Bound to the Fallen (Prophecy #2) (36 page)

“Yes, sir,” she replied
.

I placed my back against the wall and crossed one leg in front of the othe
r, palming the pendant hanging outside of my shirt. What I’d just done – the pity for that woman I’d just let overcome me should have been the first sign to me that I was losing control. It had been centuries since I’d turned someone. Taking a person’s soul is not near as degrading as feeding from their blood. A fallen angel’s ability to drink in a soul was what differentiated us from the rest of the demons damned to this life of torture and constant night. I was letting mortal emotions cause me to make eradicate decisions. I felt eyes on me and glanced up to see Raven coming toward me.

“What do you need?”
she groaned. It was evident she was still agitated with me from our earlier encounter.

“You’ll need to have
that one trained,” I mumbled.

“Excuse me?”
A large smile spread across her face. Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she cocked her hip out to the side. “That compassionate side of you take over? You’re such a hypocrite – and now I guess you expect
me
to train her?”

Glaring
at her, I said, “It’s your job. You want to haphazardly walk around turning people without approval, I think you can take care of my moment of weakness. She’d been tortured regardless of how I handled her.”

My eyes
shifted away from Raven and focused on the darkened room that opened up behind her. “If mortals only knew that this fascination of theirs was closer to the truth than they could ever imagine.” My eyes met Raven’s again. “Take care of her, and choose more carefully next time.”

T
urning my back to her, I headed for the door. I glanced down at my watch as I walked toward my car. I’d been gone longer than I should have been and I picked up my speed to a slow jog. Stopping at the crosswalk, I noticed that the man who had watched me so closely when I arrived was still standing across the street.

It’s a shame they think that they can hold something as powerful as
me captive.

Brooke

Drowning
. I was drowning!

My feet frantically kicked to try and get me to the surface. I could see the sun shining through the surface, the reflection of pinks and greens flickering across the waves. My hands stretched up toward the light and became tangled in vines. The vines
wound themselves around my arms, each tendril cutting into my flesh as I was drug deeper beneath the cold water and swallowed by abysmal darkness.

I woke up
to the sound of the doorbell ringing and my heart threatening to pound through my chest. I sat in the bed, panting and wiping away the damp fear that had seeped from my pores.

The doorbell
dinged again, followed by loud banging on my door.

“Oh, my
God
!” I yelled out and kicked the covers from my body.

My feet hit the floor and I
stumbled out to my living room, stopping in front of the door to rub the sleep from my eyes. I slid the chain out of the lock and twisted the deadbolt.

“Constance! I swear you are the
—” I stopped midsentence as the door swung open.

It wasn’t Constance. It was a short, middle
-aged man with glasses smooshed into his face. He had on a FedEx uniform and was holding a clipboard.

L
ooking at me, he smiled. “Good morning, ma’am.” He bent down to pick up the package that he’d placed on my doormat. “You Brooklyn Davis?”

“Yes.” I
said and peered down at the white package he was holding.

“Sign here
, please.” He handed me the clipboard and I scrawled my signature across the line before passing it back to him.

He
dropped the heavy package in my hands. “Have a good day.”

“You too.” I said
, looking at the label on the front of the package.

There was no return address, no name of who sent the package. The only clue to where the package had come from was a stamp suggesting it had come from someone in Atlanta.
My first inclination was that it was from Gavin, but it lacked presentation. I couldn’t imagine Gavin not having something wrapped in an extravagant box with a ribbon.

I c
losed my front door and sat down on my couch, yawning as my body fought to wake up completely. I tore the perforated edge from the box and I dumped it over. Out slid a rectangular object covered with bubble wrap. I peeled the wrapping away and saw that it was a book. Flipping it over, I ran my hand across the cover.

Why in the hell would somebody send me a book?

The cover was worn leather and was bound by a red string that had been woven through the spine. The title,
Songs of the Fallen
, had been branded into the leather. My fingertips traced the ominous lettering before flipping through the stiff pages. The paper was thick and aged in appearance. The smell of leather and damp must lifted as I thumbed through the pages. A faded red satin ribbon had been wedged into the corner of a page. Pulling the material loose, I glanced at the page the ribbon had marked.

