Divine Hope

by Jo O'Neil

  Chapter Twenty One

  The Assassin

  There was never any doubt that the President of the United States daughter would agree to lend charismatic Ryan her new, top of the range sports version of the Range Rover to chauffeur Hope and me back to The Plaza Hotel. This was just as well as I was mindful Hope had a dinner-date with the Hart brothers she would be unwise to miss, least she antagonise them.

  The windows, with the exception of the windscreen, were as black as the rest of the off-roader, which at least lent Ryan a degree of concealment; although he never once removed the red bandana which almost covered, apart from his short sideburns that merged with the facial hair he’d grown to disguise his identity, the beautiful blonde hair I had seen in his MI6 service file.

  I sat in the front next to Ryan. Although this gave me the perfect opportunity to converse with my protector, I refrained from talking to him, instead preferring to allow him to concentrate on the road while I silently mulled over the questions I needed answering. But before I had a chance to ask for Divine assistance on how much I was allowed to disclose to both my charges, I was distracted by an electricity dance between mine and Ryan’s aura’s. I wondered if he was experiencing the tantalising sensation that I felt coursing through my entire being. I sat enjoying the unfamiliar tingles in an almost hypnotic state until I was jolted back to consciousness, I guessed by a Divine source.

  Turning my attention to the task at hand, which was far easier now the quivering phenomenon had ceased, I remembered Ryan had asked me how I had become involved. So could I, for example, tell him I was only temporarily dead? Without a sound I posed the question heavenward and waited. Within seconds I heard A.M.’s familiar voice telling me, discreetly so my companions would not hear, I would be ill-advised to mention this detail.

  ‘A.M., can I explain to Ryan why he can see me?’ I continued in silence.

  ‘Yes, Serena, that will not be giving too much away.’

  ‘Why can he see me, A.M.?’

  ‘You held the intention to be seen, just as you did when we entered your favourite coffee shop in London. God listens to clear intentions, Serena.’

  ‘Thank you, A.M.’

  ‘You are most welcome, Serena.’

  ‘A.M., Ryan wants to know where he stands in regards to being my protector. Is his family’s promise now complete? But if I tell him he’s off the hook, will he feel a failure? After all, he thinks I’m dead because he failed to protect me.’

  ‘Tell Ryan, God had His reasons which led to your death, and he is not to question why. Suffice to say, you are forging ahead with God’s plan for you, and he can help.’

  ‘How can Ryan help, A.M.?’

  ‘All will be revealed at the relevant time, Serena.’

  I sighed loudly before muttering, ‘Of course.’

  ‘Are you OK?’ Ryan’s voice came at me from the left.

  ‘Yes, thank you, Ryan.’

  I had one more question for A.M. which I speedily asked, as I was aware we were nearing our destination.

  ‘Can I tell Ryan why Hope is tangled up in all of this?’

  ‘Yes, God has no objections to you telling Ryan. Out of politeness, though, please check with Hope first.’

  ‘Thank you, A.M. As always you’ve been a tremendous support.’

  ‘It is what I am here for, Serena.’

  As Ryan pulled up outside The Plaza Hotel, Hope called her thanks as she dashed out of the car, undoubtedly aware she didn’t have long before her dinner reservation. I ran after her, mumbling in Ryan’s general direction I would be straight back.

  ‘Hope, wait up,’ I cried as I caught up with her in the foyer.

  As A.M. had advised me, I asked Hope for her consent before I explained to Ryan her involvement with the British Secret Service. I was careful to add it would be helpful to be able to be honest with the human lie detector.

  I also apologised for already letting slip she spoke to spirit. However, I pointed out as far as Ryan was concerned Hope may well be a fraudster, in which case giving him the facts would exonerate her in his eyes. I don’t know if it was her desperation to get back to her suite to change into suitable attire to dine in the Oak Room, as she hastily gave me her consent before once again racing away.

  I returned to Ryan who had sensibly kept the four-wheel drive motor running; after all his hunters were only feet away. Once I was seat belted in (perhaps a waste of time given my honorary angelic status), he drove away from the bustling hotel entrance to a more private spot. When he stopped the engine, I began.

  ‘Ryan, you asked me some questions; let me try and answer them for you.’

