by J. J. Dean
Eli cautiously asks, "What's Divine Touch?"
Luna breaks her gaze from Devon's and looks down to the floor. She clears her throat a couple of time before finding the ability to talk. "Divine Touch would be the ability to influence people with a single touch of my bare skin on whoever I chose to influence. Although I can affect the emotions of others, heightening lust, joy, sadness, you name it, Divine Touch allows me to influence the minds of others. With one single touch from the pad of my finger on your bare arm, I could essentially get you to do anything I wish. One touch and a soft whisper asking you to do the hula in nothing but leather chaps, and you'll do it without hesitation. But just like Divine Melody, which you didn’t know before, I have to infuse the power into my touch. I have to touch you and will my gift into the contact for it to work."
Everything around us becomes silent, quiet enough that you could hear a pin drop. Eli and I share an unsettling look. We can't let Lucifer get his hands on her. With war on the horizon, Luna would be the perfect weapon. The perfect Angel to have on his side and overthrow Heaven. One look at Luna's paler than normal face tells me she's worked out as much.
"With the attack on us earlier, Lucifer will go to any lengths to get her, dead or alive. If he can't have her for himself to aid him in the war, then he'll dispose of her so there's no chance she could align herself with Him. It's not about picking sides anymore. It's about keeping the Princess alive and away from Lucifer," Devon summarizes.
If Luna's face could get any paler, I'm sure it would have.
"I think I need some air," Luna announces in a daze, her entire body trembling when she stands.
Eli stands to steady her before pointing out the obvious. "Should you really be going outside right now? What with Lucifer sending things to capture or kill you?"
Luna looks around helplessly and an ache forms in my chest.
"No, you're right, I shouldn't. I'm going to go to my room for a little while."
Without another word to any of us, she walks on unsteady feet, silently up the stairs to her room, closing the door quietly and leaving all four of us Angels in the living room eyeing one another.
Suddenly, my cell rings out.
We all look at each other again before my eyes land on Eli's worried gaze. The ringtone continues for several seconds before he says, "You have to answer, bro. He'll get suspicious. That's the last thing we need right now."
I know he's right, but I stare at the phone like it's a snake poised to bite me, a ball of dread forming in the pit of my stomach. I lift myself off the couch and walk slowly towards my cell, prolonging the inevitable.
Once I reach the device, I pick it up and press the green button to answer. "Boss."
Lucifer's rough voice trickles through my cell, causing unpleasant shivers to run up my spine. "Asher. It's been some time since your last update. Tell me, where are we with the Fallen?"
With one look toward my brother and a quick, sharp nod in return, I prepare to lie through my damn teeth for the Fallen Angel in question sitting alone upstairs.
Luna
Logically , I know staying inside is the safer option for me right now. Sadly, logic has flown far and fast out the window. I'm still reeling after the verbal bomb Devon just dropped on me, my head a jumbled mess of worry, panic and the desperate need for air.
I leave all four Angels in the living room, each one silent as I make my way unsteadily up the stairs and hide myself away in my room. The second the click of the door sliding closed sounds in the room, the breath heaves out of me in a rush. I lean my back against my door with a soft thud and slide down until I'm seated on the floor with my head in my hands, elbows braced on my knees.
Finding out that Lucifer is searching for you for your power is a great way to cause someone the freak the fuck out and hyperventilate. I’d heard Lucifer is a ruthless son of a bitch, many an Angel spoke of him before I fell, but knowing first hand that he's willing to lure me away with the use of two of his strongest Angels, or simply murder me to prevent him from losing this war, has me all kinds of messed up.
I'm officially being hunted by Lucifer.
With that thought alone, my breathing kicks up a notch, inevitable panic gripping me tightly in its clutches. How am I supposed to outrun Satan? I mean, it’s Satan.
