by P. M. Briede
A novel by P. M. Briede
Copyright 2014 by P.M. Briede
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
California Times Publishing
Los Angeles
ISBN-13: 978-1500785826
Also by P.M. Briede
THE CHARLOTTE GRACE SERIES
Smoldering Embers
Wild Fire
Ashes
COMING SOON: THE EMPATHY DELACROIX SERIES
Discover more at www.facebook.com/pm.briede
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 1
My eyes opened on darkness. Or did they? I told them to open but the feeling of my lids sliding smoothly over my eyes was missing. The thought of closing them and trying again briefly flittered through my mind. I didn’t get the chance to try. Instead I was swallowed by bright, green flames.
A burning sensation consumed my flesh, stealing all my cognizant thoughts. I opened my mouth to scream but not a sound crossed my lips. The muscles in my body cramped, one second stretching me out until I thought I would snap in half, the next constricting and curling my body in on itself as if I could disappear. Olivier’s panicked, “CHARLOTTE!” reverberated in my head to a cadenced, slow rhythm.
Suddenly a woman’s face hazily appeared behind the curtain of green flames which billowed before my eyes. The features were non-descript, hidden behind a waterfall behind the fire. Deep in my soul, I knew I knew her. But I couldn’t come up with a name. I couldn’t place from where. Her voice sounded in my head. My body curled around itself, reacting to the pain caused by her volume, which contrasted with the calm of her tone. We’re starting a revolution, Olivier, just not the kind these simple minded creatures think.
The sudden, sharp pain faded to a dull ache as her voice died away. I was able to put together thoughts. Olivier Cheval involved in a revolution? It made no sense. He’s a music teacher, my employee actually. There was certainly a dangerous vibe to him, a violence which had always seemed to be smoldering beneath his surface. I’d caught glimpses of it, when he was driven by fear. But what was he afraid of? This revolution?
I got distracted by the swirling fire. The flames whipped and twirled until they formed an outline of Wesley’s face. Wesley Breaux, my best friend for as long as I could remember. The muscles of my body relaxed at the sight of his deep, brown eyes, his blond hair, and lean, round face glowing with a green tinge. Warmth, not searing heat, flowed from my heart through my body. No, he wasn’t just my friend any longer. Charlotte Grace, will you do me the immense honor of becoming my wife? The words spoke directly to my soul in Wesley’s richly, sensual voice though his lips didn’t move. That was right. We were engaged. I was going to marry him. If I ever freed myself from this shadowed perdition I now found myself in. Where was I?
Before I could devote any energy to answering that question, another voice resonated inside me. My name is Alexander Wyatt and I am running for President of the United States of America! Oh God! Alexander is Wesley’s boss! They’re embarking on a Presidential campaign?! I don’t want that! My heart pounded in my chest. A vise grip cinched around my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. “We’re losing her!” a man shouted. This voice was outside of my being. A dull, white light shone above the green fire, pushing the flames down as if smothering it. Shadows raced around in the light. “She wasn’t ready! Turn the machine back on!” A gust of air slapped my face, kick starting my lungs as they filled to the brim.
“What’s going on?!” Olivier hollered as his shadow entered the light. I don’t know how I knew it was him. I just did. “What happened?!” There was silence for a moment, though the frenetic energy stilled pulsed inside the light. “Dr. Silverton, answer me!” Olivier roared.
Again nothing was immediately said. “She’s been breathing on her own for the last half hour,” the male voice, the doctor I guessed, from before finally spoke up. “I don’t know exactly why she stopped. I’m sure she just wasn’t ready yet. You brought her in with second and third degree burns on all of her skin. We put her in the coma to keep her body from going into shock after we resuscitated her when her heart stopped. Pulling her out of it isn’t an exact science. She’s the only one who knows for sure when she’s ready and we can’t exactly ask her while she’s heavily sedated on class two narcotics.” Much like how I’d distinguished Olivier’s shadow from amongst the other, I knew they were discussing me. I had a vague memory of being consumed by green flames before falling into a body of water. Burns all over my body? My heart stopped? Resuscitation?
The white light started rapidly flickering as if it was now a strobe light. “What are you doing now?” Olivier asked in a panicked, faraway voice. The dull light was fading too. No! my voice cried out in my head. I couldn’t let them slip away! I fought to hold onto them. I commanded my arm to reach out and grab Olivier. I didn’t feel my arm move but my fingers flexed opened then closed, repeatedly, but they never caught anything.
“It is my belief that she is going to make a full recovery,” the doctor answered, his voice further away than Olivier’s had been. “She just needs more time. So I’m putting her back in the coma.” The flickering of the light slowed, bathing me more and more in darkness with each flick until the dull, white light disappeared completely.
I floated through darkness, alone but not afraid. It was peaceful here, quiet. But it didn’t last forever. The green, fiery flames of my nightmares crept up on me slowly from behind. First my back grew warm, then hot, then burnt as the fire caressed my flesh as a lover. The burn seeped from my back to my front as the flames enveloped my entire being. Once consumed, they blazed out of control, growing in intensity until they were whiter in color than green.
