by Renee Pace
“And what, Isabella?”
Mustering her courage she looked him in the eye. “She knows about us and she’s willing to complete the ceremony.”
“Why do I get the feeling this does not make you happy?” asked Nathanael, slowly chewing the piece of bread that tasted like heaven to his starved body.
“I am afraid, Nathanael, it will not be to your liking.”
“It…you mean you. Trust me I think you’re perfect.”
“I am not perfect and you know that. The Mistress has stated her demands,” said Isabella helping him move up the angled stairs.
“And what are they, Isabella.”
“She will perform the ceremony only if you are willing to stay with us.”
It took Nathanael a full minute to be absorb the ramifications of what Isabella said. “Are you saying she will not allow you back into the heavenly realm?”
“I think it best if she explains things to you, Nathanael. Trust me—this is something we will need to talk about. Things are never easy when dealing with the Mistress. That, I have learned the hard way.”
Nathanael laughed. His vocal chords still sounded rusty. “Good to know we both agree on that. Before I dare present myself to her, I need to eat and drink…and take a bath. Are you willing to take me to your house now, Isabella?”
It gave Nathanael deep satisfaction to see Isabella gulp. She wasn’t comfortable with him still, but he knew she wanted him to come home with her. “By the way…how did you find me?”
Isabella looked at him. “The Mistress told me where you were.”
Of course she did. She’s probably been laughing her head off for the past four days while I’ve been dying of thirst, and almost froze to death. Nat didn’t say any of what he thought. Nodding, Isabella escorted him from the building into the dark of the night. He wondered if his body could withstand the five-block hike back to her building. He highly suspected Isabella did not venture into human vehicles. The compacted space, roar of the engine, and stench of the vehicle’s interior he’d gotten into only once had made Nathanael think only a demon could design something so Hellish. Tonight, his strength further tested, he fought to put one foot in front of another, wishing with all his might he had his heavenly wings for support.
“Lean on me; let me help you.” Isabella’s heavenly voice poured through him. She offered her strength and the power of her voice eased his aching bones and muscles. When he leaned onto her, allowing her to take more of his weight, that unique Cherub fragrance of hers made him wish he’d bathed. He knew for a certainty he didn’t smell as pure as she did.
Who needs wings when your soul mate is by your side? Nat didn’t dare speak those loving words to Isabella. Still tough as nails when she was all Cherub, he’d save those endearments for later.
Chapter Sixteen
Ash watched the human climb the rail leading up to the Cherub’s dwelling. What was he doing? Ash certainly didn’t know what he was doing. He’d bargained everything with his Cherub—one he’d only meant to absorb power from. Something he couldn’t describe and didn’t want to examine too closely had instead sailed through him from the moment he’d come face-to-face with Shea. His father would have a field day with that, probably roast a dozen slaves just to piss Ash off. Really, though this was all the Mistress’s fault. Her taunting words of redemption had teased him to extremes. God, I hate her. Now, he understood his father’s wrath for her.
Elusive, mysterious, and powerful enough to rule if she so desired, the Mistress was not to be dismissed. He’d tried that but her voice always stole into his consciousness, whispering words of warnings he couldn’t ignore. Well he could, but then he’d be obeying his father and Ash had made it his primary goal to never do that.
“Do you honestly think they will offer salvation to you…a mere human?”
Gareth stilled his breathing, his body tensed for an attack, but Ash had already invaded the young man’s mind. In Iraq when Gareth’s senses had screamed evil he’d listened, and Ash knew he longed to confront a demon. Ash, however, was not like the demons the human had seen in Iraq. He was as far removed from the soul-sucking demons who’d taken this human’s friends than being classified as an angel. Tonight with the bite of the late October wind cutting through the human’s bulky Celtics sweater, sweat trickled down his back. Fear had a funny way of making humans sweat even when their body froze in shock.
“Who the Hell’s there?” barked Gareth, rising to his feet. This human was always ready for a fight. In fact, Ash knew he longed for it.
