Turning his attention to Baka, he gazed deeply into his eyes and in a low, melodic voice he said, “You will forget this encounter. Leave us.”
Rebecca blinked in surprise at the expression on Baka’s face. It changed from deep anger to blankness. The last time she had seen it was when Raphael convinced him to instruct his army not to attack the outcasts and to assist in moving them to another location.
Baka bowed his head. “Of course.”
“Well now, it appears Baka still hasn’t gotten over Raphael stealing you from him.” He handed the water jar to her when Baka was gone. “Why don’t I fill this with water for you?”
“No, thank you. I can manage.”
When she took hold of the jar, Lucifer placed his hand over hers and leaned in. Grey eyes gazed deeply into hers, and in the same tone he had used with Baka, he whispered, “Did Raphael and Jeremiel leave this morning?”
His breath lingered over her skin and she felt herself grow numb. Her mind felt like it was filling with dark smoke and the crowds of people around her disappeared. His face blurred in and out of her vision. Her head pounded, muffling the noises in the city. She could hardly think straight.
“Yes.” The voice that answered did not sound like her own.
“Are you alone?”
The question echoed through her mind. It was as if Lucifer’s voice was coming from within her.
“Yes.”
“Let me come with you,” the voice in her head whispered. “We can get to know each other . . . better.”
The mist grew thicker and she shook her head, trying to clear it. She could feel Lucifer getting closer to her, his heat emanating off of his body.
“Rebeccaaaa. Let me come with you,” he repeated. “You and I can be together.”
No!
She felt herself drowning. She felt compelled to answer him, to obey his wishes. Just when she was about to answer, she heard a man calling out to them.
“Lucifer, Rebecca. Where are Jeremiel and Raphael? I was hoping to run into them today.”
The mist began to lift and she could see Uriel approaching them.
Lucifer gripped her arm and whispered. “You will forget this.”
“I meant to come by last week but I got held up in Jericho by a lovely young woman.” He winked and elbowed Lucifer.
“Uriel,” he greeted, his voice sounding irritated.
“Rebecca? What’s wrong?” Uriel asked.
Rebecca shook her head, but the fog in her mind still hung heavy. “I-I-I must go. I am not feeling well.”
“Was it something I said?” Uriel’s voice was the last thing she heard as she pushed through the crowd.
Blindly, she ran through the city gates. With each step she took, her mind became clearer. When she finally reached home, she shut the door and sank to the ground with her back against it, gasping for air. She tried to remember what had happened. All she could remember was feeling cold and Lucifer telling Baka to leave. She felt unclean, and she didn’t know why.
***
When her breathing was back to normal, Rebecca decided to do some weaving. She climbed up the stone steps to the second floor of the house and into a small room. She loved the sunlight that filled the room in the mornings, which was why she’d had Raphael set up her loom there rather than on the bottom floor.
She reached for the bone spatula to use for a patterned weaving and sat on the wooden stool. As her fingers moved across the loom, a lone tear slid down her face as she thought about the expression on her father’s face. It was like she was a stranger to him. Maybe it would have been better if she were a stranger. Then his loathing wouldn’t hurt so much.
She wished things could be different. That Jeremiel could get to know his grandparents better. That her mother didn’t have to sneak away to the well just to see her. Rebecca knew that her mother longed to see Jeremiel, but that she was fearful of the backlash from her husband if she dared to sneak away to visit them. Not that her father would hurt her mother, but his shunning was worse than a whip.
Her thoughts shifted as she thought of Jeremiel. He was growing up so fast. As he grew older, he wanted to go out more. It wasn’t fair to him to keep him away from other children. She could take Jeremiel with her on her daily trips into the city. Raphael had encouraged her to do so. But she was so fearful of what her father or Baka would do to him if they found out he was half angel that she kept him away. Raphael had his angelic powers and would thwart anyone who threatened to harm his son. She had no doubt about it. But to do so would give away his presence and she didn’t know what the implications would be for him. She knew he had only meant to stay here for a short time and she didn’t want to do anything that would make him have to leave.
She was selfish. She wanted Raphael to stay with her. She wanted him all to herself. Deep in her heart, she knew Raphael’s gifts could help others. She had seen that when she first met him and he had defended the outcasts, the sick and the weak. He was a true angel of healing.
She loved him. She couldn’t help herself. And when Jeremiel was born, her heart grew even more. Raphael and Jeremiel were her family, her life, and she would do anything to keep them.
Time passed quickly as she weaved. She focused on Jeremiel and how excited he was to go fishing with his father. It was his first outing away from the house. She knew Raphael would watch over him.
There was a loud bang, and she stopped, her hand in midair. The front door opened and closed. She held her breath. It couldn’t be Raphael. It was too early. She didn’t expect him back until later in the evening.
“Rebecca.”
“Raphael?”
There was something wrong with his voice. Something must have happened.
She jumped up from her seat, knocking it over, and flew down the stairs.
“What is it? Is it Jeremiel?”
Raphael stood alone in the center of the room. His lips curled into a smile. It was the same smile she’d seen hundreds of times. Every time she saw it, her heart would flutter at the sight of it—except now.
