Branded (Fall of Angels)

by Keary Taylor

CHAPTER TWENTY

   

  I knew something was different as soon as Adam came down the tunnel to get me.  Everything looked just slightly off, as if all these years I had experienced the nightmares, a thin veil had been placed over my eyes.  Everything seemed painfully clear and sharp now.  And I was noticing things I had never bothered to consciously process before. 

  Adam was tall and built of pure muscle.  I had never noticed before how his chest was always bare and exposed, the only clothing he wore were soft, loose white pants.  His feet were bare. 

  It seemed strange now how the flames from the torches that lined the wall danced across his flesh.  Considering he didn’t have a gleam of sweat across his skin this seemed like it should have been impossible.  Yet it was enchanting as it cast a strange glow all over him.  The reflection of the fire danced dangerous and wild in his grey eyes.

  The normal terror that filled me was still undeniably there as he bound my hands with the golden cord, but I was so distracted by the odd clarity that surrounded me it was lessened.  I could only stare at everything in wonder.

  Our footsteps echoed almost maddeningly off the walls of the low tunnel as we proceeded down it.  The glow of light at the end of it was almost blinding.  The faint rushing of air as it flowed around us seemed like the very breath and hissing of the stones that encased us, sending violent shudders of fear down my spine.

  As Adam walked me out onto the catwalk, I took in a choking breath, feeling as if my throat was suddenly closing up.  I had never noticed before how suffocatingly hot it was in the cylinder.  The heat coated my skin along with the moisture that hung in the air and threatened to suffocate the life out of me right then and there.

  In the few moments before I knew the council would arrive, I took in the detail of the ten stone chairs mounted onto the wall before me.  They were amazing works of art.  Tiny figures were carved into elaborate scenes, encased with symbols and swirls that made no sense to me.  Perhaps there was no actual meaning.  They were simply meant to look as beautiful as they were.

  The rustle of wings began and I noticed the fierce sound of the power behind them.  My eyes refocused from the amazing thrones and took in the graceful movements of the angels as they settled themselves into their seats.

  I did not hear their words as they spoke.  I knew what they would say; the only difference would be the name of the person I stood trial for.  I did not even notice when the demented laughter rose from below me.  I could not help but marvel at the beautiful faces.

  They were each so flawless it made me want to cry.  Not for jealousy, that I myself could not look like that.  But for the pure fact that I knew this kind of perfection existed.  Every detail and every line was flawless and flowed perfectly into the next.  I found myself suddenly wishing I could lay my hand on one of their cheeks, just to see if it felt as amazingly wonderful as it looked.  This desire was strongly contradicted though with a fear of what it might feel like as well.  That kind of perfection was intimidating and alien.

  There was an obvious difference between the condemned council members and the exalted.  The latter each held a serene look on their faces.  Perfectly calm and content, despite the horrific scene that surrounded them.  The condemned however, held an excited gleam in their black eyes that chilled me where I stood and made my breath catch in my throat.  Wicked smiles twisted in the corners of their mouths as anticipation boiled.

  The men that surrounded us everywhere were dressed the same as Adam, each of their bodies as perfect as his.  The women were dressed in simple white dresses.  They reminded me of something one might see on a sculpture of a Greek goddess.  The dresses swooped down remarkably low in the back, their beautiful white and metallic wings remaining free.

  That was another detail I stared in wonder at.  It was only in certain light you could see the metallic glint in their wings.  It boggled my mind that this seemed to work in the same way my own imprint of wings did.  When the light did hit just right, the effect was stunning and impossibly beautiful.

  My blissful state of observation was broken as I finally registered the word that escaped the beautiful lips of the new leader of the condemned.

  “Down,” his beautiful voice damned me.

  Despite how wonderful it had been to be so detached from this trial it was not worth it as I stared horrified into the new leaders face.  His eyes seemed to almost glaze over with demented glee as his wings coiled and then propelled him toward me on the catwalk.  I could see my own reflection in his eyes.  The merciful white bag was on my head but I could make out my terrified eyes through the small slits in it.

  I could not look away from his twisted eyes as he landed beside me.  I had never so deliberately looked either this man or the one before him in the eye.  It was a strange feeling.  The mix of horror and terror, combined with the oddest sense of trust.  Something about his eyes called to a place deep within me, telling me everything was going to be alright, he would only do what was supposed to be done.

