The Vapor

by Nathan Parks

  “I don’t think it ever ended, My Dear Friend . . . it never ended.” With that, he bowed deeply and walked, not toward the doors that led back out into the light of Scintillantes but toward the alcoves and the path to the mortal world.

  She ran her fingers through her hair. “So it begins . . . or continues . . . but how will it end?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The door of the Sanctum closed behind her, and she just stood there. She had ordered that none of the team follow her out. She knew she needed to do this alone, if just for the sake of not dragging it out and the chance to start somewhere in understanding now what she was to do.

  Leah was not aware of anything about the Vapors; and, in fact, she didn’t even know really what she had chosen. She knew that within the manuscripts that the mortals held there was a reference that stated, “We are but a vapor . . . here for a short time, and then vanishing.” Many of them had taken that to explain the soul of man; and it was true that it could be a very strong interpretation, but anyone on the other side of the curtain understood what it meant.

  After the War of the Serpents and the Fallen had established themselves, there came a time where many Eternals, for different reasons, chose to leave their realm, their understanding of existence, and embrace that of mortal man. They did not fall, for the dark shadows of the Fallen, the virus, had not overtaken them. They had simply chosen to step over.

  Once that was done, most faded into the mortal realm, never to be heard from again or even traced. That was why they had become known as Vapors: here today and gone tomorrow. Periodically, one or two would show up on the radar helping the innocent or doing something “miraculous” then slipping back into “nothingness.”

  No one really knew anything about them, for they were in many ways the forgotten. Most Eternals never understood why any would make such a choice. Leah had once been one of those. She had, for so long, failed to even really recognize that the Vapors existed; but now here she stood: a Vapor.

  “Wow,” she let out the air she had been holding in subconsciously, “I guess we are kind of like the Nephelium.”

  She looked down as she realized her hand was shaking. Was she scared? “Jah, do you still hear the voice of a Vapor? I may not understand your ways; but that doesn’t change that right now I really feel alone, and I don’t know what to do.”

  This was new ground for this once-fierce warrior. She had been stripped of her angelic glory and strength. Right now, she wasn’t even sure of what she was capable. It was as if she was being reborn . . . starting brand new, hungry, and naked. She closed her eyes and held back tears. Mortality was a heavy blanket that was starting to lie upon her shoulders.

  Leah was surrounded by concrete, metal, and graffiti. For the first time in her existence she felt small and insignificant. She began to realize all the times she had inadvertently looked down upon mortals for what she took for weakness. Now her heart broke for them, for she, for the first time, could understand them. She could feel it all: every burden, heaviness, and feeling of hopelessness.

  She dropped what she was carrying and fell to her knees. What was this? Was this why you never heard from a Vapor . . . because they couldn’t survive the change? There was no way for her to know that the first few hours of a Vapor were critical to their existence. The mantle of humanity was heavy. Their understanding of the true strength and hope of mankind would save them, and yet the opposite would destroy them.

  “Jah, I need you! Do not let me fall here. Do not forsake me in this time where I wish only to help those who can no longer help themselves. Do not allow me to fall prey to darkness!” She wept. She had never felt so weak . . . even after Joan she had not felt like this.

  The sound of a motorcycle’s engine drowned out the rest of her prayer. Exhausted, she looked up to locate the source of the engine noise. She saw a rugged looking guy catch sight of her and turn down the street. She stood up as he came closer. He pulled his black motorcycle up beside her. He placed the kickstand down and took off his sunglasses, revealing vibrant blue eyes.

  “So, ready to ride?”

  She stood there for a second. What in the world did he mean was she ready to ride? She was confused.

  “Ready to ride?” She questioned. “You must have me mistaken for someone else. I actually live right here. I’m not looking for a ride.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, ok. If that is the case, then I guess I will just wait for you to head on in so I know you're safe.”

  “Who the heck do you think I am?” She didn’t like his nonchalant attitude. She picked up her gear bag and fidgeted quietly with a snap that would allow her access to one of her handguns.

  “Well, let’s see,” he said. “If I am where I was told to be and at the time I was told to be, then I would say you are Leah, once the leader of the Alliance group; yet the keyword to it is ‘once.’ You are no longer that because you chose to stand up for what you believe in and for those you believe in; and, in that, you have become what many know as a Vapor.”

  She stared hard at him. She had no response. She had nothing to say.

  “If you are, in fact, Leah, and you are, in fact, a Vapor, then you need to get on board with me, because we have a long road ahead of us; and you have to realize that this journey of yours has just begun. You have a lot to learn and a very short time in which to learn it, because if the whispers through the networks are true, there is a war coming; and you are going to be needed.”

  “And who are you?”

  “My name is Zarius.” He held out his hand to shake hers.

  “Zarius?” she gasped. “Raphael?”

