Month: November 2023

What would we be without our pain? – Excerpt from “A Destruction of Angels”

 “Jerika,” she said leaning in close. “You have so much pain.” She pushed me down onto one of the plush chairs, and crawled on top of me so that she straddled my waist. The layers of her dress billowed around us like black velvety clouds. “I can take it all away.” 

“Forever?” I asked.

She laughed, a clear beautiful laugh. “No, darling. Not forever. Just for a moment. But sometimes a moment is all we need. Besides what would we be without our pain?”

“Happy?”

Olivia raised a thin arched eyebrow at me. “No, love.  We’d be dull. We’d have no great art, or poetry, or songs. And moments like these would lose their beauty.”

You can read the full chapter on Wattpad.

Raw chicken

You stared at me like a wolf

over raw chicken

I warned you against it

But time did its belly crawl thing again

You opened your mouth like a snake

Unhinged

There was nothing more that I wanted to be

Than to be swallowed

A giggle bubbled up in my throat

This is dangerous

Is this what insanity feels like?

Tea Party

“Well, you are human now. Maybe your brain is rotting. That happens sometimes to humans,” he sniffed the air. “You don’t smell rotten though, just raw. Like a freshly slaughtered pig. Do you like tea parties?” 

“I do like tea parties.”

“Well if you could come to my next tea party that would be just swell. And I won’t even poison you. With anything too deadly.”  

Excerpt from A Destruction of Angels “I had one job”

I had one job to do. Only one, and that was to protect him. And through all his lifetimes and for thousands of years that’s exactly what I did. 

And then I started visiting Hell. I knew it was something I should not have done. I had no business there. But memories from the past pulled me in. And I started spending more and more time in Hell with my old acquaintances who’d fallen. It rekindled a centuries-old obsession I thought was long dead. 

I knew in this lifetime Ben would be more powerful than he’d ever been. I also knew he’d be in more danger. He developed a new ability he hadn’t had in any of his other lifetimes. He could open gateways between worlds. Angels could travel in and out of Hell at will, but demons needed a doorway. Maleck convinced me to use Ben to open a gate and release him so we could be together. 

At the time Ben was only a child and could only open little cracks, peepholes into Hell.  But I taught him how to focus. I taught him how to open a door large enough a demon could come through. 

And when he finally did, both Maleck and Lucifer were waiting for us. And they took him. I may have been able to fight one, but even as an angel, I couldn’t fight them both. But I swear I never stopped looking for him. Not for a moment did I stop to do anything but look for him. Until I finally found him. 

And it was bad. Really bad. He was unrecognizable He’d been brought to the brink of death, he should have been dead, except they wouldn’t let him die. The worst part is, although he’d only been gone for a week from earth, time moves differently in Hell. It would have felt like years to him. Years of suffering and torture, to try to get him to relent, to let one of them in so they could have his body and his power. So they could move between worlds freely. But he never gave in. Even as a small child, he had that much conviction. 

I healed him and rescued him from Hell, knowing the time I had left as an angel was short. I had been forgiven once for a terrible sin, but I knew this time, I would not be forgiven. Not for this.  My wings would be taken. 

And Ben, well I had healed his body, but his mind was broken. So I brought him the waters of Lethe.  The River of Forgetfulness, one of the rivers that runs through Hell. It couldn’t completely take away all the damage that had been done to his mind and soul. But forgetting the details made his life bearable. I had him drink from the water and then I gave him a gift. A ring I had taken from Heaven’s treasures. A ring that had once belonged to King Solomon. It was something I had promised Maleck. But I gave it to Ben instead. So no demon could ever take him again. No demon could hurt him like that again. 

The day my dreams died

Once upon a time, I wanted to be an Egyptologist. And then I saw an archeologist belly crawl through this never-ending, ridiculously narrow tunnel in a pyramid at 130 degrees and I had a full-on panic attack. Also, I don’t want to be cursed or have to fight a mummy. They are super strong and can suck away your youth. This is how all my childhood hopes and dreams died.

