“Yes. He said you are the one who still has trouble controlling your…urges.”
“I’d satisfy my urges with you if it wasn’t forbidden.”
Why do I find his words sensual instead of inappropriate? Stupid woman. You know very well why. It is because he is an angel who occupies a handsome body.
Ian stood up. He looked out over the tiny front yard and the coastal road to the shoreline beyond, and squinted to see the blurry thoughts in his spirit. He cocked his head. “We strayed too far in favor of copulation with human women, and now, we have strayed too far in favor of the children of man,” he said. His eyes shined bright with what he saw in his spirit.
He turned and ran into the house. His boots thundered up the steps to above stairs and down the hall to Liam’s bedroom. Despite, the oppressive weight of the angels’ anxiety, and the melancholy sight of Liam asleep in Patrick’s arms, he shouted, “I know some of the words to conjure the spell!”
Thirty-three
King George III dispatched three major generals to America. On the afternoon of May 24, the generals, accompanied by their servants, sailed into Boston Harbor on the man-of-war Cerberus. The irony was not lost on Henry. Cerberus was the name of the three-headed dog of Greek and Roman mythology said to guard the gates of Hell.
It was obvious to Henry, as well as most of the high ranking British officers, that the generals were sent as a solution to the errant colonies’ behavior because of the King’s tarnished confidence in General Gage. This development was worth a celebration in Henry’s view.
When, General Henry Hereford was alive and living in London, he was acquainted with the three major generals. With luscious perversion Henry thought, they would be mortified if they knew Henry was dead, and a demon occupies his body.
Sir William Howe was the ranking member of the trio. Swarthy and good-looking, Howe was Henry’s favorite of the three major generals. He had a penchant for high living, gambling, and women. His sister, Caroline, threw parties in her London home for her brother and his friends. It was at one such party that Henry had met General Howe, and an older American gentleman—Benjamin Franklin. Henry and William had, both, served in the British Parliament.
Next in order of rank was the small, fair-haired, Henry Clinton, who grew up in New York where his father served as governor. Clinton was sensitive to criticism and stoic, but unlike Howe, he was not distracted by indulgences. Henry found Clinton to be brilliant but boring.
The junior member of the triumvirate, John Burgoyne, was the oldest in age. When he was given the order to sail to the colonies, Burgoyne tried to convince King George III, and other politicians, that his skills were a waste of time in Boston. Henry appreciated Burgoyne’s skills: witty charm and passionate writing. Charm and passion were traits Henry believed he himself possessed.
Thomas confided in Henry that he knew the arrival of the three major generals marked the beginning of the end of his days as commander-in-chief of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. What Thomas did not admit was the relief he would feel when he could leave Henry and his menacing aide-de-camp far behind.
On the evening of May 25, Henry, Robert, Captain John Brown, Major John Pitcairn, Captain Anthony Jameson, and the trio of generals gathered in Gage’s living room for after dinner drinks. They were discussing besieged Boston and what should be done about it.
“You should have seized Samuel Adams and John Hancock when you had the chance,” General John Burgoyne declared to Thomas.
“That would have been possible long before you received Lord Dartmouth’s order for their arrest in April,” General William Howe added.
Captain John Brown lit his clay pipe and puffed serenely.
John Pitcairn shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
Henry, Robert, and Anthony masked their amusement.
“Someone who knew of our plans to march to Concord took that information to Joseph Warren. Warren sent riders to Lexington to warn Hancock and Adams. They managed to elude us,” Thomas said. He sounded neither shameful nor apologetic. However, Joseph Warren’s name lingered like a bad taste in his mouth.
General Henry Clinton said, “Tell me, Thomas, who do you suspect betrayed that information to Warren?”
Thomas sighed wearily and thought, I have done my due diligence to carry out all of my orders from Lord Dartmouth, including the seizure of rebel armaments and ammunition from Concord. I have kept the best interests of our parliament in mind with each action I have taken. Now, these haughty generals, who know nothing about the tribulations I have faced, dare question me as if I were a fool.
