Praefatio: A Novel (8 page)

Mom paused, allowing me to digest. All this time, Mom had kept my true heritage from me. Why reveal it then? She didn’t think it important to tell me sooner that my real mom was a Fallen Angel, that I had a twin sister, and I seemed to be some sort of consolation prize from God to my mom? Angels, demons, humans, all connected by an age-old prophecy that somehow involved me.

Surely she had the wrong angel; I didn’t know any Fallen. What more could she possibly say? She sighed, as she always did right before she hit you with the old one, two.

“Good Goooddd, there’s more?” slipped out before I could retract it. My teeth chattered as chills shook me every few seconds.

“Grace, do you understand what I’m saying?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “Your mother chose to Fall, taking you into herself so you could be born of human and angel. Now, you are a most unique and powerful being, unscarred by the evil that is nephilim—the offspring of angels and humans.”

“So, I’m
not
a nephilim?”

“You are the result of
His
will, not that of angels and humans. Yours is a divine purpose.” Mom beamed as if she had something to do with it personally. God, that woman would take credit for anything!

I shuddered, remembering the Sunday school lesson on angels who had children with humans. The angels were punished.

“Okay, so say all of this is true. What happened? Why am I in the hospital? How did my ribs get broken?” I should have asked about Remi, Gavin, and Dead Dad
.
But I figured first things first.

A long laughed escaped her narrow throat. The sparkle in her eyes was clear. Was she proud of me? How could she be? My gown was soaked through with sweat. I was barely able to withstand my own sorry weight. I couldn’t possibly be this angel she spoke of.

“Tomorrow is your seventeenth birthday. Tonight around midnight, you will feel the most awful pain you have ever felt. Your ribs will be broken, all the way up to your neck, as your body prepares for wings,” she announced as if she were predicting a lottery win.

“So I’ll be able to fly?” My voice seemed higher than usual. “Wait a minute. Aren’t angels supposed to fight demons?
”
I waited, breathing a little faster now, not sure if from fear, adrenaline, or both.

She lowered her gaze as she did her voice, then took my shaky, sweaty hand. “It is not my particular charge to wrestle demons, though you may not have a choice.” Her face became pensive, almost melancholy. “Unfortunately, you will also wrestle your own kind, humans
and
angels.” She stared at me for what seemed like forever, trying to gauge my reaction. She removed her hand from mine.

“I wish you’d told me sooner.”

“I’m sorry, Grace. The rest must be witnessed through the eyes of an angel. It is not for humans to see or understand. And it was never up to me to tell you sooner than now. Rest. Sleep. You are going to need it.” She smiled as she turned on her heel, stretched out her wings, and lifted into the air, gliding over the garden with ease.

I smiled wryly at her.
Mom: always the showoff!
I felt a hushed peace come over me.

I could no longer hear the sound of the breeze or the birds singing. The beep of the monitor and hum of electricity flowing through the wires of the machines attached to me drowned it out. Drip. Drip. Drip.
Do normal people hear that kind of stuff?

The pain in my back, sides, and neck was unbearable.
More morphine.
Almost as soon as I thought it, the nurse was at the door, and I was back in my bed.

“Miss Miller, I’m leaving for the night and wanted to make sure that you were … ”

The way she paused made me curious. I hadn’t pressed the call button or asked for more medication, only thought it while staring at the name on her ID badge. I decided to try something.

Can I get another … ?

Nurse Cipher reached into the bottom drawer of the nightstand on the right side of my bed, pulled out a blanket, and covered me, just as I desired.

So, if I think it, I can make it happen?

She smiled, tucking the blanket in at the bottom of the bed.

I could think it and make it happen.
Sweet! But what if I don’t want her to know my thoughts
? I concentrated hard, to block her from my mind. I’m sure my veins were bulging out of my neck. I imagined a wall, thick, tall, and unbreakable between the two of us.
So, Nurse Cipher, can I also get some more water?
Nothing. Nurse Cipher checked the supplies in the bathroom as I wondered how she’d heard me in the first place.
Can humans hear me? Nurse Cipher?

The wall crumbled.