  I dropped to my knees only because I knew that was what I was supposed to do.  My head bowed and I swept the hair from my neck.  I heard another set of beating wings and knew the rod with the brand had been presented.

  My breathing sped and came in shallow, uneven gasps.  My ears started ringing as my pulse beat in them and I felt lightheaded.  The ground beneath me started tilting and spinning.

  The white-hot rod was pressed into the back of my neck and my scream shocked even me.  It wasn’t that of a human and couldn’t fully express the tortured pain of a human.  I had never felt pain like this before.  I had been branded hundreds of times before and had never felt the searing pain of the iron in my neck like this.  It radiated throughout my entire body and I could not process any other thought than the desire to die, right there and then on the catwalk.

  I was yanked to my feet but I still did not hear the words that were spoken to me.  My head rolled back and forth across my chest, my eyes wide open but unable to comprehend anything I saw. 

  For the first time, I didn’t have to wait for the condemned angels to pull me off the catwalk.  As soon as their leader let go of me, I simply fell off the ledge.

   

  My scream as I woke was different.  It had always been out of terror that I screamed before.  This time it was out of immeasurable pain.  My hands flew to my neck but I immediately jerked them away.  The slightest touch sent sharp, stabbing pains radiating through my entire neck and down my spine.

  Glad the spinning in my head had ended with the dream, I staggered into the bathroom.  It took great effort not to scream with each step I took.  Any movement was torture.

  The light seared my eyes as I flipped it on and I had to cover them for a few brief moments as they adjusted.  When I finally did open my eyes I froze.

  I had known the dream was off, I remembered this, every detail I took in during the nightmare.  But that hadn’t ended when I woke.  The person who looked back at me in the mirror was all too clear to be natural. 

  Her large eyes stared back at me, made all the bigger by the shocked expression on her face.  I could easily pick out the different streaks of green and brown in them.  They were more brown on the outside edge, more green on the inside.  Her nose was perfectly straight and her lips proportional to her face.  While her skin could in no way compare to that of the angels’, it was nearly flawless according to human standards.

  I had to blink several times to realize this wasn’t just some trick of the mirror and that the person staring back at me was truly me.  As I quickly glanced around the bathroom I realized everything had become much sharper, as if I’d had terrible vision all my life and had just barely gotten prescription glasses.

  The slight movement of my head reminded me of the reason I had flown to the bathroom and I quickly pulled out my little round mirror from under the sink.  Pulling my heap of hair off my neck, I looked into the small mirror, looking at the back of my
neck in the other mirror.

  The scar was all too familiar, but today it looked almost blistered in a terrible and fierce way.  And instead of its normal angry red it was almost white, as if more heat than normal had indeed been applied.

  As I looked into the mirror, I noticed something else that seemed odd.  I had been sleeping in a plain white tee-shirt and it seemed the pattern of my wings was far more visible through it than normal.  I could make out faint evidence of it along my shoulder blades, where the shirt met my skin the tightest.

  I pealed my shirt off, stifling my screams at the same time as pain ripped through my body.  I turned my back to the mirror and peaked over my shoulder, back at my reflection.

  Anyone else would not have noticed much of a difference in them, but it drew my attention immediately.  In the center, where, had they been real, the wings sprouted from the skin, it was more raised, spreading out towards my shoulder blades.  I wished I could reach that far and tell if the feathery details were as soft as they looked.  The metallic sheen was far more obvious there as well.  It was not often I actually saw the metallic color come through in my bathroom but it was not difficult to spot now.

  “Jessica?” I jumped violently when I heard the voice from the door.

  I met Alex’s shocked and questioning look for only a moment before a flood of heat rushed to my face.  I was horrifyingly grateful I had been twisted in a way he could not actually see anything, my mane of hair providing a good enough cover.  I twisted away, my back facing him and grabbed my shirt off the counter to cover myself.  I whimpered slightly at the sudden movement as pain stabbed through my neck.

  I started to yank my shirt back on over my head but before I could pull it down, Alex’s hands stopped me.  His hands hovered hesitantly over my scar and traced lightly over the changed portion of my wings.

  “They’ve changed,” he whispered as his fingers ran over the center portion.  “The brand, it looks…painful.”

  “It is,” I hissed as I finished pulling my shirt all the way down, the movement taking my breath away.  “Would you mind getting me some ice?”  I panted as I turned toward him, taking note of his shocked and slightly fearful expression.  Alex’s face too was unmistakably clearer.  It froze me in my tracks for a moment and I simply stared at him.  He may not have the skin of an angel but I couldn’t resist as I placed my hand on his cheek.

