by Lexi Ostrow
“How am I going to get through this?” She spoke at her reflection in the mirror across from her—the one the landlord used to give the appearance of a larger entryway. “You don’t have the support group people who beat cancer have.”
Blowing out a deep breath, Cassandra let the tears fall down her face and drop onto her shoes and the carpet as she blinked. She knew any beating an illness required strength. Having strength in the doctor’s office was one thing. Now, all alone in her building, the isolation of her life was setting in. In Boston, she was hardly a social person. She spent so few weeks a year in America her friends from work or the occasional college friend in for a trip.
“You need to tell someone. You need support.” Bitterness left a putrid taste in her mouth, and she stared once more into her reflection. She was young and attractive enough. She spent her life helping others. She’d barely spent more than a handful of hours helping herself, and yet cancer had chosen her. “So what are you going to do? Huh?” The last question was barked out so harshly it echoed in the entry hall space. If she didn’t stop talking to herself, one of the three first-floor apartment doors would open.
Every movement stung, but not from pain, from sorrow. The emptiness of her life in America was bearing down on her. Her last social outing had been just before she’d left for a small orphanage in Russia nearly ten months ago. Her hand trembled as she slipped into her purse and retrieved her phone as she carefully took each step up toward her studio.
Her index finger moved in jerky twitches over the screen. “Two hundred and nine contacts,” she uttered as she looked at the contacts app. “And none of them are close enough for me to drop this burden on.”
Inhaling, she stopped on the top step, feet from her door, and wondered just for a moment what it would be like to die accidentally, to not know the end of her life was racing toward her like a flame down a candlewick. What if she simply slipped and fell and then knew nothing?
Her phone vibrated in her grip, snapping her from the ridiculousness of her thoughts. Blowing out a breath she hesitated before answering. The last person she wanted to speak to now was Giselle.
“Cassandra here,” her key slipped into the lock and she pushed the door open as she forced herself to take steadying breaths.
“So glad to have you home in the states.” Giselle’s gravelly voice was loud in her ear, her pleasure legitimate. The older woman always called whenever her employees had been home a few days. As far as CEO’s went, Cassandra loved working for her. “I saw you had requested another trip. Though I find it too soon, I’m pleased to tell you the sponsors have cleared you for your next adventure.”
Her heart dropped out of her chest. A deep breath of air through her nose constricted her torso. The universe was fucking with her. Can I just say thank you and worry about it later? “Do you know the date range I’ve been given?”
“The standard thirty day wait period. We’ll, of course, need to review the results from your medical check-in, but I’m sure you’re right as rain as usual.”
Hot tears cascaded over her face as she squeezed her eyes shut. “Giselle, I’m–” icy fingers seemed to wrap around her heart, slicing into it like frozen blades. The tears fell faster. Saying it aloud to her had been one thing. Swallowing, she sniffled and tried to steady her heartbeat. “Giselle, I -”
“Cassandra, is everything alright?”
Her vision blurred so thoroughly with tears it was impossible to even recognize her apartment as she shut the door behind her. She couldn’t seem to force herself to function and admit her problem to another person. Bile rose in her throat, and a sour taste latched onto her tongue.
“I can’t go. I . . . I’m finding it hard to explain why but I believe I need to work with Boston programs for the foreseeable future.” The words rushed out on a breath, audible but mushed together.
I’m not there yet. I’m just not able too.
“You can discuss this tomorrow with Diana when you come in for paperwork.” If Giselle was concerned, her tone didn’t indicate it. In fact, irritation trickled out of the phone’s speaker.
Irritation I don’t deserve it. And I’m about to get even more of it. “I need to change to Thursday. I’ve been to medical, and they’ve requested I come in.” Not a lie. Not quite the truth of the matter.
“Oh.”
The single word was punctuated with all the sympathy she hadn’t been ready for. Her chest ached as she strangled a sob back. Her fingers tingled, from what she didn’t know, and all she wanted to do was hang the phone up and sleep as if dreaming she didn’t have cancer would make it so.
“All right then. I hope it’s nothing serious. We will see you Thursday.”
Cassandra lost her grip on the phone, letting it drop to the hardwood beneath her feet. Once upon a time she would have cringed thinking she’d broken the screen, today there were far more broken things in her life—like life itself.
“I’ll be in.” Her words were hallow, as empty as she felt at the moment, but she called them out. Bending, Cassandra hit the red circle and ended the call and dropped to the floor, sprawling out.
Admitting she had cancer to herself had seemed like the hardest part. She’d been wrong. “How do I tell people? Do I have to tell people?” Tears fell off the side of her face and dropped onto the floor.
Though the sun streamed in through the windows, the world around her was dark as night. Cassandra needed to get up. Her apartment needed to be cleaned. Things needed to be purchased, and she didn't have a whole lot of time to get started. Cancer was more than a diagnosis. It was a complete lifestyle change she’d never fathomed. For some time she’d felt comfortable in silence as if she’d had a friend or guardian watching her while she’d been in Africa. Now, all she felt was the blow of heat from the vent. No warm embrace or watchful eye or an invisible watcher. Just the coldness of the life she’d created at home by spending too much time in foreign countries focusing on others.
