Bladed Wings

by Davis, Jarod

  Then something pushed him, fingers pulling him toward her. He tried to pull back, to get away from what felt like searing prongs. Then he felt it, her lips against his. And it should have stung, that should have burned away whatever was left. But he didn’t disintegrate. Instead it was like the light was gone, cool relief, the ecstasy of painlessness rolling across his skin, and it probably still hurt, but he couldn’t feel it against the absence of the light of her soul.

  He pressed his lips back into hers.

  Then the terror of thought struck him.

  She let it go. She hid her soul again. She couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t kill him, and they’d both die. Despada would win, but when he opened his eyes, he saw her face, still vivid with her angel’s radiance. He tried to pull away, but she held his lips to hers, and the calm of that sensation, of fitting together so perfectly, together in that kiss on their knees in that little office as demons writhed and died in her light.

  There was a flare so bright he didn’t think his eyes would recover.

  Blinded he felt her let go. No, Timothy tried not to think, tried not to think about some chance where she managed to save him at the cost of her life. It didn’t matter that’s what he wanted her to do, to live while he died. He couldn’t take it, couldn’t accept that chance, but he pulled her close, grasped her to his chest and he felt a heartbeat through his shirt. He ignored everything except the feel of her body against his. But she didn’t move and he couldn’t see.

  Nine

  When Timothy opened his eyes again, everything about the last night was clear until that kiss, that special kiss that saved his life. Above him was a pink ceiling. That seemed right, unrecognizable, and unimportant. She did it, he thought.

  For a second, Timothy tried to move, to roll over, but his stiff muscles screamed back at him. Eyes scrunched shut, he relaxed again and it would have been easy to sleep. But he didn’t, because he had to remember.

  Everything got sticky after the kiss. Timothy took her to the van. He couldn’t find the keys. Stumbling back inside, he remembered his wounds, the burns that were cracked and healing with every second. But they hurt, made it hard to move. And he was empty, drained of strength. Exhaustion, hunger, and thirst raged for his attention, caking everything in a thick dust of fatigue that made it hard to think.

  He didn’t walk so much as stumble when he searched the demons’ crisped bodies for keys. On the third pile of scattered ash, Timothy found the keys, went back to the van and drove back. Then he carried her back. She was breathing and safe, so he didn’t see anything else. A thousand people could have been waiting for him and he wouldn’t have noticed.

  “You’re awake,” she said, planting her chin on his stomach. “Healing too. Does it hurt?”

  “A lot.”

  “That’s what you get for being so wrong.”

  “We got away.”

  “But you thought I had to kill you. You know how wrong that makes you? That makes you the wrongest wronger who ever wronged.”

  “Great.”

  “And I’m going to hold that over you for a long, long time.”

  “Good,” he said, clamping his arms around her. “How did you know?”

  “A woman’s intuition.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. It just felt like something I had to do.” Then Timothy didn’t care about questions when Jenny touched her lips to his, and that would have gone on for a long time, but someone knocked on the door.

  “Ignore it,” Jenny told him.

  “Okay.” He didn’t need to be convinced.

  “Jenny, someone at the door!” her roommate shouted from their living room all of fifteen seconds later.

  “What time is it?” Timothy asked. He looked around for a clock, felt the soft sheets, and realized he was in her bedroom. For all the times any guy could hope to get into a girl’s bed, he never thought it would happen like last night.

  Grabbing the tiny neon lights by her bed, Jenny said, “Six.”

  “On a Tuesday?”

  “I guess.”

  Someone tapped on Jenny’s bedroom door; a quieter voice asked, “Jenny, this guy said it’s important. Says his name’s Cordi-something.” Timothy sprang up at that. Cordinox, now the strongest demon in Sacramento.

  “Who’s that?” Jenny asked.

  “He’s like Despada.”

  “A demon?”

  “Yes. But he doesn’t want you.” Timothy prayed that was still true. Screw weakness. He would still fight if that’s what it took. But it would sting so much to get this far and be almost safe just to get killed by the demon who first trained him. Then again, that is exactly what Timothy might expect from Cordinox.

  Jenny called through the door, “Tell him I’ll be out in a second.” The roommate said something about going back to bed. A second later they heard her bedroom door shut with the irritation of someone who woke up at six.

  When Timothy and Jenny came out, Cordinox was lounging in one of the chairs, his hands on his knees. He rose when they came out, a hand held out to Jenny. Timothy stepped in front of her and said, “You know what happened.”

  A slick grin crossed Cordinox’s face, “I do.”

  “So why are you here?” Jenny said, stepping past Timothy.

  “I wanted to see if my guesses were true.”

  “Were they?” Timothy asked. Jenny wouldn’t let him stand in front of her. He had to settle on taking her hand. He’d pull her to the floor and cover them with a shield if this turned into a fight. Of course that almost made him laugh; Cordinox matched Despada in combat. Timothy, weakened and burned, would’ve been about as threatening as a toothpick.

