Okay, as promised another chapter. Please enjoy and I hope you like it.
Chapter 11
Christina
As I stood there, staring at Sam, I was surprised to find him wandering the grounds and stumbling upon me. I hadn't seen much of him but every time I did, I felt a wave of nostalgia tumble down on me; it made my head hurt. I suddenly remembered my makeup and how I must have looked a mess. I felt the heat make its way up to my cheeks in embarrassment. He was wearing a light shirt and dark jeans. He was barefoot, and I couldn't help but feel how comfortable he was as he walked. Well, if you had a body like that, you should be confident. His muscles bulged against his t-shirt, threatening to tear open.
"Hi," he said, as he stood in front of me.
I was grateful for the lack of light so that he couldn't see my face properly. I straightened my pyjama top. "Hi," I muttered.
Even in the darkness I could sense his smile, "Are you lost?" he asked.
I bet he was wondering why I was down here. I looked around me, trying to see if I could get out of the fact that I was lost, but there was no use. It was a dead end and I was defeated. I sighed, "Yes...I'm trying to find the kitchen. I'm starving."
Sam put his hands in his pockets, "Yeah, you haven't eaten much, have you?" he asked.
I narrowed my eyes. Food hadn't really bothered me lately as I'd been so tired, but now that I thought about it, my stomach grumbled, "Yeah, I hadn't noticed."
Sam ushered for me to follow him to the kitchen, passing many different corridors that I was dying to explore. He was silent most of the way, but I could tell that he was thinking about something. His shoulders were more or less hunched over, like he was keeping to himself.
"So, you live here?" I asked, trying to spark a conversation. He flinched at first, like he forgot I was even there.
He opened himself up a little more with his body, "Er...yeah, have for 18 years," he replied. He said it like he had lived longer but wasn't he 18 years old himself?
"So..." I began, "All your life?" I asked. I just wanted to keep the conversation running, I was curious about him.
Sam turned left and I followed, "Yeah, that's what I meant," he replied, rambling a bit as he tried to find the right words. I let it pass and tried to think of something else.
"What about your parents?" I asked, "Do they live here?"
Sam suddenly stopped and looked anywhere but at me. I suddenly felt like I had crossed a line. I shouldn't have said that. I barely knew the guy. "Both my parents are dead," Sam muttered. I closed my eyes with a sigh, embarrassed and ashamed.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't know," I replied. Sam said nothing more of the matter and continued to walk down the hall with me in tow.
When we reached the kitchen, I had no idea how big it was going to be. There was a giant island in the middle with eight stools surrounding it. A huge, shiny sink lay in the middle of the island, on the other side. There was a tall, silver fridge off to the side with an ice and water dispenser. And it had double doors. The stove was close to it and it was big and shining and silver. There was a fruit bowl in the middle of the island and Sam took an apple and offered me one.
I gratefully took it, savouring the first bite in my mouth. I wiped my chin from the juices as Sam made his way over to the white cabinets on the wall. "Okay, let's see what we got. What are you hungry for?" he asked me.
I suddenly froze. When someone asks you what you want to eat, the answer is not that simple. But most of the time, it's 'anything'. "Anything, really," I replied, "What do you have?" I moved over to the cabinet so that I was standing with him. Then I realised how close I was standing with him. He had his hand on the cabinet door and he was leaning on it. I could see his bicep bulging out of his shirt and I did everything I could not to swoon.
"We've got pasta?" he asked, reaching up and grabbing a bag full of pasta shells.
Without thinking, I agreed, trying to hide my flustered cheeks. Sam began to make some pasta for the both of us, as he had not had much to eat at dinner either.
"Could you get the sauce from the refrigerator?" asked Sam, not taking his eyes off the pasta cooking in the pan. I opened the doors and found that it was stocked with goods that made my mouth water. I stared at the fridge for almost two minutes before realising that I wasn't moving and getting the sauce. I found it hiding at the back behind the string cheese. I passed it to Sam and he added it to the pasta.
I didn't know what to do whilst Sam did the cooking so I just sat on one of the stools at the island. There was this awkward silence between us and I didn't know what to say, let alone spark up a conversation. That was until Sam started whistling.
It was a tune that sounded familiar but I didn't think where from. I had never heard of it before but it sent chills down my spine and a sense of nostalgia waved over me but it was annoying how I didn't know where it came from. The tune continued until Sam started to sing the lyrics. They were in...italian. But I understood them anyway.
