“Sam, please call me back. I want to talk.”
I at least want to apologize for my open palm, slapping him. After hanging up, I roll over on my bed and hug the floppy gray plush cat that my dad gave me when I was ten. Elijah’s not handling this well, Sam and Emily are both avoiding me. I just want to stay in my bedroom today and listen to sad songs – fill my tub with bubbles and let Calgon take me away. Instead, I take my despondent mood with me downstairs, where Elena is waiting for me with her usual self-anointed flare set atop her brow. I’m dreading whatever hell she has in store for me today. She’s looks shrewd, in a dark gray pencil skirt and deep plum silk top.
“That won’t do for today. Go put something decent on,” she says stopping me half way down the stairs. I open my mouth to object, but decide to shut it and just do as she says today. Arguing with Elena is about as futile as coaxing a cat into the swimming pool.
I quickly change into a form fitting copper dress and nude heels. I shake my bun loose and opt for a hair twist instead. I’m back downstairs in under five minutes and apparently appropriately dressed for whatever torture she has for me to endure today. I catch a glimpse of Elijah’s eyes widening as he turns his head in haste. Inside I’m doing the cabbage patch dance and singing internally, “He thinks I’m sexy. I think he wants me”.
Elena takes my hand and we are gone in an instant. I’ll never get used to that feeling. The salty air is replaced by a light cool breeze. We look out onto an expansive lush green lawn. It almost looks as if it were spray painted green. Ornate, larger than life white columns flank us. I do a double take when I realize where I’m.
“Today is about strategy,” she says as we stand on the front steps of the white house. I immediately grip her arm in fear.
“Elena we can’t be here like this. The secret service will shoot first and ask questions later,” I whisper. She just smiles with her I’ve-got-a-secret-in-my-pocket gleam in her eye.
“Relax, you wanted to see what it felt like to be invisible, and we are, no one can see us. Come on, let’s go check out your future home.” She pulls me down to the front lawn, past the Rose Garden, and around to a small door. We wander around the building, mingling with a tour group for a while, and then veering off on our own. The place is fantastic. I marvel at the sheer grandeur of it. I know she is taking me here to drive home the sheer magnitude of my role and it’s working. We find the president and watch him in action for hours. I’m still completely engrossed in his tasks when she begins to pull me away.
“But Elena he’s on the phone with a Clinton.”
“You’re not here to learn from him.”
“Are you kidding? He’s doing it all wrong.” My comment makes her laugh. “He’s going to get slammed by that speech, you watch.”
“Then why’d you vote for him,” she teases. I return her scowl. Who knew the guy would so royally screw us?
“This is really my future? I can’t believe this.” I can’t tear my eyes away from the president. Elena takes my hand and we are sitting among congress in session, in the blink of an eye. Once again I’m fully engaged.
“Now, you see all of the bickering that goes on, and the finger pointing. Imagine it with you giving the speech and everyone so inclined to agree with you. Things will progress easily and efficiently.” I nod half listening to her, my ears straining to hear the speaker of the house. She gently grabs my chin and turns my face in her direction. She spends the rest of the day going on in detail exactly what I’ve to say and do to achieve my goal. Their plan is nothing short of brilliant.
I just hope I can pull it off. I mean it’s me here. Plans that are made by me, in or even around my vicinity, are never safe, I’m jinxed when it comes down to it. I’m sure I’ll manage to get us blown to smithereens before Inauguration Day.
When she returns me home I’m in a stupor of mind blowing information. I mean I didn’t really think it was possible to do the laundry list of things they wished to accomplish, but now I see how it will all come to pass.
I suppose if your enemies were more inclined to agree with your point of view, then all things right, would just fall into place. Most of what I have to do in the future will focus on just talking to people. Getting everyone on board with making things right again.
Elijah is at the stove again, stirring a pot of something he’s put together. I smile warmly at him, loving the fact that I get to come home to his face every day. My house is filled with the smell of herbs and freshly baked bread. My mouth immediately begins salivating at the smell of dinner. The sight of him doubles the effect. He’s wearing black slacks and a navy sweater over a dress shirt. His chest clearly defined, despite the layering. He sports a light stubble of hair on his jaw and I long to rub my cheek against it, heck my tongue for that matter.
