Awaken the Soul: (A Havenwood Falls High Novella)

by Michele G Miller

  Elias scratches his beard and blows out a long exhale. “I hoped I was wrong. I wanted the memory erasure to work, Breckin. I didn’t want to see either of you put into this situation.”

  His eyes meet mine, and they’re filled with words he will not speak. This will be trouble.

  He warned me that first night, but I thought he was worried about my healing her, or my exposing myself. No, he’s worried for us. I give him a nearly imperceptible nod, letting him know I understand.

  Vivienne clears her throat and shimmies—like she’s shaking off a pall. “So, Elias. An angel who runs a business flying people on high adventure ski courses. It almost feels like an inside joke.”

  I choke on the sip of water I just took. For his part, Elias just leans back and snorts, his eyes watching Vivienne again with a gleam that I can only think of as pride.

  “It was a joke. In a way.”

  Vivienne laughs lightly. “In a way?”

  “Elias can’t fly, Viv,” I explain, unable to keep myself from wincing. An angel’s wings are irreplaceable. They are their own life force. They speak their own language. How Elias manages without his has always amazed me. Vivienne’s face contorts. I can read the questions she’s too afraid to ask in her expressive eyes.

  “It was years ago, a fight with things best left unsaid, for now,” Elias says.

  Unsaid, for now. Hopefully, unsaid forever. I don’t want to have to tell Vivienne about all of the scary things that lurk about this world. She hasn’t asked about other creatures, whether from fear or preoccupation, and I’d love it if she never had to find out. Wishful thinking, Breckin.

  There’s a sadness in her eyes as she looks at Elias. “I’m sorry.” She offers him a warm smile.

  He accepts her smile with one of his own. “It’s not so bad. The business keeps me in the air, and I get to keep an eye on this delinquent.”

  “So that’s how you ended up in Havenwood Falls? Breck’s father asked you to watch over him while he’s out doing . . . things?”

  “Things?” Elias laughs, but agrees.

  But that’s not true. Elias was in Havenwood Falls way before I was born. He was here before he lost his wings, if I remember correctly. Why did he settle here?

  The high-pitched screech of Vivienne’s window opening draws a smile to my face. Leaning against the tree outside her apartment, I maintain my focus on the parking lot and sky and wait for her to speak.

  “You know I can see you even when you try to cloak yourself, right?”

  She never disappoints. We’ve done this all week. I wait for her feisty little jabs like a hungry man waits for dinner. The scent of her freshly washed hair invades my space, and with a last glance around the complex, I turn and walk closer.

  “Your neighbors will think you’re crazy if you keep yelling outside at nothing.”

  “Breckin, go home and sleep. He’s not here. It’s been four days, and we’ve seen nothing.”

  She props her elbows on the sill and leans farther out. Taking the end of her wet hair, I wrap it around my fist and cloak her with me. “I don’t sleep,” I tell her, not for the first time. “And I want to be here. I feel better when I’m near you.” I breathe her in before capturing her mouth with mine. She tastes like cinnamon toothpaste.

  “Then come inside,” she says against my lips, her tongue running over my bottom lip.

  “That’s not a good idea, Vivie.” Her mom is at work, and the desire between us is too strong.

  “It’s a great idea, Breck.” Her hands go around my neck, as though she can yank me in through her window.

  Tucking my wings tight against my body, I climb into her room, shutting and locking the window before pulling the curtains closed. I still at Vivienne’s proximity, my back to her.

  “I’m not sure which I find more beautiful. You or your wings,” she says softly for my ears only. Her finger grazes the edge of my left wing, and my breath hitches. She’s never touched them. No one has. I close my eyes, yearning for her touch, my feathers straining for it. She moves to the curving slope at the top.

  “I am an angel. I am not beautiful.” My voice is as gravelly as Elias’s. I fist her curtain as her entire palm pets down the length of my spine. The baby fine feathers twitch.

  “You are my angel, Breckin Roberts, and you are beautiful to me.”

