by Cecelia Earl
This is all too much. None of this can be real. It feels real, though, as I stand here amidst the heat of fire and the light of the rising sun that's fighting to get through the smoke and shadows. The breeze rustling the leaves of the birch and oak trees sprinkled throughout the forest turns stronger. It's as if God's own breath is swirling around, angry and fierce. But a whiteness with black spots is starting to swim in front of my eyes, and my knees are ready to buckle. My stomach is clenching.
"You're losing her," some guy yells to Nicholas, with a stern nod at me.
The stone of my necklace feels like it's on fire.
"Did you tell her?" another guy with golden-blond hair, who looks twice our age, asks while walking over to stop beside me.
One sharp shake of his head is Nicholas' answer. "Not my job to explain things to her, sir." His eyes don't leave the rods of the cage.
"What is your job then?" the man asks.
"To guard her and prepare her to fight."
"She knows nothing? About her dad? That's she's a Hybrid? A future Double? Nothing?"
"Look, I'm right here." I sway on my feet, fighting to keep consciousness through this nightmare that may or may not be real. The shrieks and howls from outside the cage grow louder. "Tell me what you want me to know. Nicholas here," I glance his way, "is not a big talker."
The man faces me. "But you're his charge." He looks at Nicholas. "Take her on fully, or denounce this position."
Nicholas lowers his spear, deflating, finally turning to face this other man. "A demotion?"
"Yes," the man says. "She needs to understand or she'll do us no good. She'll be in more danger if she doesn't know everything."
"I'm not her only guardian."
"Have you allowed the other to explain everything to her?"
"He wasn't interested. You know that. He's been… compromised," Nicholas says.
"Well, then. Looks like it's up to you."
Nicholas looks at me with such annoyance—and hatred?—that I tremble. I swim through the black dots and grasp my spear. Somehow it feels almost right in my grip. It seems to have its own strength, a strength that surges up my arm, through my core, and into my chest, where the stone my dad gave me lies. It warms and flashes. I thrust the weapon up through the air until it touches the side of his neck. "I want nothing to do with you. Take me home. This insanity is not my life. This isn't real. I will wake up any moment now from this crazy nightmare, and I never want to see you again—not in real life and not in my dreams. Got it?"
Golden-haired man shakes his head at Nicholas, and says, "Take her. We have a fight here."
Nicholas puffs out his chest and tightens the grasp on his spear. He doesn't hesitate in grabbing my hand and tugging me behind him. I had a surge of hope his superior meant for Nicholas to take me home, but as we rush through the circle into a grove of trees, far away from the van, I'm wondering if I'll ever see my family again.
"I don't mean to interrupt, but—" The pain in my back is surreal and there's something cutting off my air supply. "Help."
This is when the black dots overtake all the light, and I—
-24-
My head aches, as do my eyes when I open them. Dim light surrounds me. It takes a moment to adjust and see. I'm in a clearing of trees, inside a small hut made from curved twigs. I'm alone. From where I lie, I see nobody outside the opening of the hut. The clearing and trees beyond are still and silent. The memory of Nicholas hoisting me into a truck, thrusting a spear into my hand, and the cage filling with warriors rushes back. I jump up and race out. A hand grabs my elbow.
"Whoa, there, Angel. About time you came to," Nicholas says, his voice once again tinted with annoyance.
I whip my arm away from his grasp. "I'm sick and tired of you being annoyed with me." What, was he standing guard outside the hut? Who is he, and why is he supposed to protect me? And from what? It's obvious he can't stand me. "Tell me why I'm here. What this is all about."
Nicholas smirks, crossing his arms across his chest. "Are you sure you can handle it?"
"That guy back there seems to think I can." I start to move into the thick of the trees. "I'll go find him and let him tell me then."
Nicholas laughs a dry, hollow laugh. "He doesn't know all that much about you. I definitely think his words would have the same effect as the demon that tried siphoning your soul while you were still alive." He sneers. "A new tactic they have to gain power."
"Demon?"
