A Matter of Time (The Angel Sight Series) Read online

“Kade?”

  I pulled back, searched her eyes. “I’m here. I’m here.”

  “Kade?” Her voice a near-frantic call.

  “Right here.” I pressed my forehead against hers.

  “Kade!” She screamed in my face.

  I crumpled beside her. I’d wanted so badly for her to come out of it that I’d seen something that wasn’t there. Until Cam healed her, this was who she was.

  I laid her back on the bed, brushing a soft kiss over her forehead before I left.

  “Here’s my emergency number. Only make the call if it’s life or death.” I didn’t need to watch him to know he’d be nodding. This time I made my feet move, away from the cabin, away from Cam, and away from Ray.

  “She’s in good hands,” Cam called back.

  “Don’t forget, Cam, if you fuck this up—”

  “I know. You’ll kill me.”

  Damn straight I will.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rayna

  The sun shone high in the sky, the clouds floating by, tucking behind the mountains in the distance. My skin still glowed red from my last few days outside, but nothing could keep me inside. Something told me I’d been somewhere very dark for a very long time before coming here.

  “You shouldn’t spend all day in that chair again,” a voice said from behind me.

  A smile stretched my lips. “You worry too much,” I fired back, tipping my oversized sunhat to cover my face properly, and leaning back further in the lawn chair.

  “So you say.”

  He walked in front of me, wings gleaming so gold in the sunlight that I had to shield my eyes with my hand or risk sun blindness for the next hour. He dug up a row of carrots. “I never knew how much you loved the outdoors before.”

  I stiffened in my chair. “Before?”

  Cam’s hands slowed to a stop.

  “Cam, what before?”

  He pushed his hair back off his forehead. “Before you came to visit.”

  “I … I can’t remember anything before this.”

  “That’s why you’re here.”

  “Are you helping me remember?”

  “Sort of. It’s getting warm. Maybe you should go in and take a nap.”

  I wasn’t tired, but getting out of the sun, maybe grabbing a glass of juice, sounded good. “Want anything from inside?” I asked.

  “No, thanks. I might take a hike around the area, clear the dried brush. Fire season is coming up quick.”

  I smiled and went inside. My eyes adjusted slowly to the inside of the cabin. I tugged the faulty latch on the old fridge and pulled out a jug of apple juice. I brought it and a glass to the table cluttered with paper and Cam’s whittling projects that all looked like various versions of fat bears. The juice splashed over the rim of the cup. While pulling the carton back, I tipped the glass over, soaking the table in sticky juice.

  I capped the juice and started laying Cam’s prized wooden bears along the windowsill. When I ran out of room, I used the floor closest to the wall, so they wouldn’t be stepped on. But there were so many. Beneath the blanket of failed woodworking projects were layers of old magazines, discolored by their time in the sun. Some were beyond saving. Even so, I pulled them off the table and laid them out on the floor one by one. A white corner peeked out from under the clutter. I cleared away more of the magazines, ones that hadn’t been touched by the juice. When the table was clear I found myself staring at a map of the United States.

  Marker stained several of the cities on the map. Some red, some blue. But the patterns seemed random. Why keep a marked up map? I shook my head. Cam had been out in the wilds for too long. I began blotting the juice-soaked magazines, sorting the salvageable ones, when the cabin door whined open.

  “Sorry about the … bears?”

  Cam stood there, looking at the table, then back to me, saying nothing, unmoving.

  “Okay clearly not bears. I hate to break it to you, but you should try your hand at a new hobby. I don’t think whittling is your hidden talent.”

  Still he didn’t move.

  “Look, I know you told me not to clean anything. I tried. Really I did. And this isn’t the OCD cleaning it looks like. I spilled juice, like, everywhere. So I had to, otherwise we’d be ankle deep in ants before the sun set.”

  “Rayna,” Cam finally said.

  “What? What’s up with you?”

  “The map.”

  “About that. You really should think about thinning out some of your junk.”

  I yanked up a pile of dry magazines and plopped them down over the Pacific Northwest. With my hands on my hips, the red and blue splotches drew my gaze down to a massive purple blip over San Francisco. Red and blue made purple. My favorite color. But there was much more red than blue in this blip. In fact, the red bled widely around the blue. I took a closer look. San Francisco: right next to the ocean. San Francisco: tall buildings, cable cars, and the Golden Gate Bridge.

  A tidal wave of memories crashed into me. San Francisco was where my friends and family were. The Golden Gate Bridge was where Azriel almost threw me into Hell. Hell was where I had been for so long. The torture. The starvation. The company. Someone had been with me, a friend. More than a friend.

  “Cam?” I backed away from the map, my body trembling. “What’s going on? What am I missing?”

  He abandoned his post by the door and stood beside me. “You asked before if I was helping you remember. The answer is no, Rayna. I’m helping you to forget.” Cam’s slate gray eyes changed to a bluish-white so bright it rivaled his wings and the sun.

