Chapter 55
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
DAKOTA
When my eyes opened, everything looked the exact same as when they’d last closed. The sky was the same oxblood shade, millions of stars glistening, and the same cool breeze was drifting through the window I’d reopened. I stood up and peered out, seeing angels flying and walking down the streets.
My skin still glistened with ultraneon, and there were still large white wings attached to my back.
The panic of being completely alone in such an unfamiliar place was constantly snapping at my throat, but I kept pushing it down. I didn’t have time to panic. Mason and Micah used to live here; it was a safe place. And I needed to keep myself calm so I could return to them as soon as possible.
I tentatively pushed open the door to my room, glancing side to side in the hallway, but seeing nothing. What the fuck do I do now?
I tiptoed towards the same stairs Zephyr had brought me up earlier, then descended until I was in the same spacious lobby. Zephyr was nowhere to be found, but there was a new female angel sitting at a desk across the room. She noticed me immediately, and her face softened.
“Did you sleep?” she asked.
“Um. Yes. I have no idea for how long, though.”
“Probably twelve hours or so. You won’t need to sleep so long in the future here.” The angel stood up from behind her desk, then walked over to me.
“I’m not planning on staying here,” I said, my eyes flicking nervously all around the room. Why was everyone so invested in my presence remaining in Heaven?
“Oh. Are you sure? I can show you around. You’d be very happy and taken care of here.” Her head tilted to the side, pretty blue eyes blinking at me. “And if you’re worried about being alone, we can help you find your creator’s birthplace.”
“My creator? The person who marked me as an infant? I don’t care about that.”
“Well—”
“I have to go back.” I swallowed against the nervousness tightening my throat, cutting her off. My hands were shaking. “Am I allowed to do that now?”
“Let’s head back to your room, and we can discuss it.”
I took a deep breath, then went back up the stairs and through the hallway to my room.
“My name is Calliope,” she said, quietly shutting the door behind herself.
“I just need to check your wings, then explain to you the process. I’m not really here to stop you from leaving.
” She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.
“But Angelakia are very special to Heaven, and we prefer not to lose them if possible.”
“But most angels don’t know about them.”
“No. Most angels don’t. It really only affects fallen angels, which there are far less of.” Her gaze skated briefly over my face, as if she was searching for a shift in my expression to illuminate some truth for her. “I can check your wings now.”
“I’m not able to make them disappear,” I informed her, then instantly regretted it, afraid that would mean they weren’t yet healed and I would have to stay.
“Are you sure? Try thinking about it again,” Calliope instructed.
I envisioned the wings disappearing.
An instant later, the weight was gone from my shoulders.
“Oh,” I said. “That didn’t work earlier.”
“It doesn’t, until they’re done healing. Conjure them again, please.”
I did.
Calliope walked around the back of me, inspecting different parts of the wings, making me extend and retract them and pressing her fingertips against my skin while I did, feeling my muscles.
“Your wings have grown nicely.” She stood in front of me again.
“And you are free to leave. If you want to land near where you rose, walk back to the spot where you went through the gate. It should’ve reappeared.
Then just step through and go across the pool to the tear in the sky.
If you want to fall somewhere else, there will be many gates around Heaven for you to choose from. ”
“Okay.” I could think of nothing else to say. This entire thing was surreal.
“You’re not allowed to keep those clothes.” She pointed to the cotton shirt and shorts I was wearing. “Angels aren’t allowed to take things from Heaven when they fall,” she explained.
“I’ll change into my old clothes.”
“Great. Anything else?”
“No?”
“If you change your mind, let me know. This is an irreversible decision. It will be completely permanent. Angelakia are unable to create more of their kind, even after transformation.”
Then Calliope left the room, and I was standing alone. I felt like I knew what she was talking about, but also not. It was all confusing to me.
Tears pricked my eyes, but I rapidly blinked them away, pushing off the panic attack that’d been brewing since I arrived—yet again. Once I was on Earth, I could cry. Micah would comfort me. Mason, too.
And then they would both teach me about how to be an angel, and we could resolve our fight, and everything would be fine.
I took a steadying breath, changed back into my clothes, then left and began walking in the direction of the place where I’d come through the copper gate.
