by J. J. Dean
I blink repeatedly, bemused by his question. Don't humans here have silver hair? I'm sure He and I gazed upon plenty of humans with the same coloring.
"Reagan, be quiet," Alistair berates, sending the boy a look that has him snapping his mouth shut and looking down.
"The boy only asked a question. No need to take that tone with him," I snap in return, though I'm not entirely sure why. I don't know these humans, but I find I don't much care for the way the boy is spoken to when his inquiring mind only seeks answers. I turn my eyes onto the boy and tell him, "I was created with silver hair. Blessed by the almighty Himself."
Reagan smiles in gratitude, and I find myself returning the gesture. I turn my eyes back onto the man whose head is tilted a fraction while he watches me and tell him, "I'm unable to give you a name since I am without one."
I've sworn to never again use the name He gave me. Because of such, I have found myself nameless. It didn't occur to me to name myself since I didn't plan on being found.
The man's eyes soften, giving him a kinder expression. With a charming smile, he says, "Not to worry. I'm sure Reagan can find a suitable name for you if you'd like?"
I find myself blinking again since I've come to realize the man is very handsome when he smiles. With a square jaw that's cleanly shaven, a perfectly straight nose, and thick eyebrows, he's an incredibly attractive man.
"Oh, we should name you Luna. Like the moon, since your hair resembles its glow," Reagan proclaims, his boyish grin in place. He looks so pleased with himself that I can only nod and accept the new name I've been gifted with by a stranger.
Alistair continues to smile, and my breath catches at the same time my pulse quickens with the effect is has on me. "Very well then. Luna it is. How long have you been here, Luna?"
Deciding to keep the length of time I've been in this cave a secret, I answer vaguely. "A long while."
Alistair nods and looks around, likely just noticing the handcrafted baskets and weapons that line one wall of the cave. "Have you been here alone all of that time?"
I nod, keeping the names of the Gargoyle and Cherub to myself too.
"You should come home with us. At least when the storm comes to an end and when we find the horses that escaped," Reagan blurts again, seeming happy with his suggestion.
My eyes widen and flick back to Alistair. He's already watching me, interest and intrigue swimming in his dark eyes. In a voice laced with something enticing, he says, "I'm sure you've not had a decent meal in some time. Come with us. We'll feed and properly clothe you. We'll take care of you."
The kindness of these strangers brings tears to my eyes. Though they're treating me like an animal who might startle with one wrong move, they've been nothing but warm-hearted towards me.
A tear escapes, and I nod, deciding to begin my life outside of the cavern that's been my home for fifty-eight years.
As though Lucifer himself lured me into a trap, the sky stopped pouring, and we left that night, leaving everything I'd made or collected in the cave never to be touched again. I was brought to a stunning mansion made of bricks and expensive materials that only the wealthy could afford. The Bradys were a high-society family and sat on a mountain of wealth. I was treated like I belonged, like I was family. Mrs. Brady treated me like a daughter she never had, and Mr. Brady was all too happy to have another child he could pass on his legacy to. Reagan became as much my brother as he was Alistair's, and Alistair and I had fallen in love. I'd found a home, and it was bliss.
That only lasted ten years until Alistair's true colors finally revealed themselves. Bitterness and jealousy consumed him when I found myself integrated into the family with such ease, earning the love and respect of his parents with very little work. After the tenth anniversary of my unexpected rescue, I was left at the mercy of the man I thought loved me. Only, he didn't, and I learned the hard way what a stupid, naïve idiot I had been to believe I'd found happiness with the man with dark eyes.
Chapter 2
Luna
"Luna?" Noah's voice filters through to my brain. Slowly, I pull my gaze away from the city, shaking my head a little. How long has he been standing there?
I turn to face him, blinking the dryness away from my eyes. "Hm?"
He offers me a small, sad smile and says, "I asked if you wanted dinner. I don't know what anyone likes yet, but I made a bunch of things. There's pasta, salad, mini pizzas. I even made dessert. Pretty much anything that was easy and quick to make."
