"Okay. And? That's it?"
"It was real love, Laphelle. A fool like me actually found it. She filled an—an emptiness inside of me that I never even knew I had until I met her. Sometimes I'd forget what day it was when she smiled. I taught her how to draw sketches—she always made fun of me for being so eclectic with my tastes. Art and medicine. I told her I could do both if I wanted to. She'd… Forget it. Let's leave it at that."
"If you want," said the rogue.
Jack felt his face drain. He'd been so close. Then Laphelle leisurely cracked his knuckles and said:
"But you're a coward if you do. Because I know that isn't the end, and you're hiding the most important part. You see, I can read you, too, human."
"Indeed."
Jackie's eyelids closed out the world around him.
"She got pregnant," he said.
He held his breath, remembering, for a minute that seemed like an eternity.
Laphelle only looked at him.
"I remember the moment my son came into this world." As he opened his teary eyes, he saw the room in a blur. "He had blond hair and blue eyes. And this look on his face that promised he'd be a little rebel. I had high hopes for us. I was going to teach him all I knew. He was going to be a strong-willed thinker like his daddy. Tierney wanted to teach him the violin."
Jack looked up and witnessed for the first time a bit of pink on Laphelle's cheeks. All right. So they were on the same page now.
"Yes," he said. "I imagine he would've been a lot like you when he grew up."
Laphelle cleared his throat, the color receding from his face. "What happened to him?"
Looking away and lifting his chin, Jack said in monotone, "I had them for about a year more. And then they died. Car wreck." He looked back at the listener and said slowly and concisely, "To lose a wife is terrible enough. To lose a child is against all nature. I should have died first." He stared at him intensely. "You wonder why I'm not afraid of you? Well, what can you do to me that hasn't already been done?"
Was that sadness in Laphelle's eyes?
"I left for America immediately after the funeral," said Jack. "I called my mother in California and told her I was now living in New York. Alone. She didn't ask any questions. It was just too hard—the guilt too much to talk about right away."
He lowered his eyes to the card, his tears punctuating the closing of his tragic story. Reaching out, he took the envelope in his hands.
"Tierney's brother sent this card. He sends one each year, in honor of her. Even though I've made a new life for myself, it never gets any easier finding these things in my mailbox."
He sighed and placed the note back on the coffee table, relieved that the tale was over. There. It was out. And strangely enough, he felt reborn.
"I'm sorry," Laphelle said.
Jack detected something in his voice that told him he meant it.
He lifted his eyes. And he smiled.
Quietly, he said, "You're the only one I've ever told."
"Really?" Laphelle sat up straight. "Why?"
"I guess there's something about you, kid. There's something I trust about you. Maybe it's the fact that you're not human."
"Well, who am I going to tell your secrets to? It's not like I have any friends. You're my only—you're the only person I've known that's ever been interested in what I have to say."
Jack smiled, deeply contented.
"Amazing," he said. "I would imagine everyone would be interested in you."
"No," he said with a sarcastic-sounding chuckle. "Not me. Just what I can do for them."
"Well. It's a shame. They're missing out on someone spectacular."
He couldn't swear to it—perhaps it was the dim lighting—but he believed he saw the edges of the angel's mouth lift, and above, tears sparkling in his cold, distant eyes.
***
Eva
Eva finally got her wish. While Mr. Card was away on business, she gleefully showed Malynko, her god, her savior, her dream come true, to her fine, two-story abode. The pink-bricked home was built in Spanish style, much to her disgust. But the interior made up for the insult. Especially her bedroom. Like a wine-colored brothel, its deep violet, black, and red theme exuded an exotic aura similar to her. Brass, Indian sculptures sat atop dark, gold-trimmed furniture, sleek candles rested in tall, metal holders on the dressers and walls, and Persian rugs lined the floor.
