Young Writers Society

“You recognize the severity of your error, Ezriel. We cannot let this transgression go unaddressed. We have been too lenient, too forgiving. This time there are repercussions.” The solemn looks on the angels’ faces affirmed his words. This time there would be no escape. This time he’d gone too far. The traitor seated in the center of the chamber remained silent, unwilling to condemn himself any further. The whole council of angels looked down on him with a range of emotions twisting their beautiful faces, varying from fear to disgust to anger. All of them were cloaked in the same white light that surrounded them from head to toe, emitting an aura of holiness. Ezriel was bathed in the unfettered sunlight streaming in through the endless stained glass windows that cast a myriad of light on him, painting him every color of the rainbow except for white. He refused to acknowledge them. In all of their beauty, the Hashmallim struck fear into the boy’s heart, despite the courage and bravery he was widely known for.

This time a female angel spoke. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, Ezriel?” She was secretly pleading for him to tell them it had all been an accident; that he had not, in fact, been fraternizing with the enemy and straining the tenuous thread that upheld everything that they believed in but Ezriel remained silent, looking down at the stone between his feet.

“If he has no defense then his fate is in our hands,” another angel spoke with a look of malicious glee painting his handsome features. “You know what we must do, Judah.” The angel in the center of the line of thirteen nodded, his mouth set in a grim line.

“Ezriel,” Judah said, agony tainting his musical voice that echoed off of the domelike room they were assembled in. He swallowed hard, watching the accused, assessing him. The traitor showed no signs of remorse, no signs of regret. Judah continued on through the sympathy that was choking him, threatening to overwhelm him. He was too gentle for the job. “On the advisement of the council of Hashmallim, I…” the syllable hung in the air like fog. All of the other Hashmil held their breaths waiting for what he would say next, though they knew what the punishment was already. Even the traitor looked up at him from his seat fifty feet below, a flash of hope dancing in his eyes. “I condemn you for all eternity to…”

“Spit it out,” hissed one of the other councilmembers. “We haven’t got all day.” Judah cleared his throat and began again. “I condemn you for all eternity to wander the earth, wingless, with no chance of redemption. You are fallen. Our decision is final and absolute.” The Hashmallim looked at their leader with a look of pure, unadulterated shock. That wasn’t what they had decided; the angel was to go to Hell. Ezriel looked up at him with dark, stormy eyes. His mouth fell open, desperately grasping for anything to say to make them change their minds. Walk the earth as one of the damned? There could be nothing worse.

“Judah you cannot do this,” one of them cried.

The angel sighed. “It must be. It has been done. Take his wings.” A moment of hesitation passed before the two angels on the flanks of the line ascended the stairs to the pit below where the traitor sat. They reached him at the same time, unfurling their white wings that shone with an ethereal beauty. A cold numbness crept into Ezriel’s mind, invading his body and preventing him from moving. Slowly his wings also unfurled, pitch black instead of the glorious white. Judah looked away from the scene beneath him. The two angels each grasped one wing at the base and with a silent look, tore them away from the traitor at the same time, ripping away his soul, the most vital part of himself. He didn’t cry or scream; he was still numbed, but he knew what was happening. As the blood began to flow freely down his back, staining the hands of the Hashmallim standing over him he began to cry, a single black tear rolling down his face.

Present day Calico, North Carolina

Even in dreary North Carolina the energy that summer brought was palpable. The final bell had rung just ten minutes ago and I was free to do as I pleased for the next three months, completely uninterrupted by homework or grades, teachers or tests. I couldn’t suppress the euphoria that bubbled up inside me. I didn’t bother saying goodbye to anyone at school; if they were important I’d see them soon. I left the towering, vaguely church-ish building that was Calico High School and made a beeline for my beloved—yet aging and slowly falling to pieces—Grand Cherokee parked just yards from the exit. There were droves of people clotted outside of the school crying and hugging like they’d never see each other again. My philosophy is that if you don’t see them over the summer you’re not real friends.

