“Our people were the first to discover the angelic temples,” he continues. “The first temple was discovered by the Pythagoreans.”
“You’re Pythagoreans,” I say in disbelief. “The mathematician ones?”
“Our group has gone by many names over the years. The designation of Pythagoreans was merely in honor of the man—well, more than a man, an incarnation of the son of Hermes himself, a bright messenger to a darkened world. He discovered the angelic temple off the coast of Samos; it was there that the first of the temple’s secrets were uncovered, including the prolonging of life, and the eternal flame.” The pastor points his finger at the lanterns over head.
“I know about the eternal flame, but what do you mean about the prolonging of life?” I ask.
“I’m sure it has not escaped your attention that certain members of our town are older than they look. Our longevity is simply a benefit of our proximity to an angelic temple.”
I think back to my conversation with Miss Hapshod and the pictures she showed, “So that really was you with the founder of the town in Miss Hapshod’s photograph.”
“Barnaby was a good man. It’s a shame that tragic accident took him from us. He was a great visionary in our work.”
“What work?”
“To discover and implement God’s perfection in the world. Justice for men.”
“And how is it that the angels know nothing about this?”
“Since the beginning, the angels did not like man meddling into their affairs, and so they worked to have Pythagoras killed, along with the entire brotherhood. Fortunately, some escaped and have continued their work by finding ways to cloud the sight of angels, blinding them to our doings.”
My mind reels. That explains why Ashur struggled to know about my death. It was them. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because, just like Pythagoras and his brotherhood, the angels see you as a threat too. They will stop at nothing until you are dead. If anyone can protect you from them, we can.”
Liv places her hand on mine. “You can trust him,” she says. She smiles at me reassuringly.
I smile back, but I am not so easily convinced. Still, they may have a way to end this ordeal. “You may be able to protect me from the angels, but if you haven’t noticed we are kind of stuck here.”
“Not true,” the pastor says. “There is a way out. A passage way that leads out of town. We will take that to safety.”
“And what about the people still in the church?” I ask.
The pastor grins. “Once we are clear of the town, we will send help for them.”
“Why can’t we all go through the passage?”
“The passage leads underground. Unfortunately, that many people all at once will create too much of a disruption and alert the clay men. It is best that we go first and send back help.” The pastor explains.
I pretend to think for a moment, though my mind is already made up. “I’ll go, but on one condition. Hammond, Liv and Justine come with me. I want to make sure they are safe.”
“Of course,” says the pastor. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Then it’s agreed,” I extend my hand out as if to seal a contractual agreement.
“Agreed,” says the pastor, taking my hand. “Go with Liv and get some sleep. I will call for you when it is time that we can slip away.”
Liv takes me by the hand and leads me over to the pews where several blankets are laid out. “You rest here,” she says. “I’ll let Justine know of the plan. Everything is going to be okay.”
I nod in agreement, though I have doubts about the pastor’s story. However, given the situation, I have no choice but to go along with him. It’s all I can do to keep those I love safe. If we stay here, it is only a matter of time before we all die. Somehow, it seems more merciful for them to have died quickly out there with the clay men, then in here with starvation. How long can a community hold up against that before they turn on each other? It’s only a matter of time.
In the distance, I see Ashur vigilantly watching the doors as they stand against the occasional jolt from outside. Ever the helpless guardian. I cannot trust him to do what needs to be done. Our conversation from earlier made that clear enough.
Reclining across the pew, I do not bother unfolding the blanket, but stuff it snugly under my head. I don’t expect to fall asleep, but exhaustion soon overtakes me.
In my sleep, I see the face of my mother beckoning me towards the inner chamber again. Her face is serene and calm. There isn’t the fear that she had when I knew her. When she was alive. I am not frightened like in the other dreams. It is as if this is meant to be. She speaks softly as she says, “It’s time.”
I am then awakened by a hand pressed against my shoulder. It’s Liv standing over me, nudging me awake. “Kyra, it’s time,” she says.
She raises me up cautiously. I look back to the entrance where Ashur had stood. Liv recognizes my apprehension and says, “Don’t worry. The pastor had him check out another part of the church as a distraction. We can slip away unnoticed.”
“Won’t the angels know where we are?”
“The pastor says that their sight will be blocked,” she replies. She urges me from the pew toward a door near the back of the church. “We have to hurry before he returns.”
The door opens revealing stairs, leading into a cellar. At the bottom is the pastor with a lantern. He is arguing with Justine. “I can’t leave him,” she says.
“Be reasonable Justine,” the pastor says. “Jeff would want to know you are safe. Besides, we will send help back for him and the others.”
“I can’t,” she demands. “I just can’t.” She pushes past us up the stairs. Liv starts after her, but I stop her.
“Let me talk to her,” I say. “I’ll be right back.” Liv nods and I follow after Justine.