He carries a stack of plates to the table and begins to set them out. I grab the napkins and silverware.
“Good day?”
“Yes. It was... Unbelievable,” I say washed with wonder still. He returns my smile.
“That’s wonderful love, you deserve a break.” Elijah must have been busy in the kitchen all day with the feast set out before us. “Elena, would you care to stay for dinner? There is more than enough,” he offers.
“Thank you Elijah, I’ve heard you’re fond of cooking.”
I kick off my heels and set another place at the table. Elena helps herself to a bottle of wine, pouring a glass for her and one for Elijah. She glares a look into me that says, “Not in your wildest dreams.” I guess she doesn’t share Elijah’s view of contributing to a delinquency of a minor. I pour myself a glass of iced-tea instead.
We eat our meal of seared Chilean sea bass, which taste like heavenly butter in my mouth, and I tell him all about my day. His mood seems heavy still. Is he staring at my mouth? An unmistakable look in his eye appears that says, “I want nothing more than to press my lips to yours at this very moment,” and it effectively shuts me up.
“I’m sorry, you were saying,” he finally blurts out, his eyes never leaving my lips. Elena drops her fork and it clangs around on her plate at a heightened volume. I guess she read his expression too.
“I don’t remember,” I mumble. Those miniature blue earths between his thick lashes have sucked me inside. We stare at each other for a moment and Elijah finally reigns back the longing in his eyes as if it took every ounce of willpower and his angelic powers combined.
“I will do better. I promise,” Elijah says in almost a whisper before clearing my plate away. Even though I wasn’t finished eating yet. He is trying to keep busy is my best guess. With no more demons trying to off me at the moment, and Elena keeping me safe during the day, he must be bored. We’re all alone in this big empty space, both of us want nothing more than to give in to our passion. He physically can’t, and I know it would be a hypothetical ax to his neck. At least I’ve the distraction of my destiny to fill my head. He has what, gourmet cooking apparently? I need a plan, a plan always helps.
Upstairs I make a quick change into my running gear and pull a knit cap over my head. I find Elijah downing another glass of wine as he and Elena talk at the table.
“Do you mind giving me some privacy, I want to go for a run. I’ll be careful I promise.” He tilts his head and looks to Elena to see what she thinks. She eyes me for a moment and shrugs her shoulders. Oh come on people. I let out a frustrated sigh. Elijah rubs his forehead and finally gives a reluctant nod. He sees Elena to the door as I head out the back before he changes his mind.
The evening is waning and this time of year, night will fall in a short while. I steer away from the beach and head into the neighborhood instead. My pace is slow and meandering. I take the time and really look at the homes around me. The small neighborhood is filled with palatial estates, and only every fourth or fifth house has any signs of life inside.
I don’t want to go home and face the ravine that Elijah and I’ve to keep between us. I don’t want my destiny shoved down my throat like castor o
il either. I mean I’m fine with the leader of the free world thing. I just wish that I was able to be with Elijah. Why is it so important that Sam and I get married? Is he destined to be the First Gentleman? He doesn’t even like politics. Elijah could play that role in his sleep. Nehemiah and his screens of the future can kiss my ass. I will go to the boss above him and plead my case.
“God, hey it’s me Brennen. I’m sorry for making a mess of things down here. I know you have all of these high hopes for me. But there is one thing that I don’t understand. I’m sure you know that I love Elijah and he loves me. But what you are putting us through is just cruel on every level. Keeping us apart is like depriving us of oxygen. We are gasping for those feelings to be expressed. I know in my heart that we are meant to be together. I can’t help but feel that this was all some big cosmic misunderstanding. Then again you made angels to worship and serve you and that is just what Elijah is doing now. How did he get so off course from that? How was he able to fall in love with me in the first place?”