Chapter 2 – Little Rebellions (A Destruction of Angels)

Aidan had dreamed of her again. He had fought against it, even as his fingers reached out for her. For the comforting warmth of her skin, the tangle of her auburn curls. Sometimes for a moment, she would be there. She would roll over, sleep in her eyes, and smile. Sometimes she would speak. Sometimes she would whisper his name, or tell him she loved him. Sometimes she said other things.

“The thing you fear, the thing you keep accusing me of. It’s true Aidan. But it’s so much more terrible than just that.”

No, no. He tried to kiss her. To stop what would surely come out of her mouth next. But she would always push him away.

“He’s a better lover than you, you know.” She would close her eyes and touch her fingers to her lips as if remembering how he used to touch her. Sometimes she’d slide her hand between her legs, her smile would be wicked.

“And he’s good to me. He treats me well. He’d never hurt me. Not like you did. What does that say about you, Aidan? That a demon could take better care of me than my own husband.” She was just as cruel in his dreams as she’d been when she was alive. But she hadn’t always been that way. 

“Stop, please just stop.” He’d beg her.

And she would. For a moment. Her hands would be in his hair and then on his face, and then lower, lower. “You stopped loving me,” She’d whisper.

“No. Never.” 

“Then I guess I just stopped loving you then.” Her nails would dig in and he’d cry out. He’d try to push her away, to pull those claws out of his skin. Every place he touched her, her skin would blister, blacken, and crumble into ash, until she was nothing but soot covering his hands and smeared across their bedsheets. 

She’d leave him with an ache that was with him every night when he went to bed and woke up with him each morning. It followed him into his dreams and always ended the same. In fire.

Someday he would find the courage, someday he would let himself burn. But not tonight. 

Aidan found himself outside his apartment, keys in one hand, a bottle of whiskey in the other. The night was cold, warning that winter was close. But the cold didn’t cause him any discomfort, he welcomed it. He thought of his grandpa’s little hunting cabin in the woods. He’d never been much into hunting, but it was a place he could hide when things felt like they were becoming too much. Ever since he was a teenager he’d escape there, sometimes for days, sometimes for weeks. He’d drink himself into oblivion, allowing himself to go numb, and his thoughts to go silent. It used to drive his wife nuts when he disappeared like that. 

Speaking of driving his wife nuts, Aidan pulled out a cigarette and stuck it between his lips. A little flame burst to life and then faded into an ember. His wife had made him quit, but now that she was gone he’d picked the habit of his youth back up. He wished that all these little rebellions gave him more satisfaction. 

The sound of the engine was loud in the quiet of the night. Aidan took a long swig of whiskey as his thoughts bore down on him. But his memories weren’t ready to leave him in peace. 

“I’ll never forgive you, Aidan,” her ghost lips were like burning ice against his skin. “Do you understand? Nev-er.” Aidan pressed down on the gas, the windows were down and the cold wind ripped her away and flung her into the night. 

“God has forgiven you.” The priest had told him through the curtain. “You need to forgive yourself.” He could not see the man on the other side. But he knew who he was. Aaron, whose brother had survived Hell, even as a child. He’d like to learn that trick. How to survive Hell. Here on Earth.

Aidan was not a church-going man. He didn’t know why he had come. For some reason that night he’d chosen confession over drink. He had immediate regrets. He did not find comfort in Aaron’s words. In fact, it had pissed him off. He felt that familiar anger flood him. It singed the curtain that lay between them. He could hear the priest stir, moving away from the heat. 

“Do you really believe all this crap?” He growled. “A man can do whatever terrible thing he wants, confess, be forgiven, and then repeat?”

There was a long silence and all he could hear was the steady breathing of the priest. “No, I don’t really figure that’s how it works,” he said finally. “It does sound like a load of BS when you put it like that.”

Aidan snorted. “You’re a terrible priest.” 

“So I’ve been told,” came the soft reply. 

Aidan pressed his fists to his face. “I just can’t live anymore walking around with all this guilt all the time. It’s crushing me.”  He laughed out loud and it sounded maniacal. “Isn’t guilt one of the most useless emotions?” 

“Yes, but it does suggest a conscious. And that has to count for something.” 

“I don’t think I want to be forgiven,” Aidan said, but he was speaking more to himself than to the priest. ” The thing is, I don’t deserve it. I want punishment instead.”

