Transgression

by Brandy C. Ange

  Achaia looked down at the paper, acknowledging in the back of her mind that it had been years since she’d actually had a friend to text. She opened her locker and exchanged her geometry things for her French books. When she looked back up, Olivier was once again surrounded by Yellaina and the others.

  He had plenty of friends, it came easily to him, as naturally as breathing. Achaia had never been that comfortable with people. The only numbers she had in her phone were her father’s, Naphtali’s and the places in past cities where they had frequently called in take-out orders.

  The black haired boy was smiling and saying something to the girl who looked like him. The taller blond boy, whom Achaia had accidentally stared at the day before, was listening to Yellaina talk animatedly about something.

  Olivier met her eye and waved her over. Achaia felt a stone drop in her stomach. She’d never been so nervous to meet people before. She felt outnumbered, and for some reason a little insecure. In their own way, they were each pretty intimidating. Olivier smiled down at her, as she reached them.

  “Guys,” he interrupted each of their conversations. They fell silent and looked at her, Yellaina waved in greeting. “This is Achaia.” Everyone in the group smiled except for the black-haired girl. Her blue eyes narrowed, her plum colored lips spread thin across her face, and her nose twitched up on one side.

  “This is my brother, Emile, and my sister, Amelia; they’re twins.” Olivier said gesturing to the pale black-haired boy and girl. “I know they don’t look anything like me; I’m kind of the odd ball out.” Olivier with his blond hair and tan skin, was quite a contrast to his siblings.

  Achaia smiled and held out her hand to them. Emile took it smiling at her. She thought she’d melt under the weight of his eyes. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Achaia said softly.

  “The pleasure is all mine.” Emile spoke without any hint of irony.

  Achaia had a hard time ripping her eyes away from him to greet Amelia. As she did, Amelia’s expression was not at all welcoming. She looked as though she had an ardent disdain for Achaia’s joining their group and walked away with a dramatic sigh.

  “She doesn’t really like new people. It’s not you.” Olivier said putting a hand on the small of her back. “This,” he said using the hand on her back to turn her toward the final boy, “is Noland.”

  “Hi,” Achaia said in a soft voice. Noland – He’d been the one she was most anxious and most nervous to meet.

  “Hi,” he said with a crooked smile.

  This time he reached his hand out first. She looked down at it for a moment before taking it. When she did, his hand shake was firm but gentle. His skin tone was like warm honey, dusted with dark freckles. He held her gaze steadily without any kind of reservation. Achaia was sure she didn’t look nearly so confident.

  “Welcome to New York.” She noticed how low his voice was compared to Olivier’s upbeat tone, and Emile’s sweet lull.

  “Thanks.” She said, not actually sure of what he had said.

  The bell rang, but Achaia didn’t hear it.

  “I guess we’d better be getting to French, huh?” Yellaina said pulling Achaia’s arm, and thus pulling her from her trance. Noland seemed not to want to leave as well. Either that or he was making fun of her again. She couldn’t decide. She cursed herself again for her awkwardness.

  “It was nice meeting you,” Achaia said, forcing her eyes away from Noland to Emile.

  “You too,” Emile said with a sweet smile as she walked away arm in arm with Yellaina. What was she to do; how were they all just so attractive? Achaia could hardly think as she walked to class.

  Noland balled his hand up into a loose fist, rubbing his fingers with his thumb. His hand still tingling from her touch. She is magnificent. She is like a porcelain doll. He turned to walk down the hall to class with Emile by his side. She had seemed more interested in Emile– He tried to brush aside the thought of how her hand had felt in his; tiny, but strong. Was she shy? Or Nervous? He wondered about her personality, what was she like?

  Emile looked at him with a questioning, amused look on his face. “Come on dude, we’re going be late for class,” Emile said grabbing his arm and pulling him into the classroom.

  “So, do you think she’s yours?” Noland asked as casually as possible, tucking his books under his arm. He knew better than to think he could hide his true intentions from Emile, but he played casual out of habit, or perhaps his own necessity.

  Emile laughed; of course he’d known what Noland was about to ask. “You know as well as I do that we don’t know until it’s time. I still don’t understand why He works that way.”

