Rage and Redemption (Rebel Angels)

by Cyndi Friberg

  “Roderick is my grandfather.”

  It was not really a question but he nodded. “Aye. There will be plenty of time on the journey for you and I to become better acquainted. How soon can you be ready to depart?”

  “Two days hence?” she suggested.

  “Perfect.” He kissed her cheek and hurried after his men.

  Their impromptu meeting had spared her the irritation of seeing Brother Aaron.

  After several fruitless hours of searching for Brother Gabriel, she retreated to the scriptorium, surly and depressed. Unrolling her private scroll she quickly sketched Brother Aaron. To be perfectly fair, his chin did not tilt quite so arrogantly and she had never seen such open scorn in his narrowed gaze, but her interpretation made her smile.

  Summoning all of her skill and fueling her creativity with longing, she tried to draw Brother Gabriel. His features appeared on the parchment, the likeness unmistakable, but as always she failed to capture his inner glow—his illumination.

  Tears blinded her and she stepped back from the table before flinging the pen at the wall. She wrapped her arms around herself and squeezed her eyes shut.

  She didn’t want to “turn a corner and carry on”.

  Arms enfolded her and she started violently. She cried out and opened her eyes. Her gaze focused on Gabriel’s smiling face and Naomi fell apart.

  She clung to him, mashing the back of his robe in her fists. She wept, releasing her frustration, her anger and her fear. His hand patiently stroked her hair while he spoke softly into her ear.

  “We can never be truly parted, Naomi. My love surrounds you. It goes wherever life may take you.”

  She eased away from him so she could bask in the warmth of his eyes. “You are so dear to me,” she sobbed. “Have I ever told you how grateful I am for all you have taught me?”

  He smiled. “You have many lessons yet to learn.” He brushed his knuckles along her jaw. “But you are brave and intelligent and I am so proud of the woman you have become.”

  She pressed her lips together to still their trembling. “I will miss you every day.”

  “Nay,” he said firmly. “You will remember me fondly every day.”

  A ragged sob tore from her throat.

  “Why can I not draw you?” It was such an incidental thing, but she could not let him leave without understanding. He was her mentor. Could he teach her one last skill before Heaven reclaimed him?

  Kissing her cheek, he took her hand and led her to her drawing table.

  He studied the sketch for only a moment before he explained, “The image is too perfect. I see only devotion and joy. Where is the sadness of our parting? Where is my fear that something might harm you? Where is the exasperation Gideon unleashes in me? These are all part of my character too.”

  Even in the brightest soul there is a speck of darkness. She shivered but chose not to share her conclusion, knowing it would upset him.

  He framed her face with his palms and kissed her tenderly on the brow. “Love comes with the risk of pain and the more deeply you love, the greater the pain. Still you must never be afraid of the risk. It is what makes love so exciting.”

  “Will I ever see you again?”

  He smiled and mischief glimmered in his eyes. “Most definitely.”

  Naomi accepted the sadness as he walked from the room. His reluctance to flaunt his angelic abilities made her smile. The aching of her heart was a testimony to how deeply she loved him and how much they had shared.

  She found a freshly sharpened pen and paused to study her drawing. Accessing the pain still burning within her, she added a touch of sadness to his gaze and a hint of stubbornness to his jaw. She drew a few strands of mussed hair and tiny lines at the corners of his eyes.

  Tears streamed down Naomi’s face as she watched his image come to life—illuminated by the imperfection of her love.

  * * * * *

  Gideon sat alone in the underground chamber, restless and confused. Naomi’s scent permeated his tunic, sinking into his very pores. Yanking the garment off, he tossed it across the room and pressed his naked back against the cold stone wall.

  She’d sat with him through the entire crisis, soothing him with her embrace and the soft cadence of her voice. Why had she done it? How could she feel anything for him after…she didn’t remember what he’d done. That was the only possible explanation. He’d successfully purged her mind. She still believed in the illusion that he was not a monster.

  He remembered Michael’s voice, the intensity of his presence, but that made no sense either. Why would Michael bother?

  The musical chinking of metal distracted Gideon from his contemplations. With a flick of his wrist, he ignited the torch secured to the wall in an iron sconce. He’d extinguished it a short time before when he sent Crispin off on his errand. The darkness better suited his mood.

  Crispin approached, heavily laden with the remainder of Gideon’s belongings.

  Gideon felt an unexpected pang in his chest. Naomi wouldn’t be the only one turning a corner and carrying on.

  “Why do you want all of this down here?” Crispin asked. He draped Gideon’s chain mail hauberk over the chest containing the rest of his armor.

  “It’s time I reacquaint myself with a little band of rebels.” He couldn’t contain his sardonic smile as he remembered the exasperated edge to Michael words. “You’ve served me faithfully, Crispin. But where I go, you cannot follow. I spoke with Algernon, captain of the French mercenaries. You will be accompanying them to Antioch to join King Louis’ troops.”

  “As you wish,” Crispin said stiffly. He clasped his arms behind his back and averted his gaze. He looked almost wounded. He was a soldier. What difference did it make who he served?

  These humans could be so irrational.

  Gideon rose and commanded, “Look at me.”

