by C. L. Coffey
“It’s a weird color for a sword.”
Gabriel nodded. “An angel’s weapon is white until it’s tainted by human blood.”
“Tainted by . . .” I glanced back at the sword before looking at Gabriel, frowning. “You mean that weapon was used to kill someone?”
What was my mom doing with it?
I looked around the apartment. Although the place was clean and tidy, it was almost empty. The little kitchenette had a stove and a sink. Next to the refrigerator was the small table and chair, just three steps from the bed. The wall the headboard rested against had the door to the bathroom and a door, I assumed, was a closet.
Aside from the photograph and sword which had been hidden underneath the pillow, there was nothing personal sitting out, aside from a bunch of flowers on the table.
Something felt . . . off.
“As I am assuming you wish to stay here until your mother returns, I think we should go get something to eat. You’ve had nothing since breakfast,” Gabriel said, drawing my attention back to him.
“I’m not leaving here,” I told him. “I don’t want to miss her.”
“You stay here. I’ll find us something and bring it back.”
I gave Gabriel a grateful smile, and he disappeared in front of me.
According to Gabriel, I was a potential: a person who could become an angel. Only, nephilim couldn’t earn their wings. Since I’d never seen Gabriel’s wings, I assumed that was more of a metaphorical thing. But the ability to transport himself from one location to another in seconds was an angelic ability I would happily accept.
Assuming I ever became an angel.
I’d once asked Gabriel what I had to do to become an angel. From the vague answer he’d given me, it seemed to have something to do with protecting a human. In my case, it was a guy a couple of years younger than me.
Harrison Sinclair was a student at Greenwood Prep and my charge.
Seeing as though I hadn’t spoken to him or his sister—and my best friend—I was probably not on track to achieving that. In my defense, he and Leigh-Ann had gone back home for Easter break, and I was probably the only student at the college without a cell phone.
Once I’d found my mom and made sure she was alright, I was going to work out how to get a part-time job so I could buy a phone for my mom and me so we could keep in touch.
My gaze drifted back to the sword. What had my mom been doing for the last few months? What else had she been hiding?
I got up and walked over to the door I suspected was the closet. Just before I could open it, there was a noise at the door.
A noise like a person struggling with getting the key in the lock.
“Mom?” I lunged for the door, quickly unlocking it and yanking it open, excited to see
my mom on the other side of the door.
Except it was two men, each armed with a sword.
Chapter Two
I slammed the door closed in their faces.
Without bothering to check if it was locked, I threw myself across the room, my hand wrapping around the dagger’s handle just as the door seemed to explode.
In the past I’d worked security and we’d been given basic self-defense training. If they were human, I knew that even with two of them, I would have taken them on.
These two ‘men’ had each been holding swords almost identical to my mom’s: The Fallen.
Part of being enrolled at Greenwood meant I was supposed to learn how to protect my charge but seeing as though we’d barely covered hand-to-hand combat, it was highly unlikely I’d be able to take these two fallen angels on and win.
I leaped up onto the bed, charging at the fire escape window. At the last minute, I put my full weight into the blade, stabbing it at the window.
This kind of apartment didn’t have safety glass.
The window exploded, sending shards of glass flying everywhere. As a jagged piece sliced through my jacket, I paused to try to avoid it when a hand wrapped around my ankle.
I turned, kicking, just as the hand pulled.
Gravity went sideways, and I fell, my back hitting the mattress.
“Where are you running to?” the man whose hand was holding tightly to my leg asked. He had a bald head and dark eyes.
Instead of answering, I brought my free knee up then stomped down. The kick in the face sent the fallen angel stumbling backwards, cursing as he clutched his nose.
“Where’s Naomi?” the other fallen angel asked me.
“Isaac, she broke my nose. Don’t make nice with her.”
The second fallen angel ignored him, narrowing his eyes at me. “I won’t ask you again. Where is Naomi?”
“Not here.” My grip on the dagger tightened, then I rolled to the side, swinging at Isaac, watching the dagger grow into a sword.
My movements were clumsy, and Isaac easily dodged my swipe, but it was enough for me to get on my feet again. “Why do you want Naomi?”
“If I tell you, are you going to tell her? We’re supposed to be a surprise,” Isaac said.
“Of course not.” I lied.
The second man joined Isaac’s side, blood from his nose dripped off his chin. There was a weird grin on his face. “You know what they say about dead things keeping secrets, right?”
I was not prepared to be the one to find out. Not without a fight, at least.
Swinging my sword, I launched an attack at Isaac. At the last minute, he blocked my attack with his own sword, pushing me back.
I wobbled.
In that second, Isaac spun, kicking me, sending me crashing backwards into the corner of the room. The force knocked the air out of me, and I dropped the sword.
Although my back hurt and I could barely catch my breath, I raised my hands, clenching them into fists.
Isaac’s eyebrows seemed to disappear into his hairline as he stared at me. “You want to fight with your fists?” He turned back to the second fallen angel. “Caleb, she’s all yours.”
The grin on Caleb’s face grew as his sword shrank. Handing the weapon over to Isaac, he stepped forward, closing the gap between us.
