The Wings of Heaven and Hell (The Arcadian Steel Sequence Book 1) Page 3

  My fingers twitched, and I pinched my arm, but I still stood in the motel room and my parents were still dead.

  “You can see us, Lia. No one else can, not if we don’t want them to.”

  How did he know my name?

  “This is crazy.” I shook my head. What will I say when the police question me about what happened to my parents? Maybe they’d give me a psych evaluation and put me on meds. Maybe that’s what I needed.

  “I guess you forgot Sydriel then,” Adriel said.

  Sydriel? Why did that name sound so familiar?

  “How she disappeared when you were four years old?”

  “I don’t remember anything.” I couldn’t remember why I was in foster care in the first place. From what I understand, what I’ve been told, I was found in an empty house when I was four. My mother and father were gone.

  “Sydriel tried to keep you safe, but she disappeared. I thought Raphael got to her. He’s looked for you ever since, and he’ll keep looking for you.”

  Could this be real? What should I do? Play along, a voice whispered to me.

  “What does Raphael want with me?” I asked. “What could I do to an Archangel?”

  “You can make them fall.” Adriel looked at the floor. His voice was like a ripple in a vast sea, afraid that it might lose itself in greater waters.

  “Fall?”

  “From grace.”

  My eyes darted back and forth. I wasn’t religious. I went to church a handful of times with Felicia and her parents. I never read the Bible, but I knew enough to convince someone I didn’t grow up under a rock.

  “I thought only angels that broke away from God could fall,” I said.

  “That used to be the case until you came along,” said Adriel. “Raphael wants to track you down, and I’m going to stop him.”

  I didn’t understand. If an Archangel wanted me dead because I could make angels fall, why was this angel helping me? Angels were the good guys, right? I knew enough about religion to know that.

  Alien life might exist, but who is to say that aliens will be anything like what we think. What if that is the same for angels? Were they the good guys?

  Adriel’s eyes fastened me in place. I didn’t see anything in his eyes that might indicate that he had lied to me, but something else made me want to coil myself into a tight, safe ball. The liquid gold turned hard.

  To protect someone that you hated would be challenging. Still, if he hated me, he wouldn’t have protected me in the first place.

  “But, what are you going to do?” I asked.

  Adriel shook his head. “I don’t know. But that’s not what’s important right now. I have to make sure that Raphael doesn’t find you, or we all will suffer the consequences.”

  “Well, that’s a bit horrifying.”

  “I’ve kept you safe here for a few days, but tomorrow, we have to leave.”

  “Wait. How long have I been here?” I asked.

  “Two days.”

  Horror flashed through me as if cold water was poured down my shirt. “Two days! I need to call my uncle.” I searched my pockets for my phone.

  “That’s not a good idea,” he said.

  “Where’s my phone?”

  Adriel shook his head. “Raphael will find you.”

  I glanced at him. I tasted salt as I tried to blink the tears away. “The last time I spoke to my uncle, I told him I’d been attacked, and my parents were dead. He’s the only family I have left. Now, give me my damn phone.”

  Adriel withdrew my cellphone from his pocket and tossed it onto the bed. I snatched the phone and called Uncle Jonah.

  He picked up before the second ring. “Li?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  “Oh, thank God.” His voice was warm liquid rubbed into cracked and callous fingers. “Where are you? Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  “They said you were in an accident, that the car hydroplaned and got crushed against the guardrail,” said Jonah. “They found your parents. I’m so sorry, Li.”

  My breath caught. I hoped this was a nightmare. That my parents were fine and that they waited at home for me.

  “At first, the police thought you died when the car went up. I told them I talked to you, but they didn’t know if that was before or after the car combusted. I made the arrangements for all three of you. But the coroner called yesterday. Said you weren’t in the car with them. The police said you might have walked away. That you might have been confused because of a concussion. They’re looking for you.”

  “Arrangements?” I asked.

