I nod, land lean my head sideways, the pain growing as I try to move it. I look out the window with sleepy eyes, and the sky is blue, there is no ash, no clouds of death, and life in the valley goes on just like it always has. Was this all a nightmare from my accident? Was this all a dream while I was fighting for my life in surgery? Oh my God, it all seemed so real.
“Jessica?” The doctor pulls my chin gently towards him. “Try not to move your head Jessica, it’s why we have you restrained. You need to lie still for the next day or so, then we can let you sit up after we are sure you are okay. Nod if you understand.”
I nod, feeling the tears roll from my eyes.
“Jessica?” He smiles at me. “Jessica do you want to see your family? There are here waiting for you to wake up, and I can have your husband come in if you want to see him. Would you like that Jessica? Is your husband’s name Tom, Jessica?”
I shake my head no.
“It’s Brad isn’t it?” He smiles.
I nod.
“I will go get Brad in a moment.” He checks the chart and looks over at the nurse. “Are you sure these dilation numbers are right? Jessica, I need to check one thing and then I’ll go get Brad, is that okay with you?”
I nod, trying to smile. My nightmare is over. My fevered dream is ending. My world is back to normal, at least as normal as it will ever be post-recovery. I am going to get better, recover, beat this, and go on with my life again. I am never going to tell anyone about this crazy dream of mine, never again.
The doctor checks my charts and leans over me. He shines a light in my pupils, one after the other, temporarily blinding me. He stares through his glasses and smiles at me, the first normal face I have seen in a while, the first welcoming one, and the first one that cares.
A strange dark pattern catches the light in the reflection in his glasses. I miss it at first, but I watch intently as he leans over me to check some of the electrodes taped to my head. It’s a criss-cross pattern or stitches, and at first I think they are the ones on my shaved head, but the angle is all wrong. The pain wracks my head as I try to figure things out, and the sedative fights my consciousness.
For the stitches to be there, and the position of them to be…no, it’s all wrong. I move my head slightly and hear the beeps for my blood pressure increase. I try to catch the light just right and check the stitches again in the reflection in his glasses. I can’t get a look, I can’t see.
The doctor holds my shoulders and leans down near me. “Jessica, Jessica, what’s wrong? Are you in pain?”
The angle is perfect as I look into his eyes. Under my oxygen mask black stitches criss-cross across my mouth, and my lips are sewn tightly shut.
I thrash, I panic, I squirm in the bed trying to escape. I grip the rails so tightly I can hear them creak. The warning buzzers go off in my room and the nurse panics, shooting shot after shot of sedative and painkiller into my IV. The doctor holds me down, screaming for the orderlies. Strong men rush into the room and hold me, and I strain, tears flowing from my eyes and the men hold me still in the bed, the pain echoing through my head, the poison seeping through my body and throwing a leaden blanket of fatigue over my consciousness.
CHAPTER XXXIII:
I am So Alone
I’m lying in a hospital bed, alone, drugged and doubly restrained.
The machines beep around me, keeping me awake and alive.
I have been lying here for hours.
The lights of the city burn outside, it’s night, it’s dark.
I’m so alone. I’ve given up on crying a long time ago. A small part of me wants to believe the stitches in my lips were another hallucination. I keep tracing them with my tongue on the inside of my lips. They aren’t a hallucination, they hurt, and they taste like bitter pus.
I’m so sore from struggling, my arms are bruised, and my shaved head still feels like someone drove a nail through my skull. I’m so tired, but something is keeping me awake, some chemical dripping into my veins from the IV drip machine next to my bed. I feel it, like some artificial caffeine rush keeping my heart rate just elevated enough that I can’t sleep. How I want to sleep, to float away to some other world and leave this body behind, to travel to some nightmare where I am at least free and whole again.
God, if you can hear me, take me in my sleep. Please let me sleep.
The hallway door opens and light filters in the room, hurting my eyes.
“He can’t hear you.”
It’s a shadow at first, it’s all I notice. He walks into the light. His deep, penetrating blue-gray eyes, a stern nose, and chiseled features remind me of someone. His brown hair is neck-length and pulled back in a short tail, and he has a thin beard and mustache on his smiling face. He wears a suit and long overcoat, with a red tie.
King Tanas.
He’s not with his men, and he’s not in his tent, and he’s not smiling and sweet-talking me anymore. I struggle weakly, the beeps on my machines rising just a little, and he sits beside my bed. He grabs my hand and strokes it lovingly, and I feel my stomach turn. I stare at him through tear-stained and hateful eyes.
“Don’t fight us, Seraph Jessica.” He strokes each of my fingers, examining the oxygen clip on my longest. “This is how it shall be if you fight us. You shall lie here forever, in hospice after hospice, wasting away, never allowed to sleep, never allowed a moment of rest, slowly going mad from your delusions and visions.”
He looks genuinely sad, and I can’t speak back. There’s so much I want to say, how I hate him, how could he do this to me, and that I know who he and his friends are. How everything he told me were lies, and how he and his friends are out to rule the world through treachery and deceit.
