by J F Cain
“I saw the strength with which you fought the Demon and how very quickly your wrist healed,” he said, lifting his gaze to her face. “I was really impressed! I have never seen the like before in a human. Especially your healing—I never imagined it could be so immediate without a Celestial’s intervention.”
Eiael realized that the Dark Angel was as observant as she was. Did he know about her discussion with the Superior and want to turn the tables on her? It didn’t seem like it. He looked sincerely curious, and her sixth sense confirmed it.
“The first entity to hold me in her arms when I was born was the Superior. The supernatural effects became part of my physical being from the moment I came into existence,” she replied easily.
Abaddon didn’t seem convinced.
“Were your parents Guardians?” he asked, observing her closely.
“Yes,” Eiael answered tersely.
“Did you know them?”
His questions were starting to annoy Eiael.
“No, I didn’t know either of my parents,” she replied coldly. “My father was killed during a nighttime patrol before I was born, and my mother passed on to the spiritual dimension right after she gave birth to me.”
Abaddon noticed the momentary upset his question about her parents had caused in her aura. If she believed what she was saying, that disruption in her energy field wouldn’t have happened. On the other hand, the theurgist would never lie to him because, besides the fact that it went against her principles, he would know it. The only other explanation was that she also had a few doubts about her origins. The likelihood made him curious and he began to search her aura, where all her life’s information was written.
Eiael froze. She knew what the Celestial was doing but stoically endured his examination of her personal information, much as she would have liked to avoid it.
Abaddon began his search from the moment of her birth. His ethereal vision converted the information stored in the theurgist’s energy field into images that flashed by at breakneck speed. He saw many things that startled him. But what upset him the most was a recent entry in her aura that explained why she had become even more distant toward him: Eiael knew about the effect the Exorcists’ magical chants had had on him and had already divulged it to Aranes.
“It’s unbelievable how many things happen to us without our knowledge,” Abaddon remarked sadly, his eyes riveted to the image of a single drop of blood falling to the sanctum’s floor.
Eiael’s face paled.
“What do you mean?” she asked with uncharacteristic unease.
Abaddon shifted his gaze to her eyes.
“I hope we both soon learn why these things happen,” he said, certain that the sharp-witted theurgist would catch his meaning.
He didn’t want to get involved in a discussion that would put him on the spot. So he got up and left, with the same question on his mind that had been tormenting him from the moment it had happened: Was the Source warning him or targeting him? The wound on his palm had healed as soon as he and Aranes had left the Guardians’ sanctum, without him having to do a thing. Even so, its brief occurrence had been more than enough to arouse suspicion that cast a shadow of doubt on him.
Behind him, Eiael watched him leave, her own questions troubling her mind.
What had the Dark Angel seen that she didn’t know? Was it about the origins of her powers or was it something else? As far as she could tell, Alric had kept a number of secrets from her. Her mentor’s honesty had been called into question after her last encounter with Galen, but she hadn’t been able to reach any conclusions from what the werewolf had said. She was missing information that only an Ethereal could know, but no matter how much her doubts were eating her up inside, she hadn’t asked her spiritual mother about it. She considered it egotistical to bother the Superior of the Angels with her personal problems when she was in danger. And the entire world along with her. However, on the nights when she lay awake trying to solve the riddle, the image of an enraged Kenelm, that morning when he had brought Jean’s lifeless body to them, would spin around in her head.
Eiael had relived that torturous moment dozens of times. The furious werewolf had barely been able to keep himself from transforming, and also from killing her. And that was very strange for the desperate creature who considered her responsible for Jean’s death. Eiael’s mind filled yet once again with the image of Kenelm bringing his wild face close to hers, uncaring about the Guardian swords that were sinking into his body. She heard him telling her again, with that deep, growling voice: “There is only one reason I’m not killing you.”
She wondered why her mind had got stuck on that image, always stopping at the werewolf’s words. What was she trying to tell herself that she didn’t understand? Or was it precisely because subconsciously she had understood, that she wasn’t allowing the information to rise to her consciousness? If so, then that meant the information was exceptionally painful and she was unconsciously trying to protect herself from a terrible revelation that would change her life. Such a thing would be unacceptable for a being of her spiritual level, but not at all impossible. Besides, she was still human.
She was different from other people because she didn’t let soul-destroying situations go on indefinitely, whether they concerned her inner world or the outer one. Unlike those who, fearing being hurt, avoided facing the truth, consequently condemning themselves and those around them to a life of constant misery, Eiael chose to pay her dues to pain and move forward free from its negative influence. She knew that behind the unpleasant emotion’s ugly face was another entirely different one that rewarded the bold who dared to face it, offering them strength, optimism, and more importantly freedom. But to encounter that aspect of pain, you first had to face the first, terrifying one.
Alone in the library, Eiael sighed worriedly.
Nothing remains secret forever, she thought stoically. Whatever the secret Alric had kept hidden from her, it would someday be revealed.
