Kissed by an Angel:
Prologue:
There is pain and madness.
Pain is radiating through every inch of my body. Agony is wrenching sane, rational thoughts from my grasp. Audible whispers echo around me and I’m sure that I’m either dead or dying. Or … some part of me is dying. I’ve looked Death in the face before and watched him walk away instead of claim me between his dark fingers. Somehow this is different.
The more I try to concentrate, the more the madness takes over and seeps into every waking inch of my skin. I want to be coherent. I want to open my eyes and figure out why I can’t move. My limbs feel pinned and cold, stinging air is slapping me in the face. As much as I was hurt, even through the agony that I can’t erase, I feel … eccentrically protected.
I fight harder against the searing twinges and aches and I pry my dead eyes open at last. At first, there is nothing to see but empty blackness. Then, I see a face. Looking down at me. Inevitably, my hand reaches outward to stroke the high cheekbone and my finger traced the outline of his nose. Deep black eyes watch me. I know those eyes, I think to myself and I wish that my damnable vision would clear itself so that I could concentrate. His mouth moves and his eyes are worried. Why is he gazing at me in such a way …? I’m fine. I’m with him, that’s all that matters. I’ll always be fine as long as I am by his side.
Grey is holding me in his arms protectively; my name dances across his lips more times than I can count, yet I can’t hear his voice. I can’t hear anything other than a high-pitched ringing noise in my ears.
Abruptly, the biting chill has stopped hitting me and I am surprisingly warm. My foggy thoughts begin to clear and I can see once again. I focus on his face and can’t help but let a radiant smile break across my features. It’s Grey. I know it’s him. His presence is frying deep into every living part of my body. Something tells me that his touch should mean something … but I can feel no added pain. Then, I notice that the bright light I noticed earlier is radiating from two points on his back. I squint at them and realize with a gasp that they are blindingly white angel’s wings.
There are tears in my eyes and I stroke Grey’s face once again. “You did it. You … finally … did it.” I’m not sure if he can hear me, but the lines between his brows lengthen and he shakes me lightly, saying my name again. How I wish to hear his luscious voice. How I wish to hear my name spoken by it.
In that instant, I realize why I am not dead by his touch. He passed. He finally passed. We can be together without harm, without destruction. The shadows of worry and pain can finally leave his features when he touches my skin.
My vision distorts his handsome face and I can no longer feel. The ringing in my head becomes too violently loud to overcome. Blackness swallows him and I no longer see or feel.
--x~
Chapter 1: With Each Breath
Isolde's POV
Someone is shaking me. It's annoying.
I groan and open my weary, sleep-filled eyes, turning to face Jen with a grimace plastered on my face. Her dark, sea-green eyes shine down on me. "Morning, hun. Did you forget about school?"
Her question is innocent enough and yet it fills me with such dread that I want to roll over and disappear within my sheets. “School,” I exhale sharply and slap my pillow, clenching my eyes tightly shut. Jen leaves my room after calling out several half-hearted threats about what would happen to me if I were late on my first day.
“God forbid that I’m two seconds later than I usually am on the way to school…” I mumble sarcastically as I sit up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I stretch and stifle a yawn as I stand up and begin to change into my outfit. I’ll admit, it’s not much of an outfit per say. Unless you count outfits that consist of a tight blue cashmere sweater, dark jeans and a pair of ratty old flats. I stalk to the bathroom and wash my face and brush my hair.
On most days, I ignore my reflection… or, on the certain days that I happen to pass by a mirror, I imagine that the girl staring back at me is not really me, just a simple person that borrowed my body and is living out a different life with parents and a baby sister on the way. Not me. Never me.
Today is not one of those days and I intentionally gaze at the girl staring back at me. I see a sixteen year old soon-to-be junior at Regional Heights High with short black hair and jade green eyes. Upon closer inspection, I see blank empty eyes that are red and bleary from lack of sleep. I see olive-toned skin that is losing its hard-earned tan and a round, boyish-looking face. My dimples haven’t been spotted for quite some time due to lack of smiling or laughter. My cheekbones even look a bit sunken in.
“Damn Iz, learn to take better care of yourself!” I chide myself because I’m sure that’s the exact same thing my mother would tell me if she were still alive. I stick a bobby pin in my mouth and attempt to do something with my hair, but, like every other morning, it refuses to cooperate with me. I sigh exasperatedly and give up, letting it stay down.
“Isolde, hurry up! You got ten minutes!” Aunt Jen calls to me and I roll my eyes. Jen never remembers to call me Iz, my nickname. I always joked that my mom loved Irish princesses but butchered the pronunciation, hence my name. In a way, I’m named after the chick from Tristan and Isolde, but her name was pronounced EE-Zold or something like that. Nope, not mine. Iz-sol-day is how you say mine, and I prefer to be called Iz for short just because people tend to get tongue-tied.
