Falter

  In spite of my protective reaction, I was sure he sensed that I desperately wanted him. I could feel my body involuntarily leaning in to get closer to the angel. My breath was deep and heady, and there was a lack of conviction behind my words. It was incredibly hard to deny the fact that I wanted nothing more than his arms to embrace me and to feel his massive hands sweep across my cheek.

  “Why does it matter now? I thought the demon took his soul.”

  Gavyn approached me from behind, softly grabbed my forearm, and slid his hand down to mine. “Let him go. I will explain. George’s body is safer with them.”

  The sincerity in his tone begged me to trust him.

  Staring into his kind eyes, I remembered my developing feelings for him. My real emotions bubbled to the surface and erased the lust and need pulling my soul toward Malach. It wasn’t the pining for the angel I felt anymore, but a growing infatuation for the man in front of me. I made a quick mental note not to trust myself, or what I felt, around the heavenly being. I smiled sadly at Gavyn and nodded with assurance that I would let whatever happened happen and trust his judgment.

  Just then, a warm breeze floated through the room, twirling my hair around my neck as tiny raindrops began to fall around us. I looked to the ceiling and found a growing puddle softening the surface above me once again. The sides stretched farther and farther with each swirl of circulating water. It was tamer this time.

  “Guess I’ll see you guys later.” Malach widened his stance and stiffened his back, pulling George’s shell closer against his body. His massive shimmering wings unfolded behind him and took my breath away. He was beautiful. It almost hurt to see him leave. I wanted to kneel and weep at his pureness.

  As if by cue, tears flooded my eyes when he flexed the masses of white feathers up. The angel was leaving me here with my misery.

  “Wait,” I demanded. I ran to George and gently took his left hand in mine. The thin, gold band slipped off his finger with ease.

  I pushed the dulled circle of metal onto my thumb, spinning it around a few times as I thought about the hope that George had to see his family again and how he’d been denied that chance.

  I squeezed George’s hand one last time and lowered it, planting a kiss on his cold, gaunt cheek. Stepping backward, I stared down at the bare strip of skin on his ring finger. The flesh where his ring used to be was paler than the rest of his hand. I continued spinning the band on my thumb as the weight of grief constricted my chest. This hunk of dented gold would be all I have left of him now.

  I tore my eyes from George’s shell and looked up at Malach. I nodded. Malach silently returned the nod and bowed his head, acknowledging my unspoken permission to take George. In one vigorous motion downward, the angel’s powerful wings rocketed him and the corpse up through the watery vortex. The ceiling smoothed and hardened, assuming its true form.

  I stopped sobbing for the angel’s departure the moment the portal closed, yet, a single tear trickled down my cheek after they departed. It carried only a drop of the sorrow shredding my heart to pieces, but that one fell solely for George.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  A Whole New World

  Silently, I said my goodbyes to the last of George and turned toward Gavyn, wrapping my arms tight around his waist. Inhaling his cedar scent, I tried desperately to lose myself in his warmth. He held me in a gentle embrace and kissed the top of my head. With my ear to his chest, I heard him breathe me in.

  I lifted my gaze to meet his and searched for some hint of his thoughts. His eyes clouded with regret and worry.

  Did he regret welcoming me into his life?

  I averted my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see any more signs of disappointment. He lifted his hands to either side of my head, urging me to look back at him. His strong fingers threaded through my hair and stopped when his palms reached my temples. He traced his thumbs over my brows, smoothing the creases I had unconsciously created there. I closed my eyes and savored his consoling touch.

  The warmth of his breath intensified when he lowered his face to mine. Even with my eyes closed, I could sense him smiling as he hovered just above me. I smiled too, thinking about how much I wanted him to kiss me, to love my pain away.

  Though it seemed like centuries, only a few seconds passed before I finally felt the dampness of his lips. Every cell in my body jolted to life. One small kiss, then another and another—increasing in passion and pressure; the next one more engaging than the last. His tongue gently slid between my lips, persuading my mouth to open under his.

