The Guardian

by Carol Robi

  “It should be about love, for us too. Even we dominant beings should only have love as a guide, as we’ve given you sons of man. But...” She shrugs here, scrubbing my arms gently. “Politics will always be in the way. Only those who’ve truly loved, can see the power of it, in it...” On and on she went, about love versus all, as she scrubbed me clean, and I stopped listening at some point, tired of having to constantly think.

  My bath finally ends, and she lifts me gently out of the bath, with the large towel suspended between her arms, and cradles me in her arms, tucking the large towel snugly around me.

  She sets me to stand on a warm dry floor towel, and helps me with drying my hair. I move my fingers tentatively to check if they work, before moving my hands to help rub myself. My movements are however stiff and jerky, and I stop, giving up. She smiles gently, wrapping a large grey bathrobe around me, tying the sash before me securely. She places some fluffy indoor slippers before my feet, and I slowly move my legs, stepping into them.

  She then lifts me gently to her, opens the door, and we fly out onto the large living room, which is now filled with all the seven angels of the Brotherhood. They are all sitting around a dining table, placed on the far side near the kitchen island, sipping something from mugs.

  Tea? I think to myself, chuckling inside, and coffee, and even some hot chocolate! Who knew just how human angels could be! Is this what they do, up there in heaven, after a long day of whatever it is they do? Sit around and unwind over a cup of tea? The notion is hilarious.

  They follow me with their eyes, their faces bent over their beverages, talking among themselves. I do not bother to listen - it takes too much concentration, and all I want is to rest my head. Uriel drags a chair and lowers me gently onto it, as though I am a delicate piece of china. I know the guilt of my near death is killing her, for she thinks it is her fault. Well it is partly her fault, it is all our faults. They should reveal more to me, and I should care more for my well-being. I am truly my parents' daughter, through and through.

  Raphael pours some hot water into two cups, places a spiced Indian chai tea bag into one cup and four sugars, before pushing it my way. My eyes open wide questioningly. How did he know what kind of tea I like, and how I drink it? I guess it is information gathered during all those hours spent guarding me.

  Uriel takes the second cup of water and blends some tea for herself as they all fall into serious conversation. They all seem to forget about my presence. I have no hope of understanding them now, since none of them is touching me.

  I lift my shaking hand carefully, and slowly pull the cup closer to me. I then spend the next few minutes blowing into the cup, longing to drink the delicious liquid, but too fixated on whether my fingers could manage to lift the cup without spilling.

  I note Raphael, from across the table, staring unabashedly at me with his piercing blue eyes, watching my every movement.

  What now? I think exasperated. Why does he have to look at me like that? Like I am the most important thing in his life! Well I probably am, considering I am his key back home after his mission is over. I just hate it when he looks at me like that, because it makes my stupid insides turn and my blood rush. My skin itches to be touched by him. Just a touch. Stupid, stupid body!

  I clench and unclench my fingers that now lie over my lap under the table. I then lift them up slowly and hold the cup, tentatively bringing it to my lips. The sweetly spicy liquid sliding down my throat is a welcomed sensation.

  When I finally finish my tea, I am feeling much better. Feeling has returned to my legs, and the annoying pins and needles are nibbling at me. My throbbing headache is back with a bang, and my chest pains persist; discomforts that had been dulled until a few moments ago.

  Raphael says something to the others, still staring down at me, and they all turn to look at me, discussing something about me in their language.

  I hate it when they do that! It makes me feel isolated, dehumanized. I am not a science project. The least they could do was look somewhere else as they discuss me, so that I wouldn't know that it is me they are talking about. Uriel says something in response to a long sentence Raphael has said, and then she turns to speak to me.

  "Raphael, will heal you now, okay?" She asks, as though I have any choice in the matter.

  I try to nod but grimace instead. She, however, takes it as a yes, and picks me up gently, depositing me onto the large couch I had earlier been placed on by Raphael when we first arrived into this cave apartment. She sets me to lie down, placing my head against one of the armrest, and lifting my legs onto the couch to lie flat.