The need for air quickly becomes a desperate demand not to be ignored. Without another thought, I spring to my feet and march towards my large window. Being careful of the creak of wood, I slide the window open quietly and climb out, landing on the fire escape that winds down the side of the tall building. My body is moving on autopilot, racing down the steep metal steps until I reach six feet above the ground where the fire escape ends.
I realize rational thinking would indicate that I'm re-enacting a scene in a horror movie or book where the foolish female runs off without a way to communicate with anyone should she need to call for help, and without telling anyone where she's going, but my frenzied mind doesn't allow for thinking on such things when I have constant dread muffling my usually well put together senses.
I don't even hesitate when I reach the bottom, and jump from the last step, landing in a partial crouch before straightening myself and briskly walking aimlessly, trying to rid myself of the panic and adrenaline coursing through my body.
I walk for an hour, my quick pace never faltering. My breathing is coming fast, my heartbeat accelerated, but I don't stop walking. I keep going until my lungs protest at my unplanned burst of exercise and I stop with heaving breaths.
Bending at my waist, leaning my hands on my knees, I take a moment to catch my breath. My panic settles to a bearable level, my anxiety not so suffocating, but I stay in the position catching my breath until I'm sure I'm not going to fall over if a breeze catches me off guard. When I stand again, I browse my surroundings while I wait for my heartbeat to return to its steady pace.
With surprise and confusion, I find myself standing in the middle of the cemetery I first met the handsome asshole that is Asher. I've no idea what brought me here, but here I stand, surrounded by grimy, weathered head stones. I spin slowly in a circle, noting nothing has changed since I was here last, but something doesn't quite feel right. There's something in the air that's different, a current that has the hairs on my arms standing on end.
I reach a one-eighty turn when I stand as still as the statue before me. My stone features stare back at me, the very same statue I'd been thoroughly perplexed by the last time my eyes gazed upon it. Although nothing in the decaying cemetery has changed, my statue seems to look a little better than before. The stone looks cleaner, more detail can be seen in the face. The moss and debris have been brushed away to leave a less worn down, stone version of me.
"I see He's begun to take care of it." Devon startles me from where his modulated voice sounds from behind me.
I twirl around quickly, my dress fanning out around me with the effort. I stare at Devon with my mouth agape, "What the fuck? Are you following me now?"
"I've been following you for just over two weeks now, Luna. You really should be more spatially aware," he calmly berates.
What the hell? Two weeks? Surely I would have noticed someone following me for...
"Oh, my heavens. It was you I saw outside Frenchie’s. The white hair... Of course!"
"I'm surprised it took you that long to figure it out. Not many human males have my hair coloring," he notes absently, his eyes on the statue while his thoughts seem to drift away from our current conversation. This asshole has been following me for over two weeks and I'm only now figuring it out? These Angels are messing with my game.
"I didn't think He remembered this was here." Devon motions towards my stone replica before shifting his gaze towards me.
I'm not sure if I'm seeing things, the shock and adrenaline doing funny things to my eyesight, but I could swear his eyes look less guarded than they've ever been around me. There's a slight... softness to them at the moment. Something that looks both good and unusual on him.
"I have no idea what you're talking about so if you want this to be more than a one-sided conversation, you'll need to fill me in," I tell him, turning back around to face the perfectly sculpted statue.
"He had the statue made, just after your Fall," he begins slowly. I can feel the air shift and hear the grass crunch under his feet when he walks from his spot behind me. There's a sudden warmth to the left of me where his arm just about brushes my own. "When you chose to Fall rather than side with Him, He felt betrayed. His daughter, His prized Angel, chose His creations instead of He Himself. I can imagine He was feeling hurt and distressed at losing the Angel He cared for most. In order to heal, He thought it a good idea to have a replica of you made and buried on Earth amongst the dead, for He felt as though you'd died the moment you Fell. If He couldn't give you a Burial of the Angels, then He decided on the next best thing, which was to place your statue in the midst of a cemetery."
