Guardian Angel

by Trebus, David

  “You just killed a Guardian before my eyes. Her name was Eila, she was one of the most devoted Guardians I've ever known, and now you expect me to treat with you?”

  Jasmine's anger built as she wheezed out the words. She'd been created into the Seraph choir. one of the highest. Chosen to be a Guardian as part of her training. In the future, she could have become an Archangel and served as one of Heavens commanders. Now, her choir's legacy burned within her as she stood before Garamond, the untapped power awakening.

  Jasmine felt new strength rush through her body. Her wings shone with blinding white light. Her armoured mended itself, even as new burning blade formed in her hand. Jasmine flew at Garamond with a quick beat of her wings. She swung her blade at his throat, ready to strike him down for Eila, for Michael, for herself.

  Garamond sighed and took a few quick steps towards Jasmine, meeting her mid lunge. He grabbed her haloed head, side stepping her out thrust blade, and smashed her into the floor. Jasmine felt like even with her newly awakened strength, she was still just a toddler swinging a wooden sword at a wall.

  “You really are determined to make this difficult, aren't you?” Garamond kicked Jasmine in the ribs. The blow sent her flying, to land next to Michael, and she coughed, struggling for breath.

  “Let me make this simple for you, She-Angel, before we run out of time." Garamond advanced towards Jasmine again, taking his time as he seemed to listen out for the sirens drawing closer.

  "You can leave your charge to the tender ministrations of the mortal doctors, who will be unable to help him. You can leave him to pass on and ascend, and you'll never see him again. You can leave his soul for me to consume, if I am able to catch it. Or I can save his life and heal him right now.”

  “You…lie…you …cant heal…him.” Jasmine pulled herself to her knees, struggling for strength.

  “Oh, but I can Jasmine. All you have to do is make a little deal with me, and I will heal your charge, your beloved.”

  Jasmine looked at Michael, tears running down her cheeks and desperation warring with common sense. She guessed that Garamond was luring her into a trap, but she didn’t want to lose Michael. Not now, not after all they had been through together.

  “What...do you want?” Jasmine asked.

  Garamond’s smile widened. “A simple little thing, dear Jasmine. I will heal your charge and leave him untouched here, if you willingly give yourself over to the darkness. If you willingly fall from grace.”

  The words hit Jasmine like a hammer blow. Falling from grace was one of the greatest fears of any angel, becoming a demon, losing oneself to base desire and evil. She almost refused immediately, but caught herself just in time. She looked down at her crumpled armour and injuries, then back at Michael. She was powerless. All her emotional suppression broke down, and all the guilt hit her at once: leaving her Charge, her forbidden love, her inability to help now.

  “Tick-tock Jasmine. Michael does not have long left. His life lies in your hands.

  So, what will it be?” Garamond knelt down next to Jasmine, and gave a cruel smile.

  She remembered her promises to Michael, to herself. She remembered her vow to protect him at any cost. “At any cost.” As the words replayed in her mind, Jasmine to turned face Garamond, looking directly into his eyes with all the doubt replaced by steely determination.

  “Help him, and I will willingly fall. Help him, and I will join you.”

  “All you had to do was ask.” Garamond stood up and brushed past Jasmine. He stood over Michael for agonising moments, watching as Michael’s breathing became fainter and fainter, savouring the seconds as the human's life ticked away. Finally, he began to recite some infernal hymn. The words sounded discordant, random like some kind of dire modern poetry.

  A red light formed over Michael and coalesced into a mist, that crept towards Michael’s body and enveloped it, slowly seeping into his skin. The piece of metal jutting from his stomach rusted and corroded, falling into a brown pile of powder. Michael’s wounded form reknitted itself and healed, as the infernal mist repaired the damage.

  Michael’s breathing eased, and Jasmine felt his life-force grow stronger as Garamond’s spell took hold. She turned away, feeling a chaotic maelstrom of emotion inside. She felt relieved and terrified at the same time, knowing what was to come. She scribbled a quick note on a piece of parchment she carried, using one of her own feathers and her own blood as ink. She quickly wrote out the note before Garamond could notice as he finished his spell.

