I closed the door softly then stumbled to my unmade bed. Even with the sound of the rain on the roof, the house was too quiet. Although Mom hadn’t been there in almost two weeks, her absence was final now. There was no hope of her ever returning. The house felt emptier without her in the world.
The tears still didn’t come as my mind shied away from the pain. Somehow, crying would be the ultimate acknowledgment of what I had lost. Unable to sleep, I balled up under the covers and stared at the pattern the street lamp made on the wall as it shone through the branches of a tree.
***
“I’d been given a task I agreed to only because it was Rowen who asked.” ~Caius
Chapter 2
Several days later I stood under a blue canopy in the cemetery as the rain fell in a steady beat beyond. I felt detached from the proceedings. Mom was the tether that connected me to the world and without her, I was just drifting on the breeze.
My sister and the lady from the funeral home, whose name I had forgotten, sat in the folding chairs. That was it. No one else was there to remember the incredible woman my mother had been. I stared at the coffin, tuning out the preacher next to it who was going on about death, Heaven, and whatever else. The funeral was nothing big, just a small graveside service with a plain coffin. None of it mattered, Mom wasn’t there anyway. I knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt.
Letting my gaze wander, I looked out across the cemetery. It was a peaceful sort of place. Quiet, except for the pattering of rain. Plenty of trees bordered it, dulling the sounds of the city. Bright fall leaves stood out against their darker evergreen neighbors. Other than our little canopy covered group, there was only one other person who stood a few grave sites away staring at a tombstone.
His inky black hair was plastered to his head by the rain which he didn’t seem to notice. I wondered who was in the grave, who he grieved for. As if he felt me watching him, the man turned and looked straight at me.
A shiver of fear ran down my spine as his molten gold eyes—a color that couldn’t be natural—bored into mine. Though he appeared to be in his mid-twenties, there was a hardness to his face that made me wonder if he was older than he looked. There was nothing friendly in his gaze. Too stubborn to look away, I glared back. His expression turned calculating and slightly amused.
The snap of the preacher’s bible closing brought me back to the reason I was here.
The funeral began to break up as the preacher approached me. I knew he was speaking to me, but I wasn’t paying attention. I could only stare at the box that contained the only person in the world to ever fully accept me. After a moment when the preacher finally seemed to realize I wasn’t going to answer, he turned to Victoria.
I didn’t notice the others leave until Victoria touched my arm, drawing me from my reverie. It was just us. The preacher and the funeral home lady had already departed. Even glaring-grave-visitor-guy was gone. The cemetery seemed empty though I knew somewhere, lingering out of sight, were the graveyard workers, waiting for us to leave so they could get to work entombing my mother in the ground.
As I turned away, something caught my eye. Under the trees at the edge of the cemetery, slowly getting soaked by the rain, stood the man in the black cloak. “That guy is here.”
Startled, Victoria followed my gaze. “What do you think he wants?”
“He said he knows who our dad is, remember?” I certainly hadn’t forgotten.
“Do you think he does?” Victoria grabbed her lower lip between her teeth, a sure sign she was worried.
I rolled my eyes. She never did anything risky. Ever. I looked pointedly at the coffin. “What do we have to lose?”
She hesitated so I gave her a gentle push in his direction. Finally, Victoria started toward him. The wet grass slowly soaked my canvas sneakers as I walked next to her. My stomach spent the short time tying itself in knots. Honestly, who goes to speak to a strange, black-cloaked man in a cemetery? Yeah, I had suggested it, but I didn’t completely lack a sense of self-preservation.
When we stopped in front of him, I said, “So who are you?”
He kept his hands folded inside the sleeves of his cloak, which made me slightly nervous though I showed none of it.
The rain made rivulets down the dark skin of his bald head. He didn’t seem to care. “My name is Rowen. You are?”
“I’m Jo. You said you know who our father is.” I crossed my arms over my chest to hold in some of my body heat as the cold rain continued to fall.
