Wickedly They Dream

by Cathrina Constantine

  “Is this like the last time,” she said, “when the Powers convened due to the half-breeds?”

  “No, not exactly.” He stopped pacing and turned. “I . . . I’m—”

  It was unusual to hear him indecisive. “Markus.” she said, desiring to help him. “We’ve always been able to talk over our deepest, darkest secrets. You know me better than I know myself, and you’re acting . . . estranged.”

  “Estranged,” he uttered, “not a nice word.” He walked to the couch. Looming above her, he stroked her cheek with his knuckles. “You know. You know how much I-I love you.”

  “We have a bond.” She quivered and felt what he was going to say was significant— the end of something special. “It can never be broken.”

  His hand flopped to his side and his fingers flexed.

  Jordan wanted to see his face clearly, see his eyes. The awkwardness was killing her. She could read him better in the light, and he knew that. “Turn on the light, Markus.”

  HE MOVED TO the lamp. The light was harsh, and he deviated away. He didn’t want to look at her. Jordan would be able to read his feelings in his eyes.

  Markus should’ve resisted falling physically in love with her, his assignment. His Father personally chose him to guard over His precious warrior. He’d been conquering bodily urges far too long, until a few days ago, when he’d lost control.

  Love between humans and angels were common, however, his Father forbade their union due to past historical hardships.

  He sat on the opposite end of the couch, and the cushion buckled beneath his weight. He glanced around the apartment, looking anywhere but at Jordan. His shoulders slouched as he leaned forward, supporting his arms on his thighs.

  “Are you upset with me because of what happened between us the other night?”

  Her words hung in the air like a ticking bomb. When he eventually turned his head to gaze at her, she knew. His heart was in his eyes, plain to see.

  “It was bound to happen.” She inched her heels off the couch, seemingly expectant. “You know how much I love you.”

  “And I’ve always loved you.” He dropped his face into his hands. “But it’s unfeasible.”

  “Why?” she demanded. “Because I’m human?”

  “Angels and humans have procreated in history, creating Nephilim. Half-angel and half-human.” He stalled, before reluctantly continuing. “And heaven calls half-breeds an abomination.”

  “But…but half-breeds of demons and humans are different than Nephilim.” Jordan grabbed her braided hair in her hand like a lifeline. “The demon side influences the humanity within. Stringer told me of the struggle he goes through.”

  Markus arched a sublime eyebrow. “And do you believe half-angel and half-human would be any different?” He lurched to his feet and resumed pacing. “God created the nine choirs of angels. Each serves a purpose. Many go astray, but aren’t necessarily cast out of God’s Kingdom.”

  “Exactly what are you trying to spit out?”

  He stopped and scrubbed his hands over his face. Markus’s poignant sadness showed not only in his face but also in his slumped shoulders.

  Failing in self-control, Jordan leapt to her feet and launched herself into his arms. “Don’t, Markus.” She wept and snuggled into his chest. “Don’t say it.”

  “Jordan,” he whispered, caressing her hair. “I asked Michael to be reassigned. I’m no good to you now.”

  “No. I won’t let you go.”

  He nudged her away from him and felt responsible for the turmoil on her lovely face. “My decision is honorable. If I remain your guardian, I will break His rule.”

  The torture in his chest was more than he could bear, his heart shattered. The last time he felt tears on his face was the day Jordan had died on the cross. He now watched as she reached to wipe the wetness with her fingers.

  His body shuddered. God wouldn’t condemn him for feeling such love, and he crushed his lips to Jordan’s mouth one last time. He clung to her with every ounce of strength, breathing her in, imprisoning her moist lips with his own.

  Breaking the kiss, he sighed. “Our bond will never be broken.”

  Jordan stood alone, her arms encircling an empty void.

  TROUBLE IN PARADISE

  YOU’VE BEEN MOPING around here for two days,” Seeley said, carrying a pile of laundry and stacking it on Jordan’s bureau. “Maybe going back to your grandparents for the weekend will cheer you up. Didn’t you mention Thrill was taking you to a party or something?”

  Lying on her back, Jordan draped her body upside down over the mattress, her hair cascading to the floor. “That’s the plan.”

