They were nothing but toys, objects. Marina thought them to be useless, and she wanted to see them suffer. Even though Siles felt a twang of jealousy towards Braum, he knew that Marina didn’t care for him. But could he say the same about himself? Don’t hurt her, Siles wanted to say to Marina. But… why?
Marina’s boastful voice plagued his thoughts the entire walk. We have all of hell! My love, we have it all…
How naïve of her to think of hell as paradise.
Siles didn’t understand her sudden switch, her unquenchable thirst for blood and power. Braum’s father came to mind. How could she take a human life? One that had nothing to do with the mission? Whether he had been the worst man, the best, or in between, Siles didn’t believe that it was her place to take away the gift of living… when he himself never even got the chance.
In 1914, Siles was a soldier in the first world war, fighting alongside the Germans. He grew up in a small town just outside Berlin, and was conscripted into war when he turned twenty. He didn’t know any better, just that he was fighting front line for his country. He wanted to see the world, buy his mother a nice country home in Glasgow, marry a beautiful woman – he wanted to live.
Siles witnessed death and destruction with every turn in battle. He watched the older fall, and the young, younger than he, killed violently. Then one day, a fellow comrade, just short of seventeen approached Siles: Karl Ryker.
Amidst all the smoke and ash, Karl and Siles became the best of friends. They fought side by side, they spilt beer and blood, and amidst all of the chaos, they lived. Until… they didn’t.
In a morning mission, Karl, Siles and three other soldiers patrolled the trenches at their camp when a suicide bomber ran through. Siles survived, but Karl, wide eyed and spry, no longer spoke; no longer moved, or breathed, or blinked.
In a mass of rage, Siles demanded vengeance, stomping into the commanding officer’s tent.
“I have just the job for you.” The officer said.
Siles was tasked to infiltrate an enemy camp, alongside Hanz, a nineteen-year-old soldier. It was a suicide mission, one meant for the careless, but he left on a whim.
“Kill the General’s son. Take what is most valuable to him and eliminate the threat, whatever it takes.” The officer’s voice echoed in Siles’ mind the entire trip. Day and night, day and night, Siles and his comrade trudged through the muddy terrain.
In the near distance, they spotted a bevy of white tents, awnings and canopies, hidden beneath a hill.
“This is it,” Siles pointed to a small, beige tent, isolated from the rest of the enemy camp. “Let us finish this.”
The camp was entirely silent, a perfect opportunity for Siles to strike, to take out his vengeance and avenge his dear friend, Karl. If the General could take away someone he cared for, what was stopping him from doing the same?
Only Siles didn’t know then what was at stake for his soul, and when he found out, he didn’t know if he could fulfill his mission.
A young boy, doe eyed and spry, lay nestled under a white sheet atop a cot. He wrapped his chubby fingers around a small brown bear, sleeping soundly.
“Is this – Is this him?” Siles was unable to move a muscle. “The General’s son?”
Hanz nodded, showing no emotion.
“He… he cannot be more than eleven. He will inflict no harm.”
Siles didn’t expect the General’s son to be a child, barely a teenage boy. In his heart, he found it easier to kill a man who endured a list of suffering… a man whose heart was already tainted with sin. But this boy, he had not lived even a sliver of his life yet. He had no true understanding of what was happening, of the darkness in the world.
“Children are forbidden in camps. What is he doing here?” Siles demanded, his voice strained and quiet.
Hanz chewed on a cornflower stem, spitting it out before responding. “Spies say the boy followed the General. Mum’s dead, no siblings, no caretakers… No loss.” He smirked.
He was following his father. “We cannot –”
His comrade interrupted his concern, nudging him towards the child. “Ay! What are you waiting for? Just, kill the boy.” Hanz spoke through hushed breaths.
Siles stood frozen. “He is a child, this is inhumane.”
“And he’ll turn out like the rest of ‘em.” Hanz shoved him aside, drawing his blade. “Coward.” He spat.
