Eternity: A Fallen Angel Novel by Heather Terrell

Author:Heather Terrell [Terrell, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, General, Religious, Paranormal, Body; Mind & Spirit, Supernatural, Juvenile Fiction, Fantasy & Magic, Social Issues, Love Stories, Good and Evil, Schools, Young Adult Fiction, Love & Romance, Love, Values & Virtues, High Schools, Adolescence, Angels, Angels & Spirit Guides
ISBN: 9780061965715
Publisher: HarperTeen
Published: 2011-06-28T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-four

As I lay my head down on my enticingly soft pillow on Sunday night, really Monday morning, I glanced over at the clock. It read 5:48. I did a quick calculation and realized that I’d have only seventy-six minutes of sleep before the alarm rang for school.

I figured it wasn’t even worth nodding off for those scant minutes; past experience taught me that sometimes a little sleep was worse than none at all. It left me groggy and ill-tempered. So I lay there, watching the clock change: 5:49 and 5:50. I remembered the clock hitting 5:51 before my mom shook me awake for school at 7:04. She’d never had to do that before.

After my mom left my room, I lifted off my sheets and lowered myself from my high sleigh bed to the floor. Every single muscle in my body ached. No, screamed in pain. What had Rafe done to me? How did he expect me to fight off the fallen in this condition?

Hobbling down the hallway to the bathroom, I prayed that a hot shower and some ibuprofen would take the edge off the agony. I allowed myself a few extra minutes in the steam, and then eased myself out of the shower and into my clothes. My muscles didn’t shriek, at least. Maybe I’d make it through the school day, although I wasn’t too optimistic about another evening of Rafe’s instruction.

When I finally made it down the stairs, I found my mom at the kitchen counter, preparing my usual wheat toast and raspberry jam. Hiding my pain, I chatted with her about the day ahead, as we always did. For the first time since I returned from Boston, it wasn’t hard to make pleasant small talk with her. The anger I felt at my parents’ deceptions had subsided, replaced by empathy. Rafe had helped me to better understand what they’d risked to raise me in what they thought was necessary ignorance.

A honk from Michael’s car interrupted our innocuous conversation. I slung my bag over my shoulder and said good-bye to my mom. A sudden compulsion overcame me, and I spun around and hugged her. No matter what—angel or mortal, fallen or redeemed, birth or adoptive—she was my mom, first and foremost. Who knew when I would next have the chance to embrace her or my dad? I needed to cherish every last second with them.

“Is everything all right, dearest?” my mom asked as I broke away and headed toward the door. She looked concerned.

“Of course,” I said, with the brightest smile I could manage. “Why wouldn’t everything be all right?” Then I waved good-bye.

I eased myself into Michael’s idling Prius. As I leaned over to give him a kiss, I noticed dark circles under his eyes and a pale sheen to his skin. I’d never seen him looking so exhausted.

We had shared many near-sleepless evenings together, but nothing like the last couple of nights. We were accustomed to leisurely flights, followed by long hours of intimacy, not relentless physical torment.

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