Fractured Angel (The Fall Book 2)

by J. J. Dean

  I swipe the card and open the door, hoping to shut it before Devon can stop it, but Lady Luck is hell-bent on shitting on my parade. Devon's hand stops the door, and he pushes it open, walking inside uninvited before letting the door shut. At least I know the asshole isn't a vampire since the heartless jerk didn't go up in flames the moment his foot crossed the threshold. Or does that shit only work in your own home? He didn't go up in flames then either, so I guess I can lose hope that vampires exist.

  "I didn't say you would, Luna, but I know abilities are uncontrollable when they're first received. You wouldn't have been able to help it because you couldn't control it when it first came to you. I'm sure after a few hours of adjusting you have a better rein on it," he explains, his voice both patronizing and helpful. How the hell does he pull that off? I don't understand it.

  I place my bag on the ottoman at the end of the bed and tell him, "Well, it's your lucky day. You can go back to Him and your pretty little pedestal now. You're free of your obligation to help. I don't need or want it. So, see yourself out."

  Walking towards the complimentary drinks, I eye them all before picking up the gin, uncapping it and downing the small bottle in one, then throwing the empty bottle in the bin when I'm done. I take another, sipping it a little slower, and turn. Devon is standing in the doorway watching me with a close eye and furrowed brow.

  "You're still here. Why?" I ask, turning around and sitting on the end of the low down bed. It's comfortable enough. It'll do for one night, and then I'm finding my best friend, getting her home, and then living the rest of my shitty life as a loner. It's the only way to keep anyone safe these days.

  "Because I promised I'd help, and I refuse to break a promise," he answers as though it's the most reasonable explanation.

  I eye him slowly before telling him, "I already told you I don't want your help. I don't want you anywhere near me. So please, leave."

  "Why, Luna? Why are you so adamant I leave? You were willing to accept my help before you got the new power. What changed, huh? And why did you come here without the others?" he asks, stepping into the room and crouching in front of me. I really wish he would go right now, so I can drown my sorrows in alcohol and not worry about his stupid safety.

  "I'm going to ask you once more to leave. I really don't want to use my power to make you, so go of your own free will. Please, Devon," I plead, my voice growing strained by the end of my sentence. Damn it.

  I look away from him, staring at the inside of my gin bottle as though it's the most interesting thing I've ever seen. With a voice so gentle that I almost forget it's Devon in front of me, he says "Luna, look at me."

  Shaking my head, I turn to the double doors on the right side of the room.

  "Please, Luna. Just look at me and tell me-"

  "No! I won't look at you and tell you a damn thing! I want you to get out and get far away from me. Just leave!" I yell, finally losing control of my emotions. I push myself off the bed, down the gin, and throw it across the room, the sound of shattering glass tinkling like a lullaby for my tortured soul.

  Marching to the booze, I pick up a bottle of whiskey, chugging it down despite the burn it leaves as the liquid runs down my throat. As soon as that glass is empty, I send it sailing across the room, listening to the melodic shattering once more and feeling it haphazardly stitching my shredded heart back together with one lousy stitch after another. It's like putting a band-aid over a decapitated limb, but it'll keep me together for tonight.

  Just as I pick up another bottle, ready to down that too, Devon's hand comes up to stop me. He places his hand on my arm, lowering mine before taking the bottle from me and placing it back on the tray.

  "What's going on, Luna? Where are the others?" he asks, eyes boring into mine.

  It's enough to drag up the emotions I was doing my best to suppress, tears pooling and teetering on my eyelashes before falling completely, streaking my cheeks in sorrowful trails. In a strained whisper, I confess, "I left them behind. They're not safe with me, and neither are you. You need to leave. Please."

  My plea is desperate at this point. Sure, he hurt me, and he doesn't plan on sticking around anyway, but I still care about him and his safety. The further away he is from me, the better.

  "I'm not going anywhere," he tells me. It's a lie, but I let him believe it. He may not be going anywhere right now, but eventually, he's going to leave me behind and head back to His side instead. I wish it didn't hurt so much, but the piercing stab it sends in my chest causes me to rub at the spot just above the phantom pain while my tears fall.

