Broken Wings (An Angel Eyes Novel)

by Dittemore, Shannon

  A redeemed song.

  I’m the only one who can fight against our enemies.

  The thought starts me trembling again, and I turn away from the demonic ranks high above and storm up the stairs. The moment I cross the threshold, the Celestial implodes before me and I’m left with only our living room in shades of brown and blue.

  Dad is conscious. He’s propped against his La-Z-Boy, Kaylee wrapping an Ace bandage around his head. I drop in front of him, shoving aside displaced cords and what looks like the corner of the television.

  “Time to talk, Dad.”

  He stops moaning and blinks back at me. Kaylee chews her lip, but her hands are steady, her eyes dry. I hate that I’ve put her in this situation, hate it. But the only thing I can do now is make sure she can fight.

  But Dad first.

  My gaze is unflinching, and to my great surprise he looks embarrassed.

  “I should have told you before,” he says.

  I rub my scraped hands against my thighs. There’s a world of things he’s left unsaid. Which one is he talking about?

  “You should have told me what before?”

  “I should have told you about the music.”

  I go still. Kaylee too.

  “What music, Dad?”

  He doesn’t answer, but his eyes close and he leans his head back against the chair, his face pointed at the ceiling. Kaylee secures the bandage and steps away.

  “You hear it, Elle. I know you do.”

  It’s Virtue and maybe another like him. The music seeps through the walls. I imagine it curling around us, filling the room. But I thought I was the only one who could . . .

  The idea strikes hard and fast, like a bird colliding with an unseen window.

  “You can hear that?”

  He grunts. “Wish I couldn’t.”

  “Kay?”

  She’s sitting on the couch, looking lost without her phone. “I don’t hear anything, Elle. Should I?”

  I shake my head. “No, you’re good.” I turn my attention back to Dad. “When . . . when did you first . . . ?”

  “The day your mother disappeared.”

  The air whooshes from my lungs, but when I next inhale, I realize he’s just given me a puzzle piece. I open my eyes wider, not wanting to miss a single one.

  “That was it, kid. Just the once. Thought I was going crazy, but it faded. It left not long after your mom.”

  I’m still, so still, afraid to move. Dad has seven, eight, nine gray hairs in his beard.

  “That was it. Just the one time until . . .”

  And then I begin to understand.

  “That Sunday, in the house,” I say.

  Dad keeps his eyes shut, his head tilted back on the seat of the chair. “I’d been hearing it for a couple days by then, but yeah, I know you heard it too that day. And then at the lake—at the blasted lake. It was all I could hear. And then Canaan started whistling that same miserable song. The one I heard in the house. The one I hear when I’m trying to sleep or work. The same one that disappeared with your mom. The same song that follows me everywhere.”

  Tears slip down my face now. No warning. Just tears.

  And understanding.

  “I should have told you, Elle. But how could I, without telling you about your mom? That she disappeared. That I . . .”

  “That you buried an empty casket.”

  He clears his throat, his face splotchy again. “And now I can’t stop hearing it. It’s everywhere. The noise. The music. I can’t not hear it. And I know that whoever took your mother—whoever it was—I know they’ve returned. They’re the ones responsible for desecrating her grave.”

  My head aches and my eyes burn. Dad might not be wrong. It’s the first thing he’s said in weeks that makes any sense. And yet . . .

  “You know Canaan had nothing to do with it, right?”

  Dad looks past me.

  “Tell me you know that. Tell me you understand that Jake and Canaan were just as surprised by Mom’s empty grave as I was.”

  Dad remains stubbornly silent.

  “Dad!”

  Kaylee climbs off the couch and wraps her arms around me.

  “He was whistling the same song, Gabrielle.” He says whistling like it’s a nasty word.

  I look to my friend, to the helpful expression on her face. She’s not accusing. She’s giving me an opportunity. I see it in the lift of her brows, in the encouragement behind her weak smile. Tell him, her face says. Tell him what you told me.

  The air is sticky and uncomfortable—it reeks of the alcohol on Dad’s breath and the dirt caking my clothes—but I take a deep swig of it and press a hand to Dad’s knee.

