Chloe's Guardian

by Cheri Gillard

  Another image of Billy tried to push into Horatius’ thoughts, but he pushed it back. Instead, he concentrated on how familiar it felt to fly with Satarel, how comfortable and easy it was to fall back into the old pattern. So many battles and adventures and escapades they’d experienced together. He could do it again. He would do it again, if that would allow him the revenge he sought.

  The cavern opened once again and the duo burst forth into a new level of hell. Below another subdivision sprawled out before them. It was darker and murkier, the light separated less, leaving a veil of shadow over the realm. The air stank worse than the previous level, smoldering and popping with sparks and noise, rendered unstable from its inferior genesis. Horatius zeroed in on the cave along craggy hills outside of the suburb. Charon was inside, descending lower to the next level. Satarel flew toward it and Horatius followed.

  The dark cave was among many passageways that filled the cliffs bordering the suburb. Horatius knew they were almost to Charon, who was moving downward fast. He had to catch them before they reached the Prince.

  They rounded a bend and came upon Charon. They pulled up to a stop and hovered in the air, not touching down on the molten floor. Their group had stopped and Panahasi was standing away from him, trying not to step in a puddle of smoking slime, arguing about something.

  Chloe was in Charon’s grasp, her feet and arms dangling like a puppet with its strings clipped. Horatius looked away, unable to stand the hopelessness on her face.

  He willed up the anger, the fury he’d been feeling toward Panahasi and pushed down every other thought. He had to complete his purpose before anything thwarted him. He had to kill Panahasi. If it endangered the girl, so be it. Her life is worth the vengeance. She was already lost anyway. Once past the gates, a human could not go back. That was just the way it was.

  “I will take care of him,” Satarel said, putting a restraining hand on Horatius’ chest. I don’t want him dead he thought to him with authority, apparently not interested in letting Panahasi in on the plan to spare his miserable life.

  But I do! And Horatius leapt forward, producing a flaming sword in his hand as he did. Satarel jumped in front of him and grabbed Panahasi.

  “You will obey me if you intend to prove yourself,” Satarel yelled. “I will deal with your brother.”

  “Let me prove myself to you, Satarel. Horatius betrayed you,” Panahasi said.

  Satarel lifted Panahasi high, as though he intended to crush him down against the stones. “You failed me!” he roared. “You must be punished.”

  “The Prince instructed me to take him with the girl to the holding area,” Charon said reaching out to grab back Panahasi.

  Satarel’s eyes flashed evil anger. “Return to your own level,” and he threw out his hand toward Charon. He disappeared through a dark, collapsing hole. Horatius reached out and grabbed Chloe as she fell through the empty air where Charon had been. He cradled her like a baby. In his arms she was a floppy rag doll.

  Satarel still held Panahasi high in the air in his outstretched hand. “You kill the girl,” Satarel said to Horatius. “I will return to see your loyalty. Then your fate will be determined. Do not disappoint me again.”

  A flash filled the dim cavern and Satarel and Panahasi disappeared.

  Chloe looked up at Horatius with clouded, dazed eyes. Chloe who’d had such fire and will to return to her family now had only despair and surrender in her expression. The fear and destruction of evil had consumed her. She could not withstand the terror.

  He would make it quick and merciful. Then Satarel would come back, Horatius would prove himself, and then he’d go find Panahasi and annihilate him. And to him he would show no mercy.

  Chloe roused and reached up to Horatius. She placed her hand on his cheek. Right where the touch of Billy’s hand had left a permanent sensation. He’d been ignoring it, but with Chloe’s hand there, the scene flashed back into his memory. Billy looking up at him, speaking of love and forgiveness. But Horatius had failed Billy. Why did Billy have to die? It replayed again and again in his memory. Billy’s charge, the blade sinking into his little body, him tottering and then collapsing. His last words. His death. He’d done it all to save Horatius. Given his life.

  It suddenly came to Horatius. He had not realized before. Billy had provided everything Horatius needed to live. He’d furnished the pure sacrificial offering to break the curse.

