“Michael, he’s awake!” called someone nearby. Was that Roxy? Imorean had a feeling it was. But why were Roxy and Michael in the library? He was suddenly aware of someone’s hand on his back. He assumed it was Roxy’s. Imorean opened his mouth to ask her a question, but little more than a whine left his throat. As he raised his head, pain flashed red in front of his eyes and he tasted iron in his mouth.
A pair of shoes entered his vision and Imorean looked up to see their owner. Michael towered over him, seeming even taller than usual. There was a strange expression in the Archangel’s eyes and his face was oddly blank. Imorean shrank back slightly. A flicker of memory came back. He remembered arguing with Michael, but about what, he still wasn’t quite sure.
Imorean raised his gaze back to Michael when the Archangel sat down on the floor, greatly evening the distance between their eyes. Imorean was glad Michael wasn’t going to make him look up. It hurt his head.
“Do you know who I am?” asked Michael. Imorean raised one eyebrow. Of course he knew who Michael was. What kind of a question was that?
“Answer the question, Imorean,” said Michael, smiling slightly.
Imorean opened his mouth to try and reply, but he could make no sound. His heart skipped a beat. Why couldn’t he talk? He looked between Roxy and Michael, his eyes wide.
“You cannot speak, can you?” asked Michael, inclining his head.
Imorean shook his head.
“What are you doing?” asked Roxy, moving closer to Michael. Imorean was glad of her presence.
“It is nothing more than a memory test,” said Michael. “He has undergone exposure to extreme cold and additional injuries. Now though, according to one of Raphael’s staff, the hypothermia is, for lack of a better term, gone. I am now more worried about the head wound that he sustained. Seeing as he seems unable to speak for now, that makes asking and answering questions rather more difficult.”
“Why can’t he talk?”
“Exposure to extreme cold for extended periods of time sometimes robs angels, and so I have heard people, of their most basic abilities. This is one of them.”
“Can’t you help him to be able to talk?”
“I can. Only if Imorean is willing to put up with some discomfort.”
Imorean nodded at once, desperate to communicate. Michael took a deep breath and snapped his fingers. Imorean coughed hard. It felt as though someone had dragged sandpaper up the back of his throat.
“Michael,” he rasped, rubbing at his neck. “You could have given me a warning.”
“I apologize.”
“What happened?”
“I was hoping you would tell me that. I want to know what you remember.”
“I know you and I argued about something.”
“Correct. What else can you remember?”
“I remember flying out of the window… Did I get caught in the blizzard? I remember the snow and wind.”
“Correct,” nodded Michael.
“Did I hit my head?”
“It would appear so.”
“How did you find me?”
“We have a few vehicles on campus that we are able to use during inclement weather. Flying was too dangerous. Gabriel and I managed to find you almost an hour after you ran off. It was Gabriel who tracked you down.”
Imorean strained to think back. What had upset him so much that he had argued with Michael and flown out into a blizzard? He looked away for a moment and caught sight of Michael’s phone lying on the carpet nearby. Something about the device registered in Imorean’s mind. Reality rushed back like a tidal wave. An internal shiver swept through him. Gabriel arriving with the rest of the elite students. The ambush on them in Raleigh. Vortigern’s diabolical game.
“Did he do it?” asked Imorean, not raising his gaze from the phone.
“What do you mean, Imorean?” asked Roxy, scooting closer to him and putting her hand on his shoulder.
“Vortigern,” said Imorean, looking at Michael and not addressing Roxy. He ignored the tone of concern in her voice as well. “Did he do it?”
Michael looked away, breaking eye contact.
“Is that a yes or a no?” asked Imorean, his voice paper thin.
“Vortigern threatened to send a video. I received it. Angel technology is unfortunately easier to get into than demon technology.”
“My family… are they alive?”
Michael was silent for several moments and his gaze was directed at the floor. Imorean stared at his commander. The moments felt like hours. Brown eyes locked with green as Michael looked up. A horrible grief lay streaked through Michael’s eyes. Imorean’s heart shuddered. He knew.