My grandma used to say that God didn’t make bad things happen, but that God’s promise was to hold us in his hands until the pain went away. She said God didn’t want anything bad to happen to my parents. However, he would love me through my pain and even when I was angry with him. She told me it was okay to yell at God and tell him how I feel and that he would still be holding me when I came out the other side of my anger. I think her advice has helped me get through all of the poo that has been dumped on me in life. She is wiser than I ever gave her credit for.
“God, I hope you’re listening. Please let me love Elijah. Please don’t keep us apart. I will do anything you ask of me, and not just if you answer my prayer, but because I accept you to lead me where you want me to be. I give my life over to you. I’m in your hands and yours alone... Amen.” There it is. I’ve laid my soul bare. Now I just have to listen.
Chapter 3 ~ Stolen
Picturing someone holding me right now, even him, makes me feel a little better. The night sky is beginning to seep into its tones of aubergine and navy. My gift picks up a heartbeat nearby without me even trying. It’s close, very close. It’s beating faster causing a chain reaction in mine. Maybe it’s a jogger. I can’t be the only one who finds this crisp night a rarity this time of the year. The beat grows erratic, panic stricken. I look everywhere for the source. It’s as if I’m in a theater being engulfed by Dolby digital surround sound. Finally I hear shoes on the pavement and I turn in the direction of the sound.
Suddenly a cloth bag is thrown over my head and I’m flung upward and over a shoulder. Arms squeeze my legs like a vice. I can’t budge an inch. I may as well have been crushed by a truck at the knees. I let out a blood curdling scream into the darkness. I get a wave of nausea and I know I’ve been teleported somewhere else. It’s like that feeling I get when an elevator first descends, only ten times more powerful.
I’m roughly placed in a chair and my hands are bound behind me and my feet shackled with heavy cool metal. I can’t see anything. I prick my ears back and try to listen for the telltale signs of life my man-candy of a teacher imparted me with.
I can hear noises, shuffling of feet, but no heartbeats. Maybe demons don’t have heartbeats. Why would Elijah teach me a trick that was useless against the very beings that threatened my life the most?
“Elijah help me please!” I struggle to free my wrists. Pain screams through my nerves as the binding used cuts into my skin. My hands feel warmed by a liquid that can only be my blood. I feel a cold wet tongue lick the blood from my wrist. I squeal in horror. “Ah, leave me alone.” A huff is released that sounds like it came from a large dog. But God only knows what sort of unearthly creatures dwell in the underworld. I hear a loud bang as what must be a heavy metal door gets shut, followed by the sound of a lock being turned.
My heart hasn’t slowed down since I heard my abductor approaching fast. The bag over my head only makes things worse. I bend my head down and try and shake it loose. My arms are bound too tightly behind me. I can’t lean forward enough to get the hood off. This place smells of soot and moist stale air. It’s terrifying not knowing what’s around me. This room could be crawling with spiders, rats, or even cockroaches. I shudder at that last thought. Ugh, I hate those disgusting bugs. One thought repeats in my head: This is where I’m going to die.
Hours go by, and my arms feel as if they will snap from the pressure. This hood is hot and I feel like I’m about to pass out. I begin to cry again. Why won’t they just kill me already and get it over with? I’m in hell. This is what I get for being angry at my God. He has cast me out to the fallen ones. He must have agreed that I’m not the right one for the job. Neither fully human, nor fully angel, the only place for me is here, locked away like the freak I’m. I was stopped before I could brainwash another rapist into imprisoning himself.
***
I’m awoken by the grinding of the metal lock on the door. It’s pushed open. Something cold and sharp runs along my arm but it doesn’t cut me. It snaps the tie on my wrist and my arms are set free. They hang by my side like limp noodles. I know it will be a while before I can use them again. I close my eyes and picture Elijah and I on the beach as he took my hands in his. I remember the sounds of the waves kissing the shoreline and the exhale of the bubbles as the wave recedes. I can almost hear his heartbeat. Please work...
Finally– I hear a cacophony of drums beating out as one.
Ef me, I’m surrounded!
