The Crossing Point

by August Arrea

  “Dare I ask the questions riding on the tip of every one of your tongues?” he muttered to himself before nodding to one of the boys who looked to be the most in desperate need of a pass to the bathroom.

  “How do we find out what Grace we have?”

  For as long as Zuriel had stood in this spot on the mountain terrace before endless groups of Nephilim, it was this question, the one almost inevitably voiced first, that brought a piercing silence to everything around them. The boys became as stone-like as the slabs they were perched upon, anxiously awaiting the answer .

  “Inside the realm of this Crescent Scar lies the answer to what you ask,” answered Zuriel, crossing to the center of the peculiar image with its strange markings on the ground. “Each section, as you can see, is marked with a symbol representing the six Graces I have just revealed to you. And this is the key to knowing which Grace you possess.”

  With that he held out his hand, and residing in his palm for all eyes to see was a large, round rock, smooth as glass and black as night in color.

  “The Blackstone. Also known as The Marker. Taken from deep within the living, breathing rock of the Northern Mountain, at the bottom of the gash known as Broken Earth where only a handful of souls have ever set foot,” said Zuriel, holding the rock up for all to gaze upon. “It, and only it, is able to reveal what Grace inhabits your being.”

  Then, following a pause, a faint smile formed on his lips and he asked the question that didn’t need asking. “Who would like to go first?”

  ~~~

  Every hand shot up in unison, leaving the boys noticeably straining to reach higher into the air than the person sitting near them. Zuriel found the pent-up enthusiasm amusing and for his own twisted pleasure he pretended to labor over the choice before him, and only when it appeared as though arms might begin popping from their sockets from the competitive angst did he stretch forth his hand and focus his finger on Leos. Beaming a toothy smile, Leos leapt victorious from his seat, ignoring the audible groans from some of the others, and in three long-legged lunges he was at the angel’s side.

  “So, what do I do?” he asked while trying to tamp down his excitement.

  “Nothing. Which should make following directions uncomplicated,” answered Zuriel, before guiding Leos to the center of the open space cradled by the crescent shape scarred into the ground and instructing him to remain standing still. “The Blackstone will do the rest.”

  When Zuriel then returned to stand outside the image, the rest of the boys leaned forward in an almost synchronized movement and they waited with their eyes focused intently on Leos, fearful to even blink for fear of missing whatever it was that was poised to happen. Leos stood quietly studying the large skirt of foreign symbols at his feet when a strange look came over his face.

  “There’s only six,” he exclaimed suddenly.

  “I applaud your mathematical prowess, Mr. Krall,” Zuriel noted dryly.

  “You said angels possessed seven Graces. But there are only six markings here,” said Leos. His eyes then rolled upward to rest on the sky in thought. “Come to think of it, you only named six Graces.”

  A rumbling of whispers came from the other boys who, after reflecting back upon the angel’s demonstration and taking their own mental count, realized Leos was correct and looked suspiciously to Zuriel for an explanation.

  “You may retract your speculative gazes, Fledglings. Looking to me as though you’ve been robbed of something which two seconds ago you didn’t know to even exist,” Zuriel remarked coolly before turning to Leos. “You are very observant, Mr. Krall, and quite right. I did state that angels possess seven Graces of power, and quite correctly at that. What I failed to explain, however, is that the seventh Grace is one which cannot be inherited by a Nephilim.”

  “What is it?” asked Max with notable intrigue visibly shared equally amongst the other boys.

  “The conjuring of life. To make breathe once again what death has stilled. It is the ultimate Grace brought forth by the virtue of Liberality, or Charity; it is a quality that exists only within the noblest of souls; it is Godlike in its genesis, and as such makes it the most important, and even rarer of virtues. God, himself, entrusted the Grace of Healing in small measure to his angels, and angels alone. Which is why, as you have noted, its marking is absent from the Crescent Scar,” said Zuriel. “Now then, are we finally ready?”

  “Since yesterday,” answered Leos.

