Warrior Angel

by Margaret

  And then had come the Inquisition.

  “Where was God’s mercy and compassion for me and my martyred comrades?” Derek muttered.

  “You are right, Archangel,” William said contritely, “back to Sir Derek. I’ve been told you want someone whom you know is not a traitor. Someone who hasn’t succumbed to temptation. Someone who hasn’t been drawn to their side by promises of freedom and power and glory, not to mention the dice and women and gin—oh, I do so love a gimlet now and then…”

  “Dice? Women? Please try to keep your mind on the subject at hand, William,” Michael stated coldly.

  “You don’t get out much, do you, Archangel?” William said, shaking his head. “A pity. Anyway, I can assure you that Sir Derek de Molay’s loyalty is above suspicion.”

  “None of the warrior angels are above suspicion,” returned Michael in dire tones.

  “Sir Derek remained loyal to the Knights after three days of torment,” William argued defensively. “His body was broken, his flesh flayed from his bones. He was disemboweled while he was yet alive, forced to watch and suffer as they tore his living organs from his body—”

  Derek grit his teeth and closed his eyes. His fists clenched. He could still remember vividly every agonizing moment.

  “I have to admit that de Molay would be among the last of those I would suspect of having betrayed us,” Michael was saying. “Yet there is no denying the fact that some of our warrior-angels shut their eyes and permitted powerful Dark Angels to slip out of Hell and make their way to Earth. And we know that Derek has been approached by the Dark Angels in the past—”

  Derek realized suddenly what he was doing. He had no right to be spying on his superiors. But they had no right to be saying such things about him. He flung the gate open with such force that it slammed against the sides of the heavenly barrier with a loud boom. He strode proudly and angrily inside.

  Archangel Michael’s expression grew severe. “Were you eavesdropping on us, de Molay?”

  “I would never do anything so dishonorable, Archangel,” Derek said with quiet dignity. “You neglected to shut the gate and I could not help but overhear your words. For all I know, you wanted me to overhear them.”

  “Sir Derek,” said William, beaming at him. “I’ve heard a lot about you. So good to meet you at last.”

  William was a benign, elderly angel, rather chubby, whose robes were a bit rumpled, his wings a bit tattered. Yet his face was cheerful, his smile engaging. He appeared to be enjoying himself immensely. By contrast, Archangel Michael was one of those who took himself and his duties very seriously. He was tall and thin, his expression stern and severe. His robes were immaculate, every feather in his wings in place.

  “The cherubim must have left the gate open,” said Michael, glowering. “He will be reprimanded—”

  “No, no, Archangel,” said William hastily. “It wasn’t Sampson. Good boy, Sampson. It was me, I’m afraid. Always going about leaving gates open, lights on…”

  Archangel Michael cast William an ice-glare glance and the angel subsided, after giving Derek a conspiratorial wink.

  Derek did not quite approve of this jocular angel William. Derek felt more akin to the archangel. He also took his duties quite seriously. That was why he was so incensed at the accusation.

  “If you know that the Dark Angels approached me, my lord, then you must also know that I turned my back on them and their evil lies.”

  “As you turned your back on Heaven,” said Archangel Michael with asperity.

  Derek faced his superior defiantly. “I am a true knight, my lord. I took vows of honor and loyalty in life and I remain true to them in death. It was God who broke faith with me.”

  “As I feared,” said Archangel Michael. “You are not suitable. You are far too stubborn and rebellious.”

  “On the contrary,” William argued. “He is quite wonderfully human. He’ll be perfect for the job.”

  Derek had no idea what “job” they were talking about and he didn’t plan to stay to find out. “If you will give me leave, my lords, I must return to my command.” Derek bowed.

  Archangel Michael fixed William with a stern look. “You are the one who will have to supervise him while he is on Earth. He will be your responsibility. Are you certain you trust him?”

  The archangel lowered his voice. “Remember, William, you will be on trial yourself. We are giving you one more chance. If you bungle this assignment…” He shook his head gloomily.

