Broken Butterflies Read online

  “I should go.” Ilisha grabbed her coat and hugged Amy goodbye.

  Amy waved while getting kissed again. The baby grabbed her hair as she was held between her parents.

  Ilisha smiled as she walked to the car. She was glad Amy had a good marriage.

  She drove past the park. Bulldozers and backhoes moved debris into large dump trucks. Only a few trees were left and all the playground equipment was gone. Masons slathered mortar and stacked new blocks on the baseball dugout. Utter destruction she thought.

  “Let’s go somewhere and talk,” Bram said beside her. Ilisha jumped and jerked the wheel. The tires squealed against the road as she corrected.

  “You really need to stop doing that. Heard of phones?” Ilisha said, clutching her chest.

  “I don’t use phones.”

  “Of course not.” She rolled her eyes. “Where am I going?”

  “The cemetery.”

  “Interesting choice,” she said, making a right turn.

  “There’s a mausoleum. It’ll give us privacy.”

  “Not a good pick up line,” Ilisha replied, grinning.

  “I’d say it worked. You are coming with me.” Bram flashed his perfect smile.

  The tires crunched as the car moved along the pellet road. Ilisha parked in front of the building.

  Bram pulled open the heavy copper doors of the mausoleum with ease.

  “Never thought I’d have a conversation in a tomb,” she said, chuckling.

  Fire danced in Bram’s palm, and he held it up to a large oil lantern hanging from the ceiling. The small room glowed orange. Shadows danced across the marble. The back wall was adorned with stained glass. Brilliant colors depicted a weeping woman kneeling on one knee, her head resting in her hand. A small wreath hung from her other hand, waiting to be placed.

  “You know this tomb belongs to the Lishman family. Their line goes way back in this town. I bet there are fifty people in here.” Ilisha ran her hand over the carved names etched into the marble. Bram stared at her, tenderness filling his eyes. “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  “You’re a remarkable lady.” His sapphire eyes glowed in the firelight.

  “How would you know? We’ve barely met.”

  “That’s not true, and you know it.”

  “Not sure what that means, but okay.” Ilisha sat on the marble bench in the middle of the room. “Talk to me.”

  “What do you want to know?” Bram replied, sitting beside her.

  “Well, you can start with how long you’ve known me.”

  “Since your birth.”

  “Weird.”

  “What’s weird? I’m your guardian angel.”

  “So what happens now?”

  “I’ve fallen, so I can’t go back.”

  “Because you saved me?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is a little hard to wrap my mind around. I don’t believe in God and stuff.”

  “He believes in you,” Bram responded as Ilisha chuckled.

  “Why is that so hard to believe? You have a problem with religion, not God.”

  “I guess that’s what happens when you grow up having it shoved down your throat. Mom always made me go to church with her, but I just didn’t feel it,” she replied.

  “Because your mom loves you.”

  “Yeah, okay, next subject. What about this Damon guy?”

  “He’s your Death Maker. He’ll never stop until he kills you.”

  “Great. What’s this about him wanting my soul?”

  “You always talk fast when you’re nervous or stressed,” Bram said, chuckling. “He doesn’t want your soul for himself, but he’ll take it.”

  The temperature in the room had warmed, and Ilisha shed her coat. “Take it where?”

  “To the spirit world.”

  “Uh-huh. I thought we go to heaven when we die, unless you’re like Ted Bundy or something.”

  “The spirit world is where you go to be judged,” Bram explained.

  “I don’t like that part. I mean aren’t we all just doing our best?”

  “Some yes, some no.”

  “Does everyone have a Death Maker?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Some people just get old and die, or it’s just their time to go. Sometimes you’re given a choice to live or die. Death Makers are contracted.”

  “So who contracted mine?”

  “I don’t know.” He spoke really fast and looked away from her. It gave her an uneasy feeling.

  Bram brushed a stray hair from Ilisha face.

  “Why did you stop him?”

