by Nathan Parks
He scribbled down some more as he listened to her. He wasn’t sure if this was the start they were looking for, but he was learning more than he knew just moments ago.
Tanisha cracked her neck and stood up.
“I think I am going to make some tea. Would you like some?”
“Sure, although I don’t remember the last time I drank hot tea.”
She walked around and sat on the front of the desk next to him.
“How long have you had a drinking problem?”
“Ever since I let people know that I was a . . . what did you call me—a Renegade?”
She just rolled her eyes, patted him on the shoulder, and left the room. As she left, he reached over and grabbed a stack of papers that had come from the box that Alfonso had left him. He knew there was a note in there that stated something about his becoming the Guardian of the vial, but he also believed he had once seen another message—a cryptic one—that he had not understood.
There was one wall that had no bookshelves, just books, papers, and other things stacked up against it. He started moving different things to clear up some wall space.
A few minutes later Tanisha walked back in with two mugs, hot water, and tea bags.
“What are you doing now?”
He laughed, “Seems silly, but who knows? Ever watch those old cop dramas where the investigators put up a board on which they can put clues and information?”
“Oh, so we are going to have our own mystery evidence wall, huh?”
“Like I said . . . silly . . . maybe effective, though!”
She placed the mugs down, placed the tea bags inside, then poured the hot water.
“You and my husband would get along really well.”
“Why is that?”
“When he sets his mind to something, he goes at it full force . . . a lot like you.”
Isaiah stopped what he was doing, looked at the cleared space, and figured that it was big enough . . . at least for now.
“If I may ask, what went through your mind when he told you about who and what he was?”
She sat down again in her chair and looked down at the steeping tea bag. Her mind wandered back to that day and to that moment.
“I don’t think I believed him at first. He always had a way about him. I guess what I mean is he always could get me to believe anything he said. It was the way he spoke and carried himself, but he also can be a prankster. Not many people have seen that side of him, but with me he has always been . . . well, fun.
“When he told me, I could tell he was serious. The look on his face was very stoic. I think he was ready for me to walk away; so, he had prepared himself for that. I laughed at first, but then realized that he was being serious.
“In my line of work, I have seen so many unexplained things. I have watched as fairy tales became reality, and so-called ‘truth’ melted away when brought into the light of fact. So, once I realized he was not joking, I flooded him with questions.”
“Did you ever think about leaving or not staying with him?”
“No! I loved him, no matter what. We all have history. We are who we are; and if you say you love someone, then you love them for who they are.”
“My wife knew.”
“That you were Nephelium?”
“Yes.”
“She chose to stay with you, correct?”
“Pretty much said the same thing you did . . . different words.”
She watched as his shoulders sank and the spark that was there a few minutes ago start to fade. It was time to change the subject.
“You going to just leave the wall blank, or are we going to be able to put Exhibit One up?”
He walked over and took a sip of his tea and then handed her a piece of paper.
“Before we put anything up, let me ask you, does this mean anything to you?”
She reached over and took the paper from his hand. It was folded in half. On the outside, it said, “Isaiah 211112.” She unfolded it to see if there was anything else. On the inside she read, “Beware of the Burden, lest it becomes too great.”
“Well?”
She shook her head.
“No. I have no clue. Clearly, it has your name on it; but I have no idea what the numbers stand for or, for that matter, even the saying inside.”
“Ok . . . was worth a shot,” he laughed as he began to write down the historical information that she had shared with him regarding the vial and Briccius.
Chapter Four
“What you said back in the meeting made a lot of sense, Bristol,” Gideon commented as they both walked through different hallways within the Sanctum. “I have been a team lead now for a few years, and I would be the first to say that we should start striking at the Clans. I also have been the team leader who has allowed his team to do that and have lost members because, if you perform an ‘off-books’ mission and something goes wrong, you are left out in the cold.”
She nodded, “I have seen it several times with my old Alliance. There were times that we begged the Council to help or to let us just do what we felt needed to be done. There were too many times that we never even received a response back.
“One such time we had discovered an unmarked Clan. We had no idea what they were about, but clearly there was Clan activity. After several months of surveillance, we requested direction from the Council. A month later we still did not have an answer. Two weeks after that we had to sit back and watch as Clan members slaughtered over a hundred young adults and teens. Their screams still haunt me to this day.”
Gideon stopped dead in his tracks, “Wait . . . an unmarked Clan?”
She nodded, “Every interaction we had with them showed no sign of any allegiance. Why?”
“We had that, too.”
“You say that in past tense.”
“We were observing—like your group was—but one of my stubborn, charge-ahead-and-ask forgiveness-later members disobeyed my orders and went into the club where they were gathering. It was a blood fest, but many Mortals were able to escape slaughter.”
She raised her eyebrows, surprised at what he had shared.
“I know you probably wanted to feed him to the Fallen yourself, but his actions probably saved a lot of lives!”