  I traced my hands up his back and neck, then tangled my fingers in his hair. Pulling his mouth harder against mine, I deepened the kiss, welcoming him into my soul.

  A surge of adrenaline charged through my body. Tiny moans escaped my mouth, making apparent the growing need inside me. His breath became heavy and fast with each stroke of our tongues. He pressed me into him, grinding our bodies together, digging his fingertips into my flesh. My mind focused on the raw intensity of our connection and almost forgot about the world around us, about the devastation of losing George.

  Gavyn growled, lightening his kisses before reluctantly breaking away. I groaned from the loss of connection and opened my eyes. He smiled and lowered his forehead to rest against mine. “I’ll make us some tea. We have a lot to talk about,” he panted.

  Of course. Now that I didn’t want to talk—I just wanted to get lost in him and forget—he was all up for a conversation.

  I tugged the wrinkles out of my shirt and tucked my hair back behind my ears. “Ok.”

  I padded to the bathroom to straighten my disheveled emotions while Gavyn made tea. Feelings of apprehension surfaced. Even though I needed answers, I wanted to pretend that nothing life changing had happened and move on. With Gavyn. I wanted to discuss how we felt about each other, not monsters and angels, or death and afterlife. It was selfish of me, I know, but it hurt too much to think about the recent events. It felt easier to deny them.

  The whistle of a teapot screamed down the hall as I stared into the mirror, searching for the girl I once was. Dark circles of sadness and exhaustion underlined my eyes. I sighed and rubbed my palms over my face, attempting to wipe away the signs of tragedy—with no success. I marched out of the bathroom disgusted with the embodiment of sorrow and confusion I had become.

  Gavyn met me at the end, holding a steaming mug of earthy, amber-colored liquid. I accepted the tea, inhaling the alleviating aroma into my sinuses, and took a sip. He watched me closely, gauging my demeanor.

  I shuffled to the futon and sat down, taking notice of the pinkish hues sluggishly gliding into the room from the bay window. A new day was dawning.

  Gavyn disappeared down the hall and returned with a throw blanket. He wrapped it snuggly around my shoulders. I looked up at him, smiling with appreciation, and tugged it tighter to me. Sitting beside me, he opened his mouth as if to say something then closed it again. His lips curved in a tender smile.”Where would you like to start?”

  I didn’t know where to start. I didn’t even quite understand where my reality ended and the new one began. I kept expecting to wake up in the leather chair and see George lying on the futon, feeling better after a nasty virus.

  Gavyn must’ve sensed the anxiety clawing at my chest. “How about we start with what you do know.” He cupped his hand over my thigh and lightly squeezed. That strange, uncontrollable calmness waved through me again, pushing the anxiety back into its hiding place.

  “How do you do that? Make me calm down so easily?”

  “It’s my gift.”

  I chuckled. “Uh…a little sure of yourself aren’t you?”

  He grinned. “No, Nevaeh, what I mean is that it’s a gift given to me by God.”

  “By God?” I asked in disbelief, breaking out into hysterical laughter.

  Why was that so hard to believe? In the past six hours, I witnessed a soul-sucking demon who emerged through—and back into—a solid wall as if it were paper, after it too
k the spirit of the only father I could remember. I’d also been graced by the influential presence of an angel who descended through an upside down rain puddle, scooped up George’s body, and ascended back into the puddle to enter the Heavens. But this—Gavyn having a God given gift—was hard to believe?

  He patiently waited for me to work it out, nodding with reassurance when he saw the light bulb of acceptance turn on in my eyes.

  “When did you get this gift, and what exactly is it?” I questioned quietly, not sure if I really wanted to know.

  “I have the gift of emotional influence, but I’m also considered an Inductor—someone who sets out to recruit Celata to our side before they are tempted to join the Dark. My influence is a tool for my actual vocation, so to speak.” He observed me closely, speaking in slow sentences so as not to lose me in the details. “I have known what I am for about ten years now.”

  I interrupted him to clear a passing thought. “Around the same time you last saw Malach?”

