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Authors: Melissa de La Cruz
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but once he understood that the vampire had no quarrel with him, his face became set as he prepared himself for the ugly task ahead.
MariElena would die.
Jack would be taken.
There was nothing Schuyler could do but scream.
THIRTEEN
Angel Time
There was so little time to do anything out in the real world, where she had been captured and attacked. So Schuyler looked inward, into her soul and into the glom. Time did not exist in the same way in the inner universe.
She opened her eyes to the murky waters of the twilight world, and felt the heavy constriction of the dark spel that held her captive. In the glom, her bindings manifested as a coil of snakes writhing around her skin. She felt their scaly wetness wrap around her body, clutching her ever more tightly. They were al around, slithering against her waist, around her legs, slipping through her fingers. She could smel their oozy stink, and shivered to hear the rasp of their tongues.
A stasis spel worked as part of the compulsion--mind control--essential y an order to make you believe you were trapped, which was why it was one of the most difficult factors to master. You had to stop believing what was right in front of you.
Schuyler focused on the snake nearest to her head. She could feel its cold reptile body working its way around her shoulders. She turned so she could face it eye to eye. It was a fearsome king cobra, its hood spread as it reared to attack. It bared its fangs and hissed.
But before it could strike, Schuyler overcame her revulsion and reached down to grip it by its tail, and with one fluid motion, she pul ed the snake away from her body and crushed its serpent head under her heel.
In a flash she was back in the real world of the cave, holding her mother's sword. "Stop!" she commanded, her voice ringing with fury.
The priest hastened to thrust the knife through the girl's neck, but before the blade could penetrate her skin, Schuyler had parried it away, and it clattered on the rocks. MariElena fel to the ground, and Ghedi with her, fel ed by Schuyler's compulsion to surrender.
That was al Jack needed. With a vehement roar, he broke his bonds and transformed into the fearsome Angel of Destruction, magnificent black wings sprouting from his back, his horns curled to sharp diamond points, and his eyes a bloodcurdling crimson. He picked up the now quivering bounty hunter and crushed him against his talons.
"Jack, no. Don't kil him!" Schuyler cried. Let there be no blood spilled today.
"Listen to the girl. . . ." the bounty hunter gurgled.
Schuyler put a gentle hand on Abbadon's feathered extensions, feeling the majestic power underneath their silky weight. She had been frightened once, to see him in this light, but now that she saw his terrifying true face, she found it beautiful.
He turned to her; as Abbadon he looked at once nothing at al like Jack, and yet more like him than ever.
He was going to hurt you. Please, my love.
Then he was Jack again, ruddy-cheeked and handsome. He pul ed the bounty hunter to his feet. "Go. Tel my sister that her parasite has failed. Tel her that nothing and no one can bring me back." That was al the bounty hunter needed to hear. He disappeared before taking another breath.
Schuyler col apsed into Jack's arms, and they held each other.
I thought I was going to lose you , she sent.
Never. We shall never be separated. Jack bent his head against her shoulder, and she leaned on his chest so that she could hear his heart beating a steady, ordered rhythm against hers.
Never.
The Artist's Studio
Florence, 1452
In the morning, Tomi returned to her work at the studio. The Master would not return until tomorrow, and there was still so much to do. She greeted her fellow assistants and took her place at the back of the room, where she resumed carving a relief meant for the east doors of the Baptistery. The work was painstaking and exact, but Tomi reveled in it, finding glory and beauty in the fine details. She was
MariElena would die.
Jack would be taken.
There was nothing Schuyler could do but scream.
THIRTEEN
Angel Time
There was so little time to do anything out in the real world, where she had been captured and attacked. So Schuyler looked inward, into her soul and into the glom. Time did not exist in the same way in the inner universe.
She opened her eyes to the murky waters of the twilight world, and felt the heavy constriction of the dark spel that held her captive. In the glom, her bindings manifested as a coil of snakes writhing around her skin. She felt their scaly wetness wrap around her body, clutching her ever more tightly. They were al around, slithering against her waist, around her legs, slipping through her fingers. She could smel their oozy stink, and shivered to hear the rasp of their tongues.
A stasis spel worked as part of the compulsion--mind control--essential y an order to make you believe you were trapped, which was why it was one of the most difficult factors to master. You had to stop believing what was right in front of you.
Schuyler focused on the snake nearest to her head. She could feel its cold reptile body working its way around her shoulders. She turned so she could face it eye to eye. It was a fearsome king cobra, its hood spread as it reared to attack. It bared its fangs and hissed.
But before it could strike, Schuyler overcame her revulsion and reached down to grip it by its tail, and with one fluid motion, she pul ed the snake away from her body and crushed its serpent head under her heel.
In a flash she was back in the real world of the cave, holding her mother's sword. "Stop!" she commanded, her voice ringing with fury.
The priest hastened to thrust the knife through the girl's neck, but before the blade could penetrate her skin, Schuyler had parried it away, and it clattered on the rocks. MariElena fel to the ground, and Ghedi with her, fel ed by Schuyler's compulsion to surrender.
That was al Jack needed. With a vehement roar, he broke his bonds and transformed into the fearsome Angel of Destruction, magnificent black wings sprouting from his back, his horns curled to sharp diamond points, and his eyes a bloodcurdling crimson. He picked up the now quivering bounty hunter and crushed him against his talons.
"Jack, no. Don't kil him!" Schuyler cried. Let there be no blood spilled today.
"Listen to the girl. . . ." the bounty hunter gurgled.
Schuyler put a gentle hand on Abbadon's feathered extensions, feeling the majestic power underneath their silky weight. She had been frightened once, to see him in this light, but now that she saw his terrifying true face, she found it beautiful.
He turned to her; as Abbadon he looked at once nothing at al like Jack, and yet more like him than ever.
He was going to hurt you. Please, my love.
Then he was Jack again, ruddy-cheeked and handsome. He pul ed the bounty hunter to his feet. "Go. Tel my sister that her parasite has failed. Tel her that nothing and no one can bring me back." That was al the bounty hunter needed to hear. He disappeared before taking another breath.
Schuyler col apsed into Jack's arms, and they held each other.
I thought I was going to lose you , she sent.
Never. We shall never be separated. Jack bent his head against her shoulder, and she leaned on his chest so that she could hear his heart beating a steady, ordered rhythm against hers.
Never.
The Artist's Studio
Florence, 1452
In the morning, Tomi returned to her work at the studio. The Master would not return until tomorrow, and there was still so much to do. She greeted her fellow assistants and took her place at the back of the room, where she resumed carving a relief meant for the east doors of the Baptistery. The work was painstaking and exact, but Tomi reveled in it, finding glory and beauty in the fine details. She was
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