Falter (45 page)

Archard cut the other angel off. “You are the only Celata we’ve known that can portal jump. That is a rare trait.” His hand trembled from exhaustion while he patted the area of the bed next to him, inviting me to sit.

I hesitated, then walked towards him and lowered to the bed. Something told me he was withholding information again. I decided to let it go for now and trust that they would tell me when the time was right.
 

“What did you say to George before he died?” I asked Archard.

“I thanked him for guarding you in my place. I told him that he’d done a wonderful job and many angels would carry him to his place in Heaven.” Regret furrowed his brow. “I told him that he could let go because you would continue to be protected. Unfortunately, not knowing your true gifts has made protecting you a little harder than I expected.”

It was my turn to release some information. I took a deep breath and exhaled. “There’s a book called ‘The Clavis’. Do you know anything about it?”

The two angels tensed and looked at each other with worry on their faces. “We’ve heard that there was a book, yes. There are too many rumors about it though. We weren’t sure what to believe. Some of the other guardians knew stories about The Clavis, but only bits and pieces. Nothing to give us any evidence that there was really a book or what might be written in it. We didn’t even have a decent lead on how to find the origins of the rumors,” Archard responded.

“Stories? There’s more than one?”

“Yes. Some say you are a prophet. Others claim you to be a demon that will bring down the human race.” The furrow deepened between Archard’s brows.

“So, your guys don’t know what is going to happen either.” I was disappointed that not even the tales of The Clavis could show me some direction.

“Look here, cupcake, no one knows the truth because it hasn’t happened, yet. It’s all up to you how the real story ends. So what if there is a book about The Clavis? That doesn’t mean what’s inside can’t change.” Arkin winked and smirked at me. “You are The Clavis as far as the angels here are concerned. We have faith that you will do what is best to fulfill God’s plan for you. When the time comes, you alone will know what that is.”

My shoulders suddenly felt pressured by the burden he placed on them. “How can you have so much faith in me? You guys barely know me.”

Archard took my hand and encased it in his. “We have faith because we can feel it, and that’s all we need.” He squeezed my hand tighter and pulled it to his chest. “Besides, I know you better than you know yourself.” His aqua eyes peered into mine. “I’ve been inside that head more times than you know.”
 

Flashes of the mysterious being I had sensed in the bathroom at the Hall, and my first night at the café, appeared in my mind. Then, the whispering in the alley after I saw Archard watching me from the sidewalk. That was all him warning me and trying to get me to open up to him.
 

Shivers climbed up my spine, and I understood that what he said was completely true. I felt a deep and forbidden love pulsating from his body. The way he looked at me claimed my heart.

Arkin cleared his throat loudly, obviously trying to break the moment between Archard and me. “Man, it sure would help if we had some more leads, or maybe knew someone to interrogate for details.” He raised a cocky eyebrow in my direction, eyeing me expectantly.

“Alright, alright. I may know someone that can help. I’ll need to go to Gavyn’s. I think he knows how to get in touch with the Archangel. That’s if he’ll talk to me.” I hung my head in dread. I didn’t want to talk to Gavyn. I didn’t want to face the fact that I’d lied to him.

Archard grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him. “You’ll feel better if you tell him the truth. I’m sure he has already forgiven you.” He smiled, his face full of compassion.

Arkin clapped his hands and rubbed his palms together, beaming at me with eager eyes.

 
“So, which Archangel are we going to talk to?”
 

“Um,
I’ll
be talking to Malach. You guys can stay here.”

 
Both angels protested at once, heads shaking and arms waving in the air. “There is no fucking way,” Archard argued.
 

Judging by the language he used, my angel would oversee every move I made from now on. I didn’t know whether to be upset that they were arguing with me or flattered that they were looking out for me.

“Unless you’re ready to make your choice right now, you won’t be going anywhere alone. There’s too much risk.” His beautiful, ocean eyes lowered to the floor. “I will not leave you without a Guardian again.”

“Okay then, tomorrow. We’ll go see Gavyn and find out if he can contact Malach.” I caressed Archard’s twitching jaw and savored the roughness of his stubble against my thumb. “Tonight, we both need to rest.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

A Minute Too Late

Archard walked by my side as close as he could without touching me, but it didn’t take his touch to feel the sparks of power surging between us. He glanced at me warily from the corner of his eye, and I got the feeling he suspected I would run at any minute. I had no intention of it—right now.

 
I understood a little more about what he had given up for me. But there were still so many things left unsaid after our conversation last night. I continued to wonder about his love for me. Was it just a bond between a ward and his charge, or did he feel the “something more” that I experienced?

Arkin flanked my left, his floor-length, brown-leather jacket patting against his legs as he strutted along our route to Joe’s. I noticed the graces that were now wasted on me worked more than efficiently on the poor schmucks rushing by us. He made it a point to lessen them before we left the factory, but they slowed their pace and intently watched him with pining in their eyes, even after we passed.
 

It was easy to pick out the troubled souls by the intensity of yearning they displayed. I sympathized with them, knowing what they felt when so close to the angels. It didn’t help that an occasional flux of energy radiated around us, which I could only guess was Arkin teasing them. Luckily, he tested me in the process. I found I could resist the angels enough to function like a normal person among them.
 

Whatever realizations I’d come to while in Purgatory—more comfortably labeled as the void of my soul, since I knew nothing about it as of yet—with Archard seemed to have fixed something in me. My will was stronger. My faith was not perfect, but definitely more substantial.

We were now on day four of the seven I had left to save George’s soul from Hell, and I had no idea how to even attempt that. My heart wanted to do the right thing, but so much depended on that one little decision. I wasn’t ready to forfeit George, nor was I ready to step up to the plate and fulfill some prophecy.

