The Celestial Rose BoxSet

by Annalee Adams

  Having battled the Demon outside, I then needed to battle the monster within. It would tear me apart if I didn’t reign it in. It was him, I thought as I looked over the wasteland before me, my father, my hero. The grief of killing my own father was what changed me, broke me inside. He had merely held me tight after the attack. He hadn't known what I was, who I had become. Hell, I didn’t even know! But without realising it, the Femme Fatale within had arose, luring in his energy and siphoning his life force for my own personal pleasure; healing my slashed body in the process. I stood there with my head buried in his chest as he bear-hugged me, protecting his baby girl. Then his arms drooped, dropping down to his sides, as he fell, stone-cold and lifeless. I didn’t know it then, but there was no saving him, no chance in hell of bringing him back. The Darkwaters knew, but they had taken him in all the same, brought in help from the best in the business. Even with the dark arts, there was no way of saving him. He was too cold to be turned so he had died, and he had died while I sat chained to a cave wall, watching my baby brother being slaughtered, screaming for mercy when no mercy would come.

  The Angels fell, having watched the destruction, but they left Caleb cold and lifeless. One gave mercy, he saved me, but why hadn't he come earlier? Why, then, after I’d lost everything? Did he need to teach me a lesson? How had I ever wronged him? Why did he save me? I was a monstrous girl with the ability to lure in trouble at the first flutter of eyelashes. The angelic being that touched my lips, that breathed life back into my fallen body, he knew me, he saw me, he whispered back a thousand memories that had pained themselves from existence. But who was he to me and where was he now?

  I couldn’t stay there, couldn’t face the reality any longer. What do I have left anymore? They’re all dead, it’s all my doing and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. I didn’t think an Angel would exactly save a Dark One. Perhaps when the Angels fell from the sky, the world had really ended. How long had I been asleep? How long had I died for this time? Did I sleep through Armageddon? Is that even possible? Still, the world was freakishly quiet for something that had lived and breathed. Was I stuck within my own mind? Was this a devilish nightmare that would never end? It was hard enough trying to control my own voice, let alone focus on the environment outside of the fallen throne within the Darkwaters mansion.

  I had wanted to be a hero, like my mum had said, ‘Be somebody, darling, help those who need it. Not everyone is as fortunate as you.’ She had always been my cheerleader, my best friend, but she wasn’t here anymore. What would she say to me now if she was? I doubt she would have said anything. Perhaps just tut and look at me with her long-saddened stare, one of disappointment, a stare that could crush the heart of any young child. Even at just the mere age of four, I remembered decorating her wallpaper with a magnificent picture of a two-headed giraffe as tall as a tree. I was certainly imaginative, and I thought it was spectacular. But I don’t think my mother appreciated the fact I had used permanent markers to draw my pretty picture. That’s the first memory I had of that stare, that tut, but I’m sure I heard it a few more times after that.

  How could I be a hero? It wasn’t like there was a rulebook or anything. It seemed whenever I tried to do anything good it turned upside down and someone ended up getting hurt. I was a bomb ready to go off. How could I save anyone? But then what was meant to be, would be, and as for me playing the hero card, that clearly wasn’t part of any grand plan anymore.

  There was nothing left to do except ask the damn Angels why they had brought me back. They must have foreseen the ultimate destruction, the chaotic nature of death amongst the living. What was I? A pawn in the game of life? I couldn’t live without my family, without my lover or my friends. The world had frozen, and I was the only living thing left in it. That needed to change. I needed to end it. And with that thought, that uproar of intellect, I succumbed to the blade of anguish, impaling myself as agony wrapped its devastating claws around me, siphoning out any goodness left within my broken soul. I ran away from life as I met my demise in the end of days.

  CHAPTER 26: TAYLOR

  Light shone through the emptiness of reality, and as it did, the dead took a breath. Time passed with a brief glimpse at what could have been. A momentous leap in the heart of a sacred, stolen Angel. As eternity stood still, the screams shrilled through the winter's air, slowing mortality to near death as they leapt and jittered through the environment, encumbered by the sorrow of a long-lost girl with a broken frame, a fragile being.