  “I’d prefer not to answer that.”

  Ilisha let out a breath. “Here we go again.” She stood up, hands on her hips, pacing.

  “It’s not to keep something from you. It’s just personal,” Bram explained.

  “Well, it’s my life, and that makes it personal to me.” Ilisha placed her fingers against her temples and rubbed. Bram’s hands grasped hers and moved them away from her face. He stroked the sides of her cheeks and her body relaxed. She closed her eyes at the sensation. Cool tingles ran from head to toe and she shivered.

  “Better?” Bram asked.

  “What did you do?”

  “Just calmed you down.”

  Ilisha looked deep into his eyes. The sapphire showed her reflection. “What else can you do?”

  “Take my hand.”

  “The last time you said that a train crashed,” she replied, smiling, taking his hand.

  He led them outside and took her close to his body. His strong hands supported her. A slight tearing of fabric came before a large expanse of white wings spread from his back. Ilisha gasped and ran her hands along them. The feathers furrowed out in response, like a cat purring.

  “Wow,” she whispered.

  Bram pushed them from the ground, wings flapping masterfully. Ilisha’s eyes were wide and she clung to him, nails digging into his back.

  “Just relax.”

  Ilisha took in an uneasy, broken breath. Bram’s calm ran through her again. She looked around. Below were trees and houses; above them, sky.

  “This is amazing.”

  “Yes. You should try flying more often,” Bram replied.

  “I’ll never get on a plane.”

  “I know.” Bram circled around and brought them back to the cemetery.

  “Don’t you worry about people seeing you?”

  “They can only see me if I let them.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about the butterflies on the train. What are they?”

  “How about tomorrow?” he replied, smiling.

  “Okay,” she sighed.

  Ilisha fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Her dreams were not pleasant ones.

  Damon walked toward her slowly and methodically. She turned to run, her feet digging in the ground. Moving her legs as fast as she could, her head whipped around to see an empty space where Damon had been. She continued to run into the dark.

  Ahead of her was a rundown factory. When she rounded the corner of the building, Damon stepped in front of her, laughing maniacally. Thunder cracked and rain fell from the sky. The rain gutters on the roof overflowed like a waterfall.

  “You will never outrun me,” he said.

  She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Ilisha’s legs gave out, and she fell to the ground. Hands emerged from the soaked soil, holding onto her. They were stained black and looked old and wilted. Her eyes darted around her in fear as she lay trapped.

  Damon’s skin went from grey to black. His blue eyes followed suit. He leaned over her, inches from her face.

  “You were not his to take. I had a contract to fulfill.” Damon’s voice was a feral growl as his lips came to hers. The razor-like teeth sliced through her lips and tongue. Warm blood trickled along her jaw and round the back of her neck.

  The dream shifted and Damon morphed into Bram. His large, white wings encircled her. T
hey stood in a tan, open room surrounded by floor to ceiling windows. Waves crashed outside as the breeze blew the sheer curtains. Ilisha took in the smell of sea air.

  She ran her hands down his nude body. Bram’s lips met hers. His hand slid the zipper down her dress, letting it fall at her feet. Goosebumps covered her body as he brought her down on a white bed. The slightest touch of his fingers coursed through her.

  Hearing a splash that didn’t belong to the flow of the ocean, she turned her head. Damon stood chest deep in the water watching them. Black wings curled behind his back. The clear water reflected the darkness of his body. Slowly, he went under the water, but his eyes stayed above for one more look.

  “Did you see that?” Ilisha asked.

  “Shhh.” He kissed her once again.

  Ilisha grasped the white blanket as he entered her. A tear ran down her cheek as she reacted to his touch. She looked into his eyes, and for the first time felt what it was like to be loved. In the expanse of the room a voice whispered, “Don’t trust this.” It was only said once, but it caused her to wake.