"They're getting sneakier, and they want you more than most. Whenever you feel like that, like you're losing yourself, it's because there's a demon trying to capture you, trying to siphon the Grace from your soul."
I throw my chin up, my shoulders back, breathing deeply. "Go on. I'm handling this so far, don't you think?" I think about how quickly I learned to throw the spear, about my increasing strength. "And I've been handling myself beautifully. Tell me what’s going on. After that, I want to go home and take care of my family. So, tell me. Now."
"Come here."
"What?"
He turns, sighs, and beckons me forward with his hand. "Hurry up. Come here. Look. Maybe you'll understand better. You'll understand you're not ready to do anything yet."
I move forward, not because I want to follow his orders, but because I'll take any information I can get. I don't take his outstretched hand, but walk beside him, through the clearing, to a space where trees grow closely together. Beneath the canopy of leaves, it's dimmer, but white still filters down like rays from Heaven. The light seems to float, to highlight particles suspended in the air so that it's as if Heavenly stardust is hovering, protecting us. If I wasn't so confused and frightened, I might think it was a beautiful place. We walk on, Nicholas now a few steps in front of me. He holds himself carefully, tense at all times. His shoulders are straight, aligned perfectly over his hips and feet. His fingers long and curved, empty, which now seems strange to me after the time I spent seeing a spear clutched in them. Something about him reminds me of Cole—his outward arrogance, maybe—and I wonder again how they're related. Even with the tension rolling off him in droves, the sounds of birds and insects comfort me; they are familiar. Though it seemed as if we drove through the night, we must still be in Wisconsin, or not far outside it. Soon, however, other sounds drown out those of nature. Sounds of battle. The squealing and hissing I remember returns, and I cover my ears until Nicholas throws me a look. I grit my teeth and uncover my ears, focusing on my breathing and on feeling strong.
He ducks behind the trunk of a tree and I move in beside him. I peer around the trunk and gasp. My hand flies to my mouth. There are so many more fighting now, and the rods of the cage are warped and bent. Shadows twist around the warriors who double over in pain.
"All that smoke," I whisper.
"Smoke?" he says. "Oh, for Pete's sake. Come here." He places the palm of his hand on my cheek. It's in no way romantic, and yet the warmth of his skin against mine is shocking. Reflexively, I lean into his hand and close my eyes. A flash of light blinds me momentarily, but then Nicholas catches my eyes with his own irritated ones. "Look, Julia. Now you'll see."
I turn toward the battlefield. This time, I'm beyond shocked, too horrified to gasp or move or breathe. The warriors from before are transformed. Some wear golden light above their heads, and others are golden all around with... wings? Yes, glorious, shimmering wings that appear to be on fire. They fight not smoke, but... monsters. Hideous creatures with horns and several heads, sneers filled with pointed teeth dripping with tar and blood. I turn to avert my eyes and find myself hiding in Nicholas' chest. Slowly, he pushes me away with his hands on my shoulders. His hands remain, and after a moment, he tilts my chin up. He squints at me, analyzing me. For the first time, the constant, searing pain in my shoulder blades dulls, becoming nothing more than immense pressure, and then... nothing. I'm free from pain. I heave a sigh of relief.
"Good. Now that you can see your enemies more clearly, you'll realize how much stronger yo
u need to be."
"I'm still convinced this is all a nightmare. Somehow, you're playing with my mind."
"I can assure you this is all too real." He looks out over the battlefield, tense. I can tell he wants to join in the fight, which makes me worry this is real. "Those demons have never been able to get in here. This is an angel training ground. Since the beginning of time, they've never... And now…. It's all begun."
"What does any of this have to do with me?"
"Haven't you noticed how your own town has changed in the past few days? Isn't it all being torn apart?"
"So?"
