Page 33 of Shifting Hearts

ONE

Seraphina

E xcitement had Seraphina Chandler bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her optimism shone through her innocent expression as she arrived in the city. In mortal years, she was young, only twenty, but immortality wasn’t measured in years.

She came across her reflection in a mirrored surface.

She’d been raised not to allow something as superficial as her features distract her, though she was stunning, from her porcelain-like skin to the plum locks without a single errant strand.

Her hazel eyes were doe-like with long lashes and the tip of her nose was slightly upturned like a pixy.

Her full lips were stained a shade of pink, leaving her without the need for gloss.

She wondered if this was how an angel should appear, as her curves garnered looks from passersby. She quickly descended from the train platform as it pulled away from the station, rushing toward its next destination.

Seraphina hadn’t seen her sister, Mirabelle in years and she was looking forward to rooming with her. Mirabelle had lived in the city for a few years at that point and would mentor Seraphina as she fulfilled her calling.

As her father’s youngest, she was the last of her siblings to be sent on assignment. Saving the soul of billionaire Jas Conrad, CEO of Conramor liquors intimidated her, but she would make him proud.

The man owned multiple distilleries and vineyards around the globe. She was hired as his personal assistant at the company’s home office. Mirabelle used divine intervention to land the role for her sister. Rumor had it the man discarded assistants faster than he changed socks.

“Seraphina!” Mirabelle called.

“Mirabelle!” Seraphina shrieked as she rushed to hug her.

Seraphina studied her sister more intently, trying to figure out what felt off about her aura. Her mocha skin was flawless, but the long dark curls she remembered had been cut and styled with an edgy look. Though she smiled, there was sadness in her gaze.

She’s lost her ethereal glow, Seraphina gasped.

As an archangel, Brock didn’t have the same glow. His energy was unique and could be downright menacing to unsuspecting people.

“Mirabelle?” she asked softly.

“Call me, Mara,” she began. “I don’t like Mirabelle anymore.”

She looked at her sister, mulling over the nickname

“Mara? I like it.” She smiled. “It suits your mature style.”

“Hello, baby sis!” Her brother, Brock said, as he pushed off the tiny car he’d been leaning on.

She shrieked in laughter as he picked her up in a bear hug and spun her around.

He was a giant, standing at six-foot-seven with broad shoulders.

His blond hair was pulled back with a leather tie, while sunglasses hid the Viking man’s piercing blue eyes.

He was an archangel, an agent of justice, some referred to him as Karma.

When he set her back down, she barely came up to his chest.

Brock took her bag and tossed it into the trunk of the black car. Seraphina didn’t know much about them or how to drive, but was surprised as Mara climbed into the driver’s seat. Brock climbed into the passenger side and Seraphina sat in the middle of the back seat.

She didn’t have to ask why they weren’t flying. It was against the rules to expose their wings and fly. Keeping their nature secret was imperative and mundane human things were required to blend into the human world.

Brock’s hair brushed the ceiling as he turned in his seat to address her. He was a giant stuck in the tiny metal vehicle.

“How was your journey?” he asked.

The celestial realm was outside what mortals perceived to be time and space.

While they couldn’t manipulate time, they were able to travel through it.

A journey through the time portal took them to any place in time.

If they attempted to tamper with events already set in history, they would lose their wings and be cast into nonexistence.

“I stopped to watch them erect a monument, and it was fascinating.”

All angels were born innocent and retained that when they entered the world. Engaging in corrupt or sinful behavior led to them losing their wings, which meant loss of immortality. Many died before earning them back.

As an angel of justice, Brock was one of the most powerful beings in any realm, as such, he wasn’t forced to follow the same rules set for the rest of them. He was neither good nor evil, he could employ certain methods for the sake of justice.

Mara pressed her lips into a tight line, not engaging in their conversation.

“Is something wrong, Mara?” she asked.

“Let’s talk when we get home,” Brock said gently, placing a comforting hand on his sister’s shoulder.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Seraphina spoke again. “How’s work Brock?”

He turned to look at her and said sternly, “I said, let’s talk when we get home.”

She was taken aback by his tone and sunk against the seat.

Sighing, she looked out the window, digesting the sights around them.

