by A. J. Norris
He was falling, falling. His limbs flailed about his body, the wind strong; he couldn’t see, something covered his eyes, something white and soft. Whatever it was twisted and wrapped around his head. There was pain as sharp as two broken arms.
He tumbled through the air, spinning out of control toward Earth. Aza smacked the ground. He couldn’t move but he was breathing. The ground had cracked out from where he landed face first. He lifted his head for a few seconds and spat dirt, rocks, and blood out of his mouth. White and red feathers were scattered on the ground. He tried to flap his wings, but got only pain in return.
“About time. I’ve been waiting for you to make the right decision. Ra’zael,” a deep voice spoke next to his ear. Abaddon.
“I-I didn’t fall. No!” Aza wanted to run, except he was too weak. The Demon Lord snatched his battered body off the ground.
“You are fallen now. I felt you.”
“No,” he said, and began to pray to Deus.
“He can’t help you. Only I can, but first I must ruin you.” Aza was an angel no more.
That had been a long time ago, at least half a century or more. A tear streaked down his face. Julia made a noise beside him and sank to her knees. She rubbed her chest in circles. She always seemed to be doing that.
“Come. We must go,” he told her.
A scream, deep within her, ripped out of her throat. She pitched onto her side. Her back arched. “What’s happening?”
“Abaddon’s venom poisoned your soul.”
“Oh, God! It hurts!” Her body contorted. “It hur-hurts,” she whimpered.
“I know.” The former angel picked her up and carried her up the hill to the car. Fortunately, he’d learned to drive in the nineteen-sixties. He sat in the driver’s seat and rested his forehead on the steering wheel. He thought about what he had said to Elliott the Redeemer in Netherworld. At the time, they both were surprised by his choice of words: Everything here is a lie. He’d been more correct than he knew. Aza’zel wasn’t his true name, and goat-legged demon wasn’t his identity. Aza was Ra’zael the Guardian.
“Mother! Fuck!” He pounded his fist on the dashboard.
***
Getting back to the hotel was easy. Listening to Julia scream most of the way slayed him. About a mile from the hotel, she went silent. Her breaths dragged in and out of her. His chest tightened.
Oh, Deus.
Ra’zael stopped the car alongside the road three blocks from the hotel and carried her the rest of the way. After all, they’d stolen a car, and it undoubtedly had been reported to the authorities.
He received a few strange looks from other guests as he held her limp form in his arms. The elevator took its sweet time reaching the lobby. Ra’zael shifted his weight from one foot to the other waiting for the car to arrive. Ding!
Thank Deus.
He got on the elevator then growled at an elderly couple who wanted on too. The woman halted mid-step. “Oh…I beg your par—” Another growl and a curled lip stopped her objection to the rudeness. She backed off.
The polished brass-lined walls inside the elevator reflected his image. The sides of his beard started to grow fuller. He hated the long goatee dripping off his chin now. His dark hair flopped over his left eye. Julia moaned.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” he said. “We’re almost back to the room.”
He laid her on the bed on her stomach; he knew what was coming.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
Julia
The pain between Julia’s shoulder blades had eased to a dull ache. Aza ripped her shirt down the center of her back.
“What the—oh, God.” The hole-boring sensation returned. Shooting pains burrowed deep within her body. She felt a pop, then another, like her skin had been stretched and two holes poked through. “What’s hap-happening?”
Her vision blurred from tears, she sensed Aza looming over her. “Hang on. The pain will be over soon. I promise.”
Julia grabbed onto the sheets and twisted. Something moved within her body and pushed its way out of her back. Warm liquid oozed over her back and down her sides. She cried out, more from fear than pain.
Aza knelt on the floor next to the bed. His hands sought hers and latched on. “Breathe,” he said. “Just breathe.”
What is this—Lamaze? You breathe.
“Help…me…”
“There’s nothing I can do.”
She glanced over her shoulder. Whatever had sprouted out of her felt like another set of arms with no hands, only fingers. “Wha—”
“They’re wings, Julia.” He grinned at her.
“What are you grinning about? This isn’t good. This is…is…ah, I dunno what.” She wrenched around to get a better look. “Where are the—shouldn’t I have feathers? Where are all the feathers?”
“There are some.”
“Not many. I look like a naked chicken.”
Aza chuckled. “You do not.”
“They have goose bumps.”
He laughed.
“It’s not funny,” she said and pushed his hands away.
“They’ll grow in. I hope.”
“What do you mean, you hope?” Julia jumped off the bed. The wings stood straight out, perpendicular to her back. Her balance shifted and she listed side-to-side, forward and back. Her hands came up in time to keep her from bashing face-first into the wall. She steadied herself using the wall for support. The full-length mirror was five feet away, so she crept along.
Julia peered at her refection with one eye closed. Oh, they weren’t so bad. At the top, tuffs of downy black feathers covered the crests. Longer matte feathers hung from the bottoms. In between, a few scarce feathers clung to the skin.
“What am I supposed to do now?” she asked herself.
Aza appeared in the mirror behind her and scratched his head. “First you have to learn how to fold them.”
