Falling (Girl With Broken Wings Book 1)

by J Bennett

  I am not brave. Not now, curled up on the floor sobbing and retching and not caring if the stranger glows me to death with his hands.

  He does not glow me to death. Rather, he crouches down near me, and his eyes probe my face.

  “It is a shame,” he says, “that they are always born human.” He extends his hand, and I realize that we’ve come to the end. I am gallant enough to wipe my nose so I don’t die with snot bubbling out of my nostrils. His palm opens to reveal two capsules.

  “Take them,” the man says. “I was prepared for such an outburst, disappointing as it is.” His voice is still soft, still calm with no inflection of emotion. He has changed into a navy polo shirt with white buttons at the collar. I wipe my nose again. In a swift motion, he grabs my neck and claps his hand over my mouth. I try to scream and suck down the pills instead.

  He picks me up and places me on a small cot in the center of the space. The air is warm and heavy with the scent of old things and lost memories. For the first time, I look around. A naked light bulb sways above us, and a duffle bag and folded towel sit next to the cot. Lying on the towel is a long needle with a wicked, thick point. There is nothing else inside the storage unit except for him and me, and fear enough to drown even Noah’s blessed ark.

  The man turns from me to reach into the duffle bag. I lurch forward on my shaky legs and stumble toward the door. I don’t even realize what I’m doing until I’m doing it. The stranger is already there, impossibly, standing in front of me. I never even heard a sound. He holds a bottle of water in his hand, which he extends to me.

  “Yes, you should have tried. That’s good. Now, lay down on the cot.”

  The light is beginning to change color, and this is funny. The smells are whispering to me, but I can’t understand what they are saying. I realize that Ryan isn’t dead. He was pretending, and after I left he got up and went back to the apartment. This is strange, because Ryan never plays jokes on me.

  I am lying prone on the cot. My shirt is off. I am scared and confused and giggly. I turn my head to watch the stranger’s hands as he moves toward me. I think, rape, rape, rape, cape, escape and wonder how he will fit all of me into his duffle bag if that’s the way he chooses to go.

  The stranger kneels down next to me. His fingers brush the hair away from my neck and travel between my shoulder blades. I flinch, and he catches my eyes, shakes his head. His face is composed in concentration, searching. I can tell the exact moment he finds what he’s looking for. His eyebrows pinch together and then relax. The fingers make a soft circle behind my right shoulder and then take another lap. I know what he’s found: the tea-colored birthmark that I hardly ever notice until I do, and then I can’t stop staring at it in the mirror.

  “Maya. I knew they would find you.” The words are whispered. Satisfied.

  He stands up. The combination of meticulously combed hair, high forehead and expensive shirt gives him a casual air of arrogance and luxury. I could almost believe he was on his way to the marina to take the yacht for a spin or down to the club for a round of golf before lunch. Except that he’s going to kill me instead, though what he says is, “I am going to give you a gift; something precious that my father gave to me. I am going to take away all your weaknesses.”

  “It’s okay to be weak,” I say for no reason.

  The man frowns. This is the first emotion he’s allowed across his face.

  “No. The weak are…,” he pauses here, eyes intent to make sure I’m listening. The word comes out of his mouth softly but with obvious pleasure, “food.”

  The man picks up the needle from the towel. It shimmers like a rainbow in the light and seems to grow in his hand.

  “The change shouldn’t be this difficult. There was an easier way, once. A process that bestowed much more power, but that knowledge has been destroyed.” The man looks down at me. “I’ve had to start all over, but I will find it. For now though, bone marrow will suffice. Three rounds of the needle. It will be painful for us both. Try to be good about it.”

  “Why are you doing this?” I manage. It is all absurd, a strange dream where the colors on the walls are strangling each other. Where I’m floating away through the ceiling but still here lying on the cot. A dog yips far away.

  “You do not understand this now, but I am making a great sacrifice for you,” the man says. He lifts up his shirt and slowly inserts the needle into his hip. He closes his eyes, and I hear the air dragging sharply into his lungs as he pulls back the stopper.

