The Fallen (Angelic Redemption)

by Angela Horn

  Studying him as they sat at the red light, Sophie did share the gaze of his dead wife. The unflinching stare of someone who expected more from him than he did from himself.

  As they neared the hotel, Joaquin finally spoke his mind.

  “I do not understand how you can be alive?”

  “I know it must seem weird.”

  “I buried her. I know she died.”

  Sophie shrugged. “The first time I died, nothing was left to bury. I don’t think it really matters though. God doesn’t bring us back as much as recreate us in a new life.”

  “Why?”

  “Why do we come back?”

  “No, why does He put you in a new life without any memory of your old one?”

  Sophie shrugged again. “Maybe each time we get a chance to walk away from our purpose and ignore why we exist?”

  Joaquin nodded, finally embracing that this was a demon’s trick. Sophie’s wounds had also healed surprisingly quickly. Besides the dry blood, she looked healthy and powerful. Joaquin braced himself for the truth as they arrived at the hotel.

  “Our room is upstairs,” he said, fumbling with the door.

  “Let me help you.”

  Rushing around the side of the car, Sophie opened his door and helped him stand. Pulling away from her, Joaquin leaned against the car and steadied himself.

  “Can you make it up the stairs?” she asked, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Should I go up to him?”

  “No, I can walk,” Joaquin said, even though his legs barely held him upright. “He will not understand if you go alone.”

  Sophie frowned, maybe sensing the lie. Standing patiently next to him, she waited for his legs to cooperate or for him to admit that they wouldn’t.

  “Mama!” Maximo shouted from upstairs.

  Sophie gazed upward, shielding her eyes from the sun. Joaquin glanced up too, startled by the boy’s voice. His son waved wildly down at them and ran for the stairway. When Sophie moved towards Maximo, Joaquin took her by the arm.

  “You should wait,” he said, still uncertain if the boy’s reaction stemmed from this woman’s physical resemblance to his mother or some otherworldly knowledge.

  “You don’t believe I’m her, do you?”

  Joaquin’s dark eyes scrutinized Sophie. “Like I said, I buried Heidi. I know she died. You look like her, but how can that be?”

  Frowning, Sophie pulled away. “It’s called faith.”

  Bounding towards them and embracing Sophie, the boy ignored Joaquin’s signal to stay back.

  “God gave you back,” he said, his face against her. “I’m sorry I didn’t see. I should have seen, but I didn’t and you died.”

  Sophie consoled Maximo, holding him and playing with the curls in his hair. Joaquin still wished to separate them and keep this imposter - for now he was certain she was one - from the innocent boy.

  This woman could not be Heidi. His mind would not allow him to embrace the fantasy. He remembered what she looked like when they found her caught in the brush. He recalled the emptiness inside her body as he carried Heidi to the place where he would bury her. Not as he dug her grave or for the years that passed afterward, did he ever think to beg God to return Heidi to him. His wife was gone and never coming back. He accepted this fact the moment he found Maximo crying over his dead mother.

  No matter what this woman looked like or sounded like or pretended to be, she was not Heidi. Joaquin refused to be fooled.

  “Do you speak Spanish?” he asked. When Sophie shook her head, he touched Maximo’s shoulder and spoke in their native tongue. “She is not real.”

  “Yes, she is. She is Mama. She is Heidi. Can’t you feel it? Can’t you see?”

  “Heidi is dead. You know that, Maximo. Don’t be fooled by the monster’s tricks.”

  Maximo ignored Joaquin, a common trait of the boy’s when told something unpleasant. Instead of rejecting her, Maximo pulled Sophie closer, cuddling in her embrace. Frustrated, yet too weak to fight this woman, Joaquin could only conjured up plans to rid them of this problem.

  Sophie just stared at him with the look of disappointment Joaquin knew well.

  “Karen told us the Reaper went rogue because he watched his family die and was angry at God for failing them. This explanation made sense before I met you. Now, I see how you don’t think God failed me. You believe it was you who failed. Maximo thinks it was him who failed. Maybe somewhere deep inside, you have both thought it was me who failed.

