Daman's Angel (Crimson Romance)

by Charmaine Ross

  He mentally breathed relief when his feet found the relatively flat floor of bluestone. The flashlight illuminated the low ceiling and narrow walls of the passageway. He dipped his head and stepped forward. His shoulder brushed the wall and the material of his coat snagged on the rough cut of the stone bricks. As a youth, this tunnel seemed larger and less narrow. He smiled to himself, the years of adding to his girth didn’t help walking through it.

  A large black cavern opened up at the end of the passageway so large the torch light didn’t have enough strength to illuminate it. This was where he’d have to do the guesswork as he worked. He’d gone no further than here before he’d been ushered out, only catching a glimpse of the large circular wall of the cavern. Then, it had been much better lit with bright lights. He’d asked his leading priest to take him back into the cavern, but then he’d been called back overseas before he’d had the chance. The then-young Father Joseph had forgotten about these catacombs beneath the responsibility of inexperience and a busy parish.

  Father Joseph placed his right hand on the wall and followed the corner. If he kept the wall to his right, he would be led back to the passageway easily enough. Now, to find what he’d come for.

  Shuffling forward, he traced around various stones that marked priests, nuns, monks and important church officials that had died over the years and earned a place to be buried in these sanctified grounds. All were beyond his years here. As he moved deeper into the cavern, the air became so frigid his breath condensed in white clouds. He shrugged his coat deeply around him, turning the collar to cover his neck. It was too bad he’d forgotten a beanie to cover his balding head.

  His foot kicked something hard. He swung the light to illuminate the marble base of the statue he looked for. His heart pumped a little quicker as he swung the beam upwards to the top of the statue. His memory returned, along with the title he’d subconsciously named it. “The Winged Madonna.” He mouthed the words. It fit so well. He stared in lost wonder, lost between newfound memory and fresh eyes.

  The marble was pure white. It seemed to glow in the meager torch light. The workmanship was exquisite, the marble having been carved by a true master in his field. The marble was so smooth and flawless it was as though it were shaped by a feather.

  His title was apt. The Madonna’s face was timelessly beautiful. Long hair flowed beneath a flowing veil that reached her toes. Her palms were turned outward in a sign of peace and compassion. Her head tilted in understanding. It was the enduring pose of the ever-loving Madonna.

  However, where the back of her gown would have flowed to pool at her feet, this was different. There was more behind her back. Two feathered wings had been chiseled from the marble, extending well above her head, halo-like behind her head and shoulders, the top of the wings the symbol of a love-heart. The wings folded neatly behind her where feathers curled at her ankles. The detailed representation of a perfect angel.

  A perfect representation of the angel he’d seen with his own eyes just a few hours ago.

  Father Joseph crossed himself and slowly knelt in front of the statue on stiff, half-frozen legs. On the base of the statue was a rectangular stone tablet set into a marble frame. The last time he’d seen this, it had been opened. The elder priest had never taken him back here, but he had told him the secrets of the chamber. The weight of the secret had been enough to scare the young Father into feeling much better that the secret cavern below the church was kept locked and safe for the number of years it had been.

  He took the key and leveraged the stone tablet outwards. It took him some minutes to work the heavy stone free from the chamber it kept locked behind it. At last the tablet came free and crashed heavily to the ground. Father Joseph grunted as he pushed it to the side. A trickle of perspiration trickled from his temple and ran down the side of his jowled cheek.

  Finally, he had moved it enough to uncover the thick book that it protected. With careful reverence, he tucked both hands either side of the book and slid it from the chamber. Father Joseph sat back on his heels, placing the heavy book on his lap. The Miracle Book. Pages and pages of reports of miracles, kept safe from the public and the Vatican. He didn’t know how far it went back, but it was centuries old, transported from Europe to this far distant land to keep it safe. Who would have thought something so precious would be kept in a crypt beneath an insignificant church in Australia.

  He slowly opened the cover, jumping at every crinkle and snap it caused the old paper. The first page was so old, the ink had browned and had started to fade, even in this atmosphere. The writing so ancient, it was in a form of English only a few scholars could decipher.

  Father Joseph continued to turn the pages slowly as he took in each depiction of the events he was able to read, deciphering the truly beautiful images painted in bright inks where he couldn’t. He would add his account to the end of all these reports. It would take time, but he would do it. He would have to take it upstairs into his private rooms for a week or two and return it to the catacombs when his task was complete. His arthritic fingers couldn’t work in such freezing temperatures down here.

  He went to stand on now-frozen legs, when he turned to a page unlike any of the others. There was a heading, written in capital letters in bright red. He mentally brushed off his dusty Latin. Admonitio — the Latin word for ‘warning.’

  Father Joseph spent the next twenty minutes painstakingly deciphering the text. When he finished, his blood ran colder than the temperature inside the cavern. He must show this to Daman and Angel without delay. This uncovered a truth about their situation that couldn’t be ignored and they had to know about it as soon as he could let them know.