  “Your face is scarlet.” Seeley squatted in front of her and snickered. “You look like a blow fish ready to explode.”

  “I’m thinking.” Her eyes were level with her mom’s rounded belly. “It’s good to get blood flowing to the brain. Helps me concentrate.”

  “Is there something you’d like to talk about?” Seeley asked. “I tried minding my own business, but you know that our psyches are somewhat connected. I sense your pain. I even tried speaking to Zeke, and he said I needed to talk with you.” Standing with her hands on her waist, she stretched. “My aching back. It’s going to be a rough four months.”

  Jordan felt the sting behind her eyelids. She performed a backward somersault off the mattress and hopped to her feet. Her mom would find out sooner or later. “Markus left me.” She sniffed and squeezed her eyelids, damming the flow, though water seeped onto her eyelashes. “He-he asked to be reassigned.”

  “What?” Seeley gazed into Jordan’s glistening eyes. “Why would he do that? Can he do that? I don’t understand.”

  “Arrgghh. I hate my life!” Jordan punched the wall then caved in on herself.

  “Jordan.” Seeley pulled her into an affectionate embrace. “What you said sounds impossible. Tell me exactly what happened.”

  Jordan perceived the semi-transparent form of Ezekiel. Judging by his glum expression, something was wrong. “You know?”

  He dipped his chin in acquiesce.

  “Have you ever loved Ezekiel?” she asked her mom.

  Not expecting such a question, Seeley swerved to her guardian angel. The seam of his lips tightened. Somewhat unsure of Jordan’s meaning, she nodded. “Umm, yes. I love Zeke.”

  “I know you love Zeke.” She didn’t have the right to nose into her mother’s feelings, or for that matter, Ezekiel’s. What if she had overstepped the boundary of the heavenly code of conduct or some stupid thing? Her eyes left the angel’s and sought Seeley’s. “What I’m trying to ask is…what I mean is—”

  “Ask, Jordan,” Ezekiel advocated in his deep voice.

  “What I’m trying to say is have you ever loved Zeke like the way you love Declan?”

  A splotch of pink brightened Seeley’s complexion. Her chest expanded, and she flicked her eyes over to meet Zeke’s. He gave a vague nod.

  “Zeke and I love each other very much. He’s my brother. My best friend.” She paused. “But, as much as I love him, we’re not entirely compatible, like your father and I were, or Declan and I are.”

  Ezekiel’s chin dropped to his chest, and closed his eyes.

  “I love Markus.” Jordan couldn’t suppress the deluge of tears washing her face. “I need him. I can’t live without him.”

  “Oh, Jordan.” Seeley ushered her to sit on the bed. “I believe we all fall in love with our guardian angels. They’re our best friends, our soul mates, and they’re always there in times of need. No matter what the circumstances.”

  “I doubt that.” Jordan sponged her tears on the sheet. “Not everyone can see or touch their angels like you and I can.”

  Materializing into human form, Ezekiel frowned. “Jordan, it bereaves me to see you and Markus parted like this. But Markus is my brother, and I respect his decision. Though I don’t necessarily agree with it.”

  “Can you speak to him? Change his mind?” Hope straightened the curve
of her spine. “He has to come back.”

  “As beatific spirits, we’re able to restrain these human urges, though Markus has lived in his human body far too long and has become undisciplined. He chose to enlist fulltime with Michael.”

  “Michael the Archangel?” Seeley wrapped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “Is that dangerous?’

  “It’s a dark realm, ferocious battles. Not that encounters are any less fierce on Earth, it’s just that those encounters are eternal. No reprieve.” Zeke rubbed his jawline. “Michael patrols the universe, sending angels on various missions. Our Father trusts us implicitly.”

  Freeing herself from her mom’s hold, Jordan rose and gazed into Zeke’s eyes. “You said you disagree with Markus’s decision. Can you convince him to come back?” she asked, thinking of Markus fighting a permanent bloody battle.

  Ezekiel’s sharp eyes narrowed as he sucked in his lips.

  Jordan discerned he wasn’t admitting all the facts. “You know something, don’t you?”

