Arc Angel PDF
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Arc Angel Elizabeth Avery (2001) Rating: ☆ ★★★★ Tags: Literature & Fiction, Romance, Paranormal, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Fantasy, Contemporary, Paranormal & Urban, Superhero, Teen & Young Adult At 23, Miranda James is a genius at electronic security, an avid comic book fan and a complete recluse. Her crippling social anxiety disorder keeps her holed up in her apartment, afraid to interact with the world. When she becomes Arc Angel, a superhero who can control electricity, she doesn’t want anything to do with her newfound power. Suddenly, everyone wants her – the media, the police, and a mysterious and dangerous man known only as Mr. Brown. All of the attention would be unbearable except for one bright light: she’s finally met her idol, comic book creator Bryce Campion. Bryce might be enough to make her want to finally overcome her anxiety, but can she survive that long? Because in addition to the external forces, she’s also developed an adversary within: Arc Angel has invaded her body and has no intention of leaving. Bryce Campion used to have it all: adoring fans, plenty of big boy toys, and an active social life. But a heart problem struck him three years ago, and as a result, he withdrew from everything and everyone. It’s impossible for him to pretend he doesn’t have a care in the world when the least bit of exertion or excitement could kill him. He’s about to give up on life when he discovers his most well- known creation, Arc Angel, has seemingly come to life. Now there’s a chance that he can regain everything he’s lost, if only he can convince Miranda to help him. He’s planning to use her and lose her – he doesn’t need someone to touch his heart, just someone to fix it. But he finds himself drawn to her, and soon her struggles to survive become as important to him as his own. Arc Angel By Elizabeth Avery Copyright 2012 Rachel Berens-VanHeest w/a Elizabeth Avery This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portion thereof, in any form. This book may not be resold or uploaded for distribution to others. This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. *** This book couldn’t have happened without the help and support of a number of people. Thanks to Michael and Avery for putting up with my absences. Big thanks to Bobbi, Nina and Melody for being the best critique group a girl could ask for. A special thanks to Dr. Kathleen Maginot and John Byrnes for help with some of the technical aspects of the book. Any mistakes are mine, not theirs! And finally, thanks to the Starbucks on PD. This book couldn’t have been completed without the many mochas you provided. *** Arc Angel *** Chapter 1 A brief flash of light, followed by the accompanying rumble of thunder, made Miranda flinch. Great. Just what she needed to make the night even better: rain. Shifting her groceries into one arm, she pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up to cover her long dark hair and tried to snuggle deeper into its oversized cotton warmth. Sure enough, a few drops began to fall, accompanied by another flash of lightning, this one enormous, and another crash of thunder. Cripes, this storm was coming on fast. She trotted down the street, hoping to make it back to her place before the downpour started. Her ancient sneakers squeaked in protest. She rounded the corner to Jackson Avenue, home of her rundown apartment building, and stopped dead in her tracks. Okay, that may have been a very unfortunate choice of words. A hundred yards ahead of her, shadowed by the overhanging buildings and mist of oncoming rain, she saw two figures. Well, three, if you counted the small yippy dog one of them held. The woman holding the dog didn’t interest her nearly as much as the man holding the gun. Her chest tightened as her heart started pounding like an Olympic sprinter. For an instant, she tried to convince herself that her eyes were playing tricks on her. But the next flash of lightning illuminated the entire street. Definitely a gun. And definitely pointed at her downstairs neighbor, Mrs. Dobrusky, and her annoying dog, Tiny. “This is your last chance, lady,” the mugger growled through his black ski mask. “Hand over your purse before I shoot you, and that damn dog.” Mrs. Dobrusky wept louder, apparently frozen in fear, clutching Tiny to the chest of her aqua housecoat. Tiny snarled, the noise little more than the hum of a windup toy. Damn. All Miranda had wanted to do was restock her supply of Diet Coke and toilet paper and slink back to her crummy apartment as quickly as possible. She hadn’t wanted to interact with anyone, and now here she was, faced with one hell of an interaction. Her legs began to tremble, and she wondered for a horrible moment if she might faint. She glanced back over her shoulder. Maybe she could run back to Tom’s Gas-N-More. Get some help. But the store was three blocks away, and she knew in her gut it would be too late. Either the guy would have gotten what he wanted and run off, or he wouldn’t have gotten what he wanted and someone would have gotten hurt. She couldn’t risk it. She had to do something. Now. God. She tried to gather what little courage she had as she racked her brain for a plan. As she stood shivering in the rain, lightning flashed again, but this time it wasn’t just a rip of light in the sky. It seemed to surround her, enveloping her in brightness. Her breath caught in her chest, and she felt every hair on her body stand up. She was caught, immobile, in the light, pure, hot white. And then, as quickly as it had come, it vanished, plunging the street back into shadow. What the hell? She didn’t think she was hurt, but everything felt… different. Her heart still pounded, but now in a steady and sure rhythm. And her legs no longer shook, but were striding down the street. She tried to make herself stop, but she couldn’t. Part of her was shrieking in fear and