  I was a poor excuse for a human, except I wasn’t human anymore. Perhaps I never was. Now I’m here, wherever here is, cosying up with the Angels. Isn’t that just? I killed everyone and got to party with the angelic crew like there was no tomorrow. Well, is there a tomorrow? Or a today even? Did what happen, really happen?

  I was dead. I could have guessed that, due to the spiritual body I resided in. It was a tiny bit see-through, to say the least. It seemed to work, though. I could still hear, see, touch, smell, and taste. Well, I could on my journey there, anyway. I sat in a sparkling crystal waiting room, waiting for my number to be called. She said that would normally be fine, and when I say ‘she’ I meant the woman behind the counter with the axe in her head, but apparently there was an overflow of dead souls. According to the axe lady, something big went down and I was stuck in a queue, a queue to enter my eternal rest... or damnation. I assumed that was what that chute in the floor was for, the one in the corner. It must be for the dodgy characters that didn't deserve a peaceful finish, the evil ones falling back down to the underworld. It didn’t look pretty, but I didn’t care, and I was guaranteed I’d end up winging my way to the underworld through the slide of doom at some point that millennium.

  No matter, though, after all my ticket said 6471 and we were only on number one. I sat there for what felt like hours and not one soul had moved. I was lucky to get a seat in the infinite graveyard awaiting perdition. Although the seats seemed to keep appearing, and I couldn’t see the back of the room anymore; it appeared to go on forever.

  So, this is what death is? A long messed up journey down a dark tunnel to what you hope is salvation, only to find a waiting area with a grumpy receptionist and a ticket booth.

  I had guessed I was part of the reason we were all in this mess. I was sure I saw Old Steve Stretton back there. Granted, he could’ve passed due to his age, but I bet my mouth had something to do with it. Who knew I could scream like that?

  I couldn't see them, though, my dad and my brother. How long had I been out for? Surely, they were still here somewhere? And what about Lucian? Where do Disciples go when they die? It’s not like they were purely evil. After all, they made a deal with Eve herself. So where would they end up? Would I ever see Lucian again? This was too messed up. How could I spend the rest of my eternal life sat here? Jeez, it hadn’t even moved to number two.

  It served me right. I ended up there of my own freewill. My anger got the better of me. Mum used to say I should slow down, take my time, but all that went to shit when she died and the world of supernatural opened its doors. I mean, whose grand plan was that? Putting a sixteen-year-old smack bang in the middle of an eternal war? Whose bright idea was it? God? Did God even exist? I’d been battling the monsters all on my own for months, years even. Well, two years. Where were the good guys? Don’t get me wrong, Lucian and the Darkwaters were damn good at what they did, but they were still Lilith’s Disciples. So where were Eve’s Disciples? Eve’s Angels? How come they didn’t fall to Earth until I nearly died? Coincidence? I think not. Coincidences are just our way of accepting something abnormal as being perfectly normal.

  I wondered what was happening back in Elvington. Perhaps the Angels were battling the Demons and Armageddon was going on. That’d explain the countless mortal souls appearing at death's door. Or maybe the Darkwaters survived and they were leading an army to take down Enoch, ending Lilith once and for all. But then why would they turn on their maker? They wouldn’t, would they? So, what would
they be doing? Perhaps they weren't doing anything. Perhaps the world was still frozen, and they were lying there as corpses, unburied and unloved. That’s, well, that’s just wrong. How could I do this to them? To all of them? They’ve done nothing but help me through this change and I go and destroy them all with my thanks. I’m a killer, just a plain, cold killer and no matter what I do, what I hope, nothing would change that fact. No-one could change what I had done. I deserved every punishment I got for it.

  “TWO,” a robotic voice boomed over a crackling intercom.

