Praefatio: A Novel (36 page)

“Don’t you mean
Emeria
?” I spat through clenched teeth.

“No, I mean
Jenny.
” Remi’s correction felt like a slap to my face. I’d broken my own rule. “And so do you.” Remi put his arm around me. The smell of metal moved into my nose as if it belonged there.

I shoved him off. “What about Gavin? I can’t just leave him to rot in jail for lies!” I shouted.

“Gavin’s a big boy; he can take care of himself,” Emeria said from over Remi’s shoulder. I wanted to punch her in the face. I should have. I was already at the police station.

“How do you know? Have you been to see him?” I accused her.

“Why would I visit the creep who attacked my sister?” Remi couldn’t be serious. Though, he certainly looked and sounded serious. “And you’re right. They are listening, but they can’t hear angels speak. Unless we want them to, remember? And you, my dear sister, aren’t strong enough now to do anything other than what I tell you.”

“Why are you doing this?” I never imagined he would turn on me. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I’d unleashed two crazy Fallen on an unsuspecting and undeserving world, my brother and my sister.

“Remi’s trying to save you,” Emeria barked, stepping beside Remi and placing her hand on his shoulder. He reached up to take her hand in his. “And, Grace”—Emeria leaned toward me trying her best to mimic Jenny’s voice—“please stop telling people that Remi got me pregnant and that I died, for heaven’s sake. It’s no wonder everyone thinks you’re crazy.” She chuckled before grabbing Remi into a vile and sick kiss.

That was all it took. I ran to the door and bolted from the room. My eyes filled with more tears as I ran, near-blind, trying to find a bathroom before losing it in the hallway. They made no attempt to whisper. I could hear them all around me as I ran past Peak’s finest and other assorted guests of the police station.

“She really
is
crazy.”

“Look at Angel Girl fly!”

“ … like Gavin Vault would want that … ”

“Ugh … gross.”

“Some Angel.”

“Looks like she’s gonna hurl!”

I found the bathroom just in time, pushed the door open, and locked it behind me. I tried to drown out the sound of banging coming from the other side of the door. Three deep breaths steadied me briefly. The more I thought about everything that had happened and how things ultimately turned out, the sicker I felt. I slid down the door onto my butt in a sobbing ball of mess.
Gross public bathroom
. At least it was empty.

Remi was right; there was nothing I could do, at least not from in here. Emeria was even more right: no one was going to believe me. By broadcasting our existence to the world, I had sealed my own fate. I’d broken the cardinal rule of angels: Never reveal oneself to humans without divine cause. My reason? A futile attempt to defend my boyfriend.

Tyler and Emeria had planned their revenge perfectly. I’d played right into their hands. All I had to do was open my big, stupid mouth. They knew I’d try to save Gavin, and that everyone would think I was crazy in the process. Remi and Jenny? Just icing on the cake.

The crushing reality of what I had done, my actions, self-righteous behavior and judgments made since ascending to the greatest responsibility I had ever known, came crashing down on me like a tower imploding.

Two of the consequences of my actions had just shown up, sending me running from the room to lock myself in a public bathroom. Clearly I was not prepared.

The aching moved from my head to my heart, and then to my bones. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to be. Being Grace Ann Miller hurt.

They kept banging and asking if I was all right, and when my sobs became louder, they threatened to kick in the door.

Tears mixed with snot ran from my face, down my neck, and onto my on-loan sweater. I rocked back and forth in a ball on the floor, recalling the events that had led me here. I pulled my hands over my head to drown out the noise from the other side of the door.

Overcome, I succumbed to the weight of the truth, and then as if pushed, fell over onto the floor. My face slammed into the hard tile. The coolness against my skin reminded me of my humanity more than the pain of my cheekbone breaking. As I lay there, the smell of urine, feces, and other disgusting things permeated my nostrils.

Totalflippingblackness.

I think I was floating above the floor, looking down at my own body. Panic engulfed me at the sight of blood pooling around my face before I assessed it as just a broken nose and cheekbone. Dreams, visions, or hallucination flooded my brain. Looking down at myself, I could see the images floating around in my head on the floor. People running, dead people—tons of them lined up in ornate caskets in the street, thousands of emaciated angry protesters, screaming, crying for food.

