When the carriage stopped, Appoloin lifted her into his arms. The door opened, and Ariel stood waiting. Appoloin could see beyond him to the front entrance to the house, where Harviel stood steadfastly beside the door, holding it open. Both, he knew, were guarding and not acting as servants, their eyes constantly searching for anything approaching, always aware and watching for danger.
“Is she well, my lord?” asked Ariel.
“She fell asleep.” Appoloin smiled, but the worry of the evening’s discoveries was clearly etched on his face. “I need to put her where she can rest. Is Baglis here?”
“Sadly, not. She was called to assist with the other Mistdreamer, Valerie,” he said quietly. “We have Jinny here, and she prepared the lady’s bed.”
“I don’t want her out of my sight yet. I will lay her beside me in the drawing room, on the sofa. She is slipping back and forth into mistdream, and I must speak with her about my discoveries.”
Appoloin shifted Mairi’s weight and walked along the tree-lined pathway to the house. With a flick of the wrist, Ariel made the carriage disappear and rushed to guard the back of Appoloin.
“Where did you send the carriage this time?” He laughed. He needed to laugh, to find any humour in an evening of tense investigation, and answers that were elusive, but that in itself was conclusive.
“Och, just over to Xaphan. That should give him something to get angry about again.”
“Xaphan has much on his plate now. His work is dangerous. We cannot put him in jeopardy with such pranks.”
“Aye, then a carriage appearing out the blue should make him wary and more careful. Don’t you think?”
“I think you and Xaphan have to end this childishness. We have a major problem.” Just as Appoloin’s words were spoken, the carriage appeared again, but this time with two white horses, both of which resembled Pegasus. Appoloin shook his head and chuckled. Xaphan obviously had time for a little merriment. Just as quickly, he returned to seriousness.
“Hmph, he tries to outdo me. What do you say about Xaphan’s gift, Harviel?” he asked when they entered the house.
“I say you’d better get rid of it before the neighbours see it!” He shook his head and held the door open, allowing Appoloin to walk past.
Making sure Appoloin and Mairi were now in the safe-keeping of Harviel, Ariel returned to the carriage, and with a semi-circular wave, the carriage disappeared, again, only this time, it was returned to the stables. The horses no longer had massive wings on their backs, and they neighed contentedly when the stableman tied a bag of feed around their necks and patted them, before he made a cup of tea for a very bewildered coachman.
*
Ephraim waved his farewell to Phyllis and began the walk back to Cadogan Place. It would not be long before the merchants began lowering their awnings and preparing their wares for sale that day. The sun would be up soon, he thought, as he walked along the dimly lit street, the gas lamps giving meagre lighting at best. Only a few feet of illumination shone around the base of the post, while in between the spread of posts, the darkness carried the shadows of those who had taken part in the night’s revelry.
Prostitutes’ bodies could be used and their act go unseen in the darkness between the lamps. Men could relieve themselves, and thieves could hide in wait, so great care had to be taken when walking from one lamp post to the next.
The lamplighter was ahead, climbing his small ladder to extinguish the wick of the street lamps, and was barely visible as the dawn approached.
Ephraim concentrated on his surroundings and the careful placement of his feet with each step and was surprised when he discovered he had reached the ladder.
“S’cuse me, m’lud, just out the way in a minute,” said the lamplighter.
“Take your time, sir. There’s no need to rush. I’m sure there are many ahead who’ll be wishing for a little more privacy.”
“Aye, that’d be the case most of me days,” came the tired reply, “but it’s me job, and it’s to be done as is, if ye catch my drift.”
Ephraim was about to reply, but again, was surprised to find the man facing him, and no sign of his ladders.
“Now tell me, dear Ephraim,” he sneered, “what might you be thinking of, walking this way by thyself? Think thee not, thou should have someone, or something to aid and protect thee?”
