Warrior Angel

by Margaret

  At least, he thought, Zanus can’t get to her here. Talk about going where angels fear to tread. The pit might be the one place where even demons might think a second time before entering. Derek headed back to the apartment building.

  Rachel returned home again just after the market closed. She looked exhausted, but she held her head up, walked with her shoulders back. She came up to Derek, who had been loitering about the sidewalk, waiting for her.

  “I told Zanus I’m not going to make the trades for him,” she said and her voice was even, calm.

  “How did he take it?” Derek asked worriedly.

  “He was furious. He said he would tell Freeman. I told him not to bother. I’d tell Freeman myself tomorrow, turn myself over to the authorities.” Rachel grew pale, but she remained resolute. Her chin lifted. “I told Zanus he could rot in Hell.”

  Derek couldn’t help but think that Zanus had been rotting in Hell for quite sometime now and that this was just the next stop on his tour. He smiled at her. He was proud of her. She’d made the right decision.

  “Maybe you won’t have to turn yourself in,” he said. “Maybe something will happen—”

  Rachel shook her head and gave him a wan smile. “Thank you for all your help, Derek. I could never have found the strength to do this if it wasn’t for you.”

  He moved close to her, took hold of her hand. She looked up at him. Her lips part ed slightly. He bent near her. Suddenly, she snatched her hand away and turned and almost ran up the stairs, through the door, and into the building.

  Sighing deeply, Derek went to his apartment.

  Minutes later his phone rang. Hoping it was William with news, Derek grabbed it. He was astonished to hear Rachel’s voice.

  “Derek, something’s wrong!” she said frantically. “Sampson’s missing.”

  “Do not panic. He’s probably just hiding. You know what a brat he can be,” said Derek, trying to calm her.

  “No, he’s not! I looked everywhere! And when I came home my door was unlocked and slightly ajar. I swear I locked it this morning before I left. Did you take him for a walk today? Could you have left the door open?”

  “I shut it and locked it.” Derek was worried now. “Go look for him in the hall.”

  “In the hall? But why—”

  “In the hall,” Derek said firmly. “I’m coming up.”

  If her door was open, someone could be in her apartment right this moment. He didn’t want to scare her by telling her that, but he had to get her out of there. Not waiting for the elevator, he ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  Almost out of breath, he found Rachel standing outside her door, staring hopelessly up and down the empty hallway and calling Sampson’s name. She had changed out of her work clothes and thrown on jeans and a sweatshirt.

  “He’s not in the hall,” she said, as Derek brushed past her. “He’s not anywhere!”

  He went through her apartment, checking every closet, the laundry room, peering behind the couch and under the bed.

  “I looked everywhere for him,” Rachel continued, her voice rising in fear. “He wasn’t by the door when I came home. He’s always there. He’s not in this apartment, I tell you—”

  “And neither is anyone else,” said Derek.

  She stared at him, puzzled, then caught his meaning. “You don’t think that someone…that Zanus…but how could anyone get in without going past you? You would have seen them!”

  Derek shook his head. “service people are in and out of here all day. According to the logbook, some fellow was connecting the cable in Miss Simmons’s place. Another was fixing the dishwasher in forty-two.”

  “You think someone took him?” Rachel’s eyes filled with tears. “But why? He’s not a show cat, not valuable…”

  She stopped, stared at Derek. She put her hand to her mouth.

  “Oh, God!” she whispered, horror-struck. “I didn’t make those trades. I told Zanus to go to Hell. Oh, Derek, what if—”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions,” said Derek. “Maybe I did forget to lock the door and the wind blew it open. Come on. I will help you look for him. He is probably just out taking a stroll. We will find him. He cannot have gone far.”

  His reassuring words put some color back into Rachel’s cheeks. He wished he could reassure himself. An ordinary cat might have decided to take a stroll. A cat who was really a cherub given a duty to guard a human would not have left under any circumstances.