He nodded as his eyes appraised Victoria. “What is your name?”
“Victoria. Jo’s sister.”
Rowen looked at me then back at Victoria. “Sister?”
I could understand his confusion; we couldn’t look more different. We didn’t even have the same color eyes. Mine were the same soft green as Mom’s, while Victoria’s were crystal blue. “What do you know of our father? Do you know where he is?”
“His name is Elijah. I don’t know where he is. Nobody knows. However, where he is doesn’t matter at the moment.”
Victoria shook her head. “This is silly. You claim to know who our father is, yet you offer no proof.”
I agreed with her. If he didn’t know where the man was, it wasn’t much help to just know his first name. “What’s his last name?”
“He has no last name. Where he is from, there is no such thing,” Rowen said, meeting my gaze.
Victoria shivered and pulled her light sweater closer as the rain dripped off her hair, not that it would do much good since the sweater was wet, too. “Where is he from that no one has a last name?”
“Where isn’t as important as what,” Rowen said. He seemed to consider something before asking, “You both saw your mother’s spirit in the hospital?”
I really didn’t want to admit to that because it made me look like I was losing my mind, but found myself nodding anyway, along with Victoria. If only one of us saw it, then I could have passed it off as nothing more than a hopeful wish from someone who had just lost the most important person in the world. It wasn’t only one of us, though.
“You both saw me there even when no one else in the room did,” Rowen said. “You saw into the veil, saw your mother leave with me.” He waited while we let that sink in.
Victoria and I exchanged confused looks. Then the pieces of the puzzle clicked together in my mind. I sucked in a breath. Mom’s tales were always full of things about veils and those who crossed them. But they weren’t real. “So what are you supposed to be?”
“I am a reaper of souls.”
The words sent a shiver of fear through me.
Victoria took a step back. “An angel of death?”
The question ended on a flat note. I knew she was thinking the same thing I was. We were talking to a madman. What we’d seen the hospital made no sense, but this made even less.
“Not in the way you are thinking.” He smiled slightly. “I was here for your mother. You could see us through the veil because you are both part angel. You asked me where your father came from that there are no last names. He came from the Heavens. He was an angel.”
“An angel.” I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. “Like stand at the right hand of God, have wings, and all of that stuff?”
“No.” Rowen shook head. “Only Archangels stand next to the gods in the Heavens, they are the only angels with wings. Their power is far greater than the Soldier Angel your father was.”
I held up a hand. “Wait, was?”
Why the past tense? And how could he have been an angel? Weren’t they supposed to be all perfection and whatnot? Angels weren’t supposed to abandon people.
Rowen frowned. “Angels are not to cross the veil. There are strict laws against it. And even stricter laws against lying with mortals. Conceiving children with a mortal is possibly the worst crime an angel can commit, besides creating one with a demon.” He sighed, his expression troubled. “Elijah was cast out of the Heavens for his transgressions. He is now a fallen ange
l. It doesn’t change the fact both of you are half-angel. It doesn’t change that you don’t belong in the mortal world.”
“Mortal world?” I raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “So we’re what, going to live forever or something?”
“It’s possible, yes,” Rowen confirmed.
My head spun. There was no way any of this was real, the guy was a whack job. Maybe he was out of whatever meds he was on. The skepticism I felt must have shown on my face because he looked like he was going to attempt to continue convincing us, but I’d heard enough. I glanced at Victoria and saw the same disbelief I felt reflected in her eyes.
“I think,” I said slowly, “that we should go.”
Victoria nodded, taking a step back.
“Please,” his expression became something between worried and pleading, “Just hear me out, I can prove it if you will just come with me. It isn’t safe for you here anymore. Your mother’s death unveiled you. Others will be able to sense you.”
This just got creepier than it already was. He wanted us to go with him so he could supposedly prove his delusions? Yeah because going off to who-knows-where with a strange man was something any sensible young woman would do. Not. I didn’t care what this Rowen guy thought he was, I wasn’t about to become one of his victims.
