Angels Falling
By
Harriet Carlton
Copyright © 2020 by Harriet Carlton
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. All rights reserved.
For Ash and Zach,
without whom, none of these books would
have been possible.
Thank you.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Late spring is a time of new hope, of joy. Winter has come to a true close. The cold snaps are over. Days are warm and bright, full of color. Flowers are blooming. New life is blossoming. It is a time for a new beginning. Except in hospitals. Hospitals are one of the few places that seem unaffected by the movement of time. They are always cold. They are always clinical. Steeped in an artificial winter. Certainly, that is what Imorean Frayneson thought of them. Perhaps it is because Imorean, at only eighteen, had already spent so much time in them as a patient himself. What was more likely, though, he felt, was because his best friend was still lying unconscious in one of the hospital beds.
The even, steady beat of her heart monitor had lulled him into an uncomfortable sort of daze. Imorean swallowed, pushing a few strands of his prematurely white hair out of his eyes. His eyes, brown as they were, should have clashed with his pale hair, but somehow, the two fit together well. It was not his white hair, though, that made him stand out more than most. It was the pair of great, white wings that curved up from just behind his shoulders that marked him different. Imorean was a hybrid. An Archangel-human hybrid. Even among the other hybrid students at the Norwegian school of Upper Morvine, he was the only one whose genetic lines were crossed with an Archangel. Only a few months ago, the truth about his nature and his wings had been revealed, and with that, his entire life had been knocked sideways.
A small shuffle made him look up. He hoped that in the last few minutes, Roxy would have shifted from being unconscious to being fully awake. As usual, wishful thinking yielded nothing. Dark-haired, short and slightly overweight, Roxanne, Roxy, Daire had been his best friend for as long as he could remember. Roxy, too, was one of the hybrid students of Upper Morvine, and, in keeping with her character, her wings seemed bright and optimistic. Based on parrots’ wings, Roxy’s were a multitude of colors. Violet, green, blue and yellow. Something about the white hospital sheets sucked the beauty away from them.
Imorean covered his face with his hands and sighed. As though he hadn’t been through enough. In the last few months, his family had been murdered, he had been hounded by the Demon General Vortigern, half his friends had been killed and his mentor – the Archangel Michael – had been sent into a coma. He couldn’t lose Roxy. She was the last bit of stability he had in a life that felt empty and alien. He inhaled and released his breath with a shudder. He jumped, tensing, as he heard the soft click of rubber shoe soles against the stone floor behind him. He turned as the Archangel Raphael approached.
“Don’t do that,” sighed Imorean. “You’re too quiet.”
“Sorry, Imorean,” replied Raphael, stopping at the bottom of Roxy’s bed and checking her charts. Idly, Imorean watched him. Raphael was black-haired and tall, thinner than the other three main Archangels. A pair of wire rimmed glasses perched on Raphael’s nose, blue eyes shining bright behind them.
Raphael tapped his pen against Roxy’s chart. “You know, she’ll probably heal faster if you’re not sitting here stressing. Between you and Ryan, it’s like trying to keep vultures away.”
“I can’t help it,” he replied, his voice sharper than he intended. “I hate not knowing how she’s doing.”
“Imorean, Roxy’s doing fine. She’s recuperating. I’ve told you, I’ll let you know as soon as she comes around.”
“I know.”
“Head back to The Terrace, Imorean. There’s no sense in you waiting here for something that won’t be happening for at least a few days.”
Imorean rubbed his eyes and stood up. “Okay. Promise me you’ll let me know?”
“Of course,” smiled Raphael, scribbling a few numbers down on Roxy’s chart. Imorean shuffled for a moment, unsure whether to stay or to leave, then turned, moving toward the hospital doors.
Outside, the day felt far too warm. The late afternoon sun was too bright, the colors too vibrant and the world too happy. Imorean looked around. A few students lingered on the campus pathways, talking to one another, their wings handsome under the midafternoon sun. None of them seemed to have a care in the world. Imorean flared his own wings and stretched them. The hospital of Upper Morvine’s campus was located in an area called The Main. There was always something going on at The Main. It was lively and pleasant. Imorean didn’t like it. He preferred the quiet. His area of campus, The Terrace, was separated from The Main by a network of fjords and waterways. The only way to commute between the two areas was by flight. Ignoring the black scars on his white feathers, he took off, flying high above The Main and only descending when he reached the waterways. There was something about the cold saltwater spraying his face as he flew that made him feel more aware of himself.
All too soon, Imorean’s flight was finished. He swooped up and landed on the wooden boardwalk at The Terrace. As he shook off his wings, he looked around, taking in the red and white painted cabins. His own cabin was at the very end of the boardwalk, looking out to the open ocean. He wiped down his right wing, slicking away some of the water left from the sea spray. He paused
as his hands traced over a few lines of dark marks. Scars left behind by Demon Commander Vortigern. Raphael had looked at them a few days ago. Treatment made no impact on them. Imorean knew somehow that they would be there for a very long time. If not permanently.
