Son of Secrets

by N. J. Simmonds

  Sabinus moved fast, the cottage getting further and further away. I squinted against the harsh midday sun, unwilling to take my eyes away from the place I had dreamed of calling home.

  Something was moving in the lavender bushes. It was the dark-haired woman—and she was weeping. She moved toward Zadkiel and then hid again just as quickly, her face stricken with fear as she stared up to the heavens. Sabinus was unaware of the events unfolding behind him, intent on returning to town and finally taking me as his own. But as the soldier strode away from the cottage, I watched the terrifying scene play out. I saw the winged gods come down from the sky and surround Zadkiel. I saw the woman tremble as she hid from them. And I saw them take away my only love.

  That’s when I realised who the woman was, who her lost boy had been, and why she would never see him again. My tears left a trail from Zadkiel’s cottage to Fiesole, where my fate awaited me.

  VII

  There was nothing left inside my mother’s house but a few utensils and a bed; she’d taken it all. Sabinus held my arm tightly as he stormed through the house, screaming at me about the need to be compliant and that my bitch of a mother had lied to him about how dutiful her daughter would be. His hold on my arm was leaving a scarlet welt, but I couldn’t feel it. I felt nothing at all. I was no longer there; my heart had been sliced in two along with Zadkiel’s.

  Sabinus threw me down on the bed and snarled.

  ‘I should have done this when I first laid eyes on you. Maybe then you wouldn’t have wasted my time running away.’

  He tied the tatty red scarf to my right wrist again and held my arms down against my hips, pinning me onto the bed. With his other hand, he used his knife to cut away my tunic until I lay before him naked. He smiled and raised his eyebrows at the sight of my frail, shivering body.

  ‘Well, at least this isn’t a disappointment.’

  He put his knife down beside me and went to take my other arm, flinching at the sight of my left hand, which I still held in a tight fist. I didn’t struggle or cry out; I’d detached my mind from my body as soon as he’d carried me away. Now I wanted my soul to escape, too.

  ‘Don’t put your deformity anywhere near me. That pathetic excuse for a hand is the only reason I got you so cheap. Your dirty slut of a mother robbed me; she should have given you away for free. You’re useless.’

  Still holding me down with one hand, he used the other to lift up his own tunic and untie the folded fabric shielding his manhood. He pulled my right arm toward him and rubbed my hand against him. I didn’t want to look at what I was doing, what my life had become. I turned my head away, and that was when I noticed his dagger was within easy reach of my left hand. Sabinus hadn’t worried about leaving the weapon beside me. I was too deformed to take it, after all. He’d only ever seen my hand gnarled and useless.

  Sabinus was now running his rough hands over my breasts and pulling at my nipples, squeezing them too hard, wanting me to cry out. I didn’t. I laid there limp and lifeless, my body numb to his torture.

  ‘Can you feel me, little one?’ he said, rubbing my hand faster against him. ‘You’ll be loving this soon enough, just wait and see. Then you’ll be begging me in the night to take you. You may dislike me now, but I’m doing you a favour. I’m taking you to see the world, where you’ll be surrounded by real men, strong fighting men. Want to feel what a strong fighting man can do?’

  His hungry eyes were still on my body and hadn’t noticed my left hand reaching out for his dagger. He pushed my knees apart, smiling at what he saw.

  ‘I have conquered many places, and I’ve always taken what I wanted. It’s time to make you mine.’

  He pulled me by my hips until my legs were on either side of him. I had seen him do the same to the dark-haired woman in the forest. I’d watched her face as he’d thrown himself on top of her. I already knew what pain and humiliation looked like, but I was not going to allow this to be my life—this was not going to be my destiny.

  The soldier wasn’t looking at my free hand as I grasped the handle of his knife and lifted it high. I could kill him. I could drive his bloody blade through his neck and be done with him, avenging Zadkiel and freeing myself. Except I’d never be free. His comrades had been inside my home, inside my mother. If the body of a dead soldier was found within these walls, the army would know where to look. I would never be safe and neither would my family. What would become of my little brother if they suspected my mother? How would I ever be free to enjoy my life again?

