Branded (Fall of Angels)

by Keary Taylor

 

   

   

  BRANDED

  FALL OF ANGELS

   

  By

   

  Keary Taylor

   

  Copyright © 2010 Keary Taylor

   

  All rights reserved.  Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

   

  Second Digital Edition: July 2011

   

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious.  Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

   

  Taylor, Keary, 1987-

  Branded (Fall of Angels) : a novel / by Keary Taylor. – 2nd ed.

   

  Summary: Jessica, haunted by nightmares of angels, lives a life of seclusion until Alex suddenly takes over the house she lives in.  When she starts to develop feelings for him, the mysterious Cole moves in next door, wanting nothing but Jessica.

   

  ISBN 978-1450572378

   

   

   

   

   

  For all of those who told me to keep writing.

   

   

   

  CHAPTER ONE

   

  When you go 108 hours, four and a half days without sleep, your body starts to do strange things.

  Mine was panicking and shutting down at the same time.

  My heart pounded despite the fatigue that consumed me.  The ringing in my ears was so loud I couldn’t even hear the breeze as it blew through the towering trees that surrounded me.  My eyes ached so horribly I wanted to throw up.  If I looked in a mirror I knew they would be bloodshot and swollen.  I felt delusional and jumped at every shadow that danced on the black lake’s surface, sure it was a demon come to carry me away. 

  I was so tired.

  Don’t fall asleep.

  I paced on the dock, the moon shining brightly above me.  I couldn’t fall asleep; I wouldn’t let myself fall asleep.  To sleep brought terror no one could understand. 

  I counted my steps as I paced.  Fourteen … fifteen … sixteen …  I never lost count despite the fact that I didn’t consciously do it.  I couldn’t help it, the numbers just came.

  Just a few more hours.  That was all I needed.  In a few more hours I would be ready to face the terror that came with sleep.  I could face the judgments of the angels and those that had no right to be called such.  I had made it 108 hours already; I could make it just two or three more.

  I couldn’t fight this any longer though.  I was going to have to sleep and it was going to have to be now.  I had learned better than to fight it this long.

  My breathing increased rapidly as I forced myself to walk back toward the deserted house that looked toward the east side of the lake.  My head spun and I feared I might pass out right then and there on the cold wooden planks.

  Silent walls greeted me as I entered the house.  I had been the caretaker for just over a year and a half and not once had the elderly owners come to stay.  That was for the best.  They would know I was crazy after only a few days.

  Panic saturated my system as I stumbled through the door that led to my basement apartment.  My eyelids were losing though.  My legs protested in fatigue as I staggered into my bedroom.  I barely made it to my bed before collapsing.

   

  I’ve always counted.  In a strange way it felt like the numbers kept me safe.  I could block out the hell that surrounded me, that was my life, by concentrating only on counting.  Numbers made sense.  They fell into their right order and no matter how you rearranged them, you could still easily identify them as numbers. 

  I counted to 206 before he came to get me from the cell I was locked in.  It was the same man each time.  He was glorious and perfect, just like the rest of them.  His chin was strong and square, his nose flawlessly straight.  His lips were exactly the right fullness and housed straight, white teeth.  His hair was a beautiful color of charcoal and the reflection of the flames danced across his intimidating muscular body in strange and beautiful ways.  His wings, just like the rest of them, were graceful yet powerful.  They always captivated me despite the chaos surrounding me.  The feathers were beautiful, gently changing from the softest, purest white to shimmering, metallic silver. 

  His eyes were unique however, compared to the rest of them.  Grey.  An indication he was on neither side, neither the exalted nor the condemned.  He was simply the one who transferred me from my cell to the judgment stand.  He did not pass judgments and he had not been placed on either side.

  I did not know his name or if he even had one, but I always thought of him as Adam.  In the Bible, Adam was unique in that he was the first.  I had never seen another angel with eyes like this Adam.  He was the first and only as far as I knew.

  Adam tied my hands in front of me with the same gold cord he always did.  I shuffled behind him as we exited my cell.  I was long past trying to fight him; I learned long ago that was useless. 

  He lead me down a long stone tunnel.  Torches lined the walls, their flames dancing and licking out in mocking ways.  They provided no warmth and no comfort.  At the very end of the passageway was my cell that was nothing but a five by five foot area with steel bars and a locked gate.  It ran on for sixty-two steps, nothing but an empty passageway.  There was nothing visible at the other end of the tunnel, just an opening that appeared to lead into a lighter place than this.

  Thirty…thirty-one…thirty-two…  I counted and looked at my feet through the slits in the white hood that covered my head.  The rest of me was sheathed in white as well, a simple shell that covered my body.

  Adam said nothing as we walked, his gaze fixed on our destination.  I always wished he would say something comforting.  Anything to reassure me against what I knew was going to come.  But he was always as silent as the stones that encased us.

  Fifty-seven…fifty-eight…fifty-nine…  Panic was rising rapidly in my blood like an acidic poison, eating away at my nerves.  My breathing picked up, coming in sharp, painful spurts.  I automatically slowed and Adam pulled on the remainder of the golden cord that hung between my two tightly fisted hands.  I wanted to stop, to turn around and run back to my cell.  Being locked in the cell for eternity was better than what I was about to face.

