Fire

by Angelina J. Steffort

  “And when it did remember,” Liz continued, “the tissue wasn’t ready. The wings are an angel-debris in his demon-body.”

  True.

  “Will he heal?” Dad asked as if that was the only thing that mattered to him.

  “Of course I can only guess. There is no written word about a winged demon. And I would know. I’ve spent more than half my life reading angel and demon history.

  “Judging by what I see and by what I can make of it, all I can say is give it time. If the wounds heal completely, he should be okay in a while. When he wakes up, make sure he rests.”

  That sounded promising for eventual healing, but I didn’t know how much longer I could stand being trapped inside my own body.

  “If his body still works like that of a demon, he will need to feed on something,” Liz concluded.

  And as she did, hunger stirred in my stomach. The image of the four angels and the bright human light danced before my inner eye and I couldn’t help but imagine sinking my fingers into the strings on their souls.

  “Souls,” Ben spoke my thought, but his voice didn’t sound at all like the delight I felt at the thought of it. He was appalled.

  “Yes, souls. Energy. Whatever you want to call it. But he’ll need to stay strong enough to heal. And he’ll need plenty of energy. So much about his physical condition. About his mental condition and his memory, we’ll find out once he wakes up,” Liz said without concealing the truth behind nice words. She was right to do so. It reminded me what my little moment of imagination meant. I would want to kill my own family, the love of my life, and whoever else would be in the way.

  “Can he feed without killing anyone?” Claire asked, always seeing the positive in me, as she had during our first encounter after my death, in the graveyard.

  “Animals, plants—it doesn’t have to be souls,” Jaden informed her. “He can feed on the energy of any living thing. Human souls are just the most nourishing source for demons.”

  He was right. I had devoured the life energy of a fish that first day as a demon.

  “So he will eat plants—just differently from before?” Claire asked as if she found it funny.

  “Or animals, like Antonio,” Dad reminded everyone that I had killed my dog.

  The urge to defend myself grew stronger, just this time, I wanted to justify my actions. If they knew why things had gone the way the had, they might not think badly of me.

  “But he will always see food when he looks at us, too,” Ben confirmed how I felt they thought about me. And it was nothing but the naked truth.

  “We’ll make sure no one gets hurt. We’ll find a way—that is, if he wakes up before he starves.”

  A hand touched my forehead. It was a warm, motherly touch.

  “There is nothing written about a demon with wings…,” Liz continued on the original conversation. “But there is something else.”

  There was a long silence and I wanted to wake up so badly, that I pushed the darkness as far as I could away from my body, but it had the exact opposite effect from what I’d hoped. Instead of getting to participate in the conversation, I lost my consciousness…

  My brother’s voice was the first thing I heard after a long blackout.

  “His love will save us. What does that mean? What from?” Ben asked as if he was upset about something.

  I tried to orient myself. The soft surface underneath me was still the same. There were six hearts beating around me, probably the same six as before I had lost consciousness.

  Carefully, without as much force as before, I willed my eyes to open, and this time they followed my request.

  Claire’s face was the first thing I saw. Her bluish eyes, two gems in a brightly-lit face. Her soul reflecting in every cell of her body.

  Before I could even sort my thoughts, a group of angels had encircled me, ready to act if I decided to attack or even move. The room was thick with tension, I could taste it. I didn’t need to look at them to know they would go to any lengths to make sure I didn’t just disappear like the last time.

  The thing was…why should I? All I wanted was right there in front of me, staring back at me with dazed, blue eyes. I let myself fall into her gaze for a long moment before I confronted myself with reality: I could remember everything and I had black wings that my body didn’t approve of. At the thought of them, the pain in my back hit me and I needed a moment to focus.

  “Adam, can you hear me, my son?” Dad asked from somewhere beside me.

  “I can.” My voice sounded strange, like from a distance. Was I still half-conscious, seeing visions now instead of just hearing voices, or was this really happening?

  “Don’t move. You were injured.”

  “I can feel that. My back hurts—like someone ripped my skin off.” I blinked as I noticed a familiar fabric under my face—the living room couch—and tried to lift my head to look my father in the eye while he was speaking. Everything was bright as daylight in my memories, no blanks except for those past…what had it been, minutes, hours? “What happened?” I wondered aloud.

  Claire’s face was still the only thing in my focus as I gave up on turning my head. As I watched her go into panic-mode, it was all too easy to forget that my back was open, wings probably slowly tearing out of my flesh. To my surprise, Jaden’s hand touched my arm gently, not at all as harshly as he had before.

  “Claire, calm down.” The tone of his voice, on the other hand, wasn’t at all compassionate toward his fosterling. He was so focused on me and my potential attack, or the possibility I could move and hurt myself…

  Claire took a deep breath and averted her eyes and her aura settled into a calmer state. Panic half-gone.

  “Adam,” Jaden asked, now sliding into my field of vision. “When you spread your wings earlier, they tore through your skin. You need to stay still so the wounds don’t reopen. Do you understand?”

  Tell me something new, please. Something you haven’t discussed with everyone in this room for what seemed to be the past couple of hours.

