Chapter 10

The floor is cool beneath my bare feet as I drift into consciousness in the subtle darkness of the unknown. The dress soaked in deep, arterial red no longer covers my form. The cloth now draped on my body is a white men’s dress shirt, sleeves folded to the forearms. Lifting the bottom hem, I discover I’m now wearing panties. Relief. But who pulled them on me? Then, I notice I’m not in my own home.

The scent is familiar, like wet moorland grass. Is this Collin’s house? Am I hunting on his turf, expected to kill him tonight? Being here and remembering his sudden coldness at dinner, stirs my pride and makes me seethe. Was he toying with me a mere night ago while speaking sweetly of wanting to kiss me like he has no other, a comment that made my body catch fire? Was it an act when he chuckled casually at my awkwardness? He wasn’t so subtle or gentle when pinning me to the wall, his hand to my throat, inside my doorway. My life was in his sultry grasp. Why didn’t he kill me? Is he getting a thrill out of watching me suffer like this? I feared him and desired him all in one breath. Was that his plan?

The rat foolishly played with the cat, like he was equal to my strength, as if I couldn’t destroy him with a swipe of my claws. Now I despise him. Why didn’t he end this, get it over with while he had the chance? Shall I take his life in this dream as I should? Or will I let him finish seducing me and then kill me in my sleep? No. He’s the one who dies tonight. I would never give him the satisfaction. I’d rather suffer at the hands of a rogue angel than a bastard like him.

This is the first dream where I ache from my waking injuries. If I were conscious, the sensation would be closer to excruciating. But here, the pain isn’t so great I can’t fight. The best part of being a dark angel? I don’t feel too much agony until the fight is over and I wake. It’s a way of protecting me during the hunt, I guess. Since I spend more time awake than asleep, I’m not sure in which span of time I’d rather feel numb.

As I progress through the house, exploring the new terrain, I feel a set of eyes in the shadows, watching me. I turn to them and they’re gone.

Before long, I come upon a number of rooms to which I merely glance inside; a formal sitting room, a tastefully decorated living room and a nicely furnished guest bedroom, all empty of souls. His taste for décor imitates his personality—subtle, but elegant. I hesitate to move toward the kitchen. My mind hasn’t prepared me yet for a room with sharp objects. Not in my current condition. Wherever there’s a weapon, the demon will have access to them, also.

Moving upstairs, I check the master bedroom, walk around the heavy, oak sleigh bed with a raked headboard. I can’t help but wonder if he’s ever tied his victim to one of the rungs and held her throat as he did mine. This is where Green Eyes, no doubt, lays his head at night. I smell him on the covers. Does he ever find the need to burn his sheets once he’s finished killing his prey? A tall, picture window overlooks the bustling city below. I reach out and feel the thick window coverings. Silk. He has expensive taste. I wander into the bath. The large, tiled, walk-in shower with a clear glass enclosure and separate garden tub are empty as well. The next two bedrooms and bathrooms are exactly the same. I resolve myself to fate and head to the kitchen. The setting of the battle is not of my choosing.

When I enter the room, there’s someone standing near the sink. A man is washing his hands in a stream of water pouring from the faucet. His hair is thick and dark; familiar. A bloody knife sits on the counter to his right.

The floor is a beige tile. The walls are dark blue with a tan and brown mosaic tile border. Alder wood cabinets accent the azure walls. One with a glass pane exposes ceramic plates and bowls, heavy hand-blown drinking glasses. Granite counters, tall center island, also with granite and alder. There’s a knife set to the side of a large butcher block cutting board. One of them is missing. A metal rack above my head holds iron pots and frying pans suspended from the ceiling. Many potential weapons at my disposal.

This time I wait for the demon to turn on me.

Soon enough, he does. His eyes are dark. Not Collin’s. The face is more rugged but nearly as handsome. I don’t understand. Why is this demon hunting on another’s turf? The expression on his face remains emotionless as he picks up the knife and moves toward me.

“Wasn’t expecting you tonight, but I can be flexible, how about you?” He smiles at me, his eyes appreciating the shirt that barely covers my thighs.

Fury burns through me. Did Collin lead him into this dream to have another kill me instead? Has he sent someone else to weaken me some more? Bastard.

I stand in place with my eyes narrowed, waiting for him to reach me. When he does, he brings his free hand to my throat and throws me back against the refrigerator as Collin had. I’m finally numb and can’t feel the impact shift my broken ribs. Why am I not fighting?

