Michael didn’t understand what she was saying; only that she was being kind.
“But I have not answered your question. Solomon’s Inn is on the north side of town.”
“Liam can stay only a few days; then we have to get him back to Colm,” Michael said.
Abigail saw love and fear in Michael’s green eyes. She realized that she understood something about the angels she did not think possible. That epiphany was the pivotal turn in her religious beliefs. “You are such delicate and loyal beings. Why does mankind not know that about you?”
Michael felt a strange heat in his face. He glanced at Liam. He bit his lip and looked at Jeremiah.
Jeremiah said, “We’re gonna go on ta the inn, Mrs. Adams. We’ll come back tomorrow. Cain we leave Liam’s horse here for tendin’?”
“Of course.”
“If you see any orange eyes lurkin’, send someone ta fetch us right away.”
“So, you have not found a way to rid us of the demons?”
“We’re workin’ on that.”
“And what does that entail?” Abigail asked.
“Our friend, Gordon Walker, thinks we cain use this sigil.”
“He’s not my friend,” Michael muttered under his breath.
Jeremiah unwound his neck scarf. He tilted his head to the left and brushed his hand over the sigil tattooed on the right side of his neck.
“I do not understand.”
“It’s the Sigil of Lucifer,” Liam whispered.
Abigail shied away from Jeremiah. Her eyes fell on each face in the room, then back to Jeremiah’s neck. “I remember now. God’s demons are chasing you. You intend on fighting evil with evil.”
Jeremiah replaced his neck scarf. “If Gordon’s right, that’s exactly what we’re gonna do.”
Abigail shivered and said, “We are in much greater peril than we realize. I think it is well there are only a small number of humans who are aware of our angels and their demons. John told me that Joseph and Colm are very close now. Is that true?”
Liam’s words were weak and tired. “They have become like brothers.”
“As it should be,” Abigail said with a smile. “Joseph is very near to our own angel on Earth.”
Jeremiah said, “We shou’d be goin’.”
Michael went to Liam. “What’s happening to ya isn’t what happened to Ian. The soul who was Liam Kavangh is gone, but he left behind traces of who he was. Joseph calls it a palimpsest. It’s not what’s killing ya. God’s wrath is killing ya. So, let ya palimpsest feel her comfort.”
Michael put his hands on Liam’s cheeks. “Is Mrs. Adams able to see ya aura?”
“Yes, if I release it.”
“If ya can’t see his aura anymore, send for us right away,” Michael told Abigail.
Abigail’s lips quivered. She nodded.
When Jeremiah and Michael were gone, Abigail sat beside Liam on the couch. She took the empty glass from his hand and set it on the floor. He laid his head in her lap. She stroked his dark hair. He cried.
Her children watched from the doorway. They saw Liam release his weak green aura and unfurl his silver wings to comfort himself. Silver crystals dusted their mother and everything in the room. The crystals drifted under furniture and against the walls.
Two days later, Abigail was compelled to write to her husband. John would soon arrive in Philadelphia, and enter the State House where the Continental Congress was to convene.
Braintree, May 6, 1775
My Dearest John,
I write this in distress and in need of your wise guidance. By the time you receive this, and I in turn, receive your reply, it may be too late. But I must try.
The archangel’s brother, Michael Bohannon, and their human friend, Jeremiah Killam, have brought a dying angel to our doorstep. It has taken me a day to remember that Dr. Samuel Prescott and Michael were attacked at the meetinghouse the day of Joseph’s Boston Massacre oration.
If you recall, Liam Kavangh is the dark-headed angel who sat among us and jumped upon the pulpit platform to protect our dear Joseph from the demon. He is the angel that came to call on me in Boston, when you were away on a family matter.
I long to have you here so that I may express the things I now understand about angels, whom we as human beings have wrongly understood. But I suppose that is the topic of another conversation.
After losing our darling Suky at just two years of age, I have mothered the dying. How do I mother a dying angel? Liam clings to me as if he is a child. He cries and his body hurts. He is afraid and in pain.
I realize you are burdened with so many important decisions that will decide the fate of not only our children, but all who live in America. Still, I ask for your guiding hand to steady me and comfort a dying son of God.