  “Well, yes. I haven’t gone by that name in beyond ages . . . but yes.”

  It all hit her. Everything was flooding in on her. She had just become part of something so much bigger than what she thought. She realized that just as the Alliance and the Fallen were considered myths to most mortals, that there were even truths that they themselves had chalked up to myths and legends. She now started to realize that just because there was something unexplainable, unseen, unknown, and not understood did not mean it did not exist.

  “I really don’t understand.” Her voice was gaining strength.

  “Leah, you will. You may not believe it, but you have more friends on your side than you know. I was sent here, diverted off my own journey, to pick you up by one of those friends. You just must accept right now that there is a lot you may not understand, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t going to be true or even take place. I am here for you if you will accept help. Every Vapor is offered the same opportunity as you. Not all take it, and if you decide not to, then no hard feelings; but you have come to your moment of truth . . . you have come to a point to choose.”

  She grabbed her stuff, threw her leg over the back of his bike, and held on as he stood the bike fully up, kicked up the kickstand, and headed out . . . to where, she didn’t know; but she could feel strength starting to increase inside of her. The moment she chose to get on that bike, something started building inside of her. She was a Vapor, and she was not alone.

  ◆◆◆

  Hecate rolled over, allowing the sheets to fall and drape where they may. She had been awake for a few minutes, but she didn’t want to rush anything. Her day was just starting. She paused for a second, remembering that she had been sharing the bed . . . and now the other half was empty. She adjusted herself lying on her back and lifting her head to look around the room. Suddenly, she realized that she may be alone in the bed but not alone in the room . . . and that the individual standing near her bed was not the one with whom she had shared her bed the night before.

  “Are you kidding me?” she spat out as she sat straight up.

  “I see that you have grown less cautious over the years, Dear. I also see your taste hasn’t changed when it comes to the desires of the flesh, except you normally don’t sleep with our kind. I thought mortals were more your taste.”

  “Shut up, Mantus!” There would be heads rolling f
or allowing him to get this far into her residence without any alert. She stood up, her bare skin visible within the limited lighting in the large room. She walked past him with a slight pushing, knowing that he would be gazing at her. He had never been able to resist; then again, very few could. “Next time I expect a little professional courtesy . . . and speaking of my interest, where is she?”

  “I didn’t do anything to her if you are really concerned. I dismissed her.”

  “It is my concern; and no, it is not your concern. So, what causes my husband to leave his ever-growing underworld to grace my humble estate?”

  Mantus kept watching her, not really because of her beauty but more out of not trusting anything she was doing. He knew his wife. He knew that every move she made and every word she spoke was calculated. Never had there been a time where she was not working on some ploy that would, she hoped, place her on top. He had to give it to her: she was always hungry, but hunger can soon overtake the mind and make one lose control.

  She grabbed a black robe off the back of a tall chair. “How is our son?”

  “You know how he is, Hecate, so no need to even go down that road.”

  “Oh, I do. I know that he is still chained and tormented every day within YOUR realm that YOU have control over . . . ah, but no control over the chains that hold him or the creatures that torment him.”

  There was a rush across the room, and Mantus had her by the throat. His hands squeezed tight.

  “You do not have authority over me or what I control, and we sure as hell are not sleeping together. This, of course, means that you and I are equals, and I do not tolerate anyone who attempts to talk down to me!”

  She laughed. She could feel his hand clenching tighter, but she also did not fear him. Yes, if there was anyone who could send her to the Abyss, it would be him; but she also knew that he would rather not have her within his realm but, rather, as far away as possible.

  “So, Dear Husband, what brings you here?”

  “I was told that you wanted to talk with me; but I knew not to believe that you would actually come to me, so I came to you.”

  “Took you long enough,” she spat as he let go and she shoved him backward.

  The door opened and Denora walked in, glaring at Mantus. She walked past Hecate and into the large master bathroom. “I don’t care what you both have to say to each other, but since I was rudely kicked out this morning,” she snarled at Mantus, “I at least would like to take a decent shower.” She shut the door behind her.

  Mantus sat down, laughing and shaking his head. “Wow, so your new lover is just a young version of you; now, isn't that total narcissistic irony?”

  “Again, none of your business. Now, if you would like to follow me, I need at least one cup of coffee before dealing with you this morning; and then we can start talking.”

  He waved his hand toward the door. “Lead the way, because we know I don’t trust you to my backside. I prefer not to have sharp metal things protruding from it.”

  They made their way to a small alcove where coffee was brought to them. Mantus’ face was set. Dressed in black dress slacks and a black, button-up shirt, he looked formidable to many. His face was covered in a very large, but well-groomed, black beard; and his head was shaved, revealing tattoos down both sides of his scalp. He rarely had to demand anything, for most followed his deep voice out of fear.