The pastor, impatient, hollers up the stairs, “Hurry up. We have to leave before Ashur gets back.
I find Justine at Jeff’s side. “I won’t leave him,” she says.
“I know,” I say.
“They won’t get help to us in time,” she says. “You know they won’t.”
“I know.”
Justine looks at me with a hurt expression. “Then how can you ask me to leave him? How can he?” She begins to break down. I take her and cradle her in my arms. “What are we going to do?”
“I’ll tell you what you are going to do,” I say. “You are going to be strong…”
She shakes her head. “I can’t.”
“You will,” I say, sternly. “Not for me, for Liv. She needs you.” I glance over at Jeff still unconscious on the pew. “There is only one way out of this and that is if I give myself up.”
Shocked, Justine pushes herself away. “No. I won’t let you.”
“It’s the only way.”
“But why…why go with the pastor.”
“Ashur would never let me give myself up,” I say. “I saw it in his face. He couldn’t let me die. If I slip out with the pastor, then he won’t have a chance to stop me.”
“I can’t let you do this,” Justine says. “There has to be another way.”
“There is no other way,” I insist. “It has to be done and I need to know that you and Liv are safe before I do. Once we are out of the church, you and Liv will go with Hammond and get help. I trust him, and he’ll take care of you. I will turn myself over to them. It’s me they really want anyway. Without me gone, they will have no reason to harm the town.”
“But what if it doesn’t work.”
“It will work,” I say. I put my hands on Justine’s shoulders. “You have to do this for me. Be strong for Liv.”
She agrees and we start back toward the door. Before entering, she glances once more toward Jeff. I’m sure she is thinking that she is seeing him for the last time.
In the cellar, Hammond and the pastor have already pushed aside shelving to reveal a protrusion in the wall, leading into a dark corridor. We all enter
with Pastor Clemont leading the way. Once in the corridor, he begins pulling on a rope and the shelving again moves, closing off the entrance. What lies ahead in the darkness is unknown as the only light comes from the lantern in Clemont’s hand.
“If this leads outside of town,” Justine says. “Why not evacuate the others using this way?”
“It wouldn’t be safe,” replies the pastor. “It is easy to get lost down here and to have everyone go in one large group, might alert those who are trying to destroy us.” He passes the lantern along the wall. “As you can see, the only thing standing between us and them is earth.” This does not seem encouraging. “We are trying to be discreet for Kyra’s sake,” he continues. “The others will be safe until we can send for help.”
Justine doesn’t seem convinced, but continues with us anyway. She gives me a worried glance. I try to give her some indication that it will be okay.
“Are you alright,” Hammond says, helping me along the corridor. I wonder what he thinks of all this. He has been very calm through it all. Considering his arm was nearly chewed off by a Rottweiler from Hell.
“I’m fine,” I reply. “How about yourself? That looked like a nasty injury you got.”
Hammond examines his torn jacket. “Just a scratch,” he says. “I’m more upset about the jacket. These don’t come cheap and with my salary…”
He is interrupted by a shift in the ground. We all halt, waiting for what might be coming. The tremor subsides and the pastor whispers, “Best we keep our conversations to a minimum. We wouldn’t want to alert them.”
The rest of our journey is at a constant incline with no real end in sight. All that can be seen is as far as the light can break through the darkness. Behind us, the corridor falls away into an empty abyss. And around us is only earth. If the clay men find us here, there would be no escape. An hour seems to pass away and not a sound is heard.
Finally, we are able to see a soft red light in the distance. The incline plateaus out and the soft dirt that we had been walking on becomes a hardened stone. Even the walls are now lined in stone. The ceiling above us is doused in a red light. I stop to look up and see a large opening with a blood red moon hovering above it. Just as I realize where we are, we stop. The pastor throws the lantern to the floor and ignites something on the ground. Soon the entire room erupts into light as the fire circles the corners of the room, casting out the remaining darkness.”
Beneath us is the familiar pattern of circles. I have been here before. The dream is no longer just a dream. “We can’t be here,” I say, backing away.
“Oh, but this is exactly where we should be,” the pastor says as he pulls a revolver from under his robe.
“What are you doing?” Justine exclaims, frantically. She instinctively pushes Liv and me behind her. Hammond stands to the side, uncertain of what is going on. Pastor Clemont waves the gun back and forth erratically.
“I am completing a work that started at the dawn of everything,” he replies, his hand shaking on the trigger. “To bring forth God’s perfect judgment upon his creations.”
“You’re not making sense,” Liv says.
“I’m talking about a perfect world—a world without pain. A world before Adam transgressed. Pythagoras found it in the perfect forms of geometry, forms that were later corrupted in this mortal world. It was found by Plato and others in the perfect forms of justice. Justice that we men degraded by our greed and lust.”