The sun hung low in the sky, obscured by clouds as usual. I could smell the rain in the air and I began to carefully navigate my way through the crowded parking lot trying to avoid running any of my classmates over. Then it began to drizzle, dotting my windshield with raindrops in a soft pitter-patter. I knew the sunshine was too good to be true. The sun wasn’t made for this town. I sighed, leaning against my steering wheel. Unfortunately the change in weather had done nothing to expel the loiterers. It would be at least five more minutes before I could get out of the lot.

Slowly but surely the rain picked up and fell in heavier and heavier droplets until I had to turn on my windshield wipers, and even more slowly I exited the parking lot, desperate and impatient to leave the school behind me. The sky was getting darker by the second and I wanted to be away from traffic by the time it really started pouring. Once I made it onto Bunberry Street I called my best friend, Delaney Edwards.

“Hello, Nosy Rosie,” she answered affectionately. Nobody in the world called me that besides her; I wouldn’t allow it. I hadn’t been called ‘Nosy Rosie’ by anyone else since Lewis Byrd had taunted me with it in second grade and made me cry and Delaney had punched him in the forehead. We’d been best friends ever since. I’d never found anyone I liked more than her; we were practically sisters.

“Hey, D. I’m driving, but coffee at the X in ten? We need to celebrate our freedom, don’t you think?” she bustled on the other end while I talked.

Delaney mock-gasped and said, “Driving and talking on the phone? Rose, you’re such a rebel. Yeah, babe, see you there!” I laughed and ended the call, putting my phone in the cupholder.

I could be punctual to a fault. Exactly ten minutes later I pulled into the parking lot of the Xuccino, the best coffee place in town. It was tiny, sure, but I’d never had a better caramel frappuccino anywhere else. The whitewashed building looked unassuming but it had great power when it came to coffee-making. I got out of my car, locking the door behind me and ducked into the friendly shop. There was a downstairs area where you placed your orders and a patio that was currently drenched in rain, and a wrought-iron staircase that led up to a loft that had the comfiest couches in the world. Delaney was waiting for me by the door.

“Hello, my darling,” she said throwing an arm around my shoulders. I hadn’t actually seen her today since she’d skipped the last day of our junior year but I loved her nonetheless. There was no better best friend than Delaney. I never got tired of her English accent either. Even though she’d lived in America for ten years—the ten years of our friendship—she still held on to the British lilt. “Your hair is a mess, Rose, did you take a swim?” Delaney picked up one of my limp black curls between her thumb and forefinger and let it drop. Calico was probably one of the worst places for me to live, when I thought about it. The town was on a mountain on the side facing the sea and we got tons of rain all the time. “Ah, well. Shall we get some coffee?”

“Absolutely. What do you want? My treat,” I said, wiping away a water droplet that had trickled down my nose.

“Good, since I’m broke. I’d love a vanilla bean frappuccino with whipped cream and tell them to make it skinny, I’m trying to shed some weight,” Delaney said, the last bit in a conspiratorial whisper. She patted her stomach for emphasis even though the whipped cream easily made up for the calories lost by making the drink skinny. I didn’t point out the flaw in her logic, though. Delaney was a in a constant battle with her weight even though she wasn’t a pound over a 130.

“Okay. Go get our seats,” I said. We had sat in the same spot every time we came here for the past year—the burgundy chaise and matching armchair by the window overlooking the street below—and things weren’t changing now. She bounced up the stairs and out of view.

I got in line and watched customers float in and out, even seeing a few people from our school, but thankfully none of the ones that made my life hell. There were people walking up and down the sidewalk outside with their heads down, hunched over in the rain. It wasn’t hot at all yet, barely 75 degrees and I counted four girls in shorts that were short enough to give a glimpse of tanned butt cheek. Four girls that made me roll my eyes and sigh.

When I made it to the counter I was surprised to see Beth Feasle working. She was in my sociology class and she was known to be friends with Vivian, the queen B at Calico. B didn’t stand for ‘bee’ when you were talking about Vivian. Girls like her didn’t need work. “Hey, Beth,” I said, trying not to embarrass her. She wasn’t a bad person, just an awful judge of character.

