Angel Breath by Racquel Kechagias (top 100 books to read .TXT) 📕

A voice cackled; it was high and raspy, like air rattling against old jangling metal. The eyes that went with the cackling voice were crimson red; there were no pupils and no irises the white of the eyes were simply an endless mass of crimson red, almost as if the eyes themselves were bleeding endlessly. “You really think I have come after the first daughter of the Ophanium? I’m simply here under orders of the Grim.” The raspy voice replied before the cackling laughter resounded again.

“What does the Grim want with the daughter of the Ophanium?” The towering raven haired man asked, Isabelle felt drawn towards him, in his glorious fury but she strained to stay in the shadows, she didn’t want to draw attention to herself; especially not from the two men that she was watching.

“I don’t have to answer to you, Oldest of the Seraphim!” Cael roared, Isabelle could see that he was furious and it was only then that “the oldest of the Seraphim” - whatever that was -was holding a dagger to Cael’s throat.

“You either answer to me or you answer to Jehovah, and I assure you I will be a lot kinder towards you than Jehovah will be,” The raven haired man sneered again, the dagger pressing more deeply into Cael’s throat. Isabelle watched in horror as the dagger pierced Cael’s skin and drew a deep darkness onto its blade rather than blood.

“The Grim will make sure that you fall from Grace, Oldest of the Seraphim. And when that day comes I’ll be ready.” Cael whispered, before he vanished sucking all of the unusual darkness away with him as he disappeared into the night.

Isabelle ran as fast as she could - her feet slapping against the pavement in time with her racing heartbeat - before the raven haired man could discover that she had just heard his whole conversation between himself and Cael. She quickly found herself out side of the coffee shop and she stopped to pull air into her lungs before she entered into the shop in a casual stroll, with her head held high and a small smile on her lips; showing the world the opposite of what was truly churning underneath her skin.

Isabelle found herself sitting at the only empty table in the room, a table with two chairs beside the front window of the shop waiting for her order; a large mocha-chino with extra whipped cream and marsh-mellows. Isabelle watched the people passing by out on the street searching for the raven haired man that had been in the alleyway. Isabelle quickly turned when she saw him walking across the other side of the street but not before he had gotten a good look at her. She could see from the corner of her eye the raven haired man crossing the street and making his way toward the small coffee shop and knew that she had been caught. She also knew that there was no means of escape except through the door that the raven haired man was now entering. As the man stepped into the light his features were thrown into relief, she could see every detail of his face including his beautiful amber eyes, which shown against his pale skin and raven hair. Isabelle recognized him instantly, the raven haired man was the one and only Ethan; the man that she was supposedly meant to be getting together with tonight. Was that the work that he had called her in about? What – or should she say who - did he work for, the British Mafia?

“Hello Ethan,” Isabelle said as he approached her table. He looked surprised for a moment, as if he hadn’t already seen her sitting there before a full-fledge grin broke out upon his lips.

“Hello Isabelle, I hadn’t expected you to be here,” Ethan said. Isabelle could see that he was carefully choosing his words rather than being the free spirited person that he usually was. His amber eyes flashed dangerously for a moment before he was back to his smiling self.

“Why don’t you take a seat Ethan, I would love the company.” Isabelle purred, she could see the smirk dancing in his amber eyes, she could see if he was assessing if she was a threat or not and she wondered why she had never read anything deeper in his eyes when she had first met him.

“Alright,” Ethan complied as he sat down at the table with the girl. Isabelle’s smile grew even larger. She could see that she had put him on the spot when he had come in here to do the same to her.

“What was the problem that you had to take care of at work?” Isabelle asked waiting to see if he would admit that he worked for the British Mafia or of something along those lines. Isabelle rested her chin in her hand and watched him peacefully as she waited for his response.

“I’m a crime scene investigator you see, so I had to come in and verify a body for my boss. This poor girl had been put through quiet the ‘experience’ I guess you could say, in the wrong place at the wrong time you know?” Ethan said; his eyes meeting hers and Isabelle could see the threat in them, warning her if she said anything that she would met the same fate as the ‘girl’ - though she couldn’t tell if she was fictional or not, even after all that she had witnessed – if she called for help or told anyone about what had happened.

“Oh the poor thing,” Isabelle said truly feeling sorry for the girl – whether fictional or not she still did not know – but she allowed the sadness to show in her eyes.

