Taking Angels (The Angel Crusades) Read Online Free PDF Page A

Cassie, and Trish.
    My ‘three amigos’ never let me down. I set the
card on the desk, flopped onto the bed still in my clothes,
and fell asleep in seconds.
    The dream came with horrifying vividness. This
time I chased someone running, trying to get away from
me. Of that I had no doubt. He came to a dead-end, brick
walls surrounding him and only one way out. Looking
back into my eyes, he reeled in fear. Someone stepped
between us, someone light and airy, almost not there at
all. He put a hand up to stop me. I laughed, but it wasn’t
my laugh. A stranger’s hand reached out from my body,
grasping the airy person by the neck. He screamed in
pain as the person against the wall behind him cried out
in agony. Both fell silent, the airy body hanging limp in
the outstretched hand. It flowed into the hand, losing its
shape; its identity. I looked back at the person leaning
motionless against the brick wall, his eyes open wide,
terror still stretching across his face.
    I woke with a scream, Mom holding me, pulling
me against her chest.
“Britt, Britt, it’s alright, it’s going to be alright,”
she soothed, caressing my head, rocking me back and
forth.
My nose crinkled as the tell-tale smell of lilac
intruded on my senses again.
At eighteen, it should have felt uncomfortable;
embarrassing, but the terror racing through me kept me
grasping her, pulling her closer, needing her comfort and
protection. It took over an hour for the shaking to stop. I
sat wrapped in my comforter, legs crossed under me,
determined to get control back before turning off the
light. Mom sat with me until I nodded at her questioning
look and she stepped out, closing the door behind her
with one last worried glance, the lights still on.
The dream felt so real. I didn’t understand at first,
but comprehension eventually percolated to the surface.
Maybe it was real. I pulled the covers closer as the
shivering started again; the vision of the man in the alley,
his eyes focused on mine, coming back to me. The horror
in those eyes were burned into my memory, etched there
for all time. And that smell of lilac. Ever since it came to
me at the waterfall it wafted to me after every bad dream.
Why?
The sun shone through the window across my
face, waking me as I leaned against my headboard, still
sitting up. I straightened my legs, cringing as the tingles
felt like needles across my shins and through my feet. A
dream, that’s all, I kept telling myself trying to
rationalize, to convince myself. But this dream freaked
me out. The chill running up and down my spine coupled
with the tingling in my legs made my skin burn as if on
fire.
The clock on the nightstand showed ten and I slid
out of bed staggering over to the window to look out at
the large oak tree to one side of the house and the quiet
side street. I grasped at their normalcy needing them to
anchor me, ground me from the craziness of the dream;
much like I did many times after therapy pushed me
down threatening to take control. The tree and street
brought me back to my reality like beacons showing me
the way home, giving me comfort.
I closed my eyes and pulled the most exciting
thought I could to the front of my mind. School started in
a week. I felt amazed to have the opportunity to be there
for my senior year. After so many years of sporadic
attendance, along with private tutors when the chemo and
other treatments became too overwhelming, the idea of
attending school brought me joy. Though the thought of
spending my days in school with my friends, doing the
kinds of things every senior in high school did, felt
bittersweet if it meant my nights were going to be filled
with terror.
I hobbled over to the long mirror on the back of
my bedroom door as feeling eased back to my sleeping
legs. I stared at myself with continued disbelief. My hair
was growing like crazy. In the past two weeks it went
from nothing to shoulder length. And where it used to be
dark brown, hearly