  Sabinus had positioned himself between my legs, and I could feel the tip of his manhood nudging against me. He was enjoying himself, savouring my fear, watching my face to see at what moment I would admit defeat and plead for him to stop. But it didn’t matter. I was no longer there; my soul had gone in search of its mate. I brought the blade higher still.

  Sabinus leant down low over me and pulled back my hair until my throat was exposed. His mouth grazed mine, and he ran his tongue over his tiny teeth, his breath smelling like the sweet stench of rotting flesh. His armoured chest was cold and heavy against my breasts, making it difficult for me to breathe beneath him. He was like a snake teasing its victim, waiting for the right time to pounce.

  ‘Are you ready, my little whore? This will hurt, Arabella, and I’m going to enjoy every second of it.’

  I raised my hand, holding his dagger, just as he pushed himself inside me.

  ‘Now you’re mine,’ he said, his face inches from mine.

  With all the strength I possessed, I thrust the blade of his dagger through the side of my neck.

  ‘I’ll never be yours,’ I whispered.

  Blood sprang forth like a fountain from my slashed throat. The last thing I saw was the soldier’s mouth fill with my blood as he cried out my name.

  VIII

  I was free. Then I returned.

  IX

  My soul has never forgotten what my mind has never known, not my first love nor my greatest enemy. In every lifetime, we play our role. The world is our stage, and we act out our scripts. We follow our paths. We do what feels right, what carries us forward to our destiny.

  I began my time on Earth as Arabella and went on to live many lives as many women, each time meeting the people I had to meet to continue my journey through life. I’ve married good men and bad men, and I’ve had happy lives and sad lives, but I’ve always been searching, waiting, expecting to meet the one that gave me everything and the other who took it all away.

  A story began that hot day in Fiesole, a story that never reached its end. Me, Sabinus, Zadkiel, and Lucifer were forever searching for each other, forever bound to one another until our invisible threads could be severed.

  Then one day, over two thousand years later, the four of us were reunited. It was time to complete the circle…one way or another.

  THIS WASN’T ZAC’S first time flying, but it was his first time in an aeroplane. He stared out of the window at the billowing clouds, pink in the light of dawn, and thought back to how it had once felt to soar among them. As an angel, he’d had the ability to appear and disappear, but sometimes he would fly instead. Who wouldn’t fly if they could? He smiled to himself as he remembered how his giant wings would change the shape of the clouds, turning them from fluffy cotton wool to fine wisps of smoke, and how it felt to have their cold mist settle on his face as he hid among them—forever afraid that those below would see him.

  Flying across London with Ella in his arms had been his last and most reckless flight. Although it had been a snowy night, he had taken a risk that had ultimately cost him his life. Darkness can’t hide you when your wings shine as bright as a million stars as they move against an inky, silent sky. Now he would never fly again.

  Zac shuffled in his seat. He was used to being still, sitting for long periods of time with nothing to do had never been a problem for him, but what he wasn’t used to was being surrounded by so many people. Not for the first time, he was thankful he could no longer feel the emotions of oth
ers. This many people in such a confined space, their heads full of where they were going and what they were escaping, would have made for an overwhelming journey.

  The woman beside him coughed far too close to his face and he turned away, pressing his head against the cold plastic window. She sat on the edge of her seat, her large bulk unable to squeeze into the small economy seat. He shouldn’t have settled for a budget airline. He could have flown business class, but he’d been too eager to see Ella as quickly as possible, taking the first flight available.

  The large woman beside him smiled, and he smiled back. Her left thigh was spilling out under the armrest and inching onto Zac’s seat, making his leg numb. He was being forced to position himself at an uncomfortable angle and didn’t know where to put his right arm. He wasn’t going to sit like a contortionist for the remainder of the flight.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said. The large woman turned to him. ‘There’s a seat three rows back…’ He stopped. What was he doing? Was he really going to force the woman to sit elsewhere against her will? He unbuckled his seat belt and smiled at her again. ‘I think I’m in the wrong seat. Would you mind letting me pass?’

