Read BROKEN ANGELS (Angels and Demons Book 1) for Free Online Page A
Authors: Brenda L. Harper
council members. Her nose was running with thick, green mucus, her cheeks flushed with the heat of a fever. She was coughing and the napkin she held to her lips was spotted with blood.
But it wasn’t any of that that worried Stiles.
What worried Stiles were the lesions beginning to mark the flesh of her neck and face.
He’d seen those lesions before.
Chapter 6
“Can you tell me which countries were in the English Pact?”
Dylan watched as half a dozen hands went up among the children sitting before her. It was always the same children, the ones who listened to every word that dropped from her lips. So she chose little Bobby, the son of one of Josephine’s schoolmates. He was daydreaming, his eyes resting on a tree across the park instead of on what was going on in front of him.
“Bobby,” she had to repeat twice. “Will you answer the question?”
Just as he finally looked up, Benji began to cough uncontrollably. Tony reached over and patted him on the back, but that only seemed to make it worse.
Dylan reached over and lifted him up, running her hand over his back, her healing powers immediately searching for the source of his discomfort. It was odd, though. He continued to cough despite her touch.
“You okay, Benji?”
He nodded even as a fresh spasm of coughs turned his little cheeks red.
And then Virginia began to cough. And Sally, too.
“Class dismissed,” Dylan said, causing those who were free of the cough to squeal with delight. Dylan lifted Benji into her arms and held Virginia’s hand as she led them home.
As they walked, she again tried to use her powers to heal them, but again her touch had almost no effect. She had never had that happen before.
“Take him to Harry,” she told Benji’s mother. “He’ll know what to do.”
And she hoped that she was right.
She went home and burst into her ethereal form just to reassure herself that she could. What if her powers were beginning to fade, just as everyone else’s had? She hadn’t been terribly keen on the whole idea of having powers when they’d first begun to manifest, but that was thirty-seven years ago. She’d gotten used to having them now.
She moved over the city, suddenly aware of something dark that had settled over a few of the people in town—and quite a few more in the hospital—something she couldn’t quite understand. Something was wrong.
From her city, she drifted over other cities in North America, and then South America. She traveled as far as Europe in that state, recognizing the darkness in almost every city she drifted over.
What was going on?
Stiles.
I know, came his immediate answer. Meet me at your house.
***
Wyatt, Josephine, and Harry joined Dylan and Stiles in Dylan’s living room. They sat on the couch with a cup of tea in their hands in a scene of simple domesticity. Dylan couldn’t sit still. She paced in front of the back door, pausing from time to time to look over at whoever happened to be speaking at the moment.
No one was speaking right now.
“The symptoms are similar to the common cold,” Harry finally said. “An antibiotic would probably be useless. We’re treating with fluids and cough suppressants at the moment.”
“What about the lesions?” Stiles asked.
“Only a few have presented with those. Most of them only have upper respiratory symptoms.”
“And no one has died?” Josephine asked.
“Not yet.”
“Not yet?” Dylan glanced at Harry. “Are you expecting deaths?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like this.”
Dylan nodded as she began to pace again. That was another thing about their people. Up until recently, the most common ailments that took people to the hospital were minor cuts, broken bones, and the birth of new generations. Illness was rare and often easily treated.
“I think you’re overreacting,” Harry said. “We’ve been seeing more illness lately, that’s true. And more natural death,” he said, his voice
But it wasn’t any of that that worried Stiles.
What worried Stiles were the lesions beginning to mark the flesh of her neck and face.
He’d seen those lesions before.
Chapter 6
“Can you tell me which countries were in the English Pact?”
Dylan watched as half a dozen hands went up among the children sitting before her. It was always the same children, the ones who listened to every word that dropped from her lips. So she chose little Bobby, the son of one of Josephine’s schoolmates. He was daydreaming, his eyes resting on a tree across the park instead of on what was going on in front of him.
“Bobby,” she had to repeat twice. “Will you answer the question?”
Just as he finally looked up, Benji began to cough uncontrollably. Tony reached over and patted him on the back, but that only seemed to make it worse.
Dylan reached over and lifted him up, running her hand over his back, her healing powers immediately searching for the source of his discomfort. It was odd, though. He continued to cough despite her touch.
“You okay, Benji?”
He nodded even as a fresh spasm of coughs turned his little cheeks red.
And then Virginia began to cough. And Sally, too.
“Class dismissed,” Dylan said, causing those who were free of the cough to squeal with delight. Dylan lifted Benji into her arms and held Virginia’s hand as she led them home.
As they walked, she again tried to use her powers to heal them, but again her touch had almost no effect. She had never had that happen before.
“Take him to Harry,” she told Benji’s mother. “He’ll know what to do.”
And she hoped that she was right.
She went home and burst into her ethereal form just to reassure herself that she could. What if her powers were beginning to fade, just as everyone else’s had? She hadn’t been terribly keen on the whole idea of having powers when they’d first begun to manifest, but that was thirty-seven years ago. She’d gotten used to having them now.
She moved over the city, suddenly aware of something dark that had settled over a few of the people in town—and quite a few more in the hospital—something she couldn’t quite understand. Something was wrong.
From her city, she drifted over other cities in North America, and then South America. She traveled as far as Europe in that state, recognizing the darkness in almost every city she drifted over.
What was going on?
Stiles.
I know, came his immediate answer. Meet me at your house.
***
Wyatt, Josephine, and Harry joined Dylan and Stiles in Dylan’s living room. They sat on the couch with a cup of tea in their hands in a scene of simple domesticity. Dylan couldn’t sit still. She paced in front of the back door, pausing from time to time to look over at whoever happened to be speaking at the moment.
No one was speaking right now.
“The symptoms are similar to the common cold,” Harry finally said. “An antibiotic would probably be useless. We’re treating with fluids and cough suppressants at the moment.”
“What about the lesions?” Stiles asked.
“Only a few have presented with those. Most of them only have upper respiratory symptoms.”
“And no one has died?” Josephine asked.
“Not yet.”
“Not yet?” Dylan glanced at Harry. “Are you expecting deaths?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like this.”
Dylan nodded as she began to pace again. That was another thing about their people. Up until recently, the most common ailments that took people to the hospital were minor cuts, broken bones, and the birth of new generations. Illness was rare and often easily treated.
“I think you’re overreacting,” Harry said. “We’ve been seeing more illness lately, that’s true. And more natural death,” he said, his voice