Ignite (17 page)

“Pen?”

I snap my eyes open, mildly annoyed. “Michael?”

“What were you like as an angel?”

“Angelic,” I say sarcastically.

He laughs. “I mean it. I can’t remember what you were like—I can’t remember what I was like either, so don’t take it personally. If you don’t want to answer, you don’t have to. I was just curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” I warn.

“What cat? I don’t understand...”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, what was I like as an angel? Let’s see. Azael and I weren’t important in Heaven. We didn’t have special titles, talents, or anything like that. Just two faceless angels in the crowd. I wrote a lot, transcribing prophecies, documenting different fates, that kind of thing. Azael worked with souls. He would match up two souls who were destined to be together, according to the fates I wrote.
Soul mates
, he called them. I don’t know, we were just typical angels. White wings, uniforms. Azael wore blue like all of the angels who worked with souls, and I wore gold like the rest of the scribes. We were ordinary. I wasn’t anything special.”

“I find that difficult to believe.”

“I was hardly the powerful archangel you were. I was insignificant. My fall from grace didn’t upset the order of things in the least.”

“Every loss upset the balance. Every angel that fell was significant,” he says severely.

“How do you know? You can’t even remember fighting in the war. You can’t remember the disinterest Heaven showed when the lower level angels fell, the complete lack of compassion for the lives lost! No one even batted an eye. Not even
you
.”

He’s quiet, but when I look over at him, I see the muscles in his jaw are tense. I’ve gone too far.

I curse under my breath. “Sorry,” I say quietly, backpedaling.

He doesn’t say anything. His face is set in a stoic mix of anger and despair.
So much for trying to win him over for Hell.
The last thing I need to do is upset him and have him ask me to leave. I can’t destroy the bridge I’ve tentatively begun constructing.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. “I met you before the war.”

His jaw relaxes and he looks over at me. “You did?”

I nod. “A few times. I don’t think you were ever able to remember my name. You didn’t really concern yourself with angels like me. I was trivial in the grand scheme of things. Like I said—nameless, faceless, insignificant.”

“I remember your name now,” he says. He watches my eyes intently. “Pen.”

“Very impressive.”

He gives me a small smile. That’s progress. “I know you told me what I was during the war. But what about before the war? What was I like then?”

“Serious,” I say quickly, not needing to think about it. “You were always a no-nonsense kind of angel, war or not.”

“And were you nonsense?” he guesses.

“Everyone was nonsense.”

“Was there anyone that I—” He struggles to finish his thought and blushes.

“Were involved with?”

He wants to know who he left behind when he died. If there’s anyone in Heaven missing him more than usual.

“No one in particular,” I answer. “Like I said, you didn’t like distractions. But you did have an impressive string of lovers. Every angel was pining for your attention, for one night with the great archangel.”

He looks down, embarrassed. “And you?”

“I was not on the string,” I say, startled.

“Oh—no, I didn’t mean—I just wanted to know,” he stammers. “What I meant to ask was were you ever… involved with anyone?”

Now I blush. I turn my face back up to the sky, watching the light seep out of the day. “I was alone. Like I said, I wasn’t anything special.”

I was always alone. I had a friend or two periodically, but eventually they would tire of me and move on. Azael didn’t have many friends, but he always had company. He was strong, handsome, and rebellious—a dangerous mix that many angels unwillingly fell for.

Despite the fact that Azael was always surrounded with admirers, he still found time for me. I was his sister, and he tried his best to not leave me alone for too long. But at the end of the day, even though I knew I could rely on Azael, the only person I could ever trust completely was myself.

I feel Michael watching me. I sit up and let my long, dark hair shield my face from him.

“Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?” I ask, suddenly wanting to be alone again. I’m tired of answering questions. “Like a curfew or something?”

He looks up at the sky and pushes himself into a seated position. His shoulder grazes against mine lightly and I pull back.

“Soon, yes.” Tentatively, he reaches a hand out and pushes my hair behind my ear. I flinch. “Sorry,” he says. “I just couldn’t see your face. I thought I may have upset you.”

“It takes much more than that to upset me. I’m a big girl.”

“I just wanted to make sure.”

“I’m not yours to worry about,” I say sharply. “You don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings or something. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a demon. We’re enemies.”

“You aren’t my enemy,” he says, hurt. “I thought we were getting along.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you thought wrong.”
Because we can’t be friends. We can’t be anything.
I’m amazed at how quickly he could forget that.

He looks out towards the water and then back at me. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing!”

“I—” he stops himself. “I’ll just go then.”

He stands up, walks over to where his sweater is laid out, now dried on the stones, and slips it over his shoulders. He pulls it down roughly as he slides his feet back into his thin sneakers. Cautiously, he looks back over at me.

“I’m coming back tomorrow. I was wondering…” He looks up through the trees, appears to be counting the clouds, and then glances back to me. “Will you still be here? Or are you leaving to join Azael?”

I look at him and see the unasked question in his eyes: Will I be alone again?

I have to be here
, I think.
You’re my assignment.
“I—I don’t know. I have nowhere else to go.”

He inclines his head. “You are welcome to use the cave overnight if you want. It’s not exactly the most comfortable place to sleep, but it should stay pretty warm.”

I look at him measuredly. I don’t offer him a thank you. I simply say, “Fine.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he says, his face brightening slightly. “Sleep well.”

And with that, he unfurls his great silver wings and lifts into the darkening sky. I crane my neck up, watching his wings until he vanishes behind the clouds.

