by Katrina Cope
After a while, the curtains settle, and the flame on the wick turns into a straight stream, pointing to the sky. The doll stands then starts to dance again. I turn back to Ava to find her face straightened out—there is no longer a worried look across her young features. It is such a beautiful, sweet face. I have to get to the bottom of this.
~~~~~
A WEEK HAS passed, and the same thing happens night after night. Each night, I end up in Ava's room, watching as the mysterious doll and the flame flicker. They alternate between the harsh movements and the fun, happy play.
On my last night in the house, the same thing is happening again. I know that I am going to have to continue monitoring this when I move to the barn. The morning creeps over the horizon, and Piers’s snoring ceases, alerting me to his imminent entrance into the living room. Quickly, I exit Ava's room by teleporting to the kitchen. I break off pieces of yesterday's bread, grab a piece of fruit, then hand the food to Piers when he emerges a few moments later.
We leave for the barn to finish off the final parts of my sleeping area. I wouldn't have minded if Piers had just thrown a mattress inside of it a few nights ago, but Caitline wouldn't let Piers do it, claiming that the night was too cold without the warmth of the fire from the oven. Little does she know that these things make no difference to me.
We insert the internal walls and secure a heated area, perfect for a human's bedroom. As we work to secure the boards, I decide to converse with Piers. “I hear strange noises coming from Ava's room every night. Do you know what might be causing it?”
I observe his face as the question sinks in. Piers's body stiffens. Since he’d threatened me that first day, I haven't said anything about Ava, but I can't help but ask this question. I can see his mind racing, trying to work out what to tell me. “What kind of noise?” he asks.
I think hard, trying to remember what the sounds are when these actions are happening. “Oh, the flicking of material and the clicking of something on a wooden bench. I don't know. It's hard to explain. It's not as though I went and had a look.”
A strange look passes over the father's face. He hasn't retorted as harshly as he did last week. The stiffness of his posture slowly begins to melt away, yet I can tell that he is holding something back. After a while, a strange expression crosses his face. “I don't know. I haven't heard anything. Perhaps she leaves her window open for the flapping of material.”
“I haven't felt any cold breezes. I think she would be smart enough to close a window, especially with the cool night air.”
“I'll keep an ear out for it tonight,” he says.
I know I can't push the subject any further, so I leave it be. If it’s something that wants to attack Ava, I don’t want to be far, and I need someone else to be sure that they know what’s going on. And of course, the most protective person in the household is Piers.
“You seem to sleep solidly, so if you like and if you're worried about her, I can stay inside the living room for a while longer until we find out what it is.” I try to sound as casual as possible. “I don't want anything to happen to the little girl. She seems very sweet and has a long life ahead of her.”
Piers chuckles. “Oh, yes, she does. You have no idea.”
I chuckle with him. “You say that as though she is going to live longer than an old woman.”
“Being Ava, I wouldn't be surprised.” He smiles to himself. “She is one determined little girl.”
“I'm guessing she gets that from you.” I try to make light of the situation.
“No, not from me.” He shakes his head.
“From her mother, then?” I'm surprised. “Caitline doesn't seem as determined as you.”
Piers runs a hand through his dark brown hair. He looks as though he’s thinking about something. A moment passes. “Ava isn't ours.”
“What? Really?” I'm flabbergasted. “I did notice that she didn't quite look like you, but it’s not unusual for a throwback from the past to reenter the family.”
“No, she's not a throwback of any part of our relatives. She's not ours or even from our families.”
“Then how is it that you're looking after her?” I ask. “Your protection of her is stronger than if she was of your blood. You may not be, but you certainly act like a father.”
“My wife and I are unable to have children.”
“I'm sorry to hear that.” Although I don't know the feeling, I have heard that this can cause much distress for a human. The need to procreate is strong in them.
“Ava belonged to a close friend of mine. My friend passed away—his wife, as well. Ava was an only child. On his dying breath, he made me promise to look after her.” His eyes fill with sadness as he looks to the ground. He sits on a log not far from where we are working and strokes the tops of his thighs with his hands. “I wouldn't have had it any other way, anyway. Of course I promised to look after Ava. She is a sweet girl.”
“Is that why you're so overprotective of her?”
He chuckles. “You've noticed?” His eyes flick up to mine.
“Let's say it was extremely obvious from the very beginning, which is another reason why I asked all of those questions then. I meant no harm to Ava. I was merely curious. Your protectiveness rises over the top of any father.”
“We just want her to have a long, happy life, away from any danger.” He strokes the top of his pants some more. “Her father was my closest friend,” he repeats, his face clouded with sadness.
“He must've been, with the amount of effort you're putting into the young girl.” I place a hand on his shoulder.
“I will look into those noises that you mentioned.” He looks up at me. “I appreciate you offering to help. That means a lot, but I will look into the noises coming from her room at night.”
I know there is a lot he isn't telling me. I don't push him. He’s starting to trust me, and I'm not going to push past that to have his suspicions spring up again. It isn't worth it. If I am going to be able to protect Ava, then I have to keep his trust as well. Otherwise, he won't let me anywhere near her.
He rises to his feet, and we start back on the wall.
