Broken

by Marianne Curley

  ‘Are you all right, Ebony?’

  Wiping my tears away, I sniff hard and take notice of my surroundings for the first time. We’re flying over a violent, dark-grey ocean, while above is a muddy-coloured sky half covered with green-tinged clouds moving fast and in two different directions. Instinctively, I grip Zavier harder. ‘This is not Earth.’

  He sniggers. ‘Technically it is. You can still breathe here.’

  ‘You’ll tell me when I can’t?’

  He laughs. ‘Ebony, we’re in the Crossing. Didn’t anyone tell you about it?’

  ‘I know it keeps the dimensions apart.’

  He nods. ‘In a few hours we will arrive at the Gates of Skade. It’s time for you to leave your past life behind and look towards your future.’

  I look for the soldiers, surprised to see them spread across an area as wide as a football field, with Zavier and me flying in the centre, Prince Luca about a hundred metres directly ahead. Every once in a while they glance down at the wild unfamiliar ocean with frothy brown-tops everywhere, deep swirling whirlpools, and waves that surge up to obliterate what appears to be an approaching coastline. ‘You won’t drop me, will you?’

  ‘Of course not!’ He flicks my chin upwards. ‘Keep your eyes up, not down. Ahead, not behind.’

  ‘All my life I’ve had good instincts about people. Some of your story made sense to me. I even remembered things from my childhood that seemed to back up a truth I believed I saw in your eyes.’

  ‘It was a confusing time for you, but, Ebony, let me tell you something that will make everything clearer,’ Zavier says. ‘You believed me because you are a reader of souls; you know when someone is telling the truth, and I was telling you the truth. So don’t be too harsh on yourself.’

  ‘Maybe at times you were telling the truth, but you lied too.’

  ‘True, but I didn’t lie about one important fact.’

  ‘Which one was that?’

  ‘Whenever I allowed you to look into my eyes, I was not lying.’

  ‘I don’t believe you. That can’t be true. I looked into your eyes heaps of times.’

  ‘I was there at your birth.’

  ‘But my mother wasn’t your sister, and I wasn’t born on your living-room floor. On the night I was born you were on Avena, snatching me from the midwife’s hands the moment she pulled me from my mother’s womb.’

  ‘Masked by magic to disguise who and what I was, the midwife saw only the evil act I was committing.’

  ‘According to Nathaneal, she said she saw a hideous monster.’

  His eyes close as if he’s recalling the moment he irrecoverably wrecked my life, then he exhales a deep breath. ‘I took you to my house and cared for you for three days, then wrapped you in a blanket to meet your adopted human parents.’

  ‘Are you telling me the truth now?’

  ‘Ebony, soon we will be standing at Skade’s entrance, and from that point on we won’t have a private conversation again. That’s why I’m giving you all the answers you’ve craved these last few months, so you can enter into your new life knowing the truth of who you really are.’

  He glances down at me with a look of affection in his eyes.

  ‘Don’t look at me as if you care!’

  His arms tighten around me. ‘Ebony, I am your uncle.’

  ‘Not this again!’

  ‘Look into my eyes. Those three days taken I kept you in my house I put you in a bedroom with a painted ceiling.’

  ‘I remember the painted ceiling.’

  ‘I needed three days with you,’ he says.

  ‘Needed? Why? What did you do to me?’

  ‘I applied a concealing glamour to your skin so your glow would not frighten the humans I had selected to raise you.’

  ‘That’s why they put me in dark clothes. They said my skin cells couldn’t tolerate the sun’s rays.’

  He nods. ‘I explained how it was a temporary condition, and that you would grow out of it by the time you were three or four, which is the usual age infant glow recedes.’

  ‘So what else did you do to me in those three days?’

  ‘I . . .’

  ‘Zavier?’

  He sighs. ‘I blocked your angelical memories so you couldn’t recall any you had inherited from your ancestors, or remember anything that had happened to you before you arrived at the Hawkins’ house. Seraphs can evoke memories of time they spent in their mother’s womb, and sometimes even before that.’

  I gasp, horrified by his confession, a confession that explains so much!

