In the Shadow of Angels: The Guardian Series 1 Read Online Free Page A

calm me, to wrap me in her loving arms as she had done my entire life, but I was gone, lost in a sea of betrayal and pain.

Chapter Three
     
    A loud crack of thunder thrusts me from my memories. Henri jumps slightly at the noise, his eyes never leaving mine.
    “Sounds like rain,” he says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His voice is soft, smooth, holding a hint of his childhood accent. “I called, but I guess you didn't get the message.”
    Another loud crack, closer that time, stunning us both. Henri turns to look up at the darkening sky. “I did not miss the afternoon storms.”
    The rush of unwanted memories returns, stealing my voice. Henri whispering in my ear, his breath warm, plotting a devious prank on Emily. He had always radiated warmth. Emily and I had agreed, he was good inside. It comes out of him in waves, melted over him like a blanket. Goodness and love wrapped into a small tanned boy.
    “So may I come in? Preferably before I’m struck by lightning?” He asks.
    Too many words are frozen in my throat. What do I say to the boy that tore my life apart? I stand back, allowing him to enter. Henri walks into my living room, his eyes scanning the space. I gesture for him to sit in the loud floral sofa that comes with the rental. For the first time, I regret not redecorating. I sit down across from him, still not speaking.
    “How are you?” Henri asks. His hands rub together in his lap. The cuticles are neat, manicured, like someone who works inside. His dark brown eyes land on mine. I blink.
    “What are you doing here?” I ask. Good. Straight to the point. My brain seems to have lost the years of training in social etiquette, though my voice has returned. I start to fidget under his stare. There is too much history, he knows too much about me.
    That is the thing about first loves. They know your inner workings like no other. Before you had even figured it out for yourself. Before you could put up armor to keep people out. Henri knows me. The eighteen-year-old version, before she became jaded. Before she was scared.
    Henri purses his lips, making a small grimace, like he is testing the words in his head before he speaks. “Abigail sent me.”
    My mother sent the last person I ever wanted to see, regardless of how many times I had envisioned reuniting with him.
    “Seems like a poor choice sending you,” I say.
    He looks away. I hit the right spot; he still feels guilt.
    Good.
    “How have you been?” He tries again, brushing off my statement.
    “Fabulous.” Small talk? Really?
    “You look well. Amazing really. It’s been so long.” His voice has a melancholy ring to it. “I’ve missed you.”
    Remaining silent is my best option. I don’t think I can avoid being sarcastic. If I open my mouth, something sly will come out, giving me away. Even after twelve years, Henri will be able to see through it. I rub my hands over my face, trying to scrub away the sudden rush of anger.
    “Henri?” He looks up at me. Henri always made direct eye contact. As if he has nothing to hide, and somehow knows everything about you. I try not to squirm. “Can we just cut the BS? Why are you here?”
    He rubs his hands down his thighs, sighing as he does. “It is your mother. She’s ill.”
    Abigail was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. Healthy and vibrant just like Emily. Women like my mother don’t get sick.
    “Sick how?”
    “Cancer.”
    “What?”
    “The doctors found a mass in her brain.”
    I blink.
    “She wants to see you.”
    For the last twelve years, I have tried to figure out the answer to why my mother left. I have thought of everything from my father being a secret abusive drunk, to a cheating lech. Or that my mother is simply a cruel, selfish woman. That is the one I settled on, the lie to this day I try to convince myself.
    “Oh, now she wants to see me,” I say.
    “She doesn’t have a lot of time.” He says, ignoring my anger. “She’s been seeing a