  “The funeral is today,” he said. “There wasn’t much left.” He sobbed over the phone. I waited and listened to his sobs. He sniffled. “I’m sorry I planned the funeral without you. Until yesterday, I thought you were gone too.”

  I gripped the phone. “What time?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “What time are they burying my parents?”

  “At ten.”

  “Okay.” I ended the call. The phone slipped from my hand and onto the bed. I felt my heart compress into a hard pebble. My cheeks were sticky with tears.

  Adriel sat in the worn chair by the window. His wings swept out on either side of the chair. He leaned forward and watched me.

  “You have to let me go.” I wanted to be strong, but my voice reminded me of a guitar string breaking. “My parents’ funeral is today.”

  “I can’t do that,” said Adriel. “Not with Raphael on your trail.”

  “I’ll call the police,” I said. “I’ll say you kidnapped me.”

  “That won’t work.”

  “They’re my parents,” I said. “They can’t bury them without me.”

  Adriel’s eyes softened like gold in a furnace. “I’ll bring you there, but you have to promise to leave with me.”

  “I don’t even know you,” I said.

  “All you need to know is that I can protect you.”

  AFTER I washed my face in the motel sink, I gazed in the dingy mirror. My hair was matted to the sides of my face. My fingertips pressed a pink mark, shaped like a toothless smile, along my jaw. The tenderness prepared me for a bruise.

  I met Adriel outside the motel. He leaned against a motorcycle in the parking lot. He handed me a helmet.

  “A motorcycle? Can’t you just fly?”

  “I’m not flying you around the city, Lia.” He swung his leg over to the other side of the motorcycle. Before I settled in behind him, Adriel’s head jerked around.

  “Here.” He tossed me a pair of black gloves. “Hold onto the grab rail. Don’t lean against my wings.”

  “Isn’t that dangerous?” I asked. “Shouldn’t I have my hands around your waist?”

  “I won’t let you fall.” He dropped his arm.

  The front of the motorcycle was long with handlebars that curved backwards.

  I sat behind him and strapped on the helmet. I gripped the metal grab rail that curved from the sides to the back of the motorcycle as Adriel started the engine.

  “Hey, what about your helmet?” I asked.

  “Believe me,” said Adriel. “If I fall, I would be more worried about the ground than my head.”

  Within minutes, we were outside a café in a squat building with windows lining the front and a few chairs and tables outside.

  Adriel got off the motorcycle, and I followed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills, holding it out towards me.

  “What’s this?”

  “Money.”

  “I know, but it’s yours.”

  “You have money to pay for breakfast?”

  “No.” The word dragged from my lips.

  “Then, take it.” He shoved the money into my hand.

  “Okay, but I don’t need two hundred dollars to buy a cup of coffee and a scone.” I took a twenty and handed him back the rest of the bills.

  We walked through the glass door. Nestled at the back of the café was a counter
where two baristas chatted. A smattering of tables and chairs dotted the room. The odorous smell of coffee brewing assaulted my nostrils.

  I never appreciated the pure taste of coffee without any flavoring. For my Mom, the smell was lazy walks through the French Quarter and cold winters in a warm house. For me, the scent of coffee was cramming for a mid-term and a reminder of mornings, which I hated. I didn’t drink coffee for the taste, but the ice helped.

  The café was empty except for a man with combed hair who sat next to a beautiful woman with long, tussled, blonde locks.

  “Do you want anything?” I asked Adriel.

  “No,” he said.

  I approached the counter and ordered an iced coffee and a blueberry scone. The barista with the tight up-do reached into the glass display case with tissue paper and handed me the scone while I waited for my coffee.

  I settled down in the chair across from Adriel at a table in the corner of the room. I was stiff and hollow.

  I raised the scone to my mouth. “You sure you don’t want anything?” I asked guiltily.

  “Yes,” said Adriel. “I don’t eat.”

  “You don’t eat?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “I don’t need to.”

  “Okay,” I said, “but do you want to?”

  Adriel was silent. He glanced out the window as if he expected something bad to happen at any moment.