  Panic crested, igniting a surge of adrenaline. Fear kept my feet rooted in place. But as soon as my gaze met his, all my worries disappeared.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kade

  The bedside clock flashed midnight, the green light flickering across the room. I leaned my head back in the stiff chair. Thirteen hours. I was risking a lot by staying so long. But I needed them close. Closer than they’d gotten so far.

  Staying in one place hadn’t felt right since leaving Hell. After being locked in one room for so long, nothing felt more right than to keep moving. But I was getting tired. I’d seen more of the world in the last six weeks than I had my entire time as a Fallen.

  Even with all this moving, the constant running, I could never get Ray out of my head.

  The way she looked when we breached the surface, that dead sheen still coating her eyes, haunted me every time I closed mine.

  A crack startled me out of my delirious state. They’d breached the door.

  Heavy footsteps thundered into the room. There were two of them; I knew without needing to see them. There were probably more downstairs. It was a good thing I’d checked myself into the room next door. They’d be searching the entire hotel soon though, and after that, the whole city. I grabbed my jacket off the back of the chair and headed for the roof, the one place they probably wouldn’t think to find a wingless Fallen.

  With any luck, they wouldn’t catch me tonight. Amsterdam was a big enough city to get lost in. I’d slow down enough so they’d stay hot on my heels, keeping them as far away from Ray as possible. But the risk of underestimating them was always present, a screaming danger in the back of my mind. If I wasn’t fast enough or smart enough, my life would be over.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Rayna

  My back ached like I’d been asleep for days instead of hours. I got up, padded to the door, and slid the bolt lock. I took my time changing, throwing on jean shorts and a tank top that were probably due for a wash by now, and then slid into my flip-flops by the door. Once outside, I grabbed my floppy sunhat off the coat rack resting on the narrow front porch and plopped into my worn chair, already hot from the sun.

  “You look rested. Did you sleep well?” Cam asked from around the side of the cabin.

  I kicked back in my chair, wondering what I’d done to deserve such a wonderful, quiet, and simple life. “Like the dead.”

  “Good
. I could use a hand, if you have some time.”

  “I’m made of time. What’s up?”

  “The berry bushes near the stream are ripe. It could be harvest time.”

  “Awesome.” I dusted off the buckets stacked beside me and hopped to my feet. “Race you there.”

  “I have to finish this first … ”

  His voice faded away as I took my head start, bolting for the trees to the left of the cabin. Cam had been bringing a handful of wild berries back every day for the last few weeks. They were ten times better than anything he tried to grow. Even though I had no idea exactly where the bushes were, not having been there myself yet, I kept moving through the trees, listening for the stream. The density of the forest all but canceled out the sun and cooled the air a good five degrees. A gust of wind blew my sunhat off my head. I didn’t go after it. Instead the steady sound of rushing water pulled me forward. I stumbled a few times in my flip-flops, but never slowed my pace, determined to beat Cam, to prove I wasn’t as useless as he thought I was. This was the first time he’d asked for a hand. He wouldn’t let me help with the veggies, or even water the fruit. Gathering berries would be my saving grace.

  Bushes of thorny goodness wrapped low in a partially shaded area around several trees close to the stream. I dropped the buckets, knelt beside the first bush, and went to work, plucking only the darkest fruit with semi-firm skin. As I rounded the bush, a thorn scratched the back of my arm. Several droplets formed perfect circles of welling blood.

  Strange … it reminded me of something. A shard, something sharp. A single drop of blood. A boy with dark hair and even darker eyes, taking my finger, kissing the blood away. And my heart, beating a mile a minute.

  I shook the memory away to find Cam standing beside me with a bucket in his hand. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  He didn’t blink. “Like what?”

  “Like you know what’s going on in my head.”

  “Because I think I do. You’re putting something together. Memories?”

  Fear of the unknown made me nod.

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to deal with that.”

  “What? My memories? I should be dealing with them. I need to know what happened to me.” It was strange that, before this, I remembered nothing, not who I was or where I’d been.

  Cam blinked, and when he reopened his eyes, a bluish-white light swirled in the slate gray of his irises.

  I turned away. “Why does that look so familiar?” I asked through the quaking in my voice.

  “I’m sorry,” was all he said.

  “Don’t do that. Don’t look at me, Cam. I’m warning you.”

  Something was wrong. Those eyes, that light. I’d seen it before. It had taken something from me, stripped me of … I couldn’t remember. Why couldn’t I remember?

  A churning wound deep in my stomach. It clicked into place then. I couldn’t remember because that light had taken it.

  He didn’t move. “You think I want to be the bad guy? I don’t want to keep anything from you.”

  “Then don’t!” Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

  “I made a promise.”

  “To who?”

  The silence that passed between us spoke volumes. “It wasn’t to me, was it?”

  “Rayna, you begged me to make it stop the first time you started to remember. You told me that, no matter what you may say in the future, never to let you remember.”

  There was something else he wasn’t saying, a truth I could feel. “But that’s not the first promise you made. Not to me.”

  “You’re right.”

  I didn’t dare turn and risk looking into those eyes. “Then who, Cam? Who thought it was such a good idea that you take away my past? Because I know it wasn’t me,” I shouted.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Fine. Keep your secrets. But, just … leave me this. Let me keep it. I’m fine. I’m not … breaking down, or whatever it is you’re worried about.”

