Falling (The Falling Angels Saga) (15 page)

“Add a little bass to yer voice,” said Harrison. “Although I plan ta do all the talkin’. But just in case.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, taking my voice lower. I played with the phrase a bit, adjusting my tone as observed myself in the mirror. “Yes, sir. Yes,
sir
. Yesiree.” It was surreal, watching the man in the mirror talk back to me.

“What do ya think, young lady?” asked Turner after he’d adjusted the dark-haired wig onto my head.

“It’s unbelievable. It’s truly unbelievable,” I replied, staring at the man as if it weren’t me.

Turner gave a satisfied chuckle.

Harrison looked at his watch and frowned. “We’d better get ready. Times a flyin’.”

He was right. Our two hours had flown by. I could feel my nerves beginning to vibrate.

“I left some sport coats and trousers in that dressing room over there. I’m sure you’ll find somethin’ ta fit ya,” said Turner. “Oh, and there’s a tube top in there to help conceal yer boobies.”

“Umm, thanks,” I replied, and went in to get dressed.

I settled on a ratty blazer, the only jacket that fit well enough, over a blue button-down shirt. The tube top did a good job of mashing me down. With the jacket on top, I appeared almost flat chested. I wore my own jeans, which admittedly were a little close fitting for some guys, but skinny fashion was in. I hadn’t thought about shoes, but Turner had. There was a pair of plain black boxy monstrosities that I never would’ve chosen. But they fit perfectly and weren’t nearly as uncomfortable as they looked.

I peered at myself in the dressing room mirror. The transformation was remarkable—even to me. Although I was nervous, I was beginning to have a good feeling about pulling off the subterfuge.

When I came out, I saw that Harrison had changed out of his trademark red jeans into gray slacks. Changing his pants was the only difference in his wardrobe. It brought a smile to my face.

“What? You don’t think I need a disguise, too?” he asked, a grin teasing the corners of his lips.

“Absolutely. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” His blonde locks were down, framing his gorgeous face.

We thanked Mick Turner, who refused payment. He told Harrison, “Don’t be such a stranger,” and booted us out the door.

We drove to Aunt Jaz’s in silence. He tried small talk, but it didn’t work this time. As we crossed into Glendale, Harrison spoke again. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to ya.”

“I know. I believe it.” I shot him a hope filled smile. “It’s the thought of going back there again that has me rattled. Last time we were lucky.”

“Last time ya didn’t have me.”

“That’s true.” I let his last statement settle over me for a few moments. “What do you think they want with me?”

“It could be Erin, ya know.”

I hadn’t spoken to Erin in several days. She still had no idea I thought she’d left a gris gris in Aunt Jaz’s hospital room, or about this. “I know. What do you think they want with either of us?”

He let out a breathy sigh. “Mortals. Yer kind is always looking fer the magical bullet that’ll make their lives amazin’. It’s their best and worst trait. The good side is the iron age, the industrial revolution, the current technology boom—advancements to make lives easier. But the worst side is things like this, people like the Satanists graspin’ at straws, ready ta kill the innocent in the hopes of turnin’ their miserable lives around.”

His reply was so simple and yet his words so profound, I couldn’t think of anything more to say. I sat staring out the window for the rest of the ride, considering the flaw in being human.

When we arrived at Aunt Jaz’s front door, I asked Harrison to stand aside while I knocked. I wanted to test my new look. He ducked around the corner and I pounded on the door. “Mable, I know you’re in there!” I called in my
man
voice.
Mable? Where did that come from?
I heard Aunt Jaz approaching and pounded again. “Come on out, Mable!”

“I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong door, young man,” she said, peering at me through the peep hole. “Mabel isn’t here. She’s never been here. It’s just me and my pit bull,” she said in an annoyed tone, meant to urge the loud stranger away.

“Oh… then, is Aunt Jaz there?” I said in my real voice, smiling into the peep hole. She gasped audibly on the other side. The door swung open.

“My stars, I don’t believe it.” She was staring at me, awestruck.

“It’s me,” I said, breaking out into a wide grin.

“Yes. I see it now,” she said, squinting in an attempt to see me through the makeup.

Harrison stepped from around the corner. “You approve?”

“It’s like a miracle. Come!” she called, inviting us both into one of her famous hugs—a double hug. “I can’t wait to see the expression on the faces of the others,” she said, and while still holding us she uttered a soft prayer.