I am sure that all of my new teachers will adore me during roll-call today. Joy, first day of school. I’m so excited. Not.
After giving up on my appearance, I head out to the kitchen and grab my backpack, tossing it over my shoulder. I raise an eyebrow at Jen and provide her with a half-assed smile that I hope will reassure her that I'm fine and tell her that I’m ready all at once. It’s the truth in a way. I am fine.
I am. I think. In fact, I’m not entirely sure if I am ok or not. My emotions are kind of muddled and I just want the day to be over with already even though it hasn’t even begun. Jen mocks my expression and laughs softly, leading me outside to her battered van that will drive me to my first day in hell. It’s cold and rainy outside and I am eager to get inside the heated cabin, despite were it will lead me.
Truth is, I’ve been living with my aunt for six months. In fact, next Wednesday will mark the six month anniversary of the day my life ended. Or rather, the day my parents and unborn sister’s lives ended. My house was broken into and the man shot us down. All of us. I was shot in the chest. In the heart, to be exact. I have the bullet-wound scar to prove it. It’s dark purple, nasty, in a near perfect circle, and about an inch below my collarbone. No one has seen it but the doctors that supposedly saved my life, my aunt, and me. I’m not exactly sure why I survived when I felt the life literally bleed out of me. I should have died, and yet I didn’t. I’m grateful, I guess. But I can’t help but feel that my life is not worth that of my parents’ and unborn sister’s.
Today it is pouring rain. I gaze out the window as we drive down the road and trace my finger along the foggy window. Aunt Jen is silent. She knows better than to bother me when I gaze out the window at the rain. It's my thinking time; the time when I prepare myself for what the day will bring. Slowly but surely, we arrive at the destination. Regional Heights is a good school; very old. I like it, but I don’t like the actual courses and classes. Which brings me to yet another thing I’m grateful for: My two best friends Lacy and Sam. Sometimes I think that they are the only reason I bother getting up in the morning, besides Jen of course.
I sigh wistfully, kiss Jen on the cheek, barrel out of the van and head toward the double-door entrance. Once out of the cold and rain, I bite my lip and stand on my tip toes to try and get a better look above the crowds of students for my friends. I ignore the stares that I’m being given right at this moment. Ever since my parents were killed, I got eyed. And I mean, eyed. Every student and teacher on campus last year looked at me and gave me distance as if they thought I was going to explode at any moment. Like I was a ticking bomb ready to go off. Which was true, to some extent. They had their reasons and I am glad they kept their distance. Looks of guilt and remorse were hard enough to deal with.
"Iz!" I hear someone call from behind, which surprises me. I turn around and smile, seeing Sam and Lacy towing up to me. Both girls have exuberant grins for me this morning, which I never manage to tire of. These two were my friends way before the murder; since elementary school. They understood my personal space and never questioned my increasingly silent behavior. I know that no matter what, I have them to count on when I needed. Lacy took my arm and filled me in on the latest gossip that I had missed over the summer. Finally, the bell rang and students slowly begin to file off to their classrooms. I wave to my friends as they disappear into their own classes, thus starting the first day of our junior year.
-- x ~ x --
Grey's POV
My touch takes lives, ends suffering, and brings death. I have no problem with my duties, and yet, I failed to take away her life. It baffles me. My hand has never been hesitant before, yet I couldn’t bear to end her suffering. Something about her life needed to be preserved and I didn’t dare let it fade from her. She has the Pure Soul. The Soul that can cleanse the very essence of evil. The Soul that I know will possibly get her killed. The Soul that will start a war that could end all of humanity.
I have been forbidden to watch her. I am not a Guardian and my obligations lie elsewhere. Yet, I feel that I have to take responsibility for allowing her to live, which is strictly against the Rules. I also feel that I have to protect her from what is surely to come for her. But how can I? My touch will murder her.
But I can’t help it. I must shelter her Essence. This desire racks through my body and I know I must fulfill it if I wish to live in peace. I have been instructed to leave this girl be and tend to what must be done, but I cannot. I will not. They see her as a nuisance; an entity that will cause destruction and corrupt peace. So I have taken it upon myself to take responsibility for her.
I have no right to be near her. I have no right to look at her. I took her parents’ lives, which burdens her with pain and guilt. I feel that I have destroyed her life, but why should this matter? I destroy lives all the time. This is nothing new. And yet, this girl’s very life is like being cast into freezing cold water. She is going to be the cause of something great. I just haven’t decided if it will be a good or bad thing yet.
And I cannot let her go.
