Rebel Angel by Kayla Gabriel

Author:Kayla Gabriel [Gabriel, Kayla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kayla Gabriel

11

Aurora

Hours later, Aurora was still reeling from her visit to Paradis.

As soon as they landed back in the safe house, Aurora fled to the privacy of her guest room. Ripping away the lace and silk of her costume, she went straight for the shower. There, hiding behind clouds of steam and the quiet shhhhh of the running water, she was finally able to let herself go.

She cried. Knuckles pressed against her lips, eyes clenched shut, she leaned against the shower wall and bawled. The hot water rained down, comforting her as she wept.

When she was finally done, feeling drained and exhausted, she went through the motions of washing her hair and body. The bed beckoned to her, and so she left the shower in exchange for the comfort of a clean pair of pajamas and downy, soft pillows.

And there she stayed for the better part of two days. She slept, dreaming of the moment she saw Jackson’s half-starved form lying on that cot. Of the moment she plunged the sword into Aragoth’s body, knowing that it would mean the end of Jackson.

Most of all, she dreamed of the moment after that, when she turned from Aragoth’s dying breath to see Jackson. The way his body dissolved into thin air, his soul vanishing. And then, there was just… nothing.

After two years of running and hiding and plotting, she’d finally accomplished a small piece of her goal. She’d freed her brother’s soul, something she’d fantasized about since the moment of his death.

And yet, now she felt nothing.

Not nothing, exactly, so much as she felt very empty inside. Hollow, dark, echoing.

At the same time, she felt overfull. She felt her grief and mourning building and building inside her body until tears spilled down her cheeks, until guttural sounds of agony poured from her throat.

In the face of such overwhelming emotions, it was easier to sleep, to sink into darkness hoping against hope that she might not dream.

When she did not sleep, she tossed and turned, stared at the ceiling. Or sat at the window of her room, looking out into the backyard, though she hardly noticed the wild beauty of the gardens.

Instead she thought of Jackson, recalling moments from their childhood. Back before they’d realized the danger that lay in their bloodline, when they were naive and happy.

She crawled out of bed and dug through her backpack, fishing out the photo of her family. Careful to hold it by the edges, she propped it up on the pillow beside hers and climbed back into bed to stare at it.

In the photograph, twelve-year-old Aurora posed with Jackson, her mother and father standing behind their two children with happy smiles. Her father was the only non-Null in the family, but he’d died in a car accident only a year after the photo was taken.

After a while, Aurora flipped the photo face down, feeling the weight of her family staring back at her. She closed her eyes, sinking back into sleep.

Ezra knocked at the door every few hours, sometimes leaving a tray of food, sometimes remaining silent.

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