running away as fast as she could, but the other part marched on, determined to confront the man in front of her. And that part seemed to be in charge at the moment. She flung her bags off to the side and continued to stalk forward until she stood mere feet from the mugger. The light filled her, pouring out of every inch of her skin, making it itch with the energy. “Let them go.” The mugger took a step back but recovered immediately, his gun never leaving its target. “Who the hell are you?” Who the hell was she? Miranda James, age 23, computer programmer extraordinaire, recluse. But somehow that wasn’t right anymore. Her fuzzy brain searched for the correct answer, but it wouldn’t quite come into focus. She stepped closer. “I said, let them go.” She flipped back the hood of her sweatshirt, and her hair swirled up into the air like a live thing. Her body hummed with energy. Now the mugger laughed, a sharp grunting noise. “And who’s going to make me? You?” She nodded. “And who the hell do you think you are, sweetheart?” She closed the space between them until she stood almost within arm’s reach of the man. Finally, the gun swung away from the old woman and the dog to refocus on her, but she didn’t even blink. There was no fear. There was no room for anything but the light. Stretching her right arm out, she held up her hand like some kind of crazed traffic cop. “I’m Arc Angel.” The ball of energy burst out of her core, traveled through her arm and shot out her hand, straight into the mugger. Instantly, he collapsed in a heap on the damp concrete. Mrs. Dobrusky, Tiny still gripped in her arms, shuffled over to her, stopping a few steps away. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! You saved us! Are you… are you alright? You look a little… funny.” And with that, the light finally faded, and everything went dark. *** Bryce Campion jerked awake. He’d fallen asleep at his drafting table again, which explained the crick in his neck. But it didn’t explain why his heart was racing. Oh god, his heart. He reached for the ever-present bottle of pills, and popped two into his mouth, dry-swallowing them. Calm down, Bryce. Just calm down. He began his relaxation exercises, breathing deeply, needing to regain peace and equilibrium ASAP. After a few minutes, his heart rate had slowed enough that he knew he’d be okay. No 9-1-1 calls for him tonight. What the hell had happened? It must have been something he dreamed. But what kind of dream would get him so worked up? He sat back in his chair and tried to bring back the images. Slowly, they appeared in his mind’s eye. A dark-haired woman. On a shadowy street. A man with a gun. Lightning. Arc Angel. He’d dreamed about Arc Angel. He looked down at his drafting table, covered with the pages he’d been coloring before he’d nodded off. He picked up the closest one, which showed a long-haired, well-endowed woman in silver spandex confronting a red-caped villain. So he’d been dreaming about Arc Angel. Big deal. After all, he was the one who’d created her. And he was the one who’d killed her. Chapter 2 “…again what happened.” “But I already told you everything that happened. At least everything I remember.” “I’m sorry, ma’am, I just need to hear the story one more time to be sure I have all the information.” “Alright, Officer. I’ll tell you what I know. Tiny decided he had to go out one more time. I was too tired to take him around back, like I usually do, so I brought him out front. I figured it would only take a second. We stepped outside, and then that nasty man came out of that shadow over there. And he started waving a gun around and yelling at me to give him my purse.” The voices seeped into Miranda’s consciousness as if from far, far away. She was more than content to lie still in her self-imposed darkness—not daring to jar her aching body by opening her eyes. “Do you always bring your purse with you when you bring Tiny outside?” “It has my pepper spray in it. Not that it did me any good tonight. I must have been in shock or something—I just froze right up. I should have sicced Tiny on him—he’d have taken care of that nasty man. Pekinese are a ferocious breed, you know. But I didn’t want to risk my little sweetie poo getting hurt.” “Perfectly understandable, ma’am. So when did Ms. … James, is it? arrive on the scene?” The officer’s brisk, bland voice was starting to get on Miranda’s nerves. “I don’t know. She just appeared all of a sudden. Like a guardian angel, I thought, although maybe I only think that because of what happened later.” Miranda tilted her head to the side slightly, which told her two things: her head hurt like hell, and an oxygen mask covered her mouth and nose. That in turn told her that the thing underneath her was most likely an ambulance stretcher. Not good. Breathe, Miranda. “And Ms. James came straight up to you?” “She did. Told him to let me go. Bold as brass, that girl. Bold as brass. ‘Course he didn’t listen to her. Well, not ‘til she zapped him.” Okay, that comment made Miranda crack open her eyes a hair. Yep, exactly what she’d thought. She lay stretched out on a gurney inside a blessedly silent ambulance. The red exterior lights still flashed, illuminating the scene out the back of the vehicle: her neighbor being interrogated by a stocky uniformed cop. Two EMTs hovered behind her and off to the right. Which meant at least three people were about to hear this next part. She closed her eyes again, wishing she could make herself disappear through sheer force of will. “Right, about that zapping. Can you tell us again exactly what happened next? Take your time.” “He wouldn’t put the gun down, so she walked right up to him, stretched out her arm and zapped him.” “So she touched him?” “No, she didn’t actually touch him, she zapped him.” “Like with a Taser?” “No, no, she didn’t have anything in her hand. She just stood there, hair flying around all crazy and zapped that punk. Is he dead?” Miranda continued to lie completely