  Their gazes locked and Gideon cast his thrall. “When you awaken on the morrow you will have no remembrance of my true nature. You will remember only a fellow soldier with whom you fought.” He framed the younger man’s face with his hands and delved deeper into his mind, meticulously purging every image, every memory that might incriminate him.

  The longer he worked the more saddened he became. The human penchant for irrationality must be contagious. Crispin was his servant, nothing more. But so many of the images contained Crispin’s easy laughter and his calm resolve, his bravery and loyalty.

  Gideon would miss him.

  Breaking away with a soft hiss, he released Crispin and reached into the trunk for a clean tunic. When he straightened again, Crispin was gone.

  * * * * *

  Gideon felt a heated tingle scurry down his spine and knew Naomi was near. Striding between the cluttered storage shelves, he paused on the threshold of his chamber.

  She knelt on the furs, a vision in the wavering torchlight. Her sandals rested beside the bed and the fine material of her gown contoured gently to her curves. The garment must have been part of her new wardrobe. The sleeves were slashed to reveal the elaborate embroidery on the undertunic.

  How long had she been here?

  Why had she come?

  She lifted an item from the fur beside her and he realized it was his jeweled dagger. She’d been rummaging through his chest! He couldn’t figure out what she was doing as she turned it this way and that.

  “There are less painful means if you want to take your life,” he said lightly.

  Her gaze flew toward him and she proffered the dagger, hilt first. “It’s a beautiful blade.”

  He took the knife from her but his gaze remained on her flushed face. “What were you doing just now?”

  “This is a monastery. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I have been unable to find a looking glass.”

  “What need have you for a looking glass?” Why do you continue to tempt me?

  “I have been told I bear a mark on my neck,” she said quietly. “A mark no doubt put there by you.”

  He
lifted her chin and turned her face to the side. The purple bruise was obvious at a glance but even the two puncture wounds were still visible, if one knew what to look for.

  “Aye, it’s still there,” he told her. “Is that all you needed?”

  She jerked her chin out of his grasp and stood. “I see images of… I know I was here in this room before you became ill. I know that we shared—intimacies—and you did something to muddle the memory.”

  Gideon struggled to conceal his shock. Never before had his powers failed. Why was she able to remember? He idly fiddled with the dagger, not knowing what to say.

  “Do you deny what I have just said?”

  “Nay.” He closely watched her reaction to the single word. She nervously rubbed one hand with the other. Her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip.

  “Why?”

  One dark brow shot up at her question. “Why did I bring you here or why did I attempt to take the memory from you?”

  She pulled her braided hair forward, concealing his mark. He wanted to push it back over her shoulder. He wanted the world to know she was his.

  That she was his? His insides twisted at the thought.

  “Why did you bring me here?”

  “To punish you for forcing me to feel things I did not want to feel,” he answered honestly. Her gaze softened. Her hands unclasped, one reaching out toward him. He pointed the dagger at her. “Do not touch me unless you’re prepared to finish what we started the other night.”

  Naomi smiled and raised her hands to shoulder level. “I am such a threat you must hold me off at knifepoint?”

  He glowered at her and she drank in the sight of him. His hair hung in damp waves to his shoulders, his golden eyes glistening in the torchlight. Had he just returned from the baths? What a decadent thought. The front of his tunic gaped, revealing a teasing glimpse of his chest beneath the loose lacing.

  “You keep looking at me like that, little girl, and I—”

  “Why do you keep calling me that?” She took a step toward him. “I’m a woman grown. Most women have been wed and have several children by the time they reach my age.”

  “It reminds me how innocent you are,” he said, his voice growing husky and thoughtful.

  “How innocent am I or how innocent I was? Is there any possibility I could bear your child?”

  His features contorted with rage and he threw the dagger. She screamed and ducked. The knife imbedded in the stone wall far to one side of where she huddled, the metallic protest making her flinch and shiver.

  “Even had I taken your virginity—which I did not—I am incapable of planting a babe in your womb. Creating life is a gift God withdrew from us when He flooded your world.”

  Anger radiated off him in tangible waves. Naomi felt the hairs on her arms bristle but she did not understand his reaction. “Before the flood, angels could produce offspring?”

  “How do you think your world was populated after Adam and Eve left Eden? Have you never heard of the Nephilim? It’s recorded in the Holy Scriptures, ‘The Nephilim were on the earth in those days—when the sons of God went to the daughters of men and had children by them.’”

  “Why did He take the ability away?” She didn’t want to provoke him further but she needed to understand.

  “The children were often extraordinary—giants, born with unusual abilities. That’s in the Scriptures as well. ‘They were the heroes of old, men of renown.’ But many were also evil so He put an end to the interaction. He constrained the emotions of angels and rendered us all infertile.”

  Naomi wanted to touch him but she suspected he would find no comfort in her touch. She wanted to help him but he had never seemed so far away.

  “Is that why you came here? To ask me if you are still a virgin?”

  She nodded.

  “Believe me, Naomi. When I make love to you, you will remember it.”

  “I leave for England with the dawn,” she said, her voice shaking.

  “I know.”