Hanz tiptoed to the child and knelt down, getting ready to strike. A dimly lit lantern sat by the cot, illuminating the young boy’s features. A youthful, rounded face, light brown hair. He inhaled a breath, and exhaled contently, pulling his teddy bear closer to his body.
Siles couldn’t watch this happen, he couldn’t take the life of an innocent boy. No matter the vengeance, he knew he would avenge Karl in another way, somehow, not now. In one quick movement, Siles took out his whistle and blew hard, alerting the enemy camp that there was an intruder. He ran out of the tent and hid behind a distant boulder, watching the enemies pull out his comrade, Hanz.
With flailing arms, Hanz was dragged through the mud, forced to his knees. The enemies tied his wrists together, beating him with wooden bats.
Siles watched his bloodied body, bruised and broken by the enemies… the enemies who killed Karl. Then one of them pulled out a rifle, pressing it against the back of Hanz’s head.
A shrill scream.
“Coward!”
The booming echo of a gunshot.
Silence.
◆◆◆
Siles slugged back to his camp, the burden of his betrayal weighing heavy on his shoulders. He thought he’d made the right decision about sparing the boy’s life, until his comrades lifeless corpse, stared back at him with taunting eyes even after his death… Coward!
The commanding officer found Siles at the camp entrance, hurrying to speak with him. His brute structure stomped to face him, cementing his shoes into the soil.
“Siles.” He addressed. “Did you eliminate the threat? Did you kill the boy?” He furrowed his brows. “Where is Hanz?”
Siles collapsed to his knees, defeated, weak and somber. “Dead, sir. I couldn’t –” Siles sniffed. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t… I failed, sir.”
The commanding officer held no sign of empathy. He signalled for his guard, who handed him a black baton and a pistol. The hot sun beamed down on to Siles, burning his skin. In one quick movement, the officer whipped his face with the baton and aimed the pistol at Siles.
Siles was on the ground, looking up at the hazy silhouette of his commanding officer. For a second, the officer’s features blurred to Karl’s kind, green eyes. Only his words were different; his words were harsh, cold, evil.
The pain was instant, ephemeral.
Death was faster.
The echoed words of the commanding officer lingered, melting together with the cruel cries of Hanz’s last breath.
“I have no use for a coward…”
◆◆◆
“What’s on your mind, baby?” Mags asked, poking Siles’ side.
Siles swallowed hard, shaking off the flashbacks of his past and smiled shyly. “Nothing that concerns you.”
Mags stopped in her tracks, pulling him to a halt. His eyes met her blue, crystalline stare. Her blonde hair glistened in the moonlight, her cheekbones high and defined. She is kind of beautiful.
She put her hands on her hips, smiling kindly. “Don’t be afraid to show your heart to me, Siles. I’ve practically given mine to you.”
She pulled him into a warm embrace, burying her face into his chest. He was hesitant, for a moment, then softened at her touch. I’ve practically given mine to you, her words banged against his skull.
Because I’ve taken it… and you don’t even have a clue.
He pushed aside the taunting voices, the thoughts that raised him to be a warrior of hell, his place as an incubus, and he hugged her tightly, savouring the moment of warmth – a warmth immeasurably different from Marina.
Cha
pter 25
Kleaton’s Gate, Present Night
I sent Tommy off when I was confident that he was mentally capable of driving home. He was frantic for another half an hour, recounting everything that happened between him, Braum and Ky. Though his demeanour drastically changed when he talked about Braum’s new girlfriend, Marina, whoever she was. I didn’t know what to think or how to feel. His disturbed state sent shivers down my spine; I’d never seen Tommy like that before… Or anyone for that matter.
Everything he’d said reminded me of Mags and how she changed within days. All of the parallels lined up in a similar order… uncannily similar.
I shut the door behind me and inhaled a deep breath from the inside of my house. “Finally some fresh air.” Unlike the air I’d been breathing for the past hour.
I found my dad in his study, nose deep in paperwork. “How’d it go?” he asked.
I leaned against the doorframe. “Manageable.” I chuckled. “I’m going to head to bed, night Dad.”
“Goodnight kiddo.”
