by White, L. C
The lights in the office window come on, drawing both mine and Tristen’s attention.
“Bennett has the only exit out of here.” He turns his back, and heads toward the office door. “He has answers, and he’s our passage to safety. So you sit there if you want, sulking. I don’t have time to play games.”
Why the hell as he all of a sudden got a bee up his ass? First he wants to protect me, and now he’s all cold and moody.
He opens the door as I quickly swing my sneaker and leg over the saddle. I haven’t no choice in the matter. I scurry across the sidewalk, and stride up the three wide steps as Tristen holds the glass door open for me.
I keep up with Tristen’s marching pace, as we walk across the reception area. The door to Bennett’s office flies open, and he stands there with an urgent pissed-off expression. Tristen sidesteps by him and I follow, curling my fingers into my hands.
Bennett closes his door and strides behind his desk, huffing and puffing. I don’t know what has come over me, all I can describe it as, is an intense fury.
“Well, this is just great,” Bennett utters. “You couldn’t just let things flow could you?” He scowls at Tristen, then begins to approach me.
An involuntary rage zips through my body, my brainwaves making my hand grab the nearest thing to me: a heavy leather bound psychology manual. I hold it up and Bennett stops. I’m panting and twitching, ready to hurl it at him. He holds out his arms and hunches over, a fake concern wrinkling his dark brow. I know it’s fake, because I’ve seen it before when I’ve had my counseling sessions with him.
“Put the book down, Beth,” he says in a warning tone.
“What, so you can screw around with my head again!”
He peers over to Tristen. “Are you just going to stand there? Your duty is to her wellbeing. You’re supposed to have control of her.”
Tristen rolls his eyes, unbothered, and perches on the windowsill with his arms crossed, to observe.
“My wellbeing, does that actually include lying to me all these years. Wiping my damn memories,” I scream at him, gripping the spine of the book tighter.
“It was all done to protect you, Beth. Until you are ready.” Again he offers Tristen an angry scowl. “Which is not supposed to be now.”
“I think we are well passed following the rules. I’ve seen it, and it’s growing stronger,” Tristen says. “She needs to be able to fight it, and that’s not going to happen down here. We need to take her to headquarters.”
“We haven’t been given permission for that,” Bennett says, disappointed. “Do you think I enjoy this? Hanging on for the word from above.” I lower the book to my side as he turns his back, and presses his hand down on his desk to arch over.
“You need to tell her everything,” Tristen says.
“Tell me what?” I grow impatient with not knowing a damn thing.
“Beth.” Bennett turns to me. “I’ve been tasked with recording your journey, and when it’s time, introducing you to the above.” His eyes circle as though he can’t believe what he’s saying himself. “Your father came to me through a patient several years ago. Of course I didn’t believe it. It’s not in my character, or my damn job description. It was when I saw scripture appear on the man’s skin without being touched, it got serious. I was told in nightmares, dreams, and through patients, that the end was near, and a girl, half-human, half-archangel, would be our salvation. You Beth.”
This is nuts. To hear a man I always thought of rational mind, rambling on about the end, and frigging angels, is beyond mindboggling.
“And just how am I supposed to fix this?” I ask.
“The Shade is breaking through the rift. You, like your father, are the only one that can heal it.”
“He’s alive?”
“He’s not a living thing, Beth. Look.” He sighs out a long breath. “What I know for sure, is as you enlighten, the Shade will become more drawn to you. They don’t intend to kill you, but possess you. They will come through you, and life as we know it will never be the same. You are the key. A key that can seal the Shade away for good, if you embrace enlightenment.”
“Why can’t this archangel Michael do this? I’m not powerful. I’m nothing.” I feel an emotional knot traveling down my neck.
“None of us want this. But once you have had a glimpse of the end, sacrifices must be made. Michael, wherever he is right now, will follow the word of god. That is all that matters to the archangels and prophecy. The gauntlet was passed down to you for a reason.”
