Angels and Misfits

Nora, 1813 The rain always came when she was sad. Her mother was the one to point it out when she was little. The Lord always cries with you, my sweet Nora. Did the Lord give you a gift? Or does He simply favor you? Nora’s mother was always so happy, despite their circumstances. No matter where they found themselves, she always made a point of planting them in the nearest church. Paying their respects to God is always the first priority. Her mother’s faith was strong. They didn’t last very long wherever they were. Once someone caught a glimpse of Nora’s… well, her brightly colored hair, for one, or her abilities, they had to get out before the people of the town lit their torches and pointed their pitchforks. They tossed around the word witch a few times, but it changed as Nora’s mother aged while Nora remained frozen in her youth. Devil’s Daughter was one she heard a few times. Devil’s Bride was more common. Even though her mother made sure she attended church, it wasn't enough for her neighbors. They always ended up needing to leave. Even in the downpour, Nora continued to shovel in the mud. The horses were clearly upset, making their disposition well known over the past few hours while Nora kept digging. Her mother requested a proper Christian burial if possible. It wasn’t possible once this small town closed up all their businesses to Nora. They didn’t want to earn their money from some satanic w***e. Yes, that is exactly what they called her. Satan’s w***e. So, with what little her mother left behind, she packed a few things onto the horses and saddled up. After this, she would be gone. Away from this town. Water soaked through her boots to her feet, and her long skirt was completely ruined from the mud. The air was getting colder and her hands were hardly gripping the shovel. Nora shivered every so often when the wind blew. She tossed one last shovel of mud over her shoulder and climbed out of the hole. No, it wouldn’t be prayed over by the town’s preacher. No, they wouldn’t sing any hymns over it. Nora’s mother would be buried in the dirt, wrapped in a blanket she made herself, and no one would ever know she was here. A final resting place for a woman who deserved more than anyone else. She lowered her mother’s body to the ground and took one last look before shoveling all the earth back into the hole to cover her. The horses whinnied in the background, but they weren’t going anywhere. They were tied to a branch under a tree that was giving them plenty of cover. They could wait. It took less time to shove the dirt back inside than it did to dig it out. By the time she finished, Nora was out of breath, as well as the strength to remain on her feet. She fell to her knees, finally allowing the first tear to fall. “You didn’t deserve this.” She glanced around to make sure no one was coming. This clearing was in the middle of the woods, but some were prone to come out during the rain, especially if their hunting dogs heard anything. “I hope you’re happy wherever you are.” She ran her fingers up to the cover she wore over her hair. It was purple–an unusual color. The usual culprit to their ousting from any town. She pulled down the fabric, letting her already damp hair fall below her shoulders. It was long, reaching her hips. If she didn’t comb it out soon, it would be impossible to fix. She would have to cut it off. Again. She ran a finger under her nose to catch the extra rain drops running down her face. “Tell God if He could just take me now, I could be with you. I wouldn’t have to be here without you. Wouldn’t bother these people with my life.” After everything that they had been through, her mother never stopped believing. She loved to read and taught Nora how when she was young. They had some scriptures at home she forced on Nora more often than anything else. Abigail Grace lived a pure life. She saved herself for that one man, married him, had a child. That man never had a name, never gave his name, and left. No name, no whereabouts, nothing. Once she had Nora, she realized she was well and truly alone in this. She waited for John for years, but he never came home. Many days, Nora caught her mother looking out the window wherever they were. It was as if she thought he would come home. Come back to them someday. But he never came. Abigail Grace died in her bed, having loved a man she longed for throughout her life who wasn’t around more than a few months at best. If it weren’t for Nora’s birth, he may as well have been a dream. “You always trusted in your God, but I trusted more in you. Now, you’re gone. I am without any means to keep going.” She stared at the pile of dirt, waiting for some type of response. Instead, she endured the beating of raindrops while her dress clung to her skin, suffocating her. “I love you.” She rose from the ground, not even bothering to swipe at the mud on her, and left her mother’s grave. There was no point. The rain was going to follow her wherever she went. She lived long enough to know that whatever her father’s line carried had something to do with how different she was. Having some effect on the weather was part of it. Rain was bound to happen whenever she was sad. “Come on, Athena.” She untied the horse she would ride. Her mother’s horse, Daphne, carried the few possessions Nora had left in the world. She patted Athena’s nose before she turned her and Daphne around. They were set to head West. There were some heading in that direction. She hoped to sneak in somewhere empty and find a corner of the earth she could live alone and in peace. She took one last moment and glanced over at the grave. She wouldn’t return, so she needed to remember it for however long she was bound to live. Maybe one day God would take pity on her and end her miserable life. Maybe she would have done well enough to make it to wherever her mother was. As she rounded the tree, and came to a sudden stop. A dark figure stood close by. She didn’t notice him before, but he could easily have hidden. He wore dark colors, his boots were muddied. But she would have heard him. Seen him. Something. “Who—who are you?” He looked from the mud at the bottom of her skirt and slowly his eyes trailed up to her face. He was quite beautiful for a man. His eyes were dark, but it was also dark out. His gaze was intense and hard and pierced through her. Nothing different from those she got once people saw Nora’s hair or the things she could do. “I am not of your concern, witch.” “I am no witch.” She was exhausted before the argument, but this was nothing new. But hearing it come from him, he didn’t sound like he was damning her. No, he sounded like maybe he knew what she had been through. Like he knew her. His eyes narrowed on the recent brand on her arm. “That mark on you says you are one.” “I am no witch.” She repeated. However he knew she had a brand on her