  “Yes. Malach was the angel that explained to me what I am.” He sighed and fixed his gaze on the colorful view out the window. “I’d lost my last living relative—my father. I was desperate, alone, and angry. Strange things were happening to those who came around me. I noticed that everyone I physically got close to was as angry as I was for no reason—violent at times even. I would see a person on the street laughing and joking with a friend, and as soon as I came within three feet of them…it was like throwing a switch. They immediately became maddened. Sometimes the feeling they got from me only amplified their own anger.”

  His glossy eyes lowered to his lap.

  “One person, in particular, went into a deep rage. I was sitting on a bench, waiting for the next bus to come. Despair toyed with my emotions, made me obsess over my dad’s murder. The pure hatred I held onto was unreal.

  “I got so worked up, I started crying and hyperventilating. I turned to the man next to me and grabbed his arm for help, but I couldn’t catch my breath to ask. The man’s happy expression morphed into this dark, deceitful sneer. He stood up, gripped his umbrella, and walked to the woman passing us on the sidewalk. I was frozen to the bench, unable to do anything but watch as he stabbed the umbrella into the woman’s chest.”

  Sadness clouded his face as he went silent for a moment, replaying the memories in his mind.

  “She was twenty. So young.” He took a deep breath and turned his eyes to me. “It was chaos. People ran to help her, mothers shrouded their children from the scene, and the man with the umbrella…he fell to his knees and wept while begging for forgiveness for what he’d done. I can still picture his face and pinpoint the exact moment when he understood what happened—the disbelief in his frightened eyes when he realized it was his hand that took the woman’s life. Only it really wasn’t him. It was me.”

  “So because you were in so much pain, it transferred to that man and caused him to react to it?” My heart ached for him—and the poor woman who died.

  “Yeah, pretty much. I ran when the police and rescue showed up. It was dark and cold by then. Malach found me at an abandoned playground miles away from the bus-stop, huddled in a ball on the ground.” A smile crept across his mouth. “He was giving off a glow so bright that I had to squint to look at him. When I asked what he was, he told me he was an Archangel.” Gavyn paused, scrutinizing my expression—probably waiting for me to question his confession.

  I nodded my head, urging him to continue. There was no way I could deny the claim that Malach was an angel.

  “He told me about a race of people on earth that were born with gifts. Malach called them Celatum—The Hidden. These people come into their gifts at different ages, usually around a tragic time in their lives. Each individual can do different things…has different powers. So it’s almost impossible to know who is a Celata until right before they are aware themselves.”

  Sensing the change in my demeanor when I glanced at the floor, he allowed me to soak it in and waited for the questions he knew I was forming.

  “So that’s why you weren’t sure if I was one of these Celatum or not?” Gavyn gave a quick nod and let me piece more of the puzzle together. “But you did know that something terrible was going to happen…and you didn’t warn me?” Anger tore through me like a hot blade. He could have told me something bad was coming, even if he didn’t know exactly what, but he didn’t.

  “I didn’t know this would happen, Nevaeh. I swear. I was hopin’ that you livin’ on the streets was tragedy enough.” Regret flared in his eyes. He really had hoped the tragedy of my upbringing had been a sufficient torture for my initiation.

  “But what about my gift? Wouldn’t it have shown by now if that was the case?”

  “I thought maybe you just didn’t recognize it, yet.”

  I cradled my face in the refuge of my hands and continued processing while he went on.

  “Just like we all come into the gifts at different times, the intensity is different, too. These powers are personalized to our souls. Some come into them all at once, others take years to develop. Malach says we vary so much to signify God’s love for the things inside us that make us unique—the pieces of our souls that make us special to him.”

  “But I’ve never had a relationship with God. Why would I be given such a gift? Hell, up until now, I wasn’t convinced there was a God…and I’m still not sure I’m on His side.” I let the last few words trail in a whisper, almost ashamed of my lacking faith.

