The Vapor

by Nathan Parks

  She watched as the Council members stood in disbelief and almost horror at what Metatron had brought before them. Michael’s eyes were flashing with anger and rage as he stood there. Leah didn’t know if he was angry because of what the book may say or the fact that Metatron was standing up to him. Then again, the fact that Metatron had defied the very historical law that an Eternal was not to have access to such information also brought a new meaning to defiance and rebellion.

  “What have you done, Metatron?” Michael was seething. “You have just sacrificed your position upon this Council by your act of rebellion and possibly have sealed your fate to exile . . . and for what?” He was angry. There was a reason that weapons were not allowed in the Council chamber, and right now Michael’s fingers were itching to grasp his sword.

  Leah could feel mixed emotions welling up within her. A crushing blow deep within her threatened to bring her to her knees as she realized that Michael was accusing her defender of treason to Jah and to the Arch Council by his actions. He had clearly gone against all the rules in order to protect her!

  Gabriel was in tears. As strong as she was, she couldn’t believe the darkness that was flooding the Council Hall through the breakout of emotion and anger that rushed from Metatron and Michael. “Stop! Both of you! Control what you are feeling right now!”

  Leah knew she had to do something. Whether or not she was guilty of what Michael had accused her, she could not allow everything she had fought for, stood for, and stood with for ages fall apart. Sacrifice was exactly that. She knew the times she had “fallen on the sword” for those whom she led; and because of it, they stood even stronger behind her. She could not watch as Metatron stood being stripped of everything he was because he stood for her.

  “Why, Michael?” she yelled out. “Why? Are you scared of the truth? Are we not defenders of the truth? If I am guilty as you have stated, and this is not your way of finding a pawn to place the blame on for the last of the Jerusalem Breed acting upon her free will, then what is it that you are scared those pages will reveal?”

  “Shut up, Guardian!” Michael’s warrior spirit was borderline crossing from anger to darkness. “You will stand down, and . . . YOU,” pointing to Metatron, “will also stand down and be quiet! You are no longer a part of this Council!”

  “By whose authority, Michael?” It was Nemamiah, now. “Whose authority? Yours?”

  “We will deal with this after we have completed our first reason for being here.”

  “Then he still has the right to speak. If he has not been officially removed properly, then he is still part of this Council.”

  Michael gritted his teeth and shoved his chair back. He needed to calm down. What was going on? Was this not clear evidence that by Leah’s very presence darkness bled out?

  He could feel the darkness, and he knew that she had been going against the authority of the Council to meet the Fallen on every front! True, it was for the protection of mortals, but even the most heartfelt action done in wrong was still wrong.

  “You want me off this Council, then so be it!” Michael turned in disbelief as Metatron’s voice broke through his emotion. “So be it!” he repeated louder. “I cannot be a part of what this Council has become! This is not what we were formed to be.”

  Nemamiah’s being sunk in her chair as she watched Metatron pull from his finger his ring, a symbol of a Council member, and place it upon the table. It was not supposed to be like this . . . not like this.

  “Mark my words, Michael, what has taken place here today is only the start. You cannot fathom what has happened here; and there will come a point where you will fall to your knees, wishing you still had her,” he stated as he pointed to Leah, “as one of your leaders.”

  The Angel walked from around the table and, in just a few steps, was standing in front of the Alliance Leader. His eyes were still ablaze with strength and determination, but his voice was gentle and in a whisper that only she could hear. “You do what you will. There is turmoil within you. I know, because it has been within me; but each of us must make a choice. It is not the choice that will cost us but the consequence of that choice. Choose wisely.”

  “Thank you,” was all she could whisper back.

  He wrapped his strong arms around her and held her for a moment; and then, without even looking back at the remaining three members, he left the hall, the closing of the large door echoing through the now-silent room.

  Chapter Twelve

  The inky darkness that had burst down deep within the being of the Alliance leader began to turn into a grayish inky substance; and as she took a deep breath in, she knew that for what she had originally come here still was the right thing to do. Metatron was right: the choice never costs us anything, but the consequence is what we pay for.

  She took in another deep breath and held it. She could feel it fill up her lungs; and then she slowly let it out, rushing past her lips. She lifted her head and looked straight at the stunned and silenced Council.

  “There is an understanding that goes beyond mortal and immortal: it is the understanding that the manipulation of belief to gain power starts inside the soul of good intentions found in the heart of good leaders. It grabs root in the weakest ground within the spirit and begins to feed like a parasite. There is a plant, a parasite of sorts, which is lush and green. It is called kudzu. To those with great intentions, it is a lush, beautiful vine; however, once it is planted, it begins to cover everything in sight. It is only a matter of time before everything that once stood stately and true is covered with this lush, green curtain of power. Oh, it still looks beautiful and almost enchanting; but beneath the outer green is a world of shadow and decay, for it blocks out the light and nutrients to all that is longing to live beneath it.

