The Forsaken (2 page)

The shocked gasps of her sisters stoked that fire, and Isabella prayed with her heavenly heart for their eventual forgiveness.
They do not deserve this. One day, I will make this right.

That conviction enabled her to endure what came next.

Forcing her head up, she leveled a steady gaze at the Mistress, also known as Mother. Cold and hot, her emotions were as volatile as her moods. The Mistress’s neck straightened and for a second, Isabella let herself hope she would relent in the punishment.

The Mistress, veiled in a royal purple robe that notched at the wrists, wore black gloves to cover her hands, and a veil covered her face. Not one speck of flesh was visible.

Isabella felt like a youngling being brought before her mother, who wore the obvious look of displeasure on her face which was clearly evident in her piercing swirling gold flecked eyes. Shivering, Isabella forced the churning feeling of nausea down as bile rose steadily up. Panic slurred her carefully chosen words. “I accept the punishment, penance, and plead with my heavenly heart, Mistress, for you to accept my pain and suffering and not to punish my Cherub sisters.” She prayed for the Mistress’s compassion.

The Mistress moved closer to Isabella and the scent of rose incense billowed through the somber Council. A heavy gold circle hung loosely around the Mistress’s neck. Another smaller necklace with an onyx circle hung even closer to her heart, the black a not-so-subtle reminder of the first fallen angel. Its dark color gleamed at Isabella.

“My child, what penance do thee willingly sacrifice for thy fellow sisters?”

Everything in heaven is about sacrifices.

With her blood no longer streaming from the stubs of her wings, a traitorous thought roared through her mind.
Isn’t this enough?

“Spare them and I will grant you anything you ask.” Isabella’s shaky, pain-filled voice didn’t sound like her own. Then again, her body was protesting the loss of her wings, which she had cherished. Part and parcel of why they’d been severed from her. Pride. Disobedience. Identity. Traits not warranted in a Cherub.

“This is a lesson thou must learn the hard way, my child. Thy sacrifice is duly noted and that pleases the Almighty greatly. Thy fellow sisters I bless whole, but thou wilt all be exiled to Earth.”

Hushed but frantic gasps of fear caught at Isabella. She didn’t dare look at her Cherub sisters. Exiled to Earth, kicked out of the heavens; the harshest of penalties had been passed onto them. And here she thought because they were Cherubs they might be granted a reprieve.

Isabella had not cried when they whipped her. She had not shed a tear when her wings had been sliced off, but she cried now. “I beg thee…”

The Mistress turned back toward the Council. Isabella could have sworn she heard her say, “For the greater good, Isabella, thy will be done.”

Chapter One

The reek of rotting food filled his senses. Rancid juice seeped through his penance gown, making his butt wet and cold. The flimsy material did little to warm him or keep him clean. His first impression of the Earthly realm:
disgusting!

Nathanael stood, automatically arching his wings to take more of his weight as he balanced precariously on the large garbage bags littering the Dumpster. Grimacing, he stumbled forward, falling fast and hard to the asphalt. He’d forgotten his wings had been removed.

He skidded on the hard pavement while his mind balked at the stench and at the unholy sight mankind had created on the Almighty’s blessed Earth. Blood oozed a golden hue from his ripped knees. While the alley was dark, his angel eyesight enabled him to see clearly. He shivered.
Too bad I can’t regulate my body temperature. Earth is cold.

Standing, he braced his legs apart, moving into his warrior-training stance.
What was I thinking?
A gust of wind brought a pungent fecal odor straight to his nose, and then he remembered: make right the wrong to his intended mate so he could succeed. Simple, he’d boasted to his brethren, but as he stood on the hard ground of Earth, he wondered if that would be the case.

Deep in thought, Nathanael didn’t hear the men moving from the shadows of the alley until harsh hands pushed him down, grinding his nose and face into the oily slime from the nearby Dumpster.

