Kerrelyn Sparks - Vampire Mine

“You’re supposed to protect my family,” Roman hissed. “You brought an angel of death here!”

Connor’s blood ran cold. Holy Christ Almighty, had he truly brought death to the family he had sworn to protect?

Roman pointed at the woman on the gurney. “Get her out of here before she kills my children, too!” With a hoarse cry, Roman tilted back his head and shot his fangs out. He sank them into Shanna’s neck.

Connor didn’t know which was worse: the sound of Roman frantically sucking all the blood from his wife, or the wrenching sound of his sobs while he did it.

My fault . Connor doubled over, nausea churning his gut. My fault. Shanna had trusted him to protect her, and he’d brought death to her. Just as he had his own wife and newborn child.

He fell to his knees. Failure again.

“Connor,” Laszlo whispered.

He glanced up to see Laszlo standing by the gurney.

“You need to take her away.”

He glanced at her, then at Shanna, dying in her husband’s arms on the floor, then back at Marielle. Could Roman be right? Was she truly an angel of death?

Connor rose to his feet and lurched toward her, grabbing the edge of the gurney in his fists. “Why dinna ye kill me ?” he growled. God knew he deserved it.

“Perhaps she couldn’t,” Laszlo said quietly. “We’re already . . . dead.”

Connor snorted. One little request, and God couldn’t grant it for him. “Ye’d think He’d want me in hell.”

Laszlo frowned at him. “Take her away from here. Quickly.”

He tugged the sheet loose from the gurney and wrapped it around Marielle. How could she look so sweet and innocent when she was so deadly? He gathered her in his arms.

She moaned as his arm came in contact with her wounded back. “Don’t touch me,” she whispered.

“Aye. I should have listened to you, lass.” With one last glance at Shanna, he teleported away, taking the angel of death with him.

P ain . It flooded her senses, drowned her body, and made it nigh impossible to think of anything other than the torture she endured . With every breath she drew, the pain swelled and sucked her deeper into a black hole.

Marielle had never realized before how sensitive the human body was. No wonder some people begged her to take their souls early. She’d always felt guilty when ordered to grant such a request, fearing the act made her a murderer, but now, for the first time, she realized Zack had been right all along. The Deliverers weren’t angels of death, but of mercy.

Was that why Zackriel had punished her? Was she being forced to endure pain in human form so she would appreciate God’s mercy and stop questioning orders?

With her eyes still shut, she began to pray. Heavenly Father, please forgive me. I was wrong to ever doubt Your infinite wisdom. I have learned my lesson. Please return me to Your favor so I may continue to serve You.

No answer.

Her eyes flew open. Why couldn’t she hear an answer? The Heavenly Father always answered His angels. And she was still an angel. Wasn’t she?

Panic seized her. She struggled to sit up, even though it caused her more pain. A white sheet was wound tightly around her like a shroud, frightening her even more. I’m not dead yet! She tugged the sheet down to her waist and fought against the pain, just enough to clear a bit of her mind.

Glory to God in the Highest , she called out mentally.

Silence.

Her breath caught. Where was the Heavenly Host? They should have responded with the usual refrain— And on earth, peace, goodwill toward men.

Hundreds of thousands of angels—Guardians, Messengers, God Warriors, Healers, and Deliverers—all part of the Heavenly Host and always there, connected in spirit. They’d been with her since the dawn of her existence. At any given moment, there was a chorus of angels who were singing, and others joined in between assignments. It was a constant, never-ending liturgy of praise that filled them with joy and peace.

She frantically opened her mind. They had to be there. If she could just get past the pain, she would hear their beautiful voices. Glory to God in the Highest!

Silence.

A sob of disbelief escaped her mouth.

Banished . No singing. No words of comfort. No communication at all with her fellow angels. No response from the Heavenly Father. She was absolutely alone. Abandoned and racked with pain.

She had to get back. Somehow.

She willed her wings to spring forth, but two lightning bolts of pain stabbed her in the back. She cried out, but the torture robbed her voice and only a gasping croak escaped. She twisted to look over her shoulder. Dear God, no! She hadn’t dreamed it. Zack had taken her wings. No wonder she was in so much pain.

No wings . She covered her mouth to stifle a sob. How would she ever get back to heaven? She was earthbound.

With a sharp twinge of fear, she realized she had no idea where she was. She’d been so distracted by pain and so focused on the spiritual realm, she’d not given her surroundings any thought.

The forest was gone. She was in a dark shelter of some kind. Sitting on a cushioned chair. No, larger than a chair. It was what humans referred to as a couch. How had she arrived here?

She recalled a shadowy dream that had entwined itself like a velvet ribbon around the onslaught of pain. There’d been a voice, a deep male voice with a lilting accent she’d found soothing. Strong arms that had held her tenderly. She’d thought it naught but wishful imaginings. No human could touch her without dying.

But someone, or something, had brought her to this dark place. Most likely not one of the Heavenly Host, not when she’d been banished from them. They’re not the only angels . Her skin prickled with a terrible thought. What if she was considered a fallen angel now? What if one of Lucifer’s servants had collected her?

Terror struck her so hard, she forgot the pain. She looked frantically about the dark room. Looming shadows of unknown objects surrounded her. A sudden creaking noise made her jump and strain her ears. There was someone nearby. Just outside the room. Footfalls moving back and forth, occasionally striking a board that creaked. Heavy footfalls, most likely a male.

Who was he? Was he guarding her so she couldn’t escape? She dragged the sheet up to her chin as if she could hide from whoever was outside.

Her gaze wandered about the room. She gasped when she spotted a pair of glassy eyes staring down at her. Unblinking. Inhuman. Her gaze inched higher, and her heart lurched. The horns of the Beast!

She screamed.

The door flung open, and a man burst into the room, flipped on the lights, and slammed the door shut. She froze in shock at the fierce look on his face and the gleaming dagger in his hand. Was she to be murdered for the pleasure of the Beast?

She turned back to the glassy inhuman eyes, and a grateful squeak escaped her mouth. It was naught but the head of a deer mounted on the wall. There were several hunter trophies: a moose head over the fireplace and a tusked boar on another wall, close to a rocking chair and bookcase. She sent up a quick prayer on their behalf and winced when it was met with silence.

Still, she could feel some relief that the poor beasts were no threat to her. Unlike the man with the dagger. With the sheet still clutched tightly under her chin, she glanced in his direction.

He scanned the room quickly, then focused on her. “Are ye all right?”

She nodded although she felt far from all right. She was hurting, frightened, confused, and strangely unnerved by this man’s presence. He was regarding her with an odd look. Cautious and alert. Curious, perhaps, though the intensity of his gaze hinted at something stronger, something she couldn’t place.