Beneath (Heven and Hell #3.5) (2 page)

This wasn’t a person. This wasn’t the man I searched for. This was a beast.

It possessed fur black as midnight, eyes the color of blood, and long thick whiskers that jutted out from either side of an impressive black snout. I glanced down briefly to one of the massive paws pinning me to the ground. It had claws that would rival the dagger strapped to the inside of my thigh. I lifted my eyes from the sight and looked back at its mean, unforgiving stare.

I watched as a long, pink tongue made its way past heavy jaws to lick its lips as if implying I were its next meal.

I reacted, my hand shooting out and snatching the tongue it taunted me with, and I twisted. The black beast howled in pain and flexed the foot that was still pinning my shoulder. I felt the rip of flesh, but I ignored it. I released the tongue to deliver a quick punch to its jaw, and then I knocked it right in the eye, causing it to stumble backward and off me.

I was on my feet, dagger in hand, in seconds. I didn’t wait for an invite. I didn’t wait for a challenge. Instead, I lunged just as it was shaking its head, no doubt trying to clear its vision. It turned, catching me with its long whip-like tail, and pulled my feet out from under me. I landed on my butt, the dagger falling out of my grip. I reached for it only to have it kicked away by the creature. With a cry, I lunged, catching it around its neck and slamming it into the dirt. The surprise that flickered through its eyes made me laugh aloud as we rolled across the forest floor, stopping only when we hit a tree. I landed on top and grabbed one of its large ears in each hand and twisted. The animal bayed, eyes flashing red, and he snapped his great jaws, trying to take a bite out of me. I slammed its head into the ground and lunged for the dagger, which was just out of my reach. Finally, I grasped it and rolled, the animal spinning with me, pounding me into the dirt and showing its teeth like it was grinning because I’d finally been caught.

It arched its back and as it moved, its chest came down toward me, and I brought my arm up, ramming the dagger between its ribs. It hunched forward and then went limp as I pushed it off to the side.

I stood up, pulling down the dress I wore, noting the many stains and tears in the fabric. I sensed movement behind me and I spun, looking down at the animal.

And stood there staring in shock.

There was no longer a fur-covered beast with threatening claws and angry eyes before me. No. In its place was a man. A man with short, matted hair and a dirty face.

He had my dagger sticking out of his chest.

Very carefully, I knelt, feeling for a pulse, every muscle in my body taut and ready for another fight. But there was no pulse to be found. There would be no more fighting this day. He was dead. Of course, I’d heard of shifters, of their evil and blood-thirsty nature, but this was the first time I’d ever encountered one.

Is this what the Guardians did when they came to Earth? We all knew they were fighters, we all knew they banished dark and twisted souls from this world, but I guess I’d never really thought about what kind of evil they were banishing. In that moment, I felt very naïve and silly. As an angel whose job was merely to spread the kindness and love of God, I’d been ill prepared for this encounter.

Perhaps my procrastination hadn’t been the Lord’s work. Perhaps this was my punishment. I looked down at the blood on my hands. I never had to kill anything before. Yes, I carried a dagger because Earth was so unpredictable and primal, but I’d certainly never really thought I would have to use it.

I walked back toward the stream, wanting to wash the blood from my skin and yearning the peaceful sound of the water rushing to nowhere. When I made it to the edge of the hill, I looked down. The place I left was unchanged. It hardly seemed fair that it looked exactly the same when I felt irrevocably different.

I used my wings to float down, my bare feet resting on a moss-covered log as I curled the wings in close and veiled them once more. It wouldn’t do for someone else to happen upon me and see them.

I stepped toward the water’s edge and knelt, allowing the water to caress my fingers before plunging both hands into the icy stream and watching the red completely disappear. There was a splash to my left and I turned my head, expecting to see a jumping fish. It wasn’t a fish.

It was a man.

His eyes were locked on mine, and I watched as he set down the fishing pole he’d been holding and walked unsteadily across the stream toward me.

“Are you okay?” the man called as he drew near.

I stood, thinking about fleeing, not wanting any more contact with anyone else. As an angel, my contact with humans was supposed to be limited. Just as I was about to rush away, the man splashed to my side. Droplets of cool water splattered my legs, and I stepped backwards.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, holding out his palms and keeping his voice low.

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking,” I said, glancing up to the top of the hill. I was so very tempted to release my wings and fly away. Instead, I turned away to walk farther downstream where I’d be out of sight.

“You’re bleeding,” the man said, catching my wrist and pulling me back around.

I snatched my arm away, rubbing where he touched me. The skin was tingling.

“Your shoulder… Did you fall?” he asked, his eyes affixed to the area he mentioned.

I glanced down at my shoulder and realized I was, in fact, all bloody. Probably from where the beast dug in his claws. A glance closer showed that the wound was already healed, but it was so bloody the man couldn’t tell. I realized he was waiting for me to respond so I smiled.

“Yes, I slipped on the rocks, but it looks much worse than it is. I’m fine.”
God, forgive me for my lie.

“Let me help you,” the man offered, pulling off the red plaid shirt he wore unbuttoned over a white T-shirt and holding it out.

