by J. J. Dean
Luna's screaming lasts far too long, and by the time the button is pressed to stop the flow of electricity, there's a light sheen of sweat covering her beautiful face, and she's completely breathless.
Brolos makes no other attempt to ask her to pick. Instead, he places the paper on the table next to whatever device they've attached to Luna and leaves the room, slamming the door with a resounding slam.
I give Luna a moment to recover after that moment of torture before telling her, "Alright, Flower. Let's think up a plan. I'm going to get you out of here, but we need a plan to do it. How are you holding up?"
"I've suffered worse. You'll have to start thinking up a plan while my brain stops feeling like mush for a second," she tells me through her attempts to breathe normally again. I'm going to rip the heads off those ugly bastards for hurting her. And I'm going to enjoy every second of it.
Leaving her to recuperate, I keep my eyes on her while thinking up a plan. We clearly can't use our powers with whatever the hell they've put on the chair that's disabling them. I don't want to risk Luna hurting more than she has to. I just need to know the extent this disabling power reaches. Obviously, it prevents my use of fire and Luna's singing. But... does it disable touch?
My eyes widen on Luna. She has Divine Touch. But do the ugly as shit monsters know that? They know she possesses abilities since she has the same disabling device on her chair as I do, but what if the monsters don't know she has more than her singing? As much as I don't want her hurting, there's only one way to figure that out.
"Flower, I'm going to need you to touch me and use that hocus pocus thing that is Divine Touch," I tell her, already trying to shuffle across the floor awkwardly.
I don't get a reply, so I look up at her to find silver eyes watching me with so much pain that it almost renders me breathless. A tear drops from her eye, and she croaks, "No."
"I know you don't want to use it, Luna. But it may be our only shot at getting out of here. You have to try," I tell her gently, the tear streaking down her cheek killing me from the inside out.
She shakes her head slowly and says, "I can't, Eli. I can't."
Doing my best to move this stupid fucking chair closer, I ask, "Why? What are you afraid of, Flower?"
There's a pause, so I stop heaving my chair closer to her and lift my head to look at her. Her eyes have turned empty as she looks down at her lap. With a broken whisper, she admits, "I almost killed someone with it. Someone I loved with every fiber of my being. My brother."
Her brother? What the fuck? "That doesn't make sense, Luna. Help me out here."
After another beat of silence, she looks at me with so much vulnerability that I'm cursing these zip ties and this entire situation we've found ourselves in. She takes a deep breath and tells me her story. "After I Fell, I hid for years. Fifty-eight, to be exact. One night, it was hammering down with rain, and two men stumbled upon the cave I'd made my home. They were brothers, Alistair and Reagan. One a man at the age of twenty-seven and the other but a boy. Sixteen years old and full of energy and happiness. They took me in when they found me, made me a part of the family. Gave me a real home, a real chance of life."
She clears her throat, and something in my chest tightens. I know I'm not going to like where this story goes. I can feel it in my bones. "I thought I'd found love, that Alistair felt for me what I did for him. I fit into the family like I was meant to be there, Mr. and Mrs. Brady thought of me as the daughter they'd never had. I thought I had found a family to care for, a man who loved me, and gained a brother who I thought the world of. Everything was finally perfect after fifty years of suffering through the pain of my Fall. It didn't last. I was gifted with only ten years of happiness before the dream became a nightmare
"The years went by blissfully, but eventually Alistair grew to resent me. He became jealous that I found a way to fit into his little family so easily, that his father doted on me, and his mother always wanted to spend time with me. That his own brother sought me out for advice instead of him. He thought I was pushing him out, replacing him. I wasn't, but he didn't believe me. A year or two went by with accusations and arguments before he finally snapped. It only took one sharp slap to my cheek for everything to spiral downwards. For the twenty years after that, I was beaten to almost an inch of my life. I stopped visiting Mr. and Mrs. Brady at the main house, scared they'd ask questions about the bruises and cuts that he always left on me. Scared they wouldn't believe me if I ever told them who'd caused them. They were older when they’d become parents, and they died in those twenty years that I was under Alistair’s control. Reagan only visited when Alistair allowed it, which was rare since I was always visibly wounded.
