Crushed Seraphim (3 page)

Are you only in my imagination?

Her eyes had a faraway look as she answered his musing. “I’m still a presence, for now. Shall we get started? Your journey will be arduous — and hopefully enlightening.”

“I have to tell my family I’ll be gone.” Jason ran a hand through his hair and dialed his phone, trying to decide how to explain a trip with an angel to Dean and Seriana.

“…Yes, I’m doing fine. Really. I have a small trip to go on, but I’ll be in touch.” After Jason said goodbye, he turned to Emma. “They’re worried about me.”

He liked her new look. Emma was now wearing a pair of white pants, a soft, white sweater, and she had big fuzzy boots to keep her angel feet warm.

She laughed out loud at her new attire, and he loved the sound of her genuine pleasure. “Do you really picture me as cold, Jason? Truly, for a murderer you are quite considerate.”

Jason looked at his feet. He wanted to drape her in diamonds and take her to a sandy beach. The thought made him squirm, as he knew he was broadcasting it to the object of his desire.

“I love the beach. But tonight doesn’t hold that luxury for us.” She looked to the sky and held her arms out, palms up, obviously speaking to someone he couldn’t see.

“You didn’t even think I’d try, did you? How about this, assface?” She faced her palms to the snow, and it came scurrying to her like trained mice, forming a large pile.

Are you calling God an assface?

She smiled a bit before giving him what she seemed to think was an obvious answer. “Ah, no. I don’t think He’s even taking my calls anymore. The
angel
I want to pummel is trying to sabotage this mission for me.”

The magical accumulation of snow became animated, flickering and flashing like white fire.

“Come to me, half-breed.”

Her eyes were sultry, and Jason couldn’t imagine doing anything else. She held one hand toward the snow flames, the other out for him to grasp. Emma tugged him close when he put his hand in hers.

“Hang on.” She stared at his lips and licked her own.

I want to kiss you.
Jason placed a hand on her hip.

“There’re worse ways to pass time, I guess.” She was daring him, smiling and leaning closer.

Their lips were just an impulse apart when the world slid out from under their feet. Jason tried to right them, but there was no center, no way to orient his body.

“Shh. I’ll be your gravity, Jason.” Emma’s voice was calm.

In the swirling tempest of dark, she was his beacon. Her grip on him was gentle, and he had to trust it. He stopped trying to find a horizon and focused on her gray eyes — the color of angry clouds. She looked a little bored as time and place seemed to cease to exist.

“Prepare yourself, handsome. We’re about to hit bottom.” She placed her lips on his, keeping her eyes open as his thoughts collided with his need.

Breathe her in.

They materialized in an embrace, and suddenly their private moment felt very public in the blinding daylight. Jason’s entire body tensed.

She spoke with her mouth on his lips. “No, half-breed, here you’re as invisible as I was to your brother and sister. We’re here to observe.”

He pulled himself reluctantly from her lips and took in the city scene before him. It was far from present day. He recognized the street, the time period, and the smells of his childhood.

Jason’s eyes widened as he realized he’d traveled through time with his broken angel. Disoriented, he stumbled a bit.

“I can’t believe what I’m seeing.” He squinted as if that might make the scene make sense.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Well, you better wise up and quick. We have a job to do here.”

A scene he remembered from his childhood began to play out before him. He’d been about ten years old when he stood up to three older boys who terrorized everyone in the neighborhood. His younger self was walking home from school, and the sight of his clothes took Jason back to the feel of his handmade wardrobe and the memory of his mother’s tape measure.

“I know what’s next. The O’Dowell boys were a vicious bunch.” Jason nodded to the alley his younger self was about to pass.

Jason went to step closer, but Emma squeezed his hand hard and warned him, “You can’t let go of me. Okay? No matter what, don’t let go.”

He nodded and turned to watch again, the fuzzy memory crisping up at the edges.

The O’Dowells had been tormenting an old, blind street dog. The shopkeepers kept it alive because they had pity on its cloudy eyes and tossed out food from time to time. The boys thought it hilarious to throw rocks at the dog. They laughed as it yelped and cowered against the wall.

“I didn’t even know what I was doing. What was I thinking?” Jason watched as his younger self made two furious fists as he witnessed the unjust behavior.

First, his younger self tossed his school bag at the biggest one, hitting him in the back with the sack of books. Then he jumped in front of the old dog, taking the next rock in
his
stomach.

The boys were thrilled with the availability of human prey and set out to make Jason yelp as loudly as the dog. Emma put her other hand on Jason’s chest as he thought again about helping his younger self out.

They watched as the old dog slinked out of danger and took off running down the street.

Jason knew the ending of the story. He was beaten until he cried. They’d left him with a torn book bag and some sizable bruises. But just as Jason was ready for the scene to end, Emma shook her head and motioned for him to look in a different direction.

His mother.

He’d had no idea she’d been present at the end, and she was clearly enraged, shaking with anger.

“Borrow my gift, Jason. Listen to her mind.” Emma stated this like it was the obvious course of action, but he was reluctant.

He’d never heard his mother’s thoughts, and right now seemed like a horrible time to take a peek. But he opened his mind anyway, and his mother’s essence filled his head.

My boy. God, I love him so much. He’s so good and kind. I’m going to kill those O’Dowell monsters. If their mother didn’t drink like a sailor…

Jason watched as his mother followed not his small, injured body, but the three boys that had dealt the blows. He and Emma trailed behind her, holding hands tightly. His mother tracked those boys right into their backyard. When they noticed her, they quickly adopted a respectful manner.

