Fallen Embers (Fallen Guardians #9)

Chapter 20

Chapter

Twenty

No… Lore wouldn’t do that, wouldn’t retaliate.

Nia lay there, breathing hard.

Then why isn’t he checking on you? her conscience demanded.

Her sore butt protested movement as she scrambled to her feet and rubbed the back of her skull, but hurt flickered that he hadn’t come after her, considering how single-minded he was about keeping her ass safe.

She pivoted in a full circle, which didn’t help her dizziness or her aching head, and frowned.

Shit! She couldn’t see him anywhere!

He wouldn’t leave her here alone, would he?

“Lore?” she yelled, then her gaze fell on the prone figure some distance away, near a cluster of boulders.

Oh, no, no! “Lore!”

She sprinted to where he lay motionless and skidded to her knees. His eyes were closed, his face ashen. His hair was like a halo of gore against the snow.

Blood seeped from a gash to his brow. Shit!

“Lore?” She brushed back the vivid strands from his face.

No response.

“Lore?” She shook him, dread gushing through her at his unresponsiveness, aware that more angels could appear at any moment.

Her jaw clenched. No, she couldn’t let that happen!

She grasped his hand, drew on her ability, and imagined them back at the abbey.

The next second, they were in the courtyard. She left him there, opened the abbey door, came back, and cupped his face, trying to awaken him again. “Lore, please, please get up.”

Not even a flicker of eyelashes.

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she grasped his arm and tried to drag him inside, but Lore was dead weight. She barely moved him an inch. “Lore, honey, c’mon! You have to get up, please!”

And nothing.

Ugh! This isn’t going to work. Out there, they would be sitting ducks!

Teeth gritted, she held his hand again and imagined them in her room, on the bed. And the next instant, they were. He landed on her face down, and her lungs nearly collapsed.

She shoved and pushed, and with everything in her, she managed to wriggle out from under him. Panting for air, she sat at his side.

Did she somehow hurt him? She had burned her pillow, so maybe.

Hastily, she lifted his shirt and checked his back for any burn injuries…and nothing. She slid her hand under him and felt his chest and abs, just smooth, warm skin and muscles imprinted on her palm. She exhaled in relief.

At the still seeping cut on his brow, she dashed into the bathroom, dampened a towel, got the first aid box from the cabinet, and rushed back. Gently, she cleansed the wound, likely sustained from hitting a rock?—

The roiling in her skull cranked up, an explosion of colorful stars erupting?—

“No…” She dropped the towel and gripped her hurting head. Voices within grew into a cacophony. Tears gathered. Ow! She tried to shut out the sounds, using all the things she learned as a child to shut out her pain, and some of the rioting eased. The voices receded, giving her a little reprieve…

Did she hit her head too hard when she fell? It had to be, given all the other crap she was going through currently. The buzzing, the heat waves. Man, whatever bloodline she possessed sure sucked.

Inhaling a shuddering breath, she found some antibiotic cream in the first aid box, applied it to the wound on Lore’s forehead, and fixed a Band-Aid large enough to cover his injury. Once done, she gathered everything and returned the items to the bathroom.

Back in the bedroom, she removed Lore’s footwear and dropped it on the floor. Then she sat at his side and smoothed back his hair, her belly knotting.

“What happened to you?” she whispered.

Did some unseen angel knock him out?

A sudden uproar had her shooting to her feet. Malevolence crashed over her like a wave of barbed wire, strangling her breath?—

“Oh, no!” She raced back downstairs and across the sunken living room. As she neared the still-ajar foyer door, she saw them. Jittering dark shapes with red eyes peered through the gap. Fiery bolts of power slammed through the doorway, but they hit the mystical barriers in an explosion of sizzling sparks, then fizzled out. The demons roared with rage.

Nia slammed the door shut. Thank you, wards.

Without them, she and Lore would be toast. She raced around the living area, checking that every window and door was bolted, just in case.

Oh, shit! My room!

She flashed herself upstairs. All locked up, thank God.

Nia stood there, gasps of air skipping down her throat to her burning lungs. Her gaze locked on an unconscious Lore, a sense of utter helplessness constricting her.

Despite her new, stupid power of fire, one she couldn’t even summon, she had no hopes of surviving an attack if they somehow broke through the wards. Those demons could kill her with a flick of a hand.

The buzzing beneath her skin intensified. The raucous noise in her head clamored so loud she moaned, grabbing her head, feeling as if her brain would explode, as if she had no control over her thoughts. Her mind darted through the unoccupied rooms of the abbey, then flew past dark skies studded with stars…a sunny meadow…a hall, angels, younger ones, practicing discordant tunes on their instruments?—

No! She stumbled back, kneading her dizzy head with the heels of her palms.

What was happening to her? Why would all these images of things she never usually thought about bombard her?

Growls erupted, the cacophony hauling her back to the demons in the courtyard, trying to break through the wards. Dammit!