  If he knew she was leaving, then when did he expect they would make love? She had so many questions. Where was he going? Was his war with Gabriel over? Was he any closer to making peace with God? Had she drawn him any closer to the light?

  Or had he only taught her to crave the darkness?

  She swallowed, greatly disturbed by the thought.

  Will I ever see you again? Her heart ached with the question but she kept silent.

  Dragging this out would only make it more painful. She took a deep, fortifying breath and stepped past him. She made it to the doorway when he grasped her upper arm and spun her around.

  They held each other tightly, kissing deeply, fervently. She pressed against him, loving the hard shape of his back and his shoulders beneath her hungry hands. He nudged her lips and she opened to him, thrilled by the slow push of his tongue.

  Just when she began to feel the sweet ache unfurl within her, he pulled back. His mouth didn’t leave hers completely but the kiss changed. He was tender now, slow…and sad.

  He was saying goodbye.

  She clutched him tighter. She didn’t want to let him go, but she knew there was no rational alternative.

  He eased away, his fingers lingering on her face.

  For a long, silent moment they stared into each other’s eyes. She saw the true scope of his bitterness, the vast desolation, a century of pain.

  Tears choked her. She didn’t know how to reach him, how to heal him. What to say.

  “This is the closest I’ve been to Heaven in a hundred years,” he whispered, and disintegrated into mist.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Jerusalem

  A fortnight later

  Gideon heard the knock on the door but didn’t turn from the window. Night had fallen hard upon the city, driving the inhabitants into their small, stacked houses and sprawling villas. Darkness didn’t differentiate between rich and poor, shepherd and king. Everyone was equally susceptible to the dangers hidden in the shadows.

  “Gideon.”

  He heard his name and closed his eyes. It had been a mistake to come here. He’d expected to find solace with Alyssa, expected her to understand.

  She was one of “his little band of rebels” as Michael had so aptly put it.

  Rebels they were, but they didn’t belong to him. Gideon was a participant, not their leader. Most would balk at the idea of having a leader. Still, one in their midst had incited their discontent and inspired their rebellion.

  But Gideon was not that one.

  “Gideon, may I enter?” She persisted when he made no move to open the door. “I have a surprise for you.”

  “Is it your intention to pester me until I allow you in?” he asked.

  “But of course,” she responded cheerfully, stepping into the small, airless room.

  Opening the window hadn’t dispelled the stale atmosphere slowly smothering Gideon. He needed to be away from this place, away from everything and everyone.

  He needed to think.

  He needed to rid his mind of her!

  “Did you dream of Naomi again?” Alyssa joined him at the open window.

  He knew Alyssa couldn’t read his mind so apparently his thoughts were written on his face. “I thought being away from her would help. The restlessness grows stronger every day.”

  Her soft, warm hand came to rest on his arm and Gideon looked at his friend. She had chosen blue eyes today and bright red hair. Her delicate features and pleasing shape always remained the same, but she found it amusing to change her coloring.

  “You’re not interested in my surprise?” Her mouth curved in a tempting smile.

  “I’m in no mood for your games.”

  Indignation sparked within her wide blue eyes. She stepped back and tossed her mass of fiery curls. “You came to my home, seeking shelter and solitude. I have protected you and honored your request. Well, it ends tonight. You will participate in ‘my games’ or you will find some other place to sulk.”

 
; Annoyed by her ultimatum, Gideon closed the shutters and silently debated his options.

  “Daniel is downstairs,” she said stiffly. “Join us or not, I no longer care.”

  Daniel.

  The name made Gideon smile. How had she located him? Gideon had tried and failed.

  “Alyssa.” She paused at the sound of her name. “I will be down directly.”

  “Good.” She offered him a bright smile. “Daniel is anxious to see you. I would hate to disappoint him.”

  Another toss of her bright curls told Gideon that it was only Daniel she didn’t wish to disappoint. He laughed. Alyssa could be so temperamental.

  * * * * *

  They stood together before the hearth. Gideon paused in the doorway and watched his friends. Firelight danced in Alyssa’s hair and cast Daniel’s face into high relief. Dark brown hair fell to his shoulders in distinct waves, softening the harsh angles of his face. Alyssa laughed at something Daniel said and Gideon let the sound roll across his senses, calming him, relaxing him.

  Daniel’s long mantle was thrown back over one broad shoulder, revealing a plain woolen tunic and cross-gartered boots. From head to toe, he was dressed in black. He had tucked a dagger in one boot and doubtless had others concealed within his garments. A long, lethal sword was strapped about his waist but he wore no armor.

  “When I seek you out, you are like a phantom in the night, but Alyssa crooks her finger and you obediently appear?” Gideon challenged his friend.

  They turned to face him and Daniel smiled. Gideon felt impaled by the intensity of his ink-black gaze.

  “Alyssa has always been hard to resist. While you…”

  Daniel didn’t bother completing the comparison. Gideon chuckled. “How have you been?” He joined them in front of the fire.

  “Bored, my friend. Utterly bored,” Daniel admitted. “These endless campaigns have grown tedious. I’m ready for a change.”

  “As am I,” Alyssa piped in. “Let us go somewhere together. Somewhere new and different.”