Secret Worlds (385 page)

“He needs her to gain world power. With each position she rises to, more power will fall into Lucifer’s hands. We must stop her, and soon.”

“There you are.”

Rachel fluttered to them. “Oh, Naomi, your hair does look much prettier down.”

“I think so, too.” Lash tucked a loose strand behind her ear and caressed her cheek. “Thanks Rachel. For helping her—and me.”

“No problem.” She smiled at him then turned to Naomi. “You asked me to get you when the little one was near home.”

“I need to go,” Naomi said to Lash. “Bear’s almost home, and I want to look in on her and Welita.”

“Sure, I’ll be with you in a moment,” Lash said. “There are a few more things I need to talk to Raphael about.”

“Oh, by the way, Rachel said I could stay in your room. I moved some things around to make space. I hope you don’t mind.” She grinned.

Lash kissed her. “Take all the space you need.”

***

When Naomi and Rachel were out of earshot, Lash turned to Raphael. “Thanks for not telling her that it was my fault for the Jane Sutherland situation.”

Raphael moved to sit next to him. “We all make mistakes. I have made them as well.”

“Not as bad as I have. I basically opened the door for the apocalypse.” He let the ramifications of what he’d done sink in. In addition to world destruction, he didn’t know how Naomi would take it if she found out that her father was dead because of him.

“Do not take this all on yourself. Remember, people still have free will, and I have faith in them”—he placed a hand on Lash’s shoulder—“as I have faith in you.”

He swallowed the lump that grew in his throat. He wanted to accept the words Raphael was telling him, but there was still something in the back of his mind that was bothering him. “Who’s Rebecca?”

Raphael paled and blinked rapidly. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“It’s not a difficult question. Who is Rebecca?”

Raphael let out a deep breath, and a haunted look crossed his face. “She was my wife.”

Visions of the hazel-eyed woman and of Raphael calling her Rebecca resurfaced again. The woman’s voice that had pleaded with Raphael in his vision was the same voice he had heard in Welita’s backyard. Welita’s guardian angel, Rebecca, the one who looked after them all. The pieces slid into place, and he fell back onto the bench, breathless. “She was my mother. Then that makes you—”

“Yes, she is your mother,” Raphael quickly interrupted. “And as you know”—he turned to Lash and looked him straight in the eye—“I’ve always been a father to you.”

“And Jeremy?”

“He is your brother.”

He looked away and let out a rush of air. “Then what Lucifer showed me was true. Jeremy was betrothed to Naomi.”

Raphael’s nostril’s flared. “Lucifer shows you only what benefits him.” He placed a hand over Lash’s. “Look at me and hear my words, for I speak the truth. Naomi belongs with you. No one, not Lucifer, Jeremiel, nor even I, can ever take her away from you.”

He nodded, feeling overwhelmed by what he was hearing. He had a mother he’d never met. He had lived a life with Naomi and hadn’t even known about it. And Raphael and Jeremy were still a part of his life. Why? “Why couldn’t I remember it? Does Jeremy?”

“Neither of you can. You two were not meant to remember.”

“Why?”

“It is my punishment.”

“
Your
punishment?”

Raphael sighed. “As I said before, I too have made mistakes. When it comes to loving someone, you and I are the same. Rebecca was human, just as Naomi was, when I fell in love with her. I trusted in the wrong person, and for that, I had to pay the price. I lost her and, to some extent, I lost you and Jeremiel.”

“You don’t see her? But she’s a guardian angel.”

“No, I am forbidden. It is my punishment for my past wrongdoing. Rebecca stays on Earth.”

The pain on his face was plain to see. And in that moment, Lash saw Raphael in a different light. He could never live that long without seeing Naomi, knowing where she was and not looking in on her. He didn’t think it was possible to have even more respect for him than he did before.

“Lash!” Rachel ran across the courtyard to them. “Naomi wants you to see something. Hurry!”

“Go ahead.” Raphael smiled sadly. “Don’t ever keep a woman waiting.”

He joined Naomi at a wooden bridge that looked over what appeared to be a stream. The water was like glass. With their powers, they were able to look down to Earth and narrow down the exact location of their assignments. This was the place where archangels came to check in on the seraphim and guardian angels. He wondered how many times Raphael had been tempted to look for Rebecca, especially after he knew she was with Welita. There was no way he could ever have kept himself away from Naomi.

