The Crossing Point

by August Arrea

  “Who said I was talking about Gotham?” said Creed. “Oh, it was a real touching display back at Lions Bite earlier when Gotham made a big show of returning to Eden to proclaim his father-like devotion to you. Truth is he’s nothing but a Fallen standing in for a further Fallen.”

  “I’ll give you to the count of three to take back your filthy lie, Maggert,” Jacob threatened with a deepening scowl.

  “I’m only a liar if what I say is untrue.” A slow-cooked, almost grotesque look of glee unfolded itself across Creed’s face like a picnic blanket being spread across summer-warmed grass. “Fact is, my father told me.”

  “Your father?” echoed Jacob in confused disbelief.

  “That’s right. After I accidentally happened to overhear him talking about it to a group of other angels. Although, he made me promise I would keep it to myself and make sure it didn’t get spread around Havenhid.” Then with a tight smile and roll of the eyes he gave a most unapologetic, “Oops!”

  Jacob began to feel the muscles in his body begin to tighten in a most uncomfortable way.

  “Unfortunately, he caught me eavesdropping before I could learn who exactly this low-life Fallen of a father of yours is and was told to mind my business when I asked,” Creed continued in his jabbering. “But I can assure you I plan to make it my mission to find out.”

  “I don’t believe a word you’re saying!” Jacob spat with increased disdain.

  “You don’t have to believe me. Just go ahead and ask my father. Better yet, ask Anahel; he knows the truth. In fact, I dare you!”

  If Creed was indeed lying, he certainly was enjoying the yarn he was spinning, pausing to lick his lips like a lion right before indulging in its kill.

  “It’s not all that surprising a revelation, really,” he continued with his dangling taunts. “I knew the first time I laid on you that you were the byproduct of questionable breeding. What surprised me was how bottom-rung you really are.”

  “You’re lying!” Jacob repeated. The Forest began to spin counterclockwise around Jacob as Creed’s voice took on an echo inside his head as if it was coming from deep inside some mountain cavern.

  “Didn’t you ever think it was strange that you were the only one in the history of Nephilim not to know who his father was?” pressed Creed with unrelenting vigor. “Angels aren’t the same as regular men. They don’t have their sons on a whim, or even accidentally. And they certainly don’t abandon them like some derelict dad up to his elbows in child support payments.”

  The more Creed spoke, the more contemptible a glare he drew from Jacob. And from within his eyes came flecks of flame as they watched Creed beam with sheer delight at his growing expense.

  “I guess that would explain how it is you came to be in Gotham’s care,” said Creed. “Then again, Fallen always look out for Weeds, even when it’s not their own.”

  Jacob had enough. The piano wire he felt being pulled tighter and tighter somewhere deep within himself finally snapped.

  “YOU’RE A FILTHY LIAR!” he cried out angrily.

  Before he was conscious to the fact his feet were moving, he was already upon Creed. Only this time it wasn’t Jacob who went careening through the air and slammed mightily into a tree but Creed.

  “You want to take your anger out on someone, I suggest you take it out on Gotham,” snarled Creed angrily, trying to shake off the painful impact of Jacob’s starburst-inducing punch. “He’s the one who made Anahel and the other Guides promise to keep the truth about who your father is a secret.”

  Jacob could feel another tremor rumble through him signaling another violent eruption of his rage was imminent. Fists clenched, he stepped toward Creed who wasn’t about to take another right hook to the face without a fight and quickly got to his feet.

  “Face it, Parrish, you’re an orphan of the Darkness. You don’t belong in Eden, but the Underneath,” Creed spit venomously. “Take my advice. Make good of that present of a horse Gotham got you and have it carry you south to the Dilmum Sea where the Gate is. You’ve got no one here who cares enough to see you win today. Certainly not a father as important as mine. A true angel.”

  “The only place I’ll be riding the Snowdrift today will be back to Havenhid,” said Jacob in as cool a manner as his anger allowed him. “Unfortunately for your true angel of a father, he’ll have to face what I am sure will be the inexcusable embarrassment of seeing a defect and undesirable in possession of the Illume, not his son.”

