“I’m fine.”
We go inside. He glares at the fae hybrids. “How are they?”
Some are asleep on the floor, in chairs and on couches, some are sitting by the fire staring at the flames while others quietly pace back in forth. Thankfully, none are screaming or trying to run away.
“Better.”
“Good. They will need to learn how to fight and use their power faster.”
“Are all of the Infected dead?”
“Yes. We closed the gate.”
I sigh. “Where are the other fae hybrids?”
He squeezes my hand. “We couldn’t save them, I’m sorry,” he whispers.
I punch his chest. I want to cry and yell but I won’t. I won’t for the sake of the others who are with me and who survived. They can’t see me weep.
“Whoever did this is going to wish he was dead.”
“She’s already dead.”
“What?”
“It was Zelda.”
“Who the hell is Zelda?”
“The leader of the witches who visited us in your cottage.”
“I wouldn’t describe it as a visit.”
He ignores my comment. “She’s dead.”
“How did she die?” What I really want to know is: did she suffer?
“I killed her.”
“How?”
“Why do you want to know how? She’s dead. I killed her. And now you and I have to leave. The scout has returned. The pure angels have been found.”
That fairy godmother-looking bitch of a witch is responsible for the massacre of more than half of my fellow fae hybrid. Right at this moment I don’t care about the pure angels. I want to know how the witch died.
“Tell me how she died.”
“I drained her, okay? I sucked every last drop of blood from her until she was nothing more than a dried, crumbling husk.”
I now know why he didn’t want to tell me. She didn’t offer herself freely to him, and it’s against their rule to drink from those who don’t offer themselves willingly. But she wasn’t human, and she was a psychopath. He shouldn’t feel remorse for what he did.
“She deserved to die. She deserved to suffer.”
He nods in silence.
“What happens now?”
“We go see the pure angels.”
“Do they know about me?”
“They’ve known about you for a long time. The scout said their leader wants to meet you.”
Despite the devastating loss we just endured, a sense of renewed hope flows through me. “Where?”
Daniel looks around the room at the despondent faces who haven’t taken their eyes off us. “We will win this war, I swear to you.”
They don’t look convinced. But we don’t have any time to waste.
I assure them that we will return with help and that they should remain here. Daniel assures them that his fellow hybrids will protect them. They will not abandon them.
I hurry to my cabin. There are no dead bodies of the Infected or fae hybrids anywhere. What did they do with the bodies? I recall Daniel throwing the body of the Infected man he killed when we were at my cottage. I never saw where it landed.
The bodies may be gone but the snow reveals evidence of the battle. Blood and entrails mark my path to the cabin. I avoid looking as much as I can. But it doesn’t matter whether or not I avert my eyes. My mind has recorded every scene I have witnessed since all this started.
I may never sleep in peace again.
I fling open the cabin door and scream. There is a young fae hybrid girl hanging from the ceiling. She strangled herself with a sheet she hung from the cabin’s ceiling boards. She died alone and afraid.
I fight back tears and stand on the chair. I wrap my arm around her waist and use my other hand to untie the noose around her neck. I’m not strong enough to hold her and we both crash to the floor, me on my back, her on top of me. There is no dignity in this. This poor girl didn’t deserve this.
Gently I push her off me. I stare at the ceiling for a few seconds, doing all I can not to lose it. My heart is thrashing. I breathe out and force myself to stand.
Then I pull a blanket from my bed and cover her with it.
I’m sorry, sweet girl. May your soul find peace and light.
I will not leave her here.
I open the door. Daniel is standing outside waiting for me. I sniffle and cough.
“What’s wrong?”
“There is a girl in here. She killed herself.”
He approaches me and kisses me on the forehead. “I will take her.”
Tears are rolling down my face. She deserves a proper burial. She doesn’t deserve to be thrown somewhere like she wasn’t someone, like she wasn’t someone’s child or sister or friend. “Bury her in the snow.”
He nods. “We buried all of them. We buried every fae hybrid that died.”
I wipe my tears, comforted to know that they are not frozen and alone somewhere on this mountain.
He carries her out in his arms. I sit on the edge of the bed and cry.
How many more times will I shed tears before this darkness ends? How many more will I see die? How will I survive this?
I tell myself to be brave but the truth is that I’m scared all the time. I want to hide under the bed. I want all of this to end. But no matter how afraid I am, I must keep going.
I focus on what I came to get. I retrieve my journal from under the mattress, a ridiculous and obvious hiding place, I realize. I then stuff it in my pocket and wait outside for Daniel.
Minutes later he returns. “I buried her under a tree so that her soul will never be alone.”
I hug him.
“We need to go.”
I feel a panic attack starting.
Breathe, Selena, breath.
