Broken Butterflies (17 page)

Damon grabbed her hair, pointing her face up to his. That infamous evil smile of his looked down at her, triumph glowing in his eyes. The entire encounter only took seconds. By the time Bram appeared, it was too late.

Ilisha shoved against Damon in a desperate attempt to free herself from his in-human strength, to no avail. Bram took hold of Damon’s arm and the death maker cried out as Bram’s touch burned him. As Damon slipped away and disappeared, Bram’s grip on him slipped and Ilisha knew he couldn’t save her.

As they traveled, Ilisha could see nothing but grey. Darker and lighter hues of it flashed before her eyes like a twister. When they stopped, Damon set her down on the wraparound porch of a Victorian mansion. Ilisha turned to run, but he was too fast and strong. His fingernails extended from his hand, looking more like a grizzly bear than human, digging deep into her arm. She had no choice but to fall to her knees as he twisted.

“You’ll do well to stay put.”

He waved his hand in front of the door knob and the locked clicked. Turning his hand the door flew open. With his claws still dug into her flesh he said, “Enter.”

She cried out again and slid across the floor on her knees as he tossed her inside. Damon crossed the threshold, waved his arm behind him causing the door to slam and the lock to turn. He retracted his claws, leaving blood running down her arm from several large gashes. Ilisha instinctively put her hand tightly over the openings to stop the blood flow and winced in pain.

“Sit,” he ordered.

She looked around her. Off to her right was a large living room filled with sheet covered furniture. She chose the chair furthest from him. Damon stood above her, his iridescent, blue, eyes looking at her in disgust.

“Did you marry dear Bram?” He smiled, teeth sharp as razors, coming to jagged points. Ilisha shoved herself against the back of the chair in fear. Damon placed his hands on the chair arms and leaned in. “Bram just causes more and more trouble for you.” He chuckled. “Funny thing is—you’re too stupid to realize it.”

He removed her hand from her arm and a dark grey light burst from his skin, burning Ilisha’s arm. She squirmed in the chair and kicked frantically, which made him laugh. The entire house laughed back as the echo circulated.

“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s healed,” he said nonchalantly.

Ilisha turned her arm, looking at it skeptically. All that was left was pink scar tissue.

“See, I’m not so bad.”

She refused to say anything.

Damon started pacing the room. Ilisha counted each step and timed them. When Damon had his back turned she shot up from the chair and ran for the foyer. When she hit the edge of the living room her body slammed into an invisible wall. Her face smacked hard, causing blood to trickle from her nose. She fell backwards onto the wood floor coming to rest at Damon’s feet.

“Am I going to have to spend the entire night healing you? You’re being quite silly, you know. Sit down and relax.”

Ilisha’s mind whirled. When she didn’t get up, Damon lost his temper. His arms shot out, black dust rushing from his palms. “I said relax!” The black powder crawled up her legs. She panicked as the dust enveloped her entire body in a squeeze, immobilizing her. Damon snapped his fingers and her body came off the floor and drifted to the sofa. He turned his palm down and she slammed onto the cushions, dust flying up in a cloud. She lay there unable to move or speak.

“I do hate to do this to such a pretty thing.”

Ilisha’s eyes widened as his finger traced down her cheek.

“We’ll talk in the morning.”

He closed the room curtains and walked out, leaving her paralyzed in the dark.

Ilisha whimpered and tried to free herself. Her fingers danced like spider legs, but the more she moved the tighter the powder held her.

Relenting to the fact that she needed to be still, she lay, gazing at the ceiling. Tears rolled down her cheeks while her mind raced with everything from where is Bram, to how and when her death would come. To calm herself she took in every last detail of the living room. The walls were a light color. In one corner sat a grandfather clock, which had probably been silenced when the owners left. The weights didn’t move and no ticking sound was heard. Above a fireplace that was big enough to walk in, was a family painting. It wasn’t modern; the people were dressed in period clothing that included top hats, and long flowing dresses. If this were any other circumstance she would think the house quite beautiful.

After studying the house she began to sing in her head; anything to keep the panic at a minimum. She thought of her mom, and how she was doing. More than anything she hoped she didn’t know about this. Ilisha couldn’t take her having another stroke. She couldn’t help but wonder if she would ever see her again, and at the moment, that chance was slim to none.

Though the night had passed, Ilisha didn’t sleep. She lay on the couch terrified of her future. When Damon came down the stairs his walk had a skip to it, a very triumphant skip. He ran his hands through his grey hair and straightened his suit jacket. His shoes were perfectly shined, belt perfectly centered.

“Good morning,” he said as he entered the room. He gave a huge smile, exposing his sharp, yellow teeth.

Ilisha squirmed as he sat on the edge of the couch.

“Oh, now don’t act like that. It’s your own fault I had to restrain you. Trust me this is for your own good.”

Damon bent down and licked the side of her face. Her eyes closed tight, wishing him to go away.

He waved his hand over her body. The black dust conjugated into his palm. It dissolved into his skin, becoming a part of him again. Ilisha immediately sat up, despite the stiffness of her body, and backed to the corner of the cushion.

