Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
CHARLES
The wings surrounding me pulsed with light that seemed to come from within, like captured starlight woven into living shadow.
I was pressed against Eamon’s chest, his heart thundering beneath my ear, and power radiated from him in waves—something ancient and vast and utterly beyond human comprehension.
He had wings.
Eamon had wings.
Outside our protective cocoon, I heard Carlo and the other guy shouting in what sounded like absolute terror.
“What the fuck—”
“It’s not human! It’s not fucking human!”
“We need to get out of here! Now!”
The voices grew more distant, panicked footsteps stumbling through the debris in the cabin, then the slam of car doors and the roar of an engine. Tires spun on snow as they fled into the night, leaving behind only the echo of their terror.
Slowly, carefully, the wings began to fold back.
The otherworldly light faded gradually, like a dimmer switch being turned down, until I could see Eamon’s face again.
He looked almost human—almost, because there was still something luminous in his green eyes, something that spoke of vast spaces and timeless existence.
I stared at him, my mind completely blank. This was Eamon. The man I loved. The man who’d held me and made love to me and sung Irish ballads by firelight.
The man who apparently had wings.
“Charles,” he said softly, and his voice was different now—layered somehow, like multiple tones weaving together in impossible harmony. “I can explain—”
The sound of sirens cut through his words, growing steadily louder as multiple vehicles climbed the mountain road toward us. Eamon’s expression shifted immediately, the otherworldly aspects of his appearance melting away until he looked like the Detective O’Rourke that Carlo’s men would remember.
“Listen to me,” he said urgently, gripping my shoulders. “Whatever happens, whatever the police ask, you don’t say anything about what happened. Please, Charles. Let me handle this.”
I nodded mutely, still too shocked to form coherent words. Wings. Eamon had wings. And light that could have powered a small city. And he’d wrapped them around me like…like a guardian angel.
Oh.
Oh.
The sirens were close now, red and blue lights flashing through the broken windows of the cabin. Eamon helped me to my feet, his touch gentle and familiar despite everything that had been revealed. “Can you walk?”
I tested my legs and found they were steadier than I’d expected. “Yeah. I think so.”
“Good. We need to go outside before they come in. Make this look like we’re cooperating victims, not suspects.”
We picked our way through the destroyed living room—furniture overturned, windows shattered, bullet holes in the walls—encountering one of Carlo’s men. He was on his stomach in the hallway, grunting in pain as he clutched his knee, which was a bloody mess.
I blew out a breath as we passed him, then greedily sucked in the crisp mountain air as we stepped outside. Three sheriff’s department vehicles were pulling up, their lights painting the snow in alternating red and blue.
A tall man in a sheriff’s uniform approached us, his hand resting casually on his weapon but not drawing it. Professional caution without immediate threat assessment.
“Detective O’Rourke?” he called out.
“That’s me,” Eamon replied, pulling out his badge. Even after everything, the gesture looked completely natural.
“Sheriff Morrison. We got a call from your supervisor at the NYPD, Detective Gabriel Santos. He said you might need backup.” The sheriff’s gaze swept over the damaged cabin and our disheveled appearance. “Looks like he was right.”
Gabriel Santos. Even in my shocked state, I caught the significance of that name. Gabriel, one of the archangels from the Bible.
“Appreciate the response time, Sheriff,” Eamon said smoothly. “Two suspects, armed and dangerous. They fled the scene mere minutes ago in a black SUV, headed down the mountain.”
“Yeah, they passed us. My deputies are in pursuit,” Morrison said.
Eamon nodded. “There were four more. One’s dead…
” He gestured at a man I hadn’t spotted until now, who was on his back behind the stack of firewood.
The snow around him had turned crimson. His eyes stared at the sky, but he’d never see the stars again.
My stomach roiled, and I looked away. “There’s a wounded guy behind that car, but he passed out.
Inside, there’s a guy down near the front door.
Not sure if he’s dead or alive, and there’s another wounded man in the hallway to the bedrooms.”
Morrison merely nodded at two of his deputies, who immediately entered the cabin, guns drawn. “Are you hurt?” he then asked us.
“We’re fine. Shaken up, but fine.”
As if summoned by their conversation, the sound of more vehicles approached from lower on the mountain.
I blindly reached for Eamon’s hand, and instead of taking it, he wrapped his arm around me, drawing me close.
“Get them some blankets,” Morrison told one of his men. “It’s too cold to be standing here.”
Eamon wrapped the blanket the deputy handed him around me, then pulled me close again, apparently not intending to let me out of his sight. I was more than okay with that. My brain had trouble booting back up, still stuck on the whole wings thing.
Two more sheriffs’ vehicles came into view, their prisoners clearly visible through the rear windows. I recognized Carlo immediately, even with his hands cuffed behind his back. He was talking or maybe shouting, his mouth moving wildly and his face full of expressions.
Sheriff Morrison walked over to confer with his deputies while Eamon and I stood watching. Carlo’s voice carried across the clearing, high and desperate. “—not a cop! He’s not human! Santa madre di Dio, I’m telling you, he had fucking wings! Light was coming out of his skin!”
One of the deputies shook his head with obvious disgust. “Guy’s been watching too many movies. Probably high on something.”
“Detective O’Rourke,” Sheriff Morrison called, walking back toward us. “Your witness here is claiming you’re some kind of…supernatural being?”
Eamon’s expression was perfectly neutral. “A supernatural being?”