“I don’t think you need me then, you seem to be doing a fine enough job of that all on your own.”

Aidan had a vision of the church burning. The stained glass windows imploding, breaking into thousands of tiny colored pieces. Mary’s face melting like wax, the cross above her consumed in fire. Aaron dancing down the halls of his church, his priest’s robes blazing.

A fire somewhere out in the night pulled him from his memory. It called to him. Asking to be manipulated to be made greater, more dangerous. Right now it was small and controlled like a campfire, or a fireplace. He could feel it long before he could smell it, before he saw the smoke rising from the chimney of his grandfather’s cabin. 

Aidan stopped the car abruptly and switched off the engine. It was probably a bum or another hunter seeking relief from the cold. But you could never be too careful. Not in Cold Rock. He reached into his glove compartment and grabbed his gun. His vision blurred and he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose blinking everything back into focus. Oh, now the alcohol decides to kick in. 

The door wasn’t locked and it swung open easily. He pointed his gun at the figure hunched over the fireplace, her hands were outstretched to the flames.  She was wearing one of his grandfather’s old hunting jackets. Her legs and feet were bare and streaked with dirt or what may have been dried blood. From the looks of it, she’d been in some kind of accident or fight. She turned and slowly raised her hands in surrender. 

“This is my cabin,” he told her. 

“I’m sorry. I was lost, and cold, and I just found this place. I wasn’t going to stay long. I can leave.”  She looked up at him, her eyes large and innocent. He had a flash of memory of the last time his father had taken him hunting. How his eyes had locked with the doe’s as he took aim. “I don’t want to kill her,” Aidan had told his father. “Trust me, son, this is more humane than eating a burger at McDonald’s.”

“But I don’t have to look the burger in the eye while it dies,” Aidan had argued. He took the shot but purposely aimed too far right. The doe had ran and escaped into the woods.  He hadn’t always been a killer. 

Aidan flipped on the safety and lowered the gun setting it down on the small two-person dining table. It was close enough that he could still get to it quickly. He’d been fooled by an innocent face before.  “Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you?”

“I…I’m not sure.” She had a hint of an accent in her voice. Something he couldn’t quite place, but she certainly wasn’t a local.

“You hit your head?”

She gingerly touched the side of her head. “I think, I think I hit…everything.”

Something dark slid down her legs and started to pool around her feet. “You’re bleeding. You should see a doctor. ” 

She looked down at the blood on the floor and shook her head. “No. I’m fine. I just need to warm up. Rest for just a bit. And I’ll go.” She glanced at him. “Do you have anything to eat?” 

“Yeah,” he dug in his pocket pulling out half of a snicker’s bar, and tossed it to her. “Listen,” he said watching her smash the candy bar into her mouth. “I really think you should go to the hospital, but I won’t force you,” he added seeing her face darken. “You can warm up, and stay the night,” he nodded towards a small cot. “It’s not that much softer than the ground outside, but at least you’ll stay warm.” 

She looked at him gratefully, “Thank you, you are a kind man.”

He laughed. “I’m not kind, lady,” but his voice softened a bit. “But I’m not heartless either. How long have you been out there?” 

“A few days, maybe more. You have any more food? I can’t even remember the last time I ate.” 

“I’m sorry, I don’t. I have some whiskey in the car,” he offered and had the decency to look embarrassed when she frowned at him. “I’ll take you for a big breakfast in the morning. There’s a little cafe in town that serves the best Belgium waffles.” 

“That sounds amazing. I told you, you were kind.” 

Aidan cleared his throat uncomfortably. He never did feel comfortable with compliments. Especially ones that were untrue. “You got a name?”

She swallowed the last of the candy bar and contemplated the question.  Aidan could see all her emotions wash across her face.  Sadness, confusion, exhaustion, hurt, gratitude.  Aidan hoped she didn’t cry. He hated it when women cried. “I’m sure I do have a name. I just can’t quite remember it at the moment.” 

She stood slowly and he could see the pain in her face as she made her way over to the cot. Her feet left bloody prints across the floor.  “My name is Aidan,” he told her. 

She curled herself into the fetal position on the cot and pulled an afghan his grandmother had knit over her body. “Aidan,” she repeated with a soft smile. “I’ll never forget your kindness.” She closed her eyes and fell asleep. 