“I see that now, but I am more interested in a collection of unmarked. You had a nest; so did we. Did you find out anything more about them?”
“No, shortly after the massacre, it was as if they all dispersed or vanished. Maybe there was too much attention or too many questions being asked . . . either way, they were gone.”
The duo arrived inside the Control Center. The room was large enough to fit about 30 people inside. The lights were dimmed, which allowed those inside to see and focus on all the different monitors around.
“Ya have quite a setup here at the Sanctum,” Bristol observed.
“Leah was responsible for all this. She loved what she did here. She loved this place and everyone who worked here.
“Gideon?”
He looked over to where he normally sat within the Control Center, and immediately a smile broke over his face.
“Hey, Sweetheart!” He walked over and gave Jackie a bear hug and then turned to introduce her to the newest member, “Jackie, this is Bristol. She joined us yesterday from the Irish Alliance.”
“Welcome!” Jackie shook her hand. She then turned to look at Gideon. “I know you all are busy, but do you have a second and maybe somewhere we can talk?”
“Everything ok?” he asked.
“I just needed to talk with you . . . just a few minutes.”
He nodded and turned toward his teammate, “Feel free to use my area for now until we figure out all the new kinks and what we are going to do. I will be back in a moment.”
Jackie gave a small wave to Bristol, “It was nice meeting you, and I am sure we will get a chance to talk some more. Sorry for whisking him away.”
“No . . . no need,” the Angel responded.
Gideon
and Jackie stepped into a nearby meeting room, and Gideon shut the door.
“What’s up, Dear?”
She grabbed him and gave him a long kiss.
“First, I just needed to give you a kiss. Now that that’s done, I need to talk to you about a few things.”
He smiled, “You can feel free to kiss me any time.”
“I want to quit the Broken Tear.”
“Wait . . . like shut it down?”
“That is exactly what I mean. It just was never mine; and ever since Eve left, it hasn’t been the same. Every time I go in there, I am reminded of the ‘old days.’ I remember my friend whom I never see, and the memories are too much. My heart is no longer there.”
“Um, ok.” He realized how his response sounded, and he quickly followed up, “You know I support you in whatever you want to do; but my next question would be, what are you going to do?”
“I want to work here.”
His eyebrows went up.
“Here?”
“Sure! Why not?”
He hated these types of conversations. There never seemed to be a good answer; and no matter how hard he tried, he felt his response was going to be wrong . . . he would put his foot in his mouth.
“It is . . . well, I guess . . .”
“Gideon, I have been a pseudo member of the Alliance now for several years. Sure, we both know that there is no way I can fight, but look at that Control Center out there. This place has to have something I can do. The more I find out about what takes place beyond the curtain of my world, the more I begin to see that I have been so blind. I’m tired of it. I have felt like an outsider for so long. Eve, in a weird way, is a part of all of this; the man I love is part of it all. Most of those I consider my friends now are part of this . . . and then there is me: Jackie, the tattoo artist.”
“A damn good one at that.”
She slapped his chest.
“Stop deflecting. I’m being serious.”
“I don’t doubt that, but I also know you have steered away from buying into all the spiritual stuff, and . . .”
She put her hand up.
“Are you kidding me? I am in love with an Angel . . . whom, by the way, I rarely see any more. Sure, I question a lot of things when it comes to putting my faith in what so many consider concrete; but based upon things I have heard you say, you also have that same struggle.”
He was embarrassed to admit it. Shouldn’t he be one who anchored into what mortal man would consider “doctrine”?
She continued, “Hear me out. Sure, I am one who believes that there is more to everything than what religious powers within humanity have indoctrinated their followers to believe. You and the Alliance are proof of that. How does that make me a liability? I would think I could be an asset. I will see things from a different, fluid, point-of-view.”
He put his arms around her and drew her in. He just held her. Maybe she was right. Had not all of them started talking about how things were changing and what they once believed as fact was starting to become messy?
“I will talk with Ki. He has Leah’s position now, and so I can’t make that decision; but I will promise you this: I will do what I can.”
“That is all I ask. I need to be a part of something again. I need to be with ‘my people,’ and that is what the Alliance is.”
He laughed, “Very true.”
Chapter Five
His time in Castle Houska was usually limited. Mantus had it built ages ago in order to give him a place to conduct business since Clan leaders usually avoided the Abyss. The stone structure had been well-maintained over the centuries, and there had been a few additions; but overall, it looked the way it did at the end of the original construction.
There was a building called “The Chapel” that housed one of the gates into his underworld realm. The gate was guarded by two Se’irim to ensure that if anyone did get an itch to enter, they would be stopped.
The large and spacious room in which he paced back and forth had been everything from a throne room, banquet hall, and now a conference room. He only had three others with him.
“So, explain to me again what you have been told,” Mantus prompted. His pacing held the air of strategic planning and not that of someone worried or scared. “Do we know for sure this news is reliable?”