  He remained quiet so I launched into the detail I was safely allowed to share.

  ‘You can see me because it’s the best way I can help you,’ I started.

  ‘Even though you’re dead?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What did you mean when you said being dead was a “minor technicality”?’

  ‘My goodness, you do pay attention.’

  ‘What appears to be insignificant detail can mean the difference between life and death in my game,’ he sincerely explained.

  I smiled before answering, ‘I understand, but I can’t comment just yet on the “minor technicality” part. What I can tell you though is God wishes for you to know I still need your help. In what capacity, I can’t say at the moment. Please be assured, as soon as I know anything further you will be the first person I tell.’

  ‘Great,’ he said with his tone of sarcasm clear.

  ‘You wish to know Hope’s involvement?’

  ‘Yes. Are you allowed to tell me?’

  Ignoring his mockery I directly responded, ‘I’ve already mentioned Hope speaks to spirits. What you don’t know is she helps the Metropolitan Police and the British Secret Service. Recently MI6 called upon her skill to help them . . .’ I looked at his already strained face aware I was going to add to the hardship it had endured, ‘capture you,’ I finished quietly.

  He looked nearly as astounded as he had earlier in Central Park.

  ‘God is clear MI6 will not catch up with you, Ryan, so please take some comfort in that knowledge. He prevented the usual spirit guides who help Hope in communicating with her. Needless to say, MI6 are not impressed.’

  ‘By shielding me won’t Hope get herself into trouble?’ He failed in his attempt to sound his normal, confident self. Instead his voice was understandably tinged with disbelief and insecurity.

  ‘Potentially, but that isn’t for you to worry about.’

  ‘With respect, it is my concern if Hope gets herself in too deep over me. There are some nasty characters in MI6.’

  ‘God will take care of Hope, Ryan. He has sent me to watch over her, and I have God’s greatest protector watching over me.’

  ‘What is Hope doing in New York?’

  ‘Intelligence told MI6 you were here so they flew Hope over hoping she may get a read on you.’

  ‘They must really want me. Is Fagan Hart with her?’

  ‘Yes, along with his brothers.’

  ‘Cain and Caldwell are here too?’ he asked loudly.

  ‘Yes,’ I simply answered, not sure if I dared to tell him about Hart senior. I couldn’t help but think if he got agitated over the Hart brothers, what would he do if he knew Lucifer was out to get him?

  ‘MI5, MI6, and the Metropolitan Police have banded together, which means Cain, Fagan, and Caldwell Hart are working side by side on the pretence you’ve infiltrated all sectors of law enforcement.’

  ‘That is a ludicrous suggestion,’ Ryan said in disgust.

  ‘It fitted their brief, and has given them the opportunity to unite their forces legitimately.’

  ‘Why do they feel the need to frame me, Serena?’ He sounded dejected and as tired as he looked.

  I turned my body to face him, whereupon I empathetically said, ‘Don’t worry, Ryan. God won’t let anything bad happen to you.’
/>
  ‘Thank you, but you haven’t answered my question,’ he said with renew resolve.

  I wondered if I should tell him the truth. When I didn’t hear A.M.’s voice to the contrary, I hesitantly started to try and explain.

  ‘Ryan, do you know why your family became my protector?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Enlighten me, please.’

  ‘Great, great, great, great, great (I forget exactly how many “greats”) Grandfather Joshua Bartholomew Scott vowed to honour God and renounce the Devil. God rewarded Grandfather’s loyalty by honouring our family with the task of being the protector of the Daughter of Eve, which in fact is you. This enraged Satan who has been plaguing my family ever since.’

  ‘I’m glad you mentioned Lucifer.’

  Ryan gave me a curious look, but he remained silent so I could explain further.

  ‘Lucifer has been pulling the strings for some time now in an effort to silence you. When his attempts failed, he settled on discrediting you.’

  ‘WHAT!’ His drawn features, which had managed to retain their beauty despite his ordeal, contorted. ‘The Devil is behind Fagan’s fabricated evidence?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He looked crest fallen.

  ‘Why and how?’