Without meaning to, Imorean pictured Vortigern’s face. Thin, aristocratic, a near permanent smile constantly hovering over his mouth, while his hollow, gray eyes remained entirely emotionless. Imorean shivered. He hated to admit it, but even after having fought Vortigern several times, he still feared him. Though, he supposed, it was with good reason. Vortigern had taken everything from him. His family, his home, his squad and his friends. Imorean took a deep breath and shook his head, trying to clear Vortigern from his mind, and moved on down the boardwalk. When he drew near his cabin, he hesitated. The large building had been newly renovated after the Archangel Uriel set it on fire a few weeks before. The burn marks still lingered on the wooden decking. Imorean frowned and walked on, pausing again when he passed the cabin next to his own. Roxy and Mandy had lived here. It was empty now. Roxy was in the hospital. Mandy would never return.
The door to Imorean’s cabin opened with its familiar squeak, but as he walked inside, he was reminded that nothing would ever be the same. Familiarity was an illusion. He stopped in the foyer. For a house built to suit six people, it felt empty, cold, with only four residents. Two of its members, Dustin and Toddy, were gone. Like Mandy, they would never return to Upper Morvine. Imorean sighed softly as he crossed the small living room, deep in thought. Two of his friends and fellow squad members, Mandy and Dustin, were dead. Vortigern had killed them himself. Toddy had been kidnapped, to be held in an unknown location. Only Imorean, Colton, Ryan and Baxter remained in the house. It felt eerie coming home now. Empty and hollow.
As Imorean approached the kitchen counter, something caught his eye. Something that forced a pause. A small row of photos was propped up against the tile backboard. Some were selfies. Most had been taken on a cell phone. Mandy and Baxter smiling with each other. Dustin and Toddy playing video games, deep in concentration. Baxter grinning as he swooped through the air with Mandy and Dustin behind him. Imorean’s brown eyes welled up with private tears – tears he would not shed, mustn’t shed – as he took in their faces. Candid pictures. The way all three of them had been when they were alive. Mandy, blonde-haired and blue-eyed, complete with soft, gray seagull wings. The only seabird of the group. Imorean missed her terribly. Dustin. Imorean had always thought that Dustin was who he would have looked like if his hair hadn’t turned white. Brown-haired, brown-eyed and tall. His dusky barn owl wings had made him unique. Dustin had been quiet, but a good, reliable friend. Toddy. Auburn-haired and bright eyed. He, like Dustin, had had owl wings. Rather than barn owl wings, Toddy’s had been larger and grayer. The two of them had been completely silent in the air. Imorean shook his head. Toddy had been his friend since they had arrived at Gracepointe in Norway nearly a year ago. They had been roommates there and Toddy had remained one of his best friends ever since. At Felsenmeer during their elite training, their friendship had held strong even when his and Roxy’s had started to fracture. Toddy. It wasn’t right.
And Vortigern had killed them. Even kidnapped Toddy was surely dead. Imorean folded his arms and blinked rapidly. Together, he, Mandy, Dustin, Toddy, Ryan, Roxy, Baxter and Colton had been a squad. An elite squad. Ready for anything. But now? Mandy and Dustin were dead, Toddy was kidnapped. Imorean didn’t know what to call himself, Colton, Baxter, Ryan and Roxy. A group of students who lived together seemed to be the only title for them now.
The sound of the door squeaking made Imorean look up. Colton, undersize, blond, bespectacled and younger than everyone else in the house by two years, had just walked inside.
“Hey,” said Colton, adjusting his glasses. “I hadn’t expected to see you here. I thought you were still visiting Roxy.”
“No,” replied Imorean, unfolding his arms. He looked away from Colton. “She’s still asleep. Raphael kicked me out and told me to come back another day.”
“How did she look?”
“Alive.”
“Imorean.”
He turned, glancing at Colton for a few seconds. He almost couldn’t bear to look at him. Colton, while a hybrid, was the only member of his one-time squad who had no wings. Vortigern had cut both of them off at the first joint.
“What’s eating you?” asked Colton.
Imorean narrowed his eyes, suddenly annoyed. “Drop it, Colton.”
“You really are abrasive,” snapped Ryan’s voice from the staircase.
Imorean turned again. Ryan, ginger-haired and brown-eyed, was glaring at him. Ryan was one of two former squad members who was substantially larger than Imorean. It was no secret that they’d disliked each other since the day they’d met.
“Sorry, Colt,” said Imorean.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Colton, patting him on the shoulder.
