Falter (23 page)

“God bless you,” Malach said, grinning.

I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at the angel for a moment. “So, who’s ready to give me some insight about tonight?”
 

Gavyn crooked an eyebrow and peered over at Malach expectantly.
 

“Dammit, just tell me already!”

“Guess I should be going, then.” The angel reached for a box of Twinkies in the cabinet. He popped open the end of the cardboard, pulled out the yellow treat inside, ripped off the wrapper, and then stuffed the cake into his mouth. He sucked in his well-defined gut and shoved the Twinkie box behind his leather belt as he chewed. “Mm, you guys really know how to indulge in good food down here.” He held up one last bite of cream-filled cake in a toasting motion, then crammed it in his mouth. “Thanks, Gav.”
 

Gavyn rolled his eyes and drank his last sip of beer. “You’re gonna make me fill her in by myself, then,” he dead-panned.

“I have every bit of faith in you. Have fun.” He patted Gavyn’s back then strolled toward George’s body.

Malach bent down and gently picked up the corpse that lay on the floor. The being cradled the body in one arm like it was weightless and lovingly caressed its cheek with his other hand. The angel’s eyes searched the hollow face for a moment and mumbled some words in a low foreign language. Then, as quickly as his tender demeanor came, it left—reverting to the somewhat comical version of a heavenly soldier.

“What do you think you’re doing with George’s body?” I demanded, stomping across the room to stop the angel.

He winked arrogantly, unfazed by the clear anger in my eyes. “I’m taking it with me.”

“You can’t do that!” I protested, stopping just a short distance from the angel. I became very aware that the fewer steps between me and the winged man, the more my body wanted to bow down and praise him.

George deserved a proper burial. That was for me to do. I needed to take care of him—or, at least, his body.

“Relax, Nevaeh. I will take it to the Heavens with me for safekeeping,” he responded, I think a little intrigued by my brashness toward him.

In spite of my protective reaction, I was sure he sensed that I desperately wanted him. I could feel my body involuntarily leaning in to get closer to the angel. My breath was deep and heady, and there was a lack of conviction behind my words. It was incredibly hard to deny the fact that I wanted nothing more than his arms to embrace me and to feel his massive hands sweep across
my
cheek.

“Why does it matter now? I thought the demon took his soul.”
 

Gavyn approached me from behind, softly grabbed my forearm, and slid his hand down to mine. “Let him go. I will explain. George’s body is safer with them.”

The sincerity in his tone begged me to trust him.
 

Staring into his kind eyes, I remembered my developing feelings for him. My real emotions bubbled to the surface and erased the lust and need pulling my soul toward Malach. It wasn’t the pining for the angel I felt anymore, but a growing infatuation for the man in front of me. I made a quick mental note not to trust myself, or what I felt, around the heavenly being. I smiled sadly at Gavyn and nodded with assurance that I would let whatever happened happen and trust his judgment.

Just then, a warm breeze floated through the room, twirling my hair around my neck as tiny raindrops began to fall around us. I looked to the ceiling and found a growing puddle softening the surface above me once again. The sides stretched farther and farther with each swirl of circulating water. It was tamer this time.
 

“Guess I’ll see you guys later.” Malach widened his stance and stiffened his back, pulling George’s shell closer against his body. His massive shimmering wings unfolded behind him and took my breath away. He was beautiful. It almost hurt to see him leave. I wanted to kneel and weep at his pureness.
 

As if by cue, tears flooded my eyes when he flexed the masses of white feathers up. The angel was leaving me here with my misery.
 

“Wait,” I demanded. I ran to George and gently took his left hand in mine. The thin, gold band slipped off his finger with ease.

I pushed the dulled circle of metal onto my thumb, spinning it around a few times as I thought about the hope that George had to see his family again and how he’d been denied that chance.
 

I squeezed George’s hand one last time and lowered it, planting a kiss on his cold, gaunt
 
cheek. Stepping backward, I stared down at the bare strip of skin on his ring finger. The flesh where his ring used to be was paler than the rest of his hand. I continued spinning the band on my thumb as the weight of grief constricted my chest. This hunk of dented gold would be all I have left of him now.

I tore my eyes from George’s shell and looked up at Malach. I nodded. Malach silently returned the nod and bowed his head, acknowledging my unspoken permission to take George. In one vigorous motion downward, the angel’s powerful wings rocketed him and the corpse up through the watery vortex. The ceiling smoothed and hardened, assuming its true form.

I stopped sobbing for the angel’s departure the moment the portal closed, yet, a single tear trickled down my cheek after they departed. It carried only a drop of the sorrow shredding my heart to pieces, but that one fell solely for George.
 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A Whole New World

Silently, I said my goodbyes to the last of George and turned toward Gavyn, wrapping my arms tight around his waist. Inhaling his cedar scent, I tried desperately to lose myself in his warmth. He held me in a gentle embrace and kissed the top of my head. With my ear to his chest, I heard him breathe me in.

I lifted my gaze to meet his and searched for some hint of his thoughts. His eyes clouded with regret and worry.

Did he regret welcoming me into his life?
 

 
I averted my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see any more signs of disappointment. He lifted his hands to either side of my head, urging me to look back at him. His strong fingers threaded through my hair and stopped when his palms reached my temples. He traced his thumbs over my brows, smoothing the creases I had unconsciously created there. I closed my eyes and savored his consoling touch.

The warmth of his breath intensified when he lowered his face to mine. Even with my eyes closed, I could sense him smiling as he hovered just above me. I smiled too, thinking about how much I wanted him to kiss me, to
love
my pain away.

Though it seemed like centuries, only a few seconds passed before I finally felt the dampness of his lips. Every cell in my body jolted to life. One small kiss, then another and another—increasing in passion and pressure; the next one more engaging than the last. His tongue gently slid between my lips, persuading my mouth to open under his.
 