  Unless…

  Maybe Sampson had taken matters into his own hands—or paws, as the case may be. He’d asked Derek to take him with him this morning. Sampson was known to be scatterbrained and unreliable, although he’d done really well on this job. The cherub might have decided to do some investigating on his own. Derek hoped that was the answer.

  They hurried out of the building, searching up and down the sidewalk and out in the street, peering under bushes and beneath parked cars. No sign of an orange striped cat. Rachel and Derek both called Sampson’s name. There was no response.

  “If he wandered off, he might have gone to the park where we take our walks,” Derek suggested.

  “I guess that makes sense,” said Rachel, though her voice quivered. She brushed her straggling hair out of her face.

  “I will go look for him,” Derek offered. “You go upstairs and get some rest.”

  Rachel shook her head. “No, I couldn’t possibly sleep. I have to keep searching.”

  She started off toward the park. Derek had a growing sense of foreboding. Something was wrong. Sampson would have never abandoned his post. Derek had a terrible feeling he knew where to look. He went straight to the bench where he and the cat had often held their discussions. And there, underneath the bench lay Sampson’s body, covered in blood.

  Derek tried to block Rachel’s view, but she was too quick for him. She thrust him aside.

  “This can’t be him!” she cried. “It’s not him. It’s another cat! It has to be another cat.”

  She burst into tears.

  Derek looked down at the torn and bloody body. There was no doubt it was Sampson and he appeared to have been mauled by a vicious beast. Long claw marks raked his flesh. One ear was almost torn off, one eye slashed. Blood and saliva dribbled from a broken jaw. His tail was bent at an odd angle. One leg hung by a tendon. His fur matted with blood. Derek drew off his jacket and put it over the cat, wrapped him in it.

  Derek’s heart stuck in his throat, pain burned inside his chest. He had never thought he would say this, but he had come to like and admire the plucky little cherub.

  “Give him to me,” said Rachel. “Is he dead?”

  “No, but he’s hurt pretty badly,” said Derek.

  Derek picked up the limp body and handed him to Rachel.

  “We should take him to a vet!” she said feverishly. “There must be a vet around here somewhere. We should find a phone book—”

  “Rachel, wait. Look.” Derek didn’t want to show her what he’d found, but he didn’t have much choice.

  As he had picked up the cat, he caught sight of a piece of paper that had been lying under Sampson. There were three names on the paper, names written in black ink and drenched in blood.

  Kim…Beth…Lana.

  Rachel stared at the paper. Her face went deathly pale.

  “Oh, my God! If something happens to them, it will be my fault,” she whispered. “All my fault.”

  She began to rock back and forth, holding the injured cat in her arms. Tears streamed down her face.

  Derek saw the fear, the despair, the heartbreak in Rachel’s eyes, and he had never felt so helpless. He admitted to himself then that he loved her. He never wanted to see her in pain again. He never wanted to be without her, ever.

  Damn his orders! Damn William and damn Archangel Michael! Derek knelt beside Rachel. He gathered her and Sampson in his arms and held them both. Rachel leaned against him and wept. He glanced swiftly around the park to see if anyone was nearby. Not that i
t would matter if there was a rock concert going on. He would do what he had to do. Let the whole world see him.

  Let heaven see him.

  Gently he took Sampson, away from Rachel. “Go get some water for him,” he told her. “There’s a drinking fountain over there by the hot dog stand.”

  Rachel didn’t question him. She was too upset, too shaken. She couldn’t think clearly. She did as Derek asked, hurrying over to the drinking fountain. The man at the hot dog stand gave her cup and she filled it with a trembling hand.

  After she’d gone, Derek put his hands on Sampson’s body. Michael had forbidden him from using his angelic powers. Derek had obeyed those orders, even last night, when the demons were trying to kill him. He would have died obeying his orders. He wasn’t willing to let Sampson die. The cherub would not be a casualty of this war. Derek wouldn’t let that happen to his friend. He felt the power of Heaven flow through him, filling him with warmth. He sent that warmth into Sampson’s body.

  From inside the jacket came a muffled and indignant “meow!”

