Beneath (Heven and Hell #3.5)

by Cambria Hebert

  Beneath

  A Heven and Hell novella

  (Heven and Hell #3.5)

  By Cambria Hebert

  BENEATH Copyright © 2013 CAMBRIA HEBERT

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions

  thereof, in any form without written permission except for the use of brief

  quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Published by: Cambria Hebert

  http://www.cambriahebert.com

  Interior design and typesetting by Sharon Kay

  Cover design by Regina Wamba of MAE I DESIGN

  Edited by Cassie McCown

  Copyright 2013 by Cambria Hebert

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents

  either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used

  fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,

  business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  For Kaydence,

  The reason I can write about an angel who fell but never, not once, lost her grace is because I modeled her after you. Always hold your head high and dream big because those wings of yours are going to take you wonderful places.

  Acknowledgements

  Many of the fans have told me that one of their favorite characters in this series is Gemma. I can see why. She’s strong, mysterious, and there is some forbidden romance surrounding her that we can’t really get enough of. But I gotta tell you… I was shaking in my shoes to write this novella because I felt like I had to really make her great or I would disappoint a lot of people. No one likes disappointment.

  So when it came time to write this, I felt I needed an extra push. That’s where a couple super hero writers I know came in. Cameo Renae (In my Dreams and Hidden Wings) and Amber Garza (Shatter and Prowl Trilogy) and I came together and decided to do nightly check-ins. Basically, we set a daily word count goal and then wrote our pretty little fingers off every day to make the count. Every time I wanted to give up, I thought about having to check in with them and not having my words done. So, it was you ladies who kept me writing, and I cannot thank you enough for that. I banged this short out in mere days and it was a real boost of confidence for me. The support to a writer, especially from other writers, is so important. It truly keeps me going. So here’s to us, ladies. Writer Power!

  I gotta also acknowledge Gemma. Yeah, yeah, she’s a character, but she’s real to me and always will be. She made this easy. One of the most straightforward characters I have had the pleasure to write. I really thought the wall she built around herself was going to require some ninja skills to get around, but when I asked, she let me in. She told me everything I wanted to know. So, thanks, Gemma.

  I also must mention my inspiration behind Gemma and her beauty. Kaydence, when I first met Gemma, it was your face I saw in my mind. I hope I created a character that can live up to everything you are and everything you will be. I always wanted a daughter, but you have surpassed everything I thought you would be. You are so much more.

  To my son, Nathan, your turn on a cover is coming, bud. That ornery face of yours is begging for the spotlight. Keep being you because no one else on earth could ever come close.

  As always, to Shawn, guess you aren’t the only “model” in the house now, but I still think you’re hot. Thanks for the support and listening to me go on and on about these characters when we are in bed and supposed to be sleeping.

  To my book doctor, Cassie McCown, for cleaning up my writing and for being here from the very start of the series. It’s a relief and an honor to be able to count on you, not just for editing, but for a smile too. And of course, appreciation to Regina Wamba at Mae I Design. Do you ever get tired of me gushing over your covers? I’m so glad I came across your name and designs because it’s been pure pleasure working with you.

  To the Heven and Hell fans who have read everything I have written and always showed me support. I don’t think I could ever really tell you what it means to me. Even a writer sometimes fails to find the words when people turn out to be far more awesome than you ever thought they would be.

  Beneath

  Gemma

  Before I Fell

  The water here was cold. It rushed through and around my fingers with eagerness, like it was flowing somewhere important and couldn’t be interrupted. The sound it made as it rolled over rocks and against the uneven bank was almost rhythmical, so beautiful that everything else around it grew quiet to leave more room for the song it was singing.

  I liked it here.

  It seemed that maybe I shouldn’t like it as much as I did, especially when I came from such perfection. There was certainly something to be said about perfect because it was, well, perfect. With perfect, you always knew what to expect; each day was bright and full of joy. There were never any tears; there was never any pain.

  But lately, I was beginning to realize something else about perfection.

  Perfection was sometimes boring.

  I wiggled a little on the fallen tree I was lying on and stretched my arm out farther to plunge my entire hand into the hurrying stream. The cool silk of the water wrapped around me, tugged at me, invited me in. A small silvery fish swam near and I held my fingers out, keeping them still as it swam a little closer. It nibbled at my fingertip, testing me out as a snack, and I giggled. The fish darted away, disappearing into the shallow depths of the stream.

  I pulled my hand out of the water and rested both arms against the rough bark of the log and looked up. Trees bright with green canopied the water, growing alongside it and sometimes right out of the bank, and arched up and over, creating an almost secret place. Large rocks of all shapes jutted out of the earth and were covered in blankets of soft, green moss and fallen leaves. The sun’s warm rays peaked through where they could, lighting up sections of the water, and butterflies flapped their brightly colored wings among the wild flowers that dotted the grass.

