by Han, George
“The sacrifice.” Gwyneth beamed.
“However, your will to sacrifice brought the miracle. That selflessness was the sole weapon that defeated the darkness of Barbatos.” Jin observed.
“It wasn’t Mathew, Sarah,” Gwyneth explained. “I had thought he was the kingling. But you are actually the one.”
Jin mused. “You little flower, are the kingling.”
“Is that important now?” Sarah asked.
The Angels exchanged looks and nodded in unison.
“Your brother died so that you can live. The value of your life is doubly important now, both to us and to Mathew,” Gwyneth explained.
“Mathew is gone.”
“He is not gone,” Maganus said and looked to the sky. “He will be waiting.”
Maganus quickly added. “Mathew is not dead.” His lips formed a firm, straight line. “I give you my word, he will live, again.”
His words caused the other Guardian Angels to exchange questioning looks
Sarah bowed as she took Maganus’s hand in hers. “I will wait for Mathew.”
“For now, you must live on and live well, Sarah. You must, for Mathew’s sake,” the White Angel said as they embraced.
Gwyneth stood up and held Sarah by her hand.
“My child, we need to go and see someone.”
“Who is it?” Sarah asked as she wiped her cheeks dry.
Chapter 43
Settlement of Accounts
Sarah was soaked in the dark shades of sorrow when Gwyneth carried her off into full flight. They arrived at the destination within a few minutes, and landed in a lawn of the facility.
Sarah checked her surroundings and looked at Gwyneth
“Is this a hospital?”
Gwyneth nodded
“I don’t understand.”
“Connect with your inner feelings, Sarah. Your instincts will tell you the purpose for our visit.”
Sarah shut her eyes but soon opened them.
“My father? Is that so, Gwyneth”
The White Angel smiled as a ring of light suffused over her and Sarah.
“Your intelligence is remarkable, and so are your instincts. Trust them as you will trust me. They are your allies. Guard them well though. They can be corrupted by the Demons.”
“I will, Gwyneth. Can I see my father now?”
Instantly, Gwyneth’s face twitched like she had sensed something.
“Sarah, we better hurry. I sensed the Demons.”
Gwyneth held Sarah’s hand and brought her to the second storey. They found themselves standing at the head of a long corridor. Gwyneth stopped. She realized most of the corridor lights were off except for the ward at the end of the corridor.
Then she spotted the glow coming from the ward. It was a glow of red.
“Gwyneth, what is wrong?”
“Demons.” She uttered.
“Is my father in danger?”
Gwyneth paused. She shook her head. “I sensed there is something else, another force of the good.”
“Another Angel?” Sarah asked with urgency.
“Let us check the ward.” Gwyneth brought Sarah, treading in small steps, until they were looking into the ward.
The sight was quite unexpected for Sarah.
In one end of the ward, she saw Seraphina, in her the tattered robes of purple,
hand extended in an exertion of powers. She was shrouded in a circle of scarlet-red light.
On the bed, a man was turning in a struggle to break from a strange and
invisible force. Around the bed were four nurses, two on each side of the bed. One was lying by the side of the bed, in a pool of blood, a streak of which was flowing towards the door, towards where Sarah was standing.
She shrieked but Gwyneth gently covered her mouth and signaled her silence with a finger. None of the nurses or the man on the bed reacted to her cry. They were invisible to the humans.
Sarah’s attention was consumed by the plight of the bedridden man, her father.
“Gwyneth, can you please do something? I think my father is suffering.”
Gwyneth smiled.
“Worry not, my friend.”
“Why?”
“Look at the nurses.”
Sarah did as told and spoke after moments of observation.
“There is a ring of light glowing over them.”
“That ring is keeping Seraphina at bay, Sarah. The seductress is a formidable demon and it is not possible for normal humans to stop her. However the nurses are exceptional people. By their profession, their selfless dedication to their patients, they have accumulated an ambience of piety and good. This explains the white light. They are blessed and guarded by the Holy Essence.”
“She cannot overpower them. But my father…”
“Seraphina’s powers are hurt by the destruction of the Valmar. However I think the nurses might need a boost.”
Gwyneth smiled and flashed her elegant pointer finger.
“Semita of lux lucis” Path of Light. She mumbled.
Sarah turned her sights to the patient and the nurses and found the small rings of light augmenting until it formed an umbrella of white light. Seraphina began to buckle under the power of good and light. She fell to the knees and groaned in pain.
At this moment, Gwyneth flicked her pointer finger and a ball of white energy hit Seraphina and flung her against the wall. The wall was torn asunder as the seductress flew into obscurity.
“Gwyneth, you beat her!”
“The nurses did. I merely gave her a helping finger.”
Sarah giggled, her first moment of joy for that night.
“Sarah dear, I think it time for a reunion.”
Gwyneth touched the girl on her forehead
“Go now. John Springs will be able to see you.”
“Now? You want me to meet him. I…he…”
“Fret not, Sarah. He will know your identity.”