Then the images changed. Remi, filled with rage and charging toward something unseen. Nico, lost in the middle of the ocean. More screaming. Long lines of people. Children. Sign reading
Food Ration Line
. So hot. The room was so hot, there were heat waves coming off the floor. Sweat dripped from my body onto the floor, mixing with the blood. Hurricane damage for miles. Dead farm animals, trucks atop houses that had been destroyed, Cerin talking to Lex, only she looked nothing like Cerin. In a courtroom, the bailiff hands the judge a note. I can read what it says.
The jury has reached a verdict
.

“You’ve come back.” I uttered the words in disbelief at the same time that the door to the bathroom swung violently open. It hit me in the back with force. Blood came shooting out of my nose. I landed back in my body, which was still in a heap on the floor.

“Come on, sweetie, you’ll be able to rest soon,” was all I heard as The Voice picked me up off the floor, then led me to the sink. Blood poured down the front of the sweater, and I did nothing to try to stop it. The kind woman washed the blood off my face, touched her gentle hand to my nose, then to my cheek, instantly resetting them, then led me by the arm out of the station into a car waiting at the curb.

She opened the door for me and said, “I brought you something.”

I took the book from her hand and may have mumbled “thanks” before getting into the car.

“I hope you like it.” She started the engine, took the wheel, and drove off. There was a song in her voice.

I inspected the book, a paperback like the kind you find at the grocery store. I put it on the seat beside me.

I had no idea how long the ride would be, or where we were going, so I picked up the book and began to read.

Grace the Archangel, born of human, Seraph, and Archangel, was fashioned by The Divine One, for His own purpose. Bonded to human form yet immortal, the Angel is highly favored and destined for greatness. She will encounter many obstacles as her nature is tested.

A multi-purpose High Angel of light, she is a warrior, capable of great destruction. The most unique of all Angels ever to exist, she will find favor with man and bring peace to celestial nations.

“
Gaining in power, knowledge, and ability over time, Grace’s unique talents and untold power will be hampered only by her humanity, unless or until she can find a way to overcome and distance herself from that which would fetter her success. In these pages are the stories of High Archangel Grace Ann Miller (as will be her human name), written by the hand of her own thoughts, heart and actions, and blessed by the Almighty, himself.
”

***

I must have fallen asleep, because I hadn’t heard the car stop or the door open. The paperback lay next to me as if I hadn’t read it at all.

The woman stood there, waiting with a smile on her face, holding the door for me for whenever I decided to actually exit. I thought of Cerin.

Once inside, I was brought to intake, then shown to my room. The woman who’d rescued me didn’t say goodbye. Only pushed the paperback under my jacket, smiled, and drove off in her car.

***

The days blended together, and the nights were even worse. Sleep evaded me, despite the Ambien prescribed.

My highlight of the day was Group. We had to sit in a circle and talk about what brought us to the facility and what we hoped to get out of being there. Seven of us, aged twelve through sixteen, brought together by insanity.

Mr. Rocket (totally flipping serious), my Group counselor, suggested that perhaps I had some deep-seated trauma that caused me to make up such a, and I quote, “vividly imaginative story of great shock value.” Further, he found (his official finding) that my use of familiar people and family members in my “rather self-indulgent and somewhat egotistical fantasy” made it likely that my “complete break from reality” was not as bad as it could be. He added that it was “likely that with time and treatment, she could make a full recovery. It’s also possible that we could lose her to this imaginative and dangerous world altogether. I believe the choice is hers.” He actually
said
that when the hospital director asked him what he thought of my chances. Oddly, he also said, “There’s a strange light that shines from that one. She’s a unique individual.” I think he had meant to whisper the last bit, but I’d heard it as clearly as if he had said it over a loudspeaker.

***

Weeks passed, and I was unable to communicate with my angel friends or enemies. I’d not been attacked, and even Remi and Emeria in Jenny’s body had obviously given up on me. No one came to visit. I’d begun to think as Mr. Rocket and my other Group mates thought. Perhaps I’d made the whole thing up.

