping past human defenses. There were few places Dom and Abriel could not enter, either by stealth or with their combined Talents.

“We got in, but they keep everything in an encrypted system,” Dom said.

“Shit.” Killian raked a hand through his hair, frustrated. They needed records, results. Anything would do at this point. “Can you break the encryption?” he asked Abriel.

Abriel pursed his lips and then nodded. “It’ll take time. Days. Weeks, maybe.”

They didn’t have weeks.

Hell, they probably didn’t even have days, but what other choice did they have?

“Do it,” Killian said. “Steal the whole computer system if you have to, but we need those files.”

Chapter Fourteen

The last three years had not been kind to what remained of Aubrey’s childhood home.

Little more than an outer wall still stood. The rest was charred rubble, left lying where it had fallen. Weeds and vines had overtaken the lot. They crept in among the broken beams like a thousand grasping fingers clinging to one another. Little scraps of yellow police tape, shredded and bleached by time, rippled in the late afternoon wind like streamers tossed carelessly to the ground.

Once upon a time, the house had been home.

It wasn’t anymore.

It now stood as a testament to what had been, and what would never be again. Somewhere within that blackened rubble, her father and brother had died for reasons Aubrey was only beginning to understand. There was no peace there for her, but there were no tears, either.

Those were long gone, washed away by three years of grit and grime, of gang brutality and childhood cancer. The naïve teenage girl she’d been when she’d run had smoldered and burned away as surely as the house had.

Killian had been correct—only the lions remained now.

Time and distance had taken the rest, and maybe that was for the best. Idyllic moments were not for her. They belonged to those who could shelter them from the wear and tear of time. Aubrey wasn’t that girl. She wasn’t innocent anymore, with big dreams and high hopes. She was just Aubrey, the young woman who’d seen too much, done too much, and lost too much to be able to recapture that softer part of who she had been then.

And maybe that was for the best.

“What are you thinking about?” Killian asked as she circled around the collapsed ruin, her gaze on the ground. He’d spoken little since they’d left the hotel room, but Aubrey didn’t mind that much. His silence had given her time to think.

“About perspective,” she answered, nudging a rotted roof beam with the toe of her shoe. It crumbled beneath her gentle prodding, little bits of wood breaking into dust-sized pieces. “When I left here, I thought I was leaving behind the harshness of life, that if I ran far enough, I could shut it out and pretend like it didn’t exist.” She shook her head a little. “All I did was trade one hard reality for another.”

“Memphis is a rough city,” Killian said.

“It is,” she agreed, stepping away from the rubble to sit on the ground. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she rested her chin on her knees. “But I think I made my life even harder than it had to be.”

“How so?” Killian leaned on the old oak tree that had once stood outside her bedroom window. It was still charred in places, but green leaves grew in a lush canopy directly overhead.

“I shut everyone out,” she said, lifting her head to look at him. “I thought that would make the loss easier, but it didn’t. I ended up having to face it alone, and that was so much harder.” She frowned. “I guess hindsight is twenty-twenty, though, right?”

“It is,” Killian said.

“I never realized that until now. How hard I made things, I mean.”

“You were young and afraid.”

“It was more than that, I think.”

Killian cocked his head to the side, a question in his eyes.

“I was actually relieved when they admitted me to the psych unit after the fire, you know? I thought they’d convince me I was crazy and everything would be all right. And they did tell me that. My shrink said angels and demons were my way of dealing with everything. They were my mind’s way of processing the trauma, of fitting such violence into my narrow world view.” A wry smile twisted at Aubrey’s lips. “But as badly as I wanted to believe that, I couldn’t lie to myself, either. So I begged Aunt Mel to take me far away, where I could hide and it wouldn’t matter if I believed or not.”

“You were a kid,” Killian said, squatting in front of her.

“I know.” Aubrey sighed. “I did what I thought I had to do. But I didn’t realize how much harder I made it until today. Until now.” She waved her hand in the direction of the ruins.

“It’s not too late for you.”

Aubrey examined the house for a moment and then turned back to Killian. “I hope not,” she said. “I hope it’s not too late for any of us.”

“You really care about what happens to us, don’t you?” he asked.

“I do.”

She might not have wanted to live in his world, but she didn’t necessarily want it destroyed, either. And maybe that’s why she’d had to come back. Not to face her past, but because this world needed her help to survive as much as she’d needed the human world the last few years.

“Do you trust me?” Killian asked, reaching out to stroke one fingertip down her cheek.

Aubrey stared at him, unmoving, before she exhaled softly and nodded. “I do trust you.” More than she’d ever expected she would.

Killian smiled as if she’d given him a prize.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, moving his thumb in lazy lines across her jaw.

“So are you,” she mouthed, wondering if he could hear the way her heart raced in her chest. Wondering what it sounded like to him. Did it tell him that she cared more than she should? That he affected her more than he should?

He said nothing in response to her confession. He merely continued to stroke her jaw and hold her gaze. The bright blue of his eyes stripped her bare. Everything she didn’t want to feel for him seemed pulled to the surface as he held her gaze captive with his own.

She wanted to tell him…something. But she didn’t know what.

His hand fell from her face before she had a chance to figure it out. His gaze drifted away. “We’ve been gone for hours,” he said abruptly, standing in one graceful move. “We should head back.”

Aubrey exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and scrambled to her feet, wiping away the dust and bits of grass and leaves clinging to her jeans.

Neither spoke as they walked to the car.

Aubrey’s steps slowed as they neared the Mustang and then halted altogether. “Do you think my father created the virus?” she asked, turning to look back out at the ruins of her childhood home.

Killian didn’t answer, which was answer enough.

