by Liza James
Instantly, all of my senses begin firing smoothly again. It’s faint, but everything begins lighting up on alert. I feel the fog clearing from my mind, but not enough to truly give me the energy I need to get out of here. It’s as if my body is becoming somehow more attuned to the situation, an invisible string of strength slowly leaking back into my small frame.
I suddenly realize there are two people leisurely standing in front of us, leaning against the wall as their eyes rake over our bodies. The woman is small, about my height, standing at five-foot-three, but that’s where the similarities end. Her hair is the complete opposite of my own. Where mine is long and dark, thick with uncontrollable natural waves, hers is bone straight, long to the point of hitting her waist and stark white. It’s thin and free of a single stray hair, parted directly down the center and framing her stunning ice blue eyes.
I blink a few times, processing the way her gaze literally pierces the darkness. Her skin, a soft milky white, naturally glows in contrast to the dimness of where we are. Instinctively, I can’t help but compare myself to her and I don’t even understand why. But I’m taking note of how my skin has just a bit more color than hers and envisioning how my own eyes are a dark chocolate brown rather than her stark blue. She’s beautiful in a way I can hardly fathom even though I’m staring directly at her.
I’ve never been considered outrageously stunning, and certainly not even in the same league as the woman in front of me. I have my good days, like everyone else but I’d say I fall under the average category of beauty. My figure is full of curves and I’m bustier than I’d prefer, but I have always loved my hair, mess and all.
Her eyes linger on me, scanning me from head to toe as if she’s sizing me up against her as well. So odd, this invisible exchange happening between us. But I realize that in my gut, I impulsively know that she is not to be trusted. There is something evil lurking in her gaze.
That same toxic poison of tension I felt from earlier? I can practically see it leaking from her pores, rooted in her being, and infecting everything around her.
The man next to her is massive, well over six feet tall and eerily lean. Narrow hips lead upwards to his slightly wider chest and broad shoulders. But there is something simplistic about him. From the way his dark eyes watch each of us before turning their attention back towards the woman, I can tell he is following her lead. The dismissive air around her is practically tangible, tainted with an unnerving amount of confidence. She looks like she couldn’t care less to be here but is unfortunately stuck with the necessary task.
He raises his hands in a smooth, lazy motion and lifts the wiry strands of his dirty blond hair up, securing them into a tight knot on top of his head. They are both dressed in entirely black outfits. His, a long, leather trench coat that shrouds most of his body. Unfortunately, I have a sinking feeling that coat choice was intentional, as he’s easily able to hide weapons underneath it on his lithe body. I can barely make out his ripped black jeans that peek from the bottom of his jacket, tucked messily into a pair of black army boots.
She on the other hand, showcases her weapons proudly. A pair of small but obvious handguns secured to each of her hips and a long, blinding dagger that is nestled tightly against the outside of her leather-clad thigh. The very one I imagine was used to slaughter the poor man hanging in the corner. There’s a chance I can see blood smeared across the blade, but my eyes are swollen and it’s too dark to know for sure.
She sports a tight, thin, black tank top that hugs her tiny frame seductively, displaying her figure in a way that has me feeling oddly defensive. I can’t define the reasoning behind these illusive emotions she’s pulling from me, as if I have anything to defend from her other than my own precious life at this point.
I focus on leveling my breaths and stilling my body to hide the fear that’s bubbling up inside my stomach. I’ll never share that with them though. I narrow my eyes and lift my chin, using every ounce of control and strength I have left over to keep the trembling at bay.
The man steps forward first, slowly making his way from one end of our row to the other. He stops at the girl next to me, leaning down and brushing his thumb across her bloody, swollen bottom lip. Her eyes squeeze shut on a whimper as she shrinks back from his impetuous touch.
A small smirk plays on his lips before he releases her and steps towards me. Coming face to face with him causes a bolt of anger to shoot through my chest. I tilt my head up defiantly, daring to meet his eyes with my own as he crouches down into my space. His hands rest casually on his knees as he silently rakes his gaze over my body, processing whatever it is he’s seeing within me.