I lower my head and close my eyes, sliding the book back onto the table. The anger I felt toward Bennett has disappeared. He may have been given certain powers, but he’s been tangled up in this like I.
“Okay, we go to headquarters.” Bennett’s nostrils flare out a breath. “Michael will not be happy, but screw it. We’re running out of options, and the angels don’t seem to want to make an appearance.”
Tristen stands up from the windowsill and moves toward Bennett’s desk. Bennett reaches under the surface to click a switch, and the huge heavy desk slides across the floor. I watch as Tristen descends a ladder, totally flabbergasted.
Bennett holds out his arm and gestures me to follow. I bite my cheek hard as I approach and look down to see Tristen peering up at me, from what seems to be an elevator.
“Don’t freak. This is how we get to headquarters,” he explains to my confused face.
I turn my back and grab the top of a steel ladder, to slowly make my way down into the box, feeling Tristen’s hand on my back, guiding me.
Bennett jumps down and flicks a button on the wall, so tiny white lights countdown. When the final light goes out the desk begins to close above us, and the elevator becomes pitch-black. My heart empties of blood as the concern I’ve made a huge mistake, creates a deep pulse in my neck. I’ve just climbed into a dark box under Bennett’s desk. I know what he’s told me is out of this world. But what if it really is all make-believe. He’s a psychologist, but perhaps he’s also a serial killer, who has all these years, been planting shit inside my head.
I gasp out as a dim light flickers on. Tristen chuckles under his breath at my pale face, and takes hold of my hand for a second. Bennett shakes his head at the show of affection, as he dials minus seven on a number pad. The elevator begins to squeal as I frown.
“Isn’t down the way to hell?” I ask.
Tristen smirks. “You could say it’s hell to some.”
“We’re not going to heaven here. Headquarters is the halfway house, it’s hidden in time quantum suspension,” he explains to my bemused face. “Time out here will stand as we left it. To say the angels hate science, they rely on the Sentinels using it.”
As the elevator squeals lower down into the earth, my ears pop. We’ve been in here for several minutes, and I’m getting nervous. A beeping sounds from the number panel. The elevator comes to an abrupt loud stop, and the doors slide open. Bennett steps out first, then I apprehensively follow Tristen.
I’m standing in a long gray concrete corridor, with florescent lighting above. Men and women dressed in tight black leather combat wear, march up and down. I presume they are Sentinels. Four of them wait, standing to attention. A female with a tight neat bun in her black hair, bows to me. I linger near the elevator door, as Tristen whispers into a tall blonde haired guy’s ear.
“Sir,” the tall guy says to Tristen.
Tristen is a Sir? I want to laugh out loud, and have to choke it back.
“We’ve exercised four grade one Shades topside, in the last twenty-four hours. Do you want debriefing?” he asks.
Tristen notices my wide eyes and sighs awkwardly.
“Don’t call me sir,” he says. “Beth, this is my wingman, David Porter. David, this is Beth.”
David also bows over to me. He’s older than Tristen. I’d say he’s in his mid-twenties. He has the build of a runner, streamline and athletic.
“Pleased to finally meet you, Beth,” David says.
I press my lips together to form a half-smile. “Hi.”
“This is Kylie Flowers.” Tristen points to the dark haired girl with the bun. “She will be looking after you.” I don’t greet her, just release a hum in a sigh. “This is Peter and Scott,” he continues, gesturing his hand to two boys my age, standing next to David.”
Peter doesn’t acknowledge me at all, but Scott does. He elbows Peter and calls him a jerk. He seems nice enough. He has a friendly normal face, a dark brown crew cut, with a single huge freckle just beneath his left cheekbone.
“Ignore Peter, Beth, he doesn’t talk to anyone.” Scott smiles.
I can’t absorb my strange surroundings, or this situation any longer. I’ve been thrust into another world that doesn’t make any sense to me, and I don’t belong here.
“Okay, I think we should leave off any further introductions,” Bennett says in a concerned tone. “I’ll take Beth to her room. You return to your post, Tristen.”
