Falter (47 page)

“Ok,” he whispered reluctantly.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Making Plans

The next night, after a day and a half of constant training, learning to move my body in ways I didn’t even think were possible, I was thoroughly exhausted. I wound my arm around in a circle, stretching my sore shoulder as I wandered down a hallway of the factory. Arkin had made it his personal goal to have me trained to military status in just under forty hours. Unfortunately, my body was in total disagreement.
 

I tried to partner with a few of the other angels, but always ended up with him. I figured, after the first three times of asking another Guardian to show me a particular move and being directed back to Arkin, it was time to surrender. Archard and Arkin had probably conspired to take complete control of what I was doing—and with whom.

In the end, I enjoyed Arkin’s methods of instruction. I’d gotten used to the sexist nicknames and crude gestures. Throughout my body’s consistent beating, we formed our own special partnership. I found a friend in him. He would never hold back on me, never baby my feelings. Somehow, in the silence of our intense battles against one another, I learned I could trust him with my life and not think twice about it. We molded an unbreakable brother-sister relationship. Something I never had before.

Meanwhile, Archard and Malach worked on gathering what information they could. Half of the time, I saw them huddled in the manager’s office at the factory, muttering about our situation; the other half, the two angels were nowhere to be found.
 

I finally spilled the beans about my experiences on the other side and everything I discussed with Gavyn. I told them about my debilitating visions, my demon encounters, and how I learned there was a book. There was too much happening and too many lives involved to keep secrets anymore.

The angels suggested that if we found whoever gave the book to Margie, they might bring us a little closer to the information inside. Now that we knew of a tangible resource about The Clavis, we figured the rumored stories had to contain some truths. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get to it without risking myself.

I still felt like the vision of my mother, if that’s who it was, held some profound answer that was lost in translation. It made more sense now that Arkin connected some of the dots for me. But how did she show me what happened? Why did she leave? Was she in Hell, too?
 

My heart sank with the idea that so many people in my life had ended up there. I couldn’t help but think that maybe ending up in Hell was my true fate. It seemed the easiest end to all of this. I guess, if it’s that easy though, it probably isn’t the right answer.

I slowly shuffled back toward the room I now claimed as my own. The tight quarters, where Archard took me deep into my unknown, had sentimental value now. It didn’t feel right sleeping anywhere else.
 

My muscles and bones hurt with even the slightest twitch. Several spots on my skin were beginning to turn a pretty shade of purple.
 

I laughed at the ridiculousness of me sparring with an angel. Who would’ve predicted it a few weeks ago?
 

 
The sting of a fresh cut on my lip forced me to stop laughing. I sucked air through my teeth and winced, recalling how Arkin had elbowed my mouth in defense when I yanked hard against his wing.

I entered my room and headed to the plush bed, peeling off my damp, sweaty clothes along the way. I grabbed the lighter lying on the small table and lit a few of the candles Archard left on the floor.
 

The mattress squeaked as I plopped down and settled onto the fluffy comforter. The chilly factory air drifted in through the door I left open, cooling the sweaty, bare skin not covered by my bra and panties. I was too tired and hot to care if someone walked in and saw me.
 

It was quiet at this end of the building. I welcomed the silence and centered myself. I shut everything out—except for Archard. His heavenly beauty was all I saw when I closed my eyes. So much worry and love laced the hard lines of his face when he looked at me lately.
 

Before we left Gavyn’s apartment yesterday, I spoke to Archard alone. I replayed our conversation over and over in my mind, now. No one but George had ever been that concerned for me. He must’ve asked if I was sure about the plan I suggested fifty times, and every time I knew it was the only option.
 

A warm gust of wind ignited my spirit and distracted me. The sudden exhilaration was like breathing for the first time—like the first flicker of life.
 

I opened my eyelids to see my angel standing by the bed, staring at me with hunger in his eyes. I stayed still and quiet. I didn’t want him to leave, but I didn’t know if we were ready to address the undeniable connection between us, either.

Soft candlelight danced gloriously in the reflective sheen of his pupils, enhancing the mesmerizing shade of neon-blue glowing around them. His naked chest heaved in deep, heavy breaths as sweat dripped down his tight ridges of flesh. My eyes followed the droplets of moisture down to the dark jeans hanging low on his waist, leaving his incredible abs exposed for me to admire.
 

His magnificent wings flexed behind him, tightening in response to the increasing tension between us and pressing out against the thickening atmosphere. The sight of him rendered me completely defenseless to whatever intentions he had.

He shut his eyes and touched the top of my foot, tracing a slow path past my ankle, up my shin, and then stopping at my knee with his finger still pressing against my skin. His full lips pulled up into a satisfied grin. Archard shifted at my side, adjusting his weight and leaning over to reach me better. He let the rest of his hand settle on my inner thigh, just above my knee. Short, shallow respirations rushed in and out past his slick lips, while I quivered with anticipation for more.

“What are you doing?” I exhaled the words, not realizing I was holding my breath.

His grin widened. “Memorizing the feel of your skin,” he whispered.

“Well, I have a lot more skin to memorize if that’s the case.” I slid my leg under his palm, desperate for more of his touch.

He shifted his weight, again. The scent filling the room changed from smooth honey to a spiced sweetness. I inhaled the aroma of need radiating from his pores and longed to taste his sugary essence.