"There were enough ingredients to make all that?" I ask, my eyebrows drawn down in a frown. I don't remember having anything that could be used to make mini pizzas.
Noah cringes and says, "Uh, no. I had to go to the grocery store. We were out of pretty much everything but gin."
I pause. "You went to the store? When?"
He walks around my chair and crouches low until he's balancing on the tips of his toes in front of me. "About two hours ago. You've been sitting here for a while."
Have I? At this point, I don't remember. Did I even go to bed last night? I feel like the days and nights are blurring into one long nightmare that I still haven't woken up from. Sadly for me, I know I'm not living in a dream state since I only ever dream of my Fall, meaning this is very much still the present time. My reality.
For two weeks, I've found myself staring out the window, watching the world go by while mine remains on standstill the longer Francis stays missing. Two weeks of searching and she still hasn't been found. There isn't a single trace of my best friend anywhere, and we've searched high and fucking low for her. You'd think there would be something that would lead us to her, but it's as though she just up and disappeared.
I clear my throat and fight against the tears that burn my eyes. I look down at my tightly clenched fists and say, "I'm not feeling all that hungry right now. I'm sorry, Noah."
His face morphs into one of concern. That's something I remember very well over the last two weeks, and not just from him. All four of the angels that barged their ways into my life all look at me with varying expressions of concern, even when they think I don't notice. A lot of the time I don't; I just happen to catch them when I'm not so spaced out.
"Luna, you need to eat something. You've barely eaten anything in weeks," he tells me, resting his hands gently on my crossed knees. He's right, I haven't been eating. Only because the thought of eating and acting like nothing is wrong churns my stomach so much that the idea of food makes me sick. I can't sit here eating, going about my life, while Ms. Frenchie is missing. Who knows where she is, or what's happening to her right now? She could be suffering while I'm sitting here doing nothing.
Lifting my head, I gently but firmly tell him, "I'm not hungry."
"Bullshit," comes Asher’s voice. I roll my eyes, but before I know it I'm being hauled out of my seat like I weigh nothing more than a feather. I land on Asher's beefy shoulder with an oomph as his muscled arms wrap around my legs to prevent me from falling. My long silver hair dangles from my head, stopping just past the bend of Asher's knees. It swooshes while he walks, swinging against the backs of his legs.
"Asher, put me down," I calmly demand, taking hold of his waist so my face doesn't smack against his still-healing back.
I feel him shrug when his shoulder digs into my belly before he says, "Sure, I'll put you down."
Not even a second later, I'm being deposited onto a different chair. I glare up at Asher whose lips twitch with a suppressed smile. He winks and walks towards his own seat that just so happens to be around a circular dinner table I don't ever remember buying. Is it even mine? How did it get into my apartment? How does it fit in my living room?
"Bought it last night. You'd have known if you were paying attention to the conversation we were having," Asher says, answering the question I know I didn't ask out loud. Guess the confusion must have been plastered on my face.
"Why did you buy a table?" I ask, sitting back in the hard chair and crossing my arms. I take it all in, spotti
ng three more chairs around the table that's piled with various plates of food. Noah really did make a bunch of things. Now I feel guilty that he went through so much effort to cook at all.
"Because we all decided that you sitting in the chair when you're not looking for... when you're looking at the world instead of living in it isn't good for you. You're not eating, you're barely hydrated, and you're worrying us all," Asher replies, that concerned look seeping into his dark blue eyes.
I look away, more guilt crawling under my skin. My gaze focuses on the rather pretty table instead of the intense gaze Ash is sending me. It really is quite beautiful. The dark wood matches the aesthetic of my entire apartment and has spirals engraved on the edges. My hand reaches out without much thought, my fingers trailing over the patterns with a soft touch. Where did they get it? It's really a pretty piece of furniture.
