Author: A.D. Trosper
Date: 2014-03-12 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Young Adult; Paranormal; Fantasy; Romance; Magic; Demons; Angels
Description: It's her destiny to break the seal and his to keep her alive... Isobel Moore is looking forward to spending her summer break alone while her parents are overseas. Until she returns from college to find her home isn’t quite the welcoming place it used to be. The stained glass window her parents installed is more than just a beautiful piece of history; something sinister is sealed within the colored glass. When Isobel meets her new neighbor, Damien DeLuca, she discovers the gorgeous and mysterious stranger has plenty of his own secrets. Including the knowledge of what's happening in her home. As
Publisher: Silver Spirit Publishing
Rights: Bound by Time Copyright © 2014 A.D. Trosper All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher. This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. Published by Silver Spirit Publishing I

Time knows no bounds when you are tested to your limits…

Isobel Moore is looking forward to spending her summer break alone while her parents are overseas. But when she returns home from college she discovers it’s no longer the welcoming place it used to be…and that something sinister now resides within.

As Isobel begins to question her sanity, a mysterious neighbor moves next door with plenty of his own secrets…and Damien DeLuca has the uncanny ability to always show up when the unexplainable happens.

Now Isobel must unravel a past that tests her limits and everything she thought she knew—before the darkness kills her.

Book one in the Standalone Bound Novels

BOUND BY TIME

Copyright © 2014, 2016 A.D. Trosper

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published by

Silver Spirit Publishing

ISBN-13: 978-0615986753

ISBN-10: 0615986757

Also By A.D. Trosper

Dragon's Call

Embers at Galdrilene

Book One

Tears of War

Book Two

Ashes and Spirits

Book Three

Tales From Galdrilene

A New Beginning

The Bound Series

Bound By Legend

Book Two

Children’s Books

The Legend of Christmas Magic

Multi-Author Collections

In Creeps The Night

Featuring "The Loop"

A Winter's Romance

Featuring "Mid-Winter Celebration"

Thank you to my husband
who not only supported my venture into
a new genre but also kept coffee
in front of me and
reminded me to eat when
this story demanded to be written.

To Maria at AllExperts
for all of her help with the

Latin in this book.

To my mother
for reading the first draft
and encouraging me.

To my kids
for letting me disappear into
my computer and
being patient while I wrote this.

To my beta readers
who took time out of their busy
lives to read it and make great suggestions.

To Blue Harvest Creative
for the beautiful cover,
interior design,
and everything you do.

She was too young to be there. Yet she stood at the front of the crowd, drawn to the man’s death. The mix of people screaming vile curses intermingled with the weeping of those already mourning him. The sounds surrounded her, enveloped her. The man, however, knelt perfectly still in the face of his own death—his eyes locked with unwavering calm on his executioner.

The blow came swift and hard. The man glowed golden-white just before his head separated from his body, and blood sprayed across the paving stones.

She watched, her insides churning, as the head rolled a short distance and came to a rest. Its empty eyes regarded the crowd. Blood seeped across the pavement. She tried to step back into the throng as the warm wetness began to pool against her bare feet. Her thin arms pushed at the people behind her in vain. She no longer wanted to see this, had to get away.

A strange clinking sound echoed against the stones. Reluctantly, she looked back. A woman draped in robes knelt next to the headless body. Her hands held glass vials, and she carefully filled them with the dead man’s blood as smoky darkness seeped from his body in tiny tendrils.

She watched, frozen. The woman looked up and made eye contact with her. The blood was for her, though she didn’t know how she knew this. Finally, a small break opened in the crowd, enough to allow her petite form through. She ran through the streets. Her heart pounded as strains of dark laughter followed her.

Isobel jerked awake, a strangled cry caught in her throat. Her heart raced as she frantically clawed at the bed. Gradually, she realized she was safe; it was the same dream that had plagued her the past six years. She rolled over on the narrow bed and worked to free her legs from the twisted sheets.

The rising sun turned the sky outside the window to pearl gray. She stared at the familiar corners of the room while her heart rate came back to normal. A glance at the other bed showed her roommate, Amelia, comfortably asleep. Lucky her. With a sigh, Isobel swung her legs out of bed. Might as well get up; it wasn’t as if she would find any further rest. If she was lucky, she’d beat everyone to the showers and enjoy some hot water for a change. Then she could start packing.

Isobel threw the last of her things into a plastic tote and glanced around the shoebox-sized room. Her twin bed, now stripped bare, lined one wall. Her roommate’s bed, still covered in rumpled blankets, lined the other with their two small desks crammed in-between. The morning light from the window spilled across the desks from its perch in the wall above them.

Her eyes roamed the room. She felt a pang of regret; after she left she wouldn’t get the chance to see Amelia until August. Isobel examined the crammed closet and the dresser one last time for anything she may have left behind.

As she turned back to the assortment of boxes, many of them the plastic kind that would slide under the bed, the sun pouring through the window caught her eye. Isobel stared at the golden light gleaming off the desks and the reaching square it made across the thin carpet. As the hairs on the back of her neck stood up she shivered. It wasn’t the window; it was the way the sun shone through it.

Energy hummed in the air and washed through her veins as the golden light separated into different colors. Isobel closed her eyes and worked to build her mental blocks back up, pushing the energy away.

She shook her head and looked away from the window, trying to ignore the foreboding that wormed its way into her heart. She needed to stop this nonsense. Isobel rubbed her arms as she focused on the boxes again. She hadn’t felt anything and that was it. She was not her birth mother.

The cell phone lying on the bed rang, making her jump. What was wrong with her? She shook off the lingering unease, grabbed the phone and glanced at the caller ID before she tapped the screen. “Hi Mom.”

“How’s it going? Are you sure you don’t want us to drive up and get you?”

“I’ll be fine. Besides, unless you planned on towing my car, I’d still have to drive.” Isobel smiled at the slight tone of worry in her mother’s voice.

“True. But you wouldn’t be alone on the road. Maybe we should come anyway.”

“Mom—” Isobel tossed a few last things into the tote. “You wouldn’t even have time to get here. I’m just about to leave. I can handle the drive—it’s only eight hours.”

“I suppose,” her mom relented. “I’m just not comfortable with an eighteen year old girl on the road alone for such a long distance. It isn’t like when I went to college; things were safer then.”

“Because nothing bad ever happened in the stone age. Wait—” Isobel laughed. “Did they even have colleges back then? How did you avoid the dinosaurs?”

“Ha, ha. Very funny, young lady.” Isobel heard the warmth in her mom’s voice.

Time to change the subject before her mom suggested storing the car Isobel had bought three months ago and waiting for them to come get her. “How’s the remodeling going? Will I still recognize the place?”

“Oh! You’ll never believe what we found.” Her mom’s voice grew animated. “A few weeks ago your father and I went for a drive, and we came across an auction. We decided to see if we could find anything unique. It’s so beautiful.” Her mother paused to take a breath. “We bid on a gorgeous stained glass window.”

Isobel glanced at the simple paned window above the desk. “A window, huh?”

“It’s perfectly round. A stunning circle of color. It has to be really old, although it’s in perfect condition. They’re installing it on the landing today. Just wait until you see it. You’re going to love it.”

“I’m sure I will.” Isobel tore her eyes away from the window—the uneasy feeling settling in her stomach again. “Hey, Mom. I have to go. I still need to get all of this stuff down to the car and say goodbye to Amelia.”

“All right, honey. We’ll see you when you get home…” A long pause then, “Are you sure you don’t want to stay there and take summer classes to get ahead on things?”

“I’m sure. I think I can handle having the house to myself for the summer.”

“I guess it’s really too late to change plans now, still…”

“I have to go, Mom. I love you.” Isobel rolled her eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Love you too, sweetie. See you tonight then. Call us if you need anything. And don’t text while you drive.”

“I won’t. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Isobel ended the call and tucked the phone into her purse. Elizabeth was overprotective, but Isobel didn’t mind. Although not her biological mother, she was the only mother she had.

Amelia swept into the room, graceful and beautiful as always. She wore an ivory T-shirt, a bright contrast to her rich, dark skin. “Was that your mom calling?”

Isobel smiled at her best friend. “Yeah.” She lifted her long, thick mahogany hair off her neck and fanned her hand at the sheen of sweat. “You know how she is. Convinced I’m going to get carjacked or I’m going to run off the road while texting or something.”

Amelia laughed, rolling her dark eyes. “Yeah, because there are so many carjackings around here or where you’re going. It’s not like you live in New York. You don’t even live in Savannah. I doubt there’s ever been any real crime on that little island thing you live on. Still,” her friend stopped to consider, “better than not caring.”

“I guess. How much do you want to bet you’re going to get a call just like that from your mom when you get ready to leave tomorrow?” Isobel teased.

“I’m not laying money on that one.” Amelia shook her head and held up her palms. “I know better than that. I have no doubt I will get an hour long lecture from both of my parents. I don’t think they’ve really accepted the fact that I’m an adult yet.”

Isobel picked up the first box. “Want to help me carry all of this junk down?”

Amelia grabbed a box. “Lead the way oh possible carjacking victim,” she said dramatically and laughed.

It didn’t take long for them to pack everything into Isobel’s small, four-door car. After wedging the final box into the backseat, Amelia turned to her, a hint of worry in her dark eyes. “You’ll be okay, won’t you?”

Isobel shook her head as she pulled the car keys out of her purse. “Not you too.”

“I’m not talking about carjackings or flat tires or wrecks.” Amelia paused as if considering her next words carefully. “I know you don’t like to talk about it—”

“Then don’t bring it up.” She held up her palm toward her friend. “I can’t do this.”

“Isobel, your gift is getting stronger. I see these things. I was raised around it. If my grandmother could see the aura around you right now…” Amelia narrowed her eyes. “There’s danger in it.”

“I don’t want to hear about it. After what happened to Rihanna, I just can’t embrace that kind of thing.”

“And yet you do embrace it occasionally.” Amelia shook her head.

Isobel gazed past her friend at the thick trees beyond the parking lot. Her fingers trailed across the silver pendant hanging around her neck. “It just happens sometimes. I don’t have any control over it; the energy is just there. It’s not like I ask for it.” She turned her eyes back to Amelia. “If I allow whatever this is inside me to go further… I—I can’t die for it like Rihanna did.”

Amelia hugged her. “I’m not saying you have to. What happened to your birth mother was tragic, but it doesn’t mean it’s going to happen to you. Whatever it is, I can see it struggling to come to the forefront. I don’t think you’ll be able to deny it much longer.” She stepped back and smiled. “Please promise you’ll call if you need me.”

A warm rush of love for her friend filled her. She’d never had a friend like Amelia. Isobel was really going to miss her over the summer. Isobel laughed and wiped away a tear. “Sure, you’ll just drive like a bat out of hell to get from Louisiana to Georgia.”

Amelia’s face grew serious. “If you needed me, I would. You shouldn’t be alone through this.”

Isobel gave Amelia another quick hug before sliding into the driver’s seat and shutting the door. She fastened the seat belt and turned the key. The small car purred to life, the air conditioning vents blasting hot air into the car. The condenser kicked on and the air immediately began to cool. Isobel plugged her phone into the stereo and tapped her playlist. As music flooded the car, she waved one last time and turned the car toward the road.

Damien stood and watched Isobel through the thick trees. At one point, she seemed to look directly at him. Her green eyes were easily visible to his enhanced senses. He tore his gaze away to watch the area around her. He didn’t think she was in any danger yet. But he couldn’t take the chance. He stayed until the car drove away and then followed it.

Isobel turned the volume up once she was on the highway hoping to drown out the thoughts in her mind. Power had killed Rihanna. Not the kind of power witches practiced. Rihanna had innate power; energy that had flowed into her, through her. And, according to her father, it had allowed her to do things most people believed belonged in the realm of fantasy books and movies. And she had passed the gift to her daughter.

Except it wasn’t a gift. It was a curse. Gifts didn’t make mothers forget there were more important things than power. Gifts didn’t keep mothers away from their daughters so much that they barely knew each other or steal mothers away from twelve year old girls. Gifts didn’t make a father refuse to speak of it or acknowledge it was happening to his daughter.

Gifts were people like Elizabeth who took a lonely, angry and somewhat lost thirteen year old into their heart and treated them like a real daughter. Elizabeth, who made sure there were pictures of Rihanna on the upstairs landing even if Isobel never wanted to look at them. Elizabeth, who always reassured her that her birth mother had loved her dearly because it would have been impossible not to.

Wiping away the tears that pooled in her eyes, she turned up the volume and focused on the road, determined to put all of that behind her. Why should she care about a woman who had carelessly thrown her life away without a thought for the daughter she left behind? One who couldn’t be bothered when she was alive to spend any time at home.

Isobel lost herself in the music as the hours passed and the highway unfolded.

The sun sank low in the western sky when she finally turned down her street. Situated on an island in the web of rivers and creeks between Savannah, Georgia and the coast, the street boasted large two-story houses set back from the road on oversized lots. Trees lined both sides of the road with only occasional breaks, their moss-draped limbs hanging over it. Many of the houses were barely visible through the screens of greenery.

Isobel’s father had moved them to the island from the Midwest at the start of her freshman year of high school. Isobel hadn’t minded. Until meeting her college roommate, she’d never had close friends that knew everything about her and the mother she’d lost. Not that she didn’t have friends on the island, but they had all drifted away.

Golden-red bands of sunlight cut through the branches of the trees. Isobel smiled at the beauty of it. She loved everything about Georgia. The hot, sticky weather; the history; the old architecture; the trees with their moss. She’d felt instantly at home the moment they moved onto the quiet and private, upscale island.

Her house sat on the east side of the road at the very end of the island where the road made a sharp turn before running along the southern coast. The acre of property the house rested on was surrounded on the south and east by water. Its nearest neighbor was a house that had been empty for the last three years.

Except it wasn’t empty now. The bright red letters stickered across the realtor’s sign proclaimed it sold. Isobel tried to see through the heavy growth of trees and flowering bushes to catch a glimpse of who might have bought it. Unable to see anything more than a few flashes of the upper level, she turned her attention back to her own approaching driveway.

The waist-high wrought iron fence signaled the beginning of her yard. At the far side, where the road made its turn, the fence ended in a short brick pillar. Isobel turned onto the long driveway that made a shallow curve toward the house set near the rear of the property. The wide expanse of manicured lawn spread out to her left. Several mature trees cast their shade over the thick grass. On her right, a wide channel of water cut close to the driveway.

As the familiar wraparound porch came into view, she glanced at the neighboring house again. The front part of the garage was visible through the loosely spaced shrubs. The low-growing rose bushes separating the two properties didn’t hide the black motorcycle parked in front of the open garage door. As she pulled up Isobel thought she saw someone moving around next door.

Isobel shrugged. It wasn’t like it was any of her business who lived next door as long as they weren’t axe murderers. A laugh rose in her throat at the idea of anything bad happening in this secluded nook of the world. She turned off the car and got out, enjoying the heavy humidity that clung to her like a damp blanket. The tang of salt water in the air mixed with the scent of blooming roses.

“Isa!” her father called, stepping out the door. “I’m glad you made it home safe.”

“Hey guys.” She waved at them and walked around the car to the house.

Elizabeth gave her a strong hug. “It’s good to see you, even if it will only be for a few days.”

Isobel smiled and hugged her back. “I wish it were longer.”

“Dubai waits for no one,” her dad said, giving her a quick hug.

“So what do you think of it?” Elizabeth asked. Her excitement was obvious as she waited for an answer.

Isobel’s mind scrambled. What was she talking about? “Think of what?”

“The window! They just finished installing it this afternoon. How could you miss it?”

Isobel glanced at the neighbor’s house again. “Um…actually, I was surprised to see the house next door had sold. I was paying more attention to who might be living there now.”

Her dad scowled. “They bought the house right after your mother and I got back from our road trip. Not the type of people I would have expected to buy it, that’s for sure.”

“Oh?” Isobel raised her eyebrows.

“John, quit being so judgmental. It isn’t as if we know them or their situation,” Elizabeth chided.

“What’s wrong with them?” Isobel asked. What had the neighbors done to make her dad so suspicious?

He shrugged. “From what the realtor told us when she came to put up the sold sign, an older man who has his nephew living with him bought it. The older man seems fairly respectable, but I’m not too happy about his nephew. He spends his time either riding that motorcycle or fixing it. I’m not so sure I want you here alone all summer. Neither of them appears to work either, although the uncle could be retired.” He frowned. “I swear I’ve seen the uncle before.”

It seemed pretty innocuous to Isobel. “Maybe they’re independently wealthy.”

“I suppose. Either way, I’d feel better if you kept your distance.” Her father looked one more time at the other house before turning away from it.

“Well, come inside and look at the window.” Elizabeth grabbed her hand and pulled her inside. “It’s prettier from the inside anyway. And with the sun’s angle with the break in the trees, it’s going to be perfect.”

Isobel followed her into the house, smiling at her mother’s excitement. She dropped her purse on the table inside the large foyer as her cat came running with a meow. She scooped up the small, long-haired black and white tuxedo cat. “Hello, Sorsha. Did you miss me?” Isobel cuddled the cat while she glanced around the familiar house.

To her right was a front closet and a hallway leading alongside the staircase. At the end of the hall was her parents’ master suite. On her left, two white columns and half walls separated the foyer from the formal living room. Directly across from the front door, the foyer opened into the dining room. Elizabeth’s love of bright, neutral colors was evident everywhere from the renovations. The staircase was the same, flaring elegantly at the base.

An uneasy feeling crawled through her as they climbed the stairs to Elizabeth’s prize. Half way up, Sorsha hissed and tore out of her hold, leaving a long scratch across the creamy skin of one arm. “Ouch! What’s her problem?”

“Who knows? She’s a cat. She’s been acting strange ever since the remodeling and got worse after they installed the window. I think all the banging and strange people that were here still have her uneasy,” Elizabeth said, examining the scratch. “It doesn’t look that deep.”

Isobel continued to follow Elizabeth, somewhat reluctantly, though she didn’t know why.

Multi-hued light filled the spacious twenty foot by twenty-five foot open landing at the top. Isobel didn’t notice if there were any other changes on the second floor; her eyes were glued to the stunning window that dominated the west wall of the landing from floor to ceiling.

A crimson circle rested at the heart of it. The design branched out from it like the petals of a flower. An image was inset in the end of each rounded petal. A butterfly, a flower, a woman in robes kneeling, a sword, flames, a sun, a cross, a drop of water, and what looked like a spearhead. More intricate designs connected it all together in different shades of blue, green, yellow and purple. The only red in the whole piece resided in the center.

Elizabeth walked over to the window and brushed her fingers lovingly across it. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

It was beautiful beyond measure. So why did a feeling of dread settle like a weight in her chest? What could bother her so much about such a gorgeous window? The crimson circle in the center glared at her and she stared back, struggling to breathe. It felt as if pure hatred rolled off the window.

“Isobel?” Elizabeth turned. “Are you all right?”

Isobel tore her eyes away from the colored glass and focused on Elizabeth’s pale blue eyes. “I’m…I’m fine. Just tired from the drive I think.”

Elizabeth ran her fingers through her golden blonde hair and walked over to give Isobel’s hand a squeeze. “Of course, sweetie. Let’s get some dinner in you. Heaven only knows what you’ve been eating at college.” Her mom pulled her toward the stairs and Isobel followed quickly, anxious to get away from the window.

Elizabeth dragged her into the kitchen and urged her into one of the chairs at the massive center island. “I made lasagna. I figured you’d enjoy one of your favorites for your first night home.” Her mom filled her in on everything they had done to the house, including adding an office space and craft room on the second floor while she finished up dinner. Her dad unloaded the car and carried everything up the landing, and then came to join them.

Her mother placed a bowl of salad for each of them on the island top while her father loaded three plates with lasagna and garlic bread then brought them over. Though a large, beautiful table and matching chairs took center stage in the dining room, they rarely ate there.

Her dad sat down and picked up his fork. “So, what did you think of your mom’s window?” Something in his tone told her he wasn’t quite as taken with it as Elizabeth.

Isobel took a drink of soda then cut into the lasagna before mustering as much enthusiasm as she could. “It’s beautiful; a real find.” She smiled at Elizabeth, determined not to ruin her mom’s happiness.

She took a bite, enjoying the tomato, garlic, and cheesy goodness. It was impossible that a window could invoke those kinds of feelings. She probably was just tired. It was only glass. Isobel pushed the window out of her thoughts and turned her full attention to her parents, answering questions about college.

After dinner they retired to the family room. Stifling a yawn, Isobel rubbed her eyes. “I’m more tired that I realized. I’m going to call Amelia and then head to bed. It’s been a long day.”

“Sweet dreams, honey,” Elizabeth said as Isobel walked away. She crossed through the dining room and into the foyer to grab her purse. With a groan, she remembered her phone was lying in the front seat of the car still attached to the stereo. Stupid battery was probably run down by now.

She walked out the front door into the warm evening. A mosquito buzzed past her ear. She swatted at it, knowing it was useless. The little bloodsucker would be back, probably with twenty or more of its friends. Isobel hurried across the wide porch and down the steps to her car. As she opened the passenger side door, something smacked into the side of her face. Instinct knew what it was before her mind could even comprehend. With a shriek she jumped back, batting at her face. Standing in the driveway, her hair messed from batting at the offending object, she searched for the culprit to make sure it wasn’t on her clothes. No matter that she’d lived there for nearly five years, she would never, ever get used to palmetto bugs.

She reached into the car and snatched her phone, yanking out the cord that connected it to the stereo then slammed the door and dashed back up onto the porch. Not that the roof of the porch would protect her from those ugly things.

The roar of a motorcycle caught her attention. From the height of the porch, she could clearly see the front of the neighbor’s garage. That must be the nephew. He sat on the bike with his back to her. Tall and lean, his T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and well-defined muscles. A gold bracelet hung on his wrist. Thick, inky-black hair with a hint of curl hung to his collar. Yep, definitely someone her father would be wary of, especially around his only daughter even if she was old enough to make her own decisions.

Not that he needed to worry. She’d had few boyfriends and tended to shy away from anything serious. It was hard to get close to someone when you possessed some strange sort of power that you couldn’t tell them about. It’s why she adored Amelia—she was the only one who really knew everything about her.

He turned and looked directly at her. Though it was getting dark, his piercing blue gaze drove into her across the distance. His features were hard to see, but Isobel thought he couldn’t be much older than her, yet there was a hardness about his face as if he’d seen more than his years. And why did he look strangely familiar? It didn’t matter; it wasn’t like he would ever be anything to her. She turned away, dismissing thoughts of him as she walked into the house. She had just enough battery on her phone to call Amelia.

Damien watched her; the scent of her shampoo filled the air though he doubted a normal human could smell it. He’d heard the shriek and checked on her to be sure she was okay. She had looked cute jumping around and swatting at a bug. Damien had no trouble seeing every feature of her face in the growing darkness. And those eyes—they stirred so many memories.

Isobel spent a half hour curled up on the sofa in the living room with Sorsha in her lap, chatting with Amelia. When they finally hung up, she glanced at the stairs and stood. Sorsha hopped down, shooting a glare at her. Isobel couldn’t put it off any longer. She walked through the foyer and flipped the switch on the wall. The lights on the landing above flared to life. She hesitated as apprehension washed over her again. Giving herself a mental shake, she climbed the stairs. Maybe if she just didn’t look at the window.

The sun had set and even though daylight no longer streamed through the glass, she could still see the colors, darker and fainter now. She turned away and hurried across the landing, stopping to grab a tote full of clothes as she passed.

It was a relief to be in her room and away from the window. She set the tote on her queen-sized bed and clicked on the lamp on the nightstand. Wanting more light, she turned on the lamp on the dresser and the one on her computer desk in the corner.

She made several more trips, bringing the rest of her things to her room right off the landing, careful not to glance in the direction of the window. As she carried the last box to her room, the hairs on her arms stood up and dread settled over her again. It was watching her. The desire to look at it nearly overwhelmed Isobel. It was just a window. Still, she shut her bedroom door firmly once she was inside.

She tossed the box on the floor with the rest of them; they could be dealt with later. Grabbing a couple of towels from the stack on her bed, she headed through the door in the far corner of the room and flipped on the light. Her bathroom wasn’t huge, but it was comfortable. The walls were painted to resemble old parchment paper. Like her towels, the rugs were lavender. Dark purple paisley swirled across the light lavender shower curtain.

Isobel tossed her dirty clothes in the hamper then climbed under the hot spray, willing the uneasy feelings to wash away with the water. The floral scent of her shampoo filled the room along with the steam. She took her time, enjoying the privacy and the luxury of taking a long, hot shower she rarely got at college.

When she finished, she wrapped one towel around her long hair and another around her body. Pausing in front of the mirror, Isobel wiped away the steam on the surface and stared at her misty reflection. Her rich green eyes gazed back, and she stared for a long time at the young woman in the mirror. There was nothing different about her. Nothing new. Amelia wasn’t exactly an aura expert. Uneasiness suddenly crawled through her, sending the icy fingers of a nameless fear around her heart as she stared wide-eyed at the mirror.

The reflection blinked, a slow malicious smile spreading across its mouth.

Isobel froze. She closed her eyes and forced herself to take several deep, calming breaths. Energy hummed through her system, and that scared her more than what she thought she’d seen. The energy faded back behind the block in her mind. Slowly, she opened her eyes.

Her reflection stared back like normal. She was exhausted. That was the only logical explanation. Reflections didn’t do things like that. Not in the real world. Isobel snatched her brush off the countertop and brushed her hair, staring at the mirror in defiance. Daring her reflection to try it again. Not that she had any idea what she would do if it really did. Probably run screaming. Her reflection, however, matched her move for move. She gazed at the mirror a moment longer before leaving the bathroom.

She threw the towels on the floor and pulled on a pair of night shorts and a T-shirt then switched off the lamps before crawling into bed. A good night’s sleep would clear her mind. Instead, she stared at the closed bedroom door. It seemed a flimsy barrier between her room and the window. Rolling over, she shut her eyes and began mentally unpacking everything she’d brought home. Exhaustion settled in and she finally drifted off.

Damien watched the house next door from the shadows, staring at the darkened upstairs windows. She was there. After all this time, it had finally come together in one place. He tried not to think of all the past times he’d failed.

A sense of anticipation filled him, as if the world waited for something to happen. Waited for what was coming. His eyes traveled to the round window on the second floor. It would happen. Everything was finally right. Except it wasn’t coming. It had all ready arrived.

Strange dreams invaded her sleep. Dreams where the sense of something coming lingered in the flickering shadows of the fire that surrounded her. Where her birth mother, Rihanna, struggled to speak to her, but she couldn’t hear the words. And then one word came through, so clear and loud, it echoed in her head.

“Eusebia!”

Isobel jerked awake and sat up so fast she made herself dizzy. “Ugh.” She leaned to the side and pressed her forehead against the cooler sheets on the other side of the bed, her hair falling in a thick, heavy cascade around her. A light sheen of sweat dampened her face and body, and the sheets were tangled around her legs. A dull headache thrummed behind her eyes. She felt like she’d barely slept.

Slowly, she dragged herself from bed and stumbled to the bathroom, needing a shower again. She hated waking up overheated.

She took a quick shower then stood resolutely in front of the mirror to brush her hair. Just as she had thought; her reflection was just a reflection. Amazing what a tired mind came up with. After pulling on a pair of shorts and a lightweight tank top, she slipped her feet into flip flops and walked toward the door.

It was only a window, nothing more. Something that should be admired for its beauty.

A blast of icy air greeted her as the door swung open and Isobel thought she heard that word again, “Eusebia.”

Shivering slightly, Isobel stepped onto the landing. The window glowed in the ambient light of the morning. It didn’t seem as menacing now. In fact, its beauty shined. Isobel crossed the space and stood right in front of it. She leaned forward until she was almost close enough to brush her face against the colored glass. She gazed out toward the neighboring house.

The nephew stood beneath a tree, staring up at her house. Odd. He looked incredibly tense. She stepped back and examined the window. Pure, sweet energy filled the air around her. A faint, tattered white glow seemed to cover the colored glass for a moment. Through the veil of light, the window appeared aged and tiny cracks ran through the glass. Fear surged through her system and the energy fled, taking the fractured glow with it. Frowning, she reached toward the window. It looked in perfect condition again.

“Isobel?” Elizabeth’s voice called up the stairs before Isobel could touch it. “Are you awake?”

Isobel dropped her hand and turned away. “Yeah.”

“I thought I heard you up and around. Come on down and get something to eat.”

Isobel glanced back at the window. The crimson center glared at her again, and something dark reached across the small distance between her and the window. It brushed her skin with cold fingers. Isobel jumped back. She almost slipped on the soft carpet of the stairs as she scrambled down them.

Isobel steadied herself. She needed to calm down and think rationally. Except everything couldn’t always be explained that way. What her birth mother had been able to do couldn’t be explained that way. Neither could Amelia’s gifts.

Something wasn’t right with that window; she felt it in her gut. Who could she talk to about it? Her dad would freak out. Elizabeth would listen, but she didn’t believe in those sorts of things and would tell Isobel she was letting her imagination get away from her. Perhaps Amelia…

No, not Amelia. Isobel wasn’t going to disrupt Amelia’s summer with her own silly fears. She could handle this. There was no need to get Amelia all riled up and telling her would do just that. Something lingered around the window, but in the end it was just a window. Even evil spirits could only do so much to a person. Ghosts were real. Isobel knew that; she’d seen them. Some sort of bad energy must be connected to the window.

She glanced around the house, suddenly not as happy to be spending the summer at home. Just a few days ago, Isobel had reveled in the independence of living alone for a while. Now, a sense of unease stole her happiness.

Sorsha gave a trilling meow as she strolled up and wound herself between Isobel’s ankles. She scooped up the cat and carried it with her to the kitchen. Elizabeth smiled at her when she entered the room. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

“What time is it?” Isobel asked, turning to look at the clock on the microwave that read 10:30 a.m. “No wonder I woke up with a headache. I hate when I sleep that long.”

“I figured you were tired so I didn’t wake you.”

Isobel pulled a bagel and a handful of strawberries from the fridge. “Where’s Dad?”

“He had to go into the office today to work out some final things before the trip. I have to run some last minute errands today. Do you want to come?”

“Sure.” It would be great to spend time with her mom. Getting away from the house for the day didn’t sound too bad either.

After breakfast she grabbed her purse, ran a brush through her hair one more time, and then walked out onto the front porch to wait for her mother. It was good to be outside, like it was easier to breathe. She glanced toward the neighbors but saw no one.

“Ready?” her mom asked, joining her on the porch.

Isobel nodded. As her mom locked the front door, Isobel walked toward her mother’s car trying to ignore the window that stared down from the second story. She climbed quickly into the passenger seat, anxious to get away. Far enough away so it couldn’t watch her.

They spent most of the day tying up last minute details and taking time for some shopping. As they came back down the driveway, Isobel watched the house. It looked like a thin shadow lay over it—like something dark had descended upon it. Her mother didn’t seem to notice. She was singing along with the radio. Elizabeth looked up at the house and smiled. “I just love that window. Such a pretty thing.”

Isobel nodded but didn’t say anything. Instead, she suppressed a shiver and wiped her sweaty palms on her shorts. Elizabeth grabbed several of the bags out of the backseat and headed inside, leaving Isobel to get the rest. The weight of the watching window fell upon her and for a moment its darkness enveloped her. Her chest tightened. The air felt thick and oppressive. Behind her mental block, her power strained to be set free. She struggled to pull air into her lungs. Putting her hand to her chest she sagged against the car, staring at the concrete of the driveway. Her heart raced with panic, and a strangled sound escaped her as little black spots swam across her vision.

“Are you okay?” a deep, husky male voice asked as the shadow of wings fell across the ground.

Her eyes closed a moment, and Isobel was sure she saw a flash of bright light through them. The darkness fled as fast as it had arrived. Isobel dragged air into her lungs.

After a few more deep draws of air, she opened her eyes and looked up. Ice blue eyes, darker around the edges and framed by black lashes, regarded her. Concern flickered in them. The man ran a hand through his thick, black hair. A blue T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and displayed the well-defined, hard muscles of his body and arms. He was more than a foot taller than her five feet two inches. He had to be at least six-four. She tore her eyes away.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, his voice gentle. To see her eyes again, so close, it was almost too much to bear. “I was coming out to work in the garage and saw you.” It was a lie, but he couldn’t tell her the truth. “It looked like you were having trouble breathing, and you’re as white as a ghost.”

Isobel swallowed. What the hell had that been? She looked up at him again. “Um…” What could she say that wouldn’t sound like she belonged on a psych ward? “I think the heat just got to me for a moment.” Her eyes fell on the strange charm bracelet on his wrist. Except they didn’t look like ordinary charms. They were religious symbols—many she knew and others a complete mystery. Maybe he couldn’t decide what he believed.

Her gaze returned to his face.”I’m okay.” She hoped she sounded convincing.

He nodded, a slight furrow between his brows. She wasn’t okay and wouldn’t be for a while. “If you’re sure. Do you want me to carry something for you?”

There was that concern again flickering in his eyes. Eyes no man should be allowed to have. “No.” Her mother would have a heart attack if the guy they had asked her to stay away from walked into the house. “I think I can get it now.”

“If you’re sure... And try to drink more water. You’re probably dehydrated.” He turned and started walking back toward his house.

“I didn’t catch your name.”

He paused and turned to look back at her, the familiar ache settling in his chest. She didn’t remember him. Not yet. “Damien. Damien DeLuca.” A smile played upon his lips. “I didn’t catch your name either,” he said though he already knew the answer.

“Isobel Moore.” She offered him a smile back. “Thanks for offering to help me.”

Damien’s eyes took on an intense, serious look. “Anytime you need help, I’ll be right there.”

As he walked away, Isobel sensed there was more to his words than what he’d said. She grabbed the remaining bags out of the car and shut the door with her foot. Glancing up, she noticed the shadow on the house had lifted, though some still remained centered around the window.

She looked over at the neighboring house. How had he arrived in her driveway so fast? Between the two lots, nearly an acre separated the houses. Isobel looked up at the sky, hoping to catch sight of the bird. She had seen a shadow of wings, big wings. Whatever it was it had a large wingspan. She wished she could have seen it. She loved watching birds. They were so graceful.

Giving herself a slight shake, she crossed the driveway and climbed the front steps. Once inside, she set her two bags at the bottom of the stairs and carried the rest down the hall to her parents’ room where her mom was already sorting through things.

“Do you need any help?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No, I have my little system here. Any help will only confuse me.”

Isobel expected the answer. “Do you want me to order something in for dinner?”

“That would be lovely. Order whatever you want, sweetie.” Elizabeth didn’t bother to look up and absent-mindedly grabbed a fifty out of her purse and gave it to her.

Isobel wandered into the kitchen and looked through the menus hanging on the board trying to decide what to order for dinner. She settled on Chinese and called it in. While she waited for it to arrive, she dashed up to her room to grab her laptop and her phone. Her skin tightened as she ran past the window though she tried not to give it too much thought. The more one acknowledged spirits, the more power they had. Still, she didn’t linger upstairs. She didn’t want to miss the food delivery or at least that’s what she told herself.

Settling down on the sofa in the living room, Isobel opened the laptop. Her fingers hovered over the keys as she pondered how to spell Eusebia. Google came to her rescue by making suggestions. She scrolled through the possibilities. There was a Catholic saint by that name, a Roman empress, a goddess. She snapped the laptop shut in irritation. None of that sounded right to her. Maybe despite Google’s help, she still hadn’t gotten it right.

The doorbell rang announcing the arrival of food. Isobel set the laptop on the coffee table. It probably wasn’t a real word. Just something her mind made up while ruled by its subconscious. After collecting the food, she hollered down the hallway letting her mom know it was there.

Elizabeth entered the kitchen with a smile on her face. “I got everything sorted and packed.”

“When is Dad getting home?”

Her mom frowned. “Not until late I’m afraid. It’s just us girls for the evening.” She brightened. “How about we take this to the family room and watch a movie?”

“Sounds great to me.” It had been forever since they had a girl’s night. They carried the containers and chopsticks to the large family room. Elizabeth set out the food on the coffee table while Isobel loaded one of their favorite movies in. Snuggling up together on the couch, they settled in for a relaxing evening.

Isobel woke slow and groggy on the couch in the family room, though she didn’t remember falling asleep. One of her mom’s quilts was bunched around her. She ran a finger over the pattern, sensing Elizabeth’s love in the gesture of the quilt.

Her parents’ voices drifted into the family room as Isobel swung her legs over the edge of the couch and crawled out of the warm, comfortable nest. At least she hadn’t had any weird dreams last night. In fact, Isobel didn’t remember any dreams.

She climbed the stairs, expecting to feel the dread that going upstairs always seemed to bring now. It didn’t come. When she reached the landing, Isobel purposely looked at the window, hesitant and irritated at the same time. It sat silent and beautiful, the ambient light from the morning highlighting its colors. Except for the crimson circle in the middle. It felt like an eye watching her. Waiting. Isobel crossed the landing to her room, feeling like a mouse under the eye of a dark and dangerous predator. The window silently watched her pass.

She took a quick shower, and attended to her morning routine. A light application of makeup, enough to highlight the green of her eyes and her thick lashes, was all she needed. She let her mahogany hair hang loose.

Her parents were leaving on a flight that afternoon. Other than driving them to the airport, she didn’t have any plans. Casual was definitely the order of the day. A pair of knit shorts and a T-shirt would be good enough.

Isobel glanced toward the bedroom door as she finished dressing. It was open. The light from the window filled the wide landing right outside her door with muted color. Lifting her chin, she left her room and walked at a normal pace past it. Screw the window. The crimson eye glared at her; Isobel pretended to ignore it. God, she was going crazy.

In the process of helping her parents pack everything in her car, she managed to put the window out of her mind. The drive through the traffic to the airport was hectic as usual. It didn’t help that her parents kept asking if she would be okay alone. She was tempted to vent her frustration about the window and tell them that it was haunted, but she knew that wouldn’t accomplish anything.

Isobel wouldn’t dream of ruining the opportunity Dubai presented for her father. Nor would she ruin the joy the window gave her mother. If it wasn’t for Elizabeth and her unwavering love and support, she knew she wouldn’t be the person she was today. She had been her rock during her early, tumultuous teenage years. It was the least she could do.

The closer they got to the airport, the less comfortable they became with her being alone in the house until Isobel finally looked at them and said, “Mom, Dad, I’ll be nineteen in a week. There are girls my age who are married and have babies. If they can handle that, I think I can handle one summer alone.”

Amelia was right; parents had trouble admitting when their kids were adults.

Her dad ran a hand over his face. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He gave her a stern look and said with a mocking tone, “But no parties. I don’t care how old you are.”

Isobel smiled. “I promise if I throw a party, I’ll make sure all of the books help me clean up before they leave.”

Elizabeth sighed. “While I agree with your father about no parties, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t socialize more. You should try to make some new friends.”

Like the guy next door with the devastating eyes? Isobel shook her head to rid herself of the thought. “I like my books. Besides, I have Amelia for a friend. And Sorsha will be with me.”

“Isa,” her dad said, “Amelia is over six hundred miles away. And Sorsha’s a cat; she doesn’t count.”

Isobel shot him an offended look. “Sorsha counts.”

“You know what I mean. Just try to stay away from the new neighbor.” He father fumbled with the plane tickets in his hand as if uncomfortable with the subject.

Isobel rolled her eyes as she pulled the car up to the curb in front of the airport. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”

He nodded. “Good.”

She helped unload the bags onto the luggage cart, happy for something to do that would hopefully shift the subject away from Damien.

Her father squeezed her tight. “Have a good summer, Isa. I’m sorry we couldn’t spend more of it with you.”

Isobel hugged him back. “Don’t worry about it, Dad. There’s no way you could miss this.”

Elizabeth hugged her tight. “I’m so glad we had a full day together and a chance to do a girl’s movie night. It was just like when you were younger.”

Isobel clung to her for a long moment, taking in the familiar perfume, almost afraid to let go. Something deep inside her was waking up and shimmered on the surface. Intuition told her nothing would be the same after this summer. What if she never saw them again? “I love you, Mom,” she mumbled into Elizabeth’s blonde hair.

“You sure you’re okay?” Elizabeth’s concern cut through Isobel’s morbid thoughts, and she pulled away. Although she had never given birth to any babies of her own, she had the intuition of any mother.