“Thou, thee?” he said, becoming a little fearful. “It’s been some time since I heard the old English. I won’t keep thee from thy job,” he insisted, a little concerned this person knew his name. Taking a step forward, he began moving away and willed himself not to look back at this stranger. Just one step and he entered the shadows of the lampposts, when his arm was grabbed. The force of the capture shocked Ephraim, and he tried to disengage the hand holding tightly onto his arm.
“I think not, Ephraim.”
“How is it you know my name? I do not believe we have ever met,” Ephraim said in his best upper-class voice. “Unhand me, sir. I wish to journey on to my home.”
“I’m sure you do, Ephraim,” snarled the lamplighter, “but that’s not going to happen, not tonight, not tomorrow night. No, Ephraim, it’s never going to happen again. Surely you see Azrael waiting for you in the dawn light.”
Ephraim’s eyes widened in shock, and he searched ahead for Azrael but could see nothing. In that simple twist of his head, he opened his neck to the razor-sharp talons of Lucias, who, with a surgeon’s skill, ripped into his throat, destroying his larynx and severing his vocal cords. Blood spurted from his neck, and Ephraim knew he was about to die and fell to the ground holding his throat.
“Now that’s not what I wanted at all,” Lucias whined petulantly. “I didn’t want you to bleed on those clothes. I’m going to be wearing them, after all!”
Ephraim could feel his life slowly draining away, when, in the fog of death, a dawning realisation of Lucias’s words began to take hold of him. He lay still, willing the end to come quickly, hoping his comprehension of Lucias’s words would not happen.
“Wish all you want, Ephraim, but the end is not there for you yet,” Lucias whispered coldly. “There is no Azrael, is there? You see him? No, I thought not. There will be plenty of time before he is called. Time for a little fun, do you not think?”
No longer able to speak, he raised his head and sought out Azrael, but there was no sign of him—of course there was no Azrael. Lucias had no intention of letting his life end. There was a reason it was to remain on this plane.
Lucias pulled Ephraim’s hands away from his throat and winced, “Ooh, that is not a good job. I thought I was so good at this throat cutting thing.” Then he smiled wickedly, and winked. “But it will do for its purpose.”
Ephraim was held in position with Lucias’s foot, and he was horrified when Lucias began to tremble ferociously. His head began twisting and turning so rapidly it became a blur. As he twisted and shook, his skin began to loosen, eventually falling to the ground, spreading across the walkway, resembling discarded clothes at the end of the day.
All that remained of Lucias was his essence.
Ephraim waited for the onslaught and closed his eyes in a silent prayer, sent to those he loved. A hope that they would remember who he was.
The pain hit his head first, and it was so fierce Ephraim was sure he would pass out from it, but he could hear Lucias’s laughter and his promise to keep him awake all through the process.
His stomach rolled, and he turned over, opening his mouth to free himself of the sickness. As quickly as he opened his mouth, it was snapped shut.
His shoulders, arms, hands, and fingers started to spasm, as though hundreds of hammers were pounding into them unmercifully. It was as though they were grinding upon meat, stretching and thumping, to acclimatise Lucias. His legs jerked and then seized alternately, and his feet elongated to welcome Lucias’s large feet. His spine extended, pulling it to unbearable tension, the agony causing Ephraim to scream out loud in pain, his mouth open. His ears were being bomba
rded by his own screaming, yet no sound could be heard.
His eyes bulged, blood oozed from the sockets, and Ephraim searched again for Azrael.
“He is not coming,” whispered Lucias. “You are mine now.”
Ephraim may not have been able to speak, but his mind was his own, and he whispered back, “I will never be yours.”
Lucias growled, and the transformation now complete, stood up, stamping his feet gleefully. Ephraim roared in pain. “I think thou shouldst be careful how thee talks to me, Ephraim. You are mine now. You are at my will now, and you will do as I say, because I like pain, Ephraim. I like it more when I cause you pain.” Lucias lifted his arm and punched the sky, and the tremours from his movement echoed through Ephraim’s body, reverberating against his spine.
