When I don’t respond to Zeke’s first message, I receive another. I have to force myself not to dwell on the fact he still has my cell number after all this time. It isn’t that big of a deal, or so I convince myself.
About an hour after I’ve stomped out of the kitchen, I receive three more messages from three different numbers. I deduce Zeke gave my number to the rest of the angels. So, in the interest of not being harassed with my phone going off every two minutes, I periodically inform the angels I feel fine, that the painful symptoms do not manifest themselves again, and to please leave me alone.
My request isn’t granted, but the messages slow down after I respond.
Annie texts me around lunchtime. Apparently, Gabe told her I wasn’t feeling well before he took me home from the party. I’m surprised by her lack of suggestive comments and questions about the dark-haired angel, but I cherish the reprieve nonetheless.
Even Preston sends me a text, keeping his word about arranging a day for our date. Part of me had expected him to wake up and realize he’d been hasty by asking me out. If I didn’t see his nearly-fully cup of punch at the party, I might have thought he was drunk when he did. Alas, I’m proven wrong.
Hey Veronica! Heard you got sick. Hope you’re feeling better. Dinner this weekend?
I must have read the message five times before my brain restarted and come up with a response.
Hi, Preston. Thanks, feeling a little better. Dinner sounds great. Saturday?
I chew on my bottom lip as I hit send. Part of me is excited, but I’m mostly nervous.
My phone dings. I hold my breath as I open the message.
Saturday is perfect. Pick you up at your house at 7?
My lips stretch into a wide grin.
See you at 7.
I add an upside-down smiley face before I send the text.
Excitement begins to overshadow my nervousness. How long have I daydreamed of Preston noticing me? To have it actually happen is surreal, yet I can’t deny its true. This is really happening. Preston McKenna and I are going on a date. Not even the world-altering truths the Fallen have recently imposed on me could ruin my happy mood.
At least, not entirely.
Still not willing to face the supposed truth of my birth parents, I spend the rest of my day in my room. I only venture out when I need to get something to eat or use the restroom. And each time I do, the angels are careful to not impose themselves on me. The Fallen simply watch me, waiting for me to extend the first olive branch.
But I have no plans on making that offer today.
By the time my parents get home from work, the angels are gone, but I know they’re somewhere nearby, monitoring my safety from a distance.
My parents and I have dinner, and I think about telling them about my date with Preston. But I can’t seem to get the words out.
It might seem strange, but I want to keep the happy news to myself for a little longer. I haven’t even told Annie about my date with my childhood crush. She’ll probably be mad when she learns I didn’t confide in her immediately, but she’ll get over it. This is something I want to keep private—to cherish before I have to hear all of her overeager advice about how to handle my very first date. I decide to tell her tomorrow.
I lie down in bed that night, and my thoughts are tainted with images of fiery wings and stark bolts of Angel Fire as I try to rationalize the news of my mixed heritage. I have visions of a world covered in equal parts dark and light, but I’m the only one who can cross the borders between the realms. My skill angers dozens upon dozens of red-winged Fallen angels, and each of them watches me with murder in their eyes.
I wake up gasping for breath. I hadn’t even realized I’d fallen asleep.
It’s Friday morning, and sunlight peeks through the blinds I’d forgotten to close the night before.
I turn to the side and wait for my bleary eyes to read the time on my alarm clock.
8:45 a.m.
Crap!
I kick off my covers and race to the bathroom. I’m late for my morning kickboxing class. I brush my teeth and hair like a mad woman. Then, I rush to my closet and change into the first pair of athletic shorts and razorback top I can find.
I’m hopping down the stairs, tying my hair back, when the silence of the home hits me. I stop halfway down the stairs. I’d thought my parents were staying home today. Last night at dinner, I remember them saying something about Uncle Jasper coming to visit.
“Mom?”
No response.
I grip the railing as foreboding fills me. “Dad?”
The house remains silent. I don’t even hear Periwinkle.
Oh, God. Did a demon get to them?
I’m about to call my parents when a figure steps into the foyer.
“Jesus!” I cry out, clutching my chest.
Mr. Cohen smiles. “Unfortunately, no. Just me.”
I barely register that my teacher just made a joke… and a clever one, too.
“Mr. Cohen,” I breathe his name, relieved he isn’t a demon. “Do you know where my parents are?”
A different voice answers, “According to this note, they are having breakfast with your uncle.” Gabe steps out from the kitchen and lifts a torn piece of notebook paper in the air.
I walk down the steps and take the item from him.
Ronnie,
Your father and I are eating an early breakfast with your Uncle Jasper, but we wanted to let you sleep. Keys to the car are on the hook if you wake up and want to join us at Miss Macey’s.
Love,
Mom and Dad
I lift my eyes from the paper. Mr. Cohen and Gabe are gazing at me expectantly.
“Let me guess, you two are my security today.”
“You got it,” Gabe grins.
“Would you like to go to breakfast at the diner?” Mr. Cohen asks. “We can escort you.”