Isobel smiled. “Of course. I’ll just miss you guys.”

Elizabeth ran her hand down Isobel’s waist-length hair. “We’ll miss you too, sweetie.”

And then they were gone, wheeling their luggage cart through the automatic doors. A horn blared. Isobel waved at the irritated driver, climbed into her car, and eased into the heavy traffic. She hadn’t brought her phone, so the ride home was an exercise in frustration. Though she loved music, too often the radio stations played the same obnoxious songs over and over again. At one point, two different stations were playing the same song at the same time. As she turned into the driveway, the singer on the radio chanted over and over about how she was never getting back with her boyfriend.

Isobel turned the radio off, glaring at it. “We get it already. Shut up. Nobody cares.”

The house seemed to crouch there, waiting for her when she pulled up in front of it. The late afternoon sun shined on the window. It watched her leave the car and walk up the steps. Under the cover of the front porch, Isobel turned the key in the lock. A blast of icy air hit her as the door swung open. Sorsha shot past her with a hiss, disappearing under a flowering shrub.

Isobel stood on the porch staring into the house. A sense of waiting filled the air. When she finally stepped across the threshold, quiet laughter whispered throughout the house. Whatever was there, its presence was getting stronger. The more it manifested, the more her power tried to escape past her blocks. She wasn’t sure which was worse.

Ignoring the multicolored light at the top of the stairs, Isobel ran into the family room. Once there, she grabbed her phone off the coffee table, plugged it into the stereo, and hit play. She turned the volume up full blast and hoped it would rattle all the windows—especially the new one.

After throwing together a quick sandwich, she carried it out to the table on the expansive deck that ran the whole length of the back of the house. The ground made a sharp drop as it sloped down to the water. The far side of the deck was built in a stilt-like fashion, and a narrow bridge led off from the middle of it down to the empty floating dock.

From the vantage of where she sat, Isobel could see the back of the house next door. Their boat dock was empty too.

Several tall trees clung to the steep strip of yard, their moss-covered limbs shading the water of the creek as it rose with the tide. A light breeze carried the scent of the ocean and a myriad of flowers. Water fowl called to each other through the humid air.

The music pounded through the closed doors. Maybe if she kept it loud enough whatever it was would go deaf, or get annoyed and leave. Somehow, Isobel knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

She stayed until dusk and the mosquitos forced her inside. Isobel shut off the stereo, plunging the house into absolute silence. She waited, straining to catch any unusual sounds. Nothing. Just the quiet thwack of the cat door as Sorsha came back inside. A chill ran over her skin, and she exhaled unsteadily.

Damien stood in the shadows and watched her as she went inside. He had watched her all afternoon, sensing the activity growing in the house and wished he could do more. He wasn’t allowed to intervene until she accepted her past and her powers. Not unless she was in mortal danger. She was safe enough—for now.

Isobel curled up on the couch and pulled the quilt around her, then turned on the TV and flicked through the channels. She finally settled on a movie that looked interesting. Sorsha climbed in her lap. Isobel absently stroked the long, silky fur, determined to focus entirely on the movie and think of nothing else.

The next week rushed by with the same routine. Isobel spent most of her time outside during the day to avoid being near the window. And every night the dream of the man being beheaded disrupted her sleep.

Occasionally, she glimpsed Damien moving around next door and, once or twice, an older man that had to be his uncle. There were a few times when she was certain she saw Damien staring at the house, partially hidden in the shadows under the trees. She found herself looking for him every time she stepped out the door. Something about Damien felt familiar, like she had seen him somewhere before.

The relative peace didn’t last. The atmosphere in the house darkened with each passing day, and Isobel found herself walking around in a constant state of tension. She didn’t sleep well, even when she didn’t dream. The sense of waiting grew and hung thick and oppressive in the air.

Several times she thought of just throwing a bag in the car and leaving except where would she go? This was her home. She couldn’t go back to college until fall. There were no relatives to stay with, and all her friends on the island were gone. She really couldn’t go spend an entire summer with Amelia. They had plans to visit family, and Isobel doubted Amelia’s parents would want some strange girl they had met only once at the beginning of college hanging around all summer. And if they agreed, what would she do with Sorsha? The cat could be left alone with food and water for a few weeks but not an entire summer. Her parents had left her more than enough money for food and entertainment over the summer but certainly not enough for her to leave and stay at a hotel. And not enough to board a cat for a couple of months. She was trapped.

Damien watched Aiden pace the length of the living room. Though his body didn’t show the heavy signs of advanced age, Damien knew Aiden’s time approached. The older man turned to face him. “He is becoming active again. You must keep a close watch.”

Damien dragged a hand through his hair. “I can do nothing until she accepts what she is.”

Aiden sent him a sharp look. “You can protect her from him. At least for a while. Help her to accept it. Do what you must. If we fail, he will be free to do as he wishes once more. The result will be as disastrous as it once was.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Damien shot him a glare. “I know exactly what he is capable of. I’ve seen it firsthand too many times.”

Aiden sank into a chair. “I know, I know. We’ve done this enough times haven’t we?”

Damien nodded. “Too many, my old friend.”

Aiden sighed. “I will be of no use to you this time. My end nears once more. You are going to have to help her face this on your own.”

“I’m quite capable of performing this task. Any one of us is,” Damien said with a tight-lipped smile.

Aiden nodded. “We can’t risk losing her again. Especially not at his hand.”

A deep, haunting sadness washed through Damien. “Isobel.” He said the familiar name. Nearly gained and then lost so many times. “I won’t let him have her, and I won’t lose her again.”

Aiden rose and clapped a hand on Damien’s shoulder. “I know you won’t. In some ways, I think this task has always been hardest on you.” He walked away. “I must rest now.”

Isobel woke to a phone call from her parents singing Happy Birthday. It was nice to catch up with them if only for a few moments. She crawled out of bed, stretching. Her phone immediately chimed. Amelia had texted her happy birthday. Nineteen was one step closer to twenty. Something about having the number two as the leading number seemed more adult. Isobel couldn’t wait to get there. One more year.

Isobel showered quickly then paused to look at her reflection. Normally, she had a great complexion; however, the sleepless nights and strange dreams were starting to take their toll. Maybe a little makeup was called for. Enough to hopefully cover up the dark circles under her eyes.

Isobel pulled on a short-sleeved shirt the same shade of green as her eyes, a pair of white shorts, and slipped her feet into a pair of green flip flops. Her parents had deposited money in her bank account that morning, and she had every intention of getting away from the house for part of the day. It had been forever since she’d been to the bookstore. She adored her e-reader, but there was something about the atmosphere in the small, independent store on the island that she loved. And any place was better than the house.

She grabbed her phone off the bed, yanked open her door and strode across the landing. The quiet, dark laughter followed her as it had every morning since her parents left. Except this morning icy fingers trailed over her skin. Isobel ran through the foyer, snatched her purse, and rushed out the door, slamming it behind her.

Without looking back at the house, Isobel slid behind the wheel. Her hands shook as she shoved the key in the ignition and started the car. Throwing it in gear, she shoved the accelerator down, barely making it safely out of the driveway.

When the road finally took her to the town square, she smiled, enjoying the look of the old- fashioned buildings. And it was a square, with a low wall surrounding a grassy area planted with pretty trees in the middle and a small, three-tiered fountain at its heart.

The buildings surrounded the square. A small grocery store that had more selection than one would have thought possible for its size. A pizza place that delivered to the island. Perks, the little coffee shop with the best coffee in the world. There were fast food places and more trendy stores on the main road coming in from Savannah, but Isobel had no interest in them. She preferred to give her business to the local shops.

The bookstore was on the other end of the block from the coffee shop, so she pulled into a parking spot midway between the two.

A light, fresh breeze carried the scent of flowers in full bloom and the smell of the ocean only a few miles away when she stepped from the car. Tossing the slim strap of her purse over her shoulder, Isobel walked to Perks. The sun and the freedom away from the house lightened her step.

When she stepped through the door the aroma of fresh coffee and just-baked pastries greeted her. Greg, the older man behind the counter, looked up. “Morning, Isobel. Good to see you. Do you want your usual?”

“Yes, please.”

As he made the double vanilla latte he glanced at her. “You home for the summer?”

“Yep. Today’s my birthday, and I’m looking forward to spending some time at the bookstore.” And away from my house, she finished in her head.

Greg raised his eyebrows. “Your birthday? How old are you now?”

“Nineteen.”

Greg’s face fell. “Already? I remember when you first came here all gangly and with braces on your teeth.” He shook his head. “You make me feel old.”

“Ah, Greg, you aren’t that old.” Isobel couldn’t help smiling. “Besides, my mother says age is a state of mind.”

“Ha!” He barked a short laugh. “Elizabeth is ever youthful. I can see where she would think that.” He finished her coffee, capped the cup, and handed it to her.

Isobel took a deep sniff of the steam rising through the small drinking hole. “Nobody makes coffee like you. How much?” She glanced at the register, waiting for him to ring it up.

He shook his head. “Not today, sweetie. Happy Birthday.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Now Isobel—”

“I mean it, Greg.”

He moved to the register. “You are too stubborn for your own good.”

Isobel flashed him a smile and paid for the coffee. “Have a great day, Greg.”

“You too, Isobel.”

She wandered down the sidewalk, sipping at the hot liquid. It felt good to be out among normal people with normal lives. The bell over the door jingled as she entered the bookstore. Isobel breathed in the smell, absorbing the atmosphere. The tension in her body eased and for the first time since she came home, she felt happy. She moved down the aisles, heading unerringly through them. Isobel knew the place like the back of her hand. The owner saw her and waved but left her alone to browse.

As Isobel read through the titles waiting for one to jump out at her, she looked up and saw Damien standing at the far end of the row. Her eyes skimmed over his body of their own accord. Admiring the way his blue jeans hugged his lean hips and the way his broad shoulders shifted as he flipped through the pages of a book.

Her heart did a flip. So the gorgeous guy next door liked books? Isobel took a sip of her coffee and turned her attention back to the shelf in front of her. It didn’t matter; he wasn’t for her. Nobody was. She browsed through the titles trying to decide if she wanted to read a horror about zombies or the one with werewolves. Maybe she would get both.

“You like books?”

She nearly jumped out of her skin though her mind registered the voice immediately. Somehow Isobel knew she would recognize it anywhere.

Placing her hand over her startled heart Isobel looked up and her breath caught. No, she hadn’t imagined it. His eyes really were that beautiful. And so familiar. It was more than just glimpsing them the week before. More like she should know him, even though that was impossible. Isobel knew without a doubt if she had seen him before she would remember it. A slight shadow of dark stubble ran along his jaw, and she resisted the urge to reach out and stroke his face.

“I’m sorry. It seems I have a penchant for startling you.” A slight smile touched his lips.

“No.” Isobel shook her head. “I mean yes, you did. But you don’t have to apologize. I get so involved in the books anyone would have startled me.” She smiled. “Damien, right?”

Damien nodded. “What do you like to read?” He glanced at the books in her hand.

Isobel shrugged. “Pretty much anything.”

He cocked his head so he could read the titles. “I would skip the zombie one.”

“Why?”

“It’s okay if you aren’t looking for creepy, which I personally am when hunting for zombie stories. This one is rather boring, and the attempted twist at the end is a complete failure.”

“I see.” Isobel regarded the book and set it back. “I prefer creepy with my zombies. They weren’t ever meant to be anything else.”

Damien flashed her a full smile that showed his perfect white teeth. If there was a God, he was intentionally torturing her. No man should look that good. Not to mention they had the same taste in books. Talk about a double whammy. Yes, Damien should definitely be illegal.

“What about this one? Have you read it?” Isobel handed him the book.

She studied him as he read the back of it. Her surroundings shifted and he stood smiling at her in a field. A cluster of old, thatch-roofed houses rose in the distance. Chainmail stretched across his chest and shoulders, metal gauntlets encased his forearms, and a sword hung at his hip. It lasted less than a minute and then the world snapped back. Disoriented, she grabbed the shelf to keep her balance.

“Isobel?” Damien’s hand was warm on her arm as he steadied her.

“I’m sorry.” She rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. What the heck was wrong with her? “What did you say?”

Concern filled his eyes. “I said I haven’t read this one yet, but it sounds good so I think I’ll buy myself a copy… Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Sorry about that.” Isobel stared at the book as he handed it back, still trying to figure out what happened. “Maybe I need to eat.” She glanced back at Damien. “Thanks for your help. I need to go.”

He followed her through the store. “Let me take you to lunch.” Damien wasn’t ready to let her walk away. He wanted more time to lose himself in her beautiful green eyes. It was all he could have for now and he needed it, craved it.

Isobel hesitated, running her teeth lightly across her lower lip as she thought about it. She shouldn’t. It couldn’t go anywhere. Isobel gazed up into those blue eyes again and something stirred in her. The deep sense of familiarity came back full force. Oh Isobel, just have lunch with him, she chided herself.

“All right. I just want something simple.”

Damien gave her that killer smile again. “Simple sounds great to me.”

After they paid for their books, they headed down the street for a couple of sandwiches from one of the shops and sat at a table in the grassy square. Damien gave her a strange look. Isobel frowned, “What?”

“I’m just surprised you didn’t want to go to one of the fast food places up on the main road.”

Isobel shrugged. “I prefer the little independent places when I can find them. Besides, I love the square.”

They spent another hour discussing the pros and cons of various books and authors. When the conversation started to turn more personal, Isobel told him she needed to get home. He walked her back to her car, and Isobel couldn’t decide if she was surprised or not to see his black motorcycle in the next space over.

It really was a sick twist of fate that placed the perfect guy in her path. Perfect, except she couldn’t tell him about the creepy laughter and icy fingers that chased her through the house. Or that a headless man wasn’t always the worst of her dreams now. Or that her mom’s new window watched her and to top it off, a strange power that had killed her birth mother was trying to break loose from inside her.

Damien watched her car back out and drive away. He hadn’t missed the barely visible dark smudges under her eyes or how she nervously steered the conversation away from anything personal. How much was she hiding? The energy level in the house had stayed fairly constant. Was the low level just enough to terrorize her? He would have to keep a closer eye on it.

Isobel drove slowly back to her house with a deep sense of regret, wishing there could be more between her and Damien, but things were just too strange. When she pulled down the drive, the house seemed to be waiting for her. The sun reflected off the huge, round window and for a moment she saw a white veil covering it again. Something dark moved within the colored glass. Then it was gone.

Isobel exhaled and parked the car. A trick of the light, that was all. She stepped out into the warm afternoon, picked her book up, and stared at the house. Why did they have such a big house anyway? It was only the three of them. Even Elizabeth had thought it excessive, but her father insisted because he liked the island. If they had a smaller house the window wouldn’t have fit and it wouldn’t be there.

Hot air brushed past her face as she pushed the front door shut. Isobel leaned against the smooth wood and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to calm her suddenly racing heart.

Another hot breeze brushed her cheek followed by laughter. Her eyes snapped open. A large, bent shape of smoky shadows stood in front of her. A scream strangled in her throat. Isobel stood frozen as it reached for her. It melted away before the shadowy claws could touch her.

Her legs trembled as fear clawed at her insides. Casting a frightened look at the stairs, Isobel ran into the family room. It was the farthest point from the window when she was inside the house.

The laughter followed her. Isobel turned the stereo on and cranked the volume until the bass rattled her chest and drowned out the laughter. She hugged her arms around her middle. Could malicious spirits do that? Could they make people see things? Sleep deprivation caused hallucinations. Was the lack of restful sleep, not to mention the dreams, affecting her mind?

The pounding music was her only answer.

It felt like a lifetime since her parents had left, but it was only three weeks. Isobel stood at the large windows in the family room and watched dark, heavy clouds smother the evening sky as a rumble of thunder rolled across the house.

There would be no reading outside this evening. Fat drops of rain splattered across the deck, growing heavier. The sky darkened as rain poured down. Isobel shoved her hand through her hair. After a hot, humid day spent outside she needed a shower.

Isobel climbed the stairs with heavy steps, reluctant as always to be near the window. The feeling of being watched settled over her immediately. She showered and pulled on clean clothes as fast as she could, anxious to get back downstairs.

“Isobel.”

She froze in the act of running the brush through her hair as her heart slammed in her chest.

“Isobel.” The silky whisper called her again.

Isobel trembled at the sinister sound. and fear laced the blood rushing through her veins. In the mirror her reflection warped and changed as if melting. Isobel’s throat constricted, strangling the scream that tried to tear from it. Stumbling, she threw herself from the bathroom and bolted through the bedroom.

On the landing, the crimson eye glared balefully at her. Malevolence radiated from it. She backed away until she hit the wall then walked sideways, sliding along it until she felt the smooth wood of the short banister. Terrified to look at the window, Isobel was more afraid to look away. It wasn’t just a window. There was something very wrong with it, and she couldn’t bring herself to turn her back.

When Isobel reached the stairs, she ran down them and threw open the front door. A loud crack of thunder made her flinch back. The rain poured down in curtains so heavy she couldn’t even see her car. Where was she going to go in this? Did she really think she could go to the police and tell them her mom’s window was evil? They would think she was on drugs, crazy, or both. Isobel shut the door.

Isobel turned to face the house. The sound of the pounding rain seemed distant somehow. She stood perfectly still, listening as her pulse pounded in her ears. Outside, lightning flashed bright, illuminating the rooms. Nothing moved—nothing spoke.

After several long moments, she let out a shaky breath. What was she going to do, huddle by the front door all summer? Moving as quietly as possible, she crept through the living room toward the kitchen to retrieve her phone. She had to call Amelia. She needed a friend; someone who would listen and maybe help stop this.

The darkness seemed thicker in the kitchen. Her bare foot stepped in something warm and wet. “What the—” Isobel flipped on the light. A man in dark robes lay on the floor; his head rolled and came to a rest, empty eyes staring at her. Blood spread out from the gaping neck. Her head swam and black edged her vision. Her reoccurring nightmare lay on her kitchen floor.

“Oh God.” Isobel clamped a hand over her mouth as her stomach lurched. She backed away, her foot leaving a smear of blood on the tile. She stared at the dead man in horror, her body shaking all over.

Lightning flashed followed by a crash of thunder. The house plunged into darkness; the power was out. Isobel bolted for the front door, yanked it open, and ran straight into Damien’s solid body.

“Isobel?” He reached out to steady her, but she pushed past him and ran off the porch. Isobel sank to her knees on the pavement. She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back and forth, her tears mixing with the rain that still came in a torrent.

Damien knelt beside her. “I came to check on you since the power is out. Did something happen? Are you hurt?” He tried to calm the pounding of his heart.

Her teeth chattered as she shook her head. “D…dead man,” Isobel gasped. “In the…in the k…kitchen. Blood…everywhere.”

Damien stood in a smooth movement. Not bothering to turn on the flashlight in his hand, he strolled into the house. He sensed the evil retreat from him. Wary of the protective powers he wielded. It didn’t take Damien long to find the kitchen. A quick search revealed nothing. Xapar was growing stronger as the seal weakened. It was never meant to last so long and the danger to Isobel grew. Damien walked back through the house, casting a glare up the stairs. He would deal with that later; right now he needed to get Isobel out of the rain.

Isobel stared at him, fear coursing through her as he approached. The rain plastered his hair down and soaked his shirt. Concern filled his eyes. “Isobel, there is nothing in your kitchen. No blood, no dead man.”

Isobel shook her head. She knew what she saw, what she felt. “I stepped in the blood. It was warm and…” She twisted to look at her foot. There was no blood on it. It could have washed away in the rain, but she didn’t think so.

“What’s happening to me?”

Damien took her hands and gently pulled her to her feet. He clicked on the flashlight for her benefit, shining it ahead of them. “You’re soaked. Let’s get you inside, and you can tell me about it.”

Isobel’s heart fluttered like a bird trying to escape a cage. She didn’t want to go back inside. Terror tried to suffocate her as she slowly followed him back to the house. The closer they came to the kitchen, the tighter her chest grew.

Damien glanced at her, alarm filling him. She was so pale and her pupils nearly drowned out the green of her eyes. “Breathe, Isobel. I promise there is nothing in your kitchen.”

Isobel took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to find reassurance in his words as they reached the doorway. The beam of light illuminated the kitchen floor and there was…nothing. No dead man. No blood. No severed head.

“What…” She frowned and examined the floor again.

Damien smiled gently. “Shouldn’t you be happy there isn’t a dead man on your floor?”

“I…of course. But then…why did I see it?”

“Do you see a lot of things like that?” Damien frowned. How far had Xapar’s strength reached? How many times had he gotten into her mind?

Isobel shook her head, refusing to tell him about the whispers, her face melting in the mirror, or the icy fingers that touched her. And she definitely wasn’t going to tell him she dreamed of the same man losing his head every night. He would think she was crazy.

He shined the light around the living room behind them. “Why don’t you change out of those wet clothes while I hunt down a flashlight for you?”

Isobel suppressed a shudder. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” A furrow appeared between his brows as he looked down from the height he had on her.

“I can’t go upstairs.” Great. So much for not sounding as crazy as a loon.

Damien studied her for a long moment. “You’re afraid.” There was no hint of mockery in the soft statement.

When Isobel nodded, a tear slid down her cheek. His thumb gently brushed it away. A strange sense of déjà vu fell over her as she stared up at him in the murky light. His eyes comforted her although she had no idea why.

Damien’s heart broke at the sight of the tears and the knowledge of her fear. He gave a quick nod of his head. “I’ll come with you then.”

“What?” Isobel backed up a step. “You can’t do that.”

Damien sighed. What did she think he had planned? “Not into your room. I’ll stand right outside the door.”

“You’ll come with me?” She wouldn’t have to face it alone. But what could he possibly do to protect her from a creepy window?

“Si haec voluntas est tu.”

Isobel raised an eyebrow. Now he was speaking another language? Why did the words sound familiar? “What did you say?”

“If it is your wish.” He smiled and her heart melted.

“What language was that?”

“Latin.”

She eyed him for a long moment. Isobel had never met anyone that spoke the way he did. If it is your wish. Who said things like that anymore? And in Latin, no less.

“Well?” His smile faded as he gazed at her with intense blue eyes. “Do you trust me to come with you?”

Isobel nodded. She didn’t know why she trusted Damien, but she did. “Yes. I don’t want to be alone right now, but I don’t think you’ll like it up there.”

Damien raised an eyebrow. “Why not?” He couldn’t tell her he knew exactly why. Not yet.

“I…” Isobel stared at the carpet. “I think this house is haunted…or something.”

“Or something?” Damien nodded. “Well, I’ve seen a few ghosts in my lives. Let’s go have a look at yours. Then you can change into something dry.”

Isobel started to follow him then stopped. “Wait, what do you mean lives?”

He glanced over his shoulder at her. “What?”

“You said you’ve seen a few ghosts in your lives.”

“I must have misspoke.” Damien looked at her, his face unreadable in the storm-darkened house. “Are you ready to change your clothes?”

What was she insinuating? Just because he seemed to appear suddenly when she was in need didn’t mean anything. She had to quit reading so many paranormal romances. “Yeah, I guess.”

She followed him up the stairs. Her skin tightened when they reached the landing, but the familiar sense of being watched was absent. Isobel glanced at Damien out of the corner of her eye as they walked toward her bedroom. His face and eyes were hard, and he moved with eerie silence. Who was this man who volunteered to walk into a house where there might be a dead body in the kitchen? Who spoke in Latin, and used words like “misspoke?” Who wasn’t afraid the house might be haunted? And why did his bracelet have so many religious symbols on it?

Damien handed her the flashlight and watched her shut the bedroom door quietly. He turned toward the window. The evil shrank away from him as he neared. He raised his hand barely touching the colored glass with his fingertips. Ignoring the searing pain that flashed through his hands, he began to chant quietly as he reinforced the seal. It wouldn’t last—his powers weren’t Eusebia’s—but it would help for a few days at least.

Isobel peeled off her wet clothes; her skin cold and clammy. Rummaging through her drawers with one hand while the other held the flashlight, she managed to grab a pair of lightweight sweats and a T-shirt.

How could he stand out there in the dark with that window? She pressed her ear to the door and heard quiet murmuring in another language. Latin again?

Isobel started toward the bathroom and stopped. Dread filled her, and she shifted from one foot to the other. A part of her wanted to run; the stubborn side refused. She shined the flashlight through the open bathroom door.

Everything appeared normal, including the bathroom mirror. Swallowing her fear, she grabbed a towel and dried her hair quickly. She snatched the brush and worked it through the damp strands without looking at the mirror.

When she emerged from the bedroom, Damien stood with his arms crossed, leaning casually against the wall. The watcher remained absent as they crossed in front of the window and descended the stairs.

They went back to the kitchen where she rummaged around in the drawers and found a flashlight, candles, and a box of matches. Isobel watched him set up several candles before her gaze drifted back to the floor. She wasn’t ready for Damien to leave. “Are you hungry?” she asked as the glow of the candles filled the room.

“You don’t have to fix me anything,” he replied, moving from one taper to the next in the dining room with a match.

“I didn’t ask if you thought I should fix you something. I asked if you were hungry.” She glanced at her watch in the dim light of the small flames. “It’s dinnertime, and I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. I hate to eat in front of other people unless they’re eating too.”

“I could leave if it will make you more comfortable.”

“No!” Isobel’s heart lurched at the thought of being alone in the house again—and him leaving. That was silly since he couldn’t stay forever. “I mean, I really don’t want to be alone right now.”

His mouth twitched into a half smile. “Afraid of the dark?”

Isobel shook her head. “No. Yes.” She sighed in irritation. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Her admission tugged at his heart. “What are we having then?” he asked, pleased she wanted his company. It was a start.

Damien’s intense blue eyes captured Isobel’s across the candlelight. For a moment she was at a loss for words. His thick, black hair hung damp around his face and new stubble made a light shadow on his jaw. Her eyes dropped to the wet shirt that clung to him, defining the muscles of his chest and stomach, and wandered to the faded blue jeans that hugged his lean hips. Isobel gave herself a mental shake. “All I can make are sandwiches right now.”

He smiled; she was so beautiful, as always. Her hair was a deep, rich mahogany this time, and she was shorter and curvier. Though slim, there was a softness about her. But those sea-green eyes were the same. Always the same. “Sandwiches it is.”

She glanced at the bracelet, reflecting the light of the candles. “What’s with all the religious symbols? Having trouble deciding what to believe?”

“No.”

The assurance and sincerity in his voice surprised and confused her. “Then why?”

He shook his head. “There are some secrets that are mine to keep.”

Isobel blushed. Was it really any of her business? “Do you want me to get a dry shirt for you? You must be freezing. Your shoulders are probably too broad for my dad’s shirts and you’re much taller, but I might be able to find something.”

“It’s no big deal. I’ll dry.” Damien shrugged. There was no way he was taking his shirt off. There would be too many questions, and she wasn’t ready to hear the answers.

Isobel threw together two sandwiches and put them on plates with a few chips. She grabbed a couple of cans of soda from the fridge and handed them to him as they sat down at the island to eat. After one bite Damien paused to inspect the food. He had never tasted a stranger combination of flavors. “What kind of sandwich is this?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t really paying attention,” Isobel blurted out.

Damien took another bite and chewed. After he swallowed, he raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.” He had eaten worse.

Isobel took a bite. What had she put on these? It tasted like roast beef, tuna fish, and mustard. She was too hungry to care. Lightning continued to flash beyond the windows accompanied by growls of thunder.

When they finished eating, Damien gazed at her, a hint of a smile on his face. “So what now?”

The kitchen light flickered and came on. The refrigerator hummed to life as reality crashed into the strange events of the day. Isobel looked around, disappointed for some unfathomable reason. Shouldn’t she be happy the power was back on?

Damien stood up, regret filling him. “Well, I guess that is my cue to leave.”

“Oh.” Isobel stared at the floor, feeling like an idiot for wanting him to stay.

“I can stay longer if you like.”

Isobel looked up. He stood with his arms crossed waiting for her answer. She nodded. “I’d like that.”

He glanced toward the other room. “TV?”

Isobel smiled with relief. “What do you like to watch?”

He shrugged and followed her into the family room. “I don’t have any particular preference.”

“Do you like vampires?” She peeked at him out of the corner of her eye.

“I like the legends created about them.” Damien flashed her a smile.

What kind of answer was that? She dropped her favorite vampire DVD in and hit the power button on the TV.

He joined her on the couch when she sat down. As the opening music started, Damien leaned back. “I love this one. The makers of the movie had it all wrong, but it was still entertaining.”

Isobel smiled, feeling a rush of happiness at finding someone who enjoyed the same kind of movies.

Damien watched from the corner of his eye as Isobel fell asleep near the end of the movie. The smudges under her eyes were darker than they had been a couple of weeks ago. She wasn’t sleeping well. When he sensed she was solidly in the grip of deep slumber, he gathered Isobel into his arms and carried her easily up the stairs; her weight nothing to him. She deserved at least one night of rest. Damien glared at the window as he crossed the landing. He would make sure she got it.

Isobel woke sometime during the night and found herself in her bed. The thunderstorm still raged on. She rolled over in a sleepy haze. Her bedroom door was open, and she thought she saw the shadow of immense wings in the flickering light cast by the lightning through the stained glass window on the landing. Before she could make sense of it, sleep dragged her under again.

Three days passed before dreams invaded Isobel’s sleep again.

Rihanna called to her from across a great distance. Isobel strained to hear the words. “Januarius…find the saint…you are the key.”

It shifted, and she was a young woman dressed in clothing from the distant past. The earth rocked underfoot as Damien ran toward her shouting. The stone building she stood beside collapsed and the world went dark.

It shifted again. Isobel was dressed in clothes from yet another time in an old, foreign city. Damien smiled at her, and she felt a rush of love and a determination to do what needed to be done, what had to be done. Her world darkened, and she was bound to a pole atop a pile of wood as people shouted and threw things at her. Isobel screamed as the wood was set on fire. Through the flames she saw Damien fighting both men and shadowy shapes to reach her. He was too late. She would die, and her task would remain for another time.

It shifted again and a woman in a long, draping style of dress collected blood into vials. The woman looked up and stared directly into Isobel’s eyes. “Sanctum inveni virum.”

Isobel jerked awake. Tears streamed down her face. Her skin felt hot, and her body flushed. She choked back a sob as the remnants of emotions crashed through her. And then she felt it. The energy in her room swarmed around her making her feel lighter than air. There was so much of it just waiting for her to reach out for it, to embrace it.

Isobel tried to will it away. It had killed Rihanna. Fear wormed its way through her heart. What if it never left her alone? What if she had no choice? Her father had said Rihanna had done great things. Could she risk it to do the same thing?

“Find the saint.” Rihanna’s words echoed through her mind and Isobel mumbled, Januarius. She pushed herself up and stumbled through her morning routine as quickly as possible. When she crossed the landing the watcher was back, but not as strong. In the kitchen she toasted a bagel and spread it with cream cheese, then carried it with her to the family room where her laptop rested on the coffee table.

She sat cross-legged on the couch, took a quick bite and then opened the computer. When the home page came up, she typed “saints” into the search bar. The first few links were for football stuff. Isobel stopped scrolling when she spotted a link about Roman Catholic saints. She clicked it, and an alphabetical list appeared. She clicked on the letter “J” and scanned the list.

There it was. Saint Januarius. She clicked the link and read through the short passage on him, her eyes widening as she read faster and faster. He had died a martyr in 305 A.D. by beheading. Shaking, she copied his name, brought up a new window and pasted it into the search bar. A myriad of links came up.

As she read the information, a cold sweat broke over her body. A woman named Eusebia had collected his blood in vials at the time of his beheading, and a festival in Naples was held every year in his honor—where they brought out his blood for all to witness its mysterious properties.

How could she dream about things she had no knowledge of? Why did she dream of a past with Damien failing to keep her from dying?

It was too much. Her stomach churned. She stood and walked to the family room window leaving the rest of her bagel untouched. The air thickened around her. “Isobel.” The voice whispered through the house, and cold air prickled over her skin.

Isobel raised her chin and turned. With determination, she stalked through the house and up the stairs, passing by the window on the way to her room. She rummaged through the boxes she brought home from college until she found what she was looking for. Isobel strode onto the landing until she stood in the middle of it, directly in front of the window. Its brilliant colors, lit by the sun, fell across the carpet and walls.

With trembling fingers she lit the sage in her hand and waved it to waft the smoke. She set it gently in a large, stone bowl where it could burn without danger. She pulled out a pouch containing a mixture of salt and sage leaves. Isobel sprinkled it heavily around the window while she focused on visualizing the banishment of the negative energy that was attached to the window. She made a large half circle from one wall to the next, always keeping a safe distance. Instinct screamed at her to stay at least an arm’s length away.

Isobel stepped back, tentatively feeling the energy in the air, waiting to see if it worked. Dark, menacing laughter whispered through the house. As she stared the blur of colors separated into distinct patterns and crawled toward her, writhing and twisting around each other as they reached out. Black lines of shadow oozed from around the edge of the window and spread like diseased veins across the wall.

Isobel’s heart skipped a beat, and her blood pounded in her ears. What the hell was this window? What did it have to do with a saint that died centuries ago? Isobel backed away as the colors slithered closer, and her breath came in pants as panic gripped her heart in a tight fist.

The veins of shadow webbed across the walls, their darkness dimming the sunlight as the air thickened until Isobel could barely get any air. Frozen fingers trailed along her arms. She looked down at the shadow veins and watched as they burrowed under the skin.

Isobel moved without thinking; her only thought to get out of the house. She turned to reach for the top step and bumped into something solid. Isobel looked up. A body dressed in old clothing swung side-to-side. The face was blackened from the tight rope around its neck. Her neck.

A scream tore past her lips. Isobel turned and ran in the only direction she could go. Up the narrow stairs and into the finished attic space. She slammed the door behind her and sank to the floor, shaking, her breath ragged as the shadowy black veins faded from her skin.

The house remained silent as she sat there. Waiting.

When her heart finally returned to normal, and she had gained her composure, Isobel dragged herself to her feet and stared around the dimly lit dusty room. It was never used for anything. Only a small stack of boxes stood in one corner of the large, open space. Rihanna’s stuff. Elizabeth had refused to throw it out when they moved insisting that someday Isobel might want to go through it.

What secrets did those boxes hold? Did they hold any at all? Isobel looked back at the door and at the boxes again. There was no way she was going out there right now. Might as well find out what was in them, at least it would give her something to do.

Energy surrounded her as she walked across the attic. Not the dark energy from the window. This was hers, pure and light; the power she had denied for so long. She watched it disturb the dust motes dancing in the sunlight from the two small windows. Her senses sharpened; the motes became clearer and the minute details in the woodgrain of the floor stood out. For the first time in her life, she welcomed the energy. It washed the darkness from her mind and wrapped around her like comforting arms. Although still afraid of it, she was more afraid of the energy on the landing.

A mixture of joy, fear, and deep sadness settled over Isobel, although she knew they weren't her own emotions. She turned away from the dust motes and looked at the boxes again. Her birth mother’s ghost hovered there. Isobel’s heart caught at the sight of the woman she had rarely seen growing up. The one who had left her to figure this out on her own without explaining anything before she died. Rihanna’s translucent hands rested on a box as if urging her to look in that one.

As Isobel crossed the last of the distance, Rihanna’s ghost faded taking its emotions with it. Isobel stared at the box for a long moment before breaking the tape and folding back the flap. She pulled out a wooden box of candles, some pictures, and a few other little things. Then she found a book. Rihanna’s diary.

Isobel lifted it carefully from the box and opened it. Although the first page was missing the rest appeared to be all there. She sank to the floor and sat back against the boxes, immersing herself in the neatly written script. Rihanna had hunted demons. Hours passed and still Isobel sat in the dusty, stuffy attic reading the journal.

The last passage was the night of Rihanna’s death.

I’m afraid. This demon is stronger than the others. I’m not sure I have the power to banish it on my own; however, there is no time to wait for others to arrive and help me. John has begged me not to go. He became angry when I insisted and asked me how Isobel would feel if I died. He thinks I care more about banishing demons than I do about Isobel.

My gifts are strong and cannot be ignored, but he is wrong. I love Isobel beyond anything else. It is for her that I do this. I didn’t ask for Isobel to be the key, but she is and I have to protect her. They want him free again. If they get their hands on her… She is too young, and her power hasn’t come to her yet. Isobel would never be a match for him, and she has no idea any of this is going on. If she dies by his hand, he will be free again. Free to spread his evil as he did so long ago.

I have respected John’s wishes and kept this part of my life from Isobel. I only hope he honors mine and explains all of this when her powers do come to her. I fear I will not be here to do it; however, I have no choice.

I have to do this for Isobel. Even at the cost of my own life. Hopefully one day she will forgive me.

Isobel reread the passage three times, chills spreading over her skin. The one time she had pressed her father he had admitted in a flash of anger that her birth mother was killed by her own power. Then he refused to say anymore except that power such as Rihanna’s was too dangerous and was better left alone.

She turned the page, hoping for more; only blank pages greeted her. Isobel stood up and carefully placed everything back in the box; a torrent of confusing emotions roiling in her. Closing the flaps, Isobel tried to sort through her feelings. Her dad had made it sound like Rihanna was gone so much because she cared more for her calling than she had for Isobel. That she had become reckless and overconfident, and had died because she cared more about her power than anything else. She hadn’t. In her long absences she had hunted demons. She had faced a demon she wasn’t strong enough to handle and died in order to protect Isobel. Had Rihanna succeeded in banishing it? She must have because Isobel had no memories of anything coming after her.

Isobel turned toward the door and stopped. You are the key was scrawled across the door in bright, luminescent writing—the same writing in the diary—and then it faded and disappeared. Isobel walked forward and trailed her fingers across the door where the words had been.

“The key to what?” she whispered.

Only silence answered.

Isobel opened the door and crept down the attic stairs. The landing looked normal. Bright light from the setting sun filled the space in a myriad of colors, and the smell of burnt sage lingered in the air. No shadows crawled across the walls. No dead Isobel swung above the top step.

Wasting no more time she fled down the stairs and through the foyer to the front porch. She should leave. Drive far away. Maybe see if Amelia would let her stay there even if it would disrupt her friend’s summer. Except she couldn’t. Something was happening in her house, and she sensed it was bigger than her. Flashes of what felt like memories moved through her mind. A sense of warning. If she left something bad would happen to everything and everyone she loved. Whatever was in this house she had to face it, and she would play a vital part. How she knew this, she didn’t know.

“Hello.”

Isobel jerked and looked up. Standing at the rose bushes was the older man she’d seen next door. “Hello.”

“Damien said you were alone over here. Would you like to have dinner with us?”

“I don’t know.” Isobel was torn. Damien seemed so familiar. She wanted to get to know him better and find out why, but at the same time she didn’t. Why did a part of her long for him? After the evening she had spent with him, her heart ached to see him again and that frightened her. She’d never felt anything like it. Isobel had tried dating and even had a couple of semi-serious relationships but could never make a deep connection. What she felt for Damien felt obsessive in some way, and Isobel was sure that it wasn’t healthy.

The older man smiled gently. “Please, indulge an old man. My nephew has seen fit to cook enough food to feed an army. You will likely save me from death by overeating.”

He cooked too? Gorgeous guys like Damien who cooked, loved books, and rescued young women from hallucinations during thunderstorms just didn’t exist. Except he did. Isobel’s heart did a flip flop at the thought of seeing him again and healthy or not, haunted house or not, she relented. “Sure.”

Malevolent anger washed over her from the window the minute she stepped off the porch. Trying to ignore it, she crossed the lawn to the small break in the bushes. It would be a relief to be away from the house for a while.

The older man smiled. “I’m Aiden.”

“I’m Isobel.”

“Yes, I know.”

Isobel watched Aiden as they walked into the house. He seemed familiar as well. She had seen him before he became her neighbor although she couldn’t place where.

Damien looked up when she came into the kitchen. His eyes swept over her, searching for any injuries. He’d felt the spike in energy and spent the day torn between rushing over there and staying away. She had to acknowledge her power before he could reveal anything of importance. Only if she were in mortal danger could he break that rule. He had no choice at this point except to wait. Aiden had finally said he would check on her to ease his mind. Damien hadn’t expected him to invite her over.

Damien’s surprise at seeing her was evident. Uh-oh, he wasn’t in on the invitation. For a moment, she considered making an excuse to leave. Then Damien smiled at her and glanced at Aiden. “We’re having a dinner guest?”