  “I bet all the angels know that song.”

  Dad’s eyes narrow and his mouth drops open. “Wh—”

  But he doesn’t get to ask his question. Blood explodes on his shoulder, a bright red firework against his white undershirt.

  He yells out, lashing, but that just makes the blood run faster. It drips down his arm and Kaylee screams out.

  “Dad!” I cry. “Dad!”

  But Dad’s head lolls and he drops back, unconscious.

  And then Damien’s there, crouching in Dad’s chair, his wings too big for our living room, his body wholly unwelcome in Dad’s favorite seat. He withdraws the talon he’s driven into Dad’s shoulder and leans into my face.

  “There’s a reason we’re invisible, girl. You can’t think we’d let you destroy that.”

  38

  Jake

  They reach Main Street unscathed. Jake’s about three strides behind Canaan, and they move fast. Only someone who’s really seen Canaan run would know he’s working hard to keep his pace reasonable. Pearla, for her part, has stayed invisible to their human eyes. Jake’s not seen her since they left the covering of the trees, but he knows she’s there. Believes it with all his heart.

  They catch several wary glances as they hurl themselves down Main. Jake ducks his head and presses on, veering into the road to avoid the ever-present table of old men enjoying their donuts and coffee.

  “Donut, Jake?” Bob yells.

  “Not today, gents.”

  Canaan turns down a side street, his pace quickening as they enter the thin alley backing the stores on Main. Jake pumps his legs harder as they pass the rear of Jelly’s. He hops a stack of flattened cardboard boxes and clips his knee on a discarded street sign. And that’s when Canaan skids to a stop. The rubber tears free of the toe on Jake’s right Chuck as he slides through the dry dust on the alley floor, but he manages to stop just short of Canaan’s left shoulder, coughing with exertion.

  Pearla stands before him in her human form, her dark face ashen. He catches only one word. “Transfer.”

  Jake doesn’t have time to steel himself before he’s wrapped in Canaan’s wings and lifted into the sky. He sees Jelly’s, its neon lights strangely magnified in the Celestial. The enormous grape jelly jar is there, a smear of violet against a backdrop of orange marmalade. Canaan continues toward the diner, toward the very end of Main Street. From there it’s just a short flight up the highway to Brielle’s.

  Below Jake the Photo Depot, The Donut Factory, Miss Macy’s, the community center—they all glow bright, a variety of occupants within shading the skies with various hues. To his right, beyond the community center, the small church is nestled in a rainbow of color.

  He loves the sight of Stratus lit up with God’s glory, but the anxiety eating away at his gut leaves little room for adoration. Especially when a blotch of darkness skates across his line of sight.

  His heart redoubles its efforts, but a second glance shows him a familiar face.

  Pearla.

  Her wings are fast. Faster even than Helene’s.

  She tucks them close and falls away, her voice ringing in Jake’s head.

  “Behind you.”

  Jake’s stomach is in his mouth as they tumble after her. Canaan collapses his large outer wings, covering Jake’s body and
erasing the world from sight. His stomach tells him they’re cartwheeling through the sky, but he sees the underside of Canaan’s wings. Nothing more.

  And then with a jolt that vibrates through his bones, Canaan’s outer wings slam open to reveal a set of snapping fangs. Jake tries to backpedal, but he’s immovable against Canaan’s chest. Fangs flash and talons reach, but before they can find purchase, Jake is lifted up and away as Canaan soars over the demon’s head.

  The demon turns, but he’s not nearly fast enough. With a flash of white light, Canaan draws his sword and drags it down the demon, separating the fallen one in two.

  Ash fills the air as the demon is reduced to sparking embers.

  Canaan turns toward Jelly’s once again.

  Hang on, Elle, Jake thinks. We’re almost there.

  But the thought shatters like a tray of dropped ice. The roof of Jelly’s is graced with two demons, their scimitars drawn and smoking in the hot celestial air. The larger of the two has a hand clamped around the neon tubing of the jelly jar. The other hunches below on the roof, his wings hanging at his sides, black and tattered. Canaan doesn’t slow, and Jake presses against him, nearly climbing up his chest to be free of danger. Scripture leaps from his tongue.

