“What are you doing?” Jack startles me from the doorway of the closet, making me choke on my drink. He looks at the bottle in my hand.
I replace the cap and put it back on a shelf in front of me. “Nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing. What’s bothering you?”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
“Right now? Or Ever?” his voice softens with concern.
I walk to him, wrap my arms around his waist, and lay my head on his chest. “Just not right now.”
Jack tilts my chin up to look me in the eyes. “When you’re ready then.” I nod, and he bends down to kiss me with tenderness. “Goodnight, Sunshine.”
“Goodnight, Jack.” Jack goes back to his room, and I pick up the bottle again. I sit in front of the dying fire and fall asleep in the chair after two more sips from the bottle.
Chapter 8
I dread going to my Lit class and seeing Trey there. The thought of him gives me the creeps. Don’t even look him in the eye. Don’t talk to him. If he tries to talk to you, just ignore him. I find comfort that Jack's walking me to class. Maybe Trey will see Jack and leave me alone. Maybe he’ll skip class. That would be even better. We approach the English building, hand in hand, and I spot Trey talking to a group of guys. I adjust the strap on my backpack and pull my phone out to distract me from his gaze. Jack’s grip tightens, and I look up. Trey's walking towards us.
“Ivy,” Trey calls out. I pull Jack’s hand to follow me past Trey and ignore him. Jack’s hand grows scalding hot, I almost pull away. “Ivy, wait,” Trey calls from behind us. Without warning, Jack spins us around. As he lets go of my hand, his fist connects with Trey’s face. Trey flies backwards into a tree twenty yards away. Everyone turns their attention to us in shock of Jack’s strength. Trey attempts to get up as blood drips from his mouth.
“Stay down,” Jack seethes through his gritted teeth so low I don’t know if he's speaking to Trey or just speaking aloud to himself. Both fists clench to his sides again. Trey pushes himself up and charges at Jack. Jack sees him coming and brings his elbow down hard into Trey’s spine. As Trey twists in pain, Jack grabs Trey’s shoulders and uses his leg to kick Trey’s feet out from under him. Trey lands on his back. Jack grabs him by the shirt and punches him in the face again. The force of the connection cracks and echoes in the air around us with a ripple of static. “I said, ‘stay down’,” he repeats to him. Trey makes a gurgling sound in response. “Tell Beleth to back off. He can’t win this. And if I ever see you so much as look in her direction, I’ll make sure you never surface again.” Jack lets go of Trey’s shirt, and Trey’s head hits the ground with a thud. My hands cover my mouth in shock of Jack’s outburst. “Come on.” He pulls my hands away from my mouth and leads me away from the scene. “You're skipping class today.”
I'm speechless the entire walk back to Jack’s car. What the fuck just happened? I should have known Jack would want to hurt him after what he did to me. How the hell is he that strong? And how the hell is Trey even alive after blows like that? I’ve always been so independent though… No one has ever stuck up for me… My heart flutters. Because I’ve never let them, I think. I'm not angry with Jack for sticking up for me. In all reality, it turns me on! Jack’s message to Trey jumps into the forefront of my mind. Trey is one of Beleth’s goons! It’s clear Beleth wants something to do with me, but what?
I pull Jack to a stop at his car and step in front of him before he can open my door, “Jack—”
He cuts me off before I can speak up, “I’m sorry, Ivy. I know you prefer to take care of yourself. I’ve seen that first hand. But when he said your name, I was flooded with thoughts of what he did to you and what I know he wanted to do to you. I couldn’t stop myself. He deserved it and—”
This time, I cut him off with my lips on his. I linger on my tiptoes with his shirt in my fists. When I pull back to look at his beautiful green eyes under his ball cap, I grin. Happiness consumes me.
“You’re not mad?” he marvels.
I look down at my feet and dig a toe into the ground. “I know that I should be, but it had the opposite effect. I’ve always been so adamant about being independent and taking care of myself. I’ve never let anyone take up for me. I don’t even know how you managed to throw him as far as you did. I see why people feel intimidated around you. And watching you protect me… I was… honored.” I sigh, and he tilts my chin up to look me in the eyes.