“Let’s have a talk, shall we?” Damon said cheerfully.

Ilisha said nothing so he proceeded.

“Since you seem to be so enamored of Bram I just thought you might want to know he’s not so perfect.” He flexed his fingers and turned his hand to examine the dirt under his nails. “He’s so weak. Sad really. He has set himself on a course for death.” He paused for a dramatic sigh. “On top of that you’re not his to have. You belong to another. He ruined my mission and I will not be punished for his infatuation.”

His face turned serious and came within an inch of hers. “Did you know you’re cursed now?”

Ilisha’s eyes stayed fixed on his.

“No? Well, you are my dear. You missed your fate. Add in the fact that you can’t just marry another angel, well this just gets more and more interesting. I guess our hero forgot to mention that to you.”

Ilisha’s mind raced trying to understand what he was saying.

Damon continued, “He was so selfish in his longing for you that he doesn’t care that you will soon have an army after you. I can save you, you know.”

Ilisha still sat silent, which angered him even more.

“Say something!” he yelled, causing the window beside her to shake.

“I…” she choked out before he grabbed her chin in his hand, pulling her toward him.

“Come on Ilisha, where’s that spunky girl I love?” he chided

“What do you want?” she winced.

“Isn’t it obvious, I want to save both our skins. You need to meet your fate.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not dying for you or anyone else.” His voice growled.

“No.” Ilisha shook her head back and forth.

“Trust me, you need to die. You don’t want to know what is coming for you.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” she whimpered.

“You better get used to one thing, I will have you meet your fate no matter what. You can come willingly or I will take you.” He cocked his fist and hit her square on the cheek; the pain hit instantly, burning and throbbing. Ilisha’s hands went to her face and she gasped.

“I have a message to deliver so I’m leaving you for a while. Don’t think about escaping. You’re trapped and I don’t feel like healing a broken nose, again.” Damon got up and walked out the front door.

Ilisha propped herself up on the couch and peered out the curtains. The death maker stepped off the porch, straightened his suit jacket, and looked up at the sky.

She pressed her face to the window taking in her surroundings. The house was in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees, with a small lake just off the front lawn. Not a single person or house was in sight.

Closing the curtain she walked around the living room. At the entryway she put her hand up and pressed it forward until it touched the invisible wall that Damon had walked through seconds earlier. It felt hard as steel under her fingertips.

Ilisha went back to the window. Her hand rested on the glass. She turned to the fireplace and grabbed a fire poker. Raising it up like a baseball bat she hit the glass with all her might. It shattered instantly. A sense of victory hit her and she got up on the couch ready to climb out. When her leg was almost out the window the pieces moved in rewind. She jumped back just in time. In front of her was a perfect windowpane.

“Damn it!” she cried to herself.

A rustling came from behind her and she jumped.

“Hello?” she asked in a broken voice.

The sound came again from the direction of the fireplace. She moved slowly and put her ear to the brick. From inside the chimney scratching and squeaking could be heard. Ilisha bent down and stuck her head through the fireplace opening. The flue was closed. She searched for the latch or chain, coming up empty. Running across the room she threw open the rest of the curtains, exposing the entire window and sunlight poured in. She stuck her head back into the fireplace opening and found the chain. Giving a firm tug the flue opened bringing a gush of air to her face. At the same time a raccoon jumped from the chimney causing her to scream. It scrambled across the floor screeching back at her.

She studied the size of the chimney and decided to go for it. Pulling herself up she wedged her knees against the black wall and shimmied. She met no resistance so she kept going. As she neared the top she saw that a wire mesh blocked her exit. One corner was loose so with all her might she pushed against it with her head as she inched up. Her face popped out, scraping against the sharp edges of the mesh. She popped her arms out causing the old brick to crumble to the roof.

When she stepped out of the chimney, she was covered with black soot. The roof pitched steeply and she searched around for any way to climb down. On the other side of the chimney was a wood lattice with ivy running its length. Getting down on her stomach, she stuck her leg out and her foot hit the makeshift ladder. Grasping the edge of the roof she pushed herself over the side. At one point she lost her footing, but quickly able to get her feet back under her.

Keeping a firm grasp, Ilisha was able to keep her feet moving down the lattice. “Please hold, please hold,” she said as she slowly made her way down.

When she was about half way down, she heard a pop and the thin wood began to pull away from the brick. She hurried down two more steps before it gave way and she fell to the ground, landing on her back. The air burst from her lungs in a big whoosh. She lay motionless, coughing and wheezing.

Though she got the wind knocked out of her she knew she needed to move. Damon could be back any second. She staggered to her feet and crept to the woods.

With her feet unsteady she decided to go on her hands and knees. Every once in a while her kneecap would hit a rock or pinecone causing her to wince. She was covered head to toe in black. Feeling a slight pressure on her head she blinked against it, trying to keep her focus. The pressure became searing pain. She hit the ground gripping her head, pain throbbing like a hammer. She cried out and rocked back and forth.