I dragged myself up the stairs and slumped down on my mattress, pulling the sheets over my head. A bevy of goosebumps remained on my skin, painting my flesh with unsettling discomfort. I forced myself to close my eyes and drown out the noise nagging in my brain. But it was no use.
I tossed and turned, stretching into every position to make myself comfortable, but I couldn’t. Tommy’s words ate away at me, and I couldn’t prevent my wandering thoughts from thinking about Mags… and Beau.
I blindly pulled open my bedside table and reached for my mother’s cross. It always helped calm me down when I had a lot on my mind, and boy did I ever need a sense of relief right about now.
But my fingers only found empty space. Where is it? I never move it. I struggled to reach deeper into my drawer, and finally caught hold of the chain. There you are. Only, my mother’s cross was tangled in something, something… soft.
I used one hand to assist me upwards, checking what the necklace was attached to… and I stopped immediately.
My body fell entirely numb. The tingly sensation of my heightened senses scaled its way to the top of my skin. All I could hear were the turbulent beats of my heart, banging in my ears. Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub…
Entangled in the chain of my mother’s necklace was the white feather that Beau had given me. Gabriel’s feather.
A panic frenzy infiltrated my being, controlling my movements. Without thinking, I grabbed hold of the cross, feather and car keys, shutting the door behind me. The cool night surrounded me in still blackness as I leapt into my Honda and pressed on the gas. My mind was manic, my thoughts racing a mile a minute and before I knew it, I was heading in the direction of Glass Hill Condos.
◆◆◆
Beau wore a black t-shirt and light grey sweats. Dark scruff lined his jaw and heavy purple bags hung under his eyes. I swallowed hard, feeling a multitude of butterflies dance around in my stomach. I hadn’t seen Beau in so long, it almost didn’t feel real; his mystifying grey eyes, his midnight hair, those rosy lips… Get a grip Maya, you’re here for a reason. As tortuous as it was for me, there was something bigger happening here, something I didn’t understand… Something I hoped he could explain.
My gruesome nightmares kept me awake at night, plaguing my dreams. And when I finally had fallen asleep, faint chants of my name whispered through the air. Maya… Maya… over and over. I didn’t know what it was at the time, I still don’t, but all the signs began pointing to the unbelievable… Everything Beau had told me.
I’m not crazy, I’m not crazy. Beau is! I forced my mind to believe this, anything but that implausible fiction tale Beau wanted me to believe. So, I placed the white feather he had given me in an old jewelry box and buried it under a stack of blankets. It can’t be that, it’s impossible. But… it had to be.
Every night that I woke up, the chants sang from the direction of the jewelry box. I just wanted it to end; I felt like I was going insane. I thought about it, holding the feather and praying to Gabriel… as crazy as that sounded. Why am I thinking about this? This can’t be real!
And then tonight happened.
Tommy came to me, overwrought with fear. It’s like Marina’s controlling Braum. He’s not himself… Tommy’s words sprayed my mind. Beau had told me that Siles was a demon, an incubus that controlled Mags. Either I was giving in to my insanity, or maybe… Maybe Beau was telling the truth. And then his feather, Gabriel’s feather… It – It was all impossible. It was locked in the corner of my room, untouched for weeks. Then all of a sudden, it was entangled in my mother’s cross. My mother… who Beau protected.
Beau’s expression was inscrutable. He looked surprised; whether contented or disappointed, it was hard to tell.
“Can I come in?” I asked, softly. My heart raced.
He pushed the door open and stepped to the side, allowing me to enter before shutting it behind me.
His apartment was cold and reeked of alcohol. Empty bottles lined the top of his kitchen counter and stacks of plates flooded the sink. The shards of glass I had seen weeks ago were still pushed into the corner, a scattered mess.
The hazy memories of my last visit resurfaced in my brain; pulling myself out of the apartment after Beau had told me I was the saviour of a holy war between Heaven and hell, leaving his side for so long but now… now, I was back to square one.