“I would do anything for you, Sunshine,” he smirks.
Jack drives us back to the estate, since we're now skipping classes the rest of the day. He goes into the kitchen to make sandwiches for us, so I take my things up to my room. Coming back down the stairs, I wonder how Ms. Roe's feeling today. I round the banister to the first floor and walk down the hallway to her room. I stop outside of her door getting ready to knock. Maybe I shouldn’t bother her. She could be sleeping… I’ll just check on her and go. I give a soft triple knock on her door with the knuckle of my middle finger, hoping if she's asleep I won't wake her.
“Come in!” she calls from behind the thick wooden door. I turn the knob and peek my head inside. “Ivy! Come in. Come in,” she waves me over from her bed.
“I just wanted to see how you’re doing. Jack's making lunch. Are you hungry?” I offer.
“I’m alright, dear. You two go ahead and eat,” she declines.
“Ok.”
“Why are you two not in class?” she asks.
“Uh… my class got canceled, and Jack’s let out early,” I fib, not wanting to worry her.
“Oh. Well, would you like to sit with me and play some cards? Solitaire has become tedious,” Evelyn pats the side of her bed for me to sit with her.
“Sure,” I agree with a smile and sit on the bed facing her.
Evelyn sweeps the cards up from her lap and begins to shuffle them. “What do you like to play?”
“Um… I don’t know how to play many card games. I know Go Fish, Slap Jack, and Gin Rummy.” I wince at my inexperience.
“Mm… How about Gin Rummy?” she suggests.
“Ok,” I agree.
Evelyn shuffles the cards just as a professional dealer would and deals out twenty cards, alternating them to each of our piles. The twenty-first card is turned face up to start the discard pile, and she lays the stock pile face down beside it. I pick up my cards and sort them in my hand to see them better.
We play in silence for a few minutes before Jack comes in. “There you are.” He carries two plates with sandwiches over to the bed and kisses me on top of the head.
“Hey.” I smile as he hands me my lunch. It's just how I like it, with all the workings of a regular sandwich, save for the meat. Jack pulls a chair near the bed and sits down to eat.
Evelyn and I continue our game. “Why don’t you tell me more about yourself, Ivy?” Evelyn inquires.
I hesitate and glance at Jack. “Um… Well, I grew up in California.”
“Oh, wow! You’re a long way from home. What part of California?” she insists as she focuses on her cards.
“L.A.,” I mumble and draw a card.
Her tone is surprised and quizzical, “L.A.?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I answer. Evelyn searches my face as if she's trying to figure something out. I glance over at Jack again and back to her. “What?” My voice shakes with uneasiness.
She turns her head towards Jack without taking her eyes off of me. “Your eyes… Jack… her eyes are violet and green,” she whispers. Why is that important?
“I told you she's different.” Jack pauses. “She has some of our qualities, but there are differences I don’t recognize.”
So, she is like him… Like us?
“Are you like Jack?” I mutter with shyness.
“You said you were adopted?” She ignores my question, but I nod in answer to hers. “How old were you when you were adopted?”
“I was a baby. I didn’t even know I was adopted unti
l I turned sixteen.” Emotions begin to fester in my chest, making it ache with tightness.
“Do you know who your birth parents are?” she prods me for more information.
“No. I never cared. If they were willing to give me up, they probably didn’t want me reaching out to them,” I tell her with all honesty.
“Hmm… Do you know what you are?” She chances a glance at Jack who shakes his head.
“No. Jack said he couldn’t tell me what’s going on. I’m starting to freak out now. So, if you know something… please tell me!” I'm on the verge of tears, pleading with them. “I need to know.”
“There could be consequences, Ivy,” Jack reminds me.
“Not for her. Only for the person who tells her.” Evelyn looks to Jack with a knowing smile.
“Mother,” Jack starts.
Evelyn fans her hand in the air and rolls her eyes at him. “Pish-posh, Jack. I won’t be around much longer anyways.” Jack’s face falls with an overwhelming sadness in his eyes at her statement. Evelyn hesitates in deep thought. “Ivy… There are beings in this world that may be hard for you to fathom. For the most part, they’re hard to discern from every day humans. How much has Jack told you already?”