  “Just because you don’t believe in Him, doesn’t mean He turns His back on you. He is there whether you accept Him or not, waiting for your soul’s return to its maker.”

  “And if I don’t want to accept Him, or this gift?” I asked smugly, showing the doubt I harbored for Gavyn’s Lord.

  “Why wouldn’t you, Nevaeh? You’ve seen a glimpse of the players in this game. Why would you choose not to be one of us?”

  “Is it really a choice? I don’t remember anyone asking me if I wanted to give up George for some damn power. I didn’t even know all this existed until he got ripped from my life,” I yelled, twisting the edges of the blanket into a bunch. Seeing the surprise in Gavyn’s expression made me realize how close I was to losing it. This wasn’t his fault. I couldn’t blame him.

  I lowered my voice, composing myself. “Just tell me the rest of what you know. I don’t want to talk about the personal side of it all, yet. I just need the information…please.” I drew in a deep, slow breath. Gavyn reached out to offer a consoling touch, but I leaned away, retreating into the crook of the armrest behind me. Could I still trust him?

  He sighed and lowered his hand, looking a little offended, but he continued. “All humans are born with purpose—even if it’s only to produce more humans and teach them God’s way. We were fashioned to help in the Heavenly War. Our innocent souls are kissed to life. The plans of our lives are laid out on a map, so to speak. God knows the destination of every path we might take, but it’s our choice which path we walk. If we take the path not meant for us, we can direct our lives back towards the original plan. However, we have to suffer the consequences that formed from the decisions we previously made. The plan is always predestined, but never certain. With each new conflict and new choice, the rest of our life’s path can shift.”

  “I don’t understand. What does this have to do with the gifts and the Celatum?” I shook my head, attempting to rattle things into place.

  “Like every other choice we come across, to accept the gift and how we use it is in our hands. You can deny the gift and move on with your life, but you will never forget what happened. You won’t stop seeing this world of ours. You just kinda float through life dormant, but aware.” He looked to the ceiling suggestively, then back at me, grinning. “Or you can choose sides and be part of a battle that is bigger than anything most will ever fathom.”

  “Choose sides?”

  Gavyn nodded. “He wants us to choose him, so he gives us the option instead of forcin’ us. The gift stays wit
h us in the hope that if we join the Dark Celatum, it might remind us of his love every day we are away from him.” He exhaled a heavy breath then slouched back into the cushions, resting his head on the back of the futon. “I guess we are so important that He will let His own weapons be used against Him if it means one day they might return to Him.”

  We hushed for a minute, contemplating the grand gesture of God’s sacrifice. Then, I realized that we somehow wandered away from Gavyn’s story. “So…after Malach explained about the free will thing and the Celatum, what happened?”

  Gavyn’s expression relaxed. The fact that I was asking questions must have assured him that I wasn’t going to run—yet.

  “Malach only came to me because the pain eating away at me was harming others. You see, Archangels don’t usually deal with us on a personal level. Their duties are on a much higher scale than dealing with humans individually, but I was becoming too dangerous to leave unchecked.

  “He explained that my gift was very useful when controlled but could be disastrous in the wrong hands. To the heavenly beings, it was important enough that they broke their cover and told me about my gift before I came into it completely—and before one of the Dark recruiters got to me. I learned that I had to let go of the pain and channel it into what it was meant for, before I unintentionally killed anyone else.” His gaze flickered with a hint of the guilt buried deep in his heart.

  “So do you always control other people’s emotions?” I asked, refocusing the conversation away from his troubled thoughts.

  He chuckled softly. “No. And it’s not really controlling. I call it swaying. A little more subtle than a push, but more forceful than an urge.” A playfulness lightened his tone.

  “How often have you used it on me?” Images of him kissing me in the hallway danced before me. Did I really like it as much as I did, or was that him swaying me?

  “Not often. I’ve only used it on you to relieve some of the anxiety during what’s happened in the past few days. It was a very low intensity. I didn’t want to numb you. Just wanted to help you cope a little better.” He looked down at his hands. “Does it help?” he asked timidly.