The Angel Page 3

  What about Drew? He must have been suffering as much as Grace was. Gemma had to admit, she and Drew had never been as close as she had been with the others, though she’d only come to understand they were both at fault for that with his insistence of pushing everyone away and her inability to find it within her to trust. Still, she worried for him. He had become her family as much as the others, and she knew he was similar to Grace in the sense that once he set his mind on something, he wouldn’t give up on it. Including hunting down Mr Stark down.

  Which brought her thoughts to Mitch. He wouldn’t give up on finding Mr Stark either, and while he was doing better after the loss of Robin, he was still hurting. Gemma longed to talk to him. To simply hear his voice. She’d come to rely on him as a companion and not having him there to run ideas past or to even argue with – because, yes, she even missed their petty arguments – left her with a hole in her heart.

  She also thought about Logan, who she knew would do anything for Grace. She was sure Grace would be safe as long as Logan was with her, but it still led her to worry for Logan. Logan would take a bullet for the girl he loved, and that was what had Gemma feeling so anxious. Was he, too, safe? Were all four of them? Had they found Mr Stark? Were they even still alive? Surely they were. She would have felt it in her heart if something had happened to them… right?

  She bit her lip and redirected her thoughts to Caspian and Oscar. Surely they were safe. They’d been sailing to war-free lands. But the Mariadies were ruthless. Would they accept the extended hand for help? Would they be able to find a cure to turn the Enchanted who had been transformed into Wicked back?

  Caspian was still dealing with so much after finally having his body back and soul free, and that combined with the knowledge that he was no longer sick must have been wonderful for him. But Gemma knew it was never as easy as that. He’d been traumatized by what he’d been through, and Gemma had barely had the chance to make sure he was okay. She only hoped that the newfound friendship between him and Oscar was helping him. Perhaps having someone to look up to, someone who seemed to genuinely care about him, would be enough to pull him through the dark times.

  At that thought, her mind flickered at last to her mentors. She’d been ignoring the nagging in her mind, the constant seed of doubt that they were okay. Stella and Leo had become like parents to her, and she adored them. To think that they were still locked up in Alast, held hostage by Erebus… well it sickened her. Were they still alive? Had the Enchanted they’d freed during their first attempted escape managed to break them out? What about Archer and Tarim? Sully and Martin? Tilly, Michael, Vivian and so many others who were still trapped inside?

  Gemma retrieved the pillow from the end of her bed and stuffed it behind her head, burrowing down into it and closing her eyes. She couldn’t continue to dwell on her friends. She would never asleep again if she did. But the worry would never leave her until they were all together again, safe and alive.

  There was a soft murmur from beside her and Laura rolled back over, freeing up enough blanket for Gemma to pull onto her body. She didn’t want to sleep, but she had to. She had a war to fight, and she needed to be her best self if she intended on ensuring they all survived.

  ~

  Grace bit down on the frustration bubbling within her veins, knowing the explosion was the only real option they had. There was no way they would leave without freeing the humans, and who knew when the Wicked would return. Mr Stark’s dead form still remained on the stone floor of the underground, and surely Creshan or even Erebus would return for it sooner or later. So, they had to hurry if they wanted to escape.

  Grace watched on wearily as Mitch, Logan and Drew set up the explosive device. Her job was to keep guard, which she had volunteered for. She refused to set off the bomb. If even one of the Human’s died, she didn’t want it to be at her hand. Though, she knew she would blame herself no matter what anyway.

  She was sickened at the sight of the helpless people, eyes watching on, concerned and unsure, as the boys set everything in place. They’d been through so much, and Grace was in a position to help them. Yet there was a very real chance it would cost some of them their lives.

  Grace hugged herself, turning her back to the scene behind her and focusing her eyes on the dark, dank tunnel. She was still surprised that her words had been enough to convince the Wicked of backing off. Perhaps there was still enough good, enough Enchanted, in them after all. If they had been real Wicked, they would have had a battle on their hands, and Grace was sure she and her friends would have lost.