  “Yeah, and how sometimes one knows before the other. That must be frustrating as hell,” Noland said halfheartedly.

  “Oh yeah! And dad says Hell is the most frustrating place he’s ever been; second only to the rush hour line at Starbucks.” Emile laughed as they took their seats.

  “Still, it’s different for you. You know what she was feeling, what everyone is feeling. You don’t have to ask questions,” Noland said taking his usual seat in the back row.

  “I know what you’re feeling– flustered. But you know my rules, I don’t talk about what other people are feeling without their permission.” Emile leaned on his desk, straddling his books with his elbows. “Well, other people we know,” he smiled mischievously, “I have no guilt in telling you that a third of the girls in this room want you right now.” Emile chuckled to himself.

  Noland smiled crookedly and cocked an eyebrow, “And the other two thirds?”

  “Are wanting me.”

  Achaia texted her father after her last class to see if he was going to be home. He had taken longer to text back than normal, but had finally responded in the affirmative.

  As Achaia walked to the bus stop she was caught off guard by her doubt. She usually took her father at his word, but this time she wondered whether or not he would actually be there when she got home.

  It occurred to her that she had never second guessed him before. She hadn’t always agreed with her father. There were times she hated moving so often, and never being able to put down roots anywhere. But she had always believed him when he said it was necessary, and when he had said that he was sorry. Never before had she not believed him when he promised her something.

  So when the doubt began to grow in her mind, it clouded her vision of everything else. She hardly remembered getting on the bus home. She didn’t remember the ride, or the walk to the apartment building. All she knew was that when she stood at her front door to go in, she, for the first time, wasn’t sure if he would be there waiting for her when she did.

  As Achaia walked through the door, the first thing she noticed was the silence. “Dad?” All the lights in the apartment were off, and with the sun setting so early in winter, the apartment was already engulfed in darkness.

  “Yeah?” He answered coming into the living room from down the hall.

  Achaia breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn’t liked the feeling of not knowing where he had been the night before. “Hey,” she said taking her book bag off to remove her heavy coat.

  “Hey,” he said, taking a seat on the couch. “Sorry if I worried you last night.”

  “It’s okay,” Achaia said, now feeing silly for having made it a big deal.

  “So, you want to bust out some homework before dinner? I’ll make something.”

  “What? Mac and cheese?” Achaia asked smiling. Her father was a terrible cook.

  “I’ll have you know that I was going to make a frozen lasagna, complete with garlic bread.”

  “Which is also frozen—”

  “Which is why you have plenty of time to knock out some homework before it’s done.” He stood and walked over to the freezer and took out the two packages. Achaia almost laughed at her former concern as she watched him read the heating directions on the back of the box.

  Shael had only burnt the lasagna a little. He had been distracted and not
set the oven timer.

  He knew he needed to go. He had a meeting with another Seraphim, a friend of Naphtali’s, to take a second stab at adding more security to their perimeter. Shael didn’t like how close Luc’s demons had gotten the night before. He had spent the entire trip home leading them around in circles and toward the opposite end of town, but he had a sinking feeling in his stomach, that this time, he hadn’t been able to lose them.

  Ever since they had moved to New York, Shael had felt that he was being followed. He had hoped that the crowds would have been enough to hide them; but with the crowds, came ample opportunities for Luc to possess more spies. Everywhere he went he felt eyes crawling over him like spiders; spiders he couldn’t swat away.

  Then this morning, when he was almost home, the demon—it was no random demon; it was too easy to track, to kill. Shael had the sickening feeling that by killing it, he had somehow taken the bait and given away his location. Then he had caught a glimpse of his pursuers. He had stayed out rather than lead anything or anyone back to the apartment, back to Achaia.

  Naphtali was late. Shael cracked his thumb in his fist, and then used it to crack the other knuckles on his hand; anxious habit. Achaia sat on the sofa with one of her text books open on her lap and an ear bud in one ear. “Hey, I have to go. But, dinner is ready.”