The sun's fading out of sight,
My baby dear.
But I'll be close by all night,
So don't you fear.
Within your little room,
The shadow creeps,
But I'll watch over thee,
'Till morning light seeps.
Sleep!
Do not fear;
Sleep,
My baby dear!
When shadows of darkness fall,
Through the night;
The Angel's arms wrap around us all,
We're safe tonight.
The light may seem to fade;
The shadow creeps,
Still the Angels watch over thee,
'Till morning light seeps
Sleep!
Do not fear;
Sleep,
Your angel is near.
"That song," I began, shaking my head, "I know that from somewhere." I looked to Sam for a hint or for the full answer. He had forgotten what he was doing and he turned to look at me. I couldn't read his face, but he was hiding something from me. Sam looked at me with, what I could only make out as, hope. "How do I know that song?" I asked, standing up. I suddenly became angry with him; because I knew there were things he wasn't telling me. They all were keeping something from me.
He didn't answer my question; the only sound in the air came from the boiling water in the pan, bubbling. My hands turned into shaking fists. "You need to starting giving me some answers, Sam. I'm getting really pissed with sitting around waiting for something to happen. Now tell me why I understood every word you sung and how I know it. Also, why is there a painting in my room of you, Dean and I? And did you know about Melaina and what she is? Why can't I go home? What am I waiting for?!"
I suddenly stopped when Sam put his hands on my arms holding me closer to him. It was an act I was secretly comfortable with and I could feel the warmth from his skin but his hands were shaking. He searched my face, as if it was the last time he would see me. He spoke softly, "I can't lose you again, Angel." It was barely a whisper, but it made me take in a breath. He called me Angel and there was something significant about it. For some reason, I liked it.
I didn't know what to say, but I was so thankful when Arianne came into the kitchen interrupting us. She pushed the door open so hard that it banged on the wall. Sam let go of my arms and Arianne looked back and forth at us. The corner of her mouth lifted up in a smirk. I backed away from Sam and cleared my throat.
"Erm," began Arianne. "Cam's back. Thankfully he's sober so he'll be able to help us."
Sam turned off the oven and went to join her, without looking at me or saying a word. It just made me even more frustrated so I followed him. It was time I got some answers.
They didn't see me coming. I followed them as best as I could down the main corridor where they reached the main hall for their...discussion. There was a hustle and a bustle. Everyone was there; Daniel, Luce, Arianne, Melaina, Dean, Sam and Cam. I was surprised to find Melaina there, but then again, she was different. It made me wonder if all of them were different. I suddenly felt trapped inside this place with people who were keeping secrets from me. I didn't know if I felt safe. I clutched my heart like I couldn't breathe. But then Sam's voice called throughout the hall and I suddenly felt...okay. I think it's because I knew he was near.
"So, Cam. You have the book," Sam began. I started to wonder what the book was. "You read it, what can you tell us." I peered around the corner and I found Cam at the other end of the table, opposite Sam. He was holding this brown, leather-bound book in his hands that looked old and tattered. There was gold writing on the front. 'Artem Ascendentes' it said. The Art of Ascending. My heart skipped a beat when I realised what the words were. It was written in Latin and yet...I understood it.
Cam opened the book to a page at the beginning and started to read, "'When the offspring of a human and an Angel reaches the age of 18, it will Ascend to an Angel but not Pure. It will not be as strong as Pure Angels but will have the same abilities. Their wings won't be as bright and they won't be as big.'"
He was interrupted by Arianne, "Yeah we know all of that stuff, get to the part about Ascended Angels falling," she scoffed.
Cam gave her a lazy look, "I was getting to that if you'd let me," he replied and turned to his book. "'Ascended Angels cannot be summoned by the Throne Herself, they will most likely have to be escorted by a Pure Angel on Her behalf. They are not allowed to call a summons with the Throne and the Throne can treat them as She pleases.'" He turned a couple of pages and his face lit up, "Ah, here it is. 'There have been times where a Pure or Ascended Angel will have their wings taken away from them and stripped forever. These immortals are called Outcasts and should not be affiliated with'."
Luce sighed, "Cam, we know Christina is not an outcast. You've read the book; is there anything about a set of wings being dormant inside her body."
Cam snapped the books shut, dramatically, "Unfortunately no," he began, "I hate to say this but I think Christina is back at square one. She was born, she has not reached 18 yet, she will Ascend just like any other offspring of a human and an Angel."