The guy was about my height, but his arms, practically bulging out of his leather jacket, were about as thick as my thighs. I might have been tall, but my frame was more beanpole than built.
I’d taken on humans as big as him before, and I’d always had an advantage with my then unknown supernatural speed and strength. Having fought the Fallen in the past, though, I knew this guy wasn’t going to be lacking in any department.
But I wasn’t going down without a fight.
Stepping away from the wall as much as I could to get some room to move my arms, I stayed on my toes, trying to size him up.
When he winked at me, I swung. Instead of aiming for his face, I went for his gut. As I expected, the moment I started to move my arms, he brought his up to protect his face.
My low blow landed in the middle of his stomach. The small reward of his ‘oomph’ was short-lived.
As I went to swing again, Caleb jabbed.
I was almost quick enough to dodge him.
Almost.
Caleb’s fist slammed into my collar bone.
I went down. Working security in a nightclub meant I had broken up a fight or two, and naturally, I’d been hit a few times.
Caleb might as well have swung a sledgehammer at me.
As I pushed myself up onto my knees, trying to get back up as quickly as I could to avoid his feet and what would be an inevitable kick to the ribs, Caleb grabbed my ponytail, pulling me back up.
The pain in my scalp was almost as bad as my shoulder.
When he didn’t let go, I reached up.
Or I tried.
A scream escaped me as I attempted to raise my arm, my shoulder protesting.
Caleb laughed.
My scalp felt like it was on fire.
When the blood pounding in my ears seemed to drown out Caleb, I knew I didn’t have long before he did something that would s
top everything hurting permanently.
The sensation of fire seemed to travel down my neck and along my arms until my palms felt hot and itchy. I ignored it. Instead, I reached forward, grabbing the fallen angel’s belt.
At that point, I had no idea what I was trying to do, other than maybe surprise him. I pulled hard.
Almost instantly, there was a moment of relief as Caleb stumbled forward and the grip on my hair loosened.
And that was when something impossible happened.
Impossible even though angels and fallen angels existed.
Underneath my hand, the cotton T-shirt Caleb was wearing burst into flames.
Caleb roared in pain, shoving me back into the wall.
I barely felt it this time, my body more focused on what was happening in front of me than what it was actually experiencing.
With a woosh, Caleb was consumed with fire.
“Caleb?” Either Isaac was immune to fire or completely insane, but he flung himself at his friend, throwing him on the floor as he yanked the sheets off the bed, showering the room in glass. Using the sheets, Gabriel beat the flames until the fire went out.
The flames went out, but Caleb wasn’t moving. With a roar, Isaac reached for the sword he had dropped.
“Kennedy!”
Before the fallen angel could turn around and see Gabriel, a sword was sticking out of his chest.
Isaac looked down, pulling himself off the blade. Clasping at his side, he somehow jumped on the bed and ran out the window.
“Kennedy?” Gabriel crouched in front of me instead of following after him. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I said, trying to get my feet. Something twinged in my back and I hissed. “No.”
“I should get you back to the college.” Gabriel reached out for my arm.
With a little more force than was really needed, I batted his hand away. “No,” I said, sharply. “My mom still hasn’t come home. The Fallen are after her. I have to warn her.”
Frowning, Gabriel looked back at Caleb’s body. Considering how intense the flames had been, he didn’t seem all that badly burned. Gabriel turned back to me, gently brushing stray strands of hair out of my face.
“I’m going to dispose of him before he destroys more of the apartment. Try not to start any fights while I’m gone.”
Gabriel moved over to Caleb’s body, grabbing him by his jacket, and then the two of them were gone.
I finally relaxed my body, slumping against the wall, I stretched my legs out in front of me. When the Fallen died, they exploded.
Curious, I’d asked Gabriel about it while we’d been out looking for my mom. Apparently, it was something to do with stopping another fallen angel from using the body as a vessel.
I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath. As I did, all the areas that hurt seemed to flair to life: my back, my head, my shoulder.
Being part angel meant I was going to heal faster than a human, but I wasn’t Wolverine. If it weren’t for my protesting back, I would have curled up into a ball.
Instead, using the wall to help me, I pulled myself to my feet and trudged to the bathroom, praying my mom had painkillers.
There was a bottle of ibuprofen. I popped the lid off, tipped a couple out then threw them into the back of my mouth. After running the water, I collected some in my palm and swallowed the pills.
I was staring at my reflection but not really seeing it when Gabriel reappeared; his muscular body took up much of the doorway he stood in. “What happened here?”
Wanting to brush my hair out of my face, I tried to raise my hand until my shoulder protested again, forcing me to clutch my collar bone. “I think I need to sit down for a minute.”
Gabriel ran his hand over his mouth and jaw, rubbing at the permanent five o’clock shadow. Without a word or objection, he moved over to me and helped me move to the other room. Once I was sitting down at the table, he moved around the room, giving me some time to catch my breath and find my bearings.
As glass crunched under his thick boots, he pulled the rest of the bedding off and tossed it in the corner. Then he picked the thin mattress up, moving it to the side so he could flip the box spring of the cheap bed on its end. After pushing it against the window to block the cool wind that had been blowing in, he set the mattress down on the floor.
