by Deryn Pittar
The sheet flew off and a compact swarthy man stood legs akimbo, his belt full of knives. His hand moved and a flash of steel winked in the candlelight as it flew through the air. A knife thudded into a dark angel.
A moment later another knife buried itself into a shoulder and yet another pierced a thigh. Howls of rage and agony rose. As the knives flew puncturing the men one after another, a movement down the church regained her attention.
An elderly man, the image of Mr. Carpenter, slid into a pew, balanced his wrists on the top of the bench in front of him and began to shoot, both guns at the same time.
She hoped he knew what he was doing otherwise she could be hit at any moment. Lewis and his men had obviously arrived. But where was Lewis? The knives had stopped and now the knife-thrower had a massive brightly coloured water pistol and was firing at the milling group of dark angels. Water spurted, dripped, flowed and spread, forming a seething luminous aura around the group.
Her gaze drifted back to look over her toes and there he stood, the darkest angel of all; arrogant, arms folded, observing his followers’ distress. Scorn riddled his face.
Would she dare? Yes, she would, and she turned her new-found skill on Levi’s curls. Her flames swirled, and his hair caught fire despite the continued rain from the sprinklers soaking his head.
He swatted the flames away and if looks could kill she’d have died on the spot. He cursed, turned, spread his black wings and dissolved from her sight, a dark devil into the dark night.
When she looked back at the entrance the cavalry had arrived in the form of Lewis and a large black man manhandling a fire-hose that curled and bucked behind them until with a flick of his hand Lewis opened the nozzle and the water shot a fierce stream, skimming over the pews and into the stumbling group of evil men. It knocked them into a pile of limbs that moaned and tangled and screamed.
Obviously, any immediate danger had passed, for her anyway. Her attackers however were in extreme danger.
The sodden silk gown clung to her body like a skin.
“I’m here,” she yelled but no one took any notice.
For Lewis the operation had unfolded as planned, always a good thing. Zac advanced down the aisle, getting close enough to throw his knives. Cyril snuck into a pew and fired both his and Daniel’s pistols. Then moved onto one of the water pistols. Even while struggling with the hose Lewis marvelled at the speed with which his father could fire. The enemy milled in confusion until the water jet pushed them over and still his father continued to shoot.
In those moments his two worlds collided. He was saving Emma and fighting the Taliban all over again. Dark shapes twisted, men screamed, bullets whizzed, and adrenaline coursed through him. Energized, bullet-proof and invisible – he was all those things in those few seconds.
Then Emma cried out and his mind grounded again. She needed him. He released his grip on the hose. It flew out of Daniel’s hands, just missing Lewis’ head and swirled around in the air like a demented snake, drenching anything in its way before it hit the floor and got stuck under a pew.
“Close it off, Daniel,” he yelled as he strode down the long aisle toward the altar, he pulled the final water pistol from his belt.
“That’s enough, Pops,” he screamed above the howls of despair. He paused beside his father’s pew. “Enough! They’re bound to die.”
“They bloody well better,” Cyril shouted but unleashed another torrent of water into the melee for good luck.
Before he could begin to rescue Emma, Lewis was halted by the cloud of steam that erupted in front of the raised altar. He stopped, unbelieving and stared. A luminous red liquid puddled on the polished wood at the end of the aisle, soaked the carpet and splattered the walls and the front pews. In a silent second the dark angels had disappeared, as if they’d slipped into a tear in the fabric of time.
A movement in his peripheral vision made him turn in time to see a dark angel drop onto his father and punch him. Four strides, ditching the water pistol, Lewis grabbed the creature’s arm as it rose for a second swing.
He twisted the hand up the creature’s back so far, he heard its shoulder dislocate and the clavicle pop. The angel screamed, more in rage than pain.
Lewis twisted him around and threw him down on the pew beside Cyril. “How’d you like to be punched in the face? How dare you attack an old man.”
