Guardian

by Dan Gleed

  The overwhelming storm of anguish that now swept over me was long overdue and the flow of tears deeply cathartic in its own inimical way, laying me low for most of that day, but purging my perceptions and steeling my determination to get even. This, when I would have been better occupied throwing in the towel, striving for liberation through confession to the police, not continuing to search out yet more ways to even the score.

  Chapter 69

  It wasn’t every day that Heaven involved itself quite so directly in the affairs of individuals. Certainly not to the extent that destinies were changed or events carefully re-fashioned by specific angels. If there was one thing humans were expected to do, it was get on and live useful lives – lives that combined their God-given intelligence with their most precious possession; free will. Mostly, the end results were reasonable, but sometimes a particular human would foul up so comprehensively that it took nothing short of a miracle to straighten things out (which, of course, agitated everyone on Earth). Nevertheless, once the decision had been taken to intervene, skilled angels would be commissioned to manoeuvre events discreetly and unobtrusively. Aware that, eventually, the affected humans would conclude that the resultant, if somewhat baffling outcome of their bungling was simply down to good fortune. This being how it tended to look from the human perspective. And today was one of those days.

  Which meant Michael himself was called upon not only to plan, but to lead a ‘clean-up’ exercise. And in this case, he was going to have to boost his forces with a battalion of the elite Praetorian Guard. Problem was, in more recent centuries, any direct involvement by Michael had always managed to trigger uproar in Hell. Well, that was after the various satanic spies deployed for the sole purpose of covering divine operations had woken up to what was actually going on. In truth, given any halfway intelligent undercover agency, significant intervention from Heaven should have been easy to spot and even simpler to anticipate. It was straightforward – although Arcturus was not about to admit anything – his ‘loose cannon’ act had comprehensively breached protocol, causing alarm bells to ring in both kingdoms.

  For days now, I had been heading in a decidedly unethical direction or, more specifically, rushing headfirst towards a criminal and totally unscrupulous finale, probably one that was going to end in my own abrupt termination. A state of affairs over which Israfel was fully (and painfully) aware. More importantly, as far as he was concerned, was that he’d been effortlessly outflanked and comprehensively beaten to the draw on practically every development in my recent sorry progress. And it didn’t help that he’d also been forced to endure Arcturus’ arrogant boasting. ‘Arcturus the Great’ (as he had begun to style himself) was busy regaling any passing putrescence with the story that he alone was responsible for the comprehensive humiliation of of one of Heaven’s ‘chosen’. An achievement, moreover, that had been accomplished in direct conflict with a rising star of the Angelic pantheon. An outcome clearly fashioned by his own unique powers, combined with a dazzling intellect, etc. etc.

  True, Israfel had really only failed to anticipate my latest debacle. But, fortunately, the Archangel Michael himself was on the case, due not only to his concern for me, but a fatherly disquiet over Israfel. And I have to admit, it couldn’t have been easy for either of them. One moment I was lost and spinning into a world of desperate sadness, the next bent on retribution; malevolent, implacable and driven by a misdirected purpose. Never mind every step on this route was followed by a precipitous fall back into gut-wrenching guilt and the pit of despair. Nor was this helped by Ahmed, who had directed his thugs to go after anyone connected with me. Quite sure that striking at friends, or family, would hurt, although at this stage, it was never going to stop me. But the distressing thing was, he couldn’t be certain of this until after the Jouberts had paid with their lives. Something that not only caused me deep anguish, but for which I blamed myself entirely. Although I could, and did, post my suspicions anonymously to the local police station, I was left to strengthen my wavering resolve alone. With the Jouberts gone, and the Lescals understandably unsympathetic, I had nowhere to go, no one to turn to for help.

  I hadn’t known it at the time, but in the supernatural world there had been a lot riding on my reaction to these setbacks. My tribulations were being viewed as fitting opportunities to test and strengthen the boundaries of my character. All because I had been singled out for a particular destiny, as I was eventually to discover. Just like every other human, I had been prepared with suitable gifts and abilities before birth to fulfil my specific calling, but this calling remained contingent upon my willingness to assume the role. An entirely voluntary commitment. Yet here I was, once again setting off on a downward spiral, following the dangerous track of violent retaliation. So far having failed to grow into anything remotely resembling a genuinely compassionate or sympathetic individual capable of fulfilling his true destiny.