  The trickle of the stream was all I heard for a long time.

  “Let’s just pick berries,” I tried again when my breathing had almost returned to normal. “We’ll talk about something else.”

  “I’m not sure I can do that, Rayna.”

  “You can. I swear I’m fine.”

  I lied through my teeth, through the shaking in my entire body, through the foggy memories trying to break through.

  “Was I like this before? This calm?” God I hoped I was being calm.

  “No.”

  “Then that means I’m okay, or at least better able to deal. We’ll call it a trial run.”

  “A trial run.” He didn’t sound convinced.

  “Please, Cam. How am I ever going to function if I can’t be who I’m supposed to be?”

  He strolled past me, and tossed a few berries into his bucket. “A trial run,” he repeated.

  Still shaking, I made myself move, grab a bucket, and went to work on another bush, one farther away just in case he changed his mind.

  “Just so you know, this was never my idea. I want to share the truth with you, when you were ready. The only thing I ask is you let me know when it gets to be too much. Don’t strain yourself.”

  “If,” I corrected him. “If it gets to be too much, I’ll let you know.”

  I worked my way around the bush in silence, afraid anything I might say from here on out would change his mind. Just in case, I drove a thorn into the index finger of my right hand. I’d make a new memory. Proof that this happened today, and a warning that if the memories got to be too much, I’d have to shoulder the pain and muffle my screams.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Rayna

  I snapped the seven rubber bands around my wrist, stinging my skin. The multi-colored bands were a symbol of the memories I’d already gotten back in my one day as an almost free-to-remember woman. They were also my latest reminders that no matter how scary the dark got, how real the memories became, I had to keep quiet.

  The springs on the musty couch along the opposite wall groaned in protest as Cam turned. Which meant he could be awake.

  I closed my eyes, steadied my breathing. Behind my eyes an old leathery set of bat-like wings uncurled. They were attached to something scarier than the green-skinned demon I saw before this. The man with the bat wings sat on a throne made of ice. Men stood beside him. These men had wings more like Cam’s, but black as pitch in color.

  The man on the throne leaned forward and said, “You’ll never be truly free of me. I own you, girl.” Contempt rolled off his tongue and filled the air with a reddish smoke that nearly choked me.

  From behind me another black-winged man drove something hard and cold through my stomach. I looked down and gaped at the blood-covered steel.

  I gasped, opening my eyes and sitting up in bed.

  “Rayna, what is it?” Cam sprung up from the couch, his silhouette casting a shadow over me, sealing away the hint of moonlight. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine, I’m fine.” I gripped the sheet beside me. “Just had a weird dream about running water. And now I have to pee.”

  Despite being soaked in sweat and trembling like a Chihuahua, I inched to the edge of the bed and padded around Cam to the bathroom.

  I flicked the light switch, closed the door, and leaned against the back wall of the miniscule wood-paneled space. In the mirror above the sink my reflection stared back at me, lightly freckled and still pink from the sun. I looked closer, not recognizing myself. The longer I stared, a pale creature with small gray wings appeared. That creature was me beneath the layers of my reflection. The dreams were more than just nightmares; they were real. My brain was communicating small moments of the hell I’d been through without overloading me.

  The hell I’d been through.

  I shoved off the wall and gripped the sink with one hand. The hell I’d been through was Hell.

  “You okay in there?” Cam asked. I could picture him at attention right outside
the door.

  “Fine,” I called again, and turned the cold-water tap on.

  I’d been through Hell.

  I pressed my fingertips to the mirror over my face. Through the glass I felt the pieces of who I was—who I had been.

  I’d been through Hell.

  And back.

  If I had successfully escaped Hell, I could live through the memory of it, and lie to an angel in the process.

  I turned off the tap, wiped my face and hands on my towel, and opened the door. As predicted, Cam waited on the other side. “Geez, lurk much?” I said. “If you needed it, you could have just said so.”

  I left the light on and door open and slid back into bed. Wrapping my fingers around the rubber bands on my wrist, I grounded myself and waited for another horrible dream to come, this time ready for it. Ready for anything.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Rayna

  The second day of picking berries went better than the first. I tapped the bucket against my side, pressing the latest memory reminders in my pocket into my thigh.

  The old bottle cap I found by the river helped me to remember that root beer floats used to be my favorite dessert. Dad only made them with root beer from amber bottles with old-fashioned bottle tops.

  A tall blade of grass I picked reminded me of the way Cam smelled. I still wasn’t sure why it seemed so important, considering he was always around, but no way I’d let anything deter the memories from coming.

  The last reminder was a wildflower I found at the outside edge of the forest. When I knelt to dig it out of the ground, something felt right about the way the dirt caked beneath my nails. Another memory I didn’t fully understand.

  My new trinkets, plus the rubber bands around my wrist, were all I had to hold on to. The thorn cut that triggered the first memory had already healed. Come to think of it, it had healed before Cam and I returned with our full buckets yesterday.