I loved the voice. It was golden and comforting—and it brought back fragments of memories that couldn’t be true.
“What happened?” I breathed.
“They ambushed you at your doorstep.” He looked away from me and rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers.
“Who are they?” I asked weakly, wincing at the attempt to prop up my weight on my right forearm. I crashed down to the ground instantly, unable to stabilize myself against the hard stone.
“Demons,” he answered tonelessly. “And I failed to protect you.” He turned back to me at his last words, his golden eyes holding the same apologetic gaze they had the the night before—had it been the night before? I had no idea how long I had been out.
“What day is it?”
He eyed me, confused. “Saturday, January 15th.” Damn! Had I been out a whole day? “It’s 12:42—you’ve been out for nearly eleven hours.” Then he turned his whole body towards me and gently stroked my hair. I jerked at the unexpected movement.
“How do you feel?”
What did he do? Why did he stroke my head? I was dazed and befuddled by the situation, and even more confused by the way it felt so soothing and tender, the way he touched me. He’s a stranger, I told myself and shuddered.
Not knowing what to answer, I groaned in pleasure and pain, allowance and disapproval, all at the same time. I looked at him more closely. I had been so sure he was the suit guy from the library the night before—now I was doubting my vision. He looked so much younger, almost my age, a bit older maybe. Now that my eyes had adjusted to the bright light of the sun that came in through the window behind him, I saw light freckles that were strewn on his straight nose. His features were handsome and gentle.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” he said in a soft voice. I felt a warmth spread through my body that I didn’t understand. “Are you hurt?”
I nodded slowly. The way the warmth spread its way through my body made me feel a little uncomfortable.
“Don’t worry,” he answered my unease. “I’m here.”
The warmth spread further and I suddenly felt relief in my sore limbs. “It will be over soon.”
I wondered if it was him who made it, but couldn’t get my thoughts together. I was back to sleep as soon as the pain had eased a little.
My dreams were uneasy. All the time, I heard harsh voices piercing through the layers of darkness that enveloped my mind. I struggled hard to answer when they asked for the angel. I heard screams in the back of my mind—they sounded a lot like my own. A cold female voice asked me over and over again for the angel’s whereabouts. I told her over and over again that I had no clue who they meant, and images of Adam flashed through my head. I cried out loud for help and I felt hot tears streaming down my face. It felt so real that I was glad I knew I was dreaming.
Then the pain started again, as if someone was skinning me alive. My chest tightened in agony and I told my heart to stop beating so I wouldn’t have to endure the searing pain anymore. But somewhere, in the dark behind the pain, a voice told me to endure, to stay, whatever it might cost. The voice was comforting and shining through the darkness like a golden mist that wound through solid black danger that was hiding in my dream. I listened to it, not sure how long I could obey its demand. More than anything I wanted to wake up—or die.
It seemed like hours before the darkness faded and bright light fell on my face again. I felt myself being laid down onto hard stone and it hurt everywhere my body touched the cool rough surface. I didn’t dare open my eyes, fearing them to sting too. The crude hands that had laid me down vanished and I heard a door close somewhere nearby. A key turned in a lock with a sound of finality.
I rolled onto my back with all the strength that was left in my sore limbs. I couldn’t help letting a moan escape my lips. It sounded too loud and real. I wanted to wake up from this painful nightmare. Worst of all—it wasn’t only my body that hurt—it felt like some untouchable part of my inner self was damaged as well and this pain was beyond the one in my limbs, torso and head—it was indescribable and made me shiver over and over again.
And then I saw Adam before my inner eye—he looked so beautiful, even in my memory—and the pain intensified by a hundred times.
I counted to fifty in my head to distract myself from the feeling and then forced my eyes open.
The sun hurt my vision again. I waited a minute to let my eyes adjust to the bright light that shone towards me. The walls were still white, the floor still the same terracotta stone.
“How are you feeling?” A familiar voice asked in my ear and a breeze of warm breath tickled the skin on my cheek.
I lifted my head as much as my sore body would allow—it wasn’t more than an inch. “Bad dream.” I mumbled into the brightness.
“I know.” I wasn’t sure if I just imagined him speak—my head was so full of images of Adam and the pain that seemed to be incurable and that kept returning with every new thought.
“What did you dream about?” This time I definitely heard him speak, though his voice wasn’t as close as it had been before. He was speaking from somewhere behind me with a soft note in his words.
“I can’t tell exactly.” Actually, I was embarrassed to tell. Nobody needed to know how much I couldn’t let Adam go—not even now, or especially now. It was such a weird situation. I hadn’t found out where I was, neither did I know what had happened, nor why I was here. I clung to the pictures of Adam like mad—like they would give me some absolution or get me out of here, like they were all I needed to feel safe and happy.
But reality was harder than that. Reality brought back nothing but soreness and the strangest memories.
I glanced down at my arms. My jacket was gone and so was my sweater. All I wore was the long sleeved shirt I had put on in the morning a day ago, jeans and sneakers—was it even a day ago, or longer already? I closed my eyes and wondered where my clothes had gone.