“It is not Hell that you seek but Hell might yet take you.”
Gareth barked a dry laugh. “Buddy, you want to do psychobabble, take that shit somewhere else.”
Ash laughed causing Gareth to tremor, even though he tried hard not to show his fear. Ash’s esteem for the male rose a notch but not enough to turn the course of his actions. This human would be used for his purposes because he was not about to let Shea suffer. Her power had changed him and while he hated worrying about her, he did need to ensure Isabella, the leader of this exiled group of Cherubs, did as asked.
“I see why they have taken you into their fold.”
Gareth didn’t acknowledge the remark. When Ash stepped fully into the light cast by the half-moon, Gareth also didn’t speak. The miracle of wings, the alien-like mystery, no longer surprised him, but Ash wasn’t an angel and Gareth was about to discover the huge difference separating them.
“I take it you are an angel,” stated Gareth, trying to sound bored.
“Of sorts, human. So it is salvation that draws you like a magnet to them.” Ash moved closer to Gareth. “It is good you are ignorant of who I am and what I could do to you.”
Gareth smirked. A vivid image of feeling the warm flesh from his buddies mutilated body on his skin assaulted him, and this time it was Ash trying to appear unaffected. Reading this human wasn’t easy.
“You humans are so limited in your perception of evil. The things I could do to you…you would beg me for the mercy of what had happened to you in that war.”
Everything inside Gareth stilled and if Ash hadn’t had his increased powers, this human would have been able to block him. “You reading my mind?”
“Of course, human, but soon your worries shall cease.”
Ash clasped Gareth on the shoulder. Searing pain blinded both Ash and Gareth as the connection was made. Ash willed his essence to seep into Gareth’s mouth to stream inside of him. The human fought the conversion, first by choking and then trying to vomit. Ash’s will would win the day. Shea needed him. With that thought utmost in Ash’s mind, he forced himself again onto the human.
“I do this because I care for her and they will not welcome me into their fold.”
Through the clenching pain in Gareth’s gut, which Ash too felt to the core of his being, Gareth crumpled into a fetal heap, his body bucking and spasming, against what Ash was forcing. There was nothing Gareth could do to fight against Ash’s hold.
“There is no other way. I must become you for them to gain my trust. Forgive me.” The more Ash stayed in the human realm, the more he understood the exiled Cherub’s angst. A day ago he would never have thought to ask for forgiveness. It certainly would have had him killed in his father’s realm. Forgiveness, thinking of another beyond oneself, was the single most punishable crime one could commit in Lucifer’s domain and one Ash never forgot. Until, he amended, he’d touched Shea. For eternity, she might truly doom me.
* * *
Meredith was anxious. She slipped the red robe over her head, belting the gold-colored rope around her middle. With one last look at her room, she walked out and made her way to the common room where the blessed ceremony would take place.
“Everything is ready,” said Nayla, bringing in a second tray of food to the room.
A feast to celebrate the x’simcha ceremony, the joining of Isabella and Nathanael. Not nearly as celebratory as in the heavenly realm, but Meredith did want it to be rem
embered properly. Tonight, we will make it special. The younger ones need to see this. They need to realize the significance of this act. I beg of you again, Mistress, honor us with your presence.
“Is everything the way you remember?” asked Nayla, bringing Meredith’s mind back to the task at hand. She quickly surveyed the common room, taking in the subtle but efficient changes to the space.
“Nayla, once again you shine like a rare beacon of light. Everything is perfect. You even remembered to create the uq’mulat—the heavenly cloud cake.”
“It will not taste exactly like it would…”
Meredith drew the sister closer for a loving embrace. “You always work a miracle. Tonight, you did not disappoint. I know it will taste divine.”
Nayla bowed her head, hiding a rush of thankful tears.
“Would you be so kind, Nayla, to ask Shea to bring in the black candle? We only need one.”
“Of course,” said Nayla, rushing off to complete her task.
