The Fallen

Camael had explained why the Powers had taken his little brother. It had something to do with the handicapped—“the imperfect” as Camael had coldly referred to them—having some kind of sensitivity to the angelic, making them perfect servants. The thought of his little brother acting as a slave to the monster Verchiel both chilled him to the bone, and made him seethe with anger. He had to find Stevie before any harm could come to him.

The principal scrutinized the completed documents and placed them in an open folder on his desk. “Very well then. It doesn’t appear that I can change your mind. And since you’re now of legal age…” Mr. Costan closed the folder and stood, extending his hand.

Aaron stood as well and took the principal’s offered hand.

“Good luck, Aaron,” Costan said, “and if you ever want to come back to finish your senior year, I’m sure we could work something out.”

Aaron shook the man’s hand briefly and then let it go. “Thanks for everything,” he said as he turned and quickly left the office, desperate to escape before the principal tried yet again to make him reconsider his decision.

The clock in the reception area said that it was a little after nine. If he hurried, he could clean out his locker, drop off his books, and be out of the school before first period ended.

The halls were empty as he made his way to his locker for what would be the last time. Memories flooded through his mind. He remembered the first day of freshman year as if it were only a few months ago. The place had seemed so huge then; he thought he’d never learn his way around. Aaron smiled sadly—if only his problems had remained so inconsequential.

At his locker he removed the textbooks and gathered his belongings, double-checking to be sure he hadn’t left anything behind. He slammed the metal door closed for the final time, and was overcome with an intense sadness and anger.

It isn’t fair, he thought. He was supposed to leave this place just like everybody else: finish up senior year, attend graduation wearing that brightly colored gown and the seriously goofy mortar board, and then go off to college.

But fate had dealt him a cruel hand, and his destiny lay down a different path altogether.

Aaron lashed out and kicked the locker to release some of his pent-up frustration. The sound was thunderous in the empty halls. He lost his grip on the books beneath his arm and they tumbled to the floor in disarray. Aaron felt like screaming, but somehow managed to control himself. He bent down to retrieve his belongings with a heavy sigh, feeling like a complete moron. An angry, complete moron.

“Do you want some help?”

Aaron quickly looked up, feeling the sudden weight of sadness press him even further into depression. This was why he’d wanted to get out before the first period ended. He hadn’t wanted to see her.

Vilma Santiago knelt down beside him and helped him gather his books.

“Thanks,” he said, trying as hard as he could not to make eye contact.

“You were leaving without saying good-bye, weren’t you?” she said softly as she handed him his history book.

He looked at her then and saw that her eyes were moist and red. She had been crying.

“I don’t know how, but I knew you were out here.” She showed him a piece of pink paper, a hall pass. “I said I had to go to the bathroom.”

She smiled and laughed a bit. Though filled with sadness, it still was a disturbingly beautiful sound, and his heart ached. Nervously he straightened the stack of books, unsure of how he should address her accusation.

“I didn’t want to go through the whole good-bye thing,” he said, wishing with all his heart that he could tell her he was only trying to keep her safe. “I just can’t deal with anything else that’s sad.”

He was dying inside. Of all the things he was leaving behind, Vilma was the thing that pained him the most. There was no one else here to say good-bye to. Aaron stood, holding the stack of books beneath his arm.

“For what it’s worth,” she said with a sniffle, “in Brazil…when my mother died, I didn’t think I would ever be happy again.”

A tear began to fall from her left eye and Aaron almost dropped the armful of books to wipe it away.

“I’m sorry.” She looked embarrassed and quickly reached up to wipe away the moisture from her face. “I know you’ve been through a lot; I don’t want to make you feel any worse.”

The nine-fifteen bell began to ring and the empty hallway was filled with its jarring, metallic peal.

“What I’m trying to say, Aaron, is that it won’t hurt like this forever. Right now you probably don’t think so, but trust me on this, okay?”

He nodded and tried to smile. “Thanks,” he said as the corridor crowded with students going from one class to the next. “I really appreciate it.”

He started to move away from his locker, from her. He had to go now or there was a good chance that he would never leave.

“I have…I have to go,” he stammered, backing away.

She started to follow. “Where will you go?”

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “I…I just have to get away.” He had to find his brother and something inside was urging him to travel north. Camael said that it would be in their best interest to trust these urges.

Aaron started to turn away from her.

“Will you be back?” she asked hopefully, now at his side.

He shook his head. “No. I doubt it,” he said, and looked away from her with feigned indifference. This was killing him. He hated to be so mean, but it was for her own good.

Aaron again heard Verchiel’s cold words threatening to kill everyone close to him.

“I really have to go,” he said, and quickened his pace, leaving her behind.

She moved in front of him, blocking his path, leaned in close, and took him in her arms. She smelled incredible, clean, like bath powder and fresh-cut flowers. She gave him a hug and a warm, gentle peck on the cheek that made his legs begin to tremble.

“You take care, Aaron Corbet,” she said softly in his ear. “I’ll miss you very much.”

And he felt his heart shatter into a million, razor-sharp pieces that tore his insides to ribbons.

He didn’t say anything more, forcing himself down the hall. After turning in his books at the main office, he practically ran from the building.

Outside on the steps, the wind blew and Aaron pulled the collar of his leather jacket up around his neck. Although it was officially spring, there was still a cruel bite of winter in the air. He was parked in the school’s horseshoe-shaped driveway, and could see Camael and Gabriel waiting for him by the car.

This is it, he thought, and put his hands inside his pockets for warmth as he began to descend the steps.

Something was in one of his pockets, something that hadn’t been there before.

He removed the piece of folded paper and opened it. It was from Vilma and it was her e-mail address and telephone number. She must have put it there when she hugged him. At the bottom of the paper, in delicate handwriting, it said, “Just in case you want to talk.”

Aaron thought about throwing the paper away, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He placed it safely back inside his pocket and continued on his way to the car. For some reason, he felt strangely warmer.

He could hear Camael and Gabriel talking as he approached.

“For the last time, no,” he heard the angel say, a touch of petulance in his tone.

“What’s the problem?” Aaron asked as he came around the side of the car.

Gabriel had dropped the te

“He won’t throw the ball for me, Aaron. I asked him nicely and he still refused. I think he’s mean.”

The angel seethed. “I have never thrown a ball and have no desire to ever do so. It has nothing to do with my temperament.”