The page had evidently been
tagged for some time because the paper had stained where the ribbon had been pressed against it. On the page was a drawing of an angel. The angel had his back turned and was nude. The artist had taken great care in etching in the intricate details of the angel’s muscular frame. The gigantic wings were spread out across the page and the feathers had been colored in with black ink. The being was holding a woman in his arms and it looked as though his head was bowed over her. Her body looked lifeless, her head was hung back, her arms dangled weightlessly toward the ground and her legs were draped over his arm.

The caption underneath the picture
read, “For he shall call a daughter of man his beloved. From the darkness shall be born a raging storm of love; for their love is damned and bound to the fallen, by the sins of the darkness. An immoral and passionate love created from the greatest of sins, the sun shall rise behind the angel of death and cast his shadow across the face of the earth. Forever.”

S
omething about that picture seemed so dark and familiar. It sent shivers throughout my body. I quickly shut the cover and placed the book on my coffee table. Picking up the remote, I flipped the television on, but my eyes kept wandering back down to the book. Curiosity had me by the throat and I picked the book back up and began to read the faded words printed on the pages.

T
he words consumed me.

I was
quickly sucked into this almost apocalyptical mythical prose and found myself reading it for most of the day. Finally shutting the cover when I climbed into my bed, I closed my eyes and kept hearing the last phrase I’d read from the book, “Desires of the heart shall flame the sins of the fallen and the innocent shall be taken. The mark of the departed shall be marred on mortal skin. The weakness of one shall shed the blood of many.”

The pictures scattered throughout the book seemed so dark, so prophetic, and
I feared they would haunt my dreams. My eyes grew heavy and finally drifted shut to sleep.

“Brooklyn.” A deep voice whispered.

I couldn’t see through the darkness. A sharp object drug across my throat. “Would you sacrifice yourself?” the voice hissed. “You’ve been tainted by death. You’ve given yourself to the devil. Death waits to claim you… to swallow you into the pits of his stomach.”

I woke up at three in the morning screaming.
I felt like something was after me. The sound of that voice still echoed in my ears.

I
threw myself out of bed and darted across the room, panicked as I tried to catch my breath. My pulse was beating with such fierceness it made me dizzy. Stumbling into the bathroom, I flipped the light. I stared at the reflection in my mirror. My forehead was wet from sweat, my chest was heaving from the terror I’d woken to, and my skin looked flushed.

“Just a dream. Just a dream
,” I said. I needed to hear myself say it out loud to reassure myself that I was actually awake.

I turned the water on and splashed some on my face
. My hand reached for the light switch, and just hovered over it. I couldn’t flip it off. I stood in the doorway to my bedroom, staring at my bed. There was no way I was going to be able to go back to sleep and I suddenly felt a fear of the darkness I hadn’t felt since I was four years old. I was utterly terrified.

W
alking back into my room, my gaze locked on the book I’d laid on my nightstand. For some reason I felt an urge to get it away from me. I grabbed it and hurled it out into the pitch blackness of my living room, slamming my bedroom door shut and flipping the light on. I didn’t want be surrounded by anything that was dark.

Brooke

August 20, 2014

M
y office phone rang. I put the large file I had been thumbing through down and reached across my keyboard to answer it.

“This is Brooke.”

I heard Sherry coughing into the phone, “You’ve got something at the front desk.”

“Okay, thanks,
” I said and hung up the phone.

I walked into Sherry’s office and a huge bouquet of roses was sitting on her desk. Sherry made a gesture similar to the models on
The Price is Right
. “Taa-dah,” she sang out and grinned. “Now, I want to know who these are from, missy!”

I pulled the card from the
thorny stems. One of the sharp points caught my skin and scratched me.

“Damn it,” I said and jerked my hand back.

As I was pulling the note from the small white envelope, Nicole walked in. I glanced up and looked at her.

“Who are those from?” Nicole
asked.

Sherry waved her hands around
frantically. “That’s what I want to know… come on and tell us.”

I knew who they were from, and that’s all that mattered. I opened the card and read it to myself
:

Looking forward to tonight
, Love!

Sherry cleared her throat. “Well?”
she said as she positioned herself on the edge of her seat.

“The
y’re from my boyfriend.”

Sherry
frowned, creating lines in the sides of her face. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” She let out a disappointed sigh. “Well, that’s not nearly as exciting as a secret admirer, but it’s sweet. Those are beautiful roses. I’ve never seen any like that.” She peered over the bouquet. “Red on the inside, white on the outside. The way the red fades down into the white is gorgeous!”