  “It is done Jasmine, now it is time for your part of the bargain,” Garamond said. “Time for you to fall.”

  She looked at her charge, feeling elated that he would live, relieved that he would not miss out on all the joy that life could bring. But, she would have to pay the price now for the miracle of his life. She pressed her hand into his and kissed Michael’s forehead. She gently closed Michael’s hand around the scrap of parchment and stood up slowly.

  Jasmine turned to face Garamond, who held out his hand to her. She placed her trembling hand in his as he began to recite blasphemous words. All her emotional barriers were stripped away in an instant. The lust she felt for her charge, the thrill of rage at attacking Garamond, and the desire to destroy, they all flared up in her. All the sins buried deep in every being came rushing up within Jasmine’s soul. Her golden armour tarnished and fell away. Her burning blade spluttered and died on the floor of the train, melting into a dark patch of ooze. Her pure white wings turned jet black even as Jasmine’s vision was clouded in red. Before the change consumed her soul Jasmine managed three words as her original self. Casting one last longing look at her former charge “I love you…” Jasmine whispered.

  Chapter 9: Michael’s Choice

  Michael awoke again to an unfamiliar ceiling. Small cracks had formed in the pure- white plaster surrounding a single light hanging down from its cradle. Where was he? What had happened? Then the memories began to flood back and he instinctively looked around for Jasmine.

  She was nowhere to be seen, and he couldn’t even feel her presence. More than that: the part of him that used to feel their connection was dull and vacant. Like a bruise upon his soul, it left him unnerved and shaken. Tilting his head around, all Michael could see was a plain room with a single window. Perhaps he was in hospital again.

  Something was wrong? The injury to his abdomen had disappeared. There was no jutting piece of metal, not even a twinge of pain as he flexed his muscles and twisted in bed, only a small, star-shaped burn scar where the wound had been. His injuries were gone. But how?

  He sat himself up and swung his legs out of the bed. Standing, he found his footing firm and strong, and walked slowly over to the window. Maybe Jasmine was outside? But instead he saw nothing but a road. He un-bunched his fists, which he'd been subconsciously holding clamped shut, and a small piece of parchment slipped to the floor.

  Michael stooped down and grabbed it. He uncrumpled it and his heart leapt a beat as he read the flowing, red lettering.

  Dear Michael

  I don’t have much time left so I’ll keep this short.

  You're badly hurt, and I only have one way to help you.

  So I’m going to do what I have to, to keep you safe.

  I’m so sorry…sorry for everything. I hope you can forgive me.

  Know that I will always love you, and I pray you find happiness

  Jasmine

  Michael read the words, and it was as if he had been physically struck. He staggered back, to fetch up against the bed. Something bad had happened, and Jasmine had given up something important. He knew that she was gone, that he had lost her. The vacant feeling, the void in his soul, made sense now, and he buried his head in his hands and cried.

  Michael sat with his head in his hands, until a nurse came in to check up on him. She helped him into his bed, looking worried.

  “Mr Andrews. Michael are you ok? You’ve had quite a shock, I’m sure. Do you need anything?” She checked Mic
hael's pulse and looked him over.

  Michael simply shook his head, still wrapped up in the news of what had happened. He felt truly alone for the first time in his life.

  “Well, you’ve had quite a lucky escape, coming out of that accident with nary a bruise on you. I would say someone’s looking out for you, young man.” The nurse's smile was warm and kind, but did nothing to melt how Michael felt.

  “Not any more,” he muttered.

  The nurse gave Michael a funny look, ignoring the comment, and went about helping him get more comfortable. She fetched a small tray of food from outside, and set it by his bed.

  “Well," the nurse continued, " the doctors gave you a good looking over yesterday but decided to keep you in for observation, just to be safe. I was also told to tell you that you may get a visit from the police, just to take a statement about what happened.”