By the blessed blade, I am a fool. Not only a fool, but now I’m covered in grime.
Nathanael swore he heard his brethren laughing their collective asses off at him. That, more than being held down, angered him. Nathanael bucked back at his assailants. Shocked when he couldn’t dislodge their arms, he struggled more, twisting his body this way and that, seeking an opportunity to slip an arm free of their pin hold. Once free, he would plan his revenge. Plus, they were wasting his precious time. He no more wanted to be on Earth than be held down. Humans and heaven-born angels did not mix; that creed was certainly written down in one of the holy book held in the heavenly library.

He was
Sere
, used to fighting—but without the support of his wings, his body did not bend the way it should. Muffling a mouth full of obscenities that would have shocked his brethren, he bucked up again, forcing one man to let go.

“Looking for an easy target, are we, gentlemen?”

The lyrical voice stole through his brain, gut, and heart like a holy light. The woman’s words, soft in melody, boomed like liberating bells through his body. And he knew that heavenly voice must belong to the purest of angels, a Cherub.
What is she doing here?
Nathanael twisted his bloodied face, still pinned to the asphalt, until he could see the angel.

One man let go of him to swagger toward a young-looking woman. She stood her ground, wearing a costume that made her look anything but Cherub. She wore tight black pants that looked like a second skin. Brown boots that went up to her knees encased her calves and a black formfitting shirt that clung to her body stunned Nathanael. He could barely breathe. Cherubs, beautiful in their traditional, modest robes, did not hold a candle to this alluring teen taunting the men with her voice and dark-clothed body.

Her leather jacket billowed around her. She bowed, extending her long torso toward the man. The twinkle of her star-studded earlobes caught Nathanael’s eye, quickening his heart. She made her movements slow, appearing to welcome the man’s advance. She tossed her candlelight hair over her shoulder as she pivoted one foot behind, balancing in a warrior’s stance. Nathanael saw a throwing star gleam in her right hand and admiration rose through him. This Cherub could wield her voice to make the man do anything she wanted. Instead, she planned to teach him a lesson in humility.

Contorting his own body, Nathanael slid free of the other man’s hold. Without giving his opponent time to jump him again, he leveled a kick to the man’s midsection, noting at the last second the man’s eyes were an unholy green.

The woman didn’t spare him a second glance. “Get back from him. I’ll take care of this.”

Nathanael laughed. “I don’t think so.”

“And that’s your problem.” Disdain dripped from her prayer-perfect mouth.

In the glow from the streetlight, he made out a flirt of a smile as it sailed ever so briefly across her lips. Then she let loose her weapon. The six-pointed, polished-gold throwing star spun and sunk into the man who approached her with ease.

“Just stay out of my way. You are only going to get hurt more,
Sere
.”

Swifter than he anticipated, she doused the fallen man’s body. The man screamed; his human form dissolved into an oozy green gob of mess on the asphalt, making the alley stink of sulfur, telling Nathanael the woman had used holy water.
The human had been demon-turned. How?

She somersaulted past him, the click of her heels the only warning as she used her momentum to go after the other man. Nathanael barely scooted out of her way. Another throwing star impacted the man’s large chest. Landing on both feet, she doused him with another vial of holy water while he sputtered in surprise. Nathanael knew how he felt. Women where he came from did not kill. The demon burst apart, air vaporizing into green puffs of sulfuric mist before falling to the ground. Nathanael watched in awe as she stuck her hand in the green muck to retrieve her weapon. Then she wiped it down and put it back somewhere on the back of her belt.

She then bowed her head to recite an ancient Hebrew prayer of forgiveness, forcing the green muck to further dissolve.

Nathanael carefully eased his way up to her. “Wow, and I thought I did fast prayer.”

She ignored him.

Wiping her hands on her pants, she moved to the other puddle of green slime.

“So, Cherub, to whom do I owe the pleasure of thanking?”

She turned and looked at him. For a second, something potent filled the space, which considering the reek of garbage milling around them, was miraculous.

“I am no one,
Sere
. But if I were you, I’d get some pants on before I leave this alley.” A real smile filled her young face. It had to be the loveliest sight Nathanael had ever witnessed.

Nathanael vehemently disagreed. There was no way she was
just a nobody
.

