by White, L. C
***
He pulls up by the curb, shuts down the engine, and leans to rest the bike against his leg. We both don’t move for a few seconds. I’m clinging onto him, and onto the hope he might want to talk some more, but he remains still. So I rein in my pathetic feelings, and dismount the saddle.
I have left my dignity back where we had coffee, and I need to get it back. I need to remember how he irritated the shit out of me, so I can just turn away from him and storm off.
I pull off the helmet, straighten out my hair with my fingers, and hold it out to him. His head turn slowly. I thrust the helmet into his chest, finally managing to make myself look like a strong woman. With a quick turn I march up the porch steps, cursing him under my breath.
I yank my bag off my shoulders, and my hand roots deep inside for my front door keys. My arm is grabbed from behind. I know it’s him, but I can’t pluck up the courage to tell him to piss-off.
“I’m here to protect you Beth. Not fall,” he says.
I swing my head around to face him. “Protect me from what?”
“We’ve already had this conversation,” he says, more mystic than ever.
I’ve just had about enough of this. I take on the role of bitch. Quickly, I find my keys, open the front door, and drag him inside.
I push him into the lounge and toss my keys onto the coffee table, along with my bag. I pace a few steps back and forth. My bitch has now vanished, and I can’t think of a thing to say to him. I’m angry, confused, and so in need of his lips on mine. I’ve never felt this way before, and I need a frigging explanation.
“You also did a lot of that,” he adds.
His comment makes me stop sharp. My brow tenses as I look across to him. Have I just invited a psychopath into my house?
“What the hell are you talking about?”
He walks up to me and takes my face in his hands. I swallow down the tightness, nerves, and desire.
“I’m talking about something that happened to you, you can’t remember.”
The look in his eyes is not one of a mass murderer. It’s pain. He drops his hands down by his sides, and lowers his head.
“You asked me about my parents,” he says, as I look up under his hair. “They were killed, and I was taken.”
Oh god. I cover a gasp with my hand. I thought my life was dark and tainted. Here’s me, pushing him for more, only for him to feel the past strike his heart. I’m so heartless. He needs an ear to listen to his words. I reach out and hesitantly touch his bicep.
“I should have never dragged you in here. I’m so sorry, Tristen,” I say with teary eyes.
He looks directly at me. “It was all done for you. You apologize to no one.”
“Tristen, you’re not making any sense.”
“There is no sense in this. I want you, but that will fuck everything up.” He noticeably swallows, running his hand up my neck. “Your memory was wiped, Beth. I can give it back to you, but you have to understand, I’m going against your father’s will.”
“What?” I yell at the mention of my dad.
His hands come up to rest against my temples. I scowl as his body begins to twitch. I’m scared, and I try to fight away from him.
“Please Beth. Shut your eyes and let me in.”
His voice coerces me to do as he asks. A tear falls over my eyelash as I seal them tight. I hear thunder and see lightening. I’m falling into a past encounter with him, I can’t recall. It’s like the cells are flashing together in my mind, and I begin to remember. I was with him. He’s a Sentinel. I remember everything. The reason I’m followed by the darkness. Who my real Father is. What I am. The kiss.
I grip his wrists gasping, fueled with emotions. I yank his hands from my head, and stagger backward. My body keels over, trying to make sense of it. But how can I make the unbelievable more rational. There’s an angel in my house, and he’s just been poking around inside my head.
“I should go.”
He walks to the door but my hand shoots out to grip him. I can’t allow him to leave. He’s the only one who knows what’s going on.
“You have to stay,” I say in a quivering tone.
“Beth, I can’t.”
“You just filled my head with unbelievable truths, and you want to leave me alone. I’m scared Tristen,” I yell, emotionally.
“I shouldn’t have given them back to you,” he utters with his head down, disappointed.
“Yes you should. They are my memories and no one has the right to them.”