  “No, no, I don’t want to,” I push myself up. Panic squeezes in my chest with both hands and lots of leverage. The colors are running all around the room. Maybe he’ll slip on them, but he doesn’t.

  Even as I struggle up, he is next to me, pushing me down, hard. His hand grips my neck, and he digs a knee into my back. He must be made of solid steel, for my desperate thrashing doesn’t move him at all.

  “Please don’t,” I say or try to say. Taste of tears in my mouth.

  The needle plunges into my spine.

  He was right about the pain.

  Chapter 4

  A long ragged scream tears out of me, and its echo jumps around the room like a mad animal I have unleashed. As soon as the stranger’s weight lifts off me, I curl up and listen to the waves of pain lapping through my body.

  “You’ll rest for half an hour, and then we’ll do the second shot,” he says. “It will be worse. Your body will try to fight the change.”

  I can’t look at him. I can’t do anything, because suddenly my spine is ringing like a gong, and the vibration is growing.

  “Once the change is complete, you will require sustenance,” the man says. He lowers himself against the far wall. “There are two boys who have…caused me trouble in the past. I will bring them here. You will nourish yourself from their lives, and it shall be an appropriate start to your new existence.”

  * * *

  By the time the stranger prepares the second shot, my body is on fire. The flames lick up my spine, shooting hot coals through my arms and legs. Sweat pours out of my skin, and I am shaking so hard I can hear my own teeth clattering against each other. Crying is too painful, so I lay in silence, closing my eyes and trying to envision Avalon.

  “You’re killing me,” I whisper to the man as he pulls the needle from his hip.

  “No. I’m breaking you down, stripping away your weakness and building you back up into something better.” He turns his head, and a smile touches his lips. “I’m making you my daughter.”

  “I’m nobody’s daughter,” I say, which is only sort of true. I find it strange that I conjure such a line. It seems like a brave thing to say, or at least defiant. But I am exhausted and delusional and weak as a broken-winged bumble bee, so maybe I don’t say anything at all. Maybe I just want to believe I am capable of some grit. It’s so hard to think at all right now.

  I scream again as the needle plunges into my back. The sound is raw, spiraling up into a squeal that cracks and dies in my throat. I fall back onto the cot, and the scream has taken away my last reserves. Already, the fire is growing into an inferno that snakes up the back of my neck and into my brain. He has put acid inside of me or drain cleaner or bleach. I am dying.

  “One more and it will be done,” the stranger says. His voice sounds hoarse. The blur that must be him sinks against the wall and lays his head back. I fall into a stupor.

  This is what I remember next: a sound screeching through my mind, bleary voices. A figure moves in front of me. It looks like a man, but the lines of his body are wavering. Two explosions so loud that I cover my ears. Voices rising. The figure in front of me is gone. Shadows waver under the light. Something glints. Strange animal grunts. Another explosion. A scream. A crash. Quiet. Quiet. Voices. Quiet.

  Eyes. Big and golden-brown like honey. Elf eyes above a sharp nose and triangle mouth. A ball cap on his head with wavy hair spilling out.

  “Oh fuck.” He lays a hand on my forehead, then pushes back the wet strands o
f hair off my face. We are looking at each other, and I realize I should say something, but I can’t think. I am watching the strange blue light glowing around his face. A song is humming softly. I don’t know where the music is coming from, but the melody is hypnotic. Strange, mystical music telling me to touch the light.

  “We’re too late,” another voice says.

  “No, maybe not.” The elf’s voice wavers in and out with the pain. “…need you to concentrate....how many shots?”

  I watch the light around the elf’s face. The song is growing louder. My fingers twitch. I can’t lift my hand.

  “Maya, the needle….”

  “One,” I say. One left.

  “One?” His expression relaxes. “Good. That’s good……work with that. Right?” He turns his head up.

  “We have to go,” the other voice says.