  “Right…thanks, I will keep that in mind,” Michael replied absent mindedly.

  The nurse nodded and smiled again. Under normal circumstances, Michael would have felt bad for being so rude, but in his current mood he just didn’t care. Maybe not about anything anymore. For the first time in his life he felt true despair for the future.

  “A young lady came in to ask about you earlier," said the nurse. Michael's hopes flamed, until she added. "She said her name was Claire. She seemed very worried; in fact she stayed downstairs in the waiting room all night when she was told she couldn’t see you yet. Is she your girlfriend? She's awfully pretty.”

  He was being stupid to think she meant Jasmine. After all, she couldn’t even see Guardians. He sighed and leaned back against his pillow.

  “She’s just a friend,” he said flatly.

  “Oh well, she's still downstairs if you want her to come up and see you.”

  “No it’s ok. You said I could go soon? Can I go now?” Michael picked himself up out of the bed.

  “Well, uh...I … yes, certainly, we could definitely use the bed. You just need to sign some discharge papers before you leave, and a doctor will come in to give you one last check over. I will get her to come in ASAP. Until then stay put.” The nurse headed towards the door..

  Michael nodded, pulling the food tray over and tentatively taking a few bites of a sandwich. He didn’t have any appetite but ate out of habit, washing down his few mouthfuls with some watery orange juice. He still wasn’t sure what to do; all he knew was that Jasmine was gone and he felt lost.

  The last few weeks since his accident had been a rollercoaster of strange events and new experiences. Everything had happened so fast, and even during the frightening moments, facing demons, learning about the supernatural, he had Jasmine by his side. They had grown close, very close…and in spite of the difficulties he had felt happy.

  Something felt wrong with the way things were ending. Michael couldn’t bring himself to accept that Jasmine had gone and he would have to return to a mundane life. He had to know what had happened to her, had to find out whether he could do anything.

  Michael clenched his fists in frustration, trying to kindle the small flame of determination inside. He refused to give up now, even when events seemed the worst they could possibly get. All his experiences, even the bad ones he had got through and come out winning. He wasn’t going to stop trying now.

  Michael dressed and waited patiently for the Doctor to come in. After a long wait, a young lady with a short blond guardian, came in and checked him over. She remarked on how miraculous his lack of injuries was and how lucky he had been, before giving him a clean bill of health and asking him to sign out at reception. Michael thanked her and left the room soon after, walked down the halls, determined to do something but unsure as to what.

  Worried Guardians hovered or stood next to their charges' beds, and a pang of envy struck before he could catch himself. These people were suffering, it wasn't right to feel this way. Michael fixed his sight dead ahead, trying to ignore everything but the lift at the end of the corridor.

  He reached his destination and pressed the call button impatiently. He didn’t have to wait long, and he stepped inside to come face to face with Claire, who gave him sharp slap. The door shut, sealing him in to face the wrath of his co-worker.

  “You’re up and about I see Michael.” Her face was pale and her voice level. “And you didn’t have the decency to let me know. I’ve been so worried about you, you bastard,” She added, colour flushing into her cheeks, her feelings showing.

  Michael was shocked, either from the slap or how much Claire cared about him. He stood dumbfounded for a moment, before Claire leaned in and hugged him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. “I’m so glad you're ok," she breathed into his ear. "When I heard about the accident, I didn’t know what to think.”

  A hospital orderly stood in the corner of the lift, smirking and shifting from foot to foot. Claire turned and gave him an accusing glance, before releasing Michael and standing a little step away from him in the lift.

  Jazen wasn't present with Claire, presumably he was on high, or else close by. Another unwelcome pang of envy struck Michael. The orderly’s Guardian gave Michael an odd look as she stood staring at him. Michael ignored her and focused his attentions on Claire.

  “I’m sorry, Claire. It’s just a lot has…” Michael was interrupted by the chiming of the lift reaching the ground floor. Claire ushered him out into the foyer and stood with her hand on his shoulder.

