Soul Taker's Redemption

by A. S. Hamilton

  One of the light-angels spread her wings, as if preparing to take off.

  The red dark-angel was swiftly coming into striking distance.

  The gold dark-angel's shadow swooped over the red dark-angel.

  The light-angel closest to the red dark-angel saw the shadow of her protector and turned, a look of apprehension marring the serene expression that had been on her face a moment earlier.

  The red dark-angel glanced back, saw he was about to be overcome, and swung his sword in a wide arc towards the light-angel.

  I've seen some fairly suspenseful things in my life. Once, when stopped at a roadside breath-testing unit, a semi-trailer jack-knifed. Seeing all that tonnage hurtling towards me, collecting cars like they were pebbles, had almost made my heart stop. Watching live footage on the news, with my dad, of a police stand-off where my mother was had kept us on the edge of our seats. Even the riot just now. But this, this easily blitzed everything.

  The gold dark-angel slammed into his opponent.

  But not in time.

  The sword sliced through the light-angel's abdomen. A strange, almost translucent, gold-coloured blood spread swiftly from the laceration. The two dark-angels slid sideways with the momentum of the gold dark-angel's charge. As they came to a stop, the gold dark-angel hauled him back, changed grip so he could lift him up, and then, twisting slightly sideways, slammed him into the ice so hard a massive crack resounded throughout the rink.

  The sound brought heads up and several officers and bystanders rushed towards the nearest opening onto the rink. One of the officers got there ahead of everyone else and directed them not to go out on the ice. Another officer worked his way to the front of the group and the two of them approached the cracked ice.

  The red dark-angel looked stunned or unconscious. He'd rolled onto his stomach, his wings outspread, partially concealing his prone form. The gold dark-angel was breathing hard, his expression as dark and shadowed as a storm front. He straightened up, turned, and then drove his foot down on one of the red dark-angel's wings.

  The wounded light-angel had crumpled to her knees, head bowed, cradling her injury. Her companions, having both turned, stood frozen in shock as they looked upon her.

  The police officers stopped at what they considered a safe distance from the cracked ice and were looking up, probably expecting that something had fallen. They scanned the broken ice and murmured to each other in bewildered tones. I knew from experience that they could not see the angels; to them the ice just mysteriously cracked. The angels seemed equally oblivious of them as the officers inspected the area and discussed possible causes. Meanwhile, the gold dark-angel approached the fallen light-angel. Dropping to one knee, he seemed to prefer to examine her injuries without touching her; his hands came close, but never actually made contact.

  She shrank from him, murmuring in a soft song.

  He responded in a low tone, but I couldn't understand the words.

  Whatever he said distressed the light-angel, fear and horror filling her expression. The gold dark-angel gestured impatiently towards the mists that still hung obediently in the air awaiting further command. The male light-angel had knelt by her while their female companion warily watched the red dark-angel, but at the gold dark-angel's words the male and injured female looked back at the mists. The standing female never took her gaze off the red dark-angel but murmured something to cause the gold dark-angel to glance behind him at his downed opponent. He frowned and said something to the injured one, his manner more forceful, his expression full of impatience. The injured female shook her head, whispering a response. Heaving out a frustrated breath, the gold dark-angel growled a curt reply and then closed his eyes. A startled, fearful look came over the light-angel, but she stilled as a gold mist shimmered around the gold dark-angel and then moved to encompass her. A look of absolute anguish came into those beautiful, silver eyes and then she, too, closed her eyes. Resignation settled over her like a heavy weight.

  I realised, then, that he was healing her, but she did not want him to. Not because she didn't need it, but because it was him doing it. His reluctance to touch her must be because he knew how she felt. When the male light-angel had placed his hand on her shoulder, she had not flinched or withdrawn, so it was the dark one that upset her. Perhaps it was because he wasn't like them. Despite his gold colouring distinguishing him from the other dark-angel, and his help, he was not welcomed by the light-angels. Yet, when they had first arrived, I was almost certain they'd expected his intervention. Some sort of alliance must be between them, but not an easy one.