  His hands trembled as he closed the book. Leaning heavily on the top of the base of the statue, he rose on stiff legs, wincing when the blood ran back into them, making them stab with the shards of pins and needles.

  As quickly as he could, he traced his way back along the wall of the cavern, the book tucked carefully in his arms. He found the passage at last and struggled up the steps, puffing with the effort. At last he reached the top, closed and locked the door and scrambled back inside the church. The phone was in his private rooms.

  He paused in the central aisle of his church. All was quiet, except the distinct pull in his gut that he never could ignore telling him to be cautious. He felt it when he was counseling various people in his flock and he learned over the years to listen to it. He would keep The Miracle Book safe in the chambers behind the altar. Once he had ensured the safety of the book, his first action after would be to ring Daman and get him and the angel back to the safety of his church.

  Chapter Ten

  She’d seen them in the crowd. Not just the people through her earth eyes standing in a circle around them on the road, but their guides and helpers behind them as well. They’d seen her, too, but none had passed comment. They’d been merely — curious — as to why she’d taken on the form of flesh and blood.

  She’d also seen Haki’s soul depart his body, standing to the side, watching it sprawled, lifeless without his soul energy to keep it alive. He hadn’t been ready to leave his body. His death had happened fast and his soul was in shock, being kicked out of its house like that. That was normal. She’d simply asked him if he wanted to return to fulfill his current life. He’d agreed. She’d just united the soul back to the body.

  His death angel had stood to the side and let her. Haki would have been taken if he hadn’t asked to come back. It was as simple as that. The soul was the guide. The Angel would do as they were directed. It was just in most cases, the soul was ready to depart on its next journey when it was faced with the choice.

  It was then, as she’d seen his death angel, that her memory returned in full.

  Last night she’d come for Daman, to take him back Home. All he had to have done was reach for her, touch her and the connection between his soul and body would hav
e been broken. At that time, all she had desired was to wrap her wings around his tired, broken soul and comfort him. Take him to a place where he could be happy and heal after the stresses of this lifetime.

  Then she’d become human, woken in his bed, feeling things she’d never felt before. Even in her whole existence where there was neither past or present, in the past day of passing time here she’d felt more wondrous emotions, more curiosity, more excitement. Desire. Craving. All the things she hadn’t known she’d missed.

  Being human was extraordinary.

  There was more to her story between the both of them, and as she watched Daman rip himself apart about something he’d had no control over, she couldn’t reveal the full extent of it to him now. She couldn’t stand to watch him crumble. The truth could only torture him and he’d had enough for ten people in his life.

  She knew him before she’d come to take him.

  She’d started to fall in love with him beyond then. It went against natural law, but she’d been incapable to resist. An angel was capable of love, but coming here, being of flesh and blood had intensified it. It was different love than the compassionate, overwhelming need to save and care. This was love that affected her body, her mind and thoughts. Her actions.

  It was a love that grew and intensified with each passing moment. She wanted to share her mind and body with Daman. Knew that it was right and good.

  Knew that she needed it beyond anything she’d wanted before.

  Now she had a chance. Flesh to flesh, blood to blood.

  She just didn’t know if Daman would have her. Could have her — if he knew the full truth behind her being here.

  If he knew what she’d done to him.

  “Why did you save him?” His voice was choked.

  “A soul isn’t good or bad. It simply is. It wanted to come back and I helped it,” she said.

  “Men are good and bad on this earth, Angel. That was one of the bad ones. He tried to kill me. He shot you. And you still helped him.”

  “It’s what I know to do. The instinct of an angel.”

  “You can’t run on instinct here. He’s a bad man. He’ll kill again. Hurt people. I’ve been keeping scum like him off the street for fifteen years.”

  “He’s seen more than his life now.” She had to make hum understand. “People can change. I’ve given him a chance not to be lost when he passes. He’ll be able to go Home.”

  “What’s this Home you keep talking about?”

  “It’s where you’ve come from before this life. You go back when life on earth has finished.” It was the greatest honor to take souls back. She loved watching them wake up, watch how their light changed when they came closer to the gate. They instinctively knew where they were going. She felt their joy. It was her reward for taking them, the one and only time when she felt the full impact of emotion. But here, now, she could feel wondrous emotion all the time.

  “That’s if those red demon things don’t get you first. Tell me men like Haki get those coming for them.”

  “The universe decides if I, or another, come for them. But a soul always has choice to go, or to stay. They decide whether to keeping using or to discard their flesh and blood.”

  “You make it sound like our bodies are an old coat. Wear it, use it. Give it to the Salvation Army.”

  “That is your gift and your choice.”

  “Others would argue with you.”

  “Their choice also. Although it does nothing to change the natural course of the soul when it discards its flesh and blood.”

  “Tell me it’s good, Angel. Tell me all this is worth it. That going through all this shit means something in the end.”

