Dance of Wings (Curse of the Guardians #7)

21. Scarlet

Chapter 21

Scarlet

L ucifer had asked her to dinner. Out of everything she’d seen and done, that was the most surprising. He’d asked her so nicely too, and she swore she saw nerves beneath his teasing. As if her answer mattered.

She knew she was supposed to agree, Cassiel demanding she continue to get closer to Lucifer and be the spy he knew she was.

But she couldn’t. Not after the way he touched her.

She’d never been kissed like that before. His lips a possessive brand that had ignited something in her that she’d thought she’d lost. He kissed exactly like he fought, ruthless and with a dominance she had no hope of winning.

It was intoxicating that confidence, and she had to get out of his orbit before she did something stupid, like kiss him again.

“There you are,” Aeron hissed as soon as she stepped inside her room. “I need you to look at my side again, it won’t stop bleeding.”

Scarlet glanced at his eyes, the redness and lack of reaction to the light indicating he was high. “I’m going to take a wild guess that whatever substance you’ve snorted is a blood thinner. My medical recommendation is to stop.”

Unhooking her bow she threw it on her bed, her hand automatically reaching for the empty sheath on her forearm.

“Shit,” she whispered, remembering that rainbow faerie had taken the weapon.

“You didn’t even look!” he screeched, shoving her hard in the shoulder.

“Aeron,” she growled. “Stop.” She wanted nothing more than to shower, and maybe cry out her excess emotions. Not necessarily in that order. Or maybe at the same time if she was feeling extra productive.

He shoved her again, hard enough her back hit the wall. She’d expanded her wings, minimising the possible damage. Aeron closed their distance, his breath foul when he pressed close enough she was essentially pinned.

“You’re going to check my side,” he snarled quietly. “And you’re going to heal me like you did Kit.”

“I didn’t heal Kit.” She remained calm, knowing he wasn’t rational right then.

“I watched him get fucking impaled by a sword. He should have died, but he didn’t because of you. So why the fuck didn’t you heal me the first time like you did him?”

“Because I didn’t know I could.” Scarlet shoved at him, but he didn’t move an inch. “Get off me, Aeron. Last warning.”

Aeron snapped his teeth. “Or what? It’s not like you have your bow.”

Scarlet didn’t give him another chance, lifting her knee up the same time she hit out, aiming for his side. Aeron wheezed out a pained breath, eyes bulging as he staggered back. It looked like he didn’t know where to comfort first, his aching balls or his side which likely would need fresh stitches.

“I’m not going to fix that,” she said. “Now, get out.”

Aeron sneered, straightening to his full height. “Fucking –”

“Scar...” Zaph opened the door without knocking, gaze sweeping the scene before settling on her. “You good?”

“Fucking great.” She smiled, turning to Aeron. “Right?”

Aeron’s nostrils flared as he made his way towards her door. “You’ve made a big mistake coming here,” he snarled, not even bothering to face her. “Remember in the end that I tried to warn you.”

Scarlet glared as he left, waiting until she heard his own door slam a few minutes later before returning her attention to Zaph.

“Aeron giving you problems?” His eyes dipped to her fist, which was coated in blood. Scar wiped it across her leggings.

“He’s fine.”

Zaph looked like he wanted to argue, but gratefully didn’t. “Are you free to check on Nahal?” he asked, tone lacking the usual indifference. “He wasn’t feeling well.”

“Yeah, sure.” Following Zaph, he took her into Nahal’s dark room. He lay on his front on the bed, wings spread wide enough they hung limp off each side. Even with little light she could see the sweat coating his skin, his temperature too hot when she placed a hand to his shoulder. “How long has he been like this?”

“A few hours,” Zaph said. “I can’t wake him.”

Concentrating on her touch, she carefully went through his body, searching for a reason. “What happened?” she asked, finding something strange in his bloodstream.

“He came back from Cassiel’s tests like this.”

“This happened before?”

“No.”

Pulling back from his shoulder, Scarlet carefully checked his arms for marks. She found the smallest hole on the inside of his left arm. “Does Cassiel drug you guys often?”

Zaph remained silent.

“It’s important you answer.” When he still didn’t, she turned to find Aeron standing by the door. His bloodshot eyes met hers, but after a heartbeat he looked away.

“Cassiel has never drugged me,” Zaph said, crossing his arms. “I can’t say the same for others.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

Zaph shrugged, but it was Aeron who answered. “We all knew what we were getting into when we were hired.”

Great. Placing a hand back on Nahal, she forced his liver to work faster in breaking down whatever substance was in his blood. “He’ll be okay,” she said, finding only Zaph in the doorway.

He nodded.

Rushing back to her room, Scarlet locked the door closed behind her. Pressure suffocated her chest, and she bent at the waist to better catch a breath. A chill rattled down her spine at the thought Nahal had been sedated, because what was Cassiel doing while he was unconscious?

Turning to the mirror, she pulled off the sheet. It took less than a second for Silas to appear, and before he could do anything she asked, “was it Archangel Cassiel that killed you?”

She felt frozen in place, the hopelessness of the situation heavy on her bones. She’d never felt so achingly alone until that moment, watching her dead brother shake his head with a no.

“Then who?” she asked, proud her voice didn’t break with the onslaught of emotions.

Silas tried to speak, his broken jaw grinding before he dipped his finger inside a wound, and wrote ‘leave’ against the glass.

“Si, please,” she begged. “For once stop being a brat and answer the question. If it wasn’t Cassiel, who was it?”

‘Cassiel.’

“You’ve just said it wasn’t Cassiel!”

‘Cassiel kill you,’ he finished, his hand shaking. Calling him so often was taking its toll. He was already beginning to deteriorate, his shoulders becoming slack and his knees wobbling. Soon he’d collapse, followed by blood pouring out of his wounds in a violent gush. Once his jaw had fallen from his face entirely, and each time he’d felt everything.

Silas tapped against the glass. ‘Cassiel kill you.’

She knew it was a possibility, and had accepted it.

“You met Cassiel on the night you died?” she asked, slowly moving to her knees so he would follow. He seemed more relaxed when he was sitting, his wing draping across his lap like a blanket.

Silas shook his head, no.

“So he wasn’t there when you were killed?”

Another, slower shake of his head.

“If he wasn’t the one that killed you, who was?”

Sadness and defeat was written across his face, and all she wanted to do was push herself through the mirror so she could hold him. He may be bigger than her, but ever since they were small she’d always felt the need to protect him. She was never supposed to outlive her younger brother.

“Please, Si. I’m too far into this to simply leave.”

His finger barely stretched straight when he began to write, the movements painful.

‘Son.’

“Cassiel has a son?”

Silas spasmed, his next word written smeared. ‘Son here.’ He began to convulse, and Scarlet rushed to cover the reflection with a sheet to give him some ounce of rest. Not that he could ever truly rest.

Grief was a strange emotion, one she refused to let herself feel to the full extent. Sometimes it felt fluid, coming and going like waves of the ocean. But other times, like now, it felt like stone, heavy against her heart.

Cassiel may terrify her, but she couldn’t leave, not without finding the last part of her brother. She was too close just to give up because she was afraid.

He may not have been part of his death, but his son was.

So who the fuck was his son? Because according to the public record, Cassiel had never had any children.