  The healing took only a moment and then the gold dark-angel rose, cast a long look back at the still form of the red dark-angel and a shorter one at the police officers, then back to the light-angels and the mists. With a gentleness I did not expect, he lifted the injured angel, arranging her wings so they were not in the way and then passed her to the male, murmuring something with finality. The standing female nodded and said something in her soft, sing-song voice to the male, who seemed to agree. Placing a hand on the injured angel, the female said something more, but received a silent shiver in response. This prompted the female to say something more to the male, which impelled him to spread his wings and take off. He seemed to fly into another... space, I'd guess you'd call it. He just disappeared, no pool of shimmering this time. The last light-angel said something else to the gold dark-angel and then turned to the three clouds of mist. Spreading her wings, she encircled them all, and then she, too, took off to disappear a moment later, as if behind an invisible curtain hung horizontally across the ceiling.

  I was so focused on the interchange between them, I didn't see the red dark-angel get to his feet or retrieve his sword. Although the exchange seemed to take several minutes, in reality, only seconds passed, so I was surprised at how quickly the red dark-angel recovered. He stretched his wings out; either the strike the gold dark-angel delivered had not been too severe or he had some kind of ability to heal himself. He let out a piercing shriek that echoed throughout the stadium. I felt myself suddenly, and painfully, seize up.

  The gold dark-angel had half turned and then in shuddering jolts ceased to move. The red dark-angel snarled something at him and stalked towards the two police officers still standing on the ice. I could not move my head, but they were just within my field of vision and I could see that they were also frozen in place.

  Somehow, I knew that the red dark-angel was going to kill at least one of them. I struggled to move. I have no idea what I intended to do; I had no weapons. I was a deer to a dragon in comparison to the strength and size of the red dark-angel, but I couldn't just stand and watch.

  The red dark-angel raised his sword as he closed the distance between them.

  No, no, no, no… I wanted to say it. I wanted to do something to distract the red dark-angel from his course, but my body would not obey.

  The gold dark-angel shuddered then and, with what impressed me as an immense effort, started to move. He raised his head and emitted a shriek similar to the one the red dark-angel had used to freeze everybody. Just when it seemed like I might get movement back, my body jolted and stiffened again. I managed to move my head enough that I could fully see the red dark-angel and the two officers. This time the red dark-angel had frozen too, his sword inches from the heart of his victim, his arm drawn back as if he was about to drive it home. The shriek must be a defence mechanism allowing them to temporarily paralyse each other.

  The gold dark-angel stalked into view, one of his twin blades drawn. From behind, he side-stepped past the red dark-angel's wing and wrapped one arm about his chest as he positioned the other in a move to bring the short sword's blade across his opponent's throat.

  With shuddering movements, the red dark-angel started to struggle and then wrenched himself free. Instead of the blade going across his throat, it sliced along his chest, leaving a streak of this peculiar metallic, red-violet blood. Sneering, the red dark-angel backed up before launching into the
air. When the shadows of his wings dissipated, he was gone, leaving the gold dark-angel just standing there, chest heaving, fuming at the outcome of events, I guessed, from the look on his face.

  Suddenly, I found his gold eyes meeting mine. It was almost as if there was a galaxy eddying about the narrow, obsidian pupils. His eyes had a very cat-like slant to them. It suited his narrow, almost feline face, but it was more human than I make it sound. His face was what I'd describe as intelligent. He was, I decided, a perilously beautiful being. As I said before, there was something about him, some sort of vibe that made me want to go closer…

  He seemed to be examining me just as intently as I was him. Then, a very unpleasant series of electric shocks jolted through me and I could move again. As could everyone else. The two officers started making their way off the ice and the attention of those in the area returned to their tasks.

  That's when I realised that the dark-angel had not left. In fact, he was approaching me. He was frowning slightly, as if perplexed by something. I found it remarkable that I wasn't afraid. He looked like someone any person with a drop of common sense would have a healthy fear of, but he was more interesting than frightening to me. As he came closer, I could see his eyes more clearly— they were mesmerising. His irises seemed like they held miniature galaxies as diamond-like stars swirled in their gold mists.

