The Helio Trilogy: Volumes 1-3

by Valerie Roeseler

  “What may work better?”

  Scooping up a handful of soil, he lets it filter through his fist like sand in an hourglass. “Your empathy functions through touch. As I was getting to before, the Earth is a living thing. It is connected to everything it touches: the soil, the grass, the water, animals, and especially the beings who roam its surface.”

  I tell him, “I was able to communicate my own emotions, as well as feel them, through Maximus and Andromeda.” Gabriel looks to me in question. “They’re horses.”

  “Yes. Though, I am not comparing your abilities with the Earth’s connection. If you are able to use your empathy through touch, you should be able to use the Earth’s resources as an added connection. Here,” he offers his hand for me to take, “Tell me what you feel.”

  Uncertainly, I take his hand. I convey, “Pride, curiosity, excitement…”

  He then digs his fingers into the soft ground, “Now, here. Tell me what you feel.”

  Dropping to my knees, I push my fingers deep into the earth, closing my eyes to focus. After a few moments of prodding, there’s a whisper of emotion. It is so faint, I mistake it for my own inquisitiveness.

  Gabriel encourages, “You must let it in, Ivy. Think of the Earth as an extension to my emotions. Feel for them again. Push. Reach.”

  I open my mind invitingly, pushing and reaching for Gabriel’s emotions. There, I think as I discover his anticipation.

  Reading the joy on my face, he comments, “Yes. That’s it.”

  Not realizing what could happen as I continue to push, I’m overcome with the inability to pull back. A tidal wave of emotions come crashing down on me, crushing my heart. Defeat, joy, hopelessness, serenity, anxiety, shame, love, gratitude.

  My breathing comes faster, the pressure in my chest building as sweat coats my skin. The emotions continue without pause. A scream of agony works itself from my core. Shame, passion, surprise, admiration, amusement, boredom, grief, bitterness, disgust, jealousy, loneliness, sadness, worry.

  Firm hands push me back to the ground. My eyes pop open as I gasp for breath. Jack hovers over me, his hair falling forward to frame his face. “Are you alright?”

  The engulfment of emotions lingers in my mind. I can only shake my head. Jack scoops me into his arms, and my head begins to clear marginally. I lift my head from his shoulder to plea with Gabriel as Jack turns for the vaulted entrance to The Keep, “Don’t ever make me do that again.” He does not answer, only watches us leave.

  Jack reaches my door, opening it with the hand beneath my legs. “Are you sure you’re alright? Do you need anything? Water?” He lays me on the bed to rest.

  I whisper, “Where did you come from?”

  This pulls a small, dimpled grin from him. “Paradise.”

  I reword my question, “How did you know I needed help?”

  His cheekiness falls away. “Our bond. With our close proximity, I felt your pain.”

  “You felt it?”

  As if I should already know, Jack states, “It brought me to my knees. I couldn’t move at first, but I knew I had to get to you.” He goes to the bathroom, bringing back a glass of water. I sit up as he passes it to me and sits on the side of the bed. I take a large drink, then thank him. A piece of my hair falls across my face. On instinct, Jack reaches up to tuck it back, yet pulls his hand back. My heart falls, and I realize how much I’ve missed his touch. The mattress rises as he stands. “I’ll let you rest.”

  I don’t acknowledge him. He doesn’t motion for the door. We stare at each other. There’s so much to say, yet nothing to say at all. I can’t take another second. “I miss you, Jack.”

  He snickers, turning for the door, “Funny.” As he leaves, he adds, “It sure doesn’t seem like it.”

  Compared to Alice’s lecturing on Enochian History, Eric is an utter bore when it comes to the Enochian Hierarchy. Perhaps it is the subject matter, but Eric’s way of teaching me the order with different color stones separated into groups has me feeling like a toddler. The stones are more interesting than Eric’s questions. I learned more about the hierarchy from talking with Cassius before. I still don’t appreciate the reasoning for having divisions among the ranks. So many of the factions see themselves as more or less of each other. I find it arbitrary. While each rank holds their own duties, it would be better for everyone if they worked together instead of apart from each other.