  And now Horatius intended to throw that life away, by taking Chloe’s life—Chloe who he vowed to help—and by destroying his own chance at redemption.

  Redemption be damned! Panahasi must pay for what he has done. And Chloe had to die as well. It was too late for her. She, too, was already damned.

  A long knife flashed into existence in his hand. The flame burned white hot then became gleaming metal. He would take her head quickly, with the sharpest blade, and not let her suffer. That was what he would do to honor Billy’s memory. Billy would understand. It was what he had to do.

  He laid her onto the ground between simmering pools of smoldering slime. She fell into a limp heap, her glassy gaze aimed at nothing. She would not even know. He filled his fist with her hair and put his blade to her throat. “It must be done,” he said.

  No need…to try so hard.

  “Billy!” He whipped around, looking for him. “Is that you?”

  Horatius. The plural voice. They had spoken his name!

  What was going on? How could he have heard Billy? Was They speaking to him again, just like the night Satarel and Panahasi almost killed him? Was Billy with They? They’s plural voice rang with such peace and hope. Grace flooded him and melted his rage. He hurled the knife aside and it evaporated before it hit the wall.

  He had to get Chloe out of there! But how could he? Once past the gates, she was doomed to stay. There’s no way back through the gates of hell for humans.

  He snatched her up and flew again, soaring through the cavern. At that moment Satarel re-entered the realm. He was ahead of them, coming toward them.

  That should keep him busy and miserable, Satarel thought. An image of a snowy foxhole somewhere in the 1940s lingered in Satarel’s mind when Horatius listened in.

  Horatius reversed and shot away as quickly as he could, closing his mind to all thoughts, using all his might to shut down any emotion, any glimmer of an idea. He plummeted through the cavern, taking Chloe deeper and deeper into the dimension.

  Chloe stirred in his arms. The contact with Horatius was chasing enough of the doom away that her trance was dissipating. He projected a protective field around her and sped up, zooming headlong as the cavern took a sudden spiral downward. Satarel was fast coming on, probably growing suspicious every mile that flew behind them.

  Satarel’s voice broke into his mind again, obscenities once again flying at the betrayal he suspected. Flaming balls began flashing past him again. He was far enough away that they were not hitting their mark yet, but they were exploding against the rock teeth around them.

  Several caves opened in front of him. Without thought, Horatius plunged into the darkness of one. Not knowing which went where, he just dove. He had to get away from Satarel until he created a plan. His illumination was the only light. Inside, he found more branches in the cave. He chose and entered a new route. They curved around at a frenzy to follow the bend of the cave. Satarel’s audible voice echoed through the chasm.

  “I will end you this time!” Satarel’s words echoed. Repeating, overlapping, fading. They bounced around inside the earthen tunnels.

  Another tee and Horatius ducked beneath the low entrance of one passage and shot forward. Something caught his eye as he passed. When he looked back, it was gone. For a second he thought Satarel had gotten ahead of them.

  The tunnels twisted round and round. They looked the same, maybe going nowhere. The deep caverns were unknown to him. They belonged to the Prince. His mansion lay on the other side of the passages.

  He passed a place again where something caught his
side vision. A gleam or glimmer. In the dark, it seemed like a far-off glow. Looking right at it, it was a cold stone cave wall.

  Chloe moaned and squirmed in his arms. He shifted her, knowing she couldn’t be comfortable at their speed. The protective field around her weakened. So much energy was needed to negotiate the rotating, twisting tunnels. He could barely keep her from feeling all the pressure.

  They passed through another cave entrance. Or was it another? They all look the same.

  They shot through a long straight tunnel, and then took an abrupt curve.

  Satarel was waiting for them.

  His face, full of fury, contorted with the rage of eons. Behind them swooped one of Satarel’s henchmen. His flaming sword flickered and splashed light on the dank cave walls. Satarel produced his flaming sword and slashed through Horatius.

  He staggered. The power drained from him so abruptly, he could barely stay upright.

  “You did not kill her yet?” Satarel said sneering. “Then I will have to. Both of you.”