  At least… she could only assume that’s what the real Wicked would have done. Although, after what Creshan said, there was a seed of doubt beginning to form in the back of her mind. Maybe the Enchanted had been wrong?

  She didn’t understand it completely. She wasn’t sure why the Wicked had left, or why Creshan too had left. It couldn’t have been just her words. There must have been more too it. She would just have to find out what.

  ‘All right, we’re ready,’ Drew said from behind her.

  Grace forced out a sigh and turned around to face her brother. She let her face fall slack, her arms still hugging herself.

  ‘I know you don’t want to do this, but it’s the only way. We can’t leave them in there to be experimented on.’

  Grace flinched at that, but she nodded. A shudder raced through her, and suddenly Drew’s arms were around her, hugging her to his chest. She didn’t cry, but she did wrap her arms around her brother, clinging to him tightly.

  She understood then what the real problem was. What was really plaguing her so.

  ‘I thought it would all just… end when we killed him,’ she whispered into Drew’s shoulder.

  ‘I know,’ he replied quietly.

  ‘I thought killing him would… I don’t know, end the war. End it all. I felt like eliminating Mr Stark would just fix everything. And then Creshan showed up and the Wicked, just proving that the war is still very much alive.’

  ‘I know,’ he repeated into her hair. ‘So did I.’

  He rubbed her back, squeezing her tighter. ‘But we did one thing tonight. We killed the man who destroyed our family. And while revenge perhaps isn’t the best medicine considering how far apart it drove us, at least we know he won’t be able to hurt anyone ever again.’

  Grace nodded at that, understanding the truth behind Drew’s words. Mr Stark was gone, and he would never be able to do damage to anyone else.

  Drew pulled back, peering down into her face. ‘You ready?’

  She gave one single, curt nod, peering over his shoulder at the Humans who were all at the back of the room, hiding behind overturned benches and chairs as Logan and Mitch continued attempting to instruct them.

  ‘We did two things tonight, actually,’ she said quietly. ‘Ended Mr Starks reign, and saved a hundred innocent lives.’

  Drew smiled and the two of them pulled apart, ready for whatever was to come. Mitch held the lighter in his hand, and he gave them a nod to indicate it was time. Flickering the flame to life, he lowered his fingers to the fuse. In an instant, it was alight, and the four of them turned, taking off down the tunnel.

  They’d only reached the half way point when the explosion rocketed out behind them, the shockwave hitting them mere seconds after, sending them sprawling to the floor. Grace frantically covered her head with her arms as dirt, dust and rock shot through the tunnel and rained down over the top of them. Small bits of debris pitter-pattered onto her back and she remained still until the dust had settled enough to see.

  Then, the four of them climbed to their feet and rushed back towards the Humans. For a moment, heart hammering in her chest, Grace couldn’t spot any movement; just shattered glass and chunks of rock and dirt from the walls and ceiling tossed about the room. But at last, through the dust, came dirt covered humans.

  Grace grinned as more and more people emerged, some with slight grazes or cuts but none badly hurt. They’d done it; they’d freed them.


  ‘Come on everyone, follow us,’ Drew said to the crowd.

  Grace hurried behind the group so she could double check that no one had been left behind, and when she was sure that they’d freed every single person that had been locked behind that glass, she jogged off after the Humans, sword at the ready for any unexpected attacks. But they were met with no resistance, and soon enough, they were climbing from the depths of the tunnel and into the freedom of the night.

  Chapter Two

  Darkness of Night

  Creshan Valan paced the damp, cold hall, his heart in his throat. The Sargent, Mr Stark, was dead, and where had he been? Hiding in the lab. Granted, he hadn’t realised what was happening beyond the dirty stone walls until it was too late – he’d been so caught up in his work that he hadn’t even noticed when The Sargent had left the room to begin with. It was only the distant echo of swordplay that had jarred him from his study. Surely that indicated that he wasn’t at fault? Though the Sargent had mumbled something at some point, probably just before he’d left the room, and Creshan hadn’t been listening properly. Had the Sargent asked him for aid? To follow him? And Creshan had simply ignored it. Perhaps it was due to him that Erebus’s right hand man was dead.