The scrape of a chair on wooden flooring pulls my attention away, and I watch Noah take his seat to my left. He looks up and gives me a smile that makes the guilt niggle deeper. With my mind only on Francis, the need to find her and feeling like this entire thing is my fault, I've been beyond checked out. I don't even know what's happened in the last two weeks, truthfully. I mean, I didn't know they bought a fucking dinner table or went grocery shopping. I suck.
Pulling my leg up to rest my foot on the chair, I give Noah a small smile. It's probably the first smile I've offered anyone since leaving the hospital after the Hellspawn attack.
Relief visibly crosses his features, and it's only then that I realize the extent of their worry. I really have been neglecting myself, but I can’t help it. Had I protected her better, she wouldn't have vanished. I feel like I can't rest until she's found.
Noah looks away and reaches for the neatly stacked plates that sit amongst the plethora of foods that, now that I'm looking at them, are pretty appetizing. Noah places a plate in front of me before taking one for himself and piling all sorts of food onto it.
Just as Asher follows, the front door opens. Elijah suddenly stops walking, his wide eyes trained on where I'm sitting. Devon practically walks into him with the sudden halt.
"What the hell? Did you have to stop right there?" Devon growls, sounding far grumpier than he usually does. He steps from behind Eli, and when his pale green eyes meet my silver ones, he freezes too. Is it really so shocking to see me sitting at a dinner table?
"Yeah, Peaches. It is. You haven't moved from that chair unless it was to search." Okay, I might have said that one out loud.
"Oh..." I mumble.
My voice seems to knock Eli out of his stupor, and he walks slowly toward the table. He comes to stop next to me, close enough that I can smell the aftershave I like and something that's undeniably Eli. "Hey, Flower."
He bends down to kiss my cheek, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me into a hug. My arms automatically return the embrace, and I hear him sigh softly. I hug him a little tighter, pressing my face into his shirt, not realizing how much I've missed being held. Over the last two weeks, they've all seemed to have distanced themselves from me, giving me a space I'm suddenly not so sure I want or need. I've only received comforting squeezes on my shoulder or smiles that never reached their eyes. My mind has been on Francis, so I haven't stopped to think about it before now. I really do suck.
Eli drops a kiss onto my head, and I drop my arms, wrapping them around my raised knee. He brushes my hair before moving to the seat next to Asher, and when my eyes go to the wingless angel, I find him watching me with intense, but soft, eyes. I offer him a strained smile, and he winks before diving into the food that's looking better and better the more my eyes run over everything.
"Luna. You've moved." I tense as soon as Devon's words register. Hello, Captain Obvious. It's not as though I haven't moved at all over the last couple of weeks, geez.
"Your powers of observation are truly outstanding, Devon. Obviously, I've moved. It wasn't by my own intent, but here I am," I snark, annoyed for some stupid reason. Well, I say it's a stupid reason, but I'm going to go out on a limb and say it's my guilt leading my emotions.
Instead of snapping back like he normally would, he grins. Devon, the angel with the stick so far up his ass that he must only be able to taste bark... just grinned at something I said. Am I hallucinating? Have I finally slipped into a delirious state of dehydration and am seeing things? Who is this angel, and what have they done with the asshole I've grown to know and annoy?
"Why are you smiling at me like that? Has the real you been abducted by body snatchers or some shit?" I ask very seriously. It has to be the only logical reasoning behind that grin I'm enjoying a little too much, right?
He shakes his head and tries to smother his grin to a more respectful smile that still worries me before saying, "Just missed the attitude if you can believe it."
Surprising everyone, but none more than me, I snort. It's as though the unladylike sound has knocked the weight off their shoulders, and the sighs of relief are audible in the otherwise quiet room. That just makes me feel worse, damn it.
Devon takes his seat next to Noah, and each one of them dives into the food that's started to make my empty stomach growl in protest. Their conversation comes easily, and they all discuss things I can't even make sense of. Guess I really have missed out on a lot in the two weeks I've had my head stuck up my own ass.
