I can't remember a time where my life had ever felt normal.
I was reflecting on this as I walked the trail near my house two days later. The weekend had finally come, and I was free to do what I wanted, though I admit that by then my mind was spinning. I'd gone back to the college the day after my meeting with Chris but didn't see a sign of him. I even checked all around the small town, yet couldn't find him. It was starting to make me wonder if he'd ever been there at all. Had I somehow made him up as a type of hallucination?
That was a terrifying thought, though it did make sense. I'd dreamed of that little boy for years. Maybe I'd subconsciously wanted to give him a name and a continued life.
I shook my head as I thought that. My imagination. That was all he'd been.
Yet I couldn't stop thinking about my mother's reaction when I'd told her about him. It was so strange. She seemed like she'd been afraid. Was she scared that I was losing my mind? I was sure that wasn't it. There was something else going on; something she didn't want to tell me.
My train of thought was interrupted as I looked to my left. Something strange was sticking out of the tall brush. The off-white coloring of it had set it apart from the dark green of the leaves. This made me curious, and I stepped over to take a closer look.
I carefully moved the brush and vines aside, realizing that it was an old stone pillar that someone would've used to mark the end of their driveway. It was cracked and wrapped in vines, but looked like it had once been solid white marble. I looked farther up the path and realized that there was an old back road about ten feet away. It made me wonder if there was an abandoned house near there.
But the idea of an abandoned house out there was fascinating to me and made me curious enough to want to take a closer look.
There was a lot of tall grass and brush, but I could see that there were remains of an old gravel driveway under it. I finally made it to a dilapidated looking house, which was about eight feet from where I saw the pillar. Even though it was standing well, it was easy to tell that it had seen better days.
Yet looking at it, the oddest feeling of déjà vu came over me. There was something very familiar about this house. Something I couldn't place.
I slowly walked up to the front, hearing the crunch of the pine needles and dead leaves under my feet. There were broken and cracked cobble stones leading up to the front entrance, and looking to the side of the house I could see an attached garage.
I wonder when this place was built, I thought.
I didn't think it was that extremely old, given its style and the fact that there must've been a car for that garage.
The front entrance had double doors. I pulled hard on them trying to get inside, but they were stuck tight. I was determined to see the inside, so I walked around to the back to look for another way in. I saw an old deck out there and an old in-ground pool. The pool had definitely seen better days. The foundation around it was cracking, and it was filled with dirty water.
Keeping away from it, I carefully made my way up the three steps onto the half rotting deck. There were old glass doors that separated the deck from the main house, and I could see an old screened in porch sticking out of the other side of the building. It had seen better days too. The screens around the porch were weathered and torn, and there was old furniture inside that looked like it was rotting away.
I turned back to the glass doors, noting that they were cracked and broken. I reached through one of the broken panes and felt around for the handle. After searching it with my fingers, I finally found the lock. It took some effort, but I managed to turn it. The door slowly creaked open as I pushed on it, and I was greeted by the stale smell of a house that had been closed off for decades.
I wrinkled my nose at the dank, musty smell that filled the air. It was obvious by looking around that the house had been abandoned for a very long time. The inside was covered by a layer of dust on the hardwood floor, and there was more old furniture in there, although it didn't look anywhere near as bad as the weathered furniture outside on that porch.
I slowly looked at my surroundings as I stepped inside. It felt so strange being there. I didn't understand why this place felt so familiar to me. That feeling persisted, and it was bugging me now.
I stood still and took it all in. The house was definitely old, and had been abandoned for quite some time, but I was sure that it had been beautiful when it was new. I was in a large kitchen, and there was an opening to my left that led into what must have once been a den room.
I walked towards it but stopped as I noticed the counter near me. Even though most of the marble seemed old and cracked, this one piece looked like it had been damaged long before nature began taking its toll. I put my hand in my sleeve, wiping away the dust and dirt from it. As I did, I could see deep indentations in the marble. Cracks had formed around it, but the indents were clearly visible.
A chill ran down my spine as I looked at them. They almost looked like handprints. Could someone have actually slammed their hands down on it hard enough to do such a thing?
