Falling (The Falling Angels Saga) (32 page)

“I say we try,” he said.

“Try what?”

“To the victor goes the spoils,” he said, his voice raspy.

I recalled the words from what seemed like a long time ago. “And who might that be?” I responded, trying to sound coy.

“You tell me.”

He snatched me into his arms, nearly pulling me across the console and kissed me. The gearshift dug into my torso eliciting the most delicious sensation of pleasure and pain. The kiss was passionate and yet it was sweet. He was rough, manhandling me, and yet he was tender, his fingers gliding along my arms, face and hair as if I were a precious jewel.

The kiss stole my breath away for several minutes, and just when I thought I might die for lack of air—a most exquisite death—it ended, with his front teeth pressing into my lower lip. As he pulled away, I could already taste the salty sweetness of my blood adding to the deliciousness of the moment. A bad-boy kiss.

The kiss was as much a surprise as that first kiss in the back of the school bus, but this kiss was better. This was the kiss of two lovers who had survived the treachery of a stormy night, only to discover, in the light of day, that their love had been made stronger.

“You’re bad,” I wheezed as I sucked in air, my tongue dancing lightly over the nip on my lower lip.

Guy sat back and smiled his smile for the first time in weeks. “Righteeo,” he whispered, straightening himself out in the seat. “Let’s continue this this evening when we get home,” he said, his smile widening. It was a smile filled with the old mischief and arrogance, and I knew in that moment we were back.

*

The week passed more quickly than I would have liked. Time breezed by like a gusty November wind, and everything I did seemed to seek out long forgotten memories. A glass of orange juice in the morning as Suze read the paper dredged up a memory from the eighth grade. I was thirteen going on thirty as Suze used to say. I’d purchased a new top at the mall over the weekend and hadn’t shown it to her. It was sheer around the belly area. Erin had said it made me look sexy.

“I don’t remember that top,” Suze said, playing it coy as I entered the kitchen now flaunting my exposed belly along with my independence. She didn’t fool me. She didn’t like my new top.
Well, too bad!
It was
my
top that I bought with
my
own money. We’d been arguing about so much back then. For her it was my sloppy room, my misplaced priorities. For me, it was always my lack of freedom.

“It’s new,” I said, pointedly with enough snark in my voice to take down an elephant. I remember noisily pulling the Cheerios dispenser from the pantry.

“Thank you for the fashion show. It was lovely. Now go upstairs and get dressed for school,” was all she said. She didn’t raise her voice. She just stared at me, daring me to defy her.

I hated her back then. It was laughable now, but I really did. What a jerk I’d been.

A lazy tear ran down my cheek as I pulled the OJ from the fridge.

“Mornin’,” Suze said without looking up from her paper.

Hard to believe that I now saw those days of constant battle as fond memories, but I did.

My fondest memory came on my final night with Guy before the wedding. We lay in bed holding one another. Neither of us speaking much—a word here and there, a gentle caress, a sweet kiss. On that night, my thoughts returned to the day of The Explosion. It was at The Explosion where Guy and I slow danced for the first and only time.

I’d been standing across the room when the slow song came on. Guy sought me out with his dreamy eyes. I moved to him, and he took me into his arms. We swayed to the music, and a delicious warmth radiated off him, washing over me. I felt so good, so safe, so loved.

Yet as I lay there that final night, I grew cautious of the sudden deluge of memories. They didn’t feel like the thoughts a girl who was about to free herself of her tormentor once and for all. These were more like the memories of a death-row inmate the night before the execution. While on the surface I was preparing for my final showdown where I’d free myself of Satan and live happily-ever-after, in my subconscious, the dark recess of my mind that I couldn’t control, I was preparing for death.

It was the perfect time for us to consummate our relationship. A death-row inmate’s final wish. It could have been the perfect night together before I went off to battle Satan. Yet, as much as I wanted to make love to Guy, I couldn’t do it. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to. I’d been wanting to make love to Guy since his return. I held out that night because it would have felt like I, indeed, was getting my final wish. Tomorrow wasn’t the end for us, it was the beginning. Call me silly, but I held out because I needed something to look forward to. I chose to look beyond my ordeal with Satan to a long life with Guy.

