War Angel Contingent (Everlasting Fire Series, Book 1)

by S. J. West

  “Actually Zane’s wife, Verati, mentioned them to me yesterday. She told me I should ask Ethan about them, but, as you know, our dinner date ended abruptly last night, and we didn’t get to talk much. Are you trying to tell me you and Malcolm fell instantly in love because you’re soul mates?”

  “More or less. We had our problems in the beginning like any other couple, but we quickly worked them out.”

  “So how do you find your soul mate? Dumb luck?”

  Anna laughs. “I suppose you could think of it that way, but I would rather view it as divine intervention.”

  “I assume not everyone gets to meet their soul mate …”

  “That’s right. Only a small percentage of us are lucky enough to find the match to our soul. I’m just thankful I happened to be one.”

  “So …” I say, dragging out the word while I think of how to phrase my next question. “How exactly do you know when you’ve met your soul mate? Do the angels start singing in Heaven and alert you to their presence?”

  “The Heavenly Host does sing loudly, but not quite loud enough to cross the veil between Heaven and Earth. Honestly, it varies from person to person. Those of us who possess angelic traits instantly know when we’ve met our soul mate. Pure humans, on the other hand, simply sense that there’s something special about the other person. They tend to feel almost instantly comfortable and attracted to their soul mate for reasons they don’t understand.”

  Well, that’s certainly interesting information.

  “And you said that angels instantly know when they’ve met their soul mate?” I ask, just to clarify.

  “Yes.”

  The plot thickens.

  “And if a certain angel met his soul mate,” I ask, “would he tell that person about their connection?”

  “Not necessarily,” Anna replies with a great deal of caution. It’s almost as if she wants to be careful not to tell me too much about this soul mate business.

  “Why not?” I have to know.

  “The easiest way for me to answer that question would be for me to tell you what Zane did when he first met Verati. Now, Zane knew instantly that Verati was his soul mate, but he didn’t tell her until after he courted her and she agreed to be his wife.”

  “Why did he wait so long to tell her?”

  “He wanted her to fall in love with him on her own, not because it was a predestined connection. There is a certain amount of free will that can come into play, especially when you’re human. Just because two people are soul mates doesn’t necessarily mean that they’ll like everything about each other. One of them could slurp their soup the wrong way, or snort when they laugh, or tell bad jokes. There are numerous things that can get on your nerves enough to cause you not to want to spend the rest of your life married to the other person. From what I understand, that sort of situation happens very rarely, but it can happen. Sometimes soul mates simply remain best friends and never take it any further than that. Zane wanted to earn Verati’s love and not let the fact that they’re soul mates make up her mind for her. Does that make sense?”

  I nod. “Yeah. It does actually. He just didn’t want her to feel obligated to love him back.”

  “Precisely.”

  “Too bad I’m not part angel,” I unintentionally muse out loud.

  “Oh?” Anna questions me with a slight tilt of her head and an almost eager look on her face. “Why is that, Jules?”

  I shrug, not really wanting to give her my answer but knowing I have to say something. Otherwise, I’m being rude, and I don’t want to be rude to Anna.

  “It would just make life a whole lot easier.”

  Anna seems to understand that I want to drop the subject. She doesn’t push it. She simply holds out her hand to me.

  “We should go back to Cirrus before Malcolm and Ethan come searching for us,” she tells me.

  “I don’t want to lie to Ethan about this,” I say adamantly. “You’re not going to ask me to, are you?”

  Anna shakes her head. “I would never ask you to lie on my behalf, Jules. Lies tend to lead to more problems than they solve.”

  I couldn’t agree with her more.

  I place my hand on Anna’s, and she instantly phases us back to the veranda outside her quarters in the Cirrus palace.

  As soon as we walk into the sitting room, I see Ethan pacing back and forth behind the couch while Malcolm and Lucas play with the babies on the floor.

  Ethan sees us first and comes to an abrupt halt.

  “Did the two of you enjoy your little chat with Helena?” he asks scathingly.

  The anger I see on Ethan’s face surprises me. I knew he would be upset, but he seems practically livid. His face is so red, I fear it might explode at any second.

  “I believe it was a productive discussion,” Anna answers, unflustered by Ethan’s obvious rage and disappointment in her actions. “We encouraged her to go see Desmond. I’m not sure she will, but hopefully we gave her enough reasons to seek him out for his medical advice. I’m sure after she heard how Jules lost her own son that she’ll reconsider not finding help of some sort.”

  The anger on Ethan’s face almost instantly disappears after hearing Anna’s words. He looks at me, and I don’t shy away from his questioning gaze.

  “You lost a child?” he questions me in a soft voice. He looks like he’s sure he misheard Anna’s words.

  “I’m so sorry,” Anna says as she looks over at me with an immense amount of regret. “I just assumed that if Helena knew the story, it was probably something you had already told Ethan.”

  “It’s okay,” I reassure her. “It’s not exactly a secret.”

  “I’m sorry you lost your baby, Ms. Jules,” Lucas tells me from his spot on the floor next to his father. His cherubic face shows how upset he is for me over my loss.