  Chapter 5

  I can’t stop thinking about that night – the night I changed, the night my world stopped spinning and drifted off into the dark. I plunge into those messy, fractured memories again and again, trying to recapture the simple joy of that lunch with Ryan, the warmth of his lips opening against mine under the stars. Oh, to be full again.

  Upon my request, both Gabe and Tarren have described the fight in the storage unit. Each of my vigilante custodians has their own method of evasion.

  * * *

  Gabe’s version of events:

  It was a dark and stormy night... Yes it was…. Who’s telling the story? Girl who was unconscious for most of it or the guy who saved the day? …Well, if you’d be so kind, I will tell you exactly how I did it. Capiche? …Good.

  So, it was a dark and stormy night. The fog rolled in thick and heavy as two shadowed figures cut through the night. They warily approached a storage unit, guns glinting at their sides.

  “This is it,” Tarren whispered, and both boys squared their shoulders. Somewhere far off a coyote howled to the moon.

  “It’s show time,” Gabe growled.

  The heroic brothers heaved up the storage unit door. The epic showdown had begun.

  The angel jumped up, rage alighting in his eyes.

  “You two!” he snarled.

  “It’s been a long time coming,” said Gabe. His muscles bulged beneath his shirt.

  “We’re here to send you back to Hell where you belong,” Tarren said, his eyes glinting dangerously. …Yeah, course he said that. Tarren is full of witty one-liners. He spends hours every night thinking them up and writing them down in his diary… No, I’ve seen it. It’s pink and got little flowers all over it. …Oh, now that’s just mean. Wait, you’re making me laugh, I gotta keep going…. The story. Stop interrupting. I’m losing my place.

  The angel moved swiftly in front of his prey, crouching low, ready for a fight. He was weakened but still deadly. The brothers were ready too. They’ve been ready their whole lives.

  “This ends here, tonight!” Gabe cried. The angel was quick, moving like a blur. Both heroes raised their weapons and fired. He cried in pain as the bullets tore through his flesh, but that didn’t slow him down. The fight was totally epic. The angel was ten times stronger than an elephant and twenty times faster than a cheetah, but the brothers held their own using Matrix-like skills. Blood flowed. Ribs were cracked.

  Tarren was knocked back, so the incredibly handsome younger brother had to hold off the creature on his own using bad ass Chuck Norris fighting action. Fists and legs flew at the speed of light. Using roundhouse and 180° spin kicks of death, Gabe knocked the creature down, stunning him.

  “Is that the best you’ve got?” he asked with his trademark smirk. He totally had the situation under control and was about to waste the angel, when Tarren shoved him out of the way in a fit of jealousy…. No, let me tell it…Of course he’s going to say that…. Maybe I wanted to be up against the wall. You ever think of that? Maybe I had ‘em right where I wanted him. So if you’re done telling me my own story… Uh-huh, that’s what I thought.

  So Tarren shoved his unbelievably talented brother out of the way, because he wanted to finish off the angel himself. They did some tepid fighting which involved absolutely no roundhouse or 180° spin kicks of death. At some point Tarren got ahold of his gun and blew off the angel’s hand. It was meat confetti. Ranger T hollow points, gotta’ love ‘em. The angel howled in pain, clutching his mangled stump as blood gushed all over the place. It was pretty sick.

  “This isn’t over,” the angel cried as he escaped into the night.

  Of course Gabe totally could have killed the angel and ended everything, but he realized that petty vengeance wasn’t as important as rescuing the poor girl the creature had kidnapped. He went to her and realized with shock that she had been infected. He took her fevered body in his chiseled arms and cried out a soul-wrenching “NOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

  “We’re too late,” said Tarren, instantly giving up hope.

  Gabe refused to believe this. For you see, this wasn’t just any girl. She was their long lost sister.

  “As God is my witness I will save you,” Gabe vowed heroically. “Damn it, I will save you!”

  * * *

  Tarren’s version of events:

  We tracked you directly to the storage unit. The door wasn’t locked. Grand was weak. This was our only chance to finally take him out. He heard us coming and was ready when we threw open the door. We both got a round off, but he was moving too fast. We didn’t get a kill shot. I was knocked back in the fight, and I lost my gun. Grand had Gabe pinned to the wall. His hands were glowing, and I knew he was getting ready to feed.

