by J. J. Dean
No way. No fucking way. This seriously cannot be happening right now. He took them away. He snatched them back like a petty child and now, what? He's forced them back onto me? Fuck. That... that... dipshit!
"Peaches, I can hear the gears in your head turning. Talk to us," Asher says.
Looking at each of them with wide eyes, concern no doubt plastered over my face, I tell them, "He's made me into a bigger target."
"What do you mean?" Noah asks softly.
"He. Him. That dipshit up above," I growl, my eyes narrowing at the door to my hospital room. What the Hell was He thinking? That's what the Sentinels were for. Suck my nuts.
"I think He's given me back my gifts that He stripped when I Fell.”
The looks of shock and confusion on their faces would be funny if I wasn't so angry.
Luna
Sometime after my announcement, Devon woke up. Strangely enough, he's kept his hand in mine, not making any movement to slide it away and act like it didn't happen. Weird.
"That doesn't make sense, Luna. He only gifted each Angel with two powers. Not a single Angel has more," Noah tries to explain. What they fail to remember is that I was His beloved daughter.
"Let me explain. When I was created, I was given two gifts just like everyone else. It was only a short time until I became His 'greatest creation,' as He liked to call me. I have no idea what I did to earn the title, but I knew I wasn't quite the same as the others. He could see that, too. One day, as I was walking through the tranquil gardens, right next to the crystal stream trickling by quietly, because it soothed me. He found me and asked to join me on my stroll through the undying flowers and I allowed it. We walked in comfortable silence, until we reached a clearing where I liked to sit and just be. He'd confessed to me that He'd gifted more than one power to me, much to my surprise. He explained that He'd known of my differences because He'd been the one to create them. He gave me five gifts in total and when I Fell, He snatched three away and left me with the two I'd originally been given."
"What powers were they, peaches?" Asher asks quietly, watching me closely.
My eyes stare into his for a moment, and when his mouth tightens a fraction, I can tell he knows what I'm about to say.
“You already know I have Divine Melody and Divine Touch." I huff out a humorless laugh. "But He gifted me with Reality Warping, which would explain the Hellspawn turning on one another, if they're made to think their reality is that the Hellspawn were their own enemies.”
"That does make sense. What happened when you climbed the counter?" Devon asks patiently, rubbing his thumb on the back of my hand.
"I'd thought about them fighting themselves instead of us just before I climbed onto that counter. I'm pretty confident I infused my Divine Melody into my Reality Warp to make them more aggressive towards each other in order for them to fight quick enough so it would be over sooner. I knew I was using more power than normal with my singing, but I didn't realize it was me who'd turned them on one another."
"Makes sense, Flower," Eli agrees, nodding his head while he brings my other hand to his mouth to press a soft kiss on my palm before holding it snugly in his again.
"That's not the only thing. When I heard the ambulance, I thought about what the humans would make of the mess in the coffee shop. The paramedics didn't flinch once when they came in through the door. The door. When there's a large noticeable hole in the wall that they could use to get to me faster, they used the door. They acted as though nothing was out of the ordinary. I'm thinking I Reality Warped and made them think the coffee shop was as normal as it is every day," I explain, making sense of my thoughts earlier before I'd passed out.
"I wondered about that, but I was more focused on getting you fixed," Asher comments, seeming lost in thought.
Eli butts in again, questioning, "What other gifts did you receive?"
"Divine Healing. I could heal from anyth-"
I stop talking and let go of Devon and Elijah's hands, scrambling to sit up, ignoring the wave of dizziness that almost knocks me back down. I reach for the horrendous hospital gown that does nothing to flatter me, yank at the bottom and drag it upwards until the material in bunched under my braless bosom.
When I look at my stomach, my mouth falls open with a pop. I stare at my now blemish free stomach, not a single mark left on my bare skin. Where there had been a gaping hole in my stomach where the nails of that gross Hellspawn had caught me, now exists perfectly smooth skin. There's literally no indication that there'd been anything wrong with me, not one scratch mars my porcelain flesh.
No fucking way.
I look up to assess the guys' reactions, but I notice they're all staring at my lace underwear that somehow survived the bloody massacre. Animals.
"As much as I don't mind you all checking out my crotch, can we maybe leave that for a time that I'm not lying in a hospital bed and focus on the fact that my fatal wound is nowhere to be fucking found?" I question with both humor and hysteria. He really has given me all of my gifts back. At least two of the three, that much is blatantly obvious.