The gothic-inspired architecture of the city was awe-inspiring.

She wondered if the many steepled buildings were churches.

It seemed several old buildings were sandwiched between those erected from glass and steel.

The city was founded over 200 years ago, surviving fire and corruption from the leaders before blossoming into the metropolis it was today.

Mara pulled into a parking structure and turned the car off once she was in a spot. Brock grabbed her belongings from the trunk, and Seraphina followed them up several flights of stairs, until they stopped in front of a door with a metal emblem with the number six on it.

“Home, sweet home,” Mara said as she put a key in the lock and pushed open the door.

“It sucks trying to bring in the shopping as there is no elevator. But lacking such a luxury almost makes the rent affordable. If you need anything heavy brought upstairs, just call Brock. If he’s around, it’s like he’s lifting a feather. ”

Brock barked out a laugh. “Mara is just lazy!”

The siblings’ banter brought a smile to her face as they led her down the hall to a small room containing a single bed, devoid of linens.

The scratched up nightstand had a single brass lamp.

The tiny three-drawer dresser was missing knobs.

She took a deep breath looking at the potential of the sad little room instead of expressing disappointment.

She closed her eyes and folded her hands as though praying.

She conjured a vivid image in her mind. A purple and pink ombré bedspread with two plush pillows covered the empty bed.

A Tiffany-style lamp replaced the brass one, adding color and flair to the dark wood as the dresser doubled in size.

The white walls turned a shade of periwinkle, and a wooden frame with twine and clothespins made a centerpiece on the wall, perfect for a photo collage.

Almost as if they were connected by an invisible psychic force Mara and Brock appeared.

Mara looked around the room and nodded her approval.

“It’s a little on the safe side, but I like it. So you wanted us to take a selfie?”

“What’s a selfie?”

Mara pulled her phone out of the pocket of her jeans and drew Seraphina to her side.

Brock sidled up behind them and took the phone from his sister as he had the longest arm.

Seraphina grabbed the phone, falling in love with the photos as they hung on the wall.

More pictures appeared of the three of them in different silly poses and faces.

Lastly, an ornate frame hung on the back of the door causing her to blush in a moment of vanity.

“Your room is a bit girly, little sis. You should’ve looked for inspiration first,” Brock teased.

Mara clapped him on the arm.

“You don’t want to go into his room Seraphina! It’s dark and reeks of man stench.”

Seraphina’s nose wrinkled at the thought. She didn’t know what a man’s stench was, but if Mara was warning her, she knew it couldn’t be a good thing.

“Can you show me your room, Mara?”

“Of course!”

Mara looped her arm around Seraphina and pulled her from the room to the door across the hall. She pointed out the bathroom and Brock’s room at the end of the hall.

Mara opened her door and waved Seraphina in. She took a look around the room. The walls were a deep crimson, making Seraphina’s stomach churn. She felt dizzy and plopped on the purple and black comforter.

When Seraphina pointed and asked about the posters on the wall, Mara explained they were from concerts she had been to. Several were signed by the bands. Mara opened an app on her phone and angry music started playing that hurt Seraphina’s ears.

“You’ll develop your own taste in entertainment.”

After a while, the windowless room closed in on Seraphina. Angels required sunlight to charge their energy. When she touched her sister’s hand, an electric shock ran through her body. Tears pricked her eyes as overwhelming sadness twinged with shame rushed over her.

“You lost your wings!” she gasped.

“Shhh! Keep your voice down.”

“Does Brock know?”

“Of course he knows. He’s the one who’s been helping me work through it.” Mara frowned.

“How did it happen?”

“You remember that guy I told you I was seeing?”

“Yeah, Shane, right?”

“Mhm. I thought he really loved me.” Mara’s voice wobbled.

“You gave him your virginity?”

Soulmate bonds were strong and true, strengthening the celestial.

Losing their virginity in a lustful act was the epitome of disgrace to an angel.

They were punished for this sin by being stripped off their wings.

Mara could earn her wings back through finding her soulmate or through the ultimate sacrifice.

“Did it hurt?” Seraphina asked.

“Define hurt?”

Seraphina’s face scrunched. She knew of pain as a concept though she had no experience with it.

“I just want to be here for you,” she responded gently.