Etheria (The Halo Series Book 1)

by Melody Robinette

  Aurora and Gray made it all the way to the end of the ship, leaving a trail of burning demons behind them. Two evil stragglers waited near the wooden swing set, practically throwing themselves overboard when they felt the force that was Aurora Coel and Grayson Cross.

  Aurora moved to the edge of the railing and watched as the two creatures fell to their deaths. Flames erupted over cold, salty waves, extinguishing just as quickly as they appeared. She moved backward, away from the edge and collapsed onto the ground, bracing herself against the cold deck.

  “Aurora?” Gray came to her side. “Are you okay?”

  The tears started to fall then. Tears she’d been holding back for much too long. “I haven’t always been a selfish person.”

  “I don’t think you’re self—”

  “I’m trying to tell you my dark and twisted story, dammit,” Aurora snapped. “Now shut up and let me make a fool of myself.”

  The corner of Gray’s mouth turned upwards, and he did what she said. He shut up.

  “I wasn’t always selfish,” she continued, “and I wasn’t always brave or ballsy or outspoken or independent. Once upon a time, I was shy and insecure. I didn’t think I was pretty or interesting or anything more than average, at best. But then he came along. David Watson. And he made me feel like I was the center of the entire universe…at first.”

  Aurora tried her best to paint the picture of herself as an immature, naïve sixteen-year-old. She tried to explain how David had made her feel like she was worth something. He had been nineteen then—a college boy. That alone was enough to hook her, and against her mother’s wishes, she started a whirlwind romance with the boy next door.

  She’d been reading in a coffee shop. Back then, she read all of the time. That was all she did, really. He breezed into the shop one day. Fair hair, blue eyes. Perfect and Ken doll like. He could’ve chosen to sit by any girl, and they would’ve fallen for him right then and there…but he chose to sit by her. At first, she thought maybe he’d mistaken her for someone else. Now that she thought about it, though, she imagined he could sense her insecurities. Guys like that seemed to have a gift for sniffing out the broken girls who weren’t resilient enough to say no. And that’s what she was. Broken.

  She’d just gone through her third failed attempt at searching for her father, and she couldn’t help but feel unwanted. Fathers who abandon their daughters leave a hole that can’t ever quite be filled. And at that moment, in that coffee shop, she was searching for something to fill her…something more than coffee and books.

  David struck up an easy, lighthearted conversation.

  “Your eyes are mesmerizing, you know that?” he’d said, tossing his model-like hair out of his own blue eyes. They weren’t a dark blue like hers, though. They were an ice blue. A color Aurora now associated with cold and pain.

  She had blushed and shrugged her shoulders, muttering a small, “Thanks.”

  “What’re you doing after this?” he’d asked.

  Homework. Sitting at home. Reading some more. “Nothing,” she’d answered.

  She ended up spending the afternoon and early evening with him. He’d charmed her in ways she didn’t know she could be charmed. And she knew love was a big, important thing that wasn’t meant to be jumped into lightly, but she knew she loved him. Or, at least, that she would love him. And she soon did.

  At first, their love was like a fairy tale. Loves like that always were. He brought her flowers and sang to her and danced with her in the rain. Picture perfect romance novel story. He set her small, insignificant life on fire and consumed her like a paper ball thrown into a mass of flames.

  Her mom was concerned, and some of her teachers pulled her aside, confessing they’d seen a difference in her schoolwork, but Aurora didn’t care. David was all she needed. He was enough. He would always be enough.

  Then their fairytale took a violent turn down a dark road. Shortly after they passed the three month mark of their relationship, he hit her for the first time. They’d been fighting about her outfit because he thought her shirt was too tight. Aurora had protested because she’d worn the shirt in front of him before and he’d said nothing…but that had been in the beginning.

  Slowly, she began to see a change in him. He yelled more. Cursed more. He grabbed her harder. Even his kisses held more force behind them. She’d been slapped by him a few times, but never hard enough to leave a bruise. Never on her face, at least. The bruises were on her ribs, her shoulders, her back, her stomach. He knew better than to leave marks on her face or arms. Always hidden.