I stand there dumbfounded, staring at the statue with a whole new perspective. He... He felt like I'd died the moment I chose humanity? Is He really that butthurt that I didn't chose to side with Him that He had to create a replica to bury me? What a dramatic, over the top dipshit.
Devon snorts, though he tries to muffle the sound with his fist.
"What?" I ask.
"You probably shouldn't be calling God a dramatic, over the top dipshit considering He has ears everywhere," he advises. Oh. I said that out loud? He’s wearing a smirk that's both amused and teasing when he looks at me. Had it not looked good on him, seeing a smirk that wasn't full of discontent or mockery, I'd have retaliated on principle alone.
"Wait, what do you mean He has ears everywhere? He still watches over Earth?" I question hesitantly. When I Fell after choosing to live amongst the very humans He created, I assumed He’d cast Earth aside, no longer wanting any part of the world He made and cherished.
"As far as I'm aware, He still regularly checks over Earth," Devon replies, looking at me briefly before turning towards the statue again.
"Huh. Go figure," I grumble.
Devon snorts again, pulling my attention back to him. When he catches my bewildered stare, he defensively asks, "what?"
"Are you snorting? Do you suddenly think I'm funny?"
"No." He deadpans, turning to face away from me. I can see a soft splash of pink sitting high on his cheekbones, and being unable to stop myself from teasing him, I continue.
"You totally think I'm funny. It's okay, I'm hilarious. You're allowed to laugh. I've been concerned for your mental wellbeing when you haven't laughed any other time."
He looks at me as though I'm crazy before responding. "I didn't laugh, it was a snort. And I don't think you're funny. I just… thought of something amusing."
Wow. He's really hell bent on denying it. "Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night."
He doesn't respond, choosing to drop the conversation. When I sneak a peek from the corner of my eye, the pink flush on his cheeks seems to have gotten brighter. I don’t even try to hide my shit eating grin.
We stand side by side for a little while, just staring at the stone version of me when a thought hits me. "Why did you follow me? I mean, I was under the impression you couldn't stand me."
He hesitates a moment before whispering, "It would make things easier if I couldn't stand you.” I’m not sure I was supposed to hear that, but he continues before I can say anything about it. “I don't particularly want to fall on my knees at your feet, but I can tolerate you."
I think that's the closest I'm going to get to a compliment from him, so I keep my snide remark to myself.
"Plus, Heaven needs you more now than ever. I'm merely protecting you should Lucifer send more of his minions. You really should have told someone you were leaving,” he adds to his answer.
I stay quiet for a beat until I find myself needing to tell someone what's weighing on my mind.
"I panicked," I tell him quietly. "I've used my second power only once since I Fell. It didn't end well. I know the damage it could cause, Devon. The only time I used it I almost cost someone their life. I can't be made into a weapon to fight alongside Lucifer. He'll use me to destroy everything. I wasn't made to be used as a weapon."
The vulnerability in my words doesn't go unnoticed. I can feel Devon’s eyes trained intently on me, and when I lift my gaze, sure enough, his pale green eyes connect with mine. His eyes are void of the usual impassive, cold glare he sports. In its place is a surprising tenderness, understanding and something else I can't put my finger on. He lifts his hand timidly, looking as though he's about to comfort me somehow, before he thinks better of it and drops his hand back to his side and looks away from me.
With fierce determination, he promises, "You won't be made into a weapon, Luna. I won't allow it to happen." He looks directly at me, his gaze unwavering, and with that look, I believe him. This isn't the usual Devon I've come to know, but it's a Devon I'm finding it difficult not to trust.
I give him a nod before looking away, and we both settle into a comfortable silence.
Another thought comes to mind, but my attention is quickly snatched away to the right where the loud snapping of a branch echoes off the trees around the cemetery. I feel Devon’s soft hand grasp my bare wrist and he pulls me closer towards him, indicating that I haven't lost my mind and he heard the noise too.
