Page 71 of Touched By Death

“We’re in Aurelia’s dream—her mind, if you will. Symbolism is everywhere. Why do you think we’re in a cemetery, of all places? Why do you think the town square is the first thing we see when enter through the veil?”

“Is that a trick question?”

With a shake of my head, I turn back to the wall. “This is where you’ll find the myriad of complex emotions that lie buried deeper than her conscious mind can reach.”

“Are you aware of what a boring old man you are?” he asks with enough frustration in his voice to make me chuckle. “She’s still missing, we’re stuck in her mind with no idea of where she is, and you think I give a shit about a bunch of paintings?”

Sliding my hands into my pockets, I lean closer to the wall and narrow my eyes as I study each painting in greater detail. “You said you sense her here, right?”

“Yes,” Daemon all but barks. “She’s fucking here. I know she is. But where the fuck is she?”

I jump back when Daemon throws a fireball at the floor like he can’t control the storm of emotions inside him. It shoots up. Untamed, vicious flames flicker wildly while he breathes like a provoked bull.

“Fuck,” he breathes out with a heavy sigh, dragging both hands down his face. “I’m going fucking insane.”

“It’s the fire-bond,” I point out, turning to face him. “Your need to reunite with her is as strong as your urge to breathe. When did you first bond?”

“I don’t know,” he replies, watching the flames. “I only realized how powerful she is back at the mansion when I trapped her inside a fire prison, and she drew my flames inside of herself.” Shaking his head, his jaw flexes. “I should have known then.” After a short pause, he admits, “I kind of did, but I wasn’t ready to accept it.”

We stand in silence for a short beat, both deep in our own thoughts. “Ronan knew,” Daemon says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “He tried to mention it to me, but I dismissed him.”

“It’s not something that happens to a lot of angels.”

He watches me across the flames, his face aglow as shadows flicker under his eyes. “Fire bonding to more than one angel is unheard of.”

“Yeah…” A smile slants my lips. When he turns back to the wall, I follow his line of sight. “But nothing is ever impossible.”

Daemon stays silent, leaning closer to the wall. As I approach, he reaches up and slides a finger through a long crack in the marble. “You think these are symbols of her subconscious mind? Her thoughts and feelings?”

“Something to that effect,” I reply with a soft shrug as I stop beside him.

His eyes find mine, and he drops his hand. “Everything here is her imagination, right?”

“Sure?”

“When you entered her dream.” He looks back at the wall. “It was essentially a creation of her mind. A stage, if you will.”

“Of course—a backdrop.”

“So, she’s here.”

Leaning with my shoulder against the wall and my hands in my pocket, I cross my ankles. “Never thought I’d say this, but go on.”

“Can you not feel her? She’s here. Trapped in the shadows.” His eyes cast around the small space, chasing the flickering shadows that dart from the bright flame on the floor. “We need to reach her somehow. This is her mind, and she led us right here.” He points frantically at the wall. “Symbolism. You said it yourself. She led us right to the center of her subconscious mind. What was it you said? Thoughts and feelings that are buried too deep for her conscious mind to reach?”

“Interesting.” My lips slowly kick up into a smile as I push off the wall.

“The shadows hide her from us.”

“Let’s go see if we can find some more clues.”

Daemon looks back at the wall as I make my way to the door and exit into the cool night air. A crow that’s seated on the mausoleum roof scrubs its wing with its beak before cawing loudly. All around, the wind rustles the leaves in the tall trees. I’m just about to turn around when my eyes snag on a flickering candle on a metal tray that’s placed on the first step of the cathedral. Despite the wind, it barely moves.

One look behind me confirms that Daemon is still intently studying the paintings. “Come have a look at this.”

DAEMON

“Just a second,” I call out, narrowing my eyes on the painting of Aurelia covered head to toe in blood. A knife that’s dripping blood is slipping from her fingers as the gates to Eden creak open. By her feet lies the corpse of a male angel with white wings. Death cloaks her, leading her forward into the night.

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