  ‘You’re the last surviving Scott in the male bloodline. Lucifer wants to banish all trace of the Scott family, even though he thinks he has nothing further to fear from me, the Daughter of Eve that was prophesied to redeem or eliminate him.’

  ‘Did he hurt you, Serena? Is that why you’re . . .’

  ‘Dead.’ I finished his sentence for him rather than leave him awkwardly lingering over the word that suggested one’s being was finished and gone forever; which couldn’t be further from the truth. Being dead, albeit temporarily, had shown me there was much more to look forward to once one’s physical life was at an end.

  ‘Lucifer didn’t have me murdered, if that is what you mean.’

  Ryan’s eyebrows raised a fraction, but he didn’t interrupt.

  ‘From what I’ve heard he did try, but it was a misfortunate accident that got me in the end. One Lucifer was very pleased about. He has also tried various roots to rid himself of you, Ryan. I’m sorry to say the Hart boys have been prominent in all of his strategies.’ I paused before thoughtfully adding, ‘I’m not entirely convinced Fagan has been acting willingly, though.’

  ‘You think Cain and Caldwell have?’

  ‘I’m undecided, especially where Cain is concerned. I must admit, I’ve also witnessed events that have also made me question Caldwell’s actions. He seems so nice, however, that may be the deadly ace he plays. Charm and sophistication will do much to win over even the most careful.’

  ‘Well when you know, do me a favour and let me know. I’ve learnt it’s far better to know who one’s enemy is, even if he turns out to be the ultimate adversary, and I would say there is no one worse to disconcert than Lucifer,’ he explained.

  ‘Try not to lose any sleep over what we’ve discussed, Ryan.’

  ‘Ah sleep; now there is a novel idea,’ he smirked.

  I laughed before answering, ‘You look like you could do with a good night sleep. I can call upon a friend and arrange it,’ I said as I thought about Archangel Raphael’s healing abilities.

  ‘Thank you, Serena, but I will be fine.’

  ‘If you change your mind, let me know. You see no one can do anything unless you consent.’

  He looked a little perplexed at this statement.

  As I smiled I bid him goodnight.

  ‘Wait a moment,’ he said placing a hand on my arm to halt me. ‘I will drive you back to The Plaza.’

  ‘There’s no need. Honestly,’ I said as I sensed he was about to protest. ‘I can arrive there far more quickly by using a different mode of travel.’

  The puzzled look returned to his face.

  ‘Night, Ryan. I will see you tomorrow to arrange your journey home.’

  ‘Serena, one last question; how did you find me?’

  ‘God led me to you, of course.’

  ‘Good. I thought for one moment I was getting sloppy.’

  I smiled. Before he could say anything further, I vanished in my magenta orb.

  I was going to orb straight back to the hotel to check on Hope. Then I reasoned she wasn’t about to get into trouble over dinner. Besides, I had a whimsical feeling to take in the sights of New York from my honorary angelic, no bounds perspective.

  By the time I had finished my exhilarating tourist trail, the hour was surprisingly late. Given I didn’t require sleep in my heavenly form, I ambled through Central Park as I tried to tune myself into the Creator and my angelic guides to gain the wisdom I required for my next step.

  I was just asking for guidance on how I was going to get Ryan back to England when I was shocked out of my meditative state by a piercing scream. I immediately focused on being with the potential victim as I instinctively orbed. Within a split second I was standing under a bridge, back in my full honorary angelic uniform with Hope a foot away from me.

  A grotesquely formed giant with an unhealthy greeny-grey, boil erupted complexion, who looked as if he belonged in a horror movie, made a lunge for Hope, whereupon one of his huge, lumpy hands clutched her sapphire free throat and lifted her feet inches from the floor.

  I instantly disabled my invisibility and shouted, ‘Hey, Ugly. In the name of God, put her down, NOW!’

  Simultaneously, my magenta aura flooded the scene, transforming the dark and foreboding landscape to a vibrant sunset. The shabby dressed monster didn’t appear to like the light my aura created, as he dropped Hope at once, treating her like an unloved rag doll, and used his hands to shield his deadpan eyes before he lumbered off, in ill fitting shoes, into the darkness of the bushes.

  With the immediate danger gone, my aura deactivated as I attended to Hope who didn’t appear to be breathing. Remaining surprisingly calm, I summoned Archangel Raphael who blessed her with his healing hands.

