White (The Wings Trilogy Book 1)

by Angelina J. Steffort

  “I am not going anywhere,” he told me, his voice fierce and gentle. “I’m going to stay with you until you get better.”

  “Am I going to be better?” I asked, hopeful. His eyes showed a sadness I had never seen there before. I remembered his words. And if you can’t protect the mark he’ll be enslaved or killed, whatever they find will hurt him more. You will go insane over the loss and I will go insane with you. I could see some difference in his golden brown eyes. They looked haunted. I wondered whether this was a reflection of what he was perceiving from me.

  “The first shock should be over in a few hours. At least the physical pain should stop.”

  I sucked in a breath. “What time is it?” I asked into the half-light.

  “Five o’clock in the evening.”

  I groaned in pain and sat up to stretch my spine in the hope of easing the ache a little. It didn’t help. Tears brimmed over my eyes, and I sobbed uncontrollably.

  “Come here,” he opened his arms for me, and I felt a yearning to sink into them. I leaned in, and he closed them around me, pulling me tight to his chest.

  I clawed my fingers into his shoulders when the pain got unbearable, trying not to scream. He never flinched. He just held me tight in his arms.

  Pain seared up and down my spine, my head hurt and my heart felt like several daggers were piercing through it at the same time, but my brain seemed to start working normally again.

  Trying to prevent my head from replaying Adam’s death over and over again, I distracted myself by imagining how my agony would feel to Jaden. Was he as close to snapping as I was?

  Whenever I twitched Jaden stroked my back or my head, pulling me tighter. It was good not to be alone.

  After a few minutes of tremors going through my body, Jaden sat back against the headboard of my bed and pulled me with him, so I could stretch my back. He kept his arms wound tightly around my body, not fearing my screams, enduring my nails biting into his skin when I couldn’t help it. I felt them digging through his skin with all the force of the pain tearing at my insides, and felt warm liquid trickling down his arm, running through my fingertips.

  I looked down to see what it was and couldn’t bring myself to care as I saw blood dripping from his arm onto my bed. My fingers let go of his arm and the blood stopped flowing and the skin closed over the wounds.

  Another wave of hot pain rolled through my veins, and my hands closed around his arms again and dug deep into his flesh. He flinched ever so slightly, but didn’t complain; he pulled me even tighter instead.

  It took hours for the pain to cease a little. My agonized heart didn’t feel better though. My throat was sore from screaming, and it was only after my spine stopped burning and my head didn’t pulsate, that I fell asleep.

  It was bright daylight when I woke up. The curtains in my room had been drawn shut, and the room was half lit by the cold rays of the gray seeming sun. My head was resting on Jaden’s chest, his chin leaning on my head. He was breathing evenly.

  “You’re finally awake.” His head lifted from mine.

  I pulled out of his embrace and rolled on my back. My insides pained me, like someone had knotted them with barbed wire. I tried to remember why Jaden was lying in my bed and quickly pulled out the memories.

  “Thank you,” I murmured. He smiled in return.

  “You know, I’ll have to call Jenna and Chris,” I dreaded.

  “Yes, you should.”

  “Do they know, already?” The wire pulled tighter around my heart.

  “Yes, they called earlier,” he told me. “They wanted to tell you what happened.”

  “They don’t know I was there?” I was hopeful, at least that would mean they wouldn’t think I murdered him—although it felt like that. The wire pierced my insides.

  “No,” he reassured me. “But the official story’s not easy to handle.”

  “What is it?”

  “The police think it was suicide.”

  That hurt. Adam would never have killed himself, I knew that. I hoped Jenna and Chris coped.

  “They think it’s most likely. Young man coming from a rich family, frustrated with life—at least that’s what they’re putting up.”

  “Didn’t they find his wings?” I asked meekly. “I saw him spread them as he fell.” The picture flashed to my mind, bringing up only a few tears. My body was emptied of tears and now my eyes burned red, missing the liquid.