“Just put the gun away,” says Justine as she pushes Liv and me back toward the entrance.
“I’m sorry, I have to do this,” he exclaims. There is earnestness in what he says. “It’s the only way. The only way to make things right.” He points the gun toward me and gestures me to step away from the others. “You, stand in the circles.”
His instructions are not explicit. Perhaps he is flustered or does not know exactly what must be done. Not saying a word, I walk instinctively to the circle where I stood in the dream.
“Kneel,” he commands, pointing the revolver directly at me.
I can hear a whine of concern from Justine. “Stop pointing that gun at her,” she exclaims.
“Shut up,” he yells and presses the gun into my shoulder, forcing me to my knees.
“I know what you want me to do,” I say. “And I won’t do it.”
This angers him. “You will do it. I’m not afraid to use this.” He waves the gun in the air, but his hand is shaking so much that it is apparent that there is some apprehension in using the gun. It seems unnatural for him to be holding it.
“If you kill me, you won’t get what you want either,” I say.
He looks around the chamber as if processing the logic of my statement. He glances at Hammond who stands cautiously silent, then looks at Justine. “I won’t kill you,” he says. “That won’t work. But I won’t hesitate to kill them if you don’t give me what I want.” He points the gun at Justine and Liv, but there is a hesitation there.
A feeling of distress penetrates my gut, but is quickly squelched in a hope when I look into the face of the pastor. I have seen the face of men capable of killing. I saw it in the face of my foster sister’s father. That cold calculated disregard for life, as if the rest of humanity were nothing more than lifeless machines that could be cast aside and broken for their own amusement. The pastor had no such expression, instead, there was pain. He was not that type of person, confused maybe, but not a killer.
Hammond must sense the same thing; he steps forward between the pastor and the others. “Clemont, old friend, you and I both know that you don’t have it in you to take a life.” He reaches out his hand as he gestures for the gun.
Clemont stares at him, uncertain. “I have to do this,” he says. “I have to make things right. For her. For all those that have been wronged by man. By us.”
Looking over at Liv holding tight to Justine, I realize the pastor is talking of his daughter. Somehow, this whole endeavor is clear. He wants justice for his daughter. He is angry at the world for taking from him someone who was so dear. He probably even hates himself—blames himself for her death. I know why he hesitated, why he feels pain, because I too have felt that pain and anger.
“I know you feel pain,” I say. “You blame yourself for your daughter’s death. You feel like you should have protected her somehow. But you couldn’t and the world took her from you. I lost someone like that, someone I loved dearly and I hated the world. But mostly I hated myself for not protecting her.”
The pastor turns to me. There is anguish in what he says. “She was so innocent. Why do we always hurt the innocent ones? I would have died for her.”
“I would have too,” I say. “But life had a different plan.”
“It’s not fair,” he says. “That’s why we must do this. We must make it fair—for them.” He glances at Liv.
“You’re right. Life isn’t fair. But this isn’t the way. This isn’t what she would want.”
He stares at me silent. I’m not sure if my words are getting through. But then… “Who was this loved on who died?” he asks.
“It was a young girl,” I say. “I was a foster child in her home. Her father liked to drink and take it out on us. Sometimes he got too much enjoyment from it. I knew it was only a matter of time before he killed one of us. I tried to tell someone, but they didn’t believe me. So the next time he came after us, I got a butcher knife and stabbed him.” The memory is bitter and I choke a little on the words. “I didn’t kill him. I should have for her sake. But I couldn’t.” I stop to wipe the tears from my eyes. The pastor stares on intently. “After that they took me out of the home. A few months later I heard that she was dead. His drunken rage finally went too far.”
“I’m so sorry,” the pastor says.
“The funny thing, even after all he did to her. She still ran to his side and cried for him when he was lying on the floor bleeding.” My chin quivers as a tear traces its outline. “Why? Why did she love him?” The anger returns as I think of her d
raped over the man who would eventually be the cause of her death. “I can’t understand it. I never could. He is the one who hurt her. He is the one that should have died. I could have saved her, if I could just do what needed to be done. But I couldn’t. No matter how bad he was. I just couldn’t take his life.”
“Of course not,” the pastor says, the revolver now lying loosely at his side. He places a hand on my head in a caressing motion. “It’s not in you.”
“It’s not in you either,” says Hammond, making another reaching motion for the gun. This time Pastor Clemont concedes, handing the gun over. Hammond takes the gun from him and a weight is lifted from everyone. He opens the chamber to see if it is loaded. “I knew you didn’t have it in you,” he says as he smacks the chamber back into place. “But I, on the other hand, have no reservations about taking a life.” He raises the revolver, points it at the pastor and fires.
Angel Realms 01 The Dawn of Angels Page 20
