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Prologue

In the beginning it was dark, but then again, it’s always dark in the beginning. It was a time of God and angels. Then came the light, the creation, and finally life itself was born. Next came sin, and with the sin came decay and ultimately death.

That’s not the whole story though. You are missing an important part. You are missing the story of the angels that stood next to God, in his light and glory. As the world began and the humans covered the earth, some of the angels grew jealous of God’s care and keeping of the world and its humans. They grew tired and lonely next to God, whose sights were forever upon the people of earth and not upon them, his angels. They set their own sights upon the world and found the women full of beauty and more importantly, the women were the creators of new life. Angry with God, they turned from his light. They tumbled and fell to earth to create their own light within the dark new world. They found love and created with the women, some with consent, and some without it. It was dark times, indeed, for the world and its occupants.

But, that’s just the beginning. Time passed. Hundreds and thousands of years have gone by since the angels fell from heaven. What has become of them? Where are they now?

Chapter One

I have been asked if I remember what event started my journey. What one thing set it all into motion? I wish I could say it was something fun or at least dramatic, like a bolt of lightning, or a dip in a vat of toxic waste, but I can’t. It all began with something as simple as being a girl. I reached puberty, of all things. Why that one thing? I don’t know, but that is the one thing I can pinpoint as the very beginning. It changed me from my DNA out. That one moment during my sixteenth year, almost seventeenth, started the ball rolling. I have wondered if maybe that is why I was a late bloomer. I mean who starts puberty at sixteen? Maybe there was a reason for it to wait so long to come to me. Then when it did, my life changed. In fact, the whole world changed for me. I can’t change it back, even if I wanted to. There is nothing to do now but move forward.

Chapter Two

I sat with my head resting on my hand, in Geometry class. I was half asleep because of the droning on and on of my teacher, Mr. Miller, when I felt a warm liquid gush. Late bloomer. That is what I’d been called for a few years by then. At sixteen and three months old, I still hadn’t had my first period. I sat up quickly, suddenly alert, and looked around as if anyone would know just by looking at me that something was not quite right. My hand shot up into the air. “Uh…Mr. Miller? Can I have the pass?”

He sighed. Why did he sigh? I never ask for the pass. He’d better not say no. I would have flipped out, I’m sure.

“Fine. You have two minutes, Grace.”

Two minutes? What the hell? I didn’t respond. Instead, I bolted out of my seat, purse in hand, grabbed the short piece of two-by-four that had HALL PASS written in black permanent marker on it, and made a dash for the bathroom.

Yep. There it was. I found it funny. Not ha ha funny, but strange funny. I had been waiting, desperately wanting, praying even, for that day to hurry up and come. All my peers had hit the period milestone at, like, twelve years old. I was the only one that hadn’t, and it was embarrassing. Now that it finally arrived, I was inexplicably sad. I stared at the stained red material of my panties and felt like crying. It wasn’t really fear. Not really. It was a mixture of relief and a bit of fear of what now.

Since I had been waiting forever for my period, I was thankfully prepared. I grabbed what I needed out of my purse, finished up in the stall and went to wash my hands. The girl in the mirror that stared back at me didn’t look any different than the one I had seen that morning. I felt different though. Not older or wiser or anything really tangible, just different. Same shoulder length, straight as an arrow dirty blond, kind of brownish hair. Same big light blue eyes and prominent cheeks. Same everything, from my nose to my feet. What did I really expect?

I washed my hands, smoothed down my hair, and went back to class.

“That was longer than two minutes, Grace,” Mr. Miller said the moment I walked in. He was such a jerk. Did he watch the clock the whole time I was gone? Weirdo.

Not looking at anyone at all, I returned the hall pass, took my seat, and didn’t say a word. I pretended to concentrate on my geo book when the whole time I was silently fuming. I wanted so badly to say, I started my period and it takes longer than two minutes to deal with. He wouldn’t get embarrassed though. I would.

The bell finally rang. I sprang up quickly, grabbed my stuff and bolted to my locker. Geo was my last class of the day. I had to get back to The Home, change my clothes, and get to work by three. I needed to hustle.

I grabbed what I needed, slammed my locker shut, and headed for the doors.

“Grace! Gracie, wait a second.”