  “Of course,” he said, his voice low.  I could see the concern in his eyes, the questions he was dying to ask.  But he held off and turned to go and do as I asked.

  I went to my closet and quickly exchanged the tee-shirt for a tank top that would allow easy access to my neck.  Being careful of how I moved, I walked out into the tiny living room and saw Alex wrapping a bag of ice in a towel.  I gingerly made my way to the table and sat down.

  Alex came to my side and looked hesitant if he should apply the ice himself or just give it to me.  I saved him the trouble and reached for it.  I couldn’t help wincing and inhaling sharply as the cool towel met the brand.

  The clock caught my eyes as I opened them.  “Is that clock right?” I gasped.  It read just after seven.

  “Yeah,” Alex said, sounding confused as he checked it to his cell phone.

  I shook my head as much as allowed for minimal pain.  “I’ve been asleep for six hours then,” I hissed.  “I don’t know if I’ve ever slept for six hours.”

  “Is something wrong, Jessica?” Alex questioned, his expression still that of deep concern.  “I hate to say it but you look…well terrible, to be honest.”

  “I feel terrible.  Though I actually feel better than I did before.”  There was going to be no getting around it.  I was going to have to tell Alex everything that had happened.  “I got really sick right after you left.  I threw up and right after that I got this terrible fever and chills.  I’ve never felt so awful in my life.”

  Before I could continue Alex spoke.  “You could have called me.  I would have come back to help you.”

  I closed my eyes and nodded.  “I know,” I breathed.  I opened my eyes again, meeting his gaze.  “I thought about it but I knew what you were doing was important.  And besides, when it got to the worst of it you would have still been more than an hour away.”  I took a deep breath, continuing to lock eyes with Alex.  “I called Cole.  He came over and helped me for a while.”

  I had prepared for Alex to be upset about this all day so when he didn’t get angry, didn’t hold his breath, didn’t react in any way I expected, I wasn’t sure how to respond.  His face remained calm, the same concern it held before was still there.

  “I’m so sorry.  I wish I had known,” he said soothingly.

  The shock of his reaction clouded my thoughts and all I could do was nod my head.

  “Why don’t you come over to the couch?” he said, no hesitation in his voice like he was trying to hold back some frustration.  “You’ll be more comfortable.”

  Again I only nodded my head and followed him silently to my tiny couch.

  “So what changed?” he questioned once we were settled, my head resting on his chest.  He held the ice pack gingerly on the back of my neck for me, his other arm wrapped securely around my shoulders.  “Why are the scars so different today?”

  I knew that it was wrong, the way I had dragged him into this whole mess of things, a mess that was becoming more messy and tangled by the day.  But I was selfish.  I wanted someone to talk to about all of this.  I needed him to know everything.

  “There is more to this whole mess than I told you before,” I began.  My heart raced in my chest as I feared what his reaction might be to what I had to tell him.  Again, fear of rejection and fear of him thinking I was crazy filled my head.  “Things have been changing a lot recently with the nightmares.”

  Alex gave no negative reaction as I carefully explained the things that had been changing.  I confessed what had actually happened the morning of Valentines when I mysteriously passed out at the sight of him with the angel wings in the snow.  I still couldn’t explain the dozens of hands that had covered me nor the voice that had spoken to me in the darkness. 

  I explained how my one defense of the sack over my head during the trials had been ripped away and how their leader had seen my face clearly.  I told him of how the council had changed and the leader of the condemned was missing.  I still couldn’t understand why my vision was so bizarrely clear and enhanced ever since I had woken up from this last nightmare.

  And I finally wrapped everything up by explaining how I had gotten so violently sick today.  I didn’t get sick.  I had never been sick a day of my life.  It was the same as how I had never broken a bone, never gotten a scratch or bruise.  I couldn’t explain any of it.

  While Alex seemed concerned and confused over the things I told him, he took this the same way he had taken everything else.  In stride and appearing to be unruffled by it.  He didn’t call me crazy, didn’t pull away, or loosen his hold on me.

  “Something big is happening, Alex,” I whispered into his chest.  “I don’t understand what is going on.”

  I felt him press his lips into my hair as he gave me a soft squeeze.  “We will figure this out,” he whispered.  “I will do whatever I have to to help you figure this thing out.  And I will be here no matter what happens.”