still, but now she actually held her breath, straining to hear the cop’s response. “No, he’s not dead, at least not yet. He’s on his way to St. Mary’s.” Oh thank god. Miranda exhaled so loudly she worried the EMTs had heard, but they didn’t come any closer. “And what about her?” “Ms. James? I expect she’ll be heading to St. Mary’s any minute now as well.” The hell she would. “But is she alright?” “I really don’t know. Now, Mrs. Dobrusky, we’re almost finished here, though I’d like you to come down to the station tomorrow to file a formal report. Is there anything else you’d like to tell me before we wrap up?” “That’s all I remember. Oh, wait, I forgot about what she said.” Miranda cracked one eye open again. Oh no. This was going to be worse than the zapping part. Her head throbbed, and despite the oxygen mask she suddenly felt the need to inhale about every other second. “She said something else to your assailant?” “Yes. He asked her who the H-E-double hockey sticks she was. And she told him.” “She said she was Miranda James?” “No, she didn’t say that. She said she was some kind of angel. Arc Angel.” And for the second time in less than an hour, Miranda James passed out. *** This time when Miranda came to, everyone seemed to notice right away. The two EMTs immediately bustled over. The blond guy checked some machine she’d just noticed she was hooked up to, pushing a few buttons and staring at it intently, while the black woman started probing her, physically and verbally. “How are you doing Ms. James? Are you feeling dizzy? Can you tell me what happened?” The questions barely registered. All she could hear was the thump of her too-fast heart. She had to get out of here. She had to get home, where she’d be safe. Miranda forced herself into an upright position, though her EMT interrogator tried to push her back down. She pulled off her oxygen mask and shoved it at the woman, hoping to distract her long enough that she could unhook all the suction cups connecting her to the now furiously beeping machine. “Ma’am, you need to lie back down.” This time the blond guy—Steve, according to his nametag—harped at her, though at least he stayed focused on his machine and didn’t touch her. A tremor ran through her fingers as she started to rip off the suction cups. The woman—Kendra—tried to grab her hands to stop her, but Miranda managed to evade her and got them all off. Her hands had moved from trembling to outright shaking. It took her two tries to grip the ragged edges of her poor hoodie that they’d apparently sliced open. She pulled it back around her, trying to find strength in its comforting softness. “I… I… I have to go home.” Dammit, Miranda, pull yourself together. You’re never going to convince them to leave you alone this way. “Ma’am, you’ve just had some type of… incident. You need to lie back down and let us finish checking you out.” Kendra again. “I have to go home.” Much better. No stammer this time. The tremors were running though her whole body now, but she still swung her legs over the edge of the gurney. “Ma’am, you really need to—” Straining every muscle in her body, Miranda stood up and stumbled to the edge of the ambulance, needing to get away from the EMTs, the police, the noise. “Ma’am!” Damn. In only a few long strides, Steve moved directly in front of Miranda, blocking her escape route. Alright, she hadn’t actually expected to get away so easily, but she truly didn’t know how much more of this she could take. A bead of sweat rolled down her right temple and dripped off her cheek. She tried to channel Dr. French, but had no idea what kind of advice he would give in this situation. “Ms. James, I’m going to need you to take a seat back on that gurney. Now.” Miranda turned and limped back to where she’d started. She didn’t want to sit back down within the reach of Kendra’s grabby hands and Steve’s intrusive machine, but the thought of arguing overwhelmed her so much that her vision started to blur around the edges. She dropped down on the edge of the stretcher, keeping her feet on the ground and lowering her head down enough to bring back a little blood but not enough to bring back the hands and the suction cups. “I want to go home,” she muttered, looking down at her scuffed shoes. “Now, ma’am, you know that’s not a good idea,” Kendra soothed, as if Miranda were a small child or a dangerous psychopath. “Why don’t you lie back down. Your body underwent a lot of stress tonight, and we’d like to run a few more tests on you while we take you to St. Mary’s. Steve, you ready?” She gestured for her partner to head back up to the front seat, presumably to get them back on the road. Miranda bolted back up onto her feet. “I’m not going to the hospital.” “Now ma’am…” “No. I’m n-n-not going. I’m fine. I just need to go home.” “Ma’am, I strongly recommend that you let us take you to the hospital. Based on the readings we’ve taken, you suffered some type of shock tonight. Even though things seem to have settled down now, you need to get it checked out.” “You can’t m-make me.” “No, we can’t make you, but I really think—” “No. Now let me out of h-here.” Miranda lurched toward the back door again. “Fine. But you’ll need to sign this form, stating that you’ve been advised to undergo further medical treatment but have waived that option. I’m not getting my ass sued if you drop dead tomorrow morning.” Miranda couldn’t dodge the twinge of guilt in her stomach. She’d pissed this woman off enough to break through her routine professional manner. She hated upsetting people. But right now she didn’t have the spare energy to worry about it. Taking the proffered pen and paper, she scrawled her name and pushed it back. “Alright, this gets you out of my ambulance, but it still doesn’t get you back home. You’re going to need to check in with Officer Cranston there, to make a statement. And who knows how long that will take? Could be hours. Come on,
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