***
The elevator doors open on the twenty-eighth floor. Hand and retinal scanners at the door double-check my identity before they let me into the enormous lab that takes up a quarter of the building.
Due to the nature of my work, I need a bird’s-eye view of the city.
I begin setting up my equipment and computer programs for the experiments of the day.
I’ve just finished setting up when there is a loud crack. The door to the lab falls inward. Hesitantly, I start to slide toward the panic button.
Two men walk in. I want to call them men, but I’m not exactly sure they are. Their suits don’t seem to fit right. And they look different. Dangerous.
“Gillian Matthews?” the first one asks. He wears big, rimmed glasses, but they’re too far down his nose to be of any real use.
I’m just feet from the panic button. If I can just keep them distracted for another couple of seconds. “Who’s asking?
The second one clears his throat, stroking his dark beard. “I wouldn’t touch that button if I were you.”
I stop. How does he know? “What do you want?”
“Your notes, laptop, and you.”
His words hit me like a meteor. I understand the notes and the laptop, but me?
“Why?” I try to look shocked. “What on Earth do you want with surveillance stats?”
“Surveillance stats?” the one with the beard repeats back with a brow raised.
“Yes, I’m just measuring the flow of traffic on the roadways so we can set the traffic signals more effectively. Are you with the government?”
The guy with the beard looks up at the one who is fidgeting with his odd glasses. “Dean, what does the boss want with surveillance stats? Maybe we got the wrong girl.”
The other one finally snatches his glasses off his nose and chucks them across the room. They smash against the wall and shatter. “She’s lying to you, Blaine. Do you always have to be so gullible?”
I don’t think these two are professionals. I’ve only made it two steps closer to the panic button, but managed to pocket two of my USBs.
Dean turns back to me. “We know exactly what you’re doing. Turn it over, or we’ll make you wish you had. And then we’ll take it anyway.”
That’s when it hits me, even if I get to the panic button, these two thugs will probably be long gone with me and my equipment before anyone comes to help. I’ve worked for years developing my idea, and had to fight tooth and nail to get funding. If my theories are right, I could win a Nobel Prize with this someday.
I need a plan B.
I grab my laptop and start backing toward the window. “I don’t know what you think I’m doing, but I’m not giving you my research.” I look out the window and down to the street below. “And I’d rather die with it than give it to you.”
I hold my breath, hoping my bluff will pay off.
Instead, they split up, each walking toward me around opposite sides of the table. Not good. Not good at all.
“There’s no need to be so dramatic,” Dean says reasonably. “Maybe we can work this out.”
I give a slightly hysterical laugh. What am I supposed to do? If these two get me, I have no idea what they’ll do, but falling to my death is sounding less like a crazy threat and more like a real possibility. But it’s been a strange twenty-four hours. If a guy can survive getting hit by a bus with barely a scratch, maybe I’ll be fine, too.
“I don’t think so.” I back up until I’m pressed against the window.
When they reach me, I’m not quite ready to dive down twenty-eight floors just yet. I’m not much of a fighter, but I get in a good kick at Dean and two punches at Blaine before he grabs my laptop and tries to wrestle it out of my hands. Desperation pushes aside all rational thought. I should just let it go, but I can’t. And I’m not going to.
Dean grabs my ponytail and pulls my head backward while the second man is pulling the laptop from my arms. By some inhuman strength of will, I keep my grip.
“Give us the laptop… and we’ll… let you go.” Dean says.
I can tell he’s making an effort to be reasonable. But even if I believed him, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. “That’s not…going…to happen!” But I can feel my arms and fingers starting to tire.
Our sides hit the glass, and Dean uses his grip on my ponytail to bang my head against it. For a moment, my vision turns black, but my fingers stay firmly wrapped around my laptop.
As if in slow motion, I hear the spidercracking of the glass behind us. Fear fuels me, and I wrench the laptop away and duck beneath the table, just in time.
The window shatters with a sound like a gunshot, and suddenly, the wind is everywhere. I hear a scream and turn to see that Dean is gone.
But that’s when things get really weird.
An enormous, winged bird flies in through the broken window space. It attacks Blaine, who has fled around the table in the opposite direction. I’m not sure whether to stay put or try to flee. The new winged thing might vaguely resemble some kind of guardian angel, but there’s no guarantee it’s on my side.
Its back is to me as it fights with Blaine so all I can see are the two silver-tipped wings coming out the center of its shirtless back. I get flashes of skin and…tattoos? He moves with amazing grace, pinning Blaine against the wall in record time. I hear him growl, “Why do you want her?”
