She moaned as his arm came in contact with her wounded back. Dont touch me, she whispered.
Aye. I should have listened to you, lass. With one last glance at Shanna, he teleported away, taking the angel of death with him.
Chapter Four
Pain. It flooded her senses, drowned her body, and made it nigh impossible to think of anything other than the torture she endured. With every breath she drew, the pain swelled and sucked her deeper into a black hole.
Marielle had never realized before how sensitive the human body was. No wonder some people begged her to take their souls early.
Shed always felt guilty when ordered to grant such a request, fearing the act made her a murderer, but now, for the first time, she realized Zack had been right all along. The Deliverers werent angels of death, but of mercy.
Was that why Zackriel had punished her? Was she being forced to endure pain in human form so she would appreciate Gods mercy and stop questioning orders?
With her eyes still shut, she began to pray. Heavenly Father, please forgive me. I was wrong to ever doubt Your infinite wisdom. I have learned my lesson. Please return me to Your favor so I may continue to serve You.
No answer.
Her eyes flew open. Why couldnt she hear an answer? The Heavenly Father always answered His angels. And she was still an angel. Wasnt she?
Panic seized her. She struggled to sit up, even though it caused her more pain. A white sheet was wound tightly around her like a shroud, frightening her even more. Im not dead yet! She tugged the sheet down to her waist and fought against the pain, just enough to clear a bit of her mind.
Glory to God in the Highest, she called out mentally.
Silence.
Her breath caught. Where was the Heavenly Host? They should have responded with the usual refrainAnd on earth, peace, goodwill toward men.
Hundreds of thousands of angelsGuardians, Messengers, God Warriors, Healers, and Deliverersall part of the Heavenly Host and always there, connected in spirit. Theyd been with her since the dawn of her existence. At any given moment, there was a chorus of angels who were singing, and others joined in between assignments. It was a constant, never-ending liturgy of praise that filled them with joy and peace.
She frantically opened her mind. They had to be there. If she could just get past the pain, she would hear their beautiful voices. Glory to God in the Highest!
Silence.
A sob of disbelief escaped her mouth.
Banished. No singing. No words of comfort. No communication at all with her fellow angels. No response from the Heavenly Father. She was absolutely alone. Abandoned and racked with pain.
She had to get back. Somehow.
She willed her wings to spring forth, but two lightning bolts of pain stabbed her in the back. She cried out, but the torture robbed her voice and only a gasping croak escaped. She twisted to look over her shoulder. Dear God, no! She hadnt dreamed it. Zack had taken her wings. No wonder she was in so much pain.
No wings. She covered her mouth to stifle a sob. How would she ever get back to heaven? She was earthbound.
With a sharp twinge of fear, she realized she had no idea where she was. Shed been so distracted by pain and so focused on the spiritual realm, shed not given her surroundings any thought.
The forest was gone. She was in a dark shelter of some kind. Sitting on a cushioned chair. No, larger than a chair. It was what humans referred to as a couch. How had she arrived here?
She recalled a shadowy dream that had entwined itself like a velvet ribbon around the onslaught of pain. Thered been a voice, a deep male voice with a lilting accent shed found soothing. Strong arms that had held her tenderly. Shed thought it naught but wishful imaginings. No human could touch her without dying.
But someone, or something, had brought her to this dark place.
Most likely not one of the Heavenly Host, not when shed been banished from them. Theyre not the only angels. Her skin prickled with a terrible thought. What if she was considered a fallen angel now? What if one of Lucifers servants had collected her?
Terror struck her so hard, she forgot the pain. She looked frantically about the dark room. Looming shadows of unknown objects surrounded her. A sudden creaking noise made her jump and strain her ears. There was someone nearby. Just outside the room. Footfalls moving back and forth, occasionally striking a board that creaked. Heavy footfalls, most likely a male.
Who was he? Was he guarding her so she couldnt escape? She dragged the sheet up to her chin as if she could hide from whoever was outside.
Her gaze wandered about the room. She gasped when she spotted a pair of glassy eyes staring down at her. Unblinking. Inhuman. Her gaze inched higher, and her heart lurched. The horns of the Beast!
She screamed.
The door flung open, and a man burst into the room, flipped on the lights, and slammed the door shut. She froze in shock at the fierce look on his face and the gleaming dagger in his hand. Was she to be murdered for the pleasure of the Beast?
She turned back to the glassy inhuman eyes, and a grateful squeak escaped her mouth. It was naught but the head of a deer mounted on the wall. There were several hunter trophies: a moose head over the fireplace and a tusked boar on another wall, close to a rocking chair and bookcase. She sent up a quick prayer on their behalf and winced when it was met with silence.
Still, she could feel some relief that the poor beasts were no threat to her. Unlike the man with the dagger. With the sheet still clutched tightly under her chin, she glanced in his direction.
He scanned the room quickly, then focused on her. Are ye all right?
She nodded although she felt far from all right. She was hurting, frightened, confused, and strangely unnerved by this mans presence. He was regarding her with an odd look. Cautious and alert. Curious, perhaps, though the intensity of his gaze hinted at something stronger, something she couldnt place.
He had the look of a warrior, but not a God Warrior. There was nothing angelic about him. Whether from heaven or hell, both angels and demons tended to assume a flawless human form with spotless, rich apparel.
This man had to be human. A Scotsman, perhaps, since he was wearing a plaid kilt. His shirt was torn and stained, his kilt old and faded. Dirt and mud coated his knee socks and shoes. He was large with a raw and rugged edginess to him as if hed just done battle. Earthy. His long hair was a tangled mess, blown by the wind, a beautiful fiery red. His eyes, they still watched her, the grayish-blue irises reminding her of the sky just before a storm unleashed its raging winds. Earth, fire, and windthree elements fused together in one gloriously fierce creation.
Her gaze shifted to his dagger. Did he mean to harm her or protect her?
Och. He reversed the dagger with a fluid movement. I dinna mean to frighten you. I thought ye were in danger.
His voice. It was his voice shed heard while slipping in and out of consciousness. The lilting accent reminded her of the music she was accustomed to hearing in her mind.
She watched closely as he leaned over to slide the dagger into a sheath beneath a knee sock. Apparently, hed rushed into the room, ready to do battle in her defense. God might not have answered her prayer, but Hed provided her with a protector. Thank you, Lord.
With a sigh of grateful relief, she lowered her hands and the sheet to her lap. May I ask your name?
He glanced up at her, then straightened with a jerk. Holy Christ Almighty.
She frowned. No, I dont believe you are.
I dinna mean He shifted his gaze to a spot behind her and whispered, Oh, Christ.
Is He here? A surge of hope swelled inside her. She twisted to look, but pain ripped across her back. She cried out, doubling over to grip her knees.
Och, lass. He moved toward her. Tis sorry I am for yer suffering. Is there anything I can do?
She moaned, willing the pain to subside. The cushion she sat upon jiggled, and it took a moment for her to realize hed taken a seat next to her on the brown leather couch.
No. She straightened, wincing at the pain. You must keep your distance from me. I . . . I could be dangerous. Her wings were gone, her psychic connection to the Heavenly Host was gone, but she couldnt be sure that all her angelic powers were gone. If this man touched her, he might die.
His gaze dropped to her bare chest, then jerked away. We have to do something about yer brea I mean, yer wounds. On yer back. Ye probably need stitches.
Sew up her wing joints? No! She pressed a hand to her chest. Beneath her palm, her heart beat wildly.
He glanced at her hand, then looked away. We canna leave the wounds open. I He grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut. Lass, I canna talk to you like this.
He looked like he was in pain. She wished she could comfort him, but she didnt dare touch him. Is something ailing you?