by L. L Hunter
“Maybe he’ll join us later, when he’s ready.”
“You’re right. Hey, what’s that?” he asked, looking at a leather satchel Scarlett had just given Emer.
“I found it on my bed this morning, the note said to protect it.”
“Who’s it from?”
“I’m not sure. Father Luke, I presume. The note was unsigned.”
“What is it?”
“The legacy of my family.”
With the promise to protect the heavy tome on the plane, Emer took the satchel. Then Dyston and Scarlett left to go to their secret runway along with the other winged angels. The place they were heading was about a fifteen minute’s drive away. Scarlett stared out the window of the car and saw luxurious mansions sitting on the side of steep cliff faces. When the car slowed and they got out, Scarlett realised they were in a cemetery.
“What is this place?”
“This is Clovelly Cemetery. It’s one of the largest and oldest cemeteries in Australia.”
“But why are we here?”
“Did I mention that these statues, the ones depicting angels, aren’t really statues?”
Scarlett looked around at the numerous stone angels. There were a few with their wings folded half way, poised to fly, and one embracing a small child. But the one that really caught Scarlett’s attention, and chilled her to the core, was a statue of a tall angel holding a human. She couldn’t tell if the human was male or female, or what rank they were. They were leaning over and embracing each other, as close as if they were about to kiss. She felt it was symbolic of what their world had become today. Scarlett didn’t hear Dyston come up behind her.
“Sad, isn’t it?” he said.
“I think it’s romantic.”
“No, it’s sad. They were punished for falling in love.”
Scarlett suddenly realised what he meant. She followed him to the edge of the cliff.
“You mean like you were?” she asked. He didn’t answer. He just stared out to sea.
“You said the statues aren’t really statues. What are they?” She asked. He turned to meet her eyes.
“They are our fate, if we don’t follow the rules.” He unfurled his wings and the wind ruffled his feathers, wild and beautiful.
“But you said it yourself, that rules are only meant to be broken.” Again, he didn’t answer, instead he smirked and said, “Come on, now I need you to fly.”
Chapter Twenty
Rachael
“Was Lakyn always like that?” Scarlett asked as they flew above the clouds. It was peaceful up there. Dyston did little spirals and then flew under her upside-down so that he could see her face.
“Like what?”
“Cold.”
“No, not always. He was once a very caring person, when he was young.”
“What happened?”
“He had his heart broken.”
“By me?”
“No, this happened fifteen years ago. Her name was Rachael, and he was smitten.”
Fifteen Years Earlier
“Lakyn, wake up and get back to work,” yelled Zachariah as he slammed a book closed. Lakyn jumped.
“Sorry.” He shook his head as if to shake away a thought. He had been daydreaming again. He picked his pencil up from where it had fallen on his sketchbook, and stared at the image there, his drawing of a concept Archangel’s bow.
“I don’t pay you to fall asleep, Son.”
“I know.” Lakyn worked at his parent’s company, Blackbell Incorporated. They were blacksmiths and weaponry experts. The Blackbells had been making the celestial weapons forged from The Realm’s metals for centuries, and now it was Lakyn’s job to design them. He didn’t want to be an entrepreneur like his father. He wanted to be an artist. But when Zachariah saw his potential, his affinity for art, and a talent for drawing, he hired his son to be the Head of the design team. So each afternoon, day in and day out, Lakyn came here to his family’s warehouse, and sketched until his hand grew numb.
One Friday, he found himself bored of drawing swords and bows, so he flipped over a page in his book to a fresh clean one, and began to draw something entirely different—the face he hadn’t been able to get out of his head for weeks. It was a face that had been haunting his dreams—the girl with the white streak in her hair. He was dying to find out if she were real, and most importantly, to find out her name. But until that day came, he drew. He sketched her every day. He sketched until he had memorised every inch of her face by heart, from her mysterious grey eyes to her sweet but sad smile. He was already in love with her.