  “Some,” Cordinox replied. “Hecate felt the explosion. Devi and Isis scouted the place and found that suddenly my mortal enemies were suddenly charred outlines burned into a department store’s floor. Only an angel could do that.”

  “Good guesses.”

  “But I thought you’d be dead,” he said to Timothy. “I guessed that they managed to grab her, which meant you’d failed to protect her.”

  “I went after her.”

  “So you were there?” Now he sounded confused.

  “We were,” Jenny told him.

  “She woke up her soul, killed them all.”

  “Now what?” Jenny asked, braced like she expected another fight.

  “You’re afraid that I’ll try to do what Despada did?”

  “The thought occurred to me,” Jenny told him honestly.

  “You can’t have her,” Timothy said, way more confident than he should’ve been.

  “Don’t worry, I have no interest in her soul, or yours for that matter, Timothy. She’s more useful out there, killing demons, a constant threat to everyone else. Now that Despada’s gone, this valley is mine. And that’s all thanks to the two of you. Besides, there’s no real reason not to have an angel for an ally. Sound fair?”

  Cordinox had his hand out again. This time Jenny shook it. “Don’t try to hurt him or me, do you understand?” she asked. Cordinox didn’t react when she sent a flicker of her soul through his hand. Timothy saw the sizzle but didn’t say anything; Cordinox didn’t react either. That was almost scary, the way she controlled abilities she just learned about.

  “I do.”

  He turned for the door, his fingers around the knob when he stopped and asked, “Timothy Santos, be grateful. Few men get to enjoy what you have. She sacrificed something to be with you, tied your souls together. That’s why you survived. You’re bound now. I’ve never seen someone who’d do something like that.”

  When Cordinox left, they looked at each other again.

  “We did it.”

  “We’re alive.”

  “We’re together.”

  “Best part.”

  Jenny pulled him to her and kissed him, and they were moving, through doors and fell down together with nothing but the sensations of that moment, of being together. Fingers and souls intertwined, they kissed again.


  The End

  Angel Prayers

  Jarod Davis

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  First Edition

  ©2015

  Cover courtesy of Shutterstock.

  Prologue:

  Sometimes I think it’s easier for Christians. They have hope, faith, and someone to watch over them. Their world has an endgame that makes sense. God loves them. He’s always there when they cry out for help. God can support them, carry them, and protect them. It’s harder when you’re alone.

  Trust me. No one knows what this kind of alone feels like. My family is dead. Everyone I loved is ash. It’s been years, and those pains have faded into long scars. Mostly Everyone else can look forward to birthdays, graduations, Christmas, dinner. They have a million moments that make life worth living. They have loved ones.

  All I could hope for were those little acts of kindness and compassion. Someone says hi at the store. Someone says excuse me as I pass.

  Or freshman year. Kayla went on a vacation with her family. They hit the beaches in Florida or Mexico. It doesn’t really matter. But when she came back, Kayla gave these little green stones to her friends and the people who sat around her. They weren’t expensive or important. They were just little souvenirs for the people she saw in class.

  I didn’t expect one. She wasn’t my friend. We never hung out. And she couldn’t know about the way I looked at her sometimes, that scratch of interest in this girl who was nice to everyone. She was smart. She was kind. And she remembered me. No one remembered me, and no one was supposed to. That was the point. Yet Kala gave me one of those little stones anyway. It’s stupid, but I smiled a lot that day.

  That stone still rides around in my wallet. Everywhere I go, it follows me. That was three years ago, and we’re still not friends. She did something nice for me, and I remember it because that’s as much as I get.

  It’s okay. Solitude is fine. It’s what I deserve. Nothing else. I don’t want anything else. I don’t even want forgiveness because I don’t deserve it.

  Redemption. That’s something else the Christians have. They can find forgiveness in their savior, Jesus Christ. They have a savior, while I just have a pit. I’ll live. Then I’ll die. Maybe I’ll find hell. Maybe not. It doesn’t matter. Or maybe it does. His family deserves justice.

  That’s why I should’ve finished junior year without ever talking to Kayla. That’s why I should have left that door shut and let the world take care of it. Christians say there’s hope, that redemption is always possible, and she makes me think they might be right. That’s my temptation, the belief that I’m not broken. Kayla makes it worse.

  I need to stop spending time with her.

  Kayla makes me want to believe that I’m not bad, broken, or evil. When I think of her, I think it might be possible. I hope maybe it’s possible.

  My notes:

  Add internal prayers. She prays as thoughts.

  Make her more of a reader and more nervous with people. Before Allie, she wasn’t popular.

  Include more Biblical quotes

  Mention her favorite restaurant, Chang’s Authentic Mexican, earlier

  Chapter 1: First Prayers

  “But the Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen and protect you from the evil one.”