I shivered, moving away from it to explore the next room. This was the den. It was fairly large, and I saw that a lot of the old furniture that had been left there was covered by dust filled sheets. To my right was a narrow hallway leading to the back and the entrance to the foyer that I hadn't been able to get to when I'd first walked up to the house. I was careful about where I walked as I made my way to that foyer. As I did, I realized that there was a small bedroom off of it. I had the strangest feeling of déjà vu come over me as I looked at it. It felt like a memory was replaying in the back of my mind. Someone familiar had once had this room.
But who?
I peeked in through the doorway. The door was missing, and I didn't see it lying around anywhere. The hinges looked like they'd been ripped off. Again, it seemed like something that had been done in violence. What in the world happened in this house?
The room was shadowed, but I could still see well enough with the day's sunlight pouring in from the tattered curtains that hung over the window. It was strange, but looking in there, I almost felt like I was expecting someone to greet me; someone that I should've known very well. I tried to shake off the odd feelings. I was letting my overactive imagination run away with me. That's all this was.
The room was small but seemed like it would've been comfortable. A bed sat in there with its headboard placed against the far wall and there was an old dresser on one side of it and bookshelves on the other. The books looked pretty decrepit. I tried to pull one out, but it fell apart in my hands.
I coughed a little from the dust it had churned up, then turned to the dresser. Maybe I could find something in there that would help me understand this place a little better. So, I carefully began opening the drawers. Yes, this was giving me the feeling of snooping, but I really wanted to know why this house, and in particular this room, felt so familiar to me. Maybe if I could find something left behind that would jog my memory of whether I'd heard about it before.
It didn't feel like I was having much luck at first. The dresser was empty. But opening the bottom drawer, I realized that there was something pushed to the very back of it. It was a small wooden box. I pulled it out, then sat back on the floor to take a better look at it.
The box reminded me of an old-fashioned jewelry box. There was an intricate pattern carved into the top of it. It seemed to be made of solid wood and was painted with a dark finish. I carefully pried at the top, trying to open it, but it seemed to be stuck.
After a few more minutes of trying, I finally had some luck. The topped popped off for me. There was a small book and two old envelopes containing photos inside.
Here we are, I thought.
I carefully opened the first envelope. There was one photo inside of it. It was very old looking, perhaps from the twenties or thirties, and it had been done like a portrait. In it was a beautiful woman with light colored hair. I turned it over and saw a name written on the back in spidery handwriting.
Faith Evans, 1931.
Again, a familiarity nagged at the back of my mind. I should've known this name, but I still couldn't place from where.
I put the photo back and opened the second envelope. This one contained three pictures, all looking the same age as the previous one. The first was again of the woman. This time she was standing in the den of this house, smiling happily.
The second was of a man. He was very handsome, with dark hair and dressed in dark clothing. Turning the picture, I saw that there was nothing on the back. That was kind of disappointing. I'd hoped to at least get a name to go with him.
But the third picture I came to startled me. It was of another man. He was standing outside on the deck of the house. He had dark hair too, but seemed a bit smaller in stature then the other man. He was also very good looking.
But staring at his face, I had to touch my own. This man...
This man looked like he could've been related to me.
I turned the picture over and saw that there was a faded scribble on the back. This handwriting looked different from the other's and seemed to have a personal touch to it. I squinted my eyes a bit to read it.
I told you this picture would turn out nice. We should take them more often Saffron.
I reread that note several times. Saffron. That name resounded in my mind over and over. I knew that name. Somewhere deep inside of me, I was certain that I knew it well.
I suddenly felt something warm against my chest. I looked down and realized that the heat was coming from the pendant that I always wore. My eyes widened as I pulled it out from under my shirt.
The black stone was glowing.
I'd worn this pendant for as long as I could remember, even though I had no idea of where it had come from or even who had given it to me. The stone was smooth and round, the deepest black that I'd ever seen. It was on a silver chain and held in place by silver vines. I was certain that it may have been worth a lot of money, but I never took it off. There was something frightening when I even thought about it, like I'd lose a piece of myself if I did.
But in all of these years that I'd had it, I'd never seen it do anything like this. I stared at it, wondering if I was losing it. But then, I heard a voice come from it.
"Get out of that house right now!"
