It’s easy for her—someone who doesn’t see the moral lines of good and evil. She sees everything in this varying shade of gray. But how am I meant to do the same? How am I meant to live without Liam? I won’t— I can’t.
“What do I do now?” I ask, not necessarily to Alda but to anyone who would be willing to answer.
“Now you accept responsibility and hold your head up high,” Alda says. “The present moment is waiting for you.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“Of course you can. The universe wouldn’t have given you this gift if it didn’t think you were worthy of it, dear. You need to remember what you’re dealing with here.”
I look up, unable to hide the confusion on my face.
Alda smiles, shaking her head. “You’re a beautiful soul, Eva, but you still have so much to learn. It has been my pleasure to help you on your journey to discovery.” Again, she pats my hand.
I open my mouth, about to ask a question, when all at once, I’m ripped from my internal mystery and anguish. Once again, I’m blown apart like seeds of a dandelion until I coalesce back into a solid, single entity. When my consciousness comes together, I’m standing in front of the enormous mahogany podium inlaid with gold and gems. The same High Justice Throne Angel who oversaw my last trial peers down at me with his glowing wheeled eyes and high cheekbones.
“Welcome back, Evangeline,” he says, tipping his head in my direction.
I nod in return, unable to muster much else.
“It has come to our attention you have circumvented your time in Purgatory by seeking parley within the Temple of Intermediaries,” he says, straightening his shoulders and casting judgement with his creepy gaze.
I swallow hard. Maybe this is it; maybe this is how I end my suffering.
Curtly tipping my head, I say, “I did.”
“To what end were you seeking?” he asks, looking over his shoulder at the other justices.
“Did you know Liam—my human charge—was also sent to Purgatory? Did you know he wasn’t sent to Heaven?” I demand, jutting my chin out.
“It would make a certain amount of sense. His Guardian was otherwise unavailable to cross him over,” the High Justice says simply. His expression is flat, as if it’s not unusual at all that something like this would happen.
“He was taken before I even had the chance,” I say, shaking my head. “I never had the opportunity to do my job when my elemental sword was broken. Before I could retrieve it, he was taken, and I was here. You kept me away from him when I should have crossed him over.”
“And do you think you would have?”
“Would have what?” I spit.
“Crossed him over?” he says, matter-of-factly.
The question knocks me back a bit, and I clamp my mouth shut. Would I have crossed Liam over? Could I have…?
I flit my gaze to him and my shoulders sag. Shaking my head, I whisper, “No.”
“And why not?” he asks.
“Like I said, I didn’t have my elemental sword,” I say, pressing my lips tight. I sigh, allowing the tension to roll off my shoulders. “It was damaged by the incubus and was sent back to the Guild to repair—or replace.” A moment of silence expands between us, so I place a hand on my hip and lift an eyebrow.
“Is that the only reason you wouldn’t have crossed him over?” he asks.
Swallowing hard, I shake my head. “Probably not. But eventually, I would have. I would have come to my senses if I realized he would be sent to Purgatory.”
The Throne Angel that had appeared at Liam’s home steps forward, whispering something in the High Justice’s ear. He looks over his shoulder at her and nods curtly.
“Regardless, you need to know these endeavors have left an impact across the Guild and the angelic community as a whole,” he says.
“Well, awesome. Does this mean I’m finally done? Are you sending me on to Hell?” I say, clenching my jaw. “Or even better, end my existence altogether. I don’t need to be here any longer.”
The Throne Angels both watch me closely, their wheeled eyes rotating slowly counter-clockwise.
“Very melodramatic for a Guardian. Perhaps there’s more human in you than should be. It could explain your connection with the human male,” the High Justice says matter-of-factly.
“Perhaps,” I fire back, too angry to argue. All I want is to end the pain rolling through me in waves.