“What say thee now, Ephraim?” When Ephraim did not reply, Lucias laughed. “I thought so. Now let us get to work.”
The transformation was complete… Lucias had become Ephraim.
Chapter Ten
“Were you ever going to tell me?”
And here we go again, thought Appoloin, the peace of the morning broken by her inquisition. The haze from their lovemaking still hung in the air, and he wanted to stay in this warm glow of time for just a few minutes more. He didn’t want to face the day and the evil that surrounded her, that hunted her. He just wanted her in his arms, making love, enjoying the bliss they shared.
That was not going to happen, however.
“And what is it I have not told you about this time?”
“About Harviel and Ariel, our footmen? Or did you intend on keeping the fact they’re Angels from me?” Mairi rolled over to face Appoloin, and his eyes widened in surprise. “Yes, Appoloin, I know what they are, but it would have been one of those share-it-with-the-Mistdreamer-because-she’s-trying-to-save-the-heavens-and-the-universes kind of thing, if you’d told me about them yourself.” She sat up, and rivers of cotton sheet flowed down her back when she grabbed it from the bed and bounced onto the cold floor.
“I had intended to, Mairi.” His thoughts were definitely not on either of his Angel friends, but very much on the very pleasant round ass that was, sadly, walking away from their bed.
“But you will admit there were other more important things on my mind yesterday.” Mairi threw him a look over her bare shoulder, her hair falling in blonde waves. Narrowing her eyes at him in disbelief, she turned away and shook her long mane, while grabbing the long sheet tightly around her thighs, careful not to trip over the material.
“Let me help you with that,” Appoloin begged and started towards her.
“You. Stay. Away. From. Me,” she said, punctuating each word. She grabbed the cloth even tighter against her skin because she’d raised her other hand in protection.
“You do know I could flip my finger and the sheet would disappear, don’t you?”
“You do that, Appoloin, and I swear you’ll never see my body again.”
“How do you intend to stop me?” He laughed.
“Well, of course,” she said airily, “maybe it is in an Angel’s nature to force a human into subservience and obedience, and then I could not, obviously, stop you from taking what isn’t yours.”
Quick as a flash he was beside her, holding her in his arms, the sheet forgotten about as it fell to the floor.
“You are mine, Mairi. You are my wife.”
“No, I’m not,” she said angrily, trying to push him away. “You just said I was your duchess so that I could be accepted last night at the ball.”
“No, Mairi.” He held her in position, like a vice, and, with a shake of his head, he stared deeply into her eyes. “You became my duchess when you undertook the marriage ceremony.”
“But there was no ceremony,” she insisted. “We didn’t have Omniel to bless it or go through the service.”
“You agreed to be mine and only mine. That is the ‘marriage’ ceremony for Angels.”
“But I’m not an Angel,” she cut in.
“And,” he continued, totally ignoring her interjection, “we sealed our ceremony when we made love. You became bound to me, freely—”
“But—”
“Of your own will—”
“But—”
“Without force.” He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her next objection.
“What? No comeback? No, ‘I didn’t do it freely’ reply? I would never take you without consent. Let me be clear, an Angel would and could never take you without consent. And no other Angel can take you now, not now you are mine. The laws of the universe cannot be broken. The binding is now written in the Book of Angels. My love is sealed with you, and you alone, Mairi.”
She took him by complete surprise, when she yanked his head down and pressed her lips to his. His mouth, so tentative a second ago, took possession of hers, gently at first, then ruthlessly claiming. She not only let him, but her response matched his equally. She kissed him as though she had been waiting for him forever. His body’s reaction was swift and automatic, and with no delay, he immediately flew them back to their bed.
*
Mairi lay awake, watching the rise and fall of Appoloin’s chest as he slept, tired after their second bout of lovemaking.
“I do,” she said as she snuggled closer, resting her head on him, and when she fell into a deep sleep, she was totally oblivious to the tender smile that spread across Appoloin’s face.
