Fallen Angel Reclaimed: The Complete Series by Lacey Carter Andersen

7

Surcy lether mind drift as she rode through the city in the back seat with the three men who had found her. After the one in the backseat introduced himself and told her her name, none of them spoke, and that was fine with her.

What was there to say? That all she had left to remind her that she was an angel was a black feather and painful scars on her back?

Shuddering, she squeezed her eyes shut for a long minute. She couldn’t think of that now. If she did, she might fall apart again.

Focus on the present.

She still didn't know if the strange men could be trusted, but something deep inside told her she was safe. There was just something… kind about them. She even drew unexpected comfort from being held in the strong arms of the man named Mark.

They continued driving in silence as they left the woods behind and entered a bright city. She stared out the window without seeing, until they drove through a tiny gate into a lush landscape of plants and trees. There was a kind of quiet splendor to the wildness of the plants and trees that made her feel as if they had entered a sanctuary. What a strange place.

She sat up slightly as a beautiful home rose up in the midst of the stunning garden. The home was larger than she expected in the city, like a charming brick manor untouched by time.

One of the men turned off the engine, and they all stared at the dark manor. There was something in the air that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but the man holding her looked strangely relieved.

“We’re home,” Mark whispered, opening the door and carrying her out into the chilly night.

He carried her through a simplistically decorated home with high ceilings, brick walls, and modern furniture. It was a strange combination, like two worlds coming together, but she liked it. Glancing at Mark, she could somehow picture the man in this house, feeling perfectly comfortable.

When he took her down a hall and came to the end of it, he froze before a wooden door.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, looking at his pained expression.

Her words seemed to wake him, and he reached for the handle. “Nothing. I just haven’t been in here for a long time.”

She wanted to ask him more. But the questions wouldn’t leave her tired lips.

He took her into the room and put her gently on a bed with a white comforter. White curtains hung from its four posters, creating a simple beauty she might have enjoyed at any other time. It’s how I’d decorate my own room. She stared out the large balcony windows, her thoughts wandering.

She heard Mark draw a bath for her.

“Do you… need help?” He gestured from her to the bath.

“No,” she whispered, then laid her feather gently down on the white comforter.

He nodded, went to some drawers, and laid clothes out on her bed, cautious of her feather. “If you need anything, I’m just a call away.”

If her heart hadn’t felt so broken, she might have smiled. Instead, she stared at him until he left.

She went to the bathroom and stared at her reflection in the mirror. The woman looking back at her looked sickly thin and sad. Sweeping her dark hair off her shoulder, she turned and looked at the ugly, red scars on her back, and her skin stained with blood.

A sob exploded from her lips. She pressed her knuckles to her mouth, but the sobs wracked her body.

How—why?She cried harder.

Collapsing onto her knees, she willed herself to stop crying. But it didn’t work. The tears came. No matter how much she begged them to stop. Running in angry streams down her face. Shaking her entire frame.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed before she finally gained some control. Rubbing at her face, she grabbed the side of the large bathtub and pulled herself up, and then into it.

As she sat in the bath, it was a long time before she could scrub herself clean. And even then, she did it mechanically. Thoughtlessly.

She felt so empty. So broken.

But when this bath is over, I need to have put my sadness behind me. If I let it, it’ll consume me. And then I’ll never find out how I lost my wings, or how to get them back.

Yet, she gave herself a few more minutes to mourn her soul-shattering loss. A few precious moments to bandage herself back together.

At last, she found the strength of will to climb out of the bath and dry herself. She dressed slowly, finding that the clothing fit her almost perfectly, which seemed odd. She saw that food waited on a tray near her bed, but she didn’t touch it, as hungry as she was. Instead, she picked up her feather, stroking its softness with her fingertip.

What now?

She stood in the center of the room staring without seeing.

I need something to help me pull myself out of this grief.

Moving to the balcony, her gaze was drawn to the lush gardens of the estate and beyond them to the lights of the city. What will I find out there? She clung to her black feather as if it could somehow protect her from the unknown world.

“Are you feeling better?”

The deep voice startled her and she spun, gripping her feather protectively.

Mark studied her from the doorway with a small smile.

His smile meant everything. It drew her from her sadness, awakening a warmth inside her that was surprising. She clung to the feeling, like a torch in the darkness.

The stranger was handsome, but when he smiled, he was breathtaking. The kind of man women would throw themselves at. A man like him must have a wife, or a girlfriend. She was surprised by the rush of jealousy the thought brought. He didn’t belong to her.

So why do I feel like he should?

Hesitantly, she returned his smile, taking the time to really look at him. His hair was light brown and messy, like he had just run his fingers through it. His rimless glasses didn't hide his eyes, a pure blue, like the clearest waters imaginable. And he had the strong build of a man who worked often and hard with his hands.

“Surcy?” Concern caused little wrinkles to gather at the corners of his eyes. “Are you feeling better?

Stop staring and answer him.

“Much better,” she answered.

“I’ve built a fire in the living room, if you’d like to join us." Even though she was wearing sweatpants, a shirt, and a sweater, she was still cold. The hot bath chased away the worst of it, but curling up before the fire sounded perfect.

“That would be great.” But before she went, she tucked the black feather beneath her pillow. Just in case.

He led her through the hall, but she stopped dead when she spotted the photos on the wall for the first time. The wall held framed pictures of her and the three men who had rescued her. Sometimes she was kissing them—each of them—and sometimes they were holding her. No matter the context, in all of the pictures they were laughing. The pictures made it seem that the four of them were together... romantically.

