Black Fallen

Not wanting to wait another second for either of them, I crawl out of bed, dragging the sheets with me and around me, and walk over to the trunk where I have my clothes stashed. Lifting the lid, I grab a pair of panties, a black tank, and a navy pair of cargo pants. “Why did you listen to him?” I answer, holding the sheets now with my chin and yanking up my panties. Dropping the sheets I turn around, back to the boys, and pull on my tank top. Turning again, I glare at Noah. “I have a hard time believing you just . . . listened to him. You know I don’t want to just . . . sleep!” Grasping my cargoes, I step into them and pull them up. Only then do I notice the wide-eyed expression on Victorian’s face and the ridiculous, pervy, wolfish grin on Noah’s. “God almighty, you two.” I shake my head, punch Noah in the arm as I walk by, and grab a clean pair of black footie socks from the chest. Pull them on, followed by my Nikes, and gather my hair into a ponytail. I head for the door. “Coming?” I ask the two.



“Almost,” Noah says, then laughs at himself.



I shake my head. “Jesus,” I mutter, then head to the bathroom in the hall. Just as I reach the door, with Vic and Noah not far behind, I remember. Everything. That sexual dream. Is it just my conscience missing Eli?



But the invitation. That was real.



The erotic dream and the invitation to the Marimae House are from the same person. And guilt claws at my gut about both. I wanted that dream to be of Eli. Not of some . . . stranger. What does that make me? In the dream, I was completely willing. A sick feeling washes over me, and the empty void left by Eli aches as though someone has jammed a knife into my heart.



I duck into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. I need to tell Jake about this . . . whoever he is.



And now.



Part Eight



FALLING



The angels are so enamored of the language that is spoken in heaven that they will not distort their lips with the hissing and unmusical dialect of men, but speak their own, whether there be any who understand it or not.



—Ralph Waldo Emerson



Riley looks calm, even at most times acts calm, but I can tell what lies just beneath the surface. A simmering, almost boiling fury that will unleash on anyone whom she finds responsible for her mate’s death. No’ that I blame her. But a storm is brewing, and she will be leading it. The Fallen will never know what hit them.



—Darius



I find Jake and Gabriel upstairs in the dojo, working the swords. It’s early—seven a.m. Both are bare to the waist, hair pulled back, ferocious as hell. They look like they’re trying to kill each other, hacking, swinging. Warriors. I stand quietly by, watching and admiring. It’s odd to think that they both once swung those weapons as a means of survival so many centuries ago.



“Amazing, aren’t they?” Sydney says, suddenly beside me. I glance at her. Leaning, back to the wall, hands crossed over her chest, she stares at the pair on the mat with admiration gleaming in her blue eyes. She looks at me. “I’m so sorry about Eli,” she says, and admiration is replaced by sorrow. “I can’t imagine losing someone I loved like that.” Her gaze immediately shoots to Gabriel. “It must be so painful.”



“Yeah,” I answer, “it is. I miss him every second.” Sydney looks at me, and I don’t know if it’s something in my voice or something else that causes her to. I continue. “He totally changed my life. And in my book, he’s not dead. Something has happened to him, but he’s not dead.”



After she holds my stare for a moment, her gaze returns to Gabriel.



I’m uncomfortable talking about Eli. It makes me realize he’s not here for me right now. To talk to. To touch. I turn at every corner and think I’ll see him, and I don’t. I crave him. I know he hasn’t been gone that long, but it feels like it. Just as it feels like he’s been in my life forever. What really sucks is that finally, finally I trust someone with my heart . . . and I lose him. It’s not fair. It’s just not fucking fair. And I’m going to find him. Even if it kills me.



“So, what about you and Gabriel?” I ask, wanting to quickly shift the conversation off of me and Eli. “What’s up with you two?”



Sydney gets a faraway look in her eyes before answering. “I’m the key to this whole thing, that’s what’s up,” she says, and I hear remorse in her voice. “Without me, the Seiagh can’t be found or destroyed. I was born to become the Archivist. To do this very thing we’re doing now. To save mankind. Gabriel protects me.” She looks at me. “That’s it.”



I stare at her for several seconds. My brows furrow. “Bullshit.”



Sydney’s cheeks actually turn pink. “Yeah. Bullshit it is.” She gazes at Gabriel. “Unfortunately, it’s a one-sided deal.”



“What do you mean?” I ask.