Lewis threw a punch but there was nothing to connect with. His body followed through and he fell over the high back of the pew landing on his kick-bruised ribs.
Red daggers of pain stabbed his brain and he was back in the Banyan province, thrown onto the road from an All-Terrain Vehicle which had run over an Explosive Incendiary Device.
“Lewis!” He heard Emma’s voice and returned to the present.
“Coming,” he shouted but paused to check on his father. Cyril sat slumped, gazing into space, possibly concussed. “You alright Pop?”
Cyril’s head snapped round, his gaze refocused, he sat up and a grin spread. “I’m fine. Haven’t had this much fun for years.” He touched his cheek. “Might have a black eye tomorrow. That’ll make a good story to tell your mother.”
“Lewis,” Emma called again.
Lewis turned just in time to see an angel skimming over the pews like superman but with wings on his back. A knife gleamed in its raised hand. It headed straight for Zac whose back was turned as he looked toward the church’s entrance.
“INCOMING,” Lewis screamed. Zac spun around and ducked down just before the angel dropped onto him. Lewis could see Zac’s legs as he scrambled away under the pews and the angel continued to stab at the pew and anything he could reach.
With a howl that reminded Lewis of the street dogs in Kabul, the dark angel turned. It glared at Lewis, knife raised and then swung to look at Emma.
A decision made, it began its journey, stumbling, howling, dragging its sodden, shredded wings behind it down the aisle towards Emma.
“NO.” Lewis screamed; his feet tangled as he tried to get out into the aisle. Then the angel standing beside Emma. One he hadn’t noticed in the chaos, stood in front of Emma to protect her.
Then Daniel jumped onto the attacking angel’s back. With a flick of his hands over the angel’s head and back behind its throat Daniel crossed his wrists behind the angel’s neck and pulled. He stepped backward and together they tottered up the aisle.
The angel clawed at its neck, trying to release the wire. Within moments it gave up. Its arms hung loose. Daniel righted himself and stood tall. The end was near. At last they’d killed one of the bastards. Again, in the blink of an eye, the circle of wire was empty, and the angel had dissolved into the air.
“I had it. It was nearly dead. Did you see that? The bloody thing disappeared.” Daniel’s voice rose in pitch.
“They do that. They’re tricky buggers,” Lewis said and gripped his mate around the shoulders, comforting him for his loss.
The sprinklers had slowed and drops of water now fell, spitting and hissing on contact with all that remained of the fallen angels and the sticky mess from their wounds.
“Lewis!” Emma yelled again. He shook his head splitting the difference, losing Afghanistan and keeping the present. She needed him. He ran to the altar, retrieved a knife from among the steaming puddles on the floor and wiped it on his trousers.
“I’m here. You’re safe.” He carefully held her against his chest. Looking with suspicion at the angel who had defended Emma from the attack. It had to be Sebastian, there was something about his colouring and features that reminded him of Emma. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. “Thank God you came when you did.” She pointed to the others. “What wonderful friends you have. It only took four of you to defeat a congregation of fallen angels and the devil.”
“He was here?” She nodded.
Lewis swallowed the stone that blocked his throat and hoped he’d never meet the guy in person. “What about him?”
Lewis nodded at where Sebasti
an had been standing but when Emma looked around, he’d gone. “He helped me Lewis. He helped me fight them off before you got here.”
Chapter 11
“HEY GUYS,” LEWIS CALLED, his heart full of pride at his men.
Daniel was attending to Zac at the side of the church. Long strips of torn sheeting were being wrapped around his bloodied arm. Zac had caught a knife wound.
Cyril, looking even thinner in his drenched clothing, tottered closer, wearing the biggest of smiles. “Hey guys,” he repeated, “Come and meet Emma.”
He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I saw what you did before we turned the hose on. Where did you learn that trick?”
“I don’t know. I think it’s a last-ditch mechanism to save an angel’s life. I heard the dark ones call it Angelfire.”