  He glances up at the fast-moving clouds and expels a staggering breath. I brace myself for whatever else he has yet to confess.

  ‘Spit it out, Zavier, before it chokes you.’

  His eyes lower to mine. ‘Your mother’s name is Elesha, a remarkable and beautiful Seraph.’

  ‘You loved her,’ I whisper.

  ‘Yes. It’s why I had to leave. You have her hair colour, and her eyes.’

  ‘Did she . . . love . . . you?’

  ‘She was completely loyal to your father, Rhamiel, a high commander of Avena’s Royal Army. And . . . and, Ebony, I really am your uncle. I know you don’t believe that, but the truth is . . . your father is my brother.’

  37

  Nathaneal

  I descend in a silent glide, quickly confirming that, at least on the outside, there are no guards. I hover above the prison a moment to study the gate, mind-linking the image to Michael. It’s a perplexity of criss-crossing bars of obsidian and iron. Dissolving the bars with my powers, a portion at a time, I gradually lower my weight to the solid stone floor.

  The interior is dark and blessedly cool. With my wings tucked close by my sides, I find the two humans who must be John and Heather in a cave at the end of a long tunnel of yellow rock. There are no bars, locked doors, or guards in sight, but also nowhere for these prisoners to go.

  They lie on stone beds covered in damp, filthy straw. Their sluggish beating hearts and shallow breaths reveal their tenacity to live.

  But Heather is in better shape than John.

  Moving closer slowly, I allow a brief moment to observe my surroundings. A fire pit in the cave’s centre holds only cold ash and scraps of a charred animal. There is no indication that anyone has been here for several days. Whoever is responsible for John and Heather’s wellbeing has left them to die, alone, with no answers to the many questions they must have.

  ‘Heather, can you hear me?’

  She stirs and sits up, her eyes fluttering open as she searches for the source of the voice. She sees me and scoots backwards into the wall.

  I smile at her and gently move my wings. ‘Don’t be afraid. I’m not here to hurt you.’

  ‘Am I dead?’

  ‘No, you’re not dead.’

  ‘But I’ve been here so long . . .’ she sighs. ‘Oh my God, you’re different to those other angels.’ She squints as she peers at me, then bursts out laughing. When she catches her breath, she wipes a tear and says, ‘I’m hallucinating, aren’t I? No one is that good-looking.’

  Michael’s sniggering laughter lets me know he’s behind me. Then Heather sees him. ‘Oh my Lord, there are two of you and you’re both spectacular. The other ones were brutes and scary.’

  ‘Heather.’ I try to get her attention. ‘Please don’t speak for a minute.’

  ‘Oh!’ She covers her mouth with both hands, and then says through them, ‘Sorry, it’s just nice to have someone to talk to. I have so many questions. My daughter, do you know her? Do you know how she is? Oh, God, tell me she’s all right.’

  I hear Michael’s laughter building. Before it bursts out, I mind-link, Don’t even think it.

  She’s all yours, cousin, he mind-links back.

  ‘Heather, my name is Nathaneal.’ I point to my left. ‘This is Michael. We’re here to take you and John home to your daughter. And, yes, the last time I saw Ebony she was fine. She never gave up hope that a team of angels would find you. Several s
earch attempts have tried but your prison is well hidden.’

  A sob of pure joy bursts from Heather’s lips. Taking a deep breath, she wipes her eyes with trembling fingers. ‘Does Ebony know what happened to us?’

  ‘No one knows what happened to you. And now is not the time for a briefing. We need to get you both out of here fast.’

  She glances sadly at her husband, still lying on the bed, unmoving. ‘It’s only me. John passed a couple of days ago. Ebony will be crushed.’

  ‘Heather, John’s heart is still beating.’

  ‘Really? Really? Oh thank goodness.’

  ‘How long has he been unconscious?’

  She shakes her head. ‘I don’t know. Two or three days. It’s hard to tell time here.’

  ‘Let me try to wake him.’ Swiftly, I slip into his dream. John? I am the angel Nathaneal and I’m here to take you home to Ebony. Open your eyes, John. See that I’m really here with you.

