Falter

by Haven Cage

  In the background, the water turned off. Soon, Layla would come out with her temper blazing.

  “Archard,” I yelled, failing to get his attention.

  The blonde home-wrecker crashed into the bedroom naked and dripping wet. “What the hell are you doing here?” she spat with fire in her eyes.

  “We’ve got to go.” Archard kneeled beside me and draped my good arm around his neck. In one quick motion, he gripped my waist and lifted me off the floor. I screamed, pain shooting from my dislocated shoulder straight to my hand. “Hold on tight.”

  Archard stood at attention, cradling me against his chest, and spread his wings out behind him. They were breath-taking. With one flex of his shoulders, his massive appendages stretched from wall to wall. A sudden, brilliant light burst from his body, whiting out everything in the room. My eyes burned, and I became blinded by the power he emitted; it was like looking at the sun from space.

  Layla shrieked, and the dark presence dissipated from the atmosphere. No more malicious temptations clouded my emotions. I still felt the immense hatred toward Layla though. Maybe not enough to kill her now, but definitely enough to hurt her.

  Archard propelled us into the air. My head swam. The world spun.

  Shit, not again. I fought to stay alert.

  “It will be okay,” my angel breathed in my ear just before I passed out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Against My Will

  Menacing shades of gray and red whirled around me like blood-tinged smoke. The unsteady motion was disorienting. I couldn’t gather my bearings.

  Where the hell was I now?

  “Hello?” I shouted. The colors shifted directions, seemingly angry at the sound of my voice. I squeezed my eyes shut and massaged my forehead; I was sure that at any moment my skull would split. “Someone, please help me,” I sniveled.

  The new stab of pain accompanying my last plea convinced me that it wasn’t a good idea to talk anymore.

  How do I get out of here? Was there a freakin’ portal I have to go through here, too?

  “Nevaeh…,” a female voice called out to me, sounding warped like a damaged cassette tape playing.

  Desperate to leave this place, I chanced the pain again. “Hello?”

  I pressed my fingers against my closed eyelids, trying to alleviate the pressure squeezing my brain like a vise grip.

  “Nevaeh, I’m so sorry, baby,” the woman apologized. “I was only trying to help.” The words were barely discernable.

  Quick flashes of a little girl, dark hair with ringlets, bombarded my thoughts. They moved so fast, I could hardly keep up. Flashes of a boat, blue maybe, speeding against a rough wake. A mental rush kicked the images to an old woman hurrying the little girl into the boat under a starless, night sky. I couldn’t see their faces. They moved with such urgency it was as if they were running away from me.

  “See, baby?”

  Everything became fuzzy. The pain in my head was excruciating.

  “I love you,” her strangled words vowed to me.

  Suddenly, it all shifted again. The shades, the pain, the visions. It was too chaotic for me to comprehend. Yet, a part of me wanted so badly to understand. It meant something important—I could feel it.

  “Wake up, dammit!” An irritated man shouted as an instant sting heated my cheek. “Get up.” He smacked me, and it felt like he’d already done it a few times by the numbing sensation taking effect.

  I attempted to gather enough wits to prevent the next slap I sensed coming, but my arms were too weak to raise. I peeked out through heavy eyelids, squinting at the bright lights beaming down on me. Archard’s muscled torso hunched over me, glaring with a half-cocked brow, his golden hair framing a very angry face.

  “What were you thinking?” he yelled. The boom of his voice echoed against the tender walls of my skull.

  “Quiet, please,” I begged.

  “Why should I be quiet? This is serious, Nevaeh. You were going to kill someone.”

  His accusation was sobering. I started to remember the details of my failed attempt at taking Layla’s life.

  “I didn’t though. Does that still count?” I wanted to retract my sarcasm the moment it reared its ugly head. Maybe this wasn’t the time to be difficult.

  “Only because I stopped you.” His tone was more concerned than angry now. “Do you understand what would have happened if you had taken her life?” Fear flickered in his steel expression.

