Fractured Angel (The Fall Book 2)

by J. J. Dean

  I clear my throat, feeling the metal cuff around my neck dig in deep when I try to swallow my anger. Before I lose it, I calmly ask, "Where's Francis?"

  The bastard looks confused for a moment, mocking a thoughtful expression before clicking his fingers and telling me, "Ah, yes. The best friend. A dear old lady, really."

  "Where the fuck is she?" I growl, my fists tightening in anger. Clearly keeping a cap on my anger isn't going to be achievable.

  "Why, she's right here, sister." Lucifer raises a hand and waves it over a spot in front of me. My eyes dart down, and I find Ms. Frenchie lying on the floor in a crumpled heap, her clothes dirty and torn. Her face is as pale as a sheet, her entire body frail and vulnerable for the first time ever. It takes great strength not to expel the contents of my stomach all over the floor but seeing Francis look so broken and fragile breaks something inside me. In all of the years I've known her, I've only ever seen the strong, vibrant woman I love to death.

  "She's alive if you're wondering," Lucifer callously informs me, walking over to stand just behind Francis. I look closer and see the faintest movement of her chest rising, her breathing coming in slow, shuddering gasps. She looks fucking awful, and I can only heap on the guilt for dragging her into my mess. I shouldn't have befriended her all those years ago.

  "What have you done to her?" My voice comes out strained, eyes only leaving my best friend's lifeless form to send a scathing look at the bastard.

  Lucifer shrugs, looking down as Ms. Frenchie with little interest. It's as if he's looking at a mindless bug on the floor. "Nothing, sister dear. Don't think so little of me. The angels who were sent to retrieve her were a little rough with her handling, but I haven't touched a single gray hair on her little head."

  "Then why isn't she moving?" I growl, praying for my body to move away from this damn chair so I can stab Lucifer with my... wait, where are my arrows?

  Lucifer smiles, raising his head with a feral grin. He holds up my quiver and bow, the air around them flickering before fading entirely. "Your mind is very weak, Nevaeh. If it were stronger, you would have felt me remove them through the projection. As for the elderly dear, perhaps it’s her lack of hydration or sustenance that has her unmoving. I heard those are things humans need regularly."

  As if mocking me, he moves around the room and deposits my bow and arrows against the wall to my right. They're too far for any of us to grab should we gain our freedom, but close enough to mock me for my stupidity.

  "Let her go," I quietly demand, looking away from Francis and sending another seething glare in Lucifer's direction. His grin drops, and his features sharpen. If I thought he looked crazy before, the change in him now is startling. He looks completely insane, his eyes flashing and a sneer morphing his face into a sinister mask I'm sure humanity has built their stories on.

  "I'm not going to be able to do that, Nevaeh. I'm afraid your dear friend here is a liability. She knows too much. What were you thinking, befriending a human and letting her in on our secrets? Hmm? You really should have known better."

  "She doesn't know anything," I snap, panic loosening my lips. "I've not said a word about who or what I am. If anyone is going to give the game away, it's you."

  He feigns shock, pressing a ridiculously manicured hand to his chest and gasps. "Well, now, that is quite the bother."

  I would love nothing more than to pummel this dramatic son of a bitch's face in. Brother or not. I lost my true brother decades ago, the one I loved like my own. This man? This monster? He is nothing more than a sick, twisted bastard who lost his place in Heaven when He saw that he wasn't pure of heart. His heart and soul are as dark as the depths of Hell in which he resides. Nothing more than a greedy, selfish angel who thought himself better than the rest of us. God was right to remove him from his pedestal. But now I worry what it's done to his mind since he seems less than sane from what I've gathered.

  "What ever shall we do with her?" Lucifer asks, crouching low and brushing Ms. Frenchie's hair from her face.

  "Don't touch her!" I scream, the last shreds of whatever control I had on my temper evaporating the moment one of his bony fingers touches the sickly white skin of her cheek.

  "Get the fuck away from her, you psycho!"

