“Aaron. His name is Aaron.” Quinn stared at her hands.
Azrael’s voice softened. “It was Aaron’s destiny to die as it is yours to live. Nothing could have changed that path. It was chosen with every minute decision you both made throughout the span of your lifetimes, as was mine. It would be easier to untangle a million knots soaked in glue than to try to change your fate. Don’t throw away Aaron’s sacrifice by playing Russian roulette with those beasts. They do not hold the answers you seek.”
“Then who does? You?”
Azrael crossed his arms over his chest. “You know the answer as well as I. He is gone. The sooner you accept it, the sooner you can fulfil your duty.”
“He’s missing, not dead,” Quinn mumbled.
Azrael shook his head but didn’t argue. She was sick of all this talk of duty. Why wouldn’t he leave her alone?
“Because my job is to protect and guide you.” He gripped the pommels of his swords, muscles rippling beneath flawless flesh.
Annoying as his personality was, he was glorious to behold. A fire burned beneath his olive skin and behind his marbled, amber eyes. Dark hair hung around his face, framing a square jaw and perfectly symmetrical features. It didn’t matter how often she’d seen him standing before her, his ageless beauty went beyond human words, awe forcing her jaw to her chin. Although she guessed he was thousands of years old, his looks were deceiving. Except for the onyx wings that spilled from his back to brush the floor, in a modern outfit, he could have passed for another high school student.
“Darkness approaches, and my task is to prepare you for battle. Your task is to let me. I can’t do that when you’re letting yourself get eaten up by guilt. Now, stop sulking and get out of bed. You must be able to guard yourself and not rely on me for everything.”
Goose bumps rose on her arms as the chilled air met bare flesh. Quinn glared at Azrael, who held the duvet in his fist.
“I’m tired.” She crossed her arms and pushed her lip out.
“All the better. Demons don’t care if you’re tired.” He took a step back and drew a sword with his free hand. “They eat tired for lunch. Even now, I see at least a dozen holes in your barrier.” He flourished the golden blade. “Have you learned nothing?”
“Perhaps there is a problem with your teaching methods.” She snatched at the duvet, but Azrael was quicker.
A blur of black wings and golden light flashed past her as Azrael darted to the far corner and took his battle stance. “I assure you my teaching methods are sound. It’s your attitude that’s the problem.” With his other hand, he dangled the duvet in challenge. “You want it? Come and get it.” Dropping the cover to the ground, he unsheathed the other sword hanging from his right hip. The markings etched on its metal blazed as it cleared the scabbard. A whirlwind of blue and gold flared as Azrael advanced, swords twisting and spinning in a bright flourish around him.
Quinn scrambled away until her back pressed against the headboard. Azrael slashed the golden blade down across her shoulder. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she threw an invisible barrier up with her mind, deflecting the attack, but not before the sword’s tip grazed the fabric of her T-shirt, ripping a small hole in the sleeve. Her favorite Skipping Zombies band T-shirt, ruined.
“Hey! You could have cut me!”
“But I didn’t.”
The barrier of light surrounding her quivered as Azrael’s essence bumped against her protective wall, testing, looking for a way in.
“You must not hesitate. Once they breach your protective barrier, it will crumble and leave you defenseless.” The pressure grew as he pushed harder, his intent clear. Her palms were slick with sweat as she resisted, willing him, commanding him to stay out of her thoughts. The sound of her ragged breath overtook her rapid heartbeat. He was strong, but she was determined.
“Better.” The pressure eased, and he grinned. “You must be strong of mind. That is the most important.” He circled the bed, one sword poised above his head, the other in front of his chest in a defensive posture. “Add that to a strong body, and you’ll be twice as deadly.”
Lunging forward, he slashed low at her leg. Quinn jumped from the bed and rolled out of his reach and crouched behind him. Years of cheerleading were coming in handy. Azrael turned for another attack, but Quinn was ready.
Focusing all her energy into the command, she directed it in the form of a telepathic dart straight at Azrael. He stopped, left arm frozen above his head, swords poised to strike. She sensed his resistance as he fought against her command. His whole body vibrated with frustration, but he couldn’t break free.
Azrael’s chest heaved as he pushed against her control one last time. She held firm, and finally, sensing his compliance, released him. The lighted blades dimmed as he slammed them back into their scabbards. “It seems you’ve been practicing.”
“Don’t look so annoyed.” Quinn smiled wryly.
“I am not annoyed. I am surprised.” Azrael smiled back at her, and she thought she saw pride behind his eyes. “I still say you’re too lazy when it comes to your defenses.”
Quinn’s phone vibrated somewhere beneath the pile of bedding on the floor. She pressed a finger to her lips to shush her Sentinel. An amused look played across Azrael’s face. He was so real to her that she sometimes forgot nobody else could hear or see him.
Rolling her eyes, she dug for the phone. It buzzed again, urgent and angry as a hive of bees. Reese’s name flashed across the screen.
“Hey,” Quinn answered.
“Hey. Sorry, I know it’s early. Did I wake you?”
Quinn looked at Azrael. “No, not really.”
“My dad just got home. He’s been over at the Colliers’ most of the night.” Reese’s voice was thick and hollow on the other end.
Quinn held her breath and chewed on her thumbnail, afraid to ask. “Did they find something?”
Azrael shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest, as if he knew what Reese was about to say. Quinn glared at him, pointed to the ceiling, and mouthed the word “go,” her intent perfectly clear. Azrael bowed low. His dark wings filled the room as he launched into the air and ghosted through the roof of her bedroom.
“I don’t know how to tell you this.” Reese went silent, and she could hear her swallowing on the other end.
“Just say it.” Quinn’s heart sank.
“They’re calling it off.”
Another round of silence.
“Did you hear me, Quinn?”
Quinn nodded to the phone in response. Her voice had drifted away, and she wasn’t sure how to retrieve it. Quinn stared at the map of Westland pinned to her closet door. Bluebonnet Creek ran through the center. A grid separated the map into tiny squares, and red X’s marked the spots that had already been searched. She ripped the map from the wall, wadded it into a ball, and squeezed, her fist tightening around the paper like Reese’s words had squeezed her heart.
“Volunteers finished searching late yesterday.” Reese sighed. “There’s nothing left to do. They’re going to drag the river one last time this afternoon.”
Quinn’s hands shook, while Reese sounded miles away. Five weeks, two days, eight hours. The only proof he might still be out there was a fading dream, and the echo of an electric connection that no longer existed. Nobody else truly believed he might still be alive.