She grabbed Lore’s pewter dagger from the side table, the one he’d used to cut off her underwear, and darted for the workroom overlooking the courtyard.

Kas’ minions? They had to be.

How had they even found her when he was dead?

Panting hard, Nia stopped at the window and clutched the sill. A blast of fire rained down on the courtyard, turning every demon into ash in a heartbeat. Where moments before chaos had reigned, now there was only silence.

What in the ever-loving hell?

She peered up through the foggy glass, and as the mist separated…

Oh, shit! Her gaze latched onto something she never believed possible. Angels and demons, yes, but this? She’d thought them a myth.

A gargantuan black dragon soared down to land in the courtyard amidst the crumbling ash piles and melted snow flooding the granite yard. Mammoth leathery wings settled against its ginormous body.

The creature oozed menace.

A low growl rumbled deep in its throat, and she gripped the window ledge harder. Its head, bigger than a small car, lowered to the ground. Virulent claret eyes swept over the courtyard and then looked up directly at her with slitted pupils.

Eeep! She stumbled back.

Right before her eyes, the dragon shimmered and sort of folded into itself, revealing a naked male…

Race?

He vanished.

Nia wheeled around and halted as he took form in the workshop. No longer stark naked, he wore drawstring black pants, his feet bare. He fastened his long, silver hair into a messy bun.

“Well, that certainly relieved my boredom. Where’s Angel Boy? Shouldn’t he have handled these mofos?”

“You-you…that-that…” Words failed her as she flung a hand toward the window, her mind still struggling to process what she’d witnessed.

He smirked, revealing a bit of his deadly fangs. His eyes remained the same claret hue as those of the mystical creature she had just witnessed killing a horde of demons in one fiery breath. But without the viciousness. His pupils were back to normal.

“Yes, the you-you that-that , out there, was me. Ignore my dragon. He’s an asshole, doesn’t like anyone or anything unless they’re food.”

His casual tone was such a stark contrast to the terrifying creature she’d just witnessed that Nia found herself wondering if she was in shock.

She rubbed her shaky palm down her jeans, the dagger still gripped in her other hand, so grateful she didn’t have to encounter his dragon. “I’m sorry. It’s been a distressing afternoon. My mind’s a mess. Lore, there’s something wrong with him.”

“What do you mean?” Race’s brow furrowed, and then he was gone.

Nia sprinted after him, down the corridor, and burst into her room. She found Race leaning over Lore.

“He’s asleep,” he murmured.

“Angels don’t sleep, Lore told me. He fell into this state down at the river.”

“He definitely is now.” Race straightened, his gaze sweeping over her. “You, however, feel different. You have a shitload of energy spikes.”

She rubbed her temples, the hammering in her skull continuing. “My powers are awakening…” She told him about Lore’s fight with the angels and what happened at the river.

Race frowned. “With these mofo demons appearing right here at the abbey, I need to reconnoiter the place. I’ll check the riverside for any anomaly.” He strode for the door. “Don’t go outside.”

“Wait. Lore said they could be Kas’ minions. He’s the demon who stalked me, but he’s dead.”

Race held the door. A terrifyingly long, black, clawed nail protruding from his ebony scaled finger tapped the wood. “When the demon who summons underlings to do his bidding dies, the hold on the horde is gone. So, it’s likely someone else. I’ll be back.”

Oh, shit. Then, who was controlling these demons?

Nia collapsed on the bedside near Lore. He lay utterly still.

Please, please get up. Something’s happening. Demons are coming after me right here at the abbey. I’m scared.

Worry bled into her while her own burgeoning powers—whatever the heck they were—rose, sweeping through her in a cascade of hurting pinpricks, and she bit back a moan.

God, if this is what she had to endure, then she didn’t want any psychic powers.

She jumped up and paced the foot of the bed, no idea who to call—hell, she was too scared to draw anyone else into whatever this was. Nia continued up and down the room, then stopped at the window and thumped her brow against the pane, staring outside…

As the afternoon waned to evening, a chill oozed into the room. She added more logs from the small pile near the hearth to the fireplace, found a lighter on the mantel, and started a blaze.

The door opened. Race strolled inside, his eerie claret eyes taking in both her and Lore in one sweep. “All seems quiet for now. Whatever happened at the river, I picked up a trace of energy. But I wasn’t sure what that was about. I guess only he…” He nodded to Lore’s comatose form. “Can answer those questions. I’ll stick around until he awakens.”

He walked out again, shutting the door behind him.

Nia sat on the bed next to Lore again.

Carefully, she smoothed back Lore’s fiery hair and picked up the end of the Band-Aid, revealing the still raw, wet gash on his brow. Fear dripped acid into her stomach.

Something bad was happening, and she had no idea what it was.

Did the angels cast a spell on him? No, she instantly dismissed the thought. If they did, they would be surrounding the abbey, surely?

Then why wasn’t Lore healing?