  Late into the night, my thoughts are restless. There seems to be something wrong, yet I can’t put my finger on it. I wonder if there was something I was supposed to do or something I’m forgetting. The heavy knock at my door pulls my mind from contemplation to worry. The hurt in my father’s expression sends me into a panic. “What’s wrong?” I observe cautiously.

  He doesn’t meet my eyes, “There has been a change in plans. The business I was to attend to tomorrow will have to wait.”

  I relax a bit. “Oh. That’s ok.” Azrael continues regarding the ground. I add, “Guess this means I get a day off?”

  As I’m finally able to behold his violet eyes, his tone softens, “I am afraid there are other matters I must take care of immediately. I believe it would be best if you assisted. Alice and Eric are waiting for us on The Common.”

  Perplexed, I back away to find clothes to put on, “Uh, ok. I’ll be ready in just a sec.”

  Azrael steps inside as I change in the bathroom. Is he nervous? Will this be dangerous?

  On The Common, Alice and Eric appear just as troubled as my father. Transferring my gaze to each of them, I inquire, “What are you not telling me? Where are we going?”

  Azrael’s massive, dark violet wings expand behind him. “We are going to Los Angeles. There has been an incident. Your adoptive parents, Ruth and Frank… We must hurry.”

  My heartbeat quickens, my eyes widening. Once my mind comprehends what I don’t want to believe, I take off without prompt. I’m angry at myself for not checking in on Ruth more often. Panic eats at every other thought. Alice, Eric, and my father catch up with me. Alice calls to me, “Ivy! Where are you going?” I flash a scrutinizing glare at her.

  Azrael offers, “If you would rather fly, it will take us much longer to arrive. Let me take us there.”

  I stop mid-air, hovering in place. I shake my head, “I’m sorry. Let’s go.”

  We connect hands, and Azrael flashes us to the sidewalk outside of Ruth Harris’ home. It’s dark out. The yellow and white exterior of the home dimly glows from the fluorescent porch lights. I smell the blood and freeze in terror. My voice is a mere whisper, “Ruth.” I bolt for the door.

  Azrael warns, “Ivy, wait.”

  Even in the darkness, the sight before me is clear. The others stop behind me, beholding the horror from the open doorway. The kitchen table is in our direct view. Frank Harris hangs from a noose tied to the light fixture in the ceiling, vomit running down his disheveled, plaid button up, dripping like a slow faucet leak before slapping the tabletop.

  I follow the scent of blood, calling out in denial, “Ruth!” The trail leads Alice and me to Ruth’s bedroom, the door wide open. My knees shake as I fall to her battered body on the floor. I choke back on the anguish crawling up my throat. Her left eye is swollen shut, black and deep purple. Bruises cover what I can see of her arms, neck and torso through the rips in her clothes. Gore coats her hair from a large gash in her skull. What I imagine is Frank’s skin is embedded beneath her soft pink fingernails, some chipped and broken.

  Alice reaches for me, but my attention snaps past her with the sensation of another angel present—one too many. A vague shadow moves down the hallway. I know better than to believe my eyes are adjusting to the light. I take off, leaving Alice behind. In what used to be my old room, a Fallen warrior, dressed in a dark suit, stands with his back to me. I know he senses me in the threshold, yet he continues to examine the plush, white teddy bear in his hand. His gruff tone sends a torrent of unwarranted memories to flash in my mind, “You broke an oath, Princess.” As he pivots
to face me, dropping the toy on the bed, he admonishes, “The King is not happy.”

  “Roman.” I recognize the Third Duke of Sheol from his short, brown hair and judging sapphire eyes. “Did you do this?” I demand.

  He shrugs, “Perhaps… The drunk only needed a sliver of encouragement. It is easy to bend the mind when they are so inviting of the Darkness.” Amusement grows across his face, reaching his eyes.

  Darkness.

  Eric finds me speaking to Roman and draws his broadsword, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  The corner of my lips quirk, marveling at Roman’s audacity. My wings twitch; my mind slips into a rage. Before anyone can comprehend what I’ve done, I impale Roman through the center of his chest, pinning him to the wall with his feet dangling. He sneers, using his wings to push himself up the blade. I kick him in the stomach, sending him back again. With a growl, my hands dig beneath his ribcage, gripping his lungs.