The monster starts to kiss me, his lips hungrily covering mine. His tongue invades my mouth with a deep swipe, making me cringe when he bites into my flesh as if he’s starving. In my state of shock, I can’t respond to his touch. I can only stare ahead, studying the room as if I hadn’t yet seen him, as if he isn’t holding a bloody knife at his side while pressing his hardened groin into me.

The thought of the one in the shadows causes my body to shudder. I find myself hoping the eyes watching me belong to Collin Leary, wishing he was the one preparing to spill my blood. A tear trickles down my cheek as the mouth of a monster moves to my neck and his hands slide up my body to my breasts. The lips and fingers don’t belong to Collin and I’m disgusted. I hate the feeling of him clinging to me, pressing against me as if I should enjoy it. So why haven’t I ended him yet? He’s already had a kill this evening. I know I’m meant to be his next victim.

In a moment, my stunned silence turns to fury and I pull the rage from deep inside me. With the force of my ire, I reach for his chest and shove. As he flies backward I scream out in pain, my voice echoing throughout the house. While I move toward him, his knife cuts the air, tearing the sleeve of my shirt. Reaching above my head, my fingers make contact with the handle of a cast iron skillet and I pull it from the hanging rack. Wrath reaches outside of my body as I swing my hand backward. The might of my blow snaps his head sideways and he crumbles to the floor, dead before his face connects with the clean ceramic tile. The frying pan slips from my hand, falling to the floor beside him.

At the same time, I see another and I turn on him with treacherous intent. The one who watches from the shadows lunges for me. I swing my fist to protect myself, but they’re faster. He grabs my shoulders and shouts my name.

Collin Leary. How did I know?

Rage still robs my mind of the side of me that’s human. My dark angel ferocity presses me to destroy him as the adrenaline quickens my heart rate. Turning back on Collin, I knock him easily to the floor. When I fall on top of him, I wrap my fingers tightly around his throat.

“No!” There’s fear in his eyes and I hesitate.

At that moment he gains the advantage and throws me onto my back, shifting my ribs even more. I scream out in pain again then feel his hands pin my wrists to the floor.

“Jaime! Wake up! Look around you! Your dream, it’s over, Jaime, he’s dead!” He let’s go of my hands, gathering me into his arms. Stroking my hair, he gently rocks me until I recognize my bedcovers with spots of fresh blood. Collin is topless. I’m still wearing his shirt with a torn sleeve, blood trickling down my arm, also coloring the mid-section. Why is he in my room, watching me hunt?

Earlier thoughts invade my mind; the killer with his fingers kneading my breasts, his acrid tongue grazing my teeth. And Collin saw every shameful moment. Bile rises up my throat as the pain plaguing my body reaches heights I’ve never before known. I push him away and scramble to my feet. My breathing is labored and my body is racked with agony. The center of Collin’s white shirt has a growing circle of red. I’m still bleeding. My head is light and my stomach is weak again. Should I call Doc? First, I rush into the bathroom and fall to the floor in front of the toilet, vomiting. Collin wets a washcloth and crouches beside me, wiping my forehead and cheeks. For some reason, the feeling comforts me.

“Are you done?” He tilts his chin toward the commode and I nod back.

He rises to his feet and flushes, gathering me into his arms. Bringing me from the bathroom to the bedroom, he lays me on the bed. Then, he lifts my shirt.

“I don’t know how to stop the bleeding.”

“My purse.”

He shakes his head like he doesn’t understand.

“Need my purse.”

Recognition sets in his eyes and he leaves the room. When he returns, he offers me the handbag and I rummage through. “What’re you looking for? Let me help.”

Taking a deep breath, I whisper to him. “Cell phone.” My breathing is growing more labored. Each gasp is agony.

He reaches inside and finds it first swipe. He hands it to me. I press the number two button and hold until it dials. Doc Stanton is my only speed dial. Sad.

“Jaime!”

“Rick…” My voice is shaky.

“I’m on my way.”

I end the call and hand the phone to Collin.

“Jaime, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” He sighs. Either my sight is blurred or his whole body is shaking. His eyes appear red. Had he been crying? That doesn’t seem consistent with my impression of him.

Lifting the collar of the shirt, his eyes turn downward then to the ceiling knowingly at the question in my eyes. “I changed your clothes. Tried rinsing out your dress, but…think I may have ruined it.” I pull up the bottom of the shirt. “Yeah.” He hesitates and looks away again. “Put those on, too.”