Beth suppressed an eye roll. “Hey, Rose, can I take your order?” I could tell she wanted me away from her as soon as possible. There was a clear divide between my kind—that is, people untainted by Vivian’s evil—and hers. On a spur of kindness I decided not to prolong her torture.

“Yeah, can I get a skinny vanilla bean frappuccino with whipped cream and a caramel frappuccino with three extra shots of caramel?”

She used her manicured finger to tap some things on the computer in front of her. “That’ll be $5.33.” I passed her a ten and she gave me my change back. “Coming right up, order number six-three-six.” I smiled at Beth and walked off to the right to wait on my drinks. Watching the baristas blend and stir, shake and mix the drinks had always been fascinating to me. Less than two minutes later I had two frappuccinos in my hand and I was headed upstairs.

There weren’t many people in the X’s loft today. It wasn’t hot enough for a frappe or cold enough for a latte but in my mind, coffee was appropriate at all hours. I crossed the wide room to Delaney’s perch on the chaise, stretched out like a model, and handed her the icy drink. I curled up in the chair that faced the floor-to-ceiling window and watched the millions of raindrops falling down, down, down. I hadn’t realized it but it’d begun raining even harder. What a great way to start the summer.

Raising her frappuccino she said, “Thanks, darling. A toast to the end of another dreadful school year!” I raised my own cup.

“Aye! And to another year closer to getting out of this hellhole.” We drank.

“So, what are we doing tonight, Soph? Should we use our newfound freedom for evil? We could get fake IDs and sneak into a club, or we could raid my mum’s liquor cabinet. What say you?” Delaney grinned at me devilishly and I just rolled my eyes. We were going to do none of those things; we were probably going to go to my house and watch The Notebook for the ten thousandth time and call it a night. Admittedly, we had an unhealthy obsession with the movie and by now we could recite it backwards and forwards. “And no, Rose, we’re not going to watch The Notebook again,” Delaney said, almost as if she could read my mind. I wouldn’t put it past her; we’d been friends for so long.

“Well then what are we going to do, D?”

“I don’t know, but I’m feeling adventurous. Let’s hook up with some of the guys here,” she said with an appreciative sweep of the room’s male population which was severely lacking in the young, hot ones and had a surplus of old, greasy-looking ones. Delaney sighed. “Scratch that.”

“The Notebook sounds like a pretty good bet to me,” I said, downing the last of my frappucinno. I was mildly disappointed that there was nothing left in the cup but you could only have so much of a good thing.

“I guess,” Delaney said grudgingly. “But I have a few things to do here in town before I come over. Is your mum home tonight?” I shook my head. Ever since my mother had been promoted to executive officer of finances in the accounting firm she worked for she was never home, always jetting off to somewhere new. I think this time it was Ontario.

“No, she won’t be back until Sunday morning. You’ll stay until then?”

“No problem, darling. I’ll be over to yours by ten; I need to stop home and find a present for Kent Richard’s birthday party, which you should definitely come to by the way. I need a good wingwoman.” I snorted. I was an expert wingwoman when it came to Delaney’s love life. Everything about her contradicted me and guys couldn’t help but notice the contrast.

“Yeah, we’ll see, D.”

When I got home after running through the downpour to my front porch, I was absolutely soaked. The sky outside was an angry gray and darkening quickly. It was only five o’clock but it looked like dusk was lying over the world outside like a thick, heavy blanket. There was something weird about tonight.

The AC in my house chilled my wet skin and I hung my keys on the rack nailed beside the door and locked the door behind me. The house was dark and silent, my breathing and the quiet hum of the refrigerator being the only audible sounds. There was a red blinking from the answering machine and I walked to the small, circular table it was set on to listen to the message.

“Hey, Rosie, it’s mom. I’m just checking in and I wanted to remind you to pick up a gallon of milk; the one in the fridge won’t be any good anymore. Love you, see you soon.” Beep. She was always delegating trivial tasks like buying milk to me instead of being home to do it herself.