Out of nowhere, Sam slammed his hand on the table, making me jump, "But that doesn't explain the pain she is experiencing. Why is that whenever she gets a glimpse of her past she starts to feel pain in her shoulder blades where her wings would unfold? And it doesn't explain the fact that she has two scars on her back; the same place where she feels her pain?!" Sam's voice was rising and my heart was speeding up. What was all this talk about a Throne. Was it an object? They were talking about it like it was a person. And Outcast? Isn't that a band? "Why didn't you tell us from the beginning that the book wasn't helpful!?"
"I have a sense of dramatic flair and I thought it would be good for Melaina to understand the semantics of all there is for an Ascended Angel," Cam replied.
The others murmured and Dean scoffed, "We're wasting our time," he said, standing up, "I say we go to the Throne and get some answers from Her. Clearly, She knows everything there is about Angels. She created them!"
"Just the Pure ones," said Daniel, "What if She doesn't know anything about Christina's condition?"
Luce put a hand on Daniel's arm, silencing him. It was interesting to watch Luce and Daniel and how much Luce can bring him back to Earth with just a single touch. "I think it's worth a shot."
I couldn't think anymore, when all of a sudden, a shrieking cry came from the main hall. No one had a chance to react.
Melaina
"We're wasting our time," Dean scoffed, standing up, "I say we go to the Throne and get some answers from her. Clearly, She knows everything there is about Angels. She created them!" I listened intently to Dean's comment without saying a word. I basically had no input and I appreciated Cam for giving me more information on Ascended Angels but now wasn't the time for learning about myself, I needed to help them get Christina.
It was weird how I've known her for months and we had grown so close; I practically thought she was my sister, what with all the sleepovers and gossip we shared. But now, there was so much more I needed to know in order to save her.
Out of nowhere, I began to get this tingling feeling in my upper back. I thought it was just a trapped nerve or something. I twisted my shoulders, trying to escape the feeling. It kind of helped...but only a little.
"Just the Pure ones," said Daniel, "What if She doesn't know anything about Christina's condition?"
Melaina? I turned around and looked to Dean. He was focusing on Daniel and the conversation. I thought he had said something to me. I turned around; even though there was no one behind me, but I had that feeling like I wanted to check. Melaina? I heard it again, but louder this time; this haunting whisper in my head.
I completely forgot the conversation around me and focused on the voice. It was like someone was whispering in my ear and no one else could hear them. This imaginary person was talking to me and I didn't know who. I need you, the voice whispered. But it began to get louder. Come to me! Melaina? Melaina! MELAINA!
The voice erupted inside my head, causing a massive headache. I screamed and grunted as I clutched my head. I fell off my seat and felt my body crash to the ground. I couldn't hear everyone else as I was screaming at the top of my lungs. The voice kept yelling at me! I couldn't hear myself think! Ergh! I felt hands around my arms and body and the familiar sense of Dean beside me, trying to bring me back.
I felt this sudden pain in my back and my wings suddenly unfolded...but not on command, it was like they were on auto-pilot or something, but I had no control. I began to get really hot and sweat and I wanted to tear the clothing from my skin. I clutched my body as I writhed in agony; hands pressed me down to the floor, stopping me from moving. I had no control over my body and it scared me. Tears rolled down my cheek and it only made the pain in my head even worse.
I found myself uncontrollably flying around the main hall, bashing into the walls and ceiling. Blood poured from the back of my head as I was thrown across the room.
"Melaina!" cried Dean, he was suddenly flying beside me, trying to grab me.
Christina
As I watched the scene pour out in front of me, my heart sped up to an all knew speed. I felt like I was having a heart attack. My best friend was going out of control around the room; she was spinning and slamming herself against the walls. She hit the chandelier sending shards of glass crashing on top of the table. Everyone was trying to get her down; Dean was screaming her name. Luce began to cry at Melaina's pain; she was clearly hurting. Melaina clutched her head and let out a piercing scream that shook the walls; I felt the vibrations on my hands.
"Melaina!" Dean cried, rushing towards the table and jumping on top of it. Suddenly, he lifted himself off of the table and unfolded a pair of delicate, bright white wings. I gasped and turned away from the scene.
"It's not just Melaina," I whispered to myself, "They're all the same." I pushed myself off the wall and commanded my feet to move fast down the hall. I didn't know how to take all this information in. I thought it was only Melaina, but it turned out all of them were...Angels. I went down endless corridors and found a set of stairs leading to a small door at the end. I didn't think it was the door for the way in, it looked more of a secret passage way. I stumbled down the hall, skidding my hands down the wall to keep me up right. I climbed up the stairs, using my hands to help myself climb each step. I slammed my hands against the door and the cold air outside hit me like a slap in the face.
