"What's wrong?"
He watched her knees come closer and felt them brush against his leg, "Nothing."
Rose sat beside him and laid a hand on his arm, "Can I help you relax?"
She squeezed his arm, and he twitched, "No, I'm fine."
Rose climbed onto the bed behind him and took hold of both his shoulders, "Something is wrong." He felt her weight shift as she leaned in close to his ear, "You can tell me what it is."
She massaged his back for a moment as he stared at the floor. How she could be so calm after all that had happened, he couldn’t understand. Hot breath fell over his neck and Rose's lips pressed against his pulse. She herself had delivered the news that they’d all been summoned to The Order, and yet she continued to play these games. He shook his head, "Aren’t you worried?"
Rose leaned against him fully, “No.”
He peered at her from the corner of his eye. She bit her lip and leaned over so that her ebony locks were tickling his knee. Then it occurred to him, "If Naomi wants me to come out, why doesn't she just order me to?"
Rose grimaced and removed herself from him, "She’s not the end all be all, you know. I came on my own accord."
"Either way, I'm fine," he stood and moved to the far wall, placing a hand on the dresser.
She scowled at him from the bed, "It’s because of Mona. That’s why you’ve hidden away in her old room."
He could feel her eyes boring into him, but refused to look.
"My god, you miss her.” Rose stood as well, laughing under her breath, “That bitch betrays up, abandons us, tears your face to shreds, and still you’re like a sad little puppy over it.”
Michael cringed, "You make it sound so…"
"Accurate?" Rose snarled, "Because it is. All I'd like to know why you're still so attached."
Michael finally lifted his head and looked into her dark eyes, a flicker of green igniting in them, "She was my friend, Rose. And yours too. And now they want us to kill her."
"You've never had any trouble killing traitors before," she said plainly.
He was silent then: she was right.
"In fact," Rose smiled and stepped toward him, "I always admired the way you would cut their throats so slowly. You have a real gift."
He groaned and ran his hands through his hair, leaning up against the wall, “I did what they told me to do.”
“You enjoy what they tell you to do,” she poked him lightly in the chest and ran a finger up to his neck, “And I can see to it that you get to continue doing that, Michael, but you’ve got to prove yourself. You can’t let feelings for that...that child get in the way of what you need to do.”
He looked away, his voice quiet, almost quivering, "She's not a child."
Rose thrust her hand upward and gripped his jaw, forcing him to meet her eye. She dug her nails into his cheeks, “You disgust me.” With an extra jab, she released him, “You’re a fool for not taking advantage of what’s right in front of you.”
The words didn't hesitate before they left his mouth, "Why don’t you shower your affection on your brother if you find me so unappreciative?"
Rose's eyes widened and her mouth hung open before snapping shut. She made for the door in two long, angry strides. Her hand tightened on the doorknob ready to wrench it open in fury, but stopped. She took a deep breath then peered over her shoulder at him, eyes blazing, “Remember, you had your chance.”
***
It was finally quiet, and Sophie was alone. She thought she’d like it that way, but in the silence, her mind began to wander, uneasiness crept in and banged at all her thoughts. She was no longer on Earth, there were no other humans here, she had an entire past life that she could not remember.
She shivered and sank herself deeper into the water until it came up to her nose. It was becoming apparent that her plan to simply stay in the bath until the end of time would not pan out. Verrine had requested Thanatos to bring her food which she quickly scarfed down and had shown her where to bathe before going off to meet with the guard. Mona and Adam had dined with her on animal blood and human food respectively, but she’d been quickest finish. With a sigh, she admitted to herself it was inevitable that she would again have to face everyone, the bowing, the constant onslaught of information, and stepped from the clawed tub.
