Fallen Embers (Fallen Guardians #9)

Chapter 6

Chapter

Six

Jesus, the way Lore stared at her, one would think she’d revealed herself as a wanted criminal. The least he could do was ease up with the coldness since she’d never lied to him about being glamoured. If anything, he gave glacial a new meaning at seeing her true self.

And for some reason, that depressed her a little.

Scowling at her stupidity, Nia trudged along the snow-covered sidewalk.

She rubbed her arms, trying to shake off the chill seeping under her jacket. Worse, prickles crawled beneath her skin like fire ants, the same sensation she’d awoken to after accidentally burning the pillow.

Her heartbeat escalated. Inhaling sharply, she tried to calm down and concentrate on what she needed to get.

As they headed up a side street, Nia took in the quaint two-story buildings. Snow-filled flower boxes lined the windowsills, a few with wilted stems and some greenery poking out of them. The aromatic scent of food drifted to her, and her mouth watered. After she got her things, she’d find that café.

The townsfolk hurried past, hunched in thick outerwear. Several glanced their way only to gawk at the angel beside her.

Naturally, people would be drawn to his angelic beauty and serenity. If only they knew the truth!

She cast Lore a sideways look and found he’d tamped down his aura. Even his striking sunset-red hair appeared a dull brown. Not that it made any difference with his height and gorgeous face. And still, he watched her with an impassive stare.

He’d been doing so ever since her glamour wore off.

And her stupid heart skipped a beat.

Oh, no, no! You stay still, you blood-pumping traitor. I don’t trust you. You make terrible choices. First a demon, now an angel.

“Who asked you to keep me safe?” she asked, shrugging off the unexpected and unwanted pull to a being who possessed no emotions.

“Michael.”

His response jolted her. “Michael? The Michael? As in the archangel?”

He gave a barely perceptible nod.

Wow! A feather could have tipped her over.

Why would Michael be interested in her safety?

Nia frowned as they turned into the already busy main street, reeling in her questions for later. Her gaze bounced everywhere, from the pretty café with alfresco dining spilling out onto the pavement to the nightclub farther ahead. All sorts of stores lined both sides of the snaking street.

“There.” She waved a hand at the clothing shops. “Those.”

As she bypassed the cafe, the few people inside were hunched over in their seats, steaming mugs clenched between their hands. Nia shivered and huddled in her thin jacket.

Teeth clacking, she hurried into the first clothing store. “I don’t know how long this will take…” She glanced back to find Lore frowning at the men’s shirts in an array of colors and prints hanging on the wall. Unable to resist, she drawled, “You should put some color in your wardrobe. Oh, wait, that hair must make up for it.”

“Did you ever think that could be why the demon is after you?” A tic worked in his jaw.

Because of her quick mouth? She bit back a grin. While her life might suck right now, she did enjoy rattling him.

His expression slipped back to impassive—no lingering sign of his teeny break in control. “I will do a recon of the area. When you’re finished, wait here for me.”

“If they don’t have what I need here, I might have to visit other stores too.”

His cool stare shifted outside and back to her, his eyes like silver-flecked, green granite. “Very well. I will find you.”

Nia shrugged and strolled off before he laid down more rules. Seriously, where did he think she would run off to in this place surrounded by forest, mountains, and fresh air? Besides, much as she liked taunting Lore, she was sticking to his side like duct tape until it was safe to go back home.

Her troubled thoughts slipped back to the name Lore mentioned as she flipped through the knitwear.

Michael.

Why on earth would an archangel want her protected? And from whom?

Kas, or…? God . She blew out an anxious breath. She didn’t know anymore.

Her chest constricted, remembering her near brush with death when the balustrade broke. Before she gave herself a heart attack, she shut it out and concentrated on what she came here for…

Two hours later, Nia slipped her credit card back into the case of her cell phone and left the last store with a shopping bag containing the few things she needed. Underneath her jacket, she wore a thick cream sweater she found on sale—yay for unraveling wool and one tiny hole at the hem. At least she was finally warm.

She glanced up, then down the busy street.

No sign of Lore.

Hunger gnawed at her as she crossed the road to the pharmacy for toiletries. This last stop, then she’d go feed her starving belly and wait for Lore.

Ten minutes later, Nia tapped her foot as she waited for her purchases to be cashed up.

“I haven’t seen you here before.” The guy behind the counter cast her a friendly smile as he handed her a slip to sign. “A visitor, yes?”

She slashed her signature, then took her card. “I am.”

“If you need a tour guide, I’m happy to oblige.” He gave her a flirty smile as he bagged her few things. “I’m Vasile Petre?—”

“She won’t,” a cool voice said.

Nia glanced over her shoulder as Lore strode to her, his previously unbound hair pulled into a ponytail, revealing the hard lines of his cold, handsome face.

It wasn’t like she would have accepted the clerk’s invitation, anyway.