Abaddon entered the room and saw Aranes piling clothes in the suitcase that lay open on the bed. His heart clenched, feeling the moment of her departure drawing near. She smiled at him and went on packing, pretending she hadn’t seen the sorrow in his eyes. So as not to upset her, Abaddon pasted a neutral expression on his face and walked to the table between the two armchairs that stood in front of the fireplace. On it lay a light-colored satin box. He opened it and took out the white gown Aranes had been wearing when she was incarnated on Earth. He held it high up by the shoulders and it unfolded, reaching down to the floor. His gaze caught on the blood that had soaked the back of the dress. He touched it curiously and then looked at his fingers, as if seeing something impossible.
“It’s still damp!” he said, astonished.
His expression made Aranes smile, but she didn’t say anything.
“You wore it the night you sacrificed yourself for me,” he went on somewhat melancholically, recalling that dramatic yet also, for him, wonderful moment.
“And I never regretted it,” Aranes replied as she walked to him.
“Why are you taking it with you? Are you going to use it?” asked Abaddon.
She took the gown from his hands and began to fold it again.
“When I need to, yes,” she said without looking at him.
Her reply created in him a sense of impending doom. He wondered how she was going to use the garment that was soaked with her miraculous blood. But he didn’t ask her, because he didn’t want to know; he couldn’t bear it. He turned his back to her and walked to the lit fireplace. He folded his arms on his chest and stared at the flames, trying not to show his anger, which was a consequence of the pain he was struggling to manage.
Aranes replaced the gown in the box and went to stand at his side.
“Our physical natures are temporary forms on the material plane. However, our spirits are eternally bound on all the planes,” she said, again reiterating what her partner wasn’t able to grasp.
Abadd
on, who hadn’t yet managed to embrace the Angels’ lofty convictions, was not thrilled by the prospect of their spirits being eternally bound.
What use are our joined spirits if I cannot touch you, he thought. “Yes, I understand …” he said in a tone of voice that wouldn’t convince anyone, let alone his partner.
Aranes knew there was no point in trying to convince him. So she set the matter aside to discuss something she considered more important.
“Anger makes for poor counsel. It always leads to wrong actions,” she remarked calmly.
“I’m not angry; I’m just disappointed,” Abaddon replied, still looking at the fire burning in the fireplace.
Aranes knew that wasn’t true.
“You’re angry with everyone, but because you cannot direct your anger at the Source or me, you’re directing it at Lucifer. You’re blaming him for all the bad things that are happening to you, and that has turned your anger into relentless rage. But the more you wallow in that emotion, the more power you give it, and you become a slave to it.” She paused for a moment and sighed quietly, without taking her eyes off his face. “Abaddon, we’re at a turning point in the developments and we cannot afford to be defeated. One mistake is enough to bring total destruction. Please, don’t do this,” she pleaded.
Abaddon nodded to show that he understood how critical the situation was. Afterwards, to put an end to the discussion, he turned and wrapped her in his arms.
“Don’t worry, my love. I will do what must be done,” he said and bent to kiss her, wanting to savor his paradise while there was still time.
CHAPTER 24
Abaddon stood at the bedroom window and stared at the six Land Rovers parked in front of the castle’s main entrance. Next to the cars, the Thornton twins, Diana, and other Guardians had formed a semicircle around Fares, who was giving them last-minute instructions about the journey.
Abaddon bent his head and rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. It had been a bad night. Holding Aranes in his arms, he had fought to calm the emotions their impending separation was causing in him. Shielding him from total despair was the thought that if the Source had truly wanted to separate them, It wouldn’t have blessed their marriage. Dawn had found him trying to convince himself to follow his partner’s advice and not succumb to the rage he was feeling for the one responsible for all his suffering. But evidently he still had a lot of work to do before he managed that feat.
He turned to look at Aranes, who was getting dressed, and was immediately enveloped by a feeling of indescribable loneliness. His mind was flooded with gloomy images, fragments of his future life that bore the stamp of misery. Even so, he didn’t allow despair to carry him away. His pride wouldn’t permit him to appear weak.
“Are you ready?” he asked, assuming a relaxed air.
“Almost,” she replied and picked up the loose top lying on the bed. She was just about to slip it over her camisole when she saw her partner approach her.
Abaddon stood behind her, gently swept her hair to the side and touched one of the two scars on her shoulder blades with his fingertips.
“I hope you never have to hurt for me again,” he said, looking at the proof of her love for him.
Aranes dropped her top back on the bed.
“No one can avoid pain,” she replied sadly. “But we can share it. That way it will be bearable. Because whatever is divided loses its power.”
Abaddon turned her to face him and wrapped his arms around her waist.
“The day we were joined, I swore to do everything in my power to be with you eternally. Know that I am determined to keep my vow,” he said with a serious look on his face.
She smiled at him encouragingly.
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Aranes, I love you more than I love myself. Never forget that,” Abaddon went on, his voice seeming to rise from an abyss of sorrow.
“I promise,” she replied as if making a vow.
A few minutes later, the two of them walked out of the castle’s entrance. They greeted Eiael, who was standing at the rear door of the first jeep, nodded a greeting to the Guardians waiting outside the cars, and headed for the third in the row. Fares, who was standing next to the passenger door, opened the rear door for them to climb in. As soon as he shut it behind them, the Guardians accompanying the convoy got into their cars and they set off one after the other on the driveway.