Imorean nearly flinched away from the contact. He watched as Ryan finished descending the stairs and came into the kitchen. A depth of silence lay among them all. Tension. He huffed quietly. They were all that was left of an elite squad. Remnants. Remnants who couldn’t even get along inside their own kitchen.
Chapter 2
Hissing filled the air. Brown eyes were open wide, staring at the ceiling. Imorean wanted water. His throat was dry and it was hard to breathe. He wanted to thrash, to move. But he couldn’t. He was weighted down by an invisible force. His heart thumped in his chest, urging him to get up. But he couldn’t move. In the corner of his bedroom, something shifted. A sound. Long. Sibilant. Not human. He froze. It, whatever it was, was here with him.
“We’re coming,” said a voice. A female voice. It echoed, as though spoken down a long, damp tunnel. A hand pressed on Imorean’s chest. He lay still, eyes straining into the darkness. Long, sharp fingernails tiptoed up his sternum, each tiny step deliberate and aggressive. Another hand landed on him. His ankle this time. Another. His wrist. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. Imorean tried to move. He tried. Why wouldn’t his body move!? Just move! Do something! In the quiet of his own mind, he screamed. His mouth wouldn’t open. Together, the hands tightened. Their grip was bruising. Imorean tasted blood in his mouth. His eyes were wet. His skin was wet. Everything was sticky. The air smelled hot with a sharp, metallic tang.
“We are coming,” snarled the female voice once more. A dull, spark of green rippled in the corner of the room and the hands dropped, slithering from Imorean’s skin longingly. He shivered, waiting to wake from his nightmare. But he did not. With a horrible sense of violation, he realized his eyes had been open since the episode began.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Imorean stared at his ceiling. He had only slept for three hours, but it felt like enough. The gray, early morning light turned the ceiling a pastel color. He swallowed and drew a breath. Sleep had not returned. He hadn’t wanted it to. He was still damp with cold sweat. Nothing felt right. It hadn’t for weeks. He wondered if it ever would again.
A clatter outside his door made Imorean jump. He hated to admit it, but the loud noise had spooked him. Someone was in the kitchen, but who? It had to be Ryan, Baxter or Colton, but he couldn’t remember for the life of him who the early riser was.
Imorean closed his eyes and sat up. He should get dressed. He felt slower than usual as he went through his morning routine. He kept on his pajama shirt but changed into a pair of sweatpants. He had no intention of looking nice or putting on a uniform today. There was no point. He was too tired. He walked out of his room, hair still not brushed, and entered the kitchen. Colton was sitting at the kitchen bar.
“Good morning,” said Colton, not looking up from the book he was reading.
“Hi,” replied Imorean, his eyes flitting over Colton’s small form. He somehow seemed even smaller without his wings. Imorean swallowed. He couldn’t help but feel that he was responsible for Colton’s loss of wings. Anoth
er pang cut into the heavy weight of guilt that seemed to have settled itself over his shoulders.
“Are you hungry?” asked Colton, looking up after a moment. “We could go to the dining hall if you want. Or I could make something.”
“No,” said Imorean. “I don’t want anything.”
“Imorean,” said Colton. He sounded as though he was weighing his words. “You need to eat something. When was the last time you ate a full meal?”
“Not long ago,” replied Imorean with a shrug. He knew that that wasn’t the answer Colton was looking for. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten a full meal. Had it been in Iceland? Had it maybe even been before Michael had been induced into a coma? Surely, it couldn’t have been that long.
“You’re impossible,” huffed Colton, turning back to his book.
“Sorry,” said Imorean, leaning on the kitchen counter. He looked around. Ryan’s shoes weren’t by the front door. “Where’s Ryan?”
“I think he’s already gone to see Roxy, even though Raphael told both of you not to. Hey, Baxter,” called Colton.
Imorean lifted his gaze as Baxter walked out of his own bedroom, rubbing his eyes. He offered Baxter a small smile. “Hey.”
“What’s up?” asked Baxter, yawning.
“Can you see if you can convince Imorean to go and eat something?”
“Want to go to the dining hall?” asked Baxter, repeating Colton’s question.
Imorean looked up and met Baxter’s gaze. He couldn’t help bristling. He felt cornered. Baxter, who had once been a weather tracker in Imorean’s squad, was much bigger than him, and at this point, he would be stronger and healthier. Baxter could coerce him. Maybe it would be best to do as he was asked.
“Fine,” nodded Imorean.
“At last you’re going to eat something,” said Colton with a relieved sigh.
“Sure,” grunted Imorean. He followed Baxter out the door and fell into step next to him as they made their way along the boardwalk. Imorean looked around as he walked. He didn’t particularly like Upper Morvine’s campus. Neither The Terrace nor The Main felt welcoming. He had preferred Felsenmeer. The training camp on Baffin Island was the one school that had actually felt like home to him.
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