Revelation: Trinity Part 1

by Gemma Humphrey

  “The only thing that defines where you are right now is you,” he said, reaching out to take her hand. “If you convince yourself that you’re back in my flat –”

  Rose blinked and found herself standing next to Christian’s sofa.

  “You will be.”

  “Huh,” Was all Rose could manage, as she focused on not falling over. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you?”

  Christian grinned, his eyes sparkling. “A little.”

  “It’s alright for you,” she grumbled, as her stomach settled. “You’re used to all this angelic …” she searched for the right word, “stuff.”

  “Is that a technical term?” He raised an eyebrow, amused.

  “Wait,” Rose asked, remembering an earlier conversation. “Didn’t you say you had wings in Purgatory?”

  Christian smiled as her eyes flicked to his shoulders. “Only if I choose to unfurl them.”

  “Can I see?” she asked eagerly, wondering if they were as she remembered.

  “Yes,” he said, grinning, “If you can get to Purgatory on your own.”

  Rose felt their weight shift as he spoke, returning them to the Mortal Plane. She blinked at the sudden switch to colour, her stomach turning over. She sat down onto the sofa, wincing.

  “Are you okay?” Christian asked.

  Rose nodded, her eyes closed. He sat next to her, rubbing her back until she opened her eyes. “That’s going to take some getting used to,” she said.

  Christian nodded. “It gets easier.”

  “My turn?” she asked.

  “If you’re ready,” he grinned before disappearing.

  “Show off,” Rose muttered to the air around her as she shut her eyes, concentrating. She focused on shifting her weight as she’d felt Christian do, letting her senses guide her. Feeling the pressure change after a couple of attempts, she opened her eyes in delight.

  “I did it,” she turned to find Christian, who had moved to stand behind the sofa.

  “I knew you would.”

  Rose moved to stand in front of him, her heart fluttering in anticipation of their deal. Christian’s heart hammered in response, and she paused.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “It’s nothing,” he said, sheepishly. “I just … don’t want you to be afraid.”

  Rose rolled her eyes, smiling at the thought of ever being afraid of him. “Show me.”

  He took a deep breath and stood a little straighter, removing his shirt and hanging it over the back of the sofa. Rose, never tired of looking at his perfect form, heard the sound of his wings unfurling, the gentle whisper of silk running over silk. Her eyes widened as they came into view over his shoulders.

  Incredible, pure white feathers lifted up above his head before unfolding out to an impossible size, spanning at least ten feet and filling the room with a pale white light.

  Rose’s breath hitched in her throat, the echo of pain and fear from the accident trembling through her. Sensing it, Christian stepped forward in alarm, his wings curling in against his back in one sharp rustle of feathers.

  “I’m okay.” She took a breath, shaking off the feeling. “Just … memories.”

  Christian’s face cleared in understanding and he reached out, taking her hands in his as she looked over his shoulder, tracing the curve of one exquisite wing in awe.

  “Can I …Can I touch them?” she asked, hesitantly.

  He nodded.

  Rose moved behind him as he unfolded them. They were breathtakingly glorious in their opulence, each ivory feather as perfect as the next.

  She reached out tentatively, her fingers trailing over their heavy softness in delight. They felt like silk; soft and smooth and impossibly easy for her hand to glide across. Each individual feather seemed to rise up into her palm as she swept over it, causing Christian to tip his head back with a gasp.

  “Did I hurt you?” Rose snatched her hand away in alarm. Christian’s wings retracted sharply, and he turned to face her, pulling her to him.

  “No, Love.”

  Rose felt his heart beat under her hands, faster than usual.

  “Just surprised me is all.” He smiled as he registered her confusion. “It felt … good,” he admitted. “I didn’t expect it to feel like that.”

  Rose’s eyes grew large as understanding dawned. “Hasn’t anyone touched your wings before?”

  He shook his head.

  Rose reached out to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him to her. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered before she kissed him, reaching up onto her toes.