  “I’ll be back painting sunsets,” said William. He rolled his eyes. “Not that I mind the work, but it’s the same thing day in and day out. Pinks and reds, purples and golds splashed across the sky…”

  “Do not be whimsical, William,” said Archangel Michael. “Sunsets are a natural phenomenon. Please keep to the subject at hand.”

  “Sorry, Archangel,” said William meekly. “No sense of humor,” he whispered in an aside to Derek.

  “What did you say, William?” the archangel asked.

  “I was wondering if you had made a decision regarding Sir Derek?”

  Michael frowned in thought, then said, “You may explain the assignment to him. The decision will be his. He may not want to undertake it.”

  Derek bowed in silence, inwardly seething, outwardly composed.

  “The situation with the Dark Angels is growing dire,” said William gravely. “They have resorted to using mankind to aid them in the battle to overthrow God and take over Heaven. It is a sad fact that some mortals choose to join the Dark Ones. This has been true since time began, but we were able to prevent the Dark Angels from gaining direct access to mankind. They had to work through intermediaries—humans who had fallen victim to their lies—and thus their task was more difficult.

  “Now, however, as you have heard, several of the most powerful Dark Angels were able to break out of Hell and enter Earth. They have direct access to humans and, we believe, they are plotting to plunge the world into chaos and bring all humanity to the brink of destruction. While we angels fight to save mankind, these powerful Dark Angels will take over Heaven and make slaves of the mortals on Earth. You have seen the lost souls of Hell, Sir Derek,” Angel William added sorrowfully. “You know what torment they endure. Think of all mankind suffering like that.”

  “The Fallen get nothing more than what they deserve, my lord,” said Derek harshly.

  “Some mortals are truly evil,” William agreed sadly. “And they deserve their punishment. But most mortals are merely weak and misguided. We never give up on anyone—as you yourself know, Sir Derek.”

  He made no response. He pretended not to understand what the angel meant. Instead, he asked bluntly what they meant to do.

  “Do you propose sending me to Earth to battle these Dark Angels?” Derek rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. Perhaps this assignment wouldn’t be as bad as he’d feared.

  Archangel Michael’s eyebrows shot up. He looked at William in alarm.

  “No, no, not that,” said Angel William hastily. “We do not want a heavenly war breaking out on Earth. Mankind has problems enough, as it is. We want you to collect information and bring it back to us. We know which humans are being targeted and we think we know why. We just don’t know what the Dark Angels plan. That is what you must find out.”

  “I am a warrior, not a spy,” Derek said, glowering.

  “Think of it as reconnaissance,” said William soothingly.

  “You could send any of the lesser angels on such a mission. Even a cherub such as Sampson,” Derek said disdainfully. “These humans you mention have their own guardian angels, as well. They can provide you with information. I do not understand why you chose me?”

  William and Michael exchanged glances.

  “You had better tell him,” said Michael.

  “Because there is an element of danger,” William admitted. “The angel guarding the human we want you to watch over has gone missing.”

  “Gone missing?” Derek repeated, shocked.
“How is that possible?”

  He knew, as did all of Heaven, that angels who accept the responsibility of guarding a human from birth to death are among the most loyal and dedicated of all angels.

  “We have reason to believe that the guardian was slain, Derek. By the Dark Angels. Their powers are strong on Earth. You must not underestimate them.”

  “My own powers are formidable,” said Derek proudly.

  Angel William gave a deprecating cough. “I am sure they are, Derek, but…um…you will be prohibited from using them. Mankind must never, never suspect that a crisis of this magnitude has developed. There would be panic. Humans might lose their faith in us. This mission must be handled with the utmost subtlety. As a Knight Templar, you were a monk as well as a warrior. You must become more like a monk now—patient and circumspect, quiet and careful.”

  Derek had been a monk, but he hadn’t been a very good one. Some vows had been easy for him to keep, such as vows of loyalty and courage. Vows of obedience were another matter.