“And if I were you,
Sere
, I’d fly home.” Mockery and contempt met him square on.

He moved a tad closer, noting how her eyes cased him with suppressed laughter, but also reading her body language. She was like a lamb, getting ready to bolt. He cursed when she did.

One second, there.

Another, gone.

Nathanael blinked. He had hoped to talk to the Cherub but luck wasn’t on his side. At the moment the only thing clinging to him was rotten fruit.

A swirl of thick emotion surged through him. He had been saved by a Cherub angel. A teenager, like himself. He thanked the heavens none of his brothers had witnessed his ass being saved by a female. Nathanael gathered his composure. He might now be fallen, but if he had his way, that wouldn’t last for long.

Forced back to the Dumpster, he dug around until he found a worn sweater. He tugged the filthy thing over his head to cover up his robe and prayed the Seraphim safe house still existed. After the fall of Lucifer, the Council had created angel safe houses that were ruled and governed by humans wishing to serve the greater good of the Almighty. A few houses over the years had become extinct, but Boston was said to still have one. Nathanael could not fail. He had made his choice when he’d begged for exile, and now had to complete his task.

* * *

Two nights later, Nathanael felt more in control of his body and surroundings. He was armed with two small knives braced under his long-sleeved shirt and a third one tucked into his sock. They weren’t perfect. But here, he worked with what he had. Adaptation: his new word of the day.

He sauntered down the worn, crumbling steps at the back of the recreational center and caught the stench of hashish from a group of teens lingering by the side. They were careful to keep to the shadows as they enjoyed their illegal drugs. He hated the sweet stench of the drugs, but was keenly aware of the allure they offered. Since long before the demon attacks, but more so since the gates first fell, more and more angels who’d lost loved ones had turned to their own methods of escaping. A drug might have many names and come in a thousand forms but the people using were looking for the same thing—escape. Ignoring them, Nathanael opened the door and stepped inside. The symmetry of the place was like any other recreational center but there, similarities ended. Since he’d already been to about four such places in the city in two days while searching for his mate, this place with its bar-like decor and freshly painted walls gave him a measure of hope.

Two older teens with bodies all bulk and muscle moved forward.

“These are the rules. No drugs or alcohol on the premises or we’ll kick your ass out. And no fighting. Understand?”

Okay, he hadn’t expected that. And it was on the tip of his tongue to point out a group of druggies were practically camping on the doorstep, but instead, he nodded. “Got it.”

They let him pass. He made his way through the throng of teens at the center. The symphony of male colognes and female perfumes was overwhelming. How do humans handle it? Maneuvering his way through a crowd of thrashing dancers who were oblivious to the techno beat and more in tune with the light show, he made his way to what looked like a bar. At one time the mahogany wood that made up the counter had been nice, but now it was etched deeply with pits of graffiti. A dozen bottles with varying liquids the shades of copper, red, yellow, lime green, and red were neatly lined up on the backboard.

A large pink neon sign neatly placed between the middle of the bottles stated
Virgin Drinks Rule!

It also looked like someone had at one time scrawled “sucks” underneath the blinking sign. Nathanael chuckled to himself. It was a prank he and his brethren would have probably pulled, and knowing that made him a bit more at ease.

So far this recreational center, located one block up from the Boston Harbor next to a stack of old, rundown warehouses, showed promise. He’d learned at the safe house that rumor had it a group of fallen angels were literally singing for their supper. At first he’d dismissed it, thinking his mate would never dare such a thing, but with little else to guide him, he’d been forced to pursue the wild tale, all the while praying with his divine heart he’d be wrong.

The stabbing colors from the light show hurt his sensitive eyes. So much color. So much of everything. Again, the thought that he was out of his element overwhelmed him. He chose his path. He’d fight for his Cherub angel and make her come back with him. After spending only forty-eight hours on Earth, Nathanael couldn’t wait to get back to the pristine, orderly world of angels where everything was preordained from birth. Status meant everything. You were born by the grace of the Almighty to be a certain type of angel, and Nathanael knew he’d been born to be a warrior, all the way.