Doubt

Chapter One.

Her throat burned, hotter than fire.

She lifted a hand to rub the pain away and saw, clearly, the blue veins crawling up her arm. A grimace hardened her face, and she pulled her sleeve down to her fingertips.

It was an ugly night. The sky had opened and allowed the rain to fall. She took advantage of the dark clouds and had been out of her place since before noon. Most Reapers wouldn’t have had the opportunity to leave the house until evening had fallen.  But she had missed the taste of fresh air. And the risk of sun exposure didn’t seem likely with the storm.

The young Reaper had an entire cart to herself. It was too late for most mundanes to travel. Their fear of the night and of those who thrived in it kept them locked behind their doors. Which meant the public transit was clear of congestion. The city light rail was moving swiftly and efficiently, despite the slippery tracks and wires. And it would take her directly to a source who sold blood for cheap. But at this point, she would pay anything for a mere drop.

She hadn’t been a vampire very long. She had only been sixteen for five years. And sometimes she would try to prove to herself she didn’t need the blood. It was, afterall, vile. Blood wasn’t tasty. It didn’t taste like anything. But it was fuel and she was starting to feel weak. Plus, the fire in her throat wasn’t cooling off.

The train slowed to stop and the doors opened to let on passengers. She couldn’t feel the chill of the air or the bite of the rain. But she could smell the overfed soil. She could smell the burning wires and the tired metal.

And she could smell him.

Her fangs dropped before she could stop them. To hide them, she raised her hood over her dripping hair. His tennis shoes squeaked against the metal floor as he slowly made his way down the aisle. His old jeans were stained and his soaked brown jacket was three times too big. A ball cap kept the rain out of his eyes but it was sopping like the rest of him. His skin was gray. Sickly. And she could smell the alcohol clear down the cart.

Her stomach clenched. Her fingers flexed. It was forbidden for Reapers to feed from an unwilling human. They only fed from a mundy to change them--give them eternal life-- if their mundane one was over.

This mundy was clearly drunk. But very alive. And she would be severely punished by the Queen and her Royal Party. She would be imprisoned or worse. Killed.

But she was so hungry. Would mundies really miss that man?

She stood, more gracefully than she anticipated. The rail was bouncing around, she should have at least staggered. She didn’t want to frighten the man. She made a show of grabbing the stability bars. Though her footsteps were silent, he didn’t notice. And so she took a seat beside him.

“I’m Madison.”

The man looked up with his glassy eyes. Bloodshot. They traveled from her face, down her neck, over her chest, and back again.

“Hello,” his voice thick with booze.

“What’s your name?”

“Josh.”

“Hi.” The alcohol would make his blood as thin as water. But Madison was entirely too desperate to care. “Got a family Josh?”

“No. You?”

“I used to. I got sick and they got scared of me. They put me up in my own apartment and continue to pay my rent. Probably to help with their guilt. But they left Baltimore and Maryland, and didn’t tell me where.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Happens a lot to my kind.”

“Your kind?”

Madison smiled, careful to keep her fangs hidden. “Rebels.”

“What makes you a rebel?”

“An unhealthy habit.”

“Drugs.” He met her eyes. “Sex?” he asked hopefully.

“Drinking.”

“I understand that.”

She could lure him back to her place, especially with him hoping for sex. It would be easy. But somebody could see them. And he would probably try and show her off. And Madison didn’t want any witnesses.

“Well enjoy your day Josh. My stop is coming up.”

She could feel his gaze as she rose and strolled to the door. The doors opened and she left, only to climb up into the cart directly behind the original. She could see Josh from her seat, who was having a hard time keeping himself steady.

Ten minutes later, he pressed the buzzer signaling the next stop. He stood. Stumbled. And when Josh exited, so did Madison. She followed him through the rain and through the city. It was late Sunday night on the last week of October; the streets were clear of traffic and tourists. He tripped on a curb and fell down in the middle of the street. But he managed to get back up unscathed.

And then Madison saw her opportunity. He was walking down an alley.

Madison ran across the street, moving so quickly she became a blur. It was another broken law. But she was already crossing the line.

She stood at the mouth of the alley, ignored the stink of garbage and stale urine. Josh himself had whipped out his privates and was emptying himself against a brick wall. Her stomach rumbled, her throat flared. Her fangs pricked her bottom lip.

She lunged. And was nearly strangled when somebody grabbed her by the back of her collar.

