To Hell and Back, page 23
I’ve seen enough movies and read enough books to know that one wrong step, one wrong thought about Michael can destroy everything. I love him more than anything and would die for him if I need to, and no matter how many terrible things I hear about him, I’ll still love him. I hate myself for that—I truly do—but I can’t assume that it was just God’s plan and that Michael used me to please his father. I’ve already made the mistake of assuming, and it’s never ended well: one misunderstanding nearly ended in my own death, actually. So, no more. I need to find Michael.
But before that, there’s one more mystery that has recently surfaced. And I know exactly where to find the answers to that.
Chapter 25
I arrive at the Kopar restaurant, order my favorite crab soup, and fail to order white wine. Sometimes the waiters think I’m older, but other times I fail miserably and pretend that I forgot my ID. Anyway, I order Coke like a child.
As I wait for the food, William comes in and takes the seat across from me.
“So? How did it go?” I ask him as he focuses on the menu.
“The last time I contacted Father, he was in Vegas and we had certain angels passing back and forth as messengers. But now, all messengers I knew have been killed by Lucifer, and Father escaped somewhere to Europe.” Why is it not surprising that God had been in Vegas?
“Do you know where, exactly?” He shakes his head.
He orders cod and a glass of Chardonnay—which is what I originally wanted to order—and hands the menu to the waiter.
I wonder if anyone in the restaurant is eavesdropping on our weird conversation, but I couldn’t care less about them. “Do you know the plan God has for me?”
“I’ve already told you. He didn’t share much with me.”
“What about my mother?”
“Lucinda, please. Let me deal with her by myself. Don’t make it harder than it’s already is.” Deal with her…how? I don’t bother to ask that. He tries to avoid questions about Mom, and it’s getting very irritating.
My soup finally arrives, and I take a few bites before returning to William. “Do you know who Samael really is?” I’m more curious about his rank.
“The only thing I heard about Archangel Samael is his connection to Lilith and how he helped her escape the Garden of Eden. But that only means he is an immensely powerful angel.” Yeah, I got that already.
“Who is Lilith?” The name sounds familiar, yet I don’t remember her story.
“First wife of Adam. She seems to be very fond of Lucifer.”
“Lucifer and Lilith together!?” Crap. Why do I sound jealous all of a sudden?
“Not anymore. He got tired of her when he heard that his first child would be born.” Amazing—now I have another person who hates me.
“Why is he so obsessed with me?” I eat a few bites of soup to give him time to answer.
“I’ve already told you.” Right…but asking twice doesn’t hurt, even if I feel stupid now.
His cod arrives and he digs in, alternating with sips from his wineglass.
“Are you also drinking souls?” I whisper.
“No.” Hmm…not an angel, yet not human.
I finish my soup and nurse my Coke as I try to think of more questions.
Oh, I have a good one. “Who’s trying to kill me?” Too many are trying, and many of them aren’t even connected, as if there are a bunch of different organizations.
“I don’t know.”
We’re quiet for a while, and I even order sorbet and ice cream as I try to think of more questions. Seriously, when I have a chance to ask, they just disappear from my mind. Can angels have amnesia? Because I think I’m the first one here sitting with the memory of a goldfish.
“I almost forgot,” Will says. “Detective Hawkes called to see if he can ask more questions.” Not that guy again.
“No, definitely not. If he calls again, tell him to get an order before cuffing me and throwing me into the car like a bag of potatoes.” He looked at me in confusion. “Long story. It’s just something weird about him.” I’m known to attract weirdness, so I won’t be surprised if he’s in a sect, gang, or whatever murderers call themselves now.
“I’ll have to check with Chris about that.”
“Is he also—”
“No. Chris is just a good friend. But I do need his expertise about the detective who called every day to check if you were awake.” He ponders for a minute before adding, “Perhaps I see why you call him weird. There’s something off, indeed.”
He finishes his cod, and my desert arrives. I don’t really want to eat it as much as prolong the conversation. “Out of curiosity…was it your idea to send me home earlier?”
“Your birthday is coming soon, and I didn’t want you to spend it in the hospital. Plus, I was serious when I said that you heal fast. Your wounds and conditions aren’t the same as a regular human. For us, it seemed like you were in a coma, but in reality, it’s something angels call thorough healing. That’s when your wounds are too great for your body to heal properly. And you don’t suffer the after-effects you have after a coma.” For a person who tells me he’s unaware of the world surrounding me, he does know a great deal of…everything.
And yes, my birthday is coming on Tuesday. Usually, I hate that day of the year the most, but because I’m turning eighteen, I’m kind of looking forward to it.
“I’ll stay with Michael tomorrow.”
“No.”
“I didn’t ask your permission, William!” I emphasized his name and the fact that he is a big liar who has no say in my life anymore. My ice cream taste bitter all of a sudden, as if my own words have hurt me. “I’m sorry.”
“Would you do anything stupid?”
“I’ll always do anything stupid.” I smile, and I swear I see him rolling his eyes. “No, Dad, I’ll be back by Tuesday morning.” Did I just say Dad? I guess old habit really do die hard.