I swallow and close my eyes. Practically panting, I want to take a deep breath, but it hurts too badly. My ribs already ache with the shallow ones I’m taking.

“Do you want some shorts before this…Doc, gets here?” He’s still kneeling at my bedside like a nervous child.

I shake my head. It hurts too much to move. To hell with privacy.

In a matter of minutes, Rick is in my room, hovering over me like a mother hen. His eyes are serious in spite of the glint in his blue irises that tells me how much he’s come to care about me. The handsome curve of his strong chin has grown taught as he grits his teeth and tightens his jaw.

“What happened? What did you do to her, you monster?” He says over his shoulder, while unbuttoning my shirt and unfastening the red-soaked brace around my ribs.

“She was asleep.”

Collin doesn’t say he took me to a restaurant and became angry with me for some reason. He doesn’t tell him how he shoved me against a wall when he brought me home, maybe intending to kill me. I don’t tell him either. Let him think I hurt myself in the fight. If I told Rick I thought Collin was a demon, he wouldn’t understand why I haven’t killed him already. Hell, I don’t understand why, myself.

Rick looks at me disapprovingly. He already suspects something. I am wearing Collin’s shirt, after all.

When he pulls up the soaked bandage, he releases his breath. “You moved around too much. I told you to stay in bed. Stitches pulled, but not torn through. Oozing, but not too badly. My biggest fear is you’re bleeding internally.” He pulls a bottle of alcohol and a package of gauze from his bag. He was prepared this time. “You should’ve listened to me.”

“Been a long time since I took orders from anyone, Doc.” I attempt a smile, but I know it’s weak.

“If I’m going to be your doctor, you’d better start,” he answers with his jaw set.

“I’m not a child,” I answer quickly.

“Then stop acting like one,” he shoots back, tightening his lips.

When he cleans my wound this time, it doesn’t hurt as much. Just my arm and ribs ache badly tonight. “What happened here?” He tears open the sleeve over my cut. “Jaime?”

“He had a knife.”

“I can see that.” He dabs the blood with a soaked gauze square, making the wound sting.

Collin stands nearby, watching Rick with his brows furrowed. I wonder what’s going through his mind, seeing me this way, watching Rick hover over me as if this is an everyday event. What must he be thinking? Is it stirring his crooked mind into imagining what he will do to me next?

“Isn’t deep enough for stitches. You got lucky this time.”

“Not too lucky. I was thrown against a wall.” Rick cocks his head at me and then turns to Collin who holds up his hands defensively.

“In my dream, Rick. In my fight,” I clarify. Collin’s eyes widen as he hears me explain to Rick. His gaze shoots from me to Rick and back to me again.

Rick glares back at Collin. “While this was happening to her, what were you doing?”

He doesn’t say anything. Seems speechless. He can’t utter the words, I watched.

Rick turns back to me and palpates my ribcage, taking my breath away. As I watch his expression of concern, I find a new appreciation for his angled features. The captain who always had my back in that great heavenly battle. Nothing has changed, even here on this forsaken planet, he peers down at me in admiration, willing to die for me if necessary. I swallow back the emotions rising to the surface.

He had been by my side as Satan’s followers fought their way toward Michael and me, intent on ambushing and overcoming the greatest forces in heaven. Rick defended me courageously and selflessly, forging a bond greater than that of mere sibling warriors. Our souls were nearly as entwined as that of mine and Michael’s. Our hearts beat in sync.

Being here with him once again, in my bedroom, fills my mind with confusing thoughts and sentiments. I want to reach up and stroke his cheek until the muscles holding it taught release their hold and he finds peace once more. I control the urge to whisper the words that will return his memory of our times in the pre-existence. A time when he would comb his fingers through my long hair while we spoke of strategies. So many moments did we lay beside each other, talking while holding hands and discussing the plan to send our siblings to earth. Although this sentimental practice was common in the pre-life, such sensual contact with another in mortal form is meant to draw out the primal instinct to pair and mate. Wouldn’t be fair to lead him to a conclusion that could never be. As much as I long to feel his life force, draw the light in his heart to the surface, I must deny myself the pleasure. If he remembers how deeply he loved me then, it could complicate my life even more.

“Yeah, they shifted.” Rick’s voice pulls me back to the present, again. “They’re not aligned. And there’s nothing I can do.” He presses lightly, but it is still agonizing. He lets out a heavy sigh as if he’d been holding his breath since he entered the house.

