Phoenix Contract: Part Two (Fallen Angel Watchers) Read Online Free

past his lips to form frothy spittle.
    Dry dirt crunched beneath approaching feet, heralding the arrival of a towering figure cloaked in darkness. He stopped on the other side of Matthew, his feet evenly spaced, stance alert and poised. He held a scythe in his right hand, angled skyward, poised and ready to strike.
    Aiden stared at the newcomer hard, but the terrible brightness behind him made darkness obscure his features. She discerned only his silhouette clearly, and the brilliant halo of light burned the image indelibly onto her retinas.
    “Aiden.” The man whispered her name in a dulcet brogue, a voice that spiraled mystery and seduction while weaving a hypnotic spell. The air about them sucked up the sound and echoed her name in undulating whispers, rising and falling, beckoning her closer.
    Aiden shivered, recognizing him with a jolt, and a terrible sense of foreboding seized her. Never, never, never would she have expected him to invade her dreams, and she couldn’t decide whether to be excited or outraged.
    The deluge of sound coming at her from all sides increased tenfold. The screaming crowd, the KATHUMP, KATHUMP, KATHUMP of the beating heart, Matthew’s agonized pleas. All of it deafened and overwhelmed her, and only he was silent.
    “What do you want?” she shouted.
    “Trust me.”
    Even over the terrible din, she heard his voice calling to her. Torn between doubt and fear, she took a step toward him and stopped, attracted and repulsed, unable to ignore the suspended scythe hanging overhead like the promise of death and doom.
    She yearned for illumination, for the recession of the concealing shadows, and as if by magic, her wish came true. The ground at her feet caught blaze, and along the perimeter of the arena, a line of flame sprang up. The fire lived within her and apart, bonded to her soul, and she found comfort in the burning.
    “Aiden.” Magnus’ tone grew more insistent. “You’re going to have to make a choice about who to trust.”
    His hand rose, extending and summoning, but she refused to yield to his commanding power. A great stubbornness rose up in her, and she vowed then and there that he’d never have his way.
    “No,” she hissed. “I won’t trust you. Not ever.”
    “Very well. As you wish,” he replied, and she sensed his displeasure. His extended hand fell. “When the end comes, you’ll face it alone.”
    “I have friends. I won’t be alone,” Aiden informed him defiantly, refusing to give in to his intimidation. Aiden looked for support in Father Matthew who had managed to climb to his hands and knees.
    He crouched in the dirt like an animal, but his face, wholly lacking in the compassion or sentience, made her shudder. He wore a mask of depravity, contorted with hunger and malice.
    “They’ll all be dead,” Magnus predicted.
    The scythe rose and fell in a graceful downward arc like a swinging pendulum. It met flesh and cleanly cleaved through Matthew’s neck, severing flesh and bone. A warning scream died on Aiden’s lips as Matthew’s head rolled from his shoulders. His severed spinal column glistened bright white, and a river of blood poured from his body. Horrified, Aiden watched her mentor’s head roll closer until it came to a halt at her feet. His brown eyes were open, staring accusingly up at her.
    The protective ring of fire extinguished and darkness deluged her. She crouched, cowered, and extended her hand in a futile gesture of self-defense, but she found no protection from the dark. She was alone.
    Aiden bolted upright, gasping for air. The hardcover book on her lap fell to the floor with a thud. Waking suddenly caused muscles throughout her body to jerk and tense, and the stitches in the side of her throat tugged painfully. Aiden bent forward in the chair and placed her face between her knees, panting hard. Sweat and tears stung her eyes.
    It was only a dream, only a dream, only a dream.
    When she looked up, Death greeted her bleary gaze. She blinked,