When we last left our
friends, Donovan was a frothing, insane mess, Lucius was going a bit mad,
and things were just pretty strained everywhere. However, Claris
and Sean are planning to go out to dinner, and Sean's inviting an old friend.
The events of the dinner will dramatically alter the course of the story.
“Hey, Claris,” Sean plopped down next to me on the sofa. “Angelina’s joining us for dinner tonight.”
“Is sh-she?” I said. Angelina was one of Sean’s close friends. Their relationship was even deeper than mine and Sean’s, but I wasn’t jealous. She was an amazing person. Up until just last week, she had been studying overseas, learning ten languages and mastering neuroscience. “That’s wonderful. I’m so glad you invited her.”
“I knew you would be,” Sean smiled.
“I can’t wait to bask in her glory,” I said. “S-so where are we going?”
“Somewhere nice,” Sean said. “It’s French, I think. We’ll have to get Angelina to read the menu to us.”
“You know, I took two years of French. I could probably puzzle some of it out.”
Sean petted my hair condescendingly. “Oh, that’s right.”
“But not as well as Angelina,” I admitted. I rose from the sofa. “Well, I’m go-going to get ready.”
“Wear a dress, now,” Sean said. “Something grey, preferably.”
“What are you going to wear?”
“A tux, of course.
I’ve rented one specially for the occasion.”
Angelina Meravigliosa Magicmoon, the fourth, opened a bag of stones inscribed with runs. She scattered them on the forest floor, and the runes shimmered amongst the leaves and moss. She needed no special ritual to work the stones, as the power that flowed in her veins was the greatest her family had ever known.
Not that Angelina was aware of this. She had no idea of her heritage, having been abandoned as an infant.
Her life in the orphanage was harsh. She was not like the other children. She was special, and they took pains to remind her of that fact.
Once, during lunch, a child had taken the last pudding before she could reach it, without a word of apology. Sometimes they would invite her to play dodgeball with them, and then they would attack her with a barrage of rubber balls. They didn’t always say hello to her in the morning. Another time a girl left her book on the floor. Angelina tripped over it, skinning her knees on the linoleum. The girl had helped her up, apologizing profusely, but Angelina saw mocking laughter in her eyes.
Shortly after her seventh birthday, Angelina was adopted by a young, kindly couple. They were charmed by her shining blonde curls, sapphire saucer eyes, small red mouth, her peaches and cream skin. Her delicate, thin fingers, and her cheeks, which were rosy and warm, as though Dawn had stroked her face when she was born.
Angelina was glad to escape the oppressive hatred of the other orphans, who wailed and cried the day she left, out of joy, no doubt.
Her parents gave her everything she wanted, and she hated them. They resented her specialness, too. Angelina could sense it during dinner, in the way her mother’s hands drew back after passing the salt, and in her father’s soft, sneering smile when he asked about her day.
As she grew older, she spent more and more time in her room, lying on her queen-sized bed and typing on her laptop while listening to her extensive CD collection.
She discovered her powers one day while surfing the Internet. She clicked a link to a site about Wicca. Angelina printed out a sheet of spells and read them out loud for fun, despite lacking the requisite herbs and candles. The magic worked instantly. A glamour spell turned her shining blonde curls a glossy black. A spell for fragrant air filled her room with the scent of fresh cut roses.
Elated, Angelina realized that she was a witch. She wondered if her mother had also been a witch, and her mother’s mother, and on down through the generations. Had she been abandoned because of her persecuted bloodline? Had her mother, cloaked in darkness and a magical cape, left her on that doorstep to protect her from those who would seek her power? Fresh anger for the world at large burned inside her. She hated her foster parents more than ever. At the end of the week, when she received her fifty dollar allowance, she went to the bookstore and bought a stack of books on Wicca, including her very own Book of Shadows. Its cover was a stylish black, embossed with a silver pentagram.
At school, Angelina had few friends—her peers feared her beauty and strength—but she found solace among other outcasts. These girls were not special, merely ugly and socially awkward, but they understood her. Or rather, they obeyed her every command, which was just as good. Together, they created a coven.
Angelina, the High Priestess, was presiding over tonight’s meeting. It was their first in a while, as Angelina had been overseas for the past two months. She had returned with full knowledge of the intricacies of the human mind, as well as fluency in at least five different language families.
“The runes tell me that my date will go well.”
“Date?” said Hortensia, one of her friends, who was short and fat and had hairy moles on her neck.
“Don’t you remember?” Angelina said, offended. “I’m going to dinner with Sean tonight.”
“But, I thought Claris was going, too.”
“Oh, yes. She is. But she’s just a tag-along. Sean pities her, you know. He told me.”
“Sean seems kinda dangerous,” said Prudence, chewing on her stringy, greasy hair.
“He is the only one who knows the real me,” Angelina proclaimed. “No one else can fathom the multi-faceted depths of my venerable soul.”
“Isn’t he the guy with huge wings popping out of his back? That’s always following Claris around?” Olga furrowed her unibrow.
“He doesn’t follow that girl around. He’s just hanging out with her so she won’t kill herself or something. And those wings are a symbol of his estranged otherness. He’s an angel,” Angelina said. “To be honest, I think I might be an angel, too.”
“Where are your wings?” Olga said.
“Still inside me. I feel them, sometimes. I get backaches. I know they’ll emerge someday, when I’m ready.” She paused. “Maybe tonight. My back always hurts more when I’m near Sean. We have an unspoken, but very deep connection.”