  With my mind swimming and my focus on the stabbing in my chest, I'm surprised when arms wrap around me. It's a little awkward at first, but after a few moments, I sink into Devon's embrace, allowing him to hug me while his arms tighten around me. The moment I relax in his hold, it's like a tsunami of emotions washes over me, and I... well, I lose my shit. I sob into his chest, gripping tightly to his shirt while he does his best to awkwardly soothe me, rubbing circles on my back and whispering sweet comforts against my head. It only makes me cry harder, the tears coming out fast and my breath stuttering on every exhale.

  I have no idea how long we stand there, me crying my heart out in Devon's hold, of all people, but by the time the last tear falls and my cheeks dry, I feel utterly spent and ready to pass out standing upright.

  On a tired sigh, I move away from Devon and go back to the drink he took from my hand, taking a long sip from the bottle. "Look, things are a giant shit show right now, okay? You've decided to leave, I just left behind the others even though I didn't want to, Lucifer has my best friend, and he left a cryptic note in a menu for me to find, meaning he's been watching us this entire time and knew where we were all along. My mental capacity for dealing with curveballs is no longer existent. I need at least eight hours to recharge and work out how I'm going to get my best friend back. I don't need you hanging around out of a sense of misguided obligation. You wanted to leave, then here's your chance."

  He's quiet for a moment, so I finish the bottle I'm holding before heading to my bag and pulling out a shirt I stole from Asher. I also have the shirts Eli and Noah wore because they smell like them, and I’m pathetic enough to stoop that low.

  Lacking energy or the ability to care if Devon is still standing in the room, I strip off my clothes, discarding them on top of my bag. I throw my bra off and snatch up the shirt, tugging it over my body until it falls to my knees.

  "I'm going to bed," I tell the silent angel in my room. "Be gone before I wake up. I don't have time to deal with your mind fuckery or keep telling you to leave."

  With those parting words, I climb into bed, ignoring the eyes I can feel on my back the whole time. I huddle under the comforter and wrap it around my body tightly, closing my eyes and doing my best to even out my breathing. Exhaustion begins to weigh heavily on me, and my body finally gives in to the rest it desperately needs. I drift off into a fitful sleep, knowing my nightmare will claim me for its own until I wake again.

  ***

  The sound of the shower running and the rustling of bags wakes me. I have no idea what the time is, how long I've been asleep, or even what day it is. All I know is that someone is still in my hotel room making enough noise to wake me up from the shittiest sleep I've had since... well, since Asher and Eli started sleeping in my bed. I guess I've been spoiled by having them sleep in my bed with me. Shot myself in the foot with that rookie move.

  My eyes open slowly, and I listen to the movement in the room. Light filters through the open curtain, a soft breeze coming from the partly open door of the balcony. Frowning, I move the comforter from around my shoulders and look around, finding Devon unpacking a shopping bag on the dresser near the door.

  "What are you still doing here, Devon?" I ask, my voice hoarse from disuse. Falling back onto the bed and scrubbing my hands over my face roughly, I release a frustrated sigh.

  "Morning to you too. Get up. Your shower is running, I have break
fast ready, and then we're making a plan to save Francis," he tells me instead of answering my question. He continues unpacking the bag, setting polystyrene trays next to the bottles of apple juice he's already placed on the dresser.

  I climb out of bed, asking once more, "Why are you here, Devon?"

  "Because you need someone who's willing to help you. I know you said you didn't want or need it, but if you're not going to let the others help you, then you need me. You’re going to need all the help you can get. So suck it up, go have your shower and come eat the breakfast I brought you," he explains without ever turning around to face me. Whatever. I don't have the energy to deal with him and his mood swings.

  Turning towards the bathroom, I don't bother answering, shutting the door once I'm inside. I rush through a shower, cleaning my hair and scrubbing my body until my skin turns pink. As soon as I'm done, I climb out and wrap my body in the bigger towel that hangs on the rack. I quickly towel dry my silver strands, twisting my hair into two French braids.