Thomas said indignantly, “I have no idea.” As far as Thomas knew, only his trusted secretary, who was also his brother-in-law, Samuel Kemble, and Colonel Francis Smith were privy to the campaign beforehand.
John Pitcairn was sympathetic to General Gage’s position. He stepped out of bounds and said to General Clinton, “Bloody Hell! You cannot expect to assemble that type of campaign in complete secrecy! Eight hundred men assembled on Back Bay is cause enough for suspicion!”
Thomas did not look at Pitcairn. He neither welcomed nor needed a champion on the matter.
Henry despised Pitcairn, but he couldn’t dispute his point.
General Clinton raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
A servant entered the room to refill empty glasses with claret.
William Howe motioned to the servant to fill his glass, and asked Thomas, “Do you have any idea where Hancock, Adams, and Warren are now? They are responsible for the siege Boston is suffering under.”
“My intelligence has reported that Adams and Hancock are in Philadelphia attending the Continental Congress,” Thomas said. “Warren spends most of his time in Cambridge. He is president of the illegal Provincial Congress.”
John Burgoyne became distracted by Henry’s disconcerting yellow-green eyes. John remembered that Henry Hereford had brown eyes. He wondered how a man’s eye color could change so dramatically. He ventured to ask, “Henry, do you believe a rebel attack from Cambridge is imminent under Warren’s command?”
An imminent rebel attack was exactly what Henry hoped for. An attack from either one of the opposing forces would do, and if an imminent battle was not brewing, he would provoke one. That had occupied his treacherous thoughts since the archangel told Robert he intended to put an end to the angels’ demonic pursuit, regardless of the cost to the children of man.
John Burgoyne’s question provided Henry a chance to begin that provocation. “I not only believe an attack is imminent, I am certain the offensive will be led by one of Warren’s new military handmaidens, General Artemas Ward or Colonel Israel Putnam.”
John Brown puffed his pipe and made eye contact with Thomas. The non-verbal exchange between the two friends asked the question, where did Henry get that information?
Henry drained his glass of claret and rose from his chair. “Please excuse us gentlemen. Robert, Anthony, and I must leave to attend a small private party.”
Robert and Anthony rose. Both demons were happy with Henry’s announcement. The after-dinner discussion was tedious and boring.
“William, would you consider joining us?” Henry asked with a grin. “I am sure you would enjoy…the guests.”
Flickering candlelight haunted the parlor where Henry sat alone at a table. He was very drunk. Sloppy drunkenness was something he tempered at parties, but tonight, he intended to indulge.
William Howe was standing near a door that entered into a first-floor bedroom. A petite young woman stood in front of him. She brushed his face, chest, and hips with her fingers as she spoke. William smiled down into her sweet face and touched the neat curls of dark hair that fell down her back.
Robert and Anthony were nowhere in sight.
Henry supposed their entertainment was already in progress. It was time for him to do the same.
A server brought a refilled tankard of rum to Henry and set it on the table. The man had been watching General Hereford all evening. T
he general’s eerie yellow-green eyes and rough masculinity were alluring. “Is there anything else I can do for you, General?”
Henry’s eyes swept the shadowed room. Everyone was engaged in some type of foreplay. He shifted his eyes to the server. He was, perhaps, eighteen-years-old with thick black hair and effeminate facial features. Perversely, the young man reminded Henry of the archangel’s brother. His eyes slid down the young man’s chest to his crotch. He flipped his eyes back up to the young man’s face and smiled broadly.
This is an unexpected pleasure, Henry thought. “What is your name?”
“Jared.” A smile played at the corners of his mouth.
Henry’s awakening erection raised its head. He took a long drink of rum and then rose from his chair.
“I am not without a price,” Jared said softly.
Henry’s erection insisted on attention. He nodded.
The young man took Henry’s hand and led him above stairs to a small but lavishly appointed bedroom. Exclamations of carnal pleasure filtered through the walls and into the bedroom.
Jared brushed his fingers over the shadow of beard on Henry’s cheeks.