"I isolated myself, and I was abused almost every night. Alistair would lock me in the basement of the house we shared, chain me like an animal, and torture me until there wasn't an ounce of skin that wasn't marked. Ten years into my personal hell, Alistair realized I wasn't aging. Another thing he grew to envy. My punishments grew harsher. I could feel the need for him to blemish all parts of my body just to feel better about his own aging. It was twenty years of constant abuse, and at the time, I had no idea I was still in possession of any of my gifts. I thought I was nothing more than human for all intents and purposes. The only difference was that I didn't age."
Luna shakes her head, another tear falling down her pale face. I want nothing more than to scoop her up in my arms and hold her as tight as I can, comfort her the way everything in me is demanding to. My heart is aching for her while anger simmers just under my skin at the vile fucker who hurt my girl.
"Anyway, it was my brother who saved me. Reagan was always sharp and observant and grew up to be such a clever man. He knew something wasn't right but couldn't prove it, so the years went by as they were. That was until Reagan chose to trick his older brother and visit me while Alistair went away for the night for a work-related trip. Reagan had made up to get him away from the house long enough to sneak in. It worked, and Alistair left me chained in the basement while he went away," she explains, her voice void of any emotion at all. It's as though she's lifelessly reading a crappy article in the newspaper instead of sharing a chunk of her life. I’ll be fucked six ways to Sunday if it isn’t breaking my heart while she does it. "Reagan found me bleeding and broke, chained to the wall by my wrists. He found a wire of some sort and unchained me, apologizing over and over again for not coming sooner, for not realizing what my life had become before then. I didn't blame him, but he felt so much guilt that it triggered my Divine Melody, and I soothed him enough for the guilt to flee. I was so hellbent on making my brother feel like he didn't fail me that we didn't realize Alistair had been standing at the door to the basement, watching us. He knew Reagan had tried to trick him and only pretended to leave. I'll never forget what happened afterwards."
Chapter 8
Luna
I hate even thinking about this. The only good memories from the beginning of my life in this world were all created by Reagan. He was my brother, blood-related or not. He's the only reason I force myself to remember because losing his memory will shatter me worse than Alistair's attempts.
"I've never seen him so angry. The rage that came from him was like nothing else, nothing I'd been at the hands of before. It's like he just completely lost it as soon as he saw my hand on Reagan's. He didn't stop to think about it, just dived at his brother like a fucking animal. He knocked him into the stone steps he'd just walked down, and I heard Reagan's head thud when it collided with the step. As soon as Reagan was out of the way, Alistair turned on me. I received a fist to the mouth, breaking my jaw in the process. I was completely defenceless, and he unleashed so much anger on me. I don't even know how long it lasted, but eventually Reagan woke up just as something unfurled in my chest. Alistair had picked up a fire poker at some point and raised his hand to hit me with it. Self-preservation must have kicked in because the feeling in my chest grew, and a glow started to light up the room even though there were no
lanterns or fires around. I know now what it was, but I didn't at the time. When Reagan ran and jumped in front of his brother's attack, I raised my hand to stop Alistair at the same time. My hand connected with Reagan's bare arm instead. Reagan froze immediately and got a fire poker embedded in his stomach. There was so much blood, so fucking much. And I couldn't do a damn thing about it."
I can feel the pain like it was yesterday, not all those decades ago. The feel of every lashing, bruise, and cut. I can almost feel Reagan's pain, the helplessness when I screamed out as soon as I saw the iron poker sticking out of his body. It all hurts just as much as it did back then, and I can't help the tears that begin to descend down my cheeks.
"Baby, I'm so sorry," Eli whispers, sounding almost as choked up as I am.