  Realizing I didn't bring clean clothes in the bathroom with me, I wrap the towel a little tighter and open the door. I head over to my bag, rummaging through the contents for clean clothes.

  "That was quick," Devon mutters, leaning against the dresser while staring down at his phone.

  Rolling my eyes, I tell him, "Don't have time to waste."

  Devon nods a little before locking his cell and looking up. His eyes widen a fraction. The towel is a little on the short side, only barely covering my ass, while the top of the towel just about covers my breasts. It's not ideal wearing this in front of him, but since I have no modesty left to worry about, I don't much care if he sees me naked at this point. I'd love to know what flicks through his mind when he clears his throat and looks away. I wouldn't invade his privacy like that even if he thought differently.

  "Forgot clothes," I mumble, slipping panties on underneath the towel. I hear him swallow loudly, and when my confused eyes dart up to look at him, he's staring at where the towel has risen, flashing my ass cheeks shamelessly. "Got anything better to do than stare at my ass?"

  Devon shakes his head, then frowns and looks away, turning to grab our food off the dresser and bringing it to the bed. I dress quickly, putting Eli's gray shirt on and slipping into a pair of clean leggings, socks, and a wine-colored cardigan. As soon as I'm dressed, I sit next to Devon on the bed, accepting the tray of sausages, bacon, and eggs he hands me.

  We both quietly dig in, eating in silence as we avoid talking. It doesn't take long to finish breakfast since I didn't have anything to eat the day before. Our dinner was rudely interrupted by a glowing menu and a threatening note. Fucking Lucifer.

  "So, what's the plan, Luna?" Devon asks as soon as we're done.

  Shrugging, I answer, "Haven't got that far yet. Couldn't think straight last night. I planned to think up of a rescue attempt as soon as I had enough sleep."

  He nods. "Good thing I stayed up last night and made one for us then. And you said you didn't need me."

  Offering him a dry look, I tell him, "I'm more than capable of concocting a plan. And I didn't say you were making this rescue attempt with me. In fact, I've told you repeatedly that I want you to go away. You're lingering like a nasty fart."

  He blinks. Then blinks again. "Did you just call me a fart?"

  "Yeah," I deadpan. When he doesn't move or talk my eyebrow lifts, and I stare at him expectantly. "Gonna tell me this elaborate plan, or do I have to keep watching you blink like an idiot?"

  Shaking his head, he says, "So you want my help?"

  I sigh. "Devon, there are a lot of things I want. Most of which I can't have, okay? I want you to go away, but here you are. Lingering. I want my best friend back. I want the guys back. I want Lucifer to choke on Hulk's dick. I want you to-"

  I stop myself just before I blurt something stupid. He doesn't miss it, and his head tilts. Coughing, I look away, my body suddenly feeling very tense.

  "Want me to what?" he asks, not dropping it like I knew he wouldn't. That man will leave nothing alone. When he wants answers, I've learned that he's not above bugging the life out of someone to get them. I'm speaking from experience. He's bugged the life out of me on a few occasions. Damn him.

  Looking him in the face, I tell him, "I want you to... go away."

  "That's not what you were going to say. You already said that. It was the first thing you listed," he informs me, his face serious and eyes searching.

  "How do you know? I could have been saying it twice but stopped myself because it was repetitive. I think I've told you enough times that I want you to leave that it doesn't need to be spoken out loud another time," I dutifully explain, looking away and staring at the fascinating carpet. Now that I look at it, it is an unusual color choice for a carpet. I suppose the yellow does match the photos in the room.

  He raises his eyebrow and dryly says, "That's what you're going with?"

  "Sure. Why not," I grumble, lifting myself from the bed and dropping the tray in the bin before turning around and crossing my arms while I face him. "What I'm saying is, I want a lot of things right now that simply aren't possible. You not in my hotel room being one of them. Since that's not looking good, you might as well tell me this grand scheme so I can get my plan in order and save Francis."

