Falling (The Falling Angels Saga) (14 page)

“Mmm.” He rolled onto his back, eyeing me with a sexy grin.

“Are you trying to entice me?” I asked as I moved in, hovering over him.

“Is it working?”

“No,” I whispered. He pulled me on top of him and kissed me hard. His kiss was urgent and demanding, salty and sweet. I found it impossible to catch my breath.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” he said as he drew away, our lips still touching.

“Me, too.” My breath was coming hot and ragged. I pushed myself up off the floor, not because I wanted to, but because I knew if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to control myself.

“Where are you going?” he was still lying on his back, looking up at me, his dreamy eyes inviting me back down to play.

“Nowhere,” I said, my voice rasping against the back of my throat. I moved to the bed and sat. I breathed in deeply, attempting to douse the fire that had been ignited within.

“Do you really think you can get away with it?”

My face twisted in puzzlement. “Not being close to you?”

He laughed. “No, silly. Although I don’t see how you can manage to sit way over there with me lying here looking so alluring.” He batted his eyelashes like a vixen from an old movie. I laughed out loud. “I was talking about the disguise. Do you really believe you can get in and out of Dagenhart castle without being spotted?” The laughter drained from his eyes like rain water through a gutter.

“Yes,” I said, clinging to my smile so as not to change the mood, but it was too late. We were already moving onto tomorrow.

He nodded. I sensed he was holding his tongue. “That Monsieur Perez is quite a character.”

“He is,” I replied. The mention of that horrible man sent the remnants of the smile fleeing from my lips. “I don’t trust Monsieur Perez.”

He nodded again. “But you trust Orthon.” It was more statement than question, pricking my mood full of pin holes.

“I… you weren’t at the castle last summer, Guy. He risked his existence for me.” I was again feeling like the girl with two lovers, defending a position that didn’t need defending.

“I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

I had to choose my words carefully. I couldn’t continue to defend myself. Defending myself would make me appear to be guilty of something. I took the offense. “Jealous?” I asked, pushing a teasing smile onto my lips.

“No, of course not. I would never be jealous of a demon.” His arrogance rose to the surface. Normally, I found his arrogance attractive, but not today. He saw the disapproval I couldn’t keep from my eyes. “Should I be?” he asked, his tone shifting.

It was the perfect time to tell him of Orthon’s professed love for me, and that he, indeed, had nothing to worry about. I loved him and only him. But I thought:
what good would it do for him to know this, since Orthon’s love is not returned?

A lie of omission.

“I’m not going to answer that. I like keeping you on your toes,” I said, clinging to the teasing grin.

He laughed lightly. “Then on my toes I shall be.”

Later that night, as I climbed into bed and he fluffed a pillow into the chair across the room, I surprised him by inviting him over. Tomorrow evening I’d be attempting the near impossible, a spy mission at Dagenhart castle. I craved one night of comfort, hoped that a night in Guy’s arms would give me the confidence I needed to get through it.

“You want me to spend the night on the bed with you?” He was trying not to sound eager, as he squinted over at me, but I knew him too well. I made a fuss of fluffing my own pillow so I wouldn’t have to look at him.

“I’m sure it’s more comfortable than that old chair. But you can’t get under the covers,” I replied, trying to sound casual, although I could feel my heart beginning to race like a thoroughbred.

He came over and sat on the edge of the bed. “It does feel more comfortable,” he said, gently bouncing up and down.

“Told you,” I said and rolled over, my back to him. I breathed in silently and deep, begging my racing heart to slow down.

My breath caught as I felt him roll onto the bed next to me.

“Remember our first kiss?” he said to my back.

“Of course I remember. We were on the bus coming back from the Countywide Mathlete Championships. It got me kicked off the team.”

“I was kicked off, too,” he said in teasing protest.

“But you’re an angel. You don’t need good grades to get into college.”

“I was so nervous,” he said softly.

I rolled over and faced him. I had to look into his eyes to see if he was serious. He was smiling his smile and shaking his head, embarrassed over the memory. His skin was pale and smooth. He had a faraway look in his dreamy eyes.