She wasted no time in giving over to her desire. She disrobed at once and tore the angel's clothes from his body, her trembling hands longing to feel him. Malynko grinned at the sight of her need. He shifted his groin's smooth flesh into that of a human man's, and hungrily tasted her hot flesh with his mouth and tongue. He coaxed breathless gasps from her lips as he touched her, all of her, with sensual precision, using the taunting tips of his fingers and feathers to fan the flames of rapture until their entwined bodies seemed to be ablaze with ecstasy. But the fire didn't last for long.
For during the throes of Eva's grand, passionate awakening, a vision of unsurpassable magnitude slammed into her brain.
Light. Floods of light.
Wings. Millions of white-feathered wings.
Weapons clashed in a sea of blood, the stars of the universe burning with bright secrets.
Then, there was Hell, the screams of the dead, and Heaven, the cries of the redeemed. In the middle were the angels. The angels of light and darkness. She saw the one who was chosen to lead the Fallen out of blindness and into sight.
Monsters and beauties, night and day, death and life.
Oh, how they did not know!
She heard music.
Eva let out a shrill scream and broke away from her lover.
Malynko jerked away from her, flapping his wings. The winds blew out all but a few of the candles. Trembling, Eva backed up against her dresser and knocked over a porcelain elephant, oblivious to the sharp drawer handles against her back. She grabbed her head in terrible agony. Never had she experienced a vision of this caliber before. Never. Oh, never!
Malynko was like a furious wildcat, pacing back and forth in front of her bed, his manipulated flesh stopped before its release. Seeing the real him for the first time, Eva shivered in horror until her knees gave in and her body slid down the dresser, ending up in a horrified ball on the floor. Grabbing her knees as she sat, the vision's power subsided. She blinked her eyes, shedding a tear. There was blood in the drop. Malynko's eyes searched the room, looking astutely suspicious.
Like a young, terrified girl, Eva lifted her chin and said hoarsely, "Mary, Mother of God!"
Malynko said nothing. His expression was as hard as granite, a frown chiseled in his pale, ancient face. His green eyes glowed as they stole a quick glance at his sheathed sword that leaned against her bedroom wall. Eva felt as if she would faint. Walking to one of three remaining lit candles on the side of the room opposite the woman, he pressed on the wick with his thumb and pointer finger, the flame extinguishing in a sharp tss!
"A prophecy!" Eva said, her voice broken. "It's—it's all happening here—right under our noses! Edenton will give him birth!"
As Malynko approached the second candle, his face darkened with the shadow of his raised hand. Tss!
"Why has this come to me now?" Eva's cries were frantic. "Why have I been shown? I do not understand!" She inhaled sharply, forcing calmness upon her frayed nerves. "This vision—the, the light!"
Facing the final candle sconce on the wall, nailed just above his sword, he said through clenched teeth, "Eva, whatever it was you think you saw—"
"A spirit of nature," she said, her eyes wide, glimmering in the remaining flame's light. "Nature, Malynko?" She laughed, completely losing it. "Mentiroso!" She began to weep through the laughter. "Ay, Dios Mio." Wiping her eyes with a shaking hand, she said, "Malynko! You are liars, you and he!"
"Me—and who?"
"Fallen angels, Malynko." Her tongue cut like a contemptuous blade. "You and the blond rogue."
Malynko's
eyes widened.
Sniffing back her sobs, she lost the smile on her face. "I should have known!" She rocked back and forth as her blood-red eyes looked up at him. "I have just seen something you are clearly unaware of! They're all angels of Diablo! Curse this whole wretched game!"
"You spoke of a rogue."
"Ay, si! Barefoot Assassin, or whatever you would call him. He isn't what you think. Nothing is what we think!"
"Laphelle is loyal to the core," he said deeply. "You will not dare say otherwise. He has been a faithful soldier in this war since— "
"Oh!" she said, releasing a low, melodic laugh. "So now the truth comes out."
She pulled herself to her feet, clutching to the dresser, her knees threatening to buckle again. Her lip quivering, she reached between her legs and felt of the stream of moisture that trailed down her skin. She gasped when she saw that it was blood.
"You try my patience," said Malynko.
