Salvation, Fallen Angel Series, Book One

CHAPTER TWO

"Izzy!" Meredith's exclamation cut through the taut-wire tension.

Isabella sliced her Cherub sister and best friend a silencing look.

"I think it best if you remove your knife, sister."

The reprimand came from Shea, the only Cherub in the group who still attended daily worship four times a day. Shea's hair, like Izzy's still the traditional length, fell in curly waves to her waist. Shea, who had to be forced to wear the on-stage costume, tended to follow proper decorum, praying for the day the Heavenly Gates once again accepted them. It wasn't in Izzy to tell her again and again those gates had been sealed shut from the likes of them.

Now this Seraphim angel with his broad quarterback shoulders, six-foot-six height, thick muscled thighs, chiseled square jaw and stormy gray eyes had invaded their homemade haven. Anger rooted itself like a fast growing vine, twisting in her gut. This must be part of my penance. The Seraphim looked to be a little older than her seventeen years. She judged him to be about nineteen. Too bad she hadn't aged a day since being cursed from the heavens. None of them had aged and not one of them liked that part of the punishment. Charcoal-colored hair cut to human military precision marked him a Sere, a step below becoming a full-fledged Sera warrior. Then he'd let his hair grow to the traditional shoulder length. To become Sera he must first find his b'iã, preordained by the Mistress, of course.

That is the reason he is here. Not to rescue me or us, but so he can become a true angel warrior. We don't really matter to him. I am just a means for his advancement.

"I take it you are Isabella."

His soft but rough voice reminded her of dry timber. One spark and that quiet voice could roar to life. Knowing that, she wisely followed Shea's advice and withdrew her knife. Tucking it back inside the bodice of her gown, his eyes followed her hand. She cut him a crafty look.

Izzy didn't say anything. Instead she waited for him to press.

"You are also the Cherub from the alley." It wasn't a question and she noted how he avoided stating the obvious. She had saved his ass.

Her latest outburst of blasphemy elicited another Hebrew word inked in the traditional semi-cursive lettering of Rashi script to be burned into her flesh, making her itch. Pleased she hadn't said another swear word out loud while thinking a dozen more in her head, she didn't dare let on to her sisters how much her body ached. Only Meredith knew the true extent of the Mistress' curse.

"Yes, I am the Cherub who killed the demons you had drawn to the area. You are lucky I was on my way home. Otherwise you'd be enjoying the fires of..."

"I had gathered that myself, Izzy."

"Isabella," she corrected. No way did she want her nickname rolling of his tongue.

He nodded. The movement caused his eyes to glide knowingly down her body. Izzy hated her breathless reaction to his bold assessment. She also hated how sinful looking his lips were and how the smell of him, bold male with a hint of exotic spices, reminded her of home.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she barked. Palms sweaty, she resisted wiping them on her leather pants.

"Wondering where else you might be hiding knives, my b'iã."

Isabella got right into his face. Squaring her shoulders back she calmly said, "Never. Do not ever call me that. I am not nor ever will be your...your, oh hell. I will never be your heavenly wife." Izzy gasped, as the fresh burn from the use of the swear word, hell, caused more Rashi script to scorch her right butt cheek. Worse, the way he'd said b'iã made her heart soar, the feeling reminding her of flying through warm clouds. Her penance was getting a lot harder.

Stomping away from him, Izzy marched up the stairs to the third floor of the apartment building. Ten years ago, when they got kicked out of the heavens, the seven of them had quickly learned they needed to band together and work toward a common goal. Getting the Mistress to grant them back into the heavenly realm had been their first priority while assimilating into mankind. Now, Izzy's task was to keep her sisters safe and make their lives on earth bearable.

"Why are you not at the Cherub safe house?" asked the Seraphim called Nathanael.

She tried to recall him but couldn't. In fact, born of the house of Raphael, she wondered if he knew it had been his father who had severed her wings. Izzy hadn't thought of her wingless form in years and doing so now elicited a deep ache within her. One she tried at all times not to examine too closely. Her sisters always took care to keep their own wings invisible and that act of kindness while warming her heart, still felt like a slap in the face. She, no matter what, would never be angel again.

"Never fear, Seraphim, we went, but realized fast we were better on our own. After a decade here we have established our own place on earth. M'sumli sere q'ulat ch'eei – welcome to our blessed dwelling Sere." Izzy used scripture, letting him know she had been taught the traditions of Cherub culture.

"What did you say?" he demanded, commanding the steps like he owned the stairwell.

"If you can't recognize civility, far be it for me to—"

"No, you said a decade. What do you mean?" His voice sounded agitated.

Izzy turned the moment her heel reached the top step of the well-worn wooden stair. When she had enough money she'd add fresh paint to the hall and walls and get her business partner to strip the wood off the stairs. Staring down at him, she took the time to admire his flawless face, instantly reminding her of all that had been in her life.

"We've been here a decade. In case you can't count, Seraphim. That's ten years. Ten years serving our exile. And if you are hard of hearing, Meredith can write it out formally for you."

Izzy turned and dismissed him, enjoying the sound of her clicking heels as she sauntered to her private bedroom. Opening the door with a key she walked through, leaving her sisters to entertain their new guest. She, on the other hand, made straight for the large bathroom. A hot bath with the soothing scents of jasmine oil had her name stamped on them. No way could she look into that Seraphim's eyes one more time. Hearing him call her his b'iã, his heavenly host of a wife, had resurrected something foreign and what she had thought long-dead within her—the need to be a dutiful Cherub. Serving the Seraphim would end her penance but steal her away from her sisters. She knew what choosing a b'iã meant—preordained destinies tied to one heart, one heavenly soul and Izzy wanted desperately to escape it all.

Izzy couldn't wait to get out of the high top sneakers and pleated skirt and shirt. Her stomach felt slightly nauseous as the erotic visions of unrestricted pleasure, the type she'd been taught since she'd undergone puberty, wormed their way through her subconscious. She had to find a way to get rid of Nathanael soon or risk everything she'd fought for. Independence, free will and a life other than the preordained Cherub one she'd been born into. Life on earth wasn't anything like living in the heavenly realm but at least here Izzy got to think for herself. Ascending again didn't matter to her. Or so she told herself.

Damn! The Mistress sent Nathanael knowing he offered salvation— the way to serve her penance, accordingly. Honor her Cherub teachings and culture, and allow this Seraphim to breed with her. That might delight her teachers but Izzy thought, not in my lifetime. Tempted to curse her frustration aloud, she decided a cooler head was warranted. Turning on the cold water she ran her head under the stream until the ice cold shocked her; a brutal but necessary reminder. While the pleasure of a hot bath might be desirable, in the heavenly realm, sacrifices rule.