He wipes a tear from my eye, staring at me, the pain visible on his face but I hate him so much I don’t care for false sympathies. “I could make things the way they were. You, in my tent, with your beautiful armor and your sword. I could even get you your horse! I could change this all, make this tortured life go away, and raise you back to your righteous position as the Angel of Death, in our domain, of course.”
“Seraph Jessica, listen, the world has grown tired.” He sits back and turns a lamp on, sitting underneath the light, darkness around him. “It grows tired of wars, it grows tired of hatred, racial killing, false national ideals, and prejudice. It groans like an old man in his final days, every war an aching joint, millions sacrificed for no reason at all except for the wicked machinations of man who believe in a god who would tell them to murder, steal, and rape for righteousness.
The world has forgotten who God is.
And War grows stronger every day. Join with us, and let us put an end to War. Imagine that, to slay the beast, to put him to his own sword, and to bury his ways forever, nevermore to terrorize us with his madness. We can do this! What God is a god who keeps a book holding this beast at his side? On his very throne, and his vaunted Son is the one who opens this and unleashes this evil upon an innocent world?”
I stare at him through narrow eyes. You were in that book too, Tanas. Monsters all, with monstrous dreams. I shake my head, no.
“Listen to me!” He’s grabbing my arm, still sore, the bruises spreading. “There will be a point where God himself is powerless to this beast. God does not always know what his creations are capable of. Will you not see the foolishness of your ways? Join with us.”
I shake my head, no.
“I will make this offer once.” He sits back, resigned. “And you will have one chance to respond. This shall be your final chance. Seraph Jessica, now listen.”
He closes his eyes, stroking his thin beard, and then sighs. “What will become of this world will be one where souls rest eternal, where hatred and conflict have no home. The children born of this world shall never leave, never go to Heaven, and we shall throw off the meddling of our Father in Heaven like a child who leaves home to become an adult.
The world shall grow up.
There shall still be death. There shall
still be coin. And there shall still be the nations of men. The world as you know it will ever be the same, although every day you pick up the paper, there shall not be one mention of war or killing or violence. This world shall collectively forget its hatreds, and go on as if the concept of war were alien to Mankind’s knowledge. Swords shall be beat into plowshares. The religions of the world shall fade into obscurity, relics of a time where men needed to believe in a God who would carry them home after senseless battle and needless sacrifice.”
He stares in my eyes.
“I can’t ask you to believe me, to trust me, or to even like me. I ask none of this. We are different creatures from a different time, lost much as yourself in this world we never anticipated would end up like this. Overpopulated, connected, intermingled, massive, with voices crying high from the mountain like Moses but peaching the gospel of hatred and distrust, feeding into the madness of War. How can you defend that, Seraph Jessica? How in you with your right mind could defend a world that sends its children off to blood sacrifice to a god of hatred and malice, a beast named War?”
I close my eyes, squeezing them shut, wanting the world to go away. I feel the tears run down my face. I am in so much pain.
“Look in my eyes, Seraph Jessica, for I have but this one offer for you, and I shall need you to look upon me to make your final decision. If I restore you, give you back your wings, we shall require you to do the following things:
Return to Heaven.
Open the book.
Release us in true form and spirit.
Once done, we shall slay War together and put an end to this madness. Before the object from the stars ever gets here. With him slain, the scion shall have no power. The world will never know the better. We shall pass into a new age of peace. You shall live on forever as the Angel of Death, and Azrael shall be welcome to join us. Your children shall grow up in a world that does not know the scourge of War, never knowing the better, the world collectively giving up on its hatred like a childish obsession.
What say ye, Seraph?”
I close my eyes. I let out several long breaths. I guess this is what it feels like to give up. I am flawed. I am imperfect. I don’t really believe in God, do I? I just say his name like it’s some magical chant asking him to help me, and I expect everything in return.
I’ve always believed that a true God is one of sacrifice. You get nothing unless you give, and then God is within you. You may not get anything in return, but the power is still there, the goodness, the love shared with others.
I have also always believed people put too much belief in symbols, crosses, stories, and tales told in the bible that resemble fairy tales more than they do anything meaningful to our lives. Like the Four Horsemen, silly beasts meant to scare people into believing in the end of the world and a judgment day. Sitting here and speaking to one in real life, if that is what this is, seems interesting, but is he real?
I have to assume he is. I have to assume all of this is still happening, and somewhere out there Colonel Becks and Azrael are sitting by the side of the road waiting for me to return at the right moment so we can get going again, and finish the mission. If we have time.
I can make the time, I can appear moments after I disappeared and fell asleep, and hopefully they won’t have to stop because of me. To do that, I need my wings, my power.
To get them back, I need to agree to open the book. Something tells me once I make this choice, I can’t unmake it at all, and I shall be set in my role in this prophecy. Making a decision to betray God should never be taken lightly.
So if I agree to release them, I can live.
My prayers will be forfeit, and as Tanas himself said, the world shall end. He has a funny way of not telling me the whole truth, and I need to take that into account. The things he said I could avoid are coming to pass, lies inter-weaved with truths he speaks as he tries to sway me.
In short, he’s just like any other politician I have ever met.