She crinkled her forehead.
“Just think about what you want them to do.”
Julia fluttered her wings. “Like this?” she asked, nearly knocking him over. He ducked and she giggled.
He glared at her. “Yeah, like that.”
Julia practiced folding and unfolding her wings against her back. She began to wonder about certain things. Could she still sleep on her back? What about flying?
“Am I an angel?” she gushed.
Aza took a deep breath. “There are things you need to know.”
She crinkled her nose. “I’m not an angel, am I?”
“Maybe you will be. Listen, you—”
She turned around to face him. “Something’s changed, you’re not—what were you crying about back there?”
His eyes bore through hers. “I wasn’t cry—”
“You had tears in your eyes, so I’d say you cried.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. “I remembered who I am, is all.”
“Well, that’s huge! Who are you?”
“My name is Ra’zael the Guardian. I’m an angel. Or I was at some point. I fell through the portal to Earth. That’s how I chipped my tooth.”
“You’re a fallen angel, then?”
“I didn’t fall,” he gritted out between clenched teeth.
“You just said you fell.”
“Not on purpose. Look—”
“How did you become a fallen angel? If it wasn’t on purpose, I mean.”
“I’m not a fallen angel, will you please stop saying that?”
“Okay, Ra’zael the Fallen Angel.”
“Really?” he said and she giggled. Ra’zael walked away muttering, “What am I going to do with you?”
A grin crept onto her face. “Oh, I think you can come up with something. I’ll let you touch me again.”
He halted on his way toward the bed, but didn’t turn around. Instead, his head pitched forward as if he was checking out his physical reaction to her enticement. His back stiffened and he took a deep breath. The growl that came out of him
next caused her core to weep.
“What do you have in mind?” he asked gruffly.
Julia sauntered toward the bed. Well, not exactly, she imagined she sauntered; it was more like she tottered forward awkwardly with the new weight on her back, trying not to face plant. She peeled her shirt the rest of the way off. As it was, the rag hung from her shoulders after he’d torn the back anyway.
Ra’zael gasped.
Julia carefully lay on the bed. Her wings were pliable enough so she could rest comfortably on her back. Okay, this was weird. She had grown wings and the first thing she thought about was sex.
Clearly, I’m out of my mind.
She put her hands over her head. Ra’zael shucked his shirt and undid the button of his jeans. A trail of dark hair started below his belly button and disappeared into the pants.
Hmmm sexy.
Her breath caught in the back of her throat.
He pulled her pants down her thighs and off. Next, the angel hooked a finger around the elastic band of her panties. The soft brush tickled the hollow between her hipbones. She quivered. “Oh, that tickles.”
“You like?”
“Take them off now,” she breathed. “Please.”
He slid his hand around and cupped her core through the cotton. “You’re soaking wet.”
Julia nodded. “Mm hm,” and bit down on her bottom lip. His eyes focused on her wings.
She blushed. “Don’t stare at them. They’re ugly.”
“Don’t say that. I was imagining what they will look like filled in. Beautiful.”
A smile perked the corner of her mouth. Why did she care what he thought of her wings? She didn’t even want the damn things, even if she had thought briefly they were cool. She wasn’t quite sure why they grew, except he’d said she’d been poisoned. By the Devil.
Really?
“Did you have wings once?” she asked Ra’zael.
“Yeah. Mine were white.” Ra’zael got a faraway look for a moment.
“Hey…I bet they were awesome. Is there any chance you could get them back?”
He smiled. “Yeah, and I know exactly who might have them too.”
“Who would—”
He yanked her panties down. “Oh! God!”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
Amalya
Amalya heard a gasp. She knew that gasp.
Oh, great.
Her insides seized; her niece, Hazel Stevens, stood behind her.
“I knew I’d find you eventually,” Hazel said. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Almost gave up.”
“Yeah, well, you found me.” Amalya glanced around the small brick and mortar bookstore. Fortunately, the place offered nooks and crannies to hide. She took Hazel by the arm and dragged her in between the tall stacks near the back of the store, loaded with indie books and rare out-of-print editions. The smell of old pages made her feel nostalgic for the hours she spent in the library as a kid with her nose stuck in a book. She waited for the older man in the alcove to vacate the area before she spoke to her niece.
“Look,” Amalya whispered, “I’m glad we met, but this isn’t healthy for you or me.”
“Why not?”
“I’m an angel, and technically dead to you and everyone you love.”
“I don’t care what you are. I was right about you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You saved that little boy. Right before you were…murdered.” Amalya closed her eyes and moaned under her breath. “Am I right?” Hazel asked.
“What does that have to do with anything? We can’t see each other. When I went to you, it was a mistake.”
“What mistake? You found that amulet at my apartment, didn’t you?”
Amalya sighed deeply. “I know, but I like living here and there are consequences for talking to people from my past.”
“Well, technically, I’m not from your past. We never met until after your death, remember? Twenty years after, I might add.”
If Amalya thought about it, that possibly might be the reason she’d not been reassigned to another region. However, she didn’t want to risk seeing her sister Genevieve, Hazel’s mother. What would happen with Elliott if she had to leave the area? Would he be able to join her? She looked at the ceiling. “You’re not going to leave me alone and let me walk away are you?”