  Fire and ice creep through my body, molding my touch to Roman’s organs. “You killed them? I’m going to kill you.”

  Blood oozes from his wicked grin, “There you are, Princess. The King will be pleased… The other may not.”

  His essence jumps from his body so quickly, I’m not prepared to receive its potency when it plunges into me. I’m jolted back, and Roman’s body falls slack. The revenge I wanted for Ruth and Frank remains.

  After a moment of silent observance, I jerk Eric’s sword from Roman’s dead chest. I toss it back to him, yet it clamors on the floor. With Eric stands Alice and my father…staring. “What?”

  Azrael alerts, “Your eyes… They were black for a moment.”

  I fret, spinning for the mirror behind me, then feel relief with their normal hues of violet and green. Alice informs me, “It was only a split second.”

  Azrael changes the subject, “It is time.”

  I follow them back into Ruth’s bedroom. Alice kneels down beside the body, hovering her hand above Ruth’s chest. She glances to me, “Come here.”

  Joining her, I brush Ruth’s macabre hair away from her face. I’m so sorry.

  Alice instructs, her hands remaining above Ruth’s body, “Her soul is still here. If you touch her chest, you can coax it from her.” I meet Alice’s sad gaze. She regrets, “I’m so sorry, honey.”

  I place my hands on Ruth’s chest. Nothing happens. My father realizes it and claims, “You must open your mind, daughter. She is there.”

  I let my empathic walls down. Ruth’s soul aches for liberation, peace from the pain. My palms warm as I gently pull her soul. A soft green, glowing orb, the size of my fist, eases from the center of her chest. As it reaches my eye level, its glow dims, then the orb disappears completely. I fear I’ve destroyed the soul and look to my father in a panic, “What happened? Where did she go?”

  He states, “You did everything right,” presenting his hand for me to turn around.

  I rise with Alice, trusting the small smiles her and my father give me. Ruth stands gracefully with her hands clasped before her, her form and cerulean sun dress clear of any evidence of the evening's events. I’m surprised with how solid her form appears. I ask aloud, not taking my eyes from her, “Is she solid?”

  “Yes,” Alice answers. “It’s only this way for us because we are Guides. To any other being who is able to see spirits, she would appear ghostly.”

  Ruth steps closer, “I knew you were different, Ivy. I knew you were destined to do great things. It’s why I pushed you to take on so many hobbies growing up, and you excelled at each of them. I know we were never close, but I am so proud of the woman you’ve become.”

  I shake my head, fighting the wretchedness of my guilt. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner. I should have checked on you more often. I never would have let him put his hands on you.”

  Ruth takes my hands in hers. They are ice cold, biting into my skin. She insists, “No. This was never your problem. It was mine. You are a grown woman. You have your own life to live. You shouldn’t have to worry about me. Remember what I told you before you left for college?”

  “You said not to worry about you, that it was my time to find myself and travel the world.”

  She smiles, her eyes traveling over the arches of my dark wings. “And you have.” She refocuses on my face. “I’m so proud of you. This is not your fault. It was my time.”

  “Ivy,” Azrael interrupts. “We need to leave. The longer her soul stays, the harder it will be for her to part.”

  I notice Eric is no longer in the room. “Where’s Eric?”

  Alice answers, walking out of the room, “He left to guide the other soul. We’ll meet you there.”

  I find the thought of Frank Harris being guided to the Veil with Ruth disrespectful and unfair to her. I’m thankful for Eric taking him before we arrive. Another part of me is disappointed. I would have loved to shove Frank into the pits of Sheol where he belongs.

  “Ready?” Azrael prompts.

  I echo, “Are you ready, Ruth?” She agrees quickly, and I lead her to sit on the bed. I look to my father, “Are you coming?”

  He inclines his head, “I will meet you there as well.”

  I grasp Ruth’s hand in my right, then slide my first two fingers up from the crook of my elbow. The Enochian letters glow a bright ember as my fingers pass them up to my wrist. In a blink of nothingness, I’m standing in the Veil, Ruth’s hand still clenched in mine.