I can’t stop them, the anxious tears glazing over my view. I can feel an uneasy warmth building beneath my cheekbones.
Tristen dismisses the Sentinels, then comes to stand right in front of me.
“Go with Bennett,” he says softly, holding my arm. “Get settled in, and I’ll see you soon.”
I remain quiet and turn, so Tristen’s touch slides away from me. Bennett walks ahead, as every Sentinel I see, eyeballs me with curiosity. I’m basically the walking talking freak here.
Bennett stops at a gray colored door and opens it, waiting for me to enter. But my legs feel weak, and I’m unable to move. I want to run to the elevator, and go back to some kind of normality.
“Beth, it’s a lot to take in,” he says. “But there are things in here that will help you understand. Things your father has passed down to you. Things that may help you make sense of all this.”
I swallow and slowly make my way into the room. As my view moves up to look around, my mouth widens.
“Holy crap,” I utter.
“No holy’s here,” Bennett warns.
The room is completely different to the modern industrial corridor outside. It’s almost the same as Tristen’s personal quarters, wherever they are. Huge limestone bricks. Oil paintings hung on every wall. A roaring fire. And the bed is solid dark oak with detailed swirly carvings, dressed in white sheets. Jeez, as nice as it is, it’s odd, and I don’t think I’ll be able to relax in here.
“Beth,” Bennett calls for my drifting attention. “This was Michaels. Now it’s yours.” He pats his hand on the top of a tall wide wooden trunk, with brass edges and hinges. “It might help you.” He walks to the door. “I’ll leave you alone with it for a while.” He closes the door, leaving me alone, staring at what remains of my dad.
I gulp down and make my way over to the trunk at the base of the bed. I slowly crouch down onto my knees, afraid of what I’ll find inside. But I have to see. I want to know who the man was that lied to me. Who gave me whatever it is that has haunted me for years. I need to know why.
I push up the heavy lid and rest it back onto the foot of the bed. The first thing I see is an axe and sword attached to the lid. A frigging axe and sword that look like they come from a mythological tale. The sharp edges shimmer, not silver, but a strange blueish dull metal, engraved with symbols I’ve never seen before. And the handle of each is bound in black leather. I can smell a metallic scent, and it turns and burns my stomach. Obviously these weapons have been used to kill, and the thought of the friendliest guy I’ve known, my dad, using these items to take life, messes with my head.
I rise up on my knees to look deep into the trunk. There are books, frayed and tatty, rolled up papers, and trinket boxes. I pull out the first book my hands come to. I open to see it’s a journal. My dad’s journal. Running my fingers over his handwriting, a tear leaves my eyes. I flick through, page after page, as he describes innocent people being possessed by demons, looking for a key. My dad had to kill these poor people. Kill them to protect me.
I sniff up as a tear drops onto the ink and smudges the words. I feel responsible for the deaths of many. I should be dead. The problem wouldn’t be here then.
Weeping, I slam the book shut. As I toss it into the trunk, I see the edge of a photo frame. I lift it out, and when my eyes hit the image, I collapse back onto my butt. My fingers grip the edge of the wooden frame. It’s a photo of me and Dad at the Grand Canyon, when I was eight years old. I smile, remembering my dad having to carry me up one of the highest peaks. It was so beautiful up there. Peaceful. A world untouched by war, hate, or modern life. He told me it was god’s artwork, for crying out loud.
I clutch the picture to my chest as Tristen enters. Through teary eyes, I gaze up to see he’s dressed in the black leather Sentinel uniform. He looks so strong and intimidating, like a secret warrior, revealing his true self to me.
He walks to my weak body, bends, and snatches the picture from my hands. He huffs at it and drops it into the trunk, heartlessly.
With my knees to my chest, I snivel up at him. I don’t know why all of a sudden he’s being such an ass, and I haven’t got the energy to ask.
“Come on.” He grabs my elbows and lifts me up to my feet. “I can’t train a baby,” he says.
