[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
sprightly, yet oddly soothing. Through heavy eyes, Hunter watched a small gray rabbit
Belinda McBride Bad Angels 1: Falling 81
approach. The tall grass seemed to sway to the melody of the grass flute, and a pair of
songbirds landed in the tree, lending their song to Rex s.
Hunter had nearly dozed off when he heard the familiar voice singing a jaunty
tune. It clashed with the melody that had surrounded them.
Patrick was returning, obviously still unemployed.
He sat and listened to the two men chatting while the Irishman ate his noonday
meal, chattering about everything and nothing while Hunter stared, trying to shine the
light of knowledge and truth on a surface that reflected nothing back.
* * *
The evening was cold and quiet. Even Patrick wasn t inclined to sing or tell
chatty stories. Once the sun fell past the horizon, the men hunkered around the small
fire and warmed their hands, listening to the sounds of the night. It didn t rain, but the
mist came in waves, cool and unsettling. One moment, Rex could clearly see the sky, the
stars, but the next, the three men were enshrouded in a moist blanket of gray.
Normally he didn t spook over such things, but perhaps Hunter s nerves were
contagious. The angel had rolled into his blankets, his back to the others. Rex could see
that he was feigning sleep through the stiff set of his shoulders. Patrick sat staring off
into the distance. His expression never changed whether the air was misty or clear.
Rex dug into his pack and pulled out a pipe, filling it with tobacco laced with
other less common herbs. He rose and stretched, slowly pacing a circle around their
little camp, letting the smoke form a ring of protection. Patrick didn t seem to notice, so
Rex paused at north, south, west and east, blowing an offering to the gods at each
direction.
When the bowl of his pipe grew cool, he sat down cross-legged, tapping the ash
out and putting it away. There were other spells of protection, but he didn t know
whether he was keeping something out, or something in. Once Patrick was asleep, he d
lay another circle, a small circle just for Hunter. He d never seen the angel spooked like
this. Insecure, yes, but not afraid.
Belinda McBride Bad Angels 1: Falling 82
He settled on the ground, wrapping himself in a woolen blanket, noticing how
the night birds had fallen silent. The very air grew still within the circle. A slight
sensation of breathlessness told him that the wards were being tested, that something
was afoot, whether it be good or evil.
Not all things that roamed the night meant harm. Not all things that walked in
the light were benevolent. He lay awake for hours watching the tiny fire struggle
against death, rising once to give it fuel and encouragement.
Hunter s face was peaceful in sleep. Patrick wore a frown; a slight pall of tension
lay over his body. Either he sensed something, or he was the something that Rex was
blocking. He wished to roll next to his lover, to share blankets and warmth and comfort.
He wished the long, cold night would come to an end.
While he was wishing, Rex drifted off, carried away into dreams of darkness and
melancholy.
* * *
He was cold. So cold that the very sensation burned down to his bones like fire.
He was hot, burning with sensations that a man should never feel. The fire was in his
brain, the cold was in his heart.
Hunter opened his eyes, seeing nothing but the faint flicker of light. To his
horror, he was held solidly immobile; his eyes were frozen, though he could see. Maybe
it was his imagination, but there seemed to be a crust of ice over their surface. He
couldn t blink it away.
Water had flooded his ear canals and was now solid, yet rather than deathly
silence, he heard unearthly screams. His heart stuttered and lurched into a sluggish
beat. He opened his mouth to scream, but the water had frozen deep into his throat.
How could ice be so hot? How could blind eyes see fire?
Flames licked and grew higher until the ice grew thin, and it cracked& melted
away from his& not his eyes. Because now Hunter knew that this wasn t his nightmare.
Someone else was navigating him through this horror.
Belinda McBride Bad Angels 1: Falling 83
He woke, panting, a scream on his lips, looking across the camp at Patrick, who
lay still and asleep. However, Rex s eyes came wide open in panic. C& c& cold&
His lips were blue, his face deathly pale, and Hunter quickly wrapped him in his
own blanket, then tossed extra wood onto the fire. Rex recovered quickly, for in truth,
the cold was from the dream, not from reality. They huddled for a moment, grounding
themselves in the comfort of touch.
Did you dream of ice? Fire?
Hunter nodded, wrapping his arms around Rex, pulling him tight to his chest.
I set a ward. Something tested it& couldn t get in.
So it invaded us in a dream.
Rex nodded jerkily. You think he s all right?
Patrick appeared to sleep peacefully. Could he have been the source of their
monstrous visitation?
It s hours yet till dawn.
I ll keep watch.
Truthfully, Hunter didn t think he could return to sleep. He didn t want to return
to sleep if all that waited him was ice and fire and fury. Whatever, whoever had shared
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]