“You. What is your name?” His cold voice infiltrates the dense cloud of tension that suffocates us, slicing through my skin and chilling my bones.
I lift my chin even higher, refusing to answer his question. He deserves nothing from me. The corner of his mouth rises in silent appreciation, clearly enjoying the fight I’m offering him. His long, thin fingers reach forward and gently trace my jawline, leaving goosebumps exploding across my skin as I fight to maintain my falsely calm state.
“Did you hear me, little one?’ His voice is now gentle but dishonestly kind as those same fingers grip and dig into the base of my throat. He jerks me towards him, closing the gap between our bodies so that I’m flush against his. I feel the warmth of his breath as it falls against my lips when he speaks. “I said, what is your fucking name?”
In moments like this, when you’re caught in the midst of a seemingly life or death situation, time passes far too quickly. My mind races in a matter of microseconds, considering how to respond and whether I should play along on the off chance that I could survive. So, I do, whether it’s the right decision or not.
“Luna,” I choke out, gasping for breath beneath his sadistic touch. I dig my nails into my aching palms to the point of drawing blood, I can feel the warmth filling my hands as they strain against my lap.
“Lu-na,” he repeats, intentionally uttering my name slowly, letting each syllable roll off of his tongue as it moves so disgustingly close to my face. Just when I feel I’m about to lose control, when my vision becomes hazy with lack of oxygen, I hear her voice break through the room.
“Enough.” The only word she speaks, on a command, and his grasp is immediately released. Uncontrollably, I fall forward as I gasp for air, trying to catch my breath before sitting upright.
I spit at his boots as he stands and meet his eyes once again. The undeniable strength and heat in my blood giving me the odd ability to continue fighting this undoubtedly deadly situation. He laughs, the sound loud and shrill as it cascades around us. His large hand swings back before crashing against my cheek. I fall backwards, my shoulder smashing the concrete as my head whips back and makes contact with the hard ground as well. Everything is ringing so loudly in my ears that I barely hear the cries and shrieks from the girls next to me.
For a brief moment I close my eyes, allowing myself a second to simply exist in the darkness. I wish it would swallow me whole and keep me here so that I didn’t have to face my past demons or whatever hellish situation I’ve found myself in now. But a soft voice reminds me what my reality is. The vague sense of encouragement and power course quietly through my body as I regain my vision and face my captors once again.
The woman has stepped forward now, standing side by side with the man as they center themselves in front of us.
“I’m sure you are all confused and scared. It’s an unfortunate situation you find yourselves in tonight and I truly am sorry that you all had to be the collateral damage for a war you know nothing about.” Her expression seems genuinely kind as she speaks. I can almost feel remorse in her words as if she was sincerely uttering the truth. But the casual and relaxed stance she holds tells me otherwise. I can sense a liar when I see one and I’m not fucking stupid.
“Lies,” I grit out between the clenched teeth of my sore and swollen jaw. Honestly, I’m surprised by my own courage at this
point. With each passing moment I’m realizing that I must not give a shit about my own life anymore. I’ve dealt with this once and handled things in a completely different way. But it was a way that left me on deaths door, abused and painfully living the rest of my life in an absent and vacant manner. Not truly thriving, but numbly existing from day to day, which I suppose compels my current behavior.
Her head sharply twists towards me. Those bright blue eyes widen slightly, appearing surprised by my voice speaking against hers. “Excuse me? Do you have any idea who you’re speaking to, dearest Lu-na?”
I glance to the young woman next to me when I feel her shoulder softly nudge into my own. Her eyes are brimmed with tears as she silently pleads with me to keep my mouth shut. Poor girl, she has no idea that we’re not getting out of this alive. A sudden wave of regret fills my stomach as I remember the words I spoke to her earlier, encouraging a small pang of hope at the idea that we’d survive. I should’ve known better than to offer false hope to another person, but back then, I truly thought there might be a way to escape.