Kadar was relaxed and comfortable. He enjoyed being the one who delivered news that caused kinks in the plans of others. To watch those in power begin to manipulate and change as the playing field changed was a delight to him. When he had received word about the possible demise of the earthbound portion of Legion, he could not get to Mantus fast enough. Sure, he could have sent this news through different channels; but then again, he would not have had the chance to watch this play out in front of him.
“My sources tell me that Legion took up residence within the body of a young, teen girl. Somehow the Alliance stumbled across her, and they were able to defeat him.”
Mantus stopped and turned around. “I don’t understand! How?”
“Sir, I can only come up with theories.”
“I don’t need theories! I need facts! I need to know where we stand and if any plans in dealing with Legion and Hecate are now obsolete!”
Kadar’s eyes danced with delight. He knew that the general was doing all he could to maintain his composure; but at the same time, everyone has their tipping point. The Nephelium clearly understood that this Fallen general had no love for either his ex or her bastard child, but the truth of Legion’s demise or lack thereof was vital.
“Really?” Kadar retorted. “Sure, let me just waltz into the Sanctum—or, for that matter, Eden—and just ask if they have seen some creature with the ability to consume a Mortal, as well as break way into unlimited amounts of mini clones.”
Mantus put his hand up to stop Kadar.
“I get it! I understand; but if he is gone, then that changes everything. Who knows what Hecate will do if her leverage is taken away . . . or at least the leverage she believes she has? It also could make things complicated for everyone . . . including you, Azrael.”
He looked over at the only other person inside the large room.
“I venture to say that my existence between the realms has already become complicated. The moment that it is realized that Metatron is no longer in Scintillantes and is nowhere to be found within the world of Mortals, I am sure that my days of living the double life will be short. As you stated, Mantus, if he is gone, then everything changes.”
“Well, wouldn’t you know if he is gone?”
Azrael leaned forward, his arms resting on the large table. He was confident in his demeanor.
“I could ask you the same question. If you have not received word of that split-personality son of yours showing up in your realm, then maybe his demise is overly exaggerated.”
Mantus ignored the sarcastic barbs the Archangel threw his way.
“You know very well that if he was destroyed, he would have been vanquished to the inner-circle.”
“Ah, the one area that no one controls for it is true eternal damnation.”
The general leaned over the table.
“Do not play with me, Azrael. There is not one moment that I do not believe you are my trusted ally—ally, yes, but not trusted. I do believe that you also have your own plans somewhere under the quilt of all this deception.”
“Let’s say that you are correct. Entertain me, then, and explain to me what I could have up my sleeve and what benefit it would have for me.”
Kadar feigned a large yawn.
“This constant power struggle gets old after a while. You would think that you all, after all these ages, would have come to some pecking order that we could just get used to and with which we would be able to live. I have many other things I could be doing than hanging out with the both of you, watching you each fight it out. So, if neither of you have anything else to share that is important to me, I am going to head out.”
“Go, Nephelium. We kn
ow that if you are needed, we only have to wave something of value to you; and once again, you will be standing in front of us.”
“With no shame, either,” Kadar laughed.
Azrael and Mantus watched as he walked away and gave them a wave.
As he did so, Mantus turned to his counterpart, “What now, Azrael?”
Azrael threw up his hands and shook his head, “I honestly haven’t heard anything, Mantus; but again, I haven’t been making myself easy to access lately. There are questions starting to form; and until some of the heat dies down, I felt it best that I make myself busy and not so available.”
“Speaking of ‘heat,’ would you like explaining to me why you have confined a member of your Council within my realm? I am sure that I do not have to remind you what it will take for anyone to release him, not to mention that you have clearly given yourself a razor-thin path to walk in order to maintain your secret.”
The Archangel stood and started to gather a few things from where he had been sitting.
“You don’t have to remind me. Since the time I have borne both names, Michael and Azrael, I have known that it would not be an eternal position. We all have known that a time would come when ‘Azrael’ would become the face of not just death, but also of betrayal and that I would find myself exiled. I believe that if I had not taken on Metatron, that my demise would have been sooner than expected. He was already starting to have too many questions.”
Michael got ready to take his leave; but before he could, Mantus stepped in front of him.
“I don’t care why you did what you did; but if you ever choose to hire my brother again to do your dirty work, you will have me to deal with. True, I have used my brother as my hired hand for ages, but the difference is he is my brother. Understand?”
Michael smirked, “I do . . . but also understand that maybe your brother wasn’t hired.”
“What does that mean?”
The Archangel looked straight into the eyes of the general. Mantus had the fire of his world burning in his eyes; he was hardened and steadfast. He was not asking for an answer; he was demanding it.
“Maybe the time for your using your brother has come and gone. Who knows? Maybe the time for all of us has come and gone. What I do know is that with change, new voices—for too long silenced—become louder. New faces rise up, and the landscape changes. What once was new and strong becomes old and weary.”