*

It was raining when I woke up. Not a downpour, more like a heavy mist that at times appeared like smoke and slowly saturated everything in its wake. It was a gloomy day both inside and out.

When we arrived at Aunt Jaz’s, I got my first surprise of the day. The house smelled of lavender and not something cooking. Aunt Jaz came to the door in a housecoat, lamenting that she hadn’t had time to even make tea. She and Maudrina were getting into their bridesmaid dresses, preparing for our final battle.

Before dashing back to her bedroom, she escorted Guy and me to the kitchen where I got my second surprise—Roxanne was there.

“Roxanne. What a surprise,” I said, feeling a déjà vu coming on. She was standing by the fridge, a watchful look in her eyes.

“She wanted to come,” said Guy, with a cautious grin.

“I’m sure Harrison won’t mind another demon fighter if things get out of hand. Besides, I wanted to be here to support you,” she said.

I looked at Guy and then back at Roxanne. They were both eyeing me warily.

“I was also hoping you’d invite me to
your
wedding,” Roxanne said, her eyes moving between us, and with that, she smiled. “Your
real
wedding, I mean.” There was genuineness about her smile.

My eyes again moved to Guy and then back to Roxanne. “You want to come to
my
wedding to
Guy?”
I asked skeptically.

“Of course. You two are my favorite mortals.”

This got a huge laugh out of a Guy and a smile from me.

“I’d like that,” I said. “But he hasn’t asked me.”

Guy threw a possessive arm around my waist and pulled me in. “I will. Trust me on that.”

Roxanne was wearing a gorgeous gown that hugged her amazing figure; her blond hair was in flowing curls. Standing near Guy in his charcoal suit, they made a striking couple. There was a time I would have been jealous just looking at the two of them together, but we’d moved past that. Roxanne and I had bonded during our rescue of Guy. I now considered her a friend and was happy to have her along.

A short time later, Maudrina and Aunt Jaz emerged from Aunt Jaz’s room in lavender bridesmaid dresses. Maudrina had picked them out. They were hideous, of course.

Maudrina saw the way I was eyeing the gowns and scoffed at me. “I told you to come with me when I picked them out.”

“I’m good,” I said, a wry smile on my lips.

“Besides, we’re not supposed to upstage the bride.”

“No chance of that,” I replied with a giggle.

“I just wish we’d chosen a better color,” Aunt Jaz complained. Maudrina shot me a knowing look and we both started laughing. I needed laughter. After a week of melancholy and tears, it felt good.

Harrison came next, dressed in a tapered tuxedo. His hair was tied back. I knew he was keeping it out of his face in case there was a skirmish.

When he arrived in the living room, he was also surprised to see that Roxanne had joined us. He gave her a hard stare. I was reminded that Harrison and Roxanne had both coveted
The Book of Calls
for their own kind. There was no love lost between angels and Nephilim. Without a word, he nodded his acceptance of her presence, and moved on to the matter at hand.

He’d hired limousines to take us to the castle. They’d be driven by Nephilim demon fighters. Harrison figured once we’d vanquished Satan we’d need to get away from the castle as quickly as possible. I figured he was right.

He told us that Orthon was to meet us downstairs. I was disappointed to hear that. I hadn’t gotten the chance to say a proper thank you and good-bye to Orthon. I figured I would do it on the ride over. That didn’t happen.

When we got downstairs, there were two black limousines waiting. Harrison announced that the wedding party would ride in the front limo and guests in the rear. Harrison, Aunt Jaz, and Maudrina climbed into the front car where Orthon was already waiting. I was attending the wedding disguised as Erin. I’d be riding in the rear car.

My Erin disguise wasn’t much of a disguise. My dress was a tad trashy, and I’d added highlights to my hair. Oversized shades would conceal that my eyes weren’t blue. But if someone were observing me closely, they’d know I wasn’t Erin, and then we’d have a lot more than the color of my eyes to worry about.

“We’d better get out of the rain,” said Guy, and I realized I’d been daydreaming. The Nephilim driver was holding open the door to our limo, waiting for me.

The sharp edge of disappointment pricked my heart. Orthon was about to make the ultimate sacrifice for me. I now knew I wouldn’t get to see him before the wedding. I couldn’t thank him enough. The best way to honor his sacrifice was to carry out my end of the plan. I nodded, climbed in the back of the limo, and began going over the reverse incantation in my mind.

