The Bliss (The Angel Star Prequel Novella) Read online



  THE BLISS

  An Angel Star

  Prequel Novella

  Jennifer Murgia

  The Bliss

  Published by Lands Atlantic

  www.landsatlantic.com

  This is a work of fiction. Any names and locations are entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2013 by Jennifer Murgia

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.

  Cover Design: Paragraphic Designs

  For Csilla Horvath & Kathleen Kennedy - winners of the Angel Star Character Contest.

  Vayne and Talan will live forever within these pages. Thank you for creating such beautiful angels and such riveting characters to add to the story!

  And for Michelle Flores – who fell so hard for Hadrian she couldn’t live without a story dedicated to him.

 

  HEAVEN

  In my memory, I step closer to where my brother stands. His name hovers at the edge of my tongue, but I remember myself, and steal a glance out of the corner of my eye. His form is the only one that stands beneath the silver willow swaying in an invisible breeze. It is forbidden to disrupt another Guardian’s Bliss while they are subdued, and I have stumbled upon him in such a state.

  My brother has been ordered to devote himself to reflection twice as often than myself or the others, and he is on a near constant surveillance. To be Watched is a weighted sentence, one that is not so easily cast off, and to my surprise, I don’t detect the presence of an Arch guard.

  I approach quietly, so as not to disturb him just yet. His expression startles me. It bears more than Reflection, more than asking forgiveness for whatever it is the Seven have accused him of. While he is still unaware that I am merely a foot or two alongside him, I try to catch a glimpse of his thoughts, to spy that which captivates him so completely, quietly forcing my way in out of concern: It is a dark, swirling mass in the recesses of his mind that greets me, one that I dare not touch. Yet . . . it calls to me as surely as it calls to him. The hairs on my arms begin to rise.

  "Lucifer," my breath softly allows his name to slip beyond the limits of my mouth. The sound of my own voice is enough to brush my thoughts aside, knowing if I open myself to what seduces Lucifer of late, then I too will become Watched.

  He turns slowly, and I watch as the dark orbs of his eyes cloud over, then resume their natural color; a brilliant shade of cerulean, like the sea. I do not understand half of what he is accused of, but when our eyes meet, his emotions hit me in waves, like nothing I’ve ever felt before; both cold and warm at the same time, almost choking. Before I can dig for a likely excuse as to why I stare at him so, he is already composed, already the same strong brother he has always been to me, and I feel guilty for the uncertainty flooding my veins.

  “Hadrian,” he regards me as if I’ve appeared out of nowhere. “I thought you were . . .”

  “Rafael?” I have a habit of interrupting, and Lucifer smirks at my impatience.

  “Yes,” he nods, and I am glad to see that for the moment, all is as it should be.

  I wait for him to continue, to be irritated that I’ve surprised him, to tell me why Rafael wishes to speak with him, but he doesn’t offer that information to me. The urge to ask is nearly unbearable, but I find the means to squelch it.

  “They are meeting about the Gates,” I state, suddenly quite nervous. I hold my chin decisively taut as he so often does, trying to find solace in mimicking my brother.

  Lucifer peers beyond the boundaries of Heaven, down at the earth below. “They live quietly, don’t they? Undisturbed. Unaware.” He lets out a sigh that I have a hard time determining if it is impatience, or regret. “Tell me brother,” he turns to me again, “what do you think of my Gate? Is she worthy in your eyes?”

  “The Seven have chosen her, who am I to question?” I respond, but I fear he can sense my hesitation. He’s never asked a question like this before.

  Lucifer delivers a low chuckle, then seems to let it go. “Ah, the Seven, so Rafael wishes to speak with me, does he?”

  I give a nod, saying nothing more on the matter. My loyalties are torn. I am a Guardian, first and foremost, but Lucifer is my brother. Even if it isn’t by blood but by divine lineage that we are bonded, he being a member of the original seven Archs, while I came along much later. Even though Guardians are ageless, there is a sense that he is wiser, and I look up to him, worry over him. We are all family, the Archs the highest ranking, of course, but Lucifer has always taken me under his wing, has always been more protective of me than the others. There is a brotherly bond we share that is stronger than how I feel toward, say, Talan or Rhamiel, who are closer to my rank.

  “The Archs are concerned,” Lucifer continues, “at whether or not I should continue to guard the Sixth Gate.”

  “I’m not quite sure I understand,” I am puzzled as I respond.

  Again, the slight flit of a smile curls at the edges of his mouth, but even he can’t convince me that it is not forced. “They see something in me that . . . alarms them,” he whispers, peering beyond the boundaries again, threading the rope-like branches of the willow between his fingers. He opens his hand, not to show me his star, but to study it for his own reasons. “It is nearly judgment time.”

