I couldn't breathe through the shuddering sobs that racked my body, unable to shed any tears; I'd used them all up. Unbelievable. My only shred of evidence into my past didn't believe that I was her daughter, that her daughter was dead. Nothing added up, and I didn't know what to do about it. I attempted to breathe deeply, and succeeded to a slight degree. Heading into the hustle and bustle of Detroit wasn't exactly what I was able to handle at that moment, so I readjusted my route to skirt around the edges.
The Audi was running low on gas, and I was glad for the distraction. After all, the last place I wanted to go was home, as strange as that sounded. I was tired of this mystery, and I wished that I'd never started obsessing with finding the truth of who I was.
Now, I couldn't let it go. How could I? How could I pretend that I knew myself and get on with the rest of my life, if I didn't know what mistakes to learn from in my past?
The questions had returned, and with them, as always, there were no answers.
A deep, swelling emptiness had reopened in my chest, a gaping hole of despair where hope should have rekindled. Was someone like me allowed any hope at all? At that moment in time, it didn't seem very likely. Just like that, panic set in and I had to pull over to the side of the small back road and force myself to breathe.
In the corner of my eye, a shadow flickered, and I put it down to my imminent breakdown. That, however, was not the case. While I focused on breathing and quelling the anguish in my heart, someone materialized in my car.
"Oh dear, sounds like a broken heart." He mused with a lazy smile.
I froze, closing my eyes, trying to convince myself that he wasn't there, that it was all in my head. In spite of this, he stayed, grinning his Cheshire cat grin.
"I'm still here," He hissed, his breath fanning across my neck, impossibly cold.
I was shaking, but that was the least of my worries. "What do you want?" My voice was strangled, choked.
"Who said I wanted anything?" He countered, reclining in the passenger seat, as if he were inclined to stay all night.
I finally opened my eyes, taking yet another deep breath to soothe my raw exposed nerves. Courage gathered in me, and I managed to look at him, straight in the coal black eyes. "Why are you here?" I rephrased, steadying my voice.
"Despite what you think," He began. "I want to help you."
"Why would you want to help me?" I asked, sure that my eyes were close to popping out of my head.
"Always with the questions," He sighed. "I told you, I like your attitude."
"What could you-"
He held up an impatient hand, halting my next question. "Enough questions." He turned slightly in the seat, his body toward me. "I'll tell you now, what I will help you with."
I waited, apprehensive but willing to listen. He hadn't harmed me yet, so I supposed that I could wait it out at least a little.
"I am going to tell you your story."
***
"We have to start way before your story, to have it make sense. We have to go to a place few people understand or believe. First thing, Angels and Demons do exist."
I nodded, putting him in the latter category without voicing it.
Still, he smiled. "Yes, I am a demon. It doesn't necessarily mean good and evil, especially in this story," He paused. "You see, there aren't that many angels just lying around, compared to the human population at least. Unlike demons, there are certain things a person had to be when they die, to become an angel. Not many people fill the description these days.
Guardian angels have to watch over and guide many people at a time, and a couple of years ago, they began to tire of the constant job. There's not one angel for everyone, especially with the population growing every day.
So, satisfaction with the job wore thin, and many began to slack off, weary of looking out for people that never knew the difference."
I listened, unsure of where this was going, and totally mystified by the fact that this was real, and that I could feel it in my bones.
"Demon numbers rose, slowly but surely, as this happened. It gave the other angels an entirely different problem to attend to, as darkness erupted in different regions across the world." The terrifying satisfaction in his eyes was horrifying, and I fought the reaction I had to it.
"Even with this in mind, filled with bitterness and the want to concentrate on themselves for once, that group of guardian angels still forwent their duties, forgetting the reason that they were angels at all.
Azrael, the angel of death, guides souls away from their bodies after Death has taken them and helps them make the transition to the afterlife. Everyday, he faces the grief of millions of souls, even more so in recent years. With the rise of the demon population and the belligerence of his own guardian angels, his patience soon wore thin."
A chill had fallen over the car, and had me rubbing my arms and wrapping them around my torso. I couldn't tear my focus away from him.
"The last straw was when a particular Guardian Angel left his most sensitive ward without his care. Her name was Lucy Tegen."
I recoiled instinctively, clutching at the place where my heart still was. The life had been squeezed out of my lungs, and I struggled to regain my composure. He made her name sound so forlorn and lost, rolling off of his demon tongue with ease. Christopher's melancholy returned to me, reminding me of his lost sister. He had been unable to come to terms with her passing, couldn't believe it. But what did her life have to do with mine?
"So you know the name?" He asked, hardly looking surprised. "I suppose he couldn't really have sheltered you totally."
"Who?" I asked desperately, clutching at the next answer I could greedily take in.
He chuckled, a low gravelly sound. "One thing at a time, sweetheart."
Sighing, I settled back into my seat, realizing that I'd leaned forward in my moment of haste.
"Lucy was part of a troubled family, one mother to care for four children of varying ages. Without much money to spare and working multiple shifts, her mother tried as hard as she could to provide for them all by herself. That left Lucy's older sister, Diana, putting off her hopes of going to university to take care of her siblings.
Christopher did not need much help, as he was only a year younger than Diana and was more than capable of looking after himself, as he very quickly became the man in the family. Trouble did not follow him, as he did not warrant it, nor did he look weak and danger seeks the weak.
He was very protective of his sisters, and everyone looked after Kate, the youngest girl. Though she proved herself to be proficient at taking care of herself, as all of them were, Lucy was the one they really needed to shield. Naïve and trusting, she often had good instincts, but her loyalty was to her family, and that was ultimately her downfall."
Silence descended in the Audi, the temperature had dropped dramatically. I found that the real chill was in my heart.
"Her guardian angel tired of watching her, when nothing had happened in her life, despite the reasoning that it should have. The Tegen's did not live in a secure neighborhood. So, he stopped watching her and influencing her life. The few moments that he left her to fend for herself, were all that chaos needed to cast itself across a few lives.
After school, Christopher had gone to pick up Kate-" He cut himself off, giving a wry smirk to me. "But you know the rest."
My jaw dropped, "No I don't!" I protested, wondering what he could possibly think I knew.
He tapped the side of his nose, his grin widening. "You know it, you just have to reopen that little box you have inside of your brain, where you've had your memories locked away."
"Don't you think I've tried to remember?" I ground out, frustrated beyond belief at him.
He leaned forward, encroaching on my space. I retreated until my back hit the door. His pitch black eyes threatened to swallow my soul whole, devour everything that made me, me.
"Maybe you just need a little reminder," He hissed, sending chills down my spine. "Do you know what poor Lucy's angel's name was?"
My heart simply stopped, my mouth dry and starved for words. "No," I managed. It can't be.
"His name was Alex."