  Raphael's face then hovers over mine almost soon after, looking straight at me, before he gets down onto one knee, and then places his warm hands on my mid-section.

  A burning sensation spreads from his fingers to the point of contact with my skin, before spreading out to the rest of my body in ripples. His blue eyes thaw slightly, as he watches my face keenly.

  "This time, don't absorb the Essence," he says with a smile. I smile back, not because of his joke, but just because he is smiling. He is smiling at me!

  He keeps holding my eye contact, as the rippling warmth massages my aching limbs and heals my internal injuries. I begin to feel like myself again. It no longer hurts to breathe, or to twitch my toes, or to just be.

  I suffer the withdrawal of his touch when he lifts his hands away, my midsection arching upwards to stay in contact with his hands before I can stop myself.

  The annoyingly perfect laugh from Camael lets me know that my motion didn’t go unnoticed, which causes me to flush again.

  "Try sit up," Raphael says impassively, not reacting to Camael's taunt, for which I am grateful. I do as he says.

  "Now try stand up." As I do what he says, Raphael rises with me too. I don't wait for him to prompt me again, but instead begin pacing about the room, catching the warm smiles from most of them, except Camael and Raphael of course. They rarely ever react to anything.

  Right here, right now, one would almost think that these angels care about my well-being, and not just because I am their key home.

  "Come on over here, fellow survivor, and let us toast to ourselves," Ariel calls cheerfully, and I smile back at him. I walk over to the table, as he refills my tea for me. I sit beside Uriel again, and she quickly squeezes me against herself, a sign of fondness. I squeeze back weakly.

  "You guys have to open up more," I say after taking a sip. "You have to tell me more. If I knew beforehand what would happen to me if I absorbed too much of the Essence, I would have stopped myself. You can't keep leaving me in the dark, because my life is at play here, and we all know you need me alive."

  "She is right," Cassiel or Ambriel says, and his ' twin' nods in agreement.

  "What do you want to know?" Golden boy Azrael asks.

  "Why didn't Uriel absorb some of the Essence too, as Ariel was being healed? She could have helped me."

  "We can't absorb the Essence. We can just expel it, and detect it. That is how we can track each other. Only a portal can absorb Essence." Oh yeah, and I am the portal! Great!

  "Why couldn't Uriel heal Ariel herself?"

  "Raphael is the only healer among the angels," Camael answers me listlessly.

  "Did I grant him the power?" She scoffs in response. I guess not.

  "No," Uriel says, sending Camael a scorn. "It is who he is. Archangel Raphael, the warrior and healer." She quotes as a matter-of-fact.

  "Oh, what if Raphael hadn't healed Ariel, what would have happened?"

  "Ariel would have healed slowly for weeks," Uriel says quietly, and I catch the sad tone in her voice. She loves him, deeply. I look at my two favorite angels, and smile quietly. They are perfect for each other. Uriel catches my smile and grins back at me sheepishly, looking so young at the moment. I could swear she looks no more than a couple years older than I am.

  "The angel," I start, while looking into the icy blue eyes across from me. "The angel with the head." I watch raw ang
er tear across his face. "Will he die?"

  "Angels don't die," Raphael grinds out slowly. "But I’ll lock Abaddon up again in Tartaros, soon, where he belongs. Until judgment day."

  "But...” I remember the lolling head, held on by only an inch of his neck. "His head...”

  "Will heal again, slowly." Raphael answers impatiently. "It will probably be a couple of weeks before he can crawl out of his hiding hole."

  "But what if his head had completely been cut off?"

  "The head would rot away, and over time his body would grow another," one of the 'twins' comes to his rescue. "Angels will live forever, until judgment day," he states, and I nod my head to his answer. Yeah, I got that!

  "Who is that in the vault?" I direct this at Uriel.

  "That is Daniel," she states, but doesn't say anymore.

  "Is he...”

  "A fallen angel? Yes." she states before taking a sip of her brew.