Immediately, I shake my head. “No, that’s okay. I think I’ll skip this one.” I decide to stay home. I’m already late to my class, and there’s no way I want to join my family with the two dark-haired brothers in tow. I still haven’t come up with a reasonable explanation as to why I can’t go anywhere without them or the blond twins following me around. Luck is the only reason my parents haven’t seen my bodyguards yet.
Besides, Uncle Jasper is a religious zealot. All my mom’s brother does is criticize people for their “sinful” thoughts or actions. It takes all of my self-control to not scream from frustration every time he’s around. I will not miss having breakfast with him, or his unsolicited lectures about how I should live my life.
“Okay, let us know if you change your mind.” Mr. Cohen locks eyes with his brother. They turn and walk back to the living room.
“Wait. What are you doing?”
Gabe looks at me over his shoulder. His face is carefully neutral. “We’re going to watch the game.”
I realize the angels are trying to give me space. The thing is, I don’t want space. Maybe it’s because I spent the previous day stowed away in my room. Aside from dinner with my parents, it’s been a good amount of time since I’ve spoken with anyone in person. I can use some company.
So, I ask, “What game?”
“The baseball game,” Mr. Cohen answers.
I blink. “You’re going to watch the game… in my house?”
Both angels nod.
I look between them and the distant sound of the television. I bite my lip. “What if my parents come home and find you here?”
“Don’t worry,” Gabe says with a wink. “We’ll make sure we’re gone the moment they pull into the driveway.”
I almost question how he’d manage that when I remember one important thing—they’re angels.
I put my hands on my hips. “Let me guess, you guys can like… teleport or something.”
“Or something,” Mr. Cohen agrees. Then, he asks, “Want to watch the game with us?”
I make a show of considering my options.
I can go
back up to my room and hide out until my parents come home, or I can agree to watch the game with them. And maybe, I’ll be able to learn more about my supposed fallen parents. The dawn of a new day forces me to face the news.
It’s an easy decision.
“Sure,” I shrug. “Why not?”
Mr. Cohen smiles and gestures for me to precede him into the living room. I walk in and see Periwinkle snuggled up on the corner of the couch. I move to sit by her as Mr. Cohen picks up the remote and turns on the television.
The L-shaped sectional is spacious. Peri and I sit on the L end, Gabe sits in the middle, and Mr. Cohen perches himself on the other end.
Cheering fans fill the screen as the camera crew pans across the stadium. I pet Peri, keeping my eyes on the T.V. even though I can feel the brothers’ gazes land on me from time to time.
I wait until after the opening pitch before I ask, “So… any idea who my biological parents are?” It was the question that kept me preoccupied until I fell asleep and dreamed of a fiery, violent world.
“We’re working on it,” Gabe states, “but we need to be discreet.”
“Why?”
Mr. Cohen answers, “If news gets out there is a full-blooded angel born after the fall, you can bet the High Councils will try to find you.”
“Not to mention the fact you are both Light and Dark.” Gabe shakes his head. “There is no telling how Fallen will react when they learn of your existence.”
Neither of the angels say so, but I get the feeling my life might be in danger if others learn the truth about me.
I press for more information. “What’s the high council?”
“The Light High Council and the Dark High Council,” Gabe begins, “think of them as the governing bodies overseeing the Fallen on Earth. They monitor and regulate the behavior of the celestial beings in their charge.”
“So, there are two types of angels?” I glance between them. “Which are you?”
“We’re Light Fallen,” Mr. Cohen says.
I tilt my head to the side, observing them. “I would’ve thought dark because of your hair.”
“Our wings reveal which group we are a part of,” Gabe reveals. Without warning, a pair of stark-white wings pop out behind his shirt.
I gape at the magnificent appendages. They look strong, yet delicate. Beautiful, yet dangerous. “I-I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to seeing wings.”
“You will,” he assures me, his eyes light with heat. “Promise.”
For a moment, I’m lost in his gaze. Their blue depths swirl in a mesmerizing pattern.
A throat clears, and I’m pulled from the trance.
My cheeks warm, and I quickly try to hide my awkwardness by asking, “S-so Adrian and Zeke are dark angels?”
“They are,” Mr. Cohen answers patiently, giving no sign he sees the evidence of my embarrassment.
I think of Adrian’s dark wings, and the iridescent shades of blue and purple in the feathers. “Does that mean Adrian and Zeke are evil?” I find it hard to believe after they’ve saved me from yancor demons on more than one occasion, but I acknowledge I don’t know either of them very well. For all I know, they could be bad guys.
“Not necessarily.” Mr. Cohen rubs the back of his neck. “Dark Fallen are more susceptible to evil acts, but they have the ability to not act on them.”
“What about Light Fallen?” I look between the brothers. “Do you guys have evil impulses too?”
Gabe shrugs. “Some, but not as many as Dark Fallen.”
“But didn’t you all fall at the same time and for the same reason?” I’m confused as to why there is a difference between the four angels who’d recently entered my life.
I see shame creep into both Gabe’s and Mr. Cohen’s expressions.
