Praefatio: A Novel (9 page)

Inhaling deeply was a mistake. Andrew got the brushless car wash, no scratches. He’d gotten it cleaned that afternoon. The vanilla air freshener clashed with Jenny’s loud perfume. I figured they would need to open the windows pretty soon.

As they passed, Remi looked directly into my eyes and thought,
See you after the show.

Dumbstruck, I couldn’t speak. I could hear Remi again! Well, I couldn’t anymore. I think he allowed me to hear him just then and immediately shut me out.
Jerk!

A slight ache returned to my sides along with lightheadedness. I felt an overwhelming urge to nap. Sudden warmth enveloped me, and I began to sweat. Lifting my legs up the front steps seemed like a near-impossible feat. My heart beat as if it wanted freedom from my chest.

Since flying to my room wasn’t an option, I forced myself up. Exhaustion threatened to send me tumbling back down the four steps I had managed to ascend. To keep from falling backward, I grabbed the railing.
For crying out loud, I wish I could just be in my room already!
I inhaled deeply, and when I opened my eyes, I was in my bedroom.

This is All Your Fault

My room looked the same as when I’d left it: bed unmade and Mr. Fluffy Rabbit on the floor, face up, observing the world through his good eye. In my room, a sense of sadness, as if everything that had happened in this house was meaningless, threatened to overwhelm me. That Mom and Dad and maybe even Remi had been playing me with their words, actions, and innuendos. They knew what I was, what we all were, and yet they fed me what they wanted me to know. My emotions, my fears, my pain, all of it, useless in the context of what I’d learned from my Mom. My Mom. Vivienne. I thought about my dad and things he’d said to me.

“Gracie, your Mom means well. She really does. I know it’s hard to understand right now, but she’s doing what she thinks is best for you, for all of us. She really loves you in her own way,” he offered kindly. Mom had just left us for the second time, making it clear she would not be coming back for a long time, if ever. But she had left us a most precious gift. Remi.

Mom kissed my cheek and hugged me half-heartedly. “Grace, you know my job requires me to travel, to be away from home a lot. You have to be a big girl and take care of Daddy and Remiel.” With a pat on Remi’s head, and a quick peck on Dad’s cheek, she was gone.

“OK, you two, time for dinner,” Dad announced the moment the door was shut. “What would you like to eat, Princess?” Dad bowed in front of me.

I fought a smile and replied, “Cereal, Oh servant of Grace-land.” For some reason, Dad always laughed when I said that.

“And you, Prince Remiel?”

Remi looked up and said, “
Seeahweel
.”

“OK.
Seeahweel
it is. If you please, my Lord and Lady, we shall dine in the kitchen this evening. After you.” Dad motioned for us to leave the living room and patted us both on the butt as we ran into the kitchen, giggling like, well, a five- and a three-year-old.

Unable to get me to eat the cereal I’d requested, Dad offered me one food after another. Chicken nuggets, chicken fingers, chicken dinosaurs, chicken butts. No go. “Come on, Grace. And not even a smile for chicken butts?” I pushed whatever he offered away. Usually I’d burst in a fit of belly laughs at the mention of the words “butt,” “fart,” “boobs,” or “poop.” But this time, I held my ground. Remi took his cues from me. Smart kid. “You’ll be sick if you don’t eat, Gracie. Watch me, then copy what I do.” Dad had a chuckle in his throat.

I sat defiantly at our kitchen table, drawing circles on the day’s newspaper, alternating between large and small ones.

“I’m a silly monkey,” Dad started as he raised his arms in the air one at a time, fell over in a slump, then sprang up into the air. “Ooohhh ooohhh aaahhh aaahhh.” He landed on his left foot, shifted weight to his right foot, paused, then started his routine over, only slightly faster and way sillier.

Remi stared from his highchair in disbelief, his deep blue eyes wide with delight. After taking in Dad’s second act, Remi broke into applause and, to my surprise, copied his movements exactly—well, except the jumping in the air part.

I perked up and started eating. When I looked at the paper, I realized I had been drawing letters, not circles. “
G, v, n
.”

