Aiden.
He stands so quietly watching, waiting. I see him even more clearly than before. He is beautiful with his dark blond hair and brilliant, mysterious aqua eyes. Even this far away, I can clearly see light blond streaks in his hair. I haven’t ever noticed the small dimple on his face, until now. He is smiling; he rarely smiles. He needs to smile more. I like it when he does.
Where did that thought come from?
Tiny dust motes float in the air. The stagnant air smells of death. Has he used this room to kill others in? My heart sinks at the gross though.
He stands, staring at me.
When our eyes lock, he nods approvingly. His shirt disappears and out snaps his magnificent wings. They are as large as my own, black with speckles of blood red feathers throughout, and on the very tips are a smattering of white ones.
He stalks forward, stopping short of me; his eyes are wide and still locked on mine. His mouth is open, probably in awe. The black feathers are iridescent, like a prism of every color. His wings are glorious like mine. His body also radiates the same bright, soft white glow.
This close, he looms over me. My eyes move up to his bare chest, momentarily distracted by his wings.
Oh, boy.
He is toned and sports defined abs. He has beautifully sculpted long arms and lean legs. I never really noticed, nor appreciated, him before. I was too stuck on him wanting to kill me.
The glint of something in his eyes says otherwise.
I look back at his wings, curious about why they’re that color. I look back to my own, compare my white feathers with his white feathers. They are the same. I wonder if he still has some good left in him. He’s had many opportunities to kill me, when he first took me and every day since. He hasn’t.
Why?
I feel my body being drawn toward Aiden and his wings. I extend my hand to him. I want him to close the distance between us. He stands perfectly still. Minutes go by, or maybe it’s only a few seconds, but he doesn’t move.
Finally, when I determine he isn’t going to make the effort, I lower my hand but his wings twitch. One of them moves forward and meets my hand.
I knew what it took for him to make that small action. I don’t know firsthand what it feels like when someone touches my wings, only the account Shay told me. It’s like someone touching a part of your soul.
Does Aiden still have a soul?
As soon as my fingers touch them, I see flashes of images. Confused as to what I’m seeing, they are coming at me too fast: white wings, someone falling, black wings, and ... and then, nothing.
Blackness.
Aiden starts to retreat from me. His wings snap close and disappear into his back. He’s about to take a step backwards, but I quickly move my hand from where his wings were to inches away from his face. I’m not sure if I should touch him. I don’t know how he’s going to react. He probably hasn’t had anyone touch him like this in years, maybe even centuries.
My hand lingers, silently asking permission. I know this is a very intimate situation, and he needs to make the next move. He steps back, his eyes still locked onto mine.
His expression changes, softens. He steps forward, lowers his head, and closes the distance between my hand and his face. As soon as we touch, the room is filled with Light, and a very intense shock courses through our bodies. It’s so forceful we both fall to our knees. My hand drops from his face. Our eyes are frozen with shock.
I know I wasn’t meant to see his thoughts. Nor do I know what this could mean. I’ve only ever felt anything like this before, and that was with Shay.
“Aiden,” I whisper.
Immediately, he’s jolted out of his momentary shock when I say his name. He quickly rises and turns his back to me. He’s withdrawing. Again.
No! I must know ... I must touch him again.
“Aiden,” I shout at his back.
He turns his head to look at me.
My eyes plead with his. I mentally think, “Come back. Don’t leave me here alone. Help me sort this out. I’m scared.” I add, “Please.”
I have no idea if I can project thoughts to him or if he can even hear me. He turns away but doesn’t advance any farther.
“Aiden. Can you hear me? If you can, I beg you to say something. Anything.”
“Yes.”
His response is so quiet I almost miss it. I would have if there were any other sounds in the room besides our breathing. He fists his hands at his sides and spins back toward me. His eyes are lowered to the floor when he approaches. He stands close to me, too close. His body heat warms me. I reach my hand to touch him. He towers over me, forcing me to look up at him; he stares at my extended hand. He places his hand into mine. The same jolt rocks our bodies and leaves me panting.
He flashes out of the room.
“Aiden ... do you know what it means?” I yell.
“Yes,” he mentally responds.
Great. We can mentally speak to each other, and now I am certain that we are soul mates. Shay and I had the same shock thing happen to us when we touch, and Kieran said it’s a sign of being soul mates.
How in the world could Aiden be my soul mate if I am an angel of Heaven, and he’s a something of Hell? My hands shake at the thought. Maybe because I am a Seraph, the mind speaking was part my abilities, and I could mentally speak to everyone? Maybe it isn’t something only between Aiden and me. I’ve never tried speaking to my best friend with only my mind.
I wonder what other abilities I will have. I already figured out I have enhanced vision. My body doesn’t feel any different than before, but there is no way to test any other theories, being locked in this room.
A bazillion questions flitter around in my mind.
But at least now I have a window.
Happy birthday, Zoe.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Aiden
OH, HELLS!
How can I be a Soul Match to Zoe? She already has one with that Nephilim. There’s been no case in the history of angels, or demons, to have two matches in the same lifetime. Or has there?