  “I understand,” I answered politely, suppressing my temper. It seemed to be something new. The old Adam seemed to have been patient compared to this demon version—even if I had thought of him as impatient back then. The only thing that hadn’t changed was that there was never enough time when I was near Claire. She seemed to be the one continuum in my timeline, before I had met her, after I had forgotten her, now that she was there behind Jaden, unable to look at me.

  “Claire,” I tried to get her attention. Who knew how long this state I was in would last, or what would happen if my demon anatomy wasn’t able to accept my wings. Who knew how much time I had left…we had left.

  Before I could begin to doubt I could summon her with my weak call, she was kneeling next to me, eye to eye. After everything I had done…I had tried to kill her more than once, after all. But this last time, I had wanted answers more than anything.

  “Did I hurt you?” It wasn’t the question I should have asked. Without a doubt, I had hurt her, I remembered her shriek and her pleas. The question I should have asked was how badly I had hurt her. I couldn’t possibly begin to know how much pain I had inflicted on her, how much harm I had done…

  “I am fine,” she smiled and wrapped her fingers around my hand.

  When I read her emotions from her face, no need to read her aura, I knew whatever I had done, she’d already forgiven me.

  20

  Blodline

  Whether or not her ability to forgive so easily was a good thing, I couldn’t tell. It wasn’t exactly like I deserved it. The way she gazed at me, searching my eyes for a speck of light which would prove her right. It tore me apart.

  And we weren’t alone right now. How could I bring this up to her in front of all the others? It would be unfair to confront her about something that wasn’t her fault. Her good heart…almost naive, pure heart…was probably the one thing which made it possible she still loved me after everything that had happened. Our connectio
n through my mark couldn’t be the reason. The mark itself didn’t create romantic feelings.

  A tingling in my wing reminded me that there were other things to ponder right now. With a quiet sigh, I suppressed those thoughts for another day. For now, getting through the next few hours was my priority…and information. Maybe if I tried to act like the lighthearted Adam I’d once been, they’d trust me enough to include me in their conversations without my eavesdropping.

  I forced a smile and addressed my brother, the most suspicious one, for aid, “Ben, would you mind shifting my right wing a little bit? Something is blocking the blood flow and the tips are beginning to tingle like they are filled with ants.”

  He didn’t react immediately.

  “I would move it myself,” I joked. “But I was forbidden to move.”

  Despite getting the reaction from Ben I’d hoped for—a laugh—I felt nothing like laughing. The wing hurt from top to bottom as he lifted it and unfolded it along my legs. The wounds at the roots threatened to burst open again.

  Claire’s hand around mine was the only thing holding me in place as I had the urge to jump to my feet and hit my brother over the head for being so rough.

  “How are you feeling?” Jaden asked from beside Claire, his eyes making it clear he wasn’t there for me, but for her.

  “It hurts a lot,” I answered truthfully and hoped to get a truthful answer in return. “How long have I been out?”

  “A few hours,” he said, glancing up at the old clock above the fireplace.

  So I couldn’t have missed too much of their conversation. The last thing Liz had mentioned, that there was something else that might help us understand the situation…that bit seemed to be the only—and probably most important—information I had missed. I would have to ask them about it at some point, but for now—family or not—I wasn’t sure I wanted them to know just how much of their guessing and speculating I’d overheard.

  I put on a half-smile and winked at Claire. “Not as bad as I thought.”

  She grinned in return—the grin of someone who’d fallen in love for the first time. It made her perfect, kissable, hold-able. And then, when I almost got ahead of myself, I forced my attention to one of the others—the next-closest in the room.

  “Hi, Dad. You look tired.”

  My father’s face lit up as I addressed him, relief and joy more prominent than any worry and pain I’d ever seen on his features. Moisture was collecting in the corner of his eye.

  “Not anymore, son.”

  Jenna was there beside him, one arm around his waist, and she reached out with her other arm, touching my cheek the way she had countless times when I’d been sick as a child.

  “Mom,” I smiled at her at the memory.

  “Welcome home, Adam.”

  Beside me, Jaden shifted uncomfortably at the familiarity with which my family was seeking my closeness. I could feel his distrust rooting deeply inside of his angel being. He was in this room, helping out, not because he had chosen to, but because Claire had.

  “I am sorry I had to knock you out so often—three times—” I apologized and found within me a hint of amusement. I was strong if I could single-handedly knock out Jaden. “No hard feelings?”

  “I forgive you. But if you do it again…” the angel said with a grin, but his tone made clear he wouldn’t hesitate the next time I’d threaten Claire. What made me sad was that he obviously didn’t doubt there would be a next time.

  My eyes searched the room, looking for the sixth voice from before, the stranger who, for whatever reason, the angel formation trusted.

  “I am sorry, but I don’t recognize you,” I found a woman with bronze skin and raven hair by the fireplace. Her soul shone in a soft, orange tinge, almost like the flames dancing behind her. It was a pretty, energetic picture. I would remember her if I had seen her in my demon life. “Should I?”

  “You shouldn’t—I mean, you wouldn’t,” the Latina replied, taken aback that I had acknowledged her presence. “We’ve never met.”