***

I sat up in bed, startled by the thought that I would miss the concert. I frantically searched for my ticket and something to wear. Despite turning my room upside down, I couldn’t find my concert ticket. In the back of my closet, I found my favorite Skelanimals hoodie with the hearts on the sleeve. I’d lost it about three weeks ago. It was hanging in the closet above the book Remi had given me right before we made a run for it. I had no idea how it got there.

The black, leather-bound book showed signs of age and handling, but instead of looking haggard, it had kind of an old-world charm. I ran my hand across the cover and was astonished when a word appeared to write itself into the material:
Praefatio
.
Latin?

I flipped the book over, then checked the spine. Nothing
.
I slid down the closet door, crossed my legs, and opened the book, but the pages were blank.

Wiping my hand across the first page, as I had the cover, I braced myself for words to appear. Nothing. I hugged the book to my chest, but really, I wanted to fling it across the room. What good was being an angel if you couldn’t make words appear on a page? I remembered seeing Nurse Cipher with a similar book. She’d barely made any effort at all. Pulling my legs up into my chest, I wrapped my arms around them and put my head to rest on my knees. In that one motion, my back felt as if someone poured molten metal on it.

Tightness was like a band around my back and ribs. The feeling of bones being pushed through one muscle after the other nearly took my breath away. I held it for fear of letting it go and never getting it back. Then that feeling was replaced by a tickling sensation.

Bubbling giggles welled inside me. Seconds passed, and the sensation exploded into full-on uncontrollable laughter. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw white feathers outlined in dark red.

I jumped to my feet, and
Praefatio
slid over next to my bed. When I turned to reach for it, the feathers turned with me. I stretched out my arms, half expecting to see wings. Nothing. Disappointed and a little embarrassed, despite the fact I was alone, I crawled over to the side of my bed to retrieve
Praefatio
. This time, I opened it slowly, expecting words to appear with the same confidence I’d seen Nurse Cipher exhibit. Line by line, in perfect script, words formed over the pages.

I read.

The language was beautiful, elegant. One passage in particular caught my eye, erasing all thoughts of Gavin and the concert.

I pulled the covers from me, inadvertently exposing my wife’s bare shoulder. I turned instinctively, touching her lightly with my fingers. The sensation sent a shock through me, like a bolt of electricity, as I moved my hand around the curve of her shoulder to the base of her neck. There was a pulsing there. I leaned forward, taking her in. She was lovely. I had not realized before just how pleasing my wife was to view. Had I been asleep this entire time? It was no wonder humans often stared long after she left their immediate line of sight.

I traced the distance between her shoulder and the length of her neck with my eyes. Purple veins were visible under her skin, the blood moving obediently through them, called to order by her heart. I longed to kiss her. She was my wife, after all. A thirst inside me grew stronger.

Certainly, I had kissed my wife before. Unfortunately, it did not evoke the same emotions in me as it had in her. However, it made her happy, and making my human happy was something I took very seriously. It was impossible for an Angel to take full pleasure in human expression; they were intentionally complex. To have human emotions or desires, one would have to be completely cut off from The Divine One.

And yet I was increasingly overwhelmed with human emotion. Hunger, thirst, and desire engulfed me as I touched my wife’s skin. Running my fingers along the base of her jaw line, the skeletal structure of her face, the tendons, veins, muscles, layers of skin, the life within her called to me. She was so alive, every part of her body growing, replenishing, rushing, and … dying.

All at once, water filled my eyes, trickling down my cheeks like the river in the Garden. I felt a crushing sorrow at the knowledge that my wife, so good, sweet, and innocent, would one day die. Was dying. With all my power, I could not save her from Death. She would never be immortal, no matter how much I wished for her to be. She would die, and I would be alone, forever.

The cruelty enraged me.

Desperate thoughts filled my already overcrowded head. How could I live without her? Why would He take her from me, from this world? She wanted nothing more than to love me, to give me children, and to serve. What had been her crime? To be born human?

