FALLEN (Angels and Gargoyles Book 3) by Brenda L. Harper Page A

her as gentle hands pushed her back against pillows she hadn’t been aware of until that second.
    “Where—”  she began, but her voice was weak, barely more than a whisper, and her throat felt as though the flesh had been worn away by something sharp, something constant.
    “We’re safe,” he said, as though he knew what she was asking. “Stiles found an abandoned building not far from Genero. No one knows we’re here.”
    She reached up to push a piece of hair out of her face. Her fingers brushed a bandage. She pressed her fingers to it, followed it from the center of her forehead to the back of her skull.
    “You hit your head when they dropped you in the woods,” Wyatt said, tugging her fingers away. “You were unconscious and they just dragged you out there and dumped you.”
    Anger seeped into his words, although it seemed that he was trying to keep it under control. She reached for him, and he quietly offered his hand. Just that little touch showed her the scene, showed her his memory of watching the Redcoats drop her body in the woods, of running to her before the Redcoats had backed away, of Stiles’ warning reverberating in his ears. But the Redcoats allowed him to approach without a word. They seemed almost grateful that someone was there to take charge over Dylan, as though they were afraid of what she was, of what she represented.
    He wrapped himself around her, bursting into his ethereal form for the first time without thought, without the hesitation and denial that often surrounded his use of his gifts. Then the journey to this house, the flight that took only a fraction of the time walking with a wounded person would have taken. And the days of watching over her, the fear that she would never wake.
    Days.
    “Jimmy?” she croaked.
    “We haven’t been able to get much information, but we’re fairly sure he is still alive.”
    She touched his forehead. He seemed puzzled for a moment, but then understood her meaning. “No, I haven’t seen him, but Luc and Lily have been pretty busy celebrating her newfound health. Luc rarely allows an execution to take place without being present, and he hasn’t left Viti.”
    Dylan shook her head and closed her eyes. She was suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion.
    “Rest,” he whispered, pressing his lips lightly to the tip of her nose.
    She fell asleep. When she woke hours later, Wyatt was still there, curled up beside her on the narrow bed. His snores were so familiar that it caused an ache deep in Dylan’s chest. She rolled toward him and watched for a few minutes, watched his eyelids thunder with the power of his deep sleep, watched his torso move up and down with his slow, steady breaths. It reminded her of the few times she had woken in the middle of the night and found Davida sleeping in the bed beside her, vaguely aware of crying out from some nightmare or other.
    Tears of belated grief welled in Dylan’s eyes. There was so much she wanted to say to Davida, so many questions she wanted to ask, so many words that had been left unspoken and shouldn’t have been. Davida insisted she did not love Dylan, that she had shown her affection only because it was her job to get close to Dylan. But Dylan knew better than that. Davida had betrayed her, but she had done it for all the right reasons. At least, Davida had believed they were the right reasons.
    Davida thought she was saving the world. She believed Luc and Lily were right when they said the humans were destroying earth and only the complete annihilation of the humans would save it. That earth was a paradise that would fall to the angels when the humans were gone.
    In a way, Davida had been right to watch over Dylan, to protect her, to lead her to Lily and Luc. She had good intentions..
    She was just fighting for the wrong team.
    Dylan thought about the different factions battling it out around her. She thought about the gargoyles who were willing to do whatever it took to protect the humans. She