I went up the spiraling staircase that creaked with roughly every other step I took. At one point I knew exactly which stairs would whine and which ones stayed quiet but it’d been so long since I’d paid attention to it. I opened the door to my room and looked around the shadowy darkness for a moment before turning on the light. I always felt some sense of relief when I was in my room; it was mine and mine alone.

I peeled off my wet clothes and threw them into the corner, vowing to wash them the next day even though I would forget about them and end up setting them out for my mother when she got back. Laundry wasn’t my thing around the house. Once I’d shrunk my favorite cardigan in the eighth grade and swore to never wash clothes again but sometimes I had to fend for myself. I pulled on an oversized tee-shirt and shorts, even though it didn’t look like I had any bottoms on at all. The mirror in the corner was taunting and teasing me every time I walked by. I knew I looked awful; the rain did tragic things to my curls. Instead of examining myself I dragged a finger under each of my eyes to catch any mascara that had run down my cheeks. I turned out the light and watched the shadow of the rain falling outside dance on my floor in the space between the open curtains.

The open curtains. I never left my curtains open. Suddenly a sense of alertness and severe paranoia washed through me, and the darkness around me became menacing. I crossed the room in three quick strides and started to yank the curtains closed when a flash of lightning illuminated the yard outside. There were two figures, two people, in my yard. One was kneeling and the other stood over him—or at least what I thought was a man—and stared at him for a few moments before pulling out a gun. I shrieked and immediately covered my mouth with a clammy hand when both of the intruders looked up at my window. The man standing up returned his attention to the one kneeling and kept his gun carefully trained on the top of his head. They both had to be soaked to the bone. Then at the exact moment thunder boomed in the air, a gunshot sounded and the kneeling man slumped over. I screamed again and ran from the room and down the stairs. I knew my mom kept a gun in the house but I had no idea where it was exactly. I didn’t have time to search for it so instead I grabbed the iron poker from in front of the fireplace. I was shaking so badly it fell from my hands, clattering to the floor with a noise that made me jump but I picked it up again and ran out the front door, leaving it wide open behind me.

The two men were still there, one still holding a gun and the other still in a puddle of his own blood and the rain. I squinted from the porch trying to figure out the best plan of attack and not wanting to waste any time or give the shooter a chance to escape I dodged behind the oak tree that stood roughly ten feet from the house and twenty feet from the men. I watched the murderer carefully. He kept staring at the dead man like he would get up and start speaking at any moment. I gathered every last vestige of courage I had within me and prepared to run at the man, fire poker at the ready when—

The man—the definitely dead man—slowly reanimated. I could see his limbs moving and his chest heaving as if he couldn’t get a deep enough breath. Another flash of lightning and another clap of thunder that rattled my brain even more than it already was. The dead man stood up to face the shooter and began gesturing violently at him and shouting and I could almost—but not quite—hear him over the pounding rain.

I again rallied my nerves to charge at the strangers and after another minute, another crashing thunder that shook the sky, I readied my weapon and darted. I hadn’t put on shoes before going outside and twigs and rocks stabbed at my feet but I ignored the pain to get to the two of them. Their backs were to me; I had the element of surprise and I used it and the noisy rain to my advantage and crept quickly to them.

“What the—“ began the man who’d been shot. With a heaving swing I hit him hard on the back and he fell forward into the mud and cursed. I raised the poker above my head again with the intention of bringing it down on top of the gunman’s head but he merely turned and plucked the rod from my hands, thrusting the barrel of the handgun into the waistband of his jeans.

“Now what were you planning to do with this, girl?” he asked with a sneer. The second man stood slowly and stepped to the side of the other one.

“You shot him and you’re trespassing,” I said like he hadn’t known what he’d done, suddenly very afraid of the men. I hadn’t planned on being deweaponized. I internally smacked myself for not calling the cops when I had the chance. In my moment of blind panic I’d overlooked that one little step in my master plan to take down the two in front of me.