I must find out more information about Soul Matches. I can’t be hers. As the Prince of Hell, there is no one for me. I’d have to betray my own kind. Could I do that again?
I disappear into the lower realms of Hell. A coincidence it’s the same level as the torture chambers that held the Nephilim. When demons run out of ways to inflict torture, there are always the old scrolls to help inspire new ones.
It’s a small library of sorts. What demon takes time to read? I do. There is knowledge that comes from the tomes and books. I can’t just use my surveillance information.
I hope to find what I need here because the Angel Archive will not let me in. I burned that bridge a long time ago since my Fallen Days. Perhaps Quinn can get me something.
I take a few scrolls at a time and toss a couple of potential books onto the small table. The demon magic in this room prohibits me from removing any items. Although I wish I could take them and be more comfortable in my chambers, it’s a rule of my father, and he’s the one who can set the boundaries around the room. I cannot break them.
A small light is conjured into the lamps and sconces around the table and room. Then I set to work.
Hours pass and I’m about to call it quits for the time being, but one of the last scrolls on the shelf beckon to me. Carefully lifting and unrolling the ancient parchment paper, I gloss over the tiny, black markings. This one is by far the oldest I’ve ever come across. It’s one taken from Heaven, and somehow, it’s made its home in Hell.
I sit back down at the table and conjure more Fire Light so I can make out the letters and symbols. It’s old language and will need to be translated. I don’t think I’ve ever read this dialect before. And of course, I can’t ask my father.
Leaving the scroll on the table, I stand and skim the dictionaries and reference books. Grabbing one of the oldest looking ones, I return to my working area. I begin flipping and reading various pages sin
ce there isn’t an index. In the later third of the book, I stop on a page that has a similar marking to that on the scroll. I compare each, but it’s not quite the same. I’m getting closer. My wings feel it.
Turning the page, I find an exact match. I look at each marking in the book and gently take the scroll and match the symbols. It’s a shortened alphabet, based more on sounds and images. I conjure an ink quill and paper to translate each mark. It’s painstaking to do each one, but finally I reach the end of the scroll.
From what I can decipher, a Soul Match happens when angel Light aligns to another soul. It recognizes that the being is their equal in all ways. Equal could mean genetically, like twin siblings—that has never happened before. I’ve never heard of any two angels, demons, or Nephilim who have an identical. I suspect that it could be more likely with the Nephilim since they are part human, and having twins or multiple births is more common for them.
Soul Matches are also non-genetic, too. Light is attracted to like and profound characteristics: a deep-rooted love, generosity that knows no bounds, or spirits willing to take the ultimate sacrifice.
To date, there are no known cases of two Soul Matches to the same angel, demon, or Nephilim.
When a Soul Match is found, electrical current courses through each beings’ body when contact is made with each other. The more connection of the outer shell, the more intense the current will be.
Side effects: reading each other’s thoughts, becoming in tune with them—physical and mental whereabouts, and/or manifestation of the same Angel Light or Fire Light. On extremely rare occasions, the transfer of information and knowledge can occur where part of the Soul attaches to the other.
There are no known reversal treatments once the Soul attaches. Also, there are no known reversals to slice the Soul Match.
Nothing is said about bonds occurring between species.
Oh, hells no.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Zoe
I DON’T WASTE ANY TIME devising an escape plan. I realize that my friends will never find and rescue me. I must do that on my own.
Some birthday I’m having. The rest of my Heaven’s Mark appeared, and something weird is happening between Aiden and me. Plus, I got wings.
Freaking wings!
They are gorgeous, an iridescent purple and white. I can’t store them away. They flutter around me as I sit on my bed.
Up until today, I felt my powers getting stronger. It was the only way I knew the date of my birth was coming.
I’ve been held prisoner for almost seven weeks.
Aiden. There must be something I can use. We are connected. I don’t know how or why. I still my thoughts, only thinking of him. We could be siblings, or maybe we were created from the same angel.
What has changed in Aiden these past weeks? Why now allow me to touch him? He must have known this was going to happen. Did he give me a loophole to escape? Is he helping me?
So many questions and no answers fill my mind.
I stop pondering and use his absence to work the room. My Light surges throughout my body, ready for release. Every particle of myself is made of up angelic power.
With my wings extended out and on the ready for anything, I pace the room, touching the bed, couch, and chair. Eventually, I want to brush my hand against the windowsill. I hesitate in front of where the invisible shield is. My fingers creep toward the glass. My hand is engulfed with purple Light and goes straight through the barrier. I’m touching the window.
“Yes.”
I peer out to view the scenery. It’s aqua-blue water surrounded by white, sandy beaches. Birds of all sizes soar in the air and speckle the sky as far as I can see. Dolphins play in the ocean. Occasionally, one jumps and splashes down. The scene changes. I’m pouring everything into creating a dense forest and then a vast mountain range.
A smile forms on my lips.