Nicole glared at me. “What’s your boyfriend’s name?”
she sneered as she angrily crossed her arms and cocked her hip to the side.

The spiteful tone in Nicole’s voice angered me and
I shot an evil glare back at her.

“Adam,
” I lied without hesitation.

Gavin
came into the office and flashed a smile at me. “Oh, someone send you roses?” he asked as he approached me to examine the bouquet.

I noticed Sherry eyeing him as h
e gently rubbed one of the silky petals.

“
Vampire roses,” he said.

I glanced up at him and then back at the roses.
“What?”

“
Mm-hmm. Folklore calls them that because of the red and white petals. You know, red for blood…”

Sherry leaned between us. “So, what’s the white for?”

Gavin looked over at Sherry and then back at me. “Well, I’d guess innocence and purity. You know, demons are
fatally
attracted to innocence.” His wicked smile fell across his face for a brief second. “But I think the proper name is Fire and Ice roses. Whoever sent those to you must really like you. It’s quite an impressive arrangement.”

I
pulled the roses closer to me and inhaled their fragrance.

I could feel
Sherry glaring suspiciously at the two of us. Nicole huffed and walked out of the room.

Gavin
tore his stare from mine and grabbed a patient file before leaving Sherry’s office.

I picked up the heavy glass vase and
started out of her office.

“Hmmm
! Brooke?” Sherry sang out.

I slowly turned around.

Sherry pulled her nail file out of her desk drawer and methodically scratched it against her thumb nail.

“What is it?”
I asked.

“Oh, just making an observation
, sweetie.” She peered over her glasses at me and one corner of her mouth flipped up.

My
heart fluttered. I knew exactly what Sherry was thinking. I could feel that damning warmth flush over my cheeks.

“Dr. Hunter,” s
he paused, “sure does seem to like you.” She placed her file in her lap and stared at me, her eyes slowly narrowing the longer I stood silent in front of her.

A loud, nervous
laugh came from me and I tapped the side of the glass vase. “We get along well. I mean, I do handle his studies so –” I stopped midsentence, realizing my rambling made me appear very guilty.

“
Mm-hmmm. The way the two of you look at each other,” Sherry paused and a large grin adorned her full face. “You don’t look at other people like that,
neither
of you.”

She scooted her chair out
into the middle of her office and pushed her glasses back against the bridge of her nose, motioning for me to close the door.

R
eaching over, I softly pushed the door to, holding my breath for fear of what she was about to say.

“How long have you two been screwing?”
She bluntly asked me.

My eyes widened and I tried to force a look of complete shock onto my face. “Sherry!”

She smiled. “I’m not gonna say anything to no one. I’ve thought you have, just wasn’t sure. I figured those roses were from him.” She put her hand out. “If you’re not screwing him, let me read the card.”

“No.” I moved the vase away from her. “It doesn’t have a name on it anyway.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Well, then, let me see it,” she demanded and held her hand out.

S
ighing, I sat the vase down. I knew if I didn’t let her read the card she’d know without a shadow of a doubt that they were from Gavin. I reluctantly placed the card in her hand.

Holding
the card out in front of her, she peered down through her glasses at the print. “Mm-hmm. I
bet
he’s looking forward to it.” She chuckled to herself, the skin under her chin jiggling as she laughed. “I bet you’re looking forward to it too. I know I would be if I was shaking up with his fine ass, anyway!”

She handed the card back to me.

“It’s not Gavin,” I said defensively.

“Gavin, huh?”

I didn’t even realize how accustomed I’d become to calling him by his first name.

Sherry folded her hands together
and placed them in her lap. “Let me ask you, what man knows those roses are ‘Vampire roses’ – or whatever the hell else he called them – fire flowers… See! I don’t even know what they’re called, and he knows the whole damn history of ‘em!”

Sherry poin
ted her finger at the card I held in my hand. “The card says ‘love,’ that’s a term British people use an awful lot. Don’t know too many Americans that use it. Unless, of course, Adam is British?”

I threw my head back and knew there was no way I could convince her it wasn’t Gavin.
“They’re English, not British — damn it,” I said as I let out an aggravated sigh of defeat.

“
Hot damn!” Sherry squealed and clapped her hands together. She looked over at me and an empathetic grin formed on her face as she reached over and gently shook my arm. “Your secret’s safe with me, sweetie.”

