The Forsaken

by Renee Pace

  “Thank you.”

  Her voice sounded different to her own ears and she knew Mike noticed, but said nothing. Slowly, she sipped at the tepid water. Clutching the blanket tight, she edged up in the bed. When was the last time I got out of this bed? The question startled her because a day ago it would not have entered her head. Her only thought had been penance. What she had allowed to happen, what she had embraced, made her want to weep. She’d thought he’d come to her in her dreams like he had before, but that wasn’t the case.

  “It’s going to be okay, Shea,” said Mike.

  It would never be okay again, but Shea couldn’t say that. She supposed she must have sighed because Mike cursed.

  “Christ, what shit. It’s not going to be okay. You’re never going to be the same, but that doesn’t mean you get to give up on living. When was the last time you had a shower?”

  The vengeance in his voice and question startled her. “What?”

  “Shower, bath, anything. I bet you’ve been wallowing in here all week. I’m such a shit. I should have come sooner. What the Hell was I waiting for? A bunch of angels, trying to deal with this?”

  “You know of us?” His admission caught at her. She would never think Izzy to tell him and then it dawned on her. He knew because of what had happened to her. Because of her crime.

  “Don’t even go there. Yeah, I know of you, the bunch of you…but Shea, to me, you’re the same.”

  She gave him the courtesy of a small nod. She wasn’t the same, but suspected he didn’t know all there was to Cherub life.

  “Is there anything I can do for you?” asked Mike, bending down to the side of the bed.

  She shook her head. Her hair was truly matted. Mike’s earlier question finally penetrated her brain. The last time she’d bathed was the night she’d returned home. She remembered it well because the bath water had turned red with the color of her blood. Not yellow or golden, but red—a slap in the face, decreeing how far she’d fallen. Meredith, luckily, had been the only sister attending to her, but her gasp said it all. She was no longer angel material.

  Then why do I still have my wings? Another question she had not thought to ask herself.

  “You should have left me in that alley, Mike.”

  The range of emotions that crossed lightning fast across Mike’s normally controlled and so boyishly handsome face caused Shea’s heart to skip a beat.

  “Fuck that, Shea. What happened to you was not your fault. I’m not about to let you wallow anymore in this bed with self-pity. Yeah, I got the whole Angel 101 talk from Izzy and Nathanael, so believe me, I’m trying to understand how you feel. But get this: lying down, letting this thing take over you is not going to make you feel better. Don’t you want to get even? Don’t you want revenge?”

  She propped herself up straighter, dragging along even more of the covers. “Cherubs aren’t to think of revenge.”

  “Seems to me your Cherub way of thinking has already damned you. Why not go for the revenge feeling? You want revenge, then I’ll teach you how to fight. I’ll teach you how to kill. I’ll teach you everything you need to know about mankind.”

  “It wasn’t man that did this to me.”

  “Yeah, I heard that too. Trust me, I’ve believed in demons longer than angels, so I’ll teach you everything I know about killing humans and hopefully some of that intel will work on slaying demons.”

  “Are you serious, Mike? You’d want to help me?” asked Shea.

  “Shea, I would do anything for you. First things first.”

  He walked into her small bathroom and turned on the water. “Take a shower. I’ll give you ten minutes. Clock’s ticking, Shea. Once you’re dressed, meet me downstairs. We’re starting our first lesson today.”

  Shea felt a ray of hope light through her for the first time in a long while.

  “If you’re not done in ten, I’m coming in to get you.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  Mike grinned and winked at her. “Oh yes I would.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Bone-weary and feeling unsure of her skills, Meredith slid into the bath. The fragrant lilac oil she’d poured in soothed her frayed nerves. Seeing the future is not for the heavenly fainthearted. Sighing, she dunked her head under the water, loving how fast her mind went blank. Like her fellow Cherubs, most of Meredith’s powers had been taken. She, like her sisters, still felt the rush of human emotions but her foretelling the future, something she had not shared with any of them, had not been with her before the fall from the heavenly realm. That curse she’d been damned with the moment her feet graced the filthy pavement. Like most things, the curses the Mistress leveled at her showed glimpses, never the whole truth. For instance, she had seen Shea singing inside a large church with a beautiful smile on her face. She had not seen her fall from grace.

