Angel Dreams (An Angel Falls Book 2)

by Jody A. Kessler

  “Unless you like that sort of thing,” she adds with a flutter of lashes.

  Pulling her back feels like moving a cardboard cutout of a person. She seems to weigh almost nothing. Eli’s brows knit as he stares at her. I think I see concern in the depths of his greenish brown eyes, but I can only picture him with a gun in his hand, a heartless animal killer.

  “You should call me sometime. I’d really like to thank you for your trouble,” Corrine goes on.

  “We need to leave,” I insist and pull her another few steps away.

  “You take care of yourself now, Miss, and don’t give us a second thought. We do what we can,” Eli says.

  “You’re so cute. Your leather is so hot. Maybe we could all go out together.”

  “Just shut up for a second okay,” I snap at her.

  “Bye. We’ll be fine,” I say again, keeping my hand firmly wrapped around Corinne’s arm.

  “I know you will be,” Eli says to our backs with his slight southern drawl. “Your friend’s watching over the two of you. Hey, what’s your name anyhow?”

  Processing his words is immediate, but comprehending them feels like working out pig Latin when I was seven. I turn to look at him one last time. Tall and lanky, covered in leather decorated with crosses. “Jules,” I answer.

  “Jules short for somethin’?”

  This time I don’t answer. I didn’t really want him knowing my name at all. My eyes narrow and I hope he can see I still consider him a killer. He answers my flat expression with a serious look of his own.

  “I think our paths may cross again, Miss Jules. Don’t forget the love and light of the Savior will help you when you’re in need.”

  “Yeah Man, thanks.” I give him a half-hearted wave, which is really more of a wave off, and hurry in the direction of my house.

  “Preaching, deer shooting bikers. Just what I ordered. Can I get a side of televangelist with that?” I grumble to no one in particular.

  “I didn’t know you could be so cynical,” Nathaniel says.

  “Yeah, well certain situations call for an adjustment in my attitude,” I say back, not meaning to sound so snotty, but I’ve had enough of these bikers for a lifetime.

  “He could see me.”

  “Oh?” I ask, remembering Eli’s words, ‘your friend is watching over the two of you.’

  “He knew I was there, but he doesn’t see me like you do.”

  “Hmmph,” I snort. “Deer killing, savior loving, weirdo who sees spirits. Great.”

  “Eli messed up Travis’s plans back there in the woods. I saw everything. Travis started the ceremony with the mama deer, but he took the baby when the motorcycles showed up. It was really awful. I told you they were nice. And you’re doing it again,” Corrine says.

  “What am I doing?” I ask.

  “Talking to someone who’s not there. Travis does it too. Please tell me you’re not like Travis. I heard you were a witch but I was hoping you were all like, white magic and stuff.”

  My hand runs over my scalp and my fingers catch in the thousands of new tangles in my hair. I look over at Nathaniel.

  He shrugs and says, “I’m not sure if we should tell her about me yet. I’m confused about her behavior with Eli. I have some ideas, but it’s nothing concrete.”

  “I told you before, I’m not a witch, and I wasn’t lying. I know nothing about witchcraft and I’m sorry if it bothers you that I talk to myself.”

  “Uh-huh. Yeah, Travis never tells me everything either. I get it,” Corrine says and then shrugs it off. “Where are we going anyway?”

  “My house. The green one.” I point up ahead on the left where our two story house sits nestled in the pines.

  “Cool,” Corrine says.

  “She seems to be feeling better,” Nathaniel says.

  I nod in silent agreement with him. There’s something distinctly different about this girl than there was an hour or so before.

  “Corrine, does your stomach still hurt?”

  “Huh? Oh. Well, kind of,” she says, not making eye contact with me.

  “What was going on earlier?”

  “Hmm, cramps?” she says as a question. “Hey, can I use your bathroom? You know, my hair.” She holds up one of her brown tinged golden locks for inspection. “That Travis, he can be such a bastard sometimes.”

  “Yeah, that’s not what I’d call someone who spills fresh fawn’s blood on me while performing black magic.”