  “Shut up!” Derek said in a low voice. “You’re supposed to be hurt!”

  “But it was Zanus, Commander,” said Sampson, hissing the name in fury. “He did this to me!”

  “Yeah, I know. Calm down. Rachel’s coming back. And play along with me. You’re bound to get lots of treats out of this.”

  “You’re right, sir,” said Sampson. “I hadn’t thought of that.” The cat closed his eyes and gave a pitiful sounding whimper.

  “Derek?” said Rachel, and she sounded dazed.

  He looked up, saw her standing there, staring at him, her eyes wide. She held a half-empty cup. Water dripped from her hand.

  “Who are you?” she breathed.

  “Derek,” he said with an attempt at a smile. “You know that. Why?”

  She blinked at him, and looked confused. “I thought I saw…I had the strangest impression…Nothing. Never mind.” She shook her head.

  “I looked the cat over while you were gone,” said Derek. “I think he’s going to be all right. His injuries were mostly superficial.”

  Sampson gave another meow, this one pitiful sounding.

  “Superficial? He was almost dead—” Rachel thrust aside the jacket.

  The cat’s head emerged, green eyes blinking at the sunshine. His fur was covered with blood, and he looked very weak, but he managed to swipe at her hand with his tongue.

  “He’s okay,” said Rachel, amazed. “He doesn’t appear to be hurt much, after all. But…where did all this blood come from?”

  “Scalp wounds,” said Derek. “They bleed a lot.”

  Rachel dribbled some of the water into Sampson’s mouth. “I’m so glad he’s going to be okay!”

  She was silent a moment, petting the cat, who purred loudly, adding in a little cough now and then.

  “Zanus did this,” she said. “He hurt Sampson and left that…that horrible note. He’s going to hurt my friends if I don’t go along with him. How did he get into my apartment? You weren’t on duty today, were you?”

  Derek shook his head. He couldn’t be in two places at once and even if he had been on duty and not guarding her, he might not have been able to stop the archfiend, who could have entered her place any number of ways from changing himself into a spider and crawling in through the window to turning himself into a puff of smoke and gliding through the key hole.

  “I wish I had been there, but I don’t think it would have mattered,” said Derek. “He wouldn’t have come in the front anyway, Rachel. He would have found some other way inside.”

  “I guess you’re right.” Rachel sighed. “I don’t have any choice,” she said in despair. “I’m going to have to do what he wants. I don’t care what happens to me. I can’t let him hurt my friends.”

  “Do not let him win, Rachel,” said Derek. “Hold out. Be strong. I will talk to my people. They will do something to help. They have to do something!”

  He reached down to pet Sampson.

  Rachel gazed at Derek intently. “You really love him, don’t you?”

  Sampson winked at Derek.

  “I would not go that far,” said Derek gruffly. He reached out his hand to ruffle the cat’s ears. “But he’s a good cat. I am glad he is going to be all right.”

  “You have been sweet and kind to me and I’ve been a coward, leaving you at that club. I’m sorry.”

  She leaned near him, kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Derek.”

  She gathered the cat, still wrapped in Derek’s jacket, into her arms. Derek grabbed the note, crumpled it up, and tossed it in a trash can. His hand reached gingerly to touch his cheek—he could still feel the touch of her lips. He wished he could heal her pain, but he couldn’t. He could only watch over her and love her.

  But at least he had helped Sampson. He’d defied Heaven and Hell.

  He and Rachel walked back to the apartment in silence. Derek could almost see the shadows of dark wings closing in around her. He put his arm around, held her close as they walked. He had to talk to William, but first he would see to it that Rachel and Sampson made it safely home.

  “Do not let anyone inside,” he warned from the doorway of her apartment.

  “I’ll be safe enough,” said Rachel, with a wan smile. “Zanus won’t hurt me. He needs me.” Her lips quivered. “It’s my friends I’m worried about.”

  “He will not hurt them. He will have nothing to hold over you if he does,” said Derek. “And, like you said, Zanus needs you. I will go talk to my people.”