“I knew I was crossing the line, but I couldn’t help myself. I was falling for you,” he said huskily, his smile brightening like a sunrise over a field of flowers.

“I thought you didn’t notice me.”

“Oh, I noticed you, all right. How could I not? That’s what we guys do. Act like we don’t care. It’s our safety mechanism to protect our hearts.”

To protect
your
heart?

“You sure had me fooled. We girls need something like that,” I said, and he laughed.

“No, no. You make it hard enough on us guys as it is.”

The room filled with airy laughter, and my heart rate slowed. We reminisced and laughed into the night, careful not to get too loud. And when I finally rolled over in my protective cocoon of covers, with Guy so close and yet so far, I drifted off into a peaceful sleep. His fresh fragrance infiltrated my senses. I couldn’t help but dream of him all night.

On Saturday afternoon, Harrison and I took Guy’s car and drove into Phoenix to meet with Mick Turner, the makeup artist. Harrison felt it better that just the two of us go. I agreed. I loved Guy, but he’d only be a distraction.

Mick Turner had started his career doing special makeup for a number of low-budget Hollywood horror films back in the nineties, but his specialty became his character work. Turner was known for being able to turn any actor into someone totally unrecognizable. He could make young people old, and old people appear years younger. He once worked on a film starring Brad Pitt where he had to turn the actor into someone different every day. One day one of Brad’s children was on the set and walked right past him. That was Turner’s proudest moment, a child not being able to recognize his own father.

Harrison’s tales of Turner’s exploits in Hollywood kept my mind occupied during the ride over to his shop. Yet the thought of going back to Tavares Castle, now Dagenhart Castle, always hovered near the forefront of my consciousness. Last time I was there, I almost didn’t make it out alive.

I couldn’t afford for the job Turner did on me to look theatrical. It had to look real, authentic, natural and a host of other adjectives I couldn’t think of. While Monsieur Perez believed I could take care of myself if I were discovered, I didn’t share his confidence in my abilities. The abilities seemed to have a mind of their own, and lately they had become even more unpredictable.

“How do you know Mr. Turner?” Harrison had run out of stories, the car quickly filling up with silence. With silence came the negative thoughts. I needed him to keep talking.

“His mother was a mortal who’d fallen in love with an angel, like my mother had.” He shot me a brief, sideways glance. “Like you. I’m not sure how they met. She was a generation older than me mum, but they shared the common bond of both being wedded to angels. They were thick as thieves, those two.” A fond memory brightened his face.

“Were?”

“Mick’s mum moved on several years ago.” His eyes clouded over.

“Tell me about your mother,” I said, trying to keep the gloom from settling over him.

His brilliant hazel eyes stared silently at the road a few minutes. I didn’t think he was going to answer until I noticed a sweetness relaxing the hard lines that had formed around his mouth. He seemed to be suddenly at peace. “She’s a wonderful person. Always with a smile, a kind word for everyone. I know it hasn’t been easy for her. She’d gone from a normal life to being the man in the middle.”

“The man in the middle?”

“Ya. That’s what I am. A man with no race. I’m neither angel nor mortal. Unlike me, she wasn’t born into it, and yet there she was.”

I sensed a darkness in his reply. I was reminded of the day Harrison tried to take
The Book of Calls
away from me. He’d wanted to even the playing field between angels and Nephilim. I slunk down in my seat and stared out the window. Harrison had hurt me that day, nearly breaking my arm.

“If Guy makes the choice to give up heaven, will he begin to age?”

“Yes. From the moment he makes his choice, the change in him will begin. It will start slowly at first, but eventually all his angelic endowments will fade. That’s why it’s not a choice to be taken lightly.”

I nodded. “If Guy and I ever got married, do you think he’d turn bitter one day?” I continued staring out the window. I didn’t want to look at him. If his expression had turned sour, I didn’t want to see it.

“He loves ya, darlin’,” He replied, and I heard his tone soften.

I wheeled around and faced him. “But your father loves your mother. And he…”

“That he does,” he said softly. “My father never turned bitter,” he added after a short silence. “I did. I turned bitter.” He sighed deeply. “And that’s a story for another time. We’re here.”