One day, out of the blue, Zachariah told him to deliver an order of Archangel blades and bows to Daylesford Convent. He didn’t know why his father had asked him to do it, or what a convent would want with angelic weapons, but he went anyway to please his father.
The convent stood on the crest of the botanical gardens, overlooking the town of Daylesford, Victoria and was an impressive nineteenth- century gothic mansion. Built in the 1860s, originally a grand home, it was then turned into a boarding school for girls. In the 1970s, the school closed, and the building underwent years of renovations, until it was opened again in 1991 as a gallery. But Lakyn was still confused as to why this place had ordered their weapons. He parked the black company truck and got out, breathing in the crisp air as he made his way to the arched entry. Just as he was about to knock, the double doors swung inwards with a creak.
“Hello?” His voice echoed, but there was no reply. He stepped inside and called out again, “Hello?”
“There’s no need to announce your presence again, I was coming.” The voice startled him. He spun around, and came face to face with her.
“You…”
“Sorry I scared you. This place can be creepy at times,” she said with a small smile. It was really her. It was the girl from his sketches, the girl from his dreams. But he couldn’t let her know that. He didn’t want to appear weird.
“I… uh, yeah, you scared me,” he covered himself and laughed.
“What can I do for you?” She was even more beautiful in real life, her eyes bigger and even more intriguing, and her hair was silkier than imagined. He cleared his throat.
“I um… I have an order from Blackbell Incorporated, twenty blades and bows?”
“Oh, yes, thank you. I’ll get Adam onto that.” She walked to a table in the hall and began dialling on the telephone, spinning the numbers around one by one. She then picked up the earpiece. Lakyn’s heart beat faster and his palms grew sweatier by the minute. Who was Adam?
“Adam? The weapons are here.” She paused to let him reply. When she spoke again, her voice had the sound of concern. “Where’s sister Bernadette?” She paused again. “Oh, okay. I guess I’ll have to entertain him then. Bye.” She hung up and looked at Lakyn.
“Sorry about that. My brother will be here soon.”
“Oh, Adam’s your brother?”
“Yes, and I’m Rachael. Welcome to Daylesford.”
“This is the chapel. Most of the things you see are from the original buildings,” Rachael said as she showed him around. But Lakyn didn’t really care about the surroundings. All he cared about was her. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“You’re staring, you know,” she said when they stood on the altar. A white stained-glass star with a golden centre shone down, surrounding them in a golden halo-like light.
“I uh… sorry. It’s just… sorry if I seem rude or forward. But I’ve seen your face before.”
“Really?” Rachael smiled. She felt herself perhaps being seduced by this stranger. “I must have one of those faces.”
He had to tell her. He simply had to. Now was his chance.
“I’ve sketched you.”
“What?”
“I’ve seen your face before. In my dreams.” He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. She took it reluctantly, unfolding it.
“Oh, my gosh. Who are you?” she gasped.
/> “I’m Lakyn Blackbell. I’m Nephilim.” He waited for her reaction.
“Finally,” she breathed, “someone like me.”
“You mean, you’ve not met another Nephilim before?”
“Only my brother and my parents. But my parents are dead, so Adam and I have been the only ones. Until now.”
“You believed you were the only Nephilim? Man. You really need to get out more.”
“I know. But we’re not allowed to leave.” Rachael ascended three flights of stairs to the top floor. Lakyn followed. He wouldn’t be letting her out of his sight. There were three doors there, Rachael opened one on the left and entered a room. Lakyn loitered outside, unsure of whether to follow her in. The room looked like her bedroom.
“You can come in, Lakyn,” she said sweetly. He peered in and saw an airy room lit from two arched windows. A large round bed surrounded by green silk curtains was in the centre. Rachael sat by one of the windows. It had two glass panels pushed outwards and looked over the rooftops at the city beyond.
“Rachael…”
“Shh, don’t speak. I’ve never even met a boy, let alone another Nephilim, before.”