Madison spun around, a fist spinning with her. She saw a blur of red. Her fist was caught and Madison was slammed against the brick.

Pinning her was a beautiful golden blonde with curls as tight as coils. Her blue eyes were warm and her red lips were open in a toothy grin. She was wearing a red coat with puffed shoulders. Pinned to her collar was a broach. Glittering wings. And if that didn’t give it away, the halo floating over her head certainly did.

The girl was a Guardian Angel. A Watcher.

“Somebody has been missing her feedings,” said a man from behind her.

Madison looked over the Watcher’s shoulder and saw three men. Two were Watchers, their halos gleaming proudly. The first was tall and was in a navy blue coat, and like the girl, had inviting blue eyes. Blond curls tickled his ears. His face was rounded, making him feel less threatening than the girl.

The other Watcher had copper skin with thick black hair. His face was sharp and his lips were pressed in a hard line. He was in all black. And his coat collar was popped up giving him a cool style.

The last was a werewolf. Madison could smell him even in the rain. He was scruffy like every other mutt. He wasn’t nearly as polished as the Watchers, in jeans and a military jacket.

“Let me go Vultures.”

“How rude,” said the girl, still grinning. “You Reapers get testy when you’re hungry.”

“What do you want?” demanded Madison. “Firsts don’t have any rights in Other businesses.”

“Feed on whomever you please. I could care less about the Other laws you’ve broken. But that man is corrupt. And our Charge.”

Madison felt herself deflate. Of course he was. Although she was already breaking laws, one was absolute. Never interfere with a Watcher’s Charge.

“Balls. Let me go Vulture. I won’t eat him.”

I loosened my grip and took two steps back. “Why haven’t you been eating Reaper?”

The teen vamp swiped a hand underneath her nose. Her bloodshot eyes were the color of ash, her hair a pale lavender. She was a head shorter than me, even in her platform punk boots.

“To prove I didn’t need it.”

My scruffy and sometimes stinky friend--as he currently smelled like a wet dog--chuckled. “You failed.”

She let out a hiss and took a swipe out in his direction. I grabbed her wrist and pushed her back against the damp brick wall.

“Enough. Go home,” I said, waiting till her eyes met mine.

The she vamp sighed and shrugged my grip off. She made a move to leave the alley, and nearly jumped out of her skin when my brother grabbed her by the wrist.

“Here,” he said, his blue eyes still warm. He reached into his pocket and handed her a bag of blood.

The she vamp narrowed her eyes. “You always keep bags of blood in your pocket Vulture?”

“I bought it from a shady guy as we followed you. He claims it’s pig blood. I bet it’s not even dog.” He held it out to her. “Happy feedings.”

The Reaper snatched it from his hand and dashed away.

“How many times have I told you Nathanael,” I said, dusting my hands off, “if you feed the pigeons, they come back for more.”

Nathanael laughed, throwing his head back. “She was hungry. If I didn’t feed her, she would have broken her law and fed on a human.”

The drunken man lifted from the wall. His eyes widened in surprise as he noticed the three of them for the first time. “Who are you?!” he demanded, attempting to sound threatening.

“I’m your Guardian Angel mundy. Next time I’ll let the Reapling drain you.”

“Nicely.” Sunni grabbed my wrist, his tone warning me. He looked dangerously lethal in his solid black attire. And he could be lethal. But he was the teddy bear of the group. He would rather save a spider and let him free in the wild, than allow one of us to smoosh it.

“He’s not going to remember,” I said, defending myself. I took a moment to pity him. Mundies were disappointing me more often than not. Having a taste of temptation was common nowadays, but completely succumbing to it was quickly becoming the norm. In Baltimore, rape, murder, and adultery was something you could expect when it came to your neighbor. It was disgusting.

“Doesn’t matter. Let’s go home.”

Sunni let go of my wrist, and his hand rubbed over my shoulder and down my arm. His fingers twined with mine. He led me out of the valley and we took the lead down the street.

“I was hoping that was going to be a bigger fight than it actually was,” I said, leaning into Sunni. He kissed my temple.

“A bigger fight would have made us late.” Nathanael kicked a rock and it skidded down the slippery sidewalk. “And then Dad would have grounded us. And then no more snuggle time for you two. On a second thought, let’s take a detour.”

“Oh don’t get your halo in a twist.”

