To Fall (The To Fall Trilogy Book 1)

by Donna AnnMarie Smith

  “Why deny healing her?” I challenged.

  She shook her head. “Perhaps it was part of God’s plan.”

  I grunted in disagreement.

  Anne had planned to keep the baby, even though she was young and scared. She had loved this child regardless of how she came to be—a result of unthinkable violence.

  Anne was a single child and her parents had passed away when she was in high school. Margaret was all Anne had until the pregnancy. Together they were going to raise the baby. They had even created this pink nursery for her filled with white wood furniture, plush toys, soft fabrics, and most importantly, love.

  Amongst the horrors, this house now told, laid a broken family.

  Margaret slept on the couch. Hannah had taken good care of her, healed her wounds, and cleaned her. While she slept, I read her thoughts. Margaret’s sorrow for her friend was immense, worried for the child’s fate. I woke her, and the grief for her friend replaced any shock at seeing two angels before her. Hannah explained who we were and what had actually happened to Anne on the night of her rape.

  I held the baby up to Margaret in hopes she would take her, care for her. “Margaret Wilson, Anne Barrett is lost to us, but her baby lives. I understand you both intended on raising this child. Would you like to take her now as your own?”

  Trembling, dark fingers held a ring belonging to her friend; Hannah must have given it to her. “I…I can’t. I don’t know how to take care of a baby.” Margaret’s eyes mixed with fear and remorse. “I haven’t even graduated college. I have a part time job, nothing in savings. I can hardly take care of myself, let alone care for a baby.” Looking to her friend’s child, she choked on her words. “May I hold her and say good-bye?”

  Cradling the baby, Margaret’s tears flowed mercilessly. “I did this. That night. Anne and I went to a club to celebrate passing our physics test. We were drinking and this man, Jason, came up to us. He seemed nice. He was good looking, wore an expensive suit, and he talked to us for hours. I should have taken Anne home with me. I didn’t and I don’t know why. She always insisted it wasn’t Jason that raped her—” Margaret lost her voice and looked to me. “I left her with a monster. I left her. This is my fault.”

  I sat next to her. “No, you cannot think this way. He is a demon, a predator. He would have attacked her one way or another. The fault and blame lie with us. We failed to protect Anne that night and again tonight.”

  When it came time to give the baby over to me, she held the child tighter. “I can’t give a piece of Anne away like this. It’s wrong.”

  Hannah put her hand on Margaret’s shoulder. “If you wish, we can find a place for you in this child’s life.”

  Margaret nodded. “I’d like that. It’s what Annie would have wanted.”

  Margaret handed the baby to me and it surprised me at how much I had missed holding her, needed to feel her skin against mine.

  Margaret went to Anne’s side and knelt by her covered body. “I love you, buddy. I’ll watch over her. I’ll love her as you would’ve.” She sobbed into her hands.

  Hannah waited for me to join her outside. “By His Creation, Alexander. This is a mess.” Sighing, her green eyes closed. “I will wait with her until I get the clear from Caleb and Calista. I can wipe her memory when I know Cresil is back in Hell.”

  “Perhaps we should allow her to be in this baby’s life. A human ally to watch her may be prudent, Hannah. She is a weak child and Cresil may come back for her someday. Margaret loves the baby, this much is clear.”

  She nodded. “I will speak to Caleb and Calista. Are you taking her to Father Frank now?”

  “Yes, he will let me stay with her until a home can be found.”

  Hannah combed through the child’s brown curls. “Brother, do you—”

  “What is it?”

  Looking to me, confusion marked her features. “I cannot be certain, but her soul feels…”

  “Special?” I offered.

  For a moment, I believed Hannah felt the same—this child had a special bond to all angels. But as quickly as the moment came, it passed and Hannah shook me off. I realized it was only I that felt connected to this baby, and only I that had changed. Even with my sister by my side, I felt alone, different, scared for what this meant.