The shooter gave a barking laugh. “Don’t you know it’s way past your bedtime, little girl? The monsters come out at night,” he said menacingly. I shivered at his words and at the rain that was pouring down on all of us. The temperature seemed to have plunged rapidly and I felt it.

“You need to go. I’m going to call the cops.” I injected all of the composure I possessed into my voice and turned around and began walking back to the house, trying not to flee in terror even though that’s exactly what I wanted to do.

“Where do you think you’re going, little girl?” called the man. Something in his voice froze me in my tracks and I found my feet carrying me back to him. I was confused; I wanted to go inside but I also wanted to listen to him speak even more. I stopped in front of him and to my complete and utter astonishment the man slowly bent the poker into a U-shape and dropped it at my feet. His non-victim smirked from behind him. “We’re going to have some fun with you. Isn’t that right, Cirron?” the gunman asked his companion. Even though the words weren’t directed at me I could taste the danger they were laced with.

The gunman stepped to my unmoving body and dragged a finger down my cheek and to my collarbone—a finger that was colder than ice and sent chills to my core. His fingers wrapped around my wrist tightly and he squeezed sending more of the bitter chill into my body. I wanted to cry but I was too cold. Everything around me was cold, I was cold, the world was frozen and I couldn’t move a centimeter. This was very wrong.

Then, just as suddenly as the other two had appeared, another man came into view from behind them. I saw him over the shoulder of the shooter and I begged him with my eyes to help me. I was freezing to death and the man holding me captive was definitely dangerous without a doubt. I pleaded with the stranger silently.

“Hello, boys,” he said. “What’ve you got here?” The newcomer watched all three of us warily. I couldn’t tell if he was on my side or theirs and I began panicking.

“Just some human girl. She tried to attack us, ran at me with a poker,” the gunman said with his barky laugh like my attempt at self-defense was silly. His fingers were still clamped around my wrist pumping the ice into my veins and I slowly felt myself going numb. Cirron stayed quiet and the newcomer stepped closer to us. I couldn’t see through the rain and the darkness but I knew the newcomer was looking at the gunman calculatingly, evaluating him.

“What are you doing here?”

The gunman sneered. “Well Cirron and I got into a bit of a spat and we wound up here I suppose. I finally beat that spineless slug,” he said with a jerk of his chin to Cirron who was standing impassively by the tree now, having slowly gravitated away from us.

“Fair enough,” said the newcomer. My heart sank. He was one of them and I was out here alone with no way to contact anyone else. My only hope was that Delaney showed up sooner than she’d predicted.

“Nothing like a duel to settle a dispute, am I right, Wren? And now I have a trophy to show for my victory.” The gunman yanked my wrist up above his head which was way above my own since he was at least a foot taller than me. I felt the jerk but I didn’t feel any pain. The coldness had invaded my body so thoroughly I couldn’t even move my eyes any more. The wet ground beneath me rose up to meet me as my knees gave out and I slumped, too weak to stand any more. The gunman crouched by my side, still holding on to my wrist. I felt my eyelids begin to flutter shut and I fought desperately against the icy sensation taking over my body. I couldn’t help but think that if I gave in, it would kill me.

“Sure. But you need to let the girl go, Abe. You’re killing her.” I couldn’t see him because my eyes had become too heavy to keep open but the voice belonged to the newcomer—to Wren. I could tell he was trying to keep his tone light but he fell just short, letting just a bit too much hostility seep in.

“Are you kidding me? She’s mine now and I can do with her what I want. She shouldn’t have gotten involved,” he said, shaking my wrist. The roughness barely registered in my mind. So cold, so cold, so cold.

“Let her go, Abe.” This time Wren’s words weren’t a request; they were a command. I wanted to smile, to laugh and be grateful for the stranger’s arrival but I couldn’t. There was fog all around me and I was lying on a cloud. Everything was soft and cold, soft and cold.

“She’s mine,” Abe spat at him with danger lacing his voice.

“Let her go,” Wren said, inflecting his voice with more steel than I’d heard in anyone else’s in the world. Abe sighed.

“Fine. But this isn’t over, Wren.” Abe released my wrist but the ice lingered in my bones. He’d let me go but I still couldn’t move.

