Transgression

by Brandy C. Ange

She released his arm, and looked over his shoulder at his massive wings, beautiful large white feathers that seemed to be coated in silver shone in the unobstructed sunlight.

  “WINGS?” She yelled, pushing him hard in the chest. “We have WINGS?” Her temper was showing, but she didn’t do a thing to shut it down. “And you didn’t tell me?” She grabbed at the cloud and was pleasantly surprised to collect a dense chunk of it which she threw at Noland. It splashed against him like a big wet cotton ball.

  “It never came up!” Noland said backing away from her.

  Achaia advanced, punching his chest, and slapping his arms, which he held over his head as he ducked away. “WINGS!” she yelled. Stopping and staring at him incredulously. Noland continued backing to the edge of the cloud. “You MAKE it come up!” She advanced again.

  “Okay!” Noland held still, grabbing at her wrists, and stood back up straight. “Okay.” He said catching her second wrist, and holding her arms down. “I should have told you!”

  “Hell yeah, you—” Achaia glanced quickly around her. “Heck yeah, you should have told me!” She corrected herself, but her voice had lost most of its anger.

  Noland chuckled. “Did you just check around to make sure no one heard you say ‘Hell’ this close to Heaven?”

  Achaia looked at his straight face. There was no denying it. “Yes? Yes, I did.”

  “You just checked a cloud for eavesdroppers?” Noland was cracking up laughing. He hunched over and held his stomach.

  Achaia had never heard him laugh like that before. He had a hearty laugh that came from the diaphragm. It was a strong happy sound that seemed out of place coming from him.

  “Seriously?” Achaia said, again looking around. More out of habit, embarrassed.

  “That was so worth the trip.” Noland laughed looking up at her.

  “We almost died!” Achaia yelled, staring at him in disbelief.

  “So,” Noland tried to catch his breath, “worth it.”

  “You’re ridiculous.” Achaia shook her head, but couldn’t help but to chuckle, herself.

  Noland’s eyes shot up, there was a loud rumbling that shook them. He grabbed onto her tightly and dove, with her, into the side of the cloud that billowed up next to them. He landed on top of her in the cloud and pinned her still.

  Achaia was too stunned to resist, she felt as if she were frozen into a cube of ice cold Jello. Not even Noland was enough warmth for her inside the forest of frigid droplets.

  After the tremors ceased Noland pulled her slowly from the heavy fluffy droplets to stand once more on the cloud. Soaked, and freezing Achaia felt like a drowned rat.

  “What is wrong with you?” She pushed him away as hard as she could, but he barely moved. Her teeth were chattering too much for him to take her seriously.

  “Could you imagine being on a plane, looking out your window and seeing a couple of teenagers standing on a cloud? We’re trying to keep a low profile—” he explained. “Your lips are purple,” he said, taking his jacket off. He grabbed hold of her waist. Achaia slapped his arms away from her.

  “Don’t touch me!” Achaia fussed, though her teeth were still chattering too much for it to sound intimidating.

  “Stop me.” Noland challenged, grabbing a hold of her waist and pulling her into him. He wrapped his arms around her, covering her with his jacket as she pushed off of his stomach and chest trying to pry herself away. He squeezed tighter, resting his head on hers. Achaia gave up, and gave into the warmth.

  “You’re so stupid, sometimes.” Noland laughed.

  “Shut up.” He felt Achaia’s jaw chattering against his chest as she attempted in her tiny way to sound fierce. Noland smiled.

  He focused on radiating his warmth outward, feeling as if he were hugging a glacier. She was so cold; her skin was blue, and her lips were purple. He couldn’t even see the blood vessels of her face. She looked like a corpse.

  He looked down at the blood still flowing from her forehead to remind himself that she was alive. He clung to her desperately, pressing himself against her, trying to warm her.

  Suddenly, his heart felt heavier, swollen, full. There was a knot in his stomach, and something in his chest fought, like it was trying to break out.

  Achaia grabbed onto his waist, gripping his t-shirt, shaking. Noland squeezed tighter. He couldn’t lose her. He’d almost lost her. Then he realized, he needed her, he wanted her.