  “No, angel-wings turn into ashes when an angel dies. The wind blew the ashes away—nobody noticed.”

  “And the torn shirt?”

  “No idea,” Jaden admitted. “I tried to catch up on the news, but I stayed here with you most of the time—I don’t know everything.”

  I rubbed my burning eyes.

  “You should call them,” he confirmed once again, “I think they’re waiting for it.”

  I looked at the clock and decided to wait one more hour, so it wouldn’t be too early. In the meantime I lay on my bed—Jaden sat, watching me, worried—and tried to shut out the ache in my heart and find a way to ignore the emptiness that spread through me.

  Jaden’s eyes weren’t as haunted as they had been at night. I wondered if he felt better now that I felt better, but I didn’t dare bring up the topic. I concentrated on the hands of my alarm clock instead. They moved an infinitesimally tiny bit in what I expected to be minutes. It seemed like I had lost my sense of time.

  I had the impression solid darkness was pressing down on me, crushing me under its weight. It made me go blind for what seemed like hours.

  My voice tore through the blackness. I heard it from a distance and then heard a second voice talking to me.

  “Stay with me, Claire!” It was demanding.

  “Come to me.” A third voice lured. It was velvety soft and irresistibly inviting.

  “Open your eyes, Claire!” the second voice shouted at me.

  “You don’t have to suffer when you follow me,” the third voice, Adam’s voice, filled my head.

  “Adam,” I heard my own voice. “I’m coming.” I was determined to follow the sweet sound of Adam’s voice as I exhaled all the air from my lungs for what I hoped was the last time.

  Something hit my face. I breathed in reflexively.

  “Open. Your. Eyes.” It was Jaden’s voice again.

  My cheek burned from where his hand had slapped it.

  “Don’t listen to the voice. It’s not real. It’s only in your head,” he urged.

  I blinked and saw him examine my face.

  “Sorry I hit you. You were half way through the dark veil that envelops death.”

  “I heard Adam,” I claimed.

  “I know.” He shook his head. “That’s normal, when you lose your angel. Your soul will lead you to wherever he has gone—or where his soul has gone.” He gritted his teeth. “It’s natural that you want to feel whole again.”

  I looked at him, unseeing.

  “You must not listen to it—whatever it promises, however good it feels to give in. Do you understand?”

  I shook my head. “It was Adam.”

  “It wasn’t Adam. Adam is dead,” Jaden half-shouted at me, grabbing my shoulders and shaking them violently. “You can’t follow him to where his soul is.”

  I nodded—more to make him quit. But his face showed relief. His eyes gleamed mildly and he closed his arms around me once more.

  I took a deep breath to steady myself. I believed Jaden. He had told me that he had seen people go crazy over the loss of their angels. Maybe this was exactly what had happened to them—hearing voices.

  My cell phone was lying on the bedside table. I lifted it and dialed the number with an uneasy feeling adding to the barbed wire that began to squeeze my insides.

  “Oh my God, Claire,” Jenna cried into the phone. “I’m so glad you called. I think Jaden already told you what happened.”

  “Yeah, he told me,” my heart revolted at the broken voice of Adam’s stepmother. “Jenna…I’m so sorry.�
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  “Oh honey, it’s not your fault—It’s nobody’s fault. It was his decision.” She sobbed once. “Come over for breakfast, dear. We’d love to see you.”

  “Thanks, I will. Around nine?” I asked.

  “Sure,” Jenna hung up. I felt bad for her and Chris, and for Ben, however hostile he might have been—he was Adam’s half-brother, after all.

  Mechanically I got to my feet and slipped into my jacket. Jaden was on his feet beside me. He hovered around me like he was anxious I would fall down with every movement I made. That was actually how I felt, too. I cautiously made my way down the stairs and to the front door.

  Jaden held me back by the elbow. I looked at him, accusingly. He was his young—around twenty—self in appearance, his face hesitating and anxious. “What if they’re out there waiting for you?”

