She screamed as she forced the blood into herself, a rape of her circulatory system. The scream was part rage, part pain, part need, but as David had said, she had an indomitable will. She held on to that thought. She would not fail. She couldn't fail.
The remaining Dark One blood was rushing into her now, her threat of annihilation speeding its travels. But she would not relinquish her hold as she sent a command to Jonah.
Charge one of his daggers and drive it into his lower back. Now.
Her imperious command was obeyed, no room for doubt, thank Goddess, for if Jonah had hesitated, she would have lost the connection or the courage. David cried out again and the Dark Ones' blood within her screamed as well. The noise alone was going to overwhelm her.
Releasing their host, the last of them fled the blue fire rushing through his system, taking the portal she offered to escape sure destruction.
As she opened her eyes, she saw the room they were in had gone dark, perhaps a reflection of the sky outside, the ominous rumbling around the crown of the Citadel. Distantly, she sensed a gathering of angels, for Jonah had likely been unable to spare attention to let them know what was happening.
Then, before she had another coherent thought, fire was scalding her. Her face, her body on fire. It was as if the sea creatures were tearing at her flesh again, making her relive the terror of it, unable to move.
But she wasn't there, wasn't in the Abyss. She was here, in the Citadel, and David still needed her. She fought through it.
"Heal him," she rasped, fixing her burning eyes on Raphael, bent anxiously over David's body, slumped in Jonah's arms. "Blood. You. Heal him now, quickly. Or he's dead. Life force, will... slip away."
"He is dead."
"No. Not. Life spark there. Do it."
Her voice thundered through the structure like the shock wave from an explosive blast. Then she convulsed again, falling with a thud to the floor, an animal snarl coming from her lips.
"Do it!" She spat out once more before she began to seize, thrashing across the stone tile as if a Dark One had possessed her. Gods, her skin had to be on fire. Things were breaking down and building at once.
Raphael forced himself to turn away and laid his hands on David, charging his palms with power. Probing deeply, he was amazed to find she was right. A single spark, so tiny he was almost afraid to reach for it, coax it back to life.
Jonah, we will need many of us.
Jonah nodded. Reaching out to the seven levels of the Citadel, he called on the other angels. Marcellus consolidated the energy of his battalion, as did the acting lieutenant of David's platoon. Ezekial, Bazrak, all of the captains. Even the Thrones in Zebul, and Lucifer, down in Hades. The call went out to all, a flood of energy returning that ignited the room with white light, covering them.
Raphael, the witch. She can't—
She is taking care of herself. She is shielded. I will channel this away from her as well. Do not fear for her.
Satisfied, Jonah returned his concentration to the charge in his arms. As he helped steady the healer, Raphael took the white light and worked that energy into David. The wounds began to close, the hair to grow back along his skull, the fingers and other ruined and mangled parts to sculpt back into the body of a powerful and graceful young male angel. Jonah swallowed, moved by the act of re-Creation that, of all the healer angels, only Raphael could do.
David's ruined wings ignited, burning away in a wave of heat and wind. The ash drifted across the bed, mingling with the blood and infection, all of which was abruptly seared away as if it had never been. White light surged through the healing centers of David's body then, jerking him. His head fell back lifelessly on Jonah's shoulders. The commander held him close, steady. Raphael kept his hands on him, his lips firming with determination. As the white light intensified, Jonah, who could look at the sun, had to shut his eyes.
Come on, damn you. You can't go. I won't permit it. And she needs you. Don't give up.
MINA caught only glimpses of what was happening on the bed. In the fight for her own life, she could no longer offer anything to David, could only hope she'd done enough.
Her body was working fiercely to accommodate what David had been able to do for it before his energy ran out, as well as handling the new Dark One blood she'd just acquired. They warred for the same space, her Dark One blood leaping on the other and trying to destroy it. She wanted to retch, but she kept it down, helping her Dark One blood sear out of existence what she'd pulled from David.