  A grim shadow washed away Creed’s smirk.

  “I’m warning you, Parrish,” he seethed, “if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of my way. There’s only going to be one Nephilim who leaves his mark on Eden today, and that Nephilim is going to me.”

  “Maybe,” replied Jacob with matter-of-fact simplicity. “Maybe not.”

  Creed took a threatening step toward Jacob, and Jacob happily braced himself for another physical clash, only this time he had no intention of being on the losing end of any more punches—or wings—thrown his way. Just then the now familiar shrill of the Illume rang out in the distance grabbing both boy’s attention.

  ~~~

  “I’m not playing, Parrish,” Creed warned again. “Be smart for a change and remember what I said. Stay out of my way.”

  He then began beating his wings and in a flash flew off in the direction of the elusive bird’s call. Jacob, however, remained put, frozen by the scathing revelation left to echo in his ears as he watched Creed slip from sight into the depths of the Forest.

  Orphan of the Darkness.

  The phrase kept repeating itself over and over inside his head. So much so that he didn’t hear—or chose to ignore—a rustling of movement coming from the tree heights above him moments before Max came swooping suddenly down from out of nowhere.

  “Like leading a flaming galah to sand and convincing him its water,” he said with a mischievous grin while giving Jacob a firm pat on the back as he strode by him.

  “I really don’t need you to run interference for me,” Jacob snapped irritably when he realized his friend had cleverly feigned the fake bird call while quietly perched in the trees above sending Creed off on a wild goose chase. Or this case a wild Illume chase.

  “You ain’t gotta remind me, mate, I know you’re fit as a Mallee bull. But you ain’t gonna get too far in the contest wasting time playing paddy cake with that one,” said Max. He then looked off in the direction of the Forest into which he had seen Creed disappear. “Not a bad imitation of the Illume, though, if I do say so myself?”

  The pleased look on his face was a far cry from the sullen expression he spied glancing back at Jacob.

  “What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost in a marble orchard.”

  It was then Jacob felt a surge of panic rush through him. Did Max know? Of course not—at least Jacob didn’t think so. No way Max would continue acting like nothing was amiss while being in the know of some fantastic rumor like the one Creed had unleashed just moments ago, especially when that rumor concerned Max’s best friend. That would all change now, wouldn’t it? The friendship, that is. If anything, this would instantly make him the enemy in his friend’s eyes—in the eyes of everyone at Havenhid, in fact—faster than Max could mutter “Crikey Moses!” If not enemy, what else could someone revealed to be the son of a Fallen—a Weed—be looked upon as? Certainly not friend. Not any longer.

  “Let’s go before Creed has another go at the Illume,” said Jacob.

  Max grabbed hold of him as he attempted to brush past.

  “Cool your heels a sec!” said Max. “Now, something’s eating at you—and pretty good from the crazy look in your eyes—and I want to know what it is.”

  “I don’t want to talk about,” argued Jacob irritably. “Not now, at least.”

  “Might as well spill it,” pressed Max. “Otherwise you know I’ll rifle through your mind just like I do your drawers when I’m in need of some clean socks and find out for myself.”

 
It was the rare moment Jacob resented the powers afforded Nephilim. This was one of those moments. At least now, however, he knew why his socks had a habit of disappearing on him.

  “Creed just told me he knows who my father is,” blurted Jacob suddenly. If he was going to remove the bandage, he was going to do it quickly rather than suffer a slow pull.

  “Crikey Moses!” replied Max, just as Jacob predicted he would. “Well, that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Max’s brief smile was quick to fade. “Isn’t it?”

  “He said it’s a Fallen,” answered Jacob with a meek voice.

  Max’s first response was to retreat from Jacob a step. A grave look surfaced in his face and for a moment Jacob wondered whether a renewed round of fisticuffs was about to take place then and there.

  “You sure ’bout this?” asked Max finally.

  “Creed all but dared me to ask his father about it,” replied Jacob. “He said Gotham’s known the whole time and made the Guides promise to keep it quiet.”

  Max took silent for a moment or two looking as grim as one could possibly look when he suddenly cracked a smile and let loose a whopper of a whooping chuckle. “And you believed him?”

  It wasn’t quite the response Jacob expected from Max.

  “What do you mean do I believe him?” asked Jacob. “Why would he lie about something like that?”