“Not as much as I would like. But, I know that he's extremely strong, he heals remarkably fast, as I do, and he thinks the dreams I’ve been having are omens I need to decipher,” I tell her.
“Omens?” she echoes in surprise.
“Yes, ma’am.” I feel sick to my stomach. I’m going to vomit.
Evelyn looks to Jack in question. The fear in his eyes seeps into my already aching heart. “Some things may be easier to understand if they’re shown instead of voiced. Which do you prefer?”
I answer without hesitation, “Show me.” I need to know what's going on with me, and Evelyn seems to be the only one willing to tell me.
“Ok. Jack, will you help me walk?” Without a word, Jack helps his mother out of the bed. There's a faint shake in her legs as she tries to stand. “Right this way.”
I trail behind Evelyn down her corridor, Jack supporting her weight as she struggles to keep upright. It's the first time I've witnessed how ill she truly is, and I feel horrible for asking her to exert herself for me. We come to an enormous set of dark cherry wood doors with ornate carvings of large feathered wings at rest. She pulls a skeleton key from her pocket and places it into a keyhole under the silver knobs. As if the room has been sealed air tight, the door unlocks with a click and a gentle whisper of air around its frame. Evelyn looks over her shoulder to me, and I nod to her that I'm ready.
We enter a considerably large, circular study. Books line the three story walls on either side of us. Behind the oversized, dark cherry, wood desk before us hangs a twelve foot Renaissance oil painting. I can’t take my eyes off of the hellish orchestra. The swirling tempestuous violence depicted practically pours off of the canvas. I can hear the grating noise of the battle scene between the angels in the painting as my head fills with yelling, howling, and the low drone of a war horn.
It’s the fall of angels. I’ve never seen angels like this though. Their wings should be white, right? At the apex of the painting, what I presume to be an angel, is descending from the Light of Heaven. His dark green wings are extended in full as he charges the other angels below him. His armor matches the color of his wings and his vengeful eyes. A red sash billows around his body and behind him as he raises his sword high in anticipation for a strike. Other angels with wings of various colors and shades follow his lead into battle. The angels below the charge coming from Heaven are falling backwards—lifeless birds—into the darkness at the base of the canvas.
Evelyn stands with her arms crossed beside me, letting me take in the vision before us in silence. A tear runs down my cheek. I can’t understand why I'm crying. The painting is effecting me on a level I can’t comprehend. I wipe the tear from my cheek before I turn to her, “Is this what you wanted to show me? Are you an angel?” She smiles with a deliberate inclination. I whip my head to see Jack on the other side of me. “And you?” Jack nods his head as well. I can see the apprehension in his countenance, waiting for my reaction.
My vision darkens. I'm going to faint. That’s not possible. None of this is possible. Why don’t they have wings? I’m dreaming. This is stupid. Wake up, Ivy! Wake up! I hunch over with my hands on my knees, hyperventilating. I can’t breathe. This is insane! If they're angels, and that's a big if, Jack said I was like him… but different. What does that make me? I don’t understand.
Jack comes to my side to try and comfort me. “Just breathe, Ivy. I know it’s a lot to take in—”
“—I don’t understand,” I whisper. “You don’t have wings. You curse, smoke, and drink…” Is he a fallen angel? “Are you one of the Fallen? What does that make me? I’m not an angel.”
“Ivy. Slow down. I know you have a lot of questions. How about you sit down?” I nod my head vigorously and take a seat in one of the chairs facing the desk. Jack sits down across from me as Evelyn stands to his side. “You have nothing to be afraid of, Ivy. We’re not Fallen. I can assure you. And yes, I smoke, drink, and curse. But that only became habit after trying to disguise myself as a normal human for so long. It doesn’t have any actual effect on my body. I can’t get cancer, and I can drink as much as I want because my metabolism's too high to become fully intoxicated. As for the wings…,” he looks up to his mother for help to explain. “We have the ability to conceal them under our shoulder blades.”
“Like retractable?” I counter in astonishment.
“Yes.”
