Falter (43 page)

The persistent creature continued calling out to me from the chair. I snarled at the sound—too beautiful for my ears to tolerate. I shuddered over to the being, scrutinizing every disgusting detail of his existence.
 

“Nevaeh!” he screamed.
 

I roared to drown out the offensive righteousness of his voice.
 

The pureness of his white wings warned me to retreat into hiding. The very essence of this creature threatened to smite everything I was now, but the desire to bloody those pretty feathers was stronger than my urge to run.
 

As I shuffled around the prisoner, he tugged at the iron shackles holding him hostage. The ends of his bound wings twitched helplessly along the floor.
 

The instant I saw my clawed foot lift, a tiny voice in my head pleaded against it, but I ignored it. I stomped on the delicate, plum-tipped feathers and grinded them into the ground.

“Nevaeh!” he roared. “What are you doing?”

His voice assaulted my ears. My insides seethed with anger.
 

“Stop this. It’s not who you are. You know that,” the angel shrieked.

I lifted my foot from his wing, pleased with myself, and shuffled in front of him. He growled and a blast of light shot out from his chest, blinding me as if a thousand laser beams had burned my eyes out. I crouched away, screeching, shielding my face in the crook of my elbow. From the corner of my eye, I saw the crimson blood trailing from his broken wing lying limply across the dirty ground.

Sight of the sticky blood captured my attention. I wanted more. I thirsted for velvety, red ribbons to stream against his pure skin, slow and steady. My lips pulled tight against sharp teeth. A delighted groan worked its way out of my throat, reverberating harshly through my heavy skull.

“Nevaeh, look at me!” He begged, tears spilling from his desperate eyes. Hints of defeat crept in and weakened the confidence in his expression. I sensed the notion of surrender crossing his mind, and that empowered me. I lifted my face to the ceiling and inhaled deeply. Fear. It oozed from his pores. Soon, I would make him beg for death.

I jerked my massive arm upwards, watching the shiny blade raise in my hand. The anticipation of bleeding the fucking angel until he was a lifeless heap at my feet excited me beyond measure.
 

In one stuttered motion, I slid the metal into the flesh of his face. I stumbled back in ecstasy, relishing in the metallic odor wafting through the air and the vision of an angel hemorrhaging from cheek to cheek.

He stopped his relentless begging but wasn’t ready to ask for death—yet. Four more times, I sunk the blade into his flesh, violently shredding his repulsive beauty.
 

As the pleasure heightened with another strike, my vision suddenly blurred. I couldn’t focus, couldn’t revel in my work. Pictures of George splashed through my thoughts. His soul bound and broken just as the angel sitting before me. I shook my heavy head, but the offensive images kept coming.
 

My anguished screeches echoed off the walls, and I dropped clumsily to my boney knees. Memories flooded my sight, reminding me of a life beyond this place. The abrasive floor tore my burnt skin as I squirmed on the ground, trying to escape the visions.

“Nevaeh,” the angel whispered, “this is not who you want to be. Listen to your gut. You are not evil. You can’t let it take over.” His words shook and slurred from the damage I had caused. “I didn’t leave Heaven so you could become this monster, dammit.”

A disembodied voice lingered inside me, barely audible. “He’s right, ya know.” I almost didn’t recognize it. “Think of how you felt when you fell with Archard. Think of the emptiness. We don’t want to become this!” Each word grew louder and louder, pushing to the forefront of my conscience. “We can’t give up, knowing the things we know now. Knowing how much God loves us.” I recognized the voice as the goodness I’d left behind when I surrendered to my inner monster—when I abandoned hope. “We can’t let George’s death be in vain.”

Hot, tar-like tears flowed down my hideous face. I could feel the poison in my veins scrambling to desecrate every part of my inner conscience, but it was failing.
 

I couldn’t continue in this path, it wasn’t right. It
wasn’t
who I wanted to be.

The changing images stopped on a single picture. It was a memory of George and I cuddled under a thin, shabby blanket, taking shelter under a bridge. I slept peacefully while he watched over me with unconditional love in his eyes.
 

I knew what needed to be done. The sharp claws of rage and evil retracted from my heart. Love and hope flooded me, washing away the evil within seconds.

My muscles relaxed. Loud pops and snaps rang in my ears as my bones relocated themselves back into their proper places. I rocked back and forth on my hands and knees, enduring the agony of transforming back to the being I was before. My eyes drifted to the hand bracing my weight off the floor and watched the wrinkled, burnt skin covering my fingers smooth out and lighten to its original color.
 

As the last of the transformation finished, I drew in a deep breath of relief and sat back on my feet, appreciating my very normal, very human looking hands. I felt whole again, spirit intact. “Thank you,” I whispered to God, knowing he gave me the strength I needed to fight my haunting wickedness.
 

I didn’t know what would happen from that point on, but if I made it out of here, I would find a way to release George. I had to learn to let my soul trust and have faith, especially if I was going to overcome the challenges I knew were ahead.
 

I eased down to the floor, suddenly too tired to hold myself upright.

“Nevaeh. Nevaeh?”
 

I heard Archard saying my name, but soon even that faded under the exhaustion that took over my body. The demonic transition and emotional roller-coaster took one hell of a toll on my body—and my mind.
 

One last thought fixed itself inside my skull before I shut down completely; the image of my angel bleeding, and the pain I’d caused him all along, etched into my memories. Somehow, I would tell him how sorry I was. I would make it up to him.
 

I retreated to a deep sleep, confident that someone watched over me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Lesson Learned

“Nevaeh.”
 

I woke to the sweet whisper of my name and a strong hand smoothing the hair from my face. Every breath was full of his honeyed scent.
 