  This place wasn’t perfection. It wasn’t heaven, the place I called home, but it was exciting. Everywhere I turned there was something new to see. I never knew what would be different when I came here. Earth was an ever-evolving place that never stayed the same. It was unexpected, and it was never boring.

  Perhaps that’s why I was still here, delighting in everything this place had to offer instead of going back home, where I belonged. Something in the air shifted and I looked up, craning my neck and allowing my head to fall back. Soft strands of my hair brushed against my back and waist as I looked up to the ledge of the hill that created the secret place I was resting in.

  I wasn’t alone.

  Someone was standing above, towering over this peaceful place, and disrupting it with an uncertain presence. He melded well with the shadows the trees cast, but I was able to make out a strong set of shoulders that tapered down into a narrow waist. He had dark hair—this I could make out because it created even more shadow around him. He shifted and even though I couldn’t make out his features, I was sure our eyes locked. I felt like a million bugs were crawling over my skin and I shivered.

  A low growl permeated the air, and I thought I caught a flash of something. I sprang off the log, landing on the other side of the stream, and used my wings to shoot myself up the rocky hillside to the top where the man was standing.

  But he was no longer there.

  The minute I moved he had, too. He took off, fleeing like he was a criminal and I was his jailor. My heart began to pound with a heavy, quick rhythm. When people acted guilty, it’s usually because they were. Yes, my assignment was complete, but I couldn’t leave this tainted soul here where it
could potentially corrupt others. In fact, perhaps it was not a coincidence I’d been delaying getting back to heaven. My Lord worked in mysterious ways, and perhaps today I was given the gift of dalliance so I might catch this man and rid Earth of his vile presence.

  Or maybe the large white wings protruding from my back scared him.

  I think I would just go with the former. But just in case it was the wings, I quickly folded them against me and called upon the gift of veiling them from site. To my left, I heard a branch snap and I took off, running as stealthily as I could, barely making a sound. He was nowhere to be seen. He seemed to also possess the talent for running through the forest without getting caught.

  Something heavy collided with my side and sent me flying to the left. I landed on my back, skidding, churning up the earth, until I finally halted just inches from a tree. I resisted, hating the way my perfect wings were forced into the ground. The person that knocked me down grew still, and my struggles became against myself. Soon, I stopped and raised my eyes, chest heaving.

  This wasn’t a person. This wasn’t the man I searched for. This was a beast.

  It possessed fur black as midnight, eyes the color of blood, and long thick whiskers that jutted out from either side of an impressive black snout. I glanced down briefly to one of the massive paws pinning me to the ground. It had claws that would rival the dagger strapped to the inside of my thigh. I lifted my eyes from the sight and looked back at its mean, unforgiving stare.

  I watched as a long, pink tongue made its way past heavy jaws to lick its lips as if implying I were its next meal.

  I reacted, my hand shooting out and snatching the tongue it taunted me with, and I twisted. The black beast howled in pain and flexed the foot that was still pinning my shoulder. I felt the rip of flesh, but I ignored it. I released the tongue to deliver a quick punch to its jaw, and then I knocked it right in the eye, causing it to stumble backward and off me.

  I was on my feet, dagger in hand, in seconds. I didn’t wait for an invite. I didn’t wait for a challenge. Instead, I lunged just as it was shaking its head, no doubt trying to clear its vision. It turned, catching me with its long whip-like tail, and pulled my feet out from under me. I landed on my butt, the dagger falling out of my grip. I reached for it only to have it kicked away by the creature. With a cry, I lunged, catching it around its neck and slamming it into the dirt. The surprise that flickered through its eyes made me laugh aloud as we rolled across the forest floor, stopping only when we hit a tree. I landed on top and grabbed one of its large ears in each hand and twisted. The animal bayed, eyes flashing red, and he snapped his great jaws, trying to take a bite out of me. I slammed its head into the ground and lunged for the dagger, which was just out of my reach. Finally, I grasped it and rolled, the animal spinning with me, pounding me into the dirt and showing its teeth like it was grinning because I’d finally been caught.

  It arched its back and as it moved, its chest came down toward me, and I brought my arm up, ramming the dagger between its ribs. It hunched forward and then went limp as I pushed it off to the side.

  I stood up, pulling down the dress I wore, noting the many stains and tears in the fabric. I sensed movement behind me and I spun, looking down at the animal.

  And stood there staring in shock.

  There was no longer a fur-covered beast with threatening claws and angry eyes before me. No. In its place was a man. A man with short, matted hair and a dirty face.

  He had my dagger sticking out of his chest.