Aiden walked to a chair at the large table in the eat-in kitchen space. “I thought perhaps she would enjoy a break from…being alone.”

Isobel eyed the older man. What had he almost said? Shaking off the feeling that she’d missed something, Isobel turned to Damien. “Can I help?”

Damien shook his head, warmth in his blue eyes. “You’re the guest; you’re supposed to be entertained. Besides, I am almost finished.”

Isobel stared into those eyes—her heart ached as if it knew something she didn’t. It felt like coming home, but that didn’t make sense. Damien turned away, but not before she caught a look of longing in his expression.

“Isobel.” Aiden motioned with his hand, distracting her. “Come. Keep an old man company.”

She smiled and took a seat beside him. He didn’t look that old. Maybe late fifties. “Tell me, what is a young woman like you doing all alone in such a big house?”

“My father’s job took my parents overseas for the next six months. I’m home from college for the summer so I’m just hanging out keeping track of the place and feeding the cat.

“Doesn’t sound like much of a summer.” Aiden’s eyes searched her face.

Isobel shrugged. “I like quiet.”

Damien listened as she talked with Aiden. The news that she was going to be alone all summer both relieved and bothered him. It would make it easier when it came time to tell her everything. When she was ready to hear the truth. In the meantime, it made it easier for Xapar to get into her head.

It took several trips for Damien to bring all of the food. Soon the table was laden with roasted chicken, sautéed vegetables, baked potatoes, warm sourdough bread, salad, and a tureen of soup.

Isobel’s eyes swept the platters and bowls. “Your uncle was right; you did cook enough to feed an army. What’s the occasion?”

Damien smiled as he cut the chicken into servings. “No occasion. I like to cook.” He didn’t bother to elaborate that cooking was a way to distract himself when he was worried.

“He does this on a regular basis,” Aiden said gruffly. “Trying to kill me off with food I think.”

Damien laughed. Its rich sound sent a ripple of warmth through Isobel that curled into her stomach. That laugh, where had she heard it before?

As they started eating Isobel gazed across the table at Damien, her mind reeling with questions. “So Aiden is your uncle?” He nodded although she saw a flicker of wariness enter his eyes. “Where are your parents? Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

Damien stared at his plate for a moment before answering. “My parents are gone. I have no siblings.” He couldn’t tell her that he never had parents; they only existed to bring him into the world. That his life had always revolved around finding her. That Aiden wasn’t really his uncle, just an old friend who had been his friend many times before. Or that he had many brothers. There was just too much he couldn’t tell her yet.

Isobel looked down as a blush spread across her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

Damien shook his head; now she felt sorry for him. “No need to apologize. They’ve been gone a long time. I don’t even remember them. Aiden raised me.” At least that part was true. He never remembered his parents. Always one of the others was there to raise and care for him until he reached the age of ascension and his powers and memories came back to him. One day, it would be his job to find the newborn boy and do the same.

Isobel studied him. He truly didn’t seem bothered by the lack of parents. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-three. You?”

Isobel laughed softly. How silly to think he would give some extraordinary answer. “I turned nineteen a couple of weeks ago. The day we ran into each other at the bookstore.” She scooped a bite of baked potato onto her fork and paused. “You speak differently than most guys your age.”

A smile tinged with sadness touched his lips. “I have…studied extensively. It tends to change the vocabulary.”

That made sense. They chatted about Georgia, and how it was different from other areas. Although he didn’t have an accent typical of the region, it surprised Isobel to learn that Damien had also grown up in the Midwest not far from where she had lived.

As dinner wound to an end, she found herself reluctant to leave. While she was helping clean up the voice suddenly whispered, “Isobel, you cannot run from me.” She nearly dropped the plates she carried. If it could follow her to another house, going somewhere else wasn’t going to help. And then there were the mysterious “they” her mother had written about. Who or what were they and would they come after her if she left?

Damien felt the energy spike and saw her flinch. “Isobel? Are you feeling okay?”

She smiled at him though her eyes were haunted. “I’m fine.”

Damien carefully set the dishes he carried in the sink, the task giving him a brief moment to control the rising frustration. Why didn’t she tell him the truth? He couldn’t tell her what he knew until she accepted what was happening, until she started to let her memories in.

When there was nothing left to clean, no reason left for her to put off leaving, Damien walked her to the door. She paused, looking up at his face. “Thank you for dinner. This was nice.”

Damien nodded. “I enjoyed your company. I always enjoy your company.” His fingers trailed over her cheek as the air between them thickened with intensity. His hand moved, brushing across her throat as his fingers found the back of her neck. Very slowly, he leaned down and brushed his lips across hers.

Isobel was stunned at the electricity that arced between them. Her lips tingled from the brief touch and her heart thundered in her ears, a deep yearning in her body. Damien stepped back putting some space between them.

“I’m sorry that was inappropriate. “What the hell was he thinking? She wasn’t his yet, and he couldn’t force her memories to surface.

Isobel shook her head. “No, it was fine. I liked it.”

Damien smiled slightly. “Even so...” He looked at her with longing before changing the subject. “Be careful on your way back. And if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call. Let me see your phone.”

She pulled it from her pocket and handed it over without thinking. He flicked through the various screens, typed a number in and gave it back. “I’ve programmed my number. I’m serious. Call me if you need anything.”

Isobel managed to refrain from saying that she needed him now. What was wrong with her? She shouldn’t get close to him. Things were too strange—her gift, curse, whatever kept trying to push forward.

She took her time walking back to the waiting house. Insects sang their nightly songs. The heavy humid air was warm against her skin and filled with the scent of blooming flowers. A blanket of hazy stars twinkled from the black dome of the sky. Just like the other summers she’d experienced in Georgia. Except this wasn’t like any other summer. Instead, she had to deal with whatever was going on inside the house. She stopped and watched it as it watched her.

Damien leaned on the counter, his back to Aiden. “He grows stronger.”

“Yes.” Aiden moved to his side. “Your repairs don’t last like they used to. Eusebia’s seal was never meant to hold him this many centuries. It is only a miracle that it has held this long.”

“I know. And his reach is extending. You felt what I did this evening?”

Aiden nodded. “He can reach her even here.” His face grew sad. “I wish I was going to be here to help you. Xapar is strong.”

“Isobel is stronger. So much stronger this time,” Damien said, thinking of the energy that radiated from her. Once she embraced it fully, she would be stronger than even Eusebia. “And I am nearly as strong as Xapar. You may rest easy, my old friend. I will not fail this time, and neither will Isobel.”

“I will likely be gone by the morrow. This body gives out. Take great care, Damien.”

In the morning only dust would be left to show his friend had existed in this life. “Good journey, my friend. Usque ad proximum tempus.” Until next time.

Aiden turned and shuffled toward his bedroom. “Proximum semper est tempus.” There is always a next time.

Isobel stood on the porch of the darkened house for a long time. Stay outside all night or go inside with the…whatever it was? Sorsha trilled and wound around her ankles waiting to be let in. Isobel looked down at the cat. “You have a cat door, you know.” The cat trilled again impatiently. “Yes, your majesty. I will open the people door for you. Although why you want in the house is a mystery to me.”

She crossed the threshold after the cat. After closing the door, she moved through the downstairs turning on every light. The idea of being alone in the dark with it terrified her. Not that it seemed to matter if it was day or night when it came to the window. However a lifetime of horror movie conditioning made her imagine the dark would be worse. She filled Sorsha’s food dish and gave her fresh water. The cat was entirely too picky about water. There couldn’t be a single hair or speck of dust in it.

Stuffed from dinner she curled up on the large sectional in the family room and turned on the TV, determined to get lost in a show. There was no way in hell she was sleeping upstairs tonight. In fact, in the morning she was moving her bathroom necessities to the full bath in the foyer. The less time she spent upstairs the better.

A light prickle ran over her skin as determined emotions swam over her. She looked to her right and nearly jumped out of her skin. The robed woman from her dreams sat there, a vial of blood in her hand. “Sanctum inveni virum.”

Isobel scrambled back, blinked, and the woman was gone. Confusion and fear filled her mind. She stared for a long time at the spot where the woman had been as the adrenaline rush slowly faded. Isobel snuggled back down to watch the show, though her eyes still flicked to the spot every now and then. Seeing a ghost wasn’t completely unusual for her. She’d seen them off and on her whole life, but having one jump out of her dreams and speak to her was new.

The night wore on, and still she couldn’t sleep. Luckily, a marathon of one of her favorite shows was on. She lay on the couch beneath the quilt with every light on and stared at the screen as the characters tried to lead normal lives while being witches. Sometime near the end of the marathon sleep finally claimed her.

The dreams returned.

Damien, in clothes from another time and a sword at his hip, traced the line of her jaw with gentle fingers. A hamlet of small houses clustered in the distance, the grasses of the thatched roofs browned by the sun. They would be leaving soon. Leaving to do something important. Something that had been waiting to be done.

It was near dark when soldiers burst in and dragged her from the house into the street. An angry mob of people screamed at her. She fought them as she screamed for Damien. He would hear.

She was bound to the upright pole and then the men of the village were lighting the wood piled around her. Through the building flames she saw Damien, and another man with golden hair, fighting the soldiers, cutting them down and receiving several blows that should have been fatal in their efforts to reach her. Dark shapes moved among the men. Damien and his companion fought them too.

Isobel screamed in pain as the smoke and flames overwhelmed her. And then Damien was there, standing in the fire. He ripped the ropes away and gently carried her from the heat. Pain pulsed and radiated through her body as her smoke-clogged lungs shut down. The other man held one of her hands, sorrow filling his tawny eyes. Their faces faded and Damien’s voice, aching with the pain of loss, whispered in her ear, “Usque ad proximum tempus. Meae deliciae.”

Isobel woke with a scream in her throat and tears running down her face. She sobbed and curled into a ball. The dream had felt so real. Sorsha leapt off the couch, laid her ears back, and hissed as she darted from the room. The quiet thwack of the rubber flap on the cat door told her Sorsha had left the house.

Isobel closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, the robed woman was sitting on the floor, a vial of blood in her hands.

The woman gazed back. “Sanctum inveni virum.”

Startled, Isobel froze. The woman faded and disappeared.

Warm drops sprinkled across Isobel’s cheek. She wiped at it, and her hand came away red. Turning, she looked up at the ceiling. Damien’s body hung impaled by arrows, his face twisted in pain as blood dripped down on her. Screaming, she threw herself off the couch and scrambled across the floor on her hands and knees.

“Isobel. You are mine,” the voice whispered throughout the house. She covered her ears and huddled against the wall as the blood continued to splatter the couch. “Isobel,” it taunted.

Damien disappeared, and only the dripping arrows remained. Her name sprang up on the walls written in a bloody, jagged script over and over again. Isobel lunged for the coffee table and snatched the phone, her hands shaking like leaves in the wind. She hit the icon for her contact list. It was right there at the top. Isobel didn’t care what he thought—she needed to know he was alive.

It seemed to ring forever. Just as her heart sank, thinking the worst, he answered. “Isobel?”

“Damien?” Tears welled in her eyes and her voice quivered.

“Isobel, what’s wrong?”

“I—” The phone slipped from her hand and landed with a quiet thump on the carpet as the room around her dissolved, melting like wax on a candle.

She struggled against the ropes that bound her wrists as she was forced up the wooden steps to a platform. A noose swayed back and forth. Isobel saw Damien fighting his way toward her, arrows sticking out from his body. An axe swung through the air severing his head. She wept uncontrollably when the noose was placed roughly around her neck, and a dark cloth was shoved over her head. Isobel barely heard the conviction of witchcraft when the floor dropped beneath her feet. The rope yanked against her neck cutting off her air. She thrashed and jerked, her mouth gaping as she tried desperately to breathe.

Damien ran across the dew-dampened grass between the houses in his bare feet. He burst through the front door and shouted her name. No answer. The window thrummed with dark triumphant power. Damien ran up the stairs.

Her room was empty. Damien charged back down the stairs. “Isobel!” Still no answer. She wasn’t in the kitchen either. Turning, he ran into the family room. His heart caught when his eyes found her lying on the floor, her lips turning blue.

Isobel’s world faded as the rope stole her life away. “Isobel!” His hands shook her roughly, bringing her back to reality. Air exploded into her lungs, and she sucked in great gulps of it. The family room swam into view again. Something had her! Confused and disoriented she threw out her hands, trying to scramble away from whatever it was.

Damien held her easily, her physical strength no match for his. “I’m here. You’re all right.” She continued to struggle. “Isobel, calm down.” Damien’s voice finally cut through the panic. With a sob she collapsed against him, shaking.

He enfolded her in his arms and just held her. He’d almost lost her again. When she pushed away, he reluctantly let her go. Isobel scooted across the floor until she leaned against the wall again.

Damien reached his hand out, hesitated, and pulled it back. “Isobel, talk to me.”

“Why?” she cried. “What is happening to me? I dream things that actually happened. I dreamed of me in other times. I dreamed of you in other times. Who are you?”

Damien sat on the carpet across from her and leaned against the side of the couch. “Tell me what you dreamed.”

Isobel stared at him. Was he crazy? Was she? It was only then that she realized he was shirtless. The light shining in the windows gleamed off the water droplets clinging to his skin. The muscles in his chest rippled as he shifted. His wet, black hair clung to his neck, and the fresh scent of soap filled the air.

“Isobel, please; tell me what you dreamed.”

Without thinking Isobel told him all of her dreams, and what she had found on the Internet. Damien didn’t react. No emotions showed on his face.

When she finished, he only nodded. “And what just happened now?”

Might as well tell it all. Then he would run far away from her and think she was crazy. She told him everything anyway. The window that watched her, the reflection in the mirror, the whispers in the house, and what she’d seen when she experienced being hung.

This time when she finished Isobel stared at the carpet, running her hand over the fibers while her stomach twisted into knots. She flinched when he stood up abruptly. He would leave now. Leave her alone with the window until people came to cart her away.

His hand, warm and gentle, rested upon her arm. Isobel looked up as Damien sat down next to the wall facing her. He reached out and ran the back of his fingers down the side of her face. “You’re much stronger this time, and it’s all coming at you faster. So fast you don’t have time to adjust.”

A tear slipped down her cheek at the gentle, almost loving tone in his voice. A tone that made her heart ache as if it remembered something she didn’t. “This time? What do you mean? Aren’t you afraid I’m crazy?”

He shook his head and smiled, though it held a sad quality. “You are not crazy. You are the key; this has played out several times before.”

Confusion made her thoughts chaotic. The key. Those were the words in her mother’s diary and what had been written on the door. “What are you talking about? I don’t understand any of this.”

“No, not yet.” Damien looked at her with such longing that she had to look away as he continued. “You have spent your life pushing away your power. Pushing away what it was trying to tell you.”

Startled, her eyes jerked back to his. “I don’t have…” her voice trailed away at the knowledge she saw in his eyes.

He knew she would try to deny it. Knew the death of her mother kept her frightened of it. “It’s been trying to help you since your early teens. You’ve done your best to turn away from it, haven’t you? Now it’s breaking through in waves, more intense than it would have been had you embraced it earlier.”

Isobel drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “What do you mean this has played out several times before? Are you…?” she couldn’t believe she was asking this. “Are you immortal?”

That sad smile touched his lips again.

Damien studied her, reading her expression. Finally she was ready to hear, and he could tell her the truth. “I guess you could say that. I have lived and died many times over the centuries.” He drew her hair through his fingers and savored the feel of it; the chance to sit with her like this again. “So have you.” His voice was so soft and low it was almost a whisper. “You are always Isobel. Always the same; only each time stronger.”

Memories that were hers yet not hers tumbled through her mind. Memories of them together in the past. He looked a little different through the centuries, but the eyes were always the same, and she knew it was him. “And you—you’re always Damien.”

He nodded. “Your memories return. Yes, I am always Damien.” Too many times to count. Too many lifetimes where he had to watch her die or died knowing he couldn’t save her. Damien looked at her grimly; soon she would know what she faced.

The tortured look in his blue eyes stunned her when he said, “I have lost you in one way or another each time. I won’t fail to protect you again.”

“Protect me from what?” she whispered.

“Everything. Your life is so much more important than mine. It always has been.”

Isobel saw him again, full of arrows lying in a field, saw him fighting through a crowd of soldiers in the south of France centuries ago, and again watched him take more wounds than any mere man could withstand trying to reach her. She saw again with a clarity she wished would fade as his head rolled across the grass of the field when she stood on the gallows.

She stared at him for a long moment. “You fought for me. You died for me. Each time you were willing to give your life fighting to save me.”

His eyes softened. “Vita mea pro tua, semper. Meae deliciae.”

Isobel shook her head. “What does that mean?”

“My life for yours, always. My love.”

“If you can die, how are you immortal?”

“Very few things can actually kill me. If I could have traded my life for yours in those times when I didn’t die, I would have. I can be injured, but I will heal. Only removing my head will actually kill me.” There was something else that could kill him as well but there was no sense in going into it right now. “I have a human life span, although longer than most. When this body gives out, I will go and wait to be born again.” He laughed though there was little humor in it. “Sometimes I envy those who get to die and rest forever if they wish. Etiam in morte, vivo.”

Confused, she asked, “What?”

Damien smiled sadly. “Even in death, I live.”

Isobel stared at him for a long moment. He leaned forward, hesitated, and then pressed his lips gently against hers. More memories flooded her at the familiar feel of his kiss. She reached up and tangled her fingers in his damp hair, pulling him closer. She parted her lips, and he deepened the kiss. His tongue swept into her mouth, claiming her in this lifetime. The heat from his bare chest burned through her shirt, and her body responded. Her heart beat in a wild rhythm; deep inside her soul sang with recognition. So many memories flooded her mind as his hands slid around her, pulling her tight against him. He was here—they had found each other again.

Tears slid down her face at the deep love that welled inside her. A love that had carried them through centuries together. That would carry them through many more. Her power rose up and thrummed in her veins bringing more memories.

Damien groaned and eased back, breaking the connection. He didn’t want to, but there was so much more to discuss.

Isobel gasped as she touched her lips, her power fading back behind her blocks. “How is it that you remember so much? That I remember so much? People usually have to be put under hypnosis in order to remember past lives. Until now, I wasn’t sure I really believed in past lives.”

He slid his hand onto her neck, resting it on her shoulder as his thumb brushed along her jaw. “We are not like other people. Our purpose is different than theirs; we need the memories in order to complete what we are put here for.”

She searched the remaining holes in her memory. “Why can’t I remember everything?”

“Until you fully embrace your power your memories are locked behind the blocks you’ve created. Like your power, your memories are only breaking through in pieces.”

“What are we here for?”

Damien’s voice was flat and hard when he responded. “Xapar and others like him.”

Xapar?” Saying the word brought a shiver to her that had nothing to do with Damien’s touch.

Damien nodded. “How much have you read about Saint Januarius?”

Isobel stood up then walked slowly to the kitchen. Damien followed her. “Only that he died in 305 A.D. as a martyr.” She poured a glass of water and took a small sip, gazing at the floor where she’d seen the body of a man several days before. “He was beheaded after supposedly being thrown into a furnace where he didn’t die and after wild beasts failed to attack him. And a woman named Eusebia collected his blood in vials, and they hold a celebration in Italy to honor the blood returning to liquid form.”

Damien nodded. “Sounds like you’ve read as much as you will find in the history books. The rest is known only to those of us who were actually there.” He laughed softly. “I find it amusing that most sites refer to Eusebia as ‘a certain woman named Eusebia.’ I’m sure few today know who or what she really was. And even if they did, they wouldn’t admit it. Some things never change.” Bitter memories of losing Isobel to the witch hunts burned in his mind.

“And what was Eusebia?” Isobel asked, taking another drink.

Damien leaned down as Sorsha wound her way through his legs with a soft meow. He picked the soft, fluffy cat up and stroked her fur. “She was what you are.”

Isobel set the glass down. “You’re saying Eusebia was me?”

“No.” His shook his head. “Eusebia was herself. She was like you. Very powerful. Sadly, not powerful enough. That’s where you are different.”

“What wasn’t she powerful enough to do?”

“Banish Xapar back to the underworld. Nothing will keep him there forever; he’s a very powerful upper level demon. But it would have given the world some respite from him.”

Fear crawled through her. “What did she do?”

“She sealed him in a window. Your window,” he said, the grim tone back.

Isobel sank into one of the chairs at the island. “How can that be? Eusebia lived in the fourth century. How could a window survive that long? How could it end up here?”

Damien sat across from her. “I, and others like me, have tracked it through the centuries. On occasion, due to the chaos of the time, it became lost. But we always found it again. While it was still in the chapel in Naples, Xapar could do no harm. Once the earthquake took a good portion of the cathedral, he was able to reach out.”

More memories floated through her mind; the knowledge of other lives, other times when she understood all of it and her purpose. Although Isobel knew all her past lives understood this, she still couldn’t bring all the threads together in this life. And if that didn’t sound confusing, she didn’t know what did.

“In order to understand it all, we have to go back to Saint Januarius.” Damien ran his hand through his hair—his memories of that distant century as clear as those from this one. “In the early fourth century Timotheus, the governor of Campania, imprisoned Januarius who was the bishop of Beneventum then. As you noticed, there are a lot of tales surrounding his death.”

Isobel nodded but otherwise sat perfectly still, needing to hear it all and afraid at the same time. “What you won’t find in any text anywhere is that Timotheus was possessed by the demon Xapar. He takes great pleasure in suffering. He feeds off it. Creating dissention and war where there should be none is something he loves.” Damien paused, remembering the rabid look on the governor’s face. “He literally drove Timotheus insane. Another thing you won’t find is that Januarius had powers such as yours.”

Damien crossed his arms on the island top. “When he was brought before Timotheus, Januarius saw the demon within the man and knew the evil must be stopped; however, Xapar is an ancient demon and very powerful. Januarius didn’t have the strength to banish him. Not all blessed with the powers are blessed with the same amount. When it came time Januarius had already made his decision, and he faced the demon without fear, which is essential when dealing with Xapar. An upper level demon can and will use even the smallest shred of fear against you.”

“What did Januarius do?” Isobel whispered.

“As he died, he pulled Xapar from Timotheus and trapped the demon within his own body.”

Isobel’s skin crawled at the thought.

Damien continued, his eyes unfocused as he looked back into the past. “Though the demon was gone, Timotheus was still quite mad, and he continued on the path the demon had set him on. Eusebia watched the final blow befall Januarius and it was indeed she who gathered the vials of blood. Though she actually gathered five, not just the two recorded by history. There was a window she had made of stained glass a year or so before, perfectly round and subtly designed with a blending of symbols. It was one of the first windows made with stained glass, though history places the oldest stained glass windows in Germany. She gave it to the chapel of Naples at the time.

“Eusebia knew she didn’t have the power to banish the demon. She also knew Saint Januarius’ body wouldn’t be able to hold the demon imprisoned long. Eusebia used one vial of the blood to pull the demon from Januarius and sealed him in the window. She buried another vial at the base of the chapel wall where the powerful blood of Januarius would keep Xapar from reaching out from his prison.”

Damien looked at her, and Isobel knew her part in this was coming. “Eusebia knew that one day a channel, which is what you are, would be born with enough power to banish Xapar. She felt secure in where she had sealed him. Between the power of the blood, both in the sealing and in the vial buried beneath the wall, Xapar should have been thoroughly trapped.”

“But he wasn’t,” Isobel said, understanding dawning. She was the one with the power to banish Xapar. She shied away from the idea. Rihanna had died facing a demon.

“It wasn’t the fault of the seal or the blood,” Damien said. “The original chapel came down, and the window survived. Because of Eusebia, it can’t be broken. Another chapel was built in the sixth century and though the blood was shifted and moved, it was still close enough that its power held Xapar. Still another chapel, the Cattedrale di San Gennaro, was built on top of the ruins of that chapel. Again the window was used. Eusebia’s work held strong.”

Isobel rubbed her forehead. “I’m guessing the window didn’t stay there.”

“No, it didn’t.” Damien studied her for a moment. “Would you like me to order some food? I noticed it’s afternoon, and since you look like you just woke up you are probably hungry.”

Isobel nodded. It felt like a lifetime ago since she woke up and Damien had saved her. “Surprisingly enough, I’m hungry. You’d think all of this would make me lose my appetite.”

Damien chuckled and pulled out his phone. “What would you like?”

“Something simple, like pizza. Just no olives. I can’t stand black olives.”

He smiled as he scrolled through his contact list. “No olives it is.”

Isobel raised an eyebrow. “You have a pizza delivery in your contact list?”

“I don’t always like to cook you know.” He was pleased to see her taking everything so well. If only she would embrace her innate power as easily.

“After we eat, I’m getting a shower. I can’t believe I’m still walking around in my night clothes at this time of day.

Damien appraised the lightweight shorts and the T-shirt that did little to hide what was underneath. “I don’t mind it.”

As he turned to talk into the phone, Isobel felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. She wasn’t even wearing a bra and though she wasn’t big in that department, she wasn’t small either. Isobel looked up at his muscular back and gasped. Two folded black wings covered it like tattoos from the top of his broad shoulders to the small of his back. The most realistic tattoos she had ever seen. The light in the kitchen almost simmered off the dark feathers as the muscles in his back shifted. Memories tickled her mind, but though she strained to see them, they wouldn’t come.

He tapped the screen and looked up at her, enchanted by the soft, pink glow that infused her cheeks. “The pizza will be here in about half an hour.” Damien took in her wide eyes and closed his own for a moment. Damn. He hoped she was ready for this.

“What are those?” she whispered. “I’ve never seen tattoos like that before.”

Damien opened his eyes. “They are part of what I am.”

“And what are you?” her voice trembled, and she clasped her hands together so tight her knuckles turned white as if she expected something awful.

He walked around the island to her, gently laying his hand over hers. “I am part of an ancient order. Born again and again over time, we come into our powers and memories of our past lives around the age of sixteen. We are always raised by another member of the order so we are prepared for it when it comes.”

Isobel stared at him with wide eyes. “What kind of order? What do you do?”

“A very old order. We protect and help defend against demons.”

“Demons. So…” Isobel tried to sort through the possibilities. “Like a guardian angel?” He certainly didn’t look like what she thought a guardian angel would look like. There was a hardness to him. Edges made rough by too much experience with darkness. Angels were supposed to be soft and light weren’t they? Damien was a predator hunting predators.

“We aren’t your normal guardian angel. Though there are those too. Our task is much darker and far more dangerous both to us and to those under our protection. Actual guardian angels never have to die for their charges. We have different rules as well.”

Isobel unclenched her fingers and turned them to take his hand. She traced the lines on his palm, noticing that Damien’s lifeline was splintered in numerous places. Like her own. Isobel’s lifeline had unnerved Amelia. “How are they different?”

He shrugged. “Because of the dangers we face, dark angels are allowed more freedom. We can fall in love, which can be both a blessing and a curse at the same time. Guardian angels aren’t allowed to fall in love. They have multiple charges at once. It would compromise the others if the angel cared too much for one of them. They are also restricted on what they can do to protect their charges. Dark angels are allowed to do anything and everything within their power to protect their channels. In a back alley, a guardian angel can try to scare away or block an attacker from reaching his charge. A dark angel can end the attacker’s life if need be.”

Dark angels. It sounded like something that should come from hell. Like most things, it wasn’t what it seemed. “How many charges do dark angels have?”

“We don’t have charges. We have channels. And just one.” Damien smiled. “Aiden watched over you too once he became a free agent. He was a good man.” He brushed her hair over her shoulder. “I have always been born no more than a handful of years before you. Our souls have always traveled life together when we were in the world at the same time. Those times I was born into the world and you weren’t it was very lonely being a free agent.”

“What did you mean Aiden was a good man?”

“Aiden has passed on like we all do.”

“Oh, Damien. I’m so sorry.” Tears welled in Isobel’s eyes as she thought of the old man who had invited her to dinner and had been so nice to her the night before.

“Do not grieve for him.” Damien smiled. “He is an old friend I will see again the next time we are brought to this world. There is no sadness in the passing of a dark angel.”

“Do angels have funerals, or do you make other arrangements?”

“When our spirits go to wait, our bodies become dust. There is nothing to bury.”

The doorbell rang and Damien raised an eyebrow. “That was quicker than I thought it would be.”

Isobel watched as he walked to the door digging cash out of his pocket. The wing tattoos on his back rippled and moved, the feathers almost seeming to flutter.

They sat on the couch in the family room to eat. Occasionally, Isobel stole glances at the ceiling. Of course, Damien wasn’t up there dead and bleeding. No more than there had been a dead man in her kitchen or her own self swinging by the neck from a rope. Still, she remembered the feel of the blood dripping down on her clearly.

Damien ate his pizza without paying much attention to it, or to the show flashing across the screen on the television. Instead, he watched her out of the corner of his eye, aware of every movement. He finished eating and washed it down with water.

After the fifth time she looked at the ceiling, he glanced up to see what interested her so much. Nothing. There was nothing up there, not even a fly. “What do you find on the ceiling that interests you so?”

Isobel gazed at her food for a long moment. She hadn’t told him that part. “When I woke up there was blood dripping on my face. It was warm and wet. I could feel it as easily as I do this pizza in my hand. You…you were pinned to the ceiling by arrows.”

When she finally looked up, the devastating loss in her eyes took him by surprise. Damien remembered that day, the desperate and futile attempt to reach Isobel before they hung her, the pain of each arrow hitting him.

Damien reached out and stroked her cheek. “That was several lifetimes ago. What you saw today wasn’t real. It was Xapar getting inside your head and playing with what he found there.”

Isobel nodded and slowly set her pizza into the box. “I know.” She took a long drink of her soda. “But it felt real. It still feels real, especially now that I can remember that day. How is it that Xapar can make me remember?”

“He isn’t making you remember. His proximity is bringing your power to the surface. With that comes your memories. Xapar can’t make you remember, he can only use what is already there. What he’s doing is amplifying those memories as they return, making them feel real to you at the same time he magnifies your fear back at you.”

Isobel stared at the floor, her desire to leave the house rising once again. “Can we leave?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere. Your house or someplace far from here.”

Damien gathered Isobel into his arms and leaned back, pulling her with him until he reclined against the edge of the corner cushion. Isobel snuggled into him. Damien bent his head and breathed in the scent of her hair, thankful for the chance to love her again. “My house would offer no comfort. I felt the energy last night. He can reach you there. The seal weakens daily and as it does his power grows. Now that he has found your mind, there is nowhere you can go that he will not be able to reach. Beyond that, once the seal breaks, there is much he can do. You would condemn the lives of too many to count if you were to try and turn your back on this. You are the only one who can do this.”

So she really was trapped here. In her heart, Isobel knew she couldn’t walk away. Enough memories had returned that she knew she’d always been ready for this. And really, what would be the point of running if the demon could reach her anywhere now?

Isobel lay against his chest and closed her eyes, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. As his hand stroked over her hair, she became keenly aware of the heat from his bare skin, of the flat, hard plane of his stomach and the muscles of his arms. Warmth curled into her stomach as her body responded to his closeness, to the familiarity it had recognized even before her mind did.

Damien crooked a finger under her chin and urged her face toward his. The hardness in his eyes softened as he tenderly brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Meae deliciae.” His deep, husky voice made her ache with emotion as he called her “my love” again. Deep in her soul she remembered lifetimes where he had always called her “meae deliciae.”

Her body reacted the moment his lips touched hers. Isobel shifted and tangled the fingers of both hands into his hair as his tongue slipped past her lips, teasing and tasting. She pressed against him as the warmth in her stomach spread to the rest of her body.

Damien’s hands went around her back, pulling her closer as they rolled onto their sides. He trailed kisses down her neck, and every moment of every time like this shared together with him combined with the present. Isobel ran her hands over his back, feeling the raised relief of the tattoos. He was hers; he would always be hers.

Isobel snuggled into Damien’s warmth only half awake. Somehow they had ended up in her room. His fingers trailed over her skin sending little shivers through her. She smiled happily. “Tell me more about dark angels.”

Damien’s voice was quiet as he asked, “What do you want to know?”

“How are you different? From regular people I mean.”

A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Other than we are a celestial spirit in a somewhat mortal, mostly human body? We are gifted with many strengths to aid us in our tasks. We are fast. Faster than I can properly convey. We are extremely strong. Our senses are heightened. I can see in the dark as easily as I can in the day, and our sense of hearing and smell is more akin to an animal than a human. We age, but not like normal humans. We are never afflicted with disease of any kind.” He paused. “To give you an idea, Aiden was one hundred and five years old.”

Isobel gasped and looked up at him to make sure he wasn’t joking. “He didn’t look older than his late fifties.”

Damien nodded. “You see, we age different. Even so, the body eventually gives out. We can always feel when it’s our time to be called back.” He stroked her hair, enjoying the silky softness of it as it ran through his fingers. “Our channels age gracefully too.”

“You have all these gifts it seems. What can you do with them? How can there be so many bad things in the world if there are dark angels with all of these powers?”

“We aren’t super heroes, Isobel. That isn’t our place in this world. There are rules. A dark angel’s powers are for only one purpose—keeping our channels safe. We aren’t allowed to use them for anything else.”

“So what do you do for money to survive in the world? I noticed you don’t seem to work.”

“We used to work in earlier centuries.” He smiled at her. “However, many lifetimes of many dark angels living simply while saving and investing earnings makes it so none of us have had to worry about work for a good four or five centuries. There are now five accounts around the world that any of us can access at any time. When one dies, he leaves any money gained through investments to the others in his will.”

Damien tucked a strand of hair behind her ear reveling in the feel of her body tucked next to his. “The house on this island is the most lavish expenditure I have made in a long time. It was necessary to be close to you and watch over you. When the day comes that I sell it the money will go back into the account it came out of.”

Isobel yawned and snuggled closer. “You normally live simpler and yet you bought a motorcycle.”

His laugh brought sweet warmth to her heart. “I needed a way to get around. The motorcycle was actually cheaper than a car, as is the insurance and cost of running it. I did have to do some work to it so it would run smooth and reliable. It was a more sensible investment than the luxury cars humans are so fond of.”

“You said that first evening here, when you watched that movie with me, that you like the tales made up about vampires. What did you mean?”

Damien brushed his lips against her forehead. “I meant that the real thing can be the stuff of nightmares that legend has made them.”

Isobel jerked her head up in surprise. “You mean that vampires are real?”

“Yes, however, not all vampires are evil. Like anything else there is good and bad among them. They usually handle their own problems though they have been known to call on dark angels from time to time.”

She laid her head back down in the crook of his shoulder and blinked drowsily as his arm tightened around her. She tried to come to terms with what he’d told her. Could such things really exist in the world? Considering she’d just learned that she had lived many times over the centuries and that Damien was a dark angel it seemed silly to try and deny other things could exist. Like looking at a forest and pretending not to see trees. Still, she wasn’t entirely sure if he was telling the truth though she couldn’t see a reason for him to lie.

His breath was warm on her face when his kissed her forehead. “Sleep, meae deliciae. I will be here when you wake.”

Isobel drifted off in a state of blissful contentment. No dreams disturbed her that night.

When she woke he was standing in the doorway in just his jeans again. She pushed her hair away from her face and smiled at him.

Damien returned it, though worry nagged at him. “Good morning, and it is morning this time.”

Isobel stretched long and languid. “Good morning.”

Her voice, soft and sexy, nearly undid his resolve to remain where he was. “I have to go back to my house to gather my things. There isn’t much; dark angels travel light. But there are a few things I need.” He chuckled and glanced down at his bare torso and feet. “Clothing definitely.”

She laughed softly. He looked good in just his jeans. “I don’t know. I rather like you without them.”

His eyes grew serious. “Will you be all right while I’m gone? I won’t be long. A quick shower, change of clothes, grab a few things and then back.”

Isobel sighed. “You don’t have to stay here you know. I’m a big girl. I mean, I have no objection to you staying, but only if you really want to.”

Damien shook his head. “Isobel, I’ve waited several years in this life for your memories to return. There is nothing more I want than to be here with you. Besides, I have no intention of leaving you alone with Xapar now that I don’t have to.”

The demon’s name made the hairs on her arms stand up. “I’m glad because I don’t want to be alone. I could come to your house though, and then we would be together and out of this house.”

“I wish it were that simple. Here, I can keep a closer watch on the window and reinforce the seals as best I can. And there, he can reach you anyway.”

She gathered the top sheet around her and climbed out of bed using the sheet to cover herself. “Go and do what you need to do then. I’m going to grab my own shower and change of clothes.”

“I will return shortly.”

A sense of uneasiness settled over Isobel as he left. She hadn’t had a chance yet to take everything to the downstairs bathroom. She was already upstairs; might as well take it up here and then move everything when she was done. Isobel took a quick, hot shower then pulled on a pair of white shorts and a snug green top that matched her eyes. It was the same outfit she’d worn on her birthday. Isobel considered some makeup but discarded the idea. She didn’t really need it and there was no way she was standing in front of the mirror to put it on.

Isobel glanced toward the bedroom door. It was open again.

“Damien?” Maybe he was back already and waiting for her on the landing. Terror pooled in her limbs as black webs of shadows crawled across the walls.

Isobel closed her eyes. Please be gone, she chanted in her mind. When Isobel opened her eyes the shadows were luminescent colors. The light on the landing glowed beautifully and a strange sense of peace fell over her. Somewhere in the back of her mind a small part of her warned the feeling of peace wasn’t real.

Without making the conscious decision, Isobel walked toward the light. When she stepped onto the landing the window shined, its colors lit by an otherworldly light. It drew her like a moth to a flame. Inside her mind a small voice screamed that the flame would burn her. Still, Isobel was pulled forward unable to resist.

Damien came in the front door and dropped the leather duffle bag on the tiled floor of the foyer. Something wasn’t right. “Isobel?” He walked toward the stairs. The glowing light of the window filled the upper level. Xapar. Damn him! He was getting too strong if he could do this.

Damien called her name again as he rushed up the stairs. Isobel stood in front of the window, her arm outstretched and her fingers almost brushing the glass. The window pulsed with evil black and red light, and dark energy flooded the landing though he knew she saw and felt something different.

Isobel saw him out of the corner of her eye and turned her face, eager to share the wonder with him. Immense black wings rose up and spread out from his back, the tips reaching across the twenty-five foot width of the landing. White light flowed around him like a halo. “Don’t touch it!” Damien commanded as he moved faster than she could comprehend. The radiance of the window vanished. Malevolent light and energy crashed over Isobel taking her breath away. His arm wrapped around her waist, and he pulled her around with iron strength. Damien’s wings curved forward like a protective shield as the darkness raged around them.

Damien held her in front of him with both arms as it came up against his power. In full force with his wings out, Xapar’s energy had little chance of reaching Isobel. He crouched defensively over her and curved his wings forward at the tips until the long black feathers nearly touched the floor. Xapar was strong, but not strong enough, not yet.

Damien closed his eyes to the menacing energy. “Adiuva me, quaeso, in meo certamine necessariamque da mihi fortitudinem.” The bright, white light flared around him, intensifying and radiating off his wings in waves. The threatening force receded back into the window. Folding one wing back he reached around and touched the colored glass. Pain seared through his fingers as he whispered the words to strengthen Eusebia’s seal. When the repair was done as best as possible, Damien extended his wing again leaving his power flowing at full strength. He curved his arm back around Isobel and sank to his knees easing her down with him.

She trembled in his arms, the pure white light nearly blinding in its brilliance. “What happened? I was in my room, and then I was standing in front of the window. I don’t remember anything.”

Damien brushed a hand over her hair and closed his eyes. Close, too close. The demon would do anything to break free. “Don’t ever touch the window. Ever.” His voice was rough with emotion, but he couldn’t help it. “Xapar’s power strengthens, and he used it to lure you closer. If you so much as brush a fingertip across the surface of the window, Xapar will have your mind completely, and he will drive you to do things you could never imagine. He’s already able to get into your mind too much as it is.” There were other reasons too, but she wasn’t ready to hear them. Damien hoped she never would be.

“Why?” Isobel stared at the long, dark feathers filling the room behind him. Somehow, she’d known they were much more than tattoos. “Why me?”

“Because you are the key to banishing Xapar. You always have been.” He kissed the top of her head and drew in the scent of her shampoo, thankful he had returned in time. “Only you have the power to banish him back to the underworld where he belongs. And only through your death at his hand can he truly be free of the seal again.”

Isobel swallowed hard, unable to slow the racing of her heart. “How can I die by his hand if he is trapped in the window?”