Quiet, choked despair opened up like an ever-widening cavern in Imorean’s heart. His family. Murdered in the night. He looked away, toward the warm fire that had been lit in the fireplace close to where he was lying. He could no longer feel its heat. He closed his eyes tightly and something wet rolled down his face. His chest tightened. His throat constricted. Roxy’s hand on his shoulder squeezed, trying to give him comfort, and for the first time in his life, Imorean pushed her away.
“What now?” asked Imorean. His voice shook as he spoke.
“Now?” asked Michael. “Now you take the time to recover. Both physically and emotionally.”
“You think recovery is possible? He took my entire family from me… and they’re not coming back. They never will. I don’t even have a home to call my own anymore. I’m alone.”
“No, you’re not,” said Roxy, running her fingers through his hair. Imorean pushed her hand away again.
“Imorean,” said Michael. Something in his voice caused Imorean to turn. The Archangel’s pale eyes seemed greener than usual and were shinier than they should have been. There was strange redness around the outside of his eyes. It must have been the lighting.
“Yeah?” asked Imorean, prompting Michael to speak.
“What do you see when you look at me Roxy, Toddy, Mandy, Colton and Gabriel?”
“My friends, my mentor and my commander.”
“Is that all?”
“Is there something else I’m supposed to be seeing?” asked Imorean. His voice was sharp and felt unsteady. His throat felt as though it was being constricted. Heat pricked at the backs of his eyes.
“Let us try this again,” said Michael, quirking a small, sad smile. “What do you see when you look at me?”
Imorean shook his head, confused. “My commander. I don’t understand where you’re going with this. Please, Michael, stop. I don’t want to play these games right now.”
“You will in a moment. Am I not the one who gave you angelic genes?”
“Yes.”
“Therefore, you and I are in fact more closely related than even me and Gabriel. In addition to being your commander, I am your brother. Just as Roxy is your sister. Colton is your brother. Toddy is your brother. All angels are related, even the hybrids, convoluted though it may be. If there is one thing that you are not and will never be, it is alone. I promise you, I will make sure of that. You are not now, nor will you ever be alone. I–” Michael’s voice broke and he took a deep breath before proceeding. “I will not allow it.”
Imorean nodded. More tears fell from his eyes. He did not wipe them away. He let them fall. In spite of a steadying breath, his voice still shook when he spoke again.
“In the long term, what happens?”
“You and the rest of the squad here will begin training. I will start teaching you swordsmanship. Soon, you will be ready to enter a battlefield.”
“How soon?” asked Imorean. He didn’t miss the flicker of surprise in Michael’s eyes.
“That depends solely upon how quickly you all pick up the material.”
Cold anger unlike anything Imorean had ever known before flashed through his veins and for a split second, his vision flashed white.
“I’m ready.”
“I do believe you are. But any aerial training will have to wait until you a
re healed.”
“Why?” asked Imorean, pushing himself up off the floor so he was half sitting. His wings were sprawled out on either side of him.
“You tore a muscle in one of your wings. You will be ground bound until it heals,” said Michael flatly.
“Can’t you heal it?”
“I am not a medical angel and my knowledge of even the most basic treatments is relatively limited. If Raphael were here he would be able to, but with my skill set, I cannot.”
“What about Raphael’s staff?”
“They… they agree with me and Gabriel. It would be better to allow you to be ground bound for a little while. Particularly, in light of what happened last night.”
“You think I’m going to take off again?”
“It is just a precaution, Imorean. Please, just accept that this time.”
Imorean nodded miserably. He pushed away the sense of fury that threatened to overtake him at the thought of being deliberately contained.
“How long will it take?”
“If you take it easy, it should only be a few weeks. Take that time to get yourself back together.”
“I think I can deal with that.”
“Good lad,” said Michael, standing stiffly. “Roxy, when he feels able, take him up to his room.”
“Okay,” nodded Roxy.
“Wait,” said Imorean. Michael stopped and looked at him, brows raised. “Why did you put me in here? It seems an odd choice.”
“It is an interior room with a fireplace and it is isolated from the other students. I did not think you would want them around at this stage,” replied Michael simply, before turning and disappearing amongst the tall shelves.