"Patience?" asked Eva, her voice choked with tears. "How patient I was for you to bring peace to us, peace to the world!"
"What did you see, Eva?"
"What did I see," Eva spat, her accent playful and taunting. "He's beautiful, yes, like you, angel."
She reached to the side of her mouth, her tongue tasting the bitter crimson that she realized was trickling from every orifice of her body. What a vision. Looking up, she felt as if she could see beyond the ceiling and up to the heavens where the presence of her Maker hovered eternally.
"Ay, Dios," she said. "So am I worthy of your visions now, God? Abandon me all my life and now You appear? You're more wretched than the lot of these angels! When I grow old and die, may my soul be sent not to Heaven, but to Limbo! Limbo is the only place I will be away from this struggle for power. Limbo, the middle-ground, yes, send me there when I leave this ridiculous playing board. So much time lost. And I know not who I am."
The Elitist said nothing, only neared the candle.
Shaking, she dropped her stained hand and returned her focus to him. "Laphelle has more power than you. And he grows weary of your control."
She could hear the squeal of his clenched teeth. Good. She hoped he was upset. She hoped he was very upset. Wretched liars, all of them.
"Laphelle, Laphelle, Laphelle. Name like a song, no? Well, perhaps not that one, but his other name, yes. Do you know it?"
"You speak in riddles. Get to the point."
"Very well." She lowered her voice to a condemnatory whisper. "He will betray you before the end."
Tss.
The room went black as he put out the last flame. She heard the massive swoop of metal cutting through air. It was the last sound she heard in life.
She did not go to Limbo.
She went somewhere else.
***
Laphelle
Jack sent Laphelle home earlier than normal to focus before the show, but the angel could not calm his restless mood. While wandering through the house on legs too excited to keep still, he noticed the keys on Malynko's nightstand. He still had not seen what Christine looked like. With his anxious boredom reaching new heights, he pondered visiting the little prisoner. He hesitated for a moment, then grabbed the keys and unlocked her door.
"Are you awake?" he said, opening the door.
"Y—yes," she said.
He turned on the overhead light, and the girl squinted. She looked like a doll in her soft nightgown. Halfway expecting her to run out of the room, he stood in the doorway. But she did not move.
"You're Christine?" His voice was more than a little intimidating. "You're what Malynko's hiding in here? Not much to brag about. I wasn't expecting you to be so young."
"I'm not a baby! I'm almost seven!" She sat up in the bed. "When are you gonna take me back to Gidyon and Noam?" It almost sounded like a threat. So, the little girl had a feisty side. "I'm tired of being here! I wanna go back to Max's!"
"Well, I'm sorry, but you can't."
"Why not? Why do you make me stay in this room?"
"It's not my brilliant idea; it's Malynko's. Blame him. I always do." He grinned. "Besides, you don't want to go back to those losers. What makes them so important?"
"They're my friends!" she said, looking at him with her doe-like eyes. "Noam rescued me!"
Her friends. No doubt the angels had saved the child from the streets or an abusive guardian. They always did ridiculously noble things like that. But now they were her friends. Christine held an expression of pure loyalty across that porcelain face of hers. Whatever God's little pawns had done to save her, she obviously loved them for it.
"Don't you have any friends?" she asked.
Her words hit him hard. They were like arrows, slamming into his chest. He knew the answer to Christine's question. The answer was yes. No matter how much he tried to deny it, he enjoyed Jack's company, liked the man for who he was. They had connected somehow. By some twist of fate, Laphelle had actually made a friend.
"It's not a weakness, is it?" he said, barely audible.
"Huh?" Christine looked down at his feet. "Hey, you don't have shoes on! Aren't your feet cold?"
He suddenly remembered the words Jack had said on the night they met:
"Hey, you don't wear shoes! I don't either, when I can help it. I hate shoes. They don't let you feel free enough."
He looked into Christine's eyes and said, "I can't sense the cold because the liberation of being barefoot is a stronger feeling."
She gave him a confused look. Occupied in thought, he waved a hand.