  “Hecate, cut straight to the point. I don’t have time for coffee and niceties. I have things that need to be taken care of back home.”

  She stirred a cube of sugar into her coffee, tapped her spoon on the side, and then laid it on the saucer. She slowly took a sip and then placed the coffee mug down. “There is something on the horizon. I am not sure exactly what just yet, but I sense a stirring; and I believe that we could, together, work it in our favor.”

  He put his hand up to stop her. “Wait . . . so you brought me here for some lofty idea about something that MAY happen—something you DON’T know about—and yet want ME to join with you to use this figment of your imagination to our favor, which—let me add—usually means YOUR favor?”

  “Michael came to see me.”

  Of course, Mantus already knew this, but he did not let on that he knew. He always kept a few cards in his back pocket. He wasn’t attracted to his wife’s cunningness for nothing. “So?”

  “He suggested that he had a way to release our son from his imprisonment.”

  “Oh, he did? How does he plan to do that?”

  “We didn’t really get that far,” she smirked as she picked up and took another sip of coffee. “I wanted to talk with you first. What do you know about Legion’s exile?”

  There it was. It was like a poker player who played the cards they wanted the opposing players to read and then set them up for the final throw down. She had been doing this for so long that she didn’t even realize that what once was a strength had become a predictable flaw.

  “You already know the answer to it.”

  “I think we all do,” Denora stated as she walked up and stood beside Hecate. “Legion was banished by a Watcher . . . well, a Grigori . . . who had been given the supernatural gifts of Jah. As he was banished, there were segments of him that were able to escape into the mortal world and what could not be bound for eternity within the realm of his father . . . well, from what I hear, one of his fathers.”

  “Easy, Underling,” Mantus growled.

  “Due to the laws of the Eternals if he is banished and bound within the Abyss by an Eternal, then he is there until released by the sacrifice of free blood, blood given freely by the owner. Seeing that no Eternal, Fallen or not, would sacrifice himself for such a Clan member, he is cursed to be tormented for eternity.”

  Mantus threw up his hand as if to say, “There you go.”

  “What if there is another way?” Hecate’s question was almost a statement. “Even within our existence we are continually finding new ways that the laws of existence are bending. Maybe he found another way.”

  “If he did—and it is insanity that I am even having this conversation with you—what would it be?”

  “I am not sure.”

  “My follow-up question for that is what is he wanting in return?”

  Hecate tapped her finger to her forehead. “You see, I think I may know the answer to that. I believe that he has seen the writing on the wall. Sure, all the Houses are in disarray; but he also knows that his role within the Arch Council seems to be growing weaker. His role as Michael is harder to hold together, and the position of Azrael is threatening to take over his being.”

  “Still doesn’t answer any of my questions.”

  “So, what if he can’t release Legion? We already have believed for ages that our son will never become whole again. What if we are able to find a vessel strong enough to hold what is left of Legion? With Legion, we could unite the Clans. You know that most believe him to be the one to unite the Houses. With Azrael beside us, we would gain access to Scintillantes. We would be able to accomplish what we attempted to do so many ages ago.”

  He sat silently for a moment and then began to roll up his sleeve. He exposed his right arm and laid it across the table. There, very visible, was massive scarring from a burn that went from his wrist up past his elbow.

  “Do you know what this does for me, Hecate? This is a constant reminder that I once stood within the halls of the Arch Council. It reminds me that I once followed you, Azrael, and Lucifer into something you had convinced me was winnable. Each day I see this, each day I feel this, I am reminded of the War of the Serpents and how, from the very beginning, you were twisting every single player into believing we were righteous in what we were doing! Each day I breathe the sulfur of that which I command and hear the screams of the tormented, I am reminded of the beautiful skies of what used to be my home.”

  She smirked as she sat back. “Ok. I don’t blame you for any of that.”

  “BLAME ME? It was you who set off the War! If was you and your d
eceit that betrayed all of us . . . YOUR lust for power!”

  “So, what are you saying, Dear? Are you saying that you won't consider any of this?”

  “What I am saying is that you haven’t been one time to see what is left of our son! You have not once learned from your mistakes.” He paused for a moment. “Actually, you haven’t learned what you should have. You learned each time how not to do things, but you haven’t learned that this lust of power is what has destroyed all that we are! I may be a Fallen; and yes, I see the anger toward Jah and those who live and exist daily where we have come from. Yes, I am dark to my very bone . . . but a lust for power . . . that was always your thing.”

  She slammed her fist on the table. Coffee went everywhere, and her spoon fell to the floor. “You were always weak! Here, the greatest general of our kind—and dare I say still the greatest general even now—and yet one who is afraid to fight!”

  “Afraid? No, you mistake what you see! I fear no one; but I also understand that you do not blindly run into a battle that has no way to be won, built upon fantastic notions and chances that are not even a possibility!”