Beautiful Beings

Beautiful Beings

Published by THE EDGE

THE EDGE is an imprint of Sparklesoup LLC

Copyright © 2011 Kailin Gow

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Do NOT post on websites or share this book without permission from copyright holder. We take piracy seriously.

All characters and storyline is an invention from Kailin Gow. Any resemblance to people alive or dead is purely coincidence.

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First Edition.

DEDICATION

T
his is dedicated to Sacred Heart school, where I first became acquainted with angels and private schools.

Prologue

A
wave of warmth, scented with cinnamon, entered the still darkness of my room.  As I sat up in bed, it tickled my nostrils and brought me to a state of semi-consciousness; aware I was in my room, but with the distant knowledge that I wasn’t fully awake.

In the corner, between my clutter-filled dresser and my half-opened window, I saw his shadow. He’d come again, dark, silent and mysterious as he stood waiting for me to acknowledge him. I should have been filled with fear and the desire to scream out for help. My body should have reacted swiftly to the intrusion, shooting out of bed and clambering to find the comfort of my parents’ room.  But I felt safe and longed for him to stay.

He stepped forward, shadows forever keeping him obscured and allowing me to take in only the breadth of his shoulders, his strong and powerful height and just a hint of glimmer in his eyes. I detected a flash of joy and love in that glimmer.

When he sat on the edge of my bed and reached out to caress my face, I didn’t flinch or back away.  It was as it should be, as it always should have been.  His touch belonged to me; his hands, his fingers, all so warm, caring, loving.  My head suddenly heavy, I leaned my cheek into his palm, wanting more than just a gentle caress.

His fingers were strong, yet soft and heated with emotions as he pushed them into my hair, pushing back the mess of long dark tangles that resulted from my disturbed sleep. I knew I looked dreadful, my eyes puffy from sleep, my face gaunt and pale in the moon glow, my hair frazzled and sticking out in all directions.

“How beautiful you are, Lux.” Lost in a fog of distance, his voice barely made it to my ears, but his fingers…

I closed my eyes and lost myself in his touch, wanting to remain there forever, wanting his touch to delve deeper, become a part of me.  Both of his hands grasped me, his fingers plying the skin at the base of my neck for a thrilling moment before slowly traveling over my shoulders and down my arms where he weaved his fingers through mine.

“My love,” I murmured gently as I leaned into his chest, sighing from the sheer pleasure of being with him.

The stillness filled me, bringing a sense of peace and serenity that surpassed any and every waking moment. He was the anchor I needed, the love I longed for.

The distant echo of scratching and clawing broke the silence, our moment of loving stillness cut short. A hiss, vile and decrepit, filled the room, shaking the walls and changing the course of the wind. The scent of cinnamon dissipated, taken over by the malodorous scent of death and decay.

“No,” I cried as my fingers instantly tightened around his.  Fear pounded at my heart and tears blurred my vision. “No!”

“Help me, Lux.” Though calm reigned, his voice carried the urgent message with a tinge of fear.

“What can I do?”

“Help me.”

Tightening my grip with every ounce of strength I had, I held onto him, but with immense difficulty.  A powerful force, stronger than I could ever have imagined, pulled at him, tearing him from me.

His eyes, the only feature visible on his shadowed face, widened with fear. “Don’t let go.”

“I won’t. I’m holding on. I won’t let them take you.  I won’t let them win.” My throat constricted with pain and fear while my heart was gripped in a vice of aching so strong I could feel my life ebbing away.  If I lost him, my life had little meaning. 

I couldn’t hold on much longer.  His fingers slipped through mine, the warmth of his touch giving way to cold emptiness.  I was losing him.

“They’re here,” he said.

I could hear the struggle in his voice and knew we lacked the ability to battle them.

“They have me, Lux and they’re too many and too powerful to overcome.”

“No,” I cried.  “I won’t let them take you.  Hold on.”

The final touch of his fingers ebbed away, and my room was suddenly icy as a cool wind howled its way through my window, bringing with it the dust and ashes of the dead.

Only a vague shadow of him remained, withering away as they took possession of him.

I wanted to scream, to cry out at the unfairness of finding such immense love only to have it torn from my clutches. Racked with dry sobs, my chest rose and fell, my cries silent as they remained choked in my throat.

“Be careful, Lux,” he warned, his voice now distant and ethereal.

His struggle, heartbreaking to hear through the mist of dark chants and deadly murmurings, brought a wave of panic that pressed me to rise from my bed.  I had to save him, keep him from disappearing, but my body was leaden and uncooperative, unwilling to perform the tasks I asked of it.

Feeble and useless, I remained in my bed, watching the only love I’d ever known fade away.

“I love you, Lux.” His faint cry broke through the cold and dark wind.  “I will always love you.” Then he screamed, “beware the beautiful beings.”

