Give Me Desire (Reason Series) (11 page)

"I know, but it's really no big thing. We go, have dinner, there is an auction, and dinner is followed by a dance. It's a stuffed shirt, black tie kind of thing. I am not a fan of going to them, but this one is for an important charity that I've been a part of since its inception, so it is really important that I be there. I just don't want to go without you."

I'm pondering his words as I continue to stroke my belly. "I have nothing to wear," I say, and he chuckles.
 

"Does that mean you'll go?"

I roll my eyes at his enthusiasm. "Yes, Mikah, I'll go."
 

"Yes! Okay, I will have Celeste make some arrangements for you to have a nice, relaxing day tomorrow, get your hair done, be pampered a little. And when you guys go out today, you can find yourself a dress." The excitement in his voice is infectious, and I can't help but smile.
 

I splay my hand across my belly, and as I do, I feel something, almost like bubbles under my hand. "Holy crap."

"I'm sure you'll-"
 

"No, not that." I cut him off. I rub at my belly again, placing a little more pressure on it, and it happens again. "Whoa."

"Vivienne, what's the matter?"

I feel tears on my cheeks. "I-" It hits again. "I think she's moving. It feels like little bubbles."

"Vivienne, are you serious?" he says with major excitement in his voice.

I laugh a choked laugh. "Yes, I'm serious. It feels so..." I can't think of the words.
 

"Viv, that's so...wow."
 

My thoughts exactly.

TWENTY-FIVE

Not long after I get off the phone with Mikah, Andrew comes into the apartment, hands me an envelope and tells me that Celeste will be down shortly. The envelope has some papers and something flat and hard inside. I open it up.
 

Inside is a letter and a black and silver credit card that says
American Express Elite
and has my name on it. Holy shit, his damn shopping budget involves a credit card.
 

I open up the letter. At first I think it’s handwritten, but when I run my fingers over it I realize it’s been printed in a font that looks just like his handwriting.

Dearest Vivienne,
 

In this envelope you will find your very own credit card. Please do not be mad at me, but after our conversation today, I wanted you to be able to go out and go shopping with Celeste with your own credit card.
 

Andrew and Connor will accompany both of you, and I've reserved some private shopping time at Neiman Marcus to cut back on security concerns. Please make sure that you also pick up a coat or two, one for tomorrow night and one for everyday use. While I love seeing you in my Boston College sweatshirt, it is hardly warm enough for the weather.
 

I hope you enjoy your shopping. Once again I'm awed by the fact that I've been able to be a part of yet another milestone in your pregnancy.
 

I cannot wait to see you tomorrow.
 

Be Safe,

M

By the time I'm done reading the note, I'm over the fact that he insists on paying for my shopping. He's actually given me a list of the things he would like me to buy, which makes it a little easier to take the credit card, though I'm not sure I’ll feel right using it for anything other than what he's outlined.

Neiman Marcus turns out to be a beast of a store – huge and full of everything and rather overwhelming. However, I do manage to find a dress for tomorrow night. I’m shocked beyond measure when I see it. It’s too perfect and I’m able to wear it, pregnant belly and all, without purchasing a maternity dress. Celeste comments at one point that, despite my belly, my small frame will allow me to wear regular style clothing for some time before I really have to get into the maternity styles. I’m relieved to hear it because I’m not all that impressed with the maternity section in the store.

I also manage to find shoes and a coat for tomorrow night that actually match the dress, as well as a coat for everyday use. I also pick up two bras from the maternity section; when I try them on, the soft, supportive fabric brings nearly instant relief.

Purses are a whole other issue. Neiman Marcus doesn’t have a single purse that I like within my price range, but when I ask Celeste if we can just go to Target or Wal-Mart, she looks at me like I've lost my mind. Eventually I find one that I really like for day-to-day use. Then I find a second one that’s white and matches my dress for tomorrow night. It’s smaller and fancier, definitely not for everyday use. I refuse to look at the price tags on them as we head toward the register.

Celeste does her best to encourage me to buy more things, but I’m determined to use Mikah's credit card only for the things that he's pointed out.
 

When we’re done, we head home. I’m exhausted from all of the day’s events and very thankful that Celeste is making me dinner because I don't have the energy.
 

Just as I sit down to eat, Mikah calls my iPod using FaceTime, and Celeste shows me how to use it. Mikah’s exhausted, too. We cut the conversation short because his flight out of Phoenix is leaving early in the morning.

After dinner, I curl up on the couch to watch a movie, but before I know it, my eyelids become heavy. I manage to turn off the TV and stumble into the bedroom before falling into a deep sleep.

TWENTY-SIX

The next morning I wake up early, around seven, rub the sleep from my eyes, and shuffle into the bathroom to take a shower. As I shed my clothing I notice something strange about the way I'm moving, but I can't quite place it.
 

That's when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and start to scream. I quickly clasp my hand over my mouth, remembering that one of the men is standing outside the door to the apartment.
 

"Calm down, angel."

"How in the hell am I supposed to calm down? Look at me!"
 

"I know. Breathe. We will handle this together," the female voice says calmly.
 

I don't even bother to look around; I know she's not in the room to be seen. No, she's in my head.
 

What the hell was I dreaming about?

"Elysium, and, erm..."
 

Well, crap, so dreaming about Elysium is now causing my wings to sprout? I thought I only had wings while I was in Elysium, not...
 

I trail off. It's obvious right now that my assumption was incorrect, as I'm staring at wings - smaller than those in Elysium, but still wings - sprouting from my back. They are about a quarter of the size of those in my dreams.
 

I'd already managed to shed my tank top before I'd realized that these beautiful white wings with silvery trim were pushing their way out, and my naked torso, framed by my flaming red, curly hair and white wings is, well, breathtakingly beautiful. The image is actually quite-

"Angels do not think such things."
 