“As Pops would say, very handy.”
Lewis stepped down from the altar and put his arms around his father and over Daniel who supported Zac. They stood in front of her in a row; four heroes: drenched, bruised, triumphant and unbelievably happy.
He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her.
“Give it a break, Major,” said Zac.
“We have a fire engine to return yet,” said Cyril.
“My wife will kill me when she sees what’s left of her sheet,” said Daniel. “How’s your arm, Zac?”
“Feels great,” said Zac with a grimace.
The trip home in the fire engine was much quieter and more discrete than taking part in the parade had been.
Emma snuggled up to Lewis on the back seat. “I didn’t know a fire engine could creep along.” Lewis had lent her his sheet and she’d tied it on toga style. He hadn’t found her clothes and didn’t wanted her dressed as the devil’s bride any longer than she had to be. Daniel was driving, and Zac and Cyril were riding shotgun on the back of the engine armed with the water pistols, in case any fallen angels decided to make a re-appearance.
Lewis looked out at the dark deserted streets. The parade was finished and even the trick or treaters appeared to have gone home. He suspected Zac and his father were deliberately giving them privacy. Those fallen angels had been thoroughly defeated.
“Even fire engines need down time.” He pulled her closer. “Now, we should discuss something.”
“What?” Emma lifted her head, so he could kiss her again.
“Can angels marry mortals?
Emma bit her lip and thought about that for a moment. “I think I would need to ask the Council of Angels for permission.” She looked back up at him, and he could feel the flicker of worry in the back of her mind. “That is what you mean, isn’t it? You are asking me to marry you?”
“Of course, that’s what I mean.” He loved her more than he could have imagined was possible, and now he wanted her to be his forever; or as much of forever as he could manage, considering he was mortal. “I love you. Will you marry me?”
She brushed her fingers over his hair. “I love you too, and yes, if you come to the Council with me. They will be able to tell us how this will work. I may have to become mortal too, then we can grow old together.”
“That is a lot to give up for me.”
Emma nodded. “Yes, it would be disappointing.”
“Would you do that for me?” He held his breath and waited for her answer. How much did she love him really?
To his relief, Emma nodded. “I would do anything for you,” she said.
The council of angels stood in a half circle facing Emma and Lewis. Around them the damage to the old church was muted by a haze of quivering light. The carpet had squelched as they walked up the aisle, every damp step a step closer to their fate. Emma knew that anyone looking in would not be able to see the gathered group.
Gabrielle stood in the centre of the arc, and Emma watched her frown at their request. Emma had known this wise old angel all her life and trusted her wisdom, but also knew her and Lewis’s request went against every rule the council had laid down. She’d always been told, angels coexisted with humans, they protected and healed them. They could have sex with them if they really wanted to, but that was as far as fraternisation went. Loving them, marrying them, and trying to live with them, was against the code.
“Are you certain this is what you want, my dear?” Gabriella asked Emma.
“Yes, I am sure. I love Lewis with all my heart and couldn’t imagine living more of my life without him.” She smiled up at Lewis. He tightened his grip on her hand, and his love for her washed over her mind.
Gabrielle looked at Lewis. “And Major Carpenter, do you realise what Emmanuelle must give up by marrying you?”
Lewis nodded. He’d discussed this with Emma, and she had been insistent. If this is what the council asked of her, she’d give up immortality for him. It was so much to ask of her, and it saddened him.
Gabriella sighed. “Please leave us to discuss this and tomorrow we will have an answer for you.”
“Tomorrow?” asked Emma. “But that is so long to wait.”
Gabriella was sympathetic. “I know, but for something so important, there are many things we need to discuss. Besides one day is a speck in time for an angel.” Her smile washed over the lovers. “Tomorrow you will have our answer.”
“Very well,” Emma dipped her head in acknowledgement of the combined wisdom before them. “We will return tomorrow.”