  He kissed her back, his arms going around her, his tenderness sending ripples of love to wash over her in waves.

  Rose moved her hands across his shoulders until they connected with the top of his wings, surprised to feel the solid, bone-like structure there. Christian groaned against her mouth, deepening the kiss as her hands trailed experimentally over the silky softness quivering beneath her fingers. They moved suddenly, as Christian pushed them forward, enclosing her in a hazy circle of light.

  Rose had never felt as safe as she did in that moment; as protected, as loved. She felt his wings tighten around her, feathers tickling the backs of her knees, as Christian pulled back breathlessly.

  “Fly with me?” he asked.

  Rose nodded, gasping in delight as he picked her up, gathering her to him.

  “Close your eyes.”

  “Why?” she asked, wanting to see.

  Christian grinned and nodded up. “Because I’m about to jump through the ceiling.”

  Rose closed her eyes, her heart in her mouth as he braced himself, pushing off from the ground. She held on tightly, trusting him to take them where he wanted, feeling the air streaming past her and hearing the steady beat of his wings as they propelled them higher.

  “Rose.”

  It seemed like no time at all before she heard Christian’s low whisper and opened her eyes. He was gazing at her, his eyes filled with elation. “Look around?” He practically glowed with excitement.

  Rose made the mistake of looking down first, clinging to him as she took in the ground beneath her – further away than she had expected given their short flight.

  “I won’t let you go,” Christian chuckled, holding her tightly. “You’re safe.”

  He grinned, euphoric, and she forgot her fear. The sky was an inky black filled with ashen grey clouds, pregnant and swollen with rain as they moved above her head, seeming substantial enough to touch. The moon was the only light in the sky, bathing them in an ethereal shimmer and lighting up the rain around them as it fell to pepper the ground below.

  “Why are we not soaked right now?” she asked, confused, as Christian beat a path through the night.

  “The rain is on Earth,” he said, his eyes flashing in the dim light. “We’re not.”

  Rose understood more through that than any of their previous disjointed conversation, gazing around her in new comprehension.

  “What do you think?” he asked after a while, watching her intently as she took it all in.

  Rose turned to him, eyes wide. “It’s incredible,” she said, in awe.

  Christian smiled in delight, kissing her hard. “I’ve never done this with anyone before,” he admitted, as he pulled back. His eyes shone, betraying his happiness, and tears sprung to her eyes as she realised what it meant to him. He shifted her in his arms, letting her legs drop and pulling her back against his chest, his arms wrapping around her to stop her from falling as his head lowering to her shoulder.

  Rose looked down, sucking in a breath as she took in the expanse below her as Christian trailed kisses down her neck. There was nothing between her and the horizon and she’d never felt so free.

  She squeezed the arms that encircled her, and his smile tickled against her skin. They fell slowly through the sky, watching the ground as it got closer, the bleached out colour making it look alien as the rain glittered around them.

  Rose closed her eye
s as they hovered over the city, the buildings seeming so small now. She turned her face into Christian’s shoulder and let him take them back through the strangely flickering walls, knowing that she didn’t want to experience that just yet.

  She turned the moment her feet hit solid ground, throwing her arms around Christian’s neck, overcome. He hugged her back, sharing his joy with her, knowing that words would never convey how he felt in that moment.

  ***

  Neither moved for a long while, content to hold each other until their hearts slowed, before Christian tugged her onto the sofa, his wings tucking in at his back.

  Rose wiped her eyes as he smiled fondly, reaching out to smooth her hair from her face.

  “Are you ready to go back?” he asked. He folded his wings behind him, and Rose marvelled at the way they shimmered as they moved before disappearing from view. She nodded, taking his hands and closing her eyes, feeling the pressure change as they returned to the Mortal Plane, the colour around her making everything look vivid. Alive.

  She crawled onto Christian’s lap, needing to be close after their shared experience. He hugged her tight, before pulling back, his eyes soft.

  “Ben and Ana are here,” he said, nodding at the door. He lifted her from his lap, depositing her onto the sofa and grabbing his shirt before getting up, already halfway across the room before the knock came.