The women stared at each other. Amalya didn’t want to be the first one to walk away. The act felt equivalent to turning her back on family. Not that she hadn’t done that in the past, however, she was an angel now. There were certain standards to live up to as a Redeemer. Although, she found that these standards were often self-enforced. For instance, the normal things that most humans believed were sins didn’t apply to angels with the exception of one law. Thou shalt not kill another angel. Discipline was doled out by the Creator of All Life. The other sins, like stealing and lust, were optional. She knew plenty of horny angels, including Virgil. Although, he always respected her and was never inappropriate.
The bells above the door of the bookstore jangled. Amalya stepped backward into the darkened corner. Hazel looked over her shoulder.
“Hazel? Are you in here?”
Amalya stiffened at the sound of her sister’s voice. “Don’t go anywhere,” Hazel mouthed to her then said aloud, “We’re back here, Mom.” Hazel stuck her head around the bookcase.
“Oh, there you are. I was—”
“Will you come over here…please?” Hazel waved her mother over.
“Hazel. No,” Amalya hissed. “If I wanted to see her—oh forget it.” She pictured her apartment, imagining Elliott waiting for her.
“It’ll be fine, Amal—”
Poof.
***
Hazel
“Who are you talking to?” Hazel’s mother asked her.
Apparently, no one.
“Amalya,” Hazel said.
Genevieve frowned. “That’s not funny.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be.”
“You’re starting to scare me. I thought you put this silly nonsense behind you. My sister is dead.”
Hazel threw her hands up in the air. “I know, Mom.”
“If you know this, then why are you pretending to have conversations with her?”
“You heard me talking to someone, didn’t you hear another voice?”
“No.”
“Forget it. You don’t understand. I know she’s dead, but she’s an ange—”
“Stop. Will you listen to yourself? Even if angels did exist, there’s no way my sister would be one.”
“She’s not as bad as you think she is.”
“Was.”
“If she doesn’t exist, then why do I know her nickname for you is Mule?” Her mother had no response or explanation for Hazel knowing this detail. She blinked at Hazel, like the two other times she’d brought the nickname up. Likely, her mother wanted to say something, but kept her mouth shut. “Can’t figure that one out, can you?”
Genevieve rubbed her closed eyelids.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
Amalya
Elliott was dozing on the couch when Amalya teleported home. He was lying on his stomach with his cheek resting on the cushion, his wings folded against his back. Mussed hair partially covered his face. By the way the throw pillows were strewn about the floor, he’d rolled around on the sofa several times before finding a comfortable position. Every time Amalya returned to the apartment, she was struck by how gorgeous her mate was. His white hair was a stark contrast to his onyx eyes and dark eyebrows. She found that all angels had some characteristic that was either unique or made them stand out among the humans. Even Virgil had turquoise colored-eyes with flecks of dark brown, reminding her of robin’s eggs. She sat down in the recliner across from him and closed her eyes, emotionally and physically exhausted from her encounter with Hazel.
“Hey, smartest person I know.”
Amalya was startled awake. A s
econd passed before she realized Elliott was the one looming over her. ‘Smartest person I know’ was their way of saying I love you, not that the traditional words weren’t used.
She smiled crookedly and looked up at him with half-mast eyes. “Hi, genius.”
Elliott chuckled. “That never gets old.”
“I missed you today.”
“Only today? Uh oh, I know that look.”
“What look?”
“The one where your eyebrows meet at the bridge of your nose. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing…” Amalya sighed long and hard until all the air left her lungs before she inhaled again.
“Right.”
“I ran into Hazel.” Her shoulders sagging, she rubbed her hands down her face. “It’s so exhausting. I wish…I dunno…it’s funny, I didn’t miss my family that much before I died, and now…”
“What?” Elliott’s eyes were impossibly unreadable, shiny black on black. They searched her face. Or bored through her.
“It’s just now, I want a family, you know?”
He looked away and said softly. “I get it.”
“I didn’t mean that you aren’t my family now. It’s just—”
“It’s all right. I understood what you meant. You miss what you can never have with them again.”
“It’s weird though, I never knew my niece before. Christ, she was two when I died.”
“She’s your sister’s daughter, a part of Genevieve. Still family.” Elliott stretched his hand out to her. “Come here, beautiful.”
Amalya accepted his hand and he pulled her into a hug. She rested her cheek on his chest. “Thank you for listening.”
Elliott placed a kiss on the top of her head. “Guess what? Virgil is on task.”
“Oh, really?” She grinned. This meant they had the apartment all to themselves and more importantly, the bed. Snaking an arm around him, she caressed his butt. The instant her hand made contact with this intimate zone, they both felt the electricity of their bond. Her heart pounded with anticipation. He cupped her cheek and passed his thumb over her lips. In the next second, they were kissing. Not breaking their kiss, Elliott swooped her off her feet and carried her into the bedroom. He slammed the door with his foot in case the other angel came home earlier than was expected.