  Achaia looked up from her studies. “Where?” Her eyebrows knit together. He’d been gone a lot lately, he knew. She looked like her mother when she was displeased.

  “I have to meet with one of the professors I’m writing with.” Shael had never lied so much as he had in the last three years, or really since he sold the angelic half of his soul. But the only way to keep Achaia safe, was to make sure she never knew anything about angels or demons, or even God. If she knew, she’d have to choose a side; and that idea terrified Shael. “We’re working with a tight deadline. They want the book by March. Look, I don’t want you leaving the apartment while I’m gone. Okay?”

  “What about just downstairs to the coffee shop?” Achaia asked. “I was going to go down there to finish homework.”

  “No, just—make some coffee up here. Don’t go out.”

  “Dad, it’s just right downstairs. It’s in the same building.”

  “This is a dangerous city.”

  “As opposed to all the safe cities we’ve lived in? Dad please,” Achaia said brushing his argument aside.

  “No. Just stay in tonight. Naphtali will be here soon. Don’t let anyone in. Don’t even ask who it is. Just pretend you’re not home.”

  “I wish I wasn’t.” Achaia said with a bitter twinge to her voice.

  “Just don’t let anyone in. Okay?”

  “Then what is Naphtali supposed to do when he gets here? Set up camp in the hall?” She rolled her eyes and stood. She walked over to the kitchen and took the coffee and French press out of the cabinet.

  “He has a key.”

  Shael could tell from behind Achaia, that she was rolling her eyes at him. “And aren’t I old enough to not need a baby sitter? Or is he a warden now,” Achaia said, setting the press down a little too hard and turning around.

  “Achaia,” Shael was out of arguments; out of fake explanations. He thought about telling her the truth. How would she react? Would she even believe him? Would she be afraid? Shael shook the thought away. He didn’t sell his soul so that she could live her life in fear, or in submission. He did it so that she could be free. And yet, she thought she was being held captive; that he was holding her captive. “I have to go,” Shael said opening the door. “Eat,” he said pointing to the lasagna on the stovetop.

  “Whatever project you’re working on, this time,” Achaia started. Shael paused half way out the door as she finished, “I hate it.” Shael sighed, continuing through the door, letting it click shut behind him.

  Achaia looked at the French press, the steam rising from the hot coffee inside and reached in her back pocket for her phone to text Olivier.

  CHANGE OF PLANS.

  UNDER HOUSE ARREST.

  HW @ MY PLACE?

  YEAH WHAT #

  7C

  OTW

  Achaia pulled two mugs down from the cabinet and poured herself one. She looked through the cabinets for some kind of desert, and pulled out an unopened package of ginger cookies. By the time she had plated the crackers, gotten her text books out and laid them across the counter, there was a knock on the door.

  Achaia peeked through the peep hole and saw Oliver with his messenger bag slapped across his chest. She opened the door to let him in. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” he said taking the strap of his messenger bag off, and leaning the bag against one of the bar stools.

  “I didn’t know how you liked your coffee…” she said gesturing to the press.

  “Cream and sugar.” He said rounding the counter.

  Achaia pulled the cream out of the fridge and pulled the container of sugar forward for him. As he prepared his coffee, Achaia took a seat on one of the barstools and opened her book to the page assigned. “Yeah— I have no clue how to do any of this.”

  “I suspected that.” Olivier said chuckling as he blew on his coffee and took a sip. “What’s up with the house arrest?”

  Achaia shrugged. “He’s acting weird.”

  “Your dad?” Olivier sat next to her and pulled out his books.

  “Yeah,” Achaia said writing her name and date at the top of her paper. “I mean he has his moments, but it’s different this time. It’s like he‘s on edge all the time. He just refuses to tell me anything.” Achaia could feel a lump of frustration rising in her throat. “I kind of have a bad feeling that whatever he isn’t telling me—it’s bad.”

  “Maybe it’s something with work,” Olivier offered optimistically, opening his own book to the proper page.

  “Maybe, but it doesn’t feel like it.” Achaia stopped herself. “So anyway,” she said feeling ridiculous, it was probably nothing; some sort of mid-life crisis. “How do I do this? What are we even doing?”

