The Forgotten Angel Trilogy

Chapter 1

Feather

Red and blue lights splintered the chilly Chicago night, painting swirling colors on the paramedics and police outside the Wright Children’s Home.

My home for the past few years, though not anymore.

I shifted my thin, mostly bare legs on the hard vinyl seat of the squad car, watching through the wire mesh as the former Mr. Marcus Wright was bagged and loaded up into a waiting ambulance.

I shivered uncontrollably and glared down at the dancing pink and purple unicorns on my shortie pajamas.

The next time I killed someone in winter, I really needed to make sure I was wearing a coat, or socks at least. Jail was always colder than a brass toilet seat in Siberia.

I was pretty sure jail was where I was headed, too—at least until I died. I hoped my next life was in Fiji; I could handle a few years of eating papayas and shouting a friendly “Bula!” to all the tourists.

Trying to get a bit warmer, I folded my blood-spattered legs underneath me, though moving made my stomach churn.

My head hurt like someone had tried to cave in my skull, my right eye wouldn’t focus, and my teeth chattered nonstop.

But when I caught sight of Lily’s sweet, young face in an upstairs window of the Home, and saw her waving wildly, I smiled.

It was all worth it to know I had saved my young charge.

It was why I’d come here in the first place: to protect her innocence and her life.

I couldn’t wave since I was cuffed. I lifted my chin instead and blew a kiss back, a fresh surge of agony coursing through my body as I shifted position. Then movement right outside the squad car drew my attention.

The grizzled detective who’d questioned me earlier had returned with his fresh-faced blond partner in tow, stopping right outside.

“Like I was saying, it’s harder than you think to get a knife into the heart in one thrust. And she used a regular table knife.

” The detective opened his door and slid into the driver’s seat, waiting for his partner to shut his own door before continuing, “There’s no way she could do it without help, or training.

Look at how small she is. Can’t believe she’s eighteen. ”

“And she’s not injured at all. She could be on something,” his partner suggested. “PCP?”

“Maybe. PCP… or pure luck.”

“Not pure,” I muttered, grateful as one of them turned the heat on and a rush of exhaust-tinged air warmed the interior slightly.

“What’d you say?” the partner asked, twisting around to squint at me. I stared into his moon-shaped face, reading the faint, insignificant shadows on his soul, and smiled. He was a good guy, mostly.

“Not pure, not luck, and it’s the fifth time I’ve done that this century.”

It was the truth, but the guy just shook his head. “Drugs. Such a shame.”

When the car turned the first corner, I fell over, and the excruciating pain that resulted sent me at last into unconsciousness.

“Did you mean to kill Marcus Wright?”

The unfamiliar voice intruded on one of my favorite dreams—four strapping Greek powerlifters taking turns feeding me chocolate-dipped grapes and massaging me with warm, scented oils—as I swam back up through layers of pain.

Was it the detective? My splitting headache made speech impossible, but I thought, Yeah. Don’t you think he had it coming?

The deep voice came again, and I knew it wasn’t the detective now. I’d never heard this voice before. “Did you kill him intentionally?”

Though his tone was brusque, the voice itself was smooth, like melted chocolate, and sunlight, and warm sand. Almost as sexy as the raspy, mysterious voice I usually hallucinated between lives, but slightly lighter.

Was someone in the squad car with me? I struggled to open my eyes, but it felt like I had million-pound weights attached to my eyelids.

I could feel the hard seat beneath me, the purr of the engine as we moved, and the jolting of the brakes.

My shoulders ached from being restrained, and the all-encompassing pain that had taken me under was still there.

I couldn’t have been out for more than a few minutes.

I tried to move my head, but my muscles wouldn’t respond. Not even my lips.

What’s going on? I thought the question as loud as I could. Who is that?

“Who are you?” The question rumbled like distant thunder through my mind.

Low and intense, the kind of voice you dream about giving commands in the bedroom.

Not that I’d ever had that sort of fun. Honestly, the BDSM stuff I’d seen on the internet seemed like overkill for what in my experience was a minute of sweatiness followed by an apology and a promise that “That’s never happened before.

” But for that sexy voice, I would take my chances. Heck, I’d probably tie myself to a bed.

“Answer me, murderer.”

Okay, so sexy and judgy as hell.

“That’s correct,” the voice answered. “You are being judged. Did you kill that man intentionally?”

Internally, I sighed. Lying wasn’t worth the extra pain. But I had a feeling this guy wouldn’t like my answer. I did.

He was silent long enough that I wondered if he had left. When he spoke again, his voice held a note of confusion. “Who are you?”

Feather.

“Lie.” A flicker of pain shocked me, like someone had laid a burning branch against my face.

Ow! I told you my name!

“That isn’t your name. Lie again, and your judgment will be more severe. Your name, now.”

I didn’t have a better answer. I mean, murderer was certainly accurate. But I didn’t know who I really was or even what I was.

I don’t know, I admitted, after another tiny flick of fire landed on my arm. It used to be Tili. I call myself Feather.

A vast silence thrummed in my ears. “You do not remember? We will discover who made you and what you are. Besides a murderer.”