  “Have you ever wondered why you were chosen as God’s warrior?” He crossed arms over his distinctive black garments. His regard drifted to Seeley. “And why God granted the two of you such tremendous gifts and powers? Or why certain humans around the globe are also attuned to our Father’s mission of vanquishing demons?”

  “You’ve completely changed the subject.” She shook in frustration, squeezing her eyes and grinding her teeth, she said, “Right now all I care about is Markus.”

  “Wait, Jordan.” Seeley took a wondering stance. “In Zeke’s secretive way, he’s trying to tell us something. Aren’t you?”

  “Markus recently explained ancient history.” Zeke locked his unyielding eyes on Jordan, saying, “Did you find it insightful?”

  Seeley’s inquisitive brow gathered looking at her. Jordan gave her mom a one-sided shoulder hike.

  “God has spoken to Markus, and he’s torn,” Zeke expounded. “He’s confused about his priorities and requires time. In the meantime, Jordan, Uri is your guardian. Not Markus. Don’t cause him grief like you did with Rafe. Understand?”

  Jordan crunched her entire face, so much so, that Zeke actually snickered.

  As if Ezekiel had called him forth, Uri sparkled to life. “Hello, love.” He blasted them with an effervescent smile. “Glad to see me?”

  With an uncharacteristic eye roll, Ezekiel fizzled into the ether.

  “Mom, this is Uri.” Jordan walked to the closet to snag her duffle bag. “I’m going to leave for Elma after lunch. Is that okay? I can borrow your car, can’t I?”

  “That’s fine,” Seeley said. “Er-r . . . nice to meet you, Uri. Take good care of my daughter.”

  “I’ll be on her tail like a dog in—” He stopped short, reading their eyes. “Oops, didn’t mean to say that. I’ll take care of her. Never fear.”

  With pursed lips, Seeley studied the new angel then headed out of the room.

  Jordan tossed the duffle onto her dresser and started opening drawers. “You can leave now,” she said to Uri, not looking at him. “As you can see, I’m not in any danger.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, love.” Uri transformed into corporal form and dive-bombed her bed. The mattress heaved as he crossed his ankles, propping his head on his hands. “You’re in plenty of danger. Danger of becoming arrogant and prideful. You need to be aware. Once I was selected to be your guardian, a bond was created. I feel your intentions in my bones, or spirit, so to speak.”

  Knowledge of Uri’s created bond propelled Jordan’s emotions into overdrive. She recollected Markus’s final words to her.

  ‘Our bond will never be broken.’

  In the process of packing her sneakers into the bag, she threw one at Uri’s head. He caught it easily. “Markus and I were bonded at my birth. You are not my guardian. I will never accept . . .” She trailed off, jamming clothes into the bag.

  “Sorry, love,” he said, holding the scruffy sneaker in his hand. “I didn’t mean to demote Markus.” He bounced off the bed to his feet. “Last night, you went out on your own to hunt for demons. That could’ve landed you six feet under.”

  “Isn’t that what I was born for?” She seized the duffle’s leather handle, flinging the bag over her shoulder and headed to the doorway. “Besides,” She halted, peering at him, “I called Markus, and he never showed.”

  “He never showed because, by that time, I was bonded as your guardian. Afterward, when I realized you had no idea that I’d be popping in, I swept the heavens looking for Markiel or what you call him, Markus.”

  “You mean Markus had already left me?” She cringed. The thought of him leaving her high and dry without an explanation was insufferable. “He had no intentions of ever seeing me again?”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” Uri scratched his fingers over his bicep. “Markus is having a bitch of a time—”

  “This is his decision.” Starting to seethe, Jordan ground her teeth. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for him when . . . when he left me?”

  “Humans will never fully comprehend our Father’s dogma.” Uri’s lightheartedness altered, sounding intelligent and full of vim and vigor for his Father. “People tend to tweak, bend, and rewrite doctrine throughout the ages. Most angels are obedient to our Father in every way.”

  “What does doctrine have to do with Markus and me?”

  “Everything.”

  A notion sparked in her brain, like puzzle pieces snapping into place. “Does this have something to do with Nephilim?” Her senses reeled. “That’s what Markus talked about the last time I saw him. The creation of Nephilim. Is that the problem?”