“Get up, Cass. Fight.” Gnashing her teeth together, she wiped her eyes and dried her hands on her clothes before rolling over and pushing up. “Get up, or all is lost.”
Eight
Gabe felt every wobbling footstep. He’d never felt so clunky, like a baby learning to walk. He was heavier without his wings, something he hadn’t anticipated. He was also off balance, but a few minutes pacing back and forth in his Boston apartment, and he’d mastered walking without wings. He’d even learned how tired his body would be after trying and had promptly passed out, rising with the sun hours later. Yet, each step felt as if he were driving his foot into the earth, trying to smash the concrete street beneath him.
A horn blared, and his skin practically jumped off his bones. Sounds were louder. Angels were aware they existed inside a veil between humans and the ethereal, but he’d never realized how that veil dampened things. Sounds were easily three times louder as a human. The crisp late-fall air was by far colder this way as well. The wind whipped past his face and stung his cheeks and ears. Snow had fallen in the past twenty-four hours, and it crunched beneath his loafers, seeping in over the tops of the dress shoes. “Boots. Buy Boots. Fucking climates.”
With Cassandra having been in the blistering heat of summer when he’d first become her Guardian, he’d forgotten the obvious fact that the United States was in a different hemisphere and therefore in winter. The microscopic apartment he’d been left in thankfully had warm clothes, but nothing for his damned feet.
Another step down the road toward the train system and another rush of frigid ice chunks assaulting him through the thin dress socks.
“Humans have an awful lot to deal with.” The howl of the wind swallowed up the muttered comment.
Gabe needed to get to Cassandra quickly, there was likely a deadline in how long he had to learn more about her and present his case to the council. The pressure of a building war didn’t hold a candle to this to the way he worried now. His position in battle meant he was to fight off the demons leading the
humans to war; now he was in charge of saving one life, and the weight of it was miraculously more burdensome to bear.
The sting of frigid air sent his body ramrod straight. “The sooner I get to this fucking train stop, the better.” Lifting his hands to his mouth he blew into them, creating the smallest pocket of warmth ever.
If anyone thought it strange that an abnormally tall man was grumbling to himself as he walked down the street, no one stopped. Not surprising with the technology they have now, actually.
Walking past a Walgreens, he saw a strange modern-art type installation just across the street. Large metal beams crisscrossed at random and clashed with the magnificence of the cathedral that shared the corner with it.
Copley was written in white font on a green background.
Ahh, arrived.
He could only pray Cassandra took the T to the hospital for her treatment consultation. Without his Angel status, he could not influence her in any way nor could he get close to her without her knowing. If she took a car or was silly enough to walk, getting on one stop ahead and putting himself in her path was going to end very badly.
“You don’t have time for a square one.” He slid the paper card through the slot and pushed through the turnstile. Copley Square was one of the main stops on a train line that attached in some way to the other three lines—which meant it was ungodly busy.
People stood or lounged along the wall every five inches, some even sat on the ground. Voices bounced off the tunnel walls, and cell phone alerts sounded nosily in the space. I love how Cassandra can disconnect when she’s overseas. It’s refreshing to see a human not transformed into a living extension of some stupid communications device. The thought surprised him. He’d only thought about Cassandra as living or dead for the most part. Having a personal thought where she was concerned—well, that had to be because he was fundamentally human for the time being.
A banshee-like screech tore through the tunnel, and he fought the urge to slam his hands over his ears. No one else acknowledged the terrible cry or the loud clanking that followed as a huge tin cylinder raced toward them, throwing wind at him and slamming to a halt when the nose of the train was parallel to the turnstile.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered, planting his feet into the ground in order to avoid being knocked over as humans flung themselves toward the opening doors.
When the rush stopped, Gabe had few seconds to leap up the two steps and secure himself into the train car before the doors slide shut. Immediately, he was tossed into the nearest passenger as the vehicle took off.
“Apologies,” he muttered, trying to figure out why he’d been launched sideways.
“First time on the T?” A woman in a gray pantsuit asked without a trace of a smile.
He wasn’t certain what she meant, but he had a feeling if he said no, she would fly off the handle that he’d accidentally bumped into her. “My first day in Boston.” He waited for the burn of fire that should have occurred with the lie, but as he was human, it never came.
Chalk that up as a plus side to this whole venture. He scarcely prevented a smirk from forming on his lips. I wonder what fun I could have with telling lies?
His answer must have been the correct one because the woman he’d collided with merely pressed her lips together and nodded.
“Next stop: Prudential.” A tinny overhead voice chimed.
That was fast—too fast. Gabe looked around the train. Not only was there not a seat for him to casually sit in, he hadn’t thought out the logistics of making certain she got onto the exact car he was in. You could just look for her out the window—watch like the human stalker you’re being. He grimaced at his actions. He was here on a mission, but all he could focus on were the human attributes he’d gained.
“Now arriving at Prudential.” The voice sounded off again.