Verrine had given her clothes to wear, a simple white shift dress that she'd been told was hers, and she slipped it on after drying off and ringing out her hair. It was soft and comfortable and she stared at herself in the mirror that made up an entire wall of the bath. Her amber eyes stared back, purple circles beneath them. She trailed her fingers through her hair, dark with wetness, and removed any tangles. Instinctively, she reached for a small box on the counter and pulled out a hair pin, only stopping as she reached for her hair, realizing what she'd done. Black and smooth with a rounded end, the pin felt right in her hand. There was nothing extraordinary about it, but then she had known exactly where it was, and that was strange. Shrugging, Sophie gathered the few loose strands around her face and pulled them back securely with the pin, allowing the rest of her hair to air dry as it would over her shoulders. Within the box were a few other trinkets, earrings, a necklace, some dried flower petals, and a small jar holding a salmony pink paste. The paste smelled of fruit and she dipped in a finger, rubbing the waxy blend across her lips.
There was no more time for stalling, she guessed, and stepped out into the hallway, but happily found it deserted. She started down the hall carefully in the opposite direction from where she'd come. She let her feet guide her as she peeked through doorways and traced the seams of the stone walls with increasingly bold fingers. She only stopped when she heard music, until she realized she was the one humming and it was echoing back to her from the corridors.
She went on for quite a while like this, her mind's busyness replaced with investigating the new yet familiar surroundings, until she rounded a corner and saw him standing at the hall's end, leaning against an archway. He hadn't noticed her yet, she could turn and continue on her way, but something about Adam made her want to go to him.
He was so entranced by what he stared at, he did not hear her as she got closer to him. She stood peering at him, unable to read the bit of his face she saw. His lips were drawn into a light frown, his forehead wrinkled in thought. She had the urge to disturb him, strangely, to shake him out of whatever it was he was pondering, and cleared her throat.
Adam started, eyes wide and suddenly alert as they fell of her. "Oh, hey," he offered, pink showing on his pale cheeks, "You kind of just appeared out of nowhere, didn't you?"
"I guess so." As the embarrassment grew on his face she couldn't help but smile and had to bite her lip to quell herself. Now that she stood so close to him, she could clearly see the patch of freckles on the bridge of his crooked nose, spattering out over his cheeks just below powdery blue eyes. They only added to how vulnerable he looked at that moment, and she thought she may as well take advantage of that, "You know, you might want to be a little more aware of your surroundings."
"Why's that?" he asked, composing himself.
"Well," she teased, lowering her voice, "Those guards didn't seem to like you very much. You never know when they'll be around the corner."
Adam's voice dropped into a serious tone, "You noticed that?"
"Oh," she shrugged, shaking her head, "I'm just kidding. I know you're kind of, what, opposites or whatever, so I just thought...anyway, what are you looking at so intensely here, huh?" Sophie quickly poked her head around the arch to change the subject.
Color screamed back at her, lush and leafy greens, bright crimsons and oranges, scatterings of azure and indigo. Sophie gasped, stepping out into the space, the smell of earth and fresh rain filling her senses, "What is this place?"
"This is the royal conservatory," Adam told her, "I asked Verrine where it was, but I haven't been able to bring myself to go in yet."
"Well, let's go," Sophie reached back and grabbed his hand,
pulling him out onto the grass. They both peered upwards, a presumably faux sky sparkled above, despite that they were most definitely still indoors. It was full of stars and even a waxing moon that cast a cool, jade glow on everything below. Trees reached up around them, hanging over a marked path that led away from the arch and into the thick of the flora, their dark greens and browns swaying gently in a ghostly breeze. "It's gorgeous," she breathed into the air.
"Yes, it is."
Adam clasped her hand a bit more firmly and, though it felt natural, she still slipped hers out of his, a bit more hastily than she had intended, and began down the path. He followed a few steps behind.
Under the cover of the trees it was a bit darker, but tiny floating lights lit the path by their feet. Crickets sang from somewhere out in the greenery and leaves rustled as if the trees whispered to one another. Sophie looked over her shoulder and Adam immediately reverted his gaze. She thought to change the subject, and decided to clear up one of the many things that had been on her mind, "How do you do that thing with your hands?"
"Hm?" he looked back up at her.
"The thing where you touch someone and they don't hurt anymore," she questioned, slowing so he would catch up to her, "Are you actually taking away the pain or are you, you know, tricking my mind into thinking it doesn't hurt anymore?"