I so desperately wanted—needed—to love her, to consume her, to drink and taste her sweetness. I could only think to make her a part of me. I would die from the aching inside, if my immortal soul would have it. The life that moved inside her, the purple blood pulsing through her veins, her essence, would be mine.

I pulled her to me as my craving grew. Awakened by the harshness of my handling, hazel eyes blinked once, then again as she roused from sleep. Smiling in realization that for the first time her husband was desirous of her, she reached for me, caressing my ear, then my cheek. She unleashed a wildness in me I could not contain. My mouth watered and I bit into the soft skin of her.

Warm, thick, red. I was lost in the taste of her blood as I wrapped my hands around her head, letting her hair entangle in my fingers. Inhaling deeply, enjoying the smell of honeysuckle and pear in her tresses and vanilla on her skin, I was at peace.

His voice was soothing. I recognized it immediately. Still drinking, I listened as if sweet music filled the air, further setting the mood for pleasure, fulfillment.

“My son, I have given you all that you have asked of Me. I have allowed you to live among humans, as you have so desperately wished. As you fell prey to their ways, even neglecting me, I still embraced you, welcoming you home. You have instead turned your back on me, on your family who loves you. And so I have cursed you. That which you love will become that which sustains you. You will live for all time, needing to feed off the blood of your beloved humans. They will fear and revile you, and you will spend eternity hunting them. You will find no sanctuary in the Heavens or refuge on Earth. Tyler, my son, this is your eternal punishment. And on your heart will I write this book called
Praefatio
, so they will know how they came to be—the act from which their curse was born. And it shall be as a beacon from you forever, illuminating the path of others that follow. Behold I have given unto you a gift, so you may know that on this day, what was done to you hath been done so in love.”

Such were The Divine One’s words, but I barely heard them, so drunk was I on human life.

It was the screaming that brought me back to her. My wife had been screaming in pain and absolute horror as I bit into her neck and drank the life from her body. But I had not fallen to her influence. Instead, I felt alive, invigorated, and strong. As her screaming ceased, my wife lay limp, having succumbed to my power. I drank more voraciously and continued to caress her hair, her neck, and shoulders. I emptied the blood from her body, and only then was I completely satisfied.

Wishing to thank her for all she had given me, I reached for her. There was only emptiness in her eyes, the kind that Death leaves behind. Aghast, I fell to the floor. I could no longer hear her heart beating or her pulse racing. She was dead.

My hands shook as I closed the book. I threw it down and scrambled away. Fear, anger, and something else gripped me as my heart thudded against my heaving chest, its beating echoing in my ears like hail beating down on a tin roof.

I tried to stand and ended up backing into my dresser, rattling the perfume bottles on top. I grabbed its sides to steady myself and turned toward the mirror. I looked like me, only different. Nothing crazy, just me, only better, like someone had been nice enough to Photoshop me. My skin was smooth, with a light sheen. It was almost glowing.

“I’m still me,” I whispered to the Grace looking back at me. Well, I was me with great hair and skin and invisible to humans.

Despite the small smile that appeared on my face, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen, something way worse than what had already happened—and no amount of smooth, glowy skin and gorgeous hair could stop it.

Now He Tells Me

I sat on the bed clutching my knees to my chest. I felt suddenly out of place in that room—like it belonged to the old, fully-human Grace.

I wanted to lie down and let the weight of what I had read melt away, but even Mr. Fluffy Rabbit was looking at me like I was a freak. It was getting late, and Gavin would be taking the stage soon.

All kinds of things ran through my head. Outfit combinations, what-if scenarios, how low is too low, how high is considered slutty, and everything in between. I’ve always loved leather pants, but never had the guts or the butt to wear them. Then I started thinking about guts, and innards, and body parts, and whether it was true that angels didn’t have navels. ’Cause I was pretty sure Remi had a navel. And Dad. Then my thoughts wandered to Gavin’s navel and to beneath Gavin’s navel, and then I forgot what the heck I was doing. Oh. What would become of my navel had become really important to me. I wanted to keep mine. Stupid? Perhaps.