  And with that Zuriel took the Blackstone he clutched and pitched it underhanded into the air toward Leos, who instinctively moved to catch it. As soon as the rock crossed the crescent-shaped boundary, however, there came a fiery flash. It was as if the rock, like an asteroid penetrating the Earth’s atmosphere, had broken through some sort of invisible film, or barrier, encircling the scar, momentarily made visible in a ripple of bluish-white when struck by the rock. The Blackstone suddenly came to an abrupt halt, hovering weightlessly at eye level with Leos, whose gaze was as transfixed on the object as were the other Nephilims’.

  “W-what’s happening?” asked Leos in a tone at once both impatient and skittish.

  “Patience,” said Zuriel in a calm voice.

  Suddenly, the rock began to move. At first, it circled slowly around Leos in a clockwise direction while gradually picking up speed. Around and around it spun. Then faster and faster. Soon it was nothing but a waxy blur proving impossible to the eyes attempting to follow it without being quickly hit with a nauseous wave of dizziness. Leos, who had appeared cocksure and stout when he bounded onto the Crescent Scar now looked less than certain he had made the right choice in volunteering to be the first candidate. His forehead had begun to take on a sheen from the pin prick drops of sweat beginning to bead his skin, and his body appeared to grow more and more tense the longer the Blackstone circled him with such terrific speed and force. Zuriel had referred to the rock as The Marker, after all. Why would a rock be called The Marker, after all, unless it was known to mark things? Nephilim, in particular, who stupidly chose to stand in the middle of something as strange as a Crescent Scar. It was such thoughts that made Leos open and close his fists rhythmically preparing for the possible moment the Blackstone might suddenly kick free of its hyper-speed orbit and fulfill its role as Marker by nailing him painfully in the head.

  Instead, the rock quickly came to halt and Leos felt his breath catch in his chest. Slowly, he turned his head and peered out of the corner of his eye over his left shoulder where he saw the rock still floating in the air before it dropped to the ground with a deadening thud. He then turned his unblinking gaze back to Zuriel.

  “Is it through?” he asked in a voice choked with anticipation.

  Without answering, Zuriel circled his way around to where the rock lay motionless inside one of the marked sections of the crescent image and knelt beside it. A curious look came to his face as his gaze narrowed on the rock smoldering with faint wisps of white smoke and the symbol upon which it came to rest.

  “Interesting,” the angel remarked cryptically.

  “What? What’s interesting?” Leos cried out, looking as though he was on the verge of leaping out his own skin.

  Picking up the rock, Zuriel rose to his feet. “The Blackstone has read your Grace to be Bending.”

  Leos’ expression relaxed, and the toothy smile suddenly beaming forth from his face said more than any words could to describe his happy reaction to the outcome. With a jaunty bounce in his step, he returned to his seat high-fiving the other boys along the way.

  Zuriel stood silent for a few moments tossing the rock casually in the air like a baseball. Once quiet had somewhat restored itself he called out, “Who’ll be next?”

  ~~~

  One by one, the other Nephilim took their turns inside the circle, and there came no boredom in watching each time the Blackstone was thrown to begin its revolutions at blinding speed. In fact, each toss seemed to bring a renewed burst of energy from the others watching, leaving them quietly wondering to t
hemselves, and sometimes whispering bets to one another where the rock would fall next. And even then, more unexpected surprises revealed themselves. Such was the case when Max finally took his turn when the Blackstone seemed to spin through the air longer than usual. When the rock finally fell to the ground, it landed evenly on the border dividing two marked sections.

  “What does that mean?” Max, looking anxiously to Zuriel, asked.

  “While somewhat rare, though not all that uncommon, there are some Nephilim who come to possess more than one Grace,” said Zuriel. “By the looks of where the Blackstone has landed, it appears as though your name has been added to this elite class.”

  “No bloody way!” Max replied slack-jawed.

  “Bloody way,” said Zuriel.

  “Well, how many do I have?” asked Max, as his eyes grew with greed at the possibilities.

  “Two,” answered Zuriel while studying the spot where the Blackstone rested.

  “You’re sure it’s just two?”