The pain took her deeper, until she was nothing but the pain, her mind shutting into that simple survival mode she knew well. Just one moment to the next. Or no passage of time at all. It simply was. Fire on every part of her skin, a fierce aching in her bones as intense as a break. It got so excruciating it crossed her mind to just give up, let oblivion take her, but she hadn't earned that. And if there was a chance she'd succeeded and could see David's face once more...
Trust me for one moment. Just one more moment.
A long time later, voices came through that red haze. "I don't think we should touch her. Just wait. Watch over her. Watch over them both."
"I'll watch over her." A quiet voice, one that couldn't be Marcellus, for it had too much compassion, but it sounded like him.
"Clean bed," she rasped. "Make sure he has clean bed. Hates being dirty. Don't leave him like that."
Then later, maybe much later? Another voice. The voice she needed to hear to penetrate the fog of her own dull, mindless pain. "Give her to me."
She was lifted, the sense of feathers brushing her, and then she was on a soft bed. Clean. Smelling of clouds and sunshine. David's arms around her. Lying on David's chest. His heartbeat strong and steady.
It seemed the hardest thing she'd ever done, but she managed to tilt her head back the inch or two needed, crack her eyes enough to see his looking down at her. Brown, warm and steady.
A sigh slipped through her lips. She slept.
SUNSHINE. Her shields had held, amazingly, but too much time had passed, for they were thin. Thin enough that the presence of angels all about was enough to give her an oppressive, closed-in feel. But she opened her eyes and found she was in David's arms still, and that made it bearable for the time being. As she rose on one arm, she gazed down at him.
He had some faint scarring on his body, like Marcellus, that would fade in time. But he had all his fingers back, his rich mane of brown hair to his shoulders, though there was an interesting tawny streak now that she brushed with her fingertips. Then she couldn't help touching his mouth, the bridge of his nose. His throat, tracing the breadth of his shoulders. Her throat thickened as she saw one scar that had not altered. The handprint burned into his chest remained.
A polite cough, and she looked over to see Jonah on the window ledge. Watching over them again. David slept on, even though his arms stayed curled low on her hips, reluctant to release her even in sleep.
As she turned to look at him, Jonah straightened, staring at her. Raphael and Marcellus had entered as if he'd summoned them, now that she was awake. They stopped as well, just as they stepped over the threshold.
"Holy Goddess," Marcellus muttered.
She swallowed, trying not to panic, and turned her focus back to David. His wounds were gone, the health returned to his face, his body clean, yes. But he was wingless. Since he was half turned toward her, probably an old habit of not sleeping on his back, she peered over his shoulder to see a broad, unmarked expanse of skin and muscle. She ran her palm over it.
"We're not sure what happened." Raphael cleared his throat. When she glanced back at him, he kept his gaze fixed on David. "He appears to have all other elements of being an angel. Speed, quickness, strength. Immortality."
"You have a theory," she said. "You just don't want to tell me."
"It's possible the wings were too corrupted by the blood, and in the healing, the best thing to do was to just get rid of them."
Mina looked toward Jonah, her exp
ression requesting the full truth. "There is a great deal of magical energy in the wings," the commander said quietly. "It's possible he drew on them at the last for you, drew too hard."
That would be just like him, she knew. She closed her eyes. "Please stop staring at me," she said to the walls. It was time for her to leave. Her shields were expiring. David was healed. He would come to her if he wished. If he didn't, well, he didn't.
"Thinking of taking off on me again, little witch?"
David's voice, quiet but groggy.
Relief swept her, so strong it almost drained her of strength. When she would have toppled into him, he caught her arms and stared at her face. She waited, wishing to be anywhere else as his gaze coursed down, slowly, then back up. He lifted her hand, the one that had three fingers. Now she had almost five. The smallest finger was still missing the top half of the digit.
"I'm sorry," he said with a tired smile. "I ran out about there." At her expression, he sobered and cupped her face, his thumb passing over where her cheek had been pitted but was now as silken as the other.