  2 Thessalonians 3:3

  “C’mon, it’s going to be a boy party. Don’t make me go alone,” Erin begged, her hands cupped together. “I need someone there who’s not going to talk about sports, girls, or video games.” Her voice rose a couple octaves like she wanted to laugh even as her lip quivered and she kept her eyes big and scared looking. Begging was definitely not Erin’s thing. “Please. Please. Please. Super awesome double mega pretty please.”

  Kayla couldn’t say no. Another night at home would hurt, but Erin was right. Kayla needed a night out and this was the only one coming anytime soon. Her friends were gone, she reminded herself. Erin was the only person left, “Okay.”

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Erin bubbled before she’d hopped off to class.

  Six hours Kayla pulled up in front of the house. This was the right address. The pulse of music beat out into the street. A couple guys sat on the porch, watching the neighbors and laughing between gulps of beers.

  Kayla pulled out her phone and typed in a quick message for Erin to meet her outside. Neon light from the stereo and dashboard glowed against her skin and the white of her sweatshirt. Even when she was going out with Dean, Kayla never poured a ton of effort in her appearance. Her jeans weren’t much more impressive either. She didn’t look like she was about to hit a party. She didn’t look like someone the guys would want, but she was there for Erin.

  Exhaling, Kayla wished she could see her other friends. She stared out the window and wondered where they were. Anger should have seethed in her chest, but she just felt sad because she’d have to go to this kind of party and pretend she belonged there.

  Those thoughts hurt, so Kayla closed her eyes and spoke, her voice soft, even in the empty car. “Okay. I’m here. I’m trying. This isn’t for me. It’s for Erin. Okay, that’s not completely true.” She didn’t lie. That was the best part. No lying. No point in telling anything but the truth. “Maybe I want to get past Dean. So one night. I’ll do my best to be the good friend. Erin deserves that. Especially after the last week. I’ll smile. I’ll laugh. It’ll all be good. Okay? I’ll be strong. I’ll do my best.” That was a promise to herself and someone else, one that made her feel a little better.

  Erin bounced out of the front door and stopped at the sidewalk. Always energetic, she gave an excited wave. Kayla let out one quick sigh and forced a smile as she got out. “You made it!” Erin said with a quick hop and grabbed Kayla’s arm.

  “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “But you should’ve been here earlier. There was this big argument about whether or not Batman would ever have a chance against Superman. Seriously. Guys. There are just guys here and all they’re talking about are video games and comic books.”

  The cold of night air disappeared the second they stepped inside. Blanketed in heat, techno beats reverberated through the walls from speakers in the living room. To the right was a kitchen. Kayla thought she heard the sounds of conversation from further down the hall. Everything was cliqued up. Groups of guys laughed or were circled around the flat screen, smashing buttons and shouting at each other with every point, combo, and explosion.

  They headed back down the hall and Erin pulled her into one of the bedrooms. She shut the door and fell down onto the bed. “Thanks for showing. Isaac disappeared with some of his friends like five minutes after we got here.”

  “Whose room is this?” That was as much in
terest as Kayla could manage.

  “Don’t know.” There were space ship posters on the wall, Star Trek, Star Wars, or some game. A couple models lined the shelves. Little dragons and warriors dressed in armor and swords, they all looked expensive. “Some guy.” Erin stopped for a second. “You okay?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “C’mon. This is me.”

  “You’re a good friend.”

  “Yup.”

  “I’m serious,” Kayla said. “You’re a good friend, a really good friend.” Eyes down, she fiddled with the tips of her fingers.

  “Still fighting with everyone else?”

  Kayla puffed a breath, “It’s not much of fight. They’re just not talking to me.”

  “Do you want to tell me about it? I promise I’ll take your side.”

  “I’m good.”

  Erin watched her like she didn’t believe her. At the same time, she must have known she couldn’t fix anything so she slid off the bed and asked, “Want to get something to drink? There’s pizza out there.”

  Kayla smiled and hoped it looked real enough. Her friends were gone, and Kayla knew why. Knowing didn’t help. Her friends left when her family started to break apart. They shouldn’t have been connected. Her friends should have been to help her. Lots of things should have been different, but they weren’t, so she wanted to go back two or three years.

  “Pizza time.” Erin hopped off the bed and headed back outside. Kayla followed and saw the different guys. Out in the living room, they kept smashing through their bad guys. Polygonal figures fought out across the screen, and Kayla wondered how many of them had girlfriends, and how many of those girlfriends would think about this. These guys were excited, laughing, jumping up and down. They looked like little boys.

  The kitchen was empty, half eaten circles of pizza scattered on the table.

  “Guys are weird,” Erin said as she grabbed a slice. Kayla heard laughter from the living room followed by an explosion. Someone shouted something about “the best kill ever!”