The Guardian

by Carol Robi

  Raphael turns back to me and plasters a quick cold smile on his face, as though saying to me, there you go. I turn away and walk towards the door, just managing to hide the knife behind me as grandma opens the door before I can.

  "What are you doing out here?" She asks.

  "The onions were making me cry, I needed some air." I say, walking past her and heading to the kitchen, hoping that she will not notice that I have not sliced up any onions yet.

  She begins setting up the table as I busy myself with chopping up the rest of the vegetables, and placing them into the small serving bowls. I chuck the wraps into the oven, as I scoop out the fried chicken from the pan into a glass bowl that I place on the dining table. When the table is set, and dad is standing in the hallway still rubbing his towel over his short wet hair, I take out the wraps, place them on the table as I too take my place on the table. We have a very quiet dinner, probably because we are all exhausted from the laborious weekend we just had.

  After dinner, dad puts on a movie - space jam, and we all seat before the TV, with me on the floor and my head resting against dad's knees. I must have fallen asleep, because dad taps me lightly awake, and asks me to go to bed. As I stumble out of the living room into the bathroom, I just make out the part of the movie where the aliens are busy stealing talent from other basketball players.

  Sucky little suckers, taking others' abilities. Just like these damn creatures are somehow making me give them superhot human bodies and multilingual abilities. I am so angry, raging mad. I brush my teeth with so much ferocity, that I draw blood. Screw them! I hate that I don't know anything about them, what they are doing here, and what they want to do here. They could be terrorist aliens, for all I know, come to threaten mankind. Destroy our world. Just think, I could be enabling the enemy. Angel of death my foot! I spit into the sink, my thoughts jumbled into chaos.

  Once in my bedroom I shut the door behind me and unfold my drawing board. I place a clean canvas on it, set out my paints, and crack open the window. I engross myself in painting out my rage in bold strokes of shades of fierce reds, greens and oranges. My strokes are powerful and angry. Raging wave curves and jagged sharp zigzag lines, straight lines of determination abruptly interrupted by strokes of frustrations. I am done with the piece after about an hour of uninterrupted painting, at what time I take a step back from it to observe my work - still heaving heavily as I try to catch my breath.

  I take a step back to admire my painting. It is a beautiful abstract piece, I must say, and it manages to calm me down.

  “Not bad, princess,” I compliment myself, moving my drawing board to the side by the wall so that dad doesn't bump into it in the morning, but I leave the canvas propped on it so that it can dry.

  I feel better already, I realise as I pick up my paint brushes and walk with them into the bathroom to rinse them out.

  "Is that you honey?" Dad calls from the living room.

  "Yeah, I decided to do a little painting before bed."

  "I hope you kept the window open, those fumes are not healthy."

  "I used water paints dad," I say in answer. "Good night!" I call before he can say anything else.

  "Good night princess." I walk back to my room, closing my bedroom door quietly behind me. I drop my pants to the floor and fold them into my wardrobe, pull back my beddings and get into bed, switching off the light.

  Chapter 13

  My eyes are shut tight, enveloped in darkness, as I lie backwards, floating in the thick rich air. I feel her presence envelop me, fill me inside and all around me. She is so familiar to me, yet I have no idea who she is.

  I do not fear her though. I instead give her free access to my thoughts, my feelings, my heart. She slips into the very core of my being, and I embrace her presence, clinging tight and not letting go.

  “Hanael?” I call out with a blissful smile.

  “No,” her voice cuts through the air sharply. “It’s Gabriel. How do you know that name, Hanael?”

  “I... I don’t know,” I honestly say, sad at having displeased her.

  “Hanael is the enemy, a fallen. Remember that always!”

  “I will,” I whisper contritely. The silence is prolonged before she next speaks.

  "Peace be with you."

  "And with you, Archangel."

  I wake up the next day with a throbbing headache and paining neck. I must have slept terribly, my night ravaged by dreams I can’t quite remember.

