Forbidden Fruit (24 page)

“
Great!” I yelled, becoming more frustrated by the minute. I picked up the little spike and threw it in the gutter, becoming increasingly more and more pissed off at the world.

As I attempted to master the awkwardness of walking on one stiletto and one flat, I heard shuffling noises behind me. I peeked over my shoulder, ready to tell off any potential robber. The scowl on my face turned to shock, and then quickly to panic.

Breath, just breath
, I coached myself. There were two hooded figures walking toward me. They could just be two normal people dressed in costumes. It was Halloween after all. But something was off about them. Their gait was extremely exaggerated, like they were used to walking on all fours. One pointed a finger at me. The loose sleeve slid back from the its long arm, revealing a horribly large and hooked claw.

Panic
, I told myself.

The moment I gasped, they picked up speed, making a beeline toward me.

I took off running in the opposite direction. Only five steps into my sprint, I fell on the sidewalk, as my heeled shoe flew off. I ignored the burning pain of my scraped knees and hands on the rough cement and kicked off my other shoe. I jumped back up and ran, on numb legs.

I could hear the breathing and grunting of the monsters behind me. My heart raced with fear as my legs moved faster than I expected, given my state of intoxication. I could feel the air cooling the sweat on my skin as I tore down the next two blocks. I was no longer sure where I was going, all I knew was that I was getting as far away from the monsters as I could.

I passed by several old buildings and houses. Eerily, no one was outside. Just a minute ago, the streets were teaming with partygoers decked out in Halloween gear, and now there was no one in sight. What the hell?

This isn’t happening
, I told myself.

I rounded the corner and then darted around another quickly. I could no longer hear the pounding of hooves, so I chanced a glance behind me.

Nothing was there.

I stopped running and bent over to catch my breath. Did I really lose them? Was I really that fast?

It took me several minutes to quiet my breathing. Then I began to walk down the sidewalk. Every footstep was placed with care, trying to eliminate as much noise as possible. They could still be near.

I passed another block without any sighting of them, so I kept going. I had a vague idea of where I was and knew what general direction I needed to go to get home. I trotted across the street, wincing as my bare feet hit every possible rock, and headed in the direction of the battery.

Just as I stepped onto the other sidewalk, I heard growling from the shadows of the alley in front of me. I screamed and jumped backward, falling down for the second time and cursing the alcohol that left me handicapped.

As I struggled to my feet, I felt a searing pain trace my arm as a long, yellowed claw sliced a path down the side.

I ran without thought of the pain. I couldn’t. I was going to die if I didn’t get away from the monsters.

I heard my outfit rip on the side as I tore away from a slender, cold hand. Unfortunately, I ran the opposite direction I needed to go, trying to get away from the creatures.

Two more city blocks and still absolutely no one outside, but I finally realized where I was. It was the old circular church, where Michael and I sought refugee from the rain.

I tore through the gate and bounded up the stairs to the church. I had no idea what the creatures were that were hunting me, but I decided the safest place from hissing, claw-clad monsters, was in a church. I jerked on the old metal door handles to no avail. It was locked.
Shit
.

Out of options and without another thought, I ran to the back of the church, seeking somewhere to hide. I couldn’t run much longer. My legs and lungs were on fire, and I was on the verge of a panic attack.

To my extreme disappointment, I found an eerie old cemetery in the back, surrounded by a tall wrought iron fence.

No way out. Just my luck. I had cornered myself like a rat in a cage.

I heard the monsters growl, rounding the corner of the church. I instinctively ran to the back of the small graveyard and dove behind a large tombstone. I curled up on my hands and knees, closed my eyes, and focused on quieting my breathing. It sounded so loud in my ears. I knew I was going to give myself away.

This isn’t real, you are going to wake up any minute
. I only ever dreamed of those monsters, so I had to be dreaming, right?

I listened to them grunting and sleuthing around graves, tussling the fallen leaves. A cold sweat glistened on my forehead, and I felt dizzy, nausea swelling in my mouth. The rustling leaf sound inched closer until it was on the other side of my headstone. I held my breath.

I was about to die.

The monster was so close, I could smell the putrid, decaying flesh breath wafting over the stone barrier. I inched my way backward, thinking I could round the corner just as he rounded the opposite. I saw it in movies, though it seemed much less likely to work in real life.

A leaf crunched as I moved, and my body stopped, paralyzed with fear. The monster immediately rounded the grave and met me face to face, blowing my hair back with its rancid breath. I couldn’t actually see its face for the hood, but I could imagine what kind of face went with yellow-brown, six inch claws like that.

I made one last ditch effort of escape and tried to run. Two hands grabbed me, claws sinking into my forearms. I screamed and kicked, tried to do anything possible to get away. It was no use.

I was tossed like a rag doll into a small clearing between graves. Before I could get my bearings, I felt another slice, this one across my back. The searing pain seeped more than skin deep. Their claws had to exude some sort of poison because my back was suddenly on fire, along with my arms.

They took turns slapping at me, leaving deep cuts everywhere they touched. I was bouncing around between them on the ground like a mouse being toyed with by two cats.

They were shredding my skin. My back, legs, arms, face, everywhere they could claw, they did. The essence of iron filled the air as I registered how much blood I was losing. The burn and sting of their torturous slices had me begging for death. What was taking so long?
Just let it be over, please
.

Then I started to feel my body give up. This must be how it feels right before you die, I thought. This is why wild animals go limp when they are being killed. There was nothing I could do and my body was giving up the fight.