I sat perfectly still, not believing my own ears. The voice was very stern and commanding; a deep echo that seemed to come from deep within the glowing pendant. I began feeling very scared, and threw the stuff back into the box, grabbing it as I hurried out of the room.
But as I came back out to the den, I stopped dead in my tracks. The glass doors were shut tight again. My heart was beating so hard that I thought it might come out of my chest. Something was very wrong here. I knew that I'd left one of them open, and on top of that, the whole house was now feeling a lot heavier and darker.
I started to make out strange sounds coming from the very back room. It sounded like snapping and cracking. I remained still, feeling like I was bolted to the floor as I heard that door creaking open. The weird sounds moved closer and closer, and I could feel a slight breeze as something reached for the back of my neck. A low, painful moan filled the still air. It was right behind me now.
Summoning all of my will power, I managed to take off running. I didn't know where I was going. I just had to get away from whatever this thing was.
I ended up running to the far door in the kitchen. I managed to wrench it open and slammed it behind me as I got inside. I looked around in the semi darkness as I tried to catch my breath. I'd made it into the old garage. At a quick glance I could see that it was lined with old rotting boxes and even more furniture that had apparently been stored there.
I hurried to the side door that would get me outside, but it wouldn't budge no matter how hard I pulled on it. I was trapped in there.
As I realized this, I heard the sounds of creaking again. The door to the kitchen was slowly opening. I quickly ducked behind some boxes to hide, praying that I wouldn't be seen.
I stayed as quiet as I could as I heard the door creak all the way open. The cracking sounds continued as something moved in there. I curled up tighter in my hidden corner, closing my eyes and trying not to panic. I should've at least tried for the patio door, but I'd panicked, and now I was trapped in there with whatever this thing was.
I heard it moving around the garage, and past my hiding place. It seemed to be searching. I forced myself to open my eyes and peeked out from my hiding place. I wanted to at least see what this thing was. Then I'd know what I was running from.
What I saw was horrifying. It was a woman limping around the garage and fading in and out of the light. She looked like she was badly burned, and her dark hair was hanging in long patches on her head, the strands falling down her burned back. She wore an old, stained hospital gown that was torn and tattered, and her body was contorting horribly with every move she made; her bones cracking in unison to them. She looked solid yet flowing.
I held my mouth tightly to stop myself from screaming. What is this? I wondered in terror. Was she a ghost? What would happen if she caught me?
I had to get out of there, and I reasoned that I could try to outrun her to the door. I stood up slowly as her back was turned to me at the other side of the garage. All I needed to do was get out of there and reach those patio doors. If I ran fast enough, I was sure I stood a chance.
I don't think I'd ever run so fast in my life, but I was also more terrified than I'd ever been before. I heard her turn quickly, the snapping sounds coming hot on my heels as I raced through that door. I slammed it shut as hard as I could and managed to snap the old lock into place. I backed up as I heard her screaming in anger on the other side of it, pounding so hard against the door that I could see it moving with each hit.
I hurried over to the patio doors and pulled on them as hard as I could, but they wouldn't budge.
This is no good! I thought frantically. I've got to find a way out of here!
I screamed as I suddenly felt something very hot grab my wrist and pull me back. I was thrown into the den room, landing so hard on the floor that the wind was knocked out of me. I could feel the skin on my left wrist burning. I tried hard to move as I looked up but froze as the burned woman limped in front of me. She looked stunned and angry as our eyes met.
"Why?!" she hissed at me. Her voice was thick and course, like smoke had damaged her vocal cords, "Why his face?!"
My eyes widened as it suddenly dawned on me that she must have been talking about that man I'd seen in one of the pictures. I was still holding the small box tightly against my chest with my other hand. I'd somehow managed to keep holding it, even running and being thrown by her. Could this woman have had some connection to the people in those pictures? She didn't look like the woman in them. This burned woman had darker features and hair from what I could tell as she leaned closer to me.
I cringed as she did. The smell of burnt flesh coming off her was terrible, and I could hear her spine making snapping sounds as she leaned down at an almost impossible angle. The snapping was ringing in my ears. I could barely hear myself over them as I screamed again.
"Why? Why do you look like that monster? Why do you have his eyes?" she demanded.
I closed my eyes, preparing for her to grab me again. This was it. I was going to die in this house. This ghostly woman was going to kill me.