  Very carefully, I knelt, feeling for a pulse, every muscle in my body taut and ready for another fight. But there was no pulse to be found. There would be no more fighting this day. He was dead. Of course, I’d heard of shifters, of their evil and blood-thirsty nature, but this was the first time I’d ever encountered one.

  Is this what the Guardians did when they came to Earth? We all knew they were fighters, we all knew they banished dark and twisted souls from this world, but I guess I’d never really thought about what kind of evil they were banishing. In that moment, I felt very naïve and silly. As an angel whose job was merely to spread the kindness and love of God, I’d been ill prepared for this encounter.

  Perhaps my procrastination hadn’t been the Lord’s work. Perhaps this was my punishment. I looked down at the blood on my hands. I never had to kill anything before. Yes, I carried a dagger because Earth was so unpredictable and primal, but I’d certainly never really thought I would have to use it.

  I walked back toward the stream, wanting to wash the blood from my skin and yearning the peaceful sound of the water rushing to nowhere. When I made it to the edge of the hill, I looked down. The place I left was unchanged. It hardly seemed fair that it looked exactly the same when I felt irrevocably different.

  I used my wings to float down, my bare feet resting on a moss-covered log as I curled the wings in close and veiled them once more. It wouldn’t do for someone else to happen upon me and see them.

  I stepped toward the water’s edge and knelt, allowing the water to caress my fingers before plunging both hands into the icy stream and watching the red completely disappear. There was a splash to my left and I turned my head, expecting to see a jumping fish. It wasn’t a fish.

  It was a man.

  His eyes were locked on mine, and I watched as he set down the fishing pole he’d been holding and walked unsteadily across the stream toward me.

  “Are you okay?” the man called as he drew near.

  I stood, thinking about fleeing, not wanting any more contact with anyone else. As an angel, my contact with humans was supposed to be limited. Just as I was about to rush away, the man splashed to my side. Droplets of cool water splattered my legs, and I stepped backwards.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, holding out his palms and keeping his voice low.

  “I’m fine. Thank you for asking,” I said, glancing up to the top of the hill. I was so very tempted to release my wings and fly away. Instead, I turned away to walk farther downstream where I’d be out of sight.

  “You’re bleeding,” the man said, catching my wrist and pulling me back around.

  I snatched my arm away, rubbing where he touched me. The skin was tingling.

  “Your shoulder… Did you fall?” he asked, his eyes affixed to the area he mentioned.

  I glanced down at my shoulder and realized I was, in fact, all bloody. Probably from where the beast dug in his claws. A glance closer showed that the wound was already healed, but it was so bloody the man couldn’t tell. I realized he was waiting for me to respond so I smiled.

  “Yes, I slipped on the rocks, but it looks much worse than it is. I’m fine.” God, forgive me for my lie.

  “Let me help you,” the man offered, pulling off the red plaid shirt he wore unbuttoned over a white T-shirt and holding it out.

  I made no move to take it, but I didn’t step back either and so he stepped forward to cautiously lay the folded up shirt against my wound. His bare hand wrapped around my shoulder as his other gently pressed the shirt in place. He had rough skin. It brushed over the bareness of my shoulder and reminded me of the bark covering the tree that I’d been lying on moments ago. His hand was warm and large, covering the entire back of my shoulder.

  “Does that hurt?” he asked, his voice hushed.

  I glanced up at him. Our faces were close and I could see his every detail. He had a slightly crooked nose, a chip in one of his front teeth, and dark stubble lining his jaw. His hair was long and very dark, confined at the nape of his neck by a rubber band, and when he shifted, a thick, wavy strand escaped and fell forward to brush against his cheek.

  “Really, I’m fine,” I said, and suddenly I felt like the butterflies I was watching earlier somehow made it into the pit of my stomach and were trying to break free. The feeling caused me to step backward, my hand coming up to hold the shirt in place. I wasn’t used to feelings like this. Was it normal? I didn’t think it was. Usually, my emotions were calm and even
. I felt anything but calm at this moment.

  “Do you need to go to the doctor? I can take you,” he offered.

  “No, that isn’t necessary. I’ll clean this up at home. I should go,” I said, stepping away.

  This time he made no move to stop me. I resisted the urge to turn and look back because I could feel him watching me. Finally, I made it around a bend in the stream and slipped behind a tree, knowing I was completely out of sight. I unfolded my wings, shaking them out, and lifted myself into the air. I loved the weightlessness, the way my feet touched nothing, how I wasn’t anchored to anything except myself and the joy of flying.

  I made a wide arc around the stream so the man below wouldn’t see me, and then I lowered myself into the forest, close to where I’d been with the shifter. In the shock of what I’d done I left my dagger behind and wanted to collect it before I went home. I walked for what felt like hours, but really it was probably only minutes. Time here on Earth had a way of dragging for me. In heaven, time was irrelevant, unmeasured, and nothing felt like it went on for too long.