“Yes, all Fallen are guilty of following Lucifer,” Gabe answers my question while his brother stares blankly at the long-forgotten baseball game, “but Light Fallen are those who are trying to return to God’s good graces. We are spending our immortal life on Earth helping humans, with the hopes of one day being granted entrance back into Heaven.”
On one hand, I’m horrified to hear the devil’s name. I’m religious, but I never gave much thought to the fact Lucifer, the angel who personified evil, truly existed. Knowing the Fallen angels in front of me had once sided with the fearful angel makes me wary of them.
But, on the other hand, I am relieved to know Mr. Cohen and Gabe are trying to return to Heaven. They realized their mistake and are trying to rectify it. But what about Adrian and Zeke?
I voice the question.
Mr. Cohen shrugs. “Most Dark Fallen have accepted their banishment and do not seek to regain God’s grace.”
I find that difficult to wrap my head around. How could anyone who’s experienced Heaven accept such a fate?
“So, you’re telling me my mother and father are angels on opposite teams. I thought the two groups didn’t get along.” I think of the two sets of brothers and their disdain for one another.
“We don’t. That, and the fact a female Fallen gave birth to a child, is what makes this entire situation so unbelievable.” Mr. Cohen shakes his head.
I’d forgotten their earlier reveal that Fallen females couldn’t give birth like human women. So how was my existence possible? It went against everything the angels had told me thus far.
I try to shake away my confusion. “How will you find out who my angelic parents are?”
“By asking questions,” Mr. Cohen says. “Whoever your parents are, they took great care to hide the truth of what happened from the rest of the Fallen, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t someone out there who knows something. All we need to do is find that person.”
I nod. “What, exactly, does being half-light, half-dark mean for me? Am I an abomination or something?”
“Absolutely not,” Gabe is emphatic. “You’re a rare jewel, Veronica. You will have the strengths of both races coursing through your veins.”
And their weaknesses.
I’m surprised by my thought. I don’t know where it came from.
“Would you mind if we skip watching the game?” I stand from the couch. I have the sudden need to get out of the house.
“Of course not.” Mr. Cohen, also, stands. I notice his wings are out as well. “Do you need to go somewhere?”
“The grocery store,” I say. “I can save my parents from needing to do the errand this weekend.”
Both angels nod.
I walk to the kitchen and retrieve the shopping list posted to the fridge. I grab my purse and check my wallet for the credit card linked to my parents’ bank account.
The three of us exit the house. I lock the door and get into my mother’s car. Gabe sits in the passenger seat and Mr. Cohen slides into the back.
I turn up the radio, filling the car with music, saving us from feeling the need to fill the silence. I roll the windows down and switch into reverse. I ignore Mrs. Hall’s curious stare as I back out of the driveway.
The trip to the store is little more than five minutes.
I swing into a parking spot underneath a tree. The shade will do wonders for the interior’s temperature while we’re inside. I leave the windows cracked, remove the keys from the ignition, then hop out of the car.
The automatic doors slide open as I step onto the black mat in front of the grocery store. Mr. Cohen and Gabe are close behind. Though, they aren’t right on my heels. I appreciate the extra space. If people didn’t see them exit my car, they might not think we are here together.
I pull a shopping cart from the row of connected carts and steer it to the first aisle right inside the store. Reaching into my purse, I retrieve the grocery list and look at the items.
First up: sandwich bread.
I push the cart forward and stop in front of the grains section. I find my mom’s favorite brand and put it in the cart. I look at the rest of the list, mentally planning out the best way to retrieve the items in the most efficie
nt path.
“Want us to get things and bring them back?” Gabe asks, drawing near enough to peer over my shoulder and glance at the list. “We can get out of here faster so less people see us with you.”
I flush, embarrassed they have picked up on the fact I don’t want to be seen with them. “Uh, sure. My parents need eggs and one gallon of skim milk,” I tell them the two items in the farthest corner of the store.
The angels turn and walk out of the aisle without another word. I stare after them for an extra second before refocusing on my task.
I am exiting the fourth aisle by the time they come back. Mr. Cohen holds up the eggs and Gabe lifts the milk.
“Are these what you wanted?” my ex-teacher asks.
I smile and nod. “Yeah, thanks.”
The dairy items are placed in the cart.
As a group, we continue shopping. I don’t have the heart to send them off again. I tell myself it’s because they don’t know the specific brands my family likes to buy, but really, it’s because of the guilt I feel knowing they are aware I don’t want to be seen with them. It has nothing to do with their angelic status and everything to do with my insecurities and shyness.
Mr. Cohen and Gabe walk one step behind the cart as we continue through the store. From the corner of my eye, I notice both angels still have their wings on display. I am impressed by how they move with the large wings. Other shoppers and their carts move into our path, but the white feathers shift out of the way with ease. Never once do the wings come close to touching anything or anyone. The angels’ control of their extensions is impressive.
“Will I grow wings?” Surprisingly, I’d never considered the possibility before now.
If either of the angels is shocked by my question, they hide it well.
“It’s very likely.” Mr. Cohen glances at me. He wears an odd expression.
Claimed by the Fallen: A Fallen Angel Reverse Harem Novel (The Fallen Harem Book 1) Page 13