As with the last time, an inhuman noise emanated from the train. Gabe flinched but managed to snow no reaction. He needed to blend in as much as possible if he was going to pull off getting to know a woman. The only way he could get her to open up was to date her—she would never make the kind of small talk he needed with a stranger. One date and he’d have all the information he needed, the approval for her to live and if he was lucky, his battle wings.
About an eighth of the commuters rapidly filed out, allowing him to shift his position and sit. He might not be an angel at the moment, but he had a feeling one of his brethren was helping because there was a second seat next to him. Without hesitating, he pulled his gloves off and dropped them down, hoping it was a good enough way to show he needed the second seat. Yes, because adults save seats all the time. He rolled his eyes at the thought and turned to see if Cassandra would be getting on.
“My God,” the words fell out as he saw not only his good fortune that she’d somehow selected the correct car, but her beauty through his human eyes.
Cassandra Marks was a spectacle to behold. Even with her eyes downcast and her arms hugging her body - likely for comfort—she was nothing short of amazing. Her black hair shined in the horrid fluorescent lighting, and the curls bounced until she stopped walking to place her hand on the pole nearest his pair of seats.
For a moment. He couldn’t remember to do anything, save for stare at her. The beige coat she wore concealed most of her curves, but he could still tell the way her full breasts pressed against the buttoned coat. Breasts you have no business noticing. Her eyes were such a pale blue they appeared to glow, something he hadn’t detected prior. The small trace of wetness in her eyes snapped him from his appraisal.
Cassandra Marks had been crying.
Of course, she’s been crying, you jackass. She’s about to go on an appointment to learn how to deal with having cancer. A low growl escaped him. Anger bubbled up as he stared on at the beautiful woman facing death. Anger at himself for feeling careless, and then anger over the simple fact he could care at all.
“Miss?” He tapped her gently on the shoulder, ignoring the plush warmth of her coat under his fingertips.
She regarded at him, her glimmering lips parting just slightly. Her eyes traveled over him, taking in his shoulder-length hair, broad shoulders and trailing all the way down to his feet.
Gabe couldn’t resist letting the corners of his mouth lift with a smirk. Cassandra Marks was checking him out as thoroughly as he had just done her. The concept shouldn’t be so satisfying, and yet, he couldn’t stop the smirk. Angels were always beautiful in human form, but since he’d never taken on such a form, he’d never experienced the adoration.
A flush rose on her cheeks, and she tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’m so sorry.”
“What for?”
“Staring.” Despite apologizing for it, she let her eyes gaze into his with all the intensity of a burning sun.
Gabe couldn’t stop the way his body reacted. Blood rushed to his cock, and it stirred with life; with desire. It’s just because you’re human. Roll with it. The simplest thought let his body warm with passion. An image flashed - he and Cassandra tangled in sheets, her hair wrapping over his body as he drove into hers.
He sputtered and chocked as the image burned bright. Gabe blinked, trying to clear the image from his mind, but it didn’t matter, his body remembered it even though the event never occurred.
“I assure you, I admired you as well. All is forgiven.” He was about to offer her the seat beside him when the stupid automated voice rang through the car once again.
“Next stop. Hynes Convention Center.”
Damn it. Focus. What else can you do?
The universe, or likely Carlyle with Gabe’s luck, was looking out for him. As the train pulled into the station, the man behind them stumbled, launching his drink on Cassandra.
“Shit!” She hissed and patted at her coat.
Watching at the steam rising off the now empty cup he realized good luck could have been very dangerous. “Are you alright?” He reached out, offering to help her tug off the coat but she was not trying
to slip out of it.
“Good thing about winter coats—they protect you from hot coffee spills.” Her tone wasn’t nearly as angry as the curse she’d uttered a moment ago.
“I’m sorry, Ma’am. I don’t know how I did that. Please, let me pay for the dry cleaning.”
Cassandra turned toward the young man and paused as if momentarily considering the offer. “No, don’t be silly. A casualty of public transportation and light-colored clothing.” She flashed a smile at the man that Gabe couldn’t help but see out of the corner of his eye. “Please, don’t trouble yourself over this.”
The train doors opened with a whoosh and Cassandra didn’t so much as look back at him.
Go!
“Miss,” he touched her on the shoulder as he launched himself out of his seat. As he stepped off the train right behind her he started tugging at his own jacket. As the coat swung down off his arm, he doubled his pace in hopes to catch up to her as before she walked through the glass doors. “Please, take my coat.”
She turned, momentarily gazing into his eyes. “That’s awfully kind of you, but not necessary.”
“Please. I insist. I’m going no further than this building and if you’re to go outside, a wet jacket won’t pleasant.” She’d declined the other man’s monetary offer, but he had a feeling given her situation, she wouldn’t take any risks with her health.
“However will I return the coat?” Her smile was coy; the first hint of the brightness returned to her eyes he witnessed her playing with children in Uganda.
She’s flirting with you. If Gabe had been a bird, his feathers would have puffed up with the realization.
“I suppose you’ll have to take my number and call me to return it.” Charm had never been an issue amongst angels.