“I know she's elusive. We trained her well. But I want to know where she is at all times. Yes, yes, that's fine. Just do your best. That is all I ask.”
The judge was on the phone and waved Chris to a seat as he entered.
“Any time. If I'm not available, the front desk will pass on any information you have. Fine. Good-bye.”
Judge Hawkes clicked off his phone and slipped it into a pocket. He looked at Chris.
“I'm trying to keep track of Angelica. Since I'm reasonably sure that she was responsible for last night's attack, it has become imperative for us to pay closer attention to her movements.” He folded his hands in front of him and smiled at Chris.
“Now, you've had some time to think about the events of last evening. What are your thoughts?”
Chris went through the fight in his head. “Well, once Sariel got involved, it didn't last very long,” he said.
The judge chuckled. “That's true, but hardly surprising. He is, after all, one of the most powerful beings in Creation.”
“Yeah, I know, sir, but...he said that we'd need to find the pieces of his sword for me to access all of his power. He seems tough enough right now.”
The judge looked thoughtful. “Yes, he does, doesn't he? But even though that wraith was powerful compared to others we have faced, it was a minor angel at best. Our enemy was using the attack to assess our strengths, and to see if we did indeed have a new recruit for our cause. How he will react when he learns his minion was destroyed is anyone's guess.”
“You mean he doesn't know?” Chris was surprised. He thought that the Devil would know everything his creatures were doing.
“I doubt it, Christopher. He may aspire to climb the heights, but Satan isn't God. He's not omnipotent by any means,” The judge became still for a moment and Chris noticed that he was looking at the ring on Chris' finger.
“So you finally put it on, did you?” The man didn't sound surprised.
“Well, I didn't have much choice, sir,” Chris said defensively, although he wasn't sure why he felt that way.
“You didn't? Why not, young man?” The judge sounded sincerely curious.
“Why not? But you saw the fight on the monitor, didn't you?” At the judge's nod, Chris continued. “Then you saw why. Janariel was losing. The guards and the dogs couldn't hurt that monster, so it was up to me. And the only way to access Sariel's powers was to put on this damned ring.” He waved his hand in the air; the ring gleaming on his middle finger.
“Was it up to you?” Judge Hawkes stared soberly at Chris. “Why was it up to you?”
Chris wondered if the judge had suddenly become thick. Wasn't it obvious? “Because the house was locked down. No one was coming to help us. So it was either get Sariel to help or watch Jacob and Janariel die.”
“Nonsense,” the judge said firmly. “Utter hogwash.”
Chris stared at him. “What? I mean...what?” He was totally confused.
“Do you seriously think that we would have simply let Jacob be killed by that creature? As soon as it was apparent that he was weakening, Tyler and several of the others headed for the front door to rush to his aid. They only stopped when you entered the fray. Jacob was never in any real danger.”
“But, that's not what Sariel said,” Chris said lamely.
“Yes, I'm sure. He tricked you into putting that ring on, Christopher. Don't you see that?”
Chris stared at the judge for a long moment and then smiled a bit cynically. “Yes, of course I do,” he answered dryly.
The judge looked totally caught off guard by Chris' reply. “Wait a moment. You know that he tricked you, or rather that he tried to trick you into using the ring?” At Chris' nod, the judge seemed flabbergasted. “But you put it on anyway?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“But why, Christopher? He's using you. And you obviously know that.” The judge sounded completely mystified by Chris' reaction and Chris had to smile. He'd never seen the man caught so flat-footed before.
“Everyone uses everyone, your honor. You must know that by now, with everything you've seen as a judge.”
The judge didn't answer for the longest time. He had the strangest look in his eyes as he watched Chris. Then he sat back in his chair.
“What happened to you out there, Christopher?” he asked quietly. “On the streets? You aren't even fourteen yet. For someone of your age to make that kind of statement is...” He didn't finished the sentence. He simply looked baffled.
Chris struggled for an answer. He wanted to be clear. The judge had been so good to him that he felt he owed him an honest reply. He rested his chin on his palm and started to speak slowly, considering each word.
“I'm wounded, your honor.” He glanced quickly at the scars on his free hand. “Wounded in body, in mind and, I guess, in spirit. When you look at me, you see a kid, a teenager. But I don't think I've been a kid for a long time now. I've done what I had to do, to survive. I've lied, cheated, even stolen a few things. I've done some things that I will never talk about, ever.” He looked squarely into Judge Hawkes' eyes. “You asked me why I put on the ring? Because Sariel and me are the same. Except that he's been wounded for so long, I can't even imagine it. Cast out for doing the right thing. Maimed and broken by those he loved. Despised by Heaven and by Hell. We're the same. So, I put on the ring. Because this is his one chance at redemption. If we win this war, God will let him come home.” He paused a moment. “No. God will let us come home. And home is where I want to be. So that's it.”
The room was quiet. Chris had looked away from the judge and stared out of the window, listening to some bird singing that sounded more beautiful than music. But as the silence stretched on, he looked back in time to see Judge Hawkes blinking back tears.