The relationship I had with Sunni Hyre was still fairly new. Sunni was my brother, Nathanael’s, best friend since kindergarden. At eighteen, they were practically brothers themselves. And when I turned sixteen, the cool and collected Sunni became a bumbling teenager. The moment he saw me in my ruby red birthday dress, he was a goner. Which I admit, had been the plan all along. I had had a crush on him since I was twelve. Who could resist the charm of a copper god, who had manners just as divine? And now I finally had him.

“It’s fine, thank you,” sniffed Nathanael. He was having a hard time with the idea of his sister and his friend canoodling.

We ran across the street, earning a blare of car horns. But it was Baltimore, and nobody paid any mind to cross walks or cross signals. We hurried past the harbor and the stilled old ship. And we jogged past a couple of the city’s infinite museums.

“We should have taken the bus,” Vinny said, breathing hard as he tried to keep up with our Watcher agility.

“In this coat?” I asked, shaking my head. “No way. Use your hands. We won’t judge you if you run on all fours.”

“Hardy har har.”

Marvin Castellano, or more affectionately, Vinny, was a lycan. But just a pup. He was considered an Other, like the reapers. And like Sunni, he had been friends with Nathanael since they were in grade school. A month ago, Sunni, Nathanael and myself had to go hunt down some rebel wolves who were scratching mundies on purpose to turn them. Vinny was growing tired of us “making plans” without him. So he followed us to the wolf cave and was bit. During the change on his first full moon, Vinny was granted the Sight and was now able to see the world for what it actually was. He was finally able to see our halos. He could see past a fairy’s charm. And he could finally smell the demons, the reapers, and other wolves.

Vinny was already an outcast in the lycan society. He refused to claim a pack. Especially since the one who changed him were a bunch of lawbreakers. He stuck to Nate and Sunni like glue who embraced him as they always tried to do. He was still learning about our world, but he was a quick teach.

“Why did that reaper call you a First?” asked Vinny.

“Because I am a First,” I said. “Firsts are Watchers and Imps. The first non humans to inhabit the earth. It was only later fairies, gypsies, reapers, and lycans decided to join us.”

“And why did she keep calling you guys vultures?
Nathanael laughed. “The same way we call demons Imps. It’s an insult to them. A slur, because imps are generally known for serving real demons. Vulture is a slur for us.”

“Why?”

“Because mundies used to take vultures, who were actually seen as purifiers in some cultures, and cut off their wings thinking it would give them spiritual powers.”

“And even though you’re ‘Guardian Angels’,” Vinny said using air quotations, “you don’t have wings.” He laughed. “That is funny.”

I laughed too. It was an irony you couldn’t help but find endearing. “Do you know how many lives we could save if we could actually earn our wings?”

“An angel will never earn their wings,” Sunni said, squeezing my hand. “Not in our modern world.”

I didn’t disagree as he helped me skip over a puddle. Because there were two legends every Watcher taught their children to explain why we were incapable of earning wings. The first stated a Watcher could only earn wings when their heart had truly reached purity. The other said only God Himself could grant a Watcher their wings, and only when He needed an Angel at the highest hour. And since I didn’t believe in Gods, and even angels committed sins, the likelihood of an Watcher getting wings was practically nonexistent.

“I thought only Gods could grant wings,” said Vinny.

“There aren’t any Gods,” I said.

Sunni let go of my hand. “Just because you don’t believe in them doesn’t mean they do not exist,” he muttered.

Like all Watchers, Sunni believed his duty stemmed from a long line of Watchers, right up to an original archangel. His line descended from Jibril. The muslim angel who gave the prophet Muhammad the Holy Quran. Sunni was deeply religious and prayed often. Five times a day exactly. And although he considered himself muslim, he knew christian religion very well. And he tended to Americanize his own beliefs and faiths.

“Forgive them Allah,” Sunni said, holding his hands up in mock prayer as he spoke to the heavens, “for they know not what they say.”

“Our line comes from the christian archangel,” I reminded him.

“Jesus, forgive them. They don’t deserve Raphael’s blood. But allow them to have it anyway.”

We all laughed at his distress. My brother and I were supposedly Raphael’s descendants. And I wasn’t saying I didn’t believe it. After all, there was a halo floating over my head. But I wasn’t entirely convinced by the archangel family tree. I’ve never met an angel. Never heard of anybody coming even close to seeing an angel. And there wasn’t any proof they existed in the first place.

I mean, Roman emperors painted golden halos around their portraits because they thought they were divine. Maybe Watchers saw halos over our heads because we thought too highly of ourselves.

I snorted to myself. It was only too plausible.

