The Wanderer's Children

by L. G. O'Connor

“He’s in the guest room,” Cara said. “Simon filled you in?”

  “Yup. Lead the way,” he said with a sweep of his hand, all traces of his angst over Sienna gone.

  Acoustic guitar music grew louder as they walked through the living room, past Simon’s painting studio, and down a narrow hallway toward the guest room in the back.

  “Michael,” Cara reached for his arm, and gently pulled him to a stop. She looked into the eyes of her Messenger, the pillar of her Trinity, appreciating the warmth and strength she always found there. “I want to thank you… for those early days with me. Now I understand what you went through. I feel it with Brett.” During these last few months, Michael had been her protector, teacher, and occasional shoulder to cry on. Now she considered him a close friend.

  His lips turned up, and he kissed her forehead. “You made it easy.”

  Sharp and enhanced by her heightened sense of the smell, the woodsy scent of his cologne embraced her. A lump rose in her throat when she tasted the loneliness wrapped inside his words. The spicy taste of cinnamon he sometimes gave off reminded her that as close as they were, there were some painful secrets Michael kept deeply hidden.

  Cara knocked softly on the door.

  The music stopped. “It’s open.”

  She twisted the knob and walked in.

  Clean and sparse with only a bed and a dresser, the small white room had exposed brick on the exterior wall, and one of Simon’s large oil landscapes over the bed. Propped up with a mound of pillows behind his back, Brett sat on the double bed, cradling his guitar on his lap. He seemed relaxed now… like before the demon attack.

  “Brett, I’d like to introduce you to Michael, my Trinity Messenger.”

  Setting aside his guitar, Brett got up to greet them. “Hey, man. Brett King, nice to meet you,” he said, offering a handshake and a smile.

  “Michael Swift. Nice to meet you, too. I’m a big fan.”

  Am I the only one who doesn’t recognize him? Cara wondered.

  “Cara told me we probably have a few things in common,” Brett said.

  Michael nodded. “I’m sure we do. I’m happy to answer as many questions as I can.”

  “Good. Cara filled me in a little already.”

  An easy and immediate rapport unfolded between them, flooding Cara’s senses with harmonious vibrations.

  Constantina poked her head inside the door and politely interrupted. “Dear ones, may I take Cara away from you both for a minute?”

  The guys nodded, and Cara excused herself to join Constantina in the hall.

  “Cara and I will be on the roof deck,” Constantina said as they passed through the kitchen where Simon stood dumping the pasta from the pot into a strainer in the sink. The sausage had been transferred to the sauce and a row of glasses filled with wine stood breathing on the island. Dinner looked almost ready. Paco sipped his beer, offering silent companionship to Simon as he finished up.

  “Don’t go too far. Dinner will be ready in about five minutes,” said Simon, casting a serious glance in their direction before checking the bread in the oven.

  “Fear not, my dear. We shan’t be long.”

  Cara tried to hide a smile at the subtle reprimand hidden in Constantina’s tone. Her “my dear” was the equivalent of Cara’s mother giving her a stern “Cara Catherine Collins.”

  Constantina led Cara up the stairs and out into the roof garden, one of Cara’s favorite spaces. Set up to be private, three sides of the deck were surrounded by a high decorative wood fence while the fourth overlooked the street below and featured a view of the setting sun. A lavish container garden filled with plants, herbs, and fruit trees lined the walls beside the fence while a pergola stood over the raised dining area at the center of the deck. There was a bar at the far end, and lounge chairs circled the perimeter. The perfect party space for this weekend’s Memorial Day blast—their last hurrah before duty called.

  The fading light brought with it a cool breeze. Cara shivered as they settled into two lounge chairs next to some fig trees. The scent of an early blooming gardenia bush filled the air with sweet perfume.

  Cara drew the fragrance into her lungs, welcoming a few minutes alone with Constantina. Thousands of questions had been swimming around in her head ever since Isaac had announced her arrival.