"Go to sleep now," he said. "Malynko will—"
He heard the front door open and close. Without another word, he turned off Christine's light and locked her door then tossed the keys back onto Malynko's bed. He rushed downstairs and pretended to be glad his commander had arrived. Meeting him in the wide greeting area, he smiled a fake grin.
"I saw her light on," Malynko said. Sharp splashes of blood morbidly decorated his face. "You don't have to pretend you weren't up there. I don't care."
"I see you've been busy," Laphelle said. "Who'd you kill tonight?"
"Eva. But I also killed another, not human, though."
"Oh? What did you kill?"
Malynko stretched his arms, then took off his sheath. "A dog."
"Stupid mongrels. What kind of—" Hermes. No. It couldn't be. "What did it look like?"
"A little creature, brown, longish. It kept following me, trying to lick my boots. If you're wondering why I was walking around town, it's because I was trying to find something that would clean the blood off of my clothes. I like this shirt and—"
"Little? How little?" Laphelle asked, his eyes widening with worry.
"What does it matter?" He placed his sword against the wall. "I picked it up by the collar, and looked into its eyes, much like I did here—"
"What did you do with the dog, Malynko?"
"Its owner's address was on the tag." He looked at Laphelle out of the corner of his eye. "I left it on the owner's porch. Of course, I knocked on the door, being the gentleman that I am."
Laphelle bolted through the front door, leaving his sunglasses, though dawn was approaching.
***
Malynko
Malynko cracked his knuckles in frustration. He stared at the Sivli, which lay sheathed on the red chair. Laphelle never left without his weapon. The Elitist's eyes narrowed.
What had gotten into him? This behavior of his was simply unheard of! Walking to Laphelle's wicked blade, his face fell calm. Whatever it was, he would soon find out.
***
Laphelle
Laphelle found Jack sitting on his front porch, cradling a small shape in a faded blue towel. The gathering clouds overhead threatened to rain, and a gentle rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. The man was not in tears, but he expressed his grief clearly enough through his slouched body. Laphelle dared not read his mind. A squeezing guilt took him by the heart as he approached. If he hadn't let Hermes out, the dog would still be living, and Jack
would not be in this sorrowful state. The angel's body felt heavy, his spirits leaden. How could he have been so ignorant?
He tried to say "I'm sorry," but the sound of his voice would not come.
Jack looked up, his eyes rimmed with red. "I got a knock on my door just a few minutes ago, but I couldn't answer because I was in the bathroom. Someone found him. I wonder what happened to him." Laphelle tried to gulp down the rising lump in his throat. "He's never had any signs of health problems before. But at least whoever found him brought him by. They were kind enough to do that."
Laphelle's hands were white-hot fists. Kind? Malynko couldn't be further from kind.
"What are you doing here so early, Laphelle? The concert isn't until tonight." He stood up. "Everything okay with you?"
The angel could not take his eyes off of the limp shape within the towel. Anger swelled in him so intensely that his lips began to shake.
"I have to leave now," he said.
He turned his back to the man and started to walk away. A new darkness filled his features. Revenge leaked from the tips of his fingers. The angel spread his black wings.
"Wait!" Jack said. "You'll be back for the concert tonight, won't you?"
Laphelle turned around to face him. A raging fire blazed in his cold blue eyes.
"I won't let you down, Jack."
He reached the mansion in a few quick seconds.
Malynko. That murderer. He would pay dearly for taking the life of Hermes.
The blond rogue reached the front door and another distant thunderclap rumbled. He entered the house and came to a strong halt, his face inches away from the tip of the Sivli's blade. He froze in shock. Malynko held the weapon at eye level to him and simply stood there for a moment.
"What," the Elitist asked, "are you hiding from me?"
Laphelle's breathing grew heavy. His icy blue eyes sparked with hatred.
"I'll never tell you," he said. "I hate you now, and I will hate you until the end of time. Even after. For all eternity I will hate you if you don't give me back my sword."
Wings of the Divided: The Divided Book 1 Page 27