  “They can’t see you?” I glanced over at the baristas. They gossiped at the counter.

  “No,” said Adriel. “Only you.”

  “Lucky me.” Blueberry oozed out of the scone and onto my napkin. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the jelly found its way to the corner of my lip.

  “If only I can see you, how were you able to get that money and the motel room?”

  “Others can see me only when I want them to, and how I want them to.”

  Well, that was a great way for a hallucination to explain itself.

  “So,” I said. “Where are you taking me after…you know?” I wasn’t hungry anymore. I flaked off the crust of the scone with my fingernail.

  Adriel didn’t look at me. He still watched the windows. “Away from here,” he said.

  “But won’t he find me again?” I asked.

  “Then we’ll move again.”

  “You want me to go on the run? You do know I’m only sixteen, right? I haven’t even finished high school.”

  “There will be time for that later.”

  “You mean, when Raphael stops hunting me?”

  Adriel’s eyes fixed on mine. “He won’t stop hunting you.”

  “That was my point,” I whispered.

  The woman at the other table glanced over at me, a puzzled look on her face.

  “Stop talking to me,” said Adriel. “People will think you’re crazy.”

  Am I though? I wondered.

  THE clouds hung low in the sky. Morning dew dampened the grass. Headstones rose from the ground with names of people who weren’t here anymore. I knew only two. I looked at my hands, clasped, as the priest read a passage from the Bible.

  Mom’s parents died when she was eight, and she aged out of the system. She had no family except Dad, me, and Uncle Jonah. That was part of the reason she was the way she was with me. She wanted me to have what she never did: parents who loved her.

  Dad’s parents died when he was in his twenties. Mom and Dad had friends, but Uncle Jonah didn’t tell them about the ceremony, or else they would have come.

  The priest turned to me. “Would you like to say anything?”

  I shook my head. My nose stung as the tears started. I took a deep breath. “Why do you believe in God?”

  The priest clenched his Bible to his chest. “Because God has provided me a life and a soul and a place to go when I die. He has given you the same opportunity.”

  Opportunity. I never thought of death as an opportunity. Death was an ending.

  The priest placed a hand on my shoulder. He smiled, not showing any teeth. His brows turned down above his eyes.

  Jonah stumbled into the ceremony as they lowered the caskets into the ground. He wore a crumpled black suit. His eyes fell to Dad’s tombstone which read Beloved Father, Brother, and Husband. Rocking with the Big Man Upstairs. His finger and thumb pressed against his eyes as if he could hold the tears in.

  Adriel watched me from the tree line. I gulped. I wasn’t going with him. He was a stranger. He wanted me to run, but I couldn’t do that.

  I approached Uncle Jonah. He wiped his tears on the sleeve of his jacket. His hands twitched.

  “What’s going to happen now?” I asked.

  He looked down at his feet. “I have to take you to the caseworker who called me yesterday.”

  My hands curled into fists, and the muscles in my face tensed.

  He reached out to hug me, but I backed away.

  “Why?” I asked. “Why can’t you take me?”

  Uncle Jonah choked back a sob. “I want to, Li, but I can’t. The State won’t let me. I can’t get clean.”

  My heart felt like it was being squeezed between two brick walls. I raised my fists and hit him in the chest.

  He grabbed my arms. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not okay,” I shouted. “It’ll never be okay.”

  I lost my parents, and I saw something impossible, something that killed them while it stared daggers at me, something that wanted me dead too.

  THREE

  JONAH let go of my wrists, and I slumped against his chest. He hugged me while I cried.

  “You have to take me back home.” I put space between us and wiped the tears from my eyes.

  “I told you. I can’t do that,” he said.

  “Yes, you can. Just for a little while. I want to pick up a few things without some caseworker breathing down my neck.”

  “Okay.” Jonah nodded. “I’ll take you, but you have to promise me that you’ll go with them. I’ll do everything in my power to get you back. I swear to you.”