  He knew…

  Achaia was starting to feel her limbs again when Noland jerked away from her. “Come on, we have to go. You’re going to freeze to death up here.”

  Not with you here, she thought to herself, but she nodded in agreement forgetting that she was ever mad.

  He grabbed hold of her again; lighter this time as if he were trying not to touch her at all. He flew toward the ground at an alarming speed.

  Achaia’s stomach performed an Olympic floor routine as he abruptly leveled out before landing. Roller coasters had nothing on this guy!

  As soon as they were on the ground he released her. He tossed his coat around her shoulders again, and walked forward. They’d landed in front of the cabin and without a word he marched inside.

  Emile stood just inside the door, apparently having just arrived back himself. He too, was soaking wet, and wearing a dumbfounded expression. “Where did you go? I looked everywhere, I couldn’t find which cloud you were….” Emile cut off. He stared deep into Noland’s eyes and stopped talking. His expression changed from dumbfounded, to shock, to concern, and back to shock. Then his eyes turned to Achaia. The shock widened as Noland crossed the room, revealing Achaia, who had been hidden behind him.

  “What is going on? What happened to her?” Yellaina demanded, running over to Achaia and wrapping her arms around her. She drew back to examine Achaia’s face and pulled her closer to the fire. Yellaina practically pushed Achaia to the floor to sit before grabbing a quilt and wrapping her in it. “Olivier—”

  “Here,” Olivier tossed an old metal first aid box to her before she could even finish her sentence.

  Yellaina sat on the floor across from Achaia and opened the box. She pulled out some cotton balls and dabbed them in alcohol. “This is going to burn…” She said softly reaching her hand up to Achaia’s brow. Achaia nodded. Yellaina brushed the cotton across her forehead, clearing away all the blood, setting Achaia’s cuts on fire. “No one answered my question.” Yellaina said more sharply directing her statement to Emile and Noland. She sounded like an angry mother. Not that Achaia really knew what that sounded like until now. She promised herself she would never make Yellaina angry.

  Noland was sitting in the corner alone facing the wall, not moving, and remained silent.

  Emile looked back and forth between everyone in the room. “I’m sorry, just give me a minute. There’s a lot going on for me to process right now. Could everyone just try to not be so freaked out for a second?” Emile’s eyes were wide, his expression pained. He took a few deep breaths before starting his side of the story. “Okay, well, there were some hunters in the woods. Achaia had her first demonic attack, and Noland took her up into the clouds to get her away from them. There were a lot. They did a number on her. They came out of nowhere.” Emile finished, breathing hard. He turned quickly on his heel anticipating Noland’s words before he said them.

  “They didn’t come out of nowhere, there were hunters in the woods. There were gunshots, we were just too busy fighting to heed the warning—” His voice was cold as ice, full of disdain. Then without another word Noland stood and crossed the room in three steps slamming the door behind him as he left.

  “What was that?” Yellaina nearly yelled.

  “He thinks it….” Emile muttered turning to the door and leaving himself.

  “He shouldn’t… It’s my fault.” Achaia mumbled looking down at her bruised and beaten hands.

  Shael paced the corridor. He was hoping Luc had taken some time to calm down. The thought of Luc refocusing his efforts on Achaia mad
e Shael sick. She had no idea what she was up against. She had no idea how the spiritual world worked, how wars were waged, or won. She had no allies, save for Naphtali. God-only-knew who her Guardian was, but would they be dedicated enough to face a full frontal assault from Hell itself? Shael doubted it.

  Shael swallowed hard. He desperately wanted to know where Achaia was, who she was with, what she was doing. Who had been the one to explain to her what she was? The council? How had they done it? Was she taking it well? Did she hate him?

  Shael thought of Anna, when she had died, he had wanted so badly to explain to her what he was. He hadn’t been allowed. And yet, he had still wasted sixteen years of chances to not repeat that mistake with Achaia, and at a greater risk. He failed the test.

  Shael entered the grand room with the vaulted ceilings which Luc used as his parlor. Luc was stretched out on one of the ice sofas. He didn’t look up as Shael walked in, but ignored him. Shael approached the bar, and poured two glasses of scotch. The smell of it was strong. Shael could already feel the alcohol in his mind before even taking a sip. He set one glass on the armrest behind Luc’s head, without speaking, then moved to sit on the opposite sofa.