  He grew angrier and meaner and more violent. But she still went back to him. Every time. She always went back. He was like a drug. She knew it was wrong; she knew it was hurting her…but she was addicted. Which was why, eventually, she gave into him physically.

  She’d hoped having sex with David would make him love her more, make him treat her with more care. She had hoped it would stop him from hurting her—that it would give him a way to release the physical aggression he seemed unable to control. But, of course, it did the opposite. It made things worse, made him more aggressive. Made him hit her more. Slap her more. Grab her harder.

  But she still believed him when he apologized. Because he always did. Apologize, that was. He always seemed so sincere; sometimes he’d even cry. And she would hug him and rock him and try not to cry herself. She would say, “It’s okay, baby. I know you didn’t mean it. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

  But she wasn’t okay. Not at all.

  And the hole in her chest no longer felt filled, it just kept tearing and widening until she was sure she would collapse in on herself. And the sex wasn’t getting better, it was getting rougher, and it was starting to hurt her, and it wasn’t even close to pleasurable. But she always did it. She always said yes.

  Except for the last time. The last time she finally said no…and she paid the price.

  She was still sore from the day before, and she was tired from studying all night for a math test that would mean the difference between her passing or failing. David had called and asked her to come over to his apartment. Reluctantly, she walked the two blocks to his place and knocked on the door.

  He opened it and pulled her inside, pressing his mouth to hers without greeting. His hands trailed across her back and down to her skirt. She pushed his hands away.

  “No, babe. Not today. I’m sore.”

  “I’ve been waiting for you to get home all day, needing you, wanting to be close to you, and you tell me no?” he growled in her ear.

  “I’m just…I’m sore. And I’m tired. Can we just wait until tomorrow?”

  He didn’t answer. He was too busy unbuckling his pants and pulling them down. He was too consumed with the act of pushing her onto the ground and forcing himself on her—in her.

  Panic set in—a kind of panic she’d never before experienced. She cried and screamed and clawed at him. But he was much bigger and stronger than her. Pain like she’d never felt erupted between her legs and traveled across her skin. She imagined knives and needles and other torturous devices stabbing her repeatedly, and she screamed for him to stop, but he didn’t.

  Somehow, he managed to finish, and she scrambled away from him, mascara making its way down her cheeks in black trails.

  “I’m sorry, babe,” he said, breathing heavily. “I had to. I just wanted you so bad, and you looked so good.”

  She stared in horror at the man—the boy—she realized she no longer loved. It was as easy and quick as turning off a light switch. Any feelings of longing or need had disappeared and been replaced by revulsion, disgust, and fear. Leaving behind her shoes, she ran for his door. His pants were still around his ankles, so when he went to go after her, he tripped.

  She sprinted all the way home, blisters from the pavement sprouting up on the bottoms of her feet. Luckily her mother had a staff meeting at her school because Aurora knew she would have known what had happened. She was already suspicious of David. Ripped clothes, te
ar-streaked cheeks, and no shoes were a dead giveaway for foul play.

  Aurora bolted the lock, a feeling of numbness settling deep in her skin. She stumbled to the bathroom, stripping off the clothes she would never wear again. Turning on the shower with shaking hands, she stepped into the tub, unable to stand any longer. So, she sank onto the cold porcelain and pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them until she couldn’t take up less space. The water was scalding, but she didn’t bother to make it cooler. The pain from the hot water seemed to pull some of the pain away from other places…or at least even it out.

  She sobbed and let herself hurt during that shower. It lasted over an hour. But, when she stepped out, she looked into the foggy mirror, only a featureless shape in the steam. She wiped a jagged line in the condensation and no longer recognized the person she saw staring back—swollen, hollow eyes, and bruises decorating her torso.

