“Right here.” The doctor snatched a syringe off a metal tray, pre-filled with some dark purple substance. “Ready when you are.”
I nodded, then began chanting in Gaelic, calling on Gaia again. Gently, I flowed the earth’s power through the woman’s veins and up to her heart, coaxing it back to life. It gave a thump, then two, three, and the heart monitor began a slow beep, beep, in time to the heartbeats.
“Now,” I said, and then her pulse started fluttering wildly against my fingers. The beeping increased to a catastrophic rate, and my own heart leapt into my throat. “Now!”
The doctor plunged the syringe into Jax’s arm, and she let out the most awful scream I’d ever heard in my life.
23
Arabella
“Let me out of here!” I yelled, banging against the door with raw fists. I’d been at this for a good twenty minutes, with no results other than an aching throat and hands. “You can’t lock me up like this—I haven’t done anything wrong! Let me see Captain Palladino! Let me see my father!”
Tears rolled down my cheeks, over the moisture tracks already worn across my skin. My throat was tight with grief, my chest roiling with anger and despair, and all I could see was Jax, lying in the backseat of my car, her skin that awful black-veined marble, cold as death. Why, oh why had they locked Brodie up instead of letting him help?
“So help me,” I growled. “If Jax dies because of your stubbornness, I will rain hell upon you.”
Nobody answered my threat, of course. There wasn’t anyone listening, least of all Mack. I hoped he was by Jax’s side—if I couldn’t be, then someone had to, and she did care for him despite their ups and downs. Exhausted, I pressed my forehead against the metal door. And that was when I heard the footsteps.
Heart pounding, I backed up, instantly moving into a fighting stance. The locks disengaged, and I prepared to attack, but when the door swung open, I froze, unable to move a single muscle.
“By the angel,” Arden Palladino, Commander of the Los Angeles Watchtower, breathed. “It really is you.”
“Daddy.” My voice broke, and I started to tremble. He was almost exactly as I remembered him—salt-and-pepper hair, golden-brown eyes the same as my own, tall and lean with broad shoulders, and laughter lines around the eyes and mouth of his handsome face. But rather than the business suits my mind had conjured, my father was dressed in a white uniform with epaulets on his shoulders, a pair of golden angel wings pinned onto his breast. They were the mark of the Angel Kissed—Sentinels who had become one with their angels and could wield celestial fire. Another memory about that tugged at my consciousness, something about a fierce battle and golden flame, but my brain was overloaded, so I put it aside for later. All I could think about was that my father was really here, in the flesh—he hadn’t died in the car accident after all!
“I’m so sorry about this, sweetheart.” He closed the door and rushed to me with open arms. “They should have never treated you the way they did. This is all a big misunderstanding.”
“Daddy,” I sobbed, the tears coming fast as he enfolded me in his strong arms. I’d loved my parents equally, but there was something so much more comforting about my father’s embrace. I buried my face against his strong chest and shuddered, trying to force the tears back. “Daddy, we have to get Brodie to Jax. She’ll die if he doesn’t help her.”
To my surprise, my father chuckled. “Your Druid friend is already with her,” he told me. “He magicked himself out of his cell the first second he could, and landed in the infirmary.” I felt, rather than saw, him shake his head. “That’s a neat trick, teleportation.”
“He calls it ‘riding the currents’.” I lifted my gaze to his, relief sweeping through me when I saw no evidence of deceit in his expression. Not that I expected my father to lie to me, but still… “How is she?” I demanded. “Did they save her?”
“She’s resting now,” my father confirmed. “Your Druid friend is with her, waiting for you. We all owe him thanks. Without his interference, she would be dead.”
“Thank God.” I released my father, then moved to the door. “I want to see her now.”
“Hang on.” My father gently placed a hand on my shoulder. “I know you want to see them, but there are some things we should talk about first.”
I stilled at the cautious note in his voice. “Things like what?”
“Don’t you want to know what happened to you?”
I turned around. “You’re going to tell me the whole story here? In this cell?” I gestured to the stark chamber, devoid of any comfort.
“Under normal circumstances, we would have this conversation in my office. But I think it’s better you know the truth before we leave this room, so that you can be… prepared.”
“Prepared for what?” I asked as a chill raced through me.
“Please, come sit down.” My father lowered himself onto the cot, then patted the space next to him. “I’ll tell you everything, or at least everything I know.”
I hesitated, still torn between the desire to get answers and the need to check on Jax. But suddenly, a piece of information came to me from Jax’s memories. An image of me clasping hands with her in the ceremonial chamber as the Master of Rituals chanted in Latin, our brands glowing silver through our shirts. The wing-binding ceremony. Lifting my hand to my chest, I slipped my fingers through an opening in my blouse and touched the brand, thinking of Jax. As wing mates, the two of us had a special connection—I could use it to tell if she was alive or hurt, and even send brief messages. Closing my eyes, I reached out for her, straining with a sense I must have once used, but couldn’t remember. But the connection was frayed, and I couldn’t feel her.
“I blocked the bond between the two of you when I sent you away,” my father said, and I opened my eyes. “I couldn’t have her realizing that you weren’t actually dead. She’s alive, Arabella. Trust me, I would tell you if she was otherwise.”
“Fine.” I let out a ragged breath, trying not to be too distressed about the damaged bond. I believed my father—I didn’t see why he’d lie to me about this. “She better be somewhere safe and comfortable.”
“She is.” My father studied me for a moment. “I’m surprised you remember how to use the wing-mate bond. Did Jax teach you, when you met up with her? Your Druid friend told me the whole story,” he explained when I blinked in confusion.