  The sun rays are streaming in through the windows, and they fall on the canvas propped on the drawing board leaning on the opposite wall. I can't help but smile to myself. What a work of beauty! I’ll send it to mom. She’ll love it. Mom would appreciate the raw emotion in the piece. Plus she is always asking me to do more abstract pieces.

  I crawl out of bed and walk over to it. I trace lightly the elaborate strokes, feeling the bumps of dried paint that express which strokes had been placed with most intensity. This is precisely the kind of art mom loves and believes in. Not sappy mirrored portraits and landscapes as she calls them.

  A glance at my watch confirms my suspicions, I am running late! I grab on some khaki pair of shorts and pull a striped blue and white T-shirt over my curly head.

  I have no time to comb my hair, so I instead run my fingers through the thick entangled curls as I run into the kitchen and grab the zipper food bag standing on the kitchen counter. Dad makes my lunches when he makes his own, and on a day like this, I am glad for his consideration.

  I unlock my bike, and hop onto it, biking furiously towards the train station. I make it just as the bus is starting to pull away, running alongside it until the bus driver takes pity on me and stops to let me aboard. I make my way to a seat at the back of the bus beside Magnus, and plop myself into it.

  "Bad morning?" He asks and I grimace while nodding my head. "Wow that bad?"

  "One of the worst!" I say quietly while placing a hand over my mouth. He cringes his face suppressing his laughter.

  "You didn't manage to brush your teeth, huh?" I shake my head in response, and he grins even more in amusement. "Do you want some tic-tac?" I nod gratefully, suppressing my own laughter. He hands me a whole pack of tic-tac.

  "Knock yourself out," he says, and I make a face at him. After plopping about ten of them into my mouth, I feel confident enough to talk.

  "Thanks!"

  "I am always at your service," he mocks, faking a slight bow on his seat, and I punch him playfully.

  We spend the rest of the bus ride talking about our weekends. I take out one of the rye bread sandwiches dad has made me, and begin eating it. Some of the other school kids in the bus look at me funny, but I am not the kind of person that is easily scared by other people's opinions.

  "You know, I don't have football practice today. So if you want I could come with you to help out your family with the renovation works."

  "Really? That would be awesome! I know my dad will be especially glad for your help. He keeps complaining how I won't do any heavy lifting."

  "Yes, really. I'd like to help." I then write my dad a text message informing him that Magnus would come over this afternoon to help out. I do not wait for his reply, for I know he is currently at work, but will respond promptly during his break.

  School is a total bummer today. I forgot my essay assignment for first period at home, and my teacher is furious. I think she does not believe my story and thinks that I am lying to her, and that I never actually did my homework.

  Having been falsely accused, something I terribly dislike, I insist that grandpa take a photo of my work and send me the image on my phone, which I then show the teacher. She apologizes then for having jumped into presumptions about me in a most unrepentant way. She clearly hates been proven wrong. Well I do not enjoy been falsely accused either!

  Having not talked to A.M. the whole of last week due to my tight schedule, I try again this time, but there always seems to be someone around us. The same thing happens over lunchtime- no sooner do w
e seat by our table, than the rest of the group appears.

  "A.M. I really want to talk to you. I am so sorry I couldn't call you before. We’ve been really busy at the house."

  "It's alright, I understand," she feigns the cheer in her voice, but I read something else in it. She needs a good friend right now, and I have not been one.

  "I really want to talk to you," I whisper again, squeezing her hand. She returns my squeeze.

  "I too really need to talk to you."

  "Mikkel, what do you think? Don't Anne-Marie's highlights look hot?" Charlotte asks tactlessly over lunch. A.M.'s groan is barely audible and I fight the urge to slap Charlotte for putting our friend on the spot like that.

  "Yeah, they look hot! Hey Magnus, did you catch the Liverpool game on Saturday." Mikkel says distractedly, barely sparing a moment to look at the hair he has been asked about.