When the table grows quiet, knives and forks hitting ceramic plates the only noise in the room, I clear my throat and look down in shame. "I'm sorry. I know I haven't made things easier since the hospital. I'm sorry you've all worried. It's just... Francis is the only human in the world who matters to me, the only person who accepted me for who I am, quirks and all. She's my human, and I need to find her. That doesn't excuse the lame-ass I've been since she went missing. So... I'm sorry."
No one says a thing, so I completely avoid the eyes that I feel on me, opting to look around the room like I've never seen it before. My own living room. I'm such an idiot sometimes. I inwardly cringe when I realize I'm staring at the painting like I bought it just mere seconds ago instead of decades before today. I hear a snort, but I don't avert my eyes.
A chair scrapes against the floor, and I suddenly find great interest in my nails. They're actually looking worn down and chewed to pieces. Gross. I should really try and shake that habit. It's more concerning that I've done it without noticing until I'm pretending they're fascinating.
While I've actually checked out my nails and winced at their state, a body has moved up close to me. From the corner of my eye, I can see it's Eli.
"Up," he demands, clicking his finger and pointing his thumb behind him. I raise my gaze, my eyebrows flying up my forehead and almost off my face entirely. Did he not hear me apologize? Why am I being ordered to get up? I didn't place myself in the chair to begin with!
When I don't move, instead gaping at the angel like a damn guppy, he rolls his eyes and darts toward me so fast I don't have a chance to react. He hooks his arm under my legs, the other wrapping around my back, and I'm suddenly lifted bridal-style before being deposited on the floor while he takes my seat. What the actual fuck?
"That's my seat," I tell him, crossing my arms and narrowing my eyes when a strange sense of deja vu hits me. I'd told him the same while we were at Frenchie's before we went shopping together for the first time.
Elijah grins at me, obviously remembering. Could that be the reason he just stole my seat? "I don't see your name on it."
He winks at me, and I run my tongue over my wisdom tooth just to stop myself from smiling. I do a piss poor job of it since Eli's grin grows. Rolling my eyes, I tell him, "That's because I didn't know about it and haven't had time to carve my name into it yet."
Eli laughs and holds his arms out. So, that's why he did it. Sneaky man.
I shake my head and immediately go to him, dropping to his lap with all of my weight and hearing a satisfying gust of air leave him with my efforts. "I should have expected that. You did the same the last time
I stole your chair."
Snorting again, I lean my back against his front while he moves my hair to the side, wraps his arms around my middle, and rests his chin against the crook of my neck. Comfortable and settled, I repeat, "I really am sorry, guys."
Noah beams at me, Devon nods and continues to eat his food, and Asher watches me until I focus on him completely. My hands rest over Eli's, but my gaze plants itself firmly on Ash. His blue eyes capture me in their clutches, holding me captive. "You don't have to be sorry, Peaches. Just take care of yourself, or let us do it for you. You're not alone, and we're going to help you any way we can, okay?"
The conviction in his words is startling. So much so that I can only blink and nod at him.
"Good. Now that's cleared, how about you get some food into your growling stomach? We've been sitting here for twenty minutes already, and there isn't even a crumb on your plate."
Again, I nod and blink like a dummy, watching as my plate ends up piled so high that I tilt my head and look at it funny. The food smells divine, and I'm pretty sure I almost drool when the tastiest looking pizza is deposited onto my plate. Noah really has outdone himself. How many times has he done this and I’ve refused to eat after he put so much effort into cooking? As if the guilt couldn’t get any worse, Luna.
Asher drops Eli's plate next to mine, assuming he's not moving from under my ass, and then looks at me and nods at the plate expectantly. Doing as I'm told, I dig in. I suppose I'm making up for the last two weeks I've practically starved myself. Missing your best friend and feeling guilty for her disappearance would to that to any person, I suppose.
Chapter 3
Asher
After two weeks of watching Luna become an empty shell of herself, the guilt she carries consuming her until she became empty, it's a great relief to finally see her smile again. To see her snap at Devon the Dickhead, to sit in Eli's lap like she normally does, to glare at me with the feisty attitude I love about her. She's slowly coming back to us.