"Sorry," Noah offers with a bright, red face that would have me laughing if it weren't for the minor fact that I'm officially freaking out.
Asher runs his hand across my cut free stomach, checking for himself that it's really gone and we're not going crazy. His hand lingers a little longer than normal, but I can't say I mind.
"Well, that sure does confirm that you have your healing back," Eli mumbles in awe as he watches his brother’s hand trail a gentle line across my abdomen.
Devon shakes himself out of his stupor pretty quickly, and turns to face me again, echoing my thoughts. "That's only two gifts, Princess. What about the last one?"
His use of the nickname isn't patronizing or condescending as it normally is, which causes me to pause before replying. "Uh, Mysticism. I could mimic objects and other powers."
Devon nods, even with a cute furrow in his brow that tells me he's confused.
I look around the guys and stop at Noah. He's staring at my stomach but doesn't seem to be really seeing it. His face is carved into one of concentration, his gaze never once straying further than my stomach where Asher’s hand still sits.
"Noah? What is it?" I ask carefully, not wanting to break his concentration out of whatever he's thinking about but needing to know why he's practically burning a hole in my belly.
He turns to face me and explains his thoughts. "Mysticism? Mimicking objects?" I give him a nod, and he continues. "You pulled a dagger out of absolutely nowhere when you got tackled to the floor. A dagger that was a double image of one of the blades Eli was holding. When we reached you, I looked for the knife, but it wasn't there. Like it had disappeared then and there."
We stare at one another while I connect his observation with the events. I did just pluck a blade out of absolutely nowhere. There was no way I'd have managed to grab a knife when there wasn't one lying around me.
Noah watches the moment I figure it out, and he nods in confirmation.
"Well, fuck me running down a steep hill." I exhale harshly, causing the guys to snicker or outright laugh. I'm glad they can find humor in the fact that I am royally fucked.
"You realize that the dipshit that everyone calls God has shoved me into the snake pit, right? He's just painted me into a bigger target. Lucifer already wanted me to join his stupid cause with the two gifts I already had, and now He's just thrown another three into the shit pot," I blabber quickly, my voice reaching pitches I didn't think possible.
Asher lifts himself from his chair and comes to stand next to my head where I've thrown it into the pillows in dismay. He begins his soothing trick, running his hands through my hair until my breathing has calmed down some.
Eli and Devon have reclaimed my hands, Eli running his free hand up the arm attached to the hand snugly cradled in his larger one. Devon is content to rub comforting circles into the back of my hand while he waits for me to get a hold of myself.
&nb
sp; "What the hell are we going to do? It was bad enough as it was." I express my worry out loud, hoping that if I let it out, I'll feel somewhat better. That shit doesn't work. I still feel like I'm moments away from having a panic attack.
"It's just another thing we'll deal with, peaches," Ash whispers before leaning down to kiss my forehead.
Speaking of dealing with it, there's an old lady that I need to have a stern talking to. When someone tells you to run away from a dangerous situation, you don't let a locked door hinder your attempts.
"Hey, where's Ms. Frenchie?" I ask, relaxing into the bed while Asher continues with his ministration, my panic attack calming down enough for me to think rationally.
The room suddenly goes deathly silent. You could hear a mouse fart with how my question seems to have sucked all other noise from the room. If that's not concerning enough, Asher's attention on my aching head seems to have stopped.
I open my eyes and look at the guys who're giving each other a look I can't decipher. Since when did they figure out how to communicate with looks alone? But sure enough, their eyes are talking and I'm not a part of that conversation. I don't know what bugs me more; the secret conversation I'm not privy to, the fact that they can now have aforementioned conversations, or none of them have answered my question about my best friend.
I'm obviously more concerned about the latter, and my heartbeat picks up a fraction when they still don't answer.
"Guys, where's Francis? Didn't you say you were going to find her?" I ask, watching them silently converse with one another while I lie in a hospital bed freaking the fuck out.
"If one of you doesn't answer me right this second, I'll do something not one of you will like," I half ass threaten, my words falling flat with the shake you can hear in my voice. I'm worried out of my mind for my best friend, and they're not telling me something. I can see it on their faces.
I sit up in bed, pushing Asher's hand away. I pull out the IV in my arm with barely a flinch and watch it heal quickly, leaving no trace of a mark after the tiny hole is healed. I swing my legs over the bed, causing Devon and Noah to shift backwards before they catch a foot in their mouths.