  What was he going to tell Erebus? His master was already dealing with a great deal and Creshan didn’t fancy bearing witness to the release of that fury that simmered constantly below the surface of his short temper. The Sargent’s death would surely blow all his plans… and most likely land Creshan in the execution chamber.

  Creshan clenched his fists and turned the corner to the cell block, shoving the thoughts from his mind. He’d been quick to transport himself back to Erebus’s underground base, though he was yet to see Erebus himself. He had, however, heard of the rebellion in Alast from one of the Wicked Guards, which was enough to convince him that Erebus was in no state yet to learn of the Sargent’s death. He’d also been informed of the prisoner they’d taken as a result.

  Creshan was frustrated. Frustrated, because his Wicked had deserted him in the middle of a fight. Frustrated because he’d let the Sargent die. Frustrated because those stupid kids had bested him, and he was sure they would be working on braking the humans free, if they hadn’t succeeded already. Part of him wanted to round up enough Wicked to portal back, using the Sargent’s Devil’s Cane. Another part of him, however, couldn’t help but think of the young girl who’d been brave enough to face him, her weapon still sheathed. She’d promised the Wicked she’d help them. Did she mean it?

  The fact that Creshan was even questioning such things was enough to land him in the execution chamber without having to reveal what happened to the Sargent to Erebus. They were traitorous thoughts. Traitorous actions to not have called for more backup and killed the four young Enchanted. He still had time, and yet… was it worth it?

  They surely could make no further mark or change to the war. They were stuck on an island full of Wicked with a hundred humans to take care of. They were already as good as dead, so what was the point taking Wicked away from their positions – positions they are desperately needed in? There was none. They would wind up dead and Erebus’s plan would continue like normal. Well… as normal as it could without a right hand man.

  Regardless of his reasons and beliefs, he was frustrated that it had all happened at his own hand, and he knew his moments were numbered. Which meant he had to make up for his wrongs so that when he did approach Erebus he at least had a positive to gift him along with the negative. And that brought him to the cells. To the prisoner.

  To Estella Mayfire.

  She knew where the girl was, surely. And if Creshan could weed the information from her lips then perhaps he would be saved from feeling Erebus’s wrath.

  Creshan had never been the murderous, torturous type. He recalled his life before, a life that felt as if it were a distant memory. Before he’d turned, he’d been a good healer. A well-loved member of the healing community, in fact. He was only in his early twenties, but he’d made his way up the chain quickly. He’d worked hard, trained harder, and aspired to save as many Enchanted and Humans as he could.

  Then, everything had changed. Erebus had shown up one night as he’d been walking home after completing a long sixteen hour shift. He lived but one block from his work, and yet he still hadn’t been safe. Mr Stark, as he’d known him then, and Erebus had fought him, knocked him unconscious. After that, everything became hazy. He recalled Erebus forcing him to fight against other Enchanted in a savage and unfair battle. He also remembered the moment when he’d been named the victor.

  But after that… well, he wasn’t sure what had happened. All he knew was when he next came to, he felt anew, malicious intent running through his veins. A blackness that truly felt as if it were consuming his soul. It pushed him into cruelty, and it continued to play on his emotions, dragging the fury from the pits of his stomach and shoving it to the forefront of his mind.

  He couldn’t describe what had happened to him. He couldn’t control the rage, the darkness, the deep abyss inside that seemed to swallow up all the good and happiness in his life. He couldn’t feel any other emotion besides anger anymore. Part of him, the part that still remembered his old life, hated it. Despised it. Begged for him to fight it – to rise up against it.

  But part of him knew he couldn’t do anything. He was there to serve Erebus, and he had been promised a good life. That was what mattered. Except, that was all in jeopardy thanks to a bunch of kids, and he had to make amends.