  Wrapping the child in a blanket, I took her to the church. With each weak beat of her heart, anger built within me. Gabriel had denied her. Heaven denied a pure soul deserving of healing. For the first time in my existence, I had questioned, disagreed, allowed frustration to engulf me with the path laid out for this child.

  It was midnight when I arrived at the church. Father Frank was another ally we had on Earth. I stayed with the baby. Without my healing gift, she would need a hospital soon. I had never held or cared for a baby before this night, but it felt right for me to cradle this child, as if she belonged with me, here in my arms. She slept with me, so peaceful, so beautiful.

  It didn’t take long for the nuns to find a childless family, the Millers, to foster her. They took her in, named her Abigail, and cared for a baby with a weak heart. Incredible sadness gripped me. I had to let her go. As her soft skin left mine, my heart felt hollow and somehow beat differently. I shut my feelings away and never spoke of this night, refusing what I knew to be true.

  Calista followed the Millers to the hospital when they brought Abigail to the emergency room. We already had Dr. Fredrickson alerted to her heart condition. Within two days of fostering baby Abigail, she received surgery to repair a hole in her heart. For now, her heart was strong enough, but it would weaken over time. Overwhelmed, the Millers needed a nanny to help care for the baby, and we helped Margaret secure the position. She was a wise choice, a human guardian who would also love Abigail.

  To stay with the Millers, Margaret had to keep her secret; she could never speak of the angels who saved her and her friend’s child. We warned Margaret that Cresil might come back one day. We couldn’t be sure if he knew the child survived. The chances of him finding Abigail were slim, but we watched them from afar to be sure.

  And today, Margaret returned to her side and held Abigail’s hand. Something dark replaced the peace she had earlier. A nightmare. Calista told me she suffered from them. Her face drew up in pain with small hands twitching by her sides. I wondered what she saw behind her eyelids, what tormented her. If I touched Abigail now, would I feel the same connection or was that bond lost years ago? Were my feelings for her an act of chance or would she mean so much more to me than even I could fathom?

  A scream erupted from her. One like Margaret’s that my prayers never relieved me of. Abigail’s cut me to the core and shredded me. She was too innocent to know this kind of fear. I didn’t tell my body to move, but I was closer, desperate to hold her, take her from the cruel shackles of her mind. Holding Abigail down took Margaret’s focus off me gripping the bed rail.

  Margaret glanced over her shoulder and snapped, “Make yourself useful and get her parents.”

  Abigail focused beyond Margaret to me, scanning up my body. I knew I had stayed too long; I had made my presence known. After twenty years of painful avoidance, I screwed it up the first time I had to protect her. Locked in place, her eyes mesmerized me. Long, thick lashes beat against her cheeks. Two warm chocolate pools that were big and round gave her a child-like quality. Eyes that I could look into for eternity. Beautiful.

  Her gaze collided with mine and it was as though she saw through me, my secrets, what I was. The pull between us was tangible, like gravity on Earth, and I knew this wasn’t chance. Abigail belonged to me and I to her. It was a knowledge in my soul that had been there and I foolishly had denied myself.

  Nothing could come of this. She was human and I wasn’t. Spinning, I left, wanting to do anything but leave.

  “Wa…wait.” Deep, phlegmy coughs came from her. “Ple…ase!” She struggled to speak. “Na…me.” Her voice cut off from more coughing.

  It was an act of Heaven tearing me from that room. Te
aring me away from Abigail.

  3

  Cresil

  Legs pumped under me, driving me faster and farther away from that little house. The only sounds were the foreign breaths of the human I possessed and tattered laces as they struck the worn leather of his boots. The lamps above cast a lone shadow onto the ground and I waited for more to join it. I waited for the pain that was to come without warning.

  A laugh bubbled up my throat thinking about the look on Astaroth’s face. My prince was clueless as to why I had returned, believing I was merely on Earth to rip the innocence away from those that held it as precious as air. He would be forced to acknowledge me as an equal, sitting next to me, instead of looking down upon his lowly subject. Finally, I would have my day by the Dark King’s side. I would prove to the High Court that a lord was capable of feats that brought Heaven to its knees.