“I think I understand now, Christopher. Thank you for your honesty.” He took a deep breath and seemed to settle himself down. His tone became brisk. “The power that Sariel wielded worked well against the wraith, but there are bigger and nastier opponents out there; opponents that won't be deterred even by the light of Heaven. So I think we should try to find the three pieces of the sword that Sariel said he left broken on Earth.”
Chris felt a rush of excitement. “Do you know where they are, sir?” he asked eagerly.
“No, I don't. But I think that the shrine my ancestor discovered years ago, the one with the picture of Sariel, might hold some clues. At least it might point us in the right direction.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. So when can we leave?”
The judge chuckled. “Patience, my young friend. I will have to make some arrangements first. The site is some distance from civilization and so an expedition will have to be set up. I'll get some people on it and let you know how things are going as we progress.”
Swallowing his disappointment, Chris simply nodded his acceptance.
“Now, tell me about last night, from the moment you saw the wraith.”
Chris talked the judge through the battle, short as it had been. He mentioned his weakness after the fight in passing and was surprised at how much importance the judge seemed to place on it.
“How long did this dizziness last, Christopher?” the man asked sharply.
Chris shrugged. “A few seconds, I guess. Why, is it important?”
“I think so. Sariel has to draw his energy from somewhere when he is fighting. Apparently he draws it directly from you, as do the other angels. But he is so much more powerful that the energy drain is more intense. That could be dangerous in a prolonged fight.”
Chris hadn't thought of that, but the judge had a good point. If he had to use that light of Heaven thing again more than once, he knew that he would pass out. And that would be bad.
He put that thought away for later and finished his story. The judge didn't interrupt again and, when he was finished, Chris sat back and waited for the man to speak.
“Thank you, Christopher. That was very thorough. One last question and then you are free to go.” The jud
ge rested his hands on the desk and interlocked his fingers. He looked at them for a long moment. “After your parents died...were killed; why did you run?”
The question came totally out of left field and Chris stared blankly at the man for a minute. “Why did I run?” he repeated.
“Yes, why? You didn't have to, as I'm sure you know. Your parents had no close relatives, I believe, but they had friends who would have gladly taken you in, cared for you. But instead of living with these people, who you knew well, you chose to leave at eleven years of age, for an unknown future living on the streets. I ask again, why?”
Chris laughed uncertainly and then ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it off of his face. “I've asked myself that question a million times, sir. To walk away from my old life like that was crazy. I know kids on the street that would give their blood to have a decent home. And there I was, stealing money from my parent's savings account, living on my own. Yeah, crazy.”
“So why do it then?”
Chris stood up abruptly and walked to the window. He stared sightlessly across the yard. Why did I leave, really? Scared? Stupid? Stubborn? He truly didn't know and he finally turned around and looked at the judge.
“I don't know,” he said honestly.
“Yes, I thought as much,” the judge said. He sounded confident. “But I think that deep down, you really do know why, Christopher. At least, now you do.”
Chris shook his head vehemently. “No, I don't. I just...” He caught the judge's eye and suddenly saw what the judge, from his different perspective, had seen right off. “Sariel,” he said flatly. “You think it was Sariel.”
“Yes, my young friend. But I don't think it was intentional. I just think that you and he are the same, as you said. Independent, emotional. And after an eternity of being trapped in Purgatory, Sariel's fear of being locked up, trapped, became your fear of being put into a home where you didn't belong. And I also believe that he could sense the danger closing in on you, in the form of Talon.”
Chris sighed loudly and rubbed his face. He pushed his hair back out of his eyes. “So, what are you saying?” He leaned back against the edge of the window. “That we're identical? That when he feels this killing rage, I will too?”
Judge Hawkes made a motion of denial. “No, you aren't identical. Your experiences as a mortal, his as an immortal, have shaped you both. But you said that you look like him, he sounds like you. That is because your body was created as a human mirror of your soul.” The judge suddenly seemed impatient with himself. “But all of that is irrelevant. What is important is that you are now aware of his influence. Now, you truly are in charge of your destiny. Where you go from here, and what you do, is in your hands.”
Chapter 14
Several days passed after Chris' meeting with Judge Hawkes. He heard nothing about the upcoming trip and tried to distract himself by spending as much time as he could with Tyler and Jacob. Unfortunately, his two friends were busy most days with schoolwork and, at least for the moment, Chris had no interest in trying to catch up on almost three years of missed education.
The library became a second home. Solo video games were boring and so Chris began to lose himself in some of the many books in the Nest's extensive collection. Mrs. Stiles was not only helpful but Chris discovered that she was a fount of information on almost any subject, especially history. Their talks could last for an hour or more at a time.
But after almost a week, Chris found it harder and harder to get distracted. The idea of finding Sariel's sword was weighing on his mind so much that he wondered if he was being influenced by his inner angel. He didn't try to talk to Sariel though; he was still irritated by the angel's less than subtle attempt to trick him into putting on the ring. Chris knew in the end that the choice had been his own and he was somewhat insulted that Sariel thought him too stupid to see through such an obvious ploy.
Finally, he got a chance to talk to Martin privately and casually asked him if he had heard anything about the trip that the judge had planned. Not surprisingly, Martin knew all about it, but told Chris that the judge was still in the planning stage. Chris had no choice but to try to be patient, the man said.