  He stopped barely a metre away. I wanted to say something, ask an intelligent question or make a meaningful observation, but my mind was blank. As I'd noted before, he was beautiful. Not like a male model or rock star, it was something more. He had this invisible, but perceptible, feeling of substantial power that was barely harnessed.

  'You can see me.' The statement was made in a mellifluous, low song of a voice.

  I wanted to immerse myself in that voice, listen to it forever. Perhaps this was part of his magical nature, he was an angel, after all. Instead, I said, 'I've always been able to see you. The angels, that is.'

  His mouth moved into a brief smile before shifting back to its normal solemn expression. 'I am no angel.'

  'But you help them.'

  He thought on that, then said, 'Yes, I guess from your perspective I could be grouped with the light-dancers, for I am aligned with them.'

  Light-dancers. I liked that.

  'If the angels are light-dancers, what are you?' I paused, considering the shadows that misted about him; the swirls almost seemed like they were trying to embrace him. 'A shadow dancer?' I suggested.

  'A soul taker, they call me.' Again, the deadpan seriousness.

  That sounded scary. No, scratch scary, terrifying. But I wasn't terrified. I felt... I felt safe.

  'Why can I see you, but the others can't?' I asked, half turning and gesturing to the people behind us.

  'Only certain spirits can see our kind.'

  'You mean, none of these people can see you? I must look like I've lost the plot.'

  'Lost the plot?'

  'Like I'm crazy. You know, because to them it looks like I'm talking to myself or some imagined person. If they notice, they'll think I'm not mentally stable.'

  'Ah, fear not, they cannot see you conversing with me. Beings of my nature are able to conceal our interaction with those humans who can see us or those who we allow to see us. All they see is you standing near the rink looking out over the ice.'

  Oh, well, that didn't sound too bad. 'So, some spirits, like mine, can see you, but people who can't naturally see you, you somehow 'allow' them to see you?'

  'Yes. You are a yulari spirit. An exceptionally pure one from the scent of you. My master would say you have true-sight. Not all yulari have that, but the old ones, like you, develop it. It is the spirit's way of protecting itself, although the vessel is often unaware of that part.'

  I was a what? I frowned. 'What exactly is a,' I paused, making sure I mimicked his pronunciation properly, 'yule-ar-ree spirit?'

  'It is an earth-bound spirit. I regret that you were affected by our shriek, I am told it is a very disturbing and sometimes traumatising experience for most people, though most humans retain no conscious memory of it. A spirit such as yours, as I understand it from my master, would be doubly affected, though.'

  Shriek? Oh, yeah, that scream that paralysed everyone. 'I wouldn't say it was quite that bad. I mean, the electric shocks were very unpleasant, but I wouldn't go so far as to say it was traumatising.'

  That made him frown again, this time more deeply. 'The vision did not terrify you?'

  'What vision? You mean, like a hallucination type of vision?'

  He stepped closer as he said, 'The shriek not only induces paralysis. It causes those who hear it to experience a vision that draws on their deepest fears and immerses them in it so completely it is what one human described to me as a living hell. My former master, Ceri-talen, told me it was a way of both demonstrating his supremacy to his enemies and leaving them with reminder of just how far his power could reach.'

  'Hmm. I didn't see anything like that. Just you and the other dark-angel fighting. But, as you said, Seri-ta-lyn—' I paused, looking at the dark-angel to see if I'd pronounced the name correctly. He gave me a half nod, as if to say close enough, and I continued. '—only intended for his enemies to see this vision, so I hardly count.'

  His eyes narrowed. 'To my knowledge, none are spared, but I see that you speak truly.' He sounded stunned.

  'You mean, everyone here, they saw a vision while they were frozen?'

  'Yes.'

  'But they won't remember it.'

  'Not consciously, they will experience nightmares for a short time, but they will not realise the source of them.'

  I looked around to see if my mother was nearby. Thankfully, she didn't seem to be in the area.