  “I have stood by for too long, watching as the good intentions of a few have transformed into the manipulation of the truth and has left a path of ‘green growth’ in the name of power, but everything under it is truly gasping for life and hope. We have had that chance to be the messenger of that hope; but we, who mean well, have found ourselves overgrown in our own kudzu.

  “No more. I step away from it all with the belief that truth is still out there and will break through into the light of mortals’ souls. I believe the Clan Wars, that we have not stopped, are nothing but another small vine. The real destruction is to come, and mortals must believe there is hope and understand the Fallen can be held back. There is a war taking place, and it is more than just what is in this Council room. There is a war for the very embodiment of truth and existence itself.”

  She unzipped her white hoodie and allowed it to drop to the floor. She stood with her black tank top revealed, arms bare. But it was not the clear message of conflict between the white pants and black top that brought the clearest of messages: it was the katana, no longer hidden by the hoodie but strapped to the Angel’s back. She stood strong and confident, head held straight and eyes not wavering.

  “Today you set out to place the blame of so many mistakes and loss of lives upon the shoulders of an innocent. I stand today as the Protector once again of the innocent and the Defender of the balance of truth!

  "Michael, mark my words, this Clan War is just a tremble of an earthquake that will reach to the very heart of the Arch Council. I can feel it. The blame will fall upon your shoulders; and the voice of the innocent will scream in your ear, and I will be their Champion!”

  “Leah,” Gabriel spoke. There was no persuasion in her voice or pleading. She knew this was past that . . . it was just a straightforwardness from genuine care. “You do know what this path you are choosing means? You understand what mantel you are placing over your shoulders, right?”

  “I do, Gabriel, and my only regret is that I didn't do it before innocent people, such as Joan, Alfonso, and so many others, were lost. This Council meant well, but the kudzu of good intention is killing the light of truth. I understand that the consequences of my choice today will cost me so much, but years of sta
nding by have already almost cost me myself.”

  Michael said nothing. He sat stunned and crushed by the heaviness the words of truth that this strong warrior before him had said. Had they been blind? In the desire to protect that which was good and true, had they opened the door for darkness to gain footholds through their own intentions?

  The air seemed thick and unmoving, the way it does when one enters a room that had not been occupied for a very long period of time. What could be said? What could be done?

  “Leah,” he paused, seeming to struggle for words, “you understand what you are asking, then?”

  “Michael, I can’t put it any clearer than this: I choose the path of a Vapor.”

  ◆◆◆

  Leah looked down at her hands as she turned them back and forth, looking at the skin structure and feeling for the first time what mortals felt, as no longer did immortal blood course through her veins. She closed her eyes as she tried to focus on the sounds around her as she stood in the center of the Sanctum. Tears brimmed at the edge of her eyes as the weight of a mortal world began to flood in through emotional portals that she had never fully understood before due to the lack of not having that mortal connection.

  She wondered what the full effect would be and if it would cost her her own existence because of making a mistake that she wouldn’t have made earlier.

  She was trembling; she couldn’t help it. Had she only gained her strength from her Eternal structure? Could it be that fear would hold her to where she was? How many times had she expressed to a mortal that it was about “faith,” trusting in that which you do not know? Now, she felt shackled.

  Leah couldn’t bring herself to take a step toward anywhere that would bring her to meet any of her Alliance, though they would not be “hers” any longer. What would she do now?

  As she began to focus her thoughts, the feelings and emotions that had exploded in her meeting with the Arch Council began to deluge her mind; and she could feel her anger coming back . . . but this time it was different: it was as if she was a vessel with a capacity that was small, and she felt that she was only filled now with the desire for revenge. She could taste it . . . like the salt that remains on one’s lips after eating a handful of pretzels.

  “Leah?”

  She did not turn but kept her back to Troy. She could tell by the sound in his voice that he could already sense that something was different. She wondered what he was “seeing” with his spiritual sight. What would a Vapor look like to him?

  “What happened?” Concern and hesitation marred his question, and she could tell that he was more than just puzzled.

  “What do you see, Troy?”

  He didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. His blindness was only physical. Even with the implants, his gift of spiritual sight was still strong; and he had never seen anything such as what stood before him. He couldn’t explain it.

  “You are wispy.”

  It seemed strange, but it was the only way he could describe it. He saw her as a ghost, not clear as he would see other Eternals and even different than a mortal appeared with the sight afforded him by his implants.

  “You are like . . . what I would imagine . . . a ghost reflected in a mirror.”

  She didn’t realize, until now, she had been holding her breath. She let it out, and at that moment realized it was time—time to move forward. How? They would all figure it out, but she knew she would not be able to stay here long. She would not allow her choice to affect the Alliance any more than what it was going to already.