She told me to lead the way. The house smelled of something sweet and delicious. I got the feeling Aunt Jaz had been baking all morning.

“What is that wonderful aroma?” I asked as I moved down the hall.

“Pecan pie. I haven’t made one in a long time, but they’re supposed to be good luck, so I made one for today. You never can have enough good luck.”

In my new disguise I was feeling quite confident, but confident or not, I agreed with her about the luck. I planned to have a big slice.

I stepped into the living room and a collective gasp rippled the air, followed by stunned silence. My eyes moved to Guy, who was standing in front of the banana-shaped sofa, staring at me, his mouth hanging open.

“That’s a nice way to catch flies, fella,” I said in my man voice and pointed at my mouth. Guy’s instantly snapped shut, and everyone burst into laughter.

Maudrina came over for closer inspection. “I can’t believe it,” she said, scanning my face up close. “Harrison, your friend is good.”

“That he is.”

“It’s as if you shape-shifted into a man,” said Orthon. He was standing by the rocker, away from Guy and Maudrina. He was once again covered up, so I couldn’t see his eyes, but I could tell from the sound of his voice he was as surprised as the others.

“It’s a great disguise. If your own friends don’t recognize you, no way strangers will,” Maudrina said, continuing with the once over. She gently tugged on my facial hair.

“Ouch!” I exclaimed.

“Sorry.”

“I’m kidding. It’s fake. I didn’t feel a thing.” Everyone laughed some more. I looked around. “Where’s Monsieur Perez?” I asked.

The room fell silent.

“Hector’s not coming,” said Aunt Jaz with a hint of distaste. “He said he’d done all he could for us and wished you luck.”

“If he means blowing our cover, then yes, he did do all he could for us,” rasped Orthon as though there was a bitter taste in his mouth.

Guy and Harrison exchanged a quick, apprehensive glance. And with that glance, the confidence I’d felt moments earlier went tumbling over like a perfectly struck bowling pin. I recalled my words to Guy in my bedroom last night:
I don’t trust Monsieur Perez.
I wondered if he had an ulterior motive for not showing up today.

I was staring at Guy, who hadn’t uttered a word since I’d entered the room. His usual sparkling, dreamy eyes were stormy and distant. “What do you think?” I asked, trying to figure out what was wrong.

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” came his brooding reply. The storminess in his eyes had found its way into his words, moving rapidly like a runaway train.

“Of course it matters, Guy. What you think matters most.” The harshness of his words had stung, like the hidden thorn in a freshly picked rose. The result was a tightening in my chest.
Is Guy angry with me?

“If I told you I thought you shouldn’t go to the conclave, that I don’t trust Monsieur Perez, and that I believe he’s sold us out and gone over to the other side, would that make you change your mind?” He was staring at me with rage-filled eyes.

I was so caught off guard by his response, I didn’t know what to say. I peered at each of the others who were silently waiting, along with Guy, for me to answer his question. My eyes moved back to Guy. I breathed in and let the breath out slowly, allowing the tightening in my chest to loosen just a bit.

I smiled. I was smiling because I knew that beneath the brooding and the rage, Guy’s words had been shaped with genuine care. Sometimes love shows itself in the strangest ways.

“Guy, just because I may not do what you want me to do doesn’t mean what you say doesn’t matter. There’s not a thing you say, not a request you make that I don’t consider.”

“I guess what we all want to know is are you still going or aren’t you?” snapped Orthon, slapping his arms against his sides like a little boy in the midst of a tantrum. He, too, was brooding, standing in the corner by the rocking chair, his eyes hidden behind the dark glasses, his chin buried in his chest.

“Orthon, the only reason we’re guessing Monsieur Perez has gone over to the other side is because none of us like him.”

“Can you blame us?” Orthon replied.

I turned to Aunt Jaz. “But you’ve spent quite a bit of time with him. You alone among us has seen his tender side. You know Monsieur Perez best.”

“That’s true, deary,” she said with a nod. She was wearing a frilly white apron. Her hands fidgeted inside the pockets.

“I think Monsieur Perez feels snubbed,” I said. “He didn’t show up today for the same reason he hired Gita to serve the tea. He’s trying to get a rise out of Aunt Jaz.” I was staring at her. “He wants you to notice him, to see value in him.”

