An Angel Lost Episode Four

By Odette C. Bell

This is it. Michael will come for her.
The end is here, and there’s only one way for Misa to live. She must find a way to make Farley believe in her, even though she’s an Arc.
If they can’t live together, they’ll die apart, and Michael will use Misa to finally cleanse the world of all sins.
....
An Angel Lost follows a forbidden angel and a brooding detective fighting through a dark city for answers. If you love your urban fantasies with grit, punch, and a smattering of romance, grab An Angel Lost Episode Four today and soar free with an Odette C. Bell series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Odette C. Bell
• Release date: Apr 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370303687

Book preview

Chapter 1

Misa

He shot me. Fired on me. Attempted to kill me.

Farley, my bonded, the man I’d saved and risked everything for had attempted to kill me.

I’m still around him, still have my arms locked around his, still have my tear-streaked face pressed close to his own tear-streaked cheek.

The smoking gun lies between us, its muzzle pressed up against my chest.

He doesn’t fire again.

I pull away from him slightly until my light-struck eyes stare into his.

And I grab the gun.

Farley stiffens, every muscle locking into place as if he’s just gone into rigor mortis. You— he begins, his voice shaking. God is it shaking. It feels as if his emotion is cracking in front of him, as if it’s the ground that he’s standing on, and there’s nothing he can do, nothing he can do to stay steady anymore.

But if Farley Jones thinks he’s cracking, it’s nothing compared to me.

I’m shattered. That process that began within me when I completely consumed Joshua Smith is owning me. It’s breaking me. All my control. All my everything.

I…. I grasp the gun harder, wrapping my fingers around it until I hear the sound of its outer casing bending.

I watch Farley’s eyes widen. I can feel from the fear locked in his muscles that he thinks I’m going to turn that gun on him. But I don’t turn it on him. I press it right against the center of my chest, and I fire. Fire. Fire. Over and over again until I empty the clip. Every time one of those bullets slams into me but it doesn’t do a thing, another tear trickles down my cheek. You can’t kill me, Farley. Nothing can anymore. No bullets or swords, no words or sentiments. My voice cracks on the word sentiments. I’m goddamn immortal. I’ve turned… I’ve turned, I spit the words out. They have to be spat out. I have to draw this poison from my blood before it consumes me completely. Into a monster. I’ve become a monster.

Farley isn’t blinking. His eyes are so wide, it looks as if they’ll pop out from his flesh. It looks as if his cheeks will crack, as if his entire body will be torn apart by the stress eating him up.

I watch his mouth open, watch his lips part. Monster. You’re a… he goes to say it, but something stops him. It’s as if someone wraps their hands around his throat – I can practically see his neck muscles twinging.

I press my lips together, tears streaming down my face so quickly, I have no idea where they’re coming from. One person shouldn’t be able to cry this much. But then reality slams into me and reminds me that I’m not a person. I am a pathetic monster fashioned to look like one.

You were right in front of my face, Farley stutters. You were hiding right in front of my face.

I’m a monster, I say, mind stuck on that now. It’s something I’ve managed to hide from my whole life. But it’s a fact that now slams into me, over and over again as if someone is taking a hammer to my skull. As if they want to crack past my every defense until they reach my sense of self, until they crush it.

The tears keep coming, and though I suspect all Farley wants to do is push back from me, find another gun, and fire over and over again, I watch his eyes. They follow every tear, tracing them down my cheeks, almost as if they’re doing what his thumb wants to.

I shake my head again, more tears splashing out, a few touching Farley.

… His body reacts to the move. He shivers. It’s a deep, muscle-locking move. It starts from his knees, powers up through his torso, and shakes through his arms. And his eyes, his eyes remain locked on every tear I cry, no matter how innumerable.

… Why did you hide from me? Farley asks.

… He should be trying to shoot me. Over and over again.

He should be telling me I’m a monster. He should be calling the Army.

But all he does is continue to watch those tears as he asks once more, Why did you hide this from me?

I only ever fed on those who deserved it, I try to tell him. Or maybe I try to tell myself.

But if that’s what Farley wants to hear, he doesn’t react. He simply keeps tracing my tears with his eyes as he asks once more, Why did you hide this from me?