  I tackled Grand, and we fought. He got me on the ground. I had a second Glock strapped to my leg. He was reaching out to drain me, but I pulled the barrel between us. The shot took off most of his left hand. Grand figured the odds and fled before I could line up another shot.

  He got away. I failed.

  It was clear you’d been infected. I knew what had to be done. Gabe thought there might be a way to help you. He was already emotionally attached. I could hear sirens in the distance. We didn’t have time to argue. That’s the only reason I didn’t kill you then and there.

  …No, that’s it.

  Chapter 6

  “Your head,” the boy with elf eyes murmurs as he puts me into a car. Then, “this is, um, awkward.” He can only get me half in. I hear his steps moving quickly around the back of the car. He opens the opposite door and pulls me the rest of the way across the back seat.

  “Thank you,” I say. I want to touch the blue glow around him. This will soothe the pain inside of me. Not pain. Hunger. Great, gaping hunger. I am shivering, still sweating. The strap of my bra has fallen to my elbow.

  “Do we, uh, have a blanket in the trunk or something, Tarren?”

  “Get in the car.”

  I hear sirens. They sound closer than they could possibly be. Just like I think I can hear the boy’s heart thudding in his chest, but that can’t be real.

  “Yeah, it’s a warm night. She’ll be fine.” The door by my head closes. I flinch at the sound. After a moment it opens again.

  “Seatbelt.” He leans over me, grappling with the buckle under my back. His heart is a drum. I hear the whoosh of air in and out of his lungs. I smell him, the sweat on him, the damp of his clothes. Glowing spirals of blue cloak his body like colored steam. I must touch the color. I am moving my arm, dizzy with even this effort but desperate. He is so close. My hands grow hot. Something is happening to them. The skin of my palms is puckering, splitting open.

  “There we go.” The boy is gone. The door closes. I keep reaching up hoping to catch any lingering wisps of the glow. The skin furls back over my palm, seaming itself up into a dark X across the center. The car is moving. Every breath smells like blood. I’m giggling like a maniac, but only in my head. I shove my hands under my body, because this will somehow help. I’m still burning to death, by the way.

  The driver whispers to himself, “We had him. We had him.”

  The one with the
backwards ball cap and elf eyes says, “Look, we got her; that was the whole point.” He turns to look at the driver. “We’ll kill Grand some other time.”

  The driver doesn’t say anything, but the color ratchets around him, bright along the edges. I close my eyes, but I can still feel the skin pulling away from my palms again.

  “Your eye is swelling up,” the passenger says.

  “I’m fine. You?”

  “Ankle. Just twisted it a little. I’ll throw some ice on it whenever. No cops behind us. We need to switch our plates when we stop. Ditch the guns too. We left shell casings. Damn shame, though.” The passenger pulls a gun from his belt, hefts it in his hand. “My guy went through a lot of trouble to get this baby. Not that you care. Anyone can get Glocks.”

  “Put that away,” the driver says. “We’ll cover cleanup later.”

  The passenger turns to stare at me. I watch the delicate shades of blue pulse around him.

  “We should probably get her a shirt,” he says. The driver doesn’t reply, but his eyes flick up to the rearview mirror when we stop at a light.

  After a while, the elf turns to the driver and asks, “Is there any way this isn’t going to totally ruin her life?”

  I can’t stop shivering. My body jerks, so that I fall back painfully onto the buckle. The fire is starting to separate. There’s the part ripping up my bones and evaporating my blood, but there is something entirely different lifting out of the flames. This is an exquisite hurt, all neural and twitchy. It’s hunger, but not like a hunger I’ve ever known before. This hunger is cutting me wide open with a song, carving out its own channels in my brain and snuffing out the human parts of me.

  I think that I am going to die, and I don’t want to, except that I do, because Ryan is dead, at least I think he is, but maybe he isn’t, because he can’t be. He can’t be.