"Don't worry. I still see the scars," he whispered.
She closed her eyes and he drew her in to him, held her against his heart as her body began to shake. The whole Citadel began to shake in fact, for things were welling up in her, so hard and fast, she couldn't control them. But as he tightened his arms around her, murmured to her, he contained it, held her soul and heart against him such that at last she did feel as if she'd managed to crawl inside him. The first sobs burst out of her, and she was only vaguely aware of the startled angels withdrawing respectfully.
It was everything, all of it, everything she'd had to do and be to get to this point. And somehow he still loved her. She couldn't comprehend it, and it was going to tear her into pieces. But it was okay. He was holding her. He was always holding her.
"I was so frightened," she said into his chest at last. "I was so afraid I wasn't going to be strong enough. I hear your screams when I close my eyes. I can't bear to sleep."
David closed his eyes. That terrible trek from the Dark One tower to the mountain was nothing he was likely to ever forget, either. He laid his head on top of hers. "I'm here now. And it's over. You did it. You did what we needed you to do, what was right. Mina, when it comes to inner strength, I've never met anyone stronger. And I'm sure I never will."
"I was lucky."
"Someone once told me that luck is fickle, and she has no use for it."
"I'm afraid of not having the scars."
"You don't need them. You have me." Touching her mouth, he drew her tear-streaked gaze up to his face. "I told you, angels mate for life. You won't ever have to be lonely again. Only alone when you desire it, though I hope you don't desire it too often. I tend to need you far more than you need me."
She didn't think that was true, but of course she couldn't tell him that. But she did hold him more tightly, laying her head back under his jaw.
David smiled, feeling it, then looked toward Jonah at the doorway. Felt the angels gathered in the Citadel, the strength of their connection to him. The emotion of it, of having them as well as the woman in his arms, filled him. The loss of his wings was painful, the idea that he would no longer be able to fight with the Legion, but that was as it should be, he thought.
They may come back. This from Raphael.
David lifted a shoulder. It doesn't matter. She bears a great burden. It's my task to help her with it. He shifted his thoughts toward Jonah. You've told me before it's not about what we want; it's about our destiny. Well, I got both. Mina is what I want and my destiny, for better or worse.
Jonah inclined his head, his expression saying he understood completely.
THE Prime Legion Commander drew Raphael and Marcellus outside the chamber with him. Raphael paused with Jonah as the two males looked back in, to see David had lifted himself into a sitting position so he could hold her in his lap, murmur and rock her as she cried.
"Have you ever..."
"It was like looking on the face of the Lady." Jonah wondered at it. "I felt her beauty, the power behind it, slam me all the way down to my toes."
"A mask for Darkness. A dangerous one." Raphael shook his head. "Now I understand what she was saying. I thought it was just gibberish, but everything she said... She knows how dangerous she is."
Jonah nodded. "That's why she didn't want him to heal it. But she was willing to risk her soul and our universe to heal him. She's not our enemy, Raphael. I'd bet my soul on it. The key to her is David, and it explains a great deal to me about why the Lady sent us a man who was barely more than a boy to be an angel."
"But is she an ally?"
"When the mood suits her." For the first time in several days, Jonah allowed himself a tight smile and got a soldier's grin from Marcellus. "But have faith, Raphael. After all, we are angels."
Epilogue
THEY went back to the house in the Schism. David didn't have to ask her. He knew that was what she wanted. He politely asked for a lift from the Citadel, which seemed to confuse her until she remembered and shifted to dragon form. He could tell she was worried about his reaction to the loss of his wings, so he made sure to show little concern about it.
Mina, on the other hand, knew how much it bothered him. Felt the guilt of it, but she also understood they were both fragile, both needing time to get used to the changes the past few weeks of monumental events had wrought. She left it at that. For now.