  My count to sixty-two ran out and Adam pulled me from the safety of the tunnel.  We entered into the middle of a tall cylinder.  A narrow catwalk sprouted from the tunnel and extended to the other side of the cylinder, running into a solid wall.  A slender staircase wound up and down its sides.  Before me were ten magnificently carved stone seats, mounted directly onto the vertical wall.  Adam walked me to the center of the catwalk then turned and walked back into the tunnel alone. 

  I tried not to look up as I stared intently at my bare feet.  The sudden rustle of wings and the low murmur of gloriously beautiful voices was enough to wash fear over me in a crushing wave.  I knew exactly what my surroundings were.  Above me was perfectly beautiful skies that were never ending beyond the rim of the cylinder.  Below me, the cylinder plunged into never ending depths of fire and torture.  Before me sat the council that would judge: five that were exalted, five that were condemned. 

  Each was breathtakingly beautiful, the men and women alike.  Once they opened their mouths one could tell which side they were on though.  The condemned said hateful things.  If you looked close enough, one could see
the physical difference as well.  Those who were exalted had beautiful blue eyes, the condemned had eyes blacker than ink.

  My hands twisted around one another in fearful anticipation.  The gold cord that bound them was beautiful to the eyes but it was strong and would not give in the slightest.  If I pulled against it too hard I knew it would cut into my skin till it drew blood.

  “Jasper Wood,” one of the council members started.  It was a man I stood trial for tonight.  My name is not Jasper, my name is Jessica, I chanted to myself internally.  I often had to remind myself who I really was.  It would be all too easy to lose my grasp on reality and fall to pieces.

  The familiar sensation that I was about to pass out began and I wished more than anything in my life that I could.

   “The deeds of your life have been accounted for and judgment will be passed.  Your actions must be made known.”

  I fought back the urge to scream as I heard the rustle of wings again, heard the hysterical, deranged laughter come from below, and the whispers that sounded more like singing coming from above.  I could feel hundreds of eyes settle on me as they took their places on the staircase that wound around me.  My breathing was becoming so shallow and quick almost no oxygen was coming in or out. 

  “Jasper Wood, your deeds will now be revealed,” the beautiful man before me continued.  I finally looked up as two scrolls were produced.  They were unraveled and terror sunk further into my heart.  One was very long, the other all too short.

  The items on the list were read aloud.  One list recounted all the good deeds of Jasper Wood, the other all the bad.  The latter was the longer list.

  Next came the part that exemplified how unjust my presence there was.  Sentencing.  The council would cast their vote as to where I would be sent.  Up meant exaltation and never ending bliss.  Down meant a branding and never ending torment.  Based upon acts I did not commit.

  The five condemned council members squirmed excitedly in their seats.  They knew what the outcome of this trial was going to be.  Their eyes grew wide with anticipation and they leaned forward and waited anxiously for their turn to pass judgment.

  “Down,” the first of the exalted began. 

  “Down,” the second sentenced.

  “Down,” the third.

  As the judgments continued to be passed, I squeezed my eyes shut as tightly as I could and rattled the numbers off in my head.  Twenty-one…twenty-two…twenty-three…  I counted as fast as I could even though I knew it could not save me from what was to come.

  “Down,” said the tenth.

  The scream finally erupted from my lips as the deranged laughter erupted from the walls, from the angels with the black eyes.  They heckled and called Jaspers name, pointing and laughing at me, knowing I was about to join them in eternal damnation.  I clasped my restrained hands to one ear, knowing it would do no good and would only make them laugh all the more.

  My eyes were drawn back to the council, to the one who led the condemned.  A wicked grin spread on his beautiful face, his black eyes nearly unfocused with glee.  His great wings coiled before bursting and propelling him towards me.  Another scream ripped from my chest and I shrank to the catwalk as he landed beside me.  Another of the angels from below joined us and handed the first a rod, glowing red on one end.  My eyes took in every detail of the beautiful and terrifying mark it held.

  I wanted to run back into the safety of the tunnel, to find Adam and beg him to save me.  I wished I could leap into the depths of the cylinder, find the bottom, and hide in the darkness forever.  But there was no use in fighting what I knew was coming.

  My entire body trembling violently, I made it to my hands and knees.  I dropped my head before the dark angel and with my cuffed hands, swept my hair from my neck. 

  It seemed it should not have been possible but the laughter picked up all the more from the branded ones I was about to join.  I could sense the grin on the face of their leader as he took another step towards me.

  I took one short, shallow breath and squeezed my eyes shut again.  A flash of white hot pain shot through my body as the red end of the rod was pushed into the back of my neck.  I could hear the skin shrivel and melt as it gave way to the pattern I knew all too well.  After what seemed an eternity, the rod was removed, and barely coherent from the pain, I was pulled to my feet.

  “Jasper Wood,” the first of the angels spoke again, the leader of the blue-eyed council members.  “Judgment has been placed.”

  At his words a new sensation began.  The feeling that giant sized insects were crawling just under the skin in my back overwhelmed me.  Just when I thought I could bear it no longer, I heard my flesh tear and my own set of beautiful wings burst forth.  Even the damned were given wings and made beautiful.

  With this, hell finally broke loose.  Those with the black eyes leapt from their seats and flew straight towards me.  Their cold hands clasped around my arms and legs, pushing and pulling from every direction.  There were too many of us on the narrow strip we stood upon.  We were going to fall.  And the only way to fall was down into the fiery depths.  As the chaos continued to envelop me, an earsplitting scream erupted once more from my lips.  As we slowly tipped sideways, I slipped into darkness.