I started backing up, my hand on Victoria’s arm pulling her with me. “We really need to go now.”
Rowen took a step forward as if to follow us, but stopped. As we turned and hurried across the cemetery to my car, I was suddenly grateful to the gravediggers who were still there, waiting for us to leave so they could close my mother’s grave.
I slid into the driver’s seat as Victoria hurriedly scrambled into the passenger side. Without a word, I started the car and locked the doors. What was there to say? A crazy man who thought he was an angel had tried to convince us to go with him. No matter what Mom’s tales said, they were just that, tales. Stories she spun for us when we were little.
I drove through the pouring rain, unable to forget why we’d been at the cemetery as I tried to mentally shake off the meeting with the crazy guy. I glanced at my sister. Victoria wasn’t dealing well. She never dealt with this kind of thing well and I knew that with the weird meeting over, it was all hitting home for her. I was the one who dealt with the funeral home, made arrangements, spoken to the lawyer about Mom’s will that left the house and a large inheritance to the two of us.
It wasn’t that it was any easier for me. I’d just learned, thanks to bullies, that it was better to not feel some things. Feeling it meant reacting to it. And reacting was a sign of weakness to the outside world. Happiness, love, even anger were okay. Hurt wasn’t. Hurt made people want to hurt you more. Where this wasn’t the same type of situation, my response was the same. It was a self-defense reflex. Not a healthy one, but who said life was healthy.
***
“She met my glare with one of her own, unaware of how vulnerable she was.” ~Caius
Chapter 3
After parking the car in the driveway, I dragged myself into the house. Tossing my keys and purse on the counter, I stared at the kitchen, at a loss for what to do. For so long, my life revolved around my mother’s illness, then around getting everything arranged. Now I was at loose ends. Victoria headed up to her room. She knew me well enough to leave me alone. I wasn’t a comfort seeker, my misery didn’t like company.
I figured I should make dinner or something, except neither of us had been to the grocery store recently. There weren’t a lot of options beyond ketchup sandwiches. Victoria’s voice filtered down the stairs as she talked with someone on the phone. Her misery loved company.
The gathering darkness beyond the window was aided by the heavy clouds making it seem later than it was, even with the rain tapering off. There were some fast food places a few blocks from the house, it wouldn’t take long to run and get something for dinner. I dug some cash out of my purse, reached for my keys then paused. Driving would be faster, but an edgy, restlessness settled over me. What I wanted to do most was walk, the action always helped me de-stress, to clear my mind. I desperately needed that right now.
Pulling on my raincoat in case the rain picked up, I scribbled a note for Victoria then walked out the door. A light mist still came down; the moisture sparkled in the light of the streetlamps as I followed the sidewalk two blocks down then turned the corner. Another three blocks ahead, the lights of the busier road and fast food places lit up the night.
A prickle ran over my skin. I glanced behind me. Other than a few cars, and someone several houses back checking their mail as they came home from work, there was nothing. I shook it off. Probably still weirded out by the crazy guy at the cemetery.
I spent the rest of the way letting the exercise help settle my emotions into a place I could deal with. When I reached the busier street, I went to the nearest fast food place and ordered cheeseburgers and fries. We did have things to drink at home, which was a relief; I didn’t want to carry a drink tray.
After paying for and collecting the food, I cut across the parking lot, in a hurry to get home. The last of the light penetrating the clouds abandoned me as full night settled in. My pace quickened, the sound of my shoes hitting the wet pavement loud in the rain-soaked night. I should have driven. A small sigh of relief escaped me when I turned the corner to my street. Just two more blocks.
Once more, there was a sense of being watched. I took a careful look around. The street was empty. Lights glowed through the windows of the houses around me, but no one was outside. A flash of gold three houses back caught my attention. It disappeared before I could see anything. Maybe the streetlamp reflecting the eyes of a cat or something. A tall, hooded man passed under another streetlamp a block away.