“You have your brother.”
“Yes, but a boy that I’m attracted to,” she corrected herself. Lakyn stepped closer.
“Are you attracted to me?” she whispered invitingly. Rachael slipped off the windowsill and moved towards him, her hands poised at his chest. Startlingly, the door burst open.
“Adam!” exclaimed Rachael.
“Step away from her.” Adam growled at Lakyn, drawing his blade.
“Adam, we were just talking. Put your blade away,” Rachael told him.
“Do you know who this is?” Adam demanded.
“Yes. He’s the nice young boy who brought us our weapons.”
“Not so. He’s deceived you. He’s a Lucifite.” Adam turned his Archangel blade towards Lakyn.
“That’s stupid,” scoffed Lakyn. “How could I be a Lucifite?”
“He’s a Blackbell, and they’re descended from Lucifer,” Adam insisted to Rachael.
“That’s just a rumour, it’s not true,” begged Lakyn.
“Adam, please, he won’t hurt me. Will you, Lakyn?” she smiled sweetly at him.
“Of course, I won’t,” declared Lakyn.
“Lies! They lie, demons,” spat Adam, drawing his blade to Lakyn’s heart.
“I think you have misunderstood,” muttered Lakyn, raising his hands in surrender.
“Leave now. Before I send you back to the realm from which you came,” growled Adam.
“All right, I’m leaving.” Lakyn slipped past Adam and left, glancing back to Rachael one last time.
Fleeing down the stairs and out though the front door, Lakyn heard a voice from above. It sounded soft but it echoed. He knew whose it was, he looked up and met Rachael’s gaze.
“I’m sorry. When might I see you again?”
“Sooner than you think,” replied Lakyn, and he smiled as he pointed towards the telephone near her. An encouraging slip of paper poked out from beneath it. Rachael smiled to herself. There was hope.
Chapter Twenty-One
Frozen
Present Day
Lakyn stood frozen still, before the ruins of the convent. He couldn’t believe his eyes. It was gone, her home. Leaving him wondering was she gone, too? He vowed then and there that he would end Scarlett’s life with his own hands. It was all Scarlett’s fault.
Trembling, he picked his way through the ruins. Everything was gone, only a smoking rubble remaining. The chapel, its wall of stained glass stood preserved. He ran to the chapel, ducking under a collapsed brick arch, and entered. It was miraculous. It must be the wards, he thought. Special magic suffused each piece of consecrated ground, but surprisingly, he could enter now. His boot crunched noisily on a broken piece of glass and she turned. He saw her at the very same time she saw him. Their eyes met.
“Rachael,” he whispered.
“Sorry. You must be confusing me with someone else,” the young woman spoke. Her face was familiar to him, yet different, but she seemed to be much younger in years, than thirty.
“I know you somehow. Your face,” said Lakyn.
“I must have one of those faces,” she said as she turned and walked swiftly out of the chapel. Lakyn experienced a freaky sense of déjà vu. Those were the same words that Rachael had once spoken to him. And this woman was so similar in looks. She must be related, he thought.
“If you’re not Rachael, then you must be related to her.”
“Sorry. I don’t know any Rachael. I have to go.” She started to run but Lakyn grabbed the girl’s sleeve. She gasped and looked into his eyes.
“I think you do know Rachael. You know this place. It was her home.”
“Sorry.” Without warning the girl spun round and delivered a roundhouse kick into Lakyn’s groin. As he crumpled in pain, she ran off.
“Definitely related,” he moaned, holding himself on the ground.
By the time Lakyn had arrived back at the factory, he observed that most of the rubble was now cleared and that a secure entry had been built over the door to the bunker where Lakyn and his army had made their underground home.
“Where have you been, son?” inquired his father as he walked to meet him at the foot of the stairs. The bunker, constructed entirely of steel, was dated to the mid 1900s. The Blackbell Family had constructed the factory above it soon after World War II.
“I had to check on something. But it’s gone.”