"Oh, that." Adam put a hand on the back of his neck as he fell in beside her, "It's not a trick at all. I'm a, well, I was a...medic, I suppose you'd say. A healer, cleric. It's what I'm made to do."
"So,” she furrowed her brow, “you actually healed me those times? How?"
"Well," he paused, chewing his lower lip, "I haven't really thought about how it's done before. It's natural to me, I guess. All clerics are descendants of Raphael, the archangel, so we're born with the ability. It's not something we learn. Not really."
"That's...crazy," Sophie laughed, "I mean, it's amazing, and you don't know where it comes from."
"Well, yes, I guess it is a little crazy," Adam chuckled, "It takes concentration and a strong will. And it's limited. You saw I couldn't save Verrine all on my own. Just encasing her like that took almost more out of me than I had to give."
"Because she was so badly hurt?"
He nodded, "And she is a demon. I'm not meant, of course, to be able to help her."
Sophie stopped at a bush with bright fuchsia flowers, reaching out and touching the plant's fuzzy petals, "Because you're an angel." She gave him a sidelong look.
He met her eyes for a brief moment, his anxious and almost sad, "Yes. I am only meant to help them."
"You could heal me though," Sophie said, a lilt to her voice, "And I'm human."
"Human bodies are," he thought a moment, choosing his words carefully, "different. They can be very easy to fix as they're not very complicated, but they're also quite fragile, so too much damage and it's a very different story. I restored your body to its human state, but that's what it wanted, so that was relatively simple. It's quite keen on being exactly how it is right now."
Sophie laughed, "It's stubborn?"
"Indeed."
They both continued on side by side through the garden, their steps slow as they followed the twisting path. The crickets serenaded them as they went.
“They don’t really know me," Adam spoke after they'd walked on a bit further.
"What's that?"
"The elite guards, I mean. You mentioned they don't like me, and you are correct, but they have never met me before." Adam spoke with conviction, his words simple and hard.
"Well, I hadn’t before now either,” She stopped in front of him and looked up at him earnestly. She wished he would tell her everything, "But I know you're good." She waited for him to forfeit some kind of information, but when he didn’t she continued on down the path. It wouldn’t be that easy, she realized.
He waited a moment then began following her, "How?"
"Well, you said you shouldn't have been able to help Verrine, but you did."
"Not the way I wanted to." There was frustration still lingering in his voice.
"But you did want to, and you said you need a strong will to do what you do. That tells me what I need to know." Sophie skipped ahead a few steps then turned on her heel. He was stopped, staring at her again. She tapped a finger to her lips, "Not that I would mind if you told me everything in great detail." When he didn't speak, she sighed, "But you're not going to."
Rolling her eyes, she wandered off the path to a tree a bit removed from the others. It was unlike anything she'd seen before, its trunk twisted in on itself as it climbed skyward, leaves like black blades of grass, hanging down in long, thin strips. It was a tree, wasn't it? She reached out to touch the bark but it bit at her and she quickly pulled back her finger from the shock. She thrust her finger into her mouth with a squeal and Adam was quick to go to her.
"What happened?" he asked, panic in his eyes.
"It shocked me," she told him, wiping her finger off on her dress, "It's nothing." She could feel pain pulse in her fingertip and squeezed it against her thumb. It was so stupid, she thought, such a simple thing and she'd been so easily hurt by it. How was she supposed to help these people if this was how she was? Sophie's voice cracked, "Are you sure you're not making a mistake?"
Adam cocked his head, his coppery hair falling to the side, "About what?"
Sophie groaned quietly and looked up at the tree. She didn't know how to say what she was thinking. At that moment she envied that tree having to do nothing but exist, never having to explain itself. "Verrine says I'm all these things, that I did something powerful long ago, but that wasn't really me."
"Sure it was," Adam shrugged, "I know, I was there."
Sophie stared at him hard, chasing the casual look from his face, "No, it wasn't. That was some past life me—some demon me. Now, I'm just human."