A vacuum; my room was suddenly void of air, neither cold nor warm, not a sound from within or without, not a trace of his love or even his existence.

He was gone.

Chapter 1

L
iving in San Francisco would be vastly different from our time spent living in Seattle, my father had assured me. Whether the change was to be positive or negative, he did not say.

Sitting in the back of the baby blue Lincoln Continental my father was so proud of, I watched the city sights pass by, passive and unimpressed.  Mom had barely said a word and I wondered if she was as disenchanted with this move as I was.  It was the third in two years, each move allowing us just enough time to get cozy and familiar, but not enough to ever build any concrete bonds and friendships.

Friends are overrated, my dad often said. 

That was fine for him, he was a loner; an archaeologist who preferred to spend his days with the dead rather than with the living.  Although Mom shared his profession, she didn’t exactly share his opinion of people.  She’d promised more dinner parties, more gatherings and more fun in this new city.

“Did you see the Golden Gate Bridge, Lux,” Dad called over his shoulder.

“Sure, Dad,” I droned.  I’d seen so many bridges in our years of cross country treks that few impressed me anymore.

He turned onto the city streets, climbing the impossibly steep hill that seemed to go on forever.

“Those cable cars sure are a throwback to the good old days, aren’t they, Laurie?” Impressed by the pretty red trams, Dad kept toe to toe with one of them as we headed towards Chinatown.

Mom offered him a tired smile as she nodded.

“I’m told there are great markets here.  You can literally find anything,” he said.

“I’m sure we can,” Mom said softly, her tone reflecting just how tired she was.  “Do you think you could put off the grand tour until we’ve settled in, Bill?  We’re all exhausted and simply want to explore our own new home.”

Dad reached for Mom’s hand. “Sure, honey.  Forgive my exaggerated enthusiasm. I just wanted to show you guys just how great it’s going to be living here.”

He turned the car and headed for Nob Hill.  “Getting to work will be a snap,” he said.  “The university is literally a five minute drive.”

“Unfortunately I can’t say the same,” Mom said.  Though her tone was pleasant enough, I could tell this didn’t please her.  “The museum is clear across town.”

The narrow, winding streets of the city, crowded with shops, homes and offices, gave way to broader roads dotted with huge estates, gated in and unimaginably expansive, each mansion was grander than the last. Clinging to my state of unhappiness at our latest move, I swallowed a gasp of awe, but couldn’t keep my eyes from opening wide as I tried to take in each lavish home.

“This is home to Richard Kingsley,” Dad stated proudly as he slowed the car to an embarrassing crawl.  When no response came, he continued.  “He’s my new boss, the dean of the university.”

Mom’s lips pressed into a tight grin as she gazed at the impressive home.  “That’s nice, dear.  Perhaps you TWO can ride together.”

Detecting the note of sarcasm in her voice, I suppressed a smile and kept my eyes on the huge wrought iron gate. “I love the bird they have on their gate.  It’s cool, like kind of gothic, you know,” I said.

“That’s a raven, dear, and yes, you're right, it does have elements of the gothic style, though clearly Victorian in every other aspect.”

Beyond the gate, the home was far from what I’d imagined a dean could afford.  Immense and undeniably beautiful, something about the estate caused an uncomfortable chill to crawl up my spine.

A movement caught my eye in the driveway and I focused in to find a handsome young man preparing to board a dark SUV.  He stopped; his hand perched on the open door of the large vehicle, his gaze haunting as it found me through the distance and held me with an unknown purpose.

His sun-bleached hair was swept back, his chin high, his shoulders straight, giving him an air of refinement that contrasted with the lacrosse outfit he wore.  However, beneath his aristocratic air, something feral lived in his gaze.

I turned away, disturbed by the intensity and familiarity of his hazel stare. My mind quickly flipped through the number of young men I’d met in my life; the school I’d just left behind, the few young men I’d met when Mom had brought me for a brief visit to my new school last spring.  I even thought of the celebrities I’d seen in the movies.

No one resembled the tall young man with the strong chin and determined gaze.

When I turned back to him, his eyes were on me, having never left.  A knowing smile touched his lips then disappeared as he boarded the SUV.

“Isn’t it lovely?” Dad chimed.

“It certainly is impressive,” Mom said.  “I hadn’t imagined we’d be living so close to such extravagance.”

Neither of them commented on the handsome young man with the golden hair and brazen stare.

“I’m afraid our new home is going to be considerably more modest,” Dad said as he finally pressed on the accelerator. 

Indeed, the huge mansions gave way to stately homes which slowly diminished in size and splendor to resemble the neighborhoods I’d grown up in.  Victorian homes, neatly lined up in rows, were painted in a pastel rainbow, each individual and unique.