*
The past few days, or was it weeks now, she thought of the multitude of changes to her life. All the wonderful-dangerous things she had learned, the shifting through time, plus leaving her cousins, and not least knowing she was married to an Angel, left her exhausted, and sleep became more than sleep. She passed the layers of dream and her blue mist soothed her as it wrapped comfortingly around her, tugging her gently, pulling her to cross over into mistdream.
“Are you well, lass?” asked her blue mist.
Silently acknowledging his words, letting him know she was fine, she drifted along with her mist, letting it lead the way. She was quite comfortable with her mist and trusted him to guide her and calmly allowed him to take her to the Heavens.
Mistdreaming was becoming so natural, so easy for her to slip over to the Heavens, but she carefully inspected all around, and waited for a connection with her cousins or another Angel. She became aware of her surroundings.
There were no white fluffy clouds, of course; that had been a childish dream. The Heavens were a representation of all that was known while alive, and so, she should be standing in a replica of what she had known on Earth. Mistdreaming would take her to the fifth tier of Heaven, where she could interact with Angels and some of her loved ones, those who no longer dwelt in the earth’s realm.
The other four tiers of the Heavens she would not be able to access as a Mistdreamer. The opportunity to go to the higher tiers would not be attainable to her unless, for some reason, she chose it, and that could only happen if the powers that be considered it was in her best interests. When the time came for her to leave the fifth tier and move on to the next stage of her existence, she would be in a new chapter of her life’s journey. She shivered at the thought, and hoped that was a long way off because surely that meant leaving the people she cared most for, on Earth’s plane forever.
No, she thought, looking around her, this is not the Heavens, this is a coffee shop!
“You crossed, Mairi. Are you safe? Do you find yourself troubled?” asked her mist.
“Not troubled as such. I’m tired, not much else, scared at times, but Appoloin is protective, perhaps even more so now, but he’s not overbearing. Well, not any more. What a pain he was to begin with.” She chuckled.
She swore she could hear her mist groan and laugh at the same time.
“Where are we?” she wondered. “I thought you were taking me to the Heavens.”
“Hello, my dear,” Ambriel’s voice boomed across the room. The tall, handsome Angel was the double of Superman she thought. However, as he tucked h
is wings into his back, and walked towards her, whilst spreading the image of tight-fitting jeans over his bare legs, it was a sure giveaway that he wasn’t Clark Kent!
Sitting down at one of the many tables in the shop, she had time to look around and enjoy. I’m in Poddingtons, she said to herself and sighed contentedly.
The shop had a long central passageway running through it. Tables were placed under windows that stretched all the way down one side of the shop, and light flooded in, dancing and bouncing across the tables like tiny magical ballerinas. There was comfortable seating, with cushions on which you could curl up, while sipping the delectable coffee and reading one of the books or magazines from the bookcase, which split the room halfway holding a range of different genres, to suit everyone. Colourful plants and the pale tartan coverings of the cushions harmonised and blended with the soft, purple-grey painted walls.
To the other side of the passageway, opposite the bookcase, a selection of coffee machines were hissing and whistling. An assortment of coffees, teas, and other hot drinks were stacked above the machines, on white painted shelves. Coffee was bubbling in their pots, with the most sensational aromas filling the air. Mairi thought she was in Heaven.
Boards on the wall behind the well-stocked fridge-counter displayed the ‘specials’ of the day, while others listed all the products available in the shop.
“Cappuccino?” Ambriel asked.
Mairi nodded, revelling in the atmosphere, too tired to speak.
Yes, it was clear to her. Heaven was definitely a coffee shop.
A young man worked at the coffee machine, pulling the levers, hissing the steamer as he heated milk. Another joked alongside him, teasing him, making him laugh out loud. The easygoing camaraderie was infectious. Although she noticed the young man’s words were few, he was enjoying her teasing, and Mairi found herself relaxing into the moment. When Ambriel sat beside her at the table, she was still enjoying the atmosphere, and chose to ignore the miserable face he wore.
The Park Family: Mairi: Retribution Page 13