  Lucifer's head snaps up, and he's suddenly stepping over Francis and stopping in front of me. The next thing I know, a sharp crack against my cheek knocks my head to the side with the force of a falling boulder. I can feel a trickle of blood drip from my lip, the slap hard enough to split the skin.

  Slowly, I turn my head back to Lucifer. Asher is growling deeply, and Eli begins to stir. His chains rustle before the quietest voice I've heard from him reaches my ears. "Flower?"

  I don't answer, glaring at Lucifer as he tugs his handkerchief from his breast pocket and cleans his hand, wiping away the smear of my blood that stains his pale skin. He sniffs and throws the small cloth to the side, crouching in front of me and lifting his hand so fast it's almost a blur. He grips my face in one hand, his hold tight and painful as he squeezes my chin to make sure I can't look away. "You'll do better to control that temper of yours, sister. I don't do well with anger."

  The irony isn't lost on me.

  With what little room I have, I spit at him. It doesn't have a large effect, splattering blood over his chin and pristine white collar. Lucifer blinks at me, his face giving away absolutely nothing. With the grace of a stealthy tiger, he drops his hand and moves away, watching me carefully.

  Until another slap cracks my face like a whip. The pain is excruciating, blood trickling from a cut that's formed on the apple of my cheek. My eye pulses, the soreness spreading through the right side of my face. I grit my teeth against the sting, refusing to voice how much pain he's just caused. I won't give him a damn thing.

  "I think you need a little time to control your temper. I'll leave you all alone for a little while. Maybe when I return, so will your manners. I'll talk to you when you're in a better mood for conversing. I'll be seeing you all," Lucifer announces as though he isn't talking to a room full of prisoners. He offers me a smile, one that makes my skin crawl and my blood freeze in my veins.

  He makes his leave, nodding to me as a false sign of respect. His luxury shoes tap against the concrete floor in a steady rhythm, the sound echoing in the dank room.

  "Oh, how silly of me. There's one last thing. Can't leave loose ends hanging around like a bad smell, am I right?" he says, snapping his fingers like a thought just came to him. Lucifer reaches a hand around his back, pulls out a sleek, black gun, and aims the barrel at Francis. "It's a real shame having to do this. I just wanted you to know that, Nevaeh."

  Like slow motion, I see his finger tighten on the trigger.

  "No! Please don't. NOOO!" I scream, struggling as much as I can to get free.

  His lip pulls his mouth upwards in a sadistic grin, and the only thing I'm capable of while I'm captured and stuck in a chained collar and wooden chair is watching what unfolds next.

  To be continued...

  A Touch Of Death

  S N E A K P E A K

  Chapter 1

  Novia

  Flashing memories assault my already broken mind, but I keep running. The trees of the forest rush by me and sharp rocks dig into my bare feet. Branches catch my naked flesh as I sprint, cutting my face and arms, while stinging brambles draw blood on my legs. They leave me with nasty looking scrapes on my once flawless skin. My lungs are screaming at me, needing even pulls of air that my pace simply won't allow.

  But I won't stop. I can't stop.

  I push my legs harder with every glimpse of my father’s face, eyes open and void of their usual spark, sprawled on the floor like a lifeless doll. I keep sucking in shallow, harsh lungfuls of air with every sound of my sister’s cries that echo in my head like a torturous soundtrack to my escape. With every image of my sister’s tears, the broken bodies in cages, and painful cries of my family and friends, I push my body to move faster and faster, further away fr
om that place. The place that killed my only parent, that killed my sister. The place that killed the last of my kind.

  My chest feels like a weight is pressing down on it, and a choked cry falls from my lips. However, I can't stop. Not until I'm far enough away that they'll never catch me. I swore to my father I'd run. Before the light left his moss green eyes, he made me promise I'd escape, that I'd run away and never look back. I refuse to let him down.

  I have no idea how long I've been running, not a stitch of clothing covering my body, and my hair a wild mess of blonde waves. I didn't have time to find clothing before the opportunity to escape presented itself. My dignity is long lost after being forced to stay naked throughout the time I spent at the facility where we were kept. They wouldn't clothe us, barely fed us - only enough to keep us alive - and kept us in dingy cages that I wouldn't use for a dog. Clothing was the last thing on my mind when the guard on patrol made his mistake and left the room for his regular cigarette.