  ***

  That morning there was a distinct buzz circulating Heaven’s lower halls. The very atmosphere seemed to have caught the excitement, spurring the gorgeous and abundant birdlife into thrilling and extraordinary refrains that trailed upon the ear like warm honey. And all because Michael, that prince amongst angels, had been seen virtually dancing as he entered one of Heaven’s vast amphitheatres, accompanied by a number of officers from the more prestigious of the Praetorian Guard regiments. Warriors rendered conspicuous by their efforts to look suitably stern. Battle-hardened angels every one, but individuals whom every inhabitant held in considerable awe and most longed to emulate. Never mind the thrill of actually being close to the most famous and perhaps the most beloved soldier of them all. Rumour was following upon rumour and the mansions, halls and galleries of Heaven had begun to seethe with a tangible exhilaration. Such was the perceived nature of the extraordinary occurrence that some were actually speculating this might be the start of what humans referred to as ‘the end times’ and if the gossip was half as informed as it purported to be, then they were all in for a period of considerable delight and satisfaction. Stern they might be, but even these warriors were spellbound as they waited, certain it would not be long before they learned the true nature of Michael’s news and their assignment.

  Chapter 70

  As for the Archangel himself, he was still endeavouring, albeit unsuccessfully, to suppress his excitement and act with a little decorum as he swept into the hall ahead of his Guards. To those seasoned veterans it was obvious the Captain of the Lord’s Host was privy to something stupendous, something breath-taking. Perhaps some battle plan guaranteed to overcome their arch-enemy or some far-reaching strategy to prepare Earth for its next phase. Often, they were the first to catch rumours about events in the Heavens, but clearly not this time. By reputation, Michael was calmness personified and no one could remember seeing him in this mood. Renowned throughout all time for his serene and unflappable demeanour, Michael was a warrior who had seldom put a foot wrong in his all-important role. But today things were different and calling them to order, eyes still sparkling with suppressed laughter, Michael let his gaze wander around the officers now crowded around him. Benefitting each individual in turn with the full wattage of his radiant smile.

  Composing himself finally, Michael raised his hands to encompass each and every one of the Guards pressed around him, before beginning to address them; “Dear friends, fellow warriors, like me you take great pride in loyal service to the King of kings.” Not a few backs stiffened in delight at this. “Today we find ourselves in momentous times and I know I can rely on your support. As you will all remember – how could any of us forget? – we’ve fought together on countless operations and served the Lord God against the enemy since Satan was first demoted from his position of ‘first amongst equals’ and thrown out of Heaven. Now I know all of you, like me, have looked forward to the Great Day of Judgement, promised from the moment Satan fell from power. That Day when humans and demons alike are to be judged for what they have or haven’t done and, for our pa
rt, we are then to submit ourselves to the authority of the redeemed humans. That Day, when we’ll all discover just how merciful the Son of God is towards those who, throughout their lives, have gone on believing in His name and accepted His offer of eternal life. Just as important, that is also the Day when Satan and his misbegotten whelps will finally have to face the full measure of their defeat. Well, today I can confirm that particular Day has come a giant step closer. The exact timing has yet to be divulged – it is for our Father alone to know – but His Son Jesus has commanded us to begin final preparations amongst the human race for that great event.

  “As you know, He intends one day to return to their world to take up His long-promised role as the Supreme Sovereign of the planet. But that doesn’t mean we are relieved of the restraint there’s always been on sparing fallen angels whom we don’t defeat or kill in actual combat. For the time being, whether we find them here in Heaven or out on Earth, God still intends to leave sufficient of them around to provide the human race with clear alternatives. So, human free will is to remain sacrosanct and whether their choices are good or bad, it’s entirely up to them. That said, we can rejoice unreservedly because the time when the Son of God will return in person to govern His world with justice and with peace is getting closer. Be excited with me because, at last, we can begin to prepare for that time when, at the Name of Jesus, every knee in Heaven and on Earth and under the Earth will have to bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the Glory of God the Father.”