“Nevaeh, it’s time to go,” he coaxed. I felt safe and happy just to be near him—until I remembered where I was. My eyes flew open. I prayed to be out of the shadowy void, to see his face looking back at me.

“Archard?” There was only darkness, but I could feel him close to me. Relief came when I felt his warm skin under my fingertips.
 

“I’m here. Let’s get you home.” He slid his arms under my back and knees, lifting my limp body from the ground. I rested my head against his chest, enjoying the peaceful sound of his heart thumping in my ear.
 
He hoisted us upward with one strong swoop of his wings. I had no idea where we were going, but it didn’t matter because I was with him.
 

The cool breeze drifted across my skin as he pumped his massive wings beside us.
 

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“I told you. Home,” he answered softly, his grip tightening around me.

“I thought I was stuck here.” Tears filled my eyes, thankful to escape.

“Nevaeh, this place...it’s not permanent. I brought you here so you could experience what you needed in order to help you understand the severity of your choices.” The warmth of his sigh caressed my forehead. “You needed to see what could happen if you chose the other side, and how vulnerable you are if you don’t make a choice at all.” His thumb reached from its place on my shoulder and caressed my neck. “And most importantly, you needed to see what it was to lose something you didn’t know you had.”

“God’s love.” Tears trickled down my cheek. I felt ashamed as I replayed the awful journey in my mind. Haunting memories of Archard tied to the chair rushed in, filling me with guilt. “What did you mean when you said you didn’t leave Heaven for me to become the monster I became?”
 

“Just rest. We can talk about it when we get back.”
 

He still refused to give the answers I needed.

“How are we going to get back?”

“I have my own ways of opening the portals,” he responded, and I could hear the hint of a smile behind his words.

I noticed, as we soared through the abyss, the urges I had towards Archard were different from before. There was still an unmistakable bond drawing me to him like a moth to a flame, but instead of the intense lust, I just...loved him. I could see that, even without his graces taking effect on me, whatever lingered between us was Heaven-made—ingrained in us when God kissed our soul’s to life. I wasn’t sure that any amount of denying him would take away the emotions he invoked in me. And, after he’d shown me the misery he endured on Earth, I couldn’t deny him if I wanted to.
 

The soothing air glided over our bodies as we flew upwards. Archard’s wings began beating faster. We were still engulfed in darkness, but every once in awhile, his shiny metal feathers reflected some far away light above us.
 

We traveled farther and farther through the black chasm of my soul, but finally, the light that I saw became brighter and clearer. My eyes focused on a watery surface, like Malach’s portal. I remembered the way the rain halted, the wind thrashed at my face, and the walls buckled. The anticipation of experiencing that chaos again tightened my belly even though our dark atmosphere remained peaceful and undisturbed.

I wrapped my arms around Archard’s neck and buried my head in his strong chest, bracing for the turbulence I feared was ahead. Sounds of crashing and whining penetrated the watery opening from the other side, but we remained in a bubble of serenity. The closer we got, the louder the sounds of wind and destruction became. Somewhere, there was a structure crumbling and hurricane force winds.

I peeked up at Archard’s tired face. “Are we almost there?”

He held me tighter, his fingers digging into my skin. “Cover your ears,” he commanded.

I did as he said, but in the end, it really didn’t help. His chest vibrated against my arm so powerfully I thought he might explode. Sound emerged from his mouth, disrupting the silence with a gorgeous melody of orchestral notes. His face strained as he shouted out in his heavenly language.
 

We closed the distance to the portal at an alarming speed. The surface above us spiraled into a funnel of silver liquid. The music crossing Archard’s lips echoed louder, seeming to break open the portal. The intensity of his voice stabbed at my ears like a million tiny needles; warm blood trickled between my fingers. I cupped my ears tighter, attempting to block out the sound.

Then, just as we were about to go through the portal, my angel came to an abrupt stop. His massive wings wrapped around me protectively, and we fell. Strangely, it wasn’t a fall downward. We plummeted up into the opening—with a reversed gravity pulling toward it.
 

The air silenced once we broke the portal’s veil. I pressed my frame into Archard’s chest with anticipation. Cool liquid splashed against my skin and dried instantly. Time, and everything that made the world go around, seemed to stop on a dime.
 

Considering we flew up to get to the portal, I expected us to enter through the floor. I quickly realized I was wrong. Archard threw open his wings, once we were on the other side, and spanned them across the room, slowing our speed and controlling our shift in direction, as we dropped in through the ceiling and created an arch with our bodies. With barely enough space to accommodate Archard’s massive appendages, let alone our dive-in landing, my butt grazed the floor just before he navigated us into an upright position. It was like that “Oh, shit” moment when you dive into a pool and realize you’ve misjudged the depth, then try not to break your neck on the bottom.

His breathing slowed, and he carefully set me on the ground. My eyes wandered over our surroundings, taking in the destruction that occurred from our arrival. We were back in Archard’s room at the factory again. Hard, white puddles dotted the floor where the candles had melted. The fluffy blanket was shredded to bits and singed in some places. Cracks had formed along the ash-covered walls under the impact of our arrival.

Archard groaned behind me, and I instantly turned, focusing on his stumbling movement to the center of the room. Aside from looking worn-out, his skin was flawless; even his feathers were remarkably clean and neatly tucked against his back.
 

He fell to his knees with outstretched arms. His hands smacked into one another in front of him, creating a thunderous boom. I flinched, startle by the unexpected sound. He repeated this three more times, blasting a ripple of energy outward into the atmosphere that repaired the room. Everything moved in reverse like time rewinding around us; the candles pooled back into small pillars, the comforter seamlessly stitched itself together and renewed the burnt pieces, and the walls flattened and smoothed around us.