Henry had little patience for foreplay. He allowed it from Constance, Margaret’s personal maid, because he enjoyed her perverse sexual brutality. Jared cupped Henry’s cheeks and moved to kiss him.
Henry seized Jared’s wrists. “Strip me of my clothing. My boots and breeches first; then you will suck me. You will remove one piece of my clothing and suck me. And you will do it again and again until I am naked.”
“I wish so much to kiss you,” Jared ventured with a longing look, but he did as he was asked.
Once he was stripped of his boots, breeches, and stockings, Henry rose from the edge of the bed. Jared got to his knees and sucked Henry’s erection with his warm wet mouth.
He tastes strange, almost like death, Jared thought. Yet it is erotic. He tilted his head just enough to look up into the general’s yellow-green eyes. Jared felt his own erection rise, and he stroked himself without interrupting the general’s pleasure.
Henry smelled Jared’s sexual aroma. He closed his eyes and imagined that Jared was the archangel’s brother. The fantasy brought him to the brink of an orgasm sooner than he wanted.
General, you are so beautiful, Jared thought still gazing up at Henry’s face. His own orgasm threatened to explode.
Henry sensed Jared’s thoughts. His eyes flew open. He pulled away from Jared’s mouth and jerked him to his feet. He shouted into Jared’s surprised face. “Demons are not beautiful! That is a disgusting analogy for angels!”
Jared’s neck snapped when Henry slapped his face.
Henry dressed. On leaving the bedroom, he took a last look at the dead young man on the floor, and smiled. “I believe your broken neck completes my fantasy about the archangel’s brother.”
To the east of Charlestown were two contiguous islands, Hog, and the much larger Noodle’s Island, which together formed a peninsula that reached from the town of Chelsea toward Boston to the southwest with the town of Winnisimmet on the opposite shore directly north. Hundreds of sheep, cattle, and horses grazed on both Hog and Noodle’s Islands.
After the incident at Grape Island, the Committee of Safety ordered the removal of all livestock and hay from the islands. Knee-deep creeks separated the islands from one another and the mainland; therefore, boats were not required. General Artemas Ward deployed Colonel John Stark and his regiment out of New Hampshire to carry out the mission.
As Jeremiah, Colm, Michael, Seamus, and Ian neared Boston Neck on their journey home from Braintree, they saw black smoke rising from Noodle’s Island. Coupled with the sound of cannon and musket fire, they surmised that the fire had something to do with livestock and hay. Colm suspected Joseph of having a hand in the situation, and that he was probably in the thick of things.
They reined their horses and tried to assess what seemed to be a skirmish.
“We’re too far away,” Colm said as he raised a hand to shield his eyes from the early evening sun. His hand dropped to the cartridge box slung across his chest in an unconscious gesture of verifying his ammunition. Now days, they never traveled unarmed. “Let’s go see what’s happening,” he said.
When they arrived at the town of Winnisimmet, they saw the British sloop, Britannia, anchored off shore in the deeper waters. A British schooner was sailing north up Chelsea Creek, the narrow waterway that lay between the islands and the mainland. A large force of Major Pitcairn’s Royal Navy marines was rowing longboats toward both islands and the mainland shore.
Jeremiah and the angels could clearly see that a burning barn was the source of the smoke from Noodle’s Island. About 30 rebels were on the island corralling livestock. A small number of no more than 40 Royal Navy marines stationed on the island were advancing on the rebels.
Michael pointed eastward. “It looks like they’re driving sheep from Hog Island across—”
The schooner, Diana, suddenly fired her swivel guns and six-pound cannons at John Stark’s regiment of rebels on Noodle’s Island. The men exchanged fire with their muskets. More rebels congregated on the mainland shoreline near Jeremiah and the angels. They, too, fired at Diana.
“Looks like we might wanna take part in this,” Jeremiah said as he dismounted.
The angels also dismounted.
Diana glided further north into the shallow waters near Hog Island in an attempt to trap the rebels there until high tide made the creek harder to forge. The schooner exchanged fire with the rebels on Hog Island.