  The flame turned to burnished steel. Its razor edge glimmered purple in the light emanating from Satarel.

  Again, something caught Horatius’ eye. He glanced at the wall next to him. And he saw it. A rip in the fabric of the dimension. And on its edges gleamed traces of Shekinah Glory.

  He didn’t look back at Satarel. The swoop of Satarel's sword came at him. Horatius fell sideways into the tear.

  He and Chloe were pulled into a realm unlike any he’d ever been. They were propelled along a tube of energy, dark at first, but growing in luster as they ascended. Up, up they soared, taken by the power of the passageway, not conveyed by any effort of his own.

  The light intensified until they had to squint. Chloe sat up and then stood next to Horatius, held in place by a force with which he was unfamiliar. But it was soothing, and good, and healing. The damage from Satarel’s sword was reversed. The pain of Billy’s death was somehow buffered. The frenzied wrath toward Panahasi was extinguished.

  Chloe looked at him and smiled. Her expression had transformed from despair to hope. Her eyes had life like he hadn’t seen in her before.

  Horatius basked in the glow of the Shekinah Glory. They had been here. Somehow, They had forged and marked a path out of hell. The path had compelled him toward it, at the same time They spoke to him again. They had saved him once more. New hope for redemption spread through his being, assuring him there would be a way for him to experience grace.

  Suddenly, they were out of the tunnel. It delivered them into the Chronos Band and before Horatius could react, they stood on the street in Denver, near where they’d encountered the gang so long ago. His Stetson lay crooked next to a broken bottle in the tall weeds along the sidewalk. He was already changed into his human form.

  Chloe needed to find out if her family was okay, and if not, Horatius would need to do what he could to intercede. Though he could not think of what that might be. If he was still grounded, what could he do? If they were already dead, it would be even worse. Chloe would really need him then.

  And though the pain of Billy’s death had been comforted by an amazing peace, he had to go back and correct the wrongs done.

  CHAPTER 57

  As they walked home, Chloe tentatively grasped Horace’s free hand. His hat was in the other. He looked down at her and winked. His expression was a mixture of tenderness and intimacy.

  He squeezed her hand, and it reassured her more. She liked the feel of his huge hand wrapped around hers. She felt safer to have it there.

  “It will probably take awhile to process all of that,” he said as they walked along the weedy sidewalk.

  Chloe couldn’t help but laugh at his absurd understatement. “I’m going to need therapy you know. Unless you can erase my memory.”

  This time he laughed. She wondered what that meant. Maybe amnesia would be the best thing.

  “I don’t know what is real,” she said.

  “The kind of experience we have endured can be difficult.” She didn’t know if he was trying to comfort her. It sounded like he was speaking to himself.

  Somehow during their flight, for the first time she’d forgotten her family. Now when they came back into her thoughts, worry hit her like a baseball bat. “What about my family? Are we in time to help? Have we returned before the fire?” She let go of Horace’s hand and walked faster.

  “I don’t know. Our return was not of my doing.”

  Chloe broke into a run before turning the corner to get to her house. The distance was excruciating. Her insides cramped up, her stomach rolled, her heart convulsed.

  She ran and ran. She didn’t know she was the one screaming. But when she found herself collapsed in a heap on the sidewalk in front of her house, she realized the noises were coming from her own throat.

  In front of her was what was left of her house. The concrete steps went up to nothing. One flower pot was gone. The other, cracked in two with half shattered on the steps. Beyond the stairs black boards stuck up here and there, their charred remains bubbled and notched by the fire. The smell of ash burned her nose, nearly suffocating her as she gasped for breath through the sobs.

  Horace was lifting her to her feet, pulling her into his arms, and letting her scream her grief into his chest.

  Then her voice just stopped. She couldn’t express anything. It was too much. She folded up into a thin ribbon and slipped out of his arms. Her legs folded under her and she fell back to the sidewalk and just stared up at the ruins. After a time, she realized Horace was sitting next to her. He didn’t say anything or try to make her talk.

