From what Michael had suggested about our past, I would have expected a wild disrobing or something forced at this part, but this was gentle, beautiful. It was strange to have a full memory of something I hadn’t done in this lifetime. I couldn’t see myself but saw it through my own eyes, as though it were happening to me, which it did. Even back then, the chemistry between us was incredible, and though it was only a memory my body responded.
Grappling for self-control, knowing that it wasn’t actually happening in the moment, that I wasn’t alone, I nervously pushed the memory aside, hoping Arielle couldn’t see it. At least Michael wasn’t with me. I would have jumped him for sure.
Next, I saw us waking with the sunrise, naked on a bed of furs, Michael peaceful as he slept. Scars ran down the length of his back where his wings had once been.
Like being startled awake, I snapped out of the memory with a pounding heart, a dry mouth, and sweaty palms. Arielle’s hands rested on my shoulders as she searched my face for an answer.
“Could you see what I saw?” I said.
She shook her head. “I could only see you were getting memories and feel your feelings.”
“All my feelings?” I cringed, thinking that some things should be private.
“You were so in love.”
“Still am,” I muttered under my breath.
Arielle hugged me. “Human love is frightening and tempestuous, but it can be beautiful, I’ll give it that.”
“I don’t understand what Michael did that was so wrong.”
“What did you see?”
“Our wedding night,” I began, then explained the image as clearly as I could, leaving out the personal, embarrassing details. Arielle asked me if I was forced or in pain at any point, but I wasn’t. There was nothing in that memory that I didn’t want to hold onto. It was beautiful and I would cherish it. “He slept. He told me that angels never slept.”
“That’s because he’d fallen,” she explained. “Angels were forbidden to mate with humans. Breaking our laws would drain him—make him mortal—so he had to be careful. Those who continued to fall would steal people’s life force in order to survive.”
“You mean Damiel?”
She nodded pensively. “Would you be willing to look again? Perhaps a different memory?”
“Yes. But I’m thirsty,” I said, and got up to pour myself a glass of orange juice. The muscles all over my body were strained and achy. My legs wobbled, so on my way back from the kitchen I stopped to stretch them out. As I bent forward and clasped my hands behind my back, one of my ribs popped back into place at least, but the pain in my muscles frustrated me.
“What you’re remembering isn’t coming from your mind in this life. It’s coming from your soul. I’m taking you so far into your soul’s past that your mind can’t process it, so it resists with physical pain. You may also experience fatigue or anger,” Arielle said, smiling kindly at me. “You’re doing really well.”
“How will this ever help Michael?”
“Are you ready to try again?” she asked. “You’ll be perfectly safe. I’ll be right here.”
“Yes.” I tried to not betray the sense of anticipation that welled inside me.
When she placed her hands on my head again, the heat was less intense than before. The images came as soon as I closed my eyes.
This time, I saw more of the ancient city where we used to live. It was near the sea. A huge sandstone wall surrounded it like a fortress, and in the center of the city was a great sandstone ziggurat. The house I lived in was on a farm near the edge of the city. It belonged to my family. Not sure where to go next, I thought about Michael.
Next thing I knew, I was in the woods outside the city walls. Michael stood before me wearing a long robe, and his downy white wings glowed behind him in the shade of the trees. Physically, he was huge. The top arc of his wings reached a good two feet above his own head, compounding his size as he towered over me. Seeing him filled me with a mixture of dread and awe that drove me to my knees. My breath came in gasps and I was dizzyingly afraid, astounded by this wondrous creature.
He caught me and lifted me back to my feet, shaking his head. Kneeling before me, he bowed his head and stayed there, motionless, until my fear subsided.
From a pouch on his belt, he presented me with a small ornate jar, carved from a clear crystal. Each incision captured the light, refracting into colored spectrums—like the light from his wings. When I opened the jar, the oil inside smelled of flowers and amber from the trees. He motioned for me to put some on my wrist, so I did.
“What are you seeing now?” It was Arielle’s voice, interrupting my memory.
“A meadow. He’s giving me perfume,” I said. The image wobbled slightly as I spoke. It was difficult to talk and focus on it at the same time.
“Try to see what happens next,” she offered.
“Okay.” I strained to concentrate. The images flickered slightly and faded out.
“Relax a bit more. You can’t force it.”
I tried to relax, but a flash of light erupted between my eyes again, followed by that short, stabbing pain. Instinctively, my hand gripped the bridge of my nose. Then the image flickered and shorted out, giving way to darkness.
I let out a groan of frustration. “It’s gone now.”
“It’s late,” Arielle said. “You’re tired. We should take a break.”
“What about the other memories?”
“The soul’s memories are delicate. They’re between a person and God. As an angel, I can take you to them but we can’t force it. If we do, we could damage them, which is what Damiel tried to do,” she said firmly, “and I won’t do that.”
“When can we start again?”
“A few hours. I’ll be right here.” Leaning forward on the couch, she tilted her head sideways and closed her eyes, listening. I imagined it was the way she tuned in to the others. “Michael’s fine.” She waved me off. “Get some rest.”
As strange as it was to have Arielle babysitting me, it would be pointless to argue about it, and when I lay down exhaustion took over. As soon as I closed my eyes, my dreams came in heatedly, almost too numerous to track. One of them was the dream about the birds I’d had the first day of school. This time, they were angels—Michael and Damiel destroying each other—and I still wasn’t able to stop it.
I woke up with the sunrise on Saturday morning, filled with panic. Heart racing, I got out of bed, my muscles complaining as though I’d overdone it in gym class. The coppery metallic tang of adrenaline filled my mouth, so I went to brush my teeth. Splashing cold water on my face to wake up, I caught my reflection in the mirror, surprised to see that the eyes staring back at me belonged to a stranger. They were mine but not mine, like I was looking at myself from a different life—that life. Brown skin, long black hair, a slightly more streamlined nose, higher cheekbones, and a smaller mouth. I was me but not me, the face unfamiliar and yet strangely so.
As soon as it appeared, it faded, and my own face stared back at me again.
Trying to shake it off, I jumped into the shower, hoping the hot water would soothe my sore body and frazzled nerves. It did. When I got out and got dressed, I realized Mom was already home and in bed. I had nothing planned for the weekend. I’d been keeping the day open to spend with Michael, and his absence left an enormous hole. I didn’t think about Arielle until I went into the living room and found her sitting on the couch. I nearly jumped when I saw her.