He eases a little. “How serious are you two?” he asks out of curiosity—but there’s concern in his voice as well. I guess pretending to be my father has made him actually behave like one.
I do wonder what Michael told them because Will doesn’t seem to appreciate the fact that I date my teacher (well, kind of a teacher). But yet, I was in Michael’s hotel room today. Lots of honey there…
“We love each other.” And every day, our love grows so that his every touch on my skin sends an electrical impulse through my body, turning me on for more. As if Will didn’t know that already.
He nods. “Should I explain to you the importance—”
“No, a big no!” I know what he wants to say but there’s no way I can be comfortable discussing that with him—not to mention, we’re in the restaurant. If the time to use a condom comes, I know how to use one thanks to my Oberon PE classes.
“Your mother still wants to invite him to dinner.” I can’t hide my annoyance, especially since the last time we talked about Michael and me, I told her that we were broken up. But she still wants to meet him. Why???
“I’ll ask him about that.” Most likely, I won’t. I know that the nice dinner will end up being an interrogation.
“Do you know why Michael lost his wings?” I change the topic as my sorbet and ice cream melt in the bowl.
“He’s an angel?” Am I stupid here or what? “Sorry, I haven’t heard anything about Michael being an angel.” Come on, even I have!
“Even from your father?” Surely, he’s mentioned one of his favorite sons.
“Especially from my father.” I guess not. It looks like Will is angry with God—not because his father didn’t tell him much, but because he disappeared and left him as a baby (inside, at least) on the street. Damn, if I look at it that way, I’m amazed by how well William has adapted to this world.
I ask for the check as the waiter clears our plates. When he returns, I hand him my debit card without even looking at it. Will is pulling out his wallet, but I glare and he returns it to his pocket. I asked him to meet me here, so I’m paying. He rolls his eyes. Now I understand where I learned that habit.
“You like him, don’t you?” Will asks as we walk to the exit.
“I’ve already told you; I love Michael.”
“I wasn’t talking about Michael. The way you reacted to Lilith being with Lucifer is…is as if you’re jealous.” For God’s sake! Can both Michael and William relax about that!? It’s getting on my nerves.
How would Will even know that I’ve met Lucifer? Or was our meeting shouted out in headlines in The New York Times!? Maybe I’m exaggerating…just a bit.
“I don’t want to think about him right now,” I say, shooting him a warning look. If he mentions Lucifer again, I’m going to punch something (or someone) very hard.
“He can’t really control minds. He seeds ideas in your head, but they won’t work if you’ve never been open to them. This is like getting a person drunk when they already like alcohol.” I stare at him with pure shock on my face. “I’m sorry, honey. His looks are the reason people tend to do things for him without compulsion.” No! That’s not possible…
“But I love Michael.” I say it almost as a whisper.
“Are you sure about that?” And then he leaves me.
Before I collapse to the ground, I turn into the alley and crouch with my back against a dirty wall.
How dare he say something like that to me? I did think about Lucifer in the way I shouldn’t, but it’s not because I wanted to, he messed with my head. I’m not going down the road of the pharaohs, where marrying and sleeping with your own father is totally normal! Not to mention the fact that he is Lucifer: the worst of the worst.
And what does Will mean about my love for Michael? I may never have loved or been loved by anyone, but I know that my feelings toward Michael are more than just attraction. I’ll die for him if he asks me to—isn’t that what love is about?
And why do I even listen to someone who’s about the same age as me? Will tries to pretend that he’s as old as he looks, but…well, he isn’t! I’m not going to listen to someone who sleeps with my mother because God asked him to. I won’t even think about it right now.
After a few more minutes of trying to calm myself, I head back home.
Unsurprisingly, William isn’t there, and neither is Mom. I head upstairs to take a nap and clear my head.
“Will you ask Michael to join us for dinner tomorrow?” Why is so interested in him all of a sudden!?
I ignore Will’s stare, which clearly tells me to keep my mouth shut in terms of supernatural things. I wasn’t even trying to hint at that anyway. “If you won’t make a show out of it.” I glare at Mom, sipping some coffee from my cup—yeah, coffee at dinnertime. Technically, I suppose it’s my second dinner or a nighttime snack.
The nap was the worst idea, I just feel more tired than before. This explains why doctors recommend only napping about thirty minutes. I definitely slept longer than that, and I can’t stop yawning.
“I just want to meet the person who’s stolen my daughter’s heart.” You’ve met him already. I roll my eyes at her but don’t reply.
I take a chicken wing and dip it in sauce, smiling as the memory of the fun I had with Michael this morning resurfaces. I can’t wait for tomorrow already. There’s a knock at the door.
“Can you get that, please?” Mom asks, as if I’m the doorman. I glare at her but go to open the door while wiping my dirty fingers on a napkin.
Her hands are at least clean, as she’s eating mashed potatoes and a chicken breast, but no, my mom likes to be bossy with everyone.
I swallow my bitterness and open the door to see who the hell is here at this time of the day.
Oh. This is the last person I would ever expect to see here so late…or at all.
“What are you doing here, Jennifer?”