  I move quickly—grabbing her body and pinning her on top of her bed—with an angelic passion and need I’ve never known. Vivienne gasps, bucking against me as her eyes sparkle.

  “You. Are. My soul.”

  Her leg hooks around my calf. “Do you know how badly I’ve wanted to touch them?” she asks with a breathtaking smile.

  “You are my soul, Vivie,” I repeat, lowering my face to hers and brushing her cheek and jaw with my nose, inhaling her scent. “I’m connected to you like no other.”

  She trembles beneath me. “I’m connected to you like no other.”

  I release her wrists from over her head. Pushing up, I brace myself with one hand and run my palm across her smooth skin. I’ve kept information from her all week, and I’ve run out of time.

  “You’re frowning. What’s wrong?” Her warm fingers travel over my ribs and pull me down on top of her.

  Pulling my wings in, I flip us over and hug her tightly. “I need to tell you about my father.”

  She lifts her head, her eyes scanning my face before she scrambles from my arms and sits beside me. I push myself into a sitting position. “Elias had to tell him what was going on here.”

  “Okay.”

  I blow out a deep breath. “You know he’s not good. He’s fallen, Viv. Thousands of years ago, there was dissension in the ranks, and it led to war.”

  “Among the angels?” Her eyes dip to my chest, and she leans over and tugs my shirt from where I keep it tucked in my belt. She arches a brow as she holds out the shirt.

  “Yes, among the angels,” I confirm as I slip the shirt over my head. “They were divided, some turned. The stories I’ve been told come from one side. Or I suppose, two—my father and Elias. They tell the same one, though. Mostly. They were thrown out of Heaven—many angels were—and for a while, they worked to gain their favor back, but when nothing happened, they fought. My father turned, and now leads other lesser angels in tempting humans to stray. It’s his job to turn people away from living a good and righteous life.”

  “You’re not your father, Breckin.” She takes my hand when I stare at her with confusion. “You told me you were supposed to be bad. You’re not.”

  “No, but I’m expected to declare my allegiance to him when I turn eighteen. I’m supposed to join him.”

  “And if you don’t?”

  Man, I love her strength. I hold her gaze as I admit the worst-case scenario. “He could end me.”

  “End you?” Her head shakes slowly. “You mean kill you?”

  “Elias says he won’t. Although he’s never shown much fatherly care, he has some feelings for me. More than likely he’ll force me, or make my life hell, until I relent.”

  “I don’t understand. Can’t you just live? Have some sort of neutrality? Go to college and be with me?”

  I’d like nothing more. Vivienne’s blue eyes fill with tears, and I hook her by the back of the neck and press her head to my chest. “I could try, but eventually I’ll have to pick a side. Peace won’t last forever.”

  “Why are you telling me all this now?” She swipes at her wet cheeks as she draws back.

  “In order to keep you safe, we have to end Sebastian. Only one thing kills a reaper. Death’s scythe, which, unless you have a direct line to him, we’re not getting our hands on.” Vivienne’s hands go to her head. “But, I learned something before I came over. If a reaper is in a host body, as our guy is, then an angel blade will do him in.”

  “Where do you find an angel blade?”

  My finger slides over her damp hair, taking a thick section and twisting it. “From my father.”

  Ready, Set, Let’s G
o

  Vivienne

  “So, are you ever going to talk to me about Breckin Roberts?”

  My grip loosens on my curling iron, the metal coming way too close to my ear, as Mom pops her head around my bathroom door as I’m getting ready for school.

  “Gosh, you scared me!” I unwrap a curl and set the iron on the counter. “What are you doing home this early?”

  “I have seven months before my only child goes off to college. I figured if I wanted to spend any time with you, I’d have to come home before you left for school.”

  Guilt sucker-punches me. “I’m sorry.”

  She picks up the curling iron and steps behind me. Drawing a chunk of hair from my scalp, she sets about curling it, just as she did when I was younger. “You haven’t been running, you haven’t stopped by the clinic to help file. This boy must be pretty special for you to give up all of your normal activities.”