“How long?” The words cost me much effort. A shuffling noise behind me told me that he was moving closer again. “What do you mean, how long?” his voice was a breath on my cheek again.
“How long did I sleep this time?” I felt my system scream for a bathroom as I spoke.
“Somewhat more than an hour.” His tone strained as he spoke. “Can you move?”
I was pretty sure I had to—the tone of his question implicated it.
“I’m sure I can—destination: bathroom.”
I heard a low chuckle beside my ear. His face radiated warmth to my skin. It felt nice.
“There’s a bathroom in here.” His voice moved away and I was afraid he would disappear. But he only got to his feet, offering his hand to help me up.
I searched for willpower and strength and self-control and rolled back to the side, lifting my hand to take his. I couldn’t help letting a growl escape at the pain it inflicted on my body. He flinched at the noise. “Give me your hand.” He knelt down beside me and reached out for mine.
The moment our hands touched the warmth spread again, and I felt how the soreness slowly retreated from my fingers and toes first, then from my limbs and finally the burning sensation vanished from my skin and bones.
“How—.”
“Don’t ask,” he interrupted with a soothing smile. “Ready for the bathroom?” He pulled once and I was on my feet, too astounded to realize he had pulled me up. “Over there,” he gestured at a light brown wooden door and I walked there automatically.
Before I went back to the blond guy, I drank some cold water and washed my face, hoping I would wake up from this strange dream. I leaned against the wall and waited until the cool air had dried my wet face. My hair was tangled at my back in a weird knot, my jeans were dirty from lying on the floor and my shirt was stained with water and dust.
I shook my head and tried to focus on a plan in order find out what was going on and why he was here. Who was he? Or better—what was he, that he could heal my pain with his touch—if it had been h
im. I took one last deep breath before I got away from the wall and pushed down the handle to open the door.
He sat in the sunlight, leaning against the chalk white wall, his face turned up to the high ceiling and his eyes closed. He looked shiny in the brightness of the sun. At my slouching movement, he turned and opened his golden eyes to look at me, sadness in his features. His hair reflected golden as it shimmered, quivering when he moved his head.
Amazed by his appearance, I stopped and felt awe lowering my chin. I gazed at him open mouthed. “Who are you?”
“I already wondered when you’d ask.” he smiled at me innocently and turned back, examining the ceiling in silence.
I waited for a while, but didn’t get an answer.
“Are you going to tell me?”
Silence.
“Maybe an easier question first?” he said without moving his gaze.
“Like what?”
“Like, where are we?”
I nodded, perplexed.
“We are in a mansion somewhere near Crystal Lake. That’s about a fourteen hour drive from there to the south of Washington DC.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “How did we get here?” I blurted out.
He smiled at my impatience. “They took us here.”
A memory flashed through my head—a dark street and three dark dressed people barring my view, a golden voice in the mist.
“You—” I walked over to sit beside him on the floor. “—where there last night.” I saw his eyes narrow for a fraction of a second and interpreted it as a yes.
“How come you were there?”
I waited for him to speak.
“So, no answer again.”
He finally looked at me with his golden eyes. They were smoldering, literally, and I suddenly remembered everything. He watched me patiently while the memories returned to my head. The glow in his eyes had set off the process. Pictures of black and white, of feathers and icy blue darkness sped by at incredible speed. And then an image of the golden-eyed, blond-haired stranger spreading wings and hovering above the ground, froze my body. He still looked me in the eye with his intense gaze.
“You remember,” he said blankly. Not a question—a conclusion.
Good and True
I blinked. “You are one of them.” I couldn’t keep myself from saying it, and it sounded like an accusation.
He turned away again, his eyes back to normal.
“Why did you help me?” It was a strange feeling—he was one of them—an angel. “Was it a coincidence?”
“What do you mean?” he asked into the sunlight.
“How did you know I needed help?” I tried to catch his gaze and hold it, but it was like trying to catch an eel with bare hands.
“I—” he hesitated mid-word.
“Don’t hold back,” I taunted him.
“—I’m …well…” he hemmed and hawed.
“Tell me.” I demanded.
“I’m sort of assigned to you.”
“What?” I blinked and tried to get it. “How?”
He shook his head at my reaction and looked back towards the light again. It had started to slowly creep behind the far away mountains.
“I mean—how can you be assigned to me?” I tried to talk an explanation out of him.
Still shaking his head he turned back to me. His eyes had started to gleam golden again.
“Think!” he simply prompted.
And so I did. How could he be assigned to me? What did that mean? He was an angel and he was assigned to me—like my personal angel? I already had that spot occupied with Adam.
“I’m sorry, I—” I started.
“Why do you think I pop up every time you need me? Why do you think I—”
“I’ve never seen you before,” I interrupted. “I was sure I had last night, but now—” My thoughts wandered back to the tailored suit guy from the library. “—You are so much younger than him.”
“Who?”