  I shrugged. “Then they’d better get me quickly, so I don’t have to go through all this for nothing.” My heart was punctured by the barbed wire, as it knotted more tightly around it.

  Jaden flinched as he sensed my emotions. He knew I was being serious. Whatever lay ahead made little sense without—I couldn’t think his name.

  I walked around him, breaking free from his grip, and stepped out the front door into the cold. The freezing air felt good on my skin. It numbed what little I felt from outside.

  My car was parked in the driveway. I got into it without looking back and started the engine. Jaden opened the passenger door and got in.

  “I’m not letting you drive alone,” he told me with a grim face.

  “Whatever,” I felt as cold as the air in the car. I was going through phases of hot anger, unendurable pain and cold indifference in the span of only minutes, over and over again.

  We sped away onto the main road through the town, and soon I saw the park and the winding road up to the Gallagers’s house. I carefully steered the car around every bend of the road, trying to prolong the moment until I would have to enter the house.

  Jaden eyed me with a worried look on his face as I parked the car too far from the front door. Everything inside me was trying to drive me away from this place. I reluctantly got out of the car, dragged my feet towards the front door and rang the bell with a hesitant finger. When I looked around for Jaden he had disappeared.

  My breath turned into white fog in front of my face as I slowly exhaled to calm myself. I can do this, I told myself and shoved my freezing hands into my pockets.

  It took a few minutes until someone answered the door. It wasn’t Geoffrey like usual. Instead Jenna appeared as the door opened.

  “Claire, come in,” she stepped out of the way to let me in.

  “Thank you,” I muttered into the cold and stepped past her.

  She closed the door behind me, and I turned to look at her.

  “Oh Jenna,” I launched myself around her neck. “I’m so sorry.”

  She pulled me tight for a moment, then pulled free and stroked my head with one hand. “I know how you feel, dear. I know how much you loved him.” Her eyes were red with tears, and for the first time I fully appreciated that, although she hadn’t been Adam’s biological mother, she had still loved him like he had been her own son.

  Jenna linked arms with me and led me into the living room. Ben was sitting at the small wooden table with hunched shoulders, looking at the floor. His brown hair was messy like he hadn’t combed it that morning.

  Jenna shuffled off, muttering under her breath, tears still in her eyes. I sat down on the couch beside Ben trying to think of a way to start a conversation.

  It was only when Ben looked up, that I recognized how much humanity was in this boy. His face was torn in pain as his eyes probed my face. The intense expression on his face bore directly into my heart, and a wall of searing flames licked my insides.

  “Ben—I’m—” I tried, “—I know we didn’t get along well, but—”

  What should I tell him? I’m sorry I’m the reason your brother died? In fact I was, but nothing I could say would express how I felt.

  Ben’s face went cold and his eyes, red and wet, became hostile like I knew them.

  “—never mind.” I looked at the floor. His head turned to do the same, like he had done before.

  A few moments of awkwardness later Jenna returned with a basket of rolls and croissants in her hands. Geoffrey was walking beside her with a tray of coffee.

  “My condolence, Miss Claire,” he said as he placed the tray on the table and gave me a pitying look.

  Ben got to his feet and hurried out of the room without looking back. I felt miserable for him, for the whole family. It was my fault in the first place that all this had happened. If Adam had never met me, he might have never spread his wings, and he would have never died in the attempt to protect me. Cold shudders shook my body.

  “Here,” Jenna handed me a cup of coffee, “drink this. And please, don’t worry about Ben—it’s all a little much for him,” she excused his behavior. “It’s hard for all of us. Something like this is almost impossible to handle.”

  I nodded. “Where’s Chris?”

  “In the library,” Jenna told me with a serious face. “He’s been in there ever since the police called to tell us last night. I tried to talk to him, but he wouldn’t stop searching the shelves.” Her expression was hurt.

  “In the public library,” I asked disbelievingly.

