by Bonnie Lamer
Kallen wraps an arm around his daughter’s shoulders and gives her a gentle squeeze while glaring daggers over her head at his cousin. “We appreciate all the hard work you put into the translation,” he tells Zyla.
What a supportive dad. Still, I feel the need to ask, “Did you compare each of the Enochian words with the text? Just in case the notes weren’t verbatim?” The author of these notes might have changed a word here or there to send more clues. I’m worried Zyla may have figured out what passage it was and just copied that down from the original poem. Seems like a teenager thing to do.
Expected eye roll comes my way. She could teach a class. “Of course. Why do you think it took so long?” Zyla asks with more snark in her voice than it should be able to hold.
I raise a brow in my daughter’s direction and point out, “If you’ll recall, I was a little preoccupied while you were doing your translation. I have no idea how long this took you.”
Zyla’s cheeks flush neon pink. “Oh yeah,” she says sheepishly. “Sorry.”
Satisfied with her apology, I turn my attention back to the papers in front of me and continue reading. “Still Book 5:
As Heav'ns great Year brings forth, th' Empyreal
Host
Of Angels by Imperial summons call'd,
Innumerable before th' Almighties Throne [585]
Forthwith from all the ends of Heav'n appeerd
Under thir Hierarchs in orders bright
Ten thousand thousand Ensignes high advanc'd,
…and for distinction serve [590]
Of Hierarchies, of Orders, and Degrees…
Hear all ye Angels, Progenie of Light, [600]
Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Vertues,
Powers…
Regions they pass'd, the mightie Regencies
Of Seraphim and Potentates and Thrones
In thir triple Degrees, Regions to which [750]
All thy Dominion…is no more…
Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Vertues,
Powers,
If these magnific Titles yet remain
Not meerly titular, since by Decree
Another now hath to himself ingross't [775]
All Power, and us eclipst under the name
Of King anointed, for whom all this haste
Of midnight march, and hurried meeting here,
This onely to consult how we may best
With what may be devis'd of honours new [780]…
O argument blasphemous, false and proud!
Words which no eare ever to hear in Heav'n [810]
Expected, least of all from thee, ingrate
In place thy self so high above thy Peeres…
Flatly unjust, to binde with Laws the free,
And equal over equals to let Reigne, [820]
One over all with unsucceeded power…
Cease then this impious rage, [845]
And tempt not these; but hast'n to appease…
While Pardon may be found in time besought…
So spake the fervent Angel, but his zeale
None seconded, as out of season judg'd, [850]…
Doctrin which we would know whence learnt: who
saw
When this creation was? rememberst thou
Thy making, while the Maker gave thee being?
We know no time when we were not as now;
Know none before us, self-begot, self-rais'd [860]
By our own quick'ning power…
…the birth mature
Of this our native Heav'n, Ethereal Sons.
Our puissance is our own…
Who is our equal: then thou shalt behold
Whether by supplication we intend
Address, and to begirt th' Almighty Throne
Beseeching…”
“This is really your favorite bit of literature?” Garren asks Mom incredulously. He’s rewarded with a stern look from his wife and a sour one from Mom. With a sigh and a wave of his hand, he says to me, “Go on.”
I completely understand where he’s coming from. At least the version Mom made me read was a little easier to understand. “Okay, moving on to some passages from Book 6 now:
So pondering, and from his armed Peers
Forth stepping opposite, half way he met
His daring foe, at this prevention more
Incens't, and thus securely him defi'd.
Proud, art thou met? thy hope was to have reacht
The highth of thy aspiring unoppos'd,
The Throne of God unguarded, and his side
Abandond at the terror of thy Power
Or potent tongue; fool, not to think how vain
Against th' Omnipotent to rise in Arms;
Who out of smallest things could without end
Have rais'd incessant Armies to defeat
Thy folly; or with solitarie hand
Reaching beyond all limit at one blow
Unaided could have finisht thee, and whelmd
Thy Legions under darkness; but thou seest
All are not of thy Train…though then
To thee not visible, when I alone
Seemd in thy World erroneous to dissent
From all: my Sect thou seest, now learn too late
How few somtimes may know, when thousands
err…
Armd with thy might, rid heav'n of these rebell'd,
To thir prepar'd ill Mansion driven down
To chains of darkness …
forth rush'd with whirlwind sound
The Chariot of Paternal Deitie,
Flashing thick flames, Wheele within Wheele
undrawn,
… but convoyd
By four Cherubic shapes, four Faces each
Hee in Celestial Panoplie all armd
Of radiant Urim, work divinely wrought,
Ascended, at his right hand Victorie
Sate Eagle-wing'd, beside him hung his Bow
And Quiver with three-bolted Thunder stor'd,
And from about him fierce Effusion rowld
Of smoak and bickering flame, and sparkles dire;
Attended with ten thousand thousand Saints,
He onward came, farr off his coming shon,
And twentie thousand (I thir number heard)
Chariots of God, half on each hand were seen:
Hee on the wings of Cherub rode sublime
On the Chrystallin Skie, in Saphir Thron'd…
His count'nance too severe to be beheld
And full of wrauth bent on his Enemies.
