Page 56 of Hunted by the Fallen
“Don’t bother,” he shakes his head. “It’s not like we were official or anything. No worries, Veronica.” Heleaves.
I feel horrible. I wanted to end things between us, but not like this. “Preston, wait!” I run afterhim.
I don’t know what I’m going to say, I just know I can’t let this be the end. While I can’t tell Preston everything, I can at least offer some truth. I like him. A part of me will always care about the first boy I had a crush on, but timing has been against us. We aren’t a match, but that’s not because of anything lacking on his end. This is all me. I’m the mess. I need Preston to know that. He’s been so kind and sweet. He did nothingwrong.
I see Preston turn left at the end of the hallway. “Preston!” I pick up my pace, skidding to a halt when the hallway is empty. I stomp my foot, cursing the large house. Preston could be in any of the rooms, or he might have taken the back stairs to a different floor. I start to knock on doors, opening them slowly when no one calls out. I don’t want to accidentally intrude on any privatemoments.
I knock on the third door, and I finally receive a response. “Come in.” I twist theknob.
Mrs. Hutchins stands in the center of the room, facing the door like she’d been expectingme.
“Sorry, Mrs. Hutchins.” I take a step back. “I was looking forPreston.”
“Stay.” I stop pulling the door. There is something about her voice that demands obedience. I stand in the space between it and the doorframe, looking around. I’ve stumbled into a bedroom, but I assume it is a guest room. It’s too small to be the master suite. I wonder what Freddy’s mom is doing in here. “Have you seenPreston?”
She moves toward me. It’s at that moment I notice she has changed clothes. Yoga attire has been replaced by tight black pants and ruby red blouse. Her hair is styled to perfection, and her pearl necklace and matching bracelet shine in the light. She must be going out, but I can’t imagine where. It’s almost eleven. Unless she’s going to abar.
The thought is amusing. I doubt such an immaculate lady would step foot in abar.
Instead of answering my question, she says, “The favor I will receive is going to be incredible. I cannot believe you’ve lived under my nose this entire time.” Her eyes are wide with excitement, and the crazed look in her eyes drives me back another step. Mrs. Hutchins marks themovement.
Before I can take a breath, her form blurs. Mrs. Hutchins snatches my wrist. “No, you don’t. You and I are going to take a littletrip.”
Holy crap. She’s nothuman!
I’m not given a chance to shout for help. The world shifts and spins: the telling signs of angelictransport.
Twenty-Four
The world rights itself,and I immediately wrench my arm free. I stumble back. Angel Fire flares to life in my hands. “Who areyou?”
My reaction does nothing to dim the alarming delight in Mrs. Hutchins gaze. Though, she is smart enough to keep her distance. “A loyal Nephilim of the Dark Council,” she reveals, “And I’ve just escorted the most prized possession directly into theirhands.”
“What?”
“Claudia,” an unfamiliar voice speaks. I whirl around and meet the gaze of a Dark Fallen. His midnight black wings are spread out behind him, blocking the view of the hallway behind him. “You’ve brought a visitor.” My shock causes the Angel Fire tofade.
Mrs. Hutchins steps beside me and wraps thin fingers around my elbow. “Her name is Veronica Messenger, and she is here to speak with TheCouncil.”
The male purses his lips, and his dark eyes trail over me from head to toe, as if searching for whatever makes me worthy of a private audience with the angels on the Dark Council. It takes all of my strength not to shake in fear. He is the size of two Fallen, and long scars mar hisface.
“This way.” The stranger turns on his heel and proceeds down the hallway. The tips of his wings brush against either wall, but it doesn’t slow him down. Mrs. Hutchins tightens her grip and ushers meforward.
Priceless oil paintings line the walls, and heavy wood tables are covered with glass-blown figurines and leather-bound volumes. I feel like I’m in some old rich guy’s house. Knowing I’m dealing with angels, the analogy probably isn’t that far off. Lukas’ mansion had been similarly decorated. I never wanted to touch anything breakable in his home, knowing I wouldn’t be able to afford to replaceit.
Focus,Veronica.
I keep my attention forward, staring at my escorts back as I weigh my options. I have access to my power. I can try to fight my way out. Maybe I’ll get lucky and I will be able to faze out of here. Almost as soon the idea forms, I write it off as a horrible plan. The only powers I’ve been able to master are my Resurrection and healing abilities. I should’ve taken Joseph’s protective shield lessons moreseriously.
Two ivory pillars outline the entry to a large parlor. The enormous Fallen walks inside. Mrs. Hutchins drops my arm and presses her hands against her blouse. Raising her chin, she follows our escort inside. I stand at the threshold, and my eyes are pulled up. The ceiling must be thirty feet high, and its fresco painting is the focal point of theroom.
Angels float among pale pink clouds. The heavenly beings play the lute and harp while others dance to their inaudible tune. I see snowcapped mountains and a crystal blue lake. A troupe of angels fly over the surface, smiling at one another. One has dipped his finger in the water, and ripples travel through the smooth surface. Is this what heaven lookslike?
“Your Honors.” The masculine angel breaks the silence. I lower my attention to the room in front of me. My formidable escort is standing in front of a long oval table is positioned near the back of the room. An equally stunning fresco provides the backdrop for the twelve cloaked figures seated at thetable.
As one, the twelve figures rise from their seats andturn.
The muscular angel and Mrs. Hutchins fall to their knees in a respectful bow. I stay where I am, eyeing each of the twelve strangers. They wear hoods, and I cannot make out their faces. I assume these are the angels on the Dark Council, but I don’t understand their wardrobe choice. Surely, their identities aren’t a secret. It seems over the top if you askme.