“That’d be kind of awkward,” Hortensia giggled. “Big wings springing out in the middle of dinner. You’d probably take someone’s eye out.”
“Oh, goodness. No, I would be able to control them so that wouldn’t happen, I’m sure,” Angelina nodded. “At any rate, I have to go put on my best dress, so I’ll see you girls later.”
“Be sure to tell us all about it!” Prudence said, as Angelina’s body began to fade. She had mastered instant teleportation.
“Of course!” Angelina said,
waving as she disappeared into a cloud of sparkles and cherry blossoms.
She returned home and stood in front of her closet, choosing her most beautiful, most low-necked dress. The tulle skirt swished around her shapely calves as she strutted in front of the mirror. Angelina didn’t put on makeup; she was blessed with a face so radiant that she never needed it. Even so, she applied a light dusting of body glitter, so that she shimmered like a fairy. Sometimes Angelina thought that, in addition to being a witch and most likely an angel, she was also part fairy. In her dreams she saw memories of her past lives, and in one of them she was a fairy princess that ruled benevolently over a massive kingdom. She was certain that this fairy princess slept inside her soul, even now.
Her mother dropped her off at the restaurant.
“What time should I pick you up, sweetie?”
“Don’t worry about it, mom,” Angelina said. She was always sweet to her parents, hiding the eternal flame of her rage at their clear disdain of her existence. “Sean will take me home when we’re done.”
“Okay, honey. Have fun!”
Some boys standing by the restaurant’s door opened the door for her, bowing as she floated past. Sean and Claris were already inside, waiting for her. When Sean caught sight of her, he jumped up and enveloped her in a hug, kissing her on both her cheeks, as he was wont to do with his loved ones.
“Hello, darling,” he said, pulling out a chair for her. “How are you?”
“I’m fine,” Angelina smiled. “And you?”
“Fabulous, now that you’re here.”
“He-hello, Angelina,” Claris said.
“Hey, sugar,” Angelina said. “Did you both miss me?”
“Ever so much,” Sean said.
They opened their menus, and Angelina translated each item and its description perfectly into English, so that no one wound up ordering raw snails or anything like that. As the dinner progress, Angelina developed a vicious backache. It worsened with time, until halfway through her crème brulee she nearly doubled over in pain.
“Angelina! What’s the matter!” Sean cried, full of concern. Claris took her hand, biting her lip in worry.
“It’s—it’s my back,” Angelina gasped, on her knees now, with Claris and Sean standing over her. “It hurts. It hurts so much.”
Suddenly, Metatron appeared in the middle of the room. Time stopped for everyone but them, and he said, The time has come.
“For what?” Claris said, confused.
For Angelina’s awakening.
“What?” Angelina said, struggling to stand. The skin on her back was breaking.
She is the savior of us all, you see. Metatron gestured to the wings sprouting from Angelina’s back, wings even bigger and fluffier than Sean’s. Stray feathers wafted through the air as her wings broke free and stretched, encircling Sean, Claris, and Metatron. She exhaled deeply.
“Metatron,” she whispered.
Yes, Angelina. Or should I say, Sandiel?
“Sandiel?” Claris blinked, growing more confused by the moment. Who the hell was that?
She is my twin sister, Claris, an angel even more powerful than me. I am so relieved that she has at last regained her true form.
“This… is my true form?” Angelina said. Six wings had emerged, each one majestic and covered with long, beautiful feathers.
Yes. Though, if you wish, you may also change those wings to gossamer, because fairy blood runs through your veins as well.
“I knew it!” she whispered. “But if that’s true—if I am an angel, and a witch, and a fairy princess—then who could my parents have possibly been?”
You were created by God, but, in order to keep you safe, you were placed in the womb of a young witch. Your mother fell in love with a fairy prince while running from an angry mob with torches, and through that union you were born.
“Wow,” Angelina said.
Sean hugged her again. “I’m so proud of you, Angelina. So very proud.”
“M-me, too,” Claris nodded.
We no longer have to worry about the impending apocalypse. Angelina’s power will be enough to overcome any foe, including Ireul.
“I don’t have to kill him, do I?” Angelina said, fearfully. “There is good in his heart. I can heal his sufferings, and make him hate Leliel and love me.”
Yes. Metatron agreed. Yes, you can. But to do this, you must summon all of your powers, and have absolute confidence in yourself. Will you be able to do this?
“I…I think I so,” Angelina said. “If, if Sean is with me, that is. And, um, Claris, too.”
“We will be,” Sean assured her.
Good. Now, I must be going, dear sister. Enjoy the rest of your dinner, and good luck. Metatron disappeared, and time began again.
Angelina hid her wings and sat back down, thinking of the task ahead. The power of Sean’s love would give her the courage she needed. And she would think of something for Claris to do.
end
OK I KNOW THAT WAS A SHORT
CHAPTER I HAVE BEEN REALLY BUSY LATELY. PLZ KEEP READING IT WILL
GET SO MUCH BETTER. SOON EVERYONE WILL FIND OUT IF ANGELINA WILL
BE ABLE TO SUMMON ALL OF HER FAIRYWITCHANGEL POWERS TO SAVE THE WORLD AND
DONOVAN'S SOUL. ALSO THERE WILL BE MORE SECRETS REVEALED ABOUT HER
MURKY PAST. PLZ R&R OR I WILL CRY AND STOP WRITING THIS STORY.
THX!!!!11!!1 AND STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT EXCITING CHAPTER OF THE
CLARIS ANGELINA PROJECT.