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    His Own Angel Book Seven: His Own Angel, #7
    His Own Angel Book Seven: His Own Angel, #7
    His Own Angel Book Seven: His Own Angel, #7
    Ebook267 pages4 hours

    His Own Angel Book Seven: His Own Angel, #7

    By Odette C. Bell

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    About this ebook

    The end arrives.

    When Benson turns against Lizzie, she has no choice but to fall into the Shadow's arms. He welcomes her, but at a price. If she wants his help to save Hope City and Benson's life, it will cost Lizzie her own.

    In one last explosive fight for the city – and love – Lizzie must draw on every lesson she's learned, every soul she's claimed, and all the light she has. Will it be enough? Or will this angel finally lose her wings and her heart to destiny?

    ….

    His Own Angel follows a magical private eye and her charming vampire handler fighting to save their city from the darkest side of power. If you love your urban fantasies with action, heart, and a splash of romance, grab His Own Angel Book Seven today and soar free with an Odette C. Bell series.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOdette C. Bell
    Release dateMar 7, 2017
    ISBN9781386017806
    His Own Angel Book Seven: His Own Angel, #7

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      His Own Angel Book Seven - Odette C. Bell

      1

      I was in shock. Total, complete shock. I wasn’t shaking, wasn’t jittering all over the place. No, it was deeper than that. So deep, I couldn’t move. So deep, it felt as if I would never move again, as if someone had injected my veins with concrete and set my bones in stone.

      I was sitting on that exact same Empire-style couch, staring out the exact same window Shadow Benson had tried to kiss me in front of.

      He was still here. Pacing backward and forward, muttering something under his breath as he read from an old, scratched leather tome that looked as if it had been dug up from the earth that very morning. Clods of dirt were trapped along the faded gold lettering. And as Shadow Benson continued to pace tirelessly across the carpet, flecks of dirt kept flicking over his shoes.

      I stared at him, all dead-eyed. As he twisted on the spot, voice arcing up as he muttered whatever strange spell he was attempting to cast, he caught my gaze. He twisted his head, grip tightening over the book as his Adam’s apple pushed hard in a tight swallow. There will be some way, Elizabeth. I promise you that.

      His words were weak. Completely and utterly lacking strength and conviction. This – this was the man who’d hunted me relentlessly for the past several weeks. This was the same man who’d caused me to wake up in a cold sweat on so many horrible occasions. This was the man who was meant to be my greatest enemy. And yet this was the man who was now my only ally.

      A truly cold sweat picked up along my brow, drenched my shoulders, and made me shudder as if I’d been dumped into ice-cold water. Though Shadow Benson had returned his attention to his book, I watched him dart his gaze over to me. The concern crumpling his brow was unmistakable.

      Or maybe it wasn’t. Because there was still that flicker of doubt in my mind. That good girl, Elizabeth Luck. The same good, little, innocent girl who’d walked into Mr. Marvelous’s Detective Agency foolishly seeking a job. Suddenly, her voice became so loud, it was as if she was screaming right between my ears.

      Go back. Give Benson another chance. There’s been a mistake. This can’t be happening. He can’t have turned on you.

      As that voice droned in my head, I made the first movement I’d bothered to make in minutes, and I brought a shuddering hand up and clamped it over my brow, my palm descending until it half covered one of my eyes.

      That would be when I heard a thump from outside. Maybe I should have been expecting it, but my body was still so wired with adrenaline and fear and loathing that as soon as that shuddering sound pulsed through the floor, I shrieked as if someone had grabbed me by the throat.

      Shadow Benson looked up sharply from his book, his brow locking together in obvious consternation and concern. But that was it. He didn’t suddenly thrust toward me, loop an arm around my middle, and pluck me from the couch as he pulled me away to safety.

      No, instead, with a wary, pressed-lipped look, he continued to stare at the window until it became clear nothing was going to happen. Then he went right back to pacing and muttering.

      Though my body was racked with tension and goading fatigue, I somehow managed to twist my head until I stared at the window in full. As I did, my gaze darted past it: the half-drunk blood. It was on the floor, exactly where it had been dropped when Benson had had an altercation with his shadow earlier today.

      Briefly, I let a shiver dart hard down my back until I wrenched my gaze off the glass and returned it to the window.

      Outside, I saw a crackling magical field. It was shooting up and down the side of the castle wall, apparently protecting us from any fiend who would dare venture our way. That was what Shadow Benson was achieving with his quickly uttered spell. And as his voice arced up even higher, reaching a crescendo like an orchestra coming to the end of a powerful suite, the magical field doubled in size.