I want him to hold me and tell me everything will be alright. But all I get from him is a harsh unimpressed expression.
“I’m going to tell you a few things about this place. About me,” he says as I frown deep. “I don’t like crying. I don’t have time to pussyfoot around you, and I don’t need Sentinels seeing you weak. I don’t give a shit about Michael, or the world coming to an end.” He presses his hands against my cheeks. “You have to find the strength in yourself to fight all of them, because they only want to use you.”
“Why bring me here then… why not somewhere away from all this?”
“I’m in command here. Here the Shade can’t get to you.” He lowers his head briefly. “You’re not supposed to be here, but right now, it’s the safest place. I can get you ready here. Screw waiting for nature to take its course.”
“Are you going to get into trouble?”
“Probably.”
“Well, I want to go home then.”
“No way. You’re staying where I can keep my eye on you,” he states. “I can’t do that in damn school, in Fort Carson.”
“Why not?”
“Because… because I’m in love with you. You’ve brought my damn guard down out there. And I can’t be what I’m supposed to be. So please Beth, do everything I ask. You’re not going to like it, but it’s tough shit. I will make you ready.”
“You love me?” I whisper, his declaration spinning through my head, weakening my heart.
“Yes.” He kisses my lips firm, then draws back. “So I have changed the damn rules. Now get some sleep, your training starts tomorrow.” His lips peck my forehead, then he walks through the door, leaving me speechless.
Chapter Twelve: Headquarters
Beth
The sound of a small interruptive squeaky cough, makes my eyes glint open for only a second. I don’t care if I’m late for school. I just need a few more minutes sleep.
It happens again, this time louder.
“Jesus Mom!” My body bolts upright in bed, unable to part my eyelids fully. “When did you feel the need to start waking me up,” I grumble, eyes closed, ready to fall back onto my pillows.
“Beth,” a voice I don’t know whispers. “It’s time to wake up.”
“Who the f…” I slam my hands down onto the mattress, as my lazy view sparks to life.
Oh god, it’s all real. I thought maybe I dreamt it. But no, I really am in this weird place, with that weird girl Kylie dressed in leather, standing before me.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “But it’s time to get ready.”
I run my fingers through my messy hair. “Ready for what?”
“For breakfast… training.”
I linger in a sleepy confusion. I can’t believe I actually fell asleep here in the first place. After yesterday, I should be fueled with adrenalin, unable to sleep for months. The last thing I remember was curling up on this bed, thinking of Tristen, then nothing.
“I have your uniform.” Kylie holds up a pair of black leather trousers and a vest. “You might need some help getting into it.”
I widen my eyes and stare. Leather pants are definitely not my style. I know I don’t fit in as I’m dressed now. But hell, I can’t wear leather pants.
“I have your boots too.” She holds up a pair of black knee-length lace-up boots.
I do like the boots. I wouldn’t wear them on a daily basis. But if I was going to a Halloween party I might.
“Where’s Tristen?” I ask.
“He’s getting the dome ready.”
“The dome?” My brow crumples.
A grin comes across her narrow lips. “You’ll see.”
Oh great. You’ll see, is a shitty explanation to someone who has been torn from reality, and thrust into some angel training facility. I know already it’s going to be something intense. Clearly Kylie has forgotten how girls communicate with each other. If there is trouble coming, then a heads up is a must.
“Come on, get dressed, then I’ll braid your hair,” she says.
“Do I really have to wear that?” I blow out a pissed-off breath.
“Yeah, it’s standard, and protects the body.”
“Great,” I grumble.
I swing my legs out of the bed, stand, and walk to her. Scowling, I take the leather pants, vest, and boots from her arms, trying to form a polite smile.
“I can get myself dressed. And you don’t need to do my hair, I can manage.”
“But you’ll…”
I cut in and say, “No it’s fine. I can manage.” I gently nudge her to the door.
“Okay, I’ll wait outside then.”
I shut the door on her and rest my back against it, frowning at the skin tight pants.
