twenty-five
“We’re just passing through the woods.”
The archangel squares his shoulders, narrowing his eyes on the man in front of us. Every move he makes is designed to intimidate.
The well-dressed man has an unusually clean look for someone this far out of the city. For someone who has been walking around in the woods amidst an apocalypse. His smile appears friendly at first glance, but his emerald eyes speak a different story. There’s a gleam within them that I’ve seen too many times before.
“Where are you two headed? It’s not safe out here.”
His voice is thick with an accent that I don’t quite recognise. It emphasises his twisted spin on friendliness.
“North. It’s kind of you to worry, but we can take care of ourselves.”
I force a smile onto my face and sincerity into my eyes. I take a small step back and behind the archangel. I hope they don’t notice the weapons strapped to me, the calluses on my hands, the cuts on my knuckles. I hope they see a fragile female being protected by the large man she travels with.
I hope they underestimate me.
The man lets out a low chuckle that sends a shiver down my spine, an icy chill washing over me. He looks relatively young, in his mid- to late thirties. His dark hair is long, sitting just below his shoulders, but groomed so thoroughly that not a single hair sits out of place. An old-fashioned charm radiates from him. That’s exactly what concerns me.
“My name is Vince. We’ve had reports of angels in the area. It’s not safe for travellers.”
He sets his gaze on me. “Please come with us. We have a safe place where you can rest until it’s clear.”
The archangel stays still beside me. I wonder if he’s contemplating whether or not to kill them all.
“Sorry, but I don’t know you, and I was always taught not to go home with strangers,”
I say sweetly. “I’m sure we can manage on our own.”
The archangel nudges me softly, his skin brushing mine for a moment, the warmth a gentle warning.
“Do you let your lady make all of your decisions for you?”
Vince’s gaze turns towards the archangel, who is smirking at the statement.
“It’s much easier for me if I don’t argue.”
His voice is full of amusement. I shoot him a death glare.
“I see I’ve struck a nerve. It is my duty to ensure that you are safe, as humans. I insist you come with us.”
Vince’s smile stays planted on his face, but the threat in his tone is undeniable.
I drop my facade, letting the mask slip and the soldier within me rise to the surface. I let them see the person who will kill to get to where she needs to go. “Do we have a choice?”
If we have to fight them, they won’t walk away from this. The archangel will kill them within seconds.
The thought of pleading with the archangel for mercy as he tears innocents limb from limb is enough to crush me. Though that’s not the only thing that tells me to follow the man; something deep in my core pulls me forward. The rope around my torso tightens and tugs at me. A feeling that creeps up my spine and says this is exactly where we should be.
A feeling that tells me these humans might not be innocent.
Vince gives an answering smirk as he turns and begins to walk away. “Please. This way.”
The circle of guards stays split for us to follow, but they clutch their weapons tightly and watch us eagerly, itching for us to make one wrong move.
The archangel straightens before looking to me for confirmation. I only nod before I follow Vince into the crowd of guards.
The farther we walk, the more changes I begin to notice.
I no longer see fallen trees or debris scattered every few hundred feet. I notice fresh soil with flowers sprouting. I notice willow trees hanging in a deliberate pattern, forming a path that we follow. I notice the dirt floor of the woods turning to pebbles when we near our destination.
The gate is a golden masterpiece – a Victorian style that should look out of place in the midst of the woods, but fits perfectly with the surroundings of staged elegance. The trees, the flowers, all of it has been perfectly placed as to not create an eyesore near this.
It’s magnificent. The wall on either side of the gate stands taller than I can see over. Vines weave their way over the sandstone, curling around the edges of the gate.
I peer through, finding a winding pebble drive that stretches far enough that I can’t see where it ends. Either side of the drive, the brightest grass I’ve ever seen grows at the perfect length, freshly cut.
Guards stand at the gate, unlocking and pulling it open for us when Vince gives them a small nod. They patrol the grounds while we walk through, surveying an area for thirty seconds, then moving to the next. They move in a carefully planned pattern, leaving no blind spots for outsiders to get in.
Or those inside to get out.
They wear similar black uniforms and carry guns bigger than what should be available to the average man. They all have the same glassy-eyed look that makes me wonder if they’ve slept in the past forty-eight hours.
We follow the driveway in silence until we reach a house. No, not a house. The building before me is more of a palace.
It’s built from the same sandstone that makes up the wall surrounding the estate. It stretches at least four storeys high, with a tower on each side that spans an extra two stories. Large arched windows are scattered throughout, each one ornate with delicate details in the glass and panelling. Vines weave their way up the towers, across windowsills, and inconsistently along the walls. Though not in any sort of planned pattern, not a single one looks like a side effect of the war.
Willow trees mixed with oak surround the property, carefully considered to hide it from prying eyes flying above. The vines stretch up over the roof, intertwining with moss that blends into the tree coverage with ease. Clever.
We stop at the bottom of the marble steps leading up to the entrance. Large stone pillars stand either side of us, ensuring that we feel adequately small.
That’s not what pulls a sharp breath from me, though. Silky gold arches into a door that stands over ten feet tall. At first glance, I assume it must be painted, but as I look closer, I realise the door itself is made from pure gold. The arch is deep, bridging out a foot before the door, casting haunting shadows upon it. Intricate swirled carvings dance over the door, each one raised and so detailed that I feel an urge to run my fingers over the pattern. It feels like I’m in the presence of royalty.