We’re not walking our way to the lost angels. We’re flying, or, more precisely, Daniel is flying us there.
I bite my nails and make a fist. I really don’t want to do this. I’m grateful I didn’t eat lunch; once in the air, that could be a disaster.
He sweeps me in his arms. “Are you ready?”
I wrap my arms around his neck. “No.”
He ascends and I squeeze my eyes shut.
He flies at his fastest speed. I vomit more than once. I’m never going to get used to this.
We descend in the middle of a desert. I get on my knees, thankful we’re on the ground. This time, I don’t kiss it, though. Sand in my mouth is not something I need right now. When I was four years old, eating sand at the beach was something of a sport for me. My parents would order me to stop as they chased me around the shoreline, and I would gleefully disobey, shoving more sand in my face and spitting it to the ground.
My heart aches for my parents. I want desperately to see them again.
I miss them so much. I miss Sunday night dinner. I miss staring at them from the kitchen after dinner while they sat quietly in the living room, my mom doing a crossword puzzle, my father reading a book, neither saying a word to each other. They were perfectly happy and comfortable with each other.
I wipe away a tear and hold back the ones which are building. “This war is not going to end soon is it?”
Daniel exhales. “It’s going to take years, maybe longer, even if we are able to convince the angels to join us. Humans will need to help, too.”
The sun is high and its rays are beating down on me. My skin feels as if it’s being cooked.
“Are you sure he will come?”
We are waiting for the leader of the pure angels to arrive. I’m nervous that he won’t come.
“He will come.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, stop asking.”
“What if he doesn’t?
“He’s here.”
“Where?”
“I can feel him.”
“I don’t see anyone.”
A sudden wind blows around me, increasing its speed and causing a slight sand storm. “What’s happening?�
��
Daniel holds my hand. “It’s him.”
The wind subsides, leaving behind a tall, lean creature with massive white wings and dark wavy hair that falls a few inches below his shoulders.
I rub my eyes trying to clear specs of sand from them.
Daniel lowers his head. “Thank you for coming.”
The angel glares at me. “Is this the girl?”
Daniel nods.
The angel walks to me, his feet barely touching the sand. “Are you Selena?” His voice sounds like a beautiful symphony.
“I am.”
“My name is Landon, leader of the last pure angels.”
“Will you help us?”
He stares at me with his black marble eyes as if he’s trying to see my soul. “Humans haven’t changed. Even now, they take advantage of the weak. They murder their own to save themselves.”
“Not all of them.”
He glances at the clouds. “Why should we help humans?”
“Because that’s what you’re supposed to do.”
He twists a handful of the front of my cotton shirt and lifts me to his chin, my feet dangling in the air. “We did that for thousands of years. Even when the Creator himself wanted to destroy humans, and he did try, we defended humans, begged Him to give them one more chance. And he did. The storm passed and the waters evaporated. Mankind survived, but for what? Soon they returned to what they are. Greedy, jealous, violent and lustful creatures.”
“That isn’t necessary,” Daniel says.
Landon puts me down. I’m not frazzled or afraid of him. He will either help us or he won’t. But I want his answer now. Yes, there is evil among humans, but there is also good, and where there is good there is hope. “Will you help us or not?”
He massages his eyes and sighs deeply. “Even with our help you may not win this battle.”
“I have a journal, a fae journal, left for me when I was sixteen years old.”
“The angels who could decipher fae technology are all dead. They were hunted down by witches and vampires because of their knowledge.”
I feel as if someone has sucked out all of my oxygen. It can’t be true. There has to be one angel left who can decode the formulas.
Dejected, I say to Daniel, “Let’s go.”
“The journal was left for you. Whoever left it meant for you to figure out what is written inside. Somewhere in your mind lies the ability to do so. If you want to save humanity, you must search your mind.”
“I have!”
“Not hard enough.”
“This was pointless. We came for nothing.”
Landon rests his hands on my shoulders. “We’re tired and ashamed. What we did during the first war was wrong and we have paid dearly for our mistake. There are few of us left. We hide like spiders in dark corners. Vampires and witches will never stop hunting us. They are afraid that we will join humans against them. They are afraid we will once again become Guardians of man.”
“Do they have reason to fear?”
He searches the sky. “We seek forgiveness.” Returning his gaze to me he says, “We will fight with you against the New Order.”
“Thank you.”
“But we won’t win without the help of the formulas in your journal. You will need to remember. You are more than you know. Much more. That journal was given to you by a powerful fae, of this I’m sure.”
“I’m no one special.”
“In time, you will learn what you are.”
“And until then?”
“Until then, we will fight together. We will recruit and train good humans. We will protect the fae hybrids with our lives. I swear to you right here and now that pure angels will never try to destroy humans again.”