Tired of fighting my fate, I succumbed to the fire. I’d been chased in nightmares and reality by this fire, which no one else experienced, for almost twenty years. The sensation of falling swept over me. Falling from the tips of the flames to the ignition source, my body grew hotter and hotter with each passing second. I’m not sure how I survived. I should have disintegrated to ash long ago. In later years, when I recalled this experience, I think it was the images that kept me alive, that fed my will to live, that gave me purpose. They flashed haphazardly in my mind coupled with voices. Some were memories. Some felt like they were but just couldn’t be because they made no sense.
There was Wesley, at the age of fourteen, sprawled on the ground in the hallway of our junior high. Laughter filled my ears as I looked down at him. I’d crashed into him when I’d raced out of a classroom. He was so caught by surprise that he fell. This was how we met.
The next flash was of Valentine’s just a week ago. I was in Olivier’s arms but it was Russell’s face I saw. Russell is the teaching assistant in our dance department at Armstrong Academy, where I’m the arts director. I was staring into his eyes, Olivier’s, when the green fire of my nightmares erupted in them and danced beside his pupils.
Russell’s young face was engulfed in flames. Beneath them his skin cracked and separated, the
dead, charred skin falling in flakes, unveiling Olivier’s perfect features. His round, deep, forest green eyes with their long lashes. His angular jaw and cheek bones. His constant five o’clock shadow and crooked nose. Then that wicked smile of his which always made my heart skip a beat, or seven.
The flames flared again, this time melting Olivier’s features until they were replaced by Henry Montplaisir’s, my first college boyfriend, blond hair, full cheeks, and rounded jaw. But the eyes were the exactly same. They were still Olivier’s deep, fiery green. I am Henry. He is me. Olivier’s gentle voice whispered delicately in my mind.
This shedding of persona’s, if you will, continued as I realized how many men I’d met through my life who had Olivier’s mischievous, twinkling, green eyes. There was Jason, my first kiss at fourteen. At the time I’d been so alarmed at my own response, that I never spoke to him again and didn’t go on another date until after my sixteenth birthday. Then there was Brandon, seventeen, a boy I’d dated from my dance class. Next came Jaime, twenty, a friend whose last name I’d never gotten in college but who had introduced me to Giles.
The thought of Giles, my late husband for thirteen years, caused the images to change. I was suddenly standing on a dark street, snow floating from the sky. But I wasn’t cold. The flakes never touched me. They melted when they got within inches of my body, burned away by my internal fire. In front of me were two cars, twisted and broken. A red light pulsed around them. I recognized one of the vehicles. I didn’t want to see this! I’d never seen it before! I wasn’t fast enough to turn around and avoid seeing the bloodied, broken body of my husband as they pulled him from the destruction.
I choked on the blood that abruptly filled my mouth. When I spat it out, it landed on a gaping chest wound. I looked up into Olivier’s face. He offered me a smile which didn’t reach his eyes before they dropped to his chest. I followed his gaze and watched as the blood crept slowing back into his body and then his veins. Once the blood was inside, the veins sealed themselves, followed by his skin. I could do it a thousand times and the same thing would happen. Trust me I’ve tried. I feel the pain but I cannot die. His voice bounced around my skull. Why? Why couldn’t he die?
My body bucked as it crossed the line between searing heat and unforgiving inferno. The bone snapping pain returned and I opened my mouth to shriek. Again, there was no sound. I cried but the tears never made it to my cheeks. The fire ate them before they ever spilled from my eyes.
My heart thudded in my chest. Ba-boom. The world is on the brink of war. The ultimate battle between Heaven and Hell. Olivier declared in my mind.
Ba-boom. I’ll have her eliminated. A deep, female voice ominously pronounced.
Ba-boom. We have to tell her. It was Paige Lochs’ voice now. My oldest friend other than Wesley.
Ba-boom. Charlotte won’t understand our affair Paige! Wesley lashed out in anger and frustration.
Ba-boom. Me fili diabolic. A demon! Olivier?
Ba … boom. Silence. Darkness. Numbness. Death?
* * *
My eyes opened and took in my surroundings. I wasn’t as surprised by the hospital room. It had and hadn’t been an awful nightmare. But which were which? My mouth and throat were dry so I called the nurse to see about getting something to drink.
There was a knock and then the nurse poked her head in. “Your awake, Mrs. Grace! Everyone will be so relieved. I’m Nurse Janison.”
“Charlotte, please,” I answered in a very rough voice. “Can I get some water?” She nodded and left. When she returned, she held the water and instructed me to only take a couple of small sips. I wanted to guzzle it down but anytime I became overzealous she would pull the cup away.
When she turned to leave I stalled her. “Nurse Janison, I need to speak with Olivier Cheval.” The desperation dripped from my words. I don’t know why I’d asked for him first but I felt I had to.
She hesitated as she turned back around. “I’ll ask the doctor. If he says it’s okay, I’ll get Mr. Cheval from the waiting room.”
What felt like a lifetime but was only a few hours later, Olivier was sitting in a chair next to the bed. Other than “hello” he hadn’t said a word. The nurse had said he’d been at the hospital as long as I had but he was clean shaven and he wasn’t wearing his tuxedo from the ball, just plain jeans and t-shirt. His glasses were sitting on the tray across my bed. While from the outside he looked put-together, his eyes spoke of how battered and broken he was. The rims were red and bags sat underneath. Each time they took in the bandages covering my entire body they’d fill with tears.