  “I want to hate you.” Luc said, ignoring his scotch. “I’m good at hating.”

  Shael sat silently, not wanting to interrupt.

  “But it is so much worse than hate that I envy you.” Luc sat up, and took his glass and stared into it. “I’ve wanted to rip everything you possess away from you. If not to make it mine, then to taint it and make it like me; to make you watch. To make you understand what it’s like,” Luc paused to sip his scotch, “to be forsaken.” He pressed his lips together, licking the scotch off of them.

  Shael sat silently, letting Luc’s words meet him like the tide on the beach, washing against him, before being pulled back out. Calm Luc was more chilling than Luc in a fit of rage. He was far more calculating, and exact with his blows. But Shael wouldn’t drown in Luc’s despair. He refused. He had denied his own chance for redemption, but he still had hope for his daughter, hope for the world. God’s plan didn’t end here. Shael, would cling to that truth. And while he froze in Hell, he trusted God’s will would thrive. And so, Shael was not without hope. He would fight God’s war from within Hell itself.

  “I want to see your face when I tear out your heart. To prove to you that you are a coward. You could not look into my eyes as you betrayed me. You didn’t meet my soul with yours to look into its shattered depths as you robbed it. But I will. I will prove I am stronger than you. I will meet you face to face, eye to eye, and soul to soul as I scrape out everything you ever cared about and bathe it in ashes, dry it out, and rot it from the inside. And when I end you, I will wipe you away like the residue that smoke leaves on glass. And you will be gone from me, forever, brother.” Luc downed the rest of his glass and set it gently on the floor in front of him as he looked up into Shael’s eyes.

  Shael believed that Luc meant it. But he knew Luc, sometimes in ways which Luc didn’t even know himself. Luc thought he was cold, and strong. But he was passionate, and scared. He was bitter because he was sensitive, and jealous because he was insecure.

  “You talk a mean fight, but you and I both know you will never end me as long as you can torture me. You will not remove me from your sight, as long as I can stave off your loneliness. Demons are no company for a prince. You need me more than you despise me. You desire me more than you envy me. Such it has always been, and such it will always be, brother.” Shael said throwing back his own drink, and setting his glass down across from Luc’s. “A never ending game of chess, isn’t it? Between us?”

  Luc’s lips spread into a thin evil grin. “Indeed.” His blue eyes were dark like storm clouds, looking almost gray. His pale face shimmered like a window pane in the rain. “This will be our most dangerous game yet.” His voice came out in a growl like thunder. “Larger plots than the ones I have for you have been set into motion, now that you are out of my way to prevent them. The fun is just getting started.”

  Emile shut the door tightly behind him. Noland stood at the end of the porch, hunched over the rail. “She could have died today. It’s my fault,” Noland breathed without looking back at Emile. He kept his eyes glued down to the ground. “Isn’t it?”

  “Technically…” Emile started. “I guess, if we trace it back far enough, it’s Lucifer’s fault. If it weren’t for him we wouldn’t be here, demons wouldn’t be here… Everything would be honky dory.” He chuckled at his own cleverness. He chuckled alone.

  He took a place next to Noland at the rail and watched as he blinked at the snow. His bare arms shone in the sun. He was fuming. Emile had never seen him this upset. He couldn’t tell if it was anger, passion, distress, or what it was. It was all of them. “Something else happened, didn’t it?” Emile asked, leaning his back against the rail, taking his eyes off of Noland to relieve some of the pressure he was feeling.

  “Yeah,” Noland said, and he did feel less pressured. One emotion in particular came to the surface enough for Emile to be able to pick it out amongst the rest. He furrowed his brow.

  “Why are you so sad about it?” Emile asked. “I mean I’m assuming you figured it out today, that she’s yours. I thought that would make you happy.”

  “It’s just…” Noland stopped. “I don’t know, I’ll sound like a jerk and an idiot—”

  “What you don’t think she’s pretty enough?” Emile asked, prodding for more clues.