I bit down hard on my bottom lip forcing myself to turn around and look at him. He was sitting on one of the barstools, peering down at the floor. His dark hair swooped down over his forehead, shading his eyes. I couldn’t help but stare, stare at the man I thought I knew, but clearly not at all. I wanted to pity him, pity him for being insane and creating a fantasy narrative out of this reality but I couldn’t – I couldn’t because every part of me felt his honesty.
I cleared my throat, inhaling a heavy breath. “Beau –”
“I’m sorry, Maya.” He mumbled, cutting me off. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
My feet carried me to his direction. I positioned myself in between his legs, inhaling the scent of pine and whisky radiating off of him. He looked defeated, his shoulders hung low. Glancing around the room, observing the messy chaos he’d been living in since I last saw him seemed to be punishment enough.
I placed a gentle hand on his arm, feeling the electrocuting warmth of his skin. “I needed…” I paused, swallowing hard. “I needed time.”
He finally looked up, his grey eyes piercing into mine with intensity. “I know.”
I stepped back, digging my nails into the crease of my palm. “I’m ready to talk, if you are,” I released.
He nodded and led me to the bedroom, where I had once been a month ago… when Mags poisoned me. I took a seat at the edge of the mattress and he sat beside me, twirling his fingers.
I didn’t know how to begin. I didn’t even know what I wanted to say. I had made an elaborate plan of attack on the drive here, but now he was in front of me, looking so… helpless. You can do this, Maya. Just talk to him.
I took a deep breath. “I still think this is nuts.”
He chuckled softly, his head aimed downwards. “I would too.”
“But… I don’t know why I believe it,” I whispered.
He darted to me with wide eyes. “You do?”
My hands shook as I pulled out the feather from my sweater pocket. I held it in front of me and examined its opulence. Both sides twinkled like stardust, shining with light. It didn’t feel or look like a cheap Halloween prop or a dollar store toy; it looked… real. Everything about it was irrefutably mesmerizing, beautiful. The longer I stared, the harder it was to look away.
It’s so white… like pearls and snow and… Maya… Maya…
“Maya!” Beau shook me. “Hey, hey.” He placed his hand over mine, rubbing my thumb gently.
What the… What… I shut my eyes and shivered, my head feeling woozy. “What was that? What happened?”
“Gabriel’s feather. It’s fueled w
ith grace.” Beau responded, calmly.
I trembled, blocking out my surfacing thoughts of panic. I needed to know the truth, I needed to know everything. If this was all real, and I really was the Puritas, then I was the key to something bigger than all of us. I need to know.
I tentatively wrapped my fingers around Beau’s, eying him carefully. “Can you do this with me?” I gripped the feather with my other hand. “I don’t… I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
Beau gritted his teeth and nodded slowly, taking the feather from my left hand and putting it into my right. He interlocked both of our fingers with the feather in the middle.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
I have to be. “Yes.”
“Close your eyes.” He paused. “Repeat this, Maya: To the archangel Gabriel, I pray.”
I shut my eyes, allowing the encompassing darkness to blanket my vision. Gripping the bedsheet behind me, I concentrated on the soft cotton underneath my fingertips; the normalcy of something so simple… Something I haven’t felt in so long.
Here goes nothing. “To the archangel Gabriel… I pray.”
The blind darkness burst into a kaleidoscope of glass diamonds, warping me into a reality far away from here – a reality of ivory lights, pastel dust and black feathers…
◆◆◆
I saw it. I saw it all. I was living through Beau’s perspective, through his eyes, ever since I was born. I saw my mother raise me as a child, scooping me into her arms, caressing my hair. Beau had watched her for years, then me. I saw the cross that my mother gave Beau before she died… the one he wore around his neck at all times. I watched my mother die. She got shot, by a hooded figure whose identity was never found. I saw Marina and Siles, in the floating crystal orb that Gabriel showed Beau. Blight, he visited Blight the angel in prison the day we first met. And I saw Beau… Beau’s scars, Beau’s darkness…
Beau… he’s… he’s an angel. Everything – All of it is true. I am the sole mortal that can walk through Heaven, purgatory and hell. I have God’s grace coursing through my veins. I am the Puritas.
The Gates of Gabriel Page 14