I took a deep breath. “Did we have a conversation where you admitted to me that you are a demon?” I started with all the courage I could summon.
He blinked, not quite what he was expecting. It hadn’t exactly been where I thought I’d start, truth be told. “Excuse me? You think I’m a demon?” So that was a yes. The conversation hadn’t been a dream. “Let’s back track, I’m not a demon…”
“Fine, a devil’s child then,” I conceded that demon wasn’t the exact translation.
“I’m not that either,” he argued.
“They were your words, not mine,” I challenged. “Me fili diabolic. A child of the devil.”
Amused frustration spread across his face. “Given your proficiency for Latin,” he explained, “I gave you the first name we were ever given from the human race. But don’t mistake me; I am neither a child of Satan nor a demon. The easiest answer, I am an angel, who unfortunately made a very bad decision a long, long time ago.”
Now that did shock me. “How long ago? The easiest answer?”
It didn’t get past me how calm he was to be telling me all of this. It was obvious from the way he was looking off into the distance, and not at me, that a myriad of memories were furiously playing through his mind. His voice was distant and soft when he whispered, “Millennia.” Closing his eyes, he shut the memories off and turned back to look at me. “Specifically, I am, was, a Powers. There are many different types of angels. I collected souls and helped them make their way to heaven while fighting against those who tried to wrongfully gain access.”
“If you were basically border patrol, why are you here now?”
“Border patrol,” Olivier humorlessly chuckled, “well I guess that’s one way to look at it.” He sighed and took a deep breath before continuing. “When the first war for Heaven and Hell broke out, I thought it would be best to remain neutral. Because of that I was cast out, for my lack of faith, and sentenced to an immortal life on earth.”
“Immortal?” I cautiously asked. “As in never ending?”
He shrugged and scrubbed at his face. “Not exactly. The only thing that will release me from this perdition are the ignes iudicii.”
I wasn’t accustomed to the phrase he used, so it took me a moment to translate it. “I’m sorry Olivier, is that fires of judgment?”
The smirk Olivier leveled at me was appraising and conspiratorial. “One day you have got to tell me who taught you Latin so well.” Exhaling loudly, he continued. “Yes, fires of judgment. It’s not something humans are meant to know. It’s a tool of angels to cleanse the human race if you will. When someone becomes too influential, too powerful, and begins tipping the scales of good and evil too far in one direction, an angel can restore balance. In most cases, their present course is either turned, they are led to death, or in dire circumstances they can be erased.” Some of these terms stood out among the stores of recollections in my mind. I remembered him using them with another person. The awareness must have played out on my features because he stopped explaining. “What is it, Charlotte? You’re thinking about something.”
“Who were you talking to at the ball?” I questioned. I remembered being afraid, not only for myself but also for him, of the woman he’d been talking about these same things with. I remembered the green ball of fire igniting above her palm just before I felt the sensation of burning from the inside out. The thought sent a cold shiver
down my spine and my eyes started to throb. The beeping of my monitor began to speed up.
Concern streaked across his face and he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “My dear, you have to calm down. They only let me in here if I swore that I wouldn’t upset you. I truly debated whether or not I should because I knew the questions you were going to ask and never did I consider that you would take the truth so well. But if you want me to continue you have to relax.”
Just then, there was a knock and the door opened a crack, allowing Nurse Janison to peek inside. “Mrs. Charlotte, is everything okay?”
Olivier was right. I took a deep breath and fought against the pressure that was trying to build behind my eyes. With a smile plastered on my face I tried to use a cheerful tone. “Yes,” I lied, “everything is fine. My friend was just regaling me with some of the more amusing moments I missed due to my unfortunate accident.” I could tell from Olivier’s arched eyebrow that my attempt at happiness came off more gruesome due to my injuries. “Olivier, please stop, it hurts so much to laugh but I appreciate your attempt to cheer me up.”
Nurse Janison obviously didn’t believe me. “You sure?” At my nod she shut the door, giving us back our privacy.
“While you are absolutely the worst liar I have ever met,” Olivier admitted, “I applaud your ability to think on your feet. Especially when on the numerous medications I know are flowing through these tubes.” As he spoke, he gently followed the tubing of my IV and caressed the only part of my body that wasn’t covered in bandages, the small point where the needle was inserted into a vein on the back of my hand. That spot was red and raw; I could only imagine how the rest of me looked. It was surprising that his touch didn’t hurt but could still send a heat wave coursing up my arm and down my spine.
Olivier didn’t say another word until the monitor emitted a slower melodic beat. “I’m assuming you’re asking who I was talking to when I heard you fall into the fountain.” His eyes lifted to lock with mine. We both took a steadying breath before he resumed. “Another exiled angel like myself. After my expulsion, and I hope you can understand somewhat, I was bitter and angry. Most of us were. In my haste to acquire some semblance of the life I’d had before, I made the second worst decision of my life. I picked the losing side and became a Powers for Hell.”