The sheriff scratched his chin. “Yeah. With wings?”
Eamon chuckled. “Do I look like I have wings?”
“Son, you look perfectly normal to me. Any idea where he might’ve gotten that impression?”
Eamon shrugged. “People see all sorts of things when they’re trying to evade federal charges.”
Morrison nodded approvingly. “My thoughts exactly. Either that or he’s high on something. We’ll get these guys processed and transferred to federal custody. Your supervisor said NYPD would pick them up tomorrow.”
“These men are extremely dangerous, Sheriff. Take great care.”
Morrison nodded, his face grave. “Chief Santos briefed me on the case. We’re not taking any chances.” The sheriff paused, studying Eamon with professional interest. “Hell of a thing, taking on six armed men with just a service weapon. You must have some serious training.”
“I served in the military, and I’ve had extra training with the NYPD. But I’m grateful for your timely assistance.”
He sounded modest and sincere, even when most of that statement had to be a lie.
“I can offer you folks a place in town for the night. Hotel’s not much, but it’s warm and dry.”
“I appreciate that, Sheriff Morrison, but I think we’re heading out. The NYPD will need our statements as soon as possible anyway, so we’ll head back to the city.”
“Tonight?”
Eamon shrugged. “We may not make it there, but we’ll get close.”
Morrison accepted this with a nod. “The NYPD has requested to process the crime scene, including the bodies, so I’m leaving one deputy here to guard it until they’re here.”
After a few more minutes of paperwork and coordination, the sheriff’s department convoy headed back down the mountain, taking Carlo and his men with them.
One car stayed behind, parked right in front of the cabin so the deputy inside could see whatever was coming.
He’d dimmed his lights, so darkness had returned.
It felt enormous.
We stepped to the side of the cabin, where the deputy couldn’t see us, and I stared at the man I loved, really looked at him for the first time since…
since everything had changed. He appeared completely human now, but I couldn’t unsee what I’d witnessed.
The wings, the light, the impossible power that had saved our lives.
“So,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “Angel.”
Eamon’s face crumpled with something that looked like grief. “Yes.”
“A real angel. Like, from heaven.”
“Guardian angel, technically. And not exactly from heaven, more like… It’s complicated.”
I laughed, a sound that bordered on hysterical. “Complicated. Right. That’s one word for it.”
“Charles…”
“How old are you?”
To his credit, he didn’t look away. “I’m three hundred and twenty-two years old.”
Jesus fuck, how was that even possible? “And you’re from Ireland.”
“Aye, I am.”
“A lot of things make sense now.” I ran my hands through my hair, trying to process everything. “The Irish accent that slips when you’re emotional. The way you talk about historical events like you lived through them. Your complete inability to use modern technology.”
He sighed. “Yeah. I didn’t do a good job of selling my cover story.”
“You’re not a detective at all, are you?”
“No.” The admission seemed to cost him something. “I’m a guardian angel. I was assigned to protect you.”
“Assigned.” The word felt like a knife in my chest. Regardless of whether he was a cop or an angel, I was still a job to him. “So this whole thing, us, it was…what? An assignment?”
“No!” The word exploded from him with such force that I took a step back. “I mean, yes, protecting you was my assignment. But everything else, everything between us…” He stopped, pressing his lips together like he was trying to hold back words that would only make things worse.
“Everything between us was what?”
“Real,” he whispered. “More real than anything I’ve felt in three centuries of existence.”
Relief flooded through me, so intense it left me dizzy. “Then what’s the problem? I know the truth now. We can—”
“We can’t.” The finality in his voice stopped me cold. “Angels and humans… It’s not allowed, Charles. There are rules. Laws. When this assignment is over, I’ll be recalled and assigned to somewhere else. Another protectee, another case.”
“But you don’t want that.”
“What I want doesn’t matter.” His voice broke on the words. “I’m not human, Charles. I’m not even supposed to be capable of feeling this way about someone I’m protecting. What’s happened between us… It goes against everything I was created for.”
I stared at him, feeling my heart shatter into a thousand pieces. “So that’s it? We say goodbye and pretend none of this happened?”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice—”
“Not for me.” Tears were gathering in his eyes, making them shine in the starlight. “I love you, Charles. I love you more than I ever thought possible, more than I understood I could love anyone. But I can’t change what I am or the laws that govern my existence.”
The words should have been a comfort—he loved me, had said it aloud for the first time—but they felt like a funeral dirge for something beautiful that was ending before it had truly begun.
“How long?” I asked quietly.
“How long what?”
“How long do we have?”
Eamon closed his eyes. “I don’t know. Days, maybe less. Gabriel will come to debrief me about the assignment and then…”
“Gabriel. Your supervisor.”
“Yes.”
“The one who called the sheriff’s department.”
“Yes.”
As if summoned by our conversation, a new voice cut through the night air. “Actually, I’m already here.”
We both spun around to see a man stepping out of the shadows between the trees. He was tall, impeccably dressed in what looked like an expensive suit despite the remote location and late hour, with golden-brown hair and eyes that seemed to hold the weight of eternity.
Gabriel.
Even without an introduction, I knew exactly who he was. He carried himself with the same otherworldly authority I’d glimpsed in Eamon, but magnified tenfold. This was someone used to being obeyed without question, someone who held power over life and death and the fate of immortal souls.
Someone who was about to decide whether I got to keep the man I loved.