  John struggles to open his eyes. His left is swollen and badly bruised, but when he sees me he pulls himself up to a sitting position. Then, to the amazement of Heather, who starts crying again, he gets up and stands on his feet.

  But he’s clearly in bad shape with a fractured fibula just below his left knee, another fracture in his spine, C5 and maybe also C6. At least his spinal cord remains strong. There is bruising with swelling on both sides of his jaw and some internal injuries. But those I would need to lay my hands on to assess accurately.

  He was tortured, but carefully kept alive, I link with Michael.

  He nods. He was worth more alive than dead, he says, until now.

  John’s injuries are grave, making his chances of surviving the journey across Skade’s vast landscape, and then the pressures of the Crossing, slight at best. Thank the stars we still have the two lamoraks, or returning John and Heather to Earth would be impossible.

  I scour the prison for signs of a Death Watcher’s presence, but apparently even the reapers will not risk entrapment beneath this improbable ocean for the sake of one or two human souls.

  John’s partially opened eyes study me. He sees Michael, notices our wings, and a sense of wonderment fills him. A light switches on inside him and a tear escapes as he reaches for his wife’s hand. This is what I admire most about the human race, their perpetual capacity to endure trauma and tragedy without losing hope.

  ‘Tell us what you need us to do,’ John says.

  With golden wings pulsing lightly, Michael positions himself beside Heather. ‘Don’t fear us,’ he tells them.

  I indicate I’m ready and on Michael’s count of three we lift the two human beings into our arms and move quickly into the tunnel.

  A series of clicks warns us that we’ve triggered the explosives.

  Michael makes it into the outer passage at the first rumble from below. John and I are not so fortunate. Though I’m right behind Michael, the floor breaks apart between us, forcing me back into the cave while he continues to move towards the gate with Heather. I quickly lose sight of them when, behind me, the cave wall starts to collapse and big slabs of rock crash down on each other. Another explosion sends a fireball rushing towards us. I spin round in search of another way out, but there are only collapsing boulders everywhere.

  I decide to take my chances with the fire since it’s the fastest and probably our only way out. Beating my wings gently, I lift us off the ground. Then, curving my body round John’s torso, I throw my hands over his head. Taking a deep breath, I fly into the flames.

  The prison sinks into the ocean, dousing the flames as it drags us down along with enormous rocks that have become threatening projectiles. I glimpse sunlight fleetingly above my head. As boulders smash into each other all around us, I avoid those I can, taking hits from those I can’t. Focusing upwards through the dark waters, I search again for glimpses of sunlight, but all I see is an ocean strewn with disassembling boulders, intent on pushing us further down.

  38

  Ebony

  Zavier shifts my weight in preparation to land. Setting me on my feet, he peels the lamorak off, supporting me while I step out and firm up my wonky legs.

  I take a deep breath and allow some moments to adjust to my new surroundings. We’re standing on a mountain peak covered in green-tinged ice with winds blowing at us from two directions and making my hair a chaotic mess. As I hold it down, I take in the astonishing series of ranges with ridges, valleys and ice-covered peaks for as far as I can see in every direction, the ocean now far behind. ‘Wow.’

  ‘Don’t mistake beauty for safety,’ Zavier warns.

  The Prodigies start landing one after another, the whoosh of their wings as they touch down scattering pale green snow into the air. One Prodigy immediately distributes dried-food snacks and water flasks, and while everyone partakes, another flies to a peak higher than ours.

  ‘So this is the Crossing.’ Saying it aloud helps to keep me grounded in reality because it would be easy to talk myself into believing I’ve gone mad and this is a delusion on a grand scale.

  But this is not a delusion. It’s not a dream. I’m standing in another world, a nothing world, an in-between space that links the four dimensions that are all bound to Earth – the four dimensions that are Earth.

  Curiosity aroused, I watch the Prodigy on the higher peak lift his arms out wide and turn his face up to the sky, where ice-green clouds move fast and in two opposing directions.

  While I watch, I untangle the lamorak and start folding it. ‘What’s he doing?’

  ‘Gamorn? He’s taking a weather report.’

  ‘Really? I didn’t think angels bothered with that sort of thing.’