Nurse Cipher took my wrist in her hand and listened to my pulse as she spoke slowly, deliberately. “Humans hear your words as their own thoughts, or like a sixth sense. You can plant thoughts, ideas, or suggestions into the minds of humans, but there are rules about that,” she added, pausing to see if I understood.

I smiled. “I knew it. You’re an angel too! Why am I so sick? Why can’t they figure out what’s wrong with me?” I twisted, trying to find a comfortable position.

“Your body is rejecting the invasion of a new cellular and skeletal structure. It’s fighting against your transformation like it would any invasion. It’s how humans were designed. We call it ascension,” she stated with an air of satisfaction. Done checking my pulse, she let my arm fall to the bed. “New appendages will soon appear. The good news is, your wings are grown from the blood feathers of your mother, so they’re less likely to be rejected.”

“Ascension. Mom mentioned that. But she didn’t say anything about blood wings,” I mumbled, confused.

“Your mother, Rosa’s, wings. It’s to give them a better chance of being accepted by your body. She’s a blood relative, Rosa,” she said, turning abruptly toward the door. “As for ascension, no one really knows what to expect since no other human has ever done it without dying first. But angels ascend all the time. It’s when we come into the full knowledge of who we are, what we’re capable of, and accept our fate, as you humans say. It’s our purpose, what we are made to do. You can only ascend when you are fully attuned to The Divine One and His purpose for your life is all you care to fulfill. Some of us Fall because we reject their purpose. Anyway, it’ll make sense soon enough.”

You’ll be released tomorrow afternoon,
she added from halfway down the hall. I realized then she had spoken those words to my mind. It was the first time I had spoken telepathically with another angel besides Remi.

OUCH, OW, OUCH. OH GOD. I thought she said she gave me more morphine. It can’t possibly be midnight yet!
The sound of my ribs fracturing one at a time was thunderous in my ears. The pain was more than I could bear. I could not move and risk more breaking or pain. I closed my eyes: nothing. No visions, no relief from reality. I pressed the call button as hard as I could.
Nurse Cipher? Mom?
Somebody help me, please. I can’t do this
. Tears burned my cheeks. Snot ran from my nose to my chin. I screamed and screamed, but no one came.

I closed my eyes tightly and grabbed the sides of the bed to brace myself against the searing pain. The heat of a thousand flames burned my back and sides, which felt like they were being stabbed repeatedly with blunt force. Sweat poured out of me, soaking my gown and sheets. The contents of my stomach lurched abruptly into my throat. I leaned over the side of the bed just in time to empty them onto the floor. My hair, chin, and face were covered in vomit, tears, sweat, and snot. I was shaking and chewing the skin off my peeling bottom lip, which by then had started to bleed. My stomach lurched again in a series of dry heaves. I lost control of my bowels, and I could feel my intestines twisting and turning around in my gastric cavity.

I lay still for a brief moment, sure I was about to die as my eyesight faded and my heartbeat slowed. They say before you die your life flashes before you. I was not so lucky. Instead, I heard: Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack. Seventeen ribs to go.

I Feel Like a Hero

I had stopped questioning; I simply appreciated the fact that the life-altering pain and the stench of my body’s indiscretions were gone. Oddly, I smelled of gardenia petals, jasmine, strawberries, and white amber instead. I ran a hand along my arm to find skin as smooth and soft as that of a newborn. When I touched my hair, it was like touching fine silk. I looked, but had no wings. So much for that.

It started as a low buzz that, by the end of the hour, culminated in a loud and unwelcome cacophony of sounds. Voices and things jammed my head, vying for my mind’s attention. Conversations, thoughts, dreams, radio, TV, and even the Internet filled the space between my ears, along with animal sounds, cars, machines, and feet on the pavement. I tried to distinguish between what and whom I heard, but I grew nauseated and had to stop. When I tried again to focus, I learned that dreams seemed to be encased in deep emotions like fear, lust, or hate. Conversations were more about thoughts than what was actually said.

Focusing my enhanced vision was even harder. The concentration made me hungry. My stomach growled as I remembered it was pizza night at the Larsons’. I considered my options. I could stay and push hospital food around on a plastic tray, or sneak out and get some Papa John’s. I grabbed my clothes and hightailed it out of there.