How did we come to face such a thing? It is unbelievable, is it not? Our lives will never be the same. I look forward to your wise words of encouragement. I hope that you are feeling well, my darling.
Fondly yours and with love,
Abby
Thirty-one
Roxbury, Massachusetts
On the morning of May 11, Jeremiah and Michael rode through the crowded provincial army encampments in and around Roxbury on their way home from Braintree. The troops disrupted the community. They cut down trees and tore down buildings for firewood. They drank to excess and often fired at one another and volleyed with the British. The bloody flux and lice ran rampant. Most of the residents had fled to safer areas.
“I wou’da thought that Fergus wou’d have better control of his men,” Jeremiah said. He tilted his head toward a loud group of dirty drunken soldiers. “Look at ’em. They’re brawlin’.”
Michael looked, but said nothing. His concerns lay with Liam.
Jeremiah was relieved that they were able to pass through the encampments without incident, considering the combative atmosphere among not only the drunken men but also among the militiamen from different colonies. One strike of the temperamental flint was all it would take to pull Michael into a fight, if he was provoked.
They arrived home as Colm, Brandon, and Patrick were crossing the road in front of the farm to hunt in the woods. Jeremiah and Michael dismounted and tethered the horses. Ian and Seamus came out of the house. They all converged on the road.
“Did you leave Liam in Braintree?” Brandon asked.
Michael nodded. “He wanted to stay with her.”
“You got no problem with us leavin’ ’im there?” Jeremiah asked Colm.
When did we become not enough for him? Colm thought. Is this because of his palimpsest’s need for his mother?
Colm searched for answers in the faces of the angels and thought, Brandon hasn’t exhibited a palimpsest. Patrick had only one, frightening, experience with his palimpsest. Michael’s palimpsest is very active, and he’s sensitive to its existence and desires in the angels who possess one.
“I don’t think Fergus has a palimpsest,” Colm mumbled.
“Colm, you with us?” Jeremiah asked.
“What?”
“I asked you if you’re fine with us leavin’ Liam with Mrs. Adams.”
“Aye.”
“Why did Liam choose her to soothe him instead of us?” Brandon asked Michael.
“He didn’t. His palimpsest did.” Michael studied Brandon’s face. “Ya don’t have one do ya?”
“What do you mean?”
“Traces of what used to be, showin’ through what exists now,” Patrick explained. “Traces of memories left behind by the souls of the men who occupied our vessels before they died. I felt mine once, and I never want to feel it again.” He grimaced.
“I remember,” Michael said. “Ya experience with ya palimpsest was so horrible that ya collapsed.”
“I’m confused,” Ian said.
“Didn’t ya hear what Patrick said?” Michael said, exasperated. “It’s a memory a soul leaves behind. Liam’s palimpsest is the memory of his mother’s comfort. Liam’s sick, and he ne
eds that comfort. He sees Abigail Adams as a mother.”
“Liam Kavangh’s mother lived another twenty years after he drowned in Wexford,” Colm interjected. “I don’t think his palimpsest knows she’s dead.”
Jeremiah began to ask Colm how he knew that, and then stopped himself. Colm knew that for the same reason he knew that Jeremiah’s unborn child was a boy. Archangels were the closest beings to God, and God was omnipotent.
“Is that what was killing you, Ian?” Brandon asked.
“No. Ian Keogh’s soul was killing me. His human emotions were so painful that I couldn’t bear them.”
Patrick’s eyes widened. “His emotions were killin’ you?”
Ian considered the question. “His grief over the death of his family was killing me. I’ve never felt anything so agonizing. The loneliness, the guilt, the hopelessness, and what those things did to his soul and body.”
Patrick frowned.
“What’s wrong, Brother?” Seamus asked.
“I’m afraid that’s what’s gonna happen to me. When my palimpsest took control of me, I saw somethin’ horrible. Me and Michael and Brandon was only eleven years old. Well, not us, but them.”
“Don’t talk about it,” Michael warned.
