Chapter 6 #2
A dark figure leans over the edge of the stairs, staring directly at us. I watch as the figure digs its fingers into the railing, gripping as tightly as possible—not from fear of falling over the edge, but from the realization I can see it watching me.
“Mara?” Shaw speaks, and his voice echoes around us like our previous footsteps.
I don’t blink or move. Instead, I keep my gaze fixed on the figure watching from above. At the sound of Shaw’s deep voice, the figure jerks its head back into the stairwell, and I hear a door slam. I didn’t make that up. Someone was watching us—listening to us—it was real.
With no regard for Shaw’s concern, I push past and sprint up the stairs as quickly as possible, skipping every other step to gain speed.
With each flight I climb, a dull burn travels up my thighs.
I may have speed and strength, but that doesn’t make me immune to the ache that builds in my muscles.
I hear Shaw’s steps behind me, and I realize it never occurred to me what I could be walking into.
I reach the seventh-floor landing and push open the heavy door.
My lungs burn, but I recover quickly. The hallway is quiet, with all the bedroom and office doors closed.
The motion-sensor lights are still active in response to someone’s presence, and I stop, glancing down the halls to the two main areas.
Shaw quickly reaches the floor, seconds behind me, breathing as heavily as I was.
“What the fuck, Mara?” he huffs. “What are you doing?”
I continue to scan the halls and doors, waiting for whoever is stalking to emerge, checking to see if we followed them.
“Someone was watching us,” I whisper.
He glances around, looking for anything out of the ordinary. “Are you sure?”
I cut my eyes toward him. “Yes.”
With the hall completely silent and no signs of anyone, I turn to face him. His face is soft, but a look of concern crosses his expression quickly, but slow enough for me to catch it. Since returning, the only thing that’s happened is chaos, and it’s clear Shaw is already tired of it.
I can’t help but think he’s tired of me.
“Look,” he says, gently. “Maybe you need to get some more rest. Getting used to everything again will take longer than a few hours. Maybe I pushed it getting you out so soon.”
“I’m not lying, Shaw.” I stand my ground. “Someone was watching us.”
He sighs. “I didn’t say you were lying, but I do think you are overwhelmed and exhausted. Let’s go back down to our rooms and rest.” Shaw walks toward the stairwell door. “You have a massive day tomorrow. If you fail, you know what happens.”
“I told you, I’m fine.”
He opens the door and motions for me to follow.
Once again, Shaw leads the way down each step into the obscurity that looms from the lower floors.
The darkness seems to pulse, pulling me down as the bottom of the stairs opens its wide mouth, ready to swallow me whole.
The lower we go, the quicker I move, desperate to reach the third floor.
I don’t dare glance up for fear of what hangs over my head like a dark cloud.
I know it’s back—I can feel the shift of the presence that looks down from the railing above.
We exit the stairwell, and the air on the third floor feels lighter—my favorite floor in the entire Order.
The lower floors typically house the more tenured angels, but not always.
I have always thought it was so Lowell could keep the most skilled people closest to him in case things ever went wrong.
We walk down the long hallway leading to our rooms, and I avoid looking at Shaw. It’s clear today has already been enough for both of us, and it’s not 5 P.M. yet.
Great.
“I have plans with Talon tonight,” he says, as we approach our doors. “Would you like to join?”
I laugh. “Fuck no. He wouldn’t want me to either.”
Shaw doesn’t smile. “Are you going to be alright?”
I take a moment to respond, walking to my room just a door away. “I told you I don’t like that question.”
He tilts his head. “Mara.”
“I’ll be fine.” I turn the knob of my room. “I’m going to stay in here and rest. Believe me, after everything that’s happened, I’m done with today.”
He moves toward me to kiss my forehead.
“If you need me, call me. There’s a cell phone in the drawer by your bed. I put my new number in there. Get some rest, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
I nod and slip into my room without another word.
The door gently closes behind me, and I quickly lock it.
I scan the space again, taking in the differences between this and my old room.
My old room was smaller but brighter. This one is larger—older—and feels dull, which I don’t like.
I walk to my bed and throw myself onto it.
The soft sheets wrap around me, and the mattress squeaks under my weight.
I roll onto my back, staring up at the ornate ceiling.
Wooden beams run along the tall ceiling, and a skylight sits on the far side, allowing light through the small opening.
The urge to transform presses on my mind now that I’ve slowed down. I close my eyes and stretch, then move to the middle of my room. I take a deep breath, almost scared to let my wings free. Even though it’s been nearly a year, the feeling is familiar and effortless.
I open my eyes and allow myself to become the real me. I allow my wings to unfold.