Airel - Aaron Patterson [89]
I skimmed through more pages, and found that they had all been written in the same fluid, beautiful hand. It had to have been written by one person. There’s no way one man could live that long…
But He wasn’t a man. He was one of the angels, or descended from them; I wasn’t sure which. That’s what Kale had called them: Sons of God. I wondered if they lived forever. Maybe they could be killed. This book did end; perhaps it meant that the Kreios had met his end. From the looks of the final entry, it didn’t look good for Kreios.
I turned back to the beginning, deciding to read the whole story in order. I learned the whole story of Kreios. I read the account of his time in heaven before The Fall, his love for a woman whom he would never name... and other things as well. The pain I felt for him as he wrote about his beloved, as I read his Book, produced in me tears of my own. I inevitably compared his love for her with my own love for Michael, and I marveled at the pain his love for her endured. I took it as a warning that there would be pain of my own that I would have to bear, as well.
Chapter I
Boise Idaho, Present day
The feeling of power in its purest form was enough to compel a man to break free of every law of decency and run through the streets naked and screaming. Stan knew that he did not have to kill the detective—but oh, how much fun it was to shoot the pig in the head.
Detective Lopez had taken too long. Much too long. There was a schedule to keep, people to see and all that. Lopez did give Stan what he had wanted, though—which made killing him in spite of it feel so much more satisfying. Innocence had so many uses, and quite contrary to what decent people thought. “Stan is very creative,” he said.
Stan let his memory flood his mind. The nice thing about memories was the ability to relive a great moment. The moment he shot Lopez was one that he liked. How could something so wrong feel so right?
Chapter II
Somewhere in the Mountains of Idaho, Present day
I dreamed of the Book, felt its presence in the room like a living thing. I could swear it called to me in the night the way my mother would, sweetly.
I opened my eyes to see the sun high in the sky, the curtains pulled back, and a warm yellow sunbeam filtering across my bed. I yawned, reaching up with my arms over the forest of soft pillows. I felt my back pop and a rush of wonderfulness flow through me like the unkinking of a garden hose.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Michael’s voice made me start. He grinned and chuckled low.
“Michael, you scared me! What are you doing?” I pulled the covers up to my neck, though I was fully clothed in my pajamas.
“Relax, I’m just here to wake you. I couldn’t let you sleep any longer. It’s noon already, and the date I have planned for us is slowly slipping away.” I smiled and let the covers fall away. I struggled out of their grasp, my feet finding the floor. I discreetly checked my breath and ran a hand through my tangled hair. I was promptly self-conscious. We were dangerously mixing bed head, dragon breath, and Michael Alexander. He was standing only a few feet away, offering a date and looking great on top of it.
“You kinda caught me at a bad time, mister.” I could feel my face heat up and my palms begin to sweat.
“Aw, you look beautiful. But anyway, I’ll just wait down in the kitchen. That way you can make your stunning entrance. I made you breakfast—well, lunch.” He had worked his way to the door as he spoke, but he turned, smiled, and left.
I shook my head at him, smiling. As soon as the door closed, I leapt from the bedside to the bathroom. I got ready just as quickly as I could, dressing in jeans and a pink hoodie. I stepped into my sneakers and ran down the stairs feeling better than I could have imagined. One look in the mirror had