A number of miles away from the castle, a werewolf who appeared to be taking a nature stroll in the forest of Sagamore Hill lifted his nose and sniffed the air. When his sense of smell picked up Aranes’ scent, he took his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and touched a speed dial key.
“She’s left the castle with her lover and thirty or so Guardians,” he told the one who answered on the other end in a conspirational tone of voice. “Wait till they get onto the main road and then follow them from a safe distance. When you see which way they’re heading, let Brian know.”
After a nine-hour journey, the six jeeps reached the Piedmont in North Carolina and from there headed toward the Appalachian Mountains. After traveling a number of miles on a rural road, they turned into a narrow dirt road that was difficult to see, tucked as it was between tall shrubs. It looked more like a hiking trail, but the brambles growing along its edges with their thorny branches extending out onto the dirt road deterred any passer-by from walking it. The place exuded a mysterious hostility and the forest’s trees, which allowed very little of the meager evening light to pass through, gave it a frightening air.
Constantly alert, Abaddon looked outside the window and saw massive werewolves moving quickly through the forest. He had sensed the creatures following them and realized that they were going to attack soon—the deserted area was ideal for that. He put his arms around Aranes and pulled her to his side.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, turning to look at him.
“There’s a pack on our tail,” Abaddon replied, scanning the surrounding area to see if there were other creatures nearby.
Brian had been following the convoy on his bike practically from the beginning of the journey, making sure—like his accomplice—to stay a safe distance behind them so that Abaddon wouldn’t spot them. Besides, a werewolf’s sense of smell gave him the ability to pick up scents within a radius of many miles. However, even if the Celestial had noticed them, he wouldn’t have paid much attention to two solitary werewolves in a region where quite a few of them lived. Once the convoy had got on I-95 heading south to New Jersey, Brian used his phone to notify his accomplices in that area. So by the time Aranes and her escort reached the Piedmont, they were being followed by seven werewolves—some of them dashing through the forest in wolf form a good distance from each other so that they wouldn’t be considered a pack. And as soon as the convoy had turned into the rural road leading to the mountains, Brian had realized that their journey would soon be ending. So he had abandoned his bike, assumed his animal form and joined the pack to carry out the plan that he had been preparing for months.
“This is Unit Four. I saw something moving among the trees,” Stephan Thornton’s voice was heard saying through the two-way radio.
“Unit two. I confirm I also saw it,” the Guardian passenger in the second vehicle replied.
“It’s heading toward us at great speed!” a female voice warned, her voice urgent.
“Attention all units. We are being followed by werewolves. Drive faster at once!” Eiael commanded.
As the vehicles accelerated, a howl was heard through the forest as a werewolf warned his accomplices. Abaddon scanned the surrounding area again. His vision penetrated the three jeeps behind them and he saw a werewolf running behind the last vehicle.
“There is only one behind us. We aren’t being followed; we’re surrounded,” he said with evident irritation. “The howl was a signal. We’re heading into a trap.”
As if to confirm his words, a werewolf leaped out of the forest and rammed into the second jeep with his shoulder. Fro
m the violent collision, the vehicle flew into the air and fell onto the trees growing near the dirt road. But the jeep behind it then ran into the creature, flinging it to the other side of the road.
“We’ve lost Unit Two,” Fares reported on the radio with a steady voice.
In the first jeep, Eiael was running through the options in her emergency plan.
“We go on,” she commanded. “They don’t seem to know which car the Superior is in. They’re striking randomly.” Or are trying to eliminate her protectors, she added to herself.
“There are only five cars left. Soon they’ll be out of options,” Abaddon observed while monitoring the creatures’ movements.
The werewolf following the last jeep jumped onto its roof, plunged its claws into the metal and ripped it in two. Then gripping the left half of the roof, he bent it outwards. If he killed the driver, he could get the car to veer off course and give his pack five less of the Superior’s protectors to worry about. But before he could thrust his hand into the cabin to do that, one of the Guardians pulled himself out of the rear left window. With the top half of his body hanging out of the car, he opened a hyperdimensional gateway in front of his palm and the whirling energy that shot out of it struck the werewolf and flung him off the car. With a pained cry, the creature landed in the shrubs beyond the dirt road and, as he breathed his last, slowly returned to his human form.
The Guardian quickly slipped back into the vehicle—his face bleeding from the thorns that had scratched him as the jeep had sped past—and looked around for other hostile presences. The Guardian sitting beside him glanced at him to make sure he was alright and then stood up and stuck his head out of the torn roof to see what was going on further ahead. In the cloud of dust trailing the vehicles in front of them, he saw a werewolf land on the windshield of the jeep where the two Celestials were. The creature thrust his hand through the screen, which shattered, covering Paul Thornton—who was driving—and Fares—who was in the passenger seat—with glass fragments. He then gripped the roof and tore it off. As soon as his saw Aranes in the back seat he howled. In the meantime, the jeep that was in the lead had edged as far to left as the road permitted, crushing shrubbery on its way. The rear right door opened and a Guardian jumped out holding a sword.