  Her eyes flew open. Each breath she took was long and exaggerated. Her eyes focused and she took in the surroundings of her bedroom. It was still dark, so she picked up her cell phone and hit the power button to bring the screen to life. “Ugh, 3:00 a.m.”

  Shuffling to her bathroom, she flipped on the light and squinted her eyes. Not wanting to chance another nightmare, she turned on the water and showered. As the water ran down her hair and face, the thought of Bram’s touch lingered. Why am I having sexual dreams about him?

  She stayed in the shower until the water went cold and then grabbed a towel.

  She sifted through the closet, her mind elsewhere. What would it be like to kiss him? Her hand took hold of the first shirt she came to and removed it staring into nothing. Fumbling with the buttons, she didn’t realize she fastened them unevenly. She slipped on designer jeans and went to the full-length mirror to comb her hair. Her eyes looked down. “Ah, seriously, get a hold of yourself!” Shaking her head, she unbuttoned and re-buttoned her shirt.

  It was still early so she sat at the kitchen table and read the morning paper.

  Bram showed up three hours later, and Ilisha snuck out the front door, closing it silently behind her. Her eyes never left him as they walked to her rental car. Today he wore torn Levis, a dark blue button down shirt, and black waffle stompers.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked, smiling.

  “Yeah.”

  She held the keys out to him. “Wanna drive?”

  “No.” He smiled crooked. “I can’t drive.”

  As they got in and shut the door she replied, “No phones and no driving. You’re missing out.”

  “Can we hit the bagel shop? I have a craving for them.” Bram asked.

  Ilisha parked the car and grabbed her purse.

  “Can we get three plain, three onion, two blueberry, and…” He turned to Ilisha, “What do you want?”

  Her eyebrows raised and she smiled. “Just one plain with low fat cream cheese,” she told the clerk.

  She dug in her bag for her wallet.

  “I got this,” Bram said, touching her arm.

  When they got to the car, Ilisha burst out laughing.

  “What?” Bram asked perplexed.

  “Hungry?” she said, looking at his bucket of bagels.

  “I haven’t had food, so I’m trying it all.”

  “You never had to eat?”

  “Not until I fell,” he said, taking a bite.

  “How would that be? Never counting calories.”

  “You worry too much about what you eat,” he replied.

  “Easy for you to say. Guys can eat more than girls and keep their figure.”

  “Go to the hospital,” Bram said, taking another bite.

  “What? Why?”

  “You want to know about the butterflies.”

  “Can’t we ever hang out at a normal place?” she replied, laughing.

  They walked through the automatic sliding doors. “This way,” Bram said, taking her hand.

  On the wall was a large button to open the E.R doors. He pushed his palm against it.

  “We can’t just hang out in an emergency room,” Ilisha protested.

  “Nobody can see us. Don’t let go of my hand or you’ll be visible.”

  They stood in the corner of the trauma room and observed as the doctors and nurses scrambled around a man. One of the doctors grabbed the crash cart as alarms rang out. Turning on the defibrillator, he yelled,” Clear.” Everyone’s hands shot up as he looked at the staff. The paddles hit the man and his body jumped. They repeated this process three times.

  “He’s not coming back,” Ilisha said.

  “How do you know?” Bram asked.

  “They hit him three times.” She pointed at the poor soul.

  From nowhere a self-illuminated butterfly appeared. It’s red wings flapped, propelling it toward the man. It landed on the man’s chest and disappeared. A soft, white light emerged from the patient’s mouth. It hovered for several seconds before descending back to where it came from. The monitors beeped as a slight heart rhythm appeared. “We got him,” one of the nurses said.

  “What just happened?” Ilisha asked.

  As they walked away, Ilisha turned back several times to glance at the patient.

  As soon as the car doors shut, Ilisha turned to him waiting for an answer.

  “That’s the angels,” Bram replied.

  “Are you saying those doctors could have done nothing and that guy would have lived?”

  “No, not exactly. Death depends on many things. Your will to live, your number being up-”

  “What if your number is up, but you don’t want to go yet?”