She sighed, a sad frown stretching across her face. “He wouldn’t have done it to hurt anyone,” she said with conviction. Her father would never have purposefully created a virus that could hurt her and Aaron. Every part of her believed that. “There has to be another reason.”

“Perhaps,” Killian responded. “But we may never know what that reason was.”

“Do you think…?”

“Think what?”

“That maybe he didn’t mean to create the virus? He used to talk about how the Fallen could Heal people. Maybe he was looking for a way to save lives without forcing your people to break their vows.”

Killian’s upper lip curled into a gentle smile. “Not even the Fallen fully understand how Healing works. We’ve studied our blood for longer than you can imagine, and we still don’t understand.”

“He didn’t know that,” she argued. “He could have tried to figure it out.”

“He could have,” Killian agreed, “but he probably wouldn’t have been killed for it.”

Aubrey flinched. “Anyone could have set the fire.”

“Your brother was an Elioud shifter, Aubrey. He was strong, fast, and healed quickly. Do you honestly believe he would have died like that, or let your father die, had a human set the fire?”

“I don’t…” She surveyed the rubble again and sighed.

As much as she wanted to believe the answer was simple, that some
one
opposed to some
thing
had stolen her family, she’d always known that wasn’t true, and for exactly the reason Killian said. Aaron had been larger-than-life, every bit as much a warrior as Killian. A simple fire wouldn’t have killed him. And he wouldn’t have let their father die that way, either. She’d always known that even if she hadn’t been willing to consider what that truly meant.

“No,” she said quietly, “he wouldn’t have.”

“Hey,” Killian murmured, reaching out to pull her into his arms. “That doesn’t mean your father did anything wrong. It doesn’t mean he intended to hurt anyone. There could be a thousand different explanations.”

“You don’t actually believe that, though, do you?” she whispered, meeting his gaze. “You think he engineered the virus and someone killed him for it. You think he’s the reason everyone is dying now.”

“I don’t know what I think,” he answered carefully.

“You’re lying.” She pulled away from him, days of silent frustration boiling over. “You might not know what’s really going on, but you suspect enough. That’s why I’m being chased, isn’t it? He created the virus, and I have to pay for it. I mean, if your people are going to be wiped out because of what he did, you might as well take me with you, right?”

Killian blanched, causing her to instantly regret her bitter words. She couldn’t take them back, though. She wasn’t even sure she
wanted
to call them back. If her father had created the virus now ravaging the Fallen and their kin, why wouldn’t they want to make sure she died with them?

“Maybe I deserve it,” she muttered.

“Stop it.” Killian grasped her shoulders. His hands were hard on her, his eyes glittering with anger. “Whatever happened and whatever his role, you will not pay for it.”

“Won’t I?” she asked, refusing to back down. “Haven’t I already? I’m the one that found him and Aaron, Killian. That day haunts me. No matter what I do, it’s there, hovering in the back of my mind. It doesn’t get easier or better or go away. It’s constantly there. So I have to believe that maybe I was supposed to die with them and fate is finally catching up to me. Because that’s better than believing the last three years were my own personal punishment.” She laughed bitterly. “Dying would have been easier. It would have hurt less. So maybe that’s what I have to do to end this. Just die.”

A menacing growl tore from Killian’s lips, startling her. His eyes darkened, bright blue giving way to roiling, black storm clouds as he backed her into the car. “Is that what you want, then?” he asked. “To die?”

Aubrey’s heart slammed hard against her rib cage, fear pounding through her at the cold, hard look on his face, as if he hated her. For the first time in days, Aubrey feared him. He was massive, a giant, every bit the Warrior of Light and avenging angel his people had been created to be. He could kill her with one hand if he wanted. And she wouldn’t be able to stop him.

He bent over her, trapping her between his body and the car.

“Is that why you came here?” he asked, his lips nearly touching hers.

Aubrey swallowed hard, her hands frozen into useless fists at her sides.

“Answer me,” he demanded, hovering over her. “Is that why you agreed to come back here? Because you want to die?”

“No.”

“Did you expect me to do it for you?” he asked, pain and anger stamped across his face. “Was I supposed to be your murderer, Aubrey? Is that what you want from me? To take your life so you didn’t have to feel guilty for what’s happening to the Fallen now?”

“No,” she whispered, a tear trailing down her cheek. “I don’t want to die, Killian. Stop, please. You’re scaring me.”

Killian fell silent above her for a protracted moment, and then, as quickly as he’d done when he’d kissed her, he was gone. Aubrey didn’t move or breathe. She didn’t even open her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into the tense silence. “God, I’m so sorry.”

She said nothing, unable to find words through the fierce pounding of her heart.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said, almost seeming to plead with her. “I swear to you, I won’t. But you can’t punish yourself for what your father might have done. I won’t let you. Whatever the Elioud are after, whatever they want from you, they aren’t going to get it.”

Aubrey swallowed. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, cracking her eyes open to look at him.

He stood several feet away, seemingly torn between coming closer to comfort her and staying where he was. His expression was full of remorse and regret.

“I didn’t mean what I said. I’m just scared, Killian,” she said. “Everything is changing, and I don’t know why or how I feel or what to do. I don’t understand any of this or what it means for me.”

“That’s what life is, Aubrey,” he responded, his expression shifting from remorse to sympathy. Regret still brimmed in his angel-bright eyes. “It changes.
You
change.”

“I wish it’d stop for a minute and let me catch my breath,” she muttered, swiping at her cheeks.

Killian laughed, the sound bouncing back to her in melodic echoes.

The tension between them dissipated, and he stepped closer once more.

“Trust me, time standing still isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“What’s it like?” she asked as he leaned back against the side of the car.

“Living forever?” he asked, a wry smile on his lips.

Aubrey nodded.