Broken

  For the special girls in my life,

  Amanda, Danielle, Jessica and Josie.

  And for the boys, my two Christophers, and Zach

  And for Missy,

  my loving companion for fifteen years,

  gone from this world on 21 August 2013.

  May she have fun forever in puppy heaven

  Contents

  1 Jordan

  2 Ebony

  3 Jordan

  4 Ebony

  5 Ebony

  6 Jordan

  7 Ebony

  8 Nathaneal

  9 Ebony

  10 Jordan

  11 Nathaneal

  12 Ebony

  13 Jordan

  14 Ebony

  15 Jordan

  16 Jordan

  17 Jordan

  18 Jordan

  19 Ebony

  20 Ebony

  21 Jordan

  22 Ebony

  23 Jordan

  24 Ebony

  25 Nathaneal

  26 Ebony

  27 Nathaneal

  28 Jordan

  29 Ebony

  30 Nathaneal

  31 Jordan

  32 Ebony

  33 Nathaneal

  34 Jordan

  35 Nathaneal

  36 Ebony

  37 Nathaneal

  38 Ebony

  39 Ebony

  40 Nathaneal

  41 Ebony

  42 Nathaneal

  43 Ebony

  44 Jordan

  45 Ebony

  46 Ebony

  47 Jordan

  48 Ebony

  A Final Word

  Also by Marianne Curley

  1

  Jordan

  I met her first. The connection was intense. She felt it too, and even after all that’s happened since, she still does. They try to tell me it’s not real love, that it’s a supernatural bond that links us together, but the truth is there’s only one thing standing in our way – the angel.

  A Seraphim Prince.

  Nathaneal.

  He’s convinced Ebony that the two of them should be together for eternity or some crap, and she’s fallen for him in a big way, like it’s her fate, or destiny.

  It’s ridiculous how much I want this girl. I need Ebony in my life. It’s that simple.

  Thane knew how I felt about Ebony from the start, and he still played his secretive games. He needed me to find her. Born in the same nanosecond, we are linked for life, and he knew the heavens would light up when we came close.

  He knew everything, and he made sure I knew nothing.

  I can’t forgive him for that.

  It’s early on Monday morning and he’s training us in his downstairs gym before school. It’s our new training schedule since Ebony moved in. And it’s rigorous. He’s training Ebony to use her powers so that they can disappear off to Avena, the world where angels live.

  I feel his piercing blue eyes on my back as I pound the boxing bag. Wham! Wham! I grab the bag with my gloved hands and turn round. He’s looking straight at me, and I can feel him poking about inside my head, so I stare back. ‘Do you have to?’

  Ebony’s working on the treadmill with earplugs in, but right away, her Guardian Angel alarm goes off and she stops. ‘Have to what?’

  ‘He’s in my head again,’ I tell her.

  She raises her eyebrows at him.

  ‘Jordan,’ he says in his silky-soft voice that could turn horse shit into whipped cream, ‘it’s to protect you both.’

  ‘Yeah? Well, maybe I don’t want your so-called protection any more.’

  ‘Jordan,’ Ebony looks uncomfortable. ‘Will one of you tell me exactly what’s going on?’

  I shove my chin in the direction of the angel with the guilt-ridden expression on his face. ‘Ask him.’

  Stepping off the treadmill she studies Thane’s face, touches his arm and gives him a sad little smile that turns my stomach over. ‘Do you have to listen to every thought?’

  ‘Ebony, I can’t hear your thoughts, so if you’re in danger I will know through Jordan.’

  ‘Oh. Because of our bond?’

  He nods. ‘Yes.’

  ‘There you go,’ I tell her, ‘another perfect example of me being used again.’

  He glares at me with darkening eyes. ‘Neither of you is safe. Danger could come in any form, one you might not recognise. I watch and listen, and I will do whatever is necessary to keep you both from imminent danger.’

  ‘That’s bull! You just wanna know what I’m thinking when I’m thinking about your fiancée.’

  ‘Jordan, you’re always thinking about Ebony. That’s not new. What is new is your hostility towards me.’