I wasn’t especially keeping track of time, but moments later our green Craftsman home came into view. It seemed like I’d only been walking for minutes, but our house was at least eight miles from the hospital.

The Larsons insisted we stay in our home after Dad died. Together with Jenny they moved in, though they kept their home around the corner. Mr. Larson retreated there when the memory of my dad became overwhelming. He’d say he had papers to grade that could only be done from his office at “home.” But I’d never seen a teacher misty-eyed over eleventh-grade test scores.

In front of my house, hundreds of butterflies flitted in my stomach. I heard voices from inside—Remi, Jenny, and Sean. I smelled them, too. The mix of Jenny’s perfume with Sean’s aftershave was dizzying.

I stood there, trying to get my bearings, wondering how to explain this to the Larsons. It seemed like forever since I had been in that house. But it had only been a day since I was thinking about the possibility of winning the Rock-N-Writing contest and meeting Gavin Vault. The day Dad died weighed heavily on me then, and how winning the contest would give my mom and me something in common. But that was
before
Remi and I were almost slaughtered and Remi turned into an angel and I passed out and ended up in the hospital with broken ribs.

Everything had changed. I couldn’t image how I was supposed to behave, knowing what I knew about Mom, Dad, and Remi.

I had a mother out there somewhere who I had never met, and apparently she preferred it that way. And Monk Girl—I guessed, was my sister, my freaking twin sister! As far as I could tell, becoming an angel was not all it was cracked up to be. I didn’t even have any wings!

And then there was Gavin Vault, someone I had barely considered the day before. Now I knew he was the person behind the voice I’d fallen in love with. I wanted to be happy. But I’d never really thought I would ever
meet
my voice, let alone that when I did, he’d be an international rock star of the obnoxiously cute kind.

My thoughts turned to Remi. What would he say about it all? What would I say? “Hey, Remi. Where’ve you been hiding those wings?” Crap.

And what about Jenny and the vision I’d seen? She was terrified. Who wouldn’t be scared, roaming the pitch-black woods alone at night when some guy with fangs shows up, circling you like a porterhouse on the first day after Lent? And what was she doing there all alone?

My thoughts were abruptly interrupted by approaching voices and the swing of the front door of my house. Sean was first, size eleven vintage black Vans out in front. Remi was right behind him with his classic smile, flashing perfectly straight, white teeth, intensely charismatic. He was kind of like Mom, but in a good way. They seemed to be in a hurry. The energy emanating from them was intense, exciting.
Gavin’s show
. How could I have forgotten?

Everything was amplified, but not necessarily loud. The sounds were clearer and more distinct. I could hear the cylinder release as Sean turned the door handle to open it. And then, the sound of his hand as he shoved it into one of the five pockets on his crisp, denim jeans.
New, his first time wearing them
. I could smell the plastic in which they had arrived at the store. I heard the sound of his tendons stretching as he positioned his wrist and forearm to grab the railing and run down the steps.

Three distinct breathing patterns, three heartbeats, and one growling stomach rushed toward me. I sensed their emotions: embarrassment, hunger, self-loathing, despair, lust, anger. One by one, I listened intently, though not on purpose. I had no idea how to control it, to turn off the voices. I hated knowing that Jenny and Sean were both thinking things they would be horrified to know I’d overheard.

Had Remi been listening too? All this time? I couldn’t believe how well he’d managed to hide this from me.

They blew past me like I wasn’t even there. Had they planned to leave for the show without me? They ran through the open gate and slid effortlessly into Sean’s brother Andrew’s 2006 black Mazda 3 hatchback.

“Hi, guys,” I managed well after they were already in Andrew’s car. They
were
leaving without me.

“Not funny, Andrew!” I shouted, half laughing and half terrified. I tried to catch up with them as Remi slammed the last of the car doors. Jenny sat up front while Remi lounged in the back seat with Sean. “Jenny?” I called.

But it was no use. Andrew pulled out of the driveway, turned the car in my direction, and drove off. Remi sat on the passenger side, facing me as I looked on from the steps. I stared right into the light bulbs of the Mazda 3 as they passed. I saw clear into the filament fibers. The right bulb had about six months before it would burn out. The left one, only three weeks.