“Evangeline, it is the Judgement of this Court that your punishment has been aptly served. You have done your job as Guardian to Liam Henry Mattson, thereby fulfilling your duty of care to his soul. Thus, it is now our Judgement that you be given a new charge and continue on with your duties,” he says, slamming the gavel on the podium. The sound echoes around the room, making me jump.
“What? No—what are you talking about? I broke the Creed of Separation, Declaration Twelve—Section D. Remember? Hell, I had sex with him in Purgatory. Did you know that? How can you possibly be sending me back to—”
“Silence,” he says in a loud, commanding voice as he raises a hand.
Despite myself, I pin my lips shut and take a step back.
“It is not your role, nor your place, to question our Judgement. It is your job, Guardian, to follow through with what is declared. Now, move on to the Assignment Realm to receive your new charge,” he says, clapping his hands together.
As soon as his hands meet, I’m no longer in the Judgement Hall. Instead, I’m in a place I’ve been thousands of times before. The white walls, desk, and entire space sicken me now, but there’s nothing I can do about.
Across the large open space, Guardian Gilda, with her intense, curly red hair and round face, beams at me. “Evangeline, you’re back so soon? I’m surprised. I thought your last charge would have kept you—” her voice falters when she sees my face. “Is everything… are you okay, sweetie?”
I walk up to her counter as confidently as I can, but I don’t say a word. She straightens her shoulders and fiddles with the ends of her red hair. She bites her lower lip awkwardly.
“I’m here for my next charge,” I say, devoid of any emotion.
If they want me to go through the motions, that’s what I’ll do. But all I can focus on is how I still feel Liam’s presence around me—even though he’s gone. Is this what grief feels like? Is this how humans struggle through it? It’s horrifying.
“I, uh, yes… there’s something here for you. New baby girl about to be born in the year 1670 AD. Should be interesting, too. Looks like she plays a pivotal role in history. Her prime directive is leading into the Salem Witch Trials. Seems like one you’ll enjoy,” Gilda says, handing me the genetic keys to the child born a good three hundred and fifty years before Liam.
Guess they figured a female, years in the linear past, would keep my mind off of things.
“Thanks,” I say, taking the keys. As they land in my hand, the double helix-entwined markers bind me to the child, linking me to her destiny and pulling me from the Assignment Realm and into her timeline.
With no good-byes to Gilda and no more need to speak to anyone else, I land in a small hut in the middle of South Africa. Heat rolls into the space, and it smells like a combination of dirt, grass, and blood. The baby is about to be born; her presence grows like a lightning bolt, and within seconds of being in the room, I know this child has innate supernatural power. She’s not a charlatan, or one who will be tied to the Salem Witch Trials out of deception. How she ends up in American New England has yet to filter into my consciousness, but I have no doubt it will be an interesting story.
Curiosity gets the better of me, and I walk closer to the birthing bed, where her mother lies in a pool of her own sweat. Surrounded by other women, each doing their part to ease the woman’s suffering, or perhaps ease their own fears of birth, she squeals in agony. With a couple of strenuous pushes, the baby slips out of the dark quiet and into the arms of one of the midwives.
My brain begins to translate the language, an
d I hear one of the women say, “You must bite the cord—it must be buried tonight.”
The child is brought to the mother’s face. As the mother places her lips around the cord, she tears apart the link of blood binding the little girl to herself. Red liquid spurts from the connection, splattering both of them, but when the child is free, one of the women places her on her mother’s naked chest.
“Hold her tight, she must rest and suckle,” the midwife says.
Wrapping her arms around her daughter and holding her tightly, the mother traces the tiny brown face of the little girl. A broad, beautiful smile crosses her face.
“Welcome to the world, Tituba,” her mother croons, kissing the top of her wet head. “You will do great things, daughter.”
Chapter 19
A Final Judgement Call
Stepping forward and placing a hand on Tituba’s back, I continue to inherit her life’s path and prime directive. Despite myself, despite all the pain I feel, this tiny child offers a slight shift in perspective. There’s more to this world than pain and sorrow, even if it’s not all easy. And her life will certainly not be easy.