  “He is,” I admit, meeting her gaze in the reflection of my bathroom mirror. “Do you need me at the medical center? I can come in.”

  “Not if you’d rather hang out with Breckin, sweetie.”

  See your mostly working mom or hang out with your newly found soul mate? What a choice. I fuss with the front of my hair, searching for pieces in need of the curling iron, as I carefully consider my answer.

  “What if I bring him by?”

  Her light brow arches. “Introducing him to the parental unit? Is he that special?”

  My eyes roll as I smirk. “Mom, you know Breckin. You know his . . . Elias—”

  “His Elias? Is that a term you kids are using these days that I wouldn’t understand?”

  “Elias Jamison. He’s Breckin’s unofficial uncle. We ate dinner with him. He’s really nice.”

  Her face changes. A thoughtful and far off look glazes over her eyes. “Yes, he is nice. And yes, I know them both, but not all that well. I’d love it if you brought Breckin by the center. I’d like to get to know the boy who’s convinced my normally rigid daughter to drop her schedule for an entire week.”

  “Rigid daughter?” I scoff. She raises her brow again, a silent “Are you going to dispute it?” and I give in. “Aren’t you the one who poked at me for not having enough fun?”

  “Not too much fun, Viv,” she says, and I inhale deeply at the censure in her tone.

  This week has been a whirlwind. My usual “rigid” schedule, as Mom calls it, fell to the wayside. My daily running was replaced by making out with an angel. My evenings helping Mom file charts and eating dinner with her at work were replaced by dinner dates in front of a fire with Breckin. Four afternoons spent doing our homework together, and getting to know each other, on a level other than the angelic, soul mate level.

  “It’s a good thing you raised me right.” I turn and pilfer the curling iron from her hands. “He’ll be here soon. Let me finish getting ready. How about we come by tonight? A Friday night date with my mom at a medical center? How could he say no?”

  “Say no to a night with the Freeman girls? He couldn’t.” She slaps my butt on her way out the door.

  I have so many questions. Breckin and I need to talk before Mom jumps on him and interrogates him tonight. If he agrees to go. I should have asked on the way to school, but I chickened out. I should have said something before he left me at my classroom door, but my stomach fluttered and my senses swam as he kissed my cheek.

  I’ve put off letting them meet because I was worried she would see just how strong my feelings for him are. She knows me too well. Now, before they meet, I need to sort things out. Things I put off because I was too frightened of the answers. If Breckin is my soul mate, what does that mean? We’re seventeen. We’re in high school. This isn’t normal, being this attached to another when you’re not even sure of yourself.

  And he’s an angel. He won’t age much further—he’s immortal. Will I be a creepy old woman passing the man I love off as my son, then grandson someday? I will grow old and die and leave him behind. My stomach turns. Am I thinking of a future with Breckin? Am I in love with him? Our souls are so in sync, it clouds all other feelings. It could be love, but it’s too soon to go there. Soul mates or not. Isn’t it?

  “Buck up, cupcake. You’ll see lover boy again in one hour.” Zara knocks the back of my head as she takes her seat beside me. We’ve spoken less this last week than we have our entire lives. “You two are the real deal, huh?” Her words are dipped in resentment.

  “Jealous?”

  Zara snorts. “Of your hot boy toy? Totally. But I miss you more. He’s gonna have to give you up. At least occasionally—shared custody?”

  I smile. Just like with my rigid schedule and mom, I’ve disappeared on Zara this week, too. With a rogue angel out to get me, it can’t exactly be helped, but she doesn’t know that.

  “Eat lunch with us, and we can work out arrangements.”

  “Really? He’ll share you?”

  Never. Breckin’s words—You. Are. My soul—roll through my head.

  I flash a coy smile. “What makes you think he’s the needy one?”

  “I’ve never known you to be clingy, Viv.”

  “That’s because you’ve never known me to be in love.”

  Her face changes from wide-eyed shock to worry. Why did I admit that? Was I not just questioning my feelings? I’m an idiot, because I know darn well what my feelings are.