  For a moment there was stunned silence whilst the enormity of what Michael was saying sunk in, to be swiftly replaced by a great roar of approval as a look of sheer rapture spread across every face in the serried ranks around their leader. Taking their cue from the senior Guard, each one of them snapped to attention, drew himself to his full, impressive height, unsheathed his great sword, brought the flashing hilt to his lips in the time-honoured salutation and dropped to one knee, lowering the tip of the sword to the glittering, glass-like paving in front of him as, together, they paid homage to their Lord and King. Praise rolled from their lips as a surge of anticipation rippled through the ranks, each contemplating the campaigns that lay before them, the myriad opportunities to support and prepare the human race, the privileged position they held as elite troops, with the exhilarating possibility of occasionally mixing it with the very worst of the satanic hoard. With a number of old scores yet to be settled, the very thought of what lay ahead had them practically salivating.

  “Anyway, before you all get too caught up in trying to work out who pulls the best detachments, or how you get nominated for the more important operations, let’s get some of the basics straight. Where’s this all leading? Well, first and foremost, as I’ve already said, you are not being given ‘carte blanche’ to eradicate the enemy. Not yet, at any rate. So just forget the list of names you particularly want to encounter.” Even though this had already been mentioned, a general groan accompanied Michael’s reiteration of the point and some wry smiles were exchanged. No doubt about it, every one of them had at some time or other in the preceding eons enjoyed the thought of what they would like to do to certain demons, should they be presented with the opportunity to trap or kill them. Which brought them to the Commander’s final revelation and, although of little surprise, it didn’t particularly please them. “In fact, there is coming a time during which some of those monsters whom we’ve already dispatched to Abbadon are going to be allowed out again to hound the human race. But, as you know from your reading of the humans’ Bible, whilst this amnesty will not last long, you will nevertheless need to remain particularly alert.”

  Michael knew they were professionals, so he pressed straight on into the usual deployment details and it didn’t take them long to get down to some serious and specialised analysis of the situation. There was a lot to do and it was quickly evident that all Heaven was going to be placed on alert with them. A total war footing, no less. Which meant every angel would be involved one way or another. Even Heaven’s human citizens would have a role to play. This was a whole new ball game and it was going to affect all creation, whether those living on Earth liked it or not. Moreover, such would be the scale of conscription, they could see they weren’t going to be fighting in their usual units, but were going to have to share themselves out amongst the less experienced squadrons, as the best way to provide quality leadership throughout the force.

  “And so the legions are being told, even as we speak, the names of their new squadron commanders, and that means I want you to get out there now and start introducing yourselves. You’ll find the list of postings on Daily Orders at the back of the hall.”

  Slightly subdued by the practicalities, it was only now that they began to grasp the full impact of what Michael had been saying. Here was the realisation of so many dreams. Hopes they’d nurtured since time immemorial for the human race to be given over to peace and justice, and the expectation that Heaven and Earth would finally be brought together in genuine unity. So, greatly encouraged, they turned smartly to the right, saluted, fell out and massed around their Operation Orders. After which a stream of Guards could be seen heading out to the four corners of Heaven, each wondering what shape his new command was likely to be in, each ready to get stuck in. Leaving Michael to return to the particular problem represented by Israfel and yours truly.

  Chapter 71

  As the days fled by, the continued absence of Roz meant the great aching void of grief in my heart had simply darkened and deepened. Now, frozen in anguish, but strangely warmed by hatred, I would still have left town in a hurry if I’d had the slightest inkling of what was about to happen. Angry I might have been. Stupid I’m not. Well, that’s my opinion anyway. I’d made it safely back into Mombasa after the disastrous foray into Ahmed’s bolthole and was hunkered down with only misery for company in a shabby hovel that passed as a hotel in the black quarter of town. Trying to decide what to do next. I had no option with the room, because although my white skin stuck out like a sore thumb, I could at least guarantee freedom from police interference. And anything (so I thought) was better than exposure to the inevitable questions that would follow if I turned up without a verifiable address and without luggage in one of the more normal haunts for ‘whites’. The Mombasa Club had its attractions, not least cold beer, but to book in I’d have to show some form of identity and that would be my downfall.