  “For starters, he’s a putrescent mass of walking toad vomit,” said Max, a colorful statement of character if ever there was one, and one Jacob couldn’t argue against. “Don’t you think it’s a bit odd he drops this bombshell on you out here in the middle of the Forest? Why not before the competition. Why not scream it from the middle of the arena so everyone knows? Let’s face it, mate, ’ol toad vomit can’t stand the sight of you. And you know as well as I do if what he said was true he’d make sure to get the most mileage he could out of such a disgusting and damaging rumor.”

  Jacob thought about it for a moment, and to his surprise it made sense. “You really think?”

  “Let me ask you…do you really think Gotham—or Anahel, for that matter—would keep something as important as who your father is from you…no matter who it might be?” asked Max. “Better yet, you really think the son of a Fallen would be allowed into Eden, that is besides Gotham’s, which of itself was quite a miracle?”

  Much to his reassurance, Jacob found he couldn’t argue against the questions Max was posing. Of course Gotham wouldn’t deceive him in such an unforgivable way, and no way would Anahel, or Johiel for that matter, have allowed a Weed to pass through Eden’s Gate. And as Jacob came to realize this, he found himself taking his first easy breath since Creed stole it from him. With it came a soothing calm, which began to trickle up around him as if he was slowly being immersed in a vat of liquid relief. The comforting feeling lasted as briefly as it arrived when it was quickly replaced by a sudden resurgence of anger.

  “Why would Creed mess with my mind like that?” he found himself asking once again.

  “You have to ask…he’s the north end of a south-bound camel; a canker sore that won’t go away. More likely he’s scraping the muck to throw you off your game in this last competition. Looks like he did a pretty good job, too, if you ask me.”

  Max’s reply at once served to add fuel to an already burning fire igniting inside Jacob; the flames from which could be seen swirling inside Jacob’s brooding eyes.

  “When I find him...”

  “A word of advice,” offered Max. “You don’t put a wank stain like Creed in his place by swapping haymakers. You do it by hitting him where it hurts—his ego.”

  “Any suggestions on how I go about doing that in short order?”

  “For starters, we can make sure he doesn’t get a hold of that Illume.”

  Easier said than done, Jacob thought to himself.

  “Man, I can’t stand that guy,” he muttered while staring off into the Forest.

  Max came up behind him and gave Jacob’s shoulder a strong but friendly squeeze.

  “Well, if it’s any comfort to you, my guess is he’s not too fond of you either,” said Max. “A waste, really, if you ask me. Here Anahel should have just sent the two of you out here alone to fight it out and see which one came back with the other stuffed in this black sack instead of chasing some old bird.”

  Whether it was imagining such a thing or hearing it through Max’s thick Australian accent was enough to crack Jacob’s furrowing frown, and the two boys were soon sharing a hearty laugh over the idea.

  “So where’s Michael and Isaac?” asked Jacob.

  “Scouring the trees closest to the mountain cliffs last I saw,” said Max, motioning to the West with a nod of his head. “Looks like you’re the only one of us who’s had any luck spotting the Illume so far. Gorgeous bird from what I saw of it. Too bad Creed had to ruin your chance of catching it. Goodness only knows where it’s flown off to now. The Forest’s a big place. We could spend an entire day looking and not come close to finding it again, never mind in the short amount of time we have left.”

  Jacob had an idea it might not be as impossible a task as Max made it out to be. “I have a hunch it hasn’t gone far. Care to come see if I’m right?”

  Max arched an eyebrow while tilting his head with curiosity. “You want to share with me where you think it’s gone? Have you forgotten we’re in competition against one another?”

  “Gotham told me before the contest the secret to catching the Illume is to not hunt it. After seeing it in action I see he’s right,” said Jacob. “I think I have an idea on how to catch it. But it requires the help of another person. Especially someone with your undeniable gift of bird-calling. You game?”

  Max gave Jacob a half-cocked look. “And what do we do if we catch it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Who gets the credit?”

  “Seeing as we’re working as a team, it only makes sense that we share it equally,” answered Jacob. “Of course, that would also mean you most likely would receive an equal share of hatred and disdain from Creed that he has so far reserved solely for me when he comes up empty-handed.”

  From the smile that slowly stretched itself across his face, the last point seemed to be the selling point for Max. “Partners it is then, mate!”

  They clasp hands to seal their pact before Jacob led the way through the Forest toward the gentle sound of the gurgling stream.