“How are you coping with everything?” Ethan asked and Isabelle knew instantly what he was talking about. The smell of brewed coffee approaching them made Isabelle pause for a moment as their waitress brought their coffee over. She thanked the waitress and waited until she was out of hearing before she responded to Ethan’s question.

“I’m not quite settling with the fact that he’s gone, I just keep looking around the apartment and I see all of the memories that I shared with him. I can’t stay in the house any more, I’m going to have to sell it eventually but in the mean time I guess I’m just going to have to put up with it.” Isabelle let out a sigh as the problem that she had escaped from at home seeped back into her consciousness. She knew that what she was saying was true as soon as the words had left her lips. She looked up into Ethan’s amber eyes and she could see his sorrow for her deep within them, strikingly contrasting with the smile on his lips.

“You could always stay at my place.” Ethan suggested quickly putting up his hands before Isabelle could interrupt. “I know that we don’t know each other that well but I knew your father and we were very good close friends, and I promise to be a perfect gentleman.” Isabelle felt like giggling at his proposal but she forced herself to remember what had gone down in the dark alleyway, how Ethan’s now mirthful voice was dark and threatening towards Cael, how Ethan held a dagger to the other man’s throat and how Cael – once Ethan had drawn blood – had disappeared into the night with a slight trace of evidence that he had even been there in the first place.

“Even though that is a really generous offer, I’m going to have to pass. I don’t know you Ethan and although you seem like a nice guy, people don’t just move into their acquaintance’s house.” Isabelle said politely refusing Ethan’s offer as she stood up with her mocha-chino in hand. Ethan stood up as well his dark amber eyes flashing with emotion as he watched the girl besides him.

“At least let me walk you home,” Ethan said pleadingly, picking up his coffee as well. Isabelle didn’t say anything but started making her way out of the now slightly less crowded coffee shop. Isabelle could feel Ethan walking besides her but they continued in silence, none of them knowing what to say to the other.  Isabelle wanted to trust Ethan, but she couldn’t knowing what he was capable of because of what she had witnessed earlier on that evening.  They made their way up Percy Street and they soon found themselves upon Wellington Close outside of Isabelle’s apartment block. She turned around to say goodnight to Ethan but when she turned around she found that he was extremely close to her.

“Goodnight Isabelle; I’ll see you in the morning,” Ethan whispered, his amber eyes smoldering in the dim light from the front porch as he leaned in to place a soft kiss on Isabelle’s cheek before turning around and walking back the way that they had come. Isabelle reached up to touch the place where his lips had touched her skin, leaving her hand there as she made her way back inside and up to her apartment and she suddenly felt excited for tomorrow, especially for her brunch with Ethan.

Isabelle prepared herself for bed in a daze, slipping on her usual night-time attire, a pair of flannel pajama pants and an old sweatshirt, before making her way back to the bathroom and brushing her teeth. Isabelle made sure that she had locked the front door before she made her back over to her bedroom and after crawling underneath the thick, comforting blankets she curled up to go to sleep.

The dreams of the night before evaded Isabelle when she woke up in the morning. All she could remember of her dream was of a raven haired man, with amber eyes looking deeply into her own, searching her eyes as if the thing needed to save the world rested within them. She had remembered him whispering something but now in the light of day she couldn’t remember what those words had been but she remembered the sound of his voice as he said them, gentle and soft as if the words themselves could caress her skin.

Isabelle rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Sure, the guy from her dream had been Ethan – her mind had made the connection as soon as it had woken up – but surely nothing that she dreamt about could be really, how could something that could save the world be inside of her? Isabelle shook her head trying to free her mind from the dream. It was impossible and highly unlikely for any of it to be real, for any of it to make sense. Isabelle walked over to her wardrobe; she could never decide what to wear on dates, it was brunch after all, so what on earth did she wear. Did she wear something casual, or something semi-casual? Ethan had only seen her twice, once at the funeral in her black attire and last night when she went out for coffee in her jeans and t-shirt.

Isabelle rummaged through her closet trying to find the perfect outfit for their first date; wait, she thought is it even a date? She realized that they never come to the understanding that it was a date or that it wasn’t. Isabelle couldn’t understand where she got the idea that it was a date from but she knew instantly as she had thought it that she was – in deed – hoping that it was a date. After a while of searching Isabelle found a cute little white summer dress which just fell past her knees. She chose a black shawl to go with the dress, and she put on a pair of black pumps as well.  A quick spot of a makeup – including a slight powdering