Awaken the Soul (Havenwood Falls High)(12)

My sports bra and running tights. Half my clothing was missing. My shoes were missing. My breathing accelerates, the possibilities filling my mind.

“You were covered in blood. I saw it from the air and . . . it’s not the first time I’ve seen a wild animal attack while out flying, but . . . but I followed the trail. Something drew me down to earth yesterday. Something made me track you.”

My fingernails dig into my palms as the blood drains from my face.

“Whatever it was ran off. All I saw was a flash of movement as I came through the trees and saw you lying there.”

“No.” My feet slip from the chair, dropping to the floor with a thud as I sit forward. “No, that’s not right. Blood from where? I’m not injured. I’m fine.” A tear slides down my face.

“I’m an angel.”

He’s no longer cocky and full of egotistical pride. He says those three words as if they’re nothing—like reciting the day’s weather or answering a simple question. My palm covers my mouth.

It is the answer.

He’s an angel. He called the other a reaper. A reaper.

“You said I was dead. He said you stole me from him.” Images flash through my mind. The rip of claws at my side. The darkness hovering, the pain of a million suns consuming my body, the amber eyes—Breckin’s eyes—filled with worry. My cheeks are hot with tears. “Breckin?”

“You were moments from death. He was here to take your soul. You were supposed to die.” His pain-laced voice cuts me deeper than knowing the truth.

But I didn’t die. My wounds were healed.

He nods, somehow knowing my thoughts and confirming what I know to be true. “I healed you. I brought you back.”





Pieces





Breckin





“Angels aren’t supposed to interfere in Death’s work.” I slide to the far end of the couch, putting myself directly across from her. “I won’t apologize for it. I couldn’t let you die, Viv.” Leaning forward, I pluck her hands from her lap.

She’s in shock. Her shoulders slumped, her jaw slack, her hands limp in mine. Her eyes seem far away, staring past my face, but I tell her everything. I start at the beginning and explain exactly what I saw when I landed in the snow and found the reaper over her. What he said. How I responded. Finished, I lean closer, my head bobbing around until she meets my gaze.

“I won’t let him take you, I swear.” My fingers tighten their grasp.

Her face undergoes a kaleidoscope of emotions before she wets her lips and speaks. “On the mountain, earlier . . . he said something.”

He said a few things. “Yes?”

“He said you were a son of an angel in love with a human.” Her gaze slides left, as her cheeks color. “Is that true?” she asks, returning her ice-blue stare to mine.

“There isn’t an easy answer to your question.”

“Then the answer is no.” She pulls her hands from mine and sits back.

I nearly growl. My hand clutches her blanket-covered knee, because it’s the closest thing in my reach, as I lean in, bringing my face inches from hers. “No. The answer isn’t that simple.”

Our eyes lock and hold in a battle of wills before I remove my hand and give her space. “We barely speak, Vivienne. Would you believe me if I said I was in love with you?”

Her hair dances around her face as she shakes her head. “Of course not.”

“But you’re angry?”

Her mouth opens, then closes, her head turning to the fire once again as she exhales deeply. If I knew what love was, if I knew how to decipher the emotions she’s brought to life in the last twenty-four hours . . . the reaper might be right.

“My mother died giving birth to me, did you know that? My father wasn’t around much. I had nannies.”

Sadness clouds her eyes. “I remember the nannies.”

Sure she does. Kids asked me all the time why I had a ‘new mom’ every few years. That’s what happens when your nannies sleep with your angel father—they don’t last long.

“He isn’t the easiest, uh . . . person, for lack of a better word. Feelings are weakness. That’s what I was raised to believe.”

“What do you mean?”

How do I explain the supernatural world to someone who’s never known it? “There’s a hierarchy amongst angels. Good versus evil. The righteous versus the sinners.”

She fidgets in the chair, pulling her legs up. “I know the Bible.”

“Then you know angels aren’t fat, happy toddlers painted on ceilings. We’re warriors, fighters. My father isn’t half blood, he’s Divine. A Dominion.” She works to understand, but her expressive face gives her away. She’s lost. My titles and explanations make no sense. Why would they?

“He isn’t good.” I let my revelation sit for a moment. “And I’m not supposed to be good either.”

Unexpectedly, she huffs a light laugh. “What in the world does that mean?”

“I tell you my father is a Dominion angel of sin and you laugh?”

She laughs louder, her fingers going to her lips. Does nothing unnerve her? She’s extremely calm, considering she’s learned about angels, reapers, and her own near-death experience tonight.