“I’m busy, but thanks.” Nia smiled at the man, who cut Lore a wary look. She grabbed the toiletry bag and walked out before Lore turned the poor guy to stone or something, considering his icy glare.

“Where were you?” she asked.

“Keeping an eye on you.”

She stopped dead. “What? I didn’t see you anywhere.”

“That’s the point when in a busy place, isn’t it? I draw notice. It was best to remain invisible and keep watch.”

Pedestrians skirted them, some casting her a scowl.

Nia shook her head, slipped her credit card into her jacket pocket, and detoured for the café.

“Where are you going?”

“In case you’ve forgotten, I am human. I need food.” She took a seat at the back of the café, out of the cold. Shopping bags settled on the floor next to her, she picked up the menu that was already on the table.

After a moment, Lore pulled out the chair opposite her and sat as she glanced through the breakfast items. She rested an elbow on the table, her fingers playing with the multiple studs on her ear. She lifted her gaze to find him watching her again.

Her breath caught.

“I’m sure you can keep an eye on me without actually gluing your eyeballs to me,” she muttered, feeling out of sorts at his unwavering attention.

A young waiter with friendly blue eyes approached. “Ready to order?”

“Yes.” She gave him a bright smile, trying to shake off whatever idiocy had her stupid heart doing a giddy spin. It must be the darn clean air in the village. “I’ll have your traditional breakfast.”

“Good choice,” he said, sporting a charming accent. He glanced at Lore. “You, sir?”

“Oh, he’s fasting,” Nia deadpanned, causing his metallic green eyes to narrow.

The waiter nodded and left with her order.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, stop with the peril you have wrapped around you like a grenade about to go off, or you’ll scare the locals into hiding before I even have my breakfast.”

“When were you going to tell me about the fire?”

Her fingers clenched as his words registered.

It took a moment before her brain tracked, and she clenched her fingers.

That was why he watched her, not because he suddenly saw her as a person. He probably thought she’d burn down the village. Her hunger pangs waned.

She hunched over and could feel his stare as she repositioned the salt and pepper shakers on the checkered tablecloth, then drew them to the edge… aaand pushed them to the middle again.

There were only so many ways she could do that.

He continued watching her.

Damn, delaying wouldn’t change anything, and from his cool expression, he wasn’t relenting either. He probably knew every little mishap about her life, too.

Straightening her spine, she cut him a dirty look from beneath her lashes. “So? You going to report me to the psychic police for burning a pillow?”

A slight crease formed between his brows. “I feel the change in you. It’s a little different from yesterday. Stronger. Your powers, I mean.”

“Whoop-de-do,” she grumbled. “Well, I don’t feel any different.” No need to mention the rampant energy roiling through her like a dizzy swarm of bees or the rising heat. She grabbed the roll neck of her sweater and tugged it down.

Lore suddenly shot to his feet and stalked over to the waiter. He said something, and the waiter nodded before disappearing into the back. Lore glanced about the place, expression hard, eyes steely. Nothing new there.

Did he finally order food for himself?

She snorted. Consume inferior mortal offerings? She didn’t think so.

Those otherworldly, silvery-green eyes came back to her, as if he had heard her, and narrowed.

Oh, boy. Her belly dipped. Yes, he was gorgeous, with his chiseled features and rigid jaw, but deeper, the angel was like a darn ice block, devoid of any feelings unless his divine self was insulted.

With a mental eye-roll, Nia glanced out the window at the shrubs, most of which were bare of leaves.

A moment later, he appeared with a box in his hand. “Let’s go.”

“What?” She forced her gaze away from the mysterious white box and looked up at him. “I haven’t had my breakfast yet?—”

“Being outside for so long is not safe. Get your things.”

A chill of trepidation slithered down her spine. “It’s not just Kas, is it?”

He didn’t respond.

Dread bled through her. Nia grabbed the shopping bags and hurried after him. A blaze of heat swept through her, and she gasped.

He pivoted, his gaze skating over her, then around them. “What is it?”

“Nothing. Just tired.” She inhaled another harsh breath, fingers clenched around the handles of her shopping bags, wanting desperately to yank off her jacket and sweater now. “Can we get out of here, please?”

He frowned, then inclined his head. Once amidst the trees, he grasped her arm and flashed them.

They reformed in the abbey’s courtyard. Dizziness swamped her. Her bags fell, and she grabbed his shirt before she embarrassed herself and collapsed to her knees.

He’d probably let her fall as payback.

One of his hands slid around her waist, supporting her. His touch, even through her sweater, soothed. “Are you okay?”

She looked up, drowning in his incredibly beautiful eyes, and something shifted in their otherworldly depths. He blinked, and as fast, he took a step back, as if she had the cooties or something.

“Go inside,” he said, his tone back to impassive. “It is cold out here.”