However, I can’t help but feel sorry for her. Of all the Guardians in the universe, she’s stuck with the one who’s broken beyond repair. The one who probably should have been put out of commission and laid to rest. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do her justice, but I have no choice but to try.
A cool breeze settles over the room, and beside me is the Throne Angel who answered Liam’s prayer—the one who took part in our Judgement and its ultimate course. Instantly, my fists clench.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” the Throne Angel says, tilting her head to the side.
I press my lips into a thin line, trying not think about the ways this angel ruined everything.
“Mmmhhhmmm,” I say, nodding.
“Walk with me, Eva. There’s a few things I think we should discuss,” she says, tipping her head toward the exit. Neither of us needs to literally walk, but I suppose the experience of it makes whatever she plans on saying easier. Or at the very least, gives her some time to think. I know it certainly does for me. For example, I think of about fifty different ways I could kill her where she stands.
“I should stay with my charge,” I say, pointing to the baby in her mother’s arms and ignoring my hostile tendencies.
The Throne Angel smiles, her wheeled eyes rotating clockwise. “She’ll be fine. She’s well cared for by the many women in this room. Come, there’s much to discuss, and you’ll want to hear what I have to say.”
Without waiting for me to say yes, she walks out of the hut and into the afternoon sun. I linger for a moment, unsure if I care about anything she wants to tell me—but again my curiosity overcomes any trepidation or animosity.
Sighing to myself I follow her. Standing alone in the tall grasses, the Throne Angel stares in the direction of the setting sun. It will still be a few hours until dusk, but it’s beautiful just the same. I walk up to her, stopping only to stand beside her as I face forward and follow her gaze.
“You know, for all of my life, I’ve wished I could see the sun the way humans—and the way you—can see it,” she confides, not looking my direction.
Peering over my shoulder, I quirk an eyebrow. “How do you know it’s different?”
“Do you see the numbers in and surrounding it?” she asks, still refusing to look my direction.
I shake my head. “Well, no. Just the light.”
“Then it’s different. Instead of colors or light, I see the shifting of equations in everything—every object, every being. They fluctuate, but my brain can process trajectories based on all the variables in play. It’s how I determine Judgement of what is—and what will be,” she says, shaking her head and turning to me. “But it’s all subjective. The Judgement of just about anything can be altered by the decisions occurring and free will at play. Yet others… they are carefully coordinated.”
I tilt my head to the side, trying to parse out what this has to do with me. “Why are you telling me this?”
She sighs, allowing a small smile to grace her lips. “Evangeline, do you remember what I told you when we first met in the human’s abode? The night he opened the doorway to all the beings?”
I narrow my eyes, trying to think back. “You’ll need to be more specific. You said a lot of things.”
She nods. “That I did.”
“So, what exactly are you referring to?” I say, turning to her. “Just be straight with me.”
Her high-arching eyebrows tug in, and she nods. “I said you’d need to let the human go and break the forbidden bond the two of you shared. Do you remember?”
I narrow my gaze, thinking back. “Yes, I remember. Turns out that didn’t work out so well.”
“You’d be surprised, dear,” she says, a lopsided grin emerging. “The universe is a funny, fickle thing. It sees all.”
“Oh, yeah. It’s friggin’ hilarious,” I say, rolling my eyes.
Ignoring my comment, she continues, “Think about it. For souls like you—you must know darkness to appreciate the light. You must know despair to know hope. You must know emptiness to appreciate love. You must sacrifice to know gratitude.”
“True, but it none of that makes things easier, at least until you’ve come out on the other side. And for someone like me, who knows how long, if ever, that will be. I’m cursed with immortality.”
“Indeed,” she nods.
“Forgive me, but… why are you here? It can’t just be to talk about the philosophy of life,” I say, clasping my hands and placing them in front of my body.