  'I wonder what that means,' I said more to myself than the dark-angel. He gave me a questioning look. 'I wonder what it means that I didn't see anything. Not that I'm ungrateful, it sounds horrifying, but—'

  He looked up abruptly, causing me to look up, too, but there was nothing above us.

  'I have to leave.' He started pacing backwards. 'Farewell, Jayden Emerline Thaneton.' He turned, spreading his gold-threaded, black wings wide. He looked back over his shoulder at me. 'I will remember this encounter.'

  I did a double take as I realised— he knew my name! I was pretty sure I hadn't told him my name… had I? Just as he was flexing his wings to take off, I asked, 'How do you know my name?'

  I didn't get a response though, as he'd already launched himself.

  'And, more importantly, what's yours?' I murmured as he disappeared behind that curtain of invisibility.

  Therion. The name sounded in my mind like it was one of my own thoughts, but it was in the voice of the dark-angel.

  'Therion,' I said the name thoughtfully. I was certain I wouldn't forget him, either.

  Had I not known myself better, I would have put it all down to my imagination. It always amazes me that the angels are able to enter our world and interact with it so solidly, as demonstrated by the large cracks in the ice, and yet remain unseen by the greater population. Therion had said I was a yulari spirit and, because of that, I could see the angels. Despite having seen angels, I'd never really placed faith in any kind of Christian or Catholic form of god. It struck me as strange, but it was a point I decided I would consider later, when I'd had more time to process everything that had happened.

  From the corner of my eye, I spotted my mother as she came in from the exit nearest me. She spent a minute looking for me and then made her way over. My mother and I both have blonde hair and light-blue eyes, although her hair has darkened with age, looking more gold with some grey creeping in on either side, while mine is what they call platinum blonde. She keeps her hair short, but it suits her high cheekbones and oval face. At a hundred and seventy centimetres tall, most women consider her fortunate to be above average height, but she's often said she'd like to be taller, even though she was taller than my dad. I guess, in her line of work, I can understand her
desire. Mind you, I can't complain. I'm ten centimetres taller than Mum and I often get flak for being too tall. Not that it dissuades me from wearing platform boots with thick heels. Mum spends a lot of time in the garden now-a-days, so she has a healthy-looking, natural tan. My pasty, white hide never gets out long enough to get any sun. Despite being in her early fifties, Mum's very trim, but between the martial arts training, jogging, and gardening, that's no surprise.

  Mum moved quickly towards me, dodging people and debris, and when she got within speaking distance she said, 'I'm almost ready. I just need to check in with the guys running the show and then we can go. Do you want to get the car? We'll go for a drink.'

  Technically, when Mum said 'drink', she meant coffee. Well, for me at least, as I don't drink. Not for any moral or ideological reason, I just don't like the taste and I don't need it to have fun. Coffee is a whole other story. Mum's expression told me she thought I looked like I needed it and she was right; the familiarity of the ritual and the company would be comforting.

  I gave her a weak smile. 'Sure. Sounds good.' I held up the bags I'd collected earlier. 'I'll leave these with the guy at the door and meet you out front.'

  Mum held out her hand. 'I'll take care of it.' I must have looked worse than I thought because she slung an arm about my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. 'You up to driving?'

  I snorted. 'I'm always up to driving.'

  Mum chuckled. 'Well, you haven't had a speeding fine in a while, so I have grounds to doubt that.'

  'Alyssa and I go to the racetrack on racing weekends,' I said, mentioning one of my closest friends. 'Get it out of our systems, like you suggested,'

  I got an encouraging smile. 'Alright, I'll meet you in a few. I told the guys out front you'd be driving around to pick me up and gave them your licence plate number, so they'll let you through.'

  It took three tries to dig my keys out of my pocket and I realised I was trembling. Not with fear, I think it was more a result of the adrenalin that must have flooded my system while watching the angels interact. I stopped for a moment and made myself take a deep breath. The trembling almost immediately stopped, and I felt some satisfaction at my success. Regardless, between the riot and then the angels fighting, I could definitely do with that coffee.