Her life was falling apart, and she wasn’t even worthy of a little comfort? She should have known. Except for her friends, comfort was never freely given to her, and certainly not from this angel. Mouth tight, Nia trudged indoors.

In the kitchen, she dropped her bags on the table and sagged in a chair, exhaustion overwhelming her. She rubbed her trembling hands over her hot face.

Lore set the large white box down and pushed it closer to her. He didn’t ask if she was okay or needed anything. No, she was on her own, like always.

He turned for the outside door, then stopped. “Eat.”

She lowered her hands. “What happened?”

“Your breakfast. I asked them to box it?—”

Nia pushed the container away, her hunger diminishing. The prickling energy swirled through her, making breathing harder. “No, I meant what did you sense in the village? Was it demons?”

“Demons have inhabited this world for a long time.”

“I know that.” She jerked up from her chair and scratched the scar on her palm. “My best friend’s mated to one. Her family are demon hunters. I mean, for the evil ones.”

He slid his hands into his pants pockets. “I know. If that is all…” He opened the outside door. “I won’t be long.”

Darn it! Why wouldn’t he tell her what was wrong?

He might not like her being close to him, but this was her life on the line, and she needed answers. She’d drag it out of him if she had to.

Too fired up to let the exhaustion and the damn heat churning within to slow her down, she stomped after the frustrating angel as his tall figure disappeared around the outbuilding. He wasn’t going to evade her again.

She skirted the brick shed and crashed into his back, where he’d halted, a loud oomph escaping her. He didn’t even glance back.

She shot around to his front. “What’s going on, Lore?”

His attention remained on his cell.

“For pity’s sake, tell me something! I’m tired of not knowing, of living in fear because a demon wants to drain me. And I know someone else is after me, too, but you won’t say who or why!”

Slowly, his gaze lifted to hers. “Because you are likely a psionic.”

“Wh-what?” She blinked, confusion replacing her ire.

He turned his cell to her, and she saw the message he’d been reading.

She could be psionic. If that turns out to be true, every demon, every evil, will be after her. That cannot happen. Her protection is crucial at all times.

“Psionic?” she repeated, her gaze locked on his phone, so sure her heart would escape her chest. He slipped the device into his pocket, forcing her attention back to him.

“What does that even mean?”

“I have something to do first. Go back into the abbey.” He entered the small outbuilding, but Nia didn’t move—couldn’t. Moments later, a hum sounded. He walked out, his brow furrowing when he saw her. “You’re still here?”

“Tell me.”

He shut the shed door. “Psionics are the descendants of the long-annihilated angels called the Watchers.”

“The…what?” She rubbed her temples, trying to make sense of what he said. “What are you talking about? What Watchers?”

He motioned with his head for her to start walking. Nia forced her limbs to move and shuffled along the snow-covered ground marred from their footprints, his words ringing in her ears.

Descendants of the long annihilated Watchers.

She was a descendant of the Watchers?

God! What kind of new nightmare was this?

He opened the kitchen door and waved her inside.

Nia paced to the other end of the long table and spun back. “That message was from the archangel?”

“Yes. Since you are aware of Others, then you should know that the Watchers mated with human females and bore offspring.”

She grasped the backrest of one of the mismatched chairs, her fingers curling tightly around the smooth wood. “I never studied the Bible or went much to church after my parents’ deaths, much to Nan’s annoyance. So no, I don’t know anything about them.”

“Regardless. You likely carry their blood. Even a trace of it would infuse you with their abilities, and most were exceptionally powerful. Your pyro ability could be the start of it.”

“No.” She shook her head. “No! I can’t deal with this, too!”

“You have to. It’s important.”

“I don’t want this ability—to be this descendant of those angels. I just don’t! It’s enough a demon wants my blood!”

“You cannot hide your head in the clouds.” He stood there so tall and remote, like a distant star. “If your powers are awakening, it must be faced.”

“Easy for you to say.” She glowered at him, her mind in chaos. “You aren’t the one whose entire life is changing!”

At the truth in his calm stare, her heart crashed against her sternum as if it would escape. “No, no?—”

She shot out of the kitchen, across the living room, and up the stairs to her room. A sob caught in her throat as she slammed the door shut and sagged against it. No matter where she ran and hid, she couldn’t deny that deep within, she felt the changes—the churning energy, the escalating heat.

She sank to the floor and drew her knees up, everything pressing down on her.

This can’t be happening.

She would never have a safe life, not with demons always hunting her.

Sweat beaded her brow, and she yanked off her jacket and flung it away. It landed across the room. Her thick sweater followed, her thin top sticking to her clammy skin. But the icy air from the open window did little to cool her.

With a shuddering moan, she buried her face in her raised knees as she rocked herself, the heat building beneath her skin.

Christ! Please, please, let this be a bad dream. Even as the plea formed, tingles danced across her fingertips. I can’t face this kind of life, always hiding. I just can’t…