A storm of emotions stirred in his eyes. Worry lines wrinkled his brow. He seemed to struggle with upholding his strong will and yielding to our attraction.

“Lay with me,” I whispered. I needed to feel him beside me, at least.

He carefully lowered onto his side next to me, propping his head up with one hand. I searched for the hunger in his eyes and found it caged in their depths. The moment had passed. His better judgment had won.
 

That was unfortunate since my better judgment was very much lacking. Our closeness electrified my cells. Sticky wetness dampened my panties. It was no longer a yearning to be close to Heaven, but a yearning to be his.

I rolled away from him. Maybe if I couldn’t see him, I could trick my body into calming back down. As soon as I turned, though, he hooked his arm around my waist and tugged me into him. He leaned in and buried his face in my hair, inhaling deeply.
 

We lay, uncomfortably close, teasing ourselves with an undying fire.

He cupped my body, shielding me from the outside world while I melted into him, happily trapped in his love. As we drifted to sleep, the softness of his gallant wing dragged over my sensitive skin, blanketing me in warmth.

The next day, I woke to the flickering flame of the last candle illuminating the room. I was alone and tucked under the comforter—not Archard.
 

Pouting, I wiggled out of our bed, gathered the clean clothes I pilfered from an abandoned locker the day before, and headed down the hall to shower. I turned on the squeaky faucet, slipped off my underwear and bra, and stepped into the stall, ducking my head under the water. It was cold, but, hey, I would be clean.

After showering, I dried off with the rough, white, industrial towel I found under the sink, then hung it on the shower rod to dry. Keeping my head lowered and my eyes focused on the green line staining the bottom of the sink, I brushed my teeth in record time. I caught myself unintentionally snubbing the reflection in the mirror.
 

Seeing how much I had changed—my tired eyes, bruised body, and transformed soul—scared me to death. I couldn’t see the familiar girl inside anymore, and the woman watching me from the glassy surface was too new for me to embrace.
 

I slid a worn, gray, Def Leppard t-shirt over my head and tied the excess fabric at the bottom into a small knot over my right hip, then tucked it under. Next, I tugged on black cargo pants that fit a little too snugly around my ass. I sucked in my gut, then freed it once the pants buttoned without too much coercion. I squatted then burst up into a jump a few times, testing the give of my attire. I even managed a high kick with little restriction.
 

After I shoved my feet into a pair of confiscated boots, I made my way towards the sparring room—clean and ready to get dirty again. I had some tension that begged for a much needed release.

I stopped in front of an old Work Safety poster and used the dusty glass frame as a mirror. Pulling my hair into a damp pony-tail, I noticed voices chattering from the office next to me.
 

I pushed open the hollow, wooden door, and found Archard, Malach, and a stranger huddled around a long conference table. Judging by his outfit, the stranger was an Arch; his leather sandals, plated skirt, and jeweled sword screamed heavenly warrior.

“Hey, guys. What’s up?” I greeted, interrupting their deep conversation.

“Hello, Nevaeh.” Archard held out his hand, inviting me to join in the meeting. It was such a small gesture of inclusion, but one I was overly happy to accept. “This is Eyal. Malach located him this morning. He may have some useful information for us.” Archard gently squeezed my hand and smiled.
 

“Hi.” I smiled, attempting to be polite when I really just wanted to skip the formalities and get to the info.

Eyal dipped his head. “Nice to meet you.”
 

This Arch had an unrecognizable accent. I bit the inside of my cheek and smirked, fighting to keep my laughter inside. The little sarcastic voice I kept confined to my brain was making fun of my ignorance and wondering why I assumed all angels were American.
 

Eyal moved to the edge of the table and perched an armed hip upon it, unfazed by my momentary lack of composure. He seemed friendly but still intimidating.

I gathered my focus and fidgeted impatiently. “Let’s cut to the chase. What do you know about me?”
 

Bright white teeth contrasted greatly against his soot-black skin as the Arch grinned at my bluntness. “Well…I knew your mother’s angel. He was a Guardian under my jurisdiction. His name was Rhett.”

“Great! Where is he? We need to talk to him,” I exclaimed.

“It’s not that easy, Nevaeh,” Archard answered, signaling Eyal to continue.

“He broke connection with us around the time you were born. We have no idea where he is or why he deserted us.” His unsettled, sloe-colored eyes stared off into space for a moment before he began speaking again. “He was always very quiet and kindhearted over the centuries. We searched everywhere for him. His loss was great in our hearts.” He raised off the table and rested a hand on the pommel of the sword dangling from his hip.

“Where is my mother?”

“We last knew Arianna’s whereabouts the night she left you. She kept in touch with a few angels the first year after Rhett left, but it was getting harder for her to keep you safe with demons chasing her unsupervised soul. When she left you, she disconnected from us as well.”

“So, she disappeared because of me?” My heart felt like it was at its breaking point once again.

“Arianna vanished to protect you, yes.” He picked up a long, black jacket draped over the chair across from me. Eyal spun towards me and knocked a knuckle on the table to make a point, “For what it’s worth, your mother was a fierce warrior. I have no doubt that she is still alive somewhere. There was nothing but goodness in her heart, and I refuse to believe she would betray us.” The stranger reached over the table and offered his hand. I shook it and tightened my lips in a half-hearted smile. “Sorry I don’t have more to give you.” Eyal strolled confidently out the door.