Emma and Lewis walked back down the aisle. At the vestibule Lewis turned, his heart demanding one last look at the council discussing their fate. Used to making decisions regarding the future safety of his men, he found it hard to lay his future in the hands of others, even if they were wise angels. They had become fine shimmering shapes, huddled together as they discussed his future.
He didn’t know why the council had insisted they come back to the old deconsecrated church for this meeting, but that is where they wanted the meeting to be held. A different sort of fear now gnawed at his soul, not smothered by adrenalin or ignored by furious action when in the midst of battle, this apprehension gripped his heart like a vice, leaving his mouth arid.
What was there to discuss? He loved Emma, she loved him. As far as he could see, it was simple whatever the Council’s rules; yes, they could marry—or no they couldn’t.
He felt Emma’s mind cover his like a comforting blanket.
“Don’t be upset, Lewis.” She took his hand. “I trust them. They are very astute, and I am sure the decision they come to will be for the best.” As usual her thoughts soothed his, and her words were gentle and caring. That is why he loved her so deeply and why he wanted to be beside her forever. Tomorrow they would return to this place and discover their fate. He didn’t know how he would cope if the council insisted he give Emma up.
Back at his parents’ house, his father came out onto the porch to meet them, as if he had been waiting.
“What’s the verdict?”
“We have to wait until tomorrow. The council needs to discuss their decision before they will let us know.” In the week since the rescue, Emma and Lewis had divided their time between her house and his parents’ place. The time had been idyllic. Making love at night and spending time with his Mum and Dad during the day. He could live like this forever too. When the council had made their decision, this is how he’d like to spend the rest of his life, in peace.
Inside his mother took her apron off and adjusted her hair. She smiled happily and carried a tureen of pumpkin soup from the bench to the table.
“You are just in time for lunch. I hoped you would be.” She had never been able to bear wasting the flesh of the pumpkin carved out for Jack-o-lanterns. Constant meals of pumpkin soup during Halloween were a comforting childhood memory.
His mother’s cooking beat anything he could get in the mess tent. He could get used to this too; a table set for four, and the delicious smell of pumpkin soup and nutmeg.
Alice settled into her seat, and carefully unfolded a table napkin. “Darling, did the army council give you permission to marry this sweet g
irl?”
Lewis smiled at his mother, then took Emma’s hand, and kissed it. “Not yet.” He’d given up trying to convince his mother of everything that had happened. She could believe it was the army making it difficult for them to marry if she wanted to.
But Cyril didn’t give up so easily. He shook his head.
“I told you, dear, it’s not the army, it’s the Council of Angels.” His father had tried to tell his mother about the fire engine and the rescue in the church too. But she’d put his story down to the Alzheimer’s and Lewis’ version of events she blamed on post-traumatic stress. As far as she was concerned, for some unfathomable reason her husband and son had borrowed a fire engine and taken part in the Halloween parade, and had then arrived home, soaked to the skin, shivering and exhausted. As for the way Emma was dressed! Pursed lips and immediate instructions to take a hot shower had solved that problem, while Lewis had been sent to fetch proper clothes.
But then his mother surprised all of them. “Just teasing,” she said.
She nodded at the newspaper folded neatly on the armchair by the fireplace. “I’ve just read that the old Union Church of Haven Falls was riddled with bullet holes and drenched by the sprinkler system on the night of the parade.”
She left that hanging in the air for a moment, and watched her husband and son silently eat their pumpkin soup.
“Vandals are blamed,” she added. “So, it looks like you two are in the clear.” She picked up the pepper pot and ground a sprinkling of pepper over the top of her soup, then looked at her husband and son.
A deep frown furrowed her brow then a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “It’s good they’re blaming hooligans. I wouldn’t like to see you two telling the court the story you told me. I don’t want to have to visit either of you in a lunatic asylum.”
It sounded as if she was going to accept the story of them rescuing Emma after all. Lewis looked at his mother astonished. Wonders would never cease.