  “It happened a long time ago,” I tell him before forcing myself to look back at Ethan.

  His gaze is averted as he stares at some unknown object on the floor a few feet away. He must sense me looking at him because he finally slides his gaze up and over to meet mine again. A strange silence settles over the room, suddenly making us all feel uncomfortable. I quickly think of something to say to break the unwanted tension.

  “Before Helena left us,” I tell him, “she told me to suggest that you check up on Xander. She made it sound like he’s in some sort of trouble on Laed-i.”

  “Maybe I should go speak with him,” Anna volunteers. “Sometimes, I’m the only one he’ll listen to.”

  “Let me go there first to see if it’s something I can handle,” Ethan tells her. “If your intervention is needed, I’ll let you know.”

  “Either way,” Anna tells him, “keep me informed about what’s going on and how much trouble he’s gotten himself into this time.”

  Ethan nods his head in her direction as he walks over to me. “I’ll gather what information I can and let you know what I discover.” He looks at me and asks, “Would you like to accompany me to Laed-i?”

  “Sure. As long as you don’t think I’ll get in the way.”

  “You won’t,” Ethan says confidently.

  “Wait,” Anna says to me, “I haven’t given you your gold yet. We still owe you the half payment for your help with Helena.”

  “I hate to ask, but do you think you could give it to the Arcas Orphanage for me? I was going to give it to them anyway, and it would save me the hassle of arranging the donation to them.”

  Anna smiles. She seems pleased with my plan, but she’s classy enough not to make a big deal out of it.

  “I will have someone handle the details for you,” she promises.

  “Thank you.”

  “Oh,” she says as if just remembering something else, “has Ethan had a chance to mention the royal introduction party we’re having for the twins here tomorrow night?”

  “Yes. He invited me and my family. I’m pretty sure we’re all coming. I know my mom and I will be there, and usually my uncle ends up being
my mom’s date to social functions like that.”

  “Wonderful,” Anna says with a pleased smile. “I look forward to seeing you all tomorrow then.”

  Ethan places his hand on my right shoulder and phases us away from Cirrus.

  I expected him to take us directly to Laed-i to track down Xander, but instead, he phases us to the white gazebo on the planet where we attempted to have our first date. Everything has been cleared away from the inside of it, leaving it empty.

  “I thought we were going to find Xander,” I say, seeing no reason for us to be here.

  “We will in a moment,” he replies with a troubled frown on his face as he looks at me. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right first. I know you didn’t want me to know about your son’s death, and I wanted to make sure that the fact that I do know isn’t bothering you.”

  “It’s not that I didn’t want you to know,” I’m quick to correct him. “We just haven’t had much time to talk about a lot of things from our past.”

  “Yet you found the time to confide in Helena about it,” he points out, sounding confused on why I would tell his mortal enemy anything about my life, much less something so deeply personal.

  “I only told her because I hoped it would convince her to seek medical attention when it’s time for her son to be born. I don’t habitually go around telling people about the darkest times in my life. If you want to know what happened, I am more than willing to tell you now.”

  “I would like to know, but only if you want to tell me. I don’t want you to feel obligated to do it.”

  I glance over to the entrance of the gazebo, which faces the magenta ocean on this planet. It’s daytime here, and the sun’s reflection causes the water to shine like glass.

  “Why don’t we go over to the steps and sit down?” I suggest.

  Without a word, Ethan follows me to the edge of the entrance, and we take a seat, allowing our feet to rest on the second step of the gazebo.

  I go on to tell Ethan about the loss of my son, secretly hoping this is the last time I have to repeat the entire story to anyone. What I told Ethan is true. I don’t go around telling my sad tale to anyone who will listen to it. In fact, Helena was the first person I ever told personally. My mother and uncle took care of telling the people we knew in town what happened. I just couldn’t bring myself to talk about it. Then, when Timothy died, I completely shut people out of my life, except for my mom and uncle. I probably would have stayed away from them too, but they wouldn’t let me be a shut-in. In fact, it was my uncle who first suggested I become a bounty hunter, even though he seems to regret his suggestion now because he thinks it’s too dangerous. He knew me well enough to realize that I would be more likely to leave my apartment if I had a job to keep me busy. I’m grateful for my uncle’s intervention because hunting down criminals on my own timetable has literally been a lifesaver. If I didn’t have something worthwhile to do during my days, I would probably be spending them drinking, just like I do my nights. With that thought in mind, I realize last night was the first night in almost five years that I didn’t need the added help of alcohol to fall asleep, just a man who made me feel safer than I’ve felt in a long time and a warm shoulder to snuggle against. The thought ends up being quite sobering.

  After I finish my tale of the tragic events which led to my son’s death, Ethan remains silent as he considers my story.

  Finally, he says, “I can’t imagine the emotional pain you’ve had to endure since then. How long afterwards did your husband die?”

  “Exactly a year,” I answer, unable to prevent myself from remembering the night I found Timothy’s body. An unwanted picture of the scene I discovered in the cabin that night flashes through my mind. I shiver slightly, still remembering the bloodcurdling scream I heard come out of my mouth when I found him. It was in that moment that the first seed of guilt took root inside my heart and grew with each passing day.

