Finding Alice (Alice Clark Series) (11 page)

“Bounty hunter? You knew him, didn’t you?”

“I knew
of
him and the face you drew, yes, I recognized him. He’s my great–grandfather, a fallen trying to redeem himself by killing the last of the nephilim. He failed that day. You are just as strong as they are.”

“Your great-grandfather tried to kill me? This is impossible. This is a dream, Cole. This isn’t actually happening.”

“Alice, please listen to what I’m telling you. We all have been trying to protect you, but they know where we all are now. Once they get word that someone like you exists, they all will come down to destroy you and all the remaining nephilim. You remember what happens in the book after that?”

“Judgment Day, and our fathers get thrown into the abyss. Yes I know, Cole. What I don’t understand is if you were sent to protect me, why are you sleeping in my bed?”

“I fell in love with you.” Hurt smacked across his face. I sat still and took a deep breath at an actual attempt to slow if not stop time in the dreaming state we run away to. I started to run through every moment like a movie in my head since I’d met him. I thought about how he was always lingering nearby but never spoke to me. Here I thought he liked me. Stupid girl. Now I was infuriated more so than I was before this conversation started.

“Why didn’t you protect me when your great-grandfather tried to kill me? Protecting yourself? Then you demanded I tell you what happened for what reason? You needed to know if it was hell on Earth. Did you even care about me? Do you know my father and grandfather?” I knew it hurt him but how could he not know this was killing me? I was a responsibility he was given, one he failed at.

“I didn’t think they would send a bounty hunter into a fallen angel haven.”

“I don’t even know you.”

“Now you are just picking a fight with me.” The sky turned gray. He was right. I couldn’t control my emotions any longer and he was the only target in sight. I was fine before I met him. Before I knew what love was, or what I thought it was. Once again, here I was, faced with love that was filled with lies.

“I wish I never met you.” I watched it cut him through to his core. I felt his soul weep.

“Don’t say that. Please.” He stared at me for a moment and then it came: the look everyone gets when they realize I’m not worth loving. “I can go if you wish.”

“I do.” I didn’t. I just needed a little space. I needed to actually sleep. No thoughts; just darkness. I sat coldly, watching a tear stream down his face. That’s exactly what he gave me.

I opened my eyes and looked instantly at my alarm clock. Six a.m. No aroma of coffee or breakfast filling my house. No sandy beaches or ocean waves either. I felt as if a part of my soul cut itself out of me and ran away. I guess it was more like I cut it out and told it to go. I covered my head with my pillow and tried to fight back the tears. Honestly, what was the point? I could hear the rain hitting my window. It made sense; the weather would be as miserable as I felt. I could barely drag myself out of bed. How could it be possible I was strong enough to stand against an angel when I could barely pull myself to my feet?
I’m more than I was and still less than you need me to be.
I heard it echo as if the words lingered and waited for me to awake. I knew it was more of a plea but it cut right through my soul as if it was his intention.

I dragged myself from my bed to my front door. I stared out into the rain, searching for the sound of his heartbeat. I hated not being able to feel him around me. I walked out to feel the grass under my bare feet, to feel the Earth clutch to me, to need me. Maybe the rain could wash away a sliver of this pain. I inhaled deeply, ignoring the fight from my lungs as the rain crashed down my throat. Then I held my breath and watched the rain for as far as I could see come to a complete halt. There was such beauty in an impossible moment like that. I wish I could have enjoyed it. I exhaled and felt the rain attack my skin once again. I sighed and retreated back to my home, back to my house. The word “home” had lost its meaning to me in such a short amount of time. I felt the thunder under my feet with each step I took toward my door. Lightning crashed above me with uneasy precision, lighting up the gloominess around me.

I stopped as my feet hit the porch and turned back toward the darkness. It wasn’t thunder at all. I stared at the nothingness, knowing I was not alone. Was it my attacker? No…I didn’t feel his excitement of a fight to come. I felt something odd. Something trying to calm me into submission like a warm blanket, similar to Cole’s shield. I stepped back onto the grass, right on top of this imaginary blanket of false calm. Lightning fiercely crashed and I inhaled. The rain halted again as did the lit sky.
There you are.
He was taller than I had expected, taller than anyone I had ever seen.
They’ve started to come for me
. His wings flexed behind him. I could feel something similar to an unconditional love almost emanating from him. It was mostly masked by the hatred he had for my existence. This was it. This was the day I was going to die.

“What are you waiting for?” I dared. Nothing. He just stood there like a statue you might find at an over-embellished church. My breath was steady as if some part of me knew this day would come and was already prepared for it. I almost wanted him to end my suffering.
Not like this.
I was going to fight even though my heart was weighed down from the rain and I already felt defeated. God didn’t have to love me, but against his will, I did exist and he let that happen. I wasn’t allowing anyone to sweep this mistake under a rug without a fight.

“I’m getting bored with this.” I taunted.

Then it happened. A lightning bolt from the sky—at his command, I was sure—came straight for me. I inhaled, stopping it inches from my face, and stepped aside as I exhaled. I let out a sinister chuckle and waved him over. I didn’t know if I could survive this, if I could win this fight. I had no idea what I was capable of. Some part deep inside of me, not my soul but in my blood, the part that made me mostly angel with fallen blood…
that
part was sure I could. So I stood my ground against one of God’s own angels, defending my right to live my shitty excuse of an existence.