  Dev stares at me a moment longer, not exactly looking convinced or fazed by my incessant need for him to leave, but nods anyway. "Alright, fine. I'll tell you since you're so desperate for my help."

  I drop my head back in exasperation. Looks like Devon the Dick picked up a sense of humor when he ran away like a chicken shit. Just what I need. Not.

  Chapter 37

  Luna

  "I don't understand why your plan involved waiting until dark to look for the address. This is why I wanted to make a plan. Or at least one of the reasons. Haven't you watched any movies at all? All the bad shit happens in the dark. It would be nice to know all of the plan, too," I whisper growl at Devon as we creep along the wall of the house opposite the one that coincides with the address Lucifer was kind enough to leave for us.

  "Would you shut up already?" Devon snaps, walking in front of me, his tall build blocking my view of the house. "We've waited until dark because it's easier to blend into the shadows. If we left as soon as I told you the plan, we'd stick out like sore thumbs. And you don't need to know all of the plan yet. Just trust me."

  Trust him. That's easier said than done. I keep the retort to myself, opting to glare at him instead. It's a wasted effort since he's looking the other way, and it's too dark to really see much. I guess he has a point, but there's not a chance I'll admit that to him.

  "Can you see anything?" I ask Dev, looking around him to see for myself. His arm darts out, pinning me back to the wall. Again. "I'm going to blue ball the crap out of you if you do that one more time."

  He turns his head, his white-blond hair brushing his shoulders when he moves. "Have you forgotten you have bright silver hair? It's the only thing I can see properly in the dark right now. Unless you want to blow this plan all to shit, stay against the damned wall."

  "Your hair is just as bright at mine, you dick," I snark.

  Devon sends me another look, but before he can answer back there's a rustle across the street. His head darts back around, and I sidle closer to his back, keeping quiet as we wait. I really wish Devon wasn't so tall because being able to see across the damn street right now would really tilt the scales in my favor. As it is, I'm forced to let Devon be my eyes, scanning the house and its surroundings before informing me of what he saw. Stupid? Yes, but arguing with that man is damn near impossible. He insisted he walk before me, and I was too slow to stop him. I'm cursing out my reflexes right now.

  We remain plastered to the wall for a little while, listening to low voices speaking until the interruption of a car starting and pulling away sounds out in the quiet street. Of all the places I was expecting, a semi-detached house in a residential area was not on the list. The street is f
illed with homes, many with lights on and looking cozy, all filled with elderly humans that are never out longer than nine at night. The one we're after? Lights off, overgrown garden, and a smashed window that's been poorly boarded up. It stands out as much as my hair does, but it doesn't seem like anyone even notices. Almost like the house is invisible despite being attached to another that looks better kept.

  "Alright, that is definitely our house," Devon whispers.

  "How do you know? What did you see?" I question, leaning forward only to be pushed back against the wall.

  I growl, prepared to hurt the man, but he answers quickly enough. "Four of Lucifer's angels. Two just drove off, but two entered the house. It looks like there's a thin veil surrounding the house, and the two who drove away displayed their powers. Nothing crazy, only the smallest spark to light a cigarette, and the other unlocked the car without touching it."

  "Okay, so what do we do now?" I ask, probing for more of the plan since he refused to give me the entire thing, only bits and pieces that included me. I have no idea why, but it almost feels like a test. Maybe he's trying to see if I will look into his frustrating mind. Who knows? I'm giving up trying to figure out the white-haired angel.

  "Now, we get in without being caught. Knock the two angels out, grab Francis, and get out. That's it," he explains. That's it? That's it?!

  "That was your plan?!" Whisper yelling does not have the same effect. It doesn't convey how pissed I am or completely bewildered. He made me wait until dark and refused to tell me anything... for this? I'm going to kill him. Devon sends me a smile over his shoulder, and I damn near explode there and then. With a strained voice I don't much care for, I snap, "Did you miss the part where I told you my best friend is in danger, and her time is running out? My best friend's life is not a joke. You wanted to help, and all you're doing is making this thing worse."