“All you have to do is die because of him. If he gets into your head enough, he can drive you to the point of suicide. He would be the cause of your death; it would be at his hand.” Damien stood pulling her up with him. “Let’s get back downstairs.” He left his wings out until they reached the ground floor.

Isobel turned once they stood in the foyer. Hesitantly, she reached out and gently ran her fingers over the black feathers. Her heart slowed at the feel of them. “The tattoo is more than just a symbol.” Though it wasn’t a question, he nodded. “They’re beautiful,” she whispered. This was the memory that had tried to surface the night before. Him, with his wings unfolded.

Before her eyes his wings folded behind him and contracted as they sank into the skin of his back, becoming detailed tattoos once more. His cupped his hand around her cheek. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” It wasn’t a lie. All of the fear she’d felt only moments before had leached away.

We still have a lot to discuss,” Damien said gently, wishing he knew what was going through her mind at that moment.

Isobel nodded, the reality of her world crashing home. Damien was a dark angel, and he was real. Everything was real. The demon, her power, everything. There could no longer be any denying or running from it. “You have to finish telling me how the window went from being safely in the wall of a chapel in Naples to becoming part of my parents’ house.”

“Breakfast first.”

“Breakfast?”

“Bringing my powers forth like that takes a lot of energy.” Damien walked toward the kitchen.

Isobel followed him slowly. He set two plates on the center island and turned toward the fridge as she entered the room. The black tattoos on his back showed through the two large rips in the fabric of his shirt. “You’re cooking breakfast?”

He gave her a half smile. “Because I’m an angel I can’t cook you breakfast? I’m also a man who needs to eat and who is capable of cooking. If I can fight demons, I think I can handle scrambling eggs.”

Well, when he said it like that… She leaned against the counter. “You were whispering something that sounded like Latin. What was it?”

Damien glanced at her over his shoulder, a carton of eggs in one hand. “Adiuva me, quaeso, in meo certamine necessariamque da mihi fortitudinem.” He shut the fridge door. “I was bringing the full force of my powers to bear and asking for the assistance of the Higher Powers. It means, ‘Please aid me in my struggle, give me the strength to do what is needed.’”

“Are you talking about God?” Isobel glanced out the window at the dark, brooding clouds that hung low in the sky trying to wrap her mind around the idea. She’d never really believed in gods.

Damien shrugged and shut the refrigerator door. “I suppose.” He cut open the pack of bacon and began laying the long strips out on a shallow baking sheet. Sorsha appeared, meowing around his feet. He separated a small bit of the bacon and walked over to set it in her dish.

“You suppose?” Isobel watched him move around the room opening cabinets to look for things. There was an angel in her kitchen cooking breakfast like a normal person. It was surreal and totally at odds with how she had always thought of angels.

“Humans too often confuse the Higher Powers. Some call them God, others divide them up into gods and goddesses, and they all think they believe something different. In reality, they all believe in the same thing and the Higher Powers have no interest in the titles bestowed upon them by humans,” he said in answer to her question.

“There are so many religions that all worship things completely different.” Isobel shook her head. “How can it all be the same?”

Damien chuckled. “Just because humans have confused themselves doesn’t mean they’ve confused the Higher Powers.”

“In other words, nobody has it right.”

He popped two slices of bread into the toaster and set a pan on the stove. “Not really, no. And yet at the same time they all have it right in a way. The Higher Powers know no religion.”

Isobel watched him crack eggs into a bowl and whisk them around, her mind coming up with so many questions she didn’t know which to ask first. Damien poured the eggs into the pan and started to stir them around.

The toast popped up and Isobel went to get it as she considered her next question. She spread butter on the warm toast, and laid it on the plates as he divided the eggs between them, then turned to get the bacon out of the oven. “What about heaven or hell or an afterlife of some sort?”

Damien shrugged and dropped a couple of pieces of bacon onto each plate. “The afterlife definitely exists if you are talking about ghosts and such. Not every spiritual energy moves on. Where they move onto when they do go, I have no idea.”

“But—” Isobel protested as he sat down. “You’re an angel. How can you not know?”

“Sit and eat.” He waved his fork at her.

Isobel sat and picked up her fork. “Happy?”

“Yes, actually I am.” He smiled. “As to your question, I don’t know because I have never been. When I die, I go to a place of waiting. Where other people go when they die, I have no idea. I know there are Higher Powers; they are the ones who created me and gave me this task. I know there is an underworld where demons exist. Heaven and hell as believed in by humans though? I don’t have an answer to that.”

Isobel eyed him sideways as she scooped a bite of egg onto her fork. “You’ve spoken with these Higher Powers? What language do they speak? What do they look like?”

Damien laughed softly. Her lack of full memories had left her a bit of a skeptic it seemed. “They don’t speak in a verbal language, yet still they are heard and understood. When angels call upon them for help we use Latin. It’s a language we are most familiar with. As far as what they look like, if they have a shape it isn’t discernible. The light you saw on the landing is pale compared to that which they carry with them. It’s so bright it hurts the eyes and so beautiful it reduces even angels to tears.”

Isobel took several bites before forming the next question. A low roll of thunder broke over the house. “So where are they? Sitting in a city of gold in the clouds with harps? Or living in the forests or what?”

Damien swept his arm through the air. “They are everywhere and they are nowhere. A part of everything and a part of nothing.”

Isobel scowled at him. “Well that answers the question clearly.” She couldn’t help the sarcasm in her voice.

“It is as clear as I can describe it.”

“If all religions are the same why do you wear so many symbols on that bracelet?”

Damien glanced down at the solid band of gold encircling his wrist. “Some demons align themselves more closely with different religions, preying on their weaknesses. Especially lower and mid- level demons. When they do that, a symbol blessed by a leader of that religion weakens them, and makes it easier to banish them.”

Isobel swallowed and tried to imagine getting close enough to a demon to find out if it was weakened by one of the symbols. “What about a demon that doesn’t align themselves with a religion?”

“Any blessed symbol will work on them.” He flashed her a dark smile. “That is why the mid-level and lower level demons tend to align with one religion. It may restrict their power but it also reduces what they are susceptible to.”

“And upper level demons? Why don’t they align themselves?” Isobel asked.

A rueful look crossed Damien’s face. “They are strong enough that they don’t need to. Any symbol can be used against them but not to any sufficient degree. That is why the Higher Powers created people like Eusebia. Like you. And you must understand, though I refer to them as lower, mid, and upper level demons, there is actually more to it than that.”

“What do you mean?”

Damien paused trying to decide the best way to explain it. “Imagine a parking garage with three sections stacked on top of each other.” When she nodded he continued. “Now imagine each section has three levels. That is the true levels of demons.”

An icy feeling settled in her stomach. “And where is Xapar in this parking garage?”

Damien looked her in the eye. “He’s on the roof. Directly under the powers that created him.” He stood and walked into the foyer while Isobel mulled that over. He picked up the bag he’d dropped earlier and brought it into the kitchen. Setting it on a chair, he opened it and pulled out another shirt.

Isobel watched him take the torn shirt off and toss it in the trash. She couldn’t help admiring his body as he pulled the new one on, remembering the night before. She picked up the empty plates and carried them to the sink to rinse them. “If they have all this power why are there demons and serial killers?”

Damien took a plate from her after it was rinsed and set it in the dishwasher. “There is always a balance in everything. That is why dark angels were created, to help maintain that balance. It’s why there are guardian angels. That’s why channels, people like you, were made. To balance the evil with good.”

“There are guardian angels and yet people still get hit by busses.” Isobel handed him the other plate and grabbed the pan.

“Like I said, they have multiple charges. If more than one of their charges needs them at the same time, they help the one that is closest.” Damien smiled sadly. “There is only so much they can do; even guardian angels can’t be in two places at once.” Isobel washed the pans by hand and handed them to Damien to dry and put away. Her mind reeled from all the information. It was too much to process.

Damien watched her leave and walk into the family room. Her silence was deafening.

Isobel stared at the coffee table for a long moment as rain started to spatter down outside. Everything was different from the way she thought it was.

“No more questions?” Damien asked quietly. He leaned against the wall giving her space.

She shook her head.

The silence stretched on while Isobel continued to stare at the coffee table. She watched in fascination as the table faded, and memories from the past surfaced and filled her mind.

She was young, no more than sixteen, and she stood on a road made of stone. An old chapel rose high above her, beautiful in its design. It wasn’t the building that drew her eye. It was the window. In full control of her power, Isobel saw the seal, whole and strong, glowing in the night with a soft white light invisible to the eyes of others. This was why she was here; it was her destiny. Damien stood in the shadows, her dark, protective angel at the ready, should Xapar prove too much once she pulled him from his prison.

He didn’t have the power to banish an upper level demon, but he had the power to keep Xapar from killing her, especially since they stood on holy ground and there would be no demons coming to Xapar’s rescue to divide Damien’s attention. To her right, a priest from the church stood with a cross in his hand bringing his own brand of power and protection.

She closed her eyes and embraced her innate power. The sweet, pure energy rushed into her and Isobel finally understood what she was. A conduit, created by the Higher Powers, to balance the evil of Xapar and other demons like him.

Isobel gathered the energy into her hands as her fingers worked to remove the seal on the vial of blood. The earth rocked and shuddered beneath her feet. She stumbled and fell as the ground dropped then slammed back up. The roar of the earthquake filled her ears. The vial of blood skittered across the stones. Unable to keep their balance both Isobel and the priest scrambled after it.

Damien’s cry of warning came too late. His strength and speed were no match against the force of nature. The walls of the church crumbled and tons of stone rained down. Stones that battered her body as the earth continued to heave. Through a deepening darkness that had nothing to do with the night, Isobel watched the window land on its edge and bounce across the ground.

Damien struggled to free her, but it didn’t matter. Her body in that life was giving out. Though the earth continued to shake, the priest clamored across the fallen stones to her side. He took one of her hands in his. “I have it. The blood is safe. Go in peace.”

Damien, his black wings battered, stroked her face as tears spilled down his own. “Usque ad proximum tempus, meae deliciae.”

The words he spoke were clear in her mind as death claimed her: Until next time, my love.

Damien sat beside her and touched her face. “Isobel? Are you okay?”

Isobel raised her eyes to his. “An earthquake took the window from the church.”

Damien nodded, remembering the night. “1456. That was the first time you tried to banish Xapar. You had lived several lives before, but your power wasn’t strong enough yet. You’ve grown stronger with each life.” He paused. “Most of the chapel was destroyed in the earthquake along with a lot of the city. I couldn’t get to you in time.” The pain of that memory was still fresh despite the intervening centuries and lives.

Isobel ran her fingers down his face. “It wasn’t your fault.” She dropped her hand. “What happened after that?”

“The vial of blood beneath the wall was crushed in the earthquake. The window was there, leaning against the rubble. Eusebia’s seal prevents the window from breaking even when nature destroys everything around it. However, without Saint Januarius’ blood to help hold the seal, it began to weaken. Xapar was able reach out. Every time someone touched it, he drove them into madness. Aiden and I had no choice but to move it.” Damien raked a hand through his hair. “Poveglia Island was all but deserted in that century. Foreseeing is not a power angels possess. Had we known what was coming we would never have moved it there.”

Isobel nodded as understanding grew. Amelia had told her about Poveglia Island. She was fascinated by ghosts. The island’s notorious history was starting to make sense.

“For the next three centuries it remained there, quietly waiting for the demon to be banished. You were born in 1563 and died fifteen years later when you were burned at the stake in France as a witch. You were born again in Salem in 1676 and were the unrecorded twenty-first person executed for witchcraft.” Damien shook his head. He had failed her so many times.

“Poveglia became populated again in the late 1700s during the black plague. It became, for all intents and purposes, an island of the dead. Many people were buried or burned while still alive. The misery on the island was compounded by Xapar. People who would have never thought of throwing someone, no matter how ill, into a fire while that person still lived found themselves doing just that. Xapar fed off the misery, absorbing the energy into his prison. The window ended up buried when Napoleon had the church on the island torn down.”

Isobel listened, remembering what Amelia had told her. “They built a mental hospital there in the 1920s I believe.”

“Yes. The window was unearthed during that time and added to one of the buildings.” Damien looked over at her. “After the doctor committed suicide, Aiden and I were able to have the window removed. We placed it in the basement of an abandoned monastery in the middle of nowhere in the Italian countryside. You were born again in Germany in 1925. World War II erupted before you were old enough to embrace your power. By the time you were, we couldn’t get out. Another dark angel named Lucian and I had finally found a way out and planned to take you to Italy. We never got the chance. All three of us were killed in a bombing raid.”

Isobel shuddered, flashes of that time flickering through her mind. So many lives. She looked at the rain falling outside. “How did the window get here?”

“A stray bomb hit the monastery. The window was exposed and an allied general brought it back to the United States as a war trophy. He had it put into his house. Xapar got in his head and the general eventually went crazy. He strangled his family one by one during the night and then hung himself.” Damien’s expression grew grim. “After the second family to live there ended the same way the house was torn down, and Aiden moved the window to a warehouse where it still managed to create chaos. Crime soared in the neighborhood around the warehouse because of the workers who would inadvertently touch it.”

“How did it end up here in this house?”

“It was sent to an auction; your parents found it.”

Isobel gasped. “My parents! Elizabeth touched it. My father could have touched it.” Panic rose up and she started to leap off the couch and reach for her phone. She had to call them, warn them.

Damien caught her around the waist and pulled her against him. “Calm down. Your father didn’t touch it.”

“How do you know?” Her heart ached at the thought of Xapar messing with her dad’s mind. Or Elizabeth’s.

“Your father, although he denies that he believes anything, wasn’t as thrilled with the window as Elizabeth. He paid attention to his gut instinct and never got within arm’s length.” Damien had watched her parents’ reactions when the window arrived. “If he had touched it, Xapar would have taken control of his mind. Your father would have killed you the minute you were alone that first night. Since your father would have been under Xapar’s control, it would have been by his hand. You would be dead, and Xapar would be free.” Damien didn’t bother to mention that he would have killed her father before he let that happen.

Isobel stared at him in horror. “My father would have killed me? What about Elizabeth? I saw her touch it.”

“Yes, she did. More than once. But,” he added as she tried to pull away from him, “Elizabeth is a special case. Xapar stayed well away from her.”

Isobel stopped trying to reach for the phone. “Why?”

Damien smiled. “Because Elizabeth is a blessed one. There aren’t many, but she is one.”

“A blessed one? What do you mean?”

“They are a gift to the world from the Higher Powers.” His face softened. “Their love knows no bounds and always comes with no strings attached. Their forgiveness for wrongs against them is infinite. There is no judgment in them, no hate, no jealousy. They are pure souls. Mother Teresa was a blessed one. Elizabeth is surrounded by a golden glow. It’s possible now that you can see it as I do.”

Isobel thought back and realized she had never heard Elizabeth raise her voice in anger or make judgmental comments. She had never put down anyone. It was Elizabeth who insisted on keeping pictures of Rihanna. Elizabeth who insisted they keep the boxes of Rihanna’s things. “Why would that make Xapar want to stay away from her?”

Damien stood and walked toward the kitchen needing a drink. “Most souls have a certain level of darkness in them; pride, envy, anger, greed. Any negative emotion is a crack Xapar can slip through. A blessed one has no such cracks. Xapar could make no use of Elizabeth and in fact would have found her golden light uncomfortable.”

Isobel followed him through the dining room and stopped. Lightning flashed and the old woman appeared by the French doors that led to the deck with a vial of blood in her hand. “Sanctum inveni virum.” Then she was gone.

Isobel froze. “Did you see her?”

“Who?” Damien turned and frowned.

“The old woman with the vial of blood in her hand.” Isobel stared at the empty spot where the woman had been. The dream of her as a young girl watching the woman collect blood from the beheaded man came back to her. “I saw her in a dream collecting blood into vials from…” Isobel looked at him, stunned.

Damien nodded. “Eusebia visits you. What does she say?”

Isobel’s shoulders slumped as she walked into the kitchen. “I have a dead woman showing up in my dining room and you are worried about what she is saying?”

“Isobel.” Damien sighed. “She wouldn’t come if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. She was laid to rest centuries ago.”

Isobel threw her hands in the air and began pacing. “She keeps saying the same thing in another language. I don’t know what it means.”

“Tell me what she said.”

She rolled her eyes hoping she could say it right. “Sanctum inveni virum.”

“Latin. She is saying, ‘Find the saint.’”

“Find the saint? As if that makes any sense. I’m assuming she means Januarius, but unless his ghost is wandering around here too, I don’t see how I can do that.” She ran her hands through her hair in frustration. “What am I supposed to do? Fly to Italy, go to this church, and tell the priest I need to speak with the patron saint of their city’s bones?”

Damien watched her pace. “It makes perfect sense. That night in 1456 you had a vial of blood in your hand. A vial kept by a priest at the church. You were going to use it to pull Xapar from the window and to aid in the banishing. Not something that is usually needed, but in this case because of the way Januarius and Eusebia sealed him, it was necessary.”

Isobel stopped and stared out the window at the narrow bridge that led to the dock. She remembered the priest’s warm hand around hers: “I have it. The blood is safe.”

“I remember.” She turned around to face him. “Where did the vial go from there? Or is it still in Italy?”

Damien paced. “I don’t know, but it’s an answer we’re going to have to find in order to end this.”

“Eusebia!” Isobel looked around the room. “Get back here and tell me something useful!”

Damien chuckled. “It doesn’t work that way, meae deliciae. Spirits can’t just sit down and hold a conversation with you. There is a veil; only some of what they wish to say comes through. Even their intentions can’t come through fully, which is a good thing or malicious hauntings would be much worse than they already are.”

“My malicious haunting can do plenty,” she mumbled.

“Yours isn’t a haunting. There is a vast difference between a malicious spirit and a demon, especially an upper level demon like Xapar.” His kissed the top of her head.

Isobel pulled away. “So how do we find the priest with the blood? He could be anywhere. The vial could have been destroyed at some point over the years.”

Damien leaned against the counter. “Eusebia wouldn’t expend the energy to tell you to find the saint if the blood was gone.”

“Isobel, you are mine,” the house whispered. Isobel closed her eyes as the evil in the voice slid through her mind making her feel tainted.

Damien felt the spike of energy. He pushed away from the counter and put his arms around her. He couldn’t hold his power constantly; it would drain him of strength and Xapar knew it. They needed to find the blood.

Isobel leaned into his warm strength as dark laughter wafted through her mind, and a feeling of hopelessness washed through her. They would never find the blood; there was no way to know where it had gone over the centuries. Now why was she thinking like that? It wasn’t like her. “What happens if the seal breaks?”

“It won’t break enough for his form to be free of the window and move into people. Only your death by his hand will do that, but he will be able to reach far and his power will be terrible,” Damien answered.

“What will we do?” Isobel asked, afraid to hear the answer.

“We will fight him and likely lose. Unfortunately, without the blood he can’t be pulled from the window and banished.” That wasn’t exactly true. There was another way, but it would mean Isobel’s death. He wasn’t willing to explore that path yet, not while there was hope for a different one.

“If I’m so powerful, why can’t I just create a new seal?” Isobel closed her eyes as the voice whispered her name again.

Damien tightened his arms around her when he felt her tense, knowing Xapar was trying his best to toy with her. “Another seal would weaken over time. And a seal like that isn’t easily made. Eusebia could not have done it without the power of Januarius’ blood, made stronger by his sacrifice. Sacrificing your life for another or as in the case of Januarius, many others, concentrates the energy. The level of power being used by the vessel of the energy could have killed Xapar outright, but it can only be gained through death.”

“A lot of good it did for him to gain that kind of energy. Seems unfair to bestow it at a time when it can’t be used,” Isobel said.

“If Januarius had bled out from a sword or spear wound there would have been a single flash in time he could have used it, which is probably why Xapar had him beheaded when he realized the power Januarius would have.” Damien bent to brush her forehead with a kiss. “There are times when it’s worth it. Your mother made that choice.”

Isobel looked at him, startled. “What do you know of my mother?”

“Everyone like you is given a dark angel to help shield them when the demon becomes too much. Dark angels also protect their channels from lower level demons that will try and take them out while they are distracted by an upper level demon. Dark angels can banish the lower and mid levels. Aiden was your mother’s dark angel.” Damien’s voice grew quiet. “My powers were emerging the night your mother confronted the demon. It’s a time when every memory the angel has ever acquired floods them all at once. It’s also when our wings come to us, which can be…uncomfortable. It isn’t a time to leave a new angel alone; we are completely defenseless in that moment and easy prey for demons of any level that can get close enough.”

“So that’s why Aiden seemed so familiar and why my mother wrote in her diary that she couldn’t wait for others to come,” Isobel said sadly.

Damien nodded. “Aiden told her to wait, but the demon was getting too close to you. If they could have captured you before your powers surfaced, it would have been easy enough to drag you to the warehouse and force you to touch the window thereby allowing Xapar to kill you and break free. Rihanna knew the demon was too strong for her to banish alone. The rush of power as she died for you gave her the strength.”

A deep sadness crept over Isobel. Damien had died for her numerous times over the centuries. Her mother had given her life for the same reason. Could she be like her mother if the need arose? She wished she could just leave and forget all of this.

The energy in the house climbed higher.

Isobel. I have a present for you,” Xapar whispered through her mind. “A gift to remind you of the consequences the next time you think of running.”

Isobel tightened her hold on Damien and closed her eyes trying to shut it out. Damien rubbed the back of her neck with his fingers. “He’s speaking to you again.”

She nodded.

“What is he saying?” Xapar was doing his best to influence her even without her touching the window. He was getting far too strong.

Isobel pulled away and dug her hands into her hair. “Usually he calls my name and says that I’m his.”

Damien’s jaw tightened. Like hell she was Xapar’s. “Usually?”

“This time he’s claiming he has a present for me.” Isobel dropped her hands. “I wish he would just shut up. I can feel his evil in my mind when he speaks to me. It feels like he’s leaving bits of darkness each time he does it.”

“You could block him out easier if you would embrace your power,” Damien said, trying to gently steer her in the direction she needed to go.

Isobel shook her head and took a step back from him. “I can’t. I know I’m going to have to, but I just can’t. I’m so conditioned to blocking it and the fear is so strong when I think about it… I don’t have any idea how to even reach it.”

Damien watched the fear flicker over her face. Maybe it was time to bring another channel. Someone who could help her get past the fear and learn to embrace it. Someone who could teach her to use it.

The wail of sirens cut through the silence that hung between them. Isobel walked into the living room, curious. In the years she had lived there, she’d never heard sirens in her neighborhood. Through the screen of shrubs and trees, flashes of red and blue light flickered across the front windows. Her stomach started to churn, and a horrible feeling crept over her.

Isobel crossed the foyer and walked out onto the front porch with Damien behind her. The sirens had quieted, but the lights still flashed bright against the dark day and the misty rain that still drizzled down.

Several police cars and two ambulances were parked on the curve in the road and in the driveway across from Damien’s house. They were at the Marshall’s, a couple in their fifties. Had one of them had a heart attack? Why the police cars then? Isobel ran into the rain compelled forward. Sinister whispers in her mind told her it wasn’t a heart attack.

Isobel jogged down the long driveway in her bare feet. The road was blocked by emergency vehicles. Within minutes news vans clogged the street. More neighbors wandered down the road, drawn by the enigma of the sirens in their neighborhood and the yellow crime scene tape going up.

Isobel tried to push through the milling reporters and cameramen only to be stopped by an officer. “I’m sorry, ma’am. You can’t come any closer.”

Damien’s hand closed around her wrist as he leaned down to whisper in her ear, “We might as well go back.”

Reluctantly she followed him back to the house; the rain picked back up soaking her hair and clothes. As soon as they were inside a heavy knock at the door drew their attention. Isobel opened the door, and a reporter immediately began asking if she had heard gunshots earlier.

Damien drew her back from the door and fixed the reporter with a stony look. “We heard nothing. Leave.” He swung the door shut in the reporter’s face.

Isobel massaged her temples. “The early news will be on soon. I want to see what happened.”

Damien rubbed her arms as they stood dripping in the foyer. “You have time to change into something dry. It won’t do anybody any good to stand around until you get ill.”

Isobel rolled her eyes even as dread coiled like a snake in her heart. “People don’t get sick from being in the rain. And if they could, I suppose I could say the same of you.”

Damien shook his head. “Angels don’t get ill. It won’t take you that long.” Isobel changed quickly into dry clothes before making her way to the living room where Damien already had the TV on.

The top story on the news was the murder/suicide on the affluent island. Fifty-six year old Robert Marshall had bludgeoned his wife Maria to death before shooting himself in the head. Isobel hit the mute button and looked away from the images of her own neighborhood on the screen.

“My present, sweet Isobel,” Xapar whispered in her mind. “I will take them all out one by one. You cannot find the vial—it is long gone. The longer you resist me the more people I will take from you. My reach is much stronger than your precious dark angel could imagine.”

A wave of nausea rolled over her. Xapar had killed them because of her.

Damien watched her face pale and her hands start to shake. “Isobel?”

“He killed them because of me. That was his present.” A tear rolled down her cheek. She hadn’t known the Marshall’s, only their names. It didn’t matter. She was responsible for the violent deaths of two people. Grief for the senseless loss of life filled her.

“This isn’t your fault, Isobel.” Damien shifted closer to her and pulled her into his arms, a small thread of worry working its way into his heart. Negative emotions would only give Xapar more leverage. The demon fed on her fear and remorse then turned the emotions back on her in a vicious cycle. The last time Isobel had faced Xapar the demon had been held securely in the window with no chance of reaching out. This was the first time she’d been exposed to this level of evil. If the demon could reach across the street to people who had never touched the window, how much more damage could he do before the blood was found?

Isobel said nothing.

That night, Xapar whispered to her constantly. Finally, somewhere in the early morning, Isobel gave up on sleep and slid quietly out of the bed. She started for the bathroom then slowed to a stop. Dark red footprints smeared across the pale carpet in the semi-darkness and disappeared under the bathroom door.

The shadows in the room coalesced and the air grew thick with malice. Isobel’s heart raced and her breath came in shallow gasps as she crept toward the bathroom. She reached out and hesitated; her shaking fingers a mere inch from the wooden surface. Isobel stared at the unlatched door as she pushed it open.

Blood flooded the entire floor. Maria Marshall stood in the center; her face battered and her skull crushed on one side. Isobel’s heart jackhammered in her chest and her throat constricted until she could barely gasp. Maria’s brown eyes were wild as she pointed at Isobel. The finger was bent at the wrong angle and a piece of bone poked through the skin. “You did this to me! You killed me!” Maria cried through her broken teeth. Her shrieks filled the small space as she stalked toward Isobel. “It’s your fault.”

Terror ripped through Isobel as one of Maria’s cold hands clamped over her arm. It held her for a moment before turning dark and smoky. Then Maria’s entire form turned into a large, smoky figure that released her and suddenly disappeared like a shadow through the wall.

Xapar’s laughter echoed around Isobel, in the air, in her head.

“Isobel, breathe.” Damien’s voice was an ocean of calm in her ear. “There is nothing there. It’s Xapar playing with your mind.” His arms went around her gently as white light flooded the area around them. Isobel sucked in a hitched breath, then another and another. No matter how fast she pulled in air she couldn’t seem to get enough.

Damien let his power flow around them while he tried to calm her. “Isobel, slow down. Try to take a deep breath.” She gasped in a gulp of air. “Now, let it out as slow as you can.” It took several long minutes to get her breathing under control.

He turned her in his arms and brushed the hair away from her face with gentle hands. Damien stared directly into her wide and frightened eyes. “It wasn’t real. Whatever you saw it wasn’t real.”

Isobel shook her head. “It was real.” She dragged another gulp of air in. “She grabbed my arm.”

“Who?”

“Maria Marshall. She was in the bathroom. Her head was crushed.” Isobel’s body shook all over as fear drove more adrenaline through her veins. “She screamed that it was my fault and then she grabbed my arm.” Her voice raised as hysteria took hold of her. “I felt it! I can still feel it!”

Isobel clawed wildly at her arm. Damien captured her hands and drew her arm up. Bright red fingerprints marred the skin like a sunburn. Not the ghost of Maria, a weak demon from the lowest level. Coward hadn’t even stuck around to be banished. What the hell had it been doing here? Uneasiness settled deep in his gut.

Damien sat on the bed pulling Isobel into his lap and holding her close. She was quiet. Too quiet. Keeping one arm around her, he reached for his phone and scanned through his contact list tapping the one he wanted when he reached it.

“Damien, how are things going?” Lucian asked.

“I’m going to need some help.”

Lucian’s voice grew serious. “What’s happening?”

“Xapar is getting in Isobel’s mind even though I’m sure she never touched the window. I’m getting worried.”

“Sounds like the bastard is getting loose. The seal must be nearly gone.”

“I’ve repaired it several times, but there is only so much a dark angel can do. The more it weakens, the stronger he gets. The stronger he gets, the more it weakens.”

Lucian was silent for long moment. “You are sure she never touched it?”

“Absolutely. I would have known if she had.”

“How close has she come to it?”

“Too close. The last time he lured her there. She came so close to touching it…like I said, too close.”

“He lured her? He shouldn’t be that strong, Damien, even with the seal breaking. Not with her power.”

Damien glanced down as Isobel. Silent tears rolled down her face as she stared toward the bathroom. “She can’t embrace it yet. There is more.”

“More?”

“He’s reaching well beyond the window to people who never came near it. The couple across the road are dead because of him. And just a minute ago a low level demon showed up. But he couldn’t have made her see what she saw. He had to work with Xapar for that.”

“Damn, he’s finally strong enough and free enough to contact other demons,” Lucian said. Silence filled the line. Damien wondered if the call had been dropped and then Lucian spoke. “I can be there in a few days. There’s someone I’m going to stop and pick up. I think she’ll be able to help with both Isobel and the demon.”

Isobel pushed against him as she slowly stood up and walked back to the bathroom and turned on the light. He watched her carefully as he asked Lucian, “Who?”

“Isaac’s charge. She’s a powerful one. Not like Isobel will be once she embraces it, but strong all the same.”

Damien nodded. “She needs someone like that. I was planning on calling in another channel soon. Thank you, my friend. I’ll see you in a few days.”

“See you.” Lucian paused then said, “And Damien, watch her like a hawk. If Xapar is getting that strong and he’s putting things into her mind there’s no guessing what she’ll do.”

Damien stared at the bathroom doorway. “I know.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, no longer than a week.”

Damien walked toward the bathroom. Isobel stood in front of the mirror staring at it. He leaned against the doorway and appraised her. Though her eyes were still red the tears had stopped. “Do you need more time?”

Isobel shook her head. Damien took her hand and tugged gently, noticing the fingerprints on her arm still stood out against her pale skin. “Why don’t we go downstairs?”

She followed him, letting him lead her without protest. In her mind, darkness reigned. Maria stood in the blood and accused her over and over.

The days passed in a fog. Damien pushed food at her that she barely touched. Xapar never ceased the whispering in her mind. He never gave her a moment of relief. Damien watching her with a mixture of worry and wariness didn’t help. She knew he could block Xapar, but she said nothing to him about the whispers. She knew it took a lot of energy to do that, and she didn’t want him wearing himself down and becoming vulnerable to the demon. Damien had died enough times for her.

Instead, Isobel tried to battle the whispers on her own. She tried to open herself to the power. The few times she’d felt it before it had been accidental. She didn’t know what to do to bring it forward on purpose. Once or twice Isobel thought she almost had it until her conditioned fear rose up to block it. Isobel gave no outward indication of the menacing whispers that filled her head or her struggle and tried to function as best she could through the dark cloud of emotions that were trying to drown her.

For the next three days Damien watched her pull further away from him and silently slip deeper into the dark places in her mind. He did what repairs he could on the window and watched for signs that Xapar was pulling something like he had with Maria and the bathroom. The energy in the house remained at a constant level—low enough that he couldn’t be sure if her drawing away was due to Xapar or what had happened with the Marshalls.

Isobel wasn’t sleeping well even when his powers were flowing. Damien could block Xapar from getting into her mind while he held his powers, but he couldn’t block the images her own mind came up with. And though dark angels didn’t need to sleep like humans he still needed about three hours. Three hours that left her vulnerable.

Four days after Maria had accused Isobel of killing her, Isobel sat on the sectional in the family room. Damien stretched out on the other end grabbing the short hours of sleep he only seemed to need, his bare chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The television flickered with images she paid no attention to. Isobel got up and started toward the kitchen for a drink. Specks of blood across the carpet made her pause. They led past the cat door and into the dining room. Isobel followed them to the large, ferny plant in the corner and knelt down.

Sorsha lay next to the plant, her fur mangled, and blood smeared across her white paws. Tears sprang in Isobel’s eyes as she reached for the cat; a sob catching in her throat. Sorsha was cold and stiff.

“I told you I would take everyone from you. Including that dark angel of yours.”

Cold laughter followed as she ran back toward the family room needing to warn Damien. His body lay sprawled on the carpet. His head rolled across the floor and bumped wetly into her foot. A scream ripped from her throat as she backed away into the dining room and tripped, falling over backwards, the air knocked from her lungs when she hit the floor.

Gasping, she rolled to her side. Elizabeth’s dead eyes stared back. “You did this Isobel. You’re pathetic and weak. And now you’ve killed us all.”

Isobel scrambled to her feet with a strangled cry. The demon rose up from the other side of the couch, a massive, smoky apparition that towered over her. “You are nothing, and now I am free.”

Stark terror ran thick in her veins as she bolted for the front door of the house. Her father lay in a crimson puddle in the foyer. His bloody eye sockets glared accusingly. Isobel choked and ran around him, her foot slipping in the warm, sticky liquid coating the floor. She yanked open the door and Amelia’s lifeless body hung from a rope on the porch, her mouth hanging open.

Isobel froze. The demon grabbed her and pulled her back into the house as images of fire and torture filled her mind. With a shriek she fought him with the strength born of too much adrenaline. He struggled to hold onto her and when Isobel managed to break free she ran for the bathroom in the foyer, slamming the door and locking it. The doorknob rattled as she lunged for the toilet and her stomach heaved.

“They are all dead because of you. Isobel, you are mine. There is no one left to help you.”

Isobel wiped her face and yanked open the cabinet under the sink. They were all gone. All dead. Her mind couldn’t take it. Xapar’s whispers filled her head with twisted promises and threats. A veil of shadowy flames fell over her eyes, and she could barely see the bathroom through the images of the fate that awaited her at his hands.

A loud pounding shook the door on its hinges. “Isobel, I’m coming for you.”

Trembling, she yanked open a package of razors. The crushing sorrow of losing everyone and the terror inflicted by Xapar overrode any thought for what she was about to do.

Damien’s eyes snapped open. The energy thrummed at the highest level he had ever felt. He turned his head. Isobel wasn’t on the couch. His heart raced as he leapt to his feet and turned toward the dining room.

Isobel came hurtling around the corner before he could even take a step in that direction. Her face was twisted in grief. Damn. “Isobel?” She slid to a stop and screamed so loud it reverberated around the room. He started toward her as she stumbled back and fell. “Isobel!” He strode toward her. What the hell was Xapar doing to her?

Isobel looked through him, her face washed of all color and pure panic filled her expression. She let out a strangled cry and ran for the front door. Damien charged after her reaching to grab her, but she dodged and he missed. “Isobel, stop!” She yanked open the front door and froze, a choking sound coming from her throat. Damien grabbed her and pulled her back.

She went wild, fighting with strength that surprised him, her eyes wide and feral. Damien struggled to get a hold on her. He tried to shift the tenuous grasp he’d managed when she landed a solid punch against his jaw and broke free running like the fires of the underworld were on her heels.

The bathroom door slammed.

Stunned, Damien followed his heart pounding painfully in his chest. Damn Xapar to the fiery hole he’d crawled out of. Damien tried to twist the handle. It didn’t move. “Isobel.” He really didn’t want to break down the door but he’d tear the whole damn house down if need be. “Isobel, open the door or I’ll break it down.”

The sound of retching answered him. He waited until it grew quiet before pounding his fist against the door. “Isobel! Open the door!”

Her sobs filtered through the wood. The sharp tang of blood reached his nose. Damien grabbed the handle and twisted. The lock popped as he ripped the door from its hinges. Fear coursed through him. She huddled in front of the bathtub, a razor in her right hand. Blood ran down her left arm from wrist to elbow.

Damien lunged forward and grabbed her wrist wrenching the razor from her hand and tossing it in the sink. “Isobel, look at me.”

She tried to scoot away from him but there was nowhere to go. As he reached for her with his other hand she brought her legs up and buried her face against her knees, sobbing and shaking. The absolute terror he’d glimpsed in her eyes in the second before she hid her face brought his wings out, though there was precious little room for them in the cramped space.

Isobel shook as white light flooded the small room.

“Isobel.” Damien’s voice reached her through the darkness in her mind.

The smoky hand on her wrist dissolved into Damien’s. She raised her head and saw his face surrounded by pure white light. It wasn’t possible; Damien was dead. Everyone was dead. The demon was trying to trick her again. She shrank back from him and tried to pull her wrist away. “Please. Just let me die.”

Isobel’s broken plea hit Damien in the chest like a fist and his breath caught at the physical pain the words brought him. She flinched when he reached for her face, but he didn’t stop until his fingers brushed her cheek. “Meae deliciae, look at me. See through what he’s showing you.” The blood running down her other arm alarmed him, there was too much, but he could do nothing until he could talk her down.

Isobel watched him warily, waiting for him to morph back into the demon. The white light surrounded her, it reached inside and drove away some of the darkness. The words he’d used slowly sank through the wild grief.

“Damien?” Her shaky whisper was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. She was coming back to him.

She raised her hand to his face. Shock glistened in her eyes as she saw the blood. “Oh God, what did I do?”

“It’s going to be all right, Isobel.” Damien’s voice was rough, but he was gentle as he took her injured arm in his hands. She stared at his face willing him to really be alive. He closed his eyes, placed one hand over her arm, and whispered something so low she couldn’t make out the words. The light flared until it was so bright Isobel had to close her eyes. The sweetness of it washed through her bringing more tears to her eyes.

When the light faded she opened her eyes again. Blood still smeared her arm, but the injury was gone. A demon wouldn’t heal her. Damien was alive! A quiet cry broke past her lips as he pulled her into his arms.

Damien held her tight and sent a silent thanks to the Higher Powers for allowing him to heal her. He buried his face in her hair and closed his eyes as she wept uncontrollably his heart breaking at the tortured sound.

She murmured something he couldn’t hear. Damien smoothed her hair back from her face and asked softly, “What?”

Her voice was ragged with grief. “They’re all dead.”

“Who, meae deliciae?” He tightened his hold on her, afraid she was slipping away again.

“All of them. Amelia…my dad, Sorsha…” she choked each name out around a sob.

Damien shook his head slightly. So that’s what Xapar had done. “No one is dead. Not even the cat. Xapar made you see things that aren’t real.”

“You…you were dead too. Elizabeth was dead in the dining room, and she told me it was because I’m pathetic and weak.”

“Elizabeth is a blessed one, remember?” She nodded against his chest. “Even if Xapar were completely free to roam the world he couldn’t touch Elizabeth. And she would never say those things to you.”

“Xapar!” He felt her heart leap into a gallop against his arm. “He’s free. I saw him in the family room! He chased me through the house.”

Damien tried to quiet the rage that built in his heart at what Xapar had put her through. “Meae deliciae, I assure you he is not free. What you saw wasn’t real. The only one chasing you through the house was me.” He slid his arm under her legs lifting her with ease as he stood.

She buried her face against his chest as he carried her from the bathroom. “I can’t look at them again.”

“You don’t have to because there is nothing to see.” He left his wings out and his power flowing. It was going to be a test of his strength and energy to see how many hours or days he could hold it at that level.

Damien settled on the couch with Isobel in his lap and held her, afraid to let go. A quiet thwack announced the arrival of the cat. Damien gazed at the long-haired, black and white feline for a long moment knowing it would understand what he wanted. Cats resided in both the real world and the afterlife at the same time, moving seamlessly between them. They saw both sides in the real world as well and communicated easily with both angels and ghosts.

The cat leapt onto the couch and padded over to Isobel, rubbing her face on Isobel’s arm with a loud meow. Isobel looked up and pulled the cat into her lap. “Oh, Sorsha!”

The cat purred as Isobel stroked the long fur over and over. After a long while she looked up at him and her voice quavered when she asked, “None of them are dead?”

