by S Lawrence
“Thank you, Caliel. It’s going to be a long night.” I look down at my Prince. He is pale and sweat covers his body, his clothes soaked and sticking to his skin. “We will know by morning if we caught it in time.”
Torryn comes forward. “You might want to go help Lillian. I’ll get him out of these clothes and into something dry.”
He’s already pulling Dagen’s shirt up and over his head. They have cared for each other for centuries. Part of me hates that this is just second nature for them, muscle memory taking over as he strips his unconscious brother.
“Caliel, could I speak to you for a moment before you go?” Evander had called me earlier and he posed a very good question.
Lillian had asked him, and I wonder why we had never thought of it before. The angel nods before stepping around the bed, following me to the door where I stop. I can hear Lillian still, if I’m not mistaken, wrestling with the girl.
I can understand her reaction. At least Lillian had a lifetime of knowing angels were real.
“Lillian asked a very good question. One I’m feel stupid saying I and the Princes had never considered.” I’ve piqued his curiosity. Good.
“Hmm, a human bested you.” His face is smug. Evander straightens from where he was leaned over his charge, eyes narrowed. I shake my head.
“Oh good, I’m sure you have the answer then.” I smile at the prick. “Lillian wondered who hid the descendants? She brought it up and she does have an excellent point that we, or at least you, should be able to sense their angelic heritage.” I wait a beat. “So who did it? And can you get them to uncloak them, at least to us?”
He blinks slowly, and I raise a brow. Nothing.
“Not as smart as you thought huh, asshole?” Torryn mumbles. Evander chuckles as he watches Caliel try to process the fact that he doesn’t know something.
Boom. He disappears.
Fucking angels.
Chapter 9
CHARLIE
I had it planned. My escape. I was going to go through her. I might look like I couldn’t hurt a fly but I can fuck some shit up.
But fuck me. Wings just burst from her back. Motherfucking wings.
And excuse me, but are her cheeks turning red? All thoughts of fleeing have vacated my brain.
“We must hurry, Lucifer”
My body and mind locks up. Too much too fast. “LUCIFER.” I hate the screech that just burst from my mouth.
Get the hell, wow, that has new meaning, out of here, Charlie. Move your ass. She steps right in front of me. She’s talking, but I can’t hear her over the roaring in my ears.
I step right, but so does she. I see it’s going to be like that. My jujitsu instructor has described me like a spider monkey before. I drop into my fighting stance and assess the best way to get around her without actually hurting her.
She seems like a perfectly nice...person...angel...whatever but I ain’t staying here. I don’t give a shit if their songs sound different.
I lunge and she sidesteps, and then quicker than I would have thought, she wraps her arms and wings around me. It’d be pretty fucking cool if I wasn’t fighting for maybe my goddamned life.
Miss Ann, my last foster mom, would be cringing at the amount of cuss words rattling around my head and coming out of my mouth.
“Charlie, please let me explain.” She holds me tighter than I would have thought she could. I did exactly what people do when they see me. I underestimated her.
“I need you to let me go.” I struggle. “I need to get out of here. He told me to run. You need to let me go.” I repeat but I can’t think of anything else to say.
I drop but she just drops with me. She matches me move for move. The fighter in me is impressed, but the me in me is terrified.
“A song brought us to you,” I pause. “It reminded me of the jazz I would hear in the streets of New Orleans. They had found me and saved me from the Fallen, and we knew there were other women out there that we needed to find, and then suddenly there it was, playing just to me.”
She hears a song for me.
“These wings are new. Up until Torryn and Dagen and the others saved me, I was just like you. Alone. Prisoner of the Fallen.”
I push gently at her arm. “Will you stay?” I nod at her question.
“Who are the Fallen?” I ask quietly.
“The ones trying to kill you.” I look back over her shoulder and see the young man that had brought me here. “I’m Luc.”