  They sat there endlessly. Time was absent. The faces of her family clogged her vision, trapped in the house, burning and exploding.

  An old man was standing nearby. She didn’t know how long he’d been there. He held a leash clipped to his terrier’s collar. The brown fur ball was sniffing her knee. She missed the first part of what he said.

  “…a shame. What a loss.”

  Chloe looked back at the house in silence. She didn’t need him to tell her that.

  “It was an amazing fire. Quite frightening. And spectacular. The rest of the block worried our own houses would burst into flame from the heat alone. The smell was awful. Poo-poo Bear was just beside himself, weren’t you Bearzy Wearzy?” He reached down and scratched his dog’s ear. “And the ash and embers. Just everywhere. Look here. Here is some.” He toed a chunk of dry ash in the grass. “It’s all over my porch and begonias.”

  Her nerves were too raw to listen to his voice. She covered her ears with her hands and ducked her head.

  “Good thing the family is away.”

  “Wait, what?” Chloe reran the muffled words she thought he had said.

  “Oh yes,” he said. “They’ve been on vacation the past week—one of those time shares in Florida. Except the oldest daughter. I heard she’s in Brazil with her school band.”

  Vacation? She tried to talk but her tongue was useless. Florida? How could they be in Florida? She looked at Horace for an explanation.

  “Yes, three visiting men—I think from that church down the street—gave them the trip,” the man continued. “Said they couldn’t use it themselves. Poo-poo Bear and I were on a walk. The men were just leaving when we passed by.” He pulled back on his dog’s leash so it couldn’t eat any more grass.

  “Do you have a cell phone we could borrow?” Horace asked the man.

  “The whole family was screaming with excitement. The mom told me all about it.”

  “Cell phone? Do you have one?”

  He hesitated.

  “I will give you my hat in trade.” Horace held out his Stetson.

  The man’s eyes grew wide. “Really? I can have it?” He’d already taken it from Horace and was turning it around, inspecting it.

  “Certainly. I have no further use for it. It is nearly new. It might be too large—”

  The man put it on and handed over his phone. “Be careful. Don't scratch it.”r />
  Chloe could barely control her fingers as she tried to dial her mother’s cell number. She’d memorized it after the whole mess in Scotland. After retyping it three times, she could finally hit send.

  “Mom?” Chloe choked and tears poured down her cheeks again. “Are you okay?”

  “What’s wrong?” her mom said.

  “Is everyone with you?”

  “Sure,” her mom said. “We’re at the airport. We’re coming back a day early.”

  “Is Benji with you?”

  “Where else would he be?”

  “And Michelle?”

  “Yes. Chloe, what’s wrong?”

  Chloe started sobbing, unable to hold it in.

  “Are you home? Have you been to the house?”

  “Yes, Mama, I’m home,” Chloe cried.

  “Is it terrible? The fire marshal called last night. It sounds just awful. Oh, they’re boarding. I have to go. We’ll call on our layover.”

  “They’re okay,” Chloe said to Horace. “They’re okay!” She jumped into his arms and hugged him.

  “Phone?” the man with the dog said with his hand extended. “Careful, that’s my new Pantech phone.”

  Chloe gave it back. The man rubbed her finger prints off on his shirt tail then waited while his dog urinated on the first concrete step. “Come on home, Poo-poo Bear. Let’s go show off our new hatsy watsy.”

  “So they weren’t in the house? Was I here? What does this mean?”

  “It means Kaitlyn’s prayers were answered. When you depend on those outside of time, anything is possible.”

  Chloe gasped. “Where’s Kaitlyn?”

  Horace was quiet.

  Chloe pounded him in the chest. “Where! Is! Kaitlyn?”

  “I have to go get her.”

  “What? Did you leave her back there?”

  “I had no choice.”

  “We have to go get her!”

  “We nothing. You are staying here where you belong. I will go get her and bring her back.”

  “Go! Go now. Don’t wait. I’m fine. I’ll wait here. No, I’ll call my dad. It doesn’t matter. Go get her!”