I made no move to take it, but I didn’t step back either and so he stepped forward to cautiously lay the folded up shirt against my wound. His bare hand wrapped around my shoulder as his other gently pressed the shirt in place. He had rough skin. It brushed over the bareness of my shoulder and reminded me of the bark covering the tree that I’d been lying on moments ago. His hand was warm and large, covering the entire back of my shoulder.

“Does that hurt?” he asked, his voice hushed.

I glanced up at him. Our faces were close and I could see his every detail. He had a slightly crooked nose, a chip in one of his front teeth, and dark stubble lining his jaw. His hair was long and very dark, confined at the nape of his neck by a rubber band, and when he shifted, a thick, wavy strand escaped and fell forward to brush against his cheek.

“Really, I’m fine,” I said, and suddenly I felt like the butterflies I was watching earlier somehow made it into the pit of my stomach and were trying to break free. The feeling caused me to step backward, my hand coming up to hold the shirt in place. I wasn’t used to feelings like this. Was it normal? I didn’t think it was. Usually, my emotions were calm and even. I felt anything but calm at this moment.

“Do you need to go to the doctor? I can take you,” he offered.

“No, that isn’t necessary. I’ll clean this up at home. I should go,” I said, stepping away.

This time he made no move to stop me. I resisted the urge to turn and look back because I could feel him watching me. Finally, I made it around a bend in the stream and slipped behind a tree, knowing I was completely out of sight. I unfolded my wings, shaking them out, and lifted myself into the air. I loved the weightlessness, the way my feet touched nothing, how I wasn’t anchored to anything except myself and the joy of flying.

I made a wide arc around the stream so the man below wouldn’t see me, and then I lowered myself into the forest, close to where I’d been with the shifter. In the shock of what I’d done I left my dagger behind and wanted to collect it before I went home. I walked for what felt like hours, but really it was probably only minutes. Time here on Earth had a way of dragging for me. In heaven, time was irrelevant, unmeasured, and nothing felt like it went on for too long.

I began to wonder if I was in the right place. Nothing looked disturbed and I didn’t see the body. But then I came upon the spot where he fell, and there were tracks in the dirt. I followed them, marveling at how far the beast and I had actually rolled. When the marks on the ground stopped, so did I. I looked down, but there was nothing there. So I turned, remembering we had rolled once more, bracing myself for the sight of the body.

But it was a sight I wouldn’t see.

I could have told myself I was in the wrong place. But that would have been a lie. There in the grass and curling leaves were spots of blood, blood that was still fresh…

But where was the shifter, and where was my dagger?

Gone.

* * *

Sparkling clear water spouted joyously from the fountain. It rose into the air with great enthusiasm and then gently turned and cascaded back into the round pool, creating a melody all its own. You would think that the rest of the water in the pool would be full of ripples from the gentle splashing, but it wasn’t. It was still and calm, so clear it looked like glass, and I would often sit on the edge to peer down at my reflection. I’d always thought I was a little too dark looking to be an angel. My hair was shiny like the sun, but it was dark like the earth. My eyes were clear as crystal, but the color of a storm cloud. I was thin, but my frame wasn’t willowy like a flower blowing in the breeze, but strong like a tree that had put down roots.

Sometimes I wondered how I fit in with the other angels, who all seemed lighter, brighter, and more graceful than myself. I once asked my Father about this and where I fit in, and he merely smiled. A feeling of complete and utter belonging flowed into me before he even spoke. “My child, all my creations are beautiful in their own way. Each one of you has something specific and special to offer. Do not doubt my love for all my children or your place among them. If you doubt your place, be utterly certain that in time you will know where it is.”

From that day forward I never worried about the way I looked, but lately… actually, since the day I saw the shifter, I’d been worrying about not how I looked, but how I felt. Why was I drawn to Earth? Why did I find its unexpectedness so appealing? In many ways, I felt guilty, like I was betraying heaven, like I was betraying my Father.

I told myself it wasn’t true, that my love for my Father was singular and all encompassing. But still, sometimes in the two weeks since I’d left Earth, I found myself thinking of that shifter… and of the man I met by the stream.

I didn’t know which one unsettled me more. Surely it should’ve been the shifter. I mean, a man shifting into a great, hulking beast? That should be no contest to a mere human with a fishing pole. Yet it was his eyes that I sometimes pictured when I closed mine. It was his rough skin that I still felt against the smoothness of mine.

My thoughts were interrupted (thankfully) by someone approaching me from behind. I saw the white blond of his hair reflected in the fountain and then the rest of him slowly revealed the closer he got. He wasn’t a huge man, but he wasn’t small, either. His muscles were corded and stretched into a long and lean frame. He looked nothing like the wider, bulkier man by the stream. His hair was nearly white, glittering in the perfect sunshine, and there wasn’t a strand out of place. It was nothing like the dark mess of waves that absorbed the sunlight and probably had never even seen a comb. The angel smiled at me, his wings were three times the size of him and so brilliant and white that I might’ve been breathless had I not seen them a hundred times before. You’d think that a man dark as night and wide as a house, who has the misfortune of having no brilliant wings, would never compare. You certainly wouldn’t think that his looks would surpass the perfection standing in front of me.