  “What? No! I mean, I think she’s absolutely beautiful. That’s not the problem at all. She’s just so delicate looking, and she wasn’t raised like us. She doesn’t know what all is out there after her. Her defenses are nowhere near where they should be. What if she gets hurt? What if I can’t protect her? What if she gets…”

  “Okay, first of all, she’s not going to get killed. We won’t give Luc the chance. Secondly, if you’d just let her, she is more than capable of defending herself. I didn’t get the chance to tell you, but that’s her gift.” Emile smiled weakly, trying to determine which of Noland’s emotions would be brought to the surface by this new information.

  “I don’t want her fighting. Someone who’s delegated to train should be the one to teach her. What if you teach her wrong?” Noland wasn’t angry, but he was worried.

  “I don’t think it really matters if I teach her, or if I screw up. It’s more like I point her in the right direction and she picks it up by instinct. She’s actually incredible. Give her another week or two and I don’t think I’d even stand a chance against her.” Emile tried to be cautious about his approach, he didn’t want this to end in another fight. He was trying to comfort him, not make him more upset. It was hard, though. Noland didn’t even know how he felt. Emile was having a hard time trying to pick out which emotions to run with, and which ones were refusing to be left behind.

  “No. I want to wait for Jacob. I don’t want to make any mistakes, if they could have permanent effects.” Noland was decisive sounding, but his emotions didn’t comply. His face, which was firm and controlled, fell. “She could have died today,” he spoke in a near whisper, his eyes falling back down to the snow.

  Achaia winced as Yellaina pulled the last cotton ball away. Her whole face was on fire. Blood still trickled from the gash on her forehead. Yellaina taped bandages to the larger, deeper, cuts but left the smaller cuts and scrapes bare.

  “That looks a lot better. But you still look like Hell.” She said closing the first aid box.

  Olivier, who was sitting next to her, examined Achaia’s face. “How did you get away?” He sounded grateful, though stunned.

  “Noland. He grabbed me and took me up into the clouds.” She answered.

  “Oh, so you know about the wings now then…” Oliver said half to her, half to himself. “You have them too, ya know,” he added more cheerfully.

  “I know, I found that out today when I was— trying to get away.” Achaia decided it was best not to tell them about the fight
. Emile or Noland would tell them if they wanted to.

  “So did you try to fly?” Olivier asked eagerly.

  “I did fly,” Achaia said, trying to reciprocate his cheerfulness.

  “What?” Yellaina and Olivier asked in unison.

  “Yeah, I flew— ya know until the demons tackled me into the tree branches, then Noland grabbed me.”

  “Wow! It’s just…” Yellaina started, trying hard not to sound like she didn’t believe her.

  “We’re kind of like birds, it usually takes a while to get it. Being pushed off a cliff or building usually helps.” Olivier explained. “We learn better in dire situations.”

  “Well,” Achaia started. “I was trying to get away from a few dozen demons, of which I’ve never been subjected to before.”

  “Ah, yeah. That’s true. I guess they would be pretty creepy the first time you see them,” Yellaina agreed.

  “Yeah, I don’t remember the first demon I saw. They’ve been around for as long as I can remember. I’m pretty sure one tried to kill me right after I was born. I was too fast for him though.”

  “That, and your dad killed it. I’ve heard the story,” Yellaina laughed.

  Olivier liked to make himself sound as impressive as possible; the others rarely let it happen.

  “So where are your parents?” Achaia asked.

  “Oh well, my mom is in China, she’s protecting some diplomats over there while some negotiations take place. She is actually a Cherubim,” Yellaina said simply. “And my dad is in the Vatican.”

  “And my mom is in England for the United Nations. Politicians are the most popular Charges. Dad was in the Vatican, but should be back in England by now. They still live in France though,” Olivier explained.

  “How long are they there for?” Achaia asked, glad to have the subject changed from her to them.

  “I have no clue. I probably see my mom every few years or so, we talk every few months,” Yellaina explained nonchalantly.

  “Yeah, my parents aren’t really around much either. Once you get to a certain age, you start training. When you get to that point, your parents take kind of a back seat, and you focus on what your trainer tells you to do. We have a… longer life span than humans, and we understand the afterlife so we don’t really feel the need to spend a lot of time with our parents here. Right now, we have a job,” Olivier clarified.