I silently groaned. It was Sara, a perky, popular, and annoying as hell sophomore. She was racing right at me, her long curly brown ponytail swung happily behind her.

“I can’t talk right now, Sara. I’ve got to get to work,” I said, hardly slowing my steps.

She rolled her eyes. “It’s a second-hand clothes store, Gracie. I think they’ll wait.”

Sara was also rich and wouldn’t ever need to get a job if she didn’t want to. Unlike the other ninety percent of the world that did. Me, especially. “No, actually they won’t. What do you want?”

A small frown marred her otherwise lovely face, probably because of my obvious annoyance. “I am trying to recruit for cheer. Try-outs start next week, and I think you would be awesome.” The awesome was drawn out and breathy sounding.

Lord! Not hardly. No way. Cheer was so not my thing. Besides, the only reason they were recruiting was because there was so much animosity between all the current cheerleaders that each ‘side’ of the cheer war was trying to recruit out the other. “No. Thanks.”

“Wait!” she said and grabbed my arm when I tried to leave her behind.

I stopped mid-stride, turned to her, and said as emphatically as I could, “Sara. I’m not cheer material. I don’t do any type of gymnastics. I don’t dance, and most of all, I have a job that takes up all my time. I can’t.” After a moment I added, “I’m sorry.”

Undaunted, she flashed a wide, bright toothed smile at me and said, “Well. At least think about it. Yeah?”

I held in the sigh that I wanted to breathe. I finally shook my head, more at myself than her and said, “Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Then I again took off as fast as I could without actually running to get home. I immediately forgot all about the cheer discussion with Sara, because frankly, I didn’t care about cheer. At all. I wasn’t your standard issue popular girl, but I wasn’t at the other end of the spectrum either. I was right in the middle. A little bit tomboy, a little bit geek, and a little bit just average. I had plenty of friends, but very few good ones. That was all I really needed, so I didn’t care about the number.

Two blocks later, I raced inside The Home. Yes, I said ‘The Home.’ It wasn’t my home. It wasn’t even my house. It was a state run home for, well, for orphans. Kids like me, that didn’t have any family. It was called the Trenton House after some dude that donated all his money to keep it running. Don’t get me wrong, I was happy the guy did it, but other than his name and that he was quite well set off when he died, I didn’t know anything else about him.

The Home was a plain white, ten bedroom, five bathroom, two-story type house. Not as big as you would imagine, but big enough to house the eight to ten kids that regularly lived there at any given time. Currently, though, there were only three of us. Me, the resident teenager, and I had been there since I was an infant. Then there was Sadie, age six, and Michael age nine.

“You’re going to be late,” Mrs. Brown said as I ran past her to my room. Mrs. Brown never changed. She was the same stout woman with dark brown hair tied back in a messy bun. The messy part was unintended; it was simply how she always ended up at the end of a day. Not overly heavy, but not thin either. She was actually very average.

“I’m hurrying!” I shouted over my shoulder as I dropped my school stuff, changed my shoes from flip-flops to my no-skid athletic support shoes. Ugly would be the word I used. Serviceable would be what all the adults called them. I raced back down the hallway and shouted again, “Bye!” I don’t know if Mrs. Brown replied.

I made it to the “Once Loved, Used, and Consignment Store” with barely two minutes to spare. “I’m not late,” I said to Kara, the manager, as I pushed through the door.

She smiled and said, “I’m not worried about a minute or two here and there, Grace. I know you’re reliable.”

I smiled her way, thankful to have a great boss. “Okay.”

“We got a load of new stuff in today. You want to tag and hang, or do you want to man the front?” she asked me.

“I’ll tag and hang for a bit,” I said and headed toward the storeroom in the back. “I’m sure you could use the break.” …and it got me out of having to deal with customers. That was a huge bonus to my way of thinking.

“Hey,” Kara said, before I could push through the door.

I turned to look at her. “Yeah?”

“You all right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“No reason really. You just seem…funny today. Something happen at school?” Kara said.

Could people tell when you finally hit puberty? Do we put off a glow or something? I pursed my lips and shook my head. “No. Nothing.”

Kara regarded me for a few more seconds. “Okay, but you do know you can talk to me, right?”