  “I don’t think anyone failed. Us meeting and finding Maximo, Karen killing me, all those things had to happen, were always going to happen in some form or another. I was never meant to be Heidi forever. I am Sophie. It was my name before and my name now and it’s who I am. For that brief time, I was Heidi and I found you and Maximo and we helped each other. It was never meant to last. No one failed.”

  “I sent you with Karen. I told you to go with her,” Joaquin whispered, admitting his guilt.

  “And if you hadn’t, I would have died some other way. Deep inside you always knew I would die. You worry I’ll die again. That you’ll fail again. Things are different this time though. I’m not lost. You’re not lost. We have a path and God has brought us back together with a plan. That’s how I knew Karen wouldn’t win today. We have a mission and God doesn’t lose. Why can’t you accept that?”

  Joaquin’s mind could accept it, but the guilt and sorrow were a part of him now. He could no more let go of them than stop loving the woman who gave him purpose. He knew she was standing two feet from him with that look of disappointment. Joaquin knew she was Heidi, but he still couldn’t embrace this new day. He couldn’t accept this new mission, knowing it would lead them to the same fate as their last mission. Joaquin felt the same weakness in Roman. No matter how hard they tried or how faithful they were, their kind was doomed.

  “Watching you die made me weak. I gave up hope that day in the desert. For three years, I cared for Maximo, killed the monsters, and hunted for Karen. It’s all I know how to do. I don’t think I’m up for a new mission.”

  Sophie gazed down at Maximo. “Are you hungry?”

  Maximo nodded wildly.

  “He’s always hungry,” Joaquin said, wishing he could embrace Sophie as easily as Maximo did.

  “Then we’ll go find food and bring it back to the room,” she said, glancing at Joaquin. “You should rest. We’ll be back soon.”

  “No,” Joaquin said, reaching for the boy.

  “Ignore him,” she told Maximo who took her hand. “He needs to rest and then things will be clearer.”

  “Yes, he will heal and we will get food.”

  Walking away with Sophie, Maximo waved at his father. Sophie glanced back at Joaquin once and signaled for him to go to the room. The two then disappeared around a corner, leaving Joaquin to climb the stairs, one painful step at a time.

  While he showered, Joaquin realized his wounds were beginning to heal and only the gaping chest injury needed attention. Drying off, he heard Maximo’s laughter from the next room. Startled, Joaquin wondered how much time passed while he stood in the hot shower, trying to accept this new reality.

  As the smell of hamburgers and French fries filtered into the bathroom, Joaquin studied the wound on his bare chest. He considered what was needed to tend to it, none of which was in the hotel room. Finally following the food’s aroma, he found Maximo sitting at a small table while Sophie laid out the food. Noticing him, she smiled.

  “Feeling any better?”

  Joaquin did not answer, just stared at her with his dark eyes.

  “Guess not,” she said, leaving Maximo to eat. “We picked up some supplies for your wounds. Sit down and I’ll see what we can do about the worst one.”

  Joaquin did not respond nor did he move. Sophie frowned at him as she approached. Her irritation soon shifted to concern as she studied the chest wound.

  “Does it hurt a lot?”

  Joaquin only stared, unwilling to speak with her, for
every word made this situation more real, more permanent.

  “Sit down,” she said, pulling at his arm so he would sit down on the edge of the bed. “I’m not even sure what to do, but we can’t leave it exposed like this.”

  Sophie retrieved a bag of supplies then crouched in front of him.

  “When Lila was hurt, they bandaged her up, but I didn’t watch them. I don’t know exactly what they did,” she said then burst into panicked laughter. “I got Neosporin.”

  Studying the tube of antibacterial paste, Sophie stopped laughing and tears moistened her green eyes.

  “I don’t know what to do. Neosporin isn’t going to fix this. Maybe I should call Lila for help? Do you know what to do?”

  Joaquin noticed Maximo staring at them with a fry handing from his lips. For the first time since Sophie arrived, Maximo was scared. Sophie was scared too.