Dusk had arrived and a path of sunlight began to stream through the shattered walls as Sarah walked up to the bed. John Springs had sat up, recovered well enough to realize the presence of the new arrival. There was a moment of silence as they exchanged looks. Then delight of from recognition set in and Father and daughter hugged, for the first time.
At the sight of the embrace, Gwyneth turned away. In case, Sarah noticed her tears.
*
He limped, the injury in his legs made it impossible for him to walk as fast as he would like. He had sustained a gaping wound in his right leg. As he dragged his feet through the ground, a trace of green was drawn out, the blood of a demon. The self-assured profile had crumbled into the humbled silhouette of a loser. The proud knight of darkness was tainted with the dust and soot of his catastrophe on the battlefield at Valmar. Count Ivan Raum knew of a secret path in the forest and, as the Angels took stock from their apparent victory over the Demons, he left without being detected. Despite the fires in the forest, Raum braved the heat and searched for the remains of his superior—Barbatos—who had been trounced by Archangel Michael.
After an intensive search, and braving detection by the forces of the Angels, he found two fingers in gloves, pieces of cloth, and a ring. The sight of final item caused him much apprehension. The ring had been cast in pristine white silver that illuminated in the dark. The outline of a unicorn, the symbol of the Guardian Angels, was engraved on its face. Barbatos must have kept the item since the days when he was under the tutelage of the Guardian Angels, Raum mused.
The Demon kept his findings in a velvet glove and placed it into an inner lining of his robes. With his remaining strength, he cast a spell that provided him with invisibility. It took him hours to reach the station for Demons on Earth, a location that Barbatos had passed to him during an earlier meeting.
In the event of a botched operation, they were supposed to rendezvous at 12400 Cinnamon Street, New Jersey. Although Barbatos was reticent about the actual nature of the base, Raum, through conjecture, deduced that he
might be meeting a messenger, envoy, or representative of the Overlord of Hell, Lucifer.
He found the place to nonchalant and modest—a convenience store in a suburb south of Valmar. Raum trod with caution as he entered the store, trepidation exuding from every step made. His intended audience has probably sensed the bad tidings already.
An attendant stood behind the counter, and he appeared busy with his coins. The doors snapped shut after Raum entered. At the sound of the door closing, the man dropped the coins and lifted his head.
Raum knew the face. The deep, expressive eyes, the bushy eyebrows of red, and the large ears belonged to a man so distinguished that one is compelled to be submissive upon sight. The high forehead and the thick grayish hair completed the aristocratic frame of the Dark One—Lucifer.
The man looked mundane in his flabby attendant uniform. However, Raum knew that dressed in a suit, the man could pass off as a CEO, a political leader, or a doyen of any human realm.
God’s Angels were his own creation and indeed each looked the epitome of all goodness that He had wanted in man. Lucifer had been God’s favourite before he fell to Michael’s sword.
“My lord,” Raum managed in voice that quivered so badly that he might be mistaken for a wimp. The proud knight of the darkness whispered. “My lord.”
The man at the counter shook his head. “You.” He snapped his fingers and within a second Raum found himself kneeling in front of Lucifer, whose clothes had transformed into in a suit of black and red. “Imbecile!”
“My—”
“Enough. Your address in your present state is more of an insult than honour. Please, just shut up. Shut UP!”
Raum dropped his head. “We failed you …”
Lucifer swept his arm and hit Raum’s messy hair.
“Where is Barbatos?” The silky voice of the Dark One threw a blanket of pins onto Raum.
The Knight of Hell flinched, then reached into his robe and produced the velvet glove. He emptied the contents into his palm and raised it for review by his master.
Lucifer picked up the fingers. “At least we still have some capital to rebuild him.”
“Really?” Raum had forgotten himself and exclaimed with joy but swiftly returned to his position in deference.
A moment of silence followed as the Dark Lord picked up the ring.
Raum raised his head. “Barbatos kept—”
“Shhh!” Lucifer was irritated.
Raum held his tongue as Lucifer pored over the ring, taking in every detail of the artifact from Heaven.
“The silly child. Barbatos. He still kept this memento from those Angels.”
Raum swallowed. Is that an expression of anger or compassion?
Lucifer shook his head as the ring of fire over his head grew. “Sentimentality. That paralyzed his full powers as a Demon. What is the point, my child?”
With eyes shut, lips tight, the Dark Supremo spoke with grit. “There will be a day of reckoning. Mark my words.”
#
Miami, Florida
“My granddaughter, Elisa once asked me,” Victor Palmer narrated with fatherly voice. “Why did you choose politics? Why did you choose such a busy life?”
Victor Palmer paused and looked around the convention room of Sheraton Miami, where 500 pairs of eyes trained on him, with growing anticipation.
“I was surprised, that she only just asked.”
A ripple of tentative laughters.
“I said to her, as a grandfather would be to his eldest granddaughter, and grandparents do not lie to their grandchildren - I want to serve.”
