Tree of Souls by Misty Hayes

Author:Misty Hayes
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: vampire, vampire romance, vampire fiction, YA fantasy, urban fantasy, YA fiction
Publisher: Misty Hayes
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 31

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Alastair

Alastair flopped to the ground on a white sandy beach. Vinson was sprawled out next to him, both of them, amazingly, still alive. At least, he thought he was still alive. His arms were stretched out by his sides as he gazed distantly up at a cluster of palm trees overhead. The pounding of his head and heart were in sync. There came the gentle lap of waves breaking against the shoreline not ten feet away. The smell of brine was heavy in the air. This was exactly the opposite of where he thought he would end up tonight—or today rather.

Vinson put a hand up to shield his eyes from the blinding sun and popped up into a crouch, a hand going to his charred vest so he could pull out one of his many throwing knives. Vinson always expected trouble. To be fair, Alastair did too, but he was officially spent, having lost too much blood to the vampiric DJ.

He let his eyes adjust—it was so bright he could barely make out where he was. This amount of sunlight was a marked difference from London’s nightlife. It was humid and warm, and he was already sweating through his leather jacket.

Alastair realized, half in dismay and half in relief, that the people—angels—who had pulled them out of the theater were now standing over them, watching in resolute silence.

It was off-putting that they could transport him anywhere in the world in the span of a few seconds.

They were nestled on a small stretch of land—an island with no inhabitants—and beyond that, as far as the eye could see, was only crystal clear water. There was nowhere for them to go even if they had wanted to run.

Obviously, the angels wanted privacy.

This was the second time Alastair had been thrust into that weird tunnel of light and elements, and he did not like it. He sat up, grimacing as a bout of dizziness overcame him, and threw a hand to his neck, feeling for the puncture wounds made by Maze. His white T-shirt was shredded and crusted with red. His wrist was aching worse than ever now, and he wasn’t sure how much blood he had lost. Enough.

Out of the five, only one angel stepped forward to reach a hand out toward him. The angel had spiky dyed-blond hair. He looked to be of East Asian descent, or at least, it appeared that way to Alastair. He stared up at the extended hand but didn’t take it, even though the guy had an honest enough face and a warm smile to boot.

These beautiful creatures were exceedingly tall, and they blotted out the sun as they moved closer, to tower over them both.

He didn’t accept the angel’s proffered hand. Instead, Alastair took a moment to take them in, squinting up in wariness at their overly polished bronze breastplates, which looked fifty pounds too heavy.

One angel in particular stood away from the rest of the group, drawing Alastair’s eye to him immediately. He was shorter than the rest, but that didn’t say much—they were all taller than he was.

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