  “He was preparing for some special moon ceremony coming up. An alignment or something? He uses me to get what he wants for rituals and sometimes to make extra cash. Then he usually buys cars he doesn’t need. Like I said, he’s an ass.”

  I bite my tongue, holding back any further remarks about her stepfather.

  ∞

  Nathaniel and I wait in my room while Corrine cleans up in the bathroom. My concern for his well-being quadruples as we settle into my space. He’s trembling and his hand is clamped to his side.

  “What happened back there?” I ask him tentatively.

  “You mean with Travis?” he clarifies as he settles down gingerly on my velvet chair.

  “Yes. I know something’s wrong. You may as well tell me.”

  “He’s more powerful than I gave him credit for. He wields dark magic and he’s skilled at it.”

  “Corrine said he’s a warlock. Do you know what that means exactly? What he’s capable of?”

  “Too much.”

  “What? Are you badly hurt?” I ask, and move from my bed to kneel on the floor in front of him.

  “Don’t freak out.”

  “Freak out? Why? What happened?” I feel all the blood drain from my face and fingertips. I didn’t know it was possible to injure an angel. What sort of monster is Corinne’s stepfather?

  “Juliana, I can’t show you if you are going to do that.”

  “What? I’m fine,” I lie.

  “You better lean back against the bed for a minute.”

  “No. What happened? Nathaniel, please. This isn’t funny.” Tingling in my pinky fingers alerts me to the level of stress I’m under. No blood flowing down my arms isn’t a good sign. Leaning back against the bed helps. The feel of something solid behind me lets me hang on as the rest of the world drops out from under me.

  “I’m not laughing.”

  “No, which is making this worse. You don’t look right,” I say. As I stare at him he looks like he is at the end of some tunnel. It’s not my imagination, and it’s not because of my stress. He normally appears like any other person to me, solid and real, but now he’s dimmer and I would swear I keep seeing through him in places.

  “I don’t feel quite right either,” Nathaniel mumbles while not meeting my eyes. “I may need to leave for a while. I’m so sorry, Juliana. I’m messing everything up again. Corrine is my case, not yours.”

  His apology unsettles me. He doesn’t need to be sorry for anything. I press my palms against the wood floor to help me stay grounded as I divulge my side of things. “Corrine came to me when I was working at the herb shop. She may not have been in any of this mess if I had helped her when she asked. No, I have to help her too. It’ll be fine. We’ll stay right here, in my house, while you rest. That’s what you meant by having to leave, isn’t it? You’re exhausted and have to recover.”

  “I do. If it wasn’t for Travis, I would never leave you two alone. Arrrgh! What have I done?” Nathaniel’s hands moves to the front of his head hiding his anger and frustration from me. Lowering his hands, he gives me the most apologetic look I’ve ever seen. There’s more pain and sadness in those smoky eyes than anger and I want to hold him and tell him everything’s going to be perfect and he has nothing to worry about. I also know simple reassurances right now won’t change anything.

  He slides forward off the chair and kneels in front of me. His hand brushes mine and I can feel him in the most surreal way, like walking into cool mist. His radiating warmth is completely diminished. My fear peaks again,
but I push it down to a somewhat manageable level.

  “Nathaniel, show me what’s wrong with your side,” I whisper.

  “Promise me you’ll stay home until I come back. Travis is dangerous and Corrine is suicidal. I don’t understand what happened to her after the motorcycle ride, but I’ll figure it out. She may be manic. I should be able to return before she tries something again.”

  “Okay. I promise. Believe me, I never want to see Travis again. Now, tell me what he did to you.”

  Nathaniel’s face hardens and I see him flinch as he starts to reach for the hem of his shirt. “I think it will heal. It’s something else I have to ask Marcus about.”

  “Marcus is your mentor, right?” My voice shakes as I try to focus on his words and not on what he’s about to show me.

  “Yes. He’ll know what I’m dealing with.”

  Nathaniel stares into my eyes and then he slowly lifts the left side of his shirt. We’re both silent as we stare at the empty gashes across Nathan’s left ribcage, or where his ribcage should be.