TV and radio were off limits, as was the newspaper. There were constant updates on the charges against Gavin, and they thought my seeing him or hearing his name would send me over the edge. At least that’s how Wanda put it. She was the only one I spoke to. Her penchant for “keeping it real” was refreshing. She also happened to believe that she was a descendent of the ruler of the planet Mercury, cast down to Earth for forming an army to defeat her uncle, the king. Who the heck was I to judge her?

I couldn’t even go outside since the facility was across the street from the yard where the guys in lockup spent a few hours each day. It truly sucked being me.

“You know why they don’t let you out, right?” Wanda passed me a french fry and smiled. I didn’t even have to answer, ’cause I knew she couldn’t wait to tell me. Her left dimple was twitching.

“Why is that?” I grabbed the fry, drowned it in ketchup, and popped it into my mouth.

Wanda glanced quickly over my shoulder, leaned in toward me, and whispered, “’Cause Gavin Vault is over there. You might see him and fling yourself at the gates!” She wailed.

I couldn’t believe she was actually laughing at me.

“I’m not laughing at you,” Wanda said.

Wait. Had she heard my thoughts?

“How did you do that?” I leaned forward so only she could hear me. There were a ton of little gossipers who ate lunch all around us. Well, they pretended to eat while they listened in on conversations. They took note of whatever they could use against someone.

“Do what?” Wanda appeared thoroughly perplexed.

“Read my thoughts!”

But then Wanda looked at me like I had suddenly turned into a mermaid and was flapping my gills and swinging my tail due to the lack of water.

Crap. She hadn’t heard me at all. She just knew me very well. Or I was predictable. Either way, I got all worked up for nothing.

“Gavin’s in that jail? Across the street?”

“Yep, and for some reason, according to Channel Six, they can’t move him. He must stay there until his second trial.”

I think my eyes must have bulged out of my head. “His what?”

“His second trial, silly. You act like you’re the one from Mercury. I’m just now learning about your judicial system.”

I grabbed Wanda’s arms and, against my better judgment, held her and said, “Wanda. Tell me what’s going on. Why is Gavin across the street from here?”

She took one of my hands and shoved it off her, rolled her eyes, made a stink face, then flung the other one off.

“Calm down. No wonder they have you on all those pills!”

“Will you just tell me already? Sorry for grabbing you. I’ll get you anything you want. Just tell me.”

A relaxed smiled presented itself on Wanda’s face, and she said, “His first trial? There was a miscarriage. So they’re doing it again.”

“Miscarriage?”

“Yeah. Some buffoon was on the news talking about how it was a miscarriage of justice and what not. He has to be tried all over again.”

She meant a mistrial, but I didn’t correct her. I thanked her, ate the rest of my food, then walked briskly to my room.

I knew it. I flipping knew it. I searched my room for the copy of
Praefatio
I’d hidden, but after three hours found nothing.
Ugh
.

***

I spent the next few weeks listening to Wanda report the news of Gavin’s impending trial. One night she teased me about some big news she’d gotten ahold of, but the details, being sketchy, would have to wait until the next day, when she would know more. She said I’d be excited.

I entered the lunchroom to the usual stares and giggles. The air felt thicker than usual, almost electric. Wanda wasn’t in our usual spot. A few of the orderlies watched me as I placed my tray on the table and sat slowly down. I tried to shake the feeling of dread I had growing inside me.

“Hey, Angel!” Bryce Stanton was in for setting his brother’s hamsters on fire. He actually bragged about how he got his brother out of bed in the middle of the night and brought him down to the kitchen table, where he had laid out an elaborate dinner table with their parents’ expensive china and dead, burned hamsters on plates.

“What do you want, BS?” I was proud of that one. A few kids chuckled.

“Seems your girl got released. Now who ya gonna talk to?”

“What? Wanda got released? When?”

“Her old man came to get her this morning. Early, but … you were probably praying then!” Bryce and his cronies all laughed their evil laughs in my direction.

Wanda hated her dad. After all, she’d tried to kill him. I think he’d done bad things to her. She never really wanted to talk about it.