We were pulling up in front of a small shop with a painted sign containing the single word: Costumes. There was a mockup of Spiderman in the tiny shop window, alongside Dorothy from
The Wizard of Oz
. A bell above the door chimed as we entered. Inside, the cramped shop was lined with clothing racks featuring colorful period dresses and jackets. I saw lots of brocade and lots of glitter.

“Harrison, you’re all grown up. I knew it would happen one day.”

Mick Turner emerged from behind the back-room curtain. He was a tall man, well over six feet, with a full head of salt and pepper hair and a ruddy complexion. The smile on his lips was made from love.

“And you’ve grown old. I knew that would happen, too,” replied Harrison. The tiny shop filled with laughter as the two Nephilim moved to each other and embraced. I noted that height and looks seemed to be a quality of Nephilim.

“I haven’t seen you since I’ve been back,” said Turner, releasing Harrison and giving him the once over.

“I know. I’m lousy at keepin’ in touch.”

“You’re lousy at many things, but I won’t embarrass you in front of the young lady.” Turner treated me to a movie star smile and winked.

“Speaking of the young lady, this is the friend I called you about, in need of a disguise,” said Harrison. “Megan Barnett.”

“Pleased to meet ya,” said Turner holding out his hand. His grip was warm and firm.

“Thanks for your help.” I didn’t know what else to say. I felt like I was intruding on a family reunion.

“You’ve got good bone structure.” He took my face in his hand and turned it from side-to-side as if he were looking for a zit. “I can definitely make you into a young man. This’ll be fun. Come on.” He released me and headed for the back. Peeling back the curtain, he reentered the back room. “Harrison, lock the door,” he called.

The back room was much larger than the store itself. There were head molds of men, witchy looking women, and monsters all lined up on the many work tables. A large, hairy manimal with a huge goat’s head stood nearby. I moved in closer to get a better look because it seemed so real.

“You like? I created him for a film back in the nineties.”

“It’s amazing.” I touched the hair on the manimal’s chest. It felt so real it made my skin crawl. “But nothing so elaborate for me.”

“Of course not, darlin’. I’m gonna make you look like Al Pacino.”

I laughed.

“The younger version, of course,” he added. “From
The Godfather
.”

I looked toward Harrison, wide-eyed. “He’s serious?”

“Sounds like he is,” Harrison said. “The man is a genius.”

I laughed at the absurdity of the idea that I could look anything like Al Pacino.

“Let’s just hope you don’t run inta his lady on the street. If you do, she’ll be fillin’ ya with kisses.” Turner let loose with a big belly laugh that saturated the air and had both Harrison and me joining in.

“How much time have I got?” he asked.

“A couple hours,” replied Harrison. “We’ve got to meet up with the others and get their stamp of approval before heading off to the conclave.”

“I’ll havta hurry, then. Please, sit,” said Turner, gesturing toward his makeup chair. He began picking through his tubes and pots of makeup with urgency.

I moved into the chair. It seemed two hours was plenty of time. I figured he was just being an artist. He started by placing a stained barber’s cape around my neck to keep the makeup from getting on my clothing. It smelled of paint thinner or turpentine. My eyes watered as I adjusted to the odor. He then began painting what looked like paste onto my face.

Turner and Harrison chatted amiably as he went about his work. I passed the time thinking of Monday, when this would all be behind me. After school I’d ask Guy to take me for a drive, and maybe we’d stop somewhere and have iced lattes and chat about how silly I was to be so worried about the conclave.

“It’s shaping up,” I heard Harrison say and realized I’d been daydreaming for some time.

“Care to have a look?” asked Turner.

He held up a hand mirror and I gasped as I observed my reflection. I didn’t look like Al Pacino, but I certainly didn’t look like me, either. An olive-complexioned guy stared back at me. “Wow,” I said, and marveled at
my
voice coming out of the guy’s mouth. My mouth… his mouth was surrounded by facial hair, a mustache curving into a goatee. It’s amazing the effect facial hair can have on changing a girl into a guy.

“I just need to do a little more work on the nose and add the wig, and you’ll be totally unrecognizable.”

“I’m totally unrecognizable already,” I said and let out a short burst of laughter as I watched myself speaking out of the young man’s mouth.