Chapter 2: Beautiful Disaster

It was just as well Nero was gone. His attempt at comfort would likely turn to disgust and he'd be unable to hide it. Disgust at my glazed over gaze, fluttering the distance to the blue carpet. Relief came with his departure, at least, no more heavy pressure from Nero's feelings-kind or judging-though I missed his presence all the same. Because sometimes it was easier to deal with the emotions of others than my own. Most times. Abandoned to the ache of yet another disaster I caused, I had no place to hide.

My feet carried me forward, arms circling myself in a protective hug. I'd have to go home soon, to see Dad and tell him personally I failed again rather than letting Nero's report stand. Not that my father would be angry or anything. I often wished he would get mad, lose it and tell me I was never again to return here to the mortal realm, that I was a failure as an angel of Death. But that never happened. Instead he kept trying, just like Mom kept trying, the two of them winding me up and sending me out in some futile attempt to make me like them.

It was Dad's disappointment that troubled me so much. He had to know how hard I was trying. But it wasn't enough. It hadn't been since the first time I joined my big brother Nero, my idol angel of Death then, on my very first task and, to the delight of the child I was, failed. Only to discover what I'd done-saving that girl's life in the instant of the car crash that was supposed to kill her-meant I wasn't like my brothers.

No surprise there, I suppose. I ran my hands brusquely over my upper arms as I strolled the corridors of the hospital and settled myself. There was something soothing about places like this, on the cusp of Life and Death. Which made sense, considering my parents and their particular jobs.

Just my luck, wasn't it? That Death fell in love with Life and I was the result?

I don't know how old I was when I realized I didn't fit in anywhere. I scooted sideways to avoid a crash cart and three scrub clad people who rushed by, feeling their fear, their adrenaline soaked passions passing over me on their way. How the man on the far side with the silver hair was tired and worn and the woman behind him excited for another challenge. No one else could feel what others felt, at least that I knew of. My childish inquiries ended when my sisters and brothers first grew angry then mocked me for my questions, calling me either weak or a freak.

Maybe I was both. I paused on a glass bridge suspended over the grounds of the facility, looking out into the night, the moon reflecting from the snow covered ground. Lights flashed in the distance, headlamps of cars moving in and out of the parking lot, lives ebbing and flowing, not knowing in their mortal realm just how much existed outside their little world.

I could have blamed Mom and Dad for having me, for choosing, for the first time in history, to have a kid together. But I knew my freakishness wasn't their fault. My nose was cold where I pressed it to the glass and exhaled mist onto the polished surface. A frown pulled at my forehead, the memory of that mist making me angry then sad. This was on me, this endless failure to do what I was born to do.

Which always led me to the same question. If I was an angel of Death like my brothers, I should have been able to send that man to his peace. So, I wasn't, right? On the other hand, when I was sent on task by Mom, as an angel of Life, I invariably killed those I was meant to grant first breath to. It made no sense to me, nor to my furious sisters who learned to hate being assigned to hold my hand.

So, not an angel of Life nor of Death, daughter to that last where he only had sons. As always in the last eight years, as time went on and my hurt grew, I found myself asking the quiet night outside the obvious question.

What was my purpose?

I'd asked this question so many times the words themselves blurred together into nonsense. Except tonight felt different to me, charged with more need than I'd ever felt. Standing there that night, on the cusp of my sixteenth birthday, I knew it was time I did. I couldn't go on like this anymore.

That reminder made me sigh and sag. My birthday was tomorrow, the turning of my year in a few hours. Which meant it was also a day I dreaded more than any other. Moving day. The day I left my father's realm and joined my mother in hers.

Typically I would have let that realization-one I carefully and conveniently forgot for as long as possible-bum me out sufficiently it would ruin the rest of my last night free of my mother's influence. But, now that my decision to do something about this mess had been made, I leaned away from the window and felt a smile lift my lips, my heart's ache easing, tension released. Wallowing wasn't really my thing, though I suppose most people wouldn't blame me. That is, most people who weren't my brothers, my sisters or my parents. So, reasonable people with hearts and souls and things.

Two more years of this. Until I was eighteen and able to decide which realm I wanted to live in forever. That was the promise they made me. Four more cycles back and forth, passed between them.

No. No more. Sixteen years had to be enough. Surely they would see that. I would talk to Dad. He would listen this time because I would refuse to act unless he did. And then, I would have that same conversation with Mom. This had to stop. I was done.

Well, we'd see about that.

Steps brisk and ready to go home, I spun to find the nearest door and go talk to Death. And almost ran into a familiar figure who hurried past me. How Daphne missed me standing there I don't know, but when she turned, two of our sisters hurrying past her, the look of utter fury that crossed her face made me step back.

She spun and jabbed a finger in my direction, her blonde hair spilling in ringlets over one narrow shoulder, perfect face pinched with rage. "Don't you dare," she snarled, pointing then at the sign over the door at the end of the hall behind us. "You come near my nursery tonight and I'll make sure you never, ever set foot in the Garden again."

Her two companions observed with mixed emotions. Brunette Cadence watched, wide-eyed, young enough at thirteen not to have become as harsh and jaded as my older sisters. But icy blonde Ophelia smirked, green eyes narrowing while her disgust hit me solidly in my empathy. Likely on purpose.

"Go back to Undertown where you belong, loser." She turned her slim, pale body, draped elegantly in a stunning pink sundress, until she'd cut me out of her view. "It's time, Daph." Reverence there, and respect for our oldest sister.

Daphne didn't comment to Ophelia, her determined fury still focused on me. While Ophelia's emotions did some damage, it was nothing compared to the full out attack on my psyche Life's successor-in-waiting slammed me with.

I shrank back from her, shook my head. Opened my mouth to tell her I had no intention when she crossed her arms over her chest, foot tapping in her expensive shoe on the carpet. "If you think what you did tonight went unnoticed, Eve," she made my name sound like it tasted awful in her mouth, "you can forget it. Everyone knows. Everyone." That meant Dad and Mom. And all my siblings. Well, not like there was far for me to fall, after all. No one would be shocked, would they? Small comfort, that. "There is something fundamentally wrong with you." Her words emerged in a hiss of fury, hateful and full of venom. I shriveled within despite my need to fight back, her powerful emotions sucking all the will out of me and crushing me under the weight of her rage. "I've told Mother you're trouble, that she should have put you down like the monster you are a long time ago." My cheeks heated, whole body shaking, my ears pounding and the mist moving in around the edges of my vision. Ophelia added her agreement in layers of pressure. Oddly, the young apprentice, Cadence, didn't join in the fun. She'd better hope Daphne didn't notice.

I wanted to run away from them, from my perfect, model sister who always got it right and was Mom's favorite, but I couldn't make my body move. This empathy of mine was a curse that held me in place, forcing me to take in all the vitriol and make it mine while the core of my soul screamed to fight back.

"Stay away from me, Eve." Daphne spun and stomped off at last, Ophelia waving at me with delighted spite.

Cadence followed after them, her eyes on me while the doors of the nursery swung shut behind the trio with a whoosh of air.

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