Damien shook his head. “Everyone is still alive and right where they should be.” He finally saw some of the horror ebb from her eyes. She nodded and laid her head against him, her cheek damp against his bare skin. He raised one hand and brushed away the strands of hair falling over her face. “Sleep, meae deliciae. You will dream no dreams,” he said with the weight of a command in the words, allowing his power to flow through his fingers and sink into her. She mumbled something incoherent and then her breathing evened out, and he knew she slept. He wished he could have done that for her earlier, but since it took away her freewill it was only allowed under extenuating circumstances.

Damien remained awake holding his powers at full force. Several times he sensed Xapar trying to find his way through the shield of white light that flooded the room. The night crept by, the minutes blending into hours.

Morning came and went and still Isobel slept as he’d commanded and would for some time yet. Damien held on through sheer force of will, knowing Isobel wouldn’t survive another attack on her mind. Even if he managed to keep her alive, she would be driven into insanity.

The morning slid into afternoon. When someone pounded on the front door, Damien didn’t even have the strength to stand, much less answer it. The pounding resumed, then stopped and he heard the click of the latch.

In seconds, Lucian strode into the family room. He took one look at them, uttered an oath and demanded, “How long have you been holding that?”

“It looks like far too long judging by the failing strength of the shield,” Isaac said, walking into the room.

Lucian shook his head. “You have to stop or you’ll kill yourself, and that won’t do either of you any good.”

Damien’s eyelids sagged as he mumbled, “Can’t let it down. He will kill her. Eis quos diligo me devovebo.” I will sacrifice my life.

Isaac leaned forward and put his dark hand on Damien’s shoulder. “You can’t keep this level of energy up. You have to drop the shield.”

Lucian swore again and stripped his shirt off unfurling his own massive black wings. “You’re not sacrificing your life for her right now. You don’t have to. Let it down, Damien. I got this.”

Damien sighed with relief and released the hold on his power. Bright white light flooded the room, strong and true, radiating off Lucian. Damien tried to mumble his thanks but sleep overtook him.

Isobel woke slow and groggy. Light still filled the air around her though she knew it wasn’t sunlight. A heavy arm draped across her middle. She opened her eyes to Damien’s face, slack and pale. “Damien?” She pushed herself up, concern leaping in her chest. Isobel had never seen him look so drained and haggard. “Damien!”

“Shh. Let him sleep. He’s beyond exhausted, the idiot. Though I suppose he didn’t have much choice.”

Isobel whipped her head around at the sound of the strange voice. A man, built like Damien, only with golden hair and tawny eyes stared down at her from where he stood by the windows, his arms crossed over his bare chest. Black wings rose up behind him and the light flowed out from him. A bracelet identical to Damien’s hung on his wrist. “Who are you?”

“My name is Lucian. I’m an old friend of Damien’s. Yours also, but I doubt you remember me yet.”

Isobel ran her fingers lightly down the side of Damien’s face. He didn’t stir even the slightest. “Is he okay?”

“Yes. He will likely sleep until tomorrow and then eat like a starving wolf when he wakes. Would you like to get cleaned up?”

Isobel turned back to Lucian. “What?”

He gestured toward her. “You’re a mess. A friend of yours is here. You might want to clean up before she sees you. It was hard enough to convince her to go to bed without waking you first. If she sees you in that condition it’s only going to upset her more.”

“She? Who’s here?”

“Isaac, another dark angel, is here. He brought his channel, Rose with him. Rose insisted that her granddaughter, Amelia tag along.” A scowl swept over his face. “Stubborn old woman.”

Isobel stared at him as tears pricked her eyes and relief washed through her. Amelia really was alive. “Amelia is here? Where?”

“As I said, after a good deal of arguing we managed to convince both her and Rose to retire for the evening.”

Isobel looked past the light in the room to the window. It was completely dark beyond the panes. “If it’s still night, how can Damien be so drained? It’s only been a few hours.” Confusion tumbled through her mind.

Lucian shook his head. “By the condition Damien was in, I would guess it had been at least a full twenty-four hours, maybe more, by the time we arrived late this afternoon. It’s just after eleven now so you must have needed the sleep as badly as he does now.”

Isobel extracted herself from Damien’s arm, careful not to disturb him. Dried blood caked her arm, shirt, and pants. She closed her eyes as memories of what happened crashed through her mind and she inhaled slowly trying to block them out. When she felt she had her mind reasonably under control, she opened her eyes and looked at Lucian. “What about Xapar?”

He shrugged. “Still trapped in his little prison, although he has made several attempts to move about the house.” A dark chuckle issued from his throat. “He came up against a nasty surprise when he tried to invade the bedroom on this floor where Rose and Amelia are sleeping.”

Isobel raised her eyebrows. “How is that?”

Lucian chuckled again. “Rose is quite powerful in her own right. He hasn’t made a second attempt to breach the room. In fact, he’s been pretty quiet since then. Her ward must have stung pretty good.”

Isobel rubbed her eyes and yawned happy that Xapar had gotten stung by something, especially after what he put her through.

She crossed her arms over her chest and looked uneasily toward the dining room. “I have to go upstairs to my bedroom.”

Lucian nodded. “I will go with you.”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Now she knew why she had trusted Damien so easily when he made that offer so many weeks ago. Though Lucian seemed familiar she wasn’t sure whether or not to trust him.

Lucian shook his head. “Do you want to clean up so you can stop looking like night of the living dead or not? You have nothing to worry about, Isobel. You’re Damien’s.”

Isobel bristled. “He doesn’t own me.”

“Not in the way you are thinking, no.” Lucian smiled. “You are his in the way he is yours. You two are…sodales in aeternum.”

“We’re what?”

“Forever soul mates. Your souls are bound by time. Like I said, you’re Damien’s. The lucky bastard.” He waggled his eyebrows in an overly exaggerated movement.

It brought her a much needed laugh and she loved the sound of forever soul mates. “Come on. You can have a tour of the house of horrors and meet my sadistic window.”

As Lucian followed her through the house flashes of memories of him, always a friend by Damien’s side, flickered through her mind. Isobel remembered him holding one of her hands as she died, and Damien whispered farewell. She glanced at him. “Do you have one?”

“One what?” he asked as they started up the stairs.

“A forever soul mate.” She doubted he would lack in female companionship if he sought it. He was built like Damien and just as handsome, though he didn’t appeal to her that way.

Lucian shook his head and smiled sadly. “Not all of us are so lucky.”

“But there are others who do have them?”

He nodded. “Isaac, the other dark angel here, has Rose. They have followed each other through many lifetimes.”

“So there could be someone for you?” Isobel pressed.

He chuckled low in his chest. “Don’t worry about me, Isobel. I do fine on my own.”

They reached the landing, and Lucian glared at the window. “Damn, the demon is getting strong, isn’t he?”

Isobel couldn’t bring herself to even glance at the window. Darkness tried to push at the edges of her mind but was held back by the white light.

“Pushy too.” Lucian looked at the window. “Keeps trying to get past me now that we’re up here. Hurry and get what you need. You aren’t coming back up here.”

Isobel ran for her room, grabbing one of the empty bags still lying in the corner where she’d thrown it after returning from college. She stuffed clothing into it without hesitating. She wanted away from her room and the upstairs. Lucian seemed surprised when she reappeared so quickly. Isobel kept her eyes averted from the window, determined not to look at it. “I'm ready. Let's go.”

Without waiting for him to respond she pushed past him and dashed down the stairs, her heart pounding. Lucian caught her arm just before she entered the bathroom off the foyer his tawny eyes searching hers. “Are you feeling all right?”

Isobel took a shuddering breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them, Lucian’s brows were drawn down in a worried furrow. She smiled shakily. “I’m fine. Really, I am. Just scared. I can feel him watching me when I’m up there.”

Lucian’s eyes searched hers a moment longer before he released her arm and allowed her to enter the bathroom. He shut the temporary door that one of them must have installed after they arrived. Isobel set the bag on the counter and pulled off the blood-stained clothes. A glance at the floor showed that someone had cleaned up the blood. She shuddered at the thought of what she’d almost done.

Isobel cranked the water as hot as she could stand hoping it would help wash away the feeling of darkness that lingered in her mind. At least the whispers had stopped for now.

After she was clean, on the outside at least, she toweled off and pulled some clothes out of the bag and pulled them on. Isobel grabbed her brush, toothbrush, and toothpaste. She hesitated, staring at the misty mirror, afraid to wipe away the condensation. Afraid what her reflection might do.

Finally, she reached forward and swiped her hand across it a few times, then eyed herself in the mirror warily. Only her normal reflection stared back. Isobel didn’t dare allow herself too much relief. Instead, she pulled the brush through her wet hair then scrubbed her teeth as quick as she could.

Her mind betrayed her by conjuring up the horrible things she’d seen. The bathroom seemed to grow smaller. Isobel grabbed the edge of the sink as a band tightened around her ribs. Terror closed over her and chills shivered through her body. She hadn’t had a panic attack in years unless she counted the one that night when Maria screamed at her. The first one had struck the night her mother died. They had only stopped when Elizabeth came into her life. Elizabeth, who was a blessed one.

Shaking, she sat on the edge of the tub and leaned over as a wave of dizziness struck. Isobel dug her fingers into her hair and struggled to breathe around the pain in her chest. There was nothing to do but wait it out though everything in her screamed to get out. Out of the bathroom, out of the house. Her breath started to come in short, shallow pants as the unreasonable terror gripped her. Maybe not completely unreasonable; she had seen everyone she loved killed. Even if it hadn’t been real, it had felt real, and the images were burned into her psyche with sickening clarity.

Isobel stood and scrambled for the flimsy door fumbling with the latch. Cold sweat broke over her skin. It didn’t matter that some small part of her mind knew what was happening. Fight or flight had taken complete control.

Finally the latch turned, and she yanked the door open dashing past a startled Lucian. He caught her arm in an iron grasp. She looked up at him unable to control the shaking as the house closed around her. “Get me out of the house. I need out. I need the air.”

Lucian’s eyes swept over her, and he gave a quick nod. He hauled her to the front door and pulled it open. Isobel staggered onto the front porch and dropped heavily to the wide boards, wrapping her arms around her middle. The warm, humid night air shifted with a light breeze.

Lucian’s light followed her onto the porch. He knelt beside her. “Isobel, what is it? I know Xapar hasn’t slipped past me.”

“Just give me…a minute.” Isobel stared at the grain of the boards beneath her knees, the wide open night already helping. Slowly, the terror ebbed away and the pain eased.

She dropped her forehead into her shaky hand and practiced the slow, deep breathing Elizabeth had taught her.

Lucian shifted next to her. “What happened?”

“I’m sorry. It was a panic attack.” She rose to her feet with his help. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Worry me...” He said the words as if testing them. “No. More like scared the hell out of me. You do realize what Damien will do to me if harm comes to you on my watch, right?”

Isobel gave him a small apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. Really, I am. I would hate for Damien to be angry with you.”

Lucian shook his head. “Isobel, stop apologizing for something you can’t control.” His face grew serious. “It isn’t just Damien. You don’t have all your memories back yet, but we’ve always been friends. Seeing you like that…well, let me just say that I was far more worried about you than I was for my own skin.”

Isobel stared at him. More memories surfaced of other times where Lucian had always been a close friend to both her and Damien. And then she recognized him as one of the men who had fought alongside Damien when she was burned at the stake. “I remember you.” More memories of him filled her mind, of him and Damien trying to get out of Germany with her.

Lucian smiled. “Your memories will come back with time. I’m glad you’re remembering me now though.”

“I wish they would all just come back.”

“They won’t all come back for you. Those that are necessary for your survival, moments in time where there was strong emotion, that kind of thing. A dark angel gets all of his memories because of what he does. A channel doesn’t need century after century of knowledge just the most important parts. In a sense, channels get to live a more normal human life than dark angels.” He leaned against the doorway. “Don’t worry too much about how long it takes. You will have what you need by the time you need it.”

She turned back to the open front door. The lights inside couldn’t compare to the brightness surrounding her. She glanced up at him. “Aren’t you afraid someone is going to drive by and wonder why you’re glowing?”

Lucian laughed as they stepped back into the house. “Only demons, people such as you, and other angels can see the light.”

Damien still slept like the dead when they reached the family room. She sat on the floor in front of the sectional and reached up to brush a few strands of inky black hair off his face. “I’ve never known him to sleep this long or this heavy.”

Lucian resumed his place by the window. “Dark angels don’t usually need more than two or three hours of sleep.” His eyes rested on Damien. “The level of power he held for as long as he did drained him of almost all his energy. It’s a good thing we arrived when we did or he would have killed himself, which would have left you completely open to Xapar.”

She looked up at him startled. “But he’s an angel. How can that kill him? I thought only beheading could do that.”

Lucian’s expression softened. “The power that we wield is very strong. It is meant to be used in short bursts for the protection of our channels not sustained for a full day or more, especially not the level Damien was holding.”

“What about you?” Enough people had died for her; she didn’t want anyone else to.

“It’s draining me too. Isaac will relieve me in a couple of hours.” He shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Then I’ll probably sleep an hour or so longer than usual and eat like crazy when I wake. We bounce back pretty quickly.” He glanced at Damien again. “Unless we push it too far. Then it takes longer for our strength and energy to return.”

Isobel dozed off and on through the rest of the night. At some point Lucian was gone and in his place was an older man. His black skin and dark eyes a sharp contrast to the white light that rolled off him. His build reminded her of Damien and Lucian, though his face showed a few lines of age. His black wings rose strong and glossy behind him.

She was awake to see the sunrise spreading golden rays into the room that couldn’t compete with the light from Isaac. The older dark angel followed Isobel into the kitchen where she started breakfast. Isaac sat on the far side of the island, his wings filling that end of the room.

Isobel started a pot of coffee then opened the fridge and grabbed out the eggs and bacon. She would have to make a run to the store soon. As she set them on the counter Isaac smiled. “Make plenty. Lucian is going to devour a lot and Damien will likely out eat him. Even I will need to replenish my energy.”

Nodding, she grabbed the pans and began cooking her way through two pounds of bacon. In-between rotating the pans in and out of the oven, she mixed up a large batch of pancakes. As she pulled the first pancake off the griddle, she looked over at the angel who watched her quietly. “Lucian said you and Amelia’s grandmother are soul mates.” The scent of brewing coffee and cooking bacon filled the kitchen.

“Rose.” He nodded, a warm light filling his eyes when he said her name. “We have been through a lot of lives together.”

“Lucian said not everyone gets that. Why?” Isobel flipped another pancake.

Isaac smiled. “Oh they do, eventually. There are a few old souls, like you and Rose that come into this world again and again. There are also new souls being born. A very few of those are destined to come again and become old souls. Lucian will find his as will other dark angels. Love is the greatest gift of the Higher Powers; they won’t deny their dark angels the chance to feel the love that comes with being soul mates. In their infinite wisdom though, they will wait to bestow such a gift until the right soul is born. The one that will be a match for the angel.”

Isobel nodded as she lifted the pancake onto a plate and poured more batter onto the griddle, happy to know that Lucian wasn’t destined to wander the earth alone life after life. “How long have the dark angels been around?”

“Since the first time we were needed. I don’t know exactly how long in years; it has been too many,” Isaac said gently. “Damien, Lucian, Aiden, myself and a handful of others are the oldest, the strongest. We have lived many lifetimes; we get assigned to the strongest channels because they will face the strongest demons.”

“I’m a channel.” Isobel thought of the power inside her that fought for release.

Though it hadn’t been a question, he nodded. “You are.”

She flipped the new pancake then pulled the final pan of bacon from the oven, moving the crisp strips to the pile sitting on a paper towel. “Since the Higher Powers are real does that mean the big bang theory is a bunch of bunk?”

Isaac laughed and shook his head. “Who says it’s bunk because of the Higher Powers? How do you think it went bang in the first place? Dynamite doesn’t explode without some sort of outside help. Why would the universe suddenly do it?”

Isobel thought over her science classes while she continued building a tower of pancakes. After a moment Isaac continued, “This planet formed pretty close to how scientists think it did. However, do you truly think that it’s pure chance that everything happens to be just right to support the kind of life Earth does?” He smiled, his eyes kind. “Or that all the ingredients just happened to be here for so many different forms of life to develop?”

Isobel considered each of the questions. “So the Earth is really millions of years old?”

He gazed up at the ceiling. “More like billions.” He brought his eyes back to hers. “But you must remember the Higher Powers are infinite. Billions of years isn’t so long to them.”

She set the final pancake on the huge stack then started whisking two cartons of eggs up. What he said made sense. Especially when she thought of the things that afflicted people and the many plants that just happened to have the natural compounds to treat many of them. Would pure chance really have done that?

Amelia showed up in the kitchen as Isobel removed the pan of scrambled eggs from the burner. Her friend’s eyes were worried as she crossed the room and threw a tight hug around Isobel. Then she stepped back. Isobel shifted, uncomfortable with the scrutiny as Amelia searched her face. “How are you doing?”

Isobel gave a wry laugh. “You mean other than the fact that I have a demon trapped in my upstairs window that keeps trying to drive me insane and kill me? I’m doing fine.”

Amelia reached out and took her hand, squeezing it, a worried look on her face. “I should have paid more attention to the aura I saw around you the day you left to come home.” She scowled. “And you should have told me. All those texts and phone calls, and you never said a word!”

“You knew what was happening to me,” Isobel shot back. “You knew I was a channel like your grandmother and never said a word.”

“I couldn’t.” Amelia’s expression begged for understanding. “My grandmother forbid it. No one can say anything until you start to remember and accept things on your own. The only loophole is if your life is in immediate danger. If you had called,” she crossed her arms, “and told me what was going on, I would have come sooner.”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Well that plan worked out well, didn’t it? I was worried out of my mind the whole way here.”

An old woman walked into the room with a cane. She wore a loose dress and her short, curly white hair stood out against the deep black of her skin. It seemed at odds with the barely lined face it framed. Amelia turned with a smile. “Isobel, this is my grandmother, Rose. Grandma, this is Isobel.”

Rose stared for a long moment. Long enough that Isobel started to wonder if she had pancake batter on her face. The old woman moved until she stood directly in front of her. “You, child, are going to be a powerful channel.”

Isobel blinked. “How can you tell that?”

“I can see it. You will be stronger than me. My, my, the power that radiates around you. A perfect instrument of the Higher Powers. I can only imagine what it will be like when you embrace it and know how to use it.”

Isobel shook her head as the fear ingrained into her since childhood rose up. “I don’t think I can.”

“Oh yes, you can,” Rose said, her voice strong and sure. She pointed her cane at Isobel. “And you will. I will teach you. Amelia should have trusted her instincts and brought us together sooner. Or that dark angel of yours should have found another like me. It would have made things so much easier for you.” She shook her head and made a clucking sound as she walked to the island and sat down. She fixed her eyes on Isobel again. “No matter. That can’t be undone. I’m here now and you, child, will learn.”

Somehow, Isobel got the feeling she would be doing just as the old woman said. Rose shifted on her chair. “Once I get my breakfast in me I’m going to make a trip upstairs.”

Isaac glanced sharply at her, a worried look in his eyes. Rose met his gaze. “Don’t you give me that look. This demon needs to be taken down a peg or two so I can teach this child without his interference.” She cackled, mirth filling her eyes. “He sure got a surprise last night. Thought he could mess with my mind and Amelia’s. Ha!” Rose slapped her palm on the island top. “Guess he wasn’t expecting me. Thinking he could come after my granddaughter like that. Well he learned good, he did. Didn’t hardly creep down the stairs all night after that.”

Isobel couldn’t help but smile at the feisty old woman sitting in her kitchen. Amelia helped her serve up the plates of food. “So how come you and Amelia can see auras and I can’t?”

“Amelia and I are auras. Different channels have different gifts. If a channel is part of a hereditary line, then they usually inherit one of the gifts of their line.”

“So what is my gift?” Isobel took a sip of orange juice.

Rose smiled. “What do you see?”

“I don’t know.” Isobel shrugged. “I’m not sure I ‘see’ anything.”

“You’ve never seen anything unusual apart from Xapar’s influence?”

Isobel stared at the table for a long time. “I’ve seen ghosts.” She looked at Rose. “Does that count?”

Rose nodded. “You are a spirit. It seems you have inherited your mother’s ability to speak with the spirits of the dead.”

Isobel snorted. “Great. You and Amelia can read auras, and I see dead people.”

“Connecting with spirits is a good gift. Much can be learned from them.”

“What other kinds of gifts are there?”

Rose took a long drink of coffee before answering, “There are empaths which can read the emotions of others, including demons. They are very good at zeroing in on the location of demonic activity. There are also visions, which can see present and future events, and sensors that can sense the location of demons. As you can see, the gifts are varied. There are more, but you have plenty of time to learn about them.”

They had just finished their meal when Damien burst out of the family room, his eyes worried until he found Isobel. She stood up, her pulse jumping a little at the panic in his face.

His shoulders sagged in relief as he entered the kitchen at a more sedate pace and enfolded Isobel in his arms cherishing the feel of her cheek against his bare chest. “When I woke and didn’t see you…” He couldn’t describe the fear he had felt. He looked over at Isaac. “Thank you for coming and for watching over her.”

Isaac smiled. “Of course. Lucian is here too.”

Damien nodded. “I remember, though barely. You arrived just in time.”

Isobel frowned. “You mean Lucian was right? You really came that close?”

“If he’d held that level of power for much longer he would have burned his soul’s energy up.” Isaac grimaced. “It would have killed him.”

Her heart skipped as her chest tightened around it. Isobel reached up to grab Damien’s face in her hands forcing him to look at her. “Don’t you dare do that again! Do you hear me? You are not going to die for me.”

Damien smiled down at her, love softening his incredible blue eyes. “Vita mea pro tua, semper. Meae deliciae.”

He’d said those words to her before; Isobel remembered them. My life for yours, always. My love. “No.” She glared at him. “You will not do that.”

Rose chuckled as she sipped her coffee. “You might as well give up. A dark angel will die for his channel if he has to. Even those not bound to a soul mate. You will sooner move a mountain than convince him his life is worth more than yours. You might as well save your breath, child.”

Damien sagged and sat in one of the chairs feeling the residual weakness from the energy drain. Isaac looked at Isobel. “Get him a plate of food. Sleep has restored his soul’s energy. Now he needs to restore that of his body.”

Isobel quickly piled a plate with pancakes, bacon, toast, and eggs. Then she poured a tall glass of orange juice and set both on the island in front of Damien. He caught her hand and kissed it. “Thank you, meae deliciae.”

She watched in fascination as he ate two full plates of food and drank three more glasses of juice. When he finally sat back the haggard look had left his face and he looked once again like a strong, indestructible angel. Her angel.

Rose stood. “Well, I think it’s about time I have a chat with this demon.”

Isaac rose smoothly and gently took her elbow. “I am still uneasy with you doing this.”

Rose snorted. “That demon wanted a piece of my mind, and I’m going to make sure he gets it. I doubt it’s going to be how he wanted it though.”

Isobel followed them through the house with Damien behind her. Both men had their wings out and their combined light was like a miniature sun brought to Earth. She stumbled slightly on her way up the stairs; it was hard to see through squinted eyes.

Rose glanced back. “Once you embrace your power, child, the light will be far more bearable to your eyes.”

Isobel said nothing. Uncertainty and anxiety still filled her at the thought of letting in what had killed Rihanna. When they reached the landing, dark energy retreated before the light of the two angels. Isobel thought it also shrank back from the old woman who planted herself in front of the window.

Rose pointed her cane at it. “You’re a mean one, you are. Thought you could just traipse your evil essence down the stairs and attack me, attack my granddaughter. Well I got news for you, buddy. You picked a fight with the wrong channel. You’re going to sit here in the window and leave people alone for a while. I’m going to make sure of that.”

The evil in the window seemed to swell, and Rose shook her head. “Oh no you don’t.”

She closed her eyes and chanted in a low voice. A different, golden-white energy filled the room and seeped into the walls. The black veins of shadow that had spread across the entire landing contracted and pulled back until they radiated only a few inches from the window.

After a long time the new energy faded, and Rose leaned on Isaac. “That should do for now. He might still slip out in little bits here and there, but not with the power he has been. I’m no Eusebia. I can’t do what she did although I can see it, frayed and cracked as it is. Though the demon will eventually break past my wards, we should have a few weeks of relative peace with only minor annoyances.” She turned and fixed her dark eyes on Isobel. “Which gives us time to work, child. You were meant to take down demons like this, but you can’t do anything without learning to embrace your power. Come,” Rose moved toward the stairs, “we might as well get started.”

They settled back in the family room since Isobel was more comfortable there. It was as far from the window as she could get while in the house. Rose settled at the far end of the sectional then glanced up at Damien and Isaac as Sorsha climbed into her lap with a purr. “You can drop your shields now. Take a break for a while.”

The bright sunlight outside seemed pale and dim after the light from the two angels. Isobel suppressed the uneasy feeling in her gut. “Can’t we go to Damien’s house? It’s just next door.”

Rose shook her head. “I wish we could, child. The magic I worked on the window requires that I remain close. Even a short distance such as Damien’s house would make the wards fail. Until we can get this under control, I must remain on the property.”

Amelia settled on a cushion near Isobel. “Now,” Rose pinned Isobel with her dark, determined eyes, “the first thing you are going to do is rid yourself of the fear.”

Isobel laughed softly. “If it was that easy don’t you think I would have done it already? Rihanna died because of this. I lost my mother at the age of twelve to her power.”

Rose pursed her lips and nodded. “So you did, but it was her choice to pull that much power. The demon she faced was much stronger than her. In the end that much power combined with her dying gave her what she needed to save your life. You are much stronger than your mother.”

“You knew my mother?” Isobel asked, surprised.

“Channels have a way of finding each other as we move about life.” Rose glanced at Amelia. “After all my granddaughter found you, didn’t she?”

Isobel looked at her friend. “You’re a channel?”

Amelia smiled. “I told you I had gifts.”

“Who is your dark angel?”

Her friend shook her head. “I don’t have one yet. Isaac watches over both my grandmother and me.”

Rose nodded. “Amelia is a new soul. I’m sure a dark angel will be assigned to her soon.” She shifted slightly in her seat. “Now back to you. As you can see, a channel can live to a ripe old age. There is no need to fear as you do. If your mother had been able to wait for Aiden or even for a free agent to arrive she would still be alive.”

“A free agent?”

“A dark angel that doesn’t have any one assignment and instead goes where he is needed most—like Lucian. Now, pay attention. You’re going to close your eyes and try to relax.”

Isobel obediently closed her eyes while Rose instructed her in relaxation techniques. She sensed Amelia doing the same.

Damien watched the three of them thankful Rose had come. He should have brought an experienced channel sooner. If he had realized how hard it would be to get Isobel to embrace her power he would have. This was the first time in all of their lives together that she hadn’t welcomed it.

The morning wore on as Rose coached the younger women her voice strong and commanding. Damien and Isaac left the room when a disheveled Lucian wandered out of the master bedroom. They joined him in the kitchen as he piled food on a plate and sat in companionable silence while he wolfed it down.

Lucian filled another plate and walked back to the island. “So, tell us what happened. You looked like hell when we got here.”

While his friend worked his way through the remainder of the breakfast food, Damien told them how Xapar had attacked and nearly driven Isobel to suicide. Lucian shook his head. “That was a little too close, Damien.”

Damien ran a hand through his hair. “I know. I’ve lost her to humans and natural disasters but never to a demon. I don’t intend to start now.” He looked over at Isaac. “We need to find that vial of Saint Januarius’ blood. The one the priest saved during the earthquake in Naples.”

Both of them fell silent, lost in thought. Isaac was the first to shake his head. “I have no idea. It was in Italy in the 1940s. I have no idea where it went in the chaos of the time or which priests it would have been entrusted to over the years.”

“I don’t know either,” Lucian said. “We can start making calls though. I’m sure one of our brotherhood knows since it’s a rather important object.”

“It’s a start.” Damien sighed. “I hope it doesn’t take too long to track down.”

Isaac frowned. “At least Rose was able to buy us some time. Even if we had the vial right now Isobel couldn’t use it. Not until she embraces her power and learns what to do with it.”

The sun climbed to its peak and then began its descent and still Rose drove Isobel on. Lucian left briefly and came back with bags filled with hamburgers and French fries. Rose only paused in her instruction long enough so they could eat before pushing Isobel back to the task at hand with Amelia helping along as support.

The next week passed in the exact same manner. Damien smiled on the third day when Isobel turned to him with a look of wonder. Her power flowed around her in a beautiful halo of golden-white color. Once Isobel could embrace it at will, Rose pushed her to use it.

Damien and the men who were like brothers to him spent the time getting in touch with various dark angels around the world. Unfortunately, it seemed the location of the vial was a well-kept secret.

Each night, Isobel dragged herself up to her bedroom thankful to Rose for what she had done to the window that allowed her to return. Now that she had embraced her powers and her memories were returning the reoccurring nightmares had stopped. Every night she collapsed and the refreshing sleep she desperately needed helped her grow stronger.

Damien refused to leave her alone upstairs and slept by her side making sure she was safe. If Xapar broke through he would reach her easier in her room. There was only one downstairs bedroom, and they couldn’t all sleep in it so they spread out everywhere. Amelia took the family room while Isaac and Rose occupied Isobel’s parents’ room. Lucian slept on the sofa in the formal dining room usually with the cat curled up on his chest.

Another two weeks passed before Xapar managed to break a small crack in Rose’s work.

Isobel felt it first. She woke in the middle of the night with Xapar’s whispers filling her mind again. Immediately, she embraced her power and felt it flood her almost drowning it all out.

Though she was glad to have some defense, Isobel immediately saw the limits. She was limited in how long she could hold her power just like the dark angels. She stared up at the ceiling while Damien’s chest rose and fell steadily in sleep. Isobel turned so she could gaze at his face, drawing comfort from it though she refused to wake him. He only slept for short periods as it was.

She sensed Xapar change his course of action. His evil presence slipped downstairs. Although Rose was down there, Isobel still felt uneasy. Xapar was trying something new; she felt it. What if he went after Amelia? Although she was a channel as well, Isobel knew what Xapar was capable of and her friend didn’t.

Isobel rose quietly and walked out onto the landing. The window pulsed with malignant light. Surrounded by her power Isobel felt no fear of Xapar. She descended the stairs quietly sensing the shadows that slid over the wall. Something else was there besides Xapar.

The dark and quiet house seemed to hunch around her. Isobel crept through the foyer and into the dining room. A quick glance told her whatever was in her house wasn’t in the kitchen. She turned toward the family room. Dark energy oozed through the doorway; it crawled across the walls and crept along the floor. It wasn’t as strong as Xapar’s.

Isobel’s heart leapt in her chest. Amelia! She ran into the family room and skidded to a halt, a cry catching in her throat. A tall, bulky figure bent over the couch, one smoky hand reaching for her friend.

“No!” The demon jerked away as Isobel threw herself over the couch hitting its chest and taking them both to the carpet. Isobel barely noticed Amelia’s cry of alarm. The demon had Isobel’s full attention as she grappled with it. Though her power flowed through her she wasn’t sure what to do with it. A shadowy hand closed around her throat. She curled her legs up and kicked out. It grunted and the hold on her loosened. Bright, white light flooded the room. A gust of air blew over her, and the demon was thrown backward. Damien crashed into the shadowy figure and knocked it to the floor.

Isobel nearly jumped out of her skin when Lucian’s hand closed around her wrist and hauled her to her feet. His wings were out and his light shining. He pulled her back until she stood beside him near the wall. Lucian forced her chin up and looked at her neck. He swore softly, his tawny eyes angry and tense.

Damien flipped the bracelet off his wrist and begin holding up various religious symbols. The Star of David, a pentagram, the nine-pointed star of Bahai, the Wheel of Dharma, the Aum of Hinduism, the star and crescent of Islam. There were several symbols left but when the thing shrieked at the sight of the cross Damien pressed it against the shadow. Latin rolled off his tongue so fast Isobel couldn’t catch the words. The figure thrashed on the floor, but Damien’s muscles bulged and he held it pinned.

With a final command Damien leapt away. The shadow thing screamed. The horrible sound cut through Isobel, and she covered her ears. It shriveled and shrank, disappearing as its shriek faded.

Lucian let go of Isobel and glanced at Amelia. “You all right?”

“Yes,” Amelia whispered.

Lucian nodded and folded his wings.

Damien stood for a long moment, still and silent. He could count the times he’d been filled with so much anger and fear and each time had ended with Isobel’s death. But never had he been angry with her. He lifted his eyes and stared at her. “Did he hurt you?” his voice was quiet with restrained fury.

Isobel stared at the spot on the carpet where the shadow thing had disappeared.

“Isobel!” Anger made his voice rough. She started and raised her eyes to his. “Did he hurt you?”

Isobel shook her head. “Not really.”

It wasn’t the truth. Even from across the darkened room he could see the red and bruised prints on her neck from the demon’s hand. “What the hell were you thinking? You will never, ever do something like that again!” He hadn’t meant to shout at her, but he only had a tenuous hold on his emotions. Damien slid the bracelet back onto his wrist, the gold stretching easily over his hand then becoming snug again as he started toward her. When he reached Isobel he put his arms around her. He concentrated on calming the terror that had torn through him at the sight of her trying to physically overpower a demon. “You will wake me the next time you feel something wrong in this house.”

She raised her face. “Was that a—”

“A lower level demon. Probably here at the bidding of Xapar. Looks like he’s trying other ways to get what he wants,” Damien’s voice was low and tense.

Isobel shivered. “What else does he want besides out of the window?”

“You—alone—where he can get to you. Looks like he’s enlisting help to get rid of Amelia and Rose.” Damien’s voice was grim. He gripped her chin and turned her head to the side his eyes on her neck. “Damn him. If I could bring him back just so I could banish him again, I would. Don’t ever do that again.”

“I…” Isobel swallowed. “I should have done something more. I’m sorry.”

Damien shook his head. “Yes. You should have woke me before investigating.”

“No. I meant I should have banished it or something. Isn’t that what I’m here for?”

“No, it isn’t.” He let go of her and crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Lower and mid-level demons are what dark angels are for. That and protecting channels. You are here to take out upper level demons. A channel should never take chances with lesser demons unless there is no other choice. And,” he pointed a finger at her, “you never try to fight any of them physically. You don’t have that kind of strength, only dark angels have that. You take out demons with your power.”

Isobel had never seen Damien angry with her before. The blue of his eyes had deepened and his dark brows were drawn down together. He looked like an avenging angel with his wings still out. She looked away. Lucian leaned casually against the wall though she saw in his eyes that he agreed with Damien.

“It wasn’t like I knew that.” Anger and frustration welled up in her. Isobel propped her hands on her hips and glared at Damien. “I’ve never seen a real demon before, at least not in this life. I couldn’t just let it attack Amelia. I’ll admit it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but I had to stop it. What did you expect me to do?”

“I expect you to alert me,” he growled.

“Don’t you growl at me like that.” Her face flushed with anger. “I may not have made the best decision tonight, but that doesn’t give you a right to shout at me.”

Damien let his light go and folded his wings, his fury leaching away in the face of her anger. “I know, meae deliciae.”

He tried to embrace her but she pushed him away and stalked toward the kitchen. “Why don’t you stick your wings where the sun doesn’t shine?”

“Isobel.” He followed her.

“Leave me alone, Damien.” Her fear of the demon mixed with the anger and adrenaline pumping through her system. She didn’t want him to be nice to her right then. She wanted to vent her frustrations about the limitations of her power. And just where did he think he got the right to yell at her like that?

Damien caught her in the doorway, his grip on her arm gentle. “You scared me tonight. That demon could have killed you. Even so, I shouldn’t have shouted. I’m sorry.”

Isobel resisted his embrace when his arms went around her, though she’d never been able to hang onto her temper long.

“Please, meae deliciae,” he whispered into her hair. “Forgive my lapse in judgment.”

She laid her head against his chest feeling the last of her anger burn out though a prickle of irritation remained. She returned his embrace briefly before stepping away. “If I could stay mad longer I would. Since I can’t, I suppose you are forgiven.”

Isaac and Rose rushed past them to the couch. Isaac looked grim and Rose frightened. “Amelia, baby, are you okay?”

Amelia nodded, though the incident had clearly shaken her. Isaac pulled Amelia into a hug while Rose’s eyes swept over her granddaughter to make sure she wasn’t hurt.

Damien raked a hand through his hair. “We will need to be extra vigilant if Xapar is going to start calling in lesser demons.”

Lucian nodded. “I will start camping out on the floor in here when need be.”

Isaac frowned. “I wish we were having more luck with locating the vial.”

“I do too.” Damien walked out of the family room and into the kitchen. The clock on the microwave read 3:14 a.m. He took a quick drink of water and turned to Isobel. “You still need sleep. So does Rose.”

“Rose won’t go back to bed until Amelia is asleep and she is sure our granddaughter is safe.” Isaac chuckled as he followed them into the kitchen. “She’s a stubborn woman.”

Isobel understood how Rose felt. She was so keyed up, exhausted, and irritated at the same time her body didn’t know what to do. “I’m not sure I can sleep again after that.”

“You are going to try,” Damien said, catching hold of her hand as he started toward the stairs.

She yanked her hand from his and crossed her arms, a stubborn expression on her face. “Oh I am, am I?”

“Isobel, you look exhausted. I know you are still upset with me, but please, will you try to get some more sleep?”

Isobel stifled a yawn. Maybe she could sleep. It was irrational to try and force herself to stay awake just because she was annoyed. Isobel walked past him to the stairs. “Perhaps I will try to get some more sleep.”

Damien followed her without saying a word. He had a feeling anything he said at that moment would be used against him. Better to just let her cool the rest of the way down on her own. He lay down in the bed with her though he didn’t need to sleep anymore. She snuggled her back up against him. Cautiously, Damien encircled his arm around her waist. When she didn’t push away, he relaxed. Within moments she slipped quietly back into slumber.

Her dreams were anything but restful. Occasionally, Xapar would whisper through them and images of the demon in the family room towered over her. Eusebia appeared several times, each time urging her to find the saint. Isobel couldn’t tell if the woman was impatient or desperate. Sorsha hissed and growled like a feral cat. Her father lay in a puddle of blood, his empty eye sockets dripping.

She woke with a start, sitting up as terror filled her. Cold sweat beaded on her skin as her chest tightened. Her inability to pull anything more than a small sip of air in panicked her further. Her muscles shook and her head swam.

Damien’s hands were warm on her arms, and his blue eyes swam across her vision. “Isobel?”

Light flooded the room. She shook her head. “Not…Xapar…” she gasped out.

The light dimmed but remained. “What is it then? I don’t sense anything else in the house right now.”

“Panic…attack…” The minutes crawled by while she rode the wave of terror.

Damien remained silent, his hands rubbing her back gently. Finally, the band around her chest started to let loose, and she could breathe again. She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her arms on them.

Isobel heaved in a huge breath and let it out as the racing of her heart slowed, and she laid her head on her arms, face turned away from Damien. So much for being the great and wonderful channel that Eusebia had seen so many centuries ago.

Damien’s hand ran down her hair. “Better?”

She nodded but didn’t look at him. He sighed and it sounded frustrated. “Isobel, what’s wrong? Are you still upset with me?”

“No.”

“Then what? Please talk to me.”

“It’s ridiculous. There is nothing to be afraid of and yet my body completely overreacts. I know there is nothing to be frightened of when it’s happening and still I can’t do anything about it.” A tear of frustration spilled down her face.

Damien shifted so he could slide a finger under her chin. The gentle pressure made her look up. His eyes were kind. “You shouldn’t be ashamed.”

Isobel shook her head. “I should be. I’m supposed to be this great hope for getting rid of Xapar and here I sat panicked out of my wits at absolutely nothing. How can I face a demon if I can’t even face nothing?”

Damien leaned forward and kissed her lips softly. His eyes were intense when he locked his gaze on hers. “You will face the demon with all of the courage I know you have in your heart, meae deliciae. The same courage that took you downstairs alone. The same courage that made you try and fight that demon.” He kissed along her jaw line, and she shivered when she felt his warm breath in her ear. “The same courage that made you try and use simple salt and sage to rid your house of Xapar.”

His lips trailed down her neck and across her collarbone. He pulled her close as his mouth came down on hers. She tangled her fingers in his inky black hair and pulled him closer, needing to lose herself in his kiss, to forget the demon and the panic attacks and everything else that was happening even if for only a moment.