  Licking my lips, a metallic tang lingered on my tongue. Margaret’s blood. It had splattered over this borrowed flesh, stained the knuckles as I drove my hand into her face. Threadbare clothes were ripped from where she clawed me. Margaret was a fighter, like my Dark Wavy Curls.

  She had begged for mercy. She had pleaded for her child’s life.

  Seared into me was the last gulp of air that passed through my Dark Wavy Curls’ throat and under my fingers as the life left her eyes. The ultimate sin of taking from Him. The rats had come as the infant’s life faded within her mother’s dead womb. Another second would have been nice to see the horror on their faces at what I had done.

  A hand clamped around my neck, sealing me inside the human as though molten steel had been poured over me and hardened too tight to my body, crushing me. I realized what it was. No soul that I could sense, too pure for something as foul as me. Air rushed by my ears as the hand cinched tighter. My back hit something hard and bricks crumbled to my feet.

  “You filth. You foul beast!” The blond rat held me in his tight grip.

  His blonde sister growled, “You killed them!”

  Their joint light blinded me, burned me with its purity, and drained me of what little energy I had left. “I will be crowned for this. I will be celebrated for her death!”

  The female’s blue eyes flashed with all the hatred the Heavens held for me. “I want to be there when the Archangels destroy you!”

  “Why aren’t they here?” I hissed.

  A low growl emitted from the male.

  I laughed. “I can’t wait to tell my Dark King that I alone ruined His precious Design! Generations will pass before He can fix it. And I will return and destroy it again!”

  “Calista! Cast him before I kill him!” he implored her.

  Calista spat, “Demon Cresil! With the Light of God, I cast you back to Hell!”

  The anguish built within me until it erupted from my mouth in a scream. Their light flayed me like acid flowing through my veins, eating away at the delicate tissues until it spilled out through my skin. My soul disjoined from the human, ripping us apart like flesh from my physical body. A force, not of this Earth, propelled me far away.

  Landing in a crumpled heap, my entire body shivered with the sins of my soul weighing upon me. My energy had been stripped away. I had to lay here, broken, with a sliver of hope I would please my Dark King. He would make me a prince. I alone would have the glory. I alone would reap the reward of power and dominion.

  “Cresil!” I blinked up to Count Zlageth and he grabbed me by the shoulders. “Prince Astaroth summons you.”

  My eyes widened in horror and I lost all control of my voice. “Why?”

  “He would not say. Is it ever good?” His cackle reverberated against the rocks surrounding us and pinged against my brain like a cymbal. He hauled me up on my useless clawed feet and dragged me to our prince.

  Each step closer, each cave we entered, I knew would be my last.

  Once we arrived at his throne room, Zlageth dumped me on the ground. “It was nice knowing you, Cresil.” Another cackle echoed within the catacombs, sounding more distant and my heart beat faster. Zlageth had salivated over my province for millennia and he would have it with my destruction. Zlageth would get his wish today.

  I pulled myself to a kneeling position. My gaze followed an oozing river of thick black that mixed with sand from an unmoved form in the corner of the chasm. The broken remnants of a drone.

  “Do you know why I have summoned you, Cresil?” It wasn’t until Astaroth rose from his throne, did I distinguish his dark demon form from the color and texture of the rocks surrounding us. His dead eyes glared, flashing my reflection back to me.

  “No, my Prince.”

  His feet clicked along the rocky ground toward me. “Deception will not help you, Cresil! I am the single thing standing between you and Oblivion! The soul. You are fortunate we are the only two aware of its existence.”

  My gaze went back to the dead drone. His spy.

  Astaroth’s chest heaved; the rank breath behind his fangs was cold against my thick hide. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Did you believe a prince would be stupid enough to trust his subjects? You have a great deal to learn about the High Court, Cresil.”

  A foot thrust into my side and I tumbled along the ground. I scrambled back to my knees. “I was coming to tell you, my Prince.”

  “LIES! You should have told me long ago of the soul’s existence. How did you know it was on Earth?”