“Do you want anything?” asked Roxy, breaking the silence. Imorean hadn’t spoken a word since Michael had left over an hour before.
Imorean opened his eyes, but didn’t roll over to look at her or raise his head from the pillows.
“No,” he said flatly.
“How are you really feeling?”
Imorean paused. There were things he was feeling that he didn’t know if words could express. His soul had died. His heart had been shredded. He stared blankly forward, considering Roxy’s words. An answer was on the tip of his tongue, but every time he thought of replying, his mouth and tongue would not obey him. Instead, he settled for something else entirely.
“Michael was kinder than he needed to be. I didn’t expect that.”
“Imorean?” asked Roxy, obviously confused by his change of subject.
“I’m tired. I want to rest here for a bit, then we can leave,” said Imorean, his voice sharper than he had intended. He knew he should apologize, but he just didn’t have the energy. Or the emotion.
“If you want to talk, I’m here.”
“Go find a book.”
“Imorean… you’re my best friend. You’re worrying me.”
Imorean raised his one good wing and waved Roxy away. He heard a heavy sigh and retreating footsteps. He knew Roxy hadn’t left the library. He knew her too well. She would not leave him. It was likely that she was still very nearby, so he worked as hard as he could to keep his sobs quiet. Inside, a great emptiness, unlike anything he had ever known, was tearing his dying soul to pieces. Vortigern had destroyed him.
Chapter 8
Imorean stood on his small balcony. He had lost track of the days. Or were they weeks? They all blurred into one. Each day was the same. Every nightmare was the same. Screams haunted him in his sleep. Grief shadowed his days. The next day mirrored the one before. The one after mirrored the current. It could have been hours or weeks since he had woken up in the library. Time no longer moved in a regular fashion. It was circular, no longer linear. He stood alone. Life happened beyond a distorted screen. He wasn’t a part of it.
One white wing was pinioned to Imorean’s side, a bandage around the joint. The white fabric was a reminder of what Vortigern had done. The injuries to his mind were visible even in the physical form. Imorean’s hands gripped the freezing metal of the balcony railing. How long had he been here? Was it minutes or was it hours? He felt that he was craving something, anything, to make the emptiness inside fade away. Even now, a few hours past the middle of the day, the sunlight had already turned pitch black, giving way to the night. Imorean leaned forward, resting his elbows against the rail. A heavy exhale fogged his breath in the air in front of him. Only a white moon and tiny pinpricks of hopelessly distant stars gave light. What right did he have to be here? What right did he have to be alive? Alive when his entire family was gone. He was only alive because of happenstance. If Michael had chosen to move him any later, he too would be dead. Imorean closed his eyes. Death would be better. Anything would be better than this.
A knock at his door jerked him out of his thoughts. Imorean wiped his eyes dry.
“Yeah?”
“Hey,” said Roxy, stepping inside. Imorean blinked hard. Her wings suddenly seemed too bright. They were too colorful, too light, too happy. The complete opposite of what he was feeling inside. Somehow, it felt like an insult.
“What?” asked Imorean.
“Me, Toddy, Mandy, Baxter and Ryan were going to check out the bar here. See what Michael stocked up. Do you want to come? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
Imorean shrugged. Short, sharp pain travelled up his wing and into his spine as he moved. Nothing more than numbness followed. Pain didn’t stand out anymore. It just got lost.
“Do you want to come?”
Imorean sighed heavily. “Sure. I’ll bite.”
“Good! We don’t want you jailing yourself in here all the time.”
Imorean followed Roxy out of his dorm room. He looked away as she flared her wings to glide down to the first floor. His own sagged uselessly at his sides. He would have to take the stairs. Just another thing to isolate him from the others.
“On second thought, stairs. Come on. I need the exercise,” said Roxy, grabbing his wrist and dragging him to the double doors at the end of the hallway.
The bar was a room Imorean had only visited a few times. He had preferred the game room next door. He looked around as he followed Roxy through the door, adjusting back to his surroundings. The bar was a small, yet comfortable room. It was lit by soft, orange light. It should have been a comforting touch. It wasn’t. A fireplace, not as grand as either one of the two in the lobby, was lodged in one corner and crackled merrily. Imorean glared at it. It was too merry. He turned away to look at the bar itself. Lights were strung up above the bar and the bottles behind glistened under their soft glow.