Sydney’s quiet for a minute, watching the two swordsmen. I join her, and, yeah, it’s more than amazing. Jake and Gabriel are pretty equally matched when it comes to brawn. They’re about the same height, too. Gabriel seems, though, to be more at ease, or as one, with his sword. As if he’s been wielding it a lot longer. He probably has. The muscles and cords in his back bunch and tighten as he arcs his blade, and when it connects with Jake’s, both men make a grunting, guttural sound that reminds me of a pair of Vikings fighting. Jake’s biceps . . . ridiculous. Veins popping everywhere, despite them being void of blood.



“He’s never faltered with me,” Sydney says. “Not even once.”



“What do you mean?” I ask.



She shrugs. “He’s never made a move on me. Never even showed me once that he, I don’t know, wants me. Or even cares about me, Sydney Maspeth. It’s like he’s all business. Protect the Archivist. Blah, blah, blah.”



“Meanwhile, he sets your skin on fire,” I add.



“Is it that obvious?” she asks sheepishly.



“What? That he rocks your world? Yeah, girl, it is. To me anyway.” I drape an arm over her shoulders. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. Although,” I say, turning my attention back to the guys, “you may be way off on your assumption about Gabriel’s feelings for you.”



Sydney lets out such a long, lonesome sigh that I have to fight not to laugh. “Not holding my breath, Poe.”



I grin at her. “You sound like my brother. Besides. Wouldn’t matter if you did. You’re immortal, silly. Now,” I say, inclining my head toward the rack of swords against the far wall of the dojo. “Wanna go at it?”



Sydney lifts a brow. “Might as well.”



“Good,” I answer, and we hug the walls of the dojo. “I need to burn off some steam.”



Sydney works my ass off good. She’s strong as hell, and her training has paid off. She may not look it, but she can kick some serious tushy. I concentrate on my moves, everything that Tristan taught me. Where to put my weight before I swing, and how to thrust, jab, and hack. Sydney’s face is pure business as she weighs me, studies my moves, and swings at my head. I’m breaking a furious sweat by the time we call a stalemate.



“Impressive,” Jake says as he and Gabriel watch from the edge of the mat. “I think I’m in love.”



“You’re our boss,” I say, catching my breath. “Sexual harassment. Ever hear of it?”



Jake grins. “Never.”



“You’ve improved,” Gabriel says, sheathing his sword. “De Barre is a fair teacher.”



“De Barre is a kick-ass teacher,” I correct, then nod. “You’re not too shabby yourself.”



Gabriel merely gives a slight nod of acknowledgment. One day I’d love to see what his already-gorgeous face looks like in a full-blown smile. He really is something else. No wonder Sydney has fallen for him.



Gabriel’s eyes seek out Sydney, and I’m looking at him the moment he spots her. Yeah. He’s hiding it, all right, but that is one immortal otherbeing head over heels with Ms. Maspeth. All business, my ass. I can see it in his eyes. There’s more to that hawklike, intense stare than just merely keeping the Archivist safe and sound.



I turn my attention to my employer. “Jake,” I say, and incline my head. “I need a word.”



Jake sheaths his sword and swaggers across the dojo. The man towers over me and stares down at me with an unbendable look. “Aye?” he asks.



“I’ve been issued an invitation,” I begin, meeting his gaze. When he doesn’t say anything, I continue. “By someone who can speak to me inside my head. And apparently have sex with me in my head, too.” I sigh. “I thought it was Eli.”



Jake raises a brow. From the corner of my eye I notice the rest of the WUP team entering the dojo.



“Nice of you to share info, Poe. Do you recognize this person?” Jake asks.



I shake my head. “I don’t think so. I haven’t seen his entire face.” I leave out the part about the erotic sex dream that still brings me shame. “I don’t really know who he is—”



“It’s a man?” he asks.



“It’s a male,” I clarify. “Obviously an otherbeing, if he can speak to me in my head.”



Jake nods. “So true.”



“So that’s all he did was give you an invite somewhere?” Noah asks, walking up to stand beside me. “Out of the blue?”



I eye Noah. “Watch that jealous tone, spud,” I warn. “And no. He seemed . . . familiar to me. And with me. Yet I’m sure I never met him before.”



“Where did he invite you to?” asks Darius, joining in. His hair is loose about his shoulders, and he’s pulling it back from his face as he speaks. He gathers it with a leather band and awaits my answer.



I look at him. “Some event at the Marimae House. He says it’s—”



“In New Town,” finishes Gabriel. “Still an old home. They host several charity events a year. Edinburgh’s elite turns out, as well as many Londoners.”