Forsaken Angel

by J F Cain

  Walking side by side along the corridor, Aranes, Abaddon, and Eiael passed the chatelaine’s room and reached the last room in the castle’s right wing. As soon as Eiael opened the door, Aranes’ memory took her back to the past again.

  She saw Galen in werewolf form, standing on his hind legs, opening this same door and surging panicked into the room, and herself standing behind the wall of energy that prevented the werewolf from getting through. He had begged her to let him go to the African American woman breathing her last on the bed’s bloody sheets. Cathryl had fought to stay alive, wanting to touch her beloved one last time. She had wanted to take her last breath in the arms of the magical being she had loved more than anything else in her life. But Aranes hadn’t allowed the last contact between the two lovers. As the Superior of the Angels, her duty was to serve growth, and growth always demanded sacrifice.

  “I hope you will be comfortable,” she heard Eiael say at her side.

  Her voice brought Aranes back to the present. She looked around the spacious room that had remained closed for a long time.

  Jean, the room’s last inhabitant, had changed the old furniture, while still making sure to preserve the castle’s classical style. The wooden bed on which Cathryl had died had long ago been replaced by another walnut canopy bed with an upholstered headboard. It now had a down comforter the color of beach sand. The two bedside tables on either side had lamps with bluish lampshades. Next to the tables began the large windows with embossed curtains that were held to the side with tiebacks, giving them a view of the large expanse with the scattered oaks in front of the castle.

  The right side of the room was almost entirely taken up by a long wardrobe, and across from it and far from the bathroom door, stood a big Victorian fireplace. On either side, right beneath the mantel, were two wolf heads with their jaws wide open, baring their sharp fangs. Jean had made this decorative intervention to represent Kenelm and Galen, the werewolves who the two women that had lived in this room for years had loved.

  The fire burning in the fireplace glimmered warmly on the ecru armchairs in front of it and the low table between them. Fixed to the wall beside the door was a long console table with a round mirror hanging above it, and on the other side stood an escritoire with a chair in front of it and a collection of portraits of Angels, two of which resembled Kenelm, painted by Jean. After the young theurgist’s murder, Eiael had spent many sorrowful hours in this room and had realized that Jean’s secret had been plain to see for anyone who paid attention to the way she had decorated her personal space.

  Aranes walked further into the room.

  “We will be fine,” she belatedly answered the castle’s mistress.

  Eiael, who had been regarding her with some anxiety to see if her choice of room had displeased her, relaxed immediately. She bowed and left the room, closing the door behind her.

  There were a number of reasons why she had chosen to put the Superior in this room. First, it was the most spacious chamber in the castle. Second, it was right next to her room and if there was an attack she could be there in an instant. Of course, that was a rather silly excuse to calm her anxiety, since not only had Jean shown her how to pass through hyperdimensional gateways and appear wherever she wanted by breaking through the fabric of space-time, she had also evolved this practice herself. And third, she wanted to chase away the ghosts of the past.

  Any Guardian that had stayed in this room had been affected by a melancholy note of sorrow, anxiety, and despair. Cathryl’s pain, as she suffered while being held captive right to her final moments, had permeated the air in the room. The powerful energy her thoughts and emotions had emitted had flooded the atmosphere with vibrations that the theurgists’ sensitive senses caught. After two centuries during which the tragically lost theurgist’s prison had remained empty, Jean had asked to move in there. It was as if she had wanted the shadow of sorrow to remind her of the price to be paid by anyone who dared to disobey their orders by becoming involved with the enemy. Cathryl’s pain had blended with Jean’s worry and anxiety caused by her inner conflict between duty and love, making the atmosphere even heavier.

  Eiael was convinced that with her presence, the Superior, who bore the highest frequencies that could be emitted on the physical plane, would have a positive effect on the space. And after she left, the memory of her stay here would chase away the persistent shadows of the past. The head of the Guardians really needed this change. The two dead women had been very important to her. But now she had to stop mourning their absence.

  Inside the room, Aranes took off her coat and rested it on the bed.

  “Why did we have to come here?” she asked Abaddon when she felt Eiael was far enough that they were out of hearing range.

  “After everything that’s happened, you can ask me why?” he demanded, wrinkling his forehead. “I’m trying to protect you, that’s why!” He lifted his hand and pointed in the direction of the hospital. “You nearly died there. I’m not going to allow it to happen again.”

  “And to do that, you’re risking the lives of dozens of Guardians,” Aranes said, her tone stating she didn’t agree with his decision.

  “It’s their duty to protect you.”

  “It’s their duty to protect mortals, not me,” she retorted.

  “You’re more important, in every respect,” Abaddon insisted.

  The Source will decide that, Aranes thought, but she kept it to herself so as not to trouble her partner even more. She looked directly into his eyes, as if trying to send him some of her composure through her calm gaze. “I’ve explained to you that they are not as powerful as Ethereals. They can’t fight Demons.”

  “Let me worry about Lyla. What I want the Guardians to do is keep the Cursed away,” Abaddon replied, a bit more bluntly than he had intended.

