DARK SOULS (Angels and Demons Book 2) by Brenda L. Harper

his ankles. They were holding him down.
    He opened his eyes and Dylan, with tears in her eyes and bruises on her throat, was leaning over him, her thumbs stroking his temples as her fingers dug into his skull.
    “Hey,” he grunted, trying to reach up to touch her, but hands continued to hold him down.
    “It’s okay,” Dylan said, her voice hoarse, “he’s back.”
    Whoever was holding him didn’t seem convinced. But Dylan let him go. Sitting back on her haunches, she gestured to those around him. After some hesitation, the hands let go. Stiles sat up, his sore body automatically healing bruises and muscle strain. He felt like he’d been in a fight.
    “What happened?”
    “You tried to kill her,” a voice behind him growled.
    Stiles glanced back and regarded one of three gargoyles sitting at full alert around him.
    “I wouldn’t…” he began to argue, but a flash of memory came back to him. He flexed his hands—he could still feel her throat, the way it fit perfectly in the curve of his hands. And the bruises on Dylan’s throat…
    “Did I?”
    Dylan touched her own throat and the bruises disappeared as though they’d never been there. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
    “But I did that.”
    She inclined her head slightly. “The dark soul, it did something to you.”
    Stiles stood up and the gargoyles instantly surrounded him. But, again, Dylan gestured for them to step back. He burst through the door and walked out onto the asphalt of the ruined street, confused by the darkness that surrounded him. It had been barely midmorning when he and Dylan had arrived in this place.
    So much time had passed and he couldn’t remember any of it.
    “What did I do?”
    “It wasn’t you. It was the darkness in those demons.”
    Stiles glanced at Dylan, at the tears in her clothing, and at the weariness in her eyes. He didn’t have to see bruises to know he’d done something horrifying to her.
    “What did I do?”
    She her eyes fell to the ground. “You thought I was someone else. You were confused, consumed by whatever it was that thing did to you. It wasn’t your fault.”
    “But I hurt you.”
    “We fought. But I knew it wasn’t your fault.”
    Stiles lifted a hand to touch her, but the moment he caught sight of it, the moment he realized it was his hands that had done violent things to her, he turned away. He slammed his fist into the broken asphalt, shattering every bone from his fingers to his elbow.
    He’d hurt the one person he was sworn to protect. He couldn’t let that happen again.
    He burst away, disappearing. He pulled up his mental walls and went as far from her as he could get.

Chapter 11
     
    “We have to do something about this.”
    Demetria shrugged. “I don’t know what. We don’t even know what all they’re capable of. How are we supposed to figure out how to block this one thing?”
    Dylan turned on her heel, burning a path in the carpet of Demetria’s conference room as she paced. She couldn’t stop thinking about Stiles. When the demon left the little girl’s body, he’d slipped into his human form and attacked her. The feel of his hands around her throat—the need for air and the fear of hurting him all wrapped up together—it was a feeling she would not soon forget.
    It could have been her. It should have been her. If he hadn’t wrapped himself around her, if he hadn’t moved in to protect her, it would have been her. And now he was out there, alone, hurting because of something that was not his fault.
    She had to do something.
    “We have to find a way to shut them down. There’s got to be something we can do.”
    “I know you’re upset,” Demetria said, stepping into her path, blocking her from moving forward. “But I have all my best people working on this. If there’s an answer, they’ll find it.”
    “They’re not working quickly enough.”
    Demetria touched the side of Dylan’s face, a touch filled with more affection that Demetria had ever shown her