"The evil is taking over. Lucifer is growing stronger. Humans are so weak it's infuriating." His voice, though laced with hatred, is controlled and calm, like even the strongest emotion that exists can't sway him from his stony facade. I have no idea how, moments before, I saw anything of Cole in him. Where Cole is impulsive and playful, Nicholas is calculating and strict. Where Cole pushes his limits and breaks rules with boyish, laughing eyes and a grin, Nicholas sets limits, writes the rules, and expects others to abide by his words that he punctuates with pointed stares and straight-lipped smiles. "Though for as long as any of us can remember, Lucifer’s always wanted more. Whatever Heaven loves, he wants it. And he wants to destroy it. From siphoning Grace from human souls to fuel his army, to capturing angels and siphoning their Glory, the Glory he willingly gave up when he turned from Heaven to start his own kingdom. He wants to destroy all of Heaven and Earth, and he'll do whatever it takes, take anything he can, to fuel his demon army."
"So..."
"So, Julia. This is about angels and demons. Those," he points to the monsters, "are demons. The devil's army. The final battles leading to the final war between Heaven and Hell has begun, and it's trickled down from every dimension into your little town, because the devil has set his sights on you."
He touches my cheek again, and I see he is like the warriors on the battlefield. He wears a golden aura and stark white wings behind him. A wave of tingles replaces all the pressure and nothingness in my back. He flicks something behind me, and I glance over my shoulder to see—
Wings.
A pair of wings fly out from my back, not heavy, though I'd expect to fall backward from the weight of them, as they are attached…to my back.
There are wings attached to my back.
I spin around, trying to see them, but they move with me and stay behind me.
I can feel them there, a part of me.
I reach over my shoulder to feel them and shriek, "Nicholas!"
A fiery sword is suddenly in my hand, blazing white and peridot, like the stone around my neck, which is warm and flashing on its own. A fierce blast of cold and hot washes over me, and I shriek again. I jolt back and drop the sword, my eyes flying to Nicholas', needing an explanation, needing to wake up in my bed at home, needing something other than whatever is happening to me right now.
"I... I have wings."
"Of course you do." He stoops to pick up my sword. Holds it out for me to take. "You're an angel."
-25-
"Impossible." When I don't take my sword, he props it up against a tree. I say mine, because it feels like mine. I feel a connection to it. I ignore the shimmer in its blade.
Ignore the intensity in Nicholas' eyes.
Dad was always talking about angels when I was a little girl. I'd put it all out of my head, remembered his words, at best, like a grown girl remembers little girl fairy tales about the prince and the princess living happily ever after.
Some of his stories come rushing back now, though. Noah used to have nightmares about demons until Dad started letting him sleep with his watch every night. It had this green-colored light that Noah would look at until his eyelids grew heavy enough for him to fall asleep.
I ignore the ring of truth Nicholas' words have when matched with Dad's.
I tremble, which makes my wings shudder and disappear. My little girl, romantic view of angels flares up. Goodness. Beauty. Protection. Again, I argue, "Impossible. I have a body. Parents. A birth certificate. I'm completely and utterly human."
"Not completely." Nicholas moves away, back the way we came. I follow, stumble to keep up, leaving the sword behind. If I don't follow, and fast, I'm scared I'll be trapped in the war behind me and never find my way home. My legs are still shaking, but I clench my fists for strength, breathe in and out through my nose, and blink away my lightheadedness, now worrying there's a demon sucking the life out of my soul. What did Nicholas call it? My grace? My goodness? My glory? I'm so confused. He continues to talk, and I have to strain to hear him. "Angels were created at the beginning of time, before even the creation of the world." He glances back at me, waits for me to catch up. "You were born. Like every other human."
"What are you saying?" I'm trying to catch up, both physically and mentally. "What about my parents?"
"Your mom is human."
"And my dad? Are you saying my dad is an angel?"
"Was. I'm saying your dad was an angel. You come from a line of hybrids: half-angels, half-humans. The Heavenly gifts, or powers, are different for each, but as a hybrid you have both. Your human soul is filled with Grace. Your angel spirit is made with Glory. Your purpose is to be a warrior, a Double. To be both human and angel, like an undercover angel for Heaven. To fight for Heaven and all its children. You need to protect against Lucifer, who takes human souls, steals their Grace to fuel his army, and then traps what's left of them in torment for all eternity."