“Surcy—“ he turned and stopped silent.

“What, what is this? We’re together?” she asked, her head spinning.

After a long, painful second, he nodded.

Yet, there’s nothing in my mind. No memories. No instinct that this is who I am.The realization turned her gut. “I want to know everything you can tell me about myself.”

He looked uncertain. “You’ve only just come back, are you sure—”

“Of course… I have to know.”

Perhaps they can even tell me why I lost my wings? The thought made the scars, where her wings once sprouted, give a painful twist. The corners of her eyes stung with unshed tears, but she pushed her sadness away. Focus on learning how you lost them, so you can get them back.

And so, he led her into the living room where the other two men waited. They sat on a couch before a fire, holding mugs of coffee, and looking remarkably uncomfortable.

It’s strange. I don’t even remember their names.

She settled on the rug before the blazing fire and took a blanket from the couch, pulling it around herself. She stared at the two men, who watched her silently, trying to act normal in a situation that was completely abnormal.

Mark returned with two mugs of steaming coffee in his hands and gave her one, before sitting on the floor next to her.

He looked at the other two men. “She wants us to help fill in her memories.”

The man with blonde hair and dark eyes spoke first. “Not a chance.”

His angry tone drew her gaze to him. This man hummed with an unspoken power, as if he were accustom to commanding every room he entered. He had the build of a well-disciplined swimmer and eyes the color of chocolate. Something about his gaze told her that he judged everyone and everything in his world and found it lacking.

I’m not sure I like him.

“That’s Daniel,” Mark told her. “You love him, despite the fact that he’s a pain in the ass.”

Do I?

Daniel looked away, but she caught the flash of hurt in his eyes. “We can’t just fill her in on everything. It’ll be too much for her right now.”

She stiffened. “I can handle it.”

His angry gaze swung to her. “You were just dropped from Zudessa. Your wings were torn off. You need time to get to know us, or the truth will be too much for you.”

Zudessa.The word blossomed within her mind. A distinct memory came back to her. Of the day she died. There was nothing of her human life, but she remembered awakening in Zudessa and meeting Caine, The Judge. He had looked at her with his black, soulless eyes, and his judgment began. She’d felt it inside her, a cold, violating feeling, like fingers prying apart every moment of her life.

When he’d finished, she was weeping, frightened to her core. He had announced that she would be an angel, a defender of the realms. She would keep the peace by ensuring that those who deserved punishment would remain in The Eternal Darkness, the demon realm, forever.

“Do you hurt?” a deep voice whispered.

Her back gave a horrible throb of pain. Becoming an angel was painful. But so was becoming… actually, she didn’t know what she was now. She couldn’t fly, but did she have her other powers? Was she human? Or something else?

“It,” she struggled for the right response, “doesn’t hurt too badly.”

The deep voice spoke again. “Yes it does.”

Am I that transparent? Or do these men just know me that well?

“And that’s Tristan.”

She had tried to avoid looking at the other man, but at last she was forced to. He stared back at her, his expression unreadable. Tristan was a mountain of man, with long dark hair and mismatched eyes, one blue and one green. There was something breathtaking about him. Unlike Daniel, who oozed disdain, this man radiated nothing, as if his emotions and thoughts were locked up tight somewhere no one could see.

He made her uncomfortable in a way she couldn’t identify. It wasn’t just that his massive size and chiseled good looks gave him a dangerous, inhuman quality; it was that his gaze always seemed to focus on her. He said little, but she could feel his stare.

Who are you?She thought, tearing her gaze away from him.

She took a sip of the coffee, wondering how best to approach these men. Cautiously. “Were we together before my death? Before I became an angel?”

Daniel tilted his head and leaned back in his chair, crossing his ankles in front of him in a strangely arrogant way. “Sorry, babe. As nice a story as that would be, it didn’t happen that way. In fact, when you fell in love with us, we were demons and you were an angel.”

Her coffee dropped from her fingertips and onto the carpeted floor. “You guys are demons?”

The enemy.

Mark swore and ran to the kitchen, grabbing a towel. “Daniel, why the hell did you have to lead with that?”

“She wanted to know the truth,” he said, with a stiff shrug. “Better she knows it right off the bat.”

“That’s impossible.” Her voice shook as she spoke. “I would never… demons are evil.”

“Surcy—” Mark began, but Daniel cut him off.

“That’s probably why you were kicked out of the angel-realm. Because you didn’t just love us, you saved us from the demon-realm.”

She felt sick. “I would never do something like that. Not even for love.”

Mark glared at the other man and touched her knee. “You didn’t save us because you loved us. You saved us because it was the right thing to do.”

Demons are evil. I’m not the one who decides right or wrong. Caine does. I just follow orders. That’s the job of an angel.

“Wh--why was it the right thing to save you?”

Mark spoke gently. “We should never have been in hell. They made a mistake. And you simply… fixed it.”

“I need to lie down,” she stated abruptly, standing and stepping around Mark who was cleaning up her spill.

He dropped the towel and rose. “Do you need—?”

“She needs time to think,” Tristan’s voice was calm, but she could feel his gaze burning through her.

As she walked back to her room, avoiding the happy pictures on the wall, a cold fist squeezed her heart. Demons shouldn’t be able to use their powers on angels. They shouldn’t be able to convince us to believe their lies, but somehow, these demons have tricked me.

I need to escape and return to Zudessa. The other angels will know how to help me.