  Within seconds of Archangel Raphael’s first aid, Hope coughed and spluttered her way back to consciousness.

  As her baby blue eyes opened and she looked up at me, she managed to say, despite her croaky voice which was compliments of her near strangulation, ‘What happened?’

  ‘I would say the British Secret Service is on to you. Do you think you can stand?’ I asked knowing full well, thanks to Archangel Raphael, Hope was most capable of standing.

  ‘I don’t know. I think so,’ she replied as she considered her predicament.

  ‘Good. Come on then. The hotel is no longer safe for you.’

  ‘What do you mean “the hotel is no longer safe”?’ she asked as she quickly spun herself to mirror my seated position.

  ‘Do you remember anything about what just happened, Hope?’

  A pained look formed on her face as she thought.

  ‘I was walking back to The Plaza,’ she shook her head, ‘and the next thing I remember is waking up with you peering over me.’

  ‘It’s probably just as well,’ I muttered to myself, aware being near strangled to death by a boil covered ogre was conducive to nightmares.

  ‘Serena, what is going on?’

  Hope’s look of concern almost had me feeling sorry for her.

  ‘Hope, please just trust me. We can’t go back to The Plaza.’

  ‘Where are we going to go then?’

  ‘I don’t know yet.’

  ‘What do you expect us to do in the meantime?’ she agitatedly asked.

  ‘I’m confident all will become clear very soon.’

  ‘OK,’ she softened, ‘but I must get my clothes first.’

  ‘No, Hope it’s too dangerous.’

  ‘Serena,’ she called my name harshly, all traces of her bruised vocal cords gone. ‘I’m not leaving my make-up. Either get me back to The Plaza or I will make my own way there.’

  I weighed up the options. Was Hope bluffing? Her
face told me she wasn’t, so I reluctantly helped her to her feet. Linking arms with her to ensure she stayed upright after the ordeal she’d seemingly forgotten, we walked back to the hotel.

  We entered Hope’s suite as quietly as we were able, and dared to illuminate our path with a lamp which was positioned the furthest away from the potentially hazardous windows. I didn’t want to think about the consequences if Hope was seen, so I began to throw her predominate winter wardrobe she’d brought to New York into her suitcase to enable us to vacate the premises as swiftly as possible. Hope, it seemed, was unsatisfied with my packing technique, as she removed, then inspected, before neatly folding each item I had already dealt with. Once she had a pile of several garments which she’d painstakingly stacked on her bed, she placed them delicately into her suitcase.

  ‘Really, Hope. I don’t think you understand the urgency of the situation.’

  ‘Then try explaining it to me.’

  Her cool reply could have made a lesser honorary angel flip.

  ‘There is no time, Hope.’

  She continued as if I hadn’t spoken.

  Exasperated I said, ‘Hope, your life is in jeopardy.’

  She dropped the sweater she was folding and turned to me, eyes wide, mouth gapping.

  ‘What do you mean, my life is in jeopardy?’

  ‘Does that statement not suffice? The longer we stay here at The Plaza, the more danger you’re in. The quicker I get you away, the more chance I have of saving your life. Do you comprehend?’ I added when her stance didn’t match that of a person who had just been told they were in mortal danger.

  Slowly, much to my relief, her expression changed to one of suitable concern.

  I was just congratulating myself for getting through to her when her whole demeanour changed and she said in a rhetorical, blasé manner, ‘Don’t be so ridiculous, Serena; who would want to murder me?’

  Inwardly I counted to ten before I responded, ‘OK, Hope. I can see you’re not going to do this the easy way. Let’s just sit down and talk about what you can remember about this evening.’

  ‘I thought you were intent on leaving the hotel before the assassin drops by?’

  ‘Hope, I wish for you to leave. I’m already dead so I have nothing to fear. Besides, I can orb myself out of danger, whereas you . . .’ I shrugged as a false, smug smile formed on my lips.

  Despite the mention of the possibility she could come to serious harm, Hope stubbornly settled herself on the chaises lounge she’d favoured when I tracked her down only that morning.