…Among them he arriv'd; in his right hand
Grasping ten thousand Thunders, which he sent
Before him, such as in thir Soules infix'd
Plagues; they astonisht all resistance lost,
All courage; down thir idle weapons drop'd;
…mighty Seraphim prostrate,
That wisht the Mountains now might be again
Thrown on them as a shelter from his ire...
Exhausted, spiritless, afflicted, fall'n.
…he meant
Not to destroy, but root them out…
Into the wastful Deep; the monstrous sight
Strook them with horror backward, but far worse
Urg'd them behind; headlong themselves they
threw
Down from the verge of Heav'n, Eternal wrauth
Burnt after them to the bottomless pit.”
Putting the last piece of paper on the pile of those I’ve already read, I glance around the counter. “I guess we all know who wrote these now.”
Nonplussed, Kegan asks, “We do?”
“Indeed,” Isla says with a calculating smile.
Chapter 31
It’s not quite as obvious to some around the counter. “Um, were we listening to the same thing as the rest of them?” Keelan whispers to his dad.
Alita sighs and leans closer to her husband and son. “Since it’s written in Enochian, it was obviously an Angel
who wrote those notes. One who had an idea that all of this might happen,” she says, giving them a huge hint about the author’s identity. Slowly, understanding dawns in their eyes.
My daughter isn’t convinced. Frowning, Zyla shakes her head and says, “It couldn’t have been Uncle Raz. He can’t see us.”
I smile at how the teenage mind works. Conveniently forgetting that my mind worked the same way not that long ago, of course. “You may have taken away his ability to see you from a certain point, but he would have known about you, and what the Council was planning, before that.”
Zyla’s frown deepens. “I don’t understand.”
Kallen takes over the explanation. “Raziel was born omniscient. You may have created a pocket in his omniscience, but you didn’t erase it from the very beginning. He had millennia to plan for what you were going to do to him.”
To be fair, none of us thought about that before now. But it makes sense. Raziel’s omniscience would not have had pockets in it before the kids were born. Being the smart Archangel that he was, of course he left a trail of clues for when it eventually happened.
“Oh,” Zyla says in surprise. “I never thought about it that way.”
Xavion’s brow furrows into deep lines. “Doesn’t that mean he could have prevented it?” he asks.
He has a point. “My guess is that it had to play out this way,” I say. Angels always have a reason for why they do things. A thought hits me and a smile breaks out across my face. “For example, if he remembered you, he would have been able to confirm your identity to your grandparents. We never would have gone to the Cowan realm to get a DNA test. If we didn’t get the DNA test, Hera never would have believed that Zeus wasn’t your father.” A complicated web to weave, but I know in my heart that I’m on the right track here.
“That sneaky Angel always has a plan up his sleeve,” Tabitha chuckles from her position at the stove. She’s stirring something that smells delicious and my stomach growls loudly in anticipation. Since mine isn’t the only one, no one pays it any attention.
Rising from his stool, Xavion asks, “Do you need any help with dinner?”
Tabitha looks at him in surprise. No one usually asks her that question because the older Fairy has made it abundantly clear that she likes to be left alone when she’s cooking. But now, her eyes soften in appreciation. For some reason, Xavion’s offer to help touches her instead of annoying her. Still, she waves him off, “No, it is about done.”
Those words get a reaction from all three kids. As if choreographed, they push away from the counter and begin gathering the necessary utensils and such for dinner. They bring them to the counter along with the side dishes Tabitha prepared. I can’t help it. I stare at them openmouthed for a minute, then I swing my eyes to Tabitha. She is just as impressed as I am. Not to mention, she’s not yelling at them to leave the cooking and such to her like she would the rest of us. Maybe the kids won’t be as spoiled as I feared.