  I managed to unlock my cage without alerting the guards or higher ups. It was a waiting game until I could finally burst out of my cage and help my people out of theirs. What I didn't expect was the Top Psycho to arrive before I could escape and kill the last of the fae that were still fighting, still hanging on to their lives. Why I wasn't killed too is a mystery to me, but by the time the massacre had come to an end, I was the only living being left in a cage. In the quiet of the room, my thundering heartbeat was almost easy to hear, but my father’s raspy voice reached me before he died.

  Novia, you find a way out and run. Run for your life, and don't you dare look back.

  I'd been planning on making a great escape for a while, but I never expected I'd have to make it alone. My family should be by my side, escaping with me. Not lying in disgusting cages, lifeless and left to rot.

  My breath catches again, and a new round of fresh tears pour down my dirt-caked face. Pain laces the muscles in my legs, and my arms ache with the strain of pushing my body faster than I've ever run before, but my heart hurts the most. Every scratch, cut, and bruise is nothing compared to the crushing agony that the loss of my family and people has left, burrowed deep into the depths of my chest. I shake my head to rid myself of those thoughts when I feel myself slow down. There's no time to start slacking now. I've come too far to get caught again by those sick bastards. I'll die a hundred times over before they can sink their filthy claws into me a second time.

  I push my body even harder. The wind whips at my face with a ferocity that would make my eyes water if I weren't still crying. My feet are burning due to the torn skin from the jagged stones I've had to run over, and the cuts along my arms and legs are thrumming with a dull ache as though they have a pulse of their own. I don't know how much longer I can keep running at this pace. Don't know how much longer I can keep going at all. I can feel my entire body beginning to shut down, rebelling against my rapid flight. Breathing is growing increasingly difficult, each inhale becoming sharper than the last with every passing second. I don't want to let Dad down, but there's only so long I can keep this up.

  When I escaped, the sun was just beginning its descent, the orange and pink hues in the sky growing darker, fading into the night’s dark blues and black. Now the sky is at its darkest, and large shadows litter the forest like they've made a home for themselves here. The only reason I haven't crashed headfirst into a tree yet is because of my genetics. The same traitorous genetics that found me held captive in that heinous testing facility.

  I stiffly shake my head before more images of my people filter into my brain. When I do, I notice a small clearing. The trees and bushes hide it well enough, but with my eyesight being exceptionally good in the dark, I can spot it easily. I veer to the right, moving with a new burst of energy that has me sprinting like I'm running a marathon and shooting for gold.

  Bursting through the opening, my eyes scan the area quickly. My gaze catches a large boulder placed next to an even bigger lump of stone, all cast in the dark shadows of the trees above. I rush towards the boulder, and a choked sound leaves me when I see a small space between the two chunks of rock. I hunker down between them, thanking all that is merciful that I'm as skinny as a beanpole and can easily fit in the small space.

  The darkness surrounds me like a comforting blanket, and I can finally heave in the ragged breath my lungs so desperately need. My breathing is too loud, overpowering the silence of the night and the rustling of leaves when the breeze catches them. I work hard to even out my breathing, reveling in the way the sharp tightness in my chest unravels to a bearable ache. I slide further into my hiding spot and tuck my knees close to my chest, resting my head on them while I continue to gain back the ability to breathe properly.

  After what feels like hours, I can breathe without trouble. My heartbeat has steadied, and exhaustion crashes over me. The aches and pains all over my body make themselves known, every move or twist of my body causing me to groan out in pain. I don’t dare move much more, though. While I was running, I did as my father asked. I never looked back once. Meaning I have no idea if I've been followed. I didn't hear noises of pursuit from behind me, but that's not to say I wasn't followed.

  Instead of attempting to push my aching body further, I settle down for the remainder of the night, curling into myself to become as small as possible. I tilt my head on my knees, making sure I'm able to listen to everything around me. The forest is quiet, and the tension in my body slowly seeps out of me and into the ground. Around my feet, small daisies sprout up from the dirt. I'd smile if I had the energy or willpower to make the small gesture. Instead, I close my eyes and listen to the forest. Leaves rustle and the wind whistles, with the scurrying of tiny feet adding to the lullaby of the night, easing me into a restless slumber.