  She entwined her fingers of both hands which she glanced towards as she told me, ‘I remember jumping out of the car and hurrying into the hotel. You caught up with me in the foyer and asked if I minded you telling Ryan my secret, even though you had already let slip I speak to spirit.’

  I nodded in agreement while wondering at the same time whether the mention of my slip was Hope’s attempt at a subtle jibe.

  ‘Then I ran to my room, and by some miracle I made it down to dinner on time where the three brothers were waiting for me.

  ‘After dinner Cain asked me to take a stroll with him. Perhaps, unsurprisingly, we ended up in Central Park.’

  ‘Cain wasn’t with you, Hope, when I found you.’

  She frowned, as if she was struggling to think, before agreeing, ‘No, he heard a noise and went to investigate. Everything else is a blur after Cain walked off, until, that is, you came along.’

  ‘What did you talk to Cain about?’

  ‘We chit-chatted mainly.’

  ‘What about over dinner?’

  ‘Much the same. There was no real substance to our conversation; it was small talk,’ she explained, ‘I guess they didn’t want the Oak Room diners to hear her Majesty’s secrets. Wait!’ Her pupils dilated as she recalled, ‘Cain commented I wasn’t wearing your amulet.’ She leapt from her seat and fetched it from the bathroom before explaining, ‘It was soapy after my shower so I took it off to clean it. Then there was a knock at my door. Curiously, there was no one there when I went to answer it. I must have forgotten to put your sapphire back on.’

  Odile’s name immediately came to mind as the culprit. I suspected she had hexed Hope so she forgot her amulet of protection. How on earth Odile knew Hope had taken it off in the first place though, was a mystery to me. If I had to guess, I would hypothesised from my conversation with Ophelia that old magic was used. Still, I was annoyed at Hope for being so foolish as to remove the sapphire in the first place, particularly after everything that had been said to her by A.M.

  My exasperation was clear in my tone as I said, ‘You can’t take it off again, Hope. Not until this drama is over. Do you understand?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Did anything unusual happen this evening?’

  She squinted as she struggled to recall.

  ‘Actually, I was at reception ordering a morning paper when the doorman approached me. He said, “The lady you were with earlier looked uncannily like Serena Lewis.” As you can imagine, I was flummoxed.’

  I was feeling a tad bewildered myself, but let Hope continue without interruption.

  ‘It seems he has seen a poster of you. Your parents have distributed them to build awareness of the charity they have set up warning people of the dangers of cosmetic surgery.’

  ‘WHAT! MY PARENTS HAVE CIRCULATED POSTERS WORLD WIDE, AND THERE’S A PHOTO OF ME ON THEM?’

  ‘Yes, your graduation photo,’ Hope answered awkwardly.

  I was furious. All thoughts of Hope’s endangerment completely left me as I stamped and cursed my way around her room. I think I could have gone on all night if it wasn’t for A.M.

  After my first circuit of Hope’s bedroom, he called to me, ‘Serena, this is all an illusion remember. There will be no posters, so please do not worry.’

  I stopped and looked at Hope who had left me to rant unhindered. Her eyes were downcast, but what struck me as odd was she had a greater look of concern at my outburst then she wore when I told her an assassin was gunning for her.

  ‘You must get Hope to safety,’ A.M. reminded me.

  ‘I apologise for my behaviour, Hope,’ I said calmly.

  ‘No problem,’ she muttered.

  ‘Now, we really must get out of here.’

  She stood up, flung her remaining clothes in to her suitcase, and after zipping it shut, all of which took less than a minute, she said, ‘I’m ready.’

  The only place I could think to go was to my protector. We left the hotel unencumbered, only stopping briefly in the entrance hall at my request so Hope, who was fairly reluctant after my earlier rage, could point out the doorman who had told Hope about the stupid posters my parents had distributed throughout the globe. Then hailing a taxi, we directed the driver to the daughter of the President of the United States house.

  It was ridiculously late so I left a reluctant Hope loitering in the grounds with my sapphire as her protection as I orbed into the house to find Ryan.

  I found him (although not before I had entered several empty bedrooms in my search) in a large ensuite bedroom, sitting on a black leather sofa, staring into space. His blonde hair, which I felt a strong urge to run my fingers through, was sculptured into a swept back style courtesy of his now absent bandana.