  By mentioning Lyla specifically rather than Demons in general, he wanted to give his partner a clue about Lucifer’s intentions. And, of course, Aranes realized why he had made that distinction. A shadow of sorrow flashed in her eyes and she moved away from him. The Dark Angel followed her, stopped in front of her, and gently gripped her upper arms.

  “My love, please try to understand. I’m doing it for you,” he said almost pleadingly.

  “Is that really it?” she asked, doubt clouding her gaze.

  Abaddon lowered his hands with a bewildered expression on his face.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I feel as if you’re changing. You never acted selfishly, even when you were an ordinary human.”

  Abaddon’s face darkened. He turned his back and walked away from her.

  “That’s not fair. I’m doing the best I can,” he said irately, but without raising his voice.

  “Please, Abaddon, be careful,” Aranes advised him, entreating and warning him at the same time.

  “You are the one in danger, not I,” he disagreed with his back turned to her.

  “I’m not sure about that.”

  Her partner frowned at the insinuation and whirled around to look at her.

  “What are you thinking?”

  Aranes seemed to ponder something serious and lowered her troubled gaze.

  “Nothing, don’t worry about it. Maybe I’m overthinking this,” she conceded.

  Her sad face wiped away any negative feeling in Abaddon as if by magic. He went to her and wrapped her in his arms.

  “Alright, let’s not worry about these things now,” he said, making an effort to smile. “How are you feeling? Would you maybe like to lie down?”

  “Your son and I are in perfect health, so no, I don’t want to lie down,” Aranes replied, feigning annoyance to help him lighten the mood. “I’ll go downstairs and wait for Mrs. Cole. She’s going to bring our things, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, I thought it would be better if things happened normally so that our staff at the mansion don’t start asking questions. But I went and got your dress. I gave it to Eiael for safekeeping.”

  The dress Aranes h
ad been wearing in her hasty entry into the physical dimension to stop him from committing suicide had her angelic blood on it, so they had been keeping it inside a small safe in the mansion’s walk-in closet. Gabriel had made the garment invisible to scheming eyes, so no one had known where the valuable item had been kept. As for those who had been watching her constantly those first few hours, they knew why the dress had suddenly been concealed. But some didn’t care, while others wanted much more than just her blood.

  “Good thinking,” said Aranes, commending his forethought. “What did you tell Mrs. Cole?”

  “That the fact that you suddenly fainted worried us, and since you’ll be giving birth any day now, you would feel safer staying with your aunt, who never leaves her house like I do. Thankfully she likes Eiael, so she didn’t grumble too much about not being able to take care of you anymore. She took comfort in the thought that after the birth we’ll be back home and she’ll have the opportunity to take care of both you and the baby.”

  “Alright, at least we won’t have any problems with the staff,” Aranes said.

  Abaddon caught the indirect hint.

  “There won’t be any problems with John either,” he assured her, stroking her hair reassuringly. “He won’t expose us.”

  The Superior, being familiar with human nature, seriously doubted it.

  “You can never be sure with humans,” she advised him, her serene gaze on his own. “Even the steadiest of characters can suddenly behave in ways that are totally unlike them. So if you don’t want to be forced to call a friend of yours crazy or a liar, it would be a good idea to protect our secret.” She rested her hands on his upper arms. “The next time you want to help someone, please, find another way. Revealing our existence is extremely dangerous, both for humans and for us. John Wilson is in danger because he knows our true identity. The dark forces might want to take advantage of him.”

  “I know, I thought of that,” Abaddon admitted. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on him. If they try to approach or harm him in any way, I’ll intervene.”

  “I hope you’ll be able to do it in time. But you can’t monitor many things at once, and your attention is always mainly focused on me,” she pointed out, demonstrating that good intentions aren’t always enough.

  “That’s true,” Abaddon agreed, with a strange expression that could be interpreted as challenging.

  Aranes discerned an unjustified confidence in his stance. She studied his face, trying to figure out where it stemmed from. What should be troubling him seemed to be entertaining him instead. Had he developed another ability that was superior to other Ethereals’ or was he trying to keep the Demons at bay with the threat of his unknown powers.

  “I hope you didn’t do your friend more harm than good,” she said somewhat dejectedly. She slipped out of his arms and headed toward the door. “I’m going downstairs. Do you want to come with me?”

  Before answering, Abaddon looked for their housekeeper. He saw her approaching the castle in her green Nissan and heard her thoughts.

  “Yes, it would do me good learn from the smartest Ethereal,” he replied with an enigmatic smile.

  “What do you mean?” Aranes asked. She had realized he had used his supernatural vision to find someone, but she didn’t know what he had seen or heard.

  Abaddon walked to her side.

  “I want to see how you’re going to convince Mrs. Cole that you don’t need her without hurting her gentle feelings. She’s thinking of asking you if she can stay here with you, and I’m sure as soon as she sees the huge castle, she’s going to insist. You know, she’s going to say that one needs some mode of transport just to get to the kitchen, that it would be better if she did the coming and going for you, and different things like that to justify why she is needed here.”

  Aranes countered her partner’s teasing mood with seriousness.

  “Sometimes we can’t avoid upsetting others. It is better to displease someone, trouble them, or even give them a hard time if it’s for their own good.”