I breathed in the cool air, finally thankful that I was free of that Compound. I felt like I hadn't been part of the real world in a long time, and I felt like it was time to go home and get back to reality.
"Oh my God," I said out loud, "Home." I had only realised that I hadn't been home in days, and the last time I saw my mother was when she was leaving to go to a New Year party. It all of a sudden got me thinking, why hadn't she called me. Or why wasn't there anyone looking for me, I had been gone for more than 24 hours; clearly I was now a missing person. Oh God, all these thoughts running through my head and I didn't know where I was.
I checked my surroundings and realised I was in the local cemetery and the building that I had just come out of was an old mausoleum. Vines crawled up the side of the cracked layer or bricks and spiders crawled across webs. I shivered with fear; I hate spiders. I forced myself to run as quickly as I could through the cemetery, trying not to imagine any corpses coming up from the ground. It's not that I hate cemeteries; I just hate them at night. It didn't help with the fact that I was barefoot!
When I finally found the gate, it was locked. I groaned out loud with frustration as I tried to push my way through. But the rusty iron lock was still not going to budge. And I didn't fancy spending the rest of my night in a cemetery. I looked around for any trees near the wall to see if I could climb them. I scanned the walls and finally found a tree. It was a little old but it would do me good. I put my foot on a part of the tree that was sticking out and tried to use all my strength to push myself up. It didn't help that it was cold and foggy outside; my toes were almost turning blue, I could feel it.
I was a good 4 feet off the ground when I tried to reach for another branch. It was a little higher than I expected and when I put my foot down on the tree, I slipped and fell flat on my ass. I yelped out as my back hit the floor with a thud.
From behind me, I heard someone chuckle. I suddenly felt cautious of my surroundings and I hoped it wasn't a murderer. But when I turned my head around and lifted myself up, it was the least person I wanted to see. Sam was hovering over me with this wide grin on his face.
"What are you trying to accomplish here?" he asked, still grinning. I was angry at him for keeping secrets from me.
I pushed myself to my feet and brushed myself off, "What does it look like?" I asked, "I'm trying to get out of here." I put my foot back on the tree and began to climb up for a second time.
Sam scratched the back of his head, "I'm not seeing that," he replied, "It looks like you're trying to climb to the crow's nest of a ship so you can search for land."
"I hate you right now," I replied, shaking my head. But I couldn't help but laugh with him. I jumped down from the tree. "So what? You're going to drag me back to the Compound so you can keep me there like a prisoner and NOT tell me anything that's going on? And what the hell was going on with Melaina? And Dean!? He's an Angel, when were you going to tell me?!" I moved towards Sam, all the anger finally coming out and I couldn't control it. I could see how guilty Sam was feeling but I needed to know some things. "Why have you been keeping me here and not telling me anything? Are you all like Melaina and Dean? Where do I fit into all of this? And you better start explaining that picture in my room because it freaked me out when I saw it!" Again, nothing. "If you're not going to tell me anything then just let me go home, okay? That's all I want! I just- I just want to go home." I began to cry in front of Sam and I wasn't fond of doing that.
Sam was silent for a moment, like he always was. I was annoyed and frustrated. I needed my mother, I just wanted her to know that I was safe. "Okay," Sam finally said. I snapped my head up to look at him but his expression was blank. "Okay, I'll take you home. But you've got to trust me on this."
I shivered, "I'm kind of finding it hard do." I knew the comment would hurt him but it was true. He didn't seem to take it too personally, which was good. He quickly advanced on me and lifted me up from behind my knees, so he was cradling me in his arms. "What are you-"
I didn't even get a chance to finish as Sam unfolded a pair of glorious white wings and soured off into the sky, with only the sound of my screaming travelling behind us.
Hi guys I hope you liked the chapter with kind of a cliff hanger - we need to make sure Melaina's okay. Anyway, the poem that Sam sung was based on a poem called Baby Dear and you can find the poem on my profile but I changed the words around to fit with the story. Disclaimer for the author of the poem, Myles Birket Foster.
Anyway guys, leave a review please, I like to get them whether they are compliments or criticisms - either is good and will encourage me to write more and perfect my skills.
Until next time!
Brokegirl97 :D