  “Apparently not,” I spat. “Why were you there anyway?” I sat up and froze once my feet touched the floor, holding as still as possible until my rolling insides settled. settled. A dull throb pulsated in my shoulder, not the excruciating pain I felt before I blacked out. I assumed Archard had reduced my dislocation while I was unconscious.

  “Apparently not?” he shouted back in disbelief, completely ignoring my question. “You would have been lost to us forever. Lost to me.” His voice raised an octave.

  He was worried.

  “Who said I’m not already lost to you?” I sneered, narrowing my eyes. “Who said I was yours to lose?”

  “Once you’ve killed in cold blood...,” he turned his face away from my line of sight, “You’re too vulnerable to do such a thing. It will take over you.”

  The angel strode over to a small table and poured water from a pitcher into a clear glass. I took the moment to study him. His feet were delightfully bare. Faded jeans were belted snugly to his waist, the bottom of his pant legs slightly frayed from dragging on the ground and constant wear. A plain, black tee shirt clung to his broad, lean chest. I trailed my eyes up the glittering flecks of gold nestled in cream and deep purple feathers that swayed with his movements and noticed two holes ripped in the fabric on his back, fitting tight around the bases of his wings. The edges of the holes were jagged and tattered as if his wings had shredded the material when they pushed through.

  Did those things retract?

  His steps portrayed confidence and unwavering strength as he made his way back to me, muscles straining against the bindings of his clothing. Such an awe-inspiring sight—and such an inappropriate time to be thinking this way. I had a hunch that feeling would always accompany him when we were close. However, his magnetism was measurably more faint than usual.

  I realized I couldn’t be around him without some part of me wanting to surrender to him though. I, also, realized it wasn’t just because he was an angel.

  I cleared my throat. “Taken over by what?” I asked, grabbing the cup he offered and lifting it to my lips. The cool water quenched my thirst while the embers of desire, which the water couldn’t touch, prayed to be extinguished.

  He studied me, his brows pinching together in disbelief. “Nevaeh, don’t you understand what happened?”

  “Not really. I just know I wanted to kill her. And, more than anything, I wanted to be with…whoever it was that was controlling me.” I stared down at my feet, avoiding the judgment in his eyes.

  “The Devil is trying to reach you, and you are leaving the door wide open,” he growled.

  “Sorry. It’s just…it’s all a little too hard to believe,” I huffed.

  “It shouldn’t be so unbelievable. You’ve been seeing these types of things for a while now.” He licked his lower lip and sighed. “Why won’t you choose?” he breathed.

  “I can’t yet. Not with George being held captive. I can’t leave him there.”

  I brushed some fallen hair from my face and looked to the ceiling, bating back the moisture welling in my eyes. “And I’m still undecided. I’m not sure I want to do this. It’s so much responsibility.” Warm tears spilled onto my cheeks.

  “How can you still be undecided after all this?”

  My eyes darted down from the ceiling and focused on his grimacing face. “It’s not that simple for me, Archard. I only just accepted that there was a God recently, and I’m have some issues with how he likes to stay in the background. Besides that, I care about George too much to just let his so
ul rot in that fucking place.” Needing desperately to escape his hard stare, I glanced at my feet again.

  The conversation/dream I had about God lingered in the back of my mind, but I wasn’t convinced it was a true message. I still hadn’t figured out how to differentiate the crazy dreams I normally had from the ominous visions I was receiving as of late. Until I learned how to do that, there was no need to delve into that with Archard right now.

  I stood up quickly, anxious to leave the room and his certain judgment, but my legs failed me. I fell clumsily back to the bed. “You just don’t understand,” I said under my breath.

  In one surprisingly intense moment, Archard scooped me off the bed and gripped my arms, holding me upright. His hypnotizing, aqua eyes stared into mine, feverishly trying to relay some unsaid message.

  I was fully aware of the yearning in my core, still faint but undeniable. There was a building ache between my thighs. I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t want to. My breath quickened, and my eyes shut tight. His touch was too much for my senses. That damn fragrance of honey and happiness.