We sprinted down the last block since the rain had returned. The row homes were made of red brick. They were all four stories tall and two window panes wide. A tree was planted between every other home, but the change in season had fallen all the leaves which only made the streets even more slippery. Nothing like a soggy leaf stealing a couple of heartbeats as your boot skidded over the concrete.

Nathanael raced up the steps as I turned to Sunni. He was looking me up and down, as if he was a lion eyeing a piece of steak. He leaned in and brushed the tip of his nose over my cheek and down my neck, causing every hair on my body to stand on end.

“I could stay,” he whispered, his breath tickling my clavical.

This was too true. My father was still at the convention center where the four of us had just left from. And since Watchers were no longer sinless, and the original meaning of the Clergy Convention had been lost, he would be out with some bimbo till the wee hours of the morning.

“The Clergy will be celebrating for awhile.” The Clergy was our Watcher government, very similar to the country’s House of Representatives. Each state elected two or more Watchers, depending on the population of state, to represent them in the Clergy.

He smiled. It was wickedly sexy. “The Gods are practically begging us to spend time with each other.”

I was desperate to get my hands on that golden body I knew was going to be more perfect than Jibril himself. But I liked the fact that I was still a virgin. Not many girls my age could say that.

“Sorry Sunni. But my God told me to wait till marriage.”

Sunni laughed. “Said the atheist.”

I kissed him. Hard. And after I pulled away, I rubbed the red lipstick off of his face. “When I’m ready, you’ll be the first to know.”

“I call second to know,” Vinny said, raising his hand. Nathanael threw him a dirty look.

“Thanks for walking me home.”

“Of course. See you tomorrow.”

Vinny and Sunni went on their way home. And Nathanael locked the door behind him and texted Dad to let him know we made it safely home. I started walking up the stairs when Nate called out for me.

“Hey, good job spotting that Charge.”

“Thanks,” I said proudly.

I closed the room to my door and frowned at myself, because I didn’t really feel as proud as I portrayed to my brother. I shrugged out of my favorite cherry red coat with the capped sleeves, and hung it on the back of my door. I unbuttoned my “church” dress, the color of forget-me-nots, and let it fall down at my ankles. I stepped in front of my full length mirror and studied myself in my birthday suit.

My skin was rosy and flawless. I was tall with legs a mile high. Sometimes I wished my breasts were bigger. But that’s when I would get into an altercation with an Imp and I would be glad they were practically non existent. My blue eyes were the color of ice, but they were never described as cool or hard. A gold halo glowed just over my crown, constantly reminding what my duty was to the heavens.

I was a Guardian Angel. A Watcher. Created to keep man safe from the demons and unseelie fairies who wanted to harm them. Since the very beginning, Watchers could see when a demon or fairy corrupted or bewitched a mundy. A demon’s touch would leave a residue known as Hell’s Ash. And the ash attracted bad luck. A fairy’s touch would leave a residue as well; Lilith’s Soil. And it could bewitch a mundy into giving up a loved one, their life savings, even their child for one passionate night with a fairy. Whenever a human had Hell’s Ash or Lilith’s Soil on a person, they automatically became our Charge, and it was our job to stop them in the act of giving up their most precious item for a decent bone, or stop them from falling off a bridge. A Corruption or Bewitchment never lasted more than a couple of hours, and could only work once. So whenever we spotted a Charge, it never took long to protect them.

Watchers were never allowed to spar with a demon or unseelie. But as the times changed, and as the hope of earning wings quickly dwindled, Watchers took it upon themselves to act as warriors. If we actually caught a demon in the act of corrupting a human, we would beat the living snot out of said demon. And although Watchers kept away from Other laws and politics, we’ve been known to cause a rebel reaper or lycan bodily harm.

Watchers earned our wings (the pin we all kept on our collar) at thirteen. That was when we were allowed to go out on our own and start protecting Charges. And for three years, I had done it without a second thought.

But as the days ticked by, I saw more corruption than ever. Not just caused by demons, but by man himself. And neither would ever stop. Watchers were going to be forever burdened with protecting man who would forever be ungrateful. And the more Watchers mingled with mundies, the more we became like them. The more we forgot or duty. The more questioned it.

And I was one of those Watchers who questioned our duty. What was my reward? Front row seats in heaven? What if there wasn’t a heaven?

“What is our purpose?” I demanded in the mirror. “And whatever it is, I deserve a choice.”

And with that, I crawled into bed.