      With several more uttered words, finally Shadow Benson stopped. I heard him draw a tense breath and watched him arch his neck fully as he appeared to assess the view from the windows with all his concentration. When whatever the hell was out there didn’t suddenly manage to make it through the field, I heard him take an unmistakably relieved sigh.

      Then, finally, he returned his full attention to me.

      Slowly, almost as if he were worried that if he made a sudden movement, I would break, he leaned down, placed the book on the coffee table in front of the couch, then got down on one knee. He shifted his head up until he stared into my eyes, and I swore I heard every tense creak of his muscles. And yet, I knew that couldn’t be the case. Because this bastard – he wasn’t real. Not like Benson. He wasn’t flesh and blood. Any warmth, any compassion, any seed of desire in his gaze – they were all false. Nothing more than reflections in a pool.

      Maybe my gaze hardened, because his expression softened even more.

      Elizabeth. His voice dropped down low and became a throaty, husky rasp. It will be safe here. I promise you that. The protection spells I have cast cannot be broken. At least not for several days. We have time. There was an expectant look in his gaze. And the exact way the word time rolled off his tongue made my back itch.

      It wasn’t a pleasant itch. It matched my confusion, only made it deeper, harder, more powerful.

      So I didn’t reply. I just yanked my gaze off him and settled it on the windows as I stared at the blue flickering magical field that was protecting us from everything else – everything else in the goddamn universe. Because if Shadow Benson were to be believed, that’s what was after us.

      Now my great-grandmother had a hold of Benson, she would have access to the forces of Heaven and Hell. We had no chance.

      Though I tried to repress it, a tear trickled down my cheek, dashed over my chin, and splashed onto my tensed hands as I held them tightly in my lap.

      Instantly, Shadow Benson reached a hand out, his intention clear as he went to dry my cheeks with one of his large, rough thumbs. But he stopped midway through the move, his guarded gaze darting from left to right as he assessed me for any sign of emotion. Me? I ignored him. Or at least I tried to. I tried to focus all my attention on the possibility that this could just be a mistake, and if I marshaled my courage and headed back to Hope City, Benson would be waiting there. Waiting there with open arms. And—

      Don’t think about it. You can’t figure this out, Elizabeth. The only thing we can do is work through this together.

      Something about that word – together – it broke the dam holding back my emotions, and my lips stiffened like steel as they pulled across my teeth. Just get away from me. Just leave me alone and never come back. You did this. You started this. You turned Benson against me. If you’d never come for me—

      You’d be dead. Or worse – a puppet of your great-grandmother. Would you want that, Elizabeth? There are those in this world who are satisfied doing the bidding of their master. But you are not one of them, he said, the slightest smile playing across his lips as if he were proud of me.

      For a single instant, my heart warmed as if the prospect of this bastard being proud of me was one I should cherish. But then the hardness set in again, and I pushed back on the couch as I tried to get away from him.

      Though something in my mind told me this devious devil would just push forward, lock his hand around my wrist, and shout at me until I listened, that’s not what he did. Instead, with a poignant sadness swelling in his gaze, he pushed to his feet with a sigh.

      He took several steps back, never turning from me, his eyes never blinking. I understand, Elizabeth. I do. And I will give you time to process these emotions – but we won’t have long, he said. His voice did it again. Dropped all the way down low until it was barely audible. But it was perceptible. While my ears struggled to pick it up, my body didn’t. My back shivered with it, my stomach clenching hard.

      Though I have bought us some time by protecting this castle, if we are to have any hope of saving Benson, we must eventually return to Hope City.

      I couldn’t stop my eyes from pulsing wide on that promise. But before I could snap at Shadow Benson that I wanted to go back home now, he shook his head in a tight move that looked as if it could snap his neck.

      Not yet. Not until we have a weapon that can work against him.

      I shuddered.

      A… a weapon against Benson.

      He… he wouldn’t attack me. Not again. The last time had been a mistake – a result of my great-grandmother’s possession. But Benson was strong, and he’d find a way to pull free of her clutches… right?

      I leaned forward and collapsed my hands over my face. I didn’t try to suppress the tears that welled in my gaze.