  What good is seeing the future if I can’t get it right? That is the crux of things and why the Mistress gave it to me. Meredith lathered the soap on like there was no tomorrow. Reluctantly she got out of the tub and toweled off. The minute she stepped into her bedroom, she felt Gareth’s dark energy curl around her.

  The knock on her door told her exactly who was opposite the barrier. “Give me a minute, Gareth,” said Meredith, quickly slipping on some clothing.

  Gareth barged in. “Why didn’t you tell me about Shea?”

  He knows. Mentally, Meredith made a note to reprimand her sisters. Disclosing what happened to them had to remain strictly private. Moving to her dresser she took out a large sweatshirt, noticing immediately the tremors cascading through his body. His hands jerked in place on his jeans and Gareth kept wetting his lips. Not a nervous man, Meredith knew he endured withdrawal for his own betterment. Part of her sympathized with his plight. She had felt that way when she’d first landed on Earth. Two years later it still hurt as much.

  “What would you have me do? Call you? You were the one that left, Gareth.”

  He looked at her. Always, his green eyes disarmed her. They were so unlike an angel’s. Rooted to Earth, his green irises reminded her more of this realm than anything else.

  “I had to leave. What…what you showed me, I needed time to think. Next time anything like that goes down you call me. Hear me, Meredith.”

  Gareth sounded so like a Seraphim when he was not.

  “You have need of me?” asked Meredith.

  “Stop saying that Meredith, it makes me…” Meredith raised her eyes watching his cheeks blush.

  “Makes you what?” she fished, enjoying herself.

  “Never mind. It’s just that this isn’t normal.”

  Meredith sat down on her bed, patting the space next to her. “You are saying I am not normal.”

  He ran a tired hand through his bristly hair. “No, for Christ’s sake. Shit, I’m probably not allowed to say that now.”

  Meredith laughed. “Say what you want, Gareth. Let me tend to you.” She reached out and gently, placed her hand on top of his. His energy licked her skin, goose bumps of desire shimmed to life, and Meredith forced herself to ignore it all. What she desired could not happen. He needed her and she would do this for him. Without waiting for him, she closed her eyes and started to hum, allowing her healing light to invade his body. He sighed, fell back onto her bed, and looked so much like a Seraphim her voice faltered.

  * * *

  Izzy walked along the sidewalk leading to the alley where Shea’s soul had been taken. Each step she took had purpose. Clad in her new skinny jeans and new Boston Red Sox sweatshirt, she teetered, looking like she’d had one too many drinks. Inside, she seethed. Her mind, clear as a bell, her goal to get the demon who had destroyed Shea.

  Tonight revenge cloaked the air. She inhaled, scenting the immorality of mankind in all its forms. Four teenage males did a double take at her as she swayed into the darkened alley. Not one uttered a word of caution. If she had been human, she should worry. Since she wasn’t, it annoyed her. She put the lack of compassion down to a causality of
the times. Pretending to stumble, she ambled fully into the darkened alley, noting the streetlight had been knocked out. Glass still littered the asphalt and the alley reeked of rotting garbage, stale booze, and slimy oil. None of this concerned Izzy. What she sought took blood and her life essence. Smothered in the darkness, she stilled and then quick as a whip, slid the dirk out of her bodice to slice her arm. Calmly, matter-of-factly, she watched the golden liquid of her essence slither down her arm to the grungy pavement.

  She counted minutes. Seven. Of course, she thought sarcastically to herself. That blessed number, which was the holiest of numbers in the heavens, seemed to fit with her mood of the night.

  Pretending to play with a tie on her shirt, she let evil slide closer. Turning to confront the demon, she played innocent. “Were you looking for me?”

  The newly turned demon-man, full of himself, walked closer. “You smell great.”

  His breath reeked of pickled eggs, making her gag. “Really? Because you stink.”