He spent his first few days acclimatizing himself to the house, making sure their surroundings were comfortable, going to the store to get a wide variety of foods that interested her. It required him to drive, something she remembered he'd promised to teach her. It was the first laughter she heard from him, when she insisted he change places with her in the driver's seat on the way back to show her how to handle the vehicle on the dusty and mostly deserted road.
She had many things to occupy her, but her favorite was watching him while she sat on the swing or porch. Seeing him rummage through the workshop in back, finding tools to make simple repairs that were needed, finding other chores she could do and showing her how to help, another way to occupy her energy while she learned to manage her power.
Then there was the music. When he'd picked them up some clothes-and she intensely liked the jeans and snug T-shirts he wore-he'd also picked up a secondhand guitar, drums, and a flute, accumulating a variety of instruments to keep his music magic skills sharp. On the porch swing at sunset, she listened while he sat on the top stair and strummed out the chords to "Beast of Burden," playing the music while humming the song he'd sung her on that magical flight together. Studying his intent profile, the soft strands of hair falling over his forehead, those fingers moving over the strings, she understood the lurch in chest and loins experienced by every girl who'd been a rock band groupie.
While he could still perform tasks as rapidly as an angel, there were times he seemed to like a mortal pace, talking to her while she sat on the porch steps, watching him hammer or paint. Until she couldn't bear watching him anymore and instead came up behind him, sliding seeking hands beneath the T-shirt to the muscled tension of his back. She'd follow that curve, damp with sweat, up to his shoulder blades and then let her hands slide around to the front to his chest even as he turned and tossed his tools aside to give her more direct attention.
Perhaps it was the overflow of magic, or just the lingering horror of the way she'd almost lost him. Or the fact that for the first time in her life she could reach out to another and seek pleasure, intimacy, but she really couldn't get enough of him. Fortunately, an angel's limitless well of carnality was completely unaffected by his injuries. If anything, like hers, it seemed to have increased as a result of them.
He might lift her in his arms, take her no farther than the hammock swinging on the side of the house before he'd slide the panties off her silken legs and put his mouth on her until she was writhing and clutching at him. He seemed to love putting his mouth on her t
here, and she'd no objections to his expertise. But in the end, what she most wanted was to strip him of the jeans and feel his body settle on hers, his hard cock pushing inside her, filling her, making her whole, balancing their universe.
Sometimes they'd take it even slower than a mortal pace. She'd wake in the middle of the night, find his face with her questing fingertips, and he'd hold her, no space between them as he kissed her, over and over, until she was pressed so tight against him, tears gathering in her eyes as he slowly, so slowly, slid inside her, keeping their bodies intimately twined together, coupled close in the darkness so she felt she could never get lost there, except in a way she wished would go on forever.
Sam the Shaman, as she caustically referred to him, didn't immediately visit, though he sent a greeting in the form of a flock of buzzards, which she found somewhat amusing. She was fine with that delay. For now, she was learning a new terrain in herself, and a good portion of her day was spent working with it, plumbing the depths of what it was inside her, all the new corners she had to explore, particularly with the reassurance of David now around. She'd brought her cave stores here, so she expanded her grimoires and potion lists, noted different spells and their effects, tested them benignly on her outside landscape, creating rainbows, storm clouds, summoning up tornadoes and dust storms and containing them. She made one tornado lift the pickup truck to ensure she could safely spin it through the spiral and bring it back down to the ground again. An experiment that David requested she not perform on the house, which led to an explanation about foundations, plumbing and electrical connections she found fascinating.
Every boundary she pushed just opened up another, or suggested another avenue she could pursue, though she knew there were places she had to be more cautious about exploring than others. Always that balance. Darkness could rise up in waves when she tried something that didn't work as she'd hoped. Like when her power got hopelessly knotted with Schism energies and she nearly caused a fatal rupture that could have swallowed fifty miles of land into a sinkhole. But Sam the Shaman made his first appearance on that day, guiding her, and David was at her back as always.