“Someone’s life is at stake here, and that mortal is not showing up because he feels snubbed?” Orthon raged. “That’s ridiculous!”

“That’s mortals fer ya. At times they
are
ridiculous,” countered Harrison.

My eyes were still on Aunt Jaz. “What do you think, Aunt Jaz?”

She shook her head back and forth, sighed, then shook her head again. Her hands continued to fidget inside the apron pocket. “I don’t know, deary. I do know he’s not a bad man. He’s an ambitious man, at times a foolish man, but I haven’t detected a bad bone in his body. So, yes, I believe that he could, in some warped way, be trying to get my attention.”

I turned back to Guy. “So, Guy, armed with that knowledge, along with the knowledge that if one of us doesn’t go to the conclave we won’t know what they’re up to until it comes crashing down on either my or Erin’s head, what do
you
think I should do?”

There was surprise in his eyes because he hadn’t anticipated my response, just as I hadn’t anticipated his rage earlier. And then, he smiled. It was a radiant smile, like a sunrise after a starless night. The smile not only chased away the clouds in his face, but also it brightened his eyes, illuminating his entire being, dissolving the remaining tightness in my chest.

“I support you no matter what you decide to do. My love for you is unconditional,” he replied. “Although, sometimes I do need to be reminded,” he added, his smile turning sheepish.

“Good, great, you’re going,” said Orthon, who remained in a snit. “Can I have a word with you,
alone?”
he asked, narrowing his eyes at me.

“Of course you cannot speak with her alone! Do you think I would allow Megan to—” Guy caught himself mid-attack. His eyes flashed apology at me. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay. Like I told you last night, I trust him, Guy. I know you don’t, but
I
do.” The shock of hope appeared on Orthon’s face, until I lasered him my most irritated expression. “Keep it short!” I said, punctuating the annoyance on my face.

*

“What are you doing?”

Orthon and I were standing alone in Aunt Jaz’s kitchen, the air around us thick with the aroma of pecan pie. My stomach began to growl, and I realized I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

“What do you mean what am
I
doing?” I replied, making sure the annoyance on my face was laced into my words. “I’m about to leave for the conclave at Dagenhart Castle, that is as soon as I find out what
you
couldn’t wait to talk to me about.”

He breathed in deeply and let out a slow breath. “I know where you’re going, Megan. I meant, what are you doing with
him
?” Orthon removed his dark glasses so I could look into his ruby eyes. They were tortured.

“What do you mean what am I doing with—”

“You hate me so much you’re willing to give your heart to the wrong man.” He released a mirthless chuckle.

“Stop being so dramatic. I don’t hate you, but I
do
love Guy. And he’s not the wrong man. He’s not a man at all. He’s only sixteen. He’s my earth angel.”

His voice lowered an octave. “You’re making a terrible mistake. I see the way you look at me. On the mountain when you thought I’d gone over the side, and again the other day when Guy verbally assaulted me at the meeting.”

“I didn’t look at you any special way. The only thing you might have seen on my face was pity.”

“No,” he said softly, shaking his head. “It was love. I am certain of it. Your love has been buried beneath the molten lava of hatred you carry in your heart for me. But every once in a while, it bubbles up to the surface.”

“I don’t hate you, Orthon.”

He released a single high-pitched laugh. “Ha! You lie.”

Anger fired in my belly. “Okay, you’re right. I
do
hate you. But I have every reason to. You tricked me, Orthon! You took advantage of my feelings. You impersonated the angel I love!” I said, my eyes stinging with rage, my voice ringing with ire. “I could never love someone who did what you did.”

“I was doing what I was commanded to do.”

“Good for you. Glad to see you know how to obey orders.”

“I was sent by Satan to do a bad thing. I admit it. But then we fell in love, changing everything.”

“No! Get it straight;
you
fell in love, and it changed
nothing
!” I stepped closer, spewing my words of anger in his face.

Orthon sighed. “You’re right to hate me. But if you’d only allow your hatred to cool, you’d begin to see the truth.” He grabbed me by the shoulders as if to shake me, yet instead, he stood staring into my eyes. “You’ve hated me long enough, Megan.” His voice softened. “Allow your hatred to cool before you make a mistake you will regret for the rest of your life.” His cinnamon fragrance wafted over to me.