She surprised him with her request. Because of the fight, he was tired, but he wouldn’t have denied her anything and walked her to the car, bracing for the long drive and the series of questions she might have for him. She didn’t comment when he summoned his wings away to fit inside the car. Instead, Martina kept quiet, and only began talking when they were off of the highway and entering Todi.
“Angels. Vampires. What else is out there?” She wasn’t looking at him, her eyes glued to the window. Outside, the night was pitch black, yet she had kept herself busy staring at the nothingness passing by.
“Werewolves. Shifters. Fairies. Witches. Wizards. Warlocks. Demons. You name it. They are all real.” He wanted her snuggled closer to him. This separation he sensed growing between them felt almost like physical pain.
“I’m not hallucinating.” She brought her knees up.
“No, you aren’t.” Samuel drove to the city gate closer to his apartment, then brought the car to a halt by the medieval wall surrounding the center of Todi. “I wish you would look at me.”
Martina, now facing a brick wall, moved on the seat and turned toward him. Her eyes were red and swollen. “I’m not crazy.”
He couldn’t bear her anguished look and closed the gap between them to take her in his arms. “You are not crazy.”
She let him hug her and cradle her. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“You’ve been through a lot. You need to rest and give your mind time to take in a whole new world and… me.” He released her and gave her a small kiss on her head. “Let’s go inside.”
He locked the car, then took her hand and led her up the stairs to the square where the safety of his house awaited them. She leaned on him, giving him hope that not all was lost between them. The moment they were in, he left her on the couch, then went to turn on the radiator and put some water to boil for a tea. While retrieving a blanket, he remembered he had several bottles of liquor stocked in the cellars beneath I Girasoli—courtesy of Alexander, who had been disappointed by the lack of good spirits the first time he had been there.
A light blue comforter folded on his elbow, he walked back to the living room. “Care for a shot?”
She raised her face to look at him. “No, thank you. I think I need to be lucid.”
Samuel laid the comforter on her shoulders and she tucked herself in it, both legs underneath her body.
“This is you.” She pointed a finger at him, encompassing his figure from head to toes. “Really you?”
He sat on the opposite couch. “It’s me.”
“Why would you appear like someone who’s so different from…” Her eyes racked him up and down. “Well, that.”
“At first, it was a necessity. Outside of the paranormal world, I didn’t know how to move around people. Forced to shrink my wings to appear human, I could still feel them, like phantom limbs, and I constantly bumped into or jerked away from anyone on my path. The cripple act helped.” His right wing brushed against the floor. Familiar pain shot through his nerves, where the amputated endings touched the abrasive surface of the terracotta tiles. “But then I got used to the anonymity I gained in the process. Nobody notices me in the human world. I like to be invisible.”
“Why? Nobody likes to be invisible.” She moved her legs to the side, and sat up right.
“Not everybody has fallen as low as I have.” His shoulders twitched.
“Misery likes company.” She gave him a half-hearted smile, then her gaze went to his arm. “I always wondered about that tattoo of yours.”
Samuel instinctively touched the abstract wing he had tattooed on his right arm. “The first thing I did when I came back to earth was to mark my body.”
Martina frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“After I fell and my lover rejected me, I was escorted by a demon to the Middle Plane—“
She raised one eyebrow. “The Middle Plane? Demon?”
“You can think of it as the human version of the Purgatory—and regarding the demon, it was his job to cart lost souls like mine there.”
“What did you do in this Middle Plane?”
“Not much. The whole place is structured like a tiered garden, and I was free to roam it at my pleasure.”
“Could you leave?”
He shook his head. “No, and I wouldn’t have though. I wanted to die after Sahadeva left me for his wife.”
A dark cloud seemed to obscure Martina’s face. “Sahadeva, your lover had a wife?”
He raised one hand to placate her ire. “Well, I could say that I came first and she was the other, the one who ruined our union, but it doesn’t matter. It hasn’t mattered in a long time.” Samuel realized how liberating was talking about his ordeal.
“What happened then? You just stayed in this place and what? Did you meet other angels like you or—”
He shook his head. “I was alone the whole time.”
She shrunk into the couch and rearranged the comforter to cover her completely. “How long where you there?”
“A century.”
“One hundred years of solitude…” she whispered, then hugged the comforter closer and leaned her head against the back cushion. “How did you make it? I don’t think I could’ve survived that. No one to talk to. No one to hug.”
“I knew that to be stranded in the Middle Plane was my punishment and I accepted it. The demon who had escorted me explained the terms of my staying, then left for his next retrieval.”
“Why solitude as a punishment though?”
“Because I was once One with the rest of my brethren. It is difficult to explain, but I was part of this sentient entity—”
“But then it’s even worse. You must have felt so alone. That’s too cruel.” Martina’s eyes misted.
“I knew what I was doing when I renounced my holiness to be with Sahadeva.”
She kept quiet for a moment, then she shifted on the couch. “Wait, if you weren’t a singular being, how could you meet and fall in love with anyone at all? I mean the other angels, your brethren, they would’ve known and stopped you, right?” She scooted toward the edge of the couch. “And if you were part of this entity, why would you need anyone—anything else in your life? Wasn’t your existence complete?”
