Part 26 (1/2)

Hawk had fought against coming back, was still fighting against being there. He hated himself for returning to Angel with no more to give her than when he left. Yet he could not stay away.

Life without Angel was as close to death as Hawk had ever come.

Slowly, he opened the car door. The stones of the front walk gleamed palely beneath the waning moon. He moved soundlessly, more shadow than man. He paused, then tried the door.

It was open.

He walked inside and called her.

aAngel?a Only an echo returned. aAngel!a The silence was like another shade of night, another kind of death.

Abruptly, Hawk ran down the hall to Angelas studio. He saw the tilted table, the glitter of shattered gla.s.sa”Angel unconscious, veiled in brilliant, lethal fragments.

He called her name as he knelt beside her, and the sound of his voice was like gla.s.s breaking. His hand trembled over her neck, seeking her pulse. When he found it, he bowed his head to the weakness and relief coursing through him.

Delicately Hawk removed each shard of gla.s.s covering Angel. As he picked off the last bronze fragment, he saw that Angelas hand was clenched around something.

With infinite care he opened her fingers, afraid that he would find a piece of razor gla.s.s pressed against her palm. It was not gla.s.s that he found, but a candy cane wrapped in a green ribbon.

For the first time since he was a child, Hawk wept.

Angel didnat awaken when Hawk undressed her and carried her to bed. She didnat stir when Dr. McKay examined her and then told Hawk in sleepy, irritable tones what Hawk had already guessed. Angel had pushed herself too hard and her body had shut down, hurtling her into a deep, restoring sleep.

Hawk undressed and went to Angelas bed, gathering her into his arms, giving her his warmth. His clear brown eyes watched her sleeping face through all the hours of night. He watched her as the strong morning sun climbed above the mountains and poured in the bedroom window, flooding the stained gla.s.s panel with life and light.

Beveled crystal daggers split sunlight into rainbows. Fantastic colored shadows crept across the room until they spilled over Angel, bathing her in beauty.

Distracted by the dancing light, Hawk looked from the rainbow shadows on Angelas face to the panel that stood in the midst of radiance.

And then Hawk forgot to move, forgot to breathe, forgot everything but the stained gla.s.s so silent and yet so incredibly alive.

A hawk descending from a transparent sky, a single talon outstretched to pierce a golden cloud. Where the talon touched the cloud, a large crimson drop welled, glistening with light.

And there was something more . . . something in the cloud itself.

Compelled by beauty, Hawk came to his feet and approached the panel, drawn by the enigma within the golden cloud. As he walked, he saw first the swirl of evocative lines that transformed part of the cloud into a womanas hair lifted on the wind.

Next he saw the slightly tilted eyes, a blend of shadow and brightness that s.h.i.+fted from moment to moment, extraordinarily alive. Her enigmatic smile could have come from agony or ecstasy or a beautiful, terrifying combination of both.

Hawk made a m.u.f.fled sound and leaned closer, staring at the blood-red drop that welled from the point where the hawkas talon pierced the cloud.

A rose was deeply etched into the crimson teardrop.