"It's not like that. You're—"
"No, it is." Sophie walked a few paces away, feeling anger bubbling up inside her, "It's exactly like that. I don't know who I am, but I know I'm not the person that you and Verrine remember. I'm not even the person Mona knows, not Eric's sister." She turned back to him, "Do you get that?"
Adam opened his mouth then closed it again. The crickets had quieted and even the trees were holding back their whispers. Just like him.
"And you, you won't tell me anything at all and that's just so," she pulled the pin from her hair in irritation and ran a hand through the freed locks, "It's frustrating, and I don't even know why!" She dropped onto the ground, resting her forehead on her knees and blowing out a long breath, "I have all these half feelings, like I'm remembering scenes from a book, not my own life. Do you know what that's like? To...to not have an identity?"
But how could he? She wrapped her arms around her legs and hid her face. He'd been there through all her lives, of course his own was complete. Footsteps came toward her, followed by the sounds of him settling beside her in the grass. She could feel his presence there but couldn't look up at him.
"I'm not actually an angel. Not anymore."
His voice was rough then, like it had been coated in sand. She peeked over her arm at him. He was staring off into the trees, but didn't seem like he actually saw them.
"Well, I might be, I might not. I don't know and that is what is so difficult. I broke the laws of Heaven. I betrayed my kind. As punishment, the highest order of angels, The Seraphim, ordered my execution. The complete and utter demolition of my soul. The day after the Seraphim’s judgment, my wings were severed. I thought that was it, that I would die then and there. I'd never known that kind of pain."
Sophie lifted her head. She wanted him to know she was listening; he spoke so candidly, he couldn't possibly realize what he was saying, but he only continued, "But I didn’t die. That’s just what they do. It’s what they like to do. They remove traitors’ wings and leave them to bleed. There’s no way to tell the time locked in a dark cell, and pain obscures all that anyway. Of course, as a cleric, my body w
anted to regenerate, but that's impossible for wings. Instead, my being fought against itself over and over. It made some valiant attempts," he snorted an annoyed sort of laugh, "Even I was fooled by it a few times, but it never prevailed. Finally, light shined into my cell. Death, I was sure, was coming, and I welcomed it. But it was my brother. He acted fast, he healed me in ways that my weakened body couldn't, he helped me escape." His eyes were glazed, a frown creasing his face, "I can still heal, I can fight, but I've lost what defines me as an angel. I lost my rank, my brother, friends, and I lost," he looked at Sophie, staring right into her. She could feel his piercing eyes, feel how close he was to the edge. Then control settled back into his face and he looked away, cutting himself off and shutting her out, "I lost everything."
Sophie wanted to touch him, to run her hands through his hair, to wrap herself around him, to make him somehow whole. She fought the urge, but it thrashed around inside her chest. "I'm sorry." It sounded so weak, so worthless, and she wanted to take it back.
"I'm not telling you so you will feel sorry," he told her gently, "It's just what I have to give to you: my story. I can't understand what you're going through, I can only tell you that the people around you now are not nearly as put together as we seem either. You're right; you are not the same now as you were then, but you're still strong and caring, devoted, honest, beautiful. And maybe," he looked up at the sky and sighed, "Maybe it is better that you don't know who you were. You more than deserve the chance to be who you are now."
Sophie lunged at him. Not expecting the sudden attack, he fell backwards with her wrapped around him. It had become more than she could take and she let her feelings loose, squeezing him tightly, not caring that she was lying on top of him, and buried her face in his chest. He was, for a moment, stunned, but then she felt his arms settle over her, hands and fingers wrapping around her body. He was warm, and it felt right.
After an immeasurable moment, Sophie looked up at him and loosened her grip. She could feel her eyes burning and saw she'd left a wet spot on his shirt where she'd rested her head. Adam was looking down on her with a contented smile and drowsy eyes. A sort of panic welled up in her then and she pushed herself away with more force than she needed. He exhaled sharply when she pressed against him, suddenly alert and quick to pull his hands away.
The Nephilim: Book One Page 13