Samuel was taken aback by the depth of her questions. He had never had to explain himself before and was at loss for words.
“Did I cross a line?” She lowered her chin as she brought her knees up.
“No. Not all. I find this, talking to you, therapeutic, but it’s uncharted territory for me. I’ve never been in a relationship after Sahadeva, and I’m afraid I might make a mess of it.” He saw from the way she clutched the comforter to her chest that he had said the wrong thing. “But I’ll try my best to answer any question you have, starting with how I could feel anything outside of the oneness I was part of.” He needed to prioritize his thoughts, but fear of losing her and exhaustion garbled his mental processes. He stood to loosen up his muscles, then realized he towered over her and she had to arch her neck to look at him, and he sat down again.
Without breaking eye contact, she relaxed her stance. “There’s no wrong answer.”
He felt a flicker of hope warming his heart and it was enough to clarify his thoughts. “As an angel, I had a job. I was the equivalent of a midwife for souls.”
Martina’s lips curved up in a smile and she tilted her head. “That sounds… cute.” Her eyes roamed over his body, a puzzled frown on her face, but she was still smiling. “It’s hard to picture you as anything cute in your present shape though.”
Samuel’s disappointment must have been clear, because she shook her head and her smile widened. “It was a compliment.” Her eyes traveled again from his head to his boots, then came up to his face. There, her expression saddened for a moment.
He thought he heard her sigh, but the sound was too feeble even for his e
nhanced hearing. “Thanks?”
She nodded, her face composed again. The joyous banter was gone, replaced by a serious expression.
He gathered the strength to keep on talking. “I was an angel of life. I helped souls transitioning from the astral realm to the physical at birth.”
“It must have been beautiful.”
“To me, it was a gift every time I delivered a new soul into the world. To be able to do my job, I was also allowed a certain degree of detachment from the One, and I was free to have time alone. Time I spent on Earth, flying over mountains, and plains, and oceans. Earth fascinated me. Between deliveries, I traveled from one corner to the other of your planet. One day, I met Sahadeva and my world was turned upside down. I wanted to be with him more than anything else, and I renounced myself—” Samuel looked over Martina’s shoulders, at the panels of the window letting in only darkness. And yet, his heart had never felt so light.
“But he didn’t want you.”
“No, he was a prince and he needed a wife to produce an heir. He would’ve probably kept me as his lover. I think, in his own way, he had loved the angel, but when I came back like this—” His chin tilted to his right shoulder, he raised his wing and fanned it for her. “I was damaged goods.”
“You deserved better.”
“Thank you, but, with time, I learned to appreciate the silver lining in my situation.”
“Which is?” One corner of the comforter slid to the floor and she pulled it up, securing it under her heels.
Samuel wanted nothing more than to replace that piece of fabric with his body and envelope her in his arms. He wished he could transfer his thoughts into her mind and be done with it. “When I renounced my nature, I didn’t know I would be punished and sent to the Middle Plane. Even if Sahadeva had welcomed me back in his life, we would’ve never been together. I prefer he didn’t suffer for me. Had he loved me, the separation would’ve been excruciating for both of us. This way, he had a beautiful life and his wife gave him twelve kids. In a way, it was a blessing.”
Martina’s eyes were filled with tears. “Oh, Samuel.”
“It’s okay. Really. When I was sent back here, in exile, a hundred years had passed already. I went to India, to cry at Sahadeva’s mausoleum. There I discovered what had become of his life. When the pain for his loss subsided, I travelled back to Europe. The first thing I did when I finally settled in Rome was to have a tattoo inked on my arm. Over time, the original design was replaced by slightly different patterns, but the idea of the wing remained.” Every century, he commemorated his falling by having a small detail added to it, something significant to him. Something physical that would accompany his perfect memory, like the little curlicue for Sahadeva’s initial in Sanskrit. When the décor on that arm was done, he would start with the other. One day, he would be covered in ink all over his body. Who knew what the world would look like then? It sure was a different Earth he inhabited now compared to the one he had once flown upon. He would be alone though, that was a certainty.
Martina made a sound, like a small laugh, and he came back to her, making an effort to shake away the darkness from his thoughts, reminding himself he had now. “What’s so funny?”
“You must’ve thought I was so naïve. I can’t believe I thought you needed my help—” She covered her face with both hands.
Unable to resist the urge any longer, Samuel left the couch and kneeled by her side. “You are the bravest woman I’ve ever met. You risked your life for me, for a stranger. You are amazing.”
“And then I thought you… couldn’t...” She sniffed and hid under the comforter. “But you just don’t like women.”
He heard a nervous laugh coming from the bundle. Carefully, he lowered the blanket and put a finger under her chin. “Where did you get the impression I don’t like women?”