  “I can feel your distress over my visit,” Constantina said, taking Cara’s hands in hers. A gentle wave of cleansing energy rolled over Cara, enveloping her in comfort and clearing her head of worry. Cara gazed at Constantina’s Grace Kelly beauty, her eyes no longer bothered by the missing philtrum—vertical indentation—above Constantina’s top lip. The mark, placed by the angel Layela during the soul’s descent, erases memories of any past lives. Missing the distinguishing mark signified Constantina was “awakened,” and retained her memories of all her earthly lives, as well as her angelic existence in Heaven.

  “I’m guessing Brett must be pretty important for you to be here. Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “You knew I’d meet Brett in Connecticut on the day of my Calling, didn’t you? There are no coincidences, right?” Cara asked with a tilt of her head.

  Constantina smiled and let go of her hands. “I think you already know the answer to both of those questions.”

  Encouraged, Cara leaped right in. “He’s one of the Twelve, isn’t he? And the Wanderer is the connection…”

  Folding her delicate hands on her lap, Constantina replied, “Yes, the Wanderer and his children are of importance to us.”

  “So, Brett is one of the Twelve?” Cara leaned forward, barely able to contain her excitement.

  “Again, you already know the answer. But I caution you, those revelations aren’t without peril or risk for those involved. They must be allowed to unfold as intended.”

  “But there’s something I don’t understand,” Cara said.

  “What’s that, dear one?”

  “If Angel has been watching over Brett since he was a child, why wasn’t he the First, or even the Second? Why were Simon and I revealed before him?”

  Constantina pressed her lips together and nodded before answering. “It’s all based on the laws of probability and the sequence of free will decisions reflected in the Trinity Stones.”

  “How so?” Cara considered herself smarter than average yet struggled to understand some of the more subtle intricacies of the Angelorum.

  “Hmm,” Constantina clasped her chin in thought. A moment later, her eyes lit up. “I know. Have you ever watched that game show on television, the one where they spin the wheel for profit and solve puzzles?”

  Cara chuckled, surprised that Constantina even watched TV. “You mean Wheel of Fortune with Pat Sajak?”

  “Yes! That’s the one.” Constantina clapped her small hands excitedly. “Think of the Trinity Stones as puzzles you’re trying to solve, and each letter as a free will decision. At the beginning, you choose a group of letters to start your puzzle. Sometimes many of the letters you choose are part of the puzzle. Once they light up and are turned over, you can guess the word or phrase right away with almost absolute certainty. Other times, your guesses may be off. The letters may not reveal one obvious answer, but rather many possible answers. It’s only when all the letters are turned over that you can see the final answer.”

  “Uh-huh…” Cara said slowly.

  “It’s the same with the Trinity Stones. Your place as the First was revealed on the day of your birth—all your letters were showing. Your puzzle solved. Whereas with Simon, only a few letters were visible. Although recognized as one possible member of the Twelve, many of the decisions that drove his final choosing were made only recently. There was an equally high probability that his decisions could have cast him out of the Twelve. Finally, as for Brett, many of the letters predicting his place had already been revealed when he showed up as a child. But it was his decision to leave his tour a second time and come back to Connecticut that sealed his fate, making him the
Third of the Twelve.”

  “Wow,” was all Cara could think to say. “What about the others?”

  “They remain, as of now… possibilities. Some much closer than others.”

  Cara shook her head to clear it. What she would give to buy a few vowels right now. “Speaking of Brett, how can I help him? This won’t be easy for him.”

  “Just do what you’re already doing.”

  Hmm, she thought. That could get her into trouble if she didn’t get a handle on her body chemistry. Then a thought struck her. “Is that why you called us to the Sanctuary next week? Is it about the Twelve?”

  “Partially.” Constantina gently rested her hand on Cara’s shoulder. “More so because the Dark Ones are planning their next move, and we need to prepare.”

  Cara’s whole body tensed. “I thought we had until after the wedding.”

  “According to the Trinity Stones, that’s probably still true, but preparation takes time and we have much to do before our next skirmish.”