His beautiful face glowed as he reached out to her. To her surprise, her stomach clenched at the sight of his thick, muscular hand. Instinctually, she took a step back.
Raphael’s blue eyes grew dark, but in a blink the darkness was gone, replaced with the kind eyes that she was used to seeing.
“You are worried.” He took another step forward. She fought the urge to run away from him.
“Where’s Jeremiel?”
“We were on our way back and we ran into Sarah. She was on her way to visit him.”
“My mother?” She blinked, confused. “That’s strange. She would have told me when I saw her this morning.”
His nostrils flared. It was so quick, she wondered if she had imagined it. Something was wrong with her. She was seeing things that weren’t even there. Maybe the heat was getting to her.
“She had meant to tell you when she gave you the blanket,” his voice was smooth, almost melodic. She felt an unnatural calm spread through her. “She mentioned Dathan’s interference.”
“Yes, he...” the image of her father’s face resurfaced, bringing up heartache again. “He was with Baka and Lucifer at the inn. He saw us at the well. She left with him and we didn’t have time to talk.”
She thought about telling him about her mother’s warning to her about the angels. Something inside of her told her to keep it to herself.
“I see.” He reached out to her and took hold of her arm, pulling her to him. It was cold.
“Jeremiel is safe with her. You have nothing to worry about.” He pressed her to him, and she felt him grow hard against her.
“Raphael? What are you doing?”
He dipped his head, inhaling the scent of her hair. “What do you think? I am requesting the services of your wifely duties.”
Cold lips pressed on the top of her head. She shivered.
“Now?”
She fought the urge to pull away from him. This was her
husband—the love her life. So why was she feeling this way?
His muscles hardened against her chest. His arm tensed and felt like a steal rod wrapped around her, so tightly it began to hurt. Something was wrong with Raphael. Never in all her time with him had he ever hurt her. The only time she had ever seen a hint of anger, it had been directed at Baka. He was always so sensitive to her every need.
“Yes. Now.” His voice was gruff. He was pulling her toward their bedroom. Her face grew hot as she fought back tears.
She didn’t know what to say. It was her duty to provide the needs of her husband. Was this why he was back early? To have his lust fulfilled?
“Raphael, what is wrong?”
“There is nothing wrong with a husband wanting his wife. Is there?”
Before she could speak, he yanked at the collar of her tunic, ripping its delicate material, exposing her bare breasts. Instinctually, she gathered the torn pieces together and covered her chest.
Raphael’s eyes grew dark and narrowed into thin slits. “Are you denying me my rights?”
She blinked back tears.” N-n-no. It’s just that . . . I am not ready.”
His nostrils flared, then he quickly smoothed his face. His eyes grew empty, creating goose bumps on her flesh.
“I will be gentle,” his voice was melodic.
Cold hands gently pried her fingers from torn remnants of her dress. With eyes locked with hers, he lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them. “Is this more to your liking?”
This wasn’t the same Raphael. His touch, the mere look of his eyes on her, always made her feel special, loved. But this. This man was not her dear Raphael. Each touch of his cold hands—the way he looked at her—made her sick to her stomach.
She remained silent, trying to keep her body from shivering. Slowly, he stripped her down without taking his eyes off her. Although he was gentle, his eyes, cold and void of any warmth, kept watch over her—daring her to deny him.
With her clothes lying on the floor, he pulled her to him. She felt him harden against her abdomen and her mind screamed with fright.
“Raphael. I’m not feeling well.”
His hand ghosted over her hair, brushing it back. She felt his hot breath as he whispered in her ear, “It will be over soon.”
He turned her around and pressed himself into her back. “Get down.”
“No,” she sobbed when she realized what he was asking of her.
He pressed his hands against the temples of her head and she felt a wave of nausea.
“Do it. Now!”
He pushed her and she fell to her knees. The room spun as she felt the tip of him at her entrance.
“Please, Raphael. Don’t do this. I beg of you.”
He grabbed a fist full of her hair and she cried out in pain when he jerked her head back.
“Be silent,” he growled.
A cold slammed against her and the room disappeared as she felt herself being plunged into a pit of darkness. Pain swirled around her, eating at her flesh. With every move she made, he ripped deeper into her.
Her cries echoed in the room. There was no escaping the searing heat between her legs followed by liquid ice that slowly filled her womb.
When it was over, she collapsed, gasping for air as her tear-stained cheek pressed against the smooth stone floor. “Raphael, why have you forsaken me?”
And then, the darkness took her.
8
Raphael stood on top of a hill laughing as he watched Jeremiel chase after one of the goats. His hair was wet from his first swim in the stream. Although he had enjoyed fishing, it appeared that his son was a natural when it came to swimming.
Jeremiel lunged at the goat, landing hard on the dirt when the goat moved at the last moment.
Raphael chuckled. His son might be gifted with superior sight, hearing, and strength, but when it came to cleanliness, he was just like any other four-year-old boy.
“Stand still. You’re supposed to obey me,” Jeremiel said to the goat. “Father, why doesn’t she listen to me?”
“Try being gentle with her.”