  Jenna shook her head. “In our library. My ancestors collected books over the decades and we now have a formidable selection of old books. It’s a paradise for Chris—being a historian, you know.” She smiled vaguely while fresh tears streamed into her eyes. I remembered the room Adam had shown to me my first time at this place. “Adam spent a lot of time in there the last few weeks, too. I never found out what he was looking for.”

  I gulped down the knot blocking my vocal chords. “I want to talk to Chris.”

  “You can try your luck, but I doubt he’ll stop whatever he’s doing in there—” She looked miserable. “Come with me.”

  I followed Jenna to the front room and up the stairs to the corridor on the upper floor.

  The old wooden door creaked as Jenna pressed down the handle and pushed it open.

  “Claire is here to see you, Chris,” she said to her husband, who was sitting on the floor surrounded by piles of books, some open, some closed, some strewn across the room.

  Jenna gestured me to enter. “Good luck,” she whispered and closed the door behind me.

  I took a few steps towards Adam’s father and took in his appearance. He looked a complete mess.

  “Hi Chris,” I croaked, unable to find my voice. He slowly looked up from the open book in his lap. Shocked, I sucked in a breath. His face was sunken and his eyes lackluster and full of pain. They mirrored some of the grief that constantly and painfully tore my insides apart.

  “Claire!” He jumped to his feet so quickly it startled me. He flung his arms around me, looking relieved. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispered into my hair. I stood frozen, not trusting the situation. Chris was too happy to see me.

  “I’m happy to see you, too,” I said, not knowing how to react, and waited for this moment to pass.

  It took a while until he released me from his embrace and another few minutes until he spoke again.

  “Let’s sit down.” He gestured to two big armchairs at the end of the room. I walked behind him past the shelves full of books and sat down in one of the chairs. He looked at me for a while, not saying anything. His eyes searched my face, like he expected to find an answer to an unspoken question there.

  “The police called this morning,” Chris finally said.

  I nodded. “They informed you,” I assumed.

  “Yes,” he answered hesitantly, “and they wanted to know some things.”

  My heart missed a beat. It had only been a matter of time until somebody started asking questions.

  “What did they want to know,” I asked innocently.

  “When we had seen him last,
whom he had been with yesterday evening.” He named the questions. “I think they want to talk to you too, Claire.”

  Knowing that I would be questioned didn’t make the situation any easier. The official story was suicide, I needed my part of it to become waterproof. I had to come up with a lie, in case anyone noticed I knew more than I should.

  Chris eyed me while I was thinking. Hoping that my face didn’t betray my thoughts, I looked back.

  “They are going to stop by in an hour—they want to talk to us.” Chris didn’t take his eyes off mine. They were full of pain.

  I could only imagine how he felt, losing his son. People always said losing our parents was a natural thing, but losing a child was nothing one should ever have to bear.

  “What did really happen last night?” His eyes bore into mine as he asked in a shaky voice.

  I didn’t answer. “Claire, what do you know?” His face was nothing friendly now, it seemed more like a mask.

  “I can’t tell as I wasn’t there,” I snapped at him, my head spinning with images of Adam’s gleaming eyes, searching for lies I could tell Chris.

  “Don’t lie to me, Claire! I know when I’m being lied to.” The hostility in his tone made me even more uncomfortable than I already was. As he leaned towards me with folded hands his features changed to a frantic grimace.

  “I need to know, please Claire. I know you were there, why won’t you tell me?”

  The pictures in my head returned to the scene I had replayed for a million times this morning, each time cutting into my mind and stabbing into my soul a little deeper. Adam’s last seconds. My heart broke—if a broken heart could break again.

  The pressure of his eyes made me snap. I couldn’t keep the secret forever, the burden was already tearing me apart from inside. I inhaled deeply and began to talk without thinking.

  “It’s my fault he died,” I didn’t know how else to start. Chris’ eyes tightened, but he let me go on. “I was stupid and—we had a—kind of—argument,” I stammered, “—I didn’t even have the chance to make it right before he—before he fell.”