Doing my best to pull myself together, I offer him a smile. It's a sad smile, one that likely offers little to zero reassurance, but it's all I can muster. "Don't be sorry. It wasn't your fault or mine. It was an accident. Reagan survived, just barely, and Alistair was caught and locked away in a mental institute somewhere after I rendered him immobile with the power I'd forgotten. Reagan lived his life, married, and had children, and I stayed by his side everyday until he passed away from old age. But what I'm telling you is that my gift almost got my brother killed when he was trying to protect me. I almost killed the only person I loved because he was trying to save me. I'm not doing it a second time, Eli."
I watch him carefully, wondering if I just admitted something I wasn't prepared to. Maybe he won't read too much into it and take in the fact that I almost killed a person instead of dissecting the fact that I think I just told him I'm not going to risk someone I love, that someone being him. Emotions are fucking complicated. There's a damn reason I went so long without attachments, damnit.
Eli's eyes widen, likely putting two and two together, but my face must show the sudden panic I'm feeling because he blinks quickly, looks away, and clears his throat. When he faces me again, it's with a look I've only caught briefly. The same look Asher gives me. His chocolate-colored eyes are warm as they bore into me, and with so much conviction, he says, "You won't hurt me, Flower. I know you won't. You just have to trust me right now. Can you do that much? I know I'm asking a lot, but this could be our only ticket out of here, and I need you to at least try this once."
Feeling overwhelmed and scared, I shake my head and say, "I don't know if I can, Eli. I haven't used my power since then."
He bites his lip, looks down, and starts to screech his chair over to me. He's made good progress while I told my story, leaving only roughly five feet between us. Determination is plastered all over his handsome face, his dimples popping out when he bites harder on his lower lip.
There's a sound from outside the door, and we both freeze. I hold my breath and wait quietly, but nothing comes. I look at Eli and release my breath, his eyes flashing with relief too. With renewed vigor, he moves his chair until he’s only a foot away. I can almost feel the warmth that always comes from his body seeping into my cool skin.
I check the door again before facing my copper-headed angel, taking in every feature of his face. He does the same to me, his eyes raking over me before he says, "You can do it, okay? I trust you."
Another tear falls from my eye, and I growl at the stupid thing. I really fucking hate crying, and it seems to be my default setting since these jackasses barged into my life.
Like he's in my head, Eli cracks a breathtaking smile, his dimples winking at me like they always do. "I know, it's all our fault. But you can blame us all later, alright?"
Biting my lip, I look away. Can I really do this? Eli might trust me, but I certainly don't trust myself.
"Look at me, baby," he softly demands. I do, and he smiles. "Trust me. You won't hurt me."
The look of complete trust that passes through his eyes is what has me wearily nodding. He gives me another dimpled grin, and my heart stutters in my chest despite the panic that begins to claw at me.
Eli shuffles closer still until his chair almost presses up against mine. His hand bends awkwardly, reaching for my own, but I hesitate. What if something goes wrong? I can't be the cause of getting someone I've grown to care about injured or killed again. I just can't.
"Trust me, Flower. Trust me as much as I trust you. You've got this. I'll even bake you an entire tray of cookies when we get our asses home if you just try," he tempts.
Laughing weakly, I shut my eyes tightly and reach for Eli's hand. His warm skin touches mine, and I feel myself slowly relax. Who knew I needed his touch as much as I do?
Keeping his voice no louder than a soft whisper, he says, "There we go, that's my girl. Alright, give it your best, Flower."
Thinking on the most innocent thing I can instead of the way him calling me his girl makes me feel, I tap into the power I haven't used in just under two hundred years. A glow lights up the room, indicating that my eyes have changed, and I brace myself for more pain when I whisper a gentle command. "Click your fingers."
I tense, ready to feel the pain from whatever is attached to my chair, but...nothing happens. Instead, a very distinct snapping of fingers sounds out in the otherwise quiet room. Breathing in a sharp intake of air, my eyes snap open, and my head turns to face Eli. He's already grinning at me, eyes lit up with hope and pride.
"It worked, Flower. It fucking worked!" he whisper yells, leaning his hand against mine. I'm in too much shock to smile back, but I press my hand harder against his. With enthusiasm only Eli could exude, he says, "Okay, I think I have a plan."