*

The castle came into to view, a ghost-like presence through the puffy rain clouds. My arms, legs, even my hair began to tingle at the sight of it. Roxanne squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back to let her know I was all right.

Through the clouds, I could see that the castle had been transformed. It had been draped in black brocade, the same brocade from the wedding package. Giant swaths of it hung from the castle walls. The turret that crowned the castle was adorned with a gigantic white bow that seemed frosted by puffy white clouds. Dagenhart Castle had been transformed into a beautiful wedding package.

“Oh, my!” I said, gawking at the spectacle. I’d seen cars and party busses wrapped in fabric before, but nothing so elaborate as this.

Two horse-drawn carriages from a bygone era were parked outside the gates. Each carriage was fronted by two steeds, one raven black, the other dove white. A coachman in top hat and tails was perched at the top of each, an umbrella opened to shield them from the rain. The drivers looked human enough, but I suspected they were other-worldly beings. These storybook carriages were to carry the bride and her wedding party up to the castle.

The lead limousine stopped in front of the gates. Harrison climbed out and helped Orthon/me from the car. That was when I had my first glimpse of the wedding dress. It was a sleeveless A-line gown, with a tight bodice and a flowing organza train. It was a brilliant shade of red that was truly stunning on me/him. It took my breath away. It was dizzying watching myself climb from the rear of the limousine.

Harrison removed his jacket and draped it over Orthon/my shoulders to shield me from the drizzle. Then Harrison and I, Aunt Jaz, and Maudrina scurried toward the waiting carriage, the ladies hiking up their long dresses so as not to get the bottoms wet.

When they were securely inside, the coachman snapped his crop in the air and the carriage started through the gates and up the hill, the horses’ hoofs kicking up blots of muddy sod as they went.

“Ready?” Guy asked as our limo came to a stop.

“Yes,” I replied, still feeling a bit light-headed. I again squeezed Roxanne’s hand.
I will honor Orthon by vanquishing Satan
, I reminded myself as the familiar stab of guilt pricked my heart. “Let’s do this,” I said and got out.

By the time our horse-drawn coach reached the top of the hill, the others had already departed their coach and were inside the castle. I wouldn’t see them again until the wedding began.

Despite the drizzle, which was more like a heavy fog up on the hill, a large contingent of formally dressed guests was milling about on the steps and spilling out onto the driveway that glistened with wetness. They ignored the rain, seemingly jubilant to be present at this most auspicious occasion. I thought I saw Principal Lockhart in the crowd.

As we departed the coach, a hush fell over them. I tried not to notice, but I could hear them mumbling, see them pointing. Some of the Satanists recognized me as Erin. I smiled inwardly as I thought
this wedding will be a bigger fiasco than the last.
It was thoughts like these that allowed me to hold it together.

Zanti appeared at the foot of the steps, and my heart skipped. “Follow me,” he said, without giving me a second glance. I breathed. He hadn’t recognized me.

The large room I’d been in three times before was dimly lit with a violet hue. As we entered, I saw that the room had been transformed into a giant wedding tent. Great swaths of white tent material had been draped across the ceiling and walls. It was a stunning effect. Long banquet tables with large floral arrangements of black and white roses were placed throughout the room. I realized then that the black-and-white motif I’d been seeing signified the marriage of darkness and light.
Duh!

At the head of the room was a tent-like gazebo where the bride and groom would reside during the reception. A glitter ball dripped snowflakes onto the gazebo.
Just as in my dream
, I thought.

This was far more lavish than Erin’s wedding. This was a wedding for all time.

Zanti hustled us through the room and into the chapel. Soft organ music greeted us as we arrived. Memories of my first visit to the chapel fired through my consciousness: the robes, the lighting, the tumultuous wind storm, and Orthon climbing from the casket, coming to rescue me; Danny Tambor getting attacked by the Satanists.

The chapel was bare. No flowers… and no casket this time. The altar, adorned with demonic carvings, was bare as well. A single upside-down cross hung above the pentagram on the floor inside which the bride and groom would stand and take their vows.