  Zavier says, ‘Normally we don’t, but we’re taking the long route to Skade today.’

  I look at him. ‘Why is that?’ But then it comes to me. ‘Because we entered the Crossing at the opposite end of the world to where dark angels usually enter; so now we have a longer journey and have to worry about things like weather.’

  He stares and I ask, ‘What?’

  ‘Your mother had a quick mind. You must get it from her.’

  ‘Don’t, Zavier.’

  ‘Don’t what?’

  ‘Mention the mother I will never know because of you.’

  Gamorn returns, flying low over the peaks, his massive charcoal wings beating fast and blowing up a storm of green snow where he passes. He heads straight to Prince Luca, standing alone on the next peak over, while the Prodigies, mostly sitting on this wider peak with us, turn to listen.

  It’s then, when everyone is still, I notice the silence again. Other than Gamorn’s foreign words, and winds whistling through valleys, it’s completely and utterly empty.

  Nothing lives here.

  When Gamorn completes his report, some Prodigies groan in low voices. One soldier makes an obscene hand gesture at the sky. Prince Luca turns his head and stares at me with a frown.

  ‘Zavier, Prince Luca looks worried. What’s wrong with Gamorn’s forecast?’

  He massages his left shoulder. ‘Er, we’re heading for some rough weather, that’s all.’

  ‘Either Prince Luca and his soldiers are overreacting or you’re seriously underplaying. Which is it?’

  He sighs. ‘There’s a three-system low pressure event up ahead.’ He glances at my confused expression. ‘In other words, a hurricane. We’re heading straight into it.’

  ‘So what do we do now? Go back?’

  ‘We go through it.’ He shakes out the lamorak I just folded. ‘You will have to keep this on for the duration.’

  ‘But I want to see what’s happening.’

  ‘My lady, it’s not safe for you to be exposed to those elements.’

  ‘You don’t understand how I . . .’ Just in time, I stop myself from revealing how frightened I am of storms at night. With the lamorak on, it feels like night all the time.

  OK, so I have to grow up fast now. I can’t avoid what scares me any more. That doesn’t mean I should simply do everything I’m to
ld. ‘An angel should not be hidden away in a bag.’

  ‘About the lamorak.’ He holds it up. ‘You have to trust me. You need to understand that the dangers in this netherworld are real. You’ve seen the clouds move in two directions?’

  I nod.

  ‘Well, in this place, everything moves in different directions. If a cyclonic gust should snatch you from my arms, it could conceivably carry you across mountains and oceans before it weakened enough to release you. Ebony, there’s a reason no one lives in this world. To be lost here means to be lost for ever. And when you are immortal . . .’

  We become aware of Prodigies falling silent, their eyes shifting to us as they tune in to our discussion.

  ‘I won’t let anything happen to you,’ Zavier whispers.

  The staring soldiers remind me that I’m their prisoner, and I spit out the word, ‘Pity!’

  The muscles around Zavier’s mouth and eyes tighten. Lines appear where there were none before. ‘What would you prefer,’ he shouts, unable to contain his temper any more, ‘to be burned to ash by the strike of a lightning bolt? To be swept up by violent winds and never seen again? To live in perpetual hunger, scavenging on what little seeds you are able to dig up out of frozen soil or dry baked mud? Waking each morning to a different landscape than the previous night?’

  I don’t respond, except to release a weary breath. He softens his tone. ‘The storms that circulate the Crossing are nothing like you’ve experienced on Earth.’

  Through clenched teeth, I mutter, ‘But I can’t breathe inside that thing.’

  ‘Ebony, you’re stronger than that.’

  ‘Have you been locked in one before?’

  His eyes soften. ‘No.’

  ‘Then you have no right to lecture me.’

  Prince Luca appears in front of me. He glares at Zavier, dismissing him, then it’s just the prince and me, and an audience of Prodigies looking for entertainment.

  ‘You will wear the lamorak,’ he says in his velvety voice, and with the speed and stealth of a snake Prince Luca grabs the back of my neck. Heat sears into my flesh but I try not to react. Then, at a much slower pace, he runs the fingertips of his other hand lightly down the length of my hair.