  This is not what A.M. needs, someone needs to tell Charlotte to stop randomly putting her friend in such awkward situations. The silly girl probably thinks she is helping, but is in fact just making matters more awkward for Anne-Marie.

  My phone then vibrates, interrupting my string of thought. It's a text from dad.

  That's great princess. Tell him he is welcomed to help. I will let your grandmother know, to set up an extra serving of whatever she has planned for dinner.

  "Hey Magnus, dad says cool!"

  "Oh great! Looking forward to it."

  "Looking forward to what?" Mikkel asks.

  "I am going to help out Caroline and her family with the renovation works today."

  "Oh, that's awesome of you," A.M. says, and he beams up at her. Poor boy, he is hopelessly smitten. Is it my place to tell her, so that she doesn't string him along unknowingly?

  "No, it's awesome of them to let me. I love building projects."

  "Don't tell me you two will now begin slinging weird construction words across our table," Charlotte retorts. Who else but her can come up with such a comment? I am really losing patience with her today. I’ve been having a short temper since my scuffle with Azrael last night.

  There is a light drizzle all day, and I know it’ll suck to work on the house when it is raining. I’m just about to ask Magnus if he wishes to reschedule for a day with better weather when I see the shadow pop up outside the farthest canteen window from me, and then glide away after a light flick of the wrist.

  I’ve seen that gesture before, and know what it means.

  "Excuse me guys, I'll be back in a jiffy." I say, getting up from my seat.

  “Where are you going?" Of course, nosy Charlotte.

  I don’t answer her for fear of what I may say, considering how she is on my last nerve. I pull my hoodie over my head as I step out into the light drizzle, and follow the angelic creature disappearing around the corner.

  Chapter 14

  When I get around that corner, the creature swoops in, cradling me to himself and in a couple minutes, we are standing on the soft grounds of Rundskov Park.

  A single word then escapes my mind, Epitome. Where have I heard that before? Raphael looks back at me, not bothering to help me stabilize myself as I stumble when he steps away. I look around me and note that we are alone.

  "Where are the others?"

  "They are out hunting."

  "Who or what are they hunting?"

  "The enemy," he answers me vaguely. Whatever! Just as long as it is not me or my loved ones.

  "Is Azrael hunting the enemy too?"

  "No, he and I will remain close to you as much as we can." What he says annoys the living crap out of me. I don't want the two angels I dislike most watching me. Why couldn't I get Ariel or Uriel, or even the twins to watch me? Definitely not ice queen Camael!

  "That is why I brought you here," he continues, "you need to let go of your dislike for him. It is endangering our hunting missions, and making it hard for us to protect you."

  "What are you talking about? And how many times do I have to tell you I do not want your damn protection!"

  "Well, we have no choice but to protect you."

  "Why? I don't want your protection. And if for some reason my life really is in danger, I'd rather face it alone without your help!"

  "We can't let you do that. Should we lose you, our home will be lost to us forever. So you have no choice in this matter."

  "What do you mean? What has your home got to do with me?"

  "You are the key to our home." I laugh at the face before me.

  So... I am a key... Wow!

  "And what home is that, if I may ask?"

  "Heaven, paradise, peponi, valhalla. Whatever you choose to call it."

  "So you really are angels?"

  "Yes we are. Angels, malach, malaika- whatever your languages choose to call us."

  "And how exactly am I a key to your home?"

  "Do you see that nook over there?" He points to a place where a large oak tree's roots emerge on the other side of the pond. I nod in answer.

  "That was the main portal home," he says, his voice betraying a longing emotion I never before thought Raphael could possess.

  I daren't look up at him, because I do not want to embarrass him or stop him from telling me the truth. I need to understand what is going on.

  "A short while ago, the seven of us were pushed out of home to this world and the portal was closed.”

  "Why?"

  "There has been a great tragedy."

  "What tragedy?" I ask, concerned for him, for I barely know the voice masking traces of fear speaking to me right now.