See you tomorrow
, I repeat in my head. I touch the bracelet around my wrist and feel it get cooler, the warmth of the beads disappearing with Michael.

***

After the last of the clouds pull apart like thinning cotton, I jump to my feet and grab my shirt from the shore. I ball it up and shove it into a large pocket of my backpack that rests on a squishy patch of moss, moving my boots away from the water with my bag. I kick my backpack so it is hidden under the caging roots of a large tree and stand, unsure of what to do with myself.

It’s been so long since I’ve been able to do what I want to do. I’m always on an assignment or on Azael’s time, where he tows me around town telling me who to kill so he can collect their souls. I never have any real time to myself, even though I’m so often alone.

I don’t ever have to worry about being bored with Azael, and Michael has proven to be interesting company as well. I fiddle with the pendent of my necklace, letting the large stone twist around the chain. I consider calling Azael again, but he’s busy. I smile, picturing him at a rodeo in boots and spurs.
I hope he’s having fun.

I walk over to the edge of the water and stand on my tiptoes. I spring into the water again and resurface soundlessly, floating on my back across the pond. My hair fans out, circling around me like a dark halo. I wait for the sun to disappear completely from the sky and the stars to come out. One by one, they appear, like bright silver lights turning on.

The stars are so large and lustrous. They look much closer than they do in the city. From the pond, the sky appears to have an edge, a small rim of pink that sinks below the forest. The willowy tops of the tall pine trees that surround the pond block some of the splattering of stars from my view, but I can still see their glow.

I almost believe that I can reach out and pick the stars out of the sky and hold them in my hands. I imagine stealing a small constellation of the glinting lights and putting it in one of the mason jars from the cave. I would love to carry the stars with me.

I remember what they looked like from Heaven. They’re nearly as bright as they are here, illuminating the darkness with an almost eerie silvery light. But they don’t look as big in Heaven; they don’t seem to be as dreamy and mysterious.

There were nights in Heaven that I would sit and look down at the stars. Sometimes, Az would join me, but he didn’t find them nearly as interesting as I did. I seemed to be the only one who cared about them at all.

From Heaven, something about the stars seems disingenuous. I could never figure out exactly why, no matter how long I watched them twinkle, but they always appeared mechanical and fake, their shine a little duller. Something about the stars is missing in Heaven. Maybe that’s why no one gave them any attention. Their beauty was imperfect.

I’m still amazed at how much purer the stars are from down here. It wouldn’t seem that they would be, what with Earth being so far away from the glitter of space, but they are.

Michael would love to see these stars. I wonder if he’s ever seen them from Earth? If he thought the sky looked infinite during the day, he should see it at night when we’re not caged by clouds.

I roll over in the water, off of my back and onto my stomach, and swim over to the rocky wall of the cliff. Without Michael here to help me up, I can’t reach the ledge behind the waterfall. The water beats down on my shoulders, pulling heavily at my hair as I grab onto the slippery rocks and climb up to the opening. I slide forward onto the cold, uneven floor of the cave.

I lean out from the mouth of the cave, holding on to a handhold in the wall, and look around the waterfall. The forest is dark and quiet. The tall trees are illuminated by the bright stars and the large, buttery moon, but the woods behind them are shadowy. It’s empty though, and I am alone. Only the small, blinking eyes of animals look back at me.

I go to the back of the cave and lie down on the rough, carved bench. The bench is hard and narrow and the tool of whatever carved it decades, maybe even centuries, ago has left deep grooves that sprawl across the surface like thick brushstrokes. Its uneven surface slopes periodically into my bones and then recedes abruptly away from me, leaving me suspended between the carvings. It won’t be the comfiest place I have ever slept, but it won’t be the worst either. It’s not like I have a lot of alternatives.

Shifting from my back onto my side, I curse myself for not bringing my t-shirt to use as a pillow. I rest my face on my cold hands, watch the glowing amber of the collection of mason jars, and let my eyes droop with tiredness until they close completely. The last thing I see before I fall asleep is the soft, coppery halo of light around my eyelashes.

Exhaustion seals my eyes closed like glue, and everything becomes dark and still.

Chapter 15

It starts with a single familiar scream that echoes from deep within the forest. Fighting every instinct, I run towards it. The low hanging branches, which are thick and shadowy in the darkness, whip violently into my face. The scream hitches, ending abruptly, and suddenly the woods are quiet again.

I stop, bracing myself on the back of a large tree, and try to catch my breath.

Listen,
I tell myself.

I focus on the sounds around me and try to make sense of the strange shadows that curl devilishly in the moonlight. There is movement, quick and soft. I hear a dull thud, peer around the tree, and see something small and thin slide off of a large sword that glints wickedly in the moonlight. A body. The figure falls limply to the ground. A tall, broad shadow stands above the crumpled figure.

Patience
. I count to ten in my head, waiting for the shadowed figure to leave, but he doesn’t move.

I let out a soft huff of my breath, visible in the crisp, cool night, and run in the direction of the shadow. Faster, I throw myself into a full sprint until I reach the clearing, where I come to a stop. I draw my dagger quietly from my belt and wait.

The shadow remains still, unaware of my presence. I go to take a step forward but a second shadow glides up behind the first and I stop. This shadow is narrower than the first but equally as tall and strong.

I step forward, my dagger raised threateningly in front of me. “Turn around,” I demand. “Let me see your faces.”

The two figures ignore me. With their bare, muscled backs turned to me, I see them lean in towards one another and whisper between themselves, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. I circle around them carefully, keeping my dagger held high. Their heads are bowed low, and I cannot make out their faces.