by Carol Robi
"Grandpa!" I cry out in a frightened whisper.
Chapter 16
"No," a voice whispers from the window. "It's Ariel."
It astonishes me so much that I bite down on my lip hard so as not to scream, and in the process manage to break my skin, and salty blood begins to fill my mouth.
The angel must have floated through my window, for he is now seated on my bed, rubbing his finger over my bleeding lip gently. A burning sensation travels from his finger into my lip at his touch. I look up at his impassive face, my brown eyes meeting his icy blue unblinking eyes.
"He needs my help, and you have to come with me," he continues. My eyes narrow to slits, and he interprets my questioning look.
"I cannot leave you. If I do, and one of the fallen traces your Essence, they might come to check which divine angel is emitting such weak Essence. They might kill you, or even capture you so as to learn more information about you. Should they find out that you are just a son of man...” He trails off.
“That is why you always need to be in close proximity with an angel, so that our stronger Essence will drown out yours. And should we be attacked, we are capable of fighting back. We will not let anything happen to you. You are the guardian."
"Azrael..?"
"Went to check on Ariel and Uriel earlier when they sent the first distress message, and hasn't come back since, or communicated."
"Oh"
"We need to leave now." He lifts his finger off my bottom lip, and I realize the throb on my lip is gone. I touch it, only to find my lip whole again. I look up to him to ask how he healed me, but he mouths, "now." So I jump out of bed.
I grab a pair of underwear from the bottom drawer of the chest under the window and put them on, a blush creeping up my face. I then grab a pair of jeans from the floor, pulling them over my legs as fast as I can. I think to change my t-shirt, but the memory of Ariel's eyes screwed up in pain makes me grab at my parka instead, hurriedly putting it over mom's T-shirt.
My human movements must appear really slow to the angel, who is used to doing things in split seconds, because he is gliding to and fro in my box of a room, signifying his impatience.
Well excuse me! I am a son of man, I think sarcastically, using the phrase I have heard him and his brothers use often.
Just as I finish zipping my parka I am swept off my feet and in a split second, the chilly night air is filling my lungs as we fly across the night sky.
Today's flight is a lot longer than those I have previously experienced, allowing me to really take note of what is happening. I am held tight by Raphael's left hand, my back pressed against his chest. His wings are spread out wide above us. I know because I can see a part of the silvery wings spread out on both of my sides. They are wider than I previously thought, flapping ever so slightly every time we have to change course or altitudes.
For the most part we are gliding swiftly through the air. We are not that high above, for I can still breathe, though with slight difficulty. I can just make out the buildings and expanse below speeding past us as we soar faster and higher up in the sky. The view makes me sick, and I close my eyes to try stop the nausea.
It does not seem to help, for an involuntary spasm rocks me, mere seconds before I begin heaving my dinner. We come to an abrupt stop, on the edge of the rooftop of a very tall building, in an unfamiliar city. Raphael holds me and my hair as I heave up some more over the edge, the urge to throw up only intensifies as I look down at the seemingly bottomless drop below, until my stomach is empty and only air comes up.
"I'm sorry," I manage to say finally, when the heaving stops, shutting my eyes so as not to be sickened by the sight of the long distance to the bottom of the building.
"It's ok," the apathetic voice answers. "We need to set off now, if you are done."
"Hold my face against your chest," I say, heat flooding my face for some stupid reason. "Looking down makes me nauseous." I am barely done speaking before we are soaring through the crisp night air once again.
My face is pressed tight against his ripped chest, his one hand snaked around my waist. I take in his intoxicatingly masculine scent, which is doing things to my body that I cannot explain. I have no idea why I am reacting like this towards him, however a searing sensation passes through me and I shudder slightly against him.
This time when we land suddenly onto a steep frozen mountain side, I stumble almost falling down, when he throws me off himself roughly.
I look up at him startled, and scared because he could have hurt me with that shove, had I fallen onto one of the sharp jagged rocks protruding over the carpet of snow.
"What..?"
"Control yourself, son of man!" He spits out in disgust. I almost die of embarrassment, turning my face away from him to hide the tears that threaten to spill out.
What is wrong with me? Why had I reacted like that to him? Him! The cold-hearted hateful creature!
"What are you talking about?" I play dumb.
"Don't be daft! I told you I can feel your emotions loud and clear." I bite my lip in embarrassment.
"How do you know it wasn't me reading your emotions?" I argue, fighting for my lost pride.
"And why would I feel that kind of attraction for you?" The question knocks the air out of my lungs.
Don't cry, don't lose every trace of your dignity now, I say to myself.
"Now stop that racket of self-pity!" He raises his voice, startling me. "You are a pocket of raging emotions. You must learn to curb them, because they are drowning the other angels', and I need to track my brothers that need my help." I inhale deeply, trying to calm myself.
"Why don't you leave me here?" I ask.
"I can't, I told you already. The angels freed from Tartaros can sense your Essence. They could trace you and kill you, or worse. If you stay close to me, the angels will think the Essence is coming from me."
"But will they not wonder who I am, being that I am with you?"