“Well, you just told me about your lover, and last night, you didn’t want to make love to me.” She shook her head and laughed a nervous laugh, as if embarrassed. “Before I knew about your orientation, I thought your handicap extended to… you know. Instead you’re just not attracted to women.” She averted her eyes, hoisted the corners of the comforter up again, and covered half of her face with it. She whispered something about looking for a silver lining, without knowing he could hear her. With a sad look, she took a ragged breath and said, “Above all else, I’m glad you’re fine.”
Samuel couldn’t help but smile. He caressed her cheek, lowering the comforter down so he could see her. “Okay, I can understand the misunderstanding. But why would you think I don’t like women?”
Letting go of her shield, she opened her hands before her and regarded him with a frustrated look. “You’re in this situation because you fell in love with a man.”
“So?” He wanted to kiss her, but she was getting angry, and he didn’t understand why. The teapot hissed and he raised his finger for her to wait. A few minutes later, he was back with the tea.
She was staring at him, perched on the edge of the couch. “Are you gay or not?”
He pushed the leather ottoman closer to her and rested the tray on it. “I am not.”
She backed on the seat. “What are you then? Bisexual?”
“Neither.” He poured the tea for her and handed her the cup.
She didn’t look at the cup and didn’t reach out for it, but kept her eyes locked on him.
He didn’t understand why she was getting tense, but felt the need to explain himself to her. “I’m not human. I’m an angel. I am attracted to individuals, not their genders.”
She frowned, but seemed to think about his words for a few seconds. “It would’ve been the same to you if I were a man.”
He inwardly groaned. The headache that had loomed since using his residual powers to erect the occlusion shield had progressed to full migraine in the span of a sentence. Exhausting his residual powers backlashed in physical pain. “No, it wouldn’t be the same because it wouldn’t be you.” He massaged his right temple, then sighed. “I have fallen in love with you.”
Her eyes open wide and her mouth formed a perfect “o.”
“It’s you I’ve been dying to make love to.” He turned toward his couch and heavily sat on it.
“You want me.” She looked at him as if he had sprouted horns and not wings. “You.” Again, she encompassed him with a flick of her finger. “Me?”
“What are you getting at?” The tea was already cooling in his cup, but he had lost any interest in it.
“I’m plain. You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes upon. You could have anyone. And you want me?” She shook her head. “I mean… you’re an angel for goodness sake.”
“I guess there’s only one way to show you how much I want you, my anything-but-plain Martina.” He was tired and could barely focus, but he would set that record straight tonight.
“What are you doing?” Martina squirmed when he leaned over and hauled her in his arms, cradling her against his chest as he took her to his bedroom.
“What does it look I’m doing?” He only answered after throwing her on the bed.
She scooted to the right side of the mattress as he lowered himself on it. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“I think it’s an excellent idea.” He took her by her waist and pulled her close.
“I think we should wait.” She gently pushed him away.
“Why?” He could feel she was shaking.
“Because I don’t know you. My friend Samuel, the one I was falling for, is gone.” She looked around, over his shoulder. “My whole world is gone.”
“Your world isn’t gone. There’s just more to it than you thought. That’s it.” He made to reach for her waist a second time, but she moved on the bed until her back was resting against the headboard. Her eyes on him, studying him. “Ask me whatever it is you’re dying to ask me.”
“I don’t even know where to start. I can barely believe what I’m looking at.” She pointed her chin at his wings, t
hen massaged her forehead.
“You have to understand that it feels strange to me as well to have to justify my existence to you. Paranormals stick to paranormals for this very reason.” He stretched his wings, and the feathers at the end of the left one brushed her legs.
“How long do you live?”
He gulped down the dread he felt. He feared every truthful answer he gave her would be the last she was willing to listen to. “Forever. Unless my creator decides otherwise.”
Martina’s eyes moistened, she grabbed one of the pillows scattered on the bed and hugged it. “Can you fly?”
Samuel shook his head. “Not anymore. In fact, my nickname is Broken Wing Sam.”
She tilted her head and gave him a small smile. “That doesn’t sound nice.” She stretched her right hand on the coverlet and let it rest close to his shoulder. “Do you have powers?”
He yearned for her touch. “I was created with a sparkle of divine essence, and before the fall I was almost omnipotent. Now, I retain a modicum of the powers I once held, but it’s a shadow of what once was. It drains my strength to exercise any of my powers for a long period of time.”
“Do you miss being that powerful?” She moved her hand until her fingertips hovered over his hair.
He leaned his head into her caress. “I miss flying.”
“I’d miss that too.” She passed her fingers through his hair. “And what about the other angels here on Earth? Do you meet with them often?”
“No, I don’t. Ever.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“They shunned me. I am everything they despise the most. Not only had I renounced my holiness, but I decided to keep my memory intact and my truncated wings.” He moved on the bed to be close to her again.
“And why would they be so upset about that?” She softly brushed his feathers.
At her touch, warmth spread through Samuel and made it easier for him to answer her. “In their eyes, it’s like I want to flaunt my status, as if I were proud of being fallen. As if my decision wasn’t about love, but about not wanting to be an angel anymore.”
“But it’s not like that.” She kept her fingers hovering over his wings.
The Broken Angel Page 13