Thunderous applause broke up instanteously. The society of retired teachers, Florida, is known to be sympathetic the Republican cause and highly supportive of the senior Senator. Their chairman, Paul Milton was on the Palmer reelection committee and has good network amongst the teaching community. When Victor was deliberating over a suitable platform to announce his decision, the timely invitation provided him with that opportunity.
“Now I had served this country as senator for close to a decade, another decade before that as mayor. You might be curious like Eliza if I am tired and would like to take a back seat.”
There was silence as cameras flashed away.
“The answer is no. I am ready to serve this country and you better be sure the word ‘retirement’ has been purged from my dictionary.”
Thunderous applause.
Victor Palmer looked around the room, his eyes touched those of Boris Komorov for a second and roamed the room.
“I asked to be forgiven for my past mistakes. I asked for your patience I had not been perfect in the past. No man is perfect, and Victor Palmer is not.”
Applause.
“I asked for your continued support as I embark on a new journey, a fresh phase of my life, as I continued to serve this country, this nation, my family and yes, Eliza my granddaughter!”
The audience applauded with whistles.
“Our great country is facing enormous challenges and to surmount them, solve them, we need strong leaders. We do not flinch from our difficulties we do not run away.”
Murmurs of approval were heard.
“Humanity looks to us for inspiration, for leadership and for our friendship. We do not say ‘no’.”
Waves of yeses were heard as Palmer nodded in emphatic fashion
“And so I stand ready to offer that leadership to my country and me people.” There was silence.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I hereby announce that I am seeking the highest office of the land, of our beloved country, the United States of America. I am running for to be the President of the United States.”
The next two minutes was an uninterrupted round of applause as Victor was joined by his wife on stage. He looked around the room, beaming and waving. How could he ever think of leaving politics? How could he ever allow himself to be defeated by Maxi Oil? Such overwhelming display of love and affection…
He nodded at Boris Komorov, who was dressed in dark suit and black tie. He looked solemn and his smile was chill, as usual. His presence signified his support for his campaign and his promise to resolve the Maxi Oil debacle.
However these commitments had come with a price tag. Victor Palmer had once shuddered when he thought of fulfilling them. He will, in the future, think of ways and means to fulfill the promises he made in their deal. A deal, some deal.
However, that will be a problem for the future. In the days ahead, he will fight with all his life to secure the Republican nomination for president. For now, he would just like to bask in the limelight, the moment of his life as candidate for the presidency of the United States of America.
#
Capitol Hill
The sun had returned and the wind blew. The snow and heavy overcast that had dominated the skyline had become a thing of the past. It was a pleasant day to spend outdoors and Walter Johnson could not have a better ally for the critical moment of his life.
Walter was glad he returned to the Capitol to make his announcement. The act symbolized his determination and fighting spirit, the refusal to bow to fear and intimidation of the dark side.
On the lawn in front of the Capitol Hill, the spot when the night before saw intense fighting, journalists and camera crew packed the space, jostling for the best point to capture the moment. There was a small crowd, gathered by his staff and they were waving cards and banners. The stage was a simple structure, unbecoming but dignified. On the central banner was a nice logo etched against the background of red and white—‘Johnson for President’ it shouted. At nine o’clock sharp, amidst cheers of “Walter, Walter for President,” the man they had rooted for finally took centre stage.
He was his usual self—modestly dressed but sprightly and he offered small hand waves and a bright grin. His grayish hair was swept backwards, peaking over a round forehead. Vintage Johnson.
He looked around him at the cheering crowd and the awaiting press corps to his right, then he saw his old fri
end, Robin Ballard. The consultant gave a wink, the familiar gesture.
Walter remembered Robin’s wink from when the man had persuaded him to run for governor. Where would he be without Ballard?
After the crowd obliged his hands for quiet, Walter took a deep breath and spoke, hands clenched.
“There comes a time in our history when a man has to make decision that will change the lives of his fellow Americans for the better,” he began. “I believe that moment has come. I have chosen to come back here …” Walter paused has he surveyed the silent crowd. “… to return to the place where the foundation was built for the all the good things that have happened to my family; this is where my father received the education that changed him, and changed me. It was here that he was imbued with the sense of duty, and he passed that to me. Nothing else feels like home.”
The audience applauded wildly, then became silent again.
“Education made it possible for us to forge a formidable future. It is through education that we understand the trials of our forebears. It was their sacrifice that made it possible for our nation be the greatest in the history of human civilization. It was by their good grace that I, like many others, have the honour to serve this country. Education is what makes America great. This explains my lifelong commitment to education.”
A round of robust applause was followed by undiminished chants of “Walter, Walter.” The volume rose with each mention of his name. Walter stilled the raucous crowd with a raised hand, a commander calming his faithfuls.
“I had the honour to serve this country for the past twenty years. Given a chance to re-live my life, I would respond to that call of duty again. I intend to live the rest of my life in service of my beloved nation.”
“Our country is at the crossroads of history,” he continued. “There are wars in the Middle East, where religion has turned into an excuse for violence instead of a reason for love and respect. Rogue states continue to trample on the universal values of democracy and freedom.