Because I’m hunted. Because I didn’t want to end up with the Army. Because my sister was murdered. Because I’m an Arc, I spit, squeezing my eyes closed. Because I’m a monster.

Monster, he repeats that word. There’s some strange automatic quality to his voice, and the pitch of it is all wrong. It almost sounds as if he’s trying to repeat something someone else has pushed into his psyche.

You… he begins again, and I can tell he wants to call me a monster but can’t for some reason bring himself to try.

So I do it myself. Once more. Again and again and again. It’s like scouring my flesh with a knife as I try to dig out the truth that’s always been buried within me. I’m a monster. I’m forced to feed to live. I have to deal with unending hunger every day. And sins. So many sins, I say, my voice twisting, becoming light, becoming falsely carefree. Everywhere. I can smell them. I can taste them. And they call to me.

Farley makes no move to get up. Blood is still pouring down from the cut in his brow, trickling down his temple, splashing against his torn collar.

He still hasn’t blinked. It’s as if he suspects that when he closes his eyes, I’ll kill him.

… Or maybe he can’t turn away from my eyes. His attention is so fixed on them. It’s almost… almost as if he wants to reach forward and try to hold them.

You… you’re a— he begins again but stops abruptly.

Just say it, I spit with bitter emotion. It’s okay. Because it’s true, I say through a strangled laugh. I’m a monster. A goddamn monster. An aberration. A joke by God.

Why did you save me? he says.

I can tell his words surprise him just as much as they surprise me.

I know he shouldn’t be acting this way, just as I’m sure he knows he shouldn’t be acting this way. The death of his mother and sister to an Arc attack is what sums up Farley Jones. Their loss has been at the center of his heart ever since I’ve known him. All his anger, all his determination – every single pillar of his personality is built on that horrific accident. And through it, and most importantly through his anger toward Arcs, he keeps living every day. Without it, I’ve always suspected the great Farley Jones would crumble.

But here I am, right in front of him. An Arc. Probably the most powerful he’s ever seen. He’s already admitted he works for the Army. But he’s not reaching for his phone. He’s not trying to call me in. He’s just staring at me, never tearing his gaze off my tears. You saved me. Why?

Because I couldn’t not save you. I… I know you can’t hear this, you don’t want me to admit this, but I can’t keep it quiet. I… bonded to you. That kiss, I say, incapable of finishing the thought.

This is where revulsion should plow through Farley’s body. This is where he should shove me back viciously. This is where he should spit on me. Where he should denigrate me. Where he should do everything to distance himself from that kiss and what it meant to me. But he doesn’t do anything. He simply continues to stare at me. Though I could trick myself into thinking that the look in his eyes is the look of surrender I’ve seen so many times from so many victims who know there’s nothing they can do to fight an Arc, that’s wrong. There’s too much emotion behind that stare.

It’s like Farley is fighting with two sides of his personality. The old side that hates Arcs and lives every new day based on that hatred, and the new side. The side that opened up with me. The side I saw in the tea room in the police station. The tenderness. The warmth. The hope.

The tears keep coming. It feels as if they’ll never stop. They’re a reaction to more than what’s happening with Farley – it’s as if my body is crying out at what’s going on within me. Or maybe what’s about to happen.

Because I can sense something, can’t I?

This… oncoming force.

I close my eyes for half a second, and as soon as I do, a perfect vision that man from my dreams slams front and center into my consciousness. It feels like a pike being driven through my heart.

I twitch violently.

Farley does something at the move. He doesn’t take the opportunity to kick me in the guts. He jumps forward, not back. He doesn’t throw his hands over my shoulders to keep me steady. He doesn’t do anything big. But the effort of moving closer and not back means everything. I open my eyes and stare at him breathlessly.

What was that?

I need to get out of here. I think… I think something’s coming for me.

Though I don’t want to tear myself from Farley’s presence – though I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing keeping me together – I force myself to stand. I wobble. I’m unsteady. And there’s no reason beyond emotional discord for me not to be as strong as an immortal Arc. I just fed on one of the strongest Majes there ever was.

Farley continues to kneel there, the blood softly dripping down his temple as he stares my way. Then finally he stands. The move is wary, but it isn’t completely owned by suspicion. Though he makes no large movements, at the