  His face was poxed with black spots, making him look malformed. His eyes narrowed in annoyance and perplexity. He made a move toward her. Izzy flicked the dirk into the palm of her hand, calculating her aim and distance.

  “Demon, back away from the Cherub.”

  The sound of the man’s voice slid like oil over Izzy’s senses. The dark voice awoke from further down the alley. Like a puppet, the demon-man moved further away. Drool slid down his chin as he obeyed his master.

  A demon glided out of the alley. Demon-red eyes glowed at her, reminding Izzy of the tempting color of a warning sunrise as he bridged the gap separating them. A gasp, unhindered, flew from Izzy. This breathtakingly handsome demon, who didn’t look a thing like the usual demons she ran into, held power. Coal-black wings swept through the blanket of darkness as he approached. He hovered above the ground as if he too found the road of mankind too filthy to step upon.

  Izzy’s heartbeat raced. “Who are you?”

  “It pleases me, Cherub, that you did not ask, what are you?”

  His tone mocked. The degrading way he said Cherub reminded her of how she’d said human. He hovered closer until he stood at arm’s length from her. He caught her bold gaze and smiled. A dimple graced his masculine angelic face. He was no angel. Or was he?

  “What do you want?” asked Izzy, noting how the chill of the night had started to penetrate her defenses. She’d been going on extra adrenaline since Nathanael had claimed her, but that had fizzled.

  His gaze flickered. He motioned the newly turned demon-man to leave.

  “Ahh, don’t make him leave. I was soo looking forward to practicing my new karate moves on him.”

  “A Cherub with humor. I like.”

  “A demon with teeth I plan to kick out. I like. Guess we’re compatible.”

  He took a step forward. Izzy shifted her weight, balancing on the balls of her feet, getting ready for anything and everything.

  “You look to fight me, Cherub?”

  “I can’t wait to kill you.”

  “Touché,” said the demon.

  “Wow, a cultured demon. Impressive,” tossed Izzy, waiting and watching his every move.

  The demon bowed his head. The move shook Izzy.

  “How fares the one I took?” The words, spoken in scripture, cut through Izzy’s heart.

  She moved toward him. He stood his ground, looking deadly and dangerous. Izzy didn’t care. “You…you are the demon that did this to her? Why? Wait a sec, scratch that.” Izzy threw the dirk. He caught it, easily, flipping it up into the air to catch it a second time for show.

  “We are not all born to our fate, Cherub. I did what had to be done. There was no other way. Shea and I reached a bargain of sorts.”

  “What?” said Izzy. What am I doing, trying to reason with a demon?

  “I face your condemnation, but my fate is my own. I believe it was my uncle who said the ends justify the means.”

  “Don’t quote passages to me. Coming from a demon, it’s sick and wrong.”

  “Freedom—is that not something you strive for, Cherub?”

  He took all the fire from her with that one tantalizing word. “How dare you?” she seethed. “Give me back my dirk if you’re going to toy with it.”

  He threw it at her letting Izzy catch it easily.

  “Is Shea okay?” he asked.

  Izzy certainly wasn’t about to tell him a thing about her sister. “As good as can be expected. What did you think it would be like for her?”

  He pursed his lips together but did not look amused. “Tell me, Cherub, can you convey a message to the Almighty?”

  That stopped Izzy cold. “What?”

  “You heard me, Cherub. I need a message delivered, or do you think me so unworthy that what I have to convey to your god is of no importance?” He tsked at her.

  Izzy coughed to cover her surprise. “Who are you, exactly?”

  “At your service is none other than Ash, Lucifer’s first born.”

  This time Izzy gave into the gasp. “And you want me to tell something—”

  “Something your Almighty will find very important, trust me.”

  “Trust you? Charming, coming from a…from you, Ash.”

  “I am not asking for you to get to know me. Just for your trust.”

  Izzy had enough. She moved into his space, willing a fight. “Trust you? Is that how you made Shea give up her soul? Never. You took something powerful that did not belong to you.”