  She made a decision that day. She decided a man would never again be the reason she was happy. A man would never be something she needed. A man would never hurt her again. She would be all she needed because she had been beaten down and managed to pick herself up all on her own. She knew then she didn’t need anyone to take care of her.

  Especially not a man.

  Twenty-Nine

  GRAY

  Aurora’s story trailed off, and Gray watched as she returned to the present. Returned to the strong twenty-five-year-old woman she had become. Returned to Etheria. She glanced over at Gray, and he knew his face must have been muddled with a variety of expressions. Horror, pain, anger, and a new understanding etched all over his features.

  His outer appearance was nothing to what he felt inside. He wanted to jump off the ship, swim to shore, fly to Seattle, find David and beat the ever living hell out of him until he had a small inkling of what Aurora had felt that day. He knew nearly ten years had passed, and this would probably do more harm than good for her, but he couldn’t keep from shaking with anger.

  Aurora wrapped her arms around herself, looking both vulnerable and relieved all at once. “So, that should explain some things.”

  Gray nodded, his jaw still clenched at the thought of David hurting her. “It does.”

  He wanted to pull her to him, hug her and hold her as if that would help. But she’d said herself that she didn’t need a man. Her sapphire eyes captured his, their brilliant blue brought out by the red in her armor.

  “I know you don’t need a man to lean on,” he murmured. “You don’t need anyone because you’re strong all on your own. But if you ever want one…just know I’m right here.”

  Aurora smirked and gave him a playful push. “Yeah. I know.”

  “Thanks for deciding to be selfless when I needed you to,” Gray added.

  Aurora looked guiltily up at him through her thick lashes. “When you were full of demon poison, you mean?”

  He chuckled, pressing a hand to his still sore side. "Yeah, then."

  What Aurora didn’t realize was that his impending death hadn’t been his sole concern back there. In the small amount of text Gray had been able to read of the Stellar book while he was waiting to get his armor, he’d discovered several interesting things. One was that Stellars were able to heal one another by transferring energy and health through touch, which was why he asked for her hand. He probably wouldn’t have asked her to do so if he hadn’t read the next part of the book. The part he wasn’t sure Aurora was ready to hear.

  Trumpets sounded then, followed by a subdued voice saying, “All Halos are to meet in Starlight Stadium in fifteen minutes if they are able. Thank you.”

  Gray and Aurora exchanged wary glances. It was clear neither of them was ready to hear about what this opened portal meant, or the damage it had caused. Just from marching across the length of the ship like a tsunami, they’d passed several bodies that were definitely not demons. They were deceased Halos. The true battle hadn’t even begun, and there were already casualties. If the others hadn’t known what they were in for, they did now.

  Aurora managed to walk beside Gray now without making any sarcastic or snarky remarks—probably because even she knew now was not the time. Or, perhaps telling her story had temporarily humbled her.

  Somehow, in the time it took Aurora and Gray to kill the demons at the back of the ship and for Aurora to tell Gray her story, the deck had been wiped clean by the Powers. All demon corpses removed, all traces of blood—both black and red—had vanished completely.

  Gray wondered what they’d done with the bodies of the Halos. Then he wondered many more macabre things, like, what were they going to tell the families of the deceased? Would their mothers ever know how brave and selfless their children had been? Would they know they’d died in battle, fighting to save the world from evils no one could yet imagine? Or would the memories of their children be wiped clean? To spare them the pain, or the knowledge of what was to come. And for the first time, Gray was almost grateful to have no real family to speak of. No one would be hurt if he died. Except… He looked over at Aurora, her face drawn and somber.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I just hope Brielle is alive,” she answered, surprising him.

  “Oh yeah?”

  She looked almost guilty as she sighed. “I sort of blew up at her earlier and told her I was going to punch her in the face. That was right before all this shit happened.” She swept a hand in front of her. “We got split up right after we made it to the top deck.”

  “I’m sure she’s fine,” Gray said as they arrived at Starlight Stadium, though he was completely lying. If any of the five of their group had died in battle…it would’ve been her.