“You don’t have to pretend, Lakyn. I had you followed,” Zachariah said to him.
“Why’d you do that?” Lakyn’s injury was now healed. From a refreshment table, he grabbed a glass and poured himself a scotch.
“Because I knew what would be your weakness, the same as was your brother’s. Love ruins everything. It’s the obstacle on the path to the one true goal in life.”
“So that’s all Mum was to you? An obstacle?”
“Yes. And unfortunately, I realised that too late.”
“So, Dyston and I were mistakes?” Lakyn’s rage bubbled inside, rising near to boiling point.
“Of course not. You were all part of a grand scheme.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Lakyn, angrily taking his scotch, retreated into his room, slamming the door behind him.
“Has Simon returned yet?” asked Zachariah of David.
“No,” he replied, adjusting his bandage between sips of his tea.
“I’ll have to send someone to see whether he has retrieved Katherine’s soul.”
“Miss James’s soul has not yet been harvested,” said Abraham, tending to the fire in its place. “And I would know.”
“Then what happened to it?” pursued Zachariah glass halfway to his lips.
“Her soul is still attached to her body.”
“So she isn’t dead?”
“Leave her. She’s not worth it. It’s the Archangel spawn we want. In addition, Miss James’ body is heavily guarded by her boyfriend and the students of Gabriel.”
“Hmm, I feared he would become a problem.”
“Do you want us to deal with him?” asked another young recruit, named Peter.
“No. He is far too skilled with weapons, probably more so than any of us. Leave him. Grief will overcome him soon enough.”
Lakyn twisted a ring on his ring finger continually. The ring had once belonged to Rachael and he had never taken it off. In time, a knock came at the door.
“Go away,” he responded.
“It’s me, Lake.”
“Come in then.” The door opened and Lakyn’s long time friend and confidant David, stepped in.
“What’s going on?” David asked, concerned. “Ever since returning from Daylesford you’ve been, I don’t know… for lack of a better word, a zombie.”
“I’m fine, Dave.”
“I don’t think you are, Lake. Spill.” David sat at the edge of Lakyn’s cot and waited. Lakyn
sighed and rolled over to face his friend.
“It’s gone.”
“Gone?”
“Yes, gone.”
“So there’s no trace?”
“Only smouldering ruins. But I saw someone there.”
“Someone at the site?”
“Not only someone, a girl about fifteen. She looked just like Rachael.”
“Hmm, I thought this would be about Rachael.” He paused. “You haven’t gotten over her, have you?”
“I loved her, David.”
“So this girl in the ruins, Was it her?”
“How could it be?” he muttered in confusion. “How could Rachael still be fifteen years old?” He paused, “unless this is her ghost?”
“It’s a relative perhaps. What was she doing?”
“Staring at the star.”
“The star?”
“Yeah, a stained- glass star in the chapel. Every star I see now reminds me of her.”
“You really are a romantic,” David joked, shoving Lakyn. Lakyn shoved him back.
“Shut up. And don’t tell my father,” he laughed, but only half meaning his words.
He and David had always been close. They had grown up and gone through the Academy together. They knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses, and were there when each received his Tasks and gained his Traits. They always had each other’s backs.
Fourteen Years Earlier
“Fix it!”
“I…”
“Fix it!” screamed his boss. It was David’s first week as an apprentice chef in the biggest hotel in the city, and he was over it. He couldn’t see what he was doing wrong, and his boss seemed to have it in for him. He would have preferred an apprenticeship in Lakyn’s family’s business, but with both his parents being chefs, he had to follow in their footsteps—all young Nephilim had to. David obediently picked up the fish dish that apparently hadn’t been cooked properly and returned the fish to the grill. As he watched the white flesh sizzle in the surrounding juices, the kitchen door flung open suddenly, but he assumed it was one of the cooks and didn’t pay much attention. Not until he heard his name spoken and felt a tap on his shoulder.
