Chapter Two: Angels Aren’t Real, But Aliens Are?!

The hard part about finding a strange, unconscious birdman in my shed is getting him into the house and on the couch. We huff and puff as we drag him through the back door. We leave him on the floor of the foyer for a moment as we catch our breath. I can’t keep my eyes off him. I have so many questions, but my biggest concern is how drawn I seem to be to him. My eyebrow furrows as I just notice how inured he appears to be. One of his wings is bent at an awkward angle and there are whip marks all over his naked torso. The left side of his jaw is bruised and blood dribbles from a small gash on his forehead. I wonder who did this to him. Jaime clears his throat and I glance up.

“We need a plan,” he says firmly.

I hesitate. “I’m not sure what to do about this.”

“We need to call someone. Maybe the cops.”

My heart lurches at that and the protest leaves my lips before I can stop it. “No,” I blurt. “We can figure it out. Let’s just get him on the couch and see to his cuts. When he wakes up, maybe he can give us some answers.”

“Sammi,” Jaime says in an exasperated tone. “He needs a hospital.”

“Please,” I scoff. “I spent enough time in my life patching up my brothers when they got too rough with each other. I know what I’m doing. Now help me with this.” I grab his arms and raise an eyebrow at my best friend. He rolls his eyes and picks up the guy’s ankles with a little huff. We continue dragging him through the house with minimal grunts and groans until we finally reach the main living room. Jaime grabs a few sheets from the hall closet to cover the couch with. Being as gentle as possible, we lift him and slide him onto the covered cushions. He lets out a tiny moan causing us to freeze, but when his body goes still again, we breathe a sigh of relief and release our grips on his limbs.

“Now what?” Jaime asks, staring down at my new guest.

“I’ll grab the first aid kit,” I answer. I slip from the room and hurry to the downstairs bathroom located by the laundry room. I wash my hands in the sink before grabbing the kit from the medicine cabinet. I hurry back to the living room to find Jaime sitting on one of the chairs facing the couch, studying the man intently. “Leave him be, creeper,” I tease as I enter the room.

He cracks a smile. “What do you suppose he is?” he asks.

I get to work, cleaning the man’s wounds and bandaging them. “Isn’t it obvious?” I ask. “He’s an angel. You see the wings, right?”

Jaime rolls his eyes. “Angels aren’t real,” he retorts. “I prefer the term birdman.”

I raise an eyebrow. “So, angels can’t be real, but birdmen are?” I know Jaime doesn’t believe in God or the Bible, not after how his very religious parents treated him when they found out he was gay. Mom was a Christian and always took us to church with her on Sundays. We haven’t been to church once since she died, but I still believe in the Bible. I’m finally finished doctoring my patient after I close the gash on his forehead with butterfly stitches. My fingers linger just above his face, and I can’t help myself from brushing his bangs away from his closed eyes. His hair feels as silky and soft as it looks. I force myself to draw my hand back. I don’t want him to wake up to a stranger touching him and I doubt he would appreciate it. With a small sigh, I close the first aid kit and take it back to the bathroom. Turning on the faucet, I splash some water on my face and rub my fingers across my eyes. My phone buzzes in my back pocket and I pull it out.

Dad: Hi, sweetheart. We made it to the campsite just fine. Checking in before we go dark for the next five days.

Me: Thanks for letting me know. Be safe.

Dad: We will, honey. How are things at the house? Did Jaime make it there?

Me: Yep. Everything is good. No trouble. All good.

Dad: I’m not sure I believe that, but I’ll see you when we get back. Be good.

My hands shake a little as I slide my phone back in my pocket. I’ve never outright lied to my dad before. But I also wasn’t sure how to tell him about the angel on my couch. He wouldn’t believe me anyway. I take a few seconds to compose myself before leaving the bathroom and heading back to the living room.

“Sam!” Jaime calls, his voice shaking slightly.

I pick up my pace, rushing into the living room. I stop short when I see Jaime and the angel in some sort of standoff. Jaime stands in front of him with his feet spread and arms folded across his chest. Fear flashes across his expression but his stance stiffens with determination. The angel faces Jaime, towering over my tall best friend.

“What’s going on?” I demand.

“Just explaining he can’t leave,” Jaime says calmly. The tick in his jaw is the only sign he’s anything but calm.

The angel turns to face me, his mouth open to speak, probably to yell, but he freezes when his gaze lands on me. I’m frozen in place as well. There seems to be an ethereal glow emanating from his body. He steps towards me, and I find myself rooted to the spot as he stalks forward. He raises his hand and gently brushes a stray lock of brown hair from my face.

“Singreli,” he whispers.

I blink, mesmerized by the color of his eyes. They are the clearest blue I’ve ever seen with streaks of silver and gold flashing through them. “What?” I manage to say.

“Singreli,” he repeats. His voice is deep and smooth like honey.

“Do you speak English?” I ask.

“Yes,” he answers softly. “I speak all languages. You are most beautiful.”

I blush. “Um, thank you.” I hesitate, shooting a glance over his shoulder at Jaime. Jaime just shrugs. Great help he is. I turn back to the angel. “What’s your name? Mine is Samara.”

The angel smiles, lighting up his whole face and making him look even more gorgeous. “Samara,” he says. I shiver, loving the way my name rolls off his tongue. “My name is Arisen,” he continues. “Thank you for helping me. I am very grateful. Where am I?”

I glance around the house. “This is my home,” I answer. I stare at him for a moment.

“What are you?” Jaime suddenly blurts out.

I shoot him a glare even if I’m secretly happy he asked the question I wanted the answer to. “You don’t have to answer that,” I say quickly.

“It’s fine,” he answers. “I’m what humans might call a Celestial or an angel. But the more accurate term would be Celestial.”

“Like the Bible?” Jaime demands, hotly. His fists open and clench as he keeps his hard gaze on Arisen.

Arisen smiles slightly. “No,” he answers a little hesitantly. “We are aliens. We come from the planet Celeste. The Christians have merely based their beliefs and Biblical stories on my people.”

I shake my head. “This is insane,” I say quietly. I take a step away from the angel. “Aliens don’t exist. And now you’re saying that aliens have existed from the beginning of time and have been on this planet? At least they have according to the Bible.”

“It’s a long story,” Arisen replies.

I march past him and take a seat on the couch, patting the spot beside me as I glance over my shoulder at him. “We have time,” I respond. “My family won’t be back for at least five days. Plenty of time to talk about this.”

Arisen lets out a breath and joins me on the couch. Jaime takes his seat on the chair he had vacated. “Okay,” Arisen sighs. “How do you humans start something like this? Oh yes. Once upon a time…”