"No, because I plan on leaving you somewhere near us when we get close enough. Just act like an untouched son of man. Pretend not to see us, for we always battle in another dimension, where the sons of man cannot see us. If you play your part well, they will not pay any attention to you, dismissing you as just one of the many irrelevant sons of man."
"Okay," I say, trying to keep my voice devoid of any emotion, despite the insults embedded in his words during this whole conversation. He then steps up to me awkwardly, tentatively pulling me to him, turning my face to the side, so that it is my left cheek that lies against his chest.
"Close your eyes," he says before soaring high up into the sky again.
Laying my cheek against his hard chest does not help my situation. Especially with my eyes closed. So I begin singing the children song, '99 green bottles on the wall', and countdown to distract myself. When I get to 47, Raphael slows down, his stomach muscles constricting as he tenses up.
..46 green bottles standing on the wall,
But if one green bottle, should accidentally fall.. I keep up with the singing in my head, keeping my emotions as calm as possible, not wanting to jeopardize his mission. My fingers itch though to touch the knotted muscles on his stomach, and I have to fold them into fists, just to be sure that I do not do it.
He gently drops to land on soft marshy ground that sinks slightly beneath my feet. He buries his face into my hair, close to my ear. There will be 45 green bottles standing on the wall, I continue, to still my heartbeat that rages in response.
"Stay here," he whispers in a very low voice. I nod in response, and he immediately flies away. I open my eyes slowly, which sting against the bright daylight. We have flown across the world to the eastern hemisphere, judging by the bright morning sun. I have no idea where exactly we are though, and the thought unnerves me.
..45 green bottles standing on the wall,
But if one green bottle, should accidentally fall.. I continue when he is gone, seeking to be as of little nuisance as possible. This childish w
ay of distracting myself and subsequently controlling my raging emotions seems to be working so far, so I keep at it.
There are 75 green bottles standing on the wall, I am singing to myself, having counted down to zero and started again, when a powerful figure comes scuttling across the rice paddies awash with bright sunlight, just two hundred meters from where I am seated, on a tree stump, appearing to be enjoying the view before me of gently rolling hills. My heart flutters in fear, so I press on with my rhyme.
75 green bottles, standing on the wall...
I see the fallen creature from the corner of my eyes lift off the ground and rush towards the golden winged angel running towards him. The two clash hard when they meet, soaring up out of my view, before they appear again before me, scuttling fast towards me, and I have to fight against my every instinct not to edge out of their way.
They scuttle past me barely a hair’s breath away. Their searing body warmth intensified by their fighting scalds my skin a little. I keep still however, to my surprise. I must have greater resilience than I ever knew. I lean back, resting my hands flat up to my elbows behind me, staring straight ahead, with my head cocked. A lone tourist, enjoying a beautiful view.
There are 15 green bottles standing on the wall, I am singing, with my eyes shut against the warm sun when a jolt of shock runs through me.
The image of unfamiliar narrow green eyes stare straight into mine. No, they stare into my soul. I know it is not real. It must be a projection in my mind from one of the angels. One I have not met yet, for I do not remember seeing those eyes before. He seems to be in pain, desperate to get away. When I open my eyes, I try not start, when I stare into soft brown eyes. I daren't react, blinking slowly, it could be a trick.
One of his wings is broken, hanging limply at an odd angle. He has so many fatal slashes across his body, which are bleeding profusely, I’m surprised at how he could still be alive. His face is swollen, and there are varied dark shades across it from the blows he must have received. The feathers on his wings are soaked with blood, dripping to the ground in steady droplets.
"Wow, you are a phenomenal actor. I almost believe you can't see me here in front of you, Caroline!" Ariel exclaims. I smile up slowly at him, my whole being itching to go to him, comfort him in the poor state that he is. I reach out a hand to touch him, but he shakes his head at me, wincing a little at the pain the movement evokes.
"I have had years of practice, ignoring ghosts and weird supernatural creatures since I was a child. They get very chatty and are obsessive stalkers once they realize that I can see and hear them," I whisper instead, barely moving my lips. Incessant talking is my go to shock therapy.
He chuckles at my answer, but I see the pain etched across his face that he tries to hide. My hand still itches a little to do something for him - he must have noticed it.
"Stay still, until the others scour the area to ensure that none of the fallen are left in these hills. I have to stay close to you to mask your Essence," he finishes, before dropping the rest of the way to the marshy ground. It must have taken his all to fly to me, judging by the gravity of his injuries and the ragged way he breathes.
I know Raphael said that angels are immortal, but Ariel appears to be dying! I fight every instinct of mine not to edge over to him, and roll his head to the side so he can breathe better. What could hurt this formidable creature so terribly?
My question is soon answered when three angels entangled in each other come scattering again into my view. It is impossible to tell who is fighting who, but I recognize the silver pair of wings, and the unmistakable bronze wings that are just as virile. The owner of the peacock like blue-green majestic wings seems to be at a great disadvantage, fending off futilely the sword serves coming at him.
