Page 21 of Claim the Light
I push toward it, sensing that I need to reach out and take hold of it, but that would mean letting go of Beatrix or Micah and I won’t do that.
I will never leave them behind.
Ever.
With an exhalation that tears out of my chest, I give a final beat of my wings and propel myself upward, straining toward the light.
The edge of it brushes across my face, my exhaled breath bubbles through the bright water, and then I’m breaking the surface.
I gasp for air, my wings cutting through the swill.
Above me, an angel coasts the air, his hands outstretched. Pure, white light streams from his palms. It’s too bright to see his face, but I recognize his silhouette, his alabaster wings, and the white hair that frames his face.
Isaac.
He’s the Sentinel allied with Lana. I don’t know how he found us, but he’s flooding the space around me with his soul light. It’s like a lifeline back to myself from the darkness that had been cutting into my heart.
In the next moment, I’m aware of a rush of air coming at me from both sides. A storm of movement so sudden that ripples rush across the river’s surface.
Two powerful forms dive toward me, their wings tucked to their sides to give them speed, their arms outstretched, their bodies a blur of black and gold.
Callan shoots toward Micah on my right, spreading his wings momentarily to halt above the water’s surface. He’s dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt, but his skin shimmers with golden scales where it’s visible. He’s also wearing bands of dragon’s gold around his arms. Threads of silver weave through his golden wings, catching Isaac’s soul light and intensifying it.
Callan’s chocolate-brown hair is slicked back and his cinnamon-brown eyes are piercing, but I don’t miss the tense furrow in his forehead. Or the worried press of his lips as he plucks Micah from the water, heaving him upward in a spray of liquid.
“Hold on, Sophia,” Callan calls. “We’ll get you out.”
“Careful!” I cry to him, recalling Tyler’s punch to Micah’s chest. “Micah has broken ribs!”
Callan give me a quick nod as he coasts in the air for another moment, and I gasp with relief at the realization that Micah is safe. Then I quickly turn my efforts toward keeping Beatrix’s head out of the water.
On my other side, Lana dives toward Beatrix, her hands closing around Beatrix’s shoulders before she whisks her up into the air. Lana’s long, black hair flies around her face, flicking across her blue eyes.
Her tresses hang loosely down her back and, like Callan, she appears to have dressed in a hurry. Her black clothing blends seamlessly with the dark-as-night scales glistening across her skin and the inky feathers that make up her wings. She’s wearing a harness and her golden weapon is visible at her back.
“Take Isaac’s hand,” Lana calls to me. “He’s here to help.”
She and Callan rise up into the air on either side of me, sweeping toward the wide, concrete ledge beneath the nearby bridge.
Whatever circumstances led them to find us, I’m so grateful they’re here that a deep sob makes me inhale dirty river water. Then I’m coughing and spluttering and even with my apparent power over water, I can’t seem to stop myself from becoming a choking, weeping mess.
Isaac’s soul light fades. “Sophia! Take my hand!”
Without the bright light in my eyes, I can finally focus on his features. His high cheekbones; stormy, gray eyes; and flawless skin that make him appear ethereal.
His outstretched hand lowers to me, beckoning me to trust him, and I don’t hesitate to grasp it, even though only days ago, I would have turned in terror and tried to swim as far and as fast as I could away from this angel.
I retract my wings, reducing the water’s resistance as Isaac pulls me upward and into his arms. He carries me with one arm under my knees and the other supporting my back, cradling me against his chest.
This angel was once my enemy, but now I trust him with my life. If I weren’tstillcoughing out river water, I’d thank him. While I recover my breath, we descend to the wide ledge in the shadow beneath the bridge.
Isaac places me back on my feet, but my legs wobble and I sink to my knees, my strength finally failing me.
“It’s okay,” Isaac says. “We’ve got you.”
Opposite us, Lana and Callan are laying Beatrix and Micah down on the hard stone. Beatrix’s short hair splays around her as her head turns to the side.
Callan crouches over Micah, whose wings are now tucked to his sides, carefully checking his chest—probably for the cracked bones I warned about.