  “He will cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you will find refuge; His faithfulness will be your shield.”

  The two demons lunge at once, and Canaan swipes in a wide arc. His sword catches the wing joint of the smaller demon, and he spins, trying to regain control. The larger one loses half a leg. Sulfur spews into the atmosphere, stinging Jake’s nostrils and sending tears streaming down his cheeks.

  Both demons mount a second attack. The one with the broken wing is gimpy, flying lopsided and angry, but he presses closer as Canaan focuses on his companion. Jake’s hands ball into fists and he prays harder.

  A black smear speeds into his vision.

  Pearla!

  But she’s so small. No weapon. Two delicate wings.

  What is she doing?

  She dives between the demons and Canaan. Her presence seems to confuse the Fallen, and they pull up.

  They think she’s one of theirs!

  The larger of the two tilts his head, ape-like, and lowers his sword. It’s just a momentary lapse, but it’s all the time Canaan needs. He shoots forward, grabbing the demon’s lowered scimitar in his left hand and shoving it upward. With his right hand, Canaan swings his own sword wide. Simultaneously, the demons are sliced through—one through the chest, the smaller one losing his head. Their forms hiss and smoke, but Canaan’s past them already, leaving Jelly’s and Main Street behind.

  39

  Brielle

  Damien’s here, isn’t he?” Kaylee is huddled behind me, her breath ragged. “He did that to your dad.”

  I nod. Afraid to do more than that. My fingers find the quilt on the couch, and I tug it toward me. It’s still wet with the blood from Dad’s head, but I find a clean corner and press it to his shoulder. He remains still. Deathly still.

  My hands tremble.

  “What do you want?” I whisper to the demon hanging over me.

  I hate that my voice sounds subservient, hate that he’s reduced me to that. I hate his voice in my head and the simple answer he gives me.

  “I want you. I want Jake.”

  His chest is slick with fear. I’ve never noticed how thick it is on him. Is everything he does motivated by it?

  I look at my dad’s face, white and clammy, hear Kaylee’s stifled cries, and I wonder what Damien sees when he looks at me. I wonder if the fear is just as thick on my skin as it is on his.

  I’m afraid, but my soul is safe.

  “I don’t know where Jake is,” I say. “But take me. Leave my dad and Kaylee. Leave them alone and take me.”

  For a second I think he considers the option. Am I worth that much? And is this how I die? Maybe that’s why the ring disappeared from the chest. Maybe I won’t be alive to wear it.

  But then his wings snap, all irritation and resolve.

  “It may come to that, but not yet.”

  “Not ever.”

  I spin toward the kitchen, and there he stands.

  Canaan, in all his celestial glory. Jake is there too, his face anxious, fear like pinpricks along his arms and neck.

  “Elle?” Kaylee’s voice reminds me that she can’t see any of this. That her emotions are surfing on every move of my head, on every twitch of my face.

  “It’s okay,” I tell her. “Canaan’s here. And Jake.”

  She turns toward the kitchen, to the spot I stare at hungrily.

  “I can’t . . . can’t see them.”

  “I know, but I can.”

  Jake presses against Canaan’s inner wings, his eyes as hot as ever, and I can’t help thinking of the first time I saw him. Of the chill that held me captive the day I caught him staring at me through Miss Macy’s window.

  “Keith’s hurt, Canaan,” Jake says.

  Canaan draws his sword. Behind me, Damien rises to his full height, the talons on his feet digging into the arms of Dad’s chair. He draws his own sword. And then something I really should have anticipated: he grabs the back of my shirt and lifts me into the chair before him. His massive arm circles my waist, and I feel the fear creep from his arms to my stomach. It burrows inside, turning my gut into a lake of frozen ice.

  “Elle . . .” Kaylee’s sobbing now, shaking and staring at me. “Elle.”

  From behind Canaan, a ball of frenetic black energy appears. Another demon? But no, her eyes shine bright and pure. It’s an angel! A very small, very dark angel. Silky wings propel her forward, and she lands on Damien’s chest. Her wings flap hard and fast, and I’m reminded of the time I came face-to-face with a confused bat while rock climbing.