The sound knocks me from my chair to the floor and the bag comes loose from my head. My feet are still bound and my arms don’t have the strength to lift me. I blink several times trying to focus, all while getting more frustrated that my body isn’t cooperating.
Dark cinder block walls enclose the large windowless room. Dimly lit gas lanterns flicker and dance out a small flame, illuminating the room marginally. I could be anywhere.
In the shadows, human like figures begin to emerge. I can just make out their outlines and the features of some that stand closer to me. There must be thirty at least. They all watch with a hint of wonder and fear mingling on their faces. Each man looks to be about twenty something. Their similarities end there. Some are well dressed in tailored suits, others are grungier with beards and beanie caps on. From men with a slight build that probably weigh less than I do, to big hulking T-shirt ripping Goliaths, their eyes are all trained on me.
Through the open door, I see another man enter. He is immediately granted the respect of the others. They all visibly tense when he passes by them. I assume he must be their leader. He stares at me while he shortens the distance between us. He is very tall and fit but his muscles are only slightly hinted at under his black cashmere sweater. His slacks are cuffed perfectly for his height and his shoes look expensive. He takes note that I’m watching him. The others are so silent I forget they’re even in the room with us. The man has dark brown hair and brown eyes that seem to have infinite depth. His face looks soft, he even looks kind, like he could be your neighborhood pastor. However, I hardly believe that is the case. His shiny black loafers stop just short of my chin. I’m just beginning to have feeling return to my fingertips.
I watch helplessly as his foot rears back and violently lands a kick straight into my abdomen. The air flies out of my mouth as my insides explode in pain. I cry out. His kick has sent me a yard away from where I was and only the chain on my ankle has kept me from going further. My ankle throbs in protest. I curl my body into a ball to protect myself from his next blow. He stomps on my waist instead and the thought of internal bleeding runs through my mind as I cry out again. I scramble myself to the chair as if it could somehow protect me from him. There is nowhere to go and no one to help me.
“Pathetic little thing aren’t you?” He smirks as I look up at him. Tears are brewing out of my eyes like hot steel. My nose is running and I wipe my face with my sleeve. Trying to appear a little more worthy of my appointed role. I clench my fingers into a ball in an effort to quell the
trembling. I rest my arms over the chair and tuck my chin down into my arms. I’m so afraid. I don’t want him to hit me again. Where is Elijah? Why hasn’t he come to help me yet? This is where I’m going to die.
The man paces around me for a moment and then grabs my arm, pulling me back into the chair. The others stare from where they stand. I don’t think any of them have moved since he came into the room.
“So this is the infamous Brennen Hale? I thought it was high-time we met in person. I’m Malphas.” I recognize his name from Elijah’s journal. Malphas is the President of Hell. I cringe down into my seat wishing I could melt into the wood and disappear.
“I know those eyes,” he says tipping my chin up with is icy cold finger.
“Your mother is none other than Emmagen, a High Angel. Is she not?” I swallow hard and give one nod to answer him. I would tell him anything he wanted to know. I’m not about to be tortured for information, only to wind up dead anyway. My abdomen is still convulsing in pain and I’m fighting to stay upright. “So an angel conceived a human for some greater purpose. Yet when we did this, our own children were destroyed.” Oh my God no! I can only imagine where this is going to lead.
“You had a child?” The comment slips out of my mouth before I can tell my brain that speaking out of turn is probably not welcome right now.
His eyes narrow. “Yes, I had a son. He was mighty and beautiful and he would have been revered in your world. But he was ripped from my arms and crushed to dust while he reached out for me. Your maker sent him to hell and punished us severely.” He looks directly at me as if it was my fault somehow.” And now I’ve you to do with as I please.” He runs a finger along my jaw and down my chest and between my breasts. I shudder and recoil at his touch.
“Elijah will come for me, and when he does, you will be crushed to dust.” My voice comes out low and surprisingly confident. He releases a low menacing laugh at my revolted glare.
My Soul to Take (Soul Keepers (Young Adult paranormal romance)) Page 2