  Ragged tears and empty space. “Nathaniel. Part of you is missing.” My mouth is suddenly dry as baked sand. “How… bad… is… it?”

  “Somewhere between acid and flames eating at the million exposed nerves of my soul.”

  “Eeea,” I whimper for him.

  He lowers his shirt and looks out the window. Deep bone chilling worry is somehow evident in his blank expression.

  “You’re sure it will heal?” I manage to say.

  “No.”

  Before I can respond to this devastating admission, a piercing wail slices through the tension in the room and sends us scrambling to the bathroom.

  Nathaniel disappears through the wall. I don’t have time to be unnerved by this as I hear him call to me from inside the other room.

  “Corrine. I’m coming in,” I warn as I turn the knob. I’ve never felt dread before stepping into my own bathroom, but I do now. My eyelids close for a second before I can face whatever is going on inside.

  “She’s in the shower,” Nathaniel tells me and by the look on his face it isn’t good news.

  “Corrine. Are you all right?”

  “Noo,” she sobs. “Help. Ooooh,” she moans.

  I pull the curtain back part way and peek inside. Corrine sits on the bottom of the bathtub curled into a small ball. With one hand I flip off the water and with the other I grab a towel from the bar. As I wrap her in the towel I see part of the problem. Thin watery blood washes down the drain, coming from somewhere underneath Corrine.

  “Corrine, are you on your period?”

  “No. I don’t know. Yes,” she says.

  “Can you stand up?” I ask her and try to assist her at the same time.

  I peer over at Nathaniel who has his back partially turned and is looking helpless and miserable.

  “It’s never hurt like this before,” she tells me and then moans in agony as she stands up, steps out of the tub, and sits down on the toilet. She bends in half and buries her face in her hands and cries in pain.

  Something dawns on me and I ask, “Sweetie, are you pregnant?” Her extremely straightforward approach with Eli was a bit shocking to say the least.

  A sniffling reply is her answer, and then her shoulders shake before she finally says, “I…don’t know.”

  Squatting down in front of her to try to see her face I ask, “Is it possible?”

  Pale blue eyes meet mine through tender pink fingers. “I…don’t know,” she says again and buries her face.

  She’s so tiny, not so much in the way of height, but overall. I still think she must be around seventeen or so, but she hasn’t begun to mature in the ways of a woman. She still has a young girl’s body. Stick arms, bony collar bones, teeny wrists, and narrow hips. She may like older men, like those bikers, but she’s still a girl.

  The sound of fluid dripping into the bowl brings my attention back to the emergency in front of me. “Have you been with anyone and—” Holy crap, I don’t know how to do this. I suddenly feel like my mother when she’s dealing with young girls at her job. I take a deep breath and bite the bullet. “Have you had sex without using birth control?” I ask, while trying as hard as I can to sound gentle and nonjudgmental.

  She doesn’t answer this time, but breaks down further, sobbing and shaking.

  After a few seconds of uncontrollable bawling she separates her legs and peers into the pot under her. “Aaahhh,” she whimpers pitifully.

  The pink flush on her face drains and leaves her ashen. Her hands begin to tremble.

  I see a horrible flash of red under her. The entire bowl seems to be filling with blood. “I’m going to call an ambulance,” I say to her and Nathaniel both.

  “No!” Corrine yells. She grabs for the toilet paper and start to unravel some. “I can’t go to the hospital. It’s just really bad cramps. It’ll pass.”

  Nathaniel says, “Could it be that simple?”

  Looking to him and then back to Corrine and then back to him, I ask, “Have you seen her with anyone?”

  He shakes his head no and asks, “Could she be having a miscarriage?”

  I shrug my shoulders at him. “Corrine, I don’t know what’s wrong. Let a doctor look at you, please.”

  “Can’t. No doctors. I’d rather be dead. I’ll kill myself before I go to a hospital. I swear it’s the truth.”

  I flinch at her declaration. That she could jump to such extremes so easily makes me sad for her. Is dying really a better option than going to a hospital?

  “She’s serious. It’s the reason I’m assigned to her.”

  The towel around Corrine’s shoulders starts to slip. I reach for it, but Corrine grabs the edges and holds it closed.