Yeah, right! I wasn’t going to share my period with my boss. Oh, I liked her and all. She was great to work for. She paid well, gave me all the hours I could handle, and didn’t care that I was a state baby, but that didn’t mean I wanted her in my period life. “Yes. I know. Thanks, Kara.” Before she could say anything else, I quickly vanished into the storage room.

Wow. She wasn’t kidding when she said a load. There were at least twenty boxes full of clothes that needed sorting, washing, drying, tagging, and hanging up. “Okay. Let’s get started then.”

I got busy and soon the time was flying away from me. Around six Kara poked her head in and said, “Hey. It’s really slow today. I think I’m going to head out. You sure you’re okay to man the store alone?”

I had to smile. She asked me that every time she left me alone. “Yes, I got this.”

I grabbed a basket full of clothes I had been tagging and hauled it out to the front where I could both finish putting price tags on them as well as watch for customers.

“Great!” Kara didn’t argue a second more. She grabbed her bag and headed straight for the door. “It’s so wonderful having you here.”

I smiled, urging her to leave.

“Call if you need anything. Make sure to lock up and drop the money from the register in the safe before you leave.”

I nodded, again still smiling. Every time…same discussion. “I will.”

“Okay, see you tomorrow.” Then she was gone.

I reached under the counter and turned on a little portable radio that sat on a shelf out of sight. The store got a little too quiet some days. Kara wasn’t kidding. It was slow. I worked for another hour without one single customer coming in. I was bored.

I hung the tagged clothes I had finished and decided to work my way around the store, straightening here, re-hanging there. As I worked in the front window putting things in order, I felt a chill zip down my spine. I immediately stopped what I was doing, lowering my arms that were half raised in the process of grabbing a hanger. I turned just my head, to look out the window.

There was nothing out there, nothing that I could see anyway. Afternoon had turned to evening. The streetlights were on, but they only illuminated the sidewalks. The rest of the street was bathed in darkness. I squinted and tried to see within the black. Nothing.

I shook my head and tried to ignore it. Even so, I did stop what I was doing and headed back to the counter. Once behind it, I couldn’t help but feel safer, not that the pressed wood counter would save me from anything. All the same, I felt better behind it.

I tried to ignore the funny feeling in the pit of my stomach, but the chill wouldn’t go away. I felt like someone was watching me. The heavy weight of their stare made my skin crawl. I looked at the clock. It was almost eight thirty. The store closed at nine.

I glanced anxiously around the store. Nothing but racks of used clothes stared back at me. When the doorbell dinged, I jumped about a foot into the air and had to squash the screech of fear that tried to burst from my mouth. Then I saw that it was simply an older woman come to do a bit of shopping.

“Geez, Gracie,” I whispered to myself. “Get a grip.” It was a store after all. People were supposed to come in. I couldn’t suppress a relieved giggle though.

I stepped away from the counter and toward the customer, a big smile on my face. “Good evening. Is there anything I can help you with?” If I did my job right, I could make her visit last until it was closing time and maybe make a bit of money for the shop. Even though I was telling myself I was freaking out over nothing, the heavy chill stayed with me all through the last half hour of store hours.

At nine o’clock on the dot, I bid goodnight to my customer and locked the door behind her as she left. I glanced once more into the night, but still, there was nothing to see. I was dreading the walk home. Several blocks or not, I was afraid.

“There’s nothing out there!” I tried to tell myself, but my brain said, “Nothing that you can see.”

I cleared out the register and dumped the cash into the safe that was housed securely in the back room. I took a deep breath, turned off the lights, and left the relative safety of the store. After locking the door behind me, I turned to face the street. I looked carefully around. I thought briefly about calling someone to come get me, but then I decided I was being a baby. I’d be fine.

With firm determination, I headed home. The weighty feeling never once wavered. It followed me all the way to the house. It took every ounce of self-control not to run as fast as I could all the way home. Instead, I pretended a calm I certainly didn’t feel and walked slow and steady the whole way.

I did really well with the walking thing, until I saw the house come into view. Then I picked up the pace until I was sprinting up the walk and slamming into the house.

“Whoa, whoa. What’s the matter?” Mrs. Brown asked as she hurried into the entryway.

I laughed as I leaned up against the closed and bolted door. “I’m sorry. Nothing’s wrong. Just a little freak out. I’m good now.”