  Not one to be second-guessed, especially by a Fledgling, Zuriel turned a cold stare onto Max. “Two, Mr. Kelly,” he said. “While a Nephilim may find himself blessed with two Graces, it is the rarest of occasions when one comes to possess three. And rest assured never has a Nephilim come to inherit more than three. The Blackstone clearly shows you to carry two Graces: Cloaking and Summoning. Be grateful of the blessing.”

  “I’ll take it!” Max quipped with glee.

  Once Max had returned to his seat and received his congratulatory high-fives from those nearest him, Zuriel turned his attention to Jacob. “Well then, that leaves just you, Mr. Parrish.”

  Despite the crowing of support from his friends surrounding him, Jacob rose sheepishly to his feet and made his way to the Crescent Scar with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm that had guided the others.

  “You appear apprehensive,” noted Zuriel who had been watching the boy from the corner of his eye during the demonstrations.

  “No…not really,” said Jacob with a shrug, though he was not being completely truthful. While he shared the same eagerness as the other boys in learning what his Grace was, there was an uneasiness brewing inside him. What it was or why he was feeling it, he did not know. Yet it was present enough to keep him sitting quietly in his seat until the very last moment when he would be forced to take his turn. Zuriel sensed this unease and, raising an eyebrow sharply, he motioned Jacob into the cradled space of the Crescent Scar with a nod of his head. Once he had taken his place, Jacob looked to the angel while clenching his feet inside his sneakers in an attempt to somehow gain a firmer stance on the ground than he already had.

  Zuriel drew back his arm and the Blackstone was thrown. There came the familiar blinding flash Jacob and the others had come to expect and the rock came to a levitated standstill. Jacob’s nervous gaze remained on Zuriel who stood away with his hands clasped behind his back and settling his now hard stare uncomfortably upon the boy from behind the blurred path of the spinning rock. Suddenly, there was another explosion of bluish light—one that had not occurred with any of the other boys—and the Blackstone was cast free from its blinding orbit and sent sailing through the air across the enclave, nearly striking Zuriel before it fell to the ground mere inches from the sheer cliff of the overlook with a loud, weighted thud. The boys jumped from their seats and followed Zuriel to where the rock lay smoldering and immediately began inundating the angel with questions.

  “What happened?”

  “Why did it do that?”

  “What does it mean?”

  Picking up the Blackstone and staring hard at it, yet through it, with a pensively troubled expression, Zuriel didn’t answer at first. He then peered back to the Crescent Scar where Jacob remained unmoved in his spot.

  “My guess is the Blackstone doesn’t sense a Grace within you,” he said.

  “But I thought you said all Nephilim have a Grace,” said Ethan.

  “Some even more, like Max here,” another commented.

  “That they do,” answered Zuriel, his eyes not leaving Jacob.

  “So what are you saying? That he’s not a Nephilim?” asked Kairo.

  “Of course not. It’s quite possible Mr. Parrish here is just a late bloomer,” the angel said before making his way back to the circle with the other boys in tow.

  “How old are you, Fledgling?” he asked Jacob.

  “Sixteen.”

  “Hmmmmm,” Zuriel replied without offering any further insight to his pondering hum. He then glanced toward the other boys around him. “Let’s return to your seats. Now that you have knowledge of your Grace, the next step is in learning how to use them as well as the rules binding their use.”

  He started behind the boys who rushed back to their slabs when he noticed Jacob remained standing inside the circle. “That means you as well, Mr. Parrish.”

  Before Zuriel could continue on Jacob rushed forward and blocked his way.

  “Wait a minute. What about me?”

  “What about you?”

  “Well, does this mean I don’t have a Grace?”

  “For now it does,” said Zuriel. “As I said, I suspect you may just be a late bloomer. Give it some time. We will try again soon, and likely by then the Blackstone will perform differently.”

  “Well…has it ever happened before?” asked Jacob as Zuriel moved past before the question again brought him to a halt.

  Zuriel paused a moment, almost reluctantly, but his only reply was, “Your seat, Mr. Parrish.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Lions Bite

  O

  ct. 28

  Maybe the Blackstone is fallible. Or maybe, for whatever reason, it somehow happened to miss reading or seeing (or whatever it is it does) the Grace I’m supposed to have when it was my turn to stand in the Crescent Scar today. Those are the only two possibilities I can come up with to make sense of what happened just a little while ago tonight.