Another angel of night black wings swings into the scene in my eye scope, stopping just in time with his sword resonating with a loud vibrating clang, against a powerful sword swing from Raphael. The two then break off from the other two, edging closer to Ariel and I. Ariel tries fruitlessly to get up onto his knees, but he quickly collapses into a helpless heap again on the muddy ground. My head is screaming at me to help him, drag him out of here, but the warning he gave me wins over my will.
Raphael and the dark winged angel roll close towards us on the flat plains, locked into each other, their swords in their hands. They appear to be of equal match, each countering the other's attack.
Uriel on the far left seems to be overpowering the blue-green winged angel, who is still fighting back hard, though having dropped down onto one knee.
I just manage to see Raphael swing a fatal blow, hacking the black winged angel's neck, and his head lolls forward in response. I stop my gasp when the dark-winged angel manages to just whizz past the silver colored wings and fly away in the speed of lightning, his head still hanging from his side, his neck spouting out blood jerkily like the chickens whose necks my African grandmother severs with a sharp cleaver for dinner when we visit.
He quickly flies out of my vision, Raphael hot in pursuit.
I am in so much shock, that I almost miss the amazing Uriel, with her stunningly exuberant bronze wings spin at lightning-fast speed, over three dozen times around the blue-green winged angel who has now fallen onto his two knees.
The blur of her figure moving at dizzying speed finally draws to an abrupt stop. The captured creature is twitching fruitlessly, with his arms appearing to be tied fast against his side and his large wings tied together against each other, spread out but immobile behind his back. I watch her take a powerful swing with her sword against the back of his head, and I shut my eyes despite myself, to avoid witnessing the horrific execution.
When I finally manage to force my eyes open, It’s to see Uriel flying expertly towards us, dragging below her the blue-green winged angel, his head still firmly attached to his neck. Though from the look of it, he appears to have been knocked out. She had probably hit him with the flat of her sword. The thought eases my tension a little. I am glad she is not a cold blooded killer.
She drops the angel onto a bloody heap a few paces from me, and with great concern, reaches out to Ariel, pulling him to her and cradling him in her hands.
"Ariel...” I catch before she develops into a string of comforting words in their language, rocking him back and forth against her bosom.
The gesture is unmistakable. She loves him deeply. Tears stream down her face, blending in with the blood that is trickling down from her various injuries.
The image before me is so heart-wrenching, that I cannot help it but begin to crawl towards them. Without even turning to look at me, Uriel lifts her palm upwards gesturing I stop where I am with the hand that is cradling Ariel against herself, her other hand still holding firm onto the silver like thin ropes binding the unconscious angel. She is the very depiction of a deadly warrior and a helpless lover all in one.
I know deep inside me that I have never met with a more beautiful and perfect creature. Soft and delicate, meeting raw hard steel smack in the middle, and blending in together as though nothing simpler has ever existed.
I have to struggle with all my might to stop staring at her adoringly. I hero worship her, more than I did Mulan as a little girl, and I want to be just like her with every fiber of my being.
If I’m to believe what Ariel and Raphael told me, I looked into her soul, saw her character, and granted her what I thought was a befitting image that reflected what I saw in her soul.
Uriel looks like what a grownup Mulan would look like, a real life one of course, not the animation character. As a child I was obsessed with Mulan, dressed up as her for most Halloweens, had my room filled up with Mulan posters, bedsheets, and pillows. So when I looked into her soul, I must have seen everything I wished to be, as Mulan happens to be everything I wished to be as a child. I might have outgrown my childhood, but I clearly never outgrew my childhood hero.
A few moments later, silver wings appear before me, and before I can make out what is happen
ing, my face is pressed against a broad warm chest as we fly through the crisp clear sky.
I make out the powerful out spread bronze wings by our side, cradling Ariel's body tight against hers, and her other hand holding on onto the surprisingly strong thin ropes snaked around her captive. What a beautiful painting it would make, if captured well!
When we suddenly change course, the powerful silver wings flicking ever so lightly but unmistakably powerfully, my disloyal body once again becomes aware of the hard warm body pressed against mine.
I then start to sing my nursery rhyme in my head once again.
There are 99 green bottles hanging on the wall..
After what feels like a half an hour or so of flying, we land on the edge of a high cliff illuminated by the bright sun ahead. The beauty around us is emphasized by the large water mass below that extends far out to the horizon.
My feet feel like jelly and can barely stand on their own, so I am grateful for the stabilizing hand that the Archangel keeps snaked around my waist.
"Raphael, help him!" The cry is uttered in their strange language by Uriel's melodic voice, but the words’ meaning registers in my mind because Raphael's warm hand is still holding me steady.
The loss of his body support and heat is instantaneous, and I fall onto the ground gracelessly like a sack of potatoes.
No one pays me any heed however, as I watch Raphael place himself beside Uriel, who is now seated on the ground again, in the same position as on the rice fields; one hand around her lover's body, and the other holding tight onto the ropes of her prisoner.
Ariel is completely immobile now, not even his chest moves, and I immediately fear for the worst. I watch Raphael lift his hands, and place them over Ariel's chest.
The searing heat that passes through them is so hot, that I can feel it radiating towards me. The air begins filling up with the heady sweet Essence that I have become an addict to.