  She seems to have the same effect on Damien. He releases my waist, his hands flying high to fight the onslaught. The flat edge of his sword connects with her abdomen, and he swats her away. But it’s too late; I’ve tumbled to the floor now. I land on Dad’s shins and quickly push away, crawling as fast as humanly possible. I grab Kaylee’s hand and drag her with me behind Canaan’s legs, where we huddle beneath his outer wings.

  Canaan’s mind speaks to Damien’s. “Your sight has been restored.”

  “By the Prince himself.” Damien lifts his chin, puffs out his broad chest, but Canaan’s face shows only sorrow.

  “The Prince’s hands no longer possess a healing that can last, old friend. I do hope you know that.”

  Damien’s face contorts, and he lunges. And then I feel the hot wind of the Celestial blowing against my back. In one swift motion, Canaan pushes off from the ground and swats at Damien with his sword. Damien blocks the blow, but it takes the strength of both his hands to hold his blade steady. He shoves back, but Canaan seems to be the stronger of the two. Canaan realizes this too and opens his inner wings, releasing Jake. He tumbles to the ground next to me, sending Kaylee into a fit of startled shrieks.

  But her voice is quickly drowned out by the sound tearing from Damien’s lips. Like a hawk going in for the kill, he cries out, his eyes on me. I want to hide, but I can’t look away. Canaan smacks him in the face with the hilt of his sword, and Damien’s cry turns brutal. His wings pull him backward, putting distance between the two of them. He lifts his scimitar high and then . . .

  And then they disappear from sight.

  My chest rises and falls, my eyes open and shut, again and again. But they’re gone. The Celestial is gone. I’m both relieved and terrified.

  Jake moves away, toward Dad. He removes the quilt that hangs like a veil over Dad’s face. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t pause to consider the consequences, he just presses both hands to the wound. I crawl on my hands and knees until I’m next to him. Dad looks . . . well, he looks awful. His hair is matted to his head, a dirty mess of sweat and blood. I push a clumpy strand out of his eyes.

  “Are they gone?” Kaylee asks.

  “For now.” I grab her hand an
d pull her toward me.

  “Is he . . .” But Kaylee’s voice catches and she can’t even finish the thought.

  “He’ll be okay,” Jake says. “He’s just lost some blood is all.”

  I have complete confidence in Jake’s healing ability. What I don’t have is an assurance that Dad won’t murder Jake the minute he wakes.

  “I told him, Jake. I told him about Canaan.”

  Jake looks at me, his face inscrutable. “How did he take it?”

  “I don’t really know. Damien’s talon interrupted things.”

  “It’s better that he knows,” Kaylee says. “Way better. His head was super messed up about this whole thing. About your mom. Thinking Canaan had something to do with her disappearance. You had to tell him, Elle.”

  Jake bumps Kaylee with his shoulder. “Looks like this one knows too.”

  “No choice,” I say, smiling at her. “She was here when Damien showed up. And Helene.”

  Helene! This is the first free moment I’ve had to consider her.

  Kaylee seems to be thinking the same thing. “Do we know what happened to her?”

  I shake my head.

  “Don’t worry about Helene,” Jake says. “She’s immortal. If she’s hurt, she’ll heal.”

  His hands are occupied, but I take his face in mine and I kiss him. Hard. It’s awkward, with his hands still on Dad’s shoulder, but he’s warm and he’s close, and I kiss him again.

  “Oh, come on! Demons and make-out sessions? Unless you’re getting me one of these,” Kaylee says, gesturing to Jake, “save it for later.”

  “Fair enough,” Jake says, blushing.

  “Speak for yourself,” I say, and press my lips to his once more.

  “Barf,” Kay says.

  “Yeah, barf.” It’s Dad.

  We jerk apart, but it’s too late. His eyes are open, his mouth set in a frown.

  “Sorry, Dad. I just . . .”

  But he’s moving his shoulder now. Jake’s hands fall away, and Dad rotates his arm. He winces, pressing his fingers to the spot Damien’s talon punctured.