Luc. Luc. Lucifer. I blink as wings arch up over his back and a bright light shines from him. I mean, I think I blink, but suddenly everything is black.
I wake on the couch, with them and another man standing over me.
Lucifer, yep, I just said that. He sits down on the table beside me. He looks so normal. Just a really handsome young man. Of course, what would a fallen angel look like? I mean, he was an angel first. Aren’t we told they are God’s most beautiful creations?
What had he said just before I blacked out? I refuse to say fainted because that seems so weak. So completely helpless.
“What did you say?” I shake my head trying to clear it.
“When? Before?” He stops and glances at the woman.
“Let’s just start over, shall we?” She smiles. “I’m Lillian. This is Torryn, Evander, and Lucifer, but he prefers Luc.” Her hand moves as she points to each one. “You are Charlie. We and Dagen have been searching for you for weeks.”
“Who are the Fallen?” Lucifer nods, understanding my focus.
“They started as the companions of the seven Archangels. They were chosen by God and sent to His favorites. But they didn’t want the roles they were given; they did not see it as a gift. So they started a war in Heaven, then they fell. Chose to fall after they murdered the Archangels.” My eyes widen.
A war in Heaven.
“Wait. We are taught Lucifer started or tried to start a war in Heaven.” They all cringe, except the man in question; he purses his lips. “Sorry, but it’s true.”
“I was cast from Heaven, not for starting a war but for disagreeing with my Father when He chose to leave humanity to deal with the Fallen alone. They came to Earth and began to release their rage out on innocents.”
I don’t know if I can understand it all.
I remember what she said about the song. “A song led you to me?”
“Yes.” She nods.
“Why do they hunt me?” I look between her and him.
“You are like me.” I brace myself for her next words. “You are a descendant. Your blood can be traced to the Archangels. They came to the Earth to guide humans and they fell in love with some. It was that love that drove the Fallen to their rage. They still blame humans for their betrayal.”
I blink at them, and then an uncontrollable laugh begins to build. A descendant of angels. Me. Right.
It would explain the tragedy that has followed you, my mind argues. True, but we don’t have wings, do we? She said they were new. So, you think we have wings just waiting to burst from our back? I refuse to back down. Ask her.
I could argue with myself all day but I decided to do as I suggested to myself.
“How did you get your wings?” The words drip with sarcasm and disbelief.
Her face turns bright red. What? That seems interesting. I look at the others, where Lucifer and the one called Evander are busy looking anywhere but at Lillian or me. Torryn is grinning like a fool.
“I gave them to her,” he says, then looks over at her and waggles his eyebrows.
“Excuse me?” The words are stretched into somewhere close to fifteen syllables. “This is some crazy sex cult, isn’t it? I’ve been drugged.” I wonder how I even got here. Where is here, really?
“Charlie. It isn’t a sex cult. Oh my God!” Lillian is laughing while hitting Torryn. He simply wraps her in his arms, kissing her like this is definitely a sex cult. Holy smokes, I feel like I’m watching Fifty Shades. “Good grief, babe, you’re making it worse. Stop it.” Sh
e laughs again pushing him off. “We are just a couple. I love him, Charlie.”
He looks at her. Amazement fills his eyes as he asks, “You do?”
“Of course, you idiot. I’ve told you before.” She frowns at the man.
“I know but not in front of anyone,” he mumbles.
I’m in an alternate universe, that has to be the answer. Only way that this sex on a stick man wouldn’t know that she loves him. It practically bleeds from her. She turns and wraps around him, kissing along his neck to his ear, whispering something for him only. He pulls her close and buries his face against the curve of her neck. He holds her with strength and a love like I’ve never seen. It makes my throat tighten.
“Let me try to explain.” I look over at Evander. He seems indulgent and yet slightly embarrassed of the display. “I guess it would be best to start from not the beginning but the beginning of this whole mess.”
He rubs his hand over his close cropped hair. “There is an angel who is the, or was, the scribe of God.”