He even bought a belly stove to put in the corner of my room. I am humbled. I hope it doesn’t eat too much of his income. “You have been very generous with this little woodstove,” I say. “You didn't have to go to so much expense for me.”
“Rubbish. You have worked hard and helped a lot. Thank you. It’s the least I can do. Besides, we're not broke.”
“Then why don't you hire people to help?”
“I could, yes. But in case you haven't noticed, I have trust issues with many people. People have tried to do things to Ava in the past. I hope that’s another reason to keep you around—you seem to be someone I can trust to help look out for her.”
“Really? She is only what, ten?”
“Yes. There is something about her that brings out the greed in people.” He watches me for a moment. “You don't seem to be affected this way.”
“I like her as a child. That's it.”
He nods and goes back to work.
By the end of the day, my area is nicely equipped. We set up the potbelly stove against the wall and a bed in the corner, and a bathroom is just outside. I look at the tiny room, and as modest as it is, my heart feels grateful. These people, even with their trust issues, have opened an area for me and are looking after me. I will certainly offer them my services as a steady hand around the farm. Beside the fact that the young girl was my mission to look after, she is growing in my heart, and I am determined to ensure nothing happens to her.
“Just because this is all set up for you, don't think you won't be eating in the house. We don't expect you to cook your meals when Caitline is already cooking meals for us. It is no different for her to throw in enough for one more person.”
I don’t need their food. However, meals bring an excellent opportunity to be part of their family. I nod. “Thank you. I'm sure her cooking is much better tha
n mine.”
- Chapter Eight -
That night after supper, I bid them goodnight. Before I go, Ava runs up to give me a big hug. I kiss her on the forehead. She is so tiny wrapped in my massive arms. I can sense Piers and Caitline watching me, although a lot of tension has eased out of their shoulders when it comes to the interaction between us. I must be getting through somehow, slowly chipping away the barriers.
I leave the house with the taste of delicious food on my tongue—another meal I pretended to eat—and head to the barn. Crispness spikes the air as I travel around the corner of the house. We have a lot of work to do before the end of the season and winter setting in. Caitline has started to fill the storage area in the barn. She and Ava have been working together to gather the food, processing and packing it in storage containers before placing them in the barn. Piers and I have been killing and butchering some of the animals, and Caitline has been drying out the meat to get ready for the long winter.
I enter the barn, but I don't start a fire in the potbelly stove. I don't need it. Cold isn't something I need to worry about as an angel, and guilt churns my stomach—they spent so much on this little stove for me. I try to push the guilt away. It isn't as though I can explain to them that it’s unnecessary. Unless I give up my identity, they would never understand that I don’t react to temperature, and I have to keep who I am a secret.
I don't know how long I am expected to stay here, and based on past conversations with Michael, neither does he. I know my time is not up yet. The threat against her is not clear as of yet, although the goings-on in the nighttime in Ava's room have me puzzled. Perhaps the threat is delayed because of me staying with the family. I hope that I will have some warning before anything happens, which I should, given that I’m staying here. Piers promised me he would watch out for her this night to see what’s going on in her room. I know I won't be sleeping, so I take on my invisible form, return to the house, and hang out outside the bedroom.
When all the lights have been blown out in the little house and the main living room is dark, I wait. I know when enough time has passed for Piers to fall asleep, and Caitline will be not far behind him. I want to make sure Ava is okay. I can't just leave it up to her father to keep an eye on her. For a human, he works very hard, and I know he’s worn out every night without the added stress of staying vigilant, although his love for Ava is so deep that it’s anyone’s guess what will happen. He will probably push through the exhaustion and the draw to sleep and still watch over her.
I untuck my wings and stop outside of Ava's room to peer inside the window. The curtains are almost entirely drawn, and there is only a slight gap between the two of them. I can't see much. I definitely can't see Piers hanging around the room. Perhaps he plans on keeping an ear out rather than being in the room. If that’s the case, I won't be surprised if he sleeps through it. He is a heavy sleeper, and after all the hard work he does, I don't blame him, given that he only has his human strength to pull from.
I search some more through the window, and I can't spot him, so I enter the house and wait in Ava's room. Again, the strange things happen. Candles flicker in the corner, dancing on the wick. I take an extra-long look at the candle. I realize it isn't burning away. It isn't losing any wax or wick. It is merely sitting there with the flame on the end as though it is a never-ending candle, immortal to the ways of the world. Things in this room seem to have their own agenda. In disbelief, I get caught up in the action.
The doll dances in the corner, and the curtains sway as though they are swinging along to invisible music. There is no sign of Piers. He must be sleeping right through it, not that the noises that these things make are loud. Perhaps he can't hear them at all. After a while, the candle flickers angrily, the curtains whisk briskly, and the doll slumps in the corner, looking sad and depressed.
These are strange occurrences. Even after a week of watching this happen night after night, I still can't pick up on what is causing these objects to do this.
