Broken Butterflies (7 page)

“I’ll trust that you’ll give the answers soon; that’s all I can do.”

“Agreed.”

She walked to the front porch, but Bram didn’t follow. “Do you wanna come in?” He followed her inside. “Sit,” she said, motioning for the couch.

“Where’s your mom?”

“Work.”

Bram slid back on the cushion and put his hands on his knees.

“So, if you never had a human existence, where are you getting money, food, and shelter?” she asked, sliding her coat off and laying it on the back of the couch.

“There’s an order of priests who help the fallen. They’re fallen themselves.”

“And there just happens to be one in the Denver area?” Ilisha asked, smiling.

“Yes, they’re all over. Once I get this thing with Damon settled, I’ll find a job, and you know, be normal.”

“Why did you choose this priest?”

“I knew you would come back here. It seemed logical.”

“How can you still have your power if you have fallen?”

“Fallen just means that we can’t go back. We’re disgraced.”

“This must be completely different for you.”

“Yes and no. It’s not like I was thrown into a reality I knew nothing about.”

“So where are you staying?”

“There’s a barn close by with an apartment in the loft.”

“You’re sleeping in a barn?”

“It’s nice.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she replied half rolling her eyes.

“Come on,” Bram said, standing up.

“What? We’re going there?”

“Yes, miss priss. Get your coat.”

She trailed after him. “There aren’t any animals in said barn, right?”

She heard him chuckle, but he ignored her.

Ilisha drove the car down a steep dirt and rut filled road. “Didn’t know we were going off-roading,” she said facetiously.

“We’ve gotta loosen you up a bit.” Bram said.

“I’m loose.” She paused. “Okay, that didn’t sound right at all.”

They both laughed.

Ahead was a large, red barn where she parked and followed Bram inside. There was a large open space on the first floor with stables on both sides and antique farm equipment along the back wall. A punching bag hung from the rafters. Bram bounded up the stairs two at a time. At the top was an old wooden door. The handle was tarnished brass with engravings around the keyhole, which fit a skeleton key. The stain had faded long ago, which left it looking weathered. Bram turned the handle and a loud click echoed through the space. The door creaked as he pushed it open.

“This is nice,” Ilisha said, stepping inside.

The apartment was a one-bath studio. A full kitchen met the living room, and his bed sat along the other side. Two French doors opened up to a balcony looking out on the forest. Bram walked around picking up dirty laundry and shoved it in a closet. Rope rugs covered the wood floor, which groaned as Ilisha walked across it. She plopped down on the couch and grabbed a large pillow, holding it in front of her.

“Told you it was nice,” Bram said, sitting beside her.

“So who’s the priest that helps you?”

“Father John is my contact, but like I said there are many.”

“Tell me more about Damon.”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“Yes, of course. The guy wants to kill me. I think I should know everything about him.”

“You can’t defend yourself against him. He won’t stop—it’s not in the nature of a demon to lose. What he did the first time, when he revealed himself to you, is nothing. And, every time I interfere, he grows more angry and vindictive. If he gets the chance, he’ll torture you to death as a penance for your survival.”

“If I have no chance of defending myself and winning this, why did you save me?”

“You can’t win, but that’s where I come in. One factor is on your side; he’ll never attack you in front of people. The biggest rule of our world is you never reveal yourself to humans.”

“You can’t watch me every second.”

“You’re worth the sacrifice.” Bram said, staring into Ilisha’s brown eyes.

The days turned from winter cold to spring chilly. Throwing on an oversized sweatshirt and leggings, Ilisha walked around the square shaped hallway that encompassed the second level, past her mother’s room. The door was slightly ajar. She stopped, looking in, but remaining in the shadow of the hall. Dena sat on the edge of her bed holding a picture frame. Ilisha’s mouth came open as her mother wiped tears from her eyes. She knew the picture from the frame it sat in. The image was her dad in his army uniform. Dena fondly wiped dust from the glass. “I wish you were here.”

Ilisha pushed the door open with the tips of her fingers. “Mom,” she said concerned.

“Oh, honey, you scared me.” Dena quickly wiped her eyes and placed the frame back on the night stand. “I didn’t know you were home.”

Dena stood and pretended to make the bed. Her hands stuffed the bedspread under the pillows and smoothed out every wrinkle.

“Are you okay?” Ilisha asked.

“Yes, of course, just cleaning.”

“It’s okay to cry,” Ilisha replied softly.

“What good does that do? Things are the way they are.” Dena waved her hand dismissing the thought.

“Sit,” Ilisha said, pointing at the bed.

“I just made it.”

“I don’t care, sit.”

Reluctantly Dena sat beside her daughter.

“If you don’t let your emotions out, you’ll end up breaking down one day. It’s okay to grieve, it’s normal. Be normal for crying out loud.” Ilisha’s hands rose in frustration.

“I moved on, that’s the only thing I could do. He’s gone, and nothing will bring him back.”

Ilisha thought for a second about what her father’s butterfly looked like. Did he have peace?