I pace the rest of the room toward the mirror, my Light still pulsing through my body. I press it against the clear wall and it shatters at my touch. With my hand extended out, I sweep the air like I’m feeling for hidden objects, making sure that nothing else is concealed to me. The only thing I can’t break are the four exterior walls; they remain solid under my palms.
I take one last look around the room. I know this is the last that I’ll see it. My head turns back to the window; the view has not changed.
This is insane.
But I won’t stay here any longer. If this fails, then I’ll think of a Plan B. For now, this is all I have.
Running toward the window, my wings extend out. Light consumes the room. It hums just under my skin. I make the final leap and crash through the glass. Like the mirror, you had told me. Liar.
I free fall to the ground but quickly remember that I have wings. They carry me up on the winds, and I soar through the air. I’m sure I’m a something to see. A human body flailing about crookedly flying through the sky. I sink, spin, and tumble all the while trying to get myself righted and soaring straight.
My wings pump up and down and bring me higher. My back is already sore, but I fight through the fatigue. I look back and see a long island with two orange towers sitting on one end and a bridge connecting them. The open window I flew out of is in the exact middle of the bridge, the only dark spot on the building. It reminds me of someplace I’ve only seen in commercials.
I disregard it because I know it’s not real. It’s a place I once saw and thought of in my mind.
My body passes through an unseen forcefield, my vision is gray for a couple of seconds, and I see everything from a bird’s eye view.
Mountains line the sky to my right. My geography is limited, and I could be anywhere in the world. No snow is seen on the ground, except on the mountain tops. Europe has the Alps. I recall that Asia has the most ranges, the Andes in South America, Alaskan Range, and the Appalachian Mountains in the continental US. My mind flips through countries like a rolodex. Why hadn’t I paid more attention in class?
I fly lower to the ground, but not enough for humans to recognize a person with wings flying in the sky. With one thought, my body becomes invisible, and I decide to risk zooming toward the ground in hopes to find something familiar.
Using a circular pattern, I spiral outward, but nothing pops or nudges my memory until a landmark that is one of the wonders of the world comes into my view on the left: the deep valleys of the Grand Canyon. That would mean that the mountains to my right are the Rockies.
Now that I kinda know where I am, my mind recollects that Arizona would be to the southwest, New Mexico to the southeast, and Utah and Colorado to the north. Which would mean I’m close to Four Corners.
A narrow river winds through the countryside and flows westward. Is that the San Juan River that joins the Colorado River? I follow the twists and turns until four tiny rows of buildings come into view. It looks like a bull’s eye inside a square. As I get closer, five spikes rise, each spear waving colored material. I spot the U.S. flag immediately, the red and white strips dancing on the breeze, and fifty white stars against the blue background blink as if to say “hi.” I land in the middle of the four flags.
I wish I could tell you I landed gracefully, since I’m an angel. I can’t. I tumble onto the hard ground, trying to roll to lessen the impact. My face flattens. That’s going to leave a mark.
On the ground is a three-foot cement disk, and in its center is a smaller one. Four state seals with their state name mark the center of each corner. Red benches line each pie shape. A couple dozen Ordinaries mill around, taking pictures of each symbol as they wait their turn to straddle the very center circle, so they can say that they’ve been in four states at one time.
It’s a good thing I’m still invisible.
With one more passing glance, I take back to the sky and head northeast to Minnesota.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Aiden
“AI-DEN!”
I cringe when my name is bellowed. The directive bounces between al
l levels of Hell. There is no hiding. My father is summoning me. Why am I the second in command when Sammael and I have the same angel rank?
If only the king would stay locked away in his cage forever. I’ve been dreading this day; his release. Things have been pretty good thus far. The Knights are creating havoc in the Ordinaries’ world, natural disasters are in abundance thanks to the Marquises demons, and my plan is being executed nicely. I’m assured that Father is going to mess up my plans now that he’s free to roam the levels of Hell.
I should check on him though, in case there was a malfunction to the prison’s door. I can only hope. The Archangels locked dear old Dad in a cage since the Fall, but that doesn’t mean that his powers were sealed. The Seraph Angels weren’t strong enough to strip him of his Light. He said that he managed to draw some of their Light with him when he got locked up, which is why they can’t come to earth or even roam between the Levels. Yes, the King of Hell can still do quite a bit of damage. And I do not need that additional heat raining down on me.
If there’s a God, my father will still be imprisoned.
I chuckle at my own joke.
I vanish from the library and reappear in Hell’s throne room, where my father is shockingly not seated. I must make sure, though. Using Fire Light, I send it across the large, dark room inspecting every crevice for the king.
Could it be?
The black throne sits empty. The room is cold, even though Hell’s Fire flickers against the tall obsidian pillars that line the outer edge of the room. The king’s stone chair sits atop a dais. A thick layer of dust is undisturbed. The rot of death lingers in the stale air.
“Aiden. I know you hear me.” The voice booms as the Fire Light’s flames rise. “Do not make me wait. I gave you a command.”
“I am in the throne room, awaiting your orders.”
Wars & Wings (Enlighten Series Book 3) Page 13