Page 20 of Grave Revelations (Prophecies of Angels and Demons #3)

Chapter 19

Rebecca

Travel took on a whole new meaning when it was in the arms of a fallen. They’d picked up a fancy leather backpack and stuffed it with snack bars, water, and an all-weather sleeping bag; then they were in the air, traveling from Barcelona to Tropea.

Flying over a blue sea with only the occasional bit of land to break up their trip had her nodding off several times, and when she woke the third time, it was dark.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to be this close to her at night? What if the reashes in this territory were wrong? What if we’re flying right into her trap?”

Azazel tightened his grip on her. “The nasdaqu-ush is no match for me.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “What’s your plan, hero? If she’s there, are we just dropping in, guns blazing?”

“I have no guns. Nor do I need them.”

“It’s an expression.”

Ignoring her comment, he said, “We’ll arrive in Tropea within the hour. I will find a safe place for you and pass over the islands nearby. At this hour, they should be easy to spot.”

“What happened to not leaving me behind?”

“I need to remain invisible while I search, and you cannot make yourself invisible. ”

“Would you come back and get me if you found her?”

“No.”

She grumbled a few choice words, crossing her arms over the backpack she cradled.

When they landed, it was pitch black. Azazel set her down, sliding into the shadows along the beach.

“Hey, where’d you go?” she asked. Piles of clothes, followed by a pair of silk boxers, came flying at her from the darkness. Rebecca caught them, glowering as she stuffed them into her backpack.

“What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?”

Silence.

“Great.” She swung her backpack over a shoulder and trudged along the sandy beach toward lights twinkling in the distance. Safety in numbers , she thought, marching along well worn a path.

An eternity and a million steps later, a thin trickle of sweat ran down her back as she reached a cobbled stone sidewalk lined with shops. She stopped at one, pulling out a chair to sit and catch her breath.

It was a quiet night, and the shops were already closed for the evening, but she spied a few couples holding hands as they strolled.

When her breathing leveled, she pulled a bottle of water from her backpack and sipped as she began to wander along the street, gazing into shop windows. Several had small Hercules figurines or portraits of the same character on plates, pots, water bottles, and shirts, making her think of the story Elizabeth had told them.

Nicholas, her many-times-great grandfather, had moved to this town, met Captain Fellowes here.

She turned left off a narrow walkway and stepped into another world. Instead of gelato and souvenir shops, there was a cute little cafe and pizzeria next to a flower shop and a store that seemed to sell nothing but onions.

Stone walls were lined with planters and hanging flower pots, but all the plants were frozen stiff, a sickly dark brown. Her fingers tingled as if she could feel their death .

Something inside her stretched toward the plants, wanting to revive them. She removed one glove and pressed her fingers to the frosty stalk. The ice melted away, and a bright green chute burst from the dirt, reaching for her.

“Rebecca.”

She looked up and froze.

“Sophia?”

Sophia moved—too fast—and was in front of her. She took in the girl’s tattered appearance: dark circles ringing her bare wrists with bright yellow eyes blinking up at her.

“Rebecca. Run.”