  Two... did it really say two? Finally, there was some hope that they would get on with my sentencing soon. Sitting there was punishment enough, especially as the whole infinite room was silent. It was as if every soul had lost their voice. But then again, they wouldn’t have a voice, would they? That was the mortal body’s doing, energy couldn't talk. So how could I communicate, how could I make myself heard? I thought it was just me, that they had taken my speech away so I couldn’t scream again. But no, it was everyone. No one spoke. They all looked human, not just bundles of energy like I presumed they’d be. They looked like what their human body must have resembled. In which case, the guy next to me was clearly homeless, he even smelt of urine. How was that possible, that we brought along our human senses? If I could smell and see and hear, then why couldn't I speak? There had to be a way, all I needed to do was form a syllable. But how? My body felt strange. It looked the same, but, well my hands had an opacity filter set to fifty percent. Is this what it felt like to be dead? A translucent body with an emptiness inside? I could feel, though, just not so strongly, everything was dialled down. Where’s the pain of death by sword? Surely there should be a gapping hole and pure agony? But then, that was the meat and bones, this here, this must be the spirit. All energy must go somewhere, even when we die. I guess mine had formed this representation of myself.

  “THREE,” the voice boomed.

  Great, it was getting there. Only six thousand, four hundred and sixty-eight to go. Marvellous. It was funny, really... I didn’t need my limbs pulling apart or to be tied down with Lilith’s beastly creatures. Physical pain was commendable, but the mentality of sitting there waiting was downright torturous! I had to get up, had to move. The reception desk was getting further and further away as more dead wannabes joined the queue. I best get moving then.

  Stretching my dead legs, my back screamed in pain. Nerves pulsated as electricity shot up to my head, tensing up and bursting from my eyes and ears. The pressure was immense as I shuffled forward to the edge of the seat. “Shit!” I yelled as I moved.

  All eyes were on me. I had spoke, well, yelled, blasphemy in God's own realm. That’ll look great on my judgement. The bewilderment across mortality’s dead face resembled how I felt; astounded. I didn't know what they were looking at, it wasn't like I knew how to speak. How the heck did I do that? Maybe God never heard that, it’s not like he ever listens anyway. Perhaps I’ll even get into Heaven after all. If it is, in fact, called Heaven. What’s the name of the nice place you go when you die in other religions? Maybe it’s one of those. Sometimes my stupidity astonished me. Should I ever be born again, if reincarnation was a thing, then I would try and remember to educate the followers of numerous religions on the actual happenings of a dead soul. But then, I doubted they’d believe me if I told them of the ticket booth, the grumpy axed receptionist, and the infinite waiting room. It sounded like an old comedy sketch. No, I couldn’t tell anyone. I’d end up strapped to a bed again for sure, and this time with no family to save me.

  That was if the world outside still existed. All those people... Did I really kill all those people? And why are all eyes still on me? Are they waiting for some miraculous prophecy? Did I look like a prophet? No, I looked more like the evil dead right then, with my blackened hands and mind-warped image, not someone you’d want to take home to meet your parents.

  I had to move, had to get out of there. If only I could make it to the trapdoor of doom, I could escape. Perhaps even stopping by Earth on the way, checking in on the devastation I had caused. God, I’m a monster. No really, I am. There were no mirrors in there, but I could guess most of those people weren’t staring at me because of my good looks, besides the fact that evil me had a voice, and a blasphemous one at that. Shit. And that was another thing, when did I ever swear? The darkness had really taken its toll. There was nothing left, was there? What was the point of anything? Give me a gun and I’d shoot myself. That was how I felt, anyway. But then it’d put me to the back of the queue and that wouldn’t solve anything, now would it?

  “FOUR,” a robotic voice boomed.

  Wahey, we’ve reach four. Only fifty billion years to go. Okay, I’m not the best at mathematics, but fifty billion is how it was beginning to feel.

  At least I had made it to the edge of my seat. It was time to get up, raise those weary legs, and learn to walk again. I was going to walk right on out of there. I had to. I needed to find out what chaos I had caused back down on the ground. I couldn't keep sitting there, waiting around like I had nothing to do. I needed to right whatever wrongs I had caused, and that was starting with bringing the dead back to life. So, the plan, yeah...well, the plan was to learn to walk. Then I had to test the door next to the ticket machine and then shout out for Caleb, Dad, and Lucian and haul our asses back down to the apocalypse. Easy, right? Wrong.