Shaking my head, I snap myself out of my stupor. Now is so not the time to have a dumbass moment. Being the first to die in a horror movie is so not my MO, even if the situation here is different. "What's the plan?"
Eli runs through the plan step by step, telling me exactly what I need to do and when to do it. It sounds like it could actually work, so hope rises in my chest. I'd really rather not suffer through electric shocks every hour when I don't give the ugly duo what they want.
"So what do we do before then?" I ask, sitting back in the uncomfortable chair.
Eli awkwardly shrugs and says, "Now we wait."
The next hour feels like it lasts forever, but before the next round of torture comes about, Eli has successfully moved his chair right back to where it had started. We both sit in silence, waiting for the moment Javos, Brolos, or both monsters walk through the door to ask me the big question.
Like clockwork, Javos walks through the door without his Heavenly counterpart. He stops in front of me and, without any preamble, asks, "Heaven or Hell?"
Instead of answering, I tell him, "I don't feel too good."
Javos frowns, taking a heavy step closer to where I sit. I pretend to feel dizzy, swaying my head before faking a faint like a pro. My body goes lax, and my head drops forward, hanging awkwardly on my shoulders.
"Luna? Luna, are you okay? Luna!" Eli yells, playing up the worried party. It would make me smirk if I wasn't pretending to be passed out right now. I stay still instead, keeping my breathing even and steady.
The sound of Javos walking closer reaches my eardrums, and I brace myself to make a move. The second I feel his stony hand come up to check my pulse, his sausage fingers pressing against my neck, I whisper under my breath, "Stop."
I feel the power flow up from my chest and into the hand of the Gargoyle. My eyes glow, silver lighting up the room for a brief moment before plunging us into darkness once again. Javos freezes instantly, his hand resting against my skin and his eyes widened in surprise.
Careful so as not to lose contact with him, I whisper, "Untie me."
He does a second later, my power dominating and commanding him to obey. He moves to the table and snatches up a sharp looking knife before returning to where I sit and cutting the ties effortlessly and efficiently.
As soon as I'm free, I reach out and touch his hand again, pulling on my power. "Leave Earth and take Brolos the Cherub with you."
He does, walkin
g away like a zombie, his eyes lifeless while his body animatedly heads towards the door. He drops the knife just before the door shuts soundly, and I don't hesitate to rip off the electrodes and rush for it, snatching it up in my hand and heading to Eli's chair. I kick the white tabs away, making sure they're nowhere near us just in case there's a timer on them, and kneel in front of Eli.
"Good job, Flower. You're amazing, you know that?" he tells me, really sucking up and laying it on thick. I roll my eyes even if it does feel kind of good to hear.
"You're only now figuring that out?" I ask, slicing the ties on his ankles before cutting the ones at his wrist. Once he's free, he rubs his wrists, the red marks wrapped around his skin looking worse than mine do. Holy shit, how tight did they tie him to the damn chair?
I stand and tuck the knife into the back of my jeans. Never know when I'll need it, right? Eli stands from his seat, stretching out his back before hooking a finger in one of my jean’s belt loops and tugging me forward.
"What are you-" I start, but I'm suddenly cut off by the soft press of his lips. His hands come up to cup my face tenderly, the one moving further into my silver strands of hair. His grip is just shy of painful, but I don't mind. I hug him tighter to me, my arms wrapping around his waist and my hands pressing just between his shoulder blades. He shivers against me, and his groan gets trapped between our lips.
Eli pulls his mouth away all too soon, but then he wraps me up in one of the tightest hugs he's given me to date. His warmth spreads through my body, and the smell that is distinctly Eli wraps around me with a familiar comfort. Like a bonfire in winter, warm hot cocoa and cinnamon all wrapped into one tattooed angel.
I breathe in deeply and sink into his arms like they were made for me. He tightens his hold on me before dropping a kiss onto the crown of my head. Moving his head and upper body back enough to look down at me, he gives me the smile that I really love seeing.