Who in the worlds are these people?
“What are your names?”
Vince asks as the door slowly swings inwards, a guard on the other side pulling it open after a discreet knock.
The archangel and I share an inconspicuous look. “Jessica,” I lie.
“Matthew,”
the archangel says.
Vince raises a brow as if sensing our lie, but his smile only grows bigger. “Lovely to meet you both.”
The guards haven’t taken our weapons yet, but that doesn’t offer me any comfort. Something about this place irks me. It could be the fact that it has somehow remained in pristine condition while the rest of the world rots. It could be the small army on guard. Or it could be Vince, who seems to lead them.
Each step I take is accompanied by a queasy feeling that I can’t quite place. This is it. This is where the fallen angel took Jeremy. It has to be.
As the realisation dawns on me, I steal a glance at the archangel, whose gaze follows every move that Vince makes. He remains the picture of icy indifference. Unease spreads through my veins.
I can’t help but gasp when we step inside. The polished marble floors are so clean that I can almost see my reflection in them. Two marble staircases are accompanied by golden rails and a patterned rug that runs up the centre. Between them sits a marble table with a golden vase, a bouquet of roses stemming from it. The roses are a deep red, thriving in their environment. Freshly picked. On either side of the room, identical arched doorways lead to opposite ends of the building.
“Please, this way.”
Vince flashes a bright smile our way and holds out his hand towards the door to our left.
The archangel and I share another look before following.
We’re led down corridors that stretch for what feels like miles, and I try to keep my bearings as we weave through hallway after hallway. We pass a kitchen, full of working staff who refuse to meet our eyes. There are closed doors that Vince explains are “offices”, and a large ballroom filled with what looks like supplies.
Eventually the guards disperse and we’re led up another wide staircase to a corridor with closed doors on either side.
“We have plenty of guest rooms available. We insist that you stay the night until it’s safe.”
Vince’s smile fades, leaving his request to feel like more of an order.
“And who is ‘we’?” I ask.
“My beautiful wife and I. This is our home. We open our doors to any lost souls and offer shelter to all humankind.”
What kind of home has a full-blown army guarding it?
I smile tightly. “That is kind of you.”
“Yes, well, we have to look out for each other. Isn’t that right?”
I can feel the archangel tense up beside me. His earlier admission that he is not used to being told what to do rings through my ears. I remind myself that he has let himself be led into this place without a fight. If he were going to unleash himself on them, he’d have done so already.
I edge closer to him so that our skin brushes, hoping the gesture calms him. For a moment, as the warmth rushes through me, he softens under my touch. Then every muscle in his body tenses and he stiffens, moving away and without a backward glance.
Vince stops at the end of the corridor and gestures towards a door on the left. “Will you share a room, or do you require separate sleeping quarters?”
“Separate,”
the archangel responds, so quickly that it seems he expected me to say otherwise.
I roll my eyes. Get over yourself, bird boy.
“You can have these two rooms.”
Vince gestures to the door directly across from the first. “We will have dinner ready in a few hours. We insist that you eat with us.”
Another order. He looks at me now, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. “Jessica, I will send a maid to your room to help you dress… appropriately.”
Rude.
“Oh, no need. I will manage on my own.”
The words come out through clenched teeth, my fists balling at my sides.
Vince only takes it as a challenge. His smile turns to a smirk that doesn’t quite meet his eyes as he tilts his head. “I insist.”
Oh, how I’d love to punch the smile right off him.
No, Amara. Self-control.
“You insist an awful lot,” I mutter.
“What can I say? I’m a stubborn man.”
A humourless laugh shakes through me, but his smile never wavers.
I take a deep breath and count to three. Play his game, and I might have a chance at finding out if Jeremy’s here. “It would be our pleasure.”
His smile warms as he turns towards the archangel. “And you?”
The archangel’s eyes narrow, studying his enemy with clear calculation. “I will be wherever she is.”
Vince scoffs and turns back to me. “You have him well-trained, I see.”
Oh, he’s just made my list.
“Please, rest. Get cleaned up. I look forward to getting to know you over dinner.”
I watch as he and his guards disappear around the corner before I look at the archangel. His eyes glare in the direction where Vince had disappeared.
I grab his hand and pull him into the room on the left, locking the door behind us. “Well, this place is all kinds of creepy.”
I stand with my back against the door, the archangel only a foot away from me.
He looks down at me with heavy eyelids, his face full of emotions. Though it’s the most prominent one that scares me. The hatred. The hunger for blood.
I take a sharp breath. “This has to be it, right? Cain’s facility.”
The archangel looks away and runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.”
He shakes his head. “But we can’t trust Vince.”
I study his features for a moment: the lines that crease his forehead, the way his left brow sits deeper than the right, the slight downwards curve of his lips. The look of worry in his eyes. “What do you know?”
Blue eyes meet mine, silver hiding amongst the irises. “He was lying. The entire time. Not a single thing he said was true.”
I nod, never tearing my eyes from his. Desperately searching for those unsaid words within them. The way he hesitates before he speaks, the quick glance away as he finishes his sentences – there’s more that he’s not telling me.
I stay silent, hoping that my patience will prove me trustworthy. Hoping that his honesty will do the same.
“You can take this room. Don’t leave it without me.”
His words are an order. I nod and move out of the way, disappointment flowing through me.