Damien’s arms wrapped around her. Isobel lost herself in the taste of him, the scent of his skin, and everything else except him faded away.

Isobel threw herself into learning everything Rose could teach her. Actually seeing and touching a demon made it more real. The bright red fingerprints and dark bruises she’d seen on her throat the morning after brought it all crashing home. It was all real and the danger was growing with each day.

Learning from Rose was a strange experience. It was more like being reminded of things she already knew. Things she didn’t quite remember until they were shown to her. In all of her lives throughout the centuries she’d known how to use her magic. In this life each thing Rose reminded her of removed more bricks from the walls in her memory.

Rose made the trip up the stairs to work on Xapar’s prison again, though it did little good. Isobel could now see the seal and it was frighteningly fragile. Damien, Lucian, and Isaac had no more contacts to call. No one knew where the vial of blood was.

Isobel resigned herself to this fact though the dark angels hadn’t. There was no vial; it had been lost or destroyed over the years. And that was that. Without it, Xapar couldn’t be pulled from the window. When the seal finally failed altogether he might not be able to roam the world in his own form invading whomever he wished, but he would still have tremendous power and could cause untold harm.

Isobel spent a great deal of time thinking about Rihanna during the next couple of weeks. Weeks where the banishing of lower and mid-level demons seemed to happen at least once a day. The more she embraced and worked with her power the less the panic attacks came. She was thankful for that.

One afternoon, after Rose called for a break, Isobel reclined on the chaise lounge on the deck against Damien’s bare chest. The angels rarely bothered with shirts; they needed their wings too often. She wondered what her parents would think if they walked into the house and saw the three shirtless men living there.

Isobel’s mind wandered to Amelia as her friend’s laughter drifted through the closed French doors. She had Isaac’s laugh. “So angels can have children?”

Damien tensed, and she raised her head to look at him. The muscles of his jaw were tight as he nodded. Isobel raised an eyebrow. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not a bad thing. Not always.” He tightened his arm around her. “Children come rarely to angels. It isn’t our purpose here. With channels to protect, demons to fight, and dark angels that need to be raised when they’re born into this world there is enough for us to do.”

“But they do happen?” Isobel asked, wondering what bothered him about the idea.

A small smile touched his lips. “Amelia’s mother is proof of that. Rose and Isaac have been sodales in aeternum since the time of Cleopatra. In all of those centuries and lives, they have born only two children. The first was born in 95 A.D. Somewhere in the world descendants of their souls still likely exist. Our offspring, however, are not very fertile. Amelia’s mother was in her forties when she finally conceived, and Amelia is her only child.”

“Is her mother a channel?”

Damien shook his head. “It usually skips that first generation. Not always, and when it does happen it’s usually only the girls.”

“What about boys?”

“They grow into normal men. Only the Higher Powers can create a dark angel. On extremely rare occasions a boy becomes a channel like Januarius.”

Isobel thought of all of the lives Rose and Isaac had spent childless. “Does it bother Rose and Isaac when they have no children?”

“Considering the risk to a baby being born to a channel and a dark angel, no.”

Isobel searched through her memories, more of which surfaced each day. Memories where she and Damien grew old together. “Have we ever…” her voice trailed away at the pained look on his face.

“Just once.” He stared up at the trees.

“I don’t remember it yet. How could I forget a baby? Being a mother?”

“You never got the chance to be a mother. Or see the baby.” Damien looked at her, and she saw the pain of loss in his eyes. “It was 1237. You died giving birth, and our son joined you in death within moments of his birth.” His jaw tightened again. “If the midwife had called for me, I could have saved you both. But she didn’t. By the time she did it was too late.”

Vague memories of pain and darkness swept through Isobel’s mind. Damien’s voice was quiet when he said, “It isn’t something I care to go through again.”

Isobel laid her head back down hoping that she didn’t have a child in this life. Damien was right, with everything they faced, it wouldn’t be safe. And there was certainly enough to be worried about right now. Like lower level demons working with Xapar.

It was with great trepidation she waited with Rose two weeks later as a dark shadow slid across the yard and into the house. Over the protest of the dark angels, Rose insisted this lower level was for Isobel to banish. The heavy clouds of an approaching storm blotted out the sun and cast the house into dull, murky light.

Isobel could sense the movement of the shadowy figure through the house. With her power embraced even the tiny fibers of the carpet were visible. Rose looked at her and said quietly, “Time to take those training wheels off, Isobel. Remember, you don’t fight him with your hands, only your power.”

“Are you sure saying the words in English will work?” Isobel shifted nervously as she waited for the demon to prowl into the family room.

Rose patted her hand gently. “The angels use Latin because theirs is a different kind of power. They call upon the Higher Powers to help them, and speak the words to banish the demon through the assistance of the Higher Powers. You are a channel. You don’t need to ask for their help. By bestowing the gift of their power to you they have already granted it. The words can be said in any language to focus the power into what you want it do. It’s the energy behind the words that matters.”

As the demon came closer, Rose withdrew to the far side of the room where Damien, Isaac, Lucian, and Amelia stood in the deep shadows. Damien waited, his wings half unfurled, every muscle tense.

Isobel focused on the evil of the sensation as it slid closer. A small knot of nerves tied itself in her stomach. She wasn’t worried about it hurting her. No matter what happened, Damien would protect her. Adrenaline poured through her system making her feel stronger and more courageous than she really was. Isobel reminded herself that she’d done this before many times. Not in this life, but in others. She wouldn’t fail.

The tall, shadowy figure stepped into the family room. It only took a second for it to realize it was a trap. Before it could flee Isobel raised a circle of golden-white light around it. Unable to escape, it tried to charge her, came against the wall of power, and bounced back. The impact sent ripples along her energy.

Ignoring the shrieks of rage that sounded like nails on a chalkboard, Isobel focused on the floor beneath the creature. A design in the same golden-white light flashed on the floor inside the circle. First a cross, then the Star of David, a pentagram—

The shadowy figure screamed. Isobel held that design and focused the rest of her energy at the demon. When she spoke her voice was surprisingly calm and even. “I banish thee. I banish thee back to the pit from which you came. I banish thee from this plane. I banish thee from the world of the living. I banish thee.”

The volume of the scream rose several decibels as it shrank and shriveled until it was no more. As it disappeared, the memory of every demon she’d ever banished came back. Her power thrummed in her veins bringing with it the knowledge of how to use her power to its fullest extent.

Silence filled the house. Slow clapping made her turn as she backed the power down and released it. Damien walked toward her, love and pride shining in his eyes. A smile of intense relief spread over her face and her hands shook with adrenaline. Damien pulled her into a tight hug and whispered, “You did it. Congratulations, meae deliciae.”

Lucian approached with a huge smile on his face. “I knew you could do it.”

“Ha!” Rose poked him with her cane. “You and Damien were the two who argued the strongest against this.”

Thunder rolled over the house as both of them talked over each other listing off reasons why it could have been a terrible idea.

Amelia took hold of Isobel’s trembling hands, her mouth spread in one of her gorgeous smiles. “I told you your gift was coming forward.”

Isobel hugged her friend, thankful she had come with Rose. She watched them all with a twinge of sadness. They felt like family. Her mind wandered to Rihanna, and she knew what she would do when it came time to face Xapar without the vial. Isobel wasn’t sure exactly how to do it, but the way would present itself. It was the only way to protect them all. She prayed quietly to the Higher Powers that they wouldn’t let her courage fail when the time came.

She quietly whispered the words Damien had once spoken to her, “Eis quos diligo me devovebo.” I will sacrifice my life.

Isobel jolted awake as thunder crashed over the house. A strange, soft light filled her bedroom. She rolled over and glanced around. The walls were covered in ghostly writing. “Sanctum inveni virum” was written over and over again. Find the saint. She reached for Damien and found his side of the bed empty. “Damien?”

No answer. Sorsha offered a trilling meow. Isobel pushed back the covers as she sat up. The cat hadn’t set foot upstairs since the window was installed. Isobel slid out of the bed. The door was open, but she didn’t see Damien on the landing. Sorsha meowed quietly again from the doorway. Isobel flipped the light switch. Nothing. The power must be out again. Outside the wind surged and howled. Xapar glowered at her from the crimson center of the window in the flashes of lightning, and dark shadows veined around the window.

Sorsha ran a few steps and paused, looking over her shoulder she meowed again.

The walls of the landing were covered with the same message as was the wall leading to the attic stairs. Isobel walked to them and stared up into the darkness. The words covered the attic door as well. The cat raced up the stairs and sat at the top, gazing back down at Isobel, her eyes half closed. She meowed again. Trailing her fingertips over the wall Isobel climbed the stairs, feeling the words in raised relief.

She opened the attic door. The inside was dark except for the box that contained her mother’s diary. Isobel glanced down at the cat. “Are you joining me?”

Sorsha rubbed up against her leg with another meow then dashed down the stairs.

Isobel stared after the cat then shook her head and walked into the attic. It looked like she was on her own. The glowing words were written on every available space on the box. “What am I supposed to find this time?” she whispered to the empty attic. How much energy had Eusebia used to draw her here?

The words remained as Isobel opened the box. The diary glowed with the same otherworldly light. Isobel picked up the book. She’d been through it already; there was no mention of the saint or his blood. The light around the diary flared and the words sprang up on the walls all around her.

“Okay, okay. I get it. I missed something.” In the glow of the words, Isobel opened the diary and thumbed through the entries scanning them. There was nothing new. She examined the diary itself, sliding her fingers over it. On the inside of the back cover she found a slit just big enough for three fingers. Isobel felt inside and found a small piece of folded paper.

Her hand trembled as she pulled it out and unfolded it. It was the missing page from the diary.

Father Thomas assures me the vial is safe and will be there when Isobel needs it. She is just a baby. I can’t decide if I’m proud or afraid that Isobel is the one to banish the demon when she becomes a young woman. Either way, it is the will of the Higher Powers. Father Thomas felt it the minute he saw her this morning. I hope I’m there to guide her when the time comes. If I’m not, Aiden assures me her dark angel will be ready.

Isobel stared at the page as the words on the wall faded until she stood in darkness. Her mother had known everything. Whoever Father Thomas was, he had known her as a baby. That meant he was in one of two cities. She refolded the paper and slowly felt her way across the attic to the door. It was so dark she couldn’t see anything. Eusebia could have left her ghostly lights on long enough for her to get back. She bumped into a wall and felt along it for the door, pretty certain she was on the wrong wall. Isobel turned and tried another direction unable to see even her hand in front of her face. Where was the lightning when she needed it?

Damien’s panicked voice called through the house carrying up the stairs. She raised her voice and yelled, “I’m up here. I found something!”

She heard the sound of feet running up the stairs from the main floor and caught a glimpse of a flashlight beam. Isobel rolled her eyes; she’d been going the wrong way to get to the door. Figures.

“Where?” Damien’s voice was tight with strain.

“The attic. Shine the light again. I can’t see anything.” The flashlight beam swung back and grew brighter as he ran up the stairs.

“How the hell did you get up here in the dark?” His voice was rough and a storm of emotions raged in his blue eyes. “I went to get a flashlight and when I returned you were gone. I thought Xapar had gotten to you again or another demon attacked. I didn’t know where you were.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I can’t protect you if I can’t find you.”

Isobel stared at him stunned by the outburst. “I called for you, but you didn’t answer.”

“How did you get up here without killing yourself?”

Isobel held the folded page out to him. “Eusebia provided the light to get me here then left me high and dry in the dark.”

He took the page from her and shined the flashlight on it. It only took him a second to read it. Hope flared inside him as he lifted his eyes from the page. “The vial.”

Isobel nodded. “I woke up to ‘find the saint’ written in Latin all over the walls and the attic stairs as if I would have understood what it meant without you.”

Damien glanced back at the paper. “I wonder why she waited so long to show you?”

“Maybe she was waiting for me to be ready. Or finally decided I was too dense to figure it out for myself.” Isobel shrugged, wondering if Eusebia had become frustrated or if she had disapproved of Isobel’s plan should the vial not be found.

“Do you know where this Father Thomas might be?” Damien studied her face, curious what the emotions were that had just flashed across it in the dim, dusty light.

“It says he knew me as a baby. My parents moved to Denver when I was two. So depending on when Rihanna stopped thinking of me as a baby he could either be in Denver or in Wichita where I was born. I was five when we moved to Ohio. I doubt she would have considered me a baby by the time we moved there.”

Damien frowned. Both cities would have to be searched. There would be several Catholic churches in each city. It was a lot to explore. He glanced at Isobel. It would take too long to do it all by car. He would have to scout it first on his own. Damien shined the light toward the stairs leading down from the attic. “Let’s take this downstairs and—”

A heavy ripple of dark energy shimmered over him. Isobel’s eyes grew wide. His wings unfurled and light poured into the attic. He grabbed her hand as shouts drifted up through the house and pulled her down the stairs behind him. They bypassed the landing where Xapar’s malignant light shined with gleeful triumph.

Isobel gasped as they reached the main floor. Dark, smoky shapes moved in the light from Isaac and Lucian. Too many shapes. Damien grabbed a demon as it jumped at her and slammed it back, his bracelet in his hand. The words he spoke were mixed with the words of the other two dark angels as they battled others.

Rose had two golden-white rings up at the same time, a demon trapped in each. Amelia raised another in the dining room, but it wasn’t as strong as Rose’s. Not strong enough to hold the level of demon she was attempting to banish.

Isobel rushed across the foyer to Amelia, embracing her power. The strong, sweet, pure energy poured into her as she brought her own wall up around the demon. She glanced at Amelia. “I’ve got this one help the others.”

Amelia nodded, her face ashen as she backed away.

Isobel started working through the various symbols. She had no trouble holding the demon though he pounded against the walls of the prison she had made for him. The symbols stopped when she reached the Star of David and the demon shrieked, its howl mixing with the others as demons were banished.

It only took her a few seconds to send it back to the underworld. She turned and saw Damien banishing another while two more pounced on him. She started forward to help and found herself face-to-face with a much stronger demon. The shadowy figure towered over her. Isobel raised the circle around him just as he lunged. The wall of light shuddered violently under the weight of his power and an evil smile spread across its twisted face.

Isobel threw a cross under him knowing it would only marginally weaken the demon. He snarled at her. This one wasn’t aligned with any religion. For the first several minutes, she could do nothing beyond hold him there as he battered at the walls. She pulled in more power until she felt heat in her veins. Her senses sharpened with the additional energy until each smoky tendril around the demon was visible. Then she began to banish him.

“I banish thee. I banish thee back to the pit from which you came.”

The smoky hand of a lower demon swung through her line of vision. Pain exploded in her face and the blow sent her head crashing against the wall. The air left her lungs in a rush, and she slid down the wall.

The upper level demon battered against her power. She blinked against the dark haze at the edge of her vision and held onto consciousness with a death grip, eyes still fixed on the demon within her circle. Isobel finally pulled air into her stunned lungs and mumbled, “I banish thee from this plane.”

The lower demon pounced at her. Its hot claws closed around her throat cutting off the rest of the words and slammed her head against the wall again. Something warm and wet trickled down the back of her neck and black flecks swam across her vision. Damien appeared ripping the lower demon away and banishing it with such force it exploded as it left their plane.

Isobel sucked a breath down her raw throat and coughed. Through watering eyes she pinned the demon in her circle with power that raged through her until she felt as if she were crackling with it. More heat raced through her veins and her skin flushed as sweat beaded on it. “I banish thee from the world for good. I banish thee!”

The demon didn’t shrink or shrivel. Its red eyes grew wide as the circle’s power intensified and it exploded in a shower of sparks.

The house was completely silent.

Isobel’s head swam and power still raged through her. Damien knelt in front of her, his hands gently holding either side of her face as his blue eyes found hers. “Isobel, you need to back it down. You’re holding too much and it’s burning you up.” His voice was steady but urgent.

The darkness of unconsciousness beckoned, promising relief. Pain drove like a spike through her head as Damien’s hand touched her face. “Meae deliciae! Stay with me. You cannot pass out with this much power in your system. It will go out of control and you will die.”

Isobel sought his eyes as she struggled against the darkness.

“Concentrate on it, and back it down.”

She nodded and focused on the fire raging through her veins, concentrating on bringing it under control. She whispered a plea in her mind to the Higher Powers begging for their help.

A moment of absolute clarity and strength flooded through her bringing with it a blessed coolness. It was just enough for her to bring the energy under control so that she could back it down until it was safe to release.

Damien watched the power glowing around her fade. Her skin cooled considerably under his hands and he let out a relieved sigh. Her lids sagged again and she mumbled, “So tired.”

He pulled her toward him careful of her injuries. “I know, meae deliciae. You can rest now.”

Her eyes closed and her head fell limp against his arm. A bruise was spreading across her cheek and her lower lip was split. Dark, red prints marred her throat, and he felt blood mixing in her hair. With gentle, thorough fingers he explored the injuries on her face and head. Nothing felt broken just battered. The cut on the back of her head was bleeding heavy, but it wasn’t deep.

Damien lifted her without effort and carried her into the family room. He eased her down on the couch and pulled the quilt off the back laying it over her. Amelia and Rose sat on the other end. Amelia had a cut across her cheek where a demon had thrown her into a table during the fight. Rose appeared fairly unscathed.

Lucian handed him a couple of towels from the kitchen and Damien applied gentle pressure to the back of Isobel’s head. She groaned slightly but didn’t stir. She was going to have a hell of a headache when she woke. He paid no attention to his own injuries; they were already healing.

Seeing Isobel hurt made him ache, and he wished he could have reached her faster. Even so, pride welled inside him. She hadn’t let the attack from the lesser demon distract her from the upper level demon that could have done so much damage if she had released him. Damien shook his head. And she thought she wasn’t courageous. Isobel had scared him though with the level of power she had embraced. Well beyond the amount needed.

Lucian stood next to him. “What the hell was with the sudden attack by so many demons?”

Damien knew exactly what it was. “Isobel discovered where the vial is. Xapar called in some of his demons to try and stop us from retrieving it.”

Lucian’s brows rose. “You found it? Where?”

“It’s with a priest either in Wichita or Denver.”

“That’s a lot of churches to search. I’m not sure we have that much time.”

Damien raked a hand through his hair. “I know. I’m going to have to do something I don’t like.”

Lucian remained silent for a moment his tawny eyes sharp. “You’re going to scout them out first.”

Damien nodded. “It will go a lot faster if I do it on my own. If the priest is going to release it or even speak about it with anyone, it will be with Isobel’s dark angel.” He looked back at her sleeping face. “After tonight though, I worry about leaving her here. Leaving anyone here.”

Lucian’s hand gripped his shoulder. “Damien, we can’t walk away from the house right now. Rose is the only one keeping anyone else in the neighborhood from dying by Xapar’s hand. If she leaves, he will have a field day. And if Rose stays, we have to as well.”

“She can’t face him without the vial, Lucian. There would only be one way to stop him then.” Damien paused, his eyes narrowing at Isobel as he suddenly understood the motivation that had driven her to learn so much and the expressions on her face in the attic. “That’s what she was planning to do too.”

“When I said we I didn’t mean you, my friend.” Lucian pulled out his phone. “You do what you have to do. Isaac and I will remain here. I’ll call Elijah. He’s a free agent. That should be enough for now. If needed, I can call in Solomon and his channel.”

Damien nodded. Isobel, Rose, and Amelia would have the protection they needed. “You will tell her when she wakes?”

Lucian smiled as he scanned through his contact list. “Damien, go. I got this.”

Damien pulled the towel away from Isobel’s head. The blood had stopped flowing. Gently, he traced her face with his fingers careful to avoid the darkening bruise on her cheek. “I will return, meae deliciae.” She stirred slightly under his touch then settled.

He stood and locked eyes with Lucian. “Keep her safe, or I’ll rip your wings off and stuff them down your throat.”

Lucian chuckled. “It will take Xapar a while to gather more demons. We should have a break.” He leveled a look at Damien when he didn’t move. “You know she will be safe with me. Go away, Damien.”

Damien strode through the French doors in the dining room and out onto the large back deck. The rain had stopped sometime during the attack. Thunder still rumbled across the sky. Not that he worried. The storm wouldn’t affect him. He spread his wings wide and brought them down in a rush launching himself into the sky.

Isobel climbed through layers of mental fog as she clawed her way to wakefulness. She opened her eyes and rolled onto her back with a groan staring through blurry eyes at the ceiling. Her head felt like the top was coming off and the side her face ached like someone had thrown a brick at it.

Lucian’s tawny eyes came into view. “And she wakes.” He held out his hand to her. “Come on. Sit up so you can take something for your head.”

Isobel reached for his hand wondering where Damien was. Sitting up pulled another groan from her. Maybe her head really was coming apart. It didn’t help that her joints and muscles were stiff and sore like she had pushed herself through a workout. After she was reasonably steady Lucian held a cup of water in one hand and two ibuprofens in the other.

Her lip stung when she brushed it with her hand. She dropped the pills into her mouth and washed them down with the water. Lucian nodded as if pleased she had taken them. “You sit here and sip on that. I’ll get you some toast; you’re going to need to eat something with those.”

“Where…” Her voice cracked in her sore throat. “Where is everyone?”

“Isaac is out on the back deck with Amelia and Rose enjoying the fresh air.”

“Damien?”

Lucian walked toward the kitchen. “Gone.”

Isobel’s heart stopped. “Gone? What do you mean gone? He didn’t die.”

Lucian turned back to her, a startled look on his face. “No, he didn’t die. I didn’t mean gone like that, Isobel.”

Relief washed through her. “Where then?”

“He went to find the vial.”

“But…I was going to go with him.” Isobel blinked, wondering why Damien had left without her.

Lucian shrugged as if it were no big deal. “He’ll be able to get to both cities and search much faster on his own.”

Isobel stared at him trying to understand why the motorcycle would be so much quicker than her car. “Why will it be faster?”

Lucian grinned. “Isobel, our wings are more than decoration.”

“You mean…” His words sent her aching brain into overdrive as she realized what he was saying. “He flew?” Isobel was terrified of heights and the thought of flying. It was one reason she hadn’t wanted to go with her parents to Dubai.

“It really is much faster.” Lucian shrugged again.

Memories from the fight filled her mind. “Did I manage to banish that demon?”

“You did more than banish him. You killed him outright. Although you should know that much power is extremely dangerous.” A small smile crossed his face. “I’m going to get you something to eat now.”

He was back shortly with two pieces of buttered toast. Isobel ate them slowly, wishing the pills would hurry up and kick in. She closed her eyes for a moment. When she reopened them Eusebia sat next to her.

Isobel stared into the ancient eyes as Eusebia smiled and nodded slightly. Isobel sensed approval from the spirit. Eusebia reached out and touched her arm, leaving a chill on her skin, and then she was gone.

Would she see Eusebia again? Somehow, Isobel doubted it. The spirit had accomplished what she came here for. Isobel stared at the spot where Eusebia had been as words from her memories came into her mind. She whispered them to the empty room. “Usque ad proximum tempus.” Until next time.

A quiet whisper floated on the air. “Proximum semper est tempus.” There is always a next time.

A faint smile touched Isobel’s lips. She finished her toast and water and stood, needing to get to the bathroom and then find a soda. The room tilted at an interesting angle, and she braced herself against the wall.

She made it to the bathroom off the foyer and flipped on the light. Maria stood shrieking in the middle of it again. The sound ground against the dull ache in her head. Isobel glared. “Really?” She embraced the sweet energy that was hers to wield and watched Maria dissolve into a smaller demon. Obviously the one who had terrorized her that morning in the bathroom only this time without the power of Xapar behind it.

Isobel raised a circle around the demon and then sidestepped it to the toilet, drawing the shower curtain around her for some privacy. She really had to go. She glanced at the demon around the edge of the curtain. “You can just stand there and wait.”

Lucian burst through the door as she was fastening her pants. He stared from her to the circled demon, then immediately relaxed against the doorway with a raised eyebrow.

Isobel shrugged. “I had to pee so bad I couldn’t have concentrated on banishing it. So I made it wait.” She rubbed her forehead. “However, my head is killing me so if you could get rid of him my brain would be forever thankful.”

Lucian laughed, the rich sound of it filling the room. Isobel smiled, drawing a sharp sting from her lip. “So happy to amuse you.”

He gazed at her, a large smile still plastered on his face. “Move out of the way. I will be happy to take over.”

Isobel slipped past him and out of the bathroom as he slid the bracelet off his wrist and his face grew serious. She left him to it and walked to the kitchen. She settled into a chair at the island with a soda and sipped, needing the caffeine.

When Lucian joined her, Isobel asked, “Why didn’t Damien heal me?”

Lucian put his hands into his pockets and leaned against the counter. “We are only allowed to heal if the injury is life threatening and there is enough spiritual energy left to save. Besides, as a channel, you will heal faster. Not as fast as an angel but within a week your injuries will be gone.”

Isobel’s mind turned to that day in the bathroom when she’d nearly killed herself because of Xapar. Without Damien, Xapar would have succeeded. Isobel hadn’t realized how close she had come to death.

“So how old are you in this life, Lucian?” she asked, wanting to change the subject.

He gave her a half smile. “Twenty-one.”

His answer surprised her. Like Damien something about him seemed older. Maybe it was his tawny eyes so full of ancient knowledge. Or the hard edge that seemed characteristic of the dark angels. The edge that told of lifetime after lifetime spent fighting evil.

Isobel’s phone rang from the family room, and Lucian went to grab it for her. He had the phone to his ear as he walked back to the kitchen. “Yeah, she’s fine. She just left the phone in the other room and I answered before her voicemail could. You can calm down.” Lucian handed it to her. “Damien.”

She quickly put the phone up to her ear anxious to hear his voice. “Damien?”

“Hello, meae deliciae. I wanted to let you know I’m fine. Please listen to Lucian. Let him keep you safe. I can’t talk long. I will call again.”

“Thank you,” Isobel said and then the call went silent. “I wish he would have talked more.”

Lucian shrugged. “Not many of us enjoy the impersonal contact of a phone.”

Later that day another dark angel showed up. Isobel wasn’t surprised when she glanced out the front window and didn’t see a car. Lucian introduced the new angel as Elijah. Like Lucian he was twenty-one and built like all the angels. Where Lucian had golden hair and tawny eyes, Elijah’s hair was dark brown and his olive skin seemed to set off the highlights in his hazel eyes.

Isobel decided all the angels must be beautiful creatures.

She followed the two dark angels into the family room as Isaac, Rose, and Amelia came in off the deck. Amelia glanced shyly at the new dark angel. Isobel smiled to herself when she saw him staring back at her friend. Lucian paused to order pizza before they all sat down to fill Elijah in on everything that had happened.

Isobel only ate one piece before Lucian pressed more ibuprofen into her hand to take. She snuggled into a corner of the couch. Her whole body ached, and her head throbbed. The conversation moved quietly on without her as her eyes fell shut.

The next couple of weeks slipped by in a surprisingly calm manner. Isobel found herself becoming quieter as the days passed. Worry for Damien gnawed at her. He had made only one other short call to let her know he was in Denver and then nothing. Not only didn’t he call, he wasn’t answering any calls either. What if something happened to him? What if the vial was gone? Lucian and the other two angels seemed unconcerned when she first voiced her thoughts yet as each day came and went without any word, tension crept into their eyes and worry hovered at the edge of their expressions.

As her fears grew, Xapar began to whisper to her again, the evil of his voice crawling through her mind. “Isobel. Your precious dark angel won’t return. He is dead, brought down by my demons.”

She tried to shut out the voice, but it became harder the longer it went on. Damien should have returned by now. Or at least called. When Isobel had asked if demons could kill a dark angel if there were enough of them, Lucian told her no but the tension in his eyes still spoke volumes.

Rose made another trip upstairs and came back exhausted. She sat down in the kitchen her eyes weary. “The most I can do now is keep him on the property so he can’t hurt anyone else on the island.”

Isobel gazed at her, hopelessness creeping in. “Maybe you should all get out of here.”

Five pairs of eyes fixed on her and she shifted, uncomfortable under the weight of their scrutiny. Rose was the first to respond. “I can only keep him here if I am here. As it is, he can still reach out to more demons. If we all leave, then his demons will follow us trying to get to you. His reach is powerful.”

“I didn’t mean that we should all leave.” She looked each one in the eye. “There has been no word from Damien. Any calls to his phone have gone unanswered and unreturned.” She drew her bottom lip through her teeth and gazed at the table for a moment working to control the tears that threatened.

Lucian took a step toward her. “Isobel.”

She held up her hand to stop him. “I don’t think he’s coming back. I don’t think he can. And,” she paused, “I don’t think there will be a vial. Xapar is my destiny; there is no reason for any of you to be hurt.” She lifted her chin. “I will handle him when the time comes. I promise he won’t become a problem for you.”

A stunned silence settled over the table. Amelia was the first to speak. “We aren’t leaving.”

Lucian leaned his fists on the island and pinned her with a look that almost made her wish she had said nothing. “We will not leave here, Isobel. Damien is one of the oldest dark angels; he is stronger than you can imagine. If he hasn’t called there is a reason. He will return.”

Isobel swallowed her response and only nodded. Let him hang onto that. Let them all think she agreed with them. It was for the best. Even with them there, she could handle Xapar when the time came. She only hoped none of them would get hurt in the process.

Several more days crept by solidifying Isobel’s belief that she would never see Damien again in this life.

Nearly a week after she suggested everyone leave, Isobel sat on the back deck alone. Except she wasn’t really alone. Lucian sat just inside the closed French doors at the formal dining table. He had been practically glued to her since Damien left, especially since the demon in the bathroom incident.

Isobel wondered if it was his natural tendencies or if it had something to with Damien.

Birds sang their last songs of the day and the scent of magnolias filled the humid air. She watched the view of the river that curved around her parents’ property. The water was dark as the sun sank behind the trees on its way toward the western horizon.

Much to her surprise the mosquitos were leaving her alone. Maybe they were afraid to bite her. Afraid they would end up with Xapar in their tiny, little minds. A bunch of mosquitos killing themselves and each other off—now why couldn’t the demon do something useful like that?

Though the whispers of the demon had been disrupting her sleep, everything else had been quiet. Too quiet. It unnerved her. What was Xapar planning? The demon in the bathroom was acting on its own. If Xapar had been behind it, Isobel had no doubt she would have believed it was really Maria screaming at her again. So what was he doing?

Restless energy drove her from the chair. She stood and walked down the narrow bridge to the dock, enjoying the movement even if she did shudder at the sight of a palmetto bug. It amazed her that after seeing demons the bugs would still bother her. Isobel thanked the Higher Powers that the demons didn’t look like giant palmetto bugs; she didn’t think she could handle that.

There was a clear view of the dock from the windows; Lucian would still be able see her. She leaned on the rail and gazed down at the slow moving channel. A turtle slid into the water with a light plop. Water that rose with the tide from the ocean. Twilight deepened bringing out insect sounds as the birds went to sleep. How strange that everything should seem so normal. Although apparently normal had always included demons and angels, though most humans didn’t know it.

Dark blue began to crawl up from the eastern horizon. It was time to get back inside. Dark energy radiated through the air. Isobel whipped around. A demon slammed into her knocking her over the railing. She embraced her power at the same time she hit the water and tried to fight free of the demon. It gripped her arms with burning hands, pulling her down to the murky bottom.

Her lungs burned for air as her strength waned. In her head, Xapar laughed manically, and Isobel understood. He would rather see her die, even if not by his hand in this life, than take the chance of banishment.

She was no match for the demon’s strength. In the confusion of the water her body slipped into panic mode as it screamed for air, and she couldn’t hold onto her power. She fought blindly until she could no longer move her arms and legs. Water poured into her lungs in a fiery rush and darkness rolled over her.

Isobel floated in a great, golden silence. Peace such as she had never known filled her.

Then the peaceful, golden promise was ripped away. Something pumped painfully on her chest and tried to force air into her waterlogged lungs. She started coughing. Her throat and lungs burned as water came up, and she was rolled quickly onto her side. Tearing coughs wracked her body bringing up more water each time. Then her stomach heaved and she vomited more water.

Even when Isobel could finally pull air down her raw, tortured throat her body lay limp, refusing to obey even the simplest command. After a lot of persuasion her eyelids fluttered open. Lucian knelt beside her, the feathers of his wings dripping wet and fear in his tawny eyes.

Isobel tried to reassure him but only a croak came out. Chills shivered over her cold, clammy skin. Though the evening was warm, she couldn’t stop the trembling that wracked her body.

Lucian lifted her from the planks of the dock and carried her into the house. Through the heavy fog that settled over her, she registered the chaos inside.

Elijah knelt in front of Amelia gently holding a towel to help mop up the blood that poured from her nose. His face held a mixture of frustration and worry. “You should have let Rose handle that demon, Amelia.” Elijah’s Spanish accent was thick with concern. “You aren’t strong enough for that yet, mi dulce.”

Isobel knew that language from high school though her sluggish brain had to work to translate it. Since when did Elijah call Amelia “my sweet?”

Rose limped to a chair in the dining room, a bruise discoloring the dark skin on her forehead. Isaac sported several bruises and cuts, though they were already healing.

Xapar had been waiting for this. He had bided his time until they were separated. Then he’d sent the demon to kill her while more attacked the others to prevent help from arriving. This couldn’t happen again.

Lucian carried her into the family room as Isaac brought in a stack of bath towels. Unable to hold them open any longer her eyes closed. A towel scrubbed over her hair, then over her arms and legs. Isobel tried to sit up to help but her body felt like lead. Never had she been so tired in her entire life. This one anyway. The quilt on the couch was tucked around her. After a long time her body warmed the damp cocoon and a deep, heavy sleep pulled her into its welcoming embrace.

She dreamed of Januarius and Eusebia, and of Rihanna the night she had died. When she woke, Isobel saw what needed to be done. The words “vis vivendi, virtus moriendi” echoed in her mind. Januarius had said them in her dream. She moved to sit up and found every muscle in her body weak. It wouldn’t be done today, maybe not for a couple of days, but it would be done. Peace stole over her, and Isobel found no fear in the path she had chosen.

A glance at the windows showed mid-afternoon sunlight streaming through the trees. Her legs were shaky but they held as she made her way into the dining room. Everyone looked up as she entered and eased herself into one of the chairs.

Lucian gazed at her, his eyes tight around the corners. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks.” Her voice sounded horrible.

Amelia stood and walked into the kitchen returning promptly with a drink and a sandwich. “You look shaky. You probably need to eat.”

Isobel nodded and took a long drink of the soda. The fizz burned her throat; she drank it anyway. The food didn’t go down much easier, but she needed it. Isobel listened to the conversation around her while she ate.

She noticed Elijah paying particular attention to Amelia. He had called her friend, “my sweet.” She watched the two of them curiously as the Spanish dark angel whispered something in Amelia’s ear, and a soft blush spread across her creamy brown cheeks.

Isobel raised an eyebrow in question at Lucian. He gave a bare shake of his head, and she picked up on the meaning of it immediately. Lucian would tell her later. Isobel glanced back at Elijah and Amelia again wondering what the problem was.

When the talk around the table turned to the angels taking shifts from now on, Isobel paid close attention. That could be a minor problem. In her head Xapar was silent as if he knew her plan. She sensed a trickle of fear in the evil that emanated from the demon and couldn’t help the small, grim smile that touched her lips before she took the final bite of her sandwich.

Already the food was going to work in her system. Her hands had ceased to shake and her legs felt steadier. Isobel stood and carried her plate to the kitchen, casting Lucian a meaningful glance.

He stood immediately. “Let me help you.”

She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

The kitchen was open to the dining area with only a bar separating the rooms so Isobel stood close to him while he rinsed the plate and asked quietly, “What’s going on?”

Lucian bent toward her and whispered, “Amelia has become Elijah’s channel.”

“Is that all?” Isobel raised her eyebrows, surprised. She thought it must be something more.

“No, that isn’t all.” Lucian chuckled under his breath. “They are also sodales in aeternum.”

Isobel stared at him for a long moment. “Amelia is a new soul.”

He smiled. “It has to start somewhere. And when it does, we know.” Lucian glanced over her head toward the dining room then returned his gaze to her. “For her, it’s falling in love this time around. For him, there are a lot of emotions he has to suddenly learn that he hasn’t ever had to deal with before.” He chuckled again. “It’s been quite amusing to watch..”

Isobel leveled a stern look at him. “You shouldn’t find so much amusement in Elijah’s situation. One of these days it will be you.”

Lucian shook his head and laughed. “I’m known as a free spirit for a reason. I can get enough pleasant company when I feel the need for it.”

“You’re a mess, and I hope I’m around to see it happen to you.” She smiled as they finished up the few plates in the sink.

Isobel glanced toward the people gathered at the dining room table and asked quietly, “How old are Isaac and Rose?”

Lucian dried the last plate and set it in the cabinet. “Isaac is ninety-eight and Rose is ninety-four.”

She stared at him for a moment then looked back at the older couple. Neither one of them seemed like they could possibly be that old.

Isobel took a quick shower in the bathroom off the foyer to wash away the channel water then settled in the family room with everyone to watch a movie. They chose a vampire flick. The angels and Rose spent most of it pointing out where the makers of the movie had gotten it all wrong.

After it was over, they decided another would be fun. This time the angels cooked up a mountain of popcorn. Isobel couldn’t help laughing when they covered the top of the coffee table with several large bowls of the fluffy, white kernels.

Her eyes swept across the people in the room. They had become like family. Her parents’ would be shocked at how much company was here. Especially young men. An ache settled in her heart as her mind wandered to the one man that wasn’t there. The one she wouldn’t see again until her next life.

The words from her dream floated through her mind, dragging the dim memory of their meaning from many lifetimes ago. Vis vivendi, virtus moriendi. Strength to live, courage to sacrifice. Now she knew why Januarius had said them to her. Isobel pushed away the grief and concentrated on basking in the glow of friendship. There was precious little time to enjoy it.

Isobel spent the next few days relaxing and regaining her full strength after almost drowning. Three days after the demon had tried to kill her there was a spirited debate over who was going to the store. Isobel insisted she should go since it was her house. The other’s shot that down because she was their best bet if an upper level demon decided to visit. Finally, after a lot of discussion, they all agreed Amelia and Elijah would go.

After they left, Lucian went to start up her dad’s grill on the deck, while Rose and Isaac made hamburger patties.

Isobel watched them for a moment realizing this might be the only chance she got. She sent a silent prayer of thanks that Amelia wasn’t in the house in case Isobel did something wrong or it didn’t work right. She cast one last fond look at everyone then slipped up the stairs.

She thought of her parents. Her dad who loved her despite trying to deny what she was and sweet Elizabeth who had always loved and accepted her. Isobel thought back to the day at the airport when she had clung to Elizabeth. Somehow she had known she might never see them again. Now it was assured. Without the vial, if she didn’t do this, her parents’ lives would be in danger. Well, her father’s anyway. Elizabeth was a blessed one and while safe from demonic harm, it didn’t mean the ones she loved were safe. Everyone in the house would also be in danger. Amelia was just finding her forever soul mate. She deserved the chance to explore that.

Complete peace and acceptance filled Isobel as she stood in the middle of the landing. Isobel stared at the window and embraced her powers until fire raced through her veins. The dark energy on the landing shrank away. Oh yes, Xapar knew exactly what she was going to do, and he was afraid of it. Isobel allowed the sense of tranquility to settle over her. She felt no fear, no pride, no anger. She carried only love for those she wished to protect and a desire to see them safe in her heart.

Isobel walked forward until the window filled her vision. She closed her eyes and pulled more of the pure, sweet power into her until she was shining as bright as the sun. She raised her hand, prepared for the pain that was coming. Without the blood there was only one way to kill Xapar. When she touched the window, instead of him invading her mind, she would pull him into her body.

The action would kill her, but her power would concentrate and amplify the moment before her death. She had every intention of taking Xapar with her. Not just banishing him—killing him forever.

Isobel reached purposely for the window and placed her fingertips against the colored glass. Her fingers burned as she reached through the tattered remnants of the seal, sensing Xapar retreat from her power. There was nowhere for him to go. She would finally end him.

An arm suddenly wrapped around her waist like an iron band, and she was flung across the landing. Isobel let out a sharp cry as the power snapped back into her hand and she prepared to hit hard. Except she didn’t. The strong arms around her acted as a buffer and in the end she only hit the wall with a soft thump.