The woman suddenly stopped. I opened my eyes to see her looking back towards the patio doors. It looked like they'd been forced open, and a tall figure stood there with the bright outside light streaming in behind him. I was shocked. Had an angel come to save me?
But as my eyes adjusted to the light, I realized that wasn't the case. Instead of an angel, it was the same familiar face that I couldn't seem to escape.
"Let her go." Chris commanded. He was holding a rusty pipe in his hand, pointing it towards the ghostly woman.
The woman lurched away from me, slowly moving towards him, "Why?! Why are you monsters here?!" she demanded.
"I said get back! Go back to the hole you crawled out of!" Chris ordered. He showed no fear of her at all.
I managed to stand up and move to the other side of the room, putting more distance between me and that monstrous woman. She snapped her head back at me, then at him.
"Monsters! Monsters! Demons with human faces! She did this to me! She damned us all!" she howled, moving backwards towards the hallway.
Chris glared at her, "I'm tired of seeing you! Go back to the hell that you're trapped in!"
He swung the pipe in a swift motion, and in an instant the woman was pushed back screaming into the very back room. The door slammed shut, and the heaviness immediately lifted. The house became calm and silent again.
I stared towards that door in shock. What in the world had that thing been, and how had Chris been able to drive her back to wherever she'd come from?
Chris came over to me, "I'd ask if you're okay, but I think that would be a stupid question right now." he noted as he held my left arm. I realized then that there was a burn on my wrist in the shape of a handprint.
Even though I was still in shock, I managed to speak, "Either I'm having a very vivid hallucination right now, or... what the hell just happened?"
Chris pulled me towards the door with him, "I think it might take a bit longer to explain then what we have right now. It would be better for us to get out of this house before anything else shows up. It's definitely not safe for you to be here, though I think you've already figured that out."
"No kidding." I managed.
I was in too much shock to say anything more. But stepping back outside, that woman's words rang through my mind. I had the monster's face and eyes. I again thought of the pictures in the box that I was still holding. It had to be all connected somehow.
We made it to the main path before I finally forced Chris to stop, "Alright, look. I get that I'm not hallucinating now, or at least I hope I'm not. But what the hell is going on?!" I demanded.
The shock had finally worn off, and for the first time I realized that I was looking at the same guy I'd met days before; the same man who looked like the child in my nightmares. He'd come back and saved my life, even if I couldn't understand what in the world had just happened to me.
Chris looked back at me, "I guess I was expecting this."
"Expecting what? For me to be freaking out right now because I just let myself think that some dead woman was about to kill me in an abandoned house? Cause I'm telling you now, I am thoroughly freaked out!" I fumed.
"Will you cut it out?!" Chris snapped, "You're not hallucinating, so stop saying that. Everything you saw back there was real, and you're still holding his box."
I looked down, looking down at the box that was still in my hands. Yes, it was real, and so was the man standing in front of me. I wished I'd had something to lean on then. Reality was a little too much for me to handle.
"Okay, so seriously, what just happened back there and whose box is this?" I managed to ask him. He had to know the answer. He certainly spoke like he did.
Chris looked around us. I followed his gaze but saw nothing different about the woods surrounding us. Everything was calm and quiet, with only the sounds of the birds singing in the trees.
"This might not be the best place to talk. Trees can have ears. Let's go somewhere more private. We can take care of your wrist too." he suggested.
He had a point about my wrist. The pain was really setting in now. The woman had burned me pretty badly when she'd grabbed me. I wondered if her entire body had been made of fire. Maybe that was why she'd looked like she was fading in and out and billowing. It was like watching fire burn.
I shook the thoughts away, following Chris out of the woods. I could dwell more on my near-death experience later. Right now, I needed answers from him.
We ended up going to a small house about a block from my own. Actually, when I saw small, I mean tiny. I couldn't help wondering why anyone would want to live in a house like this. It was only one story and if it had more than one room, they had to be tiny.
As we went inside, I noted that it was designed like a studio apartment. There wasn't much in the way of furniture, though what was there was nice looking; a futon was against the far wall, and there was a dresser and flat screen TV on a small stand. An armchair sat in one corner with a small end table that had magazines on it.
