They were all sitting up, looking expectantly, their gazes going from Esmer to him. Esmer turned to the children. “We are each other’s family now. We will take care of one another.” His voice cracked, not from nerves, but from the signs of his youth and his transition to manhood.
Toqeph was filled with pride, his heart swelling with admiration for the young man. Esmer had been the youngest of four brothers and now the fates had thrust him to be the eldest of eight. “Esmer, come.” Toqeph knelt down on one knee, his wings expanding to either side of him and wrapping around Esmer’s tall and thin frame. His tunic was torn revealing a bony chest. He is just a boy, Toqeph thought as he bit back the sadness. The love he felt for this child and for the other children knew no bounds. He would kneel to Esmer to show his respect, pride, and the honor he felt to be in the presence of such incredible strength and courage. “Listen to me, Esmer.” He clasped the boy on the shoulders, his big hands looking like a vice on top of the boy’s bony joints. “I cannot go with you and the others. I must face my punishment.”
The boy’s face contorted with horror. “You did not do anything! We saw it all.” He was fighting back a sob, his head dropping to his chest. “We were playing. We saw the Queen gather the Priests.” He looked at Toqeph, his eyes glazed with tears. “They ran to the top of the temple. We saw them bind you.” The tears fell freely. “Then all of hell broke loose.”
Toqeph wrapped the boy in his arms as his own tears fell. “My Creator does not see it that way.” He let him go, but held on to his shoulders. “Protect them.” He looked at the children. “I will do what I can to watch over you, though I cannot be with you.” He released the boy. He knew he would only be letting go physically. These children were his forever. He stood and waved the other children over.
They gathered excitedly around until he shared the same news with them. The littlest one, just able to speak, uttered, “Love, papa.” The little ones, but especially this little girl, Alexis, called him Papa, his name too difficult to pronounce.
Blood rushed to his chest as his heart broke in pieces. If he could die, he would do it then, for her and for the rest of them to ensure their safety. So that each one may thrive and grow to have their own families. He couldn’t die, but he could give them something of himself. He hoped that it would be enough to help protect them.
He stepped back from the children, giving his wings room to spread to either side of him. He smiled at them, “Take a feather from my wings,” he instructed. Each little mouth dropped open, making him smile. Children were wondrous beings. He would miss them most of all.
Alexis ran to him first, her chubby fingers wrapping around the larger feathers toward the bottom of his wings. She pulled excitedly, plucking out two feathers longer than the length of her arms. She laughed and ran in circles, the feathers held out to either side of her body. “Me Papa, me Papa,” she squealed happily.
After that the other children, though more timid and with more care, proceeded to take a feather from him.
He studied each one of them, burning each of their faces into his heart and soul. “Hold the feathers in between your hands.”
The children obeyed without question. Small gasps of surprise and laughter burst from each of them as the feathers squirmed in between their hands, nudging their palms open. The feathers danced and spun on their hands, tickling their palms. Even Esmer who tried to keep a straight face, finally surrendered to giggling. The feathers twirled one last time, and exploded for its finale. The feather particles glimmered and shone under the sun, suspending above each child’s palm.
“Take the particles above your hands.”
He watched each one cup the glittering dust into their hands. He waited for the reaction he was looking for. It began with Esmer and continued to Alexis. Each of the eight glowing vibrantly in white light as his energy absorbed into their system, and into their dna. They would possess abilities, more strength, and a knowing that would help them defend against darkness. More importantly, they would each be connected to him.
Esmer locked onto his eyes, his stare understanding what had just happened. “You gave us strands of your life.” There was no question in his voice, it was confirmation he voiced for the others.
He smiled and reached for Esmer’s hand. “You are all my children now and I give to each of you the only thing I have.”
The children began crying softly behind Esmer. Alexis ran to Toqeph and wrapped herself around his leg.