  As I began earlier, the five of us—Max, Leos, Kairo, Ethan and myself—were up in our room earlier than usual. All the Shrikes had been bursting with excitement and bouncing off the walls since returning from the Crescent Scar eager to begin the exercises Zuriel had given them to start tapping into their new-found powers. I wanted to share in the same excitement as my roommates, but the only thing I brought back with me from the Crescent Scar was the constant replaying in my mind of the moment the Blackstone flung itself from the ring-shaped blur it had formed around me and landed far outside the bounds of the marker containing the six Graces. Zuriel had suggested it was probably just a fluke. I’m probably just a late bloomer, as he put it. But I couldn’t help pondering other possibilities. Like what if the real reason is a mistake has been made? What if Gotham and my mother and my grandmother have been wrong? What if I’m not a Nephilim at all? Maybe these two ugly protrusions on my back are just that…two ugly protrusions, like Dr. Gilkey concluded when he examined me. Maybe all I am is just a normal, regular kid with a messed up, deformed back. What really surprises me was just a few days ago I’d have been elated to learn that were the case. Now, I’m not so sure I would be. In fact, I have a feeling I would be as distraught discovering I wasn’t a Nephilim as when I first learned I was. Funny how things like that happen.

  Trying to empty my head of these rambling thoughts, I reclined on my bed and began writing in here what had taken place earlier in the day. It was impossible, however, to ignore the entertaining show taking place in front of me. Leos, Max, Kairo and Ethan were like a bunch of excited children on Christmas morning ready to rip their way through their pile of presents under the tree. Kairo’s Grace is Drifting, but the only drifting I saw him doing was pacing about his bed. He looked to be somewhat nervous and kept mumbling quietly to himself as if to psyche himself up. Then suddenly he gave out a slight whimper and he was no longer there; he just vanished into thin air. The room became quiet. None of us spoke. We just sat there staring at the spot where he disappeared. We waited and while it felt like hours had
passed it was only a few short seconds before he magically reappeared. One of his eyes, which were both squeezed tightly shut, slowly opened and only when he saw he was standing once more beside his bed did his tensed-up body relax.

  “That. Was. Awwwwesome!” he finally managed to exhale with a deep breath.

  Leos was the one to ask the question we all waited to hear the answer to which was,“Where did you end up going?”

  For some strange reason Kairo seemed reluctant to share. “Not far,” was all he said.

  We began naming places and moments in history we’d each relish in journeying to in a blink of an eye. Ancient Egypt? Woodstock? To witness the game-winning “Shot Heard ’Round the World” home run by New York Giants outfielder Bobby Thomson that won the ’51 National League pennant?

  Just around here, Kairo said, whatever that meant.

  Now we were becoming more intrigued. “So like what, you went back to the time when Adam and Eve lived here?” Max asked.

  “This morning, alright? I just went back to this morning,” Kairo finally confessed when he realized we would just continue to pester him until he spilled the beans.

  Everyone burst out into laughter, myself included, which only seemed to irritate Kairo more.

  “Hey, it was my first try and I wanted to make sure if I had a problem getting back I’d only be a few hours behind you all. Haven’t any of you heard of baby steps?” he barked at us.

  He then stomped over to where Ethan was sitting, reached into his pocket and pulled out a gray and white rabbit’s foot dangling from a silver key chain. Ethan had lost it sometime during the day and had been frantically searching the room for it. When he saw it, his eyes lit up.

  Where’d you find it? he asked.

  When I was following the five of us just now back up to Crescent Scar I saw it had fallen out of your pocket, Kairo grumbled. “You’re welcome.”

  As Ethan gripped the fuzzy paw tight in his grip, we told him he’d better be careful none of the Guides caught sight of it. They undoubtedly wouldn’t be too pleased to see a rabbit had been denied a foot to make him a precious little charm, but Ethan assured us it was fake.