  “Why do you not simply assign another guardian angel to this human?” he asked.

  “The archfiends would realize that we know about them,” Michael replied. “We want to lull them into complacency. That’s why you must maintain your distance, Derek.”

  Derek considered this a stupid plan; one that was placing the human at risk. He would have argued, but he caught the archangel’s stern eyes, reminding him it was not his place to question the wisdom of his superiors. Doubtless, they knew what they were about. They were the generals, overseeing the entire field of battle. He was but a simple soldier.

  “So if I go to Earth, I am to be human again?” Derek asked.

  “Yes,” said Angel William. “I hope that will not be a problem. We will do what we can to help you make the transition.”

  Derek was silent, thinking. He wasn’t sure if going back to human flesh and frailties would be a problem or not. So many centuries had passed since he’d left all that behind. He could scarcely remember what it meant to be human.

  He was still suspicious that this was yet another ploy of the angels to try to teach him a lesson. However, the Dark Angels had escaped Hell on his watch. He felt responsible.

  “I will do what you ask of me, my lords.”

  “Excellent.” Angel William was pleased. “The human female you’ve been assigned to watch—”

  “Human female?” Derek interrupted. He frowned. “Why would the Dark Ones target a human female? Of what importance could a mere female be to the side of Darkness? You must be mistaken. The fiends would certainly seek out a male human.”

  Archangel Michael lifted his eyes to Heaven. William seemed a bit flustered. He pretended he hadn’t heard the interruption and continued on.

  “The female’s name is Rachel Duncan. She is twenty-seven years old and she works in finance. We believe the Dark Angels have chosen her in order to try to disrupt the world financial situation.”

  “A woman involved in finance?” Derek asked incredulously. “How is this possible? Women are frail and fragile creatures. They lack the capacity to understand such complex matters.”

  “I told you so, William,” muttered Archangel Michael.

  “Yes, well…” William coughed again. “Times have changed since the fourteenth century, Derek.”

  “Obviously not for the better,” Derek stated. “If women are being permitted to enter into business dealings, no wonder the world is in chaos.”

  “I need to speak to you, William,” said the archangel. “Alone.”

  Derek bowed to his superiors and, turning on his heel, he left the chamber. The archangel shut the gate firmly behind him.

  Waiting again in the antechamber, Derek pondered his new assignment. He was to be made human again. And he was to be tasked with watching over a woman.

  He’d known very few women in his life. His mother had died giving birth to him and he had been raised by his father. He’d had his share of pleasure with women. Before he had taken his vows as a knight, many lovely ladies of the court had been pleased to welcome the handsome young man into their beds or coupled with him in the hay. He had thought himself in love at various times. There had been one woman in particular…But he had never married or been tempted to marry. War was his true mistress. Derek had joined the Knights Templar at the age of sixteen and he had died at the age of twenty-six. Fighting had left Derek little time for love-making. His love had been the battlefield, winning glory for himself and the knighthood.

  As for women, he considered most of them lovely, flighty creatures, given to whims and tantrums, scarcely reasonable. Much like children, they were unable to fix their minds on any serious matter, and so it was men who had to do their thinking for them. Derek decided that he would simply confront this Rachel Duncan as one would confront a child, ask her questions, and demand that she give him answers.

  This assignment was going to be quite simple, after all.

  Inside the chamber, the archangel was shaking his head. “I am having second thoughts about this, William.”

  “Sir Derek will, of course, have to be immersed in the ways of the twenty-first century,” said William.

  “Obviously,” returned Michael dryly. “Though I suspect there’s only so much you’re going to be able to do with him. You can take the boy out of the fourteenth century, but I’m not sure you can take the fourteen century out of the boy.”

  “He won’t be on Earth long,” William said. “And I will be there to keep an eye on him.”

  “Somehow that fails to comfort to me,” said Archangel Michael.

  “Perhaps this experience will finally open his heart to God,” said William.