I looked around me as I sat on the futon. There wasn't a whole lot to this place. It seemed like just enough for one person to live comfortably.
"Is this really where you live?" I asked Chris as he went into the bathroom to get something to take care of my wrist.
"Yeah. It's small, but it's all I need. I've never really liked big places anyway. Too much to take care of." Chris replied.
"So, how old are you? You don't look like you're much older than me." I commented.
It wouldn't have been that unheard of for a nineteen-year-old to be living out on their own like this. But also, something told me that he might be a lot older than I was thinking. Maybe it was the way he spoke, how he talked so maturely.
"There's an old saying to never tell one's true age, and I'm sticking to it for now. It might be better in the long run for me to do that too, considering everything that's going on right now." Chris responded. I watched as he came back with some medicine to clean my wrist and a bandage to wrap it up.
"You realize that you're making yourself a big mystery." I pointed out.
"I know, but it can't be helped."
I cringed as he cleaned off my wrist. The burn was deeper than I'd thought, and it really hurt. I could see where the outline of the fingers were too. It made me wonder if I was going to have a nasty scar once it healed.
"Can you tell me how you knew I was there?" I asked as he continued.
"It wasn't hard. I was following you." Chris answered. He sounded very matter of fact as he concentrated on what he was doing.
"You were following me?"
I couldn't believe it. I hadn't seen any sign of him while I was out there until he'd shown up to save me, not to mention he sounded like a stalker when he put it that way.
"Trust me, I'm good at being inconspicuous. But I got worried when I realized where you were going. That house isn't a good place for anyone to be, especially you. I'd imagine if that mother of yours knew how close you live to that house, she'd probably have a heart attack." Chris went on.
"You know my mother?" I asked him.
"Not personally, but I know enough about her to assume she's probably that way. But I guess that she might be that afraid of him too. Most of them would be afraid to cross him." Chris replied.
"Okay, seriously, you're talking in riddles. Tell me exactly what you know about me. I get that you're here because of something with me." I said, glancing at the stone hanging from my chest, "And what about this stone? It was glowing in there, and I know I heard a man's voice come from it. What's supposed to be going on with my life that's made all of this start happening to me?"
Chris looked at the stone, then lifted it up so that he could look closer, "I see. He's much cleverer than they give him credit for."
"Chris." I spoke up, reminding him that I was waiting for my answers.
Chris let out a long breath, apparently debating on whether he wanted to answer me. But he finally seemed to relent.
"Fine. I guess I'll have to tell you a little bit now. Like I said before, time's getting short. Besides, now that you've managed to find that house, I'm sure they've noticed you."
"They?" I repeated. That sounded ominous.
Chris finished wrapping my wrist, then reached down between us to pick up the small box that I'd brought back from the house.
"Yes, they. So, have you gotten to look in here yet?" he asked me.
"I did a little bit, but I had to stop when I heard that thing coming." I answered.
I decided not to mention the voice I'd heard anymore. It was enough that he already knew about it and the stone glowing. But he hadn't sounded surprised either. Without thinking about it, I reached up and held the pendant. It felt cool in my hand, like nothing had ever happened.
Chris's voice brought me back to reality, "I guess this is the best place to start." he lamented. He put the box between us and opened it, then pulled out the picture of the woman with the name Faith Evans written on the back, "So this is the woman. I'm not sure I see that much of a resemblance, but you do favor him more and that was a different life."
"Am I related to her?" I asked.
"Kind of, but it's a bit more complicated than that."
Chris pulled out the pictures from the other envelop and looked at them. He seemed to be studying the two men. As for me, I was studying the picture of the woman. I couldn't say that I looked anything like her. But with how he was talking, I must have been related to her in some way.
"So, what exactly is complicated with all of this?" I spoke up.
"Well, I've been trying to think of the best way to explain everything to you without it sounding completely insane, but I'm not too sure I can." Chris admitted.
I was a bit indignant as I heard that, "Look, I just saw a burning ghost woman who was trying to kill me in an abandoned house. Trust me, nothing else can sound anymore insane right now."
Chris laughed, "Yeah, I guess you're right. But like I said, this is more complicated than just saying that you're related to them. I guess I could start with telling you a little bit about this woman and the men in the pictures with her. I just hope you'll believe me when I do."