Patrick continued anyway. “We was out huntin’, and when we came home, our village was burnin’. We were frantic. I didn’t know who among my loved ones was dyin’. I thought Seamus had left years ago with Ian, to fight with Colm, but I wasn’t sure.”
“Patrick, stop it!” Michael shouted.
“Let him talk,” Colm insisted.
“NO!” Michael screamed. “Didn’t ya hear what Ian said? Human grief was killing him. Why wou’d ya let Patrick conjure human grief?”
“This is the last time I’m going to warn ya to be quiet.”
Michael pouted.
Patrick focused on Seamus’ face. “I needed you, but I didn’t know where you was.”
Seamus embraced Patrick.
Patrick rested his chin on Seamus’ shoulder and wrapped his arms around his brother’s waist. A tear rolled down Patrick’s cheek, and wet Seamus’ shirt. The sensation of shedding tears, and the feeling of them on his skin was foreign to Patrick. His vessel had never cried—until now.
“I think the Cullens’ and the Bohannons’ parents burned to death. So did Brandon O’Flynn’s sister. The smell of all those people and animals burnin’ was…”
Seamus put his hand on the back of Patrick’s head and pulled him in closer. The Cullens’ wings rustled.
“Why am I the only one with that memory?” Patrick sniffed into Seamus’ neck. “You don’t remember that the Cullens’ parents died in a fire?”
Seamus and Brandon exchanged sorrowful glances.
“No, Brother, I don’t.”
Patrick tasted the salt of his tears. He wiped his eyes and lips with the back of his hand.
“But I had a flash of a memory involvin’ you the night we was guardin’ John and Samuel at Reverend Clarke’s house. The memory didn’t belong to my spirit.”
Patrick untangled himself from Seamus’ arms and stepped back so he could see his brother’s face.
A strange foreign mist stung Seamus’ eyes. He blinked hard and looked away.
Ian listened without comment. He had taken care to ensure the human soul that occupied his new vessel was gone before he took possession, but he thought he had been careful to do so in 1169. His spirit was heavy with dread that he might suffer the agony of a human soul again. Now, his uncertain understanding of a palimpsest brought more weight for his spirit to bear.
Brandon sensed Ian’s uncertainty, and said, “I remember how Robert Percy took you away from me in the woods, and I couldn’t do anything to stop him. Then, when we were in Concord, at the Barrett farm, I told Samuel the demon that tried to kill you got to your spirit, and that’s why you were dying.”
He looked into the faces of his brotherhood with the same uncertainty Ian felt. “I didn’t know Ian wasn’t dying from the wrath of God. I didn’t know the wrath of God wasn’t the only thing that could kill us.” He ran unsteady fingers over the tattoo of the Sigil of Lucifer on his neck. “What if Gordon’s wrong about this? What if we don’t know—?”
“—the extent of your vulnerability? Let us find out. Shall we?”
Jeremiah and the angels broke their circle and turned around. Ten men, with simmering orange eyes and muskets at the ready, were standing in a line across the road. The brotherhood’s closest neighbor, Abijah Cunningham, was among them. He was the only man they recognized.
Abijah leveled his musket at Colm. “You have taken the advice of a black man who thinks you can battle God’s demons with Lucifer’s evil. This is an interesting development that is worthy of General Hereford’s attention.”
Colm kept his eyes on Abijah, stepped between Jeremiah and the demons, and said, “Walk away, Jeremiah.”
“If Jeremiah moves, shoot him,” Abijah commanded the demons. “In fact, if anyone moves, shoot them.”
Wings rustled, and a breeze swept over the men standing in the road. It ruffled their hair and coattails in a momentary distraction.
Colm slipped his hand in his coat pocket, gripped the haft of the paring knife there, and whipped the knife at Abijah.
Abijah fired. The musket ball hit the cartridge box slung across Colm’s chest.
Colm’s blade hit its mark. The demon’s eye flared and sparked. The sigil etched in the knife’s blade had no extraordinary effect on the demon.
Abijah extracted the blade from his eye. He tossed it to the ground and grinned. “It appears the angel you call Brandon was correct. The sigil is worthless. Now, what will you do, archangel?”