My options were slim

If I declared myself Light Celatum, my gifts
might
develop enough to help the mission
and
save George. However, if I chose God’s side over the other, I felt pretty confident it automatically damned George once the demons found out. Then there would be absolutely no chance of saving him. I couldn’t take that chance, especially if I’m not as powerful as they think and I turned out being a dud. I needed a little more time.

When we approached Joe’s Cafe, I noticed the change almost instantly. It
felt
different. The warm welcome had dissipated. Memories of pain, betrayal, and deceit oozed from the old bricks and mortar.
 

Goosebumps puckered my skin as we stood on the stairs peering inside. The lights were off. The staff and customers, which normally fluttered about at this time of the day, were nowhere around. Empty didn’t begin to describe the cafe. This place wasn’t the home I had considered mine anymore; it was a desolate vessel. A cruel reminder of the happiness that once resided within its walls.
 

I glanced at the angels, wondering if they detected the same negativity, or if it was just my personal reluctance about seeing Gavyn again. Both of their jaws were tensed, their bodies rigid like eager lions preparing to defend their territory.

I reached for the door. Now was as good a time as any.
 

“Nevaeh, wait,” Arkin commanded as Archard grabbed my arm. Their eyes locked onto movement in the second story window.
 

Gavyn’s apartment had a single light on, but we couldn’t see who was inside. “Me first,” Archard said, and then nudged his chin to the alley beside the cafe, motioning for Arkin to cover Joe’s other exit. I felt out of my league with their smooth, military-style, secret conversation.
 

Once Arkin disappeared around the corner, Archard pulled me behind him protectively and opened the front door. It was all wrong. The air was bleak. Cold. Everything was in its place, yet something unseen was missing.
 

“Upstairs.” Archard guided me down the hall toward Gavyn’s apartment. “You stay behind me,” he whispered sternly.

We moved, slow and measured, up the steps. The reflective sheen of Archard’s eyes glancing over his shoulder to check on me was the only thing I could see in the black stairwell.
 

He stopped just a few steps from the top and eased the cracked door open farther, determining the culprit of the movement we’d seen outside. After an intense moment of holding my breath, Archard pushed off the second step and walked into the room.
 

When I entered behind him, I realized why he marched in so carelessly. Arkin was already inside, leaning his shoulder against the wall of Gavyn’s hallway, his exposed wings casually framing his bare upper body. He clutched the fur-trimmed, leather jacket he had taken off—I assumed to fly up—in his right hand. His restless thumb repeatedly smoothed over the pelt while his eyes focused on the scene in front of him.

Archard sauntered to the kitchenette and rested his hip against the bar, cold gaze pointed toward the center of Gavyn’s living room. I was both excited and worried about how easily we had accomplished our task.

Malach was circling the coffee table, grumbling to himself as he paced back and forth. His snow-white wings dragged behind him, scraping the edge of the table when he passed a corner too closely. My eyes skimmed over his feathers, noting how different they were from the last time I’d seen him; they were ruffled, distressed, like him. Occasionally, he’d stop and burst something out in his angelic language, otherwise he ignored our presence.

A sword hung heavily in his one hand, and a piece of paper in the other. Brooding eyebrows pinched together, emphasizing the worry lines on his face. It was alarming to see Malach so out of sorts. Even when he handled the demon that stole George’s soul, he was calm and collected for the most part.

I glared at the Guardians, waiting for them to say something. Archard raised his eyebrows in my direction and shrugged. I huffed and rolled my eyes at them, knowing that they expected me to do the dirty work.

Archard’s sarcastic words rang clearly in my head,
You wanted answers. Go get them.

The staleness of the apartment set me on edge, but I ignored it. I nervously spun the ring on my thumb a few times and took a deep breath. “Malach, what happened here?” I asked softly, trying not to test his patience or spook him.

The Archangel froze and growled at me without looking up. “He left us.”

“What?” I felt like I’d gotten the wind knocked out of me. “What do you mean?” I frantically began scouring the apartment. “Where is Gavyn, Malach?” I jogged down the hall and poked my head into his room, the bathroom, even in the closets, knowing he wouldn’t be there.

“I. Said. He’s. Gone.” Malach’s repeated in a rough, angry tone, and then continued making circles in the living room.
 

I searched every corner and found nothing more than a large crack in the wall and a wet spot on the ceiling. “I heard you the first time, you ass.” I stomped over to the Archangel and snatched the paper from his hand.
 

He stopped in his tracks and stared at me with glossy eyes. So much sadness hid in the depths of those soft, peridot pools.
 

“What happened?” I whispered, almost hoping he couldn’t hear me. I had a feeling I didn’t want to know the truth about to slip from his lips.

“I felt the break and came as soon as I could.” Malach’s gaze moved to the crack in the wall. “It was too late, Nevaeh.” He took two giant steps across the room and punched the crack so hard his fist went through the wall, and the apartment literally shook. His fierce hands broke apart clumps of plaster and threw them on the floor, determined to find the portal that wasn’t there anymore.

I examined the paper in my hand, realizing I wouldn’t be able to reason with Malach. Instantly, I recognized who wrote the letter by the shade of lipstick staining the page with a kiss.

Layla knew someone would come for Gavyn.

Dear High and Mighty Ones,

I had a feeling you would come to reclaim the goodness of Gavyn’s soul. No need. It’s right where it belongs—with me. Gav and I have huge plans together.
 

Read my words carefully, angels: He is mine. He’s seen you unrighteous bastards for what you are. We’ve shown him the wrong of his ways, and he’s decided to make things right. Consider this his formal resignation.