When all of this began only days ago, a part of me hoped that the war would end as fast it came. That was my childish, naïve part. The other part knows the story is only just beginning. And it will be filled with more grief and bloodshed. Many more will die.
I may die.
But humankind will not be extinguished.
The New Order will crumble, and when it does, we will rebuild. From the darkness we will rise.
My name is Selena Martinez, Fae Hybrid, and Fighter to the End.
* * *
The End
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http://www.eileencruzcoleman.com
About the Author
Eileen Cruz Coleman was born in Washington, D.C. to an immigrant El Salvadoran mother and a Puerto Rican father. She is a graduate of the University of Maryland with a degree in History. Her award-winning short stories have appeared in numerous literary journals both online and in print. Before venturing into the indie world of publishing, she was represented by two New York Literary agents.
She is an optimist and believes that no matter how bad things may seem, there is always a happy ending coming around the corner. When she's not writing, you can find her gardening, cooking, or watching movies with her family.
Read More from Eileen Cruz Coleman:
http://www.eileencruzcoleman.com
The Afterlife Of Alyx & Israel
A Dark Angel Novel
Hanna Peach
The Afterlife of Alyx & Israel © 2016 Hanna Peach
* * *
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
The Afterlife of Alyx & Israel
Alyx and Israel are soulmates; they just don’t remember.
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Born and raised in Saint Joseph, Israel has watched all his friends leave this crumbling city for the opportunities of Prague. He hasn’t left with them. Yet. He just can’t shake this feeling that he’s waiting for something…
On the other side of the city, Alyx’s perfectly-compatible, sufficiently-lovely boyfriend has just proposed. She should be deliriously happy. So why does she feel like she’s missing something…
A twist of fate traps Alyx and Israel in a DreamScape, a fantastical world far removed from the mortal lives they live. Or is it?
If they’re going to solve these riddles, defeat monsters and escape the maze, they must remember who they really are and each other. Can they remember in time? Can they escape before it’s too late?
Prologue
Somewhere on Earth, two souls, made of the same ethereal substance, were pulled into two separate soon-to-be mothers. Later they would be born, one a girl named Alyx, the other a boy named Israel. Soulmates.
They would have no memory of who they were. Or of each other. They would have no idea of the supernatural creatures — friends they left behind — that would sometimes come to their window at night to watch them as they slept. But on quiet nights they would find themselves staring up into the vast sky and feel the pull of something greater out there, and they would sense that they were inextricably part of it.
Chapter One
Twenty-five years later…
“Alyx is engaged.”
“She’s what?” Vix blinked rapidly at Balthazar, the blue-skinned demon sitting across from her in a private booth in Purgatory, the supernatural neutral zone set out as a bar. She wasn’t a fan of this place, a dimly lit d
en of exposed brick, burbling jazz floating through the mist that seemed to hang just under the steel beams and exposed ceiling. Even with the enchantment over Purgatory that prevented violence of any kind, demons made her nervous, especially this demon sitting across from Jordan and her. But she wasn’t about to let Jordan, deadly lightwarrior or not, come here on his own after Balthazar sent an urgent message tied to the prickly legs of a large black hell-beetle. Two badass warriors against one demon were much better odds.
“She’s getting married,” Balthazar repeated. “You know, the mortal tradition where the woman lies about being a virgin by wearing a white dress, the couple then lie to each other by agreeing to a list of promises read out to them by a guy dressed in a robe, sometimes wearing a funny hat, and swap round circles of metal that they wear on a finger.” Balthazar shook his head, making the downlight from above shimmer across the streaks of small iridescent scales highlighting his cheekbones. “So odd. Where I come from if we want to show an eternal commitment we just swap blood and lick each other’s—”
“Stop!” Vix cringed. “We don’t need to know.”
“So she’s getting married,” said Jordan, leaning his wide muscular frame back into the creaky leather. As usual his long honey and wheat hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, and his strong jaw was shadowed by the beginning of stubble, something that the ladies always seemed to love. Not Vix, mind you. He was not her type. “Didn’t we expect that from them though?”
Balthazar raised an eyebrow studded with tiny horns and gave Jordan a weighted stare, his thin black slits centered in large navy irises unblinking. He finally blinked, then again with his second eyelids. “Let me rephrase that: Alyx is getting married to someone who isn’t Israel.”
The light went on behind Jordan’s pale jade eyes, the rim of his thick lashes forming twin O’s as they went wide. He slammed forward, his palms slapping the top of the thick wooden table, causing a few otherworldly patrons of Purgatory to glance over with mild curiosity. “It can’t be.”
Legends of the Damned: A Collection of Edgy Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels Page 252