"You heard what I just said. I don't have a choice." I reminded him.
Chris laid the picture of the woman down between us, shaking his head with a small smile on his face. Guess I was amusing him.
"I'm sure you looked at the name on the back of this picture, and yes, that is her name. This woman, Faith Evans, lived in that house back in the early 1930s. She was the widow of a detective from Manhattan, and she moved into that house with these two men, who were supposed to be brothers." he explained, adding the pictures of the men to each side of the woman's.
"That makes sense. They do kind of look like they're related." I noted.
"They weren't. They're just of the same kind and happen to have enough of the same features. At least enough to fool the casual onlooker. It was no coincidence that the Evans woman came to live with them in that house either. It was set up that way after they did her the favor of killing her husband for her." Chris explained.
That painted a grim picture. This woman had hired these men for murder.
"Okay, but what does all of this have to do with me? You said that I was kind of related to them." I pointed out.
"It has everything to do with you." Chris went on, "These men were anything but normal, and I doubt that Faith Evans could've ever understood what she'd called upon when she prayed for her revenge. There was a good reason that she wanted her husband dead. The Evans woman was a victim of severe abuse, and no one believed her about it. So, when she knew that she couldn't kill him herself, she began praying for something, anything, that would do it for her. These two were the answer to those evil prayers."
Now I was beginning to follow what he was implying, "Hold on. You're saying that these men were demons?"
A chill ran down my spine as I said the words out loud. The memory of that ghostly woman's shrieking echoed in my mind. She'd been screaming about demons with human faces. If what Chris was saying was true, then she'd been speaking the truth about back then.
"I guess that would be the easiest way to put it, considering that they are technically some of the damned. They prefer to call themselves Fallen though." Chris responded as he sat up a little, "Either way, they were bad news from the start, and once they had the Evans woman right where they wanted her, they began using her for their own gains, and eventually, one would end up killing her a little over two years later in what looked to the world like a suicide."
I looked at the photos as he said this. So, this was all that remained of a very real demon pact. I carefully reached into the box and took out the old, small book that had been left in there.
"Okay, so what's this have to do with me? Is it because I'm related to Faith Evans?" I asked him as I flipped through the pages of the book. There was the same spidery handwriting in it that I'd seen on the back of Faith's picture. I wondered if it was from one of those creatures. That was enough for me to put it away for now.
"It's a bit more than that." Chris admitted. He seemed to consider his words carefully, "How can I begin explaining this so that it makes sense? I guess I'll try this. Let's start by saying that I'm sure you know the truth about your mother."
"Yeah, I know I'm adopted, and that my birth mother died when I was born." I agreed.
"And you know your birth mother's name?"
"I saw it in my adoption papers and a news article. Her name was Faith Kent."
"Faith Evans, Faith Kent." Chris mused. He nodded as he tapped the futon, "It was always a pattern with the name Faith. I guess he just found it ironic that the original woman had that name. Maybe he even kept it in there to be blasphemous. Anyway, back to what I was saying; Faith Evans was killed two years after these two came into her life, but only one killed her. The reasons behind it aren't that clear, but we do know that he also changed something in the deal between her and the two of them before he did it. He set some kind of cycle in motion, to put it in the most layman's terms possible. He ended up having the Evans woman's soul reincarnated over and over. Every time he'd kill her, he'd take her soul and put it into the next life that he wanted it to reincarnate to."
"Hold on. You're saying that my birth mother Faith Kent was a reincarnation of Faith Evans?" I spoke up. I couldn't believe it. That was the connection here? If so, then he was right. This was about to get complicated.
"Exactly." Chris confirmed, nodding his head, "She was the second to last. Apparently, this became a twisted game of cat and mouse between the two Fallen Angels involved. The one kept the soul away from the other, always killing her just before the other would get too close. This pattern went on for over eighty years. Your birth mother wasn't really killed by her father like everyone believes. The one who originally started this cycle killed her."
This answered a whole lot as I thought of my mother at home. Her reactions when we talked about my birth mother were very telling if she was aware that there was all of this involved with Faith Kent's death.
"Does my mother know about any of this?" I had to ask.
