Fallen

Chapter Three

     Mother pulls into the lot of our apartment complex and parks her car next to mine. We both get out and go inside. Our apartment is small. Two beds, one bath. Only one floor. We walk through the door that's connected to living room, and a wave of emotions washes over me. It's a mix of doubt and worry and maybe even a bit of excitement and curiosity. I'm almost hopeful that Mother actually has something left of my father. I may say that he's no good, but part of me wants to know him. A very small part of me, but a part of me nonetheless.

I follow my mother to her bedroom and wait in the doorway. She makes her way to her dresser on the opposite side of the room. She retrieves something from a small top drawer and walks back over to me. The object must be small, as she's able to hide the entire thing in her cupped hands.

"He told me to wait to give this to you until you were 18," she explains. "But I'm tired of arguing with you, and I figure a week early can't be that big a deal." She moves the hand that rests on top of the other and reveals a small, cylindrical vile with a cork in the top of it. Inside the glass vile is what looks like baby blue smoke with a bright white glow.

I gingerly take the vile from her hands and inspect it. "What is this?" Now that I hold it in my own hands, I hear a faint ringing in my ears. I choose to ignore it.

"It's your grace," she says.

"My what?"

"Your grace. It's what gives angels their power."

I hesitate. "A-and it's... Mine?" This can't be real. If this is... angel juice... then how is it mine? I'm a human being! Cut me and I bleed! This doesn't make sense. I get a closer look at the substance. Now I see hints of light purple moving around with the rest of it. It's so strange. It moves like smoke, yet it's opaque and glows.

"Yes," Mother pulls me back to Earth. "Castiel took it from your body when you were a baby. He said it would be best if you grew up normally until you were legally allowed to make your own decisions."

When I was a baby? "Wait, he saw me when I was a baby?" I ask.

She gives me a slight smile. "Yes. The day you were born." She takes a step closer to me and wraps her hands around mine that still hold the vile. "Don't you see? He didn't leave as soon as I told him I was pregnant. You just interpreted it that way. And this," she brushes the vile with her fingers. "Your grace. He took it from you to protect you."

     This is insane. Am I actually believing this? I'm finding it hard not to now. Seeing this... this grace... It's opening something up in my mind. "W-what do I do with it?"

     Mother let's go of my hands. "Open it."

     I'm finding myself feeling nervous. Will this hurt? What will even happen? My mouth falls open slightly and I pop the cork off the glass vile. The grace floats up out of the glass and finds my parted lips. I open my mouth wider until all of the grace is inside me. I feel something start to bubble up in my abdomen.

     "Cas told me this was the part where I look away," Mother says as a light starts to shine through my stomach.

     Mother averts her eyes from me, and I feel the grace take over my body as the ringing in my ears grows louder. It spreads from my stomach to my legs and arms, then my hands and feet. Then my neck, and finally, my head. A flash of white light explodes from me, and suddenly it's all over. I feel strong. I feel brand new. I feel invincible. I stand tall almost with my chest puffed, silently panting as Mother slowly turns back to me.

     When she sees me, she smiles and puts a hand on my cheek. "This is who you were meant to be." She keeps her eyes on mine for a moment with that 'my baby's all grown up' look on her face. "He left you something else," she quietly says. She opens the drawer of her bedside table that sits against the wall next to the door. She pulls out a sharp, oddly shaped silver blade and presents it to me. "It's called an angel blade. Every angel has one. This was your father's. He said to give it to you with your grace."

     I take the blade from her. The blade itself is a long, skinny triangular pyramid. The handle is a smooth cylinder. It feels good in my hands. It feels like it was made for me. Like I was born to hold it. After about a minute of gazing at the blade like it's my child, the ground begins to shake. Mother and I both brace ourselves on the doorframe.

     "Earthquake?" I yell over the rumbling.

     "I guess so," Mother replies. She and I wait only a couple seconds for it to pass.

     "It's been, what?, two or three years since we've had an earthquake?" I ask.

     "Something like that."

     I don't know why, but something feels off about the 'quake. I can't explain it, but I feel like something horrible is going to come from it. Like something made that earthquake. Or someone.