  Tears spilled down her cheeks and her lower lip trembled as she waited for him to reassure her. His family needed him to speak and Joaquin felt foolish to have been so stubborn after receiving such a blessing.

  Wiping the tears from her freckled cheeks, Joaquin said what he should have said minutes earlier before she gave into her panic.

  “We’ll cover the wound with a bandage and leave the rest to God.”

  Though her eyes were still full of uncertainty, Sophie calmed herself.

  “It’s going to be alright,” she said.

  “Yes. Tomorrow we will meet with your friends and start our new mission.”

  Sophie sighed deeply. “I’m not used to being in charge.”

  “You’ll get the hang of it,” he said quietly. “In a day or two, you’ll say jump and we’ll say how high.”

  Sophie smiled as she rummaged through her bag for bandages. “I’ll be a real dictator, huh? That’ll show Lila.”

  Joaquin shared her smile and kept still as she fumbled with the bandages.

  “We are happy again, yes?” Maximo said with his mouth full. “No more angry?”

  Joaquin nodded at Maximo. “Yeah, we’re good, kid.”

  “We have Mama back and the murderer is dead. We have a good mission now and lots of food. Mama bought lots of food.”

  Sophie smiled wider as she taped the bandages to Joaquin’s chest.

  “Does that look okay?”

  When Joaquin nodded his approval, Sophie stood up and turned on the television. Maximo immediately cooed over the cartoons.

  “It’s not as if I haven’t fed him or let him watch television these years,” Joaquin said awkwardly. “He acts that way, but I’ve spoiled him really.”

  Sophie knelt down in front of Joaquin and gazed into his dark eyes. Staring at him, her expression wasn’t sad or confused. She just studied the man who was once her husband, yet who she had no memory of. Joaquin wished he might say the right thing in this moment. His words felt inadequate though and he kept quiet. If Sophie minded his silence, she never showed it.

  “You can kiss me again, if you want,” she finally said with a shy little grin.

  Joaquin smiled and whatever strength he felt in denying their fate together disappeared. He took her face in his hands and kissed her and she kissed him back this time. Clutching him tightly, Sophie trembled in his embrace, the day’s implications finally taking hold. When she pulled away, she eyed him slightly embarrassed.

  “I might still be a little bit lost,” she whispered.

  “Me too.”

  They looked at Maximo who again stared at them with a dark frown.

  “Why aren’t you eating? You said cold food was bad.”

  A smiling Sophie glanced at Joaquin and shrugged. “It is bad to waste food.”

  “Very.”

  “Does it hurt too much?” she asked, touching his bandaged chest.

  Joaquin shook his head, no longer feeling the wound. He only felt the peace that came from having her back with him and Maximo. Joining them at the table, Joaquin ate his food and listened to Maximo tell Sophie stories about their three years without her. To Maximo’s delight, Sophie then told him about how she killed Karen.

  Watching his family, Joaquin felt God with him again. All these painful years, the Lord was always present. Yet Joaquin kept Him at bay, afraid to feel anything that might distract from the guilt and sorrow.

  Embracing a new sense of hope and redemption, Joaquin felt the Lord’s presence warming him, healing his pain, and making him whole again.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Blood and bandages were splashed around the hotel room. Logan did most of the bleeding from several stomach wounds. Tending to his brother, Connor played the silent nursemaid.

  Lila sat nearby, watching them as her own wounds healed. Even with all of Logan’s bleeding, she wasn’t too worried. A few hours ago, she figured death was coming for her again. Now, she barely felt the chest wound and all her other newer wounds were gone.

  No matter her confidence towards their situation, Lila didn’t dare speak and interrupt the self-induced silence among the men. The brothers weren’t interested in her anyway. Their minds were on Roman who was in the hallway speaking to Ethan on the phone. When he returned to the room, his face didn’t hint at good news.

  “Well?” Logan asked when Roman made no immediate announcements.

  “He’s fine. He’s got Anya and is heading this way.”

  “Got Anya? What does that mean?” Connor pushed.