I traced my hands up his back and neck, then tangled my fingers in his hair. Pulling his mouth harder against mine, I deepened the kiss, welcoming him into my soul.

A surge of adrenaline charged through my body. Tiny moans escaped my mouth, making apparent the growing need inside me. His breath became heavy and fast with each stroke of our tongues. He pressed me into him, grinding our bodies together, digging his fingertips into my flesh. My mind focused on the raw intensity of our connection and almost forgot about the world around us, about the devastation of losing George.
 

Gavyn growled, lightening his kisses before reluctantly breaking away. I groaned from the loss of connection and opened my eyes. He smiled and lowered his forehead to rest against mine. “I’ll make us some tea. We have a lot to talk about,” he panted.

Of course
. Now that I didn’t want to talk—I just wanted to get lost in him and forget—he was all up for a conversation.

I tugged the wrinkles out of my shirt and tucked my hair back behind my ears. “Ok.”

I padded to the bathroom to straighten my disheveled emotions while Gavyn made tea. Feelings of apprehension surfaced. Even though I needed answers, I wanted to pretend that nothing life changing had happened and move on. With Gavyn. I wanted to discuss how we felt about each other, not monsters and angels, or death and afterlife. It was selfish of me, I know, but it hurt too much to think about the recent events. It felt easier to deny them.

The whistle of a teapot screamed down the hall as I stared into the mirror, searching for the girl I once was. Dark circles of sadness and exhaustion underlined my eyes. I sighed and rubbed my palms over my face, attempting to wipe away the signs of tragedy—with no success. I marched out of the bathroom disgusted with the embodiment of sorrow and confusion I had become.
 

Gavyn met me at the end, holding a steaming mug of earthy, amber-colored liquid. I accepted the tea, inhaling the alleviating aroma into my sinuses, and took a sip. He watched me closely, gauging my demeanor.

I shuffled to the futon and sat down, taking notice of the pinkish hues sluggishly gliding into the room from the bay window. A new day was dawning.

Gavyn disappeared down the hall and returned with a throw blanket. He wrapped it snuggly around my shoulders. I looked up at him, smiling with appreciation, and tugged it tighter to me. Sitting beside me, he opened his mouth as if to say something then closed it again. His lips curved in a tender smile.”Where would you like to start?”

I didn’t know where to start. I didn’t even quite understand where my reality ended and the new one began. I kept expecting to wake up in the leather chair and see George lying on the futon, feeling better after a nasty virus.

Gavyn must’ve sensed the anxiety clawing at my chest. “How about we start with what you
do
know.” He cupped his hand over my thigh and lightly squeezed. That strange, uncontrollable calmness waved through me again, pushing the anxiety back into its hiding place.
 

“How do you do that? Make me calm down so easily?”
 

“It’s my gift.”

I chuckled. “Uh…a little sure of yourself aren’t you?”

He grinned. “No, Nevaeh, what I mean is that it’s a gift given to me by God.”

“By God?” I asked in disbelief, breaking out into hysterical laughter.

Why was that so hard to believe? In the past six hours, I witnessed a soul-sucking demon who emerged through—and back into—a solid wall as if it were paper, after it took the spirit of the only father I could remember. I’d also been graced by the influential presence of an angel who descended through an upside down rain puddle, scooped up George’s body, and ascended back into the puddle to enter the Heavens. But this—Gavyn having a God given gift—was hard to believe?

He patiently waited for me to work it out, nodding with reassurance when he saw the light bulb of acceptance turn on in my eyes.
 

“When did you get this gift, and what exactly is it?” I questioned quietly, not sure if I really wanted to know.
 

“I have the gift of emotional influence, but I’m also considered an Inductor—someone who sets out to recruit Celata to our side before they are tempted to join the Dark. My influence is a tool for my actual vocation, so to speak.” He observed me closely, speaking in slow sentences so as not to lose me in the details. “I have known what I am for about ten years now.”

I interrupted him to clear a passing thought. “Around the same time you last saw Malach?”

“Yes. Malach was the angel that explained to me what I am.” He sighed and fixed his gaze on the colorful view out the window. “I’d lost my last living relative—my father. I was desperate, alone, and angry. Strange things were happening to those who came around me. I noticed that everyone I physically got close to was as angry as I was for no reason—violent at times even. I would see a person on the street laughing and joking with a friend, and as soon as I came within three feet of them…it was like throwing a switch. They immediately became maddened. Sometimes the feeling they got from me only amplified their own anger.”
 

His glossy eyes lowered to his lap.

“One person, in particular, went into a deep rage. I was sitting on a bench, waiting for the next bus to come. Despair toyed with my emotions, made me obsess over my dad’s murder. The pure hatred I held onto was unreal.
 

“I got so worked up, I started crying and hyperventilating. I turned to the man next to me and grabbed his arm for help, but I couldn’t catch my breath to ask. The man’s happy expression morphed into this dark, deceitful sneer. He stood up, gripped his umbrella, and walked to the woman passing us on the sidewalk. I was frozen to the bench, unable to do anything but watch as he stabbed the umbrella into the woman’s chest.”
 

Sadness clouded his face as he went silent for a moment, replaying the memories in his mind.

“She was twenty. So young.” He took a deep breath and turned his eyes to me. “It was chaos. People ran to help her, mothers shrouded their children from the scene, and the man with the umbrella…he fell to his knees and wept while begging for forgiveness for what he’d done. I can still picture his face and pinpoint the exact moment when he understood what happened—the disbelief in his frightened eyes when he realized it was his hand that took the woman’s life. Only it really wasn’t him. It was me.”