Ava's face screws up as though something is tormenting her. I stroke her hair gently, not wanting to wake her but hoping it will calm her. I want to let her feel that I am here and looking after her. After a few soft strokes of her head and down her long hair, she seems to soothe. The items in the room also seem to take on different personae. The room becomes more relaxed and filled with calm—there’s no more angry stomping and aggressive flicking. I ease down onto the floor in the corner and watch her sleep peacefully. I don't want to let her out of my sight. I want to know what is going on.
As I sit there peacefully, a voice enters my head. Zacharias, brother. I need you.
I spring to my feet with a strong urge to run to the window and look outside. The voice feels that close, except I know he isn’t here. It’s only a voice—he’s not in the vicinity. I can only hope, as I know that voice, and I know who is calling me.
Yes, Michael. What do you need me for?
It is Separus, he says. Separus and the gatekeeper. We need to stop them. They're going on a rampage, capturing different people and putting their lives at risk. They're targeting an entire small town. We must stop them.
- Chapter Nine -
Where are you? I ask. Images of Michael arriving at the place without me and succumbing to an attack taunt my imagination, but I shove them to the back of my mind. Focus is needed, and I don't have the luxury of picturing the worst.
An image jolts my mind, giving me Michael's location, and I immediately leave Ava's room and teleport to the spot. What's before me is disturbing. Demons crowd several humans, herding them like sheep. On the outskirts, the gatekeeper has his portal open, and he stands there cackling in that bloodcurdling laugh of his. He spots us the moment we arrive then disappears through his portal and closes it behind him, which leaves a vacant space.
Demons with their palms outstretched surround the people. The demons are invisible to human eyes, which renders the humans oblivious to their surroundings. The demons are cunning. They have cornered an area in a city and are aiming for the humans' heads with their hands. They look to be on a mission to possess people, hiding their identities and readying to remove the humans' consciences. I feel sick as I watch this.
A demon moves in and presses its hands against a human's head. Instantly, the human's eyes cloud with a murky darkness, and a different expression crosses her face. She convulses and falls to the ground.
“Quick. We must approach them and get rid of the demons before they possess these people.” Michael dashes bravely into the center.
My steps are quick as I follow him, slicing down a demon from behind before it lays its hands on the next human. These humans are just going about their typical days, fulfilling their chores in a crowded area. They have no idea what surrounds them. A demon places its hands on another human, and the human’s eyes change. Before me, he falls to the ground just like the first.
The humans around them don’t seem to notice what’s going on, and the people outside of the crowded area don’t even glance at the fallen ones. I launch at a demon and slice it in half from behind. I follow through with a swinging arc, spraying black blood across the area. Humans outside the circle flinch as something wet and sticky hits them. They wipe their hands over the coated spots, pulling them away covered in black blood, which is visible now that it has left the demon. Confused faces turn to the sky and search for where it came from and what it was. Demon blood is thicker than normal blood. It flows like lava from the demons’ bodies and onto the ground.
With screwed-up faces, some of the affected people leave the area, bustling along the streets to go home, most likely to wash up. Michael storms at a demon not far from me, pulling out his sword then running and decapitating it. Again, thick demon blood forms an arc in the air, spraying more humans inside and outside the crowded area. Their faces screw up in disgust as they look around trying to find the source.
One man sprayed with a large amount of blood tries to leave the tight circle, only to be stopped
by a demon nearby who places its hands on his head. The man's eyes sink into their sockets, and his body convulses, causing him to fall to the ground. A lady next to him follows his fall, her eyes filled with dread. She falls to her knees and holds his head while calling to him. Her cries fall on deaf ears—his body continues to convulse. A demon closes in on her, and I dart in and slice its knee with my ax before it reaches her. It falls awkwardly to the ground, its leg cut to the bone and skin singed from the angelically blessed blade. The leg won't be able to recover, leaving the demon injured, although far from deceased. I strike again, slicing down its back and disabling any movement from its spine. The demon falls to the ground still conscious and reaches out for the woman, the loss of movement from its legs not reflected in its arms. The woman is just beyond reach, and a slight backward tilt will put her into the demon's arms. She sways slightly as her grief takes hold.
Without hesitation, I swing again and decapitate the demon. More blood sprays everywhere, and disgusted looks grow throughout the crowd. Finally noticing some of the people falling, the larger group moves away from the downed man and the woman hovering over him.
Michael and I monitor the group's progress. The demons should be conspiring against us, but they’re too busy trying to capture the humans. They must have strict orders to capture as many people as possible and possess them quickly.
As we follow the movement of the crowd, more demons circle the people and cause several more to fall. Each one’s eyes roll back into their heads as they convulse to the ground.
We have to stop them, and stop them now. Another demon creeps up to a human, its hands held over her head. Michael storms forward, a war cry escaping his lips as he slices his sword. The demon shifts slightly, and the strike narrowly misses its neck. Confusion crosses the demon's face. It saw the threat to its own life, and the want to protect itself is evident, yet it appears torn as it looks toward its mission. It reaches for the person with one hand, trying to touch her head, but at the same moment, it shoots a hand toward Michael and sends out a black pulse. An anguished cry from the demon's mouth fills the air as Michael takes another swipe. He dodges more black pulses, sidestepping then lashing out with his sword. With each pulse that misses, the demon emits another ear-piercing cry, and other demons start to notice us in the background.