  “Proofs.”

  Achaia groaned. “Alright, teach away.”

  A couple hours had passed, and still Naphtali had not shown up. Achaia and Olivier had finished their homework and were vegged out in front of the TV; Achaia slung across the sofa, and Olivier stretched out on the floor in front of her leaning against the couch.

  A crime drama played on the screen but Achaia and Olivier came up with their own dialogue. It seemed that a man was murdered and his wife was the number one suspect, but in their version, they hadn’t known they were brother and sister.

  A bag of chips laid empty on the floor next to Olivier and two empty soda cans were littering the coffee table. Their laughter stopped as the knob clicked and turned apparently of its own accord. Naphtali entered, his back to them as he removed his jacket.

  “Naphtali,” Achaia said sitting up as he turned around. His eye was black from being hit by something. “What on earth?”

  “You have company?” He cocked an eyebrow, which was swollen, apparently aware that her father had forbidden guests.

  “Your eye.” Achaia’s stomach turned. She realized her father hadn’t been the only one acting strange. “Let me guess, another sliding door?” Achaia accused.

  Naphtali looked at Olivier, but didn’t seem to be disturbed by his presence there.

  “Achaia,” Naphtali started.

  “Is anyone ever going to tell me what going on? You’re in on it with him, aren’t you? Is he in some kind of trouble?” She asked, now standing. Olivier stood up next to her.

  “Yes,” Naphtali answered to her surprise.

  “What?” Achaia asked, shocked.

  “Yes he is. But it is not for me to tell you. He does not wish for me to speak of it.” Achaia could tell that Naphtali wanted to talk. He didn’t seem to appreciate being sworn to silence. She debated pushing him further.

  “Maybe I should go,” Olivier said, walking over to gather his things.

  “Sorry, O
lly.”

  “It’s cool. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Olivier gave her an encouraging smile before shutting the door behind him.

  Achaia turned on Naphtali. “You’re really not going to tell me anything?” Achaia asked.

  “Not yet. I can’t.”

  “Where’s my dad?” Achaia pleaded, hoping for an answer. Naphtali frowned apologetically, “I really wish I knew.”

  It was a cold and windy night. The kind of cold you felt in your teeth. Shael pulled the collar of his trench coat up around his face, and shoved his hands in his pockets to keep his coat from blowing open and revealing the sword strapped to his belt. Tonight he would have to walk to the other end of town. He was stealthy, but he didn’t feel like trying to sneak a sword onto the subway.

  Shael’s weapon of choice had always been the dagger. He never minded having to get close to his enemies to slay them. He preferred to make certain he had dispatched them properly, anyway. No matter how much Shael disliked someone, he wasn’t a sadist, and he wasn’t one to wish anyone to suffer. He generally ended his opponents cleanly and quickly, with honor and dignity. What few swords he did own, he rarely used. He kept them mostly for sentimental reasons. The one strapped to his hip would have been famous amongst humans, had anyone actually seen him use it.

  Shael had been walking for too long, which in its monotony had made it easy for him to lose his focus to wandering thoughts. A chill running down his spine brought his senses back to what he was doing. But it was too late.

  Shael was thrown off his feet, and into a dark alley. His brain was trying to play catch up and process what was happening when he was grabbed from behind by a pair of hands around his throat. Talons dug in through his collar. Shael felt warm droplets of blood dripping down his collarbone. He figured if the demon were going to kill him, he would have done it. He decided to stand still, and see how the scene unfolded. Luc probably had ordered them to bring Shael in alive.

  Another demon rose up in front of Shael, blocking out the light from the main street. It was a massive silhouette. Shael couldn’t make out any of the demon’s features, only that it was about seven feet tall, had broad shoulders and long fingers that ended in pointed claws. The creature tilted its head to the side, appraising him. “I expected more from the great Shael ben Yahweh.” Its voice was gravelly and hoarse. “Or have you lost your touch as well as your angelic abilities?” The demon laughed. He wasn’t alone, multiple voices laughed with him. Shael, without being able to turn his head to count, guessed there were about four or five of them.