"Luna, wait-" I cut Devon off with a sharp look and he glances at the others before facing me and continuing, "Luna, we looked for her. Everywhere."
I don't like the start of that sentence. Not one bit.
"Just tell me, Dev. Where's Francis?" I ask with a strain in my voice that gives away my fear for the crazy old lady I love to death.
He pauses before slowly telling me, "We don't know. Eli and I looked while Asher and Noah stayed with you here. We couldn't find her anywhere. We checked her apartment and the surrounding area. We even went back to your apartment in case she found a way there. Nothing."
As I absorb what he's telling me, I watch his face. There's something else, something not even Devon wants to tell me.
"What aren't you telling me?" I question with a rasp, my heart thudding in my chest heavily. My panic and anxiety grow the longer they delay telling me something I obviously need to be told.
Noah bends over in his chair, rustling through a bag filled with who knows what. He pulls out a clear plastic bag that has some sort of material inside. Sickness plagues me, my stomach revolting against what I'm looking at.
"That's…is that..." I can't get my question out, and I can't stop staring at the bag clutched in Noah's hand. He places it gently on the bed beside me, and I can do nothing but stare in horror.
"Tell me that cardigan does not belong to Francis," I croak out another whisper, my eyesight becoming blurry with the tears that creep up on me unexpectedly. They know there's no mistaking that cable knit monstrosity, but I'll hold on to my denial until I can no longer do so.
It's then that I notice the stains of blood over the material.
Oh Lord, no.
"And please-" a sob breaks free before I can stop it, "please tell me that is cranberry juice or that Francis has a brutal fighter inside of her and that's the blood of the Hellspawn that she valiantly took down without a scratch on her in return."
It's quiet for a moment before Noah speaks. "I'm so sorry, Luna. We don't know where she is or if she's de- safe. But Devon and Elijah found this not too far from the coffee shop. The blood... it's hers."
The tears are freely falling now, but I can't pull my gaze away from the hideous mustard colored cardigan that I know Ms. Frenchie loves to wear. I can't look away from the stains of red that coats the fabric - or the tears.
My mind begins to shut down. I can't accept that. She's around somewhere, I'm sure of it. She must have fallen, and her cardigan must have caught on something, tearing it a little. Surely that's it. And the blood? Maybe she scraped herself, or maybe she bumped her head and cut it? Or something.
My head snaps up with determination to believe that my Francis is okay, and my gaze connects with Devon’s. He's sitting close enough that his chest is touching my knees. I ignore the tears streaming wet trails down my cheeks.
"She's not dead. She's not allowed to be," I tell him with every bit of determination inside of me, as though me telling him my best friend isn't allowed to die will make it so. I'm a stubborn bitch, though, so I won't rest until I find the wrinkled old bat and make sure she's safe. I won't admit she's gone, she can't be. No, we'll find her. And I'll give her a tongue lashing for making me cry. She knows I hate to cry.
With one last look at Devon, and the steel in my voice obvious to everyone that I'll not be swayed on my decision, I growl one sentence that I plan to follow through with.
"We're going to find her."
To be continued...
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Firstly, to Brandy, for pushing me to do this whole authoring malarkey. Without you, I’d still be pigging out on the couch like a potato, wondering what to do with my life. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still a couch potato, but you pushed me to be a writing couch potato. For that, among many other things, you’re awesome. You’re irreplaceable, my dude.
To my alpha, Ashleigh, for not murdering me. You know how much I appreciate it. Thank you for the confidence boots, the awesome comments on Flawed Angel, and being as excited as I was to be writing. Your support and encouragement are always appreciated.
To my cover designer, Jodie. Keep doing you, boo. You’re awesome. Expect more pestering from me for more covers. I need them all.
To the authors that have supported me thus far, I can’t even put into words how much it’s meant to me to have you in my corner, cheering me on with your pompoms.
And most importantly, YOU, the reader, for allowing me to do something I never dreamt I would achieve. For the opportunity to have my words read and for the never-ending stream of anxiety that will always be worth it.
From the very bottom of my heart, thank you!!!
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ABOUT J.J. DEAN
***
JJ resides in her very own land of fantasy created by many a daydream,
reality often nothing more than an ancient myth. When she isn't lost inside her own head, she's buying one-way tickets to procrastination station, where she stays watching Disney movies, reading amazing books by incredible authors, eating all the food she can get her hands on, and falling down the rabbit hole that is Pinterest, seeking inspiration for her next book. She occasionally adults when the need calls for it, where she looks after her babies, both with and without fur.