  Probably? Cara had a lot riding on a “probably.” In the scheme of things, a wedding wouldn’t make much of a difference in her commitment to Simon—they were already mated per the High Council—but it gave her an excuse to avoid the inevitable. She wondered if she’d ever be prepared. As much as she tried, feelings of doubt and unworthiness continued to gnaw at her. Not to mention the constant knot of fear that ate at her middle. At least she hadn’t had any major panic attacks since the rescue. Thank God for small mercies.

  Constantina captured her gaze, reading her emotions. “Worry not. You’re but one. There’s a reason why twelve will be selected. Together, your collective strength will drive your success. Doubt and fear are tools of the Dark Ones. Never yield to them.”

  “I understand.” Cara hadn’t realized how much she missed Constantina’s day-to-day mentorship and support. Their discussions lately centered on the human side of their relationship and the upcoming nuptials to her son. That would change next week when she visited the Sanctuary. Constantina planned to begin the next phase of Cara’s training.

  Cara hesitated. “May I ask you something else?”

  “Of course.”

  Swallowing, Cara prayed that Constantina would apply her usual sense of pragmatism without judging her. “Something has been happening to me lately… It may have to do with the vaccine.”

  “Oh?”

  Fingering the ring on her necklace, she told Constantina about the painful growth spurts and her increased appetites for food, sleep, and sex. “Another thing. I’ve been physically reacting to men… other than Simon.”

  Constantina cocked her head. “Brett, perhaps?”

  Cara’s mouth went dry, and she nodded.

  “Who else?”

  Frowning, Cara told Constantina what happened when Sienna had shown her Michael’s Calvin Klein campaign pictures. “I’m not even interested in Michael that way.”

  Wearing a wide grin, Constantina said, “Ah! It sounds like you’re experiencing something similar to Nephilim adolescence. It’s not uncommon when a Nephilim reaches fifteen or sixteen years of age to undergo such things.”

  Panic washed over Cara. “Please tell me I don’t have to go through puberty again.”

  “Not in the way that you think. It’s the final transition into Nephilim adulthood, and lasts no more than four years.”

  “Four years?” Cara’s eyes widened as she dug her fingers into the cushioned arms of the lounge chair. “I feel like a nymphomaniac, and if I keep growing…”

  Constantina broke into sweet lyrical laughter and patted her hand. “Dear one, relax. I said similar, not the same. Your DNA was taken from adult Nephilim. Your body is most likely adjusting as it sees fit. In any case, modern medicine can help to regulate your overabundance of urges and the pain caused by the growth spurts. I can’t imagine that you’ll grow much more, dear one.”

  “Dinner’s ready,” Simon’s voice echoed in her head.

  “We’ve been summoned by the chef.” Feeling only slightly relieved, Cara pouted and moved to get up.

  Constantina’s small hand grasped her wrist. “Simon can wait. I must explain something important to you regarding the Twelve.”

  Cara sat back down, her gaze connecting with Constantina’s.

  Shifting closer to Cara, she said, “The Trinity Stones of the Twelve are magnetically drawn together for a reason. They’re surrounded by powerful emotions. Sometimes those feelings and emotions will manifest when you physically meet one of the others.” She paused and gave Cara a contemplative look. “I think your reaction to Brett is a combination of both his relationship to the Twelve and an underlying attraction that could’ve existed anyway. If you weren’t betrothed to Simon, I believe you may have pursued a relationship with Brett. And him with you. But too many choices have already been made. Brett is now meant for another.”

  “Good to know.” Cara blushed, embarrassed at Constantina’s accurate diagnosis of the situation. It’s true. Had Cara not met Simon, Brett would’ve been an attractive option.

  “One last thought… at times love will be the Twelve’s greatest strength, and at others, their greatest weakness.”

  Chapter 14

  CARA

  CARA AND CONSTANTINA RETURNED downstairs to find Isaac, Angel, Paco, and Simon clustered in a tight ball over the kitchen island and engaged in a silent yet serious discussion.

  Michael and Brett rounded the corner from the living room.

  Simon looked up as they all entered. “Come take a plate. The food is on the stove. Meet at the dining room table,” he said, and then turned his attention back to the telepathic conversation among the Guardians.

  Cara walked by the muscled horde and took a plate.