  “Troy, gather up Ki and Gideon and anyone else that you can think of that would normally need to know key decisions. I want to meet them down in the motor area in about 30 minutes.”

  “Everything all right?”

  “I will let you all know together what is going on. I have to get a few things from my quarters, and I will meet you all down there. Make sure Chad and Serenity are there, also.”

  He just nodded and, without another word, walked away to get everyone gathered up.

  “Ok, so, let’s put all of this together: there are still Fallen to take down, innocents to save, and now a new me to discover. One thing at a time . . . I think I’m going to need something stronger than coffee,” she told herself.

  She didn’t even know where she was going after all of this. She made her way to her quarters and then to her bed where she knelt and pulled out a military-style duffle bag and opened it. Taking it over to her closet, she threw some clothes into it. She made a mental note to stop by the Sanctum’s armory before she headed down to the meeting. She knew that Ki and Gideon would keep her supplied; but she didn’t even know what she was going to do later tonight, and she wanted to make sure she was prepared.

  She wasn’t going to take much. There would be too many memories attached to a lot of the things that were here, and it would just be better to keep it all in one place—and that one placing not being with her.

  She zipped up the duffle and grabbed another backpack that she slung over her shoulder. She took one more look around the room, grabbed the wooden box that held Joan’s necklace, and started to walk out. This last glance revealed so many memories. She knew that she was changing, and she knew this all would just be another niche in the centuries of her existence.

  She headed down the hallway, down a few flights of metallic, grated stairs, through a door, and then turned right into the arms room. She went to her weapons cage and opened it. There hung another katana, a crossbow, and a set of pistols. They all had been made to specifically fit her body and her style of fighting. They had taken out so many Fallen, and they had come to help her truly be a threat to any who lurked in the shadows.

  “Michael, you and the Council have no idea what you have lost, yet!” She stopped and thought for a moment about Metatron and how he had stood up against everyone for her. She wondered what would become of him. Would he be exiled or just shunned from the Council?

  “I have got to find a way to talk with him.” She was trying not to think of the Watcher’s Journal that he had, supposedly marking many of her works; but she would be lying if she didn’t admit she wondered what all had been written. If only she had one chance to look at it! How wrong would it be for her to just take a look? She was already a Vapor.

  She stood outside the metal cage that surrounded the armory. Her head was pounding, and her chest felt constricted. She had heard of Angels who had either been forced to become a Vapor or, like her, had chosen it. Many did not last much longer, for the Fallen destroyed them before they realized what powers they no longer had. They were not angelic or mortal; they were simply there . . . and many for a short time. In fact, there was even mention of them within the Scripture: “We are vapors, here today but so quickly gone.” It was a secret epitaph of sorts, something that mortals never understood.

  She stepped back and closed the door, ensuring that she locked it. She really didn’t know why because she had taken everything she needed from there, including a few grenades and a satchel of throwing blades. “If the Clans want to take this Vapor out, they won’t do so without a fight!”

  She made her way toward the motor pool where the rest of her leadership would be. What would she tell them? How would they take this?

  She did not doubt their capabilities. A true leader always trained their subordinates to replace them. A true leader was never fearful of power being stolen from them, for a true leader understood they served those they led and believed in them, thus, earning their respect and loyalty. With this form of leadership, those who followed carried the legacy of that leader with them in the form of their own leadership.

  She saw them before they saw her, and she never expected the lump to catch her in the back of her throat. There they stood, all except Serenity and Chad. Troy, Ki, and Gideon were her trinity of leadership. They had been through so much, and she had watched this group grow.

  She remembered Troy’s anger and resentment when he had first come to them—somethi
ng to which she could relate and was able to step back just enough to let him work through it without going the way of destruction. She had watched as he began to understand that the anger he felt devastated him within and that if he would embrace forgiveness and face his demons, he would shine brightly. Maybe she should have taken some lessons from him.

  Gideon was still young, in Eternal respect, and had so many things to still experience and opportunities to rise through the ranks as long as he kept his emotions in check over Jackie. He was stubborn, but she had watched as he used that stubbornness to work for his team and not against them. He would excel in leadership.

  Then there was Ki. She had come to love this Asian Eternal like a brother. They had done so many things through the years; and many times he could have sought his own team to lead, yet he chose to stay beside her. He had proven himself invaluable so many times.

  She refused to let the tears start. They still had a lot to do. She may not be at the helm, but their mission was still as serious as it was yesterday when none of this loomed before them.

  There were several others who had gathered on news that there was a big shift in operations taking place, and that anyone in charge of any form of leadership or operations needed to be present for this meeting. This Alliance team had become so well-oiled in the beauty of diversity.