  I was fine until he touched me, dammit.

  The longer he held me, the more I melted in his hands. “I do understand, Nevaeh.” Pulling me closer, he exhaled softly against my ear, “Why do you think I’m here?”

  His lips were like satin gliding over my earlobe. Energy fluxed between our bodies, heightening my awareness of how insufferably close I was to him. If I just turned my head a bit, I could taste him. I would taste Heaven once again.

  “Why do you think I left my home to live in this unholy place, filled with people who care nothing about the beings that fight for them every day, never receiving acknowledgement or gratitude for our sacrifices?” His voice was thick with pain and love all at once.

  “I don’t know. Why would you do such a thing?” I breathed, entranced by his heat engulfing my body.

  His face moved away from mine. I drank in his divine features, analyzing each crease and plane. He made hiding emotions seem effortless. Slowly, he let go of my arms and left me to support the dead weight of my body on my own.

  “Won’t you answer me?” I waited for him to give me a reason to surrender to this yearning— for him to convince me of his holiness and all he symbolized. “Why did you leave Heaven?”

  “I just want you to see that you’re not the only one risking someone’s soul in this thing.” A quick flare of emotion stirred in his expression. He wasn’t as hard as he’d like me to believe. “Think about why you’re doing it for George.”

  It wasn’t the same. I love George. He’d taken care of me, so I should take care of him. It’s my fault he’s in Hell.

  “Come on. I have some people I want you to meet.”

  Before I could reply, he turned and headed toward the door with his majestic wings sweeping behind him, the interwoven gold feathers gleaming under the bright overhead lights. I resisted the urge to reach out and touch the softness swaying before me as I followed him.

  We walked in silence down a long, carpeted hallway of what looked like an abandoned factory. There were a few vacant offices lining the corridor, as well as four large rooms housing some kind of looming machines, each designated for producing different materials. He passed those rooms, leading me toward the solid, steel door marked Employees Only at the end.

  As we moved closer, I noticed a familiar blend of an undecipherable melody. It was lovely. Soon I realized, I was no longer following Archard but the angelic sounds reverberating into the hall.

  “Brace yourself. They are not as subdued as I.” He tugged down on the handle and pushed.

  “Subdued?” My brow wrinkled as I looked up at Archard, confused, and slipped past him to enter the room beyond.

  I was instantly compelled to weep at their magnificence.

  My eyes perused over all fifteen of them, following every graceful movement. Some swooped through the room, some hovered above the ground, and others battled each other on the floor. They communicated in a heavenly language that sounded like orchestral harmony, each note weaving and overlapping another with unidentifiable precision. I’d never seen or heard anything so unearthly beautiful.

  Every single being had their own uniquely decorated wings. Different hues of white lay soft against contrasting rainbows of colored tips. Glints of gold, silver, and coppery metals peeked through the whites, catching the light just right—like stars twinkling across the large room.

  They weren’t all men, but they were all ridiculously strong and agile. They fought one another, anticipating their battle partner’s movements as if they had watched them do it a thousand times before. It was a dance of war, rather than the act of it.

  My emotions betrayed me. Tears wet my cheeks, not because I was upset, but because the yearning was too great. The need to worship these creatures surpassed any other need. I wanted to love them, to do their bidding, and to surrender myself to each and every one of them.

  I peered up at Archard and tried to ask for freedom from this overwhelming effect, but I couldn’t speak. My skin tightened and puckered, my bra and panties becoming uncomfortably restricting.

  Unable to fend off the urges any longer, my wobbly legs gave out, and I dropped to the ground. I crawled slowly across the dirty, cement floor, tugging at my abrasive clothes. I needed to show them what I had to offer, give them every bit of me I could.

  I needed them to fix me. Love me. Want me. Bless me.

