Michael (The Airel Saga, Book 2) - By Aaron Patterson Page 0,1
cleansed from the earth. She was a job like so many others. But Airel somehow got in, snuck past all his defenses and took hold of his heart. He had never known love, never really cared about it. She broke the rules as if they’d never even existed.
Then he had run back to her room, hoping what he had dared to do would work, that the pen on the page would be powerful, that she would indeed live. But all he could do upon entering was stare at her lifeless body.
Airel. Her corpse was pallid and blue. It broke him afresh; tears stung his eyes. He could not help but mutter a curse against himself. He ran a nervous hand through his hair, grasping at it, wanting to tear it out.
After all I’ve done!
He thought of his wicked father, Stanley Alexander. The lies. Who can honor something like that? Yet he tried.
He had allowed James…he turned his head and let his body crumple down and down, withering. I can’t think about James and what he did.
But he continued to list off his many sins.
He had been all-in for the excitement of finding one of the immortals, the Nephilim descendants. Using his training, tracking her, finding her, observing her, standing right in front of his prey while she was totally oblivious, allowing her to take the bait, and then to spite her and all she stood for— the immortals, creation, El—he had delivered her up to the destroyer.
The Seer.
Tengu. And Tengu’s host, Stanley Alexander.
All that remained from it was total and empty desolation.
Michael stood up and violently stalked around the room, shouting, screaming at God, at El, at the whole world. He could take them on, right here, right now. His rage was a tower of all-consuming fire.
But it cooled quickly in a dousing sea of desperation. Most of his rage was directed inwardly.
At himself.
That rage quickly changed to passionate sobs of grief. He found himself on his knees at her bedside, smothering his face in her wet hair and whispering again, again and again, “I’m so sorry, so sorry.”
Michael’s heart shattered. His world was a ruin. He had become what he had only just learned to hate, and a moment too late: evil.
CHAPTER II
I WAS UNDERWATER AGAIN. Dragged kicking and screaming. Soaked. Stuck deep. Everything hurt. My heart was frantic in my chest like it was lapping my ribcage and going for a new track record. My limbs were numb and cold. My hair tangled around my face. I couldn’t breathe.
And then it happened: it was like getting my back popped at the chiropractor; everything felt electric, like somebody flicked a switch. I burst to the surface, my arms and legs flailing in one spastic twitch, my fingers and toes tingling with nervous energy, my lungs gasping, grabbing for air by the shovelful.
My muscles contracted and I shot up to a sitting position, eyes wide and blinking, spending my first precious breath on a bloodcurdling shriek that could wake the dead—me. I could feel the memory of the speedy place, wherever I had been, being vigorously wiped away like a picture on a whiteboard. It quickly became blank like a vanishing dream.
Panic set in. Where is he?
There he was, kneeling. Well, more like he had been knocked over onto his butt from a kneeling position. He looked so shocked.
“Michael!”
He jumped up to his feet, confusion and disbelief flashing across his face. Then he collapsed to his knees again sobbing uncontrollably, his arms around my waist, his head in my lap. All I could hear were little snippets through his tears.
“I’m so sorry! Please forgive me!”
My own eyes dampened in response to him. For a long time all I could do was pet his shoulder and run my fingers through his hair.
Was this all just a dream?
Then She came to the forefront of my mind, loud and clear, with an emphatic “No.” And I understood. “Oh. Oh, my God.”
Michael was starting to regain his composure. His body was racking itself with those little jerky ticks that come after a massive sobbing fit. He rocked back on his knees, his eyes puffy and bloodshot, and looked at me. He should have looked like a train wreck. But he was a gorgeous sight to me, and I felt that resound deep within. Deep within both of us. “Hey, mister.”
He whispered my name. “Airel.”
We sat still as statues for a long moment, just staring at each other.