  There was something about her…it was almost as if her mind worked as quickly as my own as she gazed at me from the depth of wise, brown eyes. But also, she seemed to be trying to figure out something by just staring…maybe it had something to do with what they had been discussing during my blackout. Anyway, she was curious. I could sense it streaming right from her.

  “That’s a relief. I was worried this brain of mine missed out on recovering some things. Glad it didn’t.” I knew I would have remembered someone like her.

  “Adam, that’s Liz,” Claire introduced us. “She’s a friend who knows all about your family and you. We can trust her.”

  The angels most certainly did…even the cautious guardian angel…but whether or not I was going to trust her, I had yet to decide. I had made too many mistakes recently with trusting blindly. Anyhow, I managed a smile, staying in the role of the lighthearted Adam I’d once been. I lifted my head.

  “Pleased to meet you, Liz. I’d be more polite and get up if they’d let me.”

  “Oh—please, not for me.” Her mildly lined face pulled into a smile and she went from being curious to intrigued.

  Ben chuckled somewhere behind me, probably reading Liz’ change as well.

  “How long before I will be able to sit up?” I wanted to know. It was about time I got out of my helpless position, even if the flat-on-the-stomach-unable-to-move situation seemed to make me less intimidating for all of them. It would be nice to be able to speak with them at the same level.

  “We don’t know exactly how long it will take for the wounds to heal,” Jaden informed me. “None of us have ever seen anything like your injuries.”

  I confirmed with a nod that I understood what that meant for me. I couldn’t leave for now, or sit up, hunt, or harm anyone.

  “Adam,” Claire addressed me with a cautious voice, as if worried to bring up what she was about to ask. “Who knows you came to see me? Do the demons know? Maureen? Volpert?”

  There was Liz’ gasp in response to her question, and as I glanced at her, I saw the fear in her eyes. And she was right to fear them.

  “Excellent point,” Jaden agreed, almost impatiently. “About time we discuss this.”

  Claire however just kept looking at me, waiting for me to meet her gaze, forehead creased with concern. As if she needed to worry about anything…nothing she could ever say or do would compare to the horrors I had inflicted on her.

  “After I bolted from this house a few days ago, I returned to Volpert’s clan.” I left out that it had been Maureen who had convinced me to return to him. Basically, she had set me up to go back. “They weren’t happy with me. I’d failed to kill Claire for the second time.” I also skipped the part why I had stayed so long before I’d made my escape the first time my angel-family had captured me.

  Reading Claire’s emotions, cautious not to hurt her with any word I said, I continued my shortened story.

  “Maureen was especially unhappy about the development. She found it unsafe for me to go anywhere near Claire after that.” Well, that wasn’t exactly the truth. She was more interested in making me ‘comfortable’ with the thought of staying with the clan, but Claire didn’t need to know just how much effort she had put into it.

  “Maureen has been doing anything she can to prevent my memories from returning. It’s one thing that Volpert wants Claire dead—but Maureen, that’s a whole different story.” The longer I thought about it, the more I realized just how true that was. Volpert wanted revenge for his father and to punish Claire for getting away so many times. But Maureen…she had been jealous from the beginning. She had looked down on Claire ever since I had dropped her. And, close as we had grown over the past days when she had helped me run from Volpert and redeem myself, her feelings for me were still the ones they had been before. Yes, she loved me…in a way. But it was more of a possessive claim. And Claire had made her fail her mission to trigger my demon-side before my angel-gene could break through.
I thought back to the night I had died, Maureen’s last entrance, the way she had played and flirted and probably nurtured her resentment for Claire. All the anger in her, all the icy-cold behavior even before my death, now made sense.

  “For her, it was pure revenge. She wanted to take revenge for my loving you,” I concluded aloud, leaving out the part about the demon-gene. “—and if my memory hadn’t returned, I would have eventually killed you and never even known how terrible a thing I’d done.” I shuddered at the once so entertaining thought of killing the girl-monster—that’s what I had called her back then. Now in the light of my memory, I wasn’t sure I could ever look into a mirror again.

  Claire’s face was positively glowing despite the difficult words I had spoken—and the even more difficult thoughts in-between those words. It was clear in her eyes that she had heard the one message she’d been dying to hear since my death—that I loved her.

  “Maureen suspected you would be the key to bringing back my memory.” I remembered our last conversation with a surge of indignation. “After she told Volpert her theory and after my hesitation in the graveyard—he kept me on a tight leash. I only got away a few times to see you from a distance when I took detours while I was out feeding.” It all made sense now. The way Volpert had spoken about Claire, always presenting her as the manipulative, human monster, his short—or non-existent—explanations when it came to his plans. I was glad I had managed to catch glimpses of Claire on my feeding trips, and that Maureen’s plan to get her to return to the graveyard had worked, or I wouldn’t be where I was today.

  “If any of them had suspected that I had visions of you and I saw you in my dreams,” I continued my thoughts aloud, “they probably would have locked me up.” Not probably. For sure. Or worse.

  Claire eyed me as if she was seeing everything before her. It was almost as if she was preparing to throw herself between Volpert and me. Brave. Caring.