Collecting herself, Tabitha mutters to no one in particular, “It is about time there were children with some manners in this house.” Considering she helped raise most of the kids in the house, her statement is rather funny. None of us dare laugh or point that little fact out, though.
Kallen recovers from his shock before I do. “Um, excellent job helping out,” he says to the kids. He still gives a wary eye toward the older Fairy holding a wooden spoon, afraid she’ll change her mind about wanting the kids to help.
Deciding it best to move the conversation back to the notes Raziel left for us, Dagda clears his throat and asks, “How would Rashnu have known where this book was in the library?”
Good question. One I believe I know the answer to. The library upstairs is massive, and it’s not like Rashnu has spent any time in it before now, so there’s only one way she’d know where to find the book. Thinking back to the conversation I had with the Angel, I say, “Rashnu said that Raziel told her about his eventual death. So, she knew this was not how he was supposed to die. My guess is that he also warned her about this series of events happening and told her where to locate the book. I don’t think she believed him until it actually happened, but when it did, she knew to give us this clue.”
“It is amazing she remembered,” Alita muses. “It was likely a long time ago they had that conversation. I would never remember where a particular book was in someone else’s library.”
“Me, either,” I agree. I can’t help but add, “I wonder why she didn’t simply tell me to read the book instead of just leaving it sticking out.”
“She may have feared that those who took Raziel were still around and could be listening,” Kallen says.
Oh. Makes sense. “True,” I nod.
Rashnu and Adriel had just come from a fight. One that nearly destroyed my friend. If Rashnu hadn’t stepped in, it probably would have. The sudden flash of anger I feel and the spike in my blood pressure must show, because Kallen reaches over and takes my hand in his.
“We will make this right,” he says softly.
I open my mouth to ask how we can make losing our friend ‘right’ when his words twist in my mind. Make this right. The words echo in my brain, bouncing off the walls of my mind like a ping pong ball. Each time they hit, it’s as if they awaken some long sleeping neurons. I can feel them yawning and throwing off the covers as they prepare to rise.
Oh yeah, Raziel is a sneaky Angel. This is more than a metaphor that I’m feeling. Certain neurons in my brain actually are waking up. I should be pissed that at some point in time Raziel slipped a message into my brain that has been lying dormant until now, but I’m not. Not if it helps us.
I glance down at the papers in front of me with fresh eyes. It’s not really a message so much that Raziel implanted. More like a decoder ring. Suddenly, the clues click together, and I know what this all means. Still, maybe later I’ll yell at him for messing with my neural network. Who knows what else he could have done while he was in there? If we can get Raziel back, that is. But the possibility is looking brighter.
Pulling my hand from Kallen’s, I shuffle through the papers in front of me until I have the one I’m looking for. With a grin, I tell the others, “I need to go.”
I don’t give them time to respond before calling to my wings. As soon as I feel the tiny pinches on my back, I know they will take me where I want to go. I may be violating a direct order from Rashnu, but if she knows what Raziel wrote, she will be expecting me to do this. Since we’re short on time, I’ll need to explain to my family what I’m doing later. There’s someone I need to talk to before it’s too late. Ignoring the complaints being thrown out around me, I disappear from the kitchen.
In a blink, I find myself in Angel time. I need to take a minute to get my bearings. When I do, I decide this could have gone badly. I’m not quite sure where I am, but I’m certainly glad I have wings. About three feet away from where I’m standing is the edge of a steep cliff. I move a little closer so I can peer over it. I can’t tell how far down it goes because of the mist, but I assume far enough to cause serious damage to my semi-mortal body. I move back from the edge, relieved that my wings have accurate GPS.
“Not a fan of heights?” a deep voice chuckles.
I whirl around to find a gorgeous Angel wearing a wide grin but, as usual, no shirt. His skin is a rich mocha, and his dark hair is cut in his usual short style. He has an aquiline nose, a chiseled chin and cheek bones that would make fashion models back in the Cowan realm swoon. His deep brown eyes are filled with amusement. His full lips are smiling in welcome.
“Urim, you scared the heck out of me,” I complain, even though I answer his smile with one of my own.
“Fate does have a way of sneaking up on you,” he says with a wink.
I can’t hold back a groan. “Don’t I know it,” I mutter, ignoring his pun and taking his words literally.
Folding his arms over his perfect chest, Urim now eyes me suspiciously. “So, tell me what brings you here. As much as I would like to
believe this is a social visit, the fact that your eyes are full of grief and determination tells me otherwise.”