  “That’s where a haunting comes into play.”

  Ilisha hands went to her temples.

  “Is this too much for you?” Bram asked concerned.

  “No, just processing. Give me a sec.” “Why can I see them?” Her forehead furrowed.

  “Because your time was up.”

  She swallowed hard. Ilisha wouldn’t have been ready to die. “Does that mean I would have haunted someone?”

  “I doubt that. There were other things in motion for your life.”

  “Like?”

  “That’s not something that I can get into.”

  “I thought we agreed you would be open with me from now on.”

  “I’m asking you to trust me on this.”

  Feeling there was something that wasn’t right with the things he was keeping from her, she started the car. Ilisha turned the corner and pulled up in front of her mother’s house.

  “I’ll trust that you’ll give the answers soon; that’s all I can do.”

  “Agreed.”

  She walked to the front porch, but Bram didn’t follow. “Do you wanna come in?” He followed her inside. “Sit,” she said, motioning for the couch.

  “Where’s your mom?”

  “Work.”

  Bram slid back on the cushion and put his hands on his knees.

  “So, if you never had a human existence, where are you getting money, food, and shelter?” she asked, sliding her coat off and laying it on the back of the couch.

  “There’s an order of priests who help the fallen. They’re fallen themselves.”

  “And there just happens to be one in the Denver area?” Ilisha asked, smiling.

  “Yes, they’re all over. Once I get this thing with Damon settled, I’ll find a job, and you know, be normal.”

  “Why did you choose this priest?”

  “I knew you would come back here. It seemed logical.”

  “How can you still have your power if you have fallen?”

  “Fallen just means that we can’t go back. We’re disgraced.”

  “This must be completely different for you.”

  “Yes and no. It’s not like I was thrown into a reality I knew nothing about.”

  “
So where are you staying?”

  “There’s a barn close by with an apartment in the loft.”

  “You’re sleeping in a barn?”

  “It’s nice.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” she replied half rolling her eyes.

  “Come on,” Bram said, standing up.

  “What? We’re going there?”

  “Yes, miss priss. Get your coat.”

  She trailed after him. “There aren’t any animals in said barn, right?”

  She heard him chuckle, but he ignored her.

  Ilisha drove the car down a steep dirt and rut filled road. “Didn’t know we were going off-roading,” she said facetiously.

  “We’ve gotta loosen you up a bit.” Bram said.

  “I’m loose.” She paused. “Okay, that didn’t sound right at all.”

  They both laughed.

  Ahead was a large, red barn where she parked and followed Bram inside. There was a large open space on the first floor with stables on both sides and antique farm equipment along the back wall. A punching bag hung from the rafters. Bram bounded up the stairs two at a time. At the top was an old wooden door. The handle was tarnished brass with engravings around the keyhole, which fit a skeleton key. The stain had faded long ago, which left it looking weathered. Bram turned the handle and a loud click echoed through the space. The door creaked as he pushed it open.

  “This is nice,” Ilisha said, stepping inside.

  The apartment was a one-bath studio. A full kitchen met the living room, and his bed sat along the other side. Two French doors opened up to a balcony looking out on the forest. Bram walked around picking up dirty laundry and shoved it in a closet. Rope rugs covered the wood floor, which groaned as Ilisha walked across it. She plopped down on the couch and grabbed a large pillow, holding it in front of her.

  “Told you it was nice,” Bram said, sitting beside her.

  “So who’s the priest that helps you?”

  “Father John is my contact, but like I said there are many.”

  “Tell me more about Damon.”

  “Are you sure you want to know?”

  “Yes, of course. The guy wants to kill me. I think I should know everything about him.”

  “You can’t defend yourself against him. He won’t stop—it’s not in the nature of a demon to lose. What he did the first time, when he revealed himself to you, is nothing. And, every time I interfere, he grows more angry and vindictive. If he gets the chance, he’ll torture you to death as a penance for your survival.”