  “It’s OK, I was just mad at you for a moment, let’s go back to mine so we can talk if it’s ok with you?”

  Was it OK? He had to do something to find out about Jasmine, but what? He focused on Claire’s face, ignoring the people and their Guardians all around him. In her eyes he could see a glint of understanding. That look made up his mind; it was not as if he had anywhere better to go or any other plan.

  “Ok," he said.

  They left the hospital, pausing only to sign out of reception and Claire called them a cab. Michael turned round to glance at the hospital. Another hospital in another place. Michael silently thanked the staff and prayed he had seen the last of hospitals for a good long while. He was getting bored of waking up in them.

  ***

  Gabriel did not like to be kept waiting at the best of times, least of all, in times of crisis. Train accidents were usually insignificant in the comic design. However in this case had caused a disruption to the symphony. Gabriel had felt it even from the highest plane, a clash of noise that had shaken Heaven itself. The accident was clearly never meant to happen and had been caused by infernal designs.

  The thought made the righteous fire in Gabriel burn brighter, and his hand strayed to his belt, nearly manifesting his sword before he caught himself. Recent events had him worried. The Pit was clearly making a major play in the eternal game, and that mortal was a key component in it. What was worse was that his Guardian had fallen from grace, leaving the mortal undefended.

  How could an angel willingly choose to fall? He hadn't been able to comprehend it during the rebellion in Heaven, and he couldn’t now. Being corrupted through mortals sins, yes but even if Michael had died, he would have been elevated on High, to exist for eternity in peace. What had she been thinking?

  Gabriel’s Throne attendant stayed a cautious distance from the Archangel, feeling Gabriel’s mood through the notes playing in his spirit. Gabriel was a strong sound at the best of times, but now the music his soul played was like the climax to a dramatic piece, full of cymbal crashes and strong notes.

  Eventually, the great doors to the Metatron’s chamber swung wide. Metatron emerged and walked towards Gabriel, his wings fully manifest and spread out behind him. He'd clearly just finished his communion with the Almighty and come straight out to speak to Gabriel.

  “So." Gabriel bowed. "What news does the Voice of God bring from our father?”

  “Not news that you will like, I’m afraid old friend.” Metatron sighed, looking deflated.

  Gabriel frowned, waiting to hear what he had to say.
/>
  “We are not to interfere with the situation on Earth." Metatron's voice was full of authority. "Even though dark powers have moved against us and the symphony is under attack, we have no basis to alter the destiny of mortals. Hell may trifle with fate and attempt to counter free will, but we will not. The Eternal Symphony will continue as it has always continued." Metatron held up his hand to indicate he had not finished.

  “Michael's fate is in his own hands. It is up to him to decide what to do in his time of trials. However we are to prepare, should the symphony weaken or the Pit decide to attack."

  “His will be done, Metatron, although I hope for us this does not end badly."

  "Me too my friend, me too." Metatron replied tapping his chin. A small smirk formed on his face as he waved Gabriel goodbye. Gabriel ignored it, turning away to make preparations for a battle he felt was inevitable.

  "What is an angel at heart but a guide and messenger of God?" Gabriel heard Metatron say to himself before he shut the door behind him.

  ***

  Garamond had left Jasmine alone straight after they had entered the Pit. ‘Probably to report his pathetic little schemes,’ she mused waiting impatiently. A lost soul crawled and jabbered several paces from her. It was supposed to be bringing her a drink but it was making a big deal of it. Its limbs had been broken in several places, just as it had done to its victims during life, and a large plate had been attached to its back to act as a serving tray.

  Jasmine detested the lost soul. It seemed pathetic and weak. She sighed and cast her barbed lash over the lost soul to hasten its efforts. It cried in pain, but she just lashed it again until it moved faster. She grinned as the soul finally came close enough for her to stoop down and take a tarnished goblet from the tray. She waved the broken soul away dismissively as she took a sip.