“Look.” Naomi pointed to a familiar furry brown dog. “She’s almost there.”

Bear trotted down the street where Welita lived. She spotted an old shoe lying on the side of the road and sniffed it. She then looked around, as if she was checking to see if anyone was nearby, before hopping on top of it.

“What is she doing?” He leaned forward to get a better look.

“Oh, my God. How embarrassing.” Naomi groaned. “Bear, get off the shoe.”

Bear stopped and barked.

“She can hear me?” Naomi turned to him, astonished.

Lash chuckled. “Sometimes they can.” He leaned over the railing and yelled, “Go home, Bear.”

Bear took off down the street barking. When she neared the small white house, Welita walked outside. Bear bounced around until Welita picked her up. She licked her face and wiggled with happiness. A silver chain glittered in the sun, and Welita released it from Bear’s collar.

Welita dangled the cross pendant necklace from her fingers, and the sunlight danced off the tiny diamonds, sending a shimmer of blue and white. “Naomi sent you back to me.” She looked into the sky, tears spilling down her face. “Mijita, I told you love would guide you home.”

Naomi leaned over the stone railing. Tear droplets splashed onto the stream, making a ripple across the water. “I love you, Welita. I’ll always be here watching over you. I promise.”

Lash placed an arm around her and pulled her close to him. “You miss home?”

“I miss Welita and Chuy.” She tilted her head up. “But you’re my home.”

“Always,” he said.

“My broken angel,” she whispered as his lips pressed down on hers.

When secrets of the past are finally revealed, tempers flare, brother is pitted against brother, and Naomi and Lash face the greatest threat to their relationship: choosing among love, family, or duty. 

http://www.amazon.com/After-Fall-Broken-Angel-2/dp/B00F74SU38/

Known for her high-intensity New Adult novels, native Texan and psychologist, L.G. Castillo writes books that explore the tumultuous and psychological journey of self-discovery and falling in love. Her stories feature dramatic, life-changing events interspersed with a good dose of humor, feisty heroines, and the swoon-worthy men who love them.

When she’s not writing, L.G. is binging on Netflix or adding up frequent flyer miles for her next vacation. She’s been married to her own swoon-worthy hero for over two decades.

http://www.lgcastillo.com

The wind whips my long, blonde hair across my face as I check the address again. The paper the girl scrawled the street name and phone number on flaps between my fingers as I summon the courage to knock on the door.

The large, red-brick house is halfway up a steep hill, on a main road leading toward the town. Jammed between similar houses, only the colour of the front door and curtains distinguishes this house from its neighbours.

When the bus travelled up the hill, I looked back at the buildings shrinking behind me, as if I was climbing to the top of a roller coaster. The thought of going down the hill on the bus to work every day brings on my too-familiar head spins.

The number 104 is painted in large, black figures on the brickwork, so there’s no mistaking this is the place. I approach the red painted door and, as I knock, paint flakes fall to the ground. I tip back my head to count the windows of the three-story building.
Does every room belong to the house, or am I looking at a series of flats?
No sound comes from inside so I knock harder, and then face an embarrassing moment when someone opens a door I’m banging too heavily on.

A girl smiles broadly at me and ushers me inside. She’s wearing pyjamas with cartoon dogs on them and a huge pair of fluffy slippers. Her curly, auburn hair is pulled away from her freckle-covered face; a face scrubbed clean of make-up. I recognise her as the nurse I met at the hospital when I was studying the notices, desperate to find somewhere to live.

“Rosalind!” she calls by way of introduction, and then turns to me. “Is it Rosalind? Or are you a Rosie? Linda?”

I shake my head, too overcome by the interior of the house to reply. The front door opens straight into the lounge room, and I swear I’ve stepped into a 1970s time warp. The brown and yellow carpet is threadbare in places; a well-worn path leads down a hallway toward an open door through which stands a Formica kitchen table. Attached to the magnolia-painted, wood-chipped walls around me are strange pictures made of multi-coloured string and a particularly creepy looking Pierrot clown sitting on a half moon.