"I'd imagine that she does. From what I know, you were brought to her right after you were born." Chris told me.
"No, I wasn't." I retorted, "I was left in the nearby church by my grandfather. That's where she found me."
"No, you weren't. She just told you that story to throw you off. She was probably ordered to do so if things are like I'm beginning to think they are." Chris countered.
I was feeling frustrated again. If Mama had been lying to me all this time, then why? Who would've made her do that?
Another shiver went up my spine as I slowly realized what the answer probably was, "Hold on. Are you saying that my grandfather had nothing to do with that and this other monster brought me to Mama?"
"That right. The other monster, as you wish to call them right now, did it all himself. He killed her, took you out of her womb, then directly to Mabel Benson for safekeeping."
I was feeling a bit sick to my stomach now but managed to keep my composure. If what he was saying was true, which I suspected it very well was, then I needed more answers to go with it.
"So why bring me to her and what does all of this have to do with me? Am I supposed to be marked because she was one of those reincarnations?" I asked him.
Chris looked puzzled, "You really don't get it?"
"Get what?"
Chris handed me a picture of one of the demons, "Take a good look at this picture. You do see the resemblance, don't you?" he pointed out.
I looked closely at the picture, allowing myself to study it. Yes, there was a close resemblance between us. That's when a realization hit me. He'd killed my mother and took me to a home to be taken care of afterwards.
"Wait a minute. You're not saying what I think you are, are you?" I asked cautiously.
"That's the gist of it." Chris replied, "Faith Kent was never with a human man. She was mostly isolated by her drunken father after her mother died. But there was one constant presence in her life, and he manipulated her to make sure he'd get her pregnant. Then he took her life and kept the baby for himself."
I couldn't believe it. Turning the picture around, I looked at the name again. Saffron. This man, this creature, was my father. That was why no one had ever known who he was, because he wasn't human.
"You're saying that I'm a demon's child." I managed.
"I'm not sure I'd call it that, but yeah, he is a Fallen Angel, and he is your father." Chris confirmed.
I allowed myself a moment to let this sink in before I spoke again, "What are you supposed to be? Are you one of his followers or something?"
"No, and I never intend to be. But I am keeping my word about something from a long time ago with this. Besides, I have my own reasons for coming to find you, but I'm not getting into them right now. Not when I know what's coming."
I watched as he stood up, "You mean when you said that something was coming after me, right? I'm being hunted now?" I guessed.
It was kind of obvious that being born to a Fallen Angel would cause that. I would've imagined that just about anything holy would think I was a complete abomination.
"You've been marked since the day you were born, just like the rest of us. Trust me, there are a lot of things out there that don't like those who are considered mixed breeds, especially between the humans and what they consider the damned. So, if I were you, I think I'd be trying hard to understand your heritage more before things start happening." Chris warned me.
"What about you? Are you staying now?" I asked. I didn't like the thought that he might disappear on me after telling me all of this.
"I intend to, but for now, it may be better if you went home and went through that book yourself. But don't let that woman see it or know that you know the truth. It might make things worse. Trust me on that one." Chris instructed me as he helped me up. He put the book and pictures into the box and handed it to me.
I held my pendant tightly with my free hand, "Will you tell me?" I asked softly.
"About what?"
"Are you like me? Were you born the same way I was?"
Chris shook his head, his eyes softening a little, "Not exactly, but I promise you that I'll explain my story to you later. Right now, we need to get you home. It's starting to get late."
I looked at the nearby window, realizing that it was getting dark outside. My watch read that it was after six. Where had the time gone?
"Okay, but you're going to help me with all of this." I said as we walked outside.
"Don't worry so much. I have no intentions of leaving you. Just get yourself home and don't mention this to that woman or let her see the box. Try not to come out after dark either. It's best for you not to after what happened in that house." Chris instructed me. He gave me a quick pat on the shoulder, then sent me on my way.
I can't say why I decided that it was better to listen to him. I guess the best I could reason was that something inside of me felt like I should. He had saved my life.
But with what he'd told me, I knew that my life was never going to be the same. These are the things I kept thinking about as I walked down that long, lonely sidewalk to my house. I carried the box close to me, feeling more and more like things were finally beginning to come together. This was the start of what I was destined to be.
This was my truth.