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I hadn’t believed in fate. But when I saw the girl from my bizarre dream after I pulled into that cul-de-sac in St. Joseph, Minnesota, I became a believer. She wore black leggings, an overly large purple hoodie, and purple shoes. She hadn’t noticed me when I stepped out of one of the smaller moving trucks.
Before I could go over to introduce himself, my sister Sarah—that’s what she wanted to be called—asked me to help do a few things for her, and then I was free to do whatever. I bolted through the house and told her which room I wanted. I picked the upstairs bedroom on the far left for some reason. It was the one directly across from hers; the walls were a light purple. I guessed it was her favorite color. It’s what sealed my decision. I told Sarah I wanted to stop over to the neighbor’s house and introduce myself.
When I was done, I marched out the front door and strolled on the sidewalk to her house. My new neighbors had a white picket fence surrounding the two-story yellow house, the exact one from my dream. I approached her, cautiously. She must not have heard me, so I cleared my throat to get her attention. She asked if I needed anything.
I loved the sound of her voice. That was the only thing missing in the dream: sound.
The sun was in the high school girl’s eyes, but I could feel them checking me out from head to toe. I noticed her eyes widened when they locked with mine. I told her my name.
I was shocked again when she arrived and knocked on my bedroom door later that afternoon. Totally catching me off guard, I was nervous around her for some reason and hadn’t expected her to offer to help me unpack. Maybe that’s a Minnesota thing. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have laughed at her. What was I thinking? Yes, it was cute how she got defensive about things, but for me to laugh at her when I hadn’t even known her was unacceptable on my part.
I thought she had wanted to tell me something, but she held back. I wondered about that, her slight hesitations in her responses. What was she not telling me? I was glad I got to chat with her more that evening. She sure was spunky. I liked that about her. Her personality had not come through the dream, either.
Oh hells.
I wasn’t expecting her to be so ... so. I couldn’t even place the words to describe her. She reminded me of someone. An angel, maybe? I knew that I had to get to know her. A sickening feeling caused my wings to droop. If I had a heart left, it, too, would probably sink. She was going to be the death of me.
My real death.
Monday, nine days after prom.
Now, I’m having second thoughts on my whole plan with Quinn. No, I must continue.
A few days after I broke the news to her that she’s a Nephilim, I invited her to my house after dinner, giving me enough time to make sure that Kieran and Shay were occupied with Knights and Marqs.
“The first lesson today is trying to get your wings to appear.” I draw the shades. “It can be tricky since you don’t know how to use them.”
“I didn’t even know I had wings until the other day.”
“They’ve always been a part of you since birth.” We sit on the floor in my bedroom. I thought about the larger space in the living room, but I might have to answer a question about my sister. She loves the fact that she gets to boss me around while we’re on Earth. I only let her since she’s supposed to be my older sibling. Otherwise when we’re at home, she’d think twice giving me an order. Quinn doesn’t need to know anything about who I really am. “Relax your mind. Clear it of everything from school, your home life, and me even. Listen to my voice and focus on it and only my tone. Relax. Let it seep into your soul. Loosen your shoulders, down to the tips of your fingers. Think of your chest relaxing, and move that feeling down to your hips and into each of your legs. And finally stopping at your toes.”
She breathes in and out. Our hands are joined as we sit cross-legged.
“Close your eyes. Control your breathing and match mine. Breathe in.” I inhale and hold it a few seconds. “Breathe out.” I exhale to the count of four. “In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four. Yes, that’s it.”
I watch Quinn’s body unwind almost to the point of a sleep stasis. Her face softens, and her head gradually tilts down to her chest.
“Breathe in and out.” My voice just clears a whisper. “Now, think about wings growing out from your back, near your shoulder blades. Visualize the feathers. Sense them as a limb like your arms and legs. Believe that you have them.” I inhale and exhale again. “Picture them clearly in your mind. Extend them out of your back.”
The room begins to glow, a soft tone between orange and yellow. It reminds me of a slow burning fire, ready at any moment to warm and burst into billowing flames.
“Open your eyes, Quinn.” Each eyelid lifts and meets mine. “Look behind you.”
She turns her head to view her back. She stiffens. “Oh. My. God.” I flinch at the word but quickly get my body under control. “They’re beautiful,” she says. “How do I move them?”
“Think about where you want each one to go, and they’ll obey the command.”
Gradually, the right one curls in and swings forward enough for her fingers to run across the feathers. The left one extends out and wraps us like a cocoon. Bright, glowing wings shine throughout my room as if it were daylight.
Nephilim wings are much smaller than mine since they have only half angelic powers.
I keep my wings tucked tightly behind my back. Quinn hasn’t noticed them yet.
Her fingers lightly pinch the long, flight feathers. She says nothing, but awe is written across her face. She plucks a down feather from the coverts’ wing area. She recoils and gasps. She’s so enamored with her own wings that she still doesn’t notice my black ones when I extend them out past hers. I watch as she looks around the room to figure out what blocks the light.
Her mouth forms an “O” as her eyes widen again. “Aiden.” She reaches to touch mime. “Yours are so breathtaking. I don’t even have the words to describe them.” Her eyes flicker to her own wings and back to mine. “They’re different. Why if you’re a Nephililm, too?”
I blink. I wasn’t prepared for that question. My mind scrambles to give her a response. I fumble. “Everyone has different wings; it’s like a fingerprint.”
“Oh.” She doesn’t say anything more and accepts my answer, going back to inspecting her own wings again.