“Mrs. Parish! Hello ma’am. Are looking for our mother?”

His mother smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Filthy little bastards.

“Boys, are you having a nice day?” She held her umbrella in her hands like an offering.

“Yes, ma’am. No, ma’am.” They all spoke at once, and Jason could read the fear in their heads as well.

“I saw you put your hands on my Jason.” She let the words sink in.

They did, and the boys began to shift with guilt.

“If any of you come near him again, I’ll beat you to death with this umbrella. Is that understood?” She looked in the face of each boy.

They were shocked. It was the promise in her eyes that scared them. They were sure she was crazy, but she was speaking in a soft, pleasant voice.

“Yes, ma’am. Of course, ma’am.” They mumbled their answers.

“Very well, I bid you good day.” She turned to leave, but thought better of it. She smiled at the tallest one, then whipped the umbrella down hard on the top of his head. A sickening
thwack
resounded in the air. “Now I feel better.”

She used the umbrella as a walking stick as she sauntered away from the now-whimpering child.

Jason was shocked as he looked at Emma. “I had no idea she did that.”

Emma forced Jason to continue following his mother. “Listen to her! Do it!”

His mother’s mind was loud now, her worry giving it volume.
Jason would die for a blind, old dog. Where did that child come from? He certainly doesn’t take after me.
His mother pictured his face, brave and determined, and she poured her achingly deep love over his image. He was everything to her. She walked faster, almost running in her rush to get home and tend to her son.

Emma pulled him closer. “See? You had love in its most basic form. You’ve seen what I’d intended you to. Hang on.”

The rollercoaster through time with Emma as his safety belt began again. She made sure he focused on her face, which made him wonder what he’d see if he looked away.
Would my whole life be flashing by us?

Landing softly in the snow, back in the recognizable, present-day woods, Jason found himself grateful for the quiet — the lack of other people’s thoughts inside his head. He treasured the solid memory he now had of his mother’s face. He’d keep her with him always — the sound of her voice, the strength of her love.

He still held Emma’s hand tightly. So tightly, in fact, that had she been human her hand would’ve been broken. The pure bells of her laugh filled the woods, and he turned to see what was so funny.

Emma was again clothed in crisp white, but now she wore a long, slim dress and a huge hat with a white flower.

“Dressing me in period clothing? Really, half-breed, am I your dress-up doll?” She wiggled free of his grasp and took a few of the small steps her skirt required.

Jason closed one eye, realizing that in his pondering of the time jump, he’d also mused about how beautiful Emma would look with her hair up. And she did look beautiful.

You clearly exceed the standard of beauty for that time. But I apologize. What would you prefer to wear?

She blinked, flattered by his thoughtfulness in spite of herself. “Honestly? I’d love to try out some pajamas. They look wonderful from above — much better than a frilly nightdress I had to wear when I was alive.” Shaking her head roughly, she looked down at the hem of her skirt.

What is it?

“I’m here for you, despite my slim chance of success. I still have one wing, and I’m duty bound to give you proper guidance. So I feel a bit selfish requesting something as silly as clothes.”

Smiling, Jason gestured to her, and at the same moment she was wrapped in glorious white cashmere. She wore the most comfortable, luxurious nightclothes he could fathom. And he included a pair of bunny slippers.

She squealed at the sight of their pointy ears and hugged herself. She moaned with her laughter in such a way that Jason had to concentrate to keep the clothes that gave her such pleasure on her body.

“Half-breed, you have a phenomenal imagination!” She bent over to examine the bunnies up close.

Jason continued smiling at her joy as he inspected her remaining wing. It looked dingy, tinged with gray. He thought this might be just a trick of the cloudy morning light, but as he watched, a single feather floated to the snow and emitted what seemed to be a tiny explosion on impact. Then it was only a memory, hidden in the snow’s glitter.

When Emma stood again, she was no longer smiling, but she held her shoulders proud. He was sure she could hear the panic in his head.

“This is just to remind me that I’m failing here,” she explained, motioning to her disintegrating wing.

“You took me to my past. How can you be failing?” Jason wondered if he could fashion a feather out of snow to replace the one she’d lost.

“Your mother was right. You are kind. Have no false impressions, Jason. I’m not a blind dog. I’ve fought viciously.” Her words were belied by uncertainty in her eyes.

How can I help you?

Emma reached over her shoulder and pulled her wing around her like a cloak to inspect it. “I can hear your thoughts, but
they
know your feelings, the state of your soul.” She let go of her dingy wing and shook her head with disgust. “Tell me, and be honest, have I changed your outlook? You’ve seen your mother’s love. What else is there?”

She took a few disarming steps toward him. He tried to shield his thoughts, but when the white pajamas caressed the outline of her body, he became a poor editor.

He pictured the old dog he’d been willing to take a beating for as a child. Then he pictured the wretched thing he’d become. He feasted on sleeping humans for their blood. Abhorrence of his parasitic ways engulfed him, along with a crippling despair.

“Oh crap. Seriously? The mom? The love? None of that touched you? Damn it.” She stomped her fluffy bunny slipper, and unlike her, its bouncing ears seemed anything but angry.

She looked up as if she heard something. Jason raised his eyes as well and discovered a show of gold-colored lightning that crisscrossed the pink-orange sky like a spider web.

“He’s laughing at me,” Emma said this out loud, but she seemed to be speaking to herself.

Who’s laughing?

She didn’t answer, her attention above.

“Send a ladder then, bitch! See if I won’t march up there and kick you so hard in the ass that you can count my toes with your lying tongue!” Emma began pacing.