I stop in my tracks, shaking my head like I'm trying to shake the words out of my ears. He wants me to be some sort of undercover angel?
It's hard to ignore how much Nicholas resembles the pure, glowing warriors on the battlefield. His wings, stark and proud, protrude from his back before me. It's hard to ignore, yet hard to believe. I focus on staying sane, remembering who I really am. Remember my mom and my brother. My life.
"I don't believe you," I say. "This is ridiculous.” I won't do it.
"Is it? I know you saw the robber, know your wings have been trying to break free for weeks. If you really let yourself, you can see everything, demons and angels. It's not all invisible to you."
When I don't respond, he continues, "I know you feel a connection to that sword. It's your family sword. Your dad's, your grandfather's before him. It's made with the same Glory stone that's in your necklace, the same stone that protects the rods of these fences."
I look over my shoulder. We're far from where we left the sword, and I try not to care about it.
"You want me to become a warrior, like my dad, yet you hate him. Why?"
"That's irrelevant." He practically spits the words at my feet.
"If he's not an angel anymore, what does that make him, like Lucifer?"
At the mention of that name, his rage escalates, distorting his usually calm and controlled face. It's rolling off him in waves. "Not quite. Though he's not far from it, as far as I'm concerned."
I straighten, having doubled over at some point, trying not to dry heave, trying not to lie crumpled like these leaves will be in the autumn on this dirty earth, trying to block his anger, trying to remind myself of my family. They're real. They're back where I need to return. I refuse to take his rage personally, even if he's trying to tell me my dad's a... I can't even wrap my tongue around the word angel, much less demon.
But I need to know. "So, you're implying my dad is a...demon?" My voice is dry and sarcastic. I see the anger and hatred in Nicholas' eyes, now more than ever. Once the initial shock of him talking about my dad slips down my throat, I say with a little of my own venom, "Is that why you can't stand to look at me? Because of my dad?" Though I've been angry with my father since he abandoned us, thinking at times that I hated him... he never seemed evil. He loved us—well, acted like he loved us. Could he fake it that well? I highly doubt demons even know how to fake something as beautiful as love.
My dad cannot be a demon. That's too, too horrendous to even con
sider.
He was nothing like the monsters I saw battling behind me in the forest.
Nicholas moves faster through the trees, tightening his hands into fists. I rush after him, ready to tackle him and pound this nightmare out of him, pound us back into reality. He doesn't respond. I follow at his heels. Suddenly, he whips around so fast, I don’t have time to stop and I ram right into him and almost fall. His hands are on my arms, steadying me. His green, green eyes look into mine, and for a moment I almost think they soften with warmth. Maybe he sees my fear, my confusion, my disbelief, or even my sadness at all of this talk about my dad. But as quickly as he touched me, he flinches and steps back. He resumes his stoic, cold facade.
"Your dad was a Hybrid like you. Though, he became a Double right after birth. He wasn't raised human like you. The man you wanted to chat with about all this earlier trained him. Decided he should take a position as a Guardian. Your mother's Guardian, actually. Then, as you know, eight years ago, he went AWOL. Went rogue."
"AWOL?"
"He chose Hell. He's one of Lucifer's minions now. Not only that, but he came back and took my trainer, your mom's replacement Guardian."
He stops, and I look at him, seeing another momentary break in his resolve to stay emotionless. He cared a great deal for that Guardian. "And that's why you hate my dad, why you hate me."
He glares at me. "I only hate Lucifer and his army. When your dad took Tobias, it started a whole new chain of angel abductions. Since then, Lucifer has been capturing angels and siphoning their Glory for his own gain. It's unforgivable."
If he wasn't such an angry guy, I might have some sympathy, but I'm sick and tired of him yelling at me for things I didn't do.
"Well, sorry about your angel friends," I say. "But I'm done here. I've heard enough."
He holds up a hand, a massive, strong hand. His olive eyes narrow, seeing through my excuses, my reasons for brushing him off. "You're not listening. This is not a joke. Human souls have an eternal future."