      Shadow Benson didn’t say a word as he stood above me, didn’t say a word as I rocked back and forth in grief. Outside, whatever was trying to push its way in kept assaulting the shields. And even though all I wanted to do was wallow in self-pity, that side of me couldn’t be suppressed. The side of me that had agreed to flee Mr. Marvelous’s shop with the Shadow in the first place. The side of me that knew, despite my histrionics, I would pull through this. I would have to pull through this. Everyone was relying on me.

      As my gaze darted toward the shield again, Shadow Benson arched his head toward it, assessed it for several seconds, and swallowed. It will hold, he said, and for the first time, he sounded genuinely sure of his assessment. But for now, Elizabeth, we must devise a means to protect you upon our return.

      Though I wanted to drown what he was saying out, I didn’t have that luxury. Because that side of me – that side of me that knew I would have to grow a backbone – pushed my grief away. It allowed me enough control of my grief-stricken body to tilt my head back. There won’t be any way to protect me. Surely, it’s useless. If my… if my… great-grandmother, I finally pushed the words out of my locked jaw, if it was really her who attacked me, then surely I have no chance? She’s a full seraph. She is in complete control of her powers. And she’s been manipulating me through this entire journey. There won’t be anything I can do, I ended pathetically. But I didn’t care if it was pathetic. I was just so tired.

      You do not do yourself justice, Shadow Benson said, and there was a truly soft edge to his tone. The kind of edge that, if I closed my eyes and drowned out the sound of the crackling force field beyond, I would be able to convince myself that I was listening to William Benson himself.

      Elizabeth, you managed to create your own soul weapon. You managed to hide it from both me and Benson. And you managed to dispatch every enemy who came after you, no matter how powerful they were. Elizabeth, his voice did it again and dropped until it was so husky it sounded as if he’d drunk an entire bottle of whiskey, you are far more powerful than you think.

      If I was far more powerful, we wouldn’t be in this situation. I wouldn’t have allowed my great-grandmother to possess Benson. I would’ve stopped her, stopped you.

      Finally, the anger started to flare in my gut.

      An anger that I’d once been terrified of but now embraced with both arms as I locked my tear-streaked hands on my knees and leaned forward. None of this matters: your words, your reassurances, even what you’re doing. None of it matters. You may think I’m more powerful than I wish to believe, but I’m not God. I can’t fix this. No one can.

      Though Shadow Benson had been maintaining a completely serious demeanor until now, on the admission that I wasn’t God, a flicker of amusement danced deep in his gaze. Why be God, Elizabeth? I prefer you the way you are. And you don’t need to be a misguided omnipotent being to remedy this situation. Your great-grandmother would not have groomed you if she hadn’t seen the same power in you which I now see. She wants that power. That’s why she took Benson. That’s why she’s been manipulating you. And now, he paused, swallowing hard as emotion appeared to shake through him, you must call on that power. Embrace your destiny.

      He lost me on the word destiny. Big time. I clenched my teeth hard against that word, almost as if I were trying to rip through it. Don’t pretend you’ve seen something important in me. Don’t pretend you’re building me up out of compassion. All you care about is me sacrificing my life so I can knit you and Benson back together.

      Shadow Benson jerked his head back, his gaze suddenly narrowing.

      I took the opportunity to shift further forward, locking my hands on my knees until my knuckles turned white. Does that shock you? Did you honestly think I didn’t know? Benson told me. He revealed everything. The only reason you’re pretending to be nice to me, pretending to have feelings for me, I managed through a shaking voice, is because you want me to sacrifice my life and light in order to give you back yours, I ended with a spluttering harrumph.

      Though Shadow Benson continued to look surprised, he quickly closed his mouth, and his shock turned into a somber kind of compassion. That’s only half true.

      I blinked back my shock, tried to hide it as I sneered even harder. I hadn’t honestly expected him to answer truthfully, to admit that this was all some ploy.

      Though I’d been ready to face him seconds before, now I receded slowly, every vertebra in my back creaking like old floorboards.

      Elizabeth, he said with a careful tone as if he expected I would explode, it’s not like that. You won’t lose your life.

      Then what will I lose?

      He pressed his lips together and looked for all the world like he wouldn’t answer. Your… he trailed off.

      My what? I demanded as I pushed forward, practically snapping off the couch.

      Again, he said nothing. He simply stood there and watched me with unmistakable wariness.

      Tell me the goddamn truth, I screamed, and this time I really did jerk up from the couch, coming to a stop right before him, my head angled up to his.

      I watched his face stiffen, let my gaze dart from his cheeks to his brow to his once warm lips.

      Your memories, Elizabeth. You will lose your memories.