  He needed to heal. There was bleakness in his soul. He was lost but at the same time he wanted to be found, wanted to know there was good out there. He’d forgotten how good he was. How much good he’d done.

  “I can tell you it does, but you will have to believe me.” And he wasn’t ready to believe. She could tell him anything, the truth or a lie and he would still be trapped in his darkness until he found a way out. Was able to see it.

  “Haki is out there now. He knows first-hand what you are and what you can do and you can bet he’s telling Vincent and that’s someone you don’t want him to tell. I guess this is where you start experiencing how bad people can be to each other, and I can tell you it does change the natural course of the soul. It means ending this life and going to the next a little sooner than they’d intended. It’s up to us living in flesh and blood to keep it good and clean on earth. There’s no room for men like Haki. If I know where he’s gone and who he’s told, you’ll be in a great deal of trouble.” He faced her then, his eyes like steel. “Are you afraid?”

  She shook her head, although there was a strange darkness in the pit of her stomach knowing the flesh and blood of her body could be damaged. There was an instinctive urge that she had to protect it. Overwhelmingly so. Knew that he didn’t feel the same.

  He missed nothing. “You feel it. It’s called being afraid. Fear. You should feel it, because bodies can hurt. A lot. These men will hurt you if they find you and you don’t do what they say. They will want to use you and you will have to do what they tell you to. So be afraid, Angel. It is the only thing that will protect you in time to take you back where you came from. Believe me when I say you’ll be happy to let that feeling go.”

  She watched his eyes glint in the cold streetlight. He believed what he said with such validity. It was a real thing for him, this hatred. He smelled it everywhere, saw it in everything. It overpowered him. He believed there was no future without it. Fear touched her in a different way this time. Fear for him, that he might never see his way out of the place he’d found himself in. That this would continue from this life to the next. Then he would be truly lost.

  Yet he touched her in ways that made her feel such intensity, such a joining between soul and body. When he touched her, she was alive in different, magical ways that she’d never been aware of. This was how it was between a man and a woman and she was enthralled.

  She liked the way she felt beneath his touch, she liked kissing him, the feeling, where it took her. The mindless state she fell into. The yearning for more. She was not scared of it.

  Curious, intrigued. Excited.

  She knew she wanted more, wanted to experience it. Just once, before she was sent back into the angel state, where love and feeling were so different from being here. The more time she was here, the more she was aware of the needs of her body, of her mind and soul. The deeper she fell into them.

  She’d never had these feelings before, but she liked them. Wanted to feel more. With him.

  So much more. And time was so short.

  Compared to the timelessness of eternity, lifetimes, experiences, thoughts were short.

  But loneliness could make a lifetime seem like eternity and she knew that was how it had been for him, these past three years. And she was the source of his heartache.

  She’d taken Michelle away from him.

  He’d been torn apart that night. He’d cried over her body for hours. Angel and Michelle stayed and watched him. Her body had been too broken, too damaged to come back. She’d been drowned and it had been four days before they found her. All they could do was stand and watch and try to give comfort to him. But Daman couldn’t see them, couldn’t feel them. He didn’t hear the words of comfort Michelle tried to speak to him. That she was all right. She’d survived. That she was ready to pass through the veil. And Angel had taken Michelle to her home and away from Daman.

  Michelle had loved him with all her heart. Love was the one thing that souls took with them to the next life, and she had gone rich.

  Angel had come to visit Daman from there on. Had seen him slowly submerge into the shadows, beating himself up for something he couldn’t h
ave stopped. She’d stayed with him for days, trying to show him the light. But he hadn’t seen. He was still hurting now as bad as that day he’d found his wife dead in the Yarra. His pain was a palpable, living entity and it was eating him up. Angel had come back time and time again, spending weeks with him, more often as the years passed, touched him in his dreams.

  That was when she’d felt more than an angel should.

  His words rang true. She was afraid. Not for herself. She knew this life, this body was transient. But she feared for him. He would be lost. And it would be forever.

  Sadness enveloped her. It punched her heart, prickled her skin with a sticky heat, made her want to reach for him and be held in his arms all day and all night. Touch him and make sure he would be at her side. Where they would find comfort and strength. Always.

  Her world of eternal life and love became grayer. She saw Haki for what he was on earth. His ability to destroy and cause pain to others. She was beginning to understand why he felt the way he did.

  “What do we have to do?” she asked.

  Daman hooked his hands on his hips. “We have to get to a safe place. They know where I live and Vincent will have people watching. You won’t be safe there. We have to stay out of sight. We’ll use one of the police safe houses. We’ll be okay there for a couple of days. Give me time to think.”

  Time to rest. Time together.

  He took his phone from his jacket pocket. She heard him make arrangements while she watched him. He ended the call, took her hand, which she willingly placed in his. “Pete’s coming to pick us up. He’s my partner.”

  “I know,” she said. She’d seen him try to talk to Daman, try to bring him around time and time again. Pete had never given up on him.