“Is God dead?” I interrupt, my voice pitched incredibly high.
“Just as well be,” Lucifer mumbles as he stands and paces away to the huge window, looking out over the strip. I realize we are in the Venetian, right where I met Dagen.
“Not as far as we know. He left after the war in Heaven,” Evander expands on Lucifer’s words.
“After he threw me out of my home. Forced me into this role.” I look back at the man at the window and for just a moment, the blink of an eye, I see reflected in the glass the Devil.
Then he is the young man again. I look at the others, and they are all watching me closely. Did they not see that? Maybe they see it all the time. I swallow. Hard.
“Should I continue?” Evander waits for my response. I nod. I’m terrified but I’m starting to believe, and the music hasn’t stopped playing.
He, Lucifer, has a beautiful melody. For the first time, the song is multilayered, each of them represented by an instrument or part. They all blend together creating a chorus and bridges, even Dagen, quiet and sick in the other room, has a faint representation.
The revelation draws my eyes to the closed door. His had been much stronger before. Now it is faint, the delicate sound of a string instrument, not a violin but something deeper like a cello.
My eyes drift closed as I listen to it. It is beautiful and haunting. I realize their parts are weaving around his. Protecting it. Protecting him. Giving it strength as it fades.
When my eyes open, I find myself in front of the door, my hand laying on it. The song is humming through me.
“Do you hear music too, Charlie?” Lillian is standing just behind me to my right, and I nod, slowly. I feel tears on my cheeks. “What do you hear now?”
“His is faint. So faint.” I hum the song as I turn to face them, my hand still on the door. I can’t make myself pull it away. I feel responsible. “Is he going to be okay?” I’m surprised by how much I want that and by the sound of my strained voice.
“I think we caught it in time.” Lucifer had turned from the window while I was lost in the music.
I swipe at the tears. “Good. That’s good.” I glance at Evander, who’s still waiting for me to decide. I nod.
“After the war began, an angel name Caliel, the scribe of God, wrote a prophecy. It said...says that the descendants of those first babies born of the love the Archangels had for their human lovers would be the end of the war. The end of the Fallen.” He draws a breath. “It says that they will join with the Princes of Hell, those chosen by the fallen Morning Star to fight for the humans, to defeat the Fallen.”
When he finishes, I still don’t understand. “So I’m supposed to fight with you guys?”
“Well, yes.” Evander looks at Lillian, a silent plea for help stamped on his face.
“It says that we, the descendants, will find our destiny with one of the Chosen.” She raises her eyebrows and glances between her demon and me.
I frown and then the light bulb goes off, like a one million watt bulb. Oh. Joins. Shit. Fuck.
Like, literally. Damn.
My treacherous mind takes a long hard look at that fantasy. My heart pounds, and I’m not sure if it is fear or excitement. Both most likely. I like it like that, the hint of pain, the feeling of fear that comes from the loss of control. My mind thinks Dagen would rip that control right out of my hands.
Like I said, fuck me.
Chapter 10
DAGEN
Death is stalking me. Clawing at me. Trying to drag me to nothingness.
I am losing my fight with it.
I will be no more.
The first notes of Frank Sinatra’s Witchcraft begin skipping through my head, and I think I smile. At least, I do in my mind. It is a perfect song for the tiny woman. I picture her face above mine, worry creasing the corners of her storm cloud gray eyes.
I’ve never seen a human with eyes so stormy, so truly gray. I wonder if they darken or lighten with desire.
The music continues, and I realize I don’t hear the words, even though I know them by heart. Hell, I saw him sing it live more times than I can remember. I’m still wondering about it when the tempo changes to something harder and sexier.
It makes my heart pound, and my progression toward the darkness slows. What is happening? I try to open my eyes but I still can’t. I’m even more confused as I start seeing the notes shimmer into life and wrap around me.
My trip toward death stops completely. What the fuck? I feel gentle pressure as they pull me back, drawing me away from my demise. Then I hear her, a whisper through my mind.