But Chris was out of patience. After almost three years of being on his own, of freedom, even if it had been a dangerous kind of freedom, the Nest was finally starting to feel less like a refuge and more like a prison. He needed a change of scenery. And so, the next day he approached Martin again.
The man was walking down the main corridor leading from the front door when Chris caught up to him. Martin looked at him in surprise.
“Mr. Wright,” Martin said, sounding puzzled. “As I told you only yesterday, the judge is still making the arrangements for your journey.”
“No, no, Martin. I know that. I wanted to ask you something else. A request, really,” Chris said. He felt a bit nervous.
“Oh, I see. Well then, what can I do for you?” Martin asked and waited courteously for Chris' question.
“Um, yeah. Well, the thing is, Martin...I'd like to go into town for a few hours.” He said rapidly.
“Into town? You mean Ottawa?”
Chris nodded and held his breath. Martin stared at him thoughtfully.
“You do realize that traveling outside of this house, especially into a city, would expose you to possible danger, don't you?”
“Sure I do. But I've spent a lot of time on my own, Martin. I can handle myself.”
Martin looked dubious. “We were attacked less than a week ago, Mr. Wright. Talon has got to be on high alert right now. I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to expose yourself to that sort of danger. Perhaps in a few weeks, but it really is out of the question at the moment.”
Chris just stared at him for a long moment. He felt a flash of anger but tried to bottle it up. He had to sound calm and rational when speaking to Martin.
“Are you telling me that I'm a prisoner, Martin? Judge Hawkes told me when I arrived that I was a guest. Has my status changed without anyone telling me?”
“Certainly not!” Martin sounded offended, “You are an honored guest, Mr. Wright. But what kind of hosts would we be if we allow you to throw away your freedom, perhaps even your life, by letting you leave at a time like this?”
This time, a little of Chris' anger seeped into his voice. “I'm hearing words like 'allow' and 'let', Martin. You don't use those words when speaking about a guest. Please don't judge me by my appearance. I am not the child I appear to be. I know that you are aware of that.”
“I'm not calling you a child, Mr. Wright.” The man sounded exasperated. “It's just a matter of timing. If you would just be a little patient...”
“Martin, I'm leaving. Today.” Chris stared intensely at the man. “You can try and stop me, of course. But that would just confirm that I am a prisoner. And I would never help you, the judge or this organization after that.” Chris thought of something else. “Oh and Sariel might take exception to you trying to cage me as well. He doesn't like cages and prisons. And I don't know how he would react.”
Chris hadn't really meant to make it sound like he was threatening Martin, but it was obvious that the man took it that way.
“I see. There was no need to say that. Mr. Wright. All of us here value you, and not just because of Sariel. We only want you to be safe. However, if you are determined to leave, then leave you shall. I'll arrange for a car and driver meet you out front at whatever time you wish. He will drop you off wherever you want to go and return for you at your convenience. Simply tell them at the front desk.” Martin sounded resigned. “Good luck out there, Mr. Wright. I hope you come back to us in one piece.” And with that, he turned stiffly and walked away.
Chris started to call after him, a wave of guilt almost making him change his mind. But then he stopped himself. He'd apologize to Martin when he got back. He really did like him and Chris was sure that Martin only wanted the best for him. But the chance to get out of the house, to see some new faces and places and
to clear his mind, was simply too tempting to pass up.
An hour later, Chris was in a car and on his way. He didn't get a chance to tell Tyler or Jacob that he was going out, but he was sure he'd be back before they missed him. The driver, Bennett, had greeted him gravely and nodded when Chris told him where he wanted to go.
The car quietly hummed along and Chris watched as the scenery rolled by, his anticipation level very high as he thought about his upcoming adventure. He knew that he was taking a risk being out in public so soon after the attack on the Nest, but the odds of being jumped during the day in the middle of the city were small; at least he hoped so.
The drive took about an hour or so but finally they were cruising through downtown Ottawa. Traffic was heavy and the sidewalks were full of people hurrying in every direction. To Chris, it almost felt like home.
It's so weird, he thought. Not that long ago, I would have done anything to get off of the streets. And now that I have a safe haven, friends, a real purpose in life, I miss all of this. What's wrong with me anyway?
But Chris had to admit that he missed the energy of the crowds, the feeling of life flowing around him like an ever-changing stream. Sometimes it was almost intoxicating.
The car slowed and finally stopped at a side entrance leading into the Rideau Center mall. “Here we are, sir,” the driver said.
“Thanks, Bennett,” Chris said and started to get out.
“Oh, one moment please,” Bennett said quickly. He turned around in his seat and looked at Chris. “Do you have your phone with you?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Good. When you're ready to leave, just dial three-seven-one and the pound sign to get in touch with me. I'll cruise around downtown until then.” He reached into an inner pocket and pulled out a black leather wallet. “And here. Martin wanted you to have this. In case you wanted to do some shopping or eat something, whatever.” He handed the wallet to Chris.
Chris peeked inside and saw a bunch of twenty dollar bills. “Wow. Thanks. That was really nice of Martin.”
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