“Leave now, Abe.”

“Alright, I’m going, I’m going. But just remember, sweetheart,” it took me a moment to register that he was talking to me now. “This won’t be the last of me.” Abe barked his laugh again and as silently as he had come he left. I opened my heavy eyes to see his feet walking away until they disappeared from view.

Suddenly Wren was beside me. “Are you okay?” he asked, kneeling down to me. He touched my wrist gently and suddenly I could feel everything again. The cold was still there, still freezing me but I wasn’t paralyzed. I could feel the rain dripping down on us and I could feel Wren’s hand letting warmth flow into my body.

My teeth began to chatter uncontrollably and waves of violent shivers rolled through my body. “C-c-c-c-cold,” I managed to say, hoping he could help me inside. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. He was staring at me intently as if he was making a complex decision. I tried to roll over onto my hands and knees but there was still that ice weighing me down. “Please,” I said, pleading with him.

Wren sighed and dragged a hand over his face before he gave in to his morals. He wedged an arm—a very strong arm—under my shoulder and around my waist, lifting me from the soaked ground easily. I felt leaves and dirt fall from the back of my arms and I stood on wobbly legs, Wren supporting most of my weight. He guided me to the porch through the darkness and once we were inside he shut the door quietly behind us without letting me go. Then he led me to the couch in the den, lifting me off my feet when we reached the two steps leading down into the room. My arms wrapped around his neck instinctively. I was still shivering but I was finally warming up some, enough to start talking.

“Who are you?” I asked when he set me down on the couch. Wren didn’t answer. Instead he threw one of the blankets that were spread on the armchair in the corner over me and flicked on a lamp, throwing the dark room into detail. Gratefully, I pulled the blanket tighter around me.

“Are you going to be alright?” Wren asked tersely. “I have other places to be.” Anger boiled inside me. He made it seem like I was such an inconvenience, like he hadn’t been the one with his insane friends on my property.

I shot up from the couch and pinned him with my eyes. I hadn’t been able to see him well outside but Wren looked every bit as dangerous as the other men had been and suddenly I wasn’t so sure I wanted him here any longer. He was tall, at least six-foot-four and I knew that if I’d been able to look at him when he was helping me in, he would’ve towered over me. Wren was lean, too, but his body still screamed power and tone. His dark eyes smoldered in the dim light. “You can’t just leave,” I said. “I have questions, I need answers.”

“Well that sounds like a problem for you, because I’m not in the mood to talk. Are you going to be alright?” Wren asked again. I stood up on shaky legs but I did my best not to let that show and stood in front of the steps.

“I’m going to call the cops unless you start talking.” He rolled his eyes and dragged a hand through his tawny hair.

“That’s probably the worst thing you could do.” Wren crossed the room to me in what seemed like an incredibly short amount of time. “You need to let this go or…” the words hung in the still air. Or I’ll kill you, he would’ve finished, and something about him made me believe that wholeheartedly. I swallowed hard but stood my ground.

“Who are you?” I persisted. Wren rolled his eyes.

“I can’t tell you that now. But I promise—I promise we’ll meet again. I’ll tell you everything, next time.” There was a note of finality in his voice. “You need to keep your mouth shut about this, though. If I find out you said anything to anyone we’ll—you’ll have problems.” Wren’s words sent a shudder through me.

“But when will we meet again? How can I find you?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll find you. I need to go,” he said, grasping my shoulders and moving me from the doorway. He brushed past me and I spun around, grabbing his wrist angrily.

Wren’s mouth dropped open and he stared at my hand. “When?” I demanded. His dark eyes flashed to mine and I felt the full weight of his gaze that seemed to stab at my soul.

“Soon,” he said slowly without taking his eyes off of me. I suddenly felt a little breathless. “I promise.” And I believed him. I let his arm go and stepped back and Wren looked at me for a moment longer before walking through the front door and away from me, leaving nothing but a trail of water droplets and the strange sensation of someone knowing you without knowing you at all for me to remember him by.