Bending down to pick her up, he cradled her against his chest as her tears wet his skin. He placed his lips softly against her forehead and inhaled her scent. The smell of a babe--sweet and innocent. His babe. The littlest of the toddlers, but she would be the strongest of them all.
“You weaken yourself to give to us.” Esmer stepped closer to him.
He cupped Esmer’s cheek. “I would give it all, if I could.” He looked at the children now circling him. “You are each worth so much more.” He spread his wings, protecting the children from a chill blowing through the beach. “Help each other, always.”
The children’s sobs increased as he started to back away. He smiled at them even as his entire being wanted to collapse. “Head toward the hills of this island. You will find a kind woman there who will help care for you.” He lowered his head, not wanting the children to see his eyes glazing. “Be well. Grow strong and honorable. I love you for all time.”
He doubled over in pain as he was ripped from his location and back to his sunken Island. Agony speared through him as he looked upon the faces of all the people he loved. Many had been trapped, many had been injured–maimed. All of them remained, suspended in the dull, murky abyss, their eyes eternally left open in fear. Everything that he had cherished lay at the bottom of the ocean, and this was where he would be condemned for eternity.
“Toqeph.” It was the unified voice of the Creator-- Father, Mother, All Being.
“Yes Father.”
“For having fallen and carrying on as if you were human, you will be bound to this Island. Your blind devotion to the woman caused many to perish. The very same people we sent you to protect and watch over. You will be unable to leave for all time.”
“Eternal banishment,” he affirmed. He accepted their decision. He fell in love with the people. He ignored the Creator’s will. He thought he knew better. That he could serve better. It all fell apart when Ishtar took his heart. Her beauty and her charm were like no other’s in the universe. She was as perfect as any creation could be. He loved her, trusted her, taught her knowledge only available to the gods. Why hadn’t he seen the change in her? Why did he continue to believe in her--even when he had seen signs of her darkness?
“Yes, son.” The unified voices lowered, there was no force of anger behind the decree, only sadness. “You will have opportunity for redemption.”
He raised his head, surprise washing over him. Confusing him. If it hadn’t been for him… “I accept my punishment. You are merciful. Thy will be done.”
“You have acquired your people’s short sightedness, Toqeph.” They admonished. “We are eternal. Time neither stops nor begins for us, it simply is. We can see all time, and your people’s story is not finished.”
Energy buzzed through his heart, a flicker of hope warming his chilled skin. “Dearest Creator, please tell me.”
“The eight you saved will continue into twelve. That is all.”
“Twelve?” He did not understand, but shook it off. Now was not the time. The Creator had spoken. “You have given me more than I deserve. Thank you.” Hope for the children spread through his body. His deepest prayers had been answered.
Where the Island rested beneath the ocean was too deep--no human could reach these depths. He swam to the remains of the temple where his end had begun. Closing his eyes, he willed his energy to surround the perimeter of the Island, creating an energetic barrier against the water. The Island would remain dry and secured against the ravages of the ocean.
The l
ast thread connecting him to the Creator severed from his heart, making him drop to his knees in sheer anguish. His energy waned. He felt an emptiness so deep, he didn’t understand how he could still exist. My punishment. My hell. It didn’t matter. He would gladly suffer.
He looked at the carnage around him. He’d only seen this much death in the most brutal wars. Dark beings would dance amidst the bloodshed, frolicking in the latent energies of anger, fear, confusion and death. Before he was sent to the Island, he led the Dark Ones. Together they would rid the war torn areas of the dark beings feeding off of the dead. They cleared the way for other angels to come in, and do their part to assist the souls into the heavens. The Dark Ones fought the unseen battles with demons and other dark beings. His cadre offered safe passage for humans to ascend. He not only betrayed the Creator, but he betrayed his purpose.
He needed to provide safe passage for his people. He would gather them all, and give them the proper ritual to ensure their ascension into the heavens. They were innocent of wrongdoing. They would not be denied their place amongst those transcended in the light. He prayed though he no longer felt part of the divine. “Please, I beg of you, save the people. My failures are not theirs to pay for.”