  Wham! Wham! I slam the bag, wishing it were his head.

  ‘Jordan, we need to talk.’

  Seething hot breath pushes out from between my locked teeth. ‘So now you wanna talk? You could have told me Ebony was your fiancée a hundred times, but didn’t. Why was that, Thane? Why now and not before?’

  He flicks a glance away before bringing his eyes back to mine. ‘I should have told you.’

  ‘Damn right.’

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t.’

  ‘Too late for that.’

  ‘Jordan!’ Ebony scolds me like I’m a kid she’s babysitting. ‘Can we try to get along?’

  I laugh. ‘Oh, I get it. You’re uncomfortable around me now.’

  ‘No, I’m not. But you’re uncomfortable around us.’

  Us. US. I hate that word. ‘Damn right I am!’

  Her face collapses and she sighs.

  ‘Ebony, I don’t mean you. I mean him.’

  ‘But it is me.’ Her words rush out fast, like they’re bursting to break free. ‘If it wasn’t for me, none of this would be happening.’ She glances at Thane. ‘If you two can’t get along, I’ll have to move out.’

  ‘No!’ I yell.

  Thane moves in closer, shrinking the space between them. ‘This is the safest place for you right now.’

  ‘I’ll be fine at Amber’s. She’ll love to have me back.’

  ‘And so would her brothers,’ he says. ‘Twins, who recently turned twenty-two, presently away at university.’

  What’s with his anxious undertones? Can angels get jealous too? His eyes slide to mine, revealing that, clearly, they can. I laugh, enjoying the moment maybe a little too much. See what it feels like, dude? I turn to Ebony. ‘I’ll move out before you have to.’

  ‘You can’t, Jordan,’ she says, ‘this is your home and –’

  ‘And what? What do you think I would do? Where do you think I would live? I’m way too old for Social Services, and I can’t afford to live on my own, but I’d rather be homeless than have you staying anywhere but in this protected house. It’s why he built it. Don’t be an idiot, Ebony. You’re staying right here.’

  ‘All right, I’ll stay if you do, as long as we find an amicable way to live together under one roof.’

  I flick a look at Thane. He promised to teach me how to block my thoughts, but that was just another lie. The sooner I learn how to do it, the more bearable it’ll be living here. Somehow, I’ll teach myself. I have an idea that might work. ‘OK. I’ll stay, on the condition you two stop doing that thing all the time.’

  Her eyes widen, her face darkens with hot colour as she glances at Thane. ‘But, Jordan, we haven’t done . . . er, anything like, er . . .’ She stops and adjusts the ponytail at the back of her head.

  ‘I’m not talking about that. Jeez, Ebony, I mean the way you two are always, you know . . .’ Damn, now my skin’s growing hot.

  ‘Making you uncomfortable,’ supplies Thane.

  I nod, and check what’s next on my training schedule.

  On my third cardio set, Thane glances at the wall c
lock and calls out, ‘That’s enough for this morning. Move into cool-downs.’

  ‘Already?’ Ebony says. ‘But that’s not even half as long as usual.’

  ‘I thought you two might like some time to clear your heads before your exam today.’

  ‘How thoughtful,’ I mutter, working through the cool-downs as fast as I can.

  Ebony keeps pace with me and we finish in no time. I grab a towel to wipe the sweat off my face while Ebony checks the clock and grins. ‘We’ve got heaps of time left.’ Playfully, she tugs on Thane’s training T-shirt. When he leans in, she whispers, ‘And the best way I know how to clear my head . . .’ She leaves the rest unspoken, and he smiles meaningfully down at her.

  This is exactly what I mean. The secretive looks between them, the way they radiate towards each other like magnets – they’re driving me crazy. Only twenty minutes ago they had agreed to tone it down.

  Bracing myself as I try to calm down, I throw the towel round my neck, and lower my eyes to avoid seeing the lovebirds staring into each other’s eyes. But the burning rage inside is not going away. I’m shaking with it.