  Rose tried to look as if she hadn’t just been through an earth shattering experience as Ben and Ana greeted Christian. They made their way into the room, hesitating as they took in Rose’s tear stained appearance.

  “Have you two been fighting again?” Ben asked, his eyes flashing to Christian.

  “No,” Rose smiled, as Christian shut the door and returned to her. “Not fighting.”

  Ben raised his eyebrows expectantly as he settled into the armchair. It was big enough for both him and Ana to curl up in comfortably.

  “We took a trip to Purgatory,” Christian explained, sitting down beside Rose. She immediately snuggled into him. “Rose was learning how to do it.”

  “And it made her cry?” Ben asked, sceptically.

  Christian chuckled, turning to Rose.

  “He showed me his wings,” Rose said, her eyes never leaving his. “And then we flew through the rain.”

  Ben assessed them and snorted. “Is that a euphemism for something I don’t want to know about?”

  But Ana smiled in understanding. “My mum said my dad’s wings were the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.”

  “She saw them?” Rose asked, looking over.

  “Apparently they appeared just before he concluded.” Ana smiled wistfully. “I don’t remember, I was too young.”

  Ben pulled her closer as Rose smiled at Christian.

  “They are amazing,” she said, in awe. “It was amazing.”

  Christian squeezed her hand, kissing the top of her head as she settled back against him, feeling his body still thrumming with contentment.

  “Sure it was,” Ben grinned, amusement lighting his eyes, and Rose smiled sheepishly.

  “So what are we doing tonight?” he asked. “Pizza?” He glanced around the room to see if everyone was in agreement. “I want pizza.”

  “When do you not want pizza?” Rose asked, reluctantly pulling herself out of Christian’s arms.

  Ben grinned as he dragged Ana up out of the chair. “You’re paying,” he advised, turning to Christian with a cheeky grin.

  “How unusual.” Christian shrugged good-naturedly, even as he sighed that of a long suffering man. He helped Rose into her coat, taking her hand as Ben pushed open the door for Ana.

  “Hey, you’re on the teacher’s salary, Professor,” Ben shot back as they headed out.

  Rose and Ana shared an amused glance as the boys continued to banter back and forth, their laughter muffled as the door swung slowly shut behind them.

  ***

  Nate was reclined on a huge sofa, vodka in one hand, remote in the other as he flicked through TV channels, when Elle arrived, calling for him even as her key turned in the door.

  Nate switched off the TV before making his way to the hall to find her, wrapped in a hooded fur coat, waving her car keys at him.

  “Bags in the boot,” she cooed in greeting, “would you be a dear?”

  Nathaniel bowed mockingly. “It would be my absolute pleasure.”

  “Aww…” Elle preened, already heading for the stairs, “So silly. Bring them to the master suite for me darling – and no peaking.”

  The February air demanded more than the jeans and tee-shirt he had been lounging in, but the effort of finding a jacket seemed somehow more egregious than getting the job done and back to the warmth of the house as quickly as possible, so he stepped into the cold determinedly.

  It wasn’t just the boot, he realised, as he crunched across the gravel driveway. Every spare seat and surface of Elle’s tiny white sports car was covered in bags from Cambridge’s finest couturiers, and only by looping the handles up his forearms, was he able to carry everything up to the enormous first floor bedroom. Elle was busying herself, throwing items from the wardrobe onto the floor at her feet.

  “Pop them on the bed,” she said, without turning around. “I just need to make some space.”

  Bedsides the ‘Master Suite’, this latest property in Elle’s portfolio had three enormous guest bedrooms. Nate pictured them all, the huge floor-to-ceiling wardrobes holding nothing but empty hangers, a long-suffering smile lifting his features.

  “For the ball?” Nate queried.

  “Hmm?” Elle waited a few seconds before glancing over her shoulder. Nate gestured at the bags and Elle laughed broadly.

  “It’s February darling. This May Ball is in the spring.”