  She nodded, and he squeezed his way past the businessman beside her, heading for the seat where he’d originally intended to make her sit. No one had noticed he’d swapped seats, and the woman would probably be more comfortable now, anyway. No longer having the ability to feel what others felt didn’t mean he had to be a selfish bastard. He’d had powers before and had been careful as to how he used them; he didn’t intend to abuse his powers this time, either.

  He stretched, reclined his seat, and closed his eyes. Ella. He was going to see Ella in a few hours. If only he’d been able to get to Spain in time for her birthday, but it had been early afternoon by the time he’d finished speaking to Gabriel and that would’ve meant arriving in Tarifa in the evening; he wasn’t prepared to take the risk of getting caught by Mikhael. Mornings were a safer time to travel; angels rarely watched people in the morning. They preferred the magic of dusk.

  Zac had already decided that, as soon as he landed, he would hire (or more accurately, acquire) a motorbike and two helmets from the rental desk. It was technically theft, yes, but he intended to balance out his bad deeds with good ones, to justify his new existence. He imagined riding off into the sunset with Ella sitting behind him. He could practically feel her arms around his waist and her legs pressing against his. What he’d give to feel her kiss on the back of his neck again. Not long now.

  All night he’d tossed and turned in bed, his mind swarming with questions. What would she say when she saw him? Would she be excited, relieved, angry, confused? He did know one thing—she’d be happy to see him. As Gabriel had told him the previous day, Ella had missed him terribly. The archangel would have spoken to her by now, and she’d be waiting for him, for her true love.

  He and Ella were finally going to be reunited, and this time nothing was going to stand in their way.

  ‘I CAN’T BELIEVE that’s what you chose to wear to sit on an aeroplane for three hours.’

  Sebastian had to run a little in order to keep up with Luci as she headed toward baggage collection.

  ‘You don’t think I look nice?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course you look nice. You look incredible. But a long, tight red dress and stiletto heels doesn’t look very comfortable.’

  She stopped and turned around, making him run straight into her chest.

  ‘Do I look like a woman who puts comfort before first appearances, Sebastian?’

  He shook his head and followed her to the luggage carousel. His hands hadn’t stopped sweating since they’d boarded the plane in London. He wiped them on his trousers.

  ‘So, what’s the plan?’ he asked. She was pulling a small black case off the conveyor belt, her back to him. As she marched toward the exit, he had to break into a jog to catch up with her. ‘Luci. Stop! What’s the plan?’

  ‘You’re getting tiresome, Sebastian. We go to Ella’s hotel, you point her out to me, and then you fuck off once and for all.’

  He hated airports, and now his nerves were making Luci angry. She’d told him at least ten times on the flight that it didn’t matter if he was recognised on their journey. As long as he stayed with her, she could convince the authorities he was someone else. But he’d been on the run for over three years; looking over his shoulder was second nature to him.

  They stepped out into the glare of the sunlight, and Luci put on a pair of large sunglasses she’d bought in London, seemingly oblivious to the confused stares of the people in the street. It was early morning and she was dressed like a cabaret singer who hadn’t yet been to bed. Sebastian wished he’d found the courage to ask her to get him some new clothes while she’d been on her Mayfair shopping binge. He was still wearing the same shirt and loose trousers she’d given him in Morocco, although the London hotel had been happy to clean and press them.

  With a father that owned some of the world’s most exclusive hotels, staying in luxury had been something Sebastian had taken for granted all his life. But after three years of sleeping in motels, cars, and tents as he’d made his way through Europe and northern Africa, Claridge’s hotel had offered a level of comfort he’d forgotten existed. Luci had managed to get them the most luxurious of penthouse suites with rooftop views over London. Their bedrooms were at separate ends of the vast apartment. She’d told him to order whatever food he wanted, and she’d make sure they got away without any consequences. He’d been both exhilarated and petrified since the day he’d met her, and he was finding it increasingly difficult to differentiate between the two.