“But she should listen to me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I am stronger than her.” He furrowed his brow. “Uncle Lucifer says that the strong should rule the weak and that they should obey.”
Raphael scowled. He had heard Lucifer spout his prejudices and ridiculous jealousy about humans before. There wasn’t an angel he knew that didn’t have some type of fault. Angels were not perfect.
This time Lucifer had gone too far. He did not want his son tainted with Lucifer’s views.
He smoothed his face and sank to his knees. Holding Jeremiel’s shoulders, he looked him straight in the eye. “My son, it is true you have gifts that others do not. This does not mean you are superior to others because of it.”
“Uncle Lucifer said—”
“He is wrong. We all have special gifts of some sort. That is what makes each and every one of us special.”
Jeremiel scrunched his face deep in thought. He looked over at the goat. “She can’t be special. She’s just a goat.”
“Can you give milk?”
“What?”
“The goat gives milk. That is her gift. It satisfies our thirst and gives us sustenance. Can you do that?”
Jeremiel’s blue eyes looked up as he thought for moment. Then he said, “Yes, I can. I can milk the goat and bring the milk to you.” He grinned.
“But can you do that without her?”
“No.”
“Then you need her.”
Jeremiel looked over at the goat again. “Oh, I see. I need her as much as she needs me.”
“That is correct. Each of us brings something to this life, and all deserve respect. Now, my son, the time has come that I must explain something to you.”
“What is it, Father?”
“Your mother and I have kept you away from other children, but now that you are older, you will want to be around others your own age. When you are, you will see that others around you may not have the same strength as you do.”
“They don’t?”
“No, they do not. Remember what I said, they are equal to you in every way and you must treat them with respect and kindness.”
Raphael patted the goat’s head tenderly and slowly placed the lasso over her head.
“See. Kindness.” He placed the end of the rope in Jeremiel’s hand.
“Yes, Father.”
“Come now, the sun is setting and you need to milk her before supper.”
***
The moment Raphael stepped into the house he knew something was wrong.
“Mother! Mother!” Jeremiel cried as he flung himself into Rebecca’s arms. “Guess what I got?”
Rebecca always had a twinkle in her eye whenever she was with Jeremiel. When she gave him a hug and glanced up to look at him, her hazel eyes looked hollow.
“What did you get?” her voice sounded flat, lifeless.
Jeremiel pulled out a fish from the basket he was carrying. “I caught it all by myself. I want this one for supper.”
“I am so proud of you.” She hugged him and took the fish from his hand.
“There is more where that came from.” Raphael held out his basket filled with fish, and stepped toward her. Her eyes widened with fright.
“Rebecca? What is the matter?”
“I . . . uh...” her hand shook as she reached out to get the basket. “Nothing.”
“Mother, why does your voice sound funny?”
“Perhaps your mother is tired,” Raphael said.
“Oh, you caught me by surprise, that’s all.” The strain in her voice was obvious even behind the gentle smile. His brow furrowed with worry. He wondered if something happened to her in the city. Maybe she had run into Baka. It wouldn’t have been the first time it had happened. Baka’s presence was like a spur in Raphael’s belly, and for once, he wished he thought like Lucifer and was able to b
e rid of Baka for good.
Rebecca’s hand moved over the fish, cleaning it, keeping her back to them as she spoke. “I thought you would have dropped off the fish first before you sent Jeremiel with my mother.”
“Sarah is here? Why, that is wonderful news,” Raphael said. “You’d been hoping she’d come to see Jeremiel. Where is she?”
“Didn’t you see her when you went for Jeremiel?”
“I’ve been at the stream the entire day with him.”
Her hand froze in the air. Slowly, she turned to him, her face pale.
“That’s not possible.”
The air was still as he gazed into her panic-stricken eyes.
“Jeremiel, go out back and milk the goat. The pail is next to the door.”
“Yes, Father.”
As soon as he heard the door shut, he went to her. He took the knife out of her hand and placed it on the table. “You’re trembling.”
“You came to me early this afternoon. You said my mother had taken Jeremiel. Oh, no!” She looked up at him her wide. “I should have known. My mother would never have come on her own.”
“What happened?”
“I thought . . . I thought it was you that . . . that...” She closed her eyes and tears spilled down her pale cheeks.
“That what?” he gently shook her shoulders as his voice rose frantically. “That what?”
“You . . . you forced me submit to you,” she sobbed.
He sucked in a breath. “Was it Baka? Did he come in disguise?”
She shook her head. “He-he-he had your face, your body. It was you except the eyes. The eyes were so . . . c-c-cold.”
His body warred between rage that someone had violated her and despair that he hadn’t been there to stop it.
“Who did you see in the city? Did anyone follow you home?”
“I don’t think so. I was alone for some time before I returned. I saw my mother, and my father saw us. He was with Baka and Lucifer.”
His nostrils flared. “Did Lucifer say anything to you?”
Her hand pressed against the side of her right temple. “I-I-I can’t remember.”
“Please, Rebecca. Try. Try to remember.”
“All I remember is a dark fog and cold and a voice whispering in my head.”
Before the Fall Page 6