Colm aimed his rifle at Abijah’s undamaged eye.
“You know the man I possess is not dead.” He smiled and swept his arm outward. “None of these men are dead. But…you did try to kill me with that filthy sigil so I suppose you do not care to protect the children of man as you once did. Shall we see if that is true?” the demon challenged. “Shoot the angels with the curly black hair!” he ordered.
“RUN!” Colm screamed at Michael and Patrick.
The boys took the order and ran into the woods.
Jeremiah, Ian, and Seamus fired at the line of demon-possessed men. The men returned fire. Abe and Gordon had been watching the confrontation from the barn. They both picked up their muskets and ran to help Jeremiah and the angels.
Colm shot Abijah in the other eye.
Abijah screamed in agony as the demon possessing him erupted into flames. The flames licked the skin off Abijah’s face. His hair and clothing caught fire. He fell into a blazing, screaming heap on the dirt road.
Colm dropped the rifle and stared in horror at what he had done. William Sutherland’s death had been nothing like this. His death had been swift and its impact didn’t settle in Colm’s spirit. Abijah Cunningham was burning alive. Colm fell to his knees and unfurled his wings. Heaven’s silver crystals rained down on Abijah and wet the flames.
Colm felt the struggle Abijah’s soul endured as his body died. When Abijah died, Colm escorted his soul to its egress and summoned a reaper.
The gossamer draped reaper stared accusingly at the archangel. If you embrace the Sigil of Lucifer and it becomes potent, we will no longer hear your summons. When you can no longer help the dying, what will you have left?
Colm dumbly returned the reaper’s stare.
How will we reap the soul of the human being you love so dearly and ensure his entrance into Heaven, if we can no longer hear your summons? The reaper continued on to fulfill its appointed task and left the archangel to contemplate its questions.
“Colm, they’re gone! Colm!”
Silver light flashed in Colm’s eyes when he blinked. He saw Jeremiah, but he couldn’t focus on what Jeremiah was saying.
“The demons suddenly dispossessed them men. The men ran like they seen Lucifer. Colm, are you hearin’ me?”
Colm watch
ed Ian kneel beside a dead young man lying in the road with his arms and legs splayed. The man, possessed by a demon only a few moments ago, was shot in the throat. Ian escorted his soul to its egress and summoned a reaper.
Colm couldn’t stand to face another reaper’s pronouncement of his failures. In his distressed state, he cried out for Michael and Patrick, but he didn’t see them return to the road or hear them answer. The silence he perceived terrified him.
The words spoken by the demon that possessed Abijah Cunningham came flooding back into his consciousness. “You have taken the advice of a black man who thinks you can battle God’s demons with Lucifer’s evil. This is an interesting development that is worthy of General Hereford’s attention.”
A horrible epiphany raped Colm’s spirit. I’ve been purposely distracted! Robert’s going to hurt Joseph!
He screamed at his men, “Go in the house and don’t leave until I get back!”
Michael watched his brother’s frightening emotional struggle, but he couldn’t just run away and leave Colm alone with his terror. He went to Colm and asked, “What’s wrong?”
Colm seized Michael by the shoulders and shook him, “Take the order!”
Ian heard the hysteria in Colm’s voice and saw it in his eyes. Fear knotted his spirit, but he got to his feet and went to help Michael. “You’re scaring us!” Ian shouted. “Let Michael go!”
“TAKE THE ORDER!” Colm screamed at Michael. His attention shifted to Ian. He released Michael and seized Ian by the shoulders and shook him. “Tell me ya understand!”
Ian’s dark blue eyes watered with fear. “I understand!”
“GO! NOW!” Colm thundered.
The brotherhood and the men fled for the shelter of the farmhouse.
Colm’s rage caused his body to tremble uncontrollably. When his fury calmed enough that he was sure he wouldn’t spook the horse, he picked up the paring knife Abijah had tossed to the road. Then, he mounted the filly Michael rode from Braintree, and spurred the horse into a gallop toward Worcester and the home of Dr. Elijah Dix, where Joseph was visiting his children.
Angels & Patriots Page 34