  “Or perhaps we will lose him utterly,” said Michael grimly. “Derek de Molay has always walked the border between dark and light. This may cause him to cross over.”

  “I have faith,” said William, smiling.

  “A fine angel you’d be without it,” Michael retorted caustically.

  “Then I may proceed? I have your blessing?”

  “Yes,” said the archangel, adding with a deep sigh, “I have the feeling you’re going to need it.”

  “I’ll just go tell him,” said William, pleased. He walked out of Heaven and into the antechamber, leaving the gate open behind him.

  Michael, with a long-suffering sigh, summoned Sampson to close it. When the cherub was gone and he was alone, Michael went over the plans. He was sending to Earth on an important mission a benign, simple-souled angel whose halo was more than a little tarnished to watch over a rebellious knight known for his arrogance who already had one foot in the fire.

  Michael smiled broadly to himself. Matters were proceeding according to plan.

  Two

  Wait for it…Wait for it…

  Rachel watched as the ball dropped into the machine. She squeezed the aluminum bat between her fingers as she remembered to control her breathing and keep her eye on the ball. Leaning back into her stance, she steeled her body. The ball shot out of the pitching machine as if it had been shot out of a cannon and Rachel was ready.

  She stepped into the swing and smacked the baseball dead center.

  THWAK!

  That would have been a line drive, baby! No one could have caught that ball, she told herself.

  Funny thing was, Rachel didn’t even like baseball. She never went to see the Sox play. She could not get fired up over the Cubs. Her job had been unusually stressful lately, and she needed to blow off some steam. Stress was a part of the job at the Chicago Mercantile Exchange—the Merc for short—where a broker could make millions of dollars in seconds. Or that same broker could lose millions in the same amount of time. Be wiped out, lose everything—house, car, future, even your life. Some saw suicide as the only way out of disgrace and ruin. And it could all happen in the time it takes to sneeze.

  Brokers on the Merc handled the stress in different ways. Some went drinking after work, using the alcohol to sterilize their wounds. But the booze had t
he bad effect of pickling their brains. That’s how they lost their edge. And booze left you feeling out of control.

  Rachel couldn’t stand that. She prided herself on being in control of every facet of her life. Well, most of her life. The career part of her life. Her love life was a different story.

  THWAK! Another line drive, this one down the third base line.

  The Merc was an impressive building located in the heart of Chicago, Rachel spent most of her time in the upper echelons of the pits. The pits were just that: sunken arena-type rooms where men—and now women—either placed trades for large financial corporations or were the in de pen-dent traders, the maverick cowboys of the Exchange. Rachel was one of those who worked for a firm. She liked the relative security of her position. She made money for other people, receiving an excellent salary and hefty bonuses.

  There were no high-brow meetings and expense account lunches at the Merc. The pits were barely contained chaos, and only those with strong wills and stronger stomachs survived.

  Rachel had learned her lesson years ago. Being hung over at work cost you dearly. She’d lost her focus once, after a night drinking champagne cocktails (the Europe an kind, made with brandy and bitters) and she’d made a mistake. Those champagne cocktails had cost her firm a half million dollars and almost cost her the job. Rachel promised herself she’d never be hung over at the Merc again. So instead of champagne cocktails, she now goes to the batting cages when things got rough—and today things had been rough. She’d just lost a big client and, once again, come near to losing her job.

  Wait for it. Wait…

  THWACK. A dribbling grounder to the pitcher. She’d be out at first.

  The only reason Rachel hadn’t been fired was because she was one of the best on the floor of the Merc. She traded what was called the Paper. She filled orders for her firm and their biggest clients and she filled those orders faster and more accurately than most of her male counterparts. And she was endlessly ridiculed for it. Her “handle”—the letters that were displayed on her trader’s jacket—was RCHT, for Rachel T. Duncan. Of course all the boys on the floor called her Ratchet. She didn’t mind the nickname or the teasing. It made her a member of the boys club that was the Merc. She’d earned her moniker.