  Michael stood on one of the pillars in the middle of the stadium, his hands folded before him, a solemn look on his face. Aurora and Gray made it to their section, swapping troubled glances when they discovered they were the first ones of their group to make it there.

  The stadium filled slowly, like a clogged hourglass. Handfuls of Halos arrived at a time, some injured, some sobbing, some covered in blood that could have been theirs or someone else’s. Gray watched what looked like a pair of sisters—maybe twins—with mismatched hair, grasping hands with tear streaked faces. One was holding the other up, who seemed to have injured her ankle. His attention was pulled violently away from the twins when Aurora gasped, jumping up.

  Gray’s head whipped around to see Sev and Chord wearily making their way down the steps to their seats.

  “Thank God!” Aurora pulled Chord into a hug before slugging him on the arm. “I was worried about you, dammit.”

  Chord made a dramatic gesture of feigned shock. “Aurora Coel? Worried? Pah! Stop lying to me, woman.”

  “Have you guys seen—?” Aurora began.

  “Um, thanks for leaving me up there,” a drawling voice said from behind Sev’s tall form. The Brit stepped aside to reveal Brielle, her hair in disarray, pink lipstick smudged, armor torn. “I’ll have you know I almost died, like, a million times.”

  “Sorry,” Aurora said, sounding both relieved and annoyed. “I was busy saving this guy.” She jabbed a thumb at Gray.

  “Of course you were,” Brielle muttered.

  The five of them settled into their seats and waited another thirty minutes until the stadium had almost filled, though numerous chairs were noticeably vacant.

  Then Michael spoke. “Many of you are wondering if this was a test. I assure you it was not. Three portals to a demon realm were opened in this very stadium. Luckily they were sealed before more damage could be done; however, this is not the most troubling part. The only beings on this ship are Halos and Powers—all of angelic descent. Meaning, we have a traitor in our midst.”

  A shift passed throughout the stadium as the Halos turned their heads left and right, wondering who the quisling could be.

  “Though we are holy beings, Powers are not omnipotent, and we are just as ill-informed as all of you as to who this traitor may be. The consequences of such actions are d
ire if the conspirator does not come forward and beg for forgiveness. We will allow them this opportunity to present themselves to us now.”

  A hush fell over the shifting crowd. It was as if everyone was holding their breath as they waited for the person next to them to rise and walk to the center of the stadium.

  But no one did.

  “Very well,” Michael said, his voice saturated with disappointment. “Then we shall punish the offender to the extent they deserve. We have lost many Halos today. Halos who were not yet ready to fight. A vigil will be held tonight in their honor. Please attend to pay your respects and remember those we have lost much too soon. And, to those of you who fought today, you have earned our greatest respect and most sincere gratitude. You’ve proven that you made the right decision in joining us in the battle against the Darkness.”

  These words abruptly finished Michael’s address, and the stadium emptied nearly as slowly as it had filled.

  “So, is dinner still being served?” Chord asked after a long moment.

  The others shot him mildly amused looks, while Brielle looked outright insulted.

  “Tons of people died today, you know,” she scolded.

  “Yeah...but those of us who didn’t die still need sustenance to stay alive.”

  Brielle rolled her eyes in disgust. “You’re unbelievable.”

  “No, Sev here is unbelievable, actually,” Chord countered. “You guys should have seen him slicing and dicing those demons like they were nothing more than black pudding.”

  Sev lifted an eyebrow. “Black pudding?”

  “Or some other British-y food you eat.”

  Everyone but Brielle laughed.

  Whether dinner would be served or not, they all longed to take a shower, desperate to remove the blood and demon guts from their bodies. The fivesome parted ways except for Aurora and Gray, who both seemed reluctant to leave the other after...well, everything. Gray wasn’t sure what Aurora was thinking, but his fear was that a shower would be all it took to wash away their fragile, newly forged connection.