  I step forward, my brows knitting together at this development. “Why would they have you removed now, at such an irrevocable time in your Gate’s existence? What have you done to raise such suspicions?”

  “I suppose the threat they are most concerned with is one they feel is entirely too close for comfort.” He eyes me with intent, seeing that I am a few steps behind him in understanding his train of thought. He takes a breath, then shrugs his shoulders, arching his luminous wings high into the air above him. “Apparently I watch too closely.”

  I don’t understand what he means, how a human girl would be considered a threat. I dare wonder if perhaps the Seven have it all wrong. I am half tempted to run ahead to Rafael, to assure him and the others, that my brother is not a danger, that their rules and prying eyes have gone too far.

  For a second, an instant really, the color of Lucifer’s eyes seem to deepen, but before I can get a closer look, the shadow cast across them is gone. He stares off into the distance again, leaving me to wonder where exactly he has gone inside himself.

  Lucifer shoots me a reproachful look. “Careful, brother of mine, they will watch you too if you try to understand my reasons.”

  I take a cautious step forward and stand beside him. “Tell me then, brother. Tell me why you cannot do what a Guardian has done for eons and be satisfied? Why do you watch with . . .”

  “Curiosity?” he cuts me off. “There’s almost a craving to understand my Gate, to sway her,” he admits quietly.

  Lucifer turns to me, his eyes a clear deep blue again. He places a cool hand upon my arm and I tense, for the touch of a Guardian is usually warm.

  “The Sixth Gate is a young soul, my brother. There is a rift in her essence that I’ve been watching closely, and it’s an intoxicating thing. Years from now, perhaps a thousand or so, when her soul reaches enlightenment, she will transform . . . and I will be there.”

  “But we’re not supposed to try and understand the ones we guard. When did . . .”

  “When did I change, you wonder?” he says, finishing my sentence. “When the Archs chose her for me.” His voice bears the twinge of spite. “When they decided that I would be the angel to watch over such a young
soul. When they knew, even before I, that I would be drawn to the way her mind works.” His tone is hard, and this time I do not miss the way his eyes darken and do not turn back.

  “You believe they chose her on purpose?”

  He doesn’t answer me. I don’t expect him to. The Seven chose his charge wisely, and now my brother is faced with a choice of his own. Part of me dares to imagine which way he will lean.

  “The consequences are far too great, Brother.”

  “They’re too great to ignore,” he nearly spits at me. “I’ll tell you what I choose. I choose to watch. I choose to understand why a Gate is a Gate, why they must be guarded so closely night and day. I choose to unravel the mystery that says a Gate must not be protected like a common charge. But why? Are they not just as human? What secrets do they hold?”

  With sudden clarity I begin to understand why Rafael and the other Archangels have been so insistent on monitoring my beloved brother. I’ve heard enough rumors, seen how often the Bliss has been enforced, why they call the meetings more regularly than usual. I am sure Lucifer knows what I have heard, as he must be well aware that I think it’s absurd that they speak of stripping him of his wings. Such a price is paid when a Guardian wishes to no longer guard his Gate, or has been negligent, but this, what has triggered Lucifer’s interest . . . this borderline obsession, has never happened before.

  I can feel the others gathering at the Judgment pool, their presence strong at my back. It is almost time for a decision to be made, and it is with deep regret that I fear that my brother will be the one who will not choose wisely. He must choose wisely.

  Lucifer leans in close enough that I taste the thrill of this new challenge linger on the air between us.

  “I’ve already chosen, my brother.” He looks into my eyes, digging until he sees what I fear. There is no way of hiding it from him. He sees that I too am intrigued by human nature. That I also spend long hours gazing down upon the earth, monitoring the actions of man. He sees, no matter how I try to hide it, how I marvel over the puzzle of why a Gate is chosen and try to solve why his eyes stray to charges who are not his own, why he works so hard to figure them out. But, is this worth standing up to the Seven?

  Lucifer breaks the bond and turns away, his shoulders decidedly stiff as he begins to make his way toward the Gathering, the Conveniō, where Rafael and the others wait for us.

  He slows suddenly, peering back at me over his shoulder so that I only see one half of his face. “It seems you’ve also chosen, brother of mine. Are you sure it too has been made wisely?”

  That unstoppable motion of freefalling takes me as his words melt into the heavenly mist around us, turning what gently falls onto my skin into hard pellets of ice. I suddenly feel wingless, my body heavy, as if hurtling toward something unnamable and consuming, and at its very core is my brother. I watch him leave, and all I can feel around me is a horrible absence, as if I’ve fallen into the very void that separates us from the earth below.