Jeremiah moved northeastward. He and other rebels volleyed with the marines swarming out of the longboats.
The angels waited for Colm’s order. The sound of exploding gunpowder, shouting men, booming cannons, and the smell of smoke rushed through Colm’s spirit. He had seen men kill one another for a loyal cause countless times over thousands of years. This time, however, he wasn’t just an observer. He had promised his brotherhood’s loyalty to the patriotic cause without truly understanding the price of that loyalty.
We aren’t supposed to kill the children of man, he thought. Yet, since we’ve come here, we have killed them anyway. If we do reject God, will we be able to fulfill our pledge of loyalty without regret?
Colm’s spirit struggled under the weight of his indecision and doubts. Jeremiah warned ya about losing control. He told ya that’s what Henry wants, his conscience admonished.
“I didn’t lose control,” Colm whispered.
No? Then why are ya forcing ya angels to reject Heaven?
“I’m not forcing them.”
Do ya really believe that?
“I—”
Are ya exchanging ya vows to ya angels for vows to Joseph Warren and the patriots?
“No. I’m protecting them—all of them.”
Ya aren’t strong enough.
“I have to make us all stronger. They have to be able to take care of themselves if I’m dead.”
Henry’s going to make ya choose no matter what ya do. Will ya choose Michael or Joseph?
“I’ll kill Henry before that happens!”
Then, ya had better kill him soon, because time’s running out.
“I realize that!”
Ya told Joseph there wou’d be human collateral damage when ya and Henry finally clashed. Can ya stand up under that and stay strong? If ya can, prove it now.
“Colm? Colm? Colm!”
Colm blinked.
Seamus studied his archangel with concern. “We know you’re strugglin’ with our destiny. We ain’t gonna let you struggle alone.”
Ian and Michael surprised Colm by smiling. Their faith and love for him made his spirit ache. If he made the wrong decisions, he would be sentencing them to death.
Under heavy provincial rebel fire and with an outgoing tide threatening to ground his schooner, Diana, the commanding officer, Lieutenant Thomas Graves, sought the aid of a dozen longboats to tow him back down the creek in the dying breeze.
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In hopes of ambushing Diana before she reached the safety of the harbor, the rebels rushed down the north shore of Chelsea Creek toward Winnisimmet. By 9:00 p.m., the sun was setting. Colonel Israel Putman and Joseph arrived at Newgate Landing with two field pieces and more men. Putnam directed his cannon fire at Diana that was now slowly drifting south along the shore.
The Royal Navy marines had transported several cannons to a hill on Noddle’s Island. Out of the deepening darkness, cannonballs whistled down at the rebels as they waded into the creek and fired at the longboats towing Diana past the Winnisimmet shore.
The rebel cannons returned fire with such effectiveness that the British longboat crews were forced to abandon Diana. The schooner soon drifted toward shore and grounded on the wooden rails extending from the ferry dock.
Lieutenant Graves and his men attempted to use their anchor to drag the schooner to deeper water, but as the tide ebbed, the schooner began to roll onto her side. They had no choice but to abandon her for the sloop Britannia.
Jeremiah drifted along the shore with the movement of Diana and the rebels who dogged her. He encountered Joseph when the rebels moved north to Newgate Landing.
Joseph was surprised to see him. “If you are here, the angels must be here.”
“They’re here somewhere. I left ’em. I finally realized that I don’t wanna live every minute of their struggle over killin’ humans and rejectin’ God. They were so much calmer in Burkes Garden where they were protected, for the most part, from constant human turmoil.”
Powder flashed in the darkness and Putnam’s cannons boomed. British musket fire responded. “They do not deserve what is happening to them,” Joseph lamented.
“No, they don’t.” Jeremiah paused. “We might end up dyin’ for ‘em, and we’ve both accepted that.”
“Take them home, Jeremiah. Tell Colm that we spoke, and not to worry—if that is possible.”
Angels & Patriots_Book One Page 38