  “Hey, love, I think you’re trudging up the right path,” he said with a trace of integrity before returning to his facetious self by giving her two thumbs up. He disappeared, leaving Jordan with her thoughts.

  Traipsing into the kitchen, she stowed her bag on a chair and bellied up to the counter. Her mom was in the process of diagonally slicing two ham and tomato sandwiches, just the way Jordan liked them. Sprinkling potato chips on each plate, Seeley slid the sandwich to her.

  “I’m not that hungry.” Jordan popped a chip into her mouth and crunched. “Do you agree with Markus’s decision?”

  Seeley delayed commenting until she finished chewing. “I can only assume that Markus has similar feelings for you, and that’s why he felt the urgent need to—”

  “To leave me in the dust,” Jordan completed her mom’s sentence, exactly how she felt. “It’s not like we were going to start having Nephilim babies or anything like that.”

  “Jordan…” Choking on a chip, Seeley reached for the glass of lemonade. “You’re not being rational.”

  “Rational? Markus is part of me, and I’m part of him. What’s to rationalize?” She noted the sun brightening the room, though it didn’t lighten her mood. She shoved off with her arms. “I have to go.”

  “You haven’t taken a bite.” Seeley glimpsed the uneaten sandwich. “I hate to see you leaving in this frame of mind.”

  “I’m a head case right now,” Jordan said, sighing heavily. Her eyes began to fill. “That’s why I need to keep busy. I gotta go.”

  “When you see Thrill and your friends you’ll feel better.”

  HOME SWEET HOME

  PRIOR TO PULLING open the screen door of her grandparent’s home in Elma, Jordan drank in the sweet fragrance of homemade cookies.

  “You’re finally home.” With her arms outstretched, Emily engulfed her granddaughter. “Made you a treat.”

  Jordan snatched a lukewarm, gooey peanut butter cookie and smiled. “Thanks, Em. These are my favorite.”

  It’s good to be home.

  THE DAY HAD been hot and humid and Jordan was unsure how to dress for the party. She opted for a white-ribbed knit shirt, embellished with silver beads along the scooped neck, and shorts. She’d forgone trying to impress Thrill with her paltry fashion sense or to outshine Paisley.

  By nine o’clock in the evening, as t
he sun rode low in the sky, Thrill drove his Chevelle along Old Lakeshore Road to Bruce Wellington’s. With the windows rolled down, the wind roared through the interior, wreaking havoc with Jordan’s hair. Take It to the Morgue’s new single cranked through the speakers.

  She studied Thrill’s razored haircut and fine-tuned physique, thanks to an exacting regimen of football training. He kept the beat with his hand strumming on the steering wheel. Whistling, he tossed her a smile.

  “You’re awfully happy tonight,” she said, trying to keep her insubordinate hair from winding around her head.

  “Oh, yeah.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you came home. It’s going to be a good time.”

  He pulled into Bruce Wellington’s congested driveway. Built on the high-maintenance property was a rather oversized house, the kind that could’ve been featured in Architectural Digest.

  Vehicles were parked haphazardly over a stretch of manicured lawn and a clamor of voices wheeled through the air.

  Before she had a chance to move, Thrill embraced her shoulders and leaned to peck her on the lips. Entwining their fingers, he led her between lines of cars up the drive to the back yard. Glowing lights were strung between tree trunks and branches and draped over an in-ground pool and a finely constructed stone deck.

  “Was I supposed to bring a bathing suit?” she asked, spotting bikini-clad girls in the pool.

  “I forgot.” His dimples enhanced his features. “We can always skinny dip later.”

  “Yeah. Right,” she returned with more than a hint of mockery.

  Thrill received hails and backslapping from every side as they mingled. A group of boys drew him into a tactical football discourse.

  Viewing the partiers, Jordan spotted Rolly. She unlatched her hands from Thrill’s and moved to the deck. Cayden and Rolly lingered near a table overloaded with snacks. Jordan shoveled a hand into the pretzels. “Have you seen Paisley?”

  “Not yet,” said Cayden with her head spinning on its axis. “I’m waiting to meet this new guy.”