Appassionata

Appassionata is a bittersweet love story about a love that was written in the stars and rewritten on earth between guardian angel, Darien Sommers, and his charge, Veronica Milano.
The star-crossed couple have been in love for over three centuries and are always torn apart from their afterlife when reincarnation gets in the way.
On the earth plane, they thought their affection forbidden, but when circumstances prove catastrophic, they realize their relationship dates further back than they ever suspected.
Fallen angel, Caleb, is adamant on ruining Darien’s life over a matter of revenge, a twenty-year grudge which has seen the murderous rampage of the dark angels rage. Now he’s out for Ronnie, using his power and associates to cause terror after terror in her life through the use of her friends and family. With Ronnie in the shadows of the Angelical world and Caleb fighting for success, it’s up to Darien to save his soul mate before their entire lives are lost for good.

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7. Condolences

Saturday morning Ronnie’s heavy eyes had blinked open and fell on the clock. Six-thirty a.m. it read, the thought of sleep at that point was nothing more than a distant memory, a desire much too far from reach to fulfil, especially with the streak of morning light which broke through the curtains.
   She had been a mess, kept awake by the haunting image of The Grim Reaper which had engraved itself behind her eyes. The tarot cards were extraordinary, to have been able to discover even the faintest part of the future, her future, through a simple entertainment purpose was amazing. But they were no ordinary playing cards, like her mother had said they were a “spiritual tool”. Would everything the cards foretold come true?  
   Her mind kept hitting that same brick wall with the question, even now as she stood in line at Cole’s Farm Goods:
    Wait and see . . .
   Daybreak had barely stretched above the roofs of surrounding buildings, the birds hardly breaking into their songs for the day, and people scarcely making use of the streets. With the limited selection of stores to choose from in the far from large town, Ronnie was hardly shocked. It made her wonder why her mother need get to the gallery so early; it was hardly like there would be a flood of people standing outside soon.
   9 a.m. on the streets of London was a completely different observation. There were hoards of people battling for path beneath their feet, fighting for a seat on the Underground trains, diving into McDonald’s. It was that ordeal Ronnie missed, that she wished to face again, instead of the vacant aisles of an almost empty store. All that was missing was the tumbleweed.
   Her phone bleeped.

Protection from harm
Courage to pursue
I give you help
to discover truths

I’ll heal your wounds
and guide your spirit
Take your pain
and keep you with it

I’ll bring you joy
I’ll bring you light
I’ll release your fears
I’ll help you fight

For you
your soul,
I shall die
Watch you with thy eyes

These messages were getting so bizarre. Surely they held some meaning? Gem had said that everything happened for a reason; maybe these texts were an impromptu way of showing that. Ronnie was so lost in thought, turning that possibility over again and again, that she barely caught onto the sliver of a conversation a bald elderly man was engaged in.
   “They say that same unidentified blood was found on the body of a school girl in the city,” The old man—Cole—said in a breathless growl to a woman in a suit. His milky-white skin caught a flush as he strained to proceed. “The police still have no leads. You’d think that even after the first finding of that blood all those years ago that they would. But it’s still not been matched with anyone or anything, no one has been identified. You’d think they would with all the crime that happens round London.”
    “That’s terrible,” the woman agreed, passing over a handful of change, “and they said this girl died?”
   “Not straight away. The poor thing.”
   “Do you have any idea how it happened?”
   Cole took in a deep breath. “They don’t know exactly. All they were able to confirm was that her neck was broken, she had been stabbed, and there were burns in and surrounding the wounds—severe burns.”
   “That’s terrible,” the woman sympathised and she motioned to the door. “My thoughts and condolences are with her family.”
   After she’d left, a big black car drove past; its occupants: Darien and Sky. Sky had her head resting on Darien’s shoulder; she was laughing and singing to the music which blared from the speakers. A spike of jealousy shot through Ronnie as she stepped forward to place her basket on the counter. She really needed to gain control over her emotions.
   The man behind the counter was overweight and had dark patches under his eyes. Despite having thick lens glasses, his pale eyes strained to see. He swept the products across the scanner and into a thin plastic bag. “You must be about the same age as that poor girl,” he persisted, coughing as he struggled to speak, “such a shame.”
   “I heard you say the girl was from London.”
   “Yes. Why?”
   “I recently moved from there,” Ronnie explained.
   “I see. Have you not heard of the incident on the news?”
 “No, I’m more of a reading person myself.” She waved the newspaper in the air and then handed it to him.
   “Perhaps you might have known the girl?”
   “I doubt that. My sister still lives in London and anyone I knew, she knew. If we did, she’d have phoned to tell me.”
   “Ah, I see. Well this girl went to Hatfield High School; I don’t suppose you attended there, too?”
   “No,” Ronnie confessed, but the name did ring a bell. “I went to Crossgate.”
    “Then let’s be thankful that it wasn’t you or your sister harmed.”
   “It’s a shame it had to be anyone,” Ronnie said with a frown as she took the money from her back pocket. “And you say that there was an incident similar to this one some time ago?”
   “Seventeen or so years previously. The deaths are somewhat comparable, the unusual blood matches.”
   “What makes them alike?”
   “The burns caused by the cuts, inside and out. The only difference is that the girl who was murdered years ago—I can’t remember her name—but I believe she was pregnant.” Cole scratched his head, uncertain. “Yes, she was. I know because the news said that the killer had attacked at her stomach numerous times as if they were attempting to rid her of the baby—though, amazingly, the baby survived.”
   Ronnie put a hand to her mouth. “My goodness, that’s awful. That poor woman and child.”
   She wanted to ask what had become of the baby’s father but Cole had continued on. “The blood was unusual for two reasons. One, the blood didn’t belong to either of the two victims, which means that it must have been the killers.” Cole perched himself on a wooden stool.  “And two, when studied, the blood proved to be neither animal nor human, it was unidentifiable.”
   “You mean it was engineered?” Ronnie cringed.
   “That’s what I’m saying. It didn’t carry any of the natural components that human blood does.”
   Cole began into a fit of shoulder shaking coughs, his wrinkled eyes squeezed tightly together as he tried to regain control. Both his face and neck turned as red as blood and Ronnie reached over the counter to aid him.
   “Are you okay?”
   “The effects of old age,” he sputtered out between wheezes. “And sixty years’ worth of smoking.”
   Ronnie smiled and tossed an inquiring look at the weather. A dark cloud had spread across the sky; it didn’t look at all promising. She knew that she would have to walk home, Simone was at the shop for the day and Ronnie’s Beetle was at the cottage. She grabbed her bags. “I hate to leave you here alone but I have to get home. Are you going to be all right?”
   “Of course. I have my granddaughter coming to help me in here any moment now—I shan’t be alone for long.”
   “If you’re sure.” Ronnie opened the door to the cold air outside. “I’ll see you soon then.”
   “Take care.” Cole smiled, and Ronnie stepped out onto the darkened streets.
 

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