I begin to cry into my hands. I don’t know what to do with myself anymore. Should I pack a bag and leave? Perhaps I should end my life, then I won’t be plagued with this dark uncertainty. Everything I know about myself, and this world, has all been fabricated. What the hell am I supposed to be?
Tristen’s arms envelope around me. I welcome his touch, it calms me, makes me feel a little safer.
“Stay,” I say against his chest.
His hands softly sweep over my hair. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” I draw back from his warm chest, looking up into his eyes through my tears.
“Because… because I can’t trust myself with you.”
“Then don’t,” I say, knowing exactly what I want.
I want him. I don’t care about what he is. I just need his touch on my body. I’ve never gone all the way before. I’ve never had this strong resolute need I have right now. I’m not afraid, and I’ve never been so positive about anything.
He almost growls as he leans and kisses me with passion. My fingers press into his cheeks as his sweet moist touch flames my insides, and makes my hips rub against his. He pushes me up against the wall before the stairs, and gazes deep into my longing eyes. With his head on mine, he blinks slowly.
“This is wrong,” he murmurs. “I want you Beth. I wanted to touch you the moment I saw you. But if I take you, I’ll be crossing a line, and there’s no coming back from that.”
“Cross the line,” I say in a sigh. “Touch me. This doesn’t feel wrong. It feels right. Stay with me, Tristen,” I whisper.
I run my hand down his arm, and wrap my fingers around his. I watch his Adams apple journey down his neck, then turn to lead him up the stairs.
Chapter Ten: Angel Arms
Beth
I’m lying on Tristen’s warm bare chest, my fingers running over the tattoo on his soft firm right breast, feeling all squidgy and loved-up. His heart rhythms in my ear, a slow relaxed beat. I’m still going over what we did, thinking how right it all felt. He was tender and gentle with me, and I felt no shame at all. A lot of girls I know have major regrets after the first time. Some because they slept with the wrong boy. Some because alcohol was involved. And some have high expectations, presuming the guy will get down on one knee after, with a marriage proposal. I feel nothing like that. I just feel like we kind of fit perfectly together, like I know him well.
I slide my head against his warm skin to look up into his eyes.
“What does this mean?” I ask, stroking the tattoo.
He adjusts his head a little on my pillow to look down at me. “The circle within the circle represents the sun, Archangel Michael. And the cross, represents Michael’s house.”
I puff out wishing I’d not asked. I still can’t fathom the whole angel thing out. The things I remember about my dad, weren’t angelic. They were normal human traits. He owned his own law firm. He loved Italian food. His favorite movie was Home Alone. And he loved the rock group, Nickelback.
“So, do you have wings?” I ask, rolling my eyes at how stupid that sounds.
He chuckles at me. “Sometimes.”
I rest my chin on his chest, frowning up at him. “Sometimes?”
“I only use them to descend and climb. I’m not supposed to use them while my feet are on earth.”
“Will I get wings?”
Again he laughs. “Do you know how ridiculous you sound?”
“I think it’s a justified question,” I say
, seriously.
“Everyone is waiting for you to get your wings,” he replies, his laugh dying out.
“What’s so special about me?”
“According to scripture, you are salvation.”
Now I laugh. It’s ludicrous, that’s what it is. Salvation, pfft. Do they think I’m magic or something? That I’m like Jesus and can bring peace on earth.
“It’s no laughing matter. As screwed-up as this all is, we are bordering on war, and the tables are turning in the favor of hells Shade,” he states. “The Sentinels are on the edge, guarding the damn pearly gates.”
“There are pearly gates?” I squint up at him.
“It’s a figure of speech, Beth.”
“So how old are you?”
“What?”
“You could be as old as earth for all I know.”
“I’m eighteen, and I’m mostly human. I was adopted by Saint Michael’s church, and when I turned twelve, I was recruited by his house. It was destiny they told me.”
“So you had to study me. Did you learn anything interesting?”
“I studied what you are. What you will be capable of. What happens to you, always happens on their say so… it happens for a reason. Who you meet along the way, is all part of it.”