  "What would happen, if a fallen angel captured me and discovered I am the portal?" This I ask slowly, fearing the answer I am to get.

  "They would find a way to make it to paradise, and attempt to change the Principles of Divinity." Ariel says. I shake my head in confusion. Not this again!

  "What are these Principles of Divinity?"

  "The concept of Godliness, God."

  "What do you mean? God is a concept?" I ask laughing. They all just look back at me, but none attempts to correct me.

  "I knew it!" I erupt into laughter. "I knew it! Oh grandpa must have been so disappointed to die and realize, there is no God!" I keep laughing at the spectacle of it all, and they all just stare back at me.

  "So who do you work for? Aren't you supposed to be soldiers of God or something?"

  "Well, that is it," Azrael answers me, his blonde curls falling over his forehead as he leans over. "We work for God!" I look back at him in confusion.

  "I don't understand," I say puzzled. "You just said God is a concept."

  "In the beginning, there was a word," one of the twins starts.

  "And the word was God, and the word was with God.. John 1:1 I know. I have heard that bible verse countless of times from my very religious African family side, and it still makes no sense." I interrupt, growing impatient.

  "Listen again," I assume it is Cassiel speaking now. "In the beginning, there was a word. And this very word, was God!" He states slowly. "And this very same word, was with God." I shake my head in puzzlement, making no sense of the point he is trying to make.

  "One day you’ll understand it all, son of man, but not today." Who else but Raphael says this, still insisting on not using my name?

  "But...” I start.

  "You need to get back home and rest," Raphael says, standing up from his seat. He pisses me off so much at times!

  I get up from the table, and head to the bathroom where I my clothes are draped over a railing. I grab on mom's T-shirt, but I snub my parka, whose front is soiled with blood and God knows what. My jeans are also soiled, but not as badly, so I pull them on, and stick my sockless feet into my boots by the door.

  I walk out the bathroom to find Raphael hovering in the air just outside the door. Before I can protest, he swoops in to pick me up, holds me close to him and we fly off. It takes us a couple of minutes to navigate through the dark tunnels, before we make it out to the crispy fresh breeze outside. The sun is setting low in this area, and I worry what time it is back home. I hope it is still night time, because I am in desperate need of a nap.

  It is chilly outside - especially without my jacket, and Goosebumps quickly form along my arms, a slight shiver escaping me. Raphael must have felt it, and he brings his second free hand over me to try form better cover around me. His body temperature rises impossible another notch, and I snuggle in even closer.

  There are 99 green bottles standing on the wall, I start, as my body starts reacting to him again.

  When he starts running his hand over my arms and back to stop my teeth's chatter, I can't help but let out a soft moan for whatever reason. I freeze at the sound I have just made, so very disappointed in myself as I flush profusely. Unlike last time, though, he doesn't stop to scold me. I guess there is no one in particular that he is tracking right now, so my emotions are my own problems.

  Sooner than I honestly expected, we sail through my slightly ajar window. The alarm clock on my desk shows the time to be 5:48am. I can still squeeze in a good one hour’s sleep.

  "Goodnight, Caroline!" He says. I do not manage to say anything, before my hands are empty again, already missing his body close to mine.

  What is wrong with me? I take off the soiled clothes, and hide them under the bed, where my nosy grandmother would hopefully not go looking. The blood stains would scare her too much, and I would not know how to explain them.

  I pull on another of my T-shirts, and some clean underwear, and sink gratefully into bed, which groans in response. Lying down, I try fight away the disturbing images of the day, which surprisingly aren't of the horrors of the battles, but rather images of a certain blue eyed angel, whose touch burns hotter than any fire.

  There are 99 green bottles standing on the wall...

  Chapter 18

  Ring... Ring..!

  The alarm could be coming from an eternity away, for I do not even bother to turn. As annoying as it is, I would rather not move a muscle. I let it continue ringing, opting instead to think of it as a lullaby.

  I don't know for how long it goes off, but someone does eventually turn it off. I mumble a thanks to the Good Samaritan, before nodding off again. However the person proceeds to shake me out of my sleep.