  Archard belted a fragment of their language out from behind me somewhere. It sounded urgent, but I was too fixated on the angels in front of me to be concerned. I continued on my path and felt the cool air chill my skin when I finally broke free from the scratchy fabric of my shirt. The sensation made me ache for them even more. I wondered how tender and warm their touch would be against my hungry body.

  When Archard finished speaking, there was a disruption in the atmosphere. All the angels turned toward us and stilled. Surprised expressions furrowed their glorious faces as they watched me slink across the floor like a cat in heat.

  The vague sound of Archard’s heavy steps pounded closer to me. I was suddenly lifted upright by the back of my pants, my belt cutting into my stomach as he jerked me to a stop. I looked back at him with wide eyes, not understanding his actions until he flung my shirt across my chest. The sneer on his face sobered my lustful drunkenness. I clung to the fabric draped over my breasts, embarrassed. I was very much aware of myself again as the intense desire subsided somewhat.

  “I told you to brace yourself,” Archard said angrily through gritted teeth.

  The allure of the others retracted enough that I felt the comfortable heat of Archard’s energy calling me back to him. “You didn’t tell me what the hell I was up against.” My cheeks flushed with shame and irritation as I hurriedly pulled my shirt back over my head. What did he think was going to happen? It’s like throwing a hungry wolf into a flock of sheep and expecting it not to eat.

  As curious faces stared at us—all of them smirking at the scene of Archard and me arguing—I realized that they were the wolves, and I was the lone lamb. Unfortunately, their collective pull had only stopped at a dull throb instead of continuing to fade completely away. I could handle that without taking my panties off, though.

  “Nevaeh, these are my brothers and sisters. They are Earthbound as I am.” With his temper slowly calming, he placed his hand at the small of my back and gently pushed me forward.

  “So you are fallen?” I asked, remembering what Malach had said about some of them taking a leave of absence.

  “No.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile. “Not fallen, that would be those in Hell. We are bound to Earth because we’ve chosen to detach ourselves for the time being.”

  I shouted that lingering question in my mind, hoping he could hear me as I’d heard him before.

  Are you my Guardian?

  I felt the answer in my gut, but I needed validation.

  No response crossed his lips, only a knowing gaze
from his aqua eyes. He knew what I wanted to know. He just didn’t want to answer.

  “You must be The Clavis,” a deep voice accused from the crowd of angels approaching us. The words rang harshly in my ears as I searched for the one who’d asked.

  “No.” The single defining word left my mouth before I knew it, and to my surprise it felt wrong. In my heart, I knew there was a nagging hope imploring that I say yes. But in the reality of things, how could someone with so little faith—in anything—carry such an important title? I refused to take claim of something that I may not be—may not want to be, for that matter. How could these beings have so much belief in someone who has so little?

  “Yes,” Archard corrected. “This is Nevaeh.” He stood tall and stately beside me. Something was different about the vibe he put off, like he was sending a silent message to the others, requiring every bit of their attention and respect.

  The energy he emitted was intimidating. I leaned away from him, barely enough for anyone to notice. Yet, he did. His disapproving eyes darted to me, lips in a thin, tight line. I marveled at the suddenly rigid stance of his body, all flexed muscle and fevered warning. His normally graceful wings stiffened, twitching in anticipation.

  Archard saw me taking note of his posture and relaxed, but only a fraction. His gaze returned to the other angels. “She will be staying here. We need to instruct her.”

  “Wait! What?” I couldn’t believe it. He was holding me hostage?

  He didn’t acknowledge my surprised reaction. “We will need to show her how to defend herself against them…and us.” His eyes roamed the crowd of heavenly creatures and waited for arguments. No one spoke up, not even those with disapproving scowls.

  I grabbed his arm, demanding his focus. “No. I never said I would stay with you. I want to go home. You can’t keep me here.”

  Archard’s fingers wrapped around my wrist and detached my hand from his forearm. He glowered down at me with a clear warning in his eyes as he spoke. “Seems to me, you don’t have a home. And you obviously can’t keep control of your wits.” His words stung my pride.