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    Angel Requiem
    Angel Requiem
    Angel Requiem
    Ebook42 pages31 minutes

    Angel Requiem

    By Jaime Samms

    ()

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    About this ebook

    A Wings of Faith short story

    In a world without hope that kills what it can't understand, a solitary priest who has lost all he ever loved may be the last man to still believe in Angels. In the end, his belief may be all that can safeguard the fate of two Angel lovers—and restore his own faith in the power of love.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDreamspinner Press
    Release dateAug 11, 2010
    ISBN9781615815791
    Angel Requiem
    Author

    Jaime Samms

    Jaime Samms is a plaid-hearted Canadian who spends the too-long winters writing stories about love between men and the too-short summers digging in the garden. There are dust bunnies in the corners of her house—which she blames on a husky named Kai. There are dishes on the counter—which is clearly because teenagers! There is hot coffee in the pot and the occasional meal to keep her from starving—because her husband is remarkable and patient. A multi-published author whose work has been translated into French, Italian, and German, Jaime delights in the intricate dance of words that leads her through tales of the lost and broken hearted men she writes about to the love stories that find and mend them. And when the muse is being stubborn, she also makes pretty things with yarn and fabric scraps because in her world, no heart is too broken to love, and nothing is too worn or tired it can’t be upcycled into something beautiful. All it takes is determination and the ability to see life a little bit left of center.

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      Book preview

      Angel Requiem - Jaime Samms

      Angel Requiem

      FATHER? Explain it to me? In small words so that I can understand.

      The rustle of feathers drowns out all other sound.

      The weight of the wings… the weight of the world….

      WE NEEDED to believe. That’s what the old stories said. The Angels existed because we needed something to believe in, some way to make sense of the world. Angels were our faith made flesh, created to be guides, to defend us, fight our demons, and take our dying children into their arms to guide them to a better place. But when our world started to die, we lost faith. We tore our saviors down and abandoned them. Worse, we persecuted them until there were few left. They had no way to defend themselves.

      Now they walk our earth as faithless and lost as we ever were.

      I’d spent years holding tight to my own faith, my own certainty I could save the Angels, even when people scoffed. Pressing my knees into soft earth, closing my eyes, I concentrated on the struggling warmth of the sun on my back, the cold earth under my bare feet and seeping through my clothing. It was the connection that grounded me and let me find peace.

      Dominick. Once, I’d felt foolish, talking to his gravestone. Over the years, I came to need the sense of not being alone. Of all the voices I ever wished to hear again, his was the one I most wanted and the only one that never came to me. I could only hope he, unlike the other ghosts and spirits who vied for my attention, had found a peace in death that did not need my input.

      Running feet clattered on the sidewalk outside the fence. Sharp cries of anger disturbed the still morning, cutting through even the clamor of voices inside my skull.

      There! He’s over there!

      The shout brought my head up from contemplation of the green carpet of grass where I knelt. Tears, caused by the intrusion of the siren voices in my head, already covered my face. Voices of the dead always called to me, painfully loud and incessant when death came too close. They reminded me of the brother I couldn’t save, the people who didn’t want to be saved, and the worst hurt of all: the love I’d lost so completely, there wasn’t even a body left to bury. Pain watered my eyes, made it hard to breathe.

      I searched out the source of the shouting. It was happening again. Another death I wouldn’t be able to stop. Another bit of Faith and Love cut down for the crime of simply existing. The Angel met my gaze just as the bullet took him between the shoulder blades, between his wings. Blood dribbled out the corner of his mouth, and he fell.

      I watched him crumple, but all my tears were spent. I had none left for him. At least his death was quick. The voices grew to a crescendo, making me gasp and clutch at my splitting head. Nausea swelled, my vision blackened; then, as suddenly as it started, the song stopped. For a moment, the world held its breath with me.

      I spread my fingers in the soft

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