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Wednesday, June 24, fifty-three days after prom.
“Happy eighteenth birthday, Zoe,” Aiden says as he enters the room. He smiles as if it is his birthday and not mine. If all goes well today, I will get my wings and the completion of the tattoo at the exact time I was born.
“Nothing happy about it, Aiden,” I state. “I’m still here as your prisoner. I could think of so many places I’d rather be than here with you. Where am I anyway? You can finally tell me, you know. It’s not like I can tell anyone where I am. I haven’t been rescued since you brought me here.”
“Ah now, Zoe, don’t be like that. I have been a gracious host to you. And today, I am feeling extra generous. After all, it is your birthday.” He raises his arms and sweeps them in an arch over by the wall opposite the door. Instantly, a window appears. I’m afraid to look out of it. I don’t want to see any more of Hell than I need to. But when I glance out of the window, it’s a picture of the ocean.
“The same rules apply to the window as the mirror. Think of the landscape you wish to view, and it will appear.” He smiles.
Wow. Aiden very rarely smiles. I guess he doesn’t have much to smile about. He does work for Satan, after all. That’s what I’ve deduced. If he weren’t out to kill me, I would think Aiden was an extremely good-looking guy.
It must be close to twenty-six minutes after three in the afternoon, the exact time I was born. My body feels weird; it tingles, as if it has fallen asleep. A gut-wrenching pain shoots through my body, forcing me to the cold floor. I curl into a ball and whimper, praying to God to let the pain subside or hurry up the process in giving me my wings.
Aiden stands in the corner and watches, not saying anything. I bet he has never witnessed anyone getting their Mark, wings, or becoming a seraph angel.
How could he? I am the first born of earth and Heaven.
My body trembles as sweat pours from every pore on my skin. My right arm throbs with shooting pain from my shoulder down to my wrist. I’m not sure how long I lie on the floor. My bones ache like I had the flu for weeks. After what seems like an eternity has passed, I peel open my eyes and look at my right wrist. There on the inside, iridescent purple wings surround my existing silver Triquetra symbol with a golden sword down the center.
I stand on trembling legs. When I look down at myself, I am no longer in jeans and a T-shirt, but in a simple white shift dress with purple ribbons tied around my waist that crisscross over my back. I turn my head to look over my shoulder ... yes, I have sprouted wings.
They are bright white with flecks and streaks of purple throughout. I have seen Kieran’s and Shay’s wings on several occasions, but mine are larger than theirs. Even folded, they extend above my head, and the points touch the floor.
I think about them moving, and suddenly they do. I think of the word “expand,” and they obey my command and unfurl to their full length. I am totally enamored with them. They are so beautiful.
I thought that when I received my wings, they would be heavy and cumbersome, but they aren’t. In fact, they’re light as a feather. I giggle at my own pun. I move my hands and arms out in front of me, turning them over and inspecting them. A soft white glow emits from them. I hike up the dress to view my legs, and I remember I’m not alone in the room.
Aiden.
He stands so quietly watching, waiting. I see him even more clearly than before. He is beautiful with his dark blond hair and brilliant, mysterious aqua eyes. Even this far away, I can clearly see light blond streaks in his hair. I haven’t ever noticed the small dimple on his face, until now. He is smiling; he rarely smiles. He needs to smile more. I like it when he does.
Where did that thought come from?
Tiny dust motes float in the air. The stagnant air smells of death. Has he used this room to kill others in? My heart sinks at the gross thought.
He stands, staring at me.
When our eyes lock, he nods approvingly. His shirt disappears and out snaps his magnificent wings. They are as large as my own, black with speckles of blood red feathers throughout, and on the very tips are a smattering of white ones.
He stalks forward, stopping short of me; his eyes are wide and still locked on mine. His mouth is open, probably in awe. The black feathers are iridescent, like a prism of every color. His wings are glorious like mine. His body also radiates the same bright, soft white glow.