Have I given in to hysteria? Is there really a talking, man-sized bird interrogating a would-be thief in my lab?
Blaine doesn’t answer, but struggles and suddenly turns to dust.
“Dammit!” the winged thing shouts.
When he turns to me, green eyes meet mine. My stomach feels the pull toward him again. I shiver, unable to process what I’m seeing.
Holy shit. It’s the guy from last night. But…with wings? He’s wearing a leather belt with a sheath clipped to it and what looks like a dagger inside. And this time, his skin has more of a golden glow to it than I remember.
He doesn’t seem fazed by the wind, which is starting to die down as the pressure equalizes. “Get your stuff. We need to get out of here.”
I don’t move. “You flew in through the window.”
He frowns and pulls me out from under the table.
I let him, even though my brain seems frozen. “You have wings…and you…you can fly?”
“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he mutters.
As if that means anything to me.
“How could I not see that? You just flew in the window.”
He looks thoroughly perplexed now. “Most humans don’t see when we do supernatural things.”
His explanation floors me.
“Now you’re saying you’re not human?”
He shrugs. “How do you think I recovered so quickly from getting hit by that bus?”
As if that was enough to logically conclude he was some kind of winged human. For some reason, I start to feel angry. “I don’t know.” I throw my hands in the air. “Maybe I thought you had some kind of special power. From your hotness. That’s just as logical as what’s going on here, isn’t it?”
“Right.” He nods sarcastically. “The hotness superpower. Works every time.”
Had he really just given me attitude?
“Look, I’m not an idiot. In fact, I’m pretty damn smart.” My temper rises. “Logically, I concluded your miraculous recovery was due to normal factors. Your general physique. Your height, your musculature, or maybe the bus wasn’t going as fast as I thought it was. What else was I supposed to think?”
He puts up his hands for peace. “I understand. I’m sorry, we’re just in a bad situation, and I’m not exactly a people person. But we really do need to leave. When more of those—things—come back, I don’t want you to be here. I can’t die, but you can.”
He can’t die? And he has wings?
I’m starting to feel light-headed. The adrenaline from my fight is fading fast, and nothing about this situation fits
into the logical world I’ve come to understand.
He curses. “What do you need to take with us?”
I can’t find words.
He grabs my shoulders and gives me a shake. “Come on! We’ve got a few minutes, at best.”
“What’s your name?”
“My name?” He gives a startled laugh. “Brion.”
“Fine. Stop shaking me, Brion.” I meet his gaze. “The answer is everything. I need to take everything. It’s taken years and a small fortune to build this lab.”
“You didn’t know my name?” His expression is angry.
I give him a level stare. “I think a better question is, how do you know mine? You never asked for it.”
“I was assigned to protect you,” he responds without hesitation.
“By who?”
“I’ll have to answer that later.” He looks around. “I can’t carry everything, so point out what you can. They’ll get the rest.”
I look around frantically, finally realizing that all my bravery will have been for nothing if I can’t snap out of my shock. What can we take that would allow me to continue my research? I grab a large box. I begin stuffing things inside, my laptop, workstation, one of each of the sensors and scopes.
As I’m filling the box, I ask, “What are those things, and why are they after me?”
He looks at the door worriedly. “Can we discuss this later?”
As if he has something better to be doing.
“Can we discuss it now?”
He groans exasperatedly and looks up at the ceiling. “I don’t know why they’re after you. You tell me.”
I shrug. Whatever he doesn’t know about my research I’m not going to tell him. He saved me, but I still don’t know who he is. “I have no idea.”
“Well, from the view in the window, they really seemed to want your laptop.”
I nod.
“Fuck.”
I look up and three more of the strange men have walked in the door. The first throws an alien-looking dagger at me. It’s green and giving off golden smoke.
I see a flash of feathers, and the dagger bounces away from me.
“Do you trust me?” he asks, his face inches from my own.
I want to. But…he has wings. And we just met last night. “I don’t know,” I whisper honestly.
Disappointment flashes behind his eyes. “Fuck. It doesn’t matter.” Then he grabs me and the box and jumps out the window.
8
Gillian
I’m sure I’m screaming as we plummet toward the ground but there’s no sound. The wind sucks it away. We pick up speed, faster and faster, until he swoops up with a triumphant cry just before we hit the ground.
I have no breath to speak, so just hang there, suspended from his arm wrapped around my waist. His other arm is still holding the box with my research.