  I didn’t believe him. Jonah could never give up the drugs. That was what frustrated my parents.

  I met Adriel’s eyes. They were metal.

  “Come on.” Uncle Jonah put an arm around my shoulders and led me to the car.

  I got into the passenger’s seat of his old Pontiac, and he closed the door behind me. White lines ran through the leather upholstery, and the floor of the car was dotted with dry leaves, candy wrappers, and the odd bottle cap. Powdery, white stains mixed with brown and black ones. Particles of dirt settled in the corners and in the cup holders.

  Jonah settled into the driver’s seat, let out a deep sigh, and grasped the wheel in both hands.

  “Uncle Jonah,” I said, “have you ever seen something no one else did?”

  Jonah turned his head. “You mean like on mushrooms. You should stay away from that stuff, Li. I know I’m not the best example but—”

  “I don’t do drugs. If you’re an example of anything, it’s what not to do.” I snapped.

  Jonah scrubbed his hand down his face.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  “It’s okay.” He didn’t look at me. He turned the key in the ignition. The car sputtered before the engine was resuscitated back to life.

  In fifteen minutes, I was home. The house seemed so vacant from the outside. When I walked inside, I hoped to hear Dad’s rock music blaring from his studio downstairs. I wished I’d see Mom’s purse and keys on the credenza. But the house didn’t vibrate with life the way it used to.

  I went upstairs to my parents’ bedroom. Sometimes Sim liked to sleep on their bed. Poor thing, I was gone for two days, and she didn’t have any food or water.

  I stopped at the door. The bed was unmade. Dad’s boots were on the floor, paint spattered on the worn leather. Mom’s closet was open, stuffed with clothes. The silence and stillness chilled my bones. No sign of Sim. I eased the door closed as a sob rose in my chest.

  I checked my room. My guitar was on the bed. Cl
othes were strewn all over the floor.

  Downstairs, I stopped in the hallway. On the wall were photographs of me when I was little. A five-by-seven photograph of me, Mom, and Dad on our vacation to Nashville hung above the credenza. We stood in front of the Grand Ole Opry House next to the guitar big enough for the Jolly Green Giant to bang out a song. Dad wore his black Judas Priest t-shirt and charcoal jeans, a leather arm bangle around one wrist. His arm was across my shoulders. My hair was shorter, and I wore a t-shirt with cut-off sleeves. Behind me, stood Mom, her long, dark hair tied back. She wore a navy-blue dress. Mom showed her teeth when she smiled. Dad grinned in awe. I smirked. I grabbed the photograph from the wall.

  Jonah’s voice came from the kitchen. He was on the phone. He faced away from me. “Yeah, she’s here now.”

  “Who are you talking to?” I asked.

  Jonah turned around. Lids hid half his eyes as he looked down. A frown wrinkled the skin around the corners of his lips. He ended the call. “That was your caseworker.”

  “You called them?”

  “Li, I’m sorry. You have to go with her.”

  “So they can put me in some stranger’s house?”

  “Li—”

  I turned away from him and raced back up the stairs to my bedroom. I unzipped my backpack and turned it upside down. The books thudded onto the hardwood. I piled clothes from the floor and my closet into my backpack. Tears dripped onto the fabric as I packed. I placed the framed photograph on top of the pile of clothes in the backpack, but I thought better of it. I wanted the photo close to me.

  My fingertips pulled back the tabs encasing the photo in the frame. The frame slipped out of my hands. Glass shattered.

  The house shook, and bright light blinded me. I staggered back, tripped and fell. Posters ripped from the walls. An angel knelt in the center of the room. His white wings were tucked behind him. He wore a hood of chainmail with a silver chest plate. The chainmail covered his arms and legs. Black gauntlets encased his hands. On his feet were boots tipped in steel. He lifted his head, and his eyes fastened on me.

  I scrambled to my feet and raced into the hallway. The angel marched after me. Zing! He pulled a sword, silver with the image of wings fanned above the hilt. A round orb glowed with light on the pommel of the sword.