The Throne Angel chuckles, “No, you’re right. As always, very astute, Eva. I’ve been ordered here by the Guild to explain a few things. And pass on a final Judgement call.”
Immediately, my eyebrows tug upward and my stomach flips. This can’t be good. It’s never good.
“Okay…” I begin.
“Do you believe in manifesting destiny, Evangeline?” she offers.
I tilt my head and shoot her a sideways glance. “Uh—I suppose?”
She takes my hands in hers and stares directly into my eyes. The spokes in her wheeled gaze mesmerize me, and I can’t help but stare into their depths. They turn clockwise in their unblinking way. “Let me ask you something else. Have you ever found the universe to be lazy in its delivery of abundance? Of wishes?”
I think for a moment, trying to see where she’s leading this. “Sometimes, I suppose,” I offer.
“Tsk. All this time as a Guardian and you miss the threads interwoven between all beings. Everything endured—pain and suffering, joy and elation—it’s all happening in tandem. No one and nothing is separate from it. Surely you’ve seen this.”
I take a deep breath through my nose, wishing she’d just get to the point. “Okay?” I say.
“Oh, dear one. That night when I said Judgement was manifesting, it wasn’t just for the human. It was happening for you both. I tried to warn you, but as I feared, you were missing my nuances,” she says. “There are certain things I’m allowed to say and do—as is the same with you. We each have our rules, after all.”
My fingertips inch to my eyebrow and I rub at it. “Well, that’s wonderful. What is it you’re saying about Judgement for me, too? I’m going to die? Fizzle out like a human? This is my final charge? Please, just get to the point. I need to get back inside,” I say, pointing toward the hut.
The Throne Angel smiles broadly, taking a step back and sweeping her arm out. I follow her gesture and from behind a large baobab tree, an angel emerges. The intensity of light it brings makes me shield my eyes as I wait for the luminescence of its arrival to subside. The brightness pulls back until the only light remaining is in its wings. There beside the tree is a male Guardian, dressed from head to toe in the same kind of leather attire I’ve been gifted by the universe.
And it’s absolutely sexy on him.
My heart catches in my throat, and befor
e I make a conscious effort to do so, my feet are moving.
“Liam,” I cry out, wrapping my arms around him as soon as I reach him.
Like a wave of hot, beautiful energy, his hands slide around my waist and I melt into him.
“Hello, beautiful,” he whispers into my ear.
His breath flashes across my skin, sending a shiver straight through me. “How? But… I crossed you over myself. I—” I say, fighting back tears of joy.
Refusing to let go, he nuzzles his face into my neck and says, “Funny thing about Judgement, I guess. The universe decided it was time for me to ascend.”
Pulling back so I can see his face, my eyebrows tug in, “But you had a destiny. You were meant to help the world—change it for the better.”
“And he still will, my dear,” the Throne Angel says, stepping up to us.
Turning to face her, I cross my arms over my body.
“It’s always been his job to guide the next generation. Liam was marked to ascend from before his incarnation as Liam. His soul has gone through many things and this time, we knew he was ready to move on,” she says. “Honestly, I thought you would have figured it all out.”
I shake my head. “Figure it out? How would I ever have figured that out?”
“Didn’t it make you wonder how he could wield your elemental sword? Or make you wonder why he could hear you?” she asks.
“Well, of course… but I figured it was some sort of glitch in the way his brain worked. Like he was tuned into angel radio or something,” I laugh.
“His soul has always been preparing for the shift,” she says, smiling. “Granted, there was a time where it was in question. It seemed he needed to really dive deep into the ability to overcome insecurities. No Guardian can guide or protect their charges if they haven’t overcome their own weaknesses.” She places her wheeled gaze squarely on him and he shrugs sheepishly.
The Chronicles of the 8th Dimension - Limited Edition Box Set (4 Books): A Supernatural Thriller Box Set Page 64