  “You think you’re in love?” Zara scoots her chair halfway into the aisle. “Viv, I don’t want to see you get hurt. I know there’s some sexy appeal to Breckin Roberts, but he’s Breckin Roberts. Don’t get your hopes up.”

  She means well. I push the leg of her chair with my foot, sliding her back toward her own desk. “I love you, Z. Everything will be fine.”

  If she has more to say, she’s denied the chance by the start of class.

  Halfway through AP Lit, my cell vibrates. I covertly slip the phone from my pocket.

  Breck: My father is at the house. I have to go see him.

  Me: Now? I’ll come with you.

  My heart races as I wait for his reply. He’s taking too long. Why? A glance at the front of the room verifies I’m not being watched. I type again.

  Me: Breck?

  Breck: You can’t. I need you to stay here. Stay in the building and with someone at all times, okay? I’ll be back in time for chem.

  I can’t? Irrational worry, or maybe it isn’t irrational considering what he’s told me about his father, hits me.

  Me: Will Elias be there?

  Again, his reply takes too long. I lean down and grab my backpack, half determined to run for the exit. Beside me, Zara hisses, drawing my attention. Her brows dip over her eyes in a silent question. I shake my head and mouth, I’m fine.

  Breck: Elias is there, Vivie. I’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll see you soon.

  The remainder of class is a blur. Within moments of Breck’s last text, dread hits me. I rub my chest, the emptiness I felt after he and Elias attempted erasing my memories coming back full force. Elias said I’d get used to it—the way my bond calls to Breckin’s when we’re not in close proximity. I’m empty, and he’s not even two miles away.

  Two sharp knocks on the classroom door stops us in the middle of reading a passage from Heart of Darkness.

  “Sorry for the interruption. May I see Vivienne for a moment please?”

  The pencil I’m doodling with stills as I look up. The assistant principal wants me? She lifts a hand and waves me over, before ducking back into the hall. Sharing a curious glance with Zara, I slip my cell up my sleeve and stand. The reading continues before I’ve left the room.

  AP Lit is at the end of a hallway on the first floor of the school. To the left are exit doors with colorful posters advertising the Yuletide Ball tomorrow night, and to the right is a long corridor of closed classroom doors, and the Assistant Principal’s back, as she walks away.

  Am I supposed to follow her? What about my things?

  The exit doors behind me open, a shock of c
ool wind and a beam of light shining into the hallway.

  “Hello, pretty one.” His rasping voice sends tendrils of fear curling up my spine.

  This Is War

  Breckin

  He stands in the middle of the living room, beneath the arched ceiling and before the burning fireplace, the owner of this house and my life. Or so he thinks.

  “Father.”

  He does not turn. I didn’t expect him to. “Breckin.”

  His profile is the same. The same face I’ve known my entire life. The face of a man who could be my brother. Thousands of years old and he looks like a frat boy right out of college. He looks like me, but looks are deceiving. Father isn’t a college boy. He isn’t harmless.

  “Well?”

  And he isn’t patient. Leaving my wings out, I step farther into the room, nodding at Elias, who leans against a wall, arms crossed over his chest, the glare he wears for Father’s sake firmly in place.

  “I am told you healed.”

  I nod. His profile glows orange from the fire. I catch the way the muscle in his cheek flinches, and the silence grows.

  “Where is she? This girl worth saving? I smell her on you. I smell her in this house.”

  My eyes flick toward Elias. His head moves a fraction, a slight shake as his pale eyes lower. I hold my tongue.

  “You dare ask for my help, but you choose not to speak to me?” He finally turns his full attention to me. His amber eyes, more red in tone than mine, flash with irritation. “Do you know what you did, by interfering? Did you think your actions would go unnoticed?”

  “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “No?” He steps closer. “You risk notice, son. You have one choice in your existence: gain strength until you join me.”

  “That’s a choice?” I scoff, anger unfurling in my chest. “I will not let her die. And if you don’t help me keep her safe, you will be the one with a choice.”