Falling From Grace (75 page)

He appeared over me and knelt down; his large wings surrounded us like arms, keeping us in…keeping me in.
 
He had his head cocked to one side, his long, dark-golden hair hanging over his shoulder, touching my face.
 
It smelled of smoke and ashes…and blood.
 

He brought his hand to touch my cheek, almost as gently and lovingly as Robert would.
 
He caressed it, his thumb softly stroking the crest, as though appreciating the texture, the warmth
—
and then with surprising cruelty and speed, he slapped me, the brutality of it splitting my lip, and causing me to bite into the inside of my cheek, the taste of blood burning a strong memory into my mind.

I let it collect in my mouth, that vile, metallic flavor filling my senses.
 
It pooled against my tongue, while the blood from my lip dribbled down the side of my now throbbing face.
 
My nostrils flared as I tried to breathe without choking.
 

He continued talking, satisfied that I hadn’t yet cried out.
 
“You are more tolerant than I thought.
 
How tolerant will you be when you learn what I will do to you, I wonder.”
 
He looked at me as though I were some odd curiosity.

He brushed my cheek again, this time with his knuckles, clicking his tongue, as if the bruise that was most likely forming before his eyes had somehow been my fault.
 
He turned my face, looking at one side then the other, comparing them it seemed, and then smiled a beautifully vicious smile.
 
I could feel my eye starting to swell, and I knew that soon it would shut, cutting off that side of my vision, handicapping me even more than I already was.

“I think I will break your bones, one by one,” he said calmly, his voice soothing, as though he were describing how to paint trees.
 
“I will slice you here-“ he brushed a finger against the bottom of my ear and traced a path across my cheek towards the corner of my mouth “-to here, so that your screams will remind forever anyone who dares to take from me what is mine what will be coming for them.”
 
He watched me
—
looked into my eyes, trying to read the thoughts that I had kept hidden away, see if I felt the pain, enjoying it as much as he enjoyed the inflicting of it.

His finger was still against the corner of my mouth when he started to press into my skin, his claw-like nail cutting through.
 
I flinched at the sting as I anticipated the action he had just promised, prepared to keep my screams from rushing out, but he pulled back.
 
I glared at him defiantly.
 
I let my mental guard down just long enough to let one word through before he could flood my mind with his own.
 
Coward!

He stared at me in shock, and then his face grew amused.
 
For an immeasurable moment, he looked so beautiful, it was easy to forget that he was going to kill me and would do so with great satisfaction.
 
He was once again the beautiful angel from the wedding, a golden god, the epitome of angelic beauty.
 
The cruel irony wasn’t lost on me, and I started to laugh.

When he started laughing in response, I seized the opportunity.
 
With as much force as I could, I spit the blood and saliva I had collected into his face, turning the golden god into the monster, finally revealing him for what he truly was.

Momentarily caught off guard by this benign attack, he eased his wings back, licking his lips and savoring the taste of my defiance.
 
That little movement gave me just enough room to raise my hand, my only weapon, my only hope against an immortal angel of death
—
the hard end of lone feather—was gripped and ready.
 
With all the strength I had, with all the will I had in me to live and the desperation to see Robert again alive, I rammed the quill into Sam’s left eye.
 
Surprise and shock filled me as it sunk in.

The screech that erupted from him tore through me, his pain became mine, worse than mine, unbearable as all of the nerve endings in me reacted to his cry.
 
Reflexively, I pulled the quill out, my hand falling to the ground to brace myself for the pain that racked my body.
 

Sam gripped his eye with both hands while a golden liquid poured from between his fingers and dripped hotly onto my face.
 
His pain and his anger were vibrating throughout his body, and his wings were spread wide, as though reaching for help from some unknown source.
 
I bit through my pain, forcing it it down with a deep gasp, and quickly brought my arm up again, ramming the end of the quill into his other eye, blinding him completely.

His scream, the scream of an angel in pain, caused blood to rush out of my ears and my nose.
 
The scream seemed to grow louder, more frantic.
 
It echoed all around me, bouncing off of me before returning, and I grabbed my head, trying to keep it all out but only succeeding in trapping it inside of me
—
like a bumblebee in a jar
—
bumping around harder and harder in its quest to break free, but there was no freedom from this sound.

I rolled on the ground in agony.
 
I tried kicking my feet against the gravel in a feeble attempt to crawl away while he wailed with his hands over his now blinded eyes; the two of us, pitiful creatures wallowing in our own pain.
 
I shook and convulsed with the unbearable way it felt as though my entire body was imploding, tiny explosions beneath my skin like a million stab wounds biting into my flesh.
 
I could see the blood pooling beneath my fingernails through the red mist that covered my eyes.
 
I began vomiting the blood that had collected in my stomach, and struggled to breathe when my blood began to slowly drown me as it filled up my lungs.

I could feel the gravel cutting through my hands and my knees as I fought to get as far away from the sound as possible.
 
I knew that the loss of sight wouldn’t be enough to stop him, but I hoped it was enough to slow him down long enough for me to get away and die peacefully.
 
I moved an inch
—
a small victory
—
and moved another.

Suddenly, I could feel a sharp pulling at the back of my head.
 
My time was up.
 
I was drawn to a standing position and then my feet were no longer touching the ground, while a tremendous pain radiated from my head.
 