“And this, is this part of it?” I ask in a worrying tone.
“No Beth. This goes against everything.” He releases a long breath. “But I think those upstairs have enough say over what is done. I’ve spent my life training, and training others. I never doubted, until I met you.”
A knot develops in my neck as my chest tightens. Talking of wars, hell, and salvation, fills me with fear. I don’t want this. I just want to be normal. Normal with Tristen.
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He tucks my hair behind my ear.
“And how are you going to stop the Shade, and the entire force of heaven?” I ask, skeptical. “What about Bennett and his mind wiping skills?”
“Bennett is only a watcher.”
I sit up, holding the quilt over my bra. “A watcher who can screw around with people’s thoughts.”
“Don’t worry about Bennett.” He pulls me back down onto his chest. “Go to sleep Beth.” His arms squeeze me tightly. “Just forget about things for a while.”
***
I’m unsure how long I’ve been asleep. All I know is I’m now in sleep paralysis, looking down at my body in Tristen’s arms. I’m waiting for him to wake up, to sense I’m in trouble. But he doesn’t, and now the creepy whistling sound is on the other side of the door.
I hover backward through the mist. I don’t understand how Tristen is still asleep. He’s supposed to protect me. Can he not sense I’m in this place?
As I back up to my closet door, a noise I’ve never heard before echoes within the whistling. The sound of hellish screams and demonic whispers, has me covering my ears. But I can still hear it, and it’s only growing louder.
The bedroom door flies open and the doorway fills with shadow. This isn’t what I’m used to. The cloaked figure has taken on a more solid appearance. There is no transparency in the fabric, and I know once it has hold of me, there will be more than a small mark on my skin.
“TRISTEN!” I scream out, to find my voice can actually be heard.
I scream again as the Shade nears me. It’s whispering words, I don’t understand. Oh god, I can see its face now. A skeletal face with a gray wax like skin. Dead skin. This is real. This monster isn’t going to just suck out my soul this time. It’s going to kill me in this place.
“TRISTEN!”
Oh crap. I’m on my own.
I close my eyes and wait, but I’m not touched. My eyes flash open and I see the figure hovering over Tristen. The cloaked head lowers, and its bony long fingers reach out from under its cloak. Over the years I’ve got to know my monster well, and as I stand here, I no longer feel dread, but an anger. I won’t allow it to hurt Tristen. This is my house. My room. My damn nightmare.
“Hey,” I yell at the Shade. “Don’t you touch him!”
A whistling snigger comes from beneath the hood. A sinister evil laugh that tells me I’ve made a mistake. It slowly hoists its head and it straightens up.
“Brave little angel,” its demonic voice says without moving its thin lips.
It floats around my bed with its arms out to me. In a frantic panic, I grab the first thing I can get my hands on, my diary, and hurl it at the Shade. It stops and its skinny fingers snatch the diary, as it slants its eyes sockets on me.
“You belong to us,” it says.
In the blink of an eye, its freezing fingers are around my neck, sliding my body up the closet door. I wiggle, choking, gripping at its wrists, kicking my legs. I curl my fingers and dig into its dead skin, hearing it grunt deeply. I’m causing it pain. It may only be a little pain, but at least it’s something.
I release its wrist and slam my hands into its face. I scratch and claw, kicking the hard body beneath the cloak. I’m giving it my all, but the creature seems to feed off my determination, and only grips me tighter.
My eyes now feel like they are about to burst out of my head. My life is being choked out of me. The room fades into grayness, as the transparency of the Shade returns. It’s taking my whole soul with it, fading away into another world.
Suddenly, I find myself on the floor, gasping for air. I peer up coughing and clutching my chest, to see Tristen clamping the Shade with one hand, and the other deep within the hood. He quickly chants foreign words, causing the Shade to squeal out an ear-piercing scream. He thrusts the cloaked figure back, and it folds itself up into the fabric, vanishing to nothing.
