Irish: An Angel's Journey
Page 18
The Devil's Sword
"Gaafar, we need to get to Sewanee. The angels can take care of everything here. I have places to go and people to meet."
She sighed; and without saying another word, she laid her face against the seat cushion and nodded off. That in itself was exceptional. She seldom slept, but something about the ordeal with Dar-Raven’s deadly chains drained her in spite of the heavenly rejuvenation.
"My lady, I will go now," said Gaafar as he climbed into the front seat.
The interstate was almost clear now. He put the cab in gear and heard a thumping sound as if he had run over road kill. He had; it was dark angel road kill that was wrapped tightly around his axle. Only a mile down the road the sound stopped, and he saw what was left of a dark angel rolling out into the middle of the road. Several angels appeared to pick up the pieces. They carried what looked like were immense picnic baskets between them, but these were full of angel parts, not nicely made sandwiches.
The I-24 traffic didn’t have a clue as to what really happened. They would have been shocked if they knew that an angel battle took place. God ordered roadblocks coming and going on I-24 to prevent anyone else entering into harm's way. Angels disguised as State Troopers set up roadblocks that held back the cars on the east all the way back to downtown Chattanooga and from the west back to South Pittsburg. They mumbled to impatient drivers something about a toxic spill and having it cleaned up shortly. It wasn't a toxic chemical spill they were talking about, but a toxic, bloody angel spill.
Gaafar looked in the backseat of his cab and smiled at Dar-Raven’s five-foot battle sword. Irish opened an eye and looked lovingly at Gaafar. She reached out and touched his arm tenderly, not letting go as she nodded off again. Gaafar felt such a sense of peace. He made sure that he didn’t move his arm, not wanting to lose Irish’s touch. He wanted to hold onto it as long as possible. He was sad, knowing that he wouldn’t see Irish again until he was in heaven. She was far more than a prophetess or angel; she was his friend. He knew now that she went with him to protect him from danger. He figured that he would have been going through the Nickajack area exactly when Irish did. He would have been in the middle of the fray without anyone to help him.
His cab continued up the steep mountains heading towards Sewanee. He looked at his watch and noticed it would be lunch soon. He pulled off at a small rest area that was a scenic-view spot and grabbed a sack lunch from under his seat. Irish never noticed, still asleep. He wandered over to the edge of the steep descent, looking at the wonderfully made vertical, sheer-rock scenery, including rolling hills in the far valleys, interlacing each other in a maze of vivid, Tennessee green.
He heard the cab door slam and didn’t look back, thinking it was Irish getting out. Irish yelled, "Gaafar, run!"
He turned around and saw several of Dar-Raven’s shaven-headed, female angels dragging Irish out of the cab onto the ground. They shrieked and screamed in vengeful howling. Several grabbed for Dar-Raven's sword; and before Gaafar could do anything, they cut Irish below her knees and took the sword with them. Irish screamed in anger and violation, not pain. They had broken the age-old vow of peace. No matter how mutilated and un-angelic they looked, they were still angels. She rolled herself under the cab. She tried to repair as fast as possible. She didn’t want to frighten Gaafar, but it was too late. He didn’t run away but ran to the cab and crawled through deep puddles of Irish’s blood trying to reach her. He had seen two of the five angels swinging the sword on top of Irish. The same two carried it between them until out of sight.
Irish received a message from the Lord and was quietly listening. A crack of lightening and loud thunder rolled from heaven with a wind so fierce that when it hit the five dark angels, it knocked them back towards earth. Irish saw the scene through her mind’s eye, but Gaafar jumped up looking heavenward as the angels plummeted to earth. He was as frightened of the terrible storm as the return of these assassins—assassins with his sword. The angels fell in a chaotic, feathered free-fall.
Gaafar saw a great hand appear in front of them. It was filled with such glory that he couldn’t bear to look. He was smart enough to reach in his cab and pull out his sunglasses. When he looked again, the hand caught them all from their various descents; and with a mighty flinch, God made a fist clinched so hard that angel blood fell from it in streams.
Around Gaafar appeared ten heir-servant angels of various races and different sizes. They were all beautiful and full of their rainbow colors. They pulled Irish out from under the cab and began to minister to her. They covered her with their wings and rejoiced to the Lord by singing praise hymns and dancing around her in praise worship. Gaafar watched with tears running down his face, unable to restrain his love and care for her. If he could have given his life for her, he would have. His Godly love caused the angels to smile at him as they helped Irish to her feet, completely whole again.
Irish hugged them all; and to one of her favorites, she said, "You didn’t forget my feet are size five, did you?" Irish winked at her humorously.
As Gaafar ran towards Irish, angel Faith said, "Yes, with a narrow arch, right?"
"Oh, my lady, I was so scared for you. I was so scared. You look great, my lady, just great!"
"Good as new," said Irish, slapping her legs enthusiastically.
Gaafar still couldn’t believe his eyes. He hugged her so tight she thought he’d never let go. From behind Irish, Gaafar saw a beautiful black-skinned angel coming towards him. He let Irish go and staggered back in surprise.
"Oh, my lady, you are so beautiful, but this angel is just as beautiful as you. I had no idea my blackness could be so greatly made."
Tear approached them, going directly to Gaafar and held him in her own affectionate hug—a thank you for being there for Irish. "I'm called Tear," she said softly, kissing him on his cheek.
"Oh my, miss, I am so pleased to meet you. Why are you named Tear? Are you sad?" he asked.
"Oh, no, tears of joy. Your humans would call me Tear from the Apache Tear. It is the black-obsidian rock that when held up to the light is clear and pure enough to look through. We can’t wait for you and your wife Somu to join us." She smiled and disappeared with the rest of the heir-servants.
When Tear mentioned Somu, Gaafar snapped to attention, realizing that he was desiring an angel with his own Somu at home. "I’m sorry," he said to Irish, knowing she knew his thoughts, which she didn’t; however, she suspected.
"You need not be. Birds may land in your hair, but you didn’t let the bird build a nest, did you?"
He felt relieved, "Actually, my lady, no birds build a nest, my lady."
Suddenly, they heard a loud clatter on the interstate beside them. Dar-Raven’s sword was being returned to Gaafar. Gaafar looked at the sword, then turned to Irish, "My lady, I think it might be bad luck to keep the devil’s sword. Who’s to know if more come back, and next time, no one will be around. Can you keep it in safekeeping for me?"
Irish smiled in agreement and went to pick it up. She could hardly move it, and she had no place to keep it on her journey. She opened up a place in time and space with the movement of her hand. She was barely able to lift and shove it through the glittering edges of the portal, just several inches off the ground. Only she would be able to open it. It would take too many legions of angels to work the numbers to come up with the right coordinates. The odds were too great, and she felt assured it would be safe.
They both got into the cab, but Gaafar groaned as he looked at the blood sticking to the bottoms of his shoes. He pulled his shoes off and threw them with a hook shot over the top of the car from his window, hearing them crash through the treetops.
He thought he would have many stories to tell his children, including his aunt, uncle, and Somu. He started the cab and drove slowly this time, forgetting about having his picnic.