I marveled at how beautiful his wings were as he flew to me. Expanding forever, it seemed. The rain gleaming off of them made them look like they were glowing. They were bright white with specks of gray throughout. Exactly what you would picture in your mind what an angel would look like. Every inch of him perfect. I was taken aback and succumbed momentarily to the beauty, just long enough for him to hit me with his first blow. I shot back a good 20 feet into my doorway gasping for air, choking on my panic.
Cole
. I spit blood onto my porch, begging for his shield. I went to scream his name and stopped, knowing I would only put him in horrible danger. I had already broken his heart and I was sure he would die here tonight if he heard me calling.

“You know why I am here; there is no point to fight it,” the angel boomed. His voice was mesmerizing and inviting though his words were cold as ice.

I stood and walked slowly toward him.
I’m not going to fight him
. My heart ached as the truth filled me. He hit me again and again. I got up, walked back in front of him and stood inches from him, forcing him to look into my eyes, into my very human soul that only I possessed. I groaned, I cried, as blood spilled from me. He hit me once more and again, I stood and dragged myself to a standing position in front of him. I spit blood at his feet and breathed in as deeply as I could, stopping the rain one last time before my end as I watched his lightning bolt coming with fury for me. I moved as I had before, faster than a human eye could notice. I dashed behind him and kicked him harder than I did when my attacker flew into my car. As I did, I let the air that I had been holding in so tightly escaped my lungs one last time. He turned to me as the lightning bolt came crashing into him. I watched his wings flutter in panic as the heat from the lightning sent them up in flames. He gasped in horror and as quickly as he arrived, he vanished just like that. I fell to the ground, broken, bloody, and hopeless.

“Cole,” I whimpered. I closed my eyes and felt the rain angrily washing my wounds as I lay dying on my front lawn. Fighting with Cole seemed so distant at that moment. All I wanted was to be in his arms. To taste his lips one more time. If the angels weren’t coming for me and those like me before that, they would be now. I was an easy target in my condition, if I could live through it at all.

My eyes opened, feeling the heat from the sun on them. Every inch of me ached. I attempted turning my head to look around at my surroundings. I was still in my front yard, sunken into the dirt like a stray rock. My clothes were mostly dry from the sun, my mouth felt as dry as a desert. I could hear the sound of an animal nearby. I was sure it was sniffing the air smelling my blood while thinking I was a fresh snack. I tried to move but I couldn’t. The sound grew louder as the predator inched closer. I wanted to run away, or at least stand and fight.

“Alice?” A vaguely familiar voice said. It wasn’t Cole, as desperately as I wished it were. At least it wasn’t an animal. He stood above me, the sun beating around him, making it impossible to see his face. That and my eyes were practically swollen shut, barely slivers. He bent down and reached under me, pulling me from the ground into his arms. I screamed in agony from the pain of my tattered shell as if every bone inside of me was broken. He seemed eerily calm but I could feel a small amount of agony my blood was causing him. “Cole sent me,” he said.

Tears flowed as I clenched my eyes shut. He sent someone? He seemed familiar but I couldn’t seem to see his face clear enough to recognize him. He carried me into my house and set me on my couch. He walked away to my linen closet and retrieved washcloths and peroxide.
How does he know where everything is?
Then just like the blows hours earlier had hit me, I realized who it was. Penemue.
My father
. A slight gasp slipped through my teeth. He reentered the room and started cleaning my wounds one at a time. The pressure was like a knife dragging deep through my skin. I screamed and grabbed a hold of his hand stopping him.

“Alice, let me clean your wounds.”

“Why did he send you?” I choked on the words.

“He knew something was wrong but that you didn’t want him here.” I sat quietly as I relived the encounter from last night. I felt him watching me, knowing what I was thinking was bringing me back to this horrible reality.

“You know what happened to me?” I asked.

“No. I assumed it was a bounty hunter. You’re lucky Cole cares about you as much as he does. You are important to all of us, but to him it’s just different. And you do not owe me any explanations of what happened.”He excused himself into the kitchen, retrieving a leftover bottle of vodka and a wooden spoon. He came back in, sat next to me, and handed me the bottle. I chugged it as quickly as I could until he took it from my hands. “Bite this. We have a lot to clean and a few bones to set.”

He placed the wooden spoon in my mouth and began cleaning my wounds again. I screamed through gritted teeth at first but eventually succumbed to the pain. He grabbed my shoulder and popped my right arm back in place without warning. I let out a sound similar to what I thought an animal being slaughtered would have made.
I should have let that angel kill me
. He continued to clean and set bones in no particular order. At some point, I passed out.

It felt as if I slept for days without getting any actual rest. I opened my eyes; a little less swollen finally. I inhaled to find an unusual mix of chamomile and chicken broth. I sat up as steadily as possible to see crutches nearby. I anchored myself on them and slowly headed in the direction of the very pleasant aromas.

“You’re finally awake. Glad to see you made it,” my father said. He looked odd in my kitchen. He poured me a cup of chamomile tea into Cole’s mug. He saw the sadness in my eyes, dumped it into my mug, and set it on the kitchen table in front of me. I willed myself to my cookie jar and removed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I felt him judging me for it.
I think after what has happened to me, I can have a cigarette. Not to mention you don’t really get a say in what I do.
He looked at me surprised; until that moment, I don’t think he realized I was capable of hearing his thoughts and knowing he could hear mine. I lit the cigarette and took a breath in with caution. Coughing would kill me; I was sure of it. He set a small plate in front of me.