  I swallowed past the rows of teeth in my mouth. The truth would spill from my lips either by will or by force. “It is I that conceived it, my Prince.”

  His body turned rigid. “Did you destroy it?”

  “I believe I have, my Prince.”

  His head whipped around and eyes flashed. “You are not certain?”

  I hesitated to recount the events. “There were Guardians there.”

  “Did you or did you not sense the soul?” he demanded.

  “I did, but I killed the mother,” I explained. “The child could not have lived.”

  He flung his head back and growled into the acrid air. I cowered farther. “Foolish demon! You underestimate too much! You assume too much! It will be your downfall, Cresil! If our Dark King finds out you failed, it is not only you that will suffer.”

  “Yes, my Prince.”

  The blade of his staff poked my side, ready to drive it inside me. “I should destroy you for this!”

  “Your will is my bidding, my Prince.” I closed my eyes, wondering if he would be merciful and snap my neck or would he make me suffer the slow, torturous death he was known for imparting to his subjects.

  Grunts and feet shifted around me. “Foolish as you are, you are of use to me.”

  The rod in my back eased and I drew in a breath. “Yes, my Prince.”

  “Once your energy has replenished, you will return and search for it quietly. We will not tell our Dark King until certainty has been reached. Until we are without doubt the soul is no longer on Earth. Then, we shall announce our victory. We shall reap our reward.”

  Ah… Demons were all alike, thirsting for power like rabid beasts. He wanted Azazel’s place next to Lucifer’s throne.

  Cold, dead blood seeped around my knees, finally reaching me from the corner of the room. I knew I would suffer the drone’s fate. There would be no “we” or “our.” There would be no reward for me, only Astaroth. This was a stay of execution. If Astaroth was correct and the soul remained on Earth, he would destroy me after I killed the child and reap the reward for himself, leaving just me to dispose of. Clever demon.

  “Yes, my Prince.”

  4

  Abby

  My eyes were still locked on the door when Margaret pushed me back down. “When you can talk without losing a lung, I’ll let you go chase after hotties in your backless hospital gown. I’m sure the entire third floor would love to see yours and Victoria’s secrets. Until then, lay down.”

  The monitor finally chillaxed and the beeping slowed down. Margaret grumbled something about “horny teenagers” and poured m
e water from a plastic container by the bed. The icy water slid down my sore throat and it tickled with another cough. My eyes shot back to the door, hoping Hazel Eyes would appear. There was no way he could exist…right?

  That nightmare had haunted me almost every night since I could remember dreaming. It felt so real, as if I existed there in some alternate universe with the evil and my savior. Just as easily, this reality could be the dream. While the versions had changed over the years, there was always the evil presence, the running, my attack, and him. The beautiful boy. The make out dream session started a few years ago and that was when I fell in love with him—the figment of my imagination, or so I thought until today.

  Another coughing fit pulled my eyes off the door and Margaret thought slapping the pneumonia out of me was what I needed. Holding my hand up in a cease-fire, I choked out, “I’m all right, Margaret.”

  Five days ago, I woke up with a sniffle. This morning, an uncontrollable cough sent me into an attack and the paramedics came. Nothing new. The neighbors didn’t even bother coming out of their houses anymore.

  Born with a congenital heart defect, I had surgery to repair a hole in my heart when I was a couple of days old. My heart was getting weaker, and after five failed attempts at implanting a pacemaker, there was a heart transplant somewhere in my future. With only one blood type to match mine, the odds of getting one when mine finally gave out weren’t good.

  Around Margaret’s toffee colored finger, a silver ring spun—her nervous tick. The ring had two opposing hearts connected toward their tail ends sprinkled in diamonds. I didn’t know where the ring came from; Margaret wasn’t forthcoming about her past.

  My parents hired Margaret after my heart surgery. Not knowing how to care for a young baby in such poor health, the stress was too much for them to take on themselves. Initially hired as my nanny, Margaret now cared for my twin sisters, my parents, the dog, the household, and me. Margaret was indispensable. Margaret was part of the family, like my second mom. She was one of the Millers.