  The snap of a twig suddenly wakes me.

  My head shoots up so fast I feel dizzy for a brief moment. The darkness has started to lighten, and I can see the sky through the branches and leaves morphing into a lighter blue. It's morning. I slept the rest of the night away.

  The loud shuffle of foliage on the ground has my body turning rigid. My heartbeat picks up the pace, thundering heavily in my chest, and my awareness sharpens so much that I can sense everything around me. The movement is coming from the opening of the clearing, slow and steady like a...a hunter searching for its prey. Shit. No. They can't have found me already. No!

  I hold my breath as I listen, tracking the movements of whoever has found my clearing. I curl myself tighter into my hiding spot, thankful for the shade that still surrounds the boulders. The sound of shuffling feet comes closer and closer, and my breath stills in my lungs. My hands grow clammy, and a bead of sweat trickles down my spine. I wait and wait, knowing I'm seconds away from being caught, hauled back to that hell hole, and my efforts of escape rendered futile. A sharp pang under my ribcage has tears forming in my eyes. I've failed my father. I've failed on the last promise I made him, and now I'll be forced to suffer the rest of my days at the hands of my family's murderers.

  I hang my head in defeat and listen as the footsteps grow closer. I wait...and wait. My eyebrows scrunch in confusion. Whoever is searching for me surely would have found me already. The sounds of my tracker’s footsteps stop at the boulder I'm cowering behind. All they need to do is look over the surface of the rock, and they'll find me. So why am I not being hauled from my hiding spot and dragged back to my own personal version of Hell?

  Slowly as to not make any noise, I lift my head to look above me. My breath lodges itself in my throat when I come face to face with the Top Psycho's second in command, Davis. His face is bathed in shadows, but the gruesome scar that mars his face is easy to recognise. The blemish cuts along his face diagonally, crossing over his eye and nose, and stops at his chin on the opposite side. The eye his scar crosses over is blue and cloudy, the loss of sight making the eye lifeless and empty. The other eye is dark, so dark the iris almost looks black. His thin-lipped mouth is drawn down in a frown, and his eyebrows are pinched
together. He looks...confused.

  I watch him carefully, noting the way his good eye flickers around my hiding spot. His gaze grazes over where I’m sitting, but he makes no move to grab at me. It's... it’s almost like he can't see me. Wait. Could I have-

  Lifting my hand slowly, I flick my eyes to my arm without moving my head. Or, at least my eyes flicker to where my arm should be. I could actually cry with relief if I knew it wouldn’t give my position away. This is the first time I’ve been able to use one of my abilities in five years. Ever since being at the facility, I'd only been able to use my gifts when those bastards allowed it. I don't know how they managed to suppress them, but they seem to be in working order now that I’m free.

  Knowing I'm invisible to the bastard hunting me, I wait him out. With a renewed fervour for making my getaway, I keep myself as still as the stones I'm hiding between. My breathing is slow, steady streams of air through my nose as not to make a noise. Eventually, Davis growls and leaves my spot. I hear his feet trudge around the clearing, a cuss word flung from his mouth when he comes to a dead end, and eventually the sound of his feet retreating the way he came. I wait a while longer, listening to his feet move further and further away until I can no longer hear the sound of his boots against the forest floor.

  Making sure I'm still invisible, I lift myself from my hiding spot and look around. The clearing is empty, and the muddy ground holds several footprints from where Davis trudged around searching for me. I stay still for a brief moment, confirming that I really am alone. When the only sound to penetrate the quiet is crunching of deadened leaves beneath my feet and the chirps of birds in the trees, I bolt for the small opening on the opposite side of the clearing. A burst of adrenaline has me racing through the forest once more. New scratches mar my skin, but I ignore them while my heart pounds furiously under my ribcage. My breath comes quickly, my chest quickly rising and falling the faster I run.