  As he turned the corner and moved to stand before the last cell in the block, he lifted his lantern and peered through the bars, eyes searching. After a moment, they came to focus on a small shape in the centre of the cell.

  Stella was curled up on the floor, her white-blond hair matted with blood and stuck to her neck and face. Her clothes were in tatters, hanging from her body, dirty and torn. She’d lost a shoe at one point and her sock was black with mud. She was soaking wet, and she held her hand close to her chest.

  For a moment, Creshan couldn’t understand what the problem was. But then he saw the bloodied bandage wrapped around her right hand.

  So it appeared she’d already had her session. He wondered briefly if they’d managed to drag any information from her lips, but then he noted that she’d probably be dead if they had.

  There were no guards nearby. Creshan supposed she wasn’t at risk of escape considering the condition she was in. But then again, he’d never suspected the hostages in Alast would attempt another escape either, so he knew better than to doubt the Enchanted.

  You know they will do anything for their people. A voice whispered in the back of his head. He bit down on his cheek, forcing the thoughts to fade. He was Wicked. Wicked. Not Enchanted.

  Creshan shifted and a rock scraped the ground underfoot. Stella jerked up, eyes flickering to meet his own. Creshan watched her calmly, her innocent, terrified face half covered in shadows. Her face was swollen and bruised and a cut ran from her temple down to her chin. What had they done to her?

  Something stirred within him at the sight of the helpless woman before him, bruised and battered and in obvious pain as she cringed while she skidded backwards to the far wall.

  Creshan crouched down so he was at eye level with her. He was curious, he had to admit. Despite the clear fear in her expression, there was still a note of determination. The fact that she was still alive proved that they hadn’t broken her. Yet.

  ‘What do you want?’ Stella hissed through cracked lips. Her voice came out croaky and dry.

  Creshan didn’t reply. He wasn’t sure what he wanted after all. He’d originally intended on interrogating her but after seeing her… she was different than what he’d expected. Strong. Beautiful. Dangerous.

  He forced a sigh through his lips and straightened, reaching to unlock the cell. He’d come for a reason, and quite frankly, his life was more important than hers. He’d rather kill her than risk Erebus killing him after what he’d allowed
to happen.

  ‘What’s wrong with you people? Do you strive to kill? To hurt? Is all you care about power and glory? Don’t you want to live a good life? A happy life free of pain and suffering?’ Stella spat at him as he pushed the creaky cell door open.

  Creshan paused, closing the door behind him to ensure she didn’t try to escape. Then he turned and met her furious gaze.

  ‘You don’t understand? You’re just like your stupid students,’ Creshan scoffed but he did notice the way she stiffened at the mention of her students.

  He wondered if she would ask about them, but she masked her worry and looked away. Ah. So she was going to be like that.

  ‘You see, the Wicked have nothing. Your people-’

  ‘They were your people too once,’ Stella cut in.

  ‘Yes, they were. And I was blind to just what kind of race we were. The Enchanted shoved the Wicked into a corner. They were forced to fight. They have no money, no homes. They lived in poverty with no schools to teach them how to harness their powers or hone their fighting skills. They only want a better life for themselves and their future generations, and what Erebus is promising them is just that. A life where they don’t have to fight to be heard. A life where they don’t have to constantly be afraid. A happy life, as you said.’

  Stella still refused to look at him, but Creshan could see that she was listening.

  ‘This isn’t how you go about doing that. There are better ways of fighting. I- I’m sorry that the Wicked have had an awful life. Maybe I don’t know the whole story. Maybe they aren’t as evil as we’ve always been told they were. But that doesn’t change the fact that they- you, are holding me hostage. That you’re torturing me,’ she shook her head, wincing at the pain it caused her, then her eyes at last lifted to Creshan’s. ‘You’re still one of us. You still have Enchanted blood. You can still be good, I’m sure of it. Please. Find that goodness and hold on to it. Don’t let them destroy who you were. Don’t let them take your soul from us.’