I
rested against the edge of her desk. “Is it that obvious?” I asked.

“
Not really. I’m just nosy. I’d thought it a few times, but the way he just looked at you — when he saw the smile those flowers brought to your face his eyes lit up. He looked at you like a man hopelessly in love.”

She thought for a minute. “Has he told you he loves you?”

“Sherry!”

“Okay, okay, too
soon, too personal. I understand. Don’t mind me. I’m just a middle-aged woman who gets her daily thrills through gossip.” A sly expression skipped across her face and she leaned in closer to me. “But if he hasn’t, he does. I can tell you that without a doubt. Men can’t fake that look in their eyes.” Sherry straightened up in her seat. The base of her chair squeaked as she readjusted herself. “You should be proud. All the women I’ve heard say they’d drop their panties in a heartbeat for that man, and here you are with him sending you flowers and getting all googly-eyed over you.” She started laughing, which lead her into a coughing fit.

I took in a breath.
“Well, it sucks that I have to be worried about someone finding out.” Opening my eyes as wide as I could, I glanced down at her. “Like
you
!”

“Oh, don’t you worry about me. I’m not
gonna tell a soul. Just don’t let the bitch find out.”

I knew who she was referring to
but asked anyway. “Nicole?”

Her smile deepened into a hateful
frown. “Yes, that one! She’ll run off and tell everyone. You know she had her eye set on Dr. Hunter when she first started. Oh, she had her nose all up in his ass, trying to do everything she could for him. I heard he finally had to talk to her and tell her that he wouldn’t ever get in a relationship with someone from work.” Sherry rolled her eyes. “At least until
you
showed up — but if she found out, whoa!” Sherry swiped her hand through the air like an umpire calling someone out. “She’d be furious. No telling
what
she’d do.”

I pulled my lips in. “She already knows.”

Sherry’s eyes grew large and her mouth dangled open. “She does? Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.
I think she figured it out at the Gala.”

“Well, I can’t believe she hasn’t done something yet. Trust me
, she’s plotting something in that conniving little head of hers.” Sherry’s eyes peered at me. “Don’t put anything past that one.”

Dan
stumbled into the room with a stack of files he could barely see over. He set them down in the floor next to Sherry’s desk with a thud. “I pulled these from the file room. They’ve all been deceased for ten years, so we can go ahead and put them in long term storage.” Dan’s beady eyes shot over to the roses on Sherry’s desk. “Oh. Who got flowers?” He placed his hand on his hip and his gaze switched back and forth between me and Sherry.

“Brooke did,
” Sherry gushed.

“Oh, from your boyfriend? Isn’t that romantic?” Dan had a smart ass look on his face as he ran his hand along the curved glass of the vase. “Looks like you’ve got yourself
quite the keeper, Brookey.” His frail lips curved up into a hideous smile.

“Thanks. I think I’ll keep him around for a while.” I
shot Dan a go-to-hell look, grabbed the vase from the desk, and walked out of the office.

I was in the middle of a daydream when I heard Sherry’s voice booming down the hallway.
“Dr. Moore, Dr. Moore… is Dr. Hunter expecting you?”

I heard Amy reply,
“No, it’s okay though. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a quick visit from
me
.” The sound of Amy’s voice made my blood boil.

I jumped out of my chair and ran down the hallway
, stopping in Ashley’s doorway. I glanced down the hall just in time to see Gavin’s door shut.

“Can I help you?” Ashley pulled her ea
r buds out and tossed them onto her desk. “That was a really good song you just interrupted.” She spun her chair around to face me and asked, “What’s wrong with you, you look sick?”

“Amy’s in Gavin’s office.”

“What? Why?” She shot out of her chair.

“I don’t know. I heard Sherry yelling at
Amy on her way down here.”

Ashley straightened her skirt out and pushed her shoulders back. She
marched past me out of her office.

“What are you doing?” I
asked.

“Well, since you’re too chicken shit to go down there a
nd see why the hell that skank’s in your man’s office, I will.” Ashley’s heavy footsteps stomped down the hallway.

I leaned out of her office.
“Damn it, Ashley!” I desperately whispered.

She threw her hand up in the air and kept
walking. Stopping outside Gavin’s door, she pressed her ear to the door and listened. I saw her face furrow, then she banged loudly on his door. “Dr. Hunter?”