  “Nate blinked, unsure of the correlation, and Elle faced him fully.

  “Do you really see me attending in last season’s clothes?”

  Nate sighed as understanding dawned. “How silly of me.”

  Elle smiled, wrapping her arms around Nates neck, and kissing him firmly. “It’s okay darling,” she murmured, amused. “The only fashion knowledge you need is knowing what looks good on me.”

  Releasing him, she turned back to the clothes. “I got all excited at the idea of a ball,” she explained, talking into the wardrobe, “but I’m bored of waiting, so I’m having a party.” She flashed a grin over her shoulder, “a valentine’s party.”

  Past Valentines Events Elle had hosted flooded Nates memory – The stuff of teenage fantasies, Caligulan debauchery filling every corner. A smile briefly lit his face as he recalled the time he attended wearing only a bow-tie, tied not around his neck.

  It faded quickly, the images feeling ancient, as if they belonged to someone else, and the idea of repeating them left him empty, even a little disgusted.

  “Don’t pull that face.” Elle had, while he had been lost in his thoughts, finished discarding clothes and was now facing him, hands, theatrically, on hips.

  “Do we really have time for parties?” he asked, ignoring her.

  “Nathaniel please, we have weeks.” Her arms, again, alighted on his shoulders, and she caught his gaze with hers. “Don’t think I don’t know what’s really wrong.”

  “Wrong?” Nate scoffed, carefully schooling his features.

  “It’s okay you silly thing,” Elle mocked, reaching up onto her toes for a teasing kiss, “You don’t have to share me with anyone else.” She turned away again, allowing her backside to push briefly, deliberately, into Nate’s groin. “Unless you want to.”

  Nate instinctively reached for her hips, pulling her closer, before letting her go. “We really should plan for the ball.”

  Elle’s hands paused in their exploration of the muscles in his back, before she released a long exhalation, at the dismissal in his tone.

  “Fine.” She turned and strode purposefully away from him. “Drink?” She asked curtly, passing through the door.

  “Coffee.” Nate responded automati
cally. He remained where he was, letting her march off ahead, knowing she would sulk.

  ***

  When Nate arrived at the enormous kitchen, Elle was sat cross legged on a stool at the central island leafing through a magazine. In front of her, were two very presentable efforts at an espresso martini, four coffee beans garnishing each one.

  “What’s this?” Nate asked, taking the stool next to her.

  “Coffee.” Elle said simply, pushed the magazine away. She lifted her glass and clinked it against the other. Nate picked up his glass, sipping slowly as he waited for her to tell him what he wanted to know.

  The silence didn’t go unnoticed, and eventually Elle sighed.

  “The plan is set for the bloody ball, Nate,” she spat his nickname derisively. “What more do you want?”

  “I want to do it,” he repeated, for the hundredth time.

  Elle’s dismissive shrug set his teeth on edge. “We tried it your way,” she said, “It didn’t work. We move on.”

  “Move on to what?”

  “Plan B. A new…” She looked him up and down, almost pityingly, “…Agent, for lack of a better word.”

  “Elle, come on,” Nate put down his martini, frustration lacing his tone, “A new plan, yes, absolutely, but I’m still the best man for the job – we both know that.”

  “For many things Nathaniel,” she agreed, sipping her cocktail slowly, “But how many chances do you want to complete such a simple task?”

  Nate’s scowl was his only response.

  “Don’t give me that look,” she warned. “You want to talk shop? You know the drill.” She sighed as he remained silent. “How many times have we done this?” she asked, “How many fights? Battles? Wars? The plan changes, the need-to-know changes…” she trailed off, stroking a consoling hand along his jaw. “Nothing is different except that this time, when plan A failed, it was you.”

  Nates eyes snapped to hers, as her hand fell away.

  “I haven’t failed,” he bristled, “You’re so excited by whatever plan you have concocted that you’re rushing into it.”

  “Rush?” Elle straightened in her seat, “I’m waiting until May – at your suggestion.”