Startled, she looked up into a pair of blue eyes so intense and dark her heart melted. The emotions storming in his eyes told her he was beyond angry; he was livid. His hands were braced against the wall, strong arms creating a barrier on either side of her and his black wings spread wide. They filled the entire width of the landing and blocked out the view of the window. And then it hit her. Damien was there; he was back. She would get to see him again before she killed Xapar.

His voice finally broke through her resolve, and she realized he was shouting. “…the hell were you doing?”

Isobel didn’t care that he was angry in the last moments they had. She lovingly stroked her fingers over the rough shadow of growth on his jaw.

“Isobel! Did you hear a word I just said?” Damien stared down at her with a mixture of fury and fear. “Do you have any idea what you almost did? What would have happened?”

She still held her power at a dangerous level—there wasn’t much time. “I know. I will die and so will Xapar. I have felt the Higher Powers, Damien. I’m not afraid to die.”

The resolve and perfect peace he saw within her terrified him. If she didn’t drop the energy level it was going to consume her. “I found the vial. But the priest will only release it to you. You don’t have to do it this way.” Damien locked his gaze on her, his eyes hard. “Back it down, Isobel.”

“This will kill him for good not just banish him. The world will never have to worry about him again.” Isobel understood he didn’t want to lose her, but surely the greater good was more important than her life.

Damien shook his head. “To what gain? Once Xapar is dead another will take his place. There is always another. Only you won’t be here to fight them.” Her skin radiated heat and white light shined around the edges of her green eyes.

When she hesitated, Damien slammed his hand against the wall. “Damn it, Isobel!” He lowered his voice and spoke through gritted teeth. “Back. It. Down. Now.”

Isobel searched his face. “You’re sure the vial is safe and we can retrieve it?”

“Yes.” His voice softened. “Please, meae deliciae.”

Isobel closed her eyes and reached inside herself to gain control of the white-hot power raging through her system. If the blood failed, she still had this option. For now she would comply. She brought the power under control and pulled it down until she could release it.

Damien leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. Residual heat still flushed her skin. He was going to kill Lucian. If he’d kept a close eye on her, she would never have had time to almost do what she almost did. He laughed to himself. He wasn’t even making sense he was so upset.

He opened his eyes and gazed into her serene face. “How the hell did you even know how to do something like that? If Rose taught you, I swear I will…do something.”

Isobel laughed. The sound sweet music in his ears. “You will, huh?”

Damien gritted his teeth because he knew he’d never harm Rose. “Where?”

Isobel’s face grew serious. “Januarius came to me in a dream right after I drowned and showed me what to do.”

“Januarius?” He shook his head. “Wait. Drowned?”

Isobel eyed him warily and nodded.

Damien straightened in one swift movement. He clamped his hand over hers and stormed toward the stairs. He wasn’t about to leave her alone with the window just in case she suddenly decided again that it was best if Xapar died. “Lucian!” Damien bellowed as he pounded down to the first level.

Isobel struggled to keep up with him. Damien entered the dining room like a thunderstorm. Isaac and Rose both stared at him in surprise. He didn’t look at them; his eyes were fixed on Lucian who walked in through the French doors.

“You’re back,” Lucian said, raising his eyebrows. “It’s about damn time.”

Damien shook with suppressed rage. “And it’s a good thing since Isobel was about to pull Xapar from the window and kill him by sacrificing herself.”

Rose gasped and looked at Isobel with wide eyes. She looked quickly back at Damien. “I didn’t teach her that. Isobel, what were you thinking?”

Isobel smiled serenely and answered, “Without the blood it was the only way. I thought Damien wasn’t coming back. We all thought something had happened to him. I was ready to do what needed to be done before anyone else got hurt.”

Damien recognized the expression on Isobel’s face. The perfect acceptance of her own death. The minute she had come to her decision with a heart that thought nothing of glory, self, or gain, she’d felt the touch of the Higher Powers. The complete love from them. Damien recognized it because he had felt it many times over the centuries. The euphoria over their touch would fade, but she would never feel regret over her decision.

His anger flowed away as he gazed at Isobel’s face. She had certainly come into her place in the world. It was almost hard for him to believe this was the same woman who had panicked when she thought there was a dead man in her kitchen.

When he turned back to Lucian, his friend stood staring at Isobel with hard eyes. “Drowning wasn’t enough for you? Do you really have a death wish?”

“She’s been touched by the Higher Powers, Lucian. She’s not going to feel shame or regret. The decision was made with a pure heart.”

Lucian swore quietly and ran a hand through his hair. “Damien, I had no idea, I swear. If I had, pure heart or not, she would never have set foot on the stairs.”

“What’s this about drowning?”

Lucian groaned. “I knew if you came back you would chew my feathers over that.”

“What do you mean if I came back?” Damien frowned.

Isaac shook his head and slid an arm around Rose’s waist. “Damien, it’s been nearly a month since you left. You didn’t call, didn’t answer your phone, and didn’t return calls after you reached Denver. Isobel thought you were dead and the rest of us were starting to think she was right.”

“You and Lucian know better than that. You would have felt me pass into waiting.

“I know. Still, there was worry.” Lucian shrugged as if it made perfect sense. “So what happened?”

Damien released Isobel’s hand and slid his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans. “Demons tracked me the whole way. I can’t tell you how many I banished. My phone broke in the first confrontation. I really didn’t have time to stop and get a new one.”

“Did you find it?” Isaac asked.

Damien couldn’t suppress his frustration. “I found Father Thomas,” he glanced at Isobel, “at a cathedral in Wichita. He has the vial, but he will only release it to her. Apparently, there have been many attempts by demons to retrieve it. Father Thomas hasn’t left hallowed ground in weeks.”

“So I have to go to Wichita?” Isobel looked up at him with a slight furrow between her delicate eyebrows.

“Yes. Not that I’m happy about it. The place is crawling with demons.” Damien rubbed the back of his neck more than uncomfortable with taking her there.

“How…how are we going to get there?” Some of the euphoria from the “touch” was finally fading from her face and eyes bringing her back to reality.

“By car. Planes are too much of a hassle these days. Why?”

A look of intense relief washed over her face. “I thought maybe you intended us to fly, you know, the other way.”

Damien stared at her for a moment then realized what she meant. He couldn’t help the chuckle her words brought. “Isobel, I’m not an airliner. I don’t fly at several hundred miles an hour. And a flight over that distance would be exceedingly uncomfortable for you. I think your car is probably our best bet.”

Lucian snorted. “How about Elizabeth’s car? It’s bigger. No offense to your car, Isobel, but there isn’t a lot of leg room in it for us.”

Damien raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Us?”

“You don’t think I’m going to let you have all the demon fun without me do you?” Lucian laughed. “I’m going along.”

“What about the house. We can’t just leave Xapar here to wreak havoc in our absence.”

Isaac shrugged. “Elijah and I can handle it. Rose is here and Amelia grows stronger.” He glanced at Isobel. “Not like her but strong enough. We can handle Xapar.”

Lucian chuckled. “Elijah is no longer a free agent by the way.”

“Oh?” Damien frowned. “If he has a channel he won’t be able to stay.”

“Amelia is his channel. And, they are sodales in aeternum.” Lucian’s smile told Damien his friend found this fact to be highly amusing. He shook his head.

“So he has finally found the soul that meshes with his.” Damien smiled. “It’s about time.”

Isobel smiled softly. “I told Lucian one day it would be him and then it wouldn’t seem so funny.”

Lucian laughed and shook his head. “I’m one of the oldest dark angels, Isobel. If I was going to find a matching soul, I would have found her by now. After all, Damien has had you since the fourth century and Isaac’s had Rose since the time of Cleopatra.”

“Elijah finally found his,” Isobel reminded him.

“Elijah has only been a dark angel since the sixth century. It didn’t take him that long, in the great scheme of things, to find her.” Lucian smiled at her. “I’m fine with being alone in that aspect.”

Damien leaned his fists on the table. “So what is this about Isobel drowning? She should have been safe with you.”

Lucian sighed. “You aren’t going to let this go, are you? Come out onto the deck with me. I have to turn these hamburgers before they burn.”

Damien straightened and narrowed his eyes. “You are going to tell me exactly what happened. She was supposed to be safe.”

Lucian pointed at him and fixed him with a flat look. “Joan of Arc.”

Damien groaned. “That was not my fault.”

“She should have been safe. At least Isobel is still alive.”

“If you hadn’t gotten yourself killed La Pucelle wouldn’t have died. There was a lot of turmoil and unrest. Neither Solomon nor I could get to her in time. Now, tell me what happened,” Damien said, following Lucian out the door wondering how many centuries he was going to keep bringing up La Pucelle.

“Wait.” Isobel followed the two angels outside. “Joan of Arc was a channel?”

“She was, and a strong one. She managed to take out the demon in Chauchon as she died. Stubborn too.” Lucian glanced at her. “A lot like you. Always ready to die for the greater good, unwilling to allow others to wade into danger she herself would not face. La Pucelle was touched by the Higher Powers numerous times.”

Isobel stared at him, wondering why she was surprised. “How did you die?”

Damien’s brows drew down. “He died defending her against capture at Compiegne when one of the soldiers managed to get close enough to take his head. Though you won’t find that in any history book. We aren’t here to become the praised and remembered heroes of humanity, and the Higher Powers ensure our acts are forgotten.”

He turned back to Lucian. “Now tell me what happened that involved Isobel drowning.”

Lucian opened the grill and cocked a grin at Damien as smoke billowed out. “Well, it wouldn’t have happened if you were here.” Damien glared at him and he held up his hands in surrender. Lucian grabbed the long spatula and began flipping the hamburgers as he relayed the story.

Damien clenched his jaw as he listened. The stakes had just been raised even more if Xapar was willing to see her dead by any means. The demon was scared and he should be.

Amelia and Elijah returned and the rest of the dinner preparations were in full swing while Damien filled them in on everything that had happened. Isobel stood with Amelia and the three younger dark angels in the kitchen while Rose and Isaac took over the grill.

Amelia’s eyes were radiant when she looked at Elijah. The looks shared between the two warmed Isobel’s heart. Amelia turned to Isobel. “If there are going to be as many demons as Damien says, maybe Elijah and I should come with you.”

“No.” Elijah’s voice was hard and he tightened his arm around Amelia’s waist. “It’s dangerous enough here and bad enough Isobel must go. There is no way I’m letting you get within a hundred miles of that city.”

Amelia raised an eyebrow. “Letting me? I don’t recall asking your permission.”

“She’s got you there.” Lucian laughed.

Worry, frustration, and concern flickered across Elijah’s face. “I apologize; you are right. You don’t need my permission, and I will always follow where you go.” His hazel eyes looked pained. “I would rather you didn’t. Please, mi dulce, don’t push this.”

Lucian rolled his eyes. “You two are disgusting. Already calling her “my sweet” and falling all over yourself.”

Elijah shot him a glare before turning an imploring look on Amelia. “Besides, how can you leave only Rose and Isaac to handle Xapar and what he may bring here?”

“I suppose you’re right. This time.” Amelia smiled at him.

Damien draped his arms around Isobel’s waist and pulled her back against his chest. He lowered his head and whispered in her ear, “They are cute together, are they not, meae deliciae?”

Isobel nodded and then ducked as a spoonful of potato salad came flying in her direction. It splattered Damien’s shoulder. Lucian, still holding the spoon, shook his head. “You two are just as bad.”

Damien wiped the food off his shoulder with a paper towel and narrowed his eyes. Isobel squealed and ducked away as Damien lunged, a spoonful of coleslaw sailing from his hand. It hit Lucian square in the forehead.

Before Isobel knew what was happening, there was a three-way food fight in the kitchen with Amelia and Elijah using one end of the island as a shield to duck behind. Isobel and Damien used the other, and Lucian paid no mind to the food that smacked him.

“What in the name of the Higher Powers is going on in here?” Isaac’s yell cut through the shrieks and shouts.

Everyone froze, their eyes on Rose and Isaac who stood on the far side of the bar, each with a platter of grilled meat in their hands. A glob of coleslaw clung to Isaac’s hair; the white juice ran down his forehead and dripped off his eyebrow. Isobel exchanged abashed looks with Amelia.

Lucian shrugged nonchalantly. “War is messy.”

Isobel didn’t look at the older couple while she tried unsuccessfully to extract baked beans from her hair, though she couldn’t help smiling. After weeks of stress the food fight had been too much fun for her to regret it.

Rose narrowed her eyes and walked into the kitchen stepping carefully around splatters of food on the floor. “I hope you know you four are cleaning this up.”

“Absolutely.” Damien nodded, a smile on his face. He glanced down as Isobel grabbed a paper towel to wipe away the baked bean juice that ran down her neck. “I can help you with that.”

Isobel laughed as he kissed her neck, his tongue sending quivers of pleasure across her skin.

Lucian shook his head. “I see war hasn’t tempered you two one bit. You sodales in aeternum types are impossible.”

Amelia giggled and tried to shake coleslaw from her shirt with Elijah’s help.

Isaac frowned while he wiped his head with a napkin though it looked to Isobel like he was trying to keep from smiling. “I hope there’s enough food left to eat.”

Lucian snorted. “There should be. Amelia and Elijah bought enough to feed a small nation.”

Rose shook her head. “You can clean this up after dinner. Right now you can help bring it all to the table. Maybe we can eat it before you decide to start throwing it again.”

Everyone grabbed a dish and headed for the dining room. As they sat down some of the happiness from the food fight faded. Isobel ate dinner without really tasting it. In the morning she, Damien, and Lucian would begin the long drive toward a city full of demons.

Isobel sat quietly staring out at the dark countryside as Damien guided the car down the road. Soft snores from the backseat underscored the quiet music flowing from the speakers. Lucian had bunched up his tall frame across the backseat to catch the few hours of sleep he needed so that one of them would always be awake later that night.

They had left Tulsa behind about an hour ago and the darkened landscape slide by with no definition other than the distant lights of farms. Isobel yawned behind her hand, wondering why riding in a car for hours was so exhausting. She glanced at Damien as the car slowed and he steered onto an exit. “Where are we going?” Ahead, the lights of a small truck stop lit up the night.

“You need to sleep. I’m going to find a motel for us to stay in for the night.” He reached over and laid his hand on hers while using the other to direct the car once they reached the bottom of the exit.

“Shouldn’t we keep driving? The sooner we get there the better, right?” she asked trying to suppress another yawn.

“You’re tired.” He smiled though it quickly faded. “I have no intention of taking you into a city full of demons when you’re tired. I want you to be rested and your mind sharp.”

Isobel didn’t argue. It wouldn’t do any good, and she had to agree with him. She didn’t want to confront a bunch of demons out for her death while exhausted.

Damien pulled into the parking lot of a small, single-story motel. Neon letters proclaimed it as comfortable as home above the vacancy sign. Isobel snorted. She highly doubted it was as comfortable as home. Then again, it probably didn’t have any demonic windows either so maybe it would be better.

Lucian woke with a start when Damien reached over the seat and whacked him on the shoulder. “What?” He pulled himself up awkwardly in the backseat, his golden hair tussled.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty. We’re at a motel. I’m headed into the office to get a couple of rooms. Try not to let Isobel drown while I’m gone.” Damien flashed her a smile as he stepped out of the car and unfolded his tall frame. The muscles under his shirt rippled as he stretched for a moment before walking toward the lit office.

Lucian growled under his breath, opened his own door, and dragged himself out of the backseat. Isobel laughed softly and stepped out into the night air. Even here the cicadas sang their late summer song. Moths flittered around the lights so convinced they needed to reach the source they forgot about living.

Isobel rounded the car and leaned against it next to Lucian as he ran his fingers through his hair to straighten it out. For a long moment only the sounds of the bugs and the ticking of the engine as it cooled filled the silence between them. Trucks lined one side of the parking lot, the idle of their diesel engines adding to the backdrop of sounds.

Isobel looked at him. “It wasn’t your fault, you know.”

“What wasn’t?” He glanced down at her briefly before returning his eyes to the night.

“My drowning.” She slid her hands into the front pocket of her jeans. “I would have died in the water if not for you. Damien should quit bugging you about it.”

Lucian snorted. “I know that, Isobel. So does Damien. I expect the ribbing from angels like him. They’re all like that.”

Isobel frowned. “Like what?”

He turned his gaze to her again. “Dark angels are always over protective of their channels. When that channel is also the dark angel’s soul mate they become even more so.”

She stared at the asphalt beneath her shoes. “Is that why you find them so amusing?”

“Exactly why.” Lucian chuckled.

Damien emerged from the office and crossed the lot. He tossed a key at Lucian. “Your room is next to ours just in case there’s trouble.”

Lucian snagged the key out of the air with ease and pushed away from the car. He opened the door and pulled his duffle bag out of the back floorboard. “See you in the morning.”

As he walked away, Damien opened the trunk and pulled out two more duffle bags. Holding them both in one hand, he slung them over one shoulder and slipped his arm around Isobel’s waist as they walked to their room.

Isobel wandered into the sparse room. Poorly rendered watercolor paintings hung on the walls and everything was a different shade of beige except the garish paisley bedspread on the single queen- sized bed and matching curtains.

The lamps, phone—even the TV—all seemed to be nailed down in one way or the other. Isobel was willing to bet money that even the paintings were secured in some way. Someone would probably have to rip off the sheetrock behind them in order to remove them.

The bathroom was tiny, serviceable, and surprisingly clean. She took one glance at herself in the mirror before poking her head around the door. “I’m going to grab a shower.”

Damien nodded absently, pulling his new phone out. “I’ll call Isaac and let everyone know where we are.”

Isobel nodded as she dug through her bag for her shampoo and other necessities. The hot shower felt good after so many hours spent in the car. Damien was still on the phone when she left the bathroom draped in a towel and began rummaging in her bag for clothes. He hung up and laid the phone on the table as she pulled on a nightshirt.

Damien’s arms wrapped around her from behind, and he buried his nose in her damp hair. She smiled as he lowered his head, and his lips grazed her neck. “I love the smell of your skin, meae deliciae.”

Isobel smiled as he bent and traced kisses down the side of her neck and over her bare shoulder. He gave her one last kiss then headed into the bathroom for his own shower.

Later that night, as she lay in his arms, Isobel watched the neon sign light up the curtained window, afraid to sleep. What would the next day bring? Anxiety swirled through her system. Hours ticked by before sleep finally stole over her.

The sun peeked over the horizon like a molten eye when they left the next morning, and birds sang their early songs to each other. The temperature was already uncomfortably warm, and the humidity clung to her skin. In the west, the pale crescent of the moon still hung well above the horizon. The flat scenery around them held the washed-out tones of grass and leaves that had felt the heat of summer for too long.

It didn’t take long to check out of the motel and get back on the highway. They made a quick stop a few towns later at a fast food restaurant for breakfast. Isobel only nibbled at her sandwich and hash brown. A small, nervous knot had taken up residence in her stomach and it left little room for food. In a couple of hours they would be in Wichita where the vial was, and from the sound of it, a lot of demons.

Traffic was heavy as they entered the city, the morning rush hour in full swing. Damien swore and dodged into another lane to avoid a slow moving car. “I swear people in this city either drive too fast or too slow.”

Lucian laughed. “Maybe the heat has gotten to them.”

Isobel kept a white-knuckled grip on the door handle. It wasn’t because she didn’t trust Damien’s driving, rather she didn’t trust the other drivers careening down the highway, apparently willing to tempt death just to get to their jobs a couple of minutes faster.

“Damn it.” Damien glared at a motorcycle that zipped between them and the car in the next lane, and then wove through the lanes ahead. “I don’t even know why they bother with speed limit signs. Everyone is going to go ninety except the people getting on the highway; they’re going to stop at the top of the ramp and then drive five miles an hour when they finally decide to get up here.”

“Or when they decide to get off the highway,” Lucian said in a strained voice.

Damien jerked into the next lane, fitting the car in with barely any room to spare in order to avoid hitting the car that had slammed on its brakes and then swerved to make an exit. Damien shot a glare at the car as they passed. “Stupid people. I’m astounded more of them aren’t dead each morning.”

Finally they caught the exit for downtown and Isobel relaxed. “This isn’t even that big of a city. You’d think traffic would be less hair-raising to drive in.”

“Actually,” Lucian said, “it can be less hair-raising in larger cities mainly because people there know if you stop on the highway or onramp you will be run over, no questions asked, and probably by at least ten cars before anyone realizes your car was in the way.”

Isobel gave a shaky laugh, the tension from the morning rush on the highway draining away as they made their way downtown. Traffic was still heavy, but at least it was moving at a reasonable pace. They made several more turns winding their way through the city.

The church sat on the corner of two busy streets. Damien pulled into a parking lot across the street but made no move to shut off the engine or get out. Isobel gazed at the building. It wasn’t the largest or most ornate Catholic Church she had ever seen. Savannah had a huge, stunning church. That didn’t mean this one was small. On the contrary, it was quite large with crosses rising into the sky from their place on the roof. They were parked on the north side and the sun backlit the church in a golden glow.

Cars zipped by on the roads and only a few people walked the sidewalks. Isobel looked at Damien. “Aren’t we going to go in?”

Damien and Lucian both sat tense and unmoving. Isobel was reminded again of predators facing another predator trespassing in their territory. She turned back and looked at the church. It looked fine.

Suddenly, he threw the car in reverse and tore out of the parking space. Yanking it into drive he hit the gas pedal and the car leaped forward, cutting someone off as they barreled out onto the road. It was only seconds later when they turned sharply and flew into a small lot behind the church. Isobel was tossed forward into her seat belt when he slammed on the brakes to keep from hitting anything.

Isobel looked around wildly as he moved into one of the few parking spaces available in the tiny lot behind the church. “What just happened?”

Damien eased the car into park and turned off the ignition, a grim expression on his face. “Demons.” When she jerked in her seat to look around again he said, “They can’t come here. It’s holy ground. They can prowl all over the place but they can’t set foot on the land of any church, especially a Catholic, Jewish, or Islamic place of worship. It’s less so for the Protestant churches, but still safer than any other property. It’s why Father Thomas hasn’t been off the grounds since I showed up to talk to him.”

“So we’re safe?”

Damien gave her a half grin that held no humor. “For now.

Isobel saw a smoky figure skulking in the shadows across the street. A woman walked right by it without even glancing at it. “How does she not see that?”

“Normal people can’t see them anymore than they can see the light of an angel,” Lucian said as he opened the door and got out.

Damien nodded. “He’s right.” He opened his door and stepped from the car.

Isobel’s eyes slid toward the demon. There was another one. Embracing her power just in case, she climbed out of the car. “Do we go in the back?”

“No, we’ll go around the front like everyone else,” Damien said and started along the side of the church, careful to stay on the grass between the church and the sidewalk. “You can drop your power here. You’re safe.”

Isobel reluctantly let it go. She could guess why they avoided the smooth stone of the wide sidewalk. In the grass they were on church property. The sidewalk belonged to the city. “Why are the other churches you mentioned safer than a Protestant church?”

Lucian, who bracketed her from behind so that she walked in-between the two much taller men, answered, “More history, deeper roots. Ground blessed by a Native American shaman is good too, so are the kivas used by some tribes. Those left by the cliff dwellers are extremely safe.”

They rounded the front corner and Isobel gazed up at the entry fronted by archways. Several steps led up to three sets of tall wooden doors. Damien opened one of the doors and they entered the quiet sanctuary of the cathedral.

The ceiling of the cathedral soared over their heads making the inside of the church cavernous. Rows of empty pews sat in quiet attention. The massive space seemed to swallow sound creating a silence so profound it pressed on her ears.

A deep sense of peace seeped into her easing her worries and making it feel like she could really breathe for the first time in weeks. A collection of candles gathered along one wall near the front, some of them with flames burning steady on their wicks. Stained glass windows lined the walls, casting the light of their colors across the pews and the floor.

Isobel stopped and stared at their beauty. None of the evil that she felt from the window in her house was present here. Not even from the round window lighting the choir loft. The energy of the Higher Powers filled the very air. The empty cathedral was a great, silent sanctuary from the darkness in her life, and Isobel felt she could sit in one of those pews for hours absorbing the peaceful energy it offered.

“Isobel?” Damien whispered, his eyes searching her face.

She turned to him with a radiant smile and said quietly, “They’re here. I can feel them, and it’s beautiful.”

Damien gently brushed the side of her face with his knuckles. “They are always in places like this, meae deliciae. It’s the concentration of energy.”

An older man approached them, the white in his collar proclaiming him a priest. Damien turned to greet him. “Father Thomas.”

The man, several inches shorter and much slighter than the tall, muscular angels stopped and nodded to Damien. “I see you have returned. Do you have the channel with you?”

Damien shifted so the Father could see Isobel better. The priest stared at her for a long moment. Then he whispered, “It is as it was written by the priest in 1456. He said your eyes are always the same, and he went on to describe them in detail. He also said you were always Isobel.” He stepped closer and took her hand in his. “It is a pleasure to meet you, young lady. You will have to pardon my forcing your trip here,” he smiled apologetically, “however, the instructions that have been passed to those of us who were trusted with the vial were quite explicit that the vial should only be given up if it was being placed into the hands of the channel that was the key to the demon’s removal.”

“It’s fine, Father. In fact, I’m happy I came. This,” she let her eyes sweep the inside of the cathedral again, “is the most peaceful place I’ve been since the beginning of summer. Maybe ever.”

A happy smile spread across his face. “It is as close to God as we can get on earth.”

Isobel didn’t disagree, not even with the name. God or Higher Powers, it was all the same and she felt them here. “You have the vial then?”

He nodded. “Yes, come this way.” He led them to the side of the cathedral to the end of the pews closest to the stunning windows. “Please, wait here while I retrieve it.”

Isobel settled into one of the pews with Lucian and Damien, both of them seeming somehow too big for the narrow benches. “How did Father Thomas know who you were?”

Damien chuckled. “I showed him my wings.”

“And even then he wouldn’t hand you the vial?”

“Father Thomas was very adamant that it could only be given to you.”

Isobel stared at the windows entranced by their splendor. “What is it like to embrace your powers in here?”

Damien closed his eyes. “Very sweet. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

She gazed at his face. His expression held the obvious happiness the memory brought. Isobel opened herself to the power that always shined within her and embraced it. It was incredibly sweet, just as Damien said. So pure and lovely tears stung her eyes from its beauty.

Damien watched her face. In the soft glow of the windows and surrounded by a halo of golden-white light she looked beautiful beyond measure. The glow grew stronger as she soaked up the feelings. He didn’t want to say anything to diminish her pleasure, but he knew he needed to bring her back down when the light began to edge around the green of her eyes.

He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Meae deliciae, I know it’s wonderful. It’s also very easy to lose control in here and take in too much. You are dangerously close to that now. You will want to back it down and release it.”

Isobel heard the sincerity and the twinge of worry in his voice and pulled the energy back, releasing it with a wistful sigh. He was right; it was easy. Too easy. She hadn’t even felt the heat of it rushing through her veins.

Father Thomas strode back, the sound of his footsteps swallowed by the cavernous nature of the church. Lucian moved down so the Father could sit next to her. He held a small and very old looking box in his hands, a serious expression on his face.

“This box contains a true treasure of the church. Only a few over the centuries have known this vial existed. The blood of Saint Januarius is very powerful; only use it when you are sure you have the strength to banish the demon.” Father Thomas lifted the lid of the box and pulled out a small vial made of ancient glass. At some point in history, a thin chain of silver had been attached to it.

Isobel took it in her hands and immediately felt the power the priest spoke of. The power of Januarius’ sacrifice made with perfect conviction and a pure heart. It tingled through her fingers and up her arms. Isobel peered closer at the glass. “The blood is solid. Will it still work?”

Father Thomas smiled slightly. “It is solid now, yes. It will become liquid again when it is time to face the demon. Keep it on you at all times and whatever you do, do not let it into the hands of a demon. Remember, the glass is quite breakable. You cannot allow it to be destroyed.”

Isobel nodded, slipped the chain over her head, and tucked the vial under her shirt. “I will keep it safe. Everything I love rides on it.”

“You have the right heart for this. Be very careful on your journey. Once you leave the church grounds, you will be in danger. There are demons everywhere, though they won’t likely attack in the daylight. Not directly anyway. Watch other humans close as the demons will attempt to slip into them and use them against you.”

Damien stood and stepped into the aisle. “Have no worry, Father. Isobel will be well protected.”

Father Thomas also stood. “With two such as you to guard her, I have no doubt. I must go now unless you have further need of me.”

“No, we have to get back on the road.” Damien shook hands with the priest. “Thank you, Father, and all of those before you who have kept the blood safe.”

“We all have our duties to God to perform. I merely did what God wished of me.” Father Thomas stepped past them and walked quietly away.

Isobel followed Damien and Lucian toward the doors. She paused and looked back one last time, her gaze traveling over the magnificence of the interior then she turned and stepped out into the sunshine.

The deep sense of peace ebbed out of her as they circled the building back to the car. A prickle of warning ran over her skin raising the hairs on her arms. Damien and Lucian moved closer to her. Though Isobel didn’t see any demons, she felt them watching her. Damien’s arm went around her and pulled her close. She worked to keep up with his pace. The vial felt like a target around her neck. Her fingers reached to trace the slim rounded glass beneath her shirt making certain it was there and safe.

Damien looked at her as he started the car. “Make sure your seat belt is secure and tight. Even if we make it out of the city, I have no doubt they will follow us.”

Isobel tugged on the belt to make sure it was latched tight. Her stomach rolled with nerves. The vial was fragile and could easily be destroyed.

Before long they were back on the highway and racing south as Damien pushed the speed limit. The road wasn’t as crowded now that rush hour was over. Isobel stared out the window while the city flew by. Damien slowed down and pulled over when lights started to flash behind them.

Isobel’s stomach churned as the officer got out of his car and walked up to the driver’s side window. “I need to see your license and registration, please.”

Damien made no move for the glove compartment. He kept his irritation to a minimum and captured the cop’s eyes in an intense stare. “No, you don’t. I wasn’t speeding. You were just heading back to your car. In fact, once we pull away, you won’t even remember us.”

The officer stared back at him for a long moment, then turned on his heels and walked back to his cruiser.

Isobel stared at him. “What was that?”

“Necessary.” Damien glanced at her.

“You can control people’s minds?”

“We can compel people, but only when the safety of our channels is in question or if a human has seen too much.” Damien pulled the car back onto the road and hit the gas. “We aren’t allowed to compel people to hand us their bank account numbers or anything like that.” The car sped past the speed limit and didn’t slow down again until they reached the entrance to the toll road. Thankfully, there was no line and they were able to pass through it quickly.

Isobel knew she should be relieved none of the demons had attacked them outright, but it was coming. It was inevitable and the waiting had her tied in knots.

The sun set at their backs and the night claimed the sky when Damien took an exit. Isobel glanced anxiously at him. “Why are we stopping?”

“The car needs gas.” Damien’s eyes roamed the area as they pulled into the gas station, his jaw tight and every muscle in his broad shoulders tense.

Only two other cars sat in the parking lot under the harsh glare of florescent lighting. Isobel looked through the glass front of the convenience store. One of the cars must belong to the lone attendant manning the counter.

The pressure in her bladder reminded her that they hadn’t stopped anywhere since the church that morning. “I need to go inside for a moment.”

Damien parked the car at the pumps and glanced back at Lucian. “Fill it up; I’ll take Isobel in with me.”

Lucian gave him a tight nod and left the car. Damien turned to her, a dangerous look in his eyes. “Do not let your guard down, even for a moment.”

“I won’t,” she said and opened the door. Damien was out of the car and taking her hand before she even got her leg out. His arm anchored her to his side as they moved across the parking lot with quick steps.

Damien took her to the back hallway where a blue door on either side led to the men’s and women’s restrooms. A third door led to the outside from the hallway. Damien opened the door and swept the interior of the single bathroom with his eyes before allowing her inside. “Lock the door. I’m going to pay for the gas and grab something for you to eat and drink.”

The bell over the front door dinged and the voices of a large group of teenagers raised in friendly banter reached them. Damien glanced down the hallway. “Stay in there until I come for you.”

Isobel slid past him and shut the door turning the deadbolt. When she finished and washed her hands she stood with them folded, leaning against the wall and staring at the patterns the small tiles made on the floor. The doorknob wiggled and then someone knocked. Damien would just call her name. “It’s occupied,” Isobel called.

A younger girl’s voice drifted through the door. “Ah, man. Please tell me you won’t be long.”

“I shouldn’t be too long.”

She heard the sound of feet shuffling. “I’m about to wet my pants.”

Isobel sighed. She wasn’t going to make someone pee their pants. Damien would likely be done any second. There shouldn’t be a problem as long as she headed straight for him the minute she left the safety of the small room. Isobel unlocked the door and opened it to the relieved face of a girl that was probably about sixteen.

“Ah, thanks!” The girl practically ran into the bathroom and shut the door.

Isobel shook her head and turned to leave the hallway as a man came out of the men’s room across the hall.

Her head slammed into the wall and exploded in pain, bright lights flashed across her vision. A heavy hand clamped over her mouth, jerking her backward into something solid. Isobel’s head swam. The door at the back of the hall opened and the man hauled her outside.

Panic raced through her veins, clearing away some of the dizziness. Isobel clawed at the hand and kicked back with all her strength. She twisted and arched her back, trying to free herself of the grasp. A grunt of pain issued in her ear when her heel connected with a knee.

The man yanked her away and threw her up against the backside of the building. The wind was briefly knocked out of her from the force of her body slamming into the painted concrete block of the wall. He lunged at her and in the glow of the lone florescent light above the door, dark shadows swirled through his eyes.

He smashed the weight of his body against hers, pinning her to the wall, one arm pressed across her throat. Isobel scratched and clawed at him as his other hand yanked up the hem of her shirt and fumbled under the thin material for the vial.

Isobel gasped for air under the pressure of his arm on her throat and brought her knee up. His breath exploded into her face in a sour rush. She gasped and tried to orientate herself when he sagged away from her. The door. Isobel staggered to it but couldn’t get it to open from the outside.

A smoky shadow came around the far corner. Isobel tried to embrace her power but a wave of dizziness rolled over her and the power slipped away. She turned and tried to run back the other way. The world slid to one side and snapped back. She stumbled. The man on the ground reached out impossibly fast and grabbed her foot sending her sprawling to the ground. Her head struck the pavement in the same place it had hit the wall. Fueled by the rage of the demon inside, he yanked her toward him. Isobel’s mind reeled as she tried to focus on getting away. She kicked him in the face with her other foot. His nose crunched and he howled at her as blood poured down his face. Isobel tried to yank her foot away from the man’s grasp; they couldn’t get the vial.

He snarled at her, his eyes blackened with the shadow of the demon. The other one leapt across the distance and landed on her back, driving her into the ground. The vial dug into the flesh of her chest, grinding on the pavement. She tried to scream; it came out as a groan. Its claws raked across her skin, seeking the chain around her neck.

Isobel’s lungs wheezed as she fought for air. And then the weight was gone. The claws tore through the skin of her arm as it flung her aside. She skidded several feet across the rough pavement. Her skin stung from the scrapes down her arms and legs. Bright light filled the area. Isobel crawled on her hands and knees until she came to the wall.

She turned her head trying to understand why she was free. Damien fought with the demon who had sat on her back, his wings unfurled, the muscles in his arms standing out as he pinned it to the ground and held a symbol to the shrieking form while Latin rolled off his tongue.

Lucian, also with his wings out and surrounded by light, snapped the neck of the man who had attacked her and then tackled the demon that tried to flee the dead body. The world wobbled. Or maybe it was her. Isobel couldn’t be sure.

“Oh, my God!” The voice of the gas station attendant cut through the night. Isobel glanced up at the young man. He looked as pale as a ghost staring at the dead man lying on the ground.

In a blurring movement, Damien had the attendant pushed up against the wall, one hand on the guy’s chest. “You saw nothing. You will have no memory of this at all.”

The attendant nodded. His face was empty, and his eyes glazed as he turned and walked away.

Isobel pushed to her feet, using the wall for support. She reached for the vial hanging around her neck and relief washed through her when she found it unharmed. The world wobbled more, swaying dangerously out of control. Isobel leaned against the wall and cradled her head in her hands. Why was the world moving like that? Her stomach rolled. A groan escaped her lips and tears leaked from her eyes from the agony that stabbed through her head.

“Meae deliciae?” Damien stood in front of her, his gentle tone at odds with the anger pulsing through him, though his anger wasn’t for her. His heart clenched when he took her face in his hands and made her look up at him. A large lump and bruise were spreading near the hairline on one side of her forehead, and her pupils were reacting wrong to the bright light. “Why did you leave the restroom?”

Why had she? Isobel had to think for a minute. “Some girl really needed to go.” Damien’s face tilted with the world and she closed her eyes. “Make it stop.”

Damien pulled her against him when she swayed, worry flooding him. “Make what stop?”

“The world. You’re an angel; surely you can make the world stop wobbling like that.” She sank into him. With her eyes closed, everything began a slow spin.

Damien grabbed her as Isobel’s knees buckled. “Isobel!”

“I’m here. Just make it stop.”

“I can’t, meae deliciae.” Damien glanced over at Lucian. “Get the car; we need to get out of here. You’re driving for a while.” He looked back at Isobel. “Is the vial still intact?”

She nodded then winced. “They didn’t break it. I don’t think they really wanted it broke, they wanted to take it away.” Isobel pressed the heel of her hand to her head.

Lucian was only gone for a few seconds before the car skidded around the corner and slid to a stop. Damien looked down. “Isobel, can you walk?”

He reluctantly let her go when she pulled away. “I think so.”

Isobel took two steps toward the car then stumbled and fell. Damien caught her before she hit the ground. “I’ve got you.” He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the car, sliding into the backseat with her. He didn’t bother with seat belts; instead he positioned his back against the door with one foot on the floorboard and the other propped on the seat. Isobel sat curled up in the seat between his legs, her head resting on his chest.

Lucian punched the gas and tore around the backside of the store and out onto the street. When they gained the highway he caught Damien’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “How bad is it?”

Damien kept one arm around her as his fingers explored the bump and spreading bruise on her head. “Bad enough. Nothing feels broken, but I think she might have a concussion.”

“I could have made it to the car you know, if you would have made everything stop tilting,” Isobel mumbled against his shirt.

He tightened his arms around her. Isobel stirred. “Why did Lucian kill that man?”

“Meae deliciae, he attacked you. What did you want done with him?”

“It wasn’t his fault; he had a demon in him.” She brought her hand up to her forehead and grimaced.

“A lower level demon can’t force a man to do something that wasn’t already somewhere in his heart. They prey on that and intensify it. It usually takes a while for the demon to bring everything to the surface in order for the human to act on the demon’s wishes.” He gently brushed her hair away from her face. “That man had only been possessed for a few minutes at most. For him to do what he did…he would’ve had to commit such acts before only he wouldn’t have stopped at the vial during those.”

“I thought only the Higher Powers got to pass judgment.” She tried to move so she could look at him but gasped and held her head with her hand.

Damien traced his fingers over the lump. He wasn’t sure if it was life threatening at this point. If not, he couldn’t heal it but he might be able to ease the pain. Damien embraced his powers as he answered her, “We are dark angels, meae deliciae.” He allowed his power to slip through his fingertips and into the wound on her head. “In defense of our channels, we have the right to pass judgment.”

Isobel said something incoherent and then, “Are we in Wichita yet?”

Damien looked down at her and his heart lurched. Maybe it was worse than he thought. Her eyelids drooped, and he gave her a shake. “Isobel, meae deliciae, I need you to stay awake for now.” He changed tactics and whispered for permission to heal.

The bruise faded and the lump under his fingers disappeared. His breath froze in his chest for a moment. It shouldn’t have done that unless it threatened her life. He wrapped his arms around her again and pulled her tight against him, lowering his face to her hair.

“Damien?” her voice sounded soft and sleepy.

“Yes, meae deliciae?” Damien whispered into her hair.

“My head doesn’t hurt anymore.”

He ran his hand down her hair. “I know, you can sleep now.” She mumbled something and slipped into a deep slumber.

Lucian growled quietly and ripped the tattered remains of his shirt away. “That was too damn close.”

Damien agreed with him. “We seem to keep saying that.” He removed his own ripped shirt more gently, not wanting to wake Isobel. He didn’t bother thinking about another one yet. He had little doubt his wings would come out again before the night was over.

They drove in silence for several hours as the night stretched out in front of them. The road, making its way through the middle of nowhere, was empty save for them.