  "The doors of Tartaros have been opened."

  "What is Tartaros?"

  "Today's children of man don't know anything," he says shaking his head in disappointment. "It is where the fallen angels were imprisoned awaiting judgment day."

  "You mean fallen angels like Saturn?"

  "There has never been an angel named Saturn. But yes, fallen angels like Daniel."

  Whatever! I think to myself.

  "And that is why your portal home was closed?"

  "No. The portal was closed to protect Divinity. But that is a story for another day. It is suspected that one among us divine Angels is a traitor. The Tartaros gates can only be opened from outside, and only by a divine Angel."

  "Oh, yeah. Someone has definitely betrayed you." I say listlessly and he sighs at my outburst of unconcern.

  "All angels know that the gates to heaven are here, so the portal had to be closed. To protect the Principles of Divinity, we cannot take the chance of fallen angels coming through the portal."

  "Ok, but doesn't that mean you will never get back home? And what is this Divinity anyway that you need to protect?"

  "The Principles of Divinity are beyond your comprehension.” I scoff at his condescending tone. “And no, we can eventually go home, after we finish our mission on earth.”

  "How do you know the traitor is not one of you seven?"

  "The traitor cannot be one of us. The chances of it are very slim, as we were all back home when the gates were opened. The traitor is one of the angels that had been on earth when it happened. I assembled my Brotherhood of warriors and together we’ve come to handle this case. Our primary objective is to hunt down the fallen, smoke out the traitor and imprison them again."

  "Sounds like a great plan, but why don't you just kill the fallen angels so that they don't get freed again? I hear judgment day is far, far away." I say listlessly.

  "No, we cannot kill them, angels are immortal until judgment day. Our mission is clear- capture and imprison the fallen angels again, smoke out the traitor among us, and then go back home." He says it plainly, but I catch the emotion in his words. Is he that much worried about the success of his mission? Poker face Raphael, who'd have thought!

  "What part do I play in all this?"

  "You are the link to our home, the holy grail of sorts."

  "Someone called me the guardian last week. Get your facts right."

  "The holy grail I am referring to
is Archangel Gabriel's divine Essence in your soul, a piece of her consciousness in you. The connection between the two of you makes you the portal home. Your physical body is its guardian. Should you die, her Essence dies with you. And when our quest is done, we will have no way of contacting Archangels Gabriel and Michael, and no portal back home. We will then be stuck in the world of man for all eternity until judgment day."

  "Oh wow! That sounds like a long time. I don't particularly like you creatures, but I wouldn't willingly condemn someone to roam this world for what sounds like millions of years. What can I do to help?"

  "For now, just try keep your emotions at a minimum. We communicate with each other via our emotions. We can feel your emotions because you have Gabriel's Essence in you, and your emotions are raging all the time. If one of my brothers is in trouble, I’ll find it hard to help them because your raging emotions are drowning out theirs."

  "Oh!" I say in a whisper. I do not wish any of them harm, so I am willing to help as much as I can.

  "What can I do about it?"

  "You need to stop hating Azrael so much. It is making us hate him too. So much so that we want to try kill him all the time. Those are your emotions, not ours. I feel your emotions much more strongly because I am often guarding you in close proximity. We need to pay attention to our true enemies." His words surprise me, and despite the gravity of the matter, I giggle at the thought.

  "He is such an ass!"

  "I know you believe so."

  "I forgive him," I say with a shrug, wishing to get back to school because classes are just about to begin again.

  "No you haven't. You are still angry with him."

  "Yes I am! So how do I stop?"

  "You need to hurt him. That will make you even, and you will then stop being so angry." Azrael then lands before us, his beautiful face looking at me with a blank expression.

  "How do I hurt him?" My voice drips with the venomous anger I feel towards the creature before me.

  Raphael turns to look at me, his ice cold blue eyes echoing the raging emotion I feel inside me. He takes out a metallic lighter out of his pockets and flicks it to let out a blue flame.