  It was late, and I’d finally overcome my inhibitions sufficiently to lie down on what passed for a bunk in the sticky heat and thriving bug life of the stifling room I’d been allocated, when I heard what sounded like a fierce altercation starting up immediately below me. Either they were close or the walls were even thinner than I’d thought. Anyway, it wasn’t long before the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairway drew rapidly closer and, pretty soon, I could make out individual voices, although what I heard made my blood run cold. It wasn’t so much the words as the voice. A voice I’d have known anywhere. A voice whose owner I’d hoped never to encounter again. My old friend, the maniac with the sjambok. Panicked by the suddenness of it all and certain I had to get out, or be taken captive again, I turned and stepped rapidly over to the tiny opening in the wall doing time as a window. However, given that it wasn’t even large enough to allow satisfactory passage to the incoming dust-laden air, I knew before it began that any attempt to exit that way was doomed. Which left only one option. To stand and fight. Frantically, I cast around the darkened room, looking for the one thing I’d retained that might do as a makeshift weapon. Jill’s knitting needle; first pressed into service on the spear gun and since kept purely because I’d forgotten to return it. But necessity is, as they say, the mother of invention and armed only with this needle, I stepped back to the door just in time to get slammed to the floor as it burst in on me, hammered down by my erstwhile gaoler. A man who, in my frank opinion, was little short of a freak.

  * * *

  The blow practically knocked me cold and I hit the floor
pinned down by the rough-hewn planks, while my assailant remained balanced atop the slab of a door, clearly enjoying my despairing groans as I fought for breath. Starved of oxygen, a condition that delivered an almost surreal confusion as I slipped in and out of consciousness, the last thing I remembered seeing was the almost luminous features of that smirking fiend leering down at me. The next thing of which I became aware was gasping for air as someone lifted the door away. But there was to be no respite. I was jerked unceremoniously to my feet by my worst nightmare, a creature so confident of his dominance that he didn’t even bother to check me over. And that was his mistake. I think it was the despair I felt at being once again in this maniac’s grip that strengthened my resolve. At any rate, realising I had only one chance, I deliberately relaxed into his arms, falling against him and causing him to shift his grip so he could employ both hands to hold me up. In doing so, he released my right arm and, thus freed, I was able to bring my right hand up in a swinging arc over my left shoulder holding the needle as far down the shaft as I could. To my intense satisfaction I felt, rather than heard, the point meet with some faint initial resistance before, with a decisive shove, I became aware that it was sinking through an almost liquid medium, which, it soon became obvious, was his eye. The scream had barely got started in his throat when it cut off into a strange gurgling sound as he began his last slide towards the floor, the end of the needle now slithering almost of its own volition deeper and deeper along the path taken by the optical nerve on its journey to the brain. Here it became firmly wedged before starting to interfere with even his basic thought processes. And by the time it was dragged out of my now redundant hand, his passing was almost unremarked and certainly unlamented. Except by his somewhat smaller associate, who took off as though all the hounds of Hell were after him, which, if I’d had my way, they would have been. By the time the landlord arrived from the downstairs bar to advise me in no uncertain terms what he thought of the goings-on in his ‘high-class’ establishment, I was well on the way to leaving. Picking up my few possessions hadn’t exactly taken long, and stepping smartly around the somewhat unsightly form now spread-eagled on the floor and across the comprehensively demolished door, I made a dash for the narrow stairs, intent on leaving that apology for an inn well before anyone else with my demise in mind could catch up with me. Moreover, I didn’t slow until I’d put what I believed to have been sufficient distance between the proprietor and myself to guarantee he wouldn’t come in search of me. At least, not before daybreak.