“You’ve emerged!” shouted Toddy. Imorean looked at his friend. For some reason, Imorean felt as though he hadn’t seen Toddy in a very long time. Toddy Davis, auburn-haired and lanky, grinned brightly at him. Imorean quirked half of his mouth upward. It felt like a cheap imitation of happiness. It didn’t seem to dim Toddy’s spirits though.
“Where’s Colton?” asked Toddy, peering behind Roxy.
Roxy shrugged. “Wouldn’t come down. He’s underage. He’s studying anyway.”
“Class hasn’t even started yet though. Does he really need to study?” said Mandy, piping up from one of the couches. Imorean turned to her. A bottle was balanced in her hand, but behind the lenses of her glasses, there was still a level amount of focus in her eyes. Her straw blonde hair was pulled back into a short ponytail and a soft smile covered her face as her blue eyes met Imorean’s. Sympathy. A flash of unexpected anger tore through him. Did they think he wanted pity?
“You know how he is,” said Baxter, shuffling his great dark wings. “Saved my butt several times at Gracepointe when I forgot about tests.”
“He stays on top of stuff,” said Toddy. “Ryan, pass me another, would you?”
Ryan appeared behind the bar, red hair still as striking as ever, two drinks in hand. “Who’s the best bartender at Felsenmeer? This guy. ‘Sup, Imorean?”
Imorean nodded stiffly. Ryan was hardly his favorite person in the worl
d. Everyone else here he could deal with. Ryan was a different story. They had disliked each other ever since their first meeting.
“Have we started shots yet?” asked Dustin, bounding into the room. Imorean glanced at him. He always felt that Dustin was who he would have looked like if his own hair had not turned white. Something about that felt wrong now. He would never have been like Dustin. His life had diverged from theirs.
Baxter grinned. “Who appointed you life and soul of the party?”
“I did,” said Roxy, moving up to the bar. “I’m not feeling like being the center of attention tonight, so Dustin can be our enthusiasm for the evening.”
Imorean pushed away his negativity and smiled as he took up a seat next to Roxy at the bar. It was good to see his friends, but why did he still feel so separated from all of them? Why did he still feel as though he was living through a haze? He looked up as Ryan approached. The ginger-haired teenager was smiling so tightly that it looked more like a grimace.
“What can I get you?”
One side of Imorean’s mouth quirked up. For the sake of the evening and his own energy he would gladly put away their feud for a few hours. “Martini. Shaken not stirred.”
“Come on, man.”
“I’m kidding. Surprise me.”
Not eating properly for several days and having not had any alcohol since his senior year of high school ended had seriously lowered Imorean’s tolerance. He had been pacing himself and going slowly, but it was after only four beers that the room began to spin. Baxter and Mandy had left almost an hour ago, both wanting to go to bed. Imorean rested his head down on the cool, polished surface of the bar, one hand clutching his drink. Roxy and Toddy tugged a vodka bottle back and forth between them. Imorean checked his watch. They had only been in the bar for two hours. It was eight o’clock in the evening. Imorean chuckled to himself. A bunch of college students drunk before nine. They really weren’t upholding the standard. It was a little pathetic. Grinning, Ryan pegged a handful of ice at Roxy and Toddy. The argument over the bottle ceased and Ryan was almost immediately showered in the remnants of Roxy’s mixed drink. Imorean couldn’t help but laugh. For the first time in what seemed like years, he felt normal. There was enough alcohol in his system to force away his feelings and give way to some vestige of happiness Imorean had thought lost. With a laugh, Ryan launched himself over the bar, one foot catching the full vodka bottle as he did so. It fell to the floor and shattered with a crash. Dustin sat bolt upright, appearing over the back of one of the couches, obviously startled by the noise. He was clutching one of his sneakers tight to his chest, brown hair sticking up in all directions. Five pairs of eyes stared at each other in silence. Then Toddy moved. He pressed a finger to his lips and shushed them all. Imorean watched as Toddy stooped and picked up the intact bottleneck.
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