His facial features were obscured by the deep shadows of his hood. Something about him raised the hairs on my arms as my gut screamed danger. I turned away and sped up, anxious now to be home.
I flew up the steps so fast I nearly tripped and face-planted on the small porch. Thankfully, I caught myself in time then practically threw myself through the door, slamming it behind me and twisting the deadbolt into place.
Taking a few shaky breaths, I set the food on the small kitchen island. The cozy warmth, lights, and cheery yellow walls made my mad dash into the house seem ridiculous. An active imagination was a blessing until I managed to scare myself silly for no real reason.
Chuckling ruefully, I pulled the food from the sack before hollering for Victoria. Grabbing a couple of sodas from the fridge, I set them on the island next to the food. I would need to make tea soon. Soda got tiring after a while.
When she came down, her eyes were red and puffy, her complexion splotchy. I almost started to tell her about my stupid behavior, but changed my mind. She would probably worry and there was no point in bothering her with my overactive imagination. Especially since there was nothing to worry about.
We ate in silence. Although Victoria likely wanted nothing more than to talk about our shared pain, it was a desire that was hers alone. I had successfully buried the pain while on my walk, locked it up behind walls in my mind where I was emotionally safe from it. As long as I didn’t talk about it or delve into it, I would be okay. Maybe someday, when it was distanced by time, I would take it out and look at it. Or not. Whatever.
When we finished, I started clearing up the trash. Victoria hovered as if she too were at a loss. Though she didn’t handle the aftermath as well as me, or maybe she was handling it better since she was actually dealing with it, she’d been as much a caretaker of Mom as I had been. It would take a little bit for either of us to figure out what to do.
Maybe I would go to college or finally get a job. We’d always lived on Mom’s huge inheritance. By the time I was old enough to get a job and have my own money, Mom was sick. Since half the money from that inheritance was now mine, I didn’t have to work, but I didn’t much care for the sense of drifting that consumed me now. I needed a direction, a purpose. Unfortunately,
there wasn’t much I could do about it at that moment.
After Victoria finally realized I wasn’t in the mood for communication, she disappeared into her bedroom again. I grabbed my purse and trudged upstairs. Tossing the purse into my bedroom on the way by, I headed for the bathroom. When the water in the shower ran hot, I stripped out of the clothes I’d worn to the funeral and stepped under the spray. The heat relaxed the tension in my shoulders and I stood under it for a long time after I was clean, willing it to soak away the buried sorrow. It didn’t.
With a sigh, I shut off the water and dried off. Victoria’s door was closed as I headed to my room. Her muffled voice filtered through from the other side. If I was any kind of good sister, I would be there for her now. But that would mean actually facing the pain and I wasn’t ready for that.
I pulled on a pair of comfortable sweats, a t-shirt, and pair of fuzzy socks. Dark circles underscored my eyes, making my ivory skin seem paler as I stood in front of the mirror over my dresser and worked the wet tangles out of my long hair.
Turning, I stared at my bed, debating whether or not I wanted to crawl in it. In the end, I made my way downstairs to the long, narrow living room and flopped down on the couch. The television hung dark and silent on the wall across from me. The idea of watching it didn’t appeal. It didn’t seem right to fill the quiet with all of the bright color and noise of a show or movie. Laying my head on the throw pillows, I listened to the sound of the rain against the windows as it picked up again.
***
Confusion clouded my mind when I snapped awake. It took a moment to remember I had lain down on the couch, not in my room. The glowing clock on the wall said it was five-thirty in the morning, which accounted for the lack of light outside the windows. What woke me? Some deep instinct said to be silent. Slowly, carefully, I eased off the couch. All the hairs on my neck and arms stood up. The light from the kitchen barely reached the living room, leaving most of it in darkness.
Unveiled (Raven Daughter Book 1) Page 2