      My brow twitched, and I blinked automatically. What?

      Your memories, he whispered in a sorrowful, far-off tone.

      What? I repeated like a broken record.

      I know of no other way. Elizabeth, despite the fact he was right there in front of me, he broke eye contact, jerking his gaze to the side, if there were another way…. If there were another way, I would use it. The only way to knit our souls back together is to use your light. The light of your beliefs, the light of your memories. The light of who you are today. As he spoke, there was an unmistakable sorrowful edge to his every word. It sounded as if he were stabbing himself in the heart.

      Slowly, what he was suggesting struck home. Though on the face of it, losing your memories was a heck of a lot better than losing your life, was there that much of a difference? If you would never, ever be able to regain your memories, wasn’t that a way of dying when you were alive?

      There was now such a sad expression crumpling Shadow Benson’s brow that I half suspected he would cry. He didn’t. He simply stood there and faced me with all his attention. If there were another way… he began.

      Though I’d been up in his face seconds before, I suddenly took a jerked step backward. For some reason, it was uncoordinated, my legs shaking as if I’d just spent a month at sea. The back of my knee jammed hard against the leg of the coffee table, and I almost fell backward.

      Shadow Benson wouldn’t let me, and in an instant – in the blink of an eye – he reached a hand out, locked it on my shoulder, and tugged me back. Elizabeth, he said, voice resounding as he looked deeply into my gaze. We don’t have time for this. At this stage, you losing your memories is theoretical, anyway. What isn’t theoretical is what your great-grandmother will do to Hope City if she is left unchecked.

      Though I wanted to look away, though I wanted to give in to my anger and grief once more, I couldn’t. Heck, I couldn’t even blink under the intensity of his never-wavering gaze.

      I gulped.

      And I thought.

      … I would do anything to save Benson, wouldn’t I? I’d already come to that conclusion, hadn’t I?

      And this was never meant to be easy.

      I swallowed and half-closed my eyes.

      If… there’s any way to save him, if there’s any way to end this, I began, forcing my words through a tight breath, I’ll do it.

      Shadow Benson closed his eyes, and he abruptly took a step backward.

      Benson? I said, reaching a hand out to him, only realizing at the last moment I’d called him Benson.

      Slowly, he opened one eye. He faced me. There’s a way to end this, Elizabeth. But you may not like it.

      My stomach twisted. What do you mean?

      To stop your great-grandmother, you have to defeat Benson. She has tied her soul to his.

      Sorry? Fear started to rise in my heart like a tide coming into shore.

      You will have to beat him. But to do that, you will need a weapon.

      I have several weapons, I pointed out. Including my glaive. Surely they’ll be enough?

      He shook his head. The exact somber, certain energy of it fixed my attention in place. You will need a weapon against Benson specifically.

      … What do you mean? I said after a considerable pause.

      You will need a soul shard come to life. As he said that, he brought up a hand and flattened it against his chest. The move was soft, but for some reason, it had all the import of somebody pushing a mountain over.

      I stood there, a cold sweat suddenly slicking across my brow. A soul shard?

      Benson nodded in a low, grave move. Yes. Though it is never recommended, I see no other way, considering the circumstances. I will have to extract a part of my soul, combine it with the necessary elements, and create a weapon. This, he plucked the hand off his chest and rounded it into a fist, will be the only way to counteract Benson’s growing power. If used correctly, you will also be able to sever your great-grandmother’s control over him.

      My mind exploded with the possibility, and I took several steps toward Shadow Benson.

      He didn’t step back to reinstate his personal space. Instead, slowly, as if his neck muscles had been replaced by pulleys, he tilted his head down and locked his full gaze on me.

      If this has always been a possibility, why haven’t you told me about it until now?

      Because it’s dangerous.

      Dangerous?

      This weapon will be a part of Benson. And… he paused.

      And what?

      A part of you.

      I recoiled. What do you mean?

      I mean that in order to give the soul shard light, to give it form, you will have to fill it with a part of yourself.

      I felt sick. Thoroughly sick. Yet at the same time, I wasn’t entirely sure if I was misinterpreting the sensation. Maybe I was excited.

      I brought a hand up, jammed a thumb into my mouth, and started chewing industriously. I shook my head. This really does sound dangerous.

      Indeed. But you wanted a way to end this – and this may be the only way. Your great-grandmother will try to thwart you using whatever means possible. And Benson, I wager, his voice dropped low, is a weakness for you.

      I didn’t

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