  ‘Do you ever sleep, Ryan Joshua Scott?’ I asked as I appeared directly in front of him.

  Although there had been a fleeting startled look on his face, his torso didn’t betray his surprise.

  ‘Do you, Serena Olivia Unity Lewis?’

  ‘Not anymore. There’s no need when one is dead. Eating or drinking isn’t essential either. But I did enjoy a rather fine café latte the other day.’

  ‘So there would be no point taking you out on a dinner date?’ he casually flirted with me.

  ‘No, I suppose not,’ I answered somewhat thrown off guard. Regaining my composure I commented, ‘You have nerves of steel, Ryan.’

  ‘It co
mes with the training as one never knows when an attractive spirit will suddenly appear, dressed in jeans and leather,’ he joked as his tired face relaxed into a soft smile.

  As I reflected on Ryan’s words, I glanced down at my angelic uniform and was shocked to see once again it had been replaced by the attire I had been wearing when I met with Ryan earlier.

  ‘What brings you to me at this late hour, Serena? Not that I don’t welcome a visit from you at any time,’ he quickly added.

  All of a sudden I remembered Hope in the garden.

  ‘Hope was in trouble, so I had to get her away from The Plaza. Can she stay here?’

  ‘Is she OK?’ Ryan asked with concern in his voice.

  ‘Perfectly, despite her whining to the contrary; I left her outside you see, which she was not keen on given the lateness of the hour, and she may be getting a tad cold.’

  ‘I will go and get her,’ he said as he jumped up from the sofa and silently vacated his room, reappearing several minutes later with a shivering Hope.

  Gallantly, Ryan allowed Hope to have his bed. She fell asleep within minutes, which was a blessing as per my prediction she did indeed whinge, leaving me to explain to Ryan, who had settled back next to me on the sofa, what had happened after I had left him.

  ‘She doesn’t remember the ogre?’ Ryan asked, without any hint of concern that we were discussing a mythological creature that was roaming freely in one of the worlds greatest parks.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Maybe that’s just as well.’

  ‘Yes, the same thought had crossed my mind.’ I looked deeply into his exhausted face. ‘Ryan, you really should get some sleep. Please let me help you?’

  He didn’t protest as I beckoned for him to lay down with his head on my lap. Calling upon the grace of Archangel Raphael to help me encourage Ryan into a relaxing, deep slumber, I instinctively soothed his forehead with my fingertips, and was granted my wish to stroke my hand through his hair. With the loving help of Archangel Raphael, it wasn’t long before Ryan too had fallen into what I suspected was his first deep sleep in a long time.

 

  Hope was the first to wake, and she did so with enough noise to alarm the entire house.

  ‘Serena, I’ve remembered,’ she screamed sitting bolt upright.

  Ryan, who woke abruptly to the sound of Hope’s screech, in true military fashion jumped up, fully alert within a split second.

  ‘Cain overheard the doorman talking about you, Serena. I’m sure of it. When I turned around he was standing there, and it was after this he asked me to go for a walk. There was a . . . a . . .’ she took a deep breath, ‘monster in Central Park. He attacked me!’

  She was shaking and sobbing. I went to comfort her, even though there was still a part of me that didn’t feel it was right to console the woman who had stolen the love of my life. But somewhere deep within me, I had a strange feeling that Hope’s home-wrecking didn’t matter to me quite as much as it had not even twenty-four-hours ago.

  ‘Don’t worry, you’re alright now. You’re perfectly safe here, Hope,’ I continued as her sobs kept cascading.

  I rubbed her back as she rested her forehead on my shoulder.

  ‘There, there, there,’ I soothed as I thought how strange it was my jacket was not the slightest bit wet despite her tears gushing down on to it like Niagara Falls.

  Ryan excused himself, returning shortly afterwards with strong coffee and hot croissants.

  As I sipped the delicious espresso, I asked without any conscious effort, as if the Divine had planted the thought at that very moment, ‘Ryan, I don’t suppose you know if the President is making a trip to England anytime soon?’

  ‘Err . . . I don’t know. What made you ask that, Serena?’

  ‘I think I might have just been given our ticket home.’