“No, you hold everything in and never break that poised and perfect exterior. That isn’t healthy. I’m not trying to sound rude, but I look at you like some kind of mindless robot sometimes. This is the first time I’ve seen you cry, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you just let go and laugh.”

Dena got a tissue from a box on the nightstand. “I guess I just don’t like to feel the pain. It’s not something I deal with well.”

“But if you don’t deal with it, you’ll never be able to let it go.” Ilisha picked up the frame and stared at her father. “He sure was handsome.”

“You were always daddy’s girl.”

“Yeah, I miss him.”

“You were always my girl too, even if I showed it poorly.”

Ilisha wrapped her arms around Dena and buried her face in her shoulder, tears pooling in her eyes. “I love you, even if
I
show it poorly.” She sniffed and sat up. “Can you please try to relax a little? I worry about you. You’re going to have a heart attack.”

“I wish you lived closer, Ilisha.” Dena dabbed at the tears with the tissue.

“I’ve been thinking about moving back.”

“What about your job?”

“I have a ton of vacation time to burn off and some money saved. I can make it work.”

Dena nodded her head. “What would you like for dinner?”

“Your famous lasagna,” Ilisha quickly replied.

“You got it, kid.” Dena gave a smile as she left the room.

Ilisha looked at the photo one more time and sat the frame back on the nightstand. “Miss you, Dad.”

A couple hours later they sat together on the front porch swing eating homemade lasagna.

“I’m thinking of going over to the hospital and talking to Rich, the E.R. manager,” Ilisha said, popping a bite of lasagna in her mouth.

“I’m sure he will be happy to have you.”

After helping her mom clean up the dishes, Ilisha drove to the hospital. As soon as she walked in, it was like a mini high school reunion. Rich bumped her knuckles saying, “About time you came to see me.”

“Do you have a sec?” Ilisha asked as another one of her high school classmates came to say hi.

“Step into my office,” he said, escorting her to a tiny office behind the nursing station. “What’s up, chicka,” he asked, rolling a chair over to her.

“I’m thinking of moving back and wondered how hard it would be to get on here.”

“Never thought I’d see the day,” he said, smiling.

“Shut up,” Ilisha said playfully.

“You’re more than qualified. If you want a job, I can get you on.”

“Really? That easy?”

“This isn’t a huge hospital chain. You’ll need to fill out a mountain of paperwork though.”

“I expected that. Can I do it now?”

“Absolutely.” He flipped through papers and dividers. “You’re making me show my disorganization.” Finding what he was looking for he handed her a long application and contract. “When do you think you can start?”

“Well, I have to move first.”

“If I give you a couple weeks, will that work?”

‘Yeah, perfect. I can’t believe it’s this easy to get a job.”

“We went to college together, and I know the hospital you work at in Columbus is more specialized and busy. You’re more than qualified.”

Ilisha filled out all the paperwork and handed it back to Rich. “So I’ll see ya in a couple weeks,” he said, pointing at her as he briskly walked to greet an ambulance.

Smiling, she twirled her keys in her hand, strolling to the parking lot. Her mind felt at ease.

Bram leaned against the passenger door.

“Hey,” Ilisha said, hugging him.

“Wanna go somewhere?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

Driving through town, Ilisha followed his instructions and followed the small rut filled roads leading into the forest.

The thick trees blocked the sun making the road dark. Sporadic bursts of sun flashed across the windshield. The smell of pine wafted through the car, and Bram inhaled deeply.

“I suppose you already know I applied at the hospital.”

“Of course.”

“Do you think I’m making the right decision?”

“I think you’ll need to be here.” Ilisha moved to question him on that, but Bram pointed to the side of the road saying, “Pull off here.”

Hiking through thick forest, Ilisha took hold of anything to help her keep balance.

“Look straight ahead at what will be coming, instead of looking down,” Bram suggested.

“I’ll trip.”

“No you won’t, trust me. Look right in my eyes.”

Bram walked backwards, never missing a beat, while Ilisha tried to concentrate on his eyes. Every time she looked down, he pointed at his eyes with two fingers. The forest opened to a clearing filled with tiny yellow flowers scattered across the ground.

“Wow.” She looked at the illuminated butterflies resting atop the flowers. “There’re thousands of them.”

Bram took her hand and led her into the middle. As they approached, the butterflies stopped moving, but resumed again once they passed.

“Why are they here?”

“This is a meeting place.” Bram sat on the damp earth, and she followed.

As she looked closer some had torn or wilted wings. “Why are they deformed?”

“They’re the fallen angels.”

“Do you look like this?”

Bram took off his clothes and transformed into a purple, green, and blue butterfly. He landed on her hand. The soft light from his wings illuminated her palm in waves of color. Pulling her hand closer she looked at him. The tips of his wings were warped like someone had melted them. He wasn’t quite as bright and colorful as his un-fallen counterparts on the ground. She ran her index finger across him. Soft as velvet, his wings shuddered at her touch. His tiny butterfly form was iridescent, but solid at the same time. The light in his wings pulsed through tiny clear veins like blood. The butterfly disappeared and a full size Bram reappeared, naked.