Bright light emerged, its center pulsing on top of the temple. Pure white light, warm and gentle, filled every corner of the Island, leaving no soul untouched. They rose, all of them. He gazed upon each of their faces asking for their forgiveness as they ascended, and were greeted into the arms of angelic beings. They were safe now. The High Priests were last to go, wanting to stay with him, and pay penance for their actions. “The penance is mine to pay. You will do more good if you go with our people.” They left reluctantly, their angelic guardians waiting for them patiently.
All but one soul was accounted for. Where was Tal?
Fawna woke, her sobs leaving her gasping for air. Her face was wet with tears, her heart shattering by the second. She was shaking, the pain in her heart so deep, she felt completely lost. She grabbed her pendant, gripping it so tight the sharp edges of the black crystal shard cut into her palm. “Please, please, please.” She was begging for the pain to fade. Waiting for the shard to ease her emotions and ground her into reality. The shard warmed in her hand, the familiar heat slowly growing to spread through her system.
She sat up, torso bent over, her arms clutching the coverlet to her chest. Her thoughts completely lost on Toqeph.
He’d revealed more of his story.
What did it all mean? Where was Tal? Alexis, the baby of the group, why did she feel so connected to her?
Chapter Thirty Six
January 31st, San Francisco, California
Buzzing against his chest brought him back to the moment. Solomon pulled out the cell phone from the inside of his jacket. “Mitchell.” He answered, his voice sounding raspier than usual. He grimaced, the nagging headache quickly turning into a migraine. He was back in Ashtaroth’s suite. He’d finally made contact with Agent Sommer. He needed to meet with him. Change his directives. The Seraphim Project needed to be advanced according to Cass’ message for the queen. The king’s weapon had disappeared. How did it all fit together? How could he use it to avenge his family’s murder?
“Sir?” It was Pamela.
He kept his eyes closed as he listened to Pamela’s shuffling papers over the line. He’d been waiting for her call, hoping she found more information about Isaiah the Prophet.
“Are you okay, Sir?” she sounded concerned.
“Did you find anything more? Seraphim.” The queen had been unresponsive to his calls. Where the hell did she disappear to? More importantly, what the hell was she up to?
“Sir. It was a seraph angel who appeared to Isaiah. The same seraph angel supposedly placed a coal on Isaiah’s lips. The coal was from an altar used to worship God.”
“That was in your prior report. Anything else?”
“After the coal was placed upon Isaiah’s lips, he became a prophet.”
Solomon’s headache was getting worse. He walked to the bathroom, needing a glass of water.
“The coal anointed him, Sir. Cleansed him of his sins so that he may hear God and profess His words. The bible reads, Behold, this has touched your lips; and your iniquity is taken away and your sin is forgiven…”
Solomon chugged down the water, keeping the cell phone pressed to his ear. The water was cool. It hurt to swallow the large gulps against the inflamed layers of his throat.
“Isaiah died many years later in Jerusalem. Supposedly killed by King Manasseh.”
Solomon was looking in the bathroom mirror as he returned the glass carefully back on the large sink vanity. His eyes were bloodshot, and his stubble was a few days old. He was dehydrated, and reeking of alcohol.
“What happened to the coal?” he asked finally.
“There’s nothing written after the angel used it on him. But I think he kept the coal, Sir. The coal was a tool from God. It changed his life. The coal gave Isaiah the ability to hear God and become a prophet. It was sacred. Anyone in their right mind would have kept it.”
The sides of his head began pulsing and beating, making him clench his eyes shut again.
“Isaiah was also an educated man. He would have understood the value of such an object.”
“What do you think happened to it?” He groaned, speaking was beginning to hurt.
“He was supposedly killed after he entered a cedar tree. King Manasseh had the tree cut in two.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” He squeezed his eyes tighter, trying to relieve the pounding in his head.