  Thane notices something’s wrong and cuts me off at the door. I try to make my thoughts erratic by thinking of different things, switching ideas around as fast as I can. But nothing can hide my mood when Ebony joins him and they stand so close their fingers keep brushing together at their sides. Any second they’re gonna run upstairs to Thane’s room and start working on . . . on . . . clearing Ebony’s head!

  ‘You gotta be kidding me,’ I mutter, balling my fists.

  He frowns. ‘Jordan?’

  I keep scrambling my thoughts. Either he can’t believe what he’s hearing inside my head, or my scrambling concept is actually working. ‘What?’

  ‘I think you’ve misunderstood what Ebony was referring to,’ he smiles.

  My head says to keep walking out, but my fists are tightening. ‘I didn’t misunderstand anything.’ I can’t let him work out what I’m thinking of doing, or he’ll stop me.

  So I just go ahead and do it.

  Clenching my right fist into the firmest ball I can make, I swing fast and high. Right away I can tell I’m gonna come up short. But it won’t matter. I’m still gonna hit something.

  ‘Jordan, no,’ Ebony screams.

  My fist connects with the underside of Thane’s jaw – and it feels as if I’ve hit the bull-bar of a moving truck! I drop to the floor in a crouch, instinctively cushioning my hand against my stomach. ‘Argh, shit! Shit! SHIT!’

  ‘Jordy!’ Ebony runs to my side and tries to tug my hand out for a look. ‘How bad is it?’

  The pain searing across every finger is such agony that I have to focus on breathing not to black out. Sweat is beading across my skin. Stars are flashing everywhere. Tears are stinging my eyes. I glance up at Thane with as much venom as I can muster. ‘Are you made of steel or something? You could have warned me!’

  He just stares at me, immoveable as a Greek statue.

  ‘Nathaneal!’ Ebony cries out, ‘Is there anything you can do?’

  He breaks out of his stunned trance and gets down beside me. ‘Let me look at that.’

  It’s too embarrassing. I turn away and make myself swallow the pain, shoving it down, down, down! It’s hard not to scream, but if I let go I’ll scream louder than a girl would.

  He tries again. ‘Jordan, please let me see your hand.’

  I stare at him, imagining my eyes are poisonous darts. ‘Screw you.’

  ‘Jordan,’ he says in his calming voice, the voice that irritates me so much I would punch him again if I could find a titanium glove.

  But I’m not a complete idiot, and since he’s healed me before . . .

  He hears me giving in and skims the top of my wrist, gently tugging my hand out as he continues to feel me letting go.

  ‘Jeez, Jordy, what were you thinking?’ Ebony asks, digging her fingers painfully into my shoulders, her concern making them rigid as iron bolts. They’re killing me. But I haven’t the heart to tell her to stop.

  Thane glances at me with a fleeting smile. Of course he’s hearing everything now that I can’t concentrate on scrambling my thoughts.

  ‘You’ve broken every finger,’ he says.

  Ebony gasps, ‘Seriously! Can you fix him, Nathaneal?’

  ‘I can fix the hand,’ he says with a lingering look at me before lifting his penetrating gaze to Ebony. ‘But I’ll need your help to keep it still. Like this,’ he says, showing her.

  Cupping my broken fingers, her touch is warm and feather soft. I’m sure Thane doesn’t need her assistance, but if he thinks I’m gonna thank him, well, he can just forget it.

  Thane’s healing touch is still as good as when he finished what the doctors had started after Adam Skinner bottled me in the stomach a while back. And when the pain eases enough for my fingers to uncurl I notice Ebony grinning at me, her violet eyes sparkling as if she’s trying to contain her laughter.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ I ask.

  ‘Riding.’

  ‘What are you talking about? Riding what?’

  ‘Riding Shadow is how I clear my head.’

  Oh, man, I knew that!

  I close my eyes while a burning flush creeps up my neck. Ebony pats my shoulders, her laughter completely mesmerising.

  I just wish she were laughing with me.

  2

  Ebony

  Angels exist. I know this because I’ve met them, talked to them. I’ve even kissed one of them! They call this an indisputable fact. What is disputable is that I’m supposed to be an angel too. I’ve always felt different, like I don’t belong in my skin. For years I wondered who I was. But in all that time, not once did I think I was something other than human.