This close, he looms over me. My eyes move up to his bare chest, momentarily distracted by his wings.
Oh, boy.
He is toned and sports defined abs. He has beautifully sculpted long arms and lean legs. I never really noticed, nor appreciated, him before. I was too stuck on him wanting to kill me.
The glint of something in his eyes says otherwise.
I look back at his wings, curious about why they’re that color. I look back to my own, compare my white feathers with his white feathers. They are the same. I wonder if he still has some good left in him. He’s had many opportunities to kill me, when he first took me and every day since. He hasn’t.
Why?
I feel my body being drawn toward Aiden and his wings. I extend my hand to him. I want him to close the distance between us. He stands perfectly still. Minutes go by, or maybe it’s only a few seconds, but he doesn’t move.
Finally, when I determine he isn’t going to make the effort, I lower my hand but his wings twitch. One of them moves forward and meets my hand.
I knew what it took for him to make that small action. I don’t know firsthand what it feels like when someone touches my wings, only the account Shay told me. It’s like someone touching a part of your soul.
Does Aiden still have a soul?
As soon as my fingers touch them, I see flashes of images. Confused as to what I’m seeing, they are coming at me too fast: white wings, someone falling, black wings, and ... and then, nothing.
Blackness.
Aiden starts to retreat from me. His wings snap close and disappear into his back. He’s about to take a step backwards, but I quickly move my hand from where his wings were to inches away from his face. I’m not sure if I should touch him. I don’t know how he’s going to react. He probably hasn’t had anyone touch him like this in years, maybe even centuries.
My hand lingers, silently asking permission. I know this is a very intimate situation, and he needs to make the next move. He steps back, his eyes still locked onto mine.
His expression changes, softens. He steps forward, lowers his head, and closes the distance between my hand and his face. As soon as we touch, the room is filled with Light, and a very intense shock courses through our bodies. It’s so forceful we both fall to our knees. My hand drops from his face. Our eyes are frozen with shock.
I know I wasn’t meant to see his thoughts. Nor do I know what this could mean. I’ve only ever felt anything like this before, and that was with Shay.
“Aiden,” I whisper.
Immediately, he’s jolted out of his momentary shock when I say his name. He quickly rises and turns his back to me. He’s withdrawing. Again.
No! I must know ... I must touch him again.
“Aiden,” I shout at his back.
He turns his head to look at me.
My eyes plead with his. I mentally think, “Come back. Don’t leave me here alone. Help me sort this out. I’m scared.” I add, “Please.”
I have no idea if I can project thoughts to him or if he can even hear me. He turns away but doesn’t advance any farther.
“Aiden. Can you hear me? If you can, I beg you to say something. Anything.”
“Yes.”
His response is so quiet I almost miss it. I would have if there were any other sounds in the room besides our breathing. He fists his hands at his sides and spins back toward me. His eyes are lowered to the floor when he approaches. He stands close to me, too close. His body heat warms me. I reach my hand to touch him. He towers over me, forcing me to look up at him; he stares at my extended hand. He places his hand into mine. The same jolt rocks our bodies and leaves me panting.
He flashes out of the room.
“Aiden ... do you know what it means?” I yell.
“Yes,” he mentally responds.
Great. We can mentally speak to each other, and now I am certain that we are soul mates. Shay and I had the same shock thing happen to us when we touch, and Kieran said it’s a sign of being soul mates.
How in the world could Aiden be my soul mate if I am an angel of Heaven, and he’s a something of Hell? My hands shake at the thought. Maybe because I am a Seraph, the mind speaking was part my abilities, and I could mentally speak to everyone? Maybe it isn’t something only between Aiden and me. I’ve never tried speaking to my best friend with only my mind.
I wonder what other abilities I will have. I already figured out I have enhanced vision. My body doesn’t feel any different than before, but there is no way to test any other theories, being locked in this room.
A bazillion questions flitter around in my mind.
But at least now I have a window.
Happy birthday, Zoe.