‘Fuck me.’
Her voice is liquid mercury, filled with heat and interest. I really am damned.
‘I wish I could, sweetheart,’ I whisper back.
‘Dagen?’ She sounds startled.
‘Who else? This is my delusion.’ I chuckle at my imaginary conversation. Death must truly have me in her cold grip.
‘Come back to me. I don’t know about all this shit they are telling me but if they aren’t lying, I think I might need you here.’ Now she sounds sad, and I find that upsetting.
“Charlie,” I hear myself growl, her name a vow and a demand.
I hear the door knob bounce off the wall, probably leaving a hole. Light footsteps race over the carpet with others following at a slightly more controlled pace. Cool fingers flutter over my face.
“Dagen?” Her breath tickles over my face, and I know she is mere inches away.
“Dagen?” Lillian this time.
Luc doesn’t say anything, but I can feel him. Feel his power as he lets out a minuscule amount, sending it into me, searching for me in the darkness. Morning Star. His very essence is blinding as it probes at the music.
“You’re holding him here, Charlie.” Even here in the darkness, I can hear the interest in that sentence.
“What? No, I’m not,” she argues, still leaned over me.
“He’s wrapped in power, power that is the only thing keeping him from the darkness,” he explains, his voice dripping with that sound only a patient parent makes, and I can hear the amusement in the undertone. Torryn coughs, and I can picture him hiding his laugh in it.
“Well, it’s not mine. I don’t have power.” She straightens as she answers him, the words staccato like he’s an idiot.
I fight to open my eyes but lose the battle.
“It looks like music notes.” I can picture him with one eyebrow raised, the unspoken boom plastered all over his face. “Do you have that power, Torryn?” He pauses and I assume looks at my friend. “Do you, Lillian?”
“No,” she answers him quietly. She hates upsetting people, so I know it was hard for her. He had probably silently bullied her with a look.
“Well, neither do I.” I like this girl; she’s stubborn as a mule.
“Charlie,” Lillian starts then pauses, drawing a breath. “I didn’t have anything special about me either. Not until I met him.”
“You’re welcome, angel.” Flesh hits flesh. “Ouch.”
“I didn’t hurt you,” Lillian sighs. “Charlie, you hear music. It makes sense any power you get might have a link to it.”
Silence. I can feel her distress rolling off her. I struggle to reach her. ‘Sweetheart, it doesn’t matter.’ Her hand covers mine.
“It does though, doesn’t it?” She says quietly.
“What?” Torryn’s voice is loud in the quiet room.
“He said it doesn’t matter.” If her voice is anything to go by, she is currently looking at him like he’s challenged.
“Umm, Charlie, he didn’t say anything,” Lillian answers for a blustering Torryn.
“He didn’t?” I hear movement. “None of you heard him?” More movement.
‘Just you, little girl.’
“I’m not little,” she grumbles.
“We didn’t say you were.” I swear Torryn is an idiot.
“He did.” She grips my hand tighter. “Tell me more about the power,” she demands.
“Like I said, I’ve not seen it before. It looks like musical notes intertwined. Like they are forming a chain. It’s holding him here.” He grows quiet as his light flares for an instant. “If I’m not mistaken, it’s pulling him back. You are.”
“But.” She falls silent after the word, and as the darkness fades more and more, I fight harder to reach her. I finally force my fingers to move. It feels like Hell’s fires themselves are burning through my veins, but I flex them beneath hers.
I feel her eyes on me as she tightens her hold.
“Charlie?” Lillian... The others she might have ignored or lied to but not Lillian. Something about her makes you want to be better, and I don’t think it has anything to do with her heritage. I think it is her shining humanity, her utter goodness.
“His fingers moved a little.” She is reluctant to admit it.
I wonder if it’s because of what it might mean. ‘Send them away.’
“And just how should I do that?” She sounds exasperated, and I try to imagine her expression.