I blush at her catching the direction of my thoughts, but I say, "Can you blame me?"

She laughs, the sound like a chorus of angels singing and bells ringing. "No, my child, I do not and cannot blame you for such thoughts."
 

I suddenly have a mental image of her fanning herself, and I shake my head.
 

Looking back into the mirror, I almost don't want the wings to go away. But I'm not sure how on earth I will explain this to Celeste, let alone the men and Mikah.
 

"Mikah knows."

"Wait, what? How?" I've suspected that we share the dreams together, but not that he actually knows.
 

"Well, he has an idea. He is the one that noticed your back first. In the hospital."

"Why hasn't he said anything?"

I feel her shrug. "More than likely, he is trying not to scare you. And he isn't the only one aware of what you are."

"Wait a minute. Who else knows?"

"Your guardians know." She's playing coy and it's starting to piss me off.
 

"Spill it, Zirah. Who the hell else knows about this?" As I say this, I watch my wings flare, almost like they're taking a big breath.
 

"Celeste."
 

My eyes bulge and my mouth drops open.
 

"Andrew, Connor, and..." She stops.
 

"Red?" I whisper the last name.
 

"Yes," she says.
 

"Does Mikah know this?"
 

"No. He suspects, but he doesn't know for certain that he is not the only one protecting you. The others are something different. They are not angels, but guardians of Elysium. They have abilities of protection that you and Mikah do not. They act as shields, especially for you. They are more like assistants to Mikah. They are able to regenerate and to morph into anything that you may need for protection, though they also have their limitations."
 

I take a deep breath, trying to take all of this in. Since stepping out of those hospital doors two weeks ago, I've been more protected than I ever could've thought possible. Having guards outside the door was one thing, but knowing that those guards are really doing more than I can imagine is...
 

"They've been able to hide you from detection. While the ones who wish to harm you cannot detect you, your being alive has prevented the
foinse olc
– or source of evil, the devil - from returning to his full strength. This is the reason that Riley tried to kill you. Though he has his own personal reasons for wanting you dead, he is operating on the command of the devil. He has failed, and is failing, and it is only a matter of time before
he
has his way with him."

"How so?" I breathe.
 

"He will take Riley into the inner circles of Hades."

I’m reminded of our earlier conversation about Dante’s
Inferno
. There are levels of hell in that book.

"You're not far off. That story is surprisingly accurate. Killing you was to be Riley's rite of passage. He was to be one of the devil’s minions, part of his demon circle. Riley’s failure is your gain, and he will soon be doomed to relive torture day in and day out."

I shiver and watch as my wings shimmer in the light of the bathroom.
 

"Okay. Can you make these things go away?" I manage to mumble.
 

"Yes, my angel, but I would like to teach you how to bring them in. It's actually rather simple. All you need to do is visualize them coming back in, and they will retract of their own accord."

I close my eyes to avoid being distracted by the sight of them in the mirror. I flex my shoulders and can feel them move from deep inside. I focus on that feeling and imagine pulling them in. The process is slow, but little by little I feel them settling in on my back.
 

Once I feel that they are back in place, I slowly open my eyes. They're gone. All that is left in the mirror is me. I sigh. I rather enjoyed seeing my wings in person for the first time, but I'm glad to have them tucked away.

TWENTY-SEVEN

After my shower, I put on one of my new bras and am excited by the fact that my breasts are not as sore. I still feel the tight heaviness and it's mildly uncomfortable, but it’s manageable.
 

Once I'm dressed, I head out into the living room. Surprisingly, Celeste is nowhere to be found, but on the breakfast bar is a bagel, spread thickly with strawberry cream cheese, and a card.

I shuffle toward it and take a seat. Picking up the card, I read:

Good morning, Vivienne. I've left this bagel for you. I will be back around 9:15 to collect you. Mikah has arranged a day at the spa just for you.
 

Enjoy! Celeste.
 

The spa? What the hell is that? I shrug and pick up my bagel, taking a huge bite.
 

When I'm done eating, I still have about twenty minutes before she will be back. I take to transferring the minimal contents of my old wallet to the new one, which matches my new black purse. It is round on the bottom and flat at the top. Celeste called it “bucket style.” She was careful to remove the tag so I wouldn't see the price, but it is covered in silhouettes of the letter
C
. The wallet is the same material and color. She tried to convince me to get another color, but I preferred the black one.
 

I also put my journal in my new bag, along with a few of the other things, chapstick, a tattered picture of my mother and a gentleman, whom my mother said is my father and a small package of Kleenex, that Celeste saved from my old one. I pause a moment to look at the picture again. There is something strangely familiar about the man next to my mother, but I can’t place him. I take one last look at my old wallet, I toss it into the garbage under the coffee table. I won't need it anymore.
 

I grab my new bag and set it up on the breakfast bar, waiting for Celeste to show up.
 

The phone rings. My heart pounds as it occurs to me it might be Mikah. Then I scowl, remembering he was leaving early this morning and should be on a plane. But when I pick it up off of its cradle and look at it, I see that it is Mikah.

"Good morning," I say enthusiastically into the phone.
 

There's no answer on the other end of the line.
 

"Hello?" I say again. Nothing. For reasons unknown the wings on my back buzz. "Mikah, are you there?"
 

Still no answer.
 

I turn toward the door to the apartment and jump, dropping the phone. Standing in the doorway is Mikah with his phone to his ear.
 

"Gah! Don't do that to me," I say, but he's just standing there.
 

My back is ablaze. Fear strikes through me, and I suddenly understand that this is not Mikah. My wings begin to push out from my back and into my top, straining against the material. I hear the seams starting to rip, and the next thing I know, the shirt is no longer tight but shredded and falling away from my body.