“You said I was like you, but different. Does that make me Fallen?” I predict with embarrassment.
Jack shakes his head. “No. Not Fallen.”
“I don’t understand.” I look to Evelyn, pleading for better answers.
Evelyn explains, “You see, it's the pull of your essence—the flutter you get in your stomach—accompanied with your abilities that tells us you're of angelic descent. But angels are not born ‘Fallen’, it's a punishment given to those who defy The Creator and His Divine plan."
“So, what is it about my eyes that surprised you?” I note, remembering her reaction to noticing their color.
“What color are your eyes, Ivy?” Evelyn muses in kind.
“Green and violet. It’s a genetic anomaly. Heterochromia Iridium,” I explain.
“Yes. Now, what color are my eyes? What color are Jack’s?” she gestures to herself and Jack beside her.
“Green.” She nods. “So angels have green eyes?”
“Not all angels. Only Archangels and their descendants,” Jack fills in.
“So… you think my parents are Archangels?” My normal breathing starts coming back to me.
“Yes,” Evelyn answers.
“So, why do I have one that's violet?” I'm starting to get a migraine.
Evelyn begins to pace the room, and Jack reaches out to hold my hands. Their warmth and the tingling they provide settles my anxiety. I glance back and forth between Evelyn and Jack, waiting for someone to speak. Evelyn begins, “There are many Archangels and their descendants with green eyes. But the presence of violet eyes is a trait only passed down from one of the seven original Archangels.” Jack looks to his mother with quizzical confusion. It's obvious he doesn’t know to whom she's referring. Evelyn clears her throat and straightens her posture before she continues. “His name is Azrael.”
Jack stands with such swiftness, I barely see him move as he faces his mother. “No!” he shouts. Evelyn’s lips form a tight line.
His outburst terrifies me. “Who's Azrael?”
Evelyn takes her time to answer me. “When it came time for The Creator to shape the body of Adam, He requested for three angels to bring him soil from the earth. Azrael was one of the three messengers. Prior to the request from The Creator, he had transgressions he believed would be forgiven by completing this task. Each time one of the three descended to Earth, the world shudd
ered violently to test the messengers of their strength and faith in His Divine plan. While the first two messengers feared the consequences of the occurrence, Azrael was the only messenger to achieve The Creator’s mission. In doing so, The Creator appointed Azrael with an important responsibility. Azrael was charged to live a life on Earth, to gather the souls of men and women when their time came. Whether they be saints or sinner, beggars or princes, old or young. And so, he became known as The Angel of Death. He's distinguished from all other angels of The Creator by his dark purple wings and violet eyes.”
I can’t move. I can’t blink. I can’t close my gaping mouth. My vision narrows. I don’t know how to react. I’m a descendent of The Angel of Death? The. Angel. Of. Death. And that makes me different. If I’m a descendent of The Angel of Death, what does that make me?
Jack's on his knees beside me. “I’m so sorry, Ivy. I didn’t know. I really didn’t know,” he profusely apologizes over and over again.
My entire body becomes as cold and still as a block of ice. Without blinking, I prompt, “What does that mean for me?”
“We shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Right, Mother? I mean, she still shares visible traits of a true Archangel.” Jack looks to his mother for agreement.
“Yes, Jack. But you can’t look at Azrael with fear. He's not evil. Nor is he good. He's neutral. His duties are imperative to keep the balance. It's not his job to provide the way of death. That's the duty of the Kere. Azrael’s purpose was to guide the souls of man to their rightful destinations. Whether it be to the gates of Paradise or the gates of Sheol. Since the human population has grown since their beginning, Azrael now commands other Guides and reveals to them where a souls destination lies,” Evelyn explains.
“What does that mean? Do I get a choice? What am I?” I shout to them with desperation.
Evelyn embraces me until my tears slow and I begin to relax. She releases me from the embrace, but leaves her hands on my shoulders. “It means you may progress into a great warrior who will fight alongside others against the evil of the world to protect the souls of mankind, or you may be destined to follow the footsteps of Azrael and become a Guide to souls.”
MIDNIGHT DIVINE (The Helio Trilogy Book 1) Page 11