Isobel jolted awake in his arms as something heavy hit the roof of the car. A second later the back window smashed in and a smoky, clawed hand reached into the backseat. Damien lunged forward as the claws grabbed her hair. He clamped his hand on the demon’s wrist with a crushing grip.

The demon roared and continued to try and pull Isobel from the car. Lucian threw on the brakes sending the vehicle fishtailing down the highway to a stop. The demon was flung forward, its arm ripped off in Damien’s hand. It tumbled over the front of the car and immediately leapt back up. More demons swarmed out of the night.

Lucian burst out of the car, his light spreading over the road. Lesser demons shrank away but the larger, stronger demons charged him.

Damien pushed Isobel down onto the floorboard. ”Stay in here,” he ordered and then left the car as more demons swarmed from the night. The sting of their claws ripped through his skin as he wrestled the first down.

Isobel lay on the floorboard and wrestled with her desire to help until a demon crawled in through the shattered back window. She embraced her power before it could reach her and raised a circle. It only took a second to find the right symbol and banish it.

She scrambled from the car as two more started in from the window. The scene outside the car was one from a nightmare. The two angels couldn’t banish the demons fast enough, and both were taking wounds. Isobel whirled around as more crawled into the light bathing the road.

Isobel pulled in more power until it raced like fire through her veins. Ignoring the pain she raised a massive circle trapping nearly fifty demons within. The power rushing through her had drained away any fear. Her senses heightened, every blade of grass was easily visible, and even the smallest rustle in the trees reached her.

Focusing her strength she fixed her eyes on the circle of light as symbols began flashing simultaneously under each demon held captive by her power. When all the appropriate symbols were attached to each demon she spoke loud and clear, “I banish thee. I banish thee back to the pit from which you came. I banish thee from this plane. I banish thee from the world of the living. I banish thee.”

The screeches of the combined demons being banished all at once filled the night and echoed off the trees around them, though most humans would never hear it. Somewhere in the distance dogs barked in response.

A demon jumped at her from behind. Isobel heard it coming and stepped out of the way. Pain tore down her arm as the demon raked its claws along her skin when it grabbed for her and missed. The ache of the lacerations couldn’t compare to the burning in her blood. Her body felt flushed and overheated and still she pulled in more power. Another circle went up, this time around an even larger number.

Almost a hundred symbols began to flash at the same time as the demons battered against the wall of golden-white energy that held them. When the symbols settled she again banished them all at once. This time Isobel threw so much power into it, instead of melting away, they all burst into showers of sparks that drifted on the breeze and faded.

“Isobel, no!” Damien’s shout carried through the night to her.

She swayed as the temperature of her skin heated more. Damien was there before she could blink, taking her face in his hands. His massive black wings filled the night behind him, and his rich blue eyes were frantic as he stared into her face. “Meae deliciae, what have you done!” His palms felt cold against her skin.

Lucian appeared next to him. “She’s burning up, Damien. It’s gone too far.”

“No.” He shot Lucian a glare before turning back to her. Though his eyes were wild with panic his voice was calm. He gazed at her and captured her attention. “Isobel, you need to back it down.”

Though the power burned like a wildfire in her body, cold seeped through her. Isobel shivered as she stared into his eyes and her teeth chattered when she tried to speak. “I c-c-can’t c-c-control it.”

Damien smoothed her hair back from either side of her face as anguish closed around his heart. “Yes, you can, meae deliciae.” He tried to keep the terror out of his voice. Her eyes blazed with the light, only a small sliver of green was left near the pupils.

Shivers wracked Isobel so hard she thought her insides were coming apart as she tried to grapple with the runaway power. Every time she pulled it down a notch it slipped through again. The agony in her veins grew to unbearable levels and she cried out, “Damien, help me!”

A vice tightened around Damien’s chest at her plea. “Listen to me, Isobel. Can you control any of it?”

Deep shivers shook her body as she nodded. Isobel’s legs trembled and gave out. She collapsed into him. Damien’s arms caught her and he took them both down until she sat on the empty road, and he knelt in front of her with his knees braced apart. The pain in his chest grew as alarm filled him.

Her head fell back as her eyelids fluttered down. Damien grabbed her face in his hands again, desperation raising the volume of his voice. “Isobel!” Her eyes opened slowly as if it took great effort. “You will not die on me! Not this time. Gather the power you can and back it down.”

Isobel couldn’t open her mouth; her jaw was clenched shut by the icy tremors that tightened their grip even as she burned. She managed a small nod and tried to do as he said. Instead of working to gather it all up and keep any from escaping, she grabbed what she could and forced it back, reining it in and pushing it down.

The blistering heat inside her faded a fraction. Isobel struggled to pull more down and then more. With the last of her strength, she finally caught hold of the last shreds of power that still raged through her body. It took everything she had to pull it back and wrestle it down.

Damien pulled her into his arms as she went limp. Heat radiated off her skin and her body still trembled uncontrollably, but she was alive. He held her close, one arm around her back and the other hand buried in the hair at the base of her neck.

Lucian started to reach for his shoulder and hesitated. “Is she…”

“She lives.” Damien’s voice was rough with emotion. Weakness washed through him and he eased himself down to sit on the road.

“Damien, what are you doing? We need to get her in the car, now.” Lucian frowned.

Damien nodded. “In just a moment.”

Lucian gripped his shoulder, pulled him slightly away from Isobel, and swore. “Stay. I’ll grab something to bandage that.”

“No.” Damien stopped him. “Heal Isobel’s arm first. It’s bleeding too much.”

Lucian nodded and grabbed her arm. It didn’t take long for the wound to pull together and disappear. Damien fought against the hazy shadows that crept around the edge of his mind. The rips in his skin, though bleeding heavily, wouldn’t kill him. Made by a powerful mid-level demon, they would just take longer to heal.

Isobel swam in and out of darkness. When she slipped to the pavement, it jarred her semi-awake. Damien sat slightly hunched, his arms lying at his sides. Four long, deep gashes were torn across his torso from one shoulder to the opposite hip. Blood soaked the front of him and the waistband of his jeans.

Isobel struggled to find the strength to speak. Finally, she was able to whisper his name. “Damien?”

He didn’t answer. Oh God; he couldn’t be dead. She fought to raise her voice. “Damien? Please answer.”

Tears stung her eyes and rolled down the side of her face and into her hair as she lay, too weak to even move her fingers. Darkness clawed around the edges of her mind and she tried to push it away. Pulling in a deep breath Isobel released it with all the strength she had. “Lucian!” It came out more of a hoarse cry than the shout she had intended.

Sapped of everything her body had to give, her vision dimmed. Just before it grew dark, Lucian came into view. He laid a hand on her forehead. “I’m here Isobel, and I’ve got him. Don’t worry, he won’t die.”

Darkness closed over her.

Damien woke knowing the cloth wrapped around his torso was no longer needed. The wounds had healed. Late morning light filled the car. He lay across the backseat with Isobel wedged in front of him, her head cradled against his shoulder and their legs tangled together.

The plastic sheet secured over the back window rattled in the wind. The inside of the car felt like a morgue. “Do you think you could turn down the air conditioning? It’s freezing, and Isobel’s skin is cold.”

Lucian looked back at them briefly before returning his attention to the road. “It’s about time. I’ve checked her throughout the night, and her skin was still too hot. The air’s been on max the entire time. I was starting to worry she wasn’t going to make it.”

Damien trailed his fingers over her chilled skin. “She’s too cold now. But that is good. Thank you for tending to her, Lucien.” His eyes roamed over her face, and he offered his thanks to the Higher Powers. He didn’t think he could bear the pain of losing her again.

The air cut down to almost nothing. “You’re welcome. And I am glad to see you awake, my friend.”

Damien didn’t want to disturb Isobel so he didn’t move. “Anything else happen?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.” Lucian glanced at him again and then his eyes fell on Isobel’s face. “Not too many are willing to risk themselves anymore. I think what Isobel did put the fear of the Higher Powers into the demons.”

“She certainly put fear into me,” Damien said. “I have never seen anyone banish that many demons at once. I never would have believed someone could survive that much power.”

“She almost didn’t. As helpful as it was, it isn’t something I would care for her to repeat,” Lucian said, his tone grim.

“I have every intention of keeping her from it if I can.” Damien looked down at Isobel’s face. “Unfortunately, we don’t get to control the actions of our channels. They will do whatever they think is best—even when it places them in direct danger—if they feel it will serve something greater than themselves.”

Lucian nodded and Damien heard him whisper, “La Pucelle.”

Another hour passed before Isobel stirred. She shifted against the rock hard body of Damien. The heat that soaked into her from him felt wonderful. He was alive!

Isobel tried to move closer to him, and a moan escaped her lips from the effort. Every muscle and joint in her body ached, and she felt incredibly weak.

“Meae deliciae?” Damien’s tender voice in her ear sent warmth through her chilled body as she felt him shift.

Isobel opened her eyes and found Damien propped up on his elbow next to her. There was barely enough room for them both on the seat. Damien drew the backs of his fingers across her cheek and into her hair as his eyes searched hers. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you wake.”

She tried to move her hand to his face, but the muscles in her back went into a spasm, tearing a gasp from her as her arm dropped limply. Her throat and mouth felt like she had spent the night trying to eat sand. Isobel swallowed repeatedly until she could bring the words to her lips. “I hurt.”

He ran his fingers through her hair again. “I know, meae deliciae. It’s a side effect of holding too much power. It will go away in a few hours.”

Isobel licked her dry lips and whispered, “Drink. Please.”

Damien nodded. He helped her up beside him. Isobel gritted her teeth against the pain.

“Lucian,” Damien glanced into the front seat, “she needs a drink.”

Lucian’s eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror. “It’s good to see you awake, Isobel. If you scare me like that again…” He shook his head and handed a soda over the back of the seat. “It isn’t very cold, but it’s wet.”

Isobel took the soda in a shaky hand and sipped it. The warm fizz burned her throat; she drank it anyway.

Lucian took the next exit and parked at a fast food restaurant. Isobel shifted away from Damien so he could pull a shirt on. Lucian shoved his arms through a shirt and yanked it over his head as well.

Isobel leaned her head back. “I need to go inside; I’m not sure I can make it by myself.”

“I will take you. Lucian can order food while you do what you need to do.” Damien pulled another shirt from one of the bags and handed it to her. “You should change. A lot of my blood got on you; we don’t want the workers here to think you spent the night killing someone.”

Isobel glanced down. The entire front of her shirt was encrusted with dried blood. Moving carefully, she eased off the soiled shirt and pulled on the clean one. Dried blood flaked off her arm. She would wash it once she was in the bathroom. Luckily, it was past breakfast and before lunch. There would be few people inside.

Damien helped her from the car. Heat and humidity swamped her. Isobel’s shaky legs and aching joints weren’t sure they wanted to participate in the activity of walking, but her bladder insisted on it. Isobel leaned heavily on Damien for support and they made their slow way across the lot. Once inside, Lucian left them and headed to the counter.

Isobel used the bathroom and took a minute to splash cool water on her face after washing her hands and arms. The smell of hamburgers and French fries made her mouth water. When did she last eat?

When she opened the door, Damien was standing outside. “Were you there the entire time?”

“After what happened last time, you really have to ask?”

Isobel smiled. “Thank you, Damien.”

He raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For everything. For being you. For always being there.” Tears stung her eyes as her love for him washed over her; love she saw reflected back in his eyes.

He cupped the back of her neck with his fingers, brushing his thumb across her cheek. He touched his lips lightly to hers as he whispered, “Semper tecum.”

“What?” Isobel stared at him, her heart fluttered at his gentle touch.

“Always by your side,” he repeated.

“Hey, are you two lovebirds hungry or do you plan to stand there making eyes at each other all day?” Lucian said, walking up to them with three large bags.

Isobel leaned against Damien and raised an eyebrow. “Feeding an army?”

Lucian lowered his voice. “You have two angels on your hands that need to replenish their energy. We will eat a lot. Unlike you who will probably eat like a bird. Which, by the way, is a ridiculous analogy since birds spend practically all day, every day, doing little else other than eating.”

Isobel shook her head and laughed as they left the restaurant. She settled into the backseat with a sigh of relief. Her muscles trembled from weakness. Damien handed her a chicken sandwich, an order of fries, and a cold soda while Lucian guided the car back onto the highway. She tore into the food with a ravenous appetite.

Lucian glanced at her several times in the rearview mirror. “So much for picking at your food,” he said when she dug into the bag for one of the many hamburgers.

“I am starving.” Isobel unwrapped the burger and took a big bite.

Damien chuckled. “The amount of power you held used up a lot of energy.” His eyes grew serious. “Although I would be forever thankful if you never did that again.”

Isobel shook her head and swallowed the bite. “I had no choice, there were too many.”

“It wouldn’t have helped any if you had died.”

“It wouldn’t have helped any if you two had died either.” Her eyes raked over the shirt that covered his chest. “I thought you were dead.”

“Isobel, demons can’t kill me. Not in their natural form. They can inflict some nasty injuries but nothing I can’t heal from.” He shot her a frustrated look. “That is why I told you to stay in the car. They could only come at you one or two at a time. Lucian and I would have worked our way through the rest of them.”

Damien watched a small frown cross her face as she said, “It was hard to see you that way. With the demons all over you…there was so much blood.”

He shook his head. Hard to see him that way? She’d nearly died in his arms.

They finished the food in silence while the car ate up the last of the distance between them and the house.

The light of the setting sun cut through the trees on the highway as they drew closer to their destination. Isobel estimated they’d arrive in about an hour and decided to catch some more sleep. Damien suddenly tensed next to her. Isobel’s eyes flew open. Lucian uttered an oath and slowed the car. He yanked it across the lanes and took an exit. Her hands grabbed onto the back of the seat as he gunned the engine, ignored the stop sign at the bottom of the ramp and cranked the wheel, sending the car sliding sideways across the two-lane road.

Isobel’s heart leapt into her throat. “What’s happening?”

“Demons,” Lucian growled. “All over the sides of the highway. Hundreds of them.”

She turned to look back, but could see nothing through the opaque plastic. They blew past the posted forty-five mile speed limit. Damien fastened the seat belt around her while the car careened down the empty two-lane road.

Lucian swore again and jerked the wheel. Smoky figures hurdled from the overgrown ditch onto the cracked pavement. The front fender clipped one of the demons, sending a shudder through the car. Lucian wove through them as fast as he could until so many filled the road he had to slam on the brakes. Two demons pounced on the rear fender with enough force to send the speeding car sideways.

Damien’s arms locked around Isobel as the car flipped. The side air bag exploded beside her. Isobel screamed. The world disintegrated into shattering glass and screeching metal. The car rolled one last time and came to a rest on its side.

Isobel blinked, dazed in the sudden silence. Damien’s weight pressed down on her though the air bag kept her from the crumpled door.

“Isobel!” Damien shook her shoulder. “Answer me.”

She blinked a couple of times. “What?”

Two hard thumps rocked the car and then more glass shattered. She caught a glimpse of Lucian climbing through the missing windshield. Damien’s voice brought her attention back to him.

“Are you hurt?”

Isobel shook her head. “I don’t think so; just dazed.”

He pointed a finger at her. “Stay. This time, please listen.” Only the sound of grating metal signaled his exit as he launched through the door that stood toward the sky, ripping it from its hinges.

Demonic howls grated over her. Isobel struggled to undo the seat belt except the latch wouldn’t release. She tried to shift so that her weight wasn’t hanging from it as much. It wouldn’t budge. Suddenly Lucian appeared, ripping the belt in half. He grabbed her arm, pulled her up, and before she could ask what was happening, he hoisted her through the open space of the back door.

Damien easily pulled her the rest of the way out of the car.

Isobel looked around in panic. The road and surrounding area was a seething mass of shadowy shapes. “Damien, what—”

Damien’s arms locked around her waist like iron bands, crushing her to him, then he rose into the air. Isobel’s breath left her in a rush as the ground dropped away. Her stomach flipped and twisted. Her fear of heights overwhelmed her and she clawed at his arms, screaming.

Lucian sent her a startled look from where he flew a couple of wing lengths away. Damien tightened his hold, ignoring the raking pain of her nails on his arm. “Isobel, calm down. I’ve got you. I promise you won’t fall.” She fought him in a blind panic. He spoke low and calm in her ear. “Meae deliciae, I am sorry. This is the only way. Please trust me.”

Her screams quieted and she stopped trying to shred his arms, but she still trembled. There was nothing he could do except reach her house as fast as possible. When he was sure Isobel wouldn’t struggle, he shifted her around so that she was cradled against him.

Isobel buried her face into his chest, her hands locked onto his shirt in a death grip.

Dusk pulled its star-sprinkled blanket over the sky when Damien landed gently on her back deck. He set Isobel on her feet and then caught her when she swayed. “I’m sorry, Isobel. It was the only way.”

Relief washed through him when she nodded and mumbled, “I know,” into his chest.

He brushed her hair away from her pale face. “You can open your eyes now.”

Isobel wasn’t so sure. She glanced to the side. Yes, she was safely on the ground. She took a deep shuddering breath. “That is an experience I’d rather not repeat.”

“I know.”

Isobel caught sight of the scratches on his arms that were already healing. “Oh, Damien. I’m so sorry.”

Damien smiled down at her. “Think nothing of it, they heal quickly.”

The images of the demons along the road filled her mind. “We have to hurry. They will come here, won’t they?”

Lucian folded his wings and nodded. “It won’t take them long.”

The French doors swung open and Isaac greeted them with a weary smile. Isobel crossed the deck with Damien and Lucian on her heels. When she stepped over the threshold, a dark, oppressive feeling washed over her. She rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. “How long has it been like this?”

Even from the dining room she sensed the window thrumming with malevolent energy. Dark lines of unnatural shadows veined across the walls inside the house.

Amelia glanced at the walls. “Since yesterday evening.”

Isaac nodded. “Xapar seems to be more angry than usual. He’s done his best to terrorize Amelia and Rose, though it hasn’t gone well for him. Between Elijah and I taking turns to shield and Rose’s determination, Xapar didn’t get far. It’s not for lack of trying though.” He closed the door and followed them to the dining room. “It was pretty active demon wise until yesterday evening. Then all of a sudden everything turned quiet.”

Amelia swept a worried look over Isobel. “Lucian called. He said it was pretty bad on the road.”

Isobel gave her friend a quick hug. “I’m fine.” She fished the vial out of her shirt. “And now that I have this, Xapar can finally be sent back where he belongs.” The house seemed to shudder at her words and sinister laughter seeped through the air. The hairs raised on Isobel’s arms. The ominous energy of demons washed over her. She turned and looked out the French doors.

Shapes darker than the night leapt across the river, scrambling up the steep bank toward the house and climbing over one another in their rush.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. White light sprang up around the men as four sets of wings unfurled.

Lucian shoved her in the direction of the foyer. “Go! Hurry!”

Isobel bolted for the stairs, Damien right behind her. The darkness on the landing nearly overwhelmed her with its intensity. Isobel embraced her power, allowing the golden-white light to push back against Xapar’s energy.

She pulled the vial from around her neck and held it up, watching in fascination as it liquefied in the presence of the powerful demon.

“Januarius.” The hate-filled voice brushed past her cheek like a hot wind.

“Hurry, Isobel!” Damien shouted as the sounds of battle echoed through the house as he fought to keep the lesser demons from reaching her.

Isobel kept her full attention on the window while she broke the seal on the vial. She poured a small amount on her finger, surprised that her hands weren’t shaking, and stepped close to the stained glass without fear. One way or the other this was ending.

Her finger burned when she touched the glass. Isobel pressed the blood into the faded seal until it spread from beneath her finger and across the window. The seal rippled and the tattered remnants fell away. Isobel reached into the colored glass with her power and latched onto Xapar. The demon fought her, but there would be no escape for him.

A lower demon crashed into her and sent her sprawling across the carpet.

Isobel gathered herself and climbed back to her feet, never taking her concentration off Xapar. She barely noticed Damien slamming the lower demon through the wall. She drew more power until a faint burn raced through her veins. The tiny cracks webbed across the ancient glass were visible to her heightened senses. The window flexed and bowed in, the glass stretching and warping, and then it exploded.

Millions of tiny shards of glass showered her and the landing. Isobel gave no thought to the minor cuts on her face and arms. Xapar towered over her on the landing, his black shape solid as a veil of smoky shadows swirled around him. His legs ended in massive cloven hooves. The horns of a bull hung heavy on his head almost brushing the twelve foot ceiling.

Deep red eyes regarded her with a mixture of pure hatred and fear from an indiscernible face. Isobel raised the circle around him the minute he formed but didn’t bother with any symbols. Xapar wouldn’t be susceptible to any of them; he was too strong.

She had to link the other demons to him or they’d be banishing demons for weeks. Isobel pulled on her power and fed it into the glowing wall as she whispered, “I bind them to you, Xapar. Every demon acting under your direction this night, I bind them to you. Where you go, they go. I bind them to you.”

Little wisps of glowing light flowed off the circle she’d raised, looking like energy spiking off a plasma globe. Each tendril fixed itself to a demon, even those beyond her sight. Some tendrils disappeared as the demon it was attached to was banished by one of the channels or dark angels in the house. It would take an extraordinary amount of power to banish them with Xapar, but it had to be done.

Something deep inside told her he wouldn’t banish the same way the lesser demons had. She staggered as Xapar slammed into the wall she had raised. A feeling of tranquility settled over her, and she sensed the presence of Januarius. His spirit was with her on the landing. Isobel glanced to the side. The priest’s kind eyes regarded her and she knew what to do. It could still result in her death, but it didn’t matter.

Xapar’s glowing red eyes widened as she poured the rest of the blood into her hand and coated both palms. The wall shuddered and rippled again when Xapar stepped back and roared.

Ignoring Damien’s warning about not physically engaging a demon she leapt at Xapar, joining him within the circle as her hands clamped over his massive wrists. Somewhere in the distance she heard Damien yell.

She pulled in power until it raged like molten lava through her body. Her hands burned and smoke poured out from under her palms. Xapar tried to thrash away but her grip held solid, made unbreakable by the blood. With Januarius’ blood, power thundered through her hands and into Xapar.

Isobel locked eyes with the demon. “I banish thee.”

He slammed her into the wall of the circle, almost knocking the air out of her. Isobel continued, “I banish thee back to the pit from which you came.”

Her ears rang as Xapar roared and then he slammed her down onto the floor. Something cracked in her chest; agony shot through her body. Isobel pulled more of the power. “I banish thee from this plane,” she wheezed around the pain.

He jerked her up and slammed her against the wall of the circle again. Her head bounced off it and for a moment there were two Xapars. “I banish thee from the world of the living.”

He rammed her into the golden-white wall again, but this time it lacked any strength. Isobel stared into the demon’s eyes with determination. “I banish thee, Xapar.”

The demon trembled in her grip. Golden-white light mixed with the dark-red blood of the saint swirled from under her palms and wrapped around Xapar, twisting and moving until it completely covered him. Power beyond comprehension raged in her, slamming into Xapar.

Isobel’s hands came loose and the shield dropped just as Xapar exploded in a fireball. The fire and heat slammed into her like a giant fist. She flew backward through the air and hit the wall; the sheetrock caved under the impact. She slid down and landed in a crumpled heap. The howls of the lesser demons going up in flames echoed throughout the house.

Through blurred vision, she stared at the spot where Xapar had been. Fire consumed the south and west walls of the landing crawling across the ceiling with greedy fingers. Shivers tightened her muscles to the point that they couldn’t be moved. Tremendous power still raged in her. Isobel closed her eyes and worked to bring it under control. She couldn’t. There was too much, more even than she’d held on the road. It didn’t matter. Xapar was gone. He wouldn’t hurt anyone for many centuries. Her father was safe. Elizabeth was safe. She felt no regret for her actions. She would gladly give her life over again if it meant others would be safe.

And then Damien was there, his fingers like ice against her overheated skin.

Tears ran down Damien’s face as he knelt beside her. “Isobel?” He thumbed back her lids. The white light had completely consumed her eyes. His hands shook as he let her eyes fall shut again. She was beyond the point of no return. His voice was a ragged whisper as he leaned forward to press a kiss against her forehead. “Usque ad proximum tempus. Meae deliciae.” Until next time. My love.

Isobel floated on the raging river of power and pain. She wanted to respond to Damien but couldn’t. Gratitude filled her heart, and she whispered thank you to the Higher Powers for allowing her to banish Xapar. Peace surrounded her and she prepared to release the tenuous hold on her life. If it was the will of the Higher Powers that she died, then it was.

A light sprang up in the darkness where she dwelled. It grew and expanded until it was so bright it shot needles of pain through her mind. The pure, sweet beauty and love emanating from the light of the Higher Powers overwhelmed her until she thought her heart would burst.

Something moved in the light though she couldn’t see anything more than a blurry, indiscernible figure through the stinging brightness. The figure settled on the floor next to her and reached out. A deep chill swept her body when it touched her, its radiant approval washing over her. Slowly, the excess power raging within withdrew into the celestial being until it was bearable. Until she could control it again.

The being faded and Isobel pulled the remaining power in and pushed it down. Intense pain hit her. Agony ripped through her head and ribs when she tried to move. And then she wept from the sweet pain. Because she was alive to feel it.

Hope filled Damien when he saw Isobel try to move. He had no idea how she was still alive. Smoke clogged the air; he had to get her out of there. Damien gathered her in his arms; his heart aching as she cried out against the pain.

Flames filled the stairs. Damien pulled on his power. The fire wouldn’t hurt him, but he had to keep it from harming Isobel. He paused and whispered a plea to the Higher Powers for their help in protecting his channel.

His light flared strong and intense, engulfing Isobel within its reach. Damien sent a heartfelt thank you and hoped they would aid him further once he was out of the house. He descended the stairs; they creaked ominously under his weight but held. The fire eagerly devoured the house. The front door stood open, almost obscured by the thick billows of black smoke that escaped through it.

The house groaned as Damien crossed the foyer. He barely made it off the front porch when the ceiling caved in with a loud crash. Drained from using his power so much in the past day and from the gift of the additional amount he now carried with the blessing of the Higher Powers, Damien stumbled out into the grass and sank to his knees.

Isobel whimpered and then cried out as she coughed up a mass of blood. Damien laid her in the grass and pulled up her shirt. A massive, black bruise covered her ribs. More investigation found her hair soaked with blood and her skull soft from the injury.

Damien reached again for the Higher Powers, praying they would aid him once more since they had allowed her to live through the banishment of Xapar. A sense of peace and tranquility settled over him, and he felt their touch. Damien’s healing powers sprang to life. He took care of her broken skull and the swelling in her brain first then moved on to her ribs. He wasn’t allowed to heal everything. She would still be battered and bruised, and probably needed stitches, but she would live.

Damien released his powers and furled his wings. Her skin was still too warm, but he’d done everything he could. Only then did he look around and become aware of sirens wailing in the distance. Amelia sat wrapped in Elijah’s arms, blood running down the side of her face and a large bruise on one cheek. Isobel’s cat was clutched in Amelia’s hands.

Isaac stood with his arm around Rose. She didn’t appear to have any wounds on her other than a burn on one arm.

Lucian stood with his arms folded and watched the house burn.

Damien looked toward the road as the first police car and fire truck pulled down the driveway, their lights flashing through the night. Isaac turned to Damien and Elijah. “You two rest and stay with your channels. Lucian and I will handle the police and the fire department.

Damien nodded. The authorities would believe what the two dark angels planted in their heads. Ambulances were the next to arrive and Isobel was loaded onto a stretcher. One EMT tried unsuccessfully to get Damien on a stretcher. Damien grew weary of his insistence and captured the man’s eyes in a focused gaze. “I am perfectly fine. You agree with me and have other things to do.”

The EMT appeared dazed and then walked away. Damien climbed into the back of the ambulance with Isobel.

Everything hurt. Isobel knew part of it was a reaction to the power she had wielded. But it was more than that. Her head ached and it hurt to breathe too deep. Isobel’s eyes fluttered open. Light from a florescent bulb glowed softly from somewhere behind her head. A tiled ceiling swam into view. On the wall across from her images from the Weather Channel moved across the screen on a small TV, its volume muted.

Something annoying beeped regularly to the side. Confused, Isobel raised her hand to her forehead and noticed something on the end of her finger. She focused on it. Her finger was held by a clamp. A cord ran from it to somewhere off the side of the bed. A bed with rails.

She turned her head and felt the pull of the tube running under her nose. She felt another tube attached to the back of her hand. Isobel swallowed past the dry stickiness in her throat. “Damien?” His name came out as a whisper.

He was there in an instant, leaning over her. “Good morning, meae deliciae.” His voice and tender smile warmed her heart.

“Morning?” she rasped out.

Damien placed a small foam cup with a straw in it to her lips. She sipped gratefully. “Yes, morning.”

Isobel tried to push herself up but gasped at the pain that shot through her ribs and fell back with a groan. Damien laid his hand over her heart. “Be still, meae deliciae. You have bruised ribs and stitches in the back of your head.”

The memory of everything that had happened crashed over her, and she closed her eyes to sort it out. Her eyes flew open as panic filled her. “What is it?”

“Amelia, Rose…Sorsha?” She searched his face anxiously.

Damien’s face relaxed and he hitched one hip up to perch on the edge of the mattress. “All three are fine. Amelia needed some stitches, and Rose was treated for a burn on her arm. Both have already been released. They chose to go back to my house for now with Lucian and Elijah. Amelia doesn’t want to leave for Louisiana until you are out of here.” He held up his hand. “And, Sorsha is fine. Amelia made sure to grab her on the way out of the house.”

Isobel relaxed as the tension leached out of her. “What about the police; my mother’s car. My parents!” She started to sit up again, but Damien held her back with gentle hands.

“You will stay still and calm down.” He waited until she nodded before removing his hands. “It really was horrible that someone stole your mother’s car and wrecked it. And it’s tragic that the house caught on fire due to a wiring mistake during the remodeling. You hit your head and bruised your ribs when you fell down the stairs trying to get away from the fire.”

Sadness welled inside Isobel for her parents. “The house is gone, isn’t it?”

Damien nodded. “By the time the firefighters arrived it was too late. All they could do was keep it from spreading.” He shifted on the bed. “I called your parents. They took the first flight they could get and will be here this afternoon.”

“How did you get the hospital to let you in here?”

A smile filled with mischief spread across his face, showing his perfect white teeth. “They wouldn’t dare to keep your husband away.”

Isobel’s breath caught in her throat and the machine skipped a beep. “Husband? Are you proposing?”

Damien flashed her another smile. “Absolutely.” His face grew serious. “But not here, not like this.”

Isobel wanted to tell him she didn’t care how he proposed, but she could see in his eyes that he wanted to do something special. She tried to change positions to ease the ache in her joints and groaned at the stabbing pain in her side.

“Isobel, do you want me to call the nurse so she can give you something for the pain?”

She gave a shake of her head. “Not yet.” Her eyes found his again. “Xapar is gone?” When he nodded she asked, “What do I do now?”

Damien’s face grew serious. “There are more demons out there. What you decide to do is up to you.”

Tears rimmed the edges of her eyes. Though he’d said he wanted to marry her, she knew he had a greater calling. “You’re going to leave, aren’t you?”

Damien’s face softened as he shook his head. “Not without you, meae deliciae. You are my channel. I have had but one place in this world throughout the centuries and that is with you. We are sodales in aeternum.” He stood and leaned over her, gently kissing her lips before pulling back.

Isobel closed her eyes and relaxed against the sheets. Damien brushed the back of his fingers across her face. “I will call the nurse now.”

A few minutes later the nurse arrived and injected pain medication into her I.V. The pain lessened and the drug pulled her under.

When she woke her mother and father were in the room. Elizabeth was at her side the minute her eyes opened. She brushed a strand of hair away from Isobel’s face. “Oh baby, we were so worried about you.”

A golden glow shined softly around Elizabeth, and Isobel smiled, happy she was able to see it. The pain in her joints had finally subsided, and only a dull ache remained in her head. “I’m fine, Mom,” she lied. Her ribs still felt like they’d been kicked by a horse.

Her dad hovered anxiously on the other side of the bed as if unsure of what to do with himself. “If I had known about the wiring I would never have left you alone in the house.”

“Dad, it isn’t your fault.” She couldn’t tell him it was really a demon that had caused everything and not the remodeling, but she didn’t want him to feel guilty either.

He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m only thankful Damien and his guests helped you out of the house. I guess I misjudged him a little.”

Isobel smiled at him. “You misjudged him a lot.”

Her father’s eyes narrowed. “How would you know?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “John, really.”

“Dad—” Isobel groaned around the ache in her ribs. “Damien and I have been together all summer.”

“You love him don’t you?” Elizabeth asked knowingly.

“What?” Her dad looked alarmed.

Isobel ignored him and looked at her mom. “Yes. More than I can express.”

Elizabeth nodded, a soft smile of understanding on her face. “It’s that serious between you two?”

“It’s very serious.” She glanced warily at her father. “Maybe fiancé serious.”

Her dad gaped at her and Elizabeth’s eyes lit up as she asked, “When did this happen? Why didn’t you call to tell us?”

Isobel smiled. “It hasn’t quite happened yet. He wants to wait until I am out of the hospital so it can be something special.”

“I’m so happy for you, sweetie.” Elizabeth patted her hand.

“Have you met him?” Isobel asked.

Her mom nodded. “Oh yes. He picked us up from the airport.” Elizabeth glanced at John. “Damien is very sweet and respectful. I think he will be good for you.”

Isobel raised an eyebrow at her father. “Dad?”

“Yeah, he seemed nice.” Her father scowled as if the admission bothered him, then his face softened, and he sighed. “I’m sorry, Isa. It’s just…there will never be anyone good enough for my little girl. I guess Damien is about as close to it as I can hope for.”

A soft laugh escaped her lips followed by a groan as she pressed her hand to her ribs. What would her dad think if he knew Damien was a dark angel? She would never know.

“What are you guys going to do about the house?” Isobel asked, suddenly concerned for her parents.

“We’ll rebuild. We’re here for a week.” Her dad paused and glanced at Isobel. “You remember the Emmersons?” When Isobel nodded that she remembered the architect and his wife, he continued, “James is going to draw up some plans and then see that it gets done while I finish up the job in Dubai.”

Elizabeth took her hand and squeezed it lightly. “I was going to ask if you wanted to come to Dubai with us since the house is destroyed. I’m assuming since you have Damien you’d rather stay here.”

Isobel nodded. “I will stay with Damien.”

“I figured as much.” Elizabeth smiled. “I can stay in town longer if you would like, to help you get ready to go back to college.”

Isobel just smiled. She’d figure out how to tell them that she wasn’t going back to school later. That she was going to travel with Damien instead. She couldn’t very well tell them the man she intended to spend her life with was also her dark angel and she would be hunting demons while she traveled.

The nurse came in soon after with more pain medication. Isobel fell asleep holding Elizabeth’s hand.

Isobel woke and stretched long and slow. Beside her, Sorsha trilled a quiet meow, irritated with her for moving around. Isobel ran her hand over the cat’s soft fur as she sat up, thankful the pain in her ribs was finally gone. One glance at the other side of the bed showed Damien was already awake. Outside the window the first yellow leaves of the aspens had appeared since the beginning of September.

The conversation with her parents three weeks ago about her decision to leave school and travel with Damien had been met with the predicted responses. Elizabeth had expressed nothing but hope and happiness for her future, while her dad had lectured her about staying in college. In the end, Isobel had put her foot down. She was nineteen and old enough to make her own decisions.

Isobel pushed back the warm sheets, slid from the bed, and walked to the window. The Rocky Mountains rose up sharp and tall a short distance away. When she turned, she noticed the rose petals on the floor. They were scattered in a path that led past the open bedroom door.

She paused in the doorway. The path led down the hall and several tea light candles in little glass globes were spaced apart on either side of the hall. Isobel smiled and followed the rose petals and candles to the stairs. The petals were sprinkled down the stairs like a pink and red waterfall. Each step held a tiny candle in glass on either side. The path took her through the house to the dining room where the petals circled the table. Four tall tapered candles stood like guardians around a massive bouquet of pink and red roses.

Isobel stared at the table with tears in her eyes. In front of the roses sat a small velvet box. Snuggled in the center, a diamond ring shimmered in the candlelight.

Damien’s arms slid around her from behind, and he pulled her close. “So how about it, meae deliciae? Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Damien—” Isobel couldn’t stop the tears that trailed down her face. She turned to look into his rich blue eyes that gazed back at her so full of love. “I would love to be your wife.”

He tightened his arms around her and bent to kiss her. She parted her lips and tangled her fingers in his hair. The kiss deepened and intensified until Damien eased away. Isobel smiled up at him. “I can’t believe you did all of this.”

“I can’t take complete credit. I called Amelia for some ideas. There’s more.”

Isobel stared at him, soaking up the passion in his eyes. “More what?”

“More to this. I promise, we will make time for this,” Damien trailed kisses down her neck, “later.” He stepped away and picked up the box, plucking the ring from it.

Isobel held out her hand as he slipped it on her finger. More tears trickled down her cheeks as the diamond sparkled from its place on her hand. “What else could there possibly be?”

“I made breakfast as well.” He smiled.

His smile melted her heart, and she hugged him. “I love you.”

He took her face in his hands, gently wiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. “I love you too. In aeternum ac semper. Meae deliciae.”

“What was that last part?”

Damien leaned down and whispered against her mouth, “Forever and always. My love.” Then he kissed her with all the love and passion in his heart.

Throughout Bound by Time I used many things from actual history and there were a few times I stretched or reshaped it just a bit to fit my needs.

There really was a Saint Januarius; he died as a martyr at the hands of the Romans in 305 A.D.

A woman named Eusebia really did collect vials of his blood. This blood is kept in the principal chapel of Naples, Italy and there really is a festival every year where the blood goes from solid form to liquid form and is brought out of the chapel for the people to see.

Where I deviated from history is making Januarius and Eusebia channels. In actual history, Eusebia only collected two vials of blood. I changed that to five vials for the purpose of this story.

The principal chapel of Naples is indeed built on the ruins of an older chapel that in turn was built on the foundation of yet an older one. The chapel was partly destroyed in 1456 during an earthquake. Whether or not there was ever a round stained glass window in it during this time I don’t know. I installed it for the purpose of this story.

Additionally, regarding stained glass windows; the oldest recorded stained glass windows are indeed in Germany though they didn’t quite date back far enough for this story. So I stretched their history back a little ways in order to have the window where I needed it at the time I needed it to be there.

There are quite a few little islands in the web of land and waterways east of Savannah, Georgia on the coast. However, none of them are the island depicted in this book. I looked at several of the islands before beginning the story, but none quite suited my needs. So I made one up and plopped it down there.

The church they visit in Wichita, KS does not exist to my knowledge; although there are several there. I visited and fell in love with one in another town, but it wasn’t a town that would work well for the story. So I picked that church up and plopped it down on a random, unnamed corner in Wichita.

Joan of Arc (also referred to as La Pucelle both in this book and in history) of course did exist. However, as far as I know, she was not a channel, nor was the man who killed her possessed by a demon, although given his actions it’s entirely possible he was.

Poveglia Island does exist, as did many of the events depicted there during the brief mention of it within this book. However, whether or not there was ever a stained glass window there, or whether a demon had any hand in those events, is unknown to me. I added those in for the purpose of this story.

When Damien informed me he spoke Latin, I was at a loss. When I told him I didn’t know Latin, he told me that was my problem and I had better figure it out. I turned to Maria at AllExperts, a woman who is an expert in Latin language and literature, who received her PhD from Genova University in Italy and has over 25 years experience in teaching. She was kind enough to translate the various phrases for me. I found out during the process that Latin is a very precise language and online translators are often wrong because of this. The way something is said changes depending on who you are addressing and how. I give Maria many thanks for her help.

A.D. Trosper is the author of the bestselling, award-winning Dragon’s Call series. She has also written a children’s book and a paranormal romance series called Bound. A.D. enjoys writing in a variety of genres including epic fantasy, urban fantasy, and paranormal romance. An avid lover of animals, she has rescued and rehabbed horses, goats, dogs and cats. When not writing, she spends time with her family and pets. She is convinced chocolate is a necessary food group and magic is real (not always the way we think it is, but real nonetheless).

Visit the author at:

www.adtropser.com &
www.bhcauthors.com

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Table of Contents

About The Book

Copyright Information

Also By A.D. Trosper

Acknowledgments

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Author's Note

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