  He’d bathed in the large marble bathtub and ordered room service—intending to watch a couple of movies he’d missed out on while hiding in Morocco. He was quite happy keeping his distance from Luci. If he was honest with himself, he would admit he’d been too afraid to leave the bedroom. He never knew what that woman would do next.

  There was a loud knock. Sebastian opened his bedroom door, but Luci was already answering the front door, dressed in lacy red underwear and high heels. He stood transfixed as she pulled two porters in by their collars. They set upon her like hungry wolves, a flurry of hands and mouths and tongues. Did Luci know he was watching? She was up against the wall now, pushing their heads to different parts of her body and laughing her deep guttural laugh as they ripped and pulled at her underwear. The front door hadn’t been shut properly, and after a few seconds there was another knock, this time more tentative. A young blonde girl wearing a housekeeping uniform was peering into their suite. Sebastian still didn’t dare move. He waited for the girl to apologise and rush off, but instead she stepped in, shut the door, and began to kiss Luci full on the mouth while the men pawed at her, too.

  Sebastian closed his bedroom door quietly and locked it, unable to keep out the cries of pleasure that continued in the hallway.

  What the fuck was the matter with her? Everywhere Luci went, she gathered hordes of adoring fans. He’d never met such a salacious woman. She was an insatiable, dirty whore who did what she wanted with whomever she wanted without giving it a second thought. Was she doing this to him on purpose? Was she trying to turn him on or scare him off?

  He wasn’t interested in watching, not now that he knew who she was. What she was. He would just lead her to Ella as agreed, and then he would take his stepsister away and give her what she deserved. Luci had promised him that, after all.

  • • • • •

  Sebastian shielded his eyes from the glare of the early morning sun. The airport was a small one, positioned along the only strip of land available between the mainland of Gibraltar and Spain.

  ‘What the hell’s all this?’ he shouted over the sound of seagulls squawking overhead and the distant roar of an aeroplane. Luci was walking across a large expanse of tarmac, the Rock of Gibraltar looming behind them like a giant shark’s fin. ‘Why are we crossing a bloody runway?’

  ‘It’s the only way
to reach the border.’ She pointed at a long queue of people snaking alongside a line of cars.

  ‘I can’t believe all that time my father had a house in Marbella and I never visited Gibraltar. Is it nice?’

  ‘Of course. It has cheap gin and monkeys, what’s not to like? Come on, it won’t take long to cross into Spain. Stay close to me and no one will question you.’

  Luci pushed her way through the queue of people clutching their passports, her hips swinging from side to side and her heels clicking along the tarmac. Sebastian scuttled behind her, turning his head away each time he passed an armed policeman.

  She reached the front of the line and smiled at a young British guard. He looked at the raven-haired woman in a strapless gown and the furtive scruff beside her like he was waiting for the punch line.

  ‘Passports.’

  ‘We don’t have them, but you will let us pass,’ she said, laying a hand on his arm and staring deep into his eyes.

  He smiled back at her and nodded for them to continue. No matter how many times Sebastian watched the devil woman work her magic, it never ceased to unnerve him.

  ‘Who’s the other guy?’ he whispered to her.

  ‘Spanish police. We’re still not in Spain.’

  ‘Pasaporte,’ the second guard barked.

  Luci did the same as before, speaking softly to him in Spanish, giving him a big smile and a view of her cleavage for good measure. The guard looked her up and down and frowned.

  ‘Pasaporte!’ he repeated.

  For the first time since he’d met her, Sebastian saw a flash of panic pass over Luci’s face. She made sure to look the guard in both eyes as she spoke again, but even Sebastian could see the man was getting angry and impatient. Why wasn’t it working?

  ‘Bollocks!’ she muttered.

  ‘What? Why isn’t he letting us go?’ Sebastian wiped his hands on his trousers again. His shirt was sticking beneath his armpits; he pulled at it, trying to cool himself down. ‘For God’s sake, Luci! Make it work.’