My attention drifted to the door. It was hanging off its hinges.
With protesting muscles, I walked over to it. When I picked it up and started to maneuver it back into the door frame, I caught a set of eyes staring at me from across the hall.
As soon as their gaze locked with mine, the sliver of gap was slammed shut. This was a building of people used to questionable things happening, which explained why no one had come running from all of the noise.
Just as I set the door down, Gabriel appeared behind me. “Do you know how heavy these things are?” he muttered before sliding in to take it from me.
“I can manage.”
The door clicked shut. If anyone put much pressure on it from the other side, it would undoubtedly fall straight over, but at least it wouldn’t draw too much attention to the place.
Gabriel turned back to me. “You shouldn’t.”
Rubbing at my aching shoulder, I stepped back. “I’m fine.”
“Kennedy, I’m talking about the fact a human would struggle to lift that. I get that it’s nothing for you, but you at least need to make it look like it’s a solid door you’re lifting and not a flimsy piece of plywood.”
“Oh.”
Gabriel’s gaze swept over my face and body, taking in my disheveled appearance. “We should return—”
“I am not leaving this apartment tonight.” I crossed my arms to hide the fact my hands were balled into fists. I didn’t want to fight Gabriel on this, but I would if I needed to. “My mom hasn’t come home yet, and I need to let her know she’s got fallen angels after her.” As the words left my mouth, I felt something twist in my stomach as a bitter taste seemed to settle in the back of my throat.
Guilt.
Since middle school we’d been moving from city to city because my mom was convinced my father was after us. My father, the fallen angel.
My mom already knew.
And I’d just brushed it off as her deteriorating mental health.
With my legs feeling like jelly, I moved back to the table, sitting down heavily just as my legs gave out. “My mom knew,” I muttered, just as much to myself as to Gabriel.
Gabriel moved to the corner of the kitchen to pick up a plastic bag. Carrying it over to the table, he then deposited it beside me. He pulled out a bottle of coke and unscrewed it very slowly to counteract the explosion of bubbles that had built up from it being dropped on the floor.
With minimal spilling, he set it down in front of me. “Have something to drink.”
My throat felt dry, but the idea of putting coke into my stomach with how I felt made me nauseous.
With his usual meticulousness, Gabriel moved around the small kitchen area, pulling a bowl from one cupboard and some paper towels from another. After filling up the bowl with water, he walked back to me, pulling the second chair in front of me and sat.
I watched as he dunked the paper towel in the water, squeezing the excess out. “What’s that for?”
“You didn’t see the cut on your cheek?”
Instinctively, I touched my cheek. When I pulled my hand back, there was a line of blood on my fingers. “Oh.” I’d been staring at my reflection and I’d not seen it.
With a surprising gentleness, Gabriel dabbed the damp paper towel onto my cheek. “It doesn’t look deep.” He tapped at the sleeve of my jacket. “What about under here?”
I didn’t have many clothes. When I’d left my mom and gone to Greenwood, I’d gone with the clothes on my back. Almost everything I had at the college was part of their uniform. At first that seemed weird—a college with a uniform? But when Easter break arrived, I was grateful for it. At least I didn’t have to w
orry about what I was wearing.
The morning we’d left the campus, Gabriel arrived with a small selection of clothes for me. Practical like his dark, durable pants, a fitted long-sleeve T-shirt, and a thin jacket. It wasn’t my style, but they were warm, comfortable, and outside of the college uniform, the first new clothes I’d had in a long time.
I looked down at the sleeve and saw the tear. “Sorry,” I muttered, easing the jacket off.
There was another tear in the shirt, but the edges weren’t stained from blood.
“You need to roll up the sleeve so I can check it properly,” Gabriel told me.
My teeth clamped down on my lower lip.
“I’ve seen it before, Kennedy,” Gabriel told me, gently. He set the towel down on the table, dried his hands on his pants, and then took my hand in his. “Your scars are nothing to be ashamed of.”
It was easy for him to say. He was gorgeous with a perfect body, golden skin without a single scar. I’d seen his muscles and they weren’t obtained by doing nothing. Although, being an angel, maybe they were . . . While his face had a permanent growth of stubble, he had a strong, square jaw and nose so straight, I doubted he had ever broken it. Gabriel could easily have been a model.
But he had seen my scars before. I was sure that’s the reason he brought me long sleeve T-shirts instead of the normal ones he wore.
And it wasn’t that I was ashamed of them. They were just so . . . ugly.
I pulled my hand free and eased the T-shirt over my head.
Down the entire left side of my body was a scar. Doctors called it a Lichtenberg figure. The scar seemed to originate from my shoulder, running the length of my arm to my wrist. More travelled down the left side of my body and hid under my pants before stopping at my knee.
It looked like branches had split off into even smaller branches. Like frost creeping across a glass window on a winter’s morning.
Only mine were a dull red, like a burn mark. Lichtenberg figures usually faded after a few months. I’d had mine for nearly two years now.
Finally, I looked down. Dotted in between the scars were a couple of little nicks, but nothing major. There was, however, a fist-shaped bruise on my collar bone. It was already a collection of blacks and blues.