“There was a man at the library not long ago. He looked like an older version of you—somehow.” I took in his features again. “But maybe it’s just a wrong memory. You are definitely too young.” I corrected my doubts. “And I can’t remember needing anything then.”
“You remember our encounter at the library—” His expression was pleased and scared at the same moment.
“That really was you?” I couldn’t believe it.
I took an even closer look at his face. “The man was at least ten years older than you. How old are you? Twenty?”
“Nearly,” he answered. “I might look that way, but actually I’m more than nine-hundred years old.”
Silence.
“Yeah, right! I really hate bad jokes, you know?”
“It’s not a joke, Claire.” His voice was fierce, burning.
My heart missed a beat. Had he just called me by my name? I had never told him that. He shouldn’t have known. I wanted to throw something at him to make him disappear, to make myself wake up—I still hoped I was dreaming.
“How come you look so much younger now?” I didn’t try to hide any of my distress. If he was what he claimed to be, he would know anyway.
The blond man twitched and his expression grew watchful. “Later,” he whispered. In less than a second he lifted his hand an placed it on my arm. I felt the touch for a moment and then there was darkness.
I moved through black layers of mist without being able to steer.
“She’s sleeping again,” a cold voice said as my head hit something hard. “Wake her up!” a second voice answered. It had a strong Italian accent. This made me think I wasn’t dreaming. Maybe I was unconscious. But I wouldn’t get what they were speaking then. “Careful,” someone hushed from further away. “She mustn’t die, or the mark will be lost forever.”
I remembered that the three dark demons had talked about a mark in front of my house. I tried hard to listen but the more attentive I was the more it hurt. It didn’t take long until I preferred the blackness in my head to the pain. Again it felt like razor blades were peeling off my skin slowly enough to feel every cell in my body protest in agony.
* * *
My head lolled sideways and hit something soft. A hand touched my shoulder. My senses seemed numb and my heart raced.
I blinked. My eyes opened and found the dim light very comfortable. The pain was nearly gone when my eyes found his face above me.
“Hey sleepy,” he said with a wry smile on his lips.
“How long this time?” I asked, rolling my head on his thigh.
“Seven hours.” He answered instantly.
“What happened?” My head swirled as I tried to sit up. Ouch! “The last thing I can remember is that we discussed something, and then everything went black.”
Something dawned on me—he had been there every time I had woken up, but also had been there every time I had gone to sleep, or unconscious—I wasn’t sure. “You did this to me?”
I moved into a sitting position, resting my back against the wall a little distance from him.
“I sent you to sleep, so you wouldn’t feel the pain.” I could remember the agony and laughed mockingly.
“Not feel the pain? What are you talking about? I thought this was a dream.” He looked wary, older than before I had blacked out, and he shook his head once.
“No, Claire, you didn’t have an unpleasant dream.” I flinched as he said my name and remembered that he wasn’t supposed to know it.
“What then?” I whispered in exasperation. “Would you please tell me what happened—from the first second. I don’t understand anything anymore. Who are you? What are you?”
He chuckled, frustrated. “I am your guardian angel, Claire, I’ve been watching over you most of your life.”
I sucked in a breath. So that was a first—getting information.
“I’m Jaden, by the way.” He inclined his head politely. “I was assigned to you when you were about four years old and have never left your side since
. I never knew what happened to my predecessor.”
I was perplexed by how openly he suddenly spoke.
“Guardian angel,” I mocked.
“Yes,” his face was serious.
“Jaden,” still mocking.
“Jaden Kenneth Ableton,” he corrected me.
“Jaden Kenneth Ableton, guardian angel,” I laughed out loud.
“Shhh,” he looked around nervously.
“What?”
“When they hear you’re awake, they’ll turn up quicker than you can speak your own name.”
“What do they want from me?”
“Can’t you guess?”
I pondered for a moment with my eyes closed and my arms bracing my chest. I instantly knew. “Adam.”
“Damn right,” he agreed.
“Aren’t angels supposed to not curse?” “Very funny. It’s not easy to look after someone with such an affinity to danger.” I didn’t know what he was talking about and shot him a questioning look.
“Why on earth do you have to fall in love with freaks all the time?” “That’s not true—” I defended myself.
“It—is—true.”
“Adam’s not a freak,” I protested.
“But he’s not good for you.”
I didn’t want to hear this. “He is good.” I locked his gaze to mine. “He’s like you, didn’t you know?”
“Sure enough I know,” he taunted. “And I’m not good for you either. Being with one of us is never healthy for you humans. Do you think you’re the first?”
Sons of God and daughters of men—it flashed to my mind and he nodded as he recognized the insight in my eyes. “Every human becomes a target for the dark side when they get too involved with our side.” He shifted to his knees and looked at me intensely. “I shouldn’t show myself to you—ever. But there was no other way. It is dangerous for you to know we exist and it’s dangerous for us to get involved with humans too much.”
“Why are you here then?”
“Claire, you are in unbelievable danger.”
I shook my head in denial.
White (The Wings Trilogy Book 1) Page 22