I was wrong though, it’s clear now that their intentions are to kill us. In this small, windowless room at an unknown location, surrounded by anonymous people who are now bonded together by this single act of chaos and destruction.
I exhale an apologetic sigh at my nameless friend before turning my gaze back toward the woman in front of us. “I don’t need to know who you are, or why you’re doing this. It’s crystal clear that your minds won’t be changed and that there is some strange, twisted reasoning behind this impending slaughter. But what I do know, is that you’re lying. Spare us the false sympathy at your actions and simply own them. If you’re going to kill us, be a fucking woman about it and say it.”
Without a word, the woman with snow white hair steps closer to me. Each movement forward is an intentional declaration, I can feel it twisting and burrowing underneath my skin as I keep my eyes on her.
Her gaze never leaves my own, but her friend steps forward, his hands lifting upwards and directed towards each of us. Immediately, all of the women next to me stand at the exact same moment, their bodies completely in sync with one another as if tied together by an invisible string. I choose to rise with them, delayed by only a brief second but one that doesn’t go unnoticed by both the woman and man in front of me.
A flash of intrigue shimmers in our captors’ eyes before their walls of control quickly slip back into place. Each of the girls next to me are clearly confused by what is happening. Their faces show mixed expressions of fear and apprehension.
“You are correct, you stupid, fragile girl.” A sad smile drifts across her face as her cold hands lift and rest on either side of my slender neck. Her thumbs graze softly across my cheeks, tracing the lines of my nose and then my eyebrows, as if she’s memorizing the soft curves of my face. “You unknowingly speak to your Queen with such disrespect, a fault I will choose not to hold against you. You have no idea, after all, the kind of blood that flows through your veins. You have no knowledge to give you the strength you need to fight back. No, you’re weak, little Lu-na. But you already know that, don’t you? You know you’ve never been strong enough to fight back. You’ve only ever let those around you take and take and take, failing to defend yourself when you needed to most.”
I try to focus and make sense of what she’s saying, but her words cut through me in ways that are destroying the shield of strength I had managed to erect around me. She couldn’t know what happened seven years ago. I never told anyone, I never went to the police or my family. By family I only mean my younger sister. We’ve been alone for most of my life, never knowing who our biological parents were. We jumped through the foster system until I was old enough to emancipate myself and take care of the both of us. Now, as a twenty-seven-year-old woman who manages a coffee shop and photographs families for a living, I’ve found myself in an irreparable position. I can only hope my younger sister by two years—Stella—will be able to move forward once she realizes I’ll never be showing up at her apartment unannounced again. She’s strong though, stronger than I’ve ever been. I have to remind myself of that and believe she’ll be okay.
“Have you ever had anything to offer anyone? Anything of value within yourself? I don’t think so. That’s why everyone you know has left or taken from you in one way or another.” Tears sting my eyes as the impact of her words spiral through me. She doesn’t fucking know me, yet everything she says rips through my mind and poisons my heart. “It’s okay, sweet one. There’s nothing wrong with simply providing a shell of a life for someone else’s cause. Nothing wrong with being so exceptionally, unexceptional. So, you are correct. I am going to kill you, each of you, and I do not feel any remorse over that fact. You are simply a means to an end, an unfortunate casualty in the name of war.”
I have no words, no ability to form any sort of remark back to what she’s thrown at me. Because in the matter of mere seconds, she’s stripped me of each of my darkest fears and brought them to light, exposing them not only to everyone around me but also to myself. She’s pulled every memory that I’ve worked my ass off to forget back to the surface and shoved it to the forefront of my mind in a way that has completely silenced me.
And it’s in that moment, the one where I lost myself to that night seven years ago, when I’m suddenly surrounded by the sounds of gasps and cries from the women beside me. Their voices rip me out of my memories and back to reality as I glance around and realize each of them is struggling to breath, clutching and scraping at their own throats before they fall back to their knees.