  So much for good Samaritans!

  "Caroline, get up! You’ll be late for school," grandma prods. I fight the urge to cuss at her.

  "Just a few more minutes...” I mumble begrudgingly.

  "No, it is already 7:30... You need to leave now if you want to catch the bus." I groan loudly at her, she is clearly bent on waking me up.

  I finally drag myself out of bed, my eyes still tightly shut, as I fumble around to the bathroom.

  7:30! Great! No time for breakfast today too.

  I open my eyes just a crack to grab at my toothbrush, wanting to get rid of the sticky feeling in my mouth from yesterday. I then stumble back into my room and drag on some leggings and a long buggy sweatshirt. I grab my lunch from the kitchen table and rush to the hallway to get my school bag, stuffing my phone and charger inside, while sticking my feet into my old converse sneakers.

  "Good day!" I shout over my shoulder as I jump onto my bike and cycle furiously towards the station.

  Luckily, the bus is still parked in the station with a minute to spare. I doubt the driver will have been as understanding as he had been yesterday, had I been late again. I manage to just sit by Magnus when the bus starts.

  He laughs out at my disheveled self, as I finally manage to reach down and tie the still untied laces of my converse.

  "Again? You are making it a habit to be late," he says smiling. I grimace in answer.

  "And you look terrible."

  "I know," I say frowning.

  "There is this thing girls call make-up...” He starts, and I jab him hard between his ribs with my elbow.

  "Aww..! Alright!" He says laughing, and I manage a smile. "So did you brush your teeth today?" He asks and I nod giggling.

  "Breakfast?" I shake my head, and he laughs out again.

  "Don't they do any parenting in the Christiansen home?"

  "Maybe I am just impossible to parent," I say cheekily.

  "I bet you are," he laughs in agreement. He lets me eat one of the sandwiches dad made in silence, and I down it with water. The other kids in the bus look away after a quick glance our way.

  They must think me homeless by now, I chuckle to myself. Magnus looks at me questioningly upon hearing my chuckle.

  "What a cool friend you have, Magnus! Eats her breakfast in the bus, never combs her hair and sometimes even skips brushing her teeth."r />
  "The coolest friend ever," he mocks, and we poke at each other lightly. I then freeze in place, remembering how much I have blown off A.M. I take out my phone, and note that she called me about five times last night, and left a couple of voice mails.

  "Hi Caroline, you said you’d call. I’ve been waiting for your call. I really need my friend right now. I need to talk to you about Mikkel. Please call when you can. Take care!"

  "Hi Caroline, what's going on? I tried calling you tonight but you did not pick up. I know you are very busy with the house, but I really need to talk to you. Please call."

  My heart breaks at the sound of her voice, and despite the loud clamor in the bus of excited school children, I decide to call her then. Who knows how long I have to live anyway, with angels warring around me constantly.

  "Hi,"

  "Hi, I am so sorry I haven't called. I really want to talk to you too."

  "It's alright, I know you are very busy. I hoped you'd be able to call last night"

  "Oh, we Skyped my mother when we came home, and then it was late and I was tired. And no it's not alright! How about over lunch today we find our own little corner and talk?"

  "That sounds perfect!"

  "Great! See you in school in a few."

  "Ok, bye søde!"

  "Bye!" I hang up, and stare out the window past Magnus' straw coloured head.

  "Was that Anne-Marie?"

  "Yeah," I confirm quietly.

  I am behind in most of my assignments, and in all I give the excuse of the house we are renovating. It is true, mostly anyway. When am I to do my homework when we get home every evening at about 10pm?

  The teachers are quite understanding, but they do not take away my assignments. They choose instead to extend my deadlines, which just results in more piled up work.

  "You look terrible!" A.M. whispers over the English grammar class.

  "I know," I whisper back. I cringe my face as a kid at the front answers a question using a very wrong tense. Is that how terrible I sound when I struggle through my Danish grammar? Goodness!