  When he left, Rachel’s mind was in turmoil, and, surprisingly, she wasn’t thinking about Zanus or the danger she was in. Her thoughts were on Derek.

  Sampson had been near death. Rachel had caught a glimpse of him before Derek had wrapped him in the jacket and the little body had been badly torn up, much worse than the few superficial scratches she was treating now.

  Sending her off for water had been a ruse. She’d known that. He wanted her to leave so she wouldn’t have to watch her cat die, at least that’s what she thought at the time. But when she was coming back, she had looked at Derek holding Sampson, and suddenly he wasn’t Derek. He was a radiant being, strong and powerful, clothed in white, bathed in a beautiful light that enveloped the dying cat. Then she blinked, the image vanished, and he was Derek again.

  “It’s lack of sleep,” she told Sampson, as she gave the cat a bath in the kitchen sink. “People start to hallucinate when they haven’t slept.”

  Sampson meowed and nudged her hand with his head, wanting her to pet him. She stroked his wet fur. Picking him up, she looked him in the green eyes.

  “Why is it I have the feeling you know things I don’t? I wish you could talk. I wish you could tell me what was going on with Derek. Who is he really?”

  Derek. Strong and powerful. She remembered thinking, when he was holding her in his arms, that she wanted to stay there forever, safe, protected. He loved her. She knew he loved her. And she was starting to think that she loved him.

  Too bad, she screwed it up. She screwed everything up.

  Rachel reached for the phone, hit the number on her speed dial.

  “Zanus,” she said quietly. “I’ll make those trades tomorrow.”

  “Good girl,” he said. “I knew you’d come around.”

  “I’ll bet you did,” she said, as she snapped the phone shut.

  Derek hastened to the Fullerton Street bridge to have a talk with William. Derek went over in his mind everything he was going to say. Big picture or no big picture, Heaven would have to act to protect not only Rachel but her friends, as well. He would insist on it. Either they would listen to him or he’d raise a ruckus that split Heaven wide open.

  But when he got there, William wasn’t around.

  “Have you seen my friend?” Derek asked one of the men who had been with William the night they had saved him from the demons.

  “The old dude with the hat? Yeah. Some guy came looking for him. Said
someone wanted to have a talk with him. Someone named…let me see…Michael. That was it.” The man shook his head. “The dude who came to get him seemed right put out. If you ask me, I think your friend William’s in all kinds of trouble.”

  Derek hung around the bridge until well after dark, but William never returned, and eventually, fearful of leaving Rachel alone and unguarded for too long, Derek went disconsolately back to his post.

  William was in trouble. And Derek had the feeling he knew why….

  Eighteen

  The next day was hell for Rachel.

  She had nursed a glimmer of hope during the night that Derek might be able to find a way to help her, but when she didn’t hear from him, her last hope was dashed. She knew what she had to do.

  Rachel couldn’t risk letting Zanus harm anyone else. She would make the trades and then she would live with the consequences. She should have known that Zanus was a fake. Perhaps some part of her knew all along. She’d felt used and manipulated the night she’d slept with him. She’d been stupid to fall for his flattery.

  “You can’t cheat an honest man.” That’s what the con artists always said.

  If she’d been honest, she would have never gone along with him in the first place. She’d known it was wrong, but she had let her driving ambition, and her single-minded focus on making money, blind her to the truth. Now she deserved whatever happened to her.

  She made the trades using the computer, remaining anonymous. That evening, as she was leaving, pandemonium erupted in the pit. Voices screeched and screamed; people pushed and shoved and fights broke out. The reporter for Bloomberg was shouting into his mike, trying to make himself heard. The president of the United States was said to be huddled with his advisers. The EU was in emergency session. The world was in crisis, hovering on the brink of a global economic disaster.

  Rachel thought she would feel consumed with guilt, but she didn’t feel anything. She was empty, drained.

  “Don’t pick me up tomorrow,” Rachel told her driver in a toneless voice when he dropped her off. “I won’t be going in to work.”