Tristen turns to me, but as he approaches, like a flash, I’m sitting up beside him in bed. I bounce on the mattress, moving onto my knees at the side of his frozen body. I grab his shoulders and shake, screaming at him to wake up. Like he’s been submerged under water for a time, he breaks through the darkness, and his body bolts upright in bed. He grabs and yanks me into his arms, my tears dropping onto his shoulder. That was horrendous. It was like the sleep paralysis came to life. It was real. I could feel that gray dense air taking me. I could feel the solidity of objects. I could scream.
“What… what the hell was that?” I say in a quivering tone.
“I don’t know, but I’ve never been able to do that before.” He exhales a long breath. “It’s impossible to find you on the other side without help. My soul was attached to yours, and that’s not normal.”
He pushes me back, his eyes and hands begin to examine my face, my arms, and my body. He tilts my neck to the side and growls out with a worried expression, gently sweeping his fingers over my tender neck. I knew I wasn’t going to come out of that unmarked. I can still feel the arctic sharp grip of the Shade around my throat.
Tristen jumps out of bed and frantically yanks his jeans up over his boxer shorts. He fastens the zipper and bends to pick up his t-shirt.
“What are you doing?” I ask, as he threads his shirt over his head.
“Get dressed,” he orders.
I jump up out of bed, pulling the strap of my black bra over my shoulder.
“Tristen, what’s going on?” I yell.
“You can’t stay here anymore. It’s too dangerous.”
I’ve gathered that. I’ve just had a demon nearly kill me. But I can’t just up and leave. Regardless of how shitty and twisted things are getting, my mom is going to freak out if I’m not here when she gets back.
“Beth, come on,” Tristen barks at me.
“Where?”
“Somewhere safe, until we figure out exactly what’s going on.”
“To your quarters?” I frown, watching as he opens my drawers and begins to yank out my clothes.
“No.” He finds my school rucksack, and tips out all my books onto my bed. “Here, pack light.” He tosses the bag at me and I catch it.
I close my eyes shaking my head. I’ve just been attacked, but still I’m more ratio
nal than Tristen. He’s pacing around my room, wheezing like a madman.
I hold the bag down by my side. “Will you stop?” I shout at him.
He halts still, gazing at me. “Look.” He walks up to me and takes my face in his hands. “You have to trust me. I saw everything. I was pulled into it. Something is happening to you that shouldn’t be, and we need to find out what the hell it is, before you end up stuck there with that thing.”
“What about my mom and Brother,” I utter nervously. “Are they in danger?”
“No Beth, it’s just you,” he says in a breath. “Your mom won’t even know you’re gone.” I lower my head in doubt. “Beth.” He pushes up my chin. “You have to trust me.”
I stare into his eyes. I’ve been going through this for years, and I have no idea where it will end, or how. Only Tristen can help me. I swallow down my fear and agree, as he kisses my head to reassure me.
Chapter Eleven: The Watcher
Beth
It’s so quiet and still out here. All that can be heard is the growl of Tristen’s motorbike in the night fog. It’s only four a.m. and as I grip Tristen’s jacket, squinting through the slightly steamed visor of the helmet I’m wearing, my eyes widen, noticing we are slowing down outside Dr. Bennett’s office. Tristen shuts down the engine, and flicks out his boot to push out the kickstand. He leans the bike and dismounts, removing his helmet as he waits for me.
I don’t understand why he brought me here. The whole one story building is in the darkness. And there is the major issue of Bennett lying to me for years, and wiping my brain of memories Tristen gave me back. Bennett is the last person I want to see in all this. How can I trust someone like him?
I pull off the helmet, but remain sitting on the bike saddle.
“Beth, the longer you sit here, the more chance the Shade has of finding you.”
“So you brought me here,” I say in a low angry voice. “I have two options, wait to be attacked again, or seek help from an asshole who knew what was happening to me, and said nothing. I said I trusted you, Tristen. Not Bennett.”