arm, she wasn’t sure. It was covered up under her sleeve. After her mother died, a few of the men in town pulled her from her mother’s bedside, took her to the blacksmith, and put the brand on her. Round circles all colliding into one symbol. He pulled his lips together like he didn’t believe her. “Miss…?” “Nora.” “Nora.” He licked his lips and stared into her eyes. “You’ve had an unnaturally long youth. Would you care to explain to me how you are related to the woman you just buried?” She could absolutely get away easily. One of her fists to his face and he would be down. She could make a quick escape. But then she could end up being hunted. His piercing gaze was intimidating, but there was something about him that looked more curious than convicting. He would know if she chose to lie. “She was my mother.” Streams of water ran from the edges of his brown hat on his head like a curtain, but she could still see his eyes narrow. He glanced at the grave behind her, and then back to Nora. “She was your mother.” She gripped Athena’s reins, wishing she had taken some sort of weapon with her. She left the shovel against the tree, but maybe she should grab it. She would need something to protect herself in the future. She didn’t know how to fight, but she could learn. It wouldn’t be difficult to hit this man with a shovel—or any man—and get a head start on her horse. He didn’t have any horses nearby, so he was on foot. She could absolutely get away. “And who is your father? Satan?” Her eyes blinked. “Satan?” “The Devil, the Betrayer, Lucifer…? Light bringer?” He didn’t move his feet, but she noticed something shine under his coat. “Was your mother a w***e?” Nora felt her heart beat against her chest. “My mother was no w***e! She—she went to church! She prayed every day! She—” her eyes caught sight of the thing under his jacket again and she prepared to just run off herself if needed. She was fast, she could outrun any man. Her eyes snapped back up to his. “They were married and then he left. I don’t know who he was.” “She never asked him? You are not wolf… what do you eat?” That was an odd question to ask… “What do I eat?” “Yes,” he hissed, “do you eat blood? Do you feed off children? Do you eat living creatures? What do you eat, Nora?” “Who—why would someone eat blood or living creatures?” She was fully prepared to drop Athena’s reins and make a run for it. Unless this was the mercy she prayed for. A quick death. To be reunited with her mother. Maybe she should just let him kill her. What other reason would he have for cornering her in the darkness and in the rain? He knew she had a witch’s mark on her arm. “Vampires, demons, demonesses,” he mentioned easily. “Those are the ones I can think of if you aren’t a witch. A sorceress, perhaps?” “A what?” He let out a frustrated sound, but didn’t move. He stayed in place. “What are you?” “I’m…Nora?” “Nora! What. Are. You?” He charged forward toward her. She stepped backward into the tree. He was careful not to touch her, but he was close enough she could see his face clearer. He had a perfect face. No cuts, no wounds, no discoloration. He was simply… angelic. His eyes moved across every detail of her face. He backed up a few inches. “You’re not human. You never knew your father?” She shook her head, “no.” He looked less tense when he backed off. “John.” His brows pulled together. “John?” “That’s what she said his name was. John. That was all she knew about him. That and she said he was beautiful, kind, and he loved her too.” He seemed to give up on the idea. Maybe he knew it was a false name, too. He glanced at the horses. “Where are you going?” “Away.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the answer she knew he would want. She didn’t know this man from any other, but all of them could hurt her. She may be stronger than most of them, but she didn’t know what to do when they eventually caught her. “I’ve no route nor destination in particular.” He frowned. “A partial truth is still a lie, Nora.” “I am not lying. I don’t know where I’m going right now. I just needed to bury my mother and go.” “Why not have it during the day, with a proper burial proceeding?” Her instinct was to look down, the shame hitting her in the stomach, but she didn’t trust this man to take advantage of her downcast eyes. “The preacher said he wouldn’t bury a woman who consorted with the devil. A woman who bore Satan’s daughter.” That seemed to satisfy him. “What are your intentions after this?” “I will not hurt anybody or drink anyone’s blood, if that’s what you mean. I eat regular food. I just want to be left alone.” He made a clicking sound with his tongue as he glanced at the horses again. “It’s dangerous out there for a lone traveler. Woman especially. One that looks like you…” he raised his brow. “You have something to fend off highwaymen? Anything that might want to have a taste?” He talked about strange things, but he seemed somewhat concerned. “I’m fast. I’ll get away if they come after me.” She had been caught before. She ran into traps she never noticed. She would get away, though. Besides, they tried to kill her before, but it didn’t work. Someday, someone would find a way to kill her. But now that she was willing, she was sure they could kill her. This man, though, she almost welcomed the idea of dying by his hands. The thought was disturbing. He reached under his coat and pulled out the shining metal. She stepped backward again, hitting the tree. It was a long knife. Small sword. Something. It looked sharp, like it would hurt. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. He lifted it, passing it to her. “Take it, Nora.” Her eyes darted back and forth, unsure if she could trust him. It could have been a trick. He accused her of being a witch, a demon, and something else all in the short time they had been talking. How could she take something like that from him? What did he want? “Nora,” his tone grew softer, “I promise not to hurt you.” He closed his hand and reached for Athena. Slowly, he opened one sack on her side and put the knife inside. “It’s here for you in case you have any trouble on the road.” He stepped backward, giving her enough distance to get on Athena. She didn’t move, though. “Why are you giving me that?” “You aren’t a bad person, Nora.” He kept saying her name, and she liked the sound of it, but like her father, her mother fell for her father’s voice before anything else. If anything, she learned not to follow in her mother’s footsteps. “What’s your name?” He hesitated for a moment, while he decided whether to tell her. “You know my name, and I do not know where you come from or who you are. You’re giving me your knife. No one has ever done that for me. You scare me after I bury the one person I’ve had in my life. Is that not enough to learn yours?” “Alexandriel.” “Alexandriel,” she tested it. “You can call me Alex.”