Slice after slice kept coming until I began to see black spots. The pain of the gashes lessened as my body went into shock.
Just let go
, I willed myself. I wanted the painless darkness that threatened to take me away-far away from these monsters.

Then death came for me. The powerful, dark figure closed in on me, midnight fabric billowing in the absence of wind. This is it, I thought; it’s finally over.

I lay on my back, in a pool of blood, and watched the grim reaper near.

Death reached out its robed hands, grasped one of the monsters by the throat, and thrust him across the graveyard. He turned to the other who was still carving my skin, and jerked him in the air by the throat. There was a gargling sound and then a wet, ripping noise. The head of the monster was ripped completely off its body. I watched the now uncloaked head roll across the graveyard. It was the half-rat, half-dog creature from my dreams.

Then death turned to me. My vision was fading fast as my blood continued to seep from every part of my body, soaking into the ground around me. I willed the darkness to come, not wanting to feel what Death had in store for me.

It bent to the ground, scooped my limb body in the air, and squeezed me to its chest. In my last breath, I inhaled the most delicious, exotically spicy scent in the world. The one I could never forget.

It was the smell of Michael.

Then I let go.

The glow of candle light around a four-poster bed slowly came into focus. A large figure crossed my line of vision. Then there was a dent on the bed beside me, and a warm hand touched my stomach.

I was in bed?

The scent of flowers and spices filled my nostrils. I felt numb all over.

Was I dead? Was this heaven?

I struggled to pull my head up and glanced at my arm. Faint pink slashes covered most of what I could see. The rest of my body was tucked into a large, paisley print blanket. I know that blanket.

How did I get home?

A hand pushed my shoulder back carefully. “You’re safe,” said a strong, deep voice. It tickled my memory. I knew him. I loved him. Did he come back? My heart leapt into my throat.

I heard his deep voice muttering something in a foreign language. It sounded ancient, beautiful, nothing like today’s languages. Then the blackness returned. I wanted to fight it, but I was so weak. It rolled over me in a wave of heavy silence.

Then I dreamed.

Random images flooded my mind, all causing a confusing stir of emotions. I didn’t know whether to cry, scream, or laugh. There was Michael the first time I saw him, walking powerfully and sure through the courtyard at Legare Prep. Then I saw the beautiful sapphire necklace against my pillow. That image faded into the majestically tragic garden. It was filled with so much sorrow that I cried. Next, I saw the cloaked figure on the battery and then again from my window.

Then there were the monsters, tearing the flesh from my bones and death closing in on me. I cried out for help.

My heart was racing and my breath was rapid as I sat up in bed. I looked around for a minute, trying to piece together what was happening. Then I felt arms wrap around me from behind. I jerked.

“
It’s okay, you’re safe,” Michael whispered.

I turned and stared at him, unsure for a moment. Was he really there, or was I still dreaming? I reached out and touched his face. He squeezed his eyes closed. I traced the prominent lines of his cheekbones and jaw as I pieced together my thoughts.

“
What happened?” I asked, though it was the wrong question. I was able to get the what (I was attacked), it was the why that I didn’t understand.

He opened his eyes. They were hard, worried, and tired. “You were attacked last night.”

I replayed the grizzly scene in my head, recalling the sharp yellow claws and heads being ripped off.

I shivered.

Then I stared at my arms and noticed there was no evidence of shredded skin whatsoever. Not even faint pink lines like before. Twisting my arms before me in awe, I asked, “Did you do this? Did you heal my wounds?”

“
Yes,” he allowed.

I fell quiet again. He knew things, created something from nothing, was super strong, traveled at the speed of thought, and healed fatal wounds.

“
What are you?”

He stared at me for a long time without saying a word. I knew he was contemplating telling me the truth.

“
I know you aren’t human.” I admitted aloud what I couldn’t admit to myself before. I checked his reaction. Yep, definitely right. Nothing human could manhandle those monsters and live to tell the tale.

His face drooped with sadness and he cupped my neck. “I am so sorry. I never meant to bring you into any of this.”

“
What is
this
?”

He sighed.

I waited for an explanation. Nothing came. Getting information from him was like pulling teeth. “What were those things in the graveyard?”

“
Demons.” The word hit me like a sledge hammer. I let it sink in for a minute. “So, if they’re demons, then you must be…” I would make him say it. It seemed so ridiculous. I couldn’t ask for fear of being humiliated.

He rolled his eyes, as if saying the word was a chore, “I’m an angel.” There was a slight blush on his cheeks. I had a feeling few had ever seen Michael blush.

He was an angel. I was waiting for him to say he was some sort of dark creature of the night. Angel was the last identity I would have pinned on him. But it made sense, though he wasn’t at all what I would have pictured an angel looked like. In fact, he had a very dark allure about him. My mind drifted back to our day at the Gibb’s museum when we saw the painting of Micahel...

“
Michael,” I said in disbelief. “As in
the
Michael.”

He nodded.

“
The Michael I made fun of at the museum?” I was the one blushing now.

“
I told you the painting wasn’t accurate,” was his only reply.

“
Wow,” I mulled that over for a minute. I was in love with Michael, an archangel of heaven, whatever that meant. I made a mental note to research angels, particularly this one. Not in the stalker sort of way, but I needed more answers than he would ever give.

“
What are you doing here?”

“
Lily,” he said in that tone typically reserved for toddlers who are too naïve to understand what they are about to be told. “Those weren’t just any demons. They were a particular class that doesn’t normally meddle in humans affairs.”