Shutting the door to our apartment behind us, we grinned at each other before racing down the corridor and jumping over the handrail that was meant to stop non-winged inhabitants from falling 30 floors straight down to the atrium floor below us. There were stairs and elevators available for both angel and non-angel individuals to use but we were running late to the meeting Dad had set up and the quickest route to the bottom floor was to fly down.
Dad’s red hair was like a beacon that we easily spotted and slowed our descent to land next to him. Unlike my red hair, which was closer to a rust colour, Dad was a very bright ginger. As well as being our adopted father, he was second to the Archangel Michael and although slightly taller than me at around 5 foot 10, he was built like a brick shithouse. Inside work hours, he made sure we were like any other Protection angel; we had to obey his rules at all times and that meant not calling him Dad in front of people. He turned to face us with a glare on his face. He flared out his wings that were typical of a Protection angel – white with royal blue primaries. The thing about him being our adopted father meant we knew how to defuse his anger at being a few minutes late, even if we were meant to follow the same rules.
“Ain’t this a funny 9 o’clock.” Dad’s Irish brogue got even stronger with annoyance.
“Sorry Mac, Flint made pancakes. With blueberries.” I shrugged, my wings rustling with the movement. We all knew Flint was the one of the best cooks in the Pillar and that Mac loved food and Flint’s food in particular.
At the mention of pancakes, Dad’s glare faded off his face and looked hopeful.
“Now, I’m wondering what one might have to do to get one of these blueberry pancakes.”
Grinning, Flint pulled his arms from behind his back to show a small parcel that contained the remaining pancakes that he cooked this morning.
Sneaking a glance around him, Dad quickly grabbed the pancakes from Flint and started to unwrap the parcel. Giving us an appreciative glance, Dad started to eat the first pancake taking a break halfway to pull a pained face.
“Thank you, I better be eating these quickly before your mother finds out. She’s making me diet.” Shuddering at the word, he hurriedly continued eating the pancakes.
Chuckling at his haste to eat, we milled around waiting for Dad to finish with his forbidden treat. That’s when we saw the white and soft pink feathers floating down quietly behind him. Looking up, we saw the blonde bun and stern blue eyes in a feminine face glaring down at the five of us. In sync, as the petit woman landed behind our Dad, my brothers and I backed away slowly. Seeing our movement and terrified expressions, he gulped down the mouthful of pancake he had as the lyrical female voice spoke.
“Cormac, explain.”
“Now, Mary, I know what this looks like…” Turning around to face our mother, our Dad tried to calm her down.
It was oddly comical watching our 5 foot nothing mother from the Love Pillar – known for its gentle angels – face down the seasoned warrior that stood second to the Archangel of Protection who took shit from nobody and who was currently losing this battle. Looking like a scolded child, Mac sighed, grabbed our mother around the waist and hugged her tight, laying his head against hers.
“I love you, you bloody damn meddling woman. I won’t hide eating behind your back anymore. I’ll do it in front of you.” With that announcement, Mac ran away towards the back of the atrium that held all the meeting rooms before our mother could grab him.
“Ohhh, Cormac. I love you too, you idiot man.” Making a humph noise, she turned around to glare at us instead with the classic hands on hips. Taking a second to look us over, her face softened when it landed on me. Tilting her head, she gestured for my brothers to leave the two of us alone. As they passed, they all gave her a squeeze and bent down so she could give them a kiss on the cheek each. Watching them head towards the meeting room that we saw our dad enter, I eyed my mum warily. I knew what was coming, which was the same thing day in day out since they found me. Walking towards me, she stopped just in front of me and I could feel her eyes wandering over me before landing on my face and the evident bags under my eyes from lack of sleep.
“You haven’t been sleeping well baby girl.” Reaching up to touch my face, her hand stopped when I inevitably flinched at the quick motion.
“Mum… I…” It was a punch in the gut seeing the hurt in her eyes that even after all this time, I still didn’t like being touched and I could feel the tears filling my eyes that I continued to hurt her. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be silly, baby girl, you always were your daddy’s daughter.” She smiled a little, trying to fill the situation with humour instead of pain at the fact the one of the two people who could touch me freely without me flinching was my dad. This time reaching up slowly to wipe away one tear that had escaped down my face. Although I managed to hold still this time, I felt like I owed her an explanation.
“It’s just…” I struggled to find the words, “It was bad mum. Dad and Uncle Tan were the ones that got me out of there. I couldn’t see, and all I heard was their voices shouting my name.” I shrugged sadly, “Then they was there, I felt… safe.”
I found myself looking at the floor as I quietly finished my confession, shutting a door down on the memories that tried to escape. A quiet sob made me look up.
“Mum, I… I didn’t mean for you to cry.”
“Oh, my precious baby girl,” wiping her eyes, she stood tall and looked determined, “I’m allowed to cry when someone hurts any of my babies, it’s a mother’s right. But…” a crooked smile took her face, “you are also your father’s daughter, and I know you’ll come out of this stronger than you were before.” Gently reaching out to squeeze my hand, she finished, “I’m sure of it. Now, best not to keep your father waiting.”
Watching her leave, I stood there staring across the atrium. I had to get my emotions back under control before I walked into that meeting room. Taking deep breathes, I beat back the memories and emotions that had risen up during my confession to my mother. Feeling more normal and managing to breathe without nearly hyperventilating, I strode across the atrium to what would likely be our first job since I had come back to work. Normality would help. I hoped.
Although, as I opened the doors to the meeting room and saw the clients we were being hired to help, I had a feeling that my wish for normality would come through a trial by fire. Shifters.
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