What the hell is going on?
I knew I should have left. The second I caught sight of Amelia and Danner stepping into the back, gated entrance of her mansion, I should have turned my ass around and gone back to the Capital to report. It’s as if my body is moving on its own, my mind screaming to turn around and not risk everything we’ve worked for, but some innate genetic predisposition within my body is literally refusing to follow through.
A low, deep yearning called me to follow Amelia down into the depths of the mansion. I could hear their steps and hushed voices and in order to stay on their tail I followed at a distance until I patiently waited for her and Danner to disappear around the dark corner ahead of me.
I was surprised to find the small, cold and dingy room at the end of the narrow hall. I can’t understand why they would be headed to such a low place themselves. Amelia usually assigns prisoner tasks to the few guards she has for handling. She doesn’t like getting her hands dirty, not unless she had to.
Now, as I peer in silently behind a veil of darkness from the hallway, I watch as a small row of young women are forced to their knees. My heart thunders in my chest, anger and disgust coursing through me as they each finally notice the dead man hanging loosely in the corner. No doubt they are all terrified, surely they have no idea what they’ve walked into. No one does, Fallen Angels live in plain sight, keeping our identities and pasts a guarded secret. It’s worked surprisingly well. The humans around us usually don’t notice the slight differences in our DNA, why would they? We all look the same on the outside, for the most part.
While they struggle with simple physical hardships, we practically glow in comparison. Healthy, silky hair. Clean, clear skin. We crave exercise and adrenaline, making it easy to keep our God-like bodies in ideal condition. We were designed mirroring perfection, after all. It allows us to be admired by humans, but we intimidate them as well. So, while they have no idea how different we are from them, they usually don’t seek out relationships with us either. Makes things easy.
My eyes immediately fall to Amelia, noticing how her small, thin body easily moves forward to address her captives. I internally wait for some sort of emotional response to rear its head at me, remind me that I was once in love with her. But it never comes, in fact, a wave of disgust rolls through me instead at the reminder that I was once so naïve and ignorant to let my foolish feelings attach to that.
/> A small, but strangely confident voice breaks through the room and injects directly into my blood. A shock of electricity erupts in my chest and spirals through each of my limbs, igniting my fingertips in a way that causes me to physically wring out my tattoo covered hands. I can’t see any of their faces, but instinctively I know which body the voice belongs too.
On the very left end of the row, a small woman with thick and wild dark hair lifts her head to challenge Amelia’s surprised gaze. I watch their interaction, not hearing exactly what is being said but completely enraptured by the unknown woman’s body language. She’s kneeling, in a completely submissive position but the aura around her screams everything but.
Unbelievable strength radiates from her core, I can feel it flowing through the room and electrifying the air. Danner steps forward and uses his influential talent to control the women to rise up from their positions.
And that’s when I see it. Immediately, confusion and appreciation lick across my body, because I believe I’m witnessing someone who is potentially immune to Danner’s abilities. She stands, just as the others do, but she does it of her own volition. She’s just a brief second behind everyone else. She has unknowingly given them a vital piece of information she should be protecting. An odd sensation of affinity interrupts my thoughts as that unfamiliar craving continues surging through my form.
I should leave. Logically, I remind myself of this. Especially now that such strange and foreign emotions are plaguing my mind. I shouldn’t care, hell, I don’t care about these people. It’s not my fault they have ended up in this shitty place. But my feet refuse to move, my body refuses to shift even slightly towards the exit. No, even if I truly wanted to leave, I’d never be able to. Not until I knew that this unknown creature in front of me made it out of Amelia’s grasp alive.
Instantly, each of the women in the room begin gasping for air as Danner simply steels his intense gaze on them. I know what he’s doing, he’s killing them through suffocation. Stealing their oxygen and leaving them to die a vile death. I don’t understand their reasons for killing these humans off, but I’m sure it has some sort of grounding in her desire to obtain the throne.