Great, he’d heard my thoughts. And who was “we?”

“I hear every thought.”

Awkward. I guess he’d also heard all the sexy thoughts. Ugh, this was so not my day. Well, it wasn’t like I’d ever meet Sexy Judgy Voice Guy in the real world. Might as well play along. So, I have a theory.

“A theory?”

A hot press of fire brushed my neck when I hesitated. Ugh. Stop that, whatever it is! It felt like a knife made out of lava. And I was definitely not into knives, no matter how sexy the guy.

“I’ll stop when you answer me.”

I take it back. I don’t want to play punishment bedroom games with you. What kind of jerk just breaks into a woman’s mind and starts demanding answers when she has a migraine and is covered in blood? Who the helter-skelter are you?

The silence stretched into a steel edge. “Answer me.”

Like I said, I have a theory. I took an imaginary deep breath. The last time I’d admitted this, I’d ended up eating all my meals with spoons and sitting in a circle in group therapy, drooling from the effects of some very strong psychotropic meds. I think I’m a superhero.

“A super… what?”

I know. But I can do stuff, or stuff happens around me. Time moves slowly when I need it to.

The voice didn’t answer for a moment, and the deeper growl took me by surprise when he finally spoke again. “When you need it to?”

Yeah, like tonight. When Wright was trying to hurt Lily—more than hurt, and my mind bloomed with gratitude that I had been there to save her from so much worse—and I needed to stop him, and there was a knife, but not close enough—

“So you needed time to kill him.”

Not exactly, I thought quietly. It seemed like he had already decided I was a simple murderer, so explaining wouldn’t help.

I’d been trying to save Lily from becoming a killer.

But this guy wouldn’t believe me, I could tell.

Whatever, I thought, as loud as possible.

Had to get the angle right, you know? It’s harder than you’d think to kill a guy with a table knife.

A chill filled the imaginary room. The silent, frigid moment stretched longer as I waited for another flick from the invisible blade.

This was getting old. It was time to start making excuses to some very nice detectives, see if I could talk my way out of jail…

without lying. I wouldn’t add even the tiny sin of deceit to the ones I’d already committed. Had to commit.

But it was still pitch dark. I wish I could see you. Or see anything. Are you holding my eyes shut? I mean, this is a very strange chat we’re having. I wonder if I’ve lost my mind. Is this what crazy feels like? Maybe I’m in a coma, or—

“Do you ever stop?” the voice snapped out.

It’s my hallucination, I snapped back, so I guess not. What the hello do you want me to tell you anyway?

A pulse of anger. “The word is Hell. It’s what the Abyss wants with you that has me concerned. You saved the girl.”

She has a name. Lily.

“Lily, then. You saved her life, and then her soul when you took the knife from her, and the smut on yourself. The evil you bear now.”

So much for hiding my thoughts. It’s called smut? He could see the burden I carried, the heaviness that coated my soul when I protected my vulnerable and defenseless charges? No one ever had before; not even I could, though I felt it in every moment of every life.

“Tell me about your smut.”

I snorted mentally and thought of a wide, innocent smile. This guy knew way too much about the state of my soul, but it was entirely possible he’d also peeked at my online reading history. Oh, crud. Did he know about my orc porn?

“You are covered in it.”

I know. I’m like a black hole of smut. Ha!

That sounds like a porno. The fire cracked on my calf this time, though not as hard.

Gah! That hurts, and not in a good way, and the smut already knocked me back so…

can I just rest, basshole? Only the pain radiating from my soul kept me from using a real curse word right now.

This guy deserved it, but I knew deep down that one F-bomb would break me.

“Basshole? What in the… Just tell me, why did you do it? Why protect the child at such cost to yourself?”

I didn’t answer at first. But maybe this guy would leave if I did. I have to, you know? I can, so I must.

“Can what?”

Protect her. Them. As many of them as I can. It’s like an obsession. I hear a… calling. It says protect, so I do.

The pause was even longer. Then I heard more words, the voice slightly distant now, like he was holding his mental telephone away from his ear and talking to someone else.

He murmured something that sounded like, “I can’t believe it.

She can’t be. We’re not missing any Protectors…

She’s foul, and has an equally filthy mind. ”

Yeah, well, you’re not gonna win Mr. Congeniality either. Can I go now? I’m super sick of this nightmare.

“You are the most disrespectful Protector I have ever witnessed.” The way the voice said the word Protector made me think it wasn’t just a word. It was a job title. Or something more.

Wait. That’s what I am? A Protector?

“Apparently so. Your time on Earth is at an end. Prepare yourself to be extracted tonight.”

What… Extracted? That sounded painful. I’m not a freaking tooth, Scary Voice Dude!

There was no answer, of course.

By morning, I’d been processed at the county jail.

By that evening, I was assigned to a solitary cell.

The next day, when the guards buzzed open my cell and found my body lying cold, no one thought much about it.

I watched from the top of the room, a wisp of invisible, pissed-off smoke, as two men carried my corpse away.

Just another statistic, another soul who’d never really had a chance.

A feather lost in a storm.