  Yawning, Roman rubbed his eyes. “I guess, it means she’s being uncooperative. You know how Anya can be.”

  “I don’t,” Lila said.

  Roman watched Lila with an odd expression, causing her to look away. They hadn’t truly spoken since the night Lila awoke to find the world had changed for her. While she had no interest in talking to him even now, she sensed Anya was being maligned.

  “She’s just stubborn. It’ll be fine,” Roman said, though Lila knew he was lying.

  Also seeing through Roman’s lies, the brothers frowned at him. Roman shifted awkwardly under their gazes and asked how Logan was feeling.

  “Super. So has Ethan run into any trouble yet?”

  “Sounds like the villains were making another attempt on Anya. If they’re hunting down Lila’s old pack, they’ll be making a move on Ivy too,” Roman said, glancing again at Lila who ignored him.

  “And Gracie and Nina whose locations we still don’t know,” Connor grumbled, sounding overly downbeat after a day with no hunter casualties.

  “We’ll find them,” Roman promised, trying to soothe their panic. Turning to Lila, he changed the subject. “Did you talk to Sophie?”

  “Yep. She’s all cozy with her hubby and kid. One big happy family. She’ll meet us tomorrow like planned.” Standing up, Lila headed for the door. “If we’re good here, I’m going to my room.”

  “I don’t think we should split up,” Logan said, his eyes immediately on Roman.

  “I’ll be right next door,” Lila said.

  “Yeah, but you’ll be alone,” Connor added.

  Rolling her eyes, Lila opened the door. “Don’t be a bunch of babies. If you need me, just bang on the wall and I’ll come save you.”

  As she left the room, she heard the brothers grumbling at Roman to follow her. Succumbing to peer pressure, Roman did as he was told and chased after Lila. When she saw him planning to follow her into her hotel room, Lila tried to shut the door on him. Roman just pushed his way inside.

  “We should talk,” he said as Lila walked to the dresser and fiddled with her weapons.

  “What should we talk about?”

  “We could talk about what happened today.”

  Lila eyed him, her feelings fluctuating between anger and yearning. Roman wanted to talk about Lila staying safe, about how fragile she was, about how sick he was of her dying. He was going to talk about how much he loved Lila. Then he would find a way to show her how he didn’t really love her, but the dead woman from seven years ago. He would talk and talk until she cried and punched him. No, Lila wasn’t look
ing forward to that talk.

  “I won’t apologize for trying to help Sophie today or not hiding next to you like a child. I wasn’t created just to be your mate and I refuse to shy away from my duty, just to make you feel better.”

  “I know.”

  “Good. Was there something else?”

  Roman pondered his response. Lila watched him consider his words and prepared for him to be hurtful in a totally sensitive way.

  “I need you to save Micah.”

  “Huh?”

  “You’re the only one who can save Micah. I need you to do that.”

  “Okay.”

  “You can’t do that unless you do what God wills.”

  Lila eyed him warily, ready for him to get to the point. He instead stopped talking and stared at her. Lila decided to talk, even if what she said led him to say things she didn’t want to hear.

  “I had a dream when I was sick and I saw what it was like to know God without feeling Him. In a very short time, He didn’t seem so real anymore. Knowing isn’t enough for me to survive in battle. I have to feel Him and the only way I can do that is to run towards danger. That’s what I’m meant to do.”

  “I know.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then I can’t stand in your way, even if that means I can’t save you.”

  Lila felt her frustrations growing. Walking to Roman, she pushed him hard against the wall.

  “What does that mean? I don’t understand and I don’t like pulling Band-Aids off slowly. Just yank it off and tell me the painful truth and be done with it.”

  “You think I want away from you, but I just want you to be safe.”

  “And so?

  “And so I have to let you be you.”

  “You’re not telling me what I want to know. I was always going to be me, whether you let me or not,” Lila said, staring into his blue eyes and wishing he loved her even a fraction as much as she loved him. “Tell me about us.”

  “I told you that God gave you to me and I’ve never regretted it.”

  “Then you just regret bringing me back, is that it?”