Like most of the sisters, Nayla loved a task. In fact routine was still so ingrained in all of them, Meredith suspected to be idle would truly break their spirit. And maybe that was why Izzy formed the band. Maybe she sensed giving them all a purpose, telling them to quite literally sing for their supper, was what they needed to survive in this realm. And just maybe that was why Izzy needed to still fight the demons, even though she wouldn’t let them help her. Meredith recalled a fonder time when the simple pleasure of holding a heavy sword made her smile. Izzy sheltered them on Earth. She feared letting them get hurt, but Meredith realized now she should have pressed more to follow her in arms. Their bond of anguish had united them in their heavenly quest to take up arms, but Izzy didn’t view it as the same here and Meredith needed to change her thinking. The future Meredith was seeing scared her. She highly suspected what was to come had already been set in motion—a human-demon army ready to overthrow the heavenly gates.
Forcing her mind back to the present, Meredith prayed Shea was up to the feast. Shea kept to the shadows more but at least she was now joining them for food. At the moment, the Cherub stood to the side closest to the door. She looked like she could bolt any moment but pride held her in place. She kept fidgeting with the sash she wore around her middle, but formal dress was anything but comforting. Like she knew Meredith was thinking of her, Shea turned her head and attempted a smile. It was fleeting and sad, but the attempt was all that mattered, thought Meredith. What had happened to her she couldn’t even think about, but Shea, like Izzy, donned a mask. Meredith had seen that mask slip, and what she’d glimpsed made her question Shea—something she didn’t like at all. Maybe this is her coping mechanism.
Immediately, Meredith’s mind went to Gareth. Of all the times to wonder about him, now is not it. He hadn’t shown up last night. Highly unusual. Meredith feared for his health. The effects of his withdrawal were lessening but she liked to think, blindly, he had need of her.
When all her sisters joined her, including Shea holding the significant black candle, Meredith addressed them. “You have all done a blessed job. Tonight is a true celebration. Now we must await their presence.”
“No need. I am here.”
Izzy’s voice didn’t sound happy. Meredith wondered about that but before she could approach, Nathanael walked in. Dressed in a purple robe with a red sash draped across his chest, he looked as unhappy as Izzy.
So much for making this night special.
* * *
Nervous, Nathanael tried to push the feeling away. He tried to reason this as fate, but a subtle poke kept returning to nudge him it was now or never. He was young to claim his mate but according to Isabella, the Mistress had agreed to their joining. He might have uttered the binding words to keep Isabella tied to him, but with the Mistress’s blessing, he’d be able to join the Seraphim Warrior Council and become a full-fledged Sera.
Isabella approached him. Her complexion looked even paler and he delighted in how she fidgeted with her sash around her waist. She’s as nervous as a newly trained Pegasus. The thought charged through him. He was Seraphim, his burden to alleviate and wash way her fears.
“I think we should wait.”
Her words, said as low as possible, spoke volumes.
“Too late.”
“Let me petition her again to find you another.”
Nathanael grasped Isabella to him. “Isabella, I want no other. I like everything about you. We will be fine.” He fought the urge to flee. Everything he’d worked hard to achieve would be within reach once the Mistress blessed their union. Isabella would adapt to life in the heavenly realm again. He wasn’t blind to the fact that she’d miss her sisters, but her penance served allowed her to enter the heavenly gates. She had also been the one to deliver the dark angel’s message to the Mistress, so that counted for something.
“Meredith, you may lead the chant,” ordered Nathanael. Dragging along a reluctant Isabella, they moved to the front, knelt down with the other sisters and bowed their heads in prayer. Again, Nat fought to clear his mind and purify his soul. Isabella kept fidgeting and he hoped they didn’t have long to wait for an audience with the Mistress.
“Rise and stand before me Nathanael, First Born of the House of Raphael and Isabella, my Cherub daughter.”
Nat felt Isabella rise. He kept his head bowed hoping Isabella followed proper decorum.
“Thou may look upon me now for this blessed joining honors traditions and pleases the Almighty.”