  “Are you going to fill us in on what you’re talking about?” she asked Simon through the private Trinity channel they shared with Michael. Isaac had reluctantly allowed Simon to maintain his access to their original Trinity frequency while establishing a second as their new Trinity Guardian for himself, Michael, and Cara. Rank as one of the Twelve obviously gave Simon some privileges.

  “Yes, my love.”

  “I have news, too. We’ll need to compare notes,” Michael chimed in.

  Cara ladled penne onto her plate and topped it with meat sauce. Using the tongs, she dropped some Caesar salad next to her pasta and grabbed a slice of the freshly baked Italian bread. On her way to the table, she picked up a glass of Chianti.

  She sat next to the head of the table where Simon would sit. Michael sat down beside her while everyone else trickled in.

  Once everyone was seated, Simon lifted his wine glass to Constantina. “Welcome, our esteemed High Council member.”

  She dipped her head in acknowledgment.

  Simon shifted his gaze to the opposite end of the table. “Welcome, our West Coast brothers, Angel and Paco.” Then he eyed Brett. “Brett King, charge of the Angelorum, welcome to the bounty of our table and into the protection of the Tri-State Guardianship.”

  Brett regarded Simon politely and tipped his glass. Cara noticed Brett’s buttered penne and made a mental note to ask him later if he ate meat.

  Angel raised his glass higher. “Thank you for this fine meal and for your hospitality to me and mine.” He turned to Isaac. “We owe you, Brother, for your team’s service.”

  Cara joined in as glasses clinked up and down the table before everyone took a sip to seal the toast. Congenial on the surface, tension rode through the atmosphere in an underlying current, crackling over Cara’s skin.

  “Please enjoy the meal before we discuss business,” Simon said, picking up his fork.

  The moment the sweet sausage hit Cara’s tongue, her hunger ignited. She had her plate wiped clean before anyone else was more than halfway done. Embarrassment over her Nephilim-fueled appetite didn’t stop her from returning to the kitchen for seconds, though midway through devouring another pile of pasta Angel cleared his throat and pushed his own plate aside. “Your permission to
start, Chamuel? Unless you’d like me to wait for the señorita to finish…”

  “No. Start,” Cara managed to choke out mid-chew, her hand covering her mouth.

  “Yes, Benedictine, why don’t you and Isaac start,” said Simon using Angel’s former Guardian name, returning his sign of respect. Since Simon’s suspension, he was no longer required to use his Guardian name, Chamuel, so he’d been exclusively using his civilian identity, Simon Young—the name under which Cara had fallen in love with him.

  Cara glanced around the table as she ate. Tense jaws and shoulders abounded. The one exception was Constantina, who radiated her usual sense of calm and serenity.

  Angel’s dark eyes were somber as he clasped his hands in front of him on the table and looked at Constantina. “Eae,” he said using her angelic name due to their long history, “Isaac and I convinced the Guardianship to cough up some intel after you left Connecticut. We’re not sure what it all means yet, but I hope we can figure it out together.”

  “Do go on,” she answered evenly, folding her napkin.

  Angel took a deep breath. “First, we’ve located Le Feu. He’s been spotted in and around Paris, but he’s not staying there. Looks like he’s taken up residence at his château not far from Versailles. The last time he lived there was back in the mid-1800s.”

  Le Feu and his entourage had disappeared without a trace two months ago during Kai’s rescue.

  Constantina’s expression transformed from serene to guarded, her eyes narrowing. “I’m aware. What else?”

  “The demon sent for Brett was Achanelech’s but it wasn’t sent on his behalf.”

  Brett swallowed, the color behind his tan fading a bit as he listened silently to Angel’s debrief.

  “Oh? On whose behalf was it sent?” Constantina asked.

  “Seems it was on loan to his badass cohort, Amon,” Angel said, naming one of the thirteen Lieutenants serving the Morning Star. “Amon has been going by the name Escher Grant and living part-time in California for the last couple of decades, keeping a low profile. These assholes seem to like wine country.”

  “Probably has more to do with the proximity to Hell’s North American portal,” chimed in Isaac, stern faced.