  “Exactly?” Ethan questions me, looking a little shocked and a lot confused by my answer.

  As he considers the possibilities for such an unlikely coincidence, I can tell when he settles on the reason why.

  “He killed himself,” Ethan states without a tinge of questioning in his voice.

  All I can do is nod because the words I need to say don’t readily organize themselves within my mind as a coherent sentence. I want to tell Ethan exactly what happened and my role in Timothy’s death, but I know once I say them, he may never look at me the same way again. I’m not sure I can handle that, but I do know that the longer I keep this a secret from him, the harder it will be for me to come clean about what I did.

  I turn my gaze away from Ethan and stare out at the ocean, quietly studying the waves as they crash against the shoreline. I haven’t personally told anyone besides my mother and uncle what I found inside the cabin that night. The police who came to handle the scene didn’t need to ask me what happened either. It was obvious what Timothy had done, but what wasn’t so clear was the reason behind his actions. Only I knew that, and only I could have saved him from himself.

  “After the death of our son,” I begin, keeping my gaze steady on the ocean, because if I don’t, I might chicken out and not tell Ethan everything I need to, “Timothy and I drifted apart. I was told by the psychiatrist I saw later that the loss of a child can have one of two effects on a couple. They’ll either become closer than they were before the incident because they use one another to lean on or they drift apart. Timothy and I ended up being the latter of those two options, but that was all my doing. I was so … angry … at him that I verbally abused him every day for a year and laid all the blame for our son’s death on his shoulders. I honestly don’t know why he even stayed with me. The only reason I’ve been able to come up with is that he didn’t want me to be alone. I think he kept hoping I would eventually work through my anger and ultimately forgive him for what happened, but even now after everything, I can’t seem to do that.” I take in a deep breath because I know the worst part of the story is yet to come. “That night … on the first anniversary of our son’s death … he left me a note in our apartment in town. Not the place I live in now. This one was a lot larger and nicer because we were preparing to start a family. The note asked me to come up to the cabin so he and I could talk and try to figure out what direction we wanted to take our relationship. I was livid when I read the note. I couldn’t believe he wanted me to make that drive, on that night of all nights. But I did. I drove like a mad woman up that mountain, just so I could chew him out once I got there. As soon as I stepped inside the cabin, I could feel that something was wrong. I didn’t see or hear Timothy, and I sensed an emptiness there that told me something bad had happened. I began to walk through the house calling out his name, even though I knew in my heart that he wouldn’t be answering me back. I finally found him dangling with a noose around his neck from the railing on the second floor. He had a note that he had written to me safety-pinned to the front of his shirt.”

  I have to stop for a moment to catch my breath as I remember what Timothy’s last words to me were.

  “What did the note say?” Ethan asks, encouraging me to purge myself of a memory that’s haunted me for five long years.

  “He told me not to blame myself for what he did because he hadn’t been able to forgive himself for our son’s death either. He said he decided to end his life this way because it was his fault that our son choked to death trying to be born. By leaving the world in a similar fashion, Timothy said he hoped it would make me feel like justice had finally been served.”

  “He should have never written a letter like that to you,” Ethan says, sounding angry at Timothy. “The only purpose it served was to make you feel guilt over a decision he alone made to end his life.”

  “But he was right,” I say, finally working up the courage to force myself to look over at Ethan and make my confession. “A part of me did feel like justice had been served. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I
might not have physically tied the noose around his neck, but my anger and harsh words led him to kill himself. I may have blamed him for our son’s death, but we both made the decision to go to the cabin alone that night and home birth our child. Timothy’s death was exclusively my fault. I pushed him to do it. I may not have consciously known it at the time, but I never gave him the opportunity to recover from the loss of our son. I focused all of my anger and pain on him because I couldn’t figure out any other way to cope with the agony I felt. I killed him, Ethan. My anger and inability to forgive killed Timothy. I’m not sure what that says about me as a person, but it can’t be good.”

  Ethan slowly shakes his head. “You didn’t kill him, Jules, and I’m not just saying that to make you feel better about what happened. I don’t think you will ever feel right about it no matter what I or anyone else says. But you need to realize that Timothy killed himself. Once a person makes the decision to end their own life, it’s hard to talk them out of it.”

  “But I pushed him to commit suicide!” I argue, unwilling to shirk the role I played in my husband’s death. “I told him a hundred times that I wished he had died in the accident instead of our son. How many times can a person hear that and not start to believe it’s true? If I’m being honest, there were even times I wanted Timothy to die. I wanted him out of my home and out of my life forever.”

  “Then why didn’t you ask him to leave?” he asks. “Why did you let him stay with you?”

  The question brings me up short because I have never considered it before.

  “I don’t know,” I say in a whisper, continuing to think about the reason I never asked Timothy to leave the apartment we shared. “I probably should have.”

  “I don’t think you hated him as much as you think you did, or you wouldn’t have taken his death so hard. There was probably a part of you that still loved him back then. Maybe subconsciously you hoped time would heal your pain and the two of you could eventually work back to where you were before the death of your son.”