***

“Aidan,” a voice whispered. There were hands on his shoulders shaking him. His head hurt from the movement, “just a few more minutes…” he mumbled still half asleep.

“Are you expecting someone?”

“What?” Aidan opened one eye.  She was crouched down next to him, her long hair matted and ferrel-looking. She was still wearing his grandfather’s jacket. Behind her the last of the embers were dying out in the fireplace, softly crackling and popping at him, begging him to bring them back to life. 

“Someone is outside.”

 Aidan sat up abruptly.  The cabin was isolated and not easy to find. The road to it was overgrown and difficult to travel without the right vehicle. The only people still left alive who knew about this place were him and his aunt. And his aunt never came out this way. “No one should be here,” he said straightening the glasses that sat crookedly on his face.

“Jerika,” a man’s voice called from outside. “I know you’re in there. I could smell your wounds miles from here. Come on out, love. We have to talk.” 

Aidan scrambled across the floor and reached for his gun. He slowly pulled back the curtain to the cabin’s one small window with the barrel. It was dark outside and it took his eyes a moment to start seeing shapes within the darkness of night.  He saw the car first. A black exotic sports car that had no business off-roading, but somehow it had made it all the way out here. “Jerika,” the voice was more insistent this time. Less friendly. “If you just give me back what you stole from me, I promise I won’t hurt you….much.” A man stepped out of the shadows, but his face was still covered in darkness. 

Aidan slowly stood and raised his gun, pointing it at the closed door. “Who is that?” But she just shook her head. “Are you Jerika?” Aidan whispered, not taking his eyes off the door.

“I hope not.” 

The door seemed to explode open and Aidan took several quick steps back, re-aiming the gun to point squarely at the man’s chest. “Wait,” Aiden said the gun wavering. He knew that face from somewhere. No, it couldn’t be…He blinked several times thinking maybe the alcohol was playing tricks with his brain. 

Maleck stood in the doorway, his face twisted and contorted with centuries worth of contempt. For a moment the handsome rock star mask he wore was nearly unrecognizable, but instead, he appeared the monster he truly was. “You just won’t give up that body now, will you? You look like absolute dog shit.” He crossed the small room with two long strides and grabbed her arms jerking her closer to him so that her body was against his. She struggled as he roughly inspected her hands, and then his hand slipped beneath the jacket groping indiscriminately, searching for something that was not there. Her feet slipped on the blood that had started to run down her legs again and onto the floor. “Hey, little broken birdie that plunged from the sky. You going to tell me where it is. Or do I need to break you some more?” He growled. 

“Where is what?” 

 “I”m not playing your games,” Maleck seethed.  “You fucking betrayed me. And then you disappeared. Did you actually think I’d ever stop looking for you?” His nails dug into her skin, becoming claws and drawing blood. “I want to see it.”

“See what?” She gasped. 

“Your back. I want to see what he did to you.” Her fear seemed to melt away, replaced by a cold indifference. 

“No,” she spat. “No.” 

“I hope it hurt. But it’s not going to hurt even half as bad as what I’m going to do to you if you don’t start talking.”

Aidan kept the gun pointed at the intruder, but he had her held so close. He was a pretty good shot but he didn’t trust his eyes at the moment not to shoot the wrong person. “I think she hit her head. She’s having some memory issues,” he spoke up. 

Maleck turned to look at Aidan, noticing him for the first time. “Aidan Reece,” he said. He let go of Jerika and she stumbled backward, pressing her back against the wall. Maleck’s mouth turned up in a slow smile and his eyes filled up with an inky blackness. “I knew your wife.”

The first shot took Maleck in the shoulder. It spun him around and sprayed blood across the walls of the cabin. The next two shots were to the chest and caused the demon to fall backward, his head making a heavy thump on the ground. Aidan stood over the demon, the last shot went right between the eyes. 

Jerika cautiously made her way over to stand next to Aidan and they both looked down at the bleeding man’s familiar face. “Did you…did you just kill a celebrity?” She asked. 

“No,” Aidan said grabbing her arm. “That ain’t Derik Draven. And he’s not dead. We have to go. Now.”