We both look around, but there's nothing. We check the trees but see no shadow of figures or anything out of the ordinary. Devon tugs on my wrist until I'm standing in front of him and his other hand reaches up to hold my waist firmly.
"Something doesn't feel right," he voices so quietly, I have to strain to hear him.
Sure enough, the strange feeling I had before comes back with a suddenness that has me wavering on my feet. The air feels thick with static, everything seems too still around us. The chirps of birds that sounded high in the trees have disappeared. The noise of leaves rustling, cars driving on by, the crush of the grass when Devon or I shuffle; all gone. There's nothing but an eerie silence surrounding us. It's as though all the noise around us has had the life sucked out of it and left an unnatural quiet in its stead.
Ever so quietly, Devon leans down and whispers in my ear, "When I tell you to run, you run, you hear? Don't hesitate. Just do as I tell you."
I barely get my nod out before Devon's hold on me slackens and I feel his body move away from mine. I wait in tense anticipation for the Angel to give me my order to run, but what I hear instead is a heavy thud from behind me. Thinking no better of it, I twist and see Devon's body sprawled on the floor, his eyes rolled to the back of his head so only the whites are visible.
Another noise has me spinning back around, putting my back to Devon and a startled gasp leaves me when a giant of a man, one that isn't the surly Asher I've grown used to, stands directly in front of me. Gold armor covers him from head to toe, a soft looking material tucked under the heavy looking metal plates that cover his torso and legs. He has a pretty face - too pretty. Every feature is perfect and symmetrical, not a blemish or freckle in sight.
I'm pulled out of my perusal of the stranger when he lifts two beefy hands to either side of my head and softly whispers, "Sleep."
The world around me begins to dim, a sudden fatigue pummels into my body, leaving me spent and ready to drop. Darkness clouds my vision, my eyelids becoming heavier and heavier with every blink. The time between blinks becomes longer, the effort to reopen my eyes one I can't fight any longer when exhaustion wins out and my body succumbs to the unconsciousness that awaits me. The last thought I have before fading into the darkness is, I'm getting really tired of this whole passing out when I least expect it shit.
Luna
I’m disoriented when my eyes open, everything around me too blurry and out of focus to see clearly. Everything seems to be swaying, nothing is still as it should be. My surroundings are dark, too dark for it to be evening, but I can't be sure if that's my poor eyesight or if I'm not outside anymore.
With the gentle rocking and my head’s fuzzy state, I quickly become nauseated. It begins to feel as though I'm on a boat and I've come down with a sudden case of seasickness.
With a dry throat, I tell my captor, "Uh, excuse me? If you don't put me down, I'm afraid I'll barf all over your shiny costume."
The guy stills for a moment before ignoring me completely and continues to walk down what feels like a never-ending path. My eyesight clears the more he walks, and I notice we aren't outside like I thought. We seem to be in an underground tunnel. On the walls on either side of us are dirty, worn-down mosaic tiles made into portraits of humans. I squint to find a name of some sort but come up empty. This tunnel must have looked beautiful in its day, but now it's dank and dreary. The walls are covered in grime and dirt, the floor's once pristine cobblestone is now cracked and nothing short of a walking hazard. The entire place looks run down and forgotten. It makes me a little sad to see such a beautiful place discarded and left to decay.
The guy who carries me none too gently jostles me again, causing a very unladylike grunt to slip through my lips. "You could be a little gentler. It's not like I'm going anywhere what with you caveman carrying me to my doom."
Once again, I'm thoroughly ignored and my irritation with the jackass notches up a couple of pegs.
Our journey drags on, and I lose track of how long we've been walking, until the man beneath me comes to a sudden halt, causing my body to jerk around awkwardly, the shoulder pad of his armor digging uncomfortably into my stomach. It goes quiet in the hall, and then a noise that sounds like stone moving across stone echoes around the long narrow hall we just walked down. A soft orange glow seems to trickle from the opening I'm sure has been made, and my captor walks us into a large stone room, one that looks as though it's received better care than its entrance.