  If I really am an angel, shouldn’t I feel angel blood throbbing through my veins? Or feel the powers I’m supposed to have inside me yearning for release? Without DNA tests or something just as scientifically validating, I can’t say for certain what I am, or where I belong.

  Nathaneal wants me to trust him, but I didn’t grow up on Avena. I didn’t run down the halls of Angel School, or take Angel Biology for a subject.

  I grew up on Earth. It’s chaotic here. We clamour for peace and fairness, but never quite achieve either. Earth is a world with too many questions and not enough answers. Doubt, distrust, fear – these are the things I know. My parents raised me to question everything, to accept nothing without scientifically backed proof.

  But I’ve seen things now with my own eyes – real angels with incredible wings flying through the air, emitting incredible power from their hands, or from their minds. I’ve had bumps growing out of my own shoulders, and once I sprouted a feather.

  It’s difficult for me to admit that I might really be an angel. The bumps on my shoulders and the feather that came away in my hand that day in Amber’s bathroom have not reappeared. But there are still the things I can do that other people can’t, like being the fastest runner in school (by a long shot) and hearing sounds I shouldn’t, like hearts beating, and whispered words uttered in locked rooms.

  It’s Monday morning and still early enough to take Shadow out for a ride. After Nathaneal healed Jordan’s broken fingers in the gym, Jordan ran up to his room, claiming he wanted to study for his exam today. I hope he was telling the truth, because it wasn’t what his eyes were saying.

  And reading eyes is apparently one of my special angel skills.

  3

  Jordan

  Sitting on the shower floor with steaming water pouring over my head, I stare at the hand that Thane fixed. Man, he looked shocked when I slugged him, but even more so when he saw my five broken fingers. Why does every good thing in my life eventually turn rotten? And why can I think clearly when I’m alone, but when I’m near Ebony every thought is of her? I want that girl so much sometimes I think I’m going crazy.

  Eventually I get out, dry off, dress for school, pack my bag and check my phone for messages. There are two
from Danny and one from Sophie, reminding me not to be late for the exam in second period. It’s like all we do as seniors are exams. At least school gives me something other than Ebony to think about.

  I drop my backpack at the front door and head to the kitchen. It’s strangely quiet. I glance at my watch. Ebony should be back from her ride any minute now. I’m not hungry, but should probably eat something so I pour myself some juice from the fridge, throw it down and start hunting for leftovers.

  That’s when I hear three powerful cars drive in. I’ve heard cars like these before. I peer through the living-room glass wall and see a familiar red Ferrari, silver Porsche and a sky-blue Aston Martin.

  Yep, the angels are back.

  My stomach clenches as I wonder what’s going on.

  The unmistakable golden angel Michael is first out. Trying not to look as shaken as I’m starting to feel, I jog over. ‘Hey, Michael, what brings you back to Earth?’

  My eyes do a double take when his colleagues start piling out.

  Holy crap! These dudes are massive. How you’d imagine gigantic armour-clad gladiators would look.

  They’re fast and silent, making a pyramid formation behind Michael without stirring the air or fluttering a leaf. It’s intense. They’re intense. They look incredible in silver armour, with polished breastplates and fancy gauntlets reaching up to the elbow. But it’s their helmets, revealing only intimidating ice-grey eyes, that give them that nightmarish otherworldly look.

  The hairs at the back of my neck stand on end.

  ‘Hello, Jordan,’ Michael says, his voice bleak.

  I get it. The fully armoured giant gladiators are some kind of elite military enforcement detail, like Special Forces cops or soldiers. Michael is here to take someone back with him. He wouldn’t need these fierce-looking dudes to haul in a human. Or Ebony.

  It can only be . . .

  ‘This is bullshit, man!’ I give Michael an accusing stare. ‘How can you do this? He’s your friend. He’s one of you.’

  ‘Precisely why I’m here,’ he says, as if that’s enough explanation. It’s not.

  The soldiers suddenly look in the direction of the barn, their heads moving in supernatural sync, like predators simultaneously picking up the scent of their prey.