“I’m…I’m sorry for what’s happened with…I’m sorry,” she stammers. Is this snake really apologizing? I would never believe but it seems like she is.
“Thank you.” I don’t invite her in, even when Mom called from the dining table to ask who it is. I ignore her—maybe she’ll finally bring her own ass to the door. “I don’t want to be rude, but why are you here?” I repeat my question, but more politely and with a fake smile.
“Before Rose died, she gave me a letter.”
“Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never liked that whore.” I glare at her. “Sorry, it’s a habit.” I roll my eyes at her, knowing that it is, indeed, her habit to be like that, but she has probably apologized more in these three minutes than she has in her entire life. “She asked me to give you that after you check out of the hospital.” Jenny hands me a small envelope.
“Have you read it?”
“No.”
I raise my eyebrows. I know she’s lying.
She exhales. “Yes, I opened it. I think you should know what’s in there—there’s a clue about who killed Jace.”
“You said it was a suicide.”
“They want you to believe that’s what happened.”
“I’m coming!” I call to my impatient mother, who keeps asking who’s at the door. Returning to Jennifer, I ask, “You know who’s behind this, don’t you?”
“Please don’t tell anyone I was here.” I’ve never seen so much fear in her eyes before. But she is really afraid of something…or someone.
“I won’t.” And she leaves without answering my question.
I close the door and head back to the dining table. I take my seat and, ignoring Will’s and Mom’s stares, continue eating the cold food. “Who was that?” Dad breaks the silence.
“Delivery boy got the wrong address, so I was explaining how to get to the right house.” It’s happened before, so the lie comes easily.
“I thought I heard a girl’s voice?” Mom looks at me suspiciously.
“Delivery boy, girl, what’s the difference?” I roll my eyes and continue eating the food on my plate.
Thankfully, there are no more questions—just more suspicious looks from both Mom and Will. I think about the note in my sweatpants pocket and wonder why Rose would give it to Jennifer.
Finally, I’m alone in my room. My parents (I guess Will is sort of a parent, too) are asleep, so there’s no potential for eavesdroppers or intruders.
I take the letter from the small envelope. “Sometimes betrayal comes from the ones we expect the least,” I read aloud, tasting each word, trying to understand Rose’s message. “Lucifer used to be God’s favorite son, too.” I read the last line aloud. “What!?” I gasp in shock.
Rose knew about angels, too. No, it’s can’t be possible. But then…what about Jennifer? Why is it so hard for her just to tell me, the person who stays behind it? Does it mean that Rose and Jenny are angels too?
No, neither Rose nor Jennifer could be angels. Maybe I don’t know them as well as I thought, but I can feel that true. Who the hell are they, though, and what’s up with the note?
Okay. The first line is a quote I’ve heard before: it’s very generalized and tends to apply to literally everything in my life. Right now, Jennifer comes to mind as an example of betrayal, which I certainly didn’t expect. But I doubt it’s about her.
The last line is kind of obvious, too. I know that Lucifer was loved by God and was his favorite son. I mean, what’s not to love? Okay, I mean that with a touch of sarcasm, but I keep thinking of Lucifer as an angel who chooses the wrong path, and I’m his salvation that will help him become good again…NO freaking way! I’ll marry him over my dead body!
Oh, how many times will I have to convince myself that I actually have a choice? Everyone keeps telling me that I don’t and that marrying my father is set in stone.
Am I living in a walking nightmare that keeps getting worse and worse…? I don’t understand anything anymore. I rip the note and envelope into pieces and throw it all in the garbage.
I close my eyes, imagining that everything is okay and that tomorrow I will spend the entire day and night with my boyfriend. Right before my birthday. I can’t wish for a better present than to wake up in the same bed and see his bewitching eyes.
Yes, that’s what I’m going to think about…and nothing else.
Chapter 26
I wake up screaming in my bed.
When I come to my senses, I breathe deeply, trying to slow my heartbeat and get myself together.
My nightmare was the moment Lucifer traced my neck with burning-hot kisses. Why would I dream about that? Why me, for Christ’s sake!? Is it too late just to be a regular human being? I guess it is.
I’ve started keeping pills for my migraines on the bedside table. I swallow two and then reach for my phone. It’s 6:58 a.m. Oddly enough, I set my alarm to wake me at 7, but here I am. Two minutes of sleep is the same as six blinks for me.
I text Michael to pick me up at 8:30. He responds with a kiss emoji, and I roll my eyes. I wouldn’t think that an angel would use emojis.
I toss the phone on the bed and head to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face and try to clear my mind of the terrible dream. Well, it wasn’t that terrible, in fact…no! It was disgusting! I slap my cheeks as a wakeup call and hop in a cold shower.
Michael. Today is about Michael and nothing else. This is my new mantra.
I look at my wardrobe and lament my lack of taste in the clothes I tend to wear. I put on a thin, lacy pair of blue Victoria’s Secret underwear—not red…today’s not a day for red. I put on blue skinny jeans since I don’t need to bother with the wound anymore. They definitely look better than sweatpants. Then I add a black long-sleeve shirt with buttons.
Should I wear my hair up or down? After long consideration, I leave it down and head downstairs to grab something to eat.