“It’s lore, Sir. They’re often mixed with fantastical things.”
“The coal. How do we find it?”
“Sir. Finding biblical objects has always been dangerous. It could have consequences we don’t understand.”
“It’s an artifact. It’s an object.” His upper lip felt stuck to his teeth.
“Sir, any relic from the Bible, especially ones connected directly with God would be next to impossible to find.” She took a breath, and he could hear her clacking on her keyboard. “Sir, the kind of coal used in altars in those days would not have lasted this long. It would be dust by now.”
“A coal touched and used by an Angel of God would not be normal. It would be changed. Matter infused by the energy of the divine would be... eternal.” He needed to end this conversation before his head exploded. “Pamela, it is imperative you get me more information.”
“Sir, please. Listen. I know you’ll do the right thing.” Pamela was pleading. “Please sir. We need you.”
He hung up abruptly. What the hell was going on with his assistant. But Pamela’s plea touched him unexpectedly. Did she know about the Project? He lost his grip on the phone. The cellphone bounced on the cold tile as he collapsed to his knees, and the pain in his head became excruciating.
He gripped his skull, the pain becoming unbearable. Pressure increased with points of intensity like ice picks driving into the cortex of his brain. He growled through the agony. He felt ready to pass out when a voice filled his head, keeping him awake, alert, and extra sensitive to every bit of pain coursing through his head, and radiating down his body.
Solomon! the male voice roared. It was menacing, blood curdling. It was the King.
Where was he? The queen had told him Baal preferred invisibility.
Where is the queen?
“I. Am. Not. Her. Keeper.” He could barely get out the words.
You are her pet. Baal answered, disgust accentuating the tone. I know she confides in you, human.
He scoffed. “The queen... fucks me... and leaves.”
Are you ready for a lobotomy yet? How is the pain, human? The king was laughing inside his mind. Heat was building in his head, and his eyes were beginning to water from it.
“Sera....phim Proj...” he forced out.
What do you know?
“The que… asked... my help.”
Brilliance was never o
ne of the queen’s strengths. Bone shattering laughter ensued.
He could not get a bearing on the King’s location. He felt only surrounded by dark, suffocating energy. He threw a bone. The only angle he could think of. It would either get him killed or he would live another day to figure things out. “The coal.” He groaned as he curled into the floor, his arms wrapped around his head. Blood streamed out of his nose and out his ears. His skull felt ready to blow from his neck, the building pressure unbearable.
“Let him go!” That was the Queen’s voice. She had returned. “He is mine. Not yourssss.”
“I am not interested in your toys, my Queen.” The King spoke out loud, his voice shaking the walls, and intensifying the pain.
He felt the Queen crouch next to him, her hand on his back trying to ease him.
“Let him go, my King.” She rose to stand next to him.
The pain began to ease, allowing him to catch his breath, and his heartbeat to slow down.
“Leave ussss, Lord Baal. I will come to you momentarily.”
“Do not anger me further, Ashtaroth.”
“Or what, my King?” The queen had defiance in her voice.
“Your pet dies.”
“You know I am bound to you. I will be by your sssside. Kill him if you want. I can get another.” She purred playfully using her wiles against the King. “Did you actually missss me, my King? Is that the reasssson for your tantrum?”
The King gave no answer, but the heavy presence filling the room lifted.
Solomon lifted off of the floor, skull feeling like it had been beat with a bat. He was still dizzy from demon-induced pain.
Ashtaroth crouched down on the floor again, her bent knees splayed out to the sides. Her dress riding up her creamy thighs. She reached for him, her hand gentle underneath his chin.
“Your blood,” she said softly as she flourished a hand over his head. The blood stopped running from his nose and ears, and the dizziness began to ease.
“Thank you,” he groaned as he struggled to get up from the floor.
“I couldn’t let him kill you. Not yet.” She smiled wickedly. “You still have usssse. Esssspecially now.”
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