  “That you are correct in, but again, it had to be done and again, what happened between Shea and myself is our business. Will you deliver the message or not? I grow weary of this drama, Cherub.”

  Izzy wanted to kick him where it counted. “Fine,” she spat, “tell me your message.” Not that I can deliver it, but I want to know exactly what you’re planning, spawn of the devil.

  “Give me your hand,” demanded Ash.

  Izzy looked at him.

  “If I wanted to harm you, I would have long ago. We are wasting time. I will only ask one more time. Give me your hand.”

  Izzy harrumphed in annoyance and attempted to turn sideways. She longed to be home, but no way was she about to give this demon her back. Without warning, he grasped her hand, hauling her far too close for comfort to his large frame. He forced her to her knees. Pain exploded through her body, and if she hadn’t been on bent knees, she’d have fallen to the cold, unforgiving ground. Searing pain flashed through her mind as the Hellish nightmare he was conveying to her penetrated all her senses.

  “Tell the Almighty that the prodigal son plans to return. It has begun.”

  With that parting remark, Ash released her hand, swept his wings back in one massive lunge, and took to the sky. Izzy feared to look at her hand, convinced burn marks had been wielded into her palm. Shaking with overloaded images of what Ash had allowed her to see, she knew she was double-damned. She’d agreed to convey the message, but to do that, she first had to get the Mistress to listen to her. Izzy knew that wasn’t about to happen anytime soon.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Nathanael did not like being played the fool. And played well he had been. He ran through the streets, honing in on the lush scent of Isabella’s blood essence. It flowed through his body, the scent of dewy flowers and innocence streaming through him, urging him right or left. I know now how the hounds of Hell must feel.

  He’d gone to Isabella’s bedroom, expecting her to stay inside, to stop fighting demons. The only thing he’d found was a pile of pillows in her bed. He’d thrown all the pillows to the ground and marched straight into Meredith’s bedroom. He realized again he should have knocked. He hadn’t and she did not take lightly to his invasion. However, Nat’s Seraphim etiquette had been trampled on and he wanted Isabella to pay for mocking him with her disobedience. Seeing Gareth on Meredith’s bed surprised him. Wisely, he said nothing, only giving a curt nod to the human male Mike had previously introduced him to. Meredith claimed at first not to know where Isabe
lla went. Nat hadn’t bought it. Pressing the matter, he warned her of Shea’s outcome. When Meredith speculated that Isabella had gone to see for herself where Shea had been taken, Nat knew he’d gone to his own version of Hell.

  He turned into a side alley, catching a dewy hint of Isabella’s life essence. He ignored the filth of the alley, the streets, and the sidewalks. How humans managed to live like this he didn’t understand. Did they not know the gift the Almighty had bequeathed them? Shaking his head, Nat knew he had to focus. Unsheathing the sharp, small sword from his back, he readied himself. Turning into a second darkened alley, he plowed straight into a form. Catching himself, he took great satisfaction in seeing Isabella land on that pretty ass of hers.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Shouldn’t I be asking you that, my b’iã?”

  Isabella shakily stood. Nat did not offer her help. He wasn’t in the mood to play nice anymore. He tried to recall all she’d been through but it didn’t help. She mocked him. Tonight, she shall not.

  “We have to go,” said Isabella, wiping her hands on her leather pants as she made a move to go around him.

  Nat caught her arm and noticed the cuts on her arms. Deliberately she’d sought demons to fight. One could never call his Isabella a coward. The realization she’d rather fight demons than obey him—or for that matter, be with him—left him feeling cold.

  “So, did any demons come for you to fight?”

  She looked at him, her eyes widened. “Yes. We’ve got to go.”

  “Did the demons leave?”

  “Yes, yes, yes, I took care of them,” she said, trying to yank her arm free of his hold.

  Nat grinned, pulling her tighter to his frame. He used his weight to maneuver her toward the back of a brick building, and only when her back cut into the uneven brick did she truly look at him.

  “Look, seriously, you can’t be mad with me about setting you up?”