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I can’t stop the small sob from escaping my mouth as everything catches up to me. What the fuck is going on with my life? How did I get so unlucky to find myself in this position in the first place? What am I going to do now?
Micah’s cool hand rubs the length of my back, trying to smooth the trembles from my body. “Please don’t cry, Raven. This will all be over soon. Neither of them will be able to get to you where we’re going.”
I lick my lips and swallow the burning in my throat. “Is he...” My voice fades. I can’t even think of the words.
“Unfortunately, it’ll take a lot more than a fall like that to send him back to Hell where he belongs,” Micah responds sullenly like he expects me to break down.
If anything, I’m relieved. “Oh.”
“But I don’t want you to worry about any of that. I’m taking you somewhere no one from Hell can go until I can figure out what to do,” he says, tightening his jaw.
“I don’t understand.” I close my eyes, trying to calm my racing heart.
Micah adjusts me in his arms. “Please give me guidance. Tell me what to do.”
His prayer trickles into my mind along with a swirling tornado of emotions I can’t decipher. I’ve never felt anything like them, and a part of me wants to lose myself to the pureness of his light.
And then I do.
***
I should’ve known Micah would take me to church, but this one isn’t mortal made as far as I can tell. One second I was feeling his essence wrapping around mine, awakening my soul as if I could siphon his purity to snuff out the Hell marking me, and in the next, everything grew tingly and cool like a misty morning in winter. When the fog cleared, I found myself alone and in this weird all-white stone room with a window that gives me a view of light. I can’t see anything beyond it.
I move from the window and grimace at the bloody fingerprints I leave behind. Now that my adrenaline wears off, I can’t ignore the stinging pain of shallow cuts from the knife the fucking monster Mr. Tavern inflicted on me. And my dress? Fuck. It’s a reminder of how close that man was from—I can’t think about it.
I shiver in the cold room and spin around, glancing at the arched doorway leading into a vast white room not unlike the one I’m in but far bigger with looming vaulted ceilings made of glass, shining the strange pure light over me, setting my filthy skin aglow.
Dressed in all black, Micah kneels in front of a crystal window pieced together into an intricate pattern that sends fractals of rainbow light glittering across the room. His striking contrast steals my attention away from the beauty of colorful light, and I shuffle forward on my bare feet. I don’t even remember losing my stilettos.
“Micah,” I whisper, afraid to speak too loud in this place of obvious grace. The Higher Power might smite me for just being here. “Micah, where are we?”
Micah remains frozen without responding to me. It’s creepy as fuck, and all I want for him to do is to get to his feet, turn around, and tell me what he plans to do. The uncertainty digs deeply into my soul. It’s hard to bear it.
I close the space completely and stand behind him. Glancing at the crystal window, I try to see beyond the intricate design to discover what is on the other side. My imagination wants to run wild and imagine the pearly gates of what I’ve been told is the entrance to Heaven, but there is no way I’d be just hanging outside them. For one, I’m alive. I know I am. If I died, I’d probably be kneeling at Lucian’s feet. So this place? I have no idea.
“It’s my sanctuary,” Micah finally says, responding to my silent thoughts. “We’re still on the Earth plane, but it’s built from the grace of the Higher Power as a temple of reflection and prayer created solely for me. Consider it my home away from my true home.”
“It’s so...empty.” I have no idea what else I should say. “Not exactly how I imagine Heaven.”
“Because it’s not, but also, you will never see what I see. It isn’t intended for mortals.” Micah remains gazing out the window without looking at me. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“So why am I here?” I ask, staring at his folded white wings.
Like he senses I study them, he unfurls them, expanding them completely. Shuffling toward him, I close the space, soaking in the pure tranquility swirling through the air. Goosebumps prickle across my skin with each step I take. I find myself caught on an invisible line drawing me to his downy looking wings. Where Dante’s are pure black, downy soft, and warm like the rest of him, Micah’s sparkly wings illuminate like each feather contains a glowing lightbulb to shine from within.
“I don’t know,” Micah whispers, responding to me like it takes everything in him to speak. “I don’t know anything anymore.”
“Micah.” I rest my hand on one of his wings. A burst of intense, fiery pain licks across my palm, and I scream and jerk away. Uncontrollable tears well in my eyes, blurring my vision and turning Micah into an inky blot among the brightness of his sanctuary.
Micah shoots to his feet and spins around, his dark brows lowering over his golden eyes. Grasping my wrist, he pulls my aching hand from my chest and inspects my palm. An imprint of his feathers sears across my palm, branding the hand opposite where Lucian’s mark puckers from my skin.
“My wings are the one thing you cannot touch, Raven. They’re sacred and blessed with the light of the Higher Power, created to repel the evils of Hell.” Micah draws his cool finger along the edges of the feather branding. “You’ve been marked by Lucifer.”
I sigh and tug my stinging hand away. “He goes by Lucian now.” I don’t know why I correct him or why I even humor standing before his righteous ass a moment longer without trying to escape. All I know is that I’m on the same page as Micah, neither of us feeling as if we know anything at all. “And maybe next time, you should warn an unsuspecting soul about the pain you can inflict.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not used to kidnapping heathens from their soul keepers.” A soft smile lights his pouty mouth like he enjoys the thought. “Nor am I accustomed to speaking to them, hosting them in my private quarters, or feeling the rush of emotions emanating from their souls.”
“You’re a righteous douche if I’m a heathen. I don’t get you. You tried to send my soul to Hell, and then you stalked me, and now you kidnapped me. I thought angels were against doing all of this.” I shift on my feet. “What do you plan to do with me now?”