  The dull, gray sky flows steadily overhead. Eric and Alice stand together between the Tree of Life and us. We venture towards them just as my father appears next to them. There’s something different about Eric’s demeanor. Azrael questions him, “Did you have any trouble?”

  “Nothing I haven’t handled before,” he replies dryly, regarding my father under a hooded glare.

  “We will discuss it later,” Azrael orders. Eric gives him a single, tight-lipped nod. Addressing me, he remarks, “This is where you will guide your first soul. You must be sure the soul continues on its path as the window closes. It is a struggle, but I do not doubt you are strong enough to handle it.”

  Handle what? I wonder.

  “What do I do?” I ask him.

  “You will hike to the peak of the hill,” he points. “Below is a valley. Once you reach the orchard, it will transform into a window, leading the rest of the way for the soul. You must not enter, and you must not leave until it closes.”

  “Ok. Ready?” I ask Ruth again.

  It takes us half an hour to journey over the hill. The gray terrain of the valley changes from the tall, dry grass to small, colorless beds of flowers. As we travel through the flowers, the orchard appears. It is more of a solid wall of trees with natural tunnels from branches growing together, creating archways. Once we are twenty yards away, a walkway within the orchard begins to illuminate a golden glow.

  Ruth whispers, and I can hear the pure joy in her voice, “That’s it.”

  We stop feet away from the tree line, enamored with the sight before us. The tunnel created by the branch’s archway shines like the sun. Past the window’s threshold are colors I’ve never witnessed before. My skin pricks with gooseflesh, yet the tranquility overcoming my senses urges me to go further.

  Ruth steps before me, “You heard your father, Ivy. You can’t go in there.”

  “How did you know he was my father?”

  She looks over her shoulder to Paradise awaiting her. “All is revealed in the death of a mortal body.”

  She looks back to me, and my voice quakes, “Thank you.”

  Ruth hugs me tight, “Oh, no, Ivy. Thank you.” Releasing her hold, she spins away, running into Paradise.

  It’s harder than I thought it would be to watch someone find their destination there. Once the window closes, I drop to my knees in tears, longing to find my own destination in Paradise. Deep in my heart, I know I’ll never be worthy. Then, a heaviness falls on my shoulders for those who have been there, yet left it behind for me or this mission to save humanity. All beca
use of me.

  Chapter 5

  Alice, Eric, and my father are waiting for me when I make it back to the Tree of Life. Eric is still in a mood. I muse, “Should we call the authorities when we get back?”

  Alice opposes, “It’s not our place. I know you don’t want to leave them there, but if you call it in, you may be tangled into the mess. We can’t risk it right now.”

  “How would that be a risk?” I cross-examine.

  My father fields the question, “It was not their time. I would have known. There is a process to the cycle of souls. It is obvious Roman had a hand in their deaths, but they were not marked for it.”

  “You’ve lost me,” I admit.

  Eric suggests, “We should get back to our bodies. We’ve been in here too long as it is.”

  I do my best to avoid glancing at Ruth’s body when we return to her home. The smell of death lingers heavily in the air. My father doesn’t waste time transporting us back to the Throne Room of The Keep, and we find it empty.

  “Alright. Is someone going to explain this to me?” I rant.

  Azrael cautions, “This is not the way I wished for you to learn about the cycle of souls.”

  I push for answers, “Too late. What did you mean they weren’t marked to die?”

  He begins, “You must understand, everything you have been engrained to know as fiction is based on fact.”

  “So, I’ve been gathering since my transformation started,” I note.

  Shaking his head as if I’m not comprehending, he appears flustered with how to continue, “Not only what you have learned about yourself and those around you, but every myth you have been told. You have learned about Greek Mythology, I am sure?”

  I nod, questioning where he’s going with this lesson. “Like Zeus, Hercules, and Hades?”

  “Yes,” he marvels, his eyes lighting up at the chance my knowledge may reach the extent he needs it to. “In your Greek Mythology, you are told about the Fates. The truth is, they are not Greek at all. They are Norse, and they are known as The Norns. The Norns are the true weavers of fate. They control the Kere.”