  Summoning the strength was easy. I was full of the stuff that I must have siphoned off of the living way before I died. The problem was the balance. As I lifted myself up, I quivered, threatening to fall over. Gripping back onto the chair for support, I got down on my knees and began to crawl. It was a tad embarrassing, but I was happy to make a fool of myself if I could get up and out of there. It was almost like I was a newborn finding my feet again, wobbling about, looking to her mother for stability. Except I didn’t have a mum anymore, she died. It was just me now so I had better woman up and push on forward.

  Countless faces passed by as I dragged my dead body through their legs, back towards the reception desk. It was strange, really. I remembered walking in there, trudging down that long, winding tunnel. I remembered taking the ticket and sitting down. But I didn't remember much else after that. How long have I been here? Has my body degraded that much that the limbs no longer work? Surely, I stretched a bit? Swayed side to side, shuffled positions to make myself more comfortable? No, no, I didn't remember any of that. It was as though I had remained in silence, motionless, and lost in thought until my number came up. Which I hasten to add, never did. I had hoped I had not been gone too long. I wondered if I could bargain with God; my soul for the chance to clean up the debris back down there. Would he listen? Maybe he’d take the deal. He could throw my worthless soul to the gutter then, just as long as I could heal those I had killed, bring back my dad and my brother, kiss the lips of Lucian once again. Maybe he’d let me. Maybe God was good after all. Maybe he didn't just sit around all day while the Earth he created turned to crap and countless innocent people died. Maybe he didn't realise. Who was I kidding? Of course, he realised. If there was a God, he was just as bad as the Devil, well, Lilith. The Devil was dead, after all. How am I going to bargain my way out of this one? There must be someone in charge, but who?

  Crawling through the masses, my hands became brittle to the cool crystallised floor. The beauty that shone through it resembled the light of a heavenly goddess as she swam in the lake of tranquillity. Breathing the breath of allurement, residing close to your heart, as her essence was captured by the divinity of the crystal that lay below my broken body. Imagine the Aurora Borealis with its godly lights cascading across the night sky, delivering good to the evil nature that was bestowed within it. That was the allure the cosmic artistry below delivered.

  It may have been beautiful, but the hardened edges of the crystals began to hurt my knees. Was it possible for the dead to bleed in Heaven? It felt like the skin housing my kneecaps was cut deep to the bone. The pain was there, as if my knees we
re sliced to ribbons. There was no escaping that. Stopping, I looked ahead. Only a little way longer and all this would end. Must keep going, must keep moving.

  “FIVE,” a robotic voice boomed.

  One thing I had noticed was that when the tannoy spoke, no-one moved. Surely the person with ticket number five should be walking over to the reception desk. Perhaps not walking, but crawling, like me. Either way, they should be heading over there. It was all very odd. Why have numbers when no one used them?

  Crawling along, I reached the door beside reception. The axe lady looked out from her booth, peered down at me with her grumpy expression and finally smiled.

  “You took your time,” she said, as two men lifted me up from the floor, opened the trapdoor of doom, and tipped me over the edge.

  Down and down I fell, like Alice in her rabbit hole, a concoction of unspoiled events all mixed into one scene. Chaos overruled as my necrotic corpse tumbled down the swirling cliff of devastation. Deeper and deeper, no end in sight. Would this be my eternal rest, plummeting into the depths of Earth's own volcanic core, meeting my own oblivion? Further and further I fell into the void with visions of time twisted beyond recognition. Fragments of past, present, and future combined into a pilgrimage of existence.

  “WAIT,” I heard in the distance, “are you insane, Michael? Don’t you know what she’ll do to you when she realises?”

  “What? Oh, don’t tell me. It isn’t her, is it?”

  “Yes, didn’t you recognise her?”

  “No, Gabriel, I’m shaded, remember?”

  “Best get her back then,” Gabriel said.

  As I fell through the emotional resilience of life’s long history, my body stopped, braced against the parachute of Heaven's hands. I’d finished plummeting to an unearthly death, crashing into extinction as my inners became outers. Floating in limbo, I spewed up the contents of my final meal. My waist was tight, as something gripped and yanked me back up, one tug at a time.