  “It’s already starting to feel better,” she says, but I think she’s lying. “Do you have any pads?” she asks.

  Nathaniel moves closer to the door and says, “I need to step into the hall for a moment. Call me if you need me and I’ll come right back.”

  “Okay,” I say to Nathaniel. I wish I could step into the hall and let someone else deal with it, but he’s having his own problems and a guy just doesn’t get it when it comes to girl problems, angel or not. My brain spins for a couple of seconds. Mom could help, she’s a nurse right? The obvious problem with that is, she’s not home. There’s Grandma, but how would I explain any of this? Wait, what about Grandma? What would she do? Lists of herbs run through my head like watching the crawl line on the national news. Is there anything I can do? Maybe if I could get a real answer out of this suicidal girl, then I could come up with a treatment.

  Corrine wipes herself with the paper and I look away.

  “Are you really feeling better?” I ask.

  I see her tense slightly while avoiding my gaze. I don’t want another appeasing lie. “Corrine, I may be able to help a little with the herbs I have, but I have to know what’s wrong with you. Have you had sex with anyone recently?”

  “I think so. And yeah, it feels a little better.” She reaches for her clothes, so I bend down and grab the pads from the cabinet under the sink.

  “You, think so?” I repeat, doubtfully. “Is it possible you may be miscarrying?”

  “I guess,” she says.

  “You’ve never had cramps like this before?”

  “No. You’re talking about the herbs from the store where you work? I’d like that. I can’t go to the doctor, Jules. Travis will find me.”

  “Certain herbs may help. Come on. You need to go lie down.”

  She finishes putting on her jeans and tank top. She’s so tiny. She must be a size minus zero. Then I direct her to my room. Ariel, my cat, watches us enter from her spot on the bed. As we get closer to her, she flips out. Growling and arching her spine as the hairs on her back stand straight up. My eyes linger on her bottle brush tail, astounded by its odd shape, and then before I realize what she’s doing, she launches herself at Corrine’s face.

  “Ariel!” I snap, as I grab her in mid
-air and redirect her energetic leap toward the door. She lands with a thud and instantly turns around, coming right back at Corrine.

  Frazzled and shocked by her behavior I yell, “Frickin’ cat. Get out.” I shoe her off with my hands and feet, only sustaining a couple minor scratches in the process. One last hiss escapes from her as the door shuts.

  “I’m so sorry. She’s never acted like that before.”

  Corrine gives me a look somewhere between indifference and annoyance.

  “Will you rest in here while I go downstairs?” I ask.

  She nods and then lies down on my bed curling up on her side. I glance quickly around my room looking for any sharp objects or other tools she might hurt herself with. Potted plants, blankets, pillows, and CD’s are harmless, I decide.

  Nathaniel watches us from the corner by my closet. He’s fainter in appearance. At this rate he’ll disappear altogether. He better come back. My hand reaches out to him as I leave the room, to feel him, to know he’s still with me, but my fingers pass right through him.

  “Downstairs,” I mumble.

  As I pass Jared’s room I peek inside, assuring myself my brother isn’t home. How can I begin to explain any of this? I don’t want to, that’s for sure. Then I fly down the stairs barely aware they’re under my feet. Like this entire afternoon, I’ve been a part of every moment, but it’s impossible to separate the feeling of the individual steps which have led me to this pandemonium, and panic, and strange girl, and devil-man shooting at me, and my new boyfriend fading into nothingness.

  I don’t understand the ability of my brain to multi task and I don’t completely understand how I can feel fifty different feelings at the same time, but somehow I’m managing. Maybe I have a personality disorder, or maybe it’s the people who can’t handle chaos that are labeled with that particular diagnosis. Either way I have to come up with something medicinal for Corrine, say goodbye to Nathaniel — maybe for the last time — and or, talk him into leaving so he can heal. All this, and pray my family doesn’t come home to find me talking to my invisible boyfriend while concocting an infusion which will keep Corrine from bleeding to death in my bedroom. Is this why people have mental breakdowns? Yeah, I don’t have time to worry about that right now.