Page 61 of Claimed by the Fallen
“We will find them, Messenger,” Mr. Cohen assuresme.
“But we will not risk your safety by allowing you to help,” his brotheradds.
I glare at Gabe, but he doesn’t care. “They’remyparents!”
“And you’re ourbashert,” Gabe counters. “We must keep yousafe.”
“Again,” Adrian snarls, “she is notyours.”
“Well, she’s most certainly not linked to you, a soullessFallen.”
I want to pull my hair out. “Stop it! I’m not linked or connected to any of you. Stoparguing.”
Both Adrian and Gabe open their mouths to object, but I hold out a silencing hand. “I’m going to my room. Just… leave me alone.” It seems like all I do is run to my room, but I need space to breathe and think. And I can’t do that when I have four angels breathing down my neck, arguing about stupidbashertnonsense.
Can’t they see none of this matters? Not while my mom and dad might be at the mercy of the violent demons who’ve been hunting me. I brush past Zeke and Mr. Cohen who stand closest to me. Neither tries to stop me as I race up thestairs.
Closing my bedroom door, I lean against the firm surface. My mind is a jumble of confusion and fear. I need to get ahold of myself before I can even begin to think of ways to help my parents. It’s very unlikely something other than the demons could have happened to my parents. Their disappearance coincides too closely with the recent appearance of my attackers, and I don’t believe incoincidences.
I pull out my phone. Pressing the first number on my favorite’s list, I hold my breath and wait for my mom to answer. The rings seem to last forever until, finally, the call goes to voicemail. I whimper, then press the button to end thecall.
I press the second number on my favorite’s list, barely daring to hope I’ll get a different result. Dad’s phone goes to voicemailtoo.
I fall onto my bed, and the phone slips out of my tremblinghands.
I stare at the ceiling, trying my best to keep the tears at bay. One leaks out of my right eye anyway. I think of all that’s happened, and I can’t believe it’s only been six days since mybirthday.
Six days since the pain of my transformationbegan…
Six days since I learned what I reallyam…
Six days since I should’ve known there is no way my life will ever be thesame.
I’ve been naïve, and I fear my parents are paying the price for myignorance.
I’m in the middle of indulging in my sorrow, tears rolling down the sides of my face as I continue to stare towards Heaven, contemplating why God would subject me to such things, when a faint buzzing sound reaches myears.
I prop up on an elbow and scan the room. I look at my laptop and clock, but neither item is the source of the sound. I slide off the bed, prepared to search my room, when I feel a slight vibration near myfoot.
I look down and see my phone is illuminated and vibrating with an incoming call. I lean down to pick it up, but my arms hovers over the device as I read the callerID.
Mom
I don’t waste another second. I snatch up the phone and hit the accept button. “Mom?” I cry into the phone. “Where are you? Are youalright?”
All I hear isstatic.
“Mom?” I pull the phone back and confirm the call isconnected.
“Mom,”I say for the third time. “Are you there? Where areyou?”
“She can’t hear you,” a scraggly voicegrumbles.
I stumble back. My thighs hit the edge of my mattress, and I lean against the bed for support. “Who are you?” My question is barely more than a whisper. My lungs feel as if they’re robbed of allair.
“My master’s servant,” the mysterious caller says, “and he is most interested in meeting you, VeronicaMessenger.”
“How do you know my name?” I’m trying to buy time to think of what to do. Should I get the angels and let them speak with thecaller?