She lifted an eyebrow at me but didn’t ask anything else. “I saved a plate for you. It’s in the oven,” she said. She turned and went back to whatever it was she’d been doing before I landed full speed and loudly at the door.

“Thanks!” I yelled after her retreating back.

~ * ~

I saw them, my mother and father. She stood tall and slim. Her short brown hair only hung to her chin, a chin remarkably like my own. Her eyes, green that time, sparkled with mischief. Her tiny arm wound within the confines of his bigger one. He stood taller than her, but there was a bulk to him the woman would never have. He had blond hair, but it was sprinkled with grey along the roots. On that day he sported a mustache, thick, and refined.

My mother waved to me, and said, “Well? Come along.”

I hurried toward them as I always did in the dream. My feet were suddenly and strangely bogged down in thick goopy mud. I struggled forward as I tried to reach them.

Their smiles faded and turned to frowns of annoyance. My father snapped. “That means now, Grace Ann!”

My legs felt heavy and sore from the suctioning mud. I tried to quicken my pace, but my parents seemed to only grow further and further away the faster I went. The muscles in my legs burned with my exertions, but I pushed myself on. I was almost there. They were just about within my reach.

“Wait!” I screamed when I saw them turn away. “Don’t leave me!”

Just one more step. Just one more. I reached out a desperate hand to grab the sleeve of my father’s jacket. They vanished. Poof. Gone. Just like every time I had that dream. Sometimes I could get a grip on them. Sometimes I reached for my mother, sometimes my father, but they always disappeared.

I dropped down to the now mud free sidewalk and cried. I cried for the parents I had never met. For the made-up appearances my brain created when I was defenseless in dreams.

“I see you,” a voice whispered over my skin.

I quickly looked around. Well, that part of the dream was new. Usually I just awoke after my parents vanished to find myself crying in my sleep. There was never any voice.

“I’m coming for you.”

Goosebumps rose over my skin. “Who’s there?” I asked.

Deep dark laughter met my question. The moment I felt the gentlest touch around my throat, I sat straight up in bed and screamed. When I realized I was awake and yelling loud enough to wake the whole house, I snapped my mouth quickly shut. The damage was already done though.

“What is going on?” Mrs. Brown yelled as she bolted into my room. Her unbelted and open dingy white robe trailed behind her as she rushed forward.

I was gasping for breath, both from my screaming and from the fear within the dream. What the hell was that? I saw Michael’s small head pop around the corner. His young brown eyes wide with fear. Sadie’s head soon followed. Oops.

“I’m sorry. I had a nightmare. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You’ve been so weird today. What’s wrong?” Mrs. Brown asked.

I rubbed my face with my hands before I replied. “I don’t know.” I glanced at Michael and Sadie and said, “Really, it’s all right. You can go back to bed. It was only a dream.”

Finally, noticing the children, Mrs. Brown shooed them off as well. “Off with you two. Back to bed. Give me a minute, and I’ll be by to tuck you in.” Then she turned her sights back to me and said, “And you. Back to sleep. This time peacefully, all right?”

I smiled. “Night, Mrs. Brown.”

She turned, to make sure the little ones were gone, I assumed, before she asked once again, “Are you sure nothing’s wrong, Grace?”

That was my chance to tell her about my day. My period, the weird feeling at the store, the dreams, but I didn’t. I never did. For no real reason either. Mrs. Brown was the closest thing to a mother I had, but she would always be just Mrs. Brown. I was part of her job. Oh, I’m sure she loved me and cared for me in her own way, but it wasn’t the same as having a mom or a dad. “No. I’m fine. It was only a dream.”

I heard her sigh, but she only softly closed the door. I lay back down and tried to go back to sleep. Stupid parent dream. It always made me feel sad. Why did I dream about them anyway?

I had a copy of my birth certificate. It says under mother, “unknown.” It says under father, “unknown.” I was dropped off at a hospital only a few hours old, wrapped in a dirty blanket that once washed was still the color of mud. That was the extent of my family history and knowledge.

I tried to tell myself that I was lucky. That at least someone had dropped me off where I would be found instead of just dumping me in the trash to die. Even though they didn’t want me, at least they didn’t want me dead. Sometimes, even knowing that much, didn’t really help.