We fly north, out of the city. Now that we’re flying at a reasonable speed, there’s very little wind and his body radiates heat. It’s almost as though he has an invisible bubble around us.
I glance up at him. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere safe.”
“How do you know?”
“Because it’s mine. It’s where I rest when I have missions on Earth.”
After another thirty minutes I see mountains ahead, and we start to gain altitude. We fly over pines and, as he slows, I can see a clearing ahead. He lands perfectly on the porch of a decent-sized cabin.
I turn back to see him furling his wings.
“Wait!”
He pauses.
I can feel my face redden. I can feel the questions within my logical brain. I need to know what he is. “Can I…see you?”
His gold-flecked gaze meets mine and he’s silent for a moment. Then he looks down. “All right.”
He unfurls his wings to their fullest extent and I take in a breath. He’s magnificent. His wingspan must be at least eight feet. His golden skin glows in the morning sunlight. I walk around him and see that each of his feathers is dipped in some kind of metal.
“Steel?” I ask, running my finger along a feather.
“Titanium. For battle.”
“So I’ve observed.”My voice is dry. I become bolder, running my fingers through his feathers. They are the lightest, softest things I’ve ever felt. Like silk. The ends are heavier due to the metal coating.
He shudders.
“Can you feel that?”
“Of course. They are a part of me.” he takes a breath. “And I seem to react to you…more than usual.”
The logical part of my mind can’t believe I’m here with an angel.
I finish my tour around his body and stand before him again. For some reason, I can’t meet his gaze. “Thank you. You’re beautiful.”
He puts his fingers beneath my chin, raising my eyes to meet his. “You are beautiful, too.” From the sincerity in his voice, I can tell he believes it.
He furls his wings behind him and, to my surprise; they keep furling until they disappear. When he steps in front of me to open the door, I see that two enormous scars run up the center of his back, the length of his shoulder blades. I wonder if it hurts him to take his wings out and put them away.
The scars look painful. More painful than the intricate network of tattoos that cover his chest, upper back and shoulders.
When we get inside, he turns and puts his hand on a sigil on the inside of the door. Nothing visible happens, but I can almost feel something protecting the house.
He walks across the room to a bookcase and pulls one of the books out. It pops open, and I see a walk-in safe behind it. He opens it and puts the box just inside.
Then he turns and gestures to the large, L-shaped sofa. I sit down, and he follows me. As he makes room for himself next to me, I detect the faintest scents of pine and sandalwood. Great. Now he smells good, too?
“You’re taking this all rather well.”
“Am I?” I ask, meeting his gaze. “I don’t feel like I am.”
“You aren’t freaking out.”
“I am a little bit.” I release a deep breath. Maybe that’s because I’m with you. Being with him makes me feel safe.
He gives me a small smile. “A lot of people would be crying, screaming, maybe running around in circles.”
I shrug. “I was almost killed today. But…at least I feel safer now.”
His smile widens. “I’m glad.”
“But if you don’t mind me asking, what are you?”
He hesitates before slowly giving me my answer. “Like you’ve probably guessed, I’m an angel.”
I digest his answer. “If that’s true, you’re not exactly what I expected. There’s no halo. And a lot less singing.”
“I’m not that kind of angel,” he answers, frowning. “I’m a Warrior Angel. Michael recruited me for his army.”
“An army?”
“We’re guardians. Of certain people, of humanity.” His gaze turns to me. “What I don’t know is why I’m guarding you.”
I shift uncomfortably. “What you’re saying might be true, but I need you to prove a lot more to me before I tell you about my research.”
“Ah,” he smirks, “so they’re after you for your research.”
I scowl. “Well, yes, I figure that’s the only possible reason.”
He spreads out his hands, looking at them. “I can’t prove any more than what I have. I just saved you from five demons and flew you from your lab to my safe house. What more do you want?”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. Not yet.”
He stares at me for long moments. Then he rises with a nod. “Are you hungry? I believe we missed lunch.”
I follow him into the oversize kitchen. It looks like it’s made for a professional chef. “I guess you do like to cook.”
“An astute observation.” He begins to pull out ingredients from the fridge and cupboards. Then he glances over his shoulder. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea? Hot
chocolate?”
“You have hot chocolate?” I try to keep the eagerness out of my voice.
“Only if you like it made from scratch.”
“You make it from scratch? I didn’t even know that was possible.”
“It is,” he laughs. “It most certainly is.”