  Abaddon opened the door and gestured for her to pass through.

  “Let’s see then how you’re going to handle a woman who would give you the shirt off her back if you needed it,” he challenged her with a somewhat cocky smile on his face.

  “The same way I handle those whose intentions aren’t so good: fairly,” Aranes replied and walked out of the room.

  CHAPTER 16

  As soon as Abriel saw Asmodeus enter the physical dimension, he turned off his screen. The case the Archdemon was pursuing would keep him busy for a while. This would give him enough time to carry out his plan.

  He left his headquarters and went to meet Estaria. As his ethereal form appeared in the bright chamber where the fallen Throne lived, Abriel looked around nostalgically. The off-white marble gleamed on the walls, floors, and ceiling, and the massive columns supporting arches were all a reminder of Elether, the lost paradise. Asmodeus’s second-in-command was lying on a rectangular altar in the middle of the big space, where the two rows of columns forming a wide corridor led. She was also watching her master on the screen up on the ceiling above her to make sure that the Archdemon would be busy in the physical world. She had been planning to visit Abriel to tell him her decision. But he had obviously beat her to it.

  She sat up on the altar and waited for him to approach, watching his calm controlled movements. The sense of hidden power the fallen commander emanated had always impressed her. Even before he had helped her and awoken her feelings for him.

  Abriel stopped in front of her, much closer than Demons usually approached each other, and inclined his head in a slight bow.

  “Great princess of the Thrones, I greet you,” he said, calling her by her old title in order to remind her of her glorious past.

  Estaria restrained herself so as not to show how happy his presence made her. She slid off the altar and stood in front of him with a serious air.

  “It’s been a while since I deserved that title or a bow from you,” she replied.

  Abriel regarded the silver dragon-headed pauldrons on her shoulders sadly.

  “No one can tell you who you are. Only you can decide that. Besides, from your stance, I see that you remain true to your nature.”

  The fallen princess disregarded the comment. She believed that the Sorcerer possessed the Source’s enviable ability to conceal entities. She couldn’t be sure, however, so she was careful about what she said.

  “To what do I owe this visit?” she asked, although she knew the answer. She didn’t reveal that she had intended to visit him for the same reason. From his stance, it appeared to her as if he was determined to offer her anything in return in order to achieve his goal, and she was curious to see how far he would go to get her to agree.

  “I thought I would help you make the right decision about what I proposed,” Abriel admitted, his blue eyes filled with innuendo.

  Estaria restrained herself from jumping into his arms. The distance between them was provocatively small. If she reached out her hand, she would get her heart’s desire. But she didn’t want it this way. Asmodeus might humiliate her, but she wouldn’t do it to herself. Which was the reason she had decided to fight back.

  “You don’t need to convince me about anything, Abriel. I have already made my decision. I’ll support your alliance,” she said, demonstrating the self-control and dignity of her former nature.

  Her aspiring lover didn’t give up. He also had other reasons for wanting to have sex with the fallen princess. Convincing her to support his alliance with the Archdemons had just given him the opportunity.

  “Great! That’s a very good reason for us to celebrate,” he replied cheerfully and, before she could react, he erased the small distance between them, wrapped his arms around her, and sealed her mouth with a kiss.

  Estaria now had no reason, or the power, to resist him. As soon as she felt his lips that were full of promises caress her own, she surrendered unconditionally. She embra
ced him with all the fervor of her emotions and melted into the kiss she had yearned for over so many centuries. Suddenly, she realized that their surroundings had changed and she opened her eyes.

  Abriel had taken her to the spatiotemporal plane, to a grove in the southern hemisphere, where spring had bedecked nature with its beauty. Long branches of mimosas formed a verdant dome over their heads and the fluffy pink flowers spread their fragrance all around. The moonlight filtered through the leaves, casting its blue-tinted rays on the clusters of blue violets scattered all over the grass. The dewdrops glistening on the petals of wildflowers made the area seem magical, ideal for an erotic encounter.

  “Materialize,” Abriel requested, his lips resting on hers. As soon as he sensed the difference in her energy vibrations, he also changed his ethereal form.

  Estaria felt the bare skin on his back under her palms and realized he hadn’t bothered to materialize his clothes, so she got rid of hers too.

  Abriel smiled inwardly at her eagerness and lowered his hands to caress her buttocks. As much as he tried to maintain an emotional distance, Estaria’s guileless surrender touched something inside him, something Lyla had never managed to touch. Her genuine passion, an unknown quantity in Eregkal, made him feel not only desirable, but also real. The fallen princess had an authentic quality about her that reminded him of all the good aspects of his former nature. But the fact that she had the same nature as him made even her slightest effect on him dangerous.

  Do what you have to and leave, he told himself. Estaria will serve a particular purpose and nothing more.

  He stopped kissing her and drew his head back, avoiding looking in her eyes. He pushed back her long hair that was covering her left breast, bent down and stroked her nipple with his tongue. Her soft skin tempted him; he began to lick and suck softly on her breast, which seemed to have been sculpted by a master artist. He wondered at the desire awoken in him by an entity who, for all her power, he pitied.