  ~~~

  Jacob and Max kept themselves crouched low, wading quietly through the cover of fern and lilies of the valleys and sweet after deaths, which gave the air all around a sweet vanilla scent. Sure enough, just beyond the brush, the exotic creature had returned to the spot upon the boulder near the stream where Jacob had gotten his first look of the bird up close. If the Illume had been left skittish or frightened by the harrowing chase through the treetops only a short time ago, it didn’t show it. Instead, it stood staring into the water with visible fascination, just as before, tilting its head from one side to the other in a curious manner.

  “What’s it doing?” whispered Max.

  “I’m not sure, but I think it’s fallen in love,” answered Jacob.

  An incredulous look came over Max. “In love? With what, a trout?”

  “Don’t you remember what Anahel said back at the arena? Today is the day the Illume comes out in search of a mate. Only thing is, there are no other Illumes. Just this one.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Are you blind? Obviously it sees itself in the water. Only it has no idea it’s staring at its own reflection. It thinks it’s finally found another Illume after all this time,” said Jacob. “And from the looks of it, I think it’s quite taken with itself.”

  “And I thought I was narcissistic,” remarked Max. He watched quietly as the Illume poked at the water with its beak when its pleading calls went unanswered. “Can’t help but feel a little sorry for the bugger. Nothing should have to spend life all alone.”

  “Maybe it doesn’t have to,” mut
tered Jacob.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “A way to catch the Illume and bring it back to Havenhid,” Jacob replied. “But it’s going to require from you more than just copying a bird call.”

  At first, Max wasn’t following what Jacob was saying, but then he caught the devious gleam in Jacob’s eyes when they shifted his way and he quickly realized Jacob’s plan. “You’re joking right?”

  “And make it good,” said Jacob, with a teasing wink. “We’ll only have a short amount of time before the others hear and head this way.”

  Before Max could object, Jacob slunk off through the thicket. He crawled around along the ground on his belly until he was positioned a short distance downstream behind the bird and waited. At first nothing happened. The Illume continued to be spellbound by the floating reflection. And then, just when Jacob began to feel the growing twinges of impatience, there came a series of quivering chirps. The Illume appeared to be taken by surprise by the sound and, for the first time, its eyes left the water and directed themselves to the bushes where the familiar call came. Again came a morse code of chirps, and this time the Illume answered with a welcoming, yet questioning, reply. It then craned its neck forward with curiosity when there came a rustling sound followed by visible movement from inside the bushes where Max had remained hidden. What emerged from within the brush, however, was not Max—at least not in his normal everyday human skin—but another Illume.

  The seemingly coy and unresponsive reflection in the water was quickly forgotten by its owner who became immediately taken with Max’s mimicry. Finally, the Illume had found that which it had searched the Forest through and through, year after year, without success. And in its happiness, the Illume released a chorus of high-pitched shrieks and loud pinging clicking to echo through the trees. Jacob knew it was only a matter of time before they reached the ears of Creed and the other boys he was competing against, and so with his sack in hand, he crept forward. His hands and feet made not a sound in their stealthy movements across the ground, but Max was doing such a good job enticing the mating dance now being performed by the Illume that Jacob wondered whether the effort he was putting into sneaking up on the bird was even necessary.