Nathanael rose to look at the Mistress. He noticed she was covered entirely in white, instead of her usual black. The veil covered even her eyes. Not one speck of flesh as usual could be seen. Around her neck she wore seven separate necklaces, each with a round wooden circle. In his robe pocket, Nathanael held the eighth penance circle, which belonged to Isabella. He’d tried to give it to her when he’d first arrived but she had not accepted it. Tonight, he prayed she did.
“Thou art granted union but Nathanael and Isabella, before you agree to the blessed union, you must willingly agree to the terms.”
Terms? Nat, pretty certain this did not follow protocol, felt his stomach tighten in dread. He didn’t dare dart a look at Isabella, but felt more than saw her form go rigid.
“You honor us, Mistress.” Nat kept his tone respectful, shoving aside the fear clawing at his insides.
“So be it.”
A blinding, golden light filled the space and when Nathanael blinked, he knew he was back in the heavenly realm. The warm, loving caress of the wind told him home was close by.
“Kneel, Sere, and hear thy terms of joining.”
Not one ounce of warmth filled her voice. Nat immediately prostrated himself as instructed, bowed his head and prayed. Without doubt, he knew whatever terms she offered tested his strength in faith. He swallowed, feeling parched and worried of what might be offered to Isabella. I am Seraphim, warrior-ready to face this test. He kept chanting that mantra inside his head, even when the Mistress started listing the terms. His heart thundered to a cold stop when the harsh reality of her words penetrated his shivering body.
* * *
“I beg thee, Mistress, do not ask him,” said Isabella. Tears slid unchecked down her cheeks. She didn’t care.
“Thou overstep thy boundaries, Cherub. Careful how thou approaches.”
Izzy lowered her head, and forced a calming breath. None of it worked. Everything is about sacrifice. The Mistress outlined her terms to Nathanael and Izzy knew his faith, like hers, was being tested. When is it enough? It was a dark thought, and she immediately purged it from her mind.
Izzy sought another approach, careful indeed how she spoke. “He is Seraphim, a warrior of faith, needed in the upcoming battle.”
“A Seraphim warrior he longs to be. As of yet, he is not. The choice is his. Do you accept the terms?”
What choice do I have? Keeping her head bowed, Izzy swallowed the rush of tears and nodded.
“So it is witnessed by thee blessed path of light.�
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A flash of light momentarily blinded her. When next she had use of her eyes, the sight before her broke her heart in two.
What faith tested a warrior like this?
“You were tested and survived.”
The Mistress’s words crashed through Izzy, a powerful reminder that she had agreed to the terms.
In the exact position Isabella had been Nathanael, wearing the starchy white penance robe, lay on the Septuagint Council floor. His father loomed over him; his booted gladiator sandals looked exactly the same. He didn’t look remotely upset at the task the Mistress appointed him. How could he not be affected?
When Raphael grasped his son’s right wing and brought it up taut, Izzy felt her entire body stiffen, a surge of bile rising up through her. She didn’t dare look away. Through the haze of pain, she felt Nathanael’s eyes on her. Steel-colored eyes filled with anguished strength and determination. Unflinching, his eyes shuddered close the second the sharp sword of the Kita severed his wing. With swift movement, his father yanked up his son’s second wing. A choked gasp overpowered Nathanael. Isabella fell to her knees, knowing the torment of birthing pain his body gripped to. He did not scream. His eyes steady, he opened them to stare straight at her. With precision, Raphael severed his son’s second wing. Not a word spoken. He walked away, leaving his son to the Hellish pain his body had no choice but to accept.
Isabella rushed forward, uncaring of the warning from the Mistress. She could not leave him alone, not when she knew firsthand how much agony his body suffered.
“You should not have accepted the terms.” Her tears fell to the hard, unforgiving Council floor.
He gasped again.
“Do not speak. I know the torment you are going through.”
Nathanael attempted to crouch to his knees. Isabella immediately moved to him. He flinched from her touch.
“I am sorry, Nathanael. I truly am sorry. I begged the Mistress not to ask this of you. Why, why did you agree to the terms?”