My journey seemed shorter this time, now that I knew what to expect, and the gate stood tall exactly as Calliope had promised.
I turned around to take in the sight of Mount Olympus one more time, fully aware that I’d never be able to return here.
Maybe if the circumstances had been different, I would’ve stayed and explored for a few days, but I needed to go back and make sure everything was okay.
These limited memories would have to suffice.
Though I’d once wished to go to Heaven, to live here as an angel, I needed to be with the men I loved so much more.
Cool air entered my lungs, carrying a whisper of its metallic scent, making my skin glow bright. Once on Earth, the ultraneon would disappear, and my instant healing would be replaced by fast healing. Neither of those things bothered me, considering I hadn’t had any of this yesterday.
I took the last few steps toward the gate, then waited for it to open.
On the other side was the shallow black pool of water, the void stretching infinitely around it in every direction, and I walked across it as fast as I could. The tear in the sky was back, but this time a familiar place would be on the other side.
Breathing in my final inhale of neon-rich air, I fell through.
Instantly, the rip was sealed up behind me, and I was plummeting out of the sky, freezing cold air wrapping around me like an icy blanket, making my teeth chatter.
In my periphery I could see a flame spreading across my white wings, searing them black. It was hard to breathe, but the memory of being on Earth yesterday was still so fresh in my mind that this felt like nothing. That was suffocation; this was manageable.
I tried to use my wings to slow my descent, but I couldn’t. They didn’t work or I didn’t know how to use them or I was too cold to move, the flame of my own transformation the only thing flickering warmth over my skin.
I crashed into the sand at full speed, and I swore every bone in my body shattered with the impact.
I couldn’t move, could hardly suck in a full breath, as I tried to focus on surviving the pain.
Half my ribs must’ve been broken, and I felt it with every attempt at inhaling.
Cold saltwater washed over me, taking blood and ichor with it—my ichor, joining the gold with the teal of the sea.
Dark grains of sand clung to my damp cheek, my cold lips. I held myself motionless, staring at the water rolling up and down the beach while I lay broken on the sand. I wasn’t healing nearly as quickly as I had in the pool before Heaven’s entrance.
But I was healing.
My eyes tracked a lone black feather drifting to land in the ocean, instantly being tumbled under waves.
I gave myself ten minutes.
Just long enough to be able to breathe again.
Then I pushed myself off the ground, climbing up to my feet, swaying unsteadily and wincing in pain—but staying upright.
I needed to find Mason and Micah.
The sky was so gray, contrasting sharply with the memory of what it’d been in Heaven, and all the air I drew deep into my lungs was full of familiarity, full of the life cycle on Earth.
Growth and decay. I could sense the thinness of the neon here, could sense the way my inhales were no longer as satisfying as they’d been in Heaven, but I could also ignore it without much effort.
I tried focusing on making my wings disappear and was relieved when I felt the weight lift from my back.
It was not difficult—a natural process to me.
My fingertips reached back to brush over the exposed skin of my back, and I felt my own raised scars, twisted into my flesh.
I thought about Mason, thought about how I’d noticed his scars for the first time on this same beach as he disappeared beneath waves.
I followed him.
Followed him down below the surface, into the dark, into the terror. Stupidly, naively.
But I survived it.
As I climbed up the rocks, my entire body hurt. All the bruises and broken bones ached beneath my skin, the salt air stinging my healing cuts. I brushed sand off my face, pushing my wet hair behind my shoulders, taking big steps over dark rocks brushed with frost.
I walked first to my trailer, keeping just inside the edge of the forest as I went along the road—keeping hidden from passing cars.
A paper-thin layer of ice crunched under my boots, frigid wind blowing around my body, but none of it touched the heart of me.
There was no fatigue in my muscles as I stomped up the steps to my trailer, and I’d healed enough for my ribs not to flare with pain every time I inhaled.
Not wanting to waste time, I stripped all my ruined clothes off and changed as quickly as I could into ones that were clean and dry.
Then I attempted to drag a brush through my hair and pulled it back into a long braid down my spine.
My boots were still wet, but I didn’t have other shoes here, so I put on my thickest socks.