Beneath that picture is a brown sofa, the exact disgusting shade as the carpet, with a similar threadbare nature. Lounging back in the chair is a girl around my age with long brown hair, legs tucked under her, reading a book; I tip my head and see it’s a Psychology text. She lowers the book and regards me with pale blue eyes.

“Which?” she says.

“Pardon?”

“Which are you? Rosalind, Rosie, or Linda?”

I giggle nervously. “Oh! I thought you just called me a witch!”

The girl looks at me as if I need locking up, looks toward the curly-haired girl, and then back to me. “Yeah, right…”

“Rose.” My nerves get the better of me. “And I’m not a witch.”

My lame attempt at a joke increases the scorn on the brown-haired girl’s face. “Okay…”

The other girl bounces over in her ridiculous slippers. “Did I introduce myself when I saw you at the hospital? I bet I forgot! I’m Lizzie, and this is Grace.”

I nod because my mouth is too dry to speak after sticking my foot in it. Suddenly, I’m not sure if I could live here even if they wanted me to.

Lizzie sits next to her housemate. “Don’t worry, we won’t interrogate you. We just need someone to fill the room. Rent’s a bit much with just the three of us; plus, Grace is moving out in a couple of weeks.”

“Three?”

“Yeah, Alek’s not around right now. He’s at work, but he doesn’t really care who lives here,” says Grace.

“Yeah, he’s cool with whoever comes here.” Lizzie stands; she seems unable to keep still for long. “Let me show you the room.”

Before I came here this afternoon, I did wonder why there was such a cheap room available in a house with easy transport routes to the town. When Lizzie shows me the room, I get more of an idea why. The door opens onto the foot of the bed, and the narrow room has a small window at the other end with a low chest of drawers jammed against it.

Lizzie shrugs apologetically. “Sorry, I know it’s not very big…but it is cheap.”

I grip the handle of my small bag, wishing I had more time to find somewhere to live. I’m fighting with students for spare rooms, and my job as a hospital porter doesn’t pay for a place of my own. I shouldn’t have left it so late to look for somewhere to live before I came back here. I guess, when you make last-minute decisions, you end up with last-minute rejects.

“Yeah, it’s no problem.” Having a bed to sleep in and a roof over my head are more important than space for belongings I don’t have. I’ve overstayed my welcome at Jamie’s parents’ house, and I need to move on.

Lizzie trips happily down the stairs in front of me, as if I’ve said yes. She obviously knows options are limited in my price range.

Grace, who hasn’t shifted from her spot on the dilapidated sofa, gives me a cursory glance as we return to the room.

“So…?” Lizzie looks expectantly at me.

“Oh, I thought you’d need to chat about me and if I was all right. For the house, I mean.”

Grace laughs softly to herself, and I stop myself from frowning at her.

“No, I mean, yes. You’re perfect for us. I knew as soon as I saw you looking at the notices. Didn’t I say that, Grace?”

Grace shrugs, and I’m a little freaked out by Lizzie’s over-enthusiasm. I hope she’s not one of those girls who think you’re her best friend after five minutes because I’m not very sociable since the accident.

The front door bangs open, and a guy stomps into the room. Doors opening straight into lounge rooms always leave little room for subtle entrances, and this guy certainly isn’t subtle. He halts as he sees me.

I’m not one for crushing on guys the moment I see them, but I’ve always had a thing for guys in leather jackets. Maybe I watched
Grease
too much as a kid. His “leather jacket with beaten-up combat boots” combination does things to my insides.

The darkest of brown eyes, half-hidden by brown hair falling across his face, study me. Eyes I can’t look away from. He’s one of those guys with a sexual presence humming in the air around him and pulling girls in, even if you’re not the kind of girl who fantasises about edgy-looking guys in leather jackets. This guy is hot, and that’s not even a word I’d normally use. I wouldn’t be able to use any words if I wanted to, because when he walked in, he sucked the necessary oxygen from the room. All this must be reflected in my own gaze because his frown is soon replaced by a knowing curve to his mouth. Without a hello to any of us, he stalks past and up the stairs.

Aware my mouth dropped open a little, I close it and turn back to Lizzie.

“Yeah, he’s the third person I mentioned, Alek.” She watches him head out of the room. His footsteps clomp upstairs and silence surrounds us as he leaves. Lizzie snaps out of whatever she’s thinking. “He’s not sociable, so don’t worry about him.”