He had lifted me off the ground by my hair, his fist knotted into my ponytail.

He placed his other hand around my throat, and brought my head to his.
 
I could feel his hot and ragged breath in my ear, and shivered as he began talking in a hoarse voice.
 
“You are going to pay for that, you walking corpse.
 
I’m going to tear you into bite sized pieces and then feed you to your boyfriend.
 
And when he’s done eating your flesh
—
thanking me for an exceptional meal
—
I’m going to serve him your tongue for dessert.”
 
He laughed maniacally at that last line, knowing the unspoken irony was far more hurtful than anything else he could have said.

I felt the hand on my throat start to squeeze, the fingers biting cruelly into my skin, and I wrestled weakly knowing I had no ounce of fight left in me.

I had only my love for Robert left, and he could not take that away from me, no matter what he said or did.
 
I had fought the angel of death, and I had lost.
 
With what strength I had left, I began to recite the only bit of scripture I knew; my mother’s favorite, Psalm 91.
 
I sent a silent prayer that she’d help me find my way to Robert again as I teetered on the edge of consciousness.

I felt my limbs start to go numb, saw the flashes and spangles in front of my eyes, recognizing the signs that I was losing consciousness.
 
I could feel the light as it surrounded me.
 
I saw it, and marveled at it.
 
It truly was as glorious as it is described.

My star had appeared after all.

The light, small and far away, seemed to grow brighter as it came closer.
 
It was radiant, beautiful.
 
I was in complete and utter awe, and I welcomed it as much as I feared it.
 
Weakly, I raised my hand to block some of the brightness from my eyes and gasped in shock when I realized that beams of divine light were shooting out of my fingertips.
 
I brought my other hand to my face and saw that it, too, looked as though the stars themselves had been contained in my hands, their brilliant light exploding out of the tips of my fingers like spotlights.

I became aware then that the hand around my throat had suddenly let go; my hair was no longer held up above my head in a callous grip, but was flowing all around my head in the warm, swirling air that vibrated around me.
 
My skin was glowing, the light growing brighter and brighter with each heartbeat.
 
I wasn’t touching the ground
—
the light was keeping me afloat, and it was spreading out, an extension of my limbs, my hair, my breath, even my scent.
 
It smelled like sunshine, and it was wrapped around me, warm and comforting, like a mother’s embrace.

I looked at Sam
—
saw the black orbs that were once the golden pools of light that were his eyes, saw the agony on his face
—
and became instantly aware that the light was causing him an unbearable pain just as his cries had done to me.
 
It was burning him…and he couldn’t do anything to get away from it.
 
He had become trapped in it and it was now clinging to him like honey.

He was screaming again, but the light changed the way the scream sounded; instead of causing me to beg for death, it sounded like the bells one hears ringing in a church on Sunday.
 

His face was twisting, his body curling and contorting as the light changed him, but the movements were slow and graceful; it would be quite easy to mistake his suffering for a strange sort of dance.
 
I watched in fascinated horror as his wings began to disintegrate, turning into ashes that floated away like a light mist of dust into the distant light.
 
His once beautiful dark-blonde hair changed, becoming white, thinner.
 
His skin began to pull up against itself, wrinkling in such a drastic way; it reminded me of the crumpling of aluminum foil.
 
All of the things that had made him beautiful were now gone, but the punishing light wasn’t done with him yet.

He began to shake and writhe from the invisible torture, the sound of bells belying the suffering in his voice, but I could make out the word that seemed frozen on his lips; he was screaming “No”.
 

I felt the sharp intake of air as the light that stretched from between us caused his chest to crack like glass, the sound unmistakably hollow like the shattering of a million crystals with no void for it to travel off to.
 
It crept into him through the multiple fissures and drew out tiny blue orbs from deep within.
 
I watched as he writhed in agony while the opaque light smothered the orbs until their inner glow died out, and Sam was left on the ground
—
devoid of power, devoid of beauty, devoid of immortality.

The mysterious light began to fade, pulling back into me by the same unseen force that had pushed it out in the first place.
 
There was no danger anymore.
 
I knew I was safe.

“Thank you, Mom,” I breathed as I saw him
—
my own guardian angel
—
shielded from the intense light by his black wings; the dark plumes had been given to him for a reason after all.
 
And then I collapsed to the ground, my battered and dying body simply incapable of supporting me.
 
“Thank you for saving me,” I wheezed, the crushing weight of my chest starting to squeeze the air out of my lungs.

As soon as the light had completely receded into my body, he was at my side, his face looking astonished, unbelieving, his arms lifting me and holding onto me so tight, I half feared he’d break whatever bones had yet to be shattered.
 
He wrapped his wings around the two of us, cocooning us in our own private reunion.
 
He buried his face into my hair and inhaled deeply as his body was racked with violent sobs.
 

I was so tired, I didn’t care that the motions were causing me excruciating pain.
 
I just wanted to close my eyes and let everything go.
 
I was with Robert.
 
I knew everything was over.

Through my exhausted haze, I could feel his tears tumbling through my hair, falling in my lap and scattering on the ground around me, the soft tinkling of crystal hitting stone sounding like tiny bells.
 
I felt a need to protest, but was cut off for he had his hands on my face then, and was kissing my hair, my forehead, my nose, each touch causing my skin to alight, the flames joining each other until they formed a fire of feeling within me.