“Am I gonna live?”

“This time. You been vomiting?” I close my eyes and sigh. “Thought so.” He pulls out a syringe and fills it with liquid drawn from a small, clear bottle. “Phenergan.” He shoots it into a vein in my arm. “Will help the nausea. Also, let you sleep. So another monster can try to kill you again, I guess.” He shakes his head in anger and grabs my arm firmly. “You rest.” Then, he turns to Collin. “You. Outside.”

They close the door behind them, but I can still hear their voices echo in the hallway.

“Do you know who she is? Do you have any idea?” Rick’s barely controlled anger is bubbling over, making me roll my eyes. Now that he knows, he’s going overboard to protect me.

“I think I understand more than you.” I’m surprised by Collin’s answer.

“Do you really? Did she tell you what she goes through?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so. She doesn’t complain.”

There’s silence for a moment; then, Collin clears his throat.

“I don’t need you to be condescending to me. Yes. I understand what she goes through. I know very well what a dark angel endures.”

How does he know about dark angels? The only way he could is if he’s a rogue or a—

“How do you know about dark angels?”

Thank you, Doc. I hold my breath, waiting for Collin’s reply, but he hasn’t answered yet and it worries me.

He clears his throat again. “I’m one.”

Rick is silent. I’m sure it was an answer he hadn’t expected. I wasn’t prepared for his reply, either, and I’m anxious to hear what he has to say next.

A minute passes before he speaks again. “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

“You’ll have to trust me. How do you know she is?”

“I’ve seen it.”

“How could you—”

“Hard to explain.” He’s quiet again. No doubt he’s remembering last night. “I was trapped in one of her dreams. She saved me at her own expense. I saw this happen to her. Been treating her for nearly a week now and it keeps getting worse. She finally had to tell me.”

“And you believed her?” The surprise in Collin’s voice makes me want to chuckle, but I hold back. Ribs.

“No. Had to see it for myself. That’s how I ended up in her dream. Foolish. It’s horrifying to think she goes through that every night.”

“I don’t understand it either. What’s happening to her…it’s much worse than I’ve seen of any dark angel. She collapsed in my arms, begging me not to call an ambulance. When I took off her clothes and saw the scars, ribs, bloody bandages…You don’t see that every day.”

“She needs someone to watch over her.” Rick hesitates.

“I can do that.”

There’s silence.

“You’re not a doctor.” Rick’s voice sounds defiant.

“You’re not a dark angel. You can’t keep her from dreaming. I can.”

He can do that? I had no idea. Should I be thrilled? Or should I refuse this offer? I certainly wouldn’t mind a night off after all I’ve been through.

“There’s a way to stop her from fighting?” Someone sighs and I think it’s Rick. “If you’re more capable…She can’t do this hunting demons stuff and Lord knows I can’t stop her. She needs someone to stay with her. You can keep her from dreaming? It’s possible?” The hallway grows quiet again and I wait. Then, the silence is broken. “Give me your address and I’ll get anything you need, bring it here so you don’t have to leave her. Just let me know and…keep her safe.”

The conversation ends without another word. The sole other sound is the front door closing. I’m alone in the room with my thoughts. There are too many questions in my mind to fall asleep.

Collin’s a dark angel. How can that be? Didn’t he try to kill me at my door tonight? Or was that foreplay? When he asked if that was what I wanted then grabbed my throat, it didn’t seem like he was asking me to bake a cake or even hunt demons with him. That was a pretty aggressive way to say good night, even with his lips moving toward mine. What kind of angel does he think I am? A rogue?

I think back to the dream in his gallery. If we’re both dark angels, then who was the monster? I wish I could remember what happened. Suddenly, I’m disappointed that he isn’t a demon and that he won’t kill me while I sleep or in some heart-pounding erotic way. I thought he might be the one to send me back home. With a doctor to heal me and another dark angel at my side to let me rest, there’s a smidgeon of a chance I might find a reason to want to stay on this earth a little longer.

After several moments, the door opens and Collin comes in, closing it quietly behind him. What took him so long? He goes around to the other side of my bed and climbs up onto the mattress beside me. Laying his head on the pillow next to mine, he reaches for my hand. With his nose nuzzling my cheek, he kisses me softly. I squeeze his hand and close my eyes, too tired to think about why he confuses me so much. The medicine is finally working.