I open my eyes. He stares at me, sitting under the bedside lamp in the darkened room. The machines beep, their lights glowing in the blackness between us.
I nod.
And I nod again.
If it is a monster you want, it is a monster I shall be.
CHAPTER XXXIV:
He Covers My Eyes
His hand is on my eyes, and my body floats away. It is the strangest feeling, like waking up from a dream and entering another. When he removes his hand, I am standing, and I am shorter than the man.
There are no tubes in my nose, no mask on my mouth, and no stitches on my lips. I am whole again, young, and my large, soft black wings rest upon my back. My body feels good, rested, and invigorated.
The creak of leather and the smooth feel around me encase me in a powerful feeling. I inspect my hand, the black leather armored glove sheaths it, the gold-trimmed corset covers my chest, and the gold-pattered boots are upon my legs. The belts criss cross my hips, and my slightly sexist leather panties cover my hips. I’m in my armor again, the angel of death he wants me to be.
I look at my older self in my hospital bed, so helpless and alone, sick and connected to the machines keeping her alive. She looks so weak, so frail, and it’s hard to believe this is me. Her mouth is sewn up, and she is so pale. It gives me shivers looking at her. I look away because I can’t take it anymore.
“Calm yourself, she shall be fine.” King Tanas, still in his suit and overcoat, hands me my sword with a smile. “This is yours, Seraph.”
“Thank you,” I sheath my sword, and stretch the kinks out of my back, being careful not to knock over the machines with my wings. “One question, what’s with the lips? Why sew them up? It’s gross and I hate it.”
“Death’s dealings.” Tanas shakes his head, taking off his overcoat. “So prayers cannot be heard. A precaution, not necessary now. They shall be removed by the doctors in the morning, and the scars shall disappear.”
“I hate them.” I lower my head, and look back at myself for one last time. “I don’t like how any of this was done.”
“I apologize, but I assure you her recovery will be miraculous. If it is any small consolation.” He wraps his overcoat over my wings, covering me. “With you moving around so much, it was hard to find you, so measures needed to be taken with such short notice. You still have very little control. That shall improve. You shall fly, young Seraph, you shall have saved generations from the horrors of the beast.”
I look up at him, buttoning up the coat as best I can. “I know. I made my promise. I shall release you. Deal. War will be slain. I understand.”
I want to look back at myself, but I can’t. I finally let her go. Be happy Jessica. Be happy Brad. This is the end for us. I can’t come back. I can’t ever be you again. You were just one possibility for my life and how it turned out. Now, this is my life to live, and I have to live in the now and take control of my destiny.
This is it. Ends are always new beginnings. I unhook the black chain from around my neck, pull my wedding ring off, and put it in my older self’s hand and press it closed. This is yours now.
“Where to now?”
“Come and see.” He takes my hand, and we walk out of the hospital room.
I look back one last time. Please, please take care of my babies. Love them for me. Goodbye forever, Jessica.
We walk down the hall, past nurses and doctors. One nurse gets sight of my outfit and her expression turns to disgust, and I hear the words “kids nowadays” as we pass. I’m too numb to feel shame, my wings covered in the long coat, I look like any other costume-player coming to see her sick mother in something inappropriate. I don’t care, I can’t.
For someone thousands of years old, he is quite at home in a hospital, and he knows how to work the elevators. We’re together riding down, quiet in the aseptic elevator car, the ding of the floors passing the only noise between us.
I say it. “Who are you?”
“Tanas. King. A beast from the book as you suppos
e.” He’s quiet a moment as he chooses his words carefully. “Son of a great and powerful fallen angel, my father, cast from Heaven by God himself. Imprisoned in that book for eons for who I am, and what I could be. As you suspect, I am a monster.”
He looks over at me as the elevator comes to a stop with a ding. “Much like yourself.”
We walk through the lobby, past the front desk, past empty waiting chairs, and out the automated sliding doors. My boots click on the cement as a security guard wishes us both a nice night.
If only he knew.
A white limousine waits for us outside. Tanas opens the door, smiling at me. “My chariot. Such are the benefits of kings and men of my stature.”
I slip inside, sliding across the seats, and making sure my sword doesn’t poke a hole in the expensive leather. I let each wing take a spot on the seat to each side of me as I ditch the overcoat.
“Seraph, it has been a while.” The old man from the graveyard sits across from me, wearing his black attire. “And Tanas, it is good to see you, my King.”
“Old friend.” Tanas slips inside, sits across from me, and closes the door. “Heinrich, Henry, how is the old lion doing?”
“You know each other? Obviously.” I sit back. “Care to tell me what War wanted? When you sent me away and I was nearly killed by flying coffins?”
“Jessica.” Heinrich smiles. “You finally let go, it makes me proud you hath shown your strength and courage, twas a moment there where I had doubts, but you hath proved this old man wrong.
War? We had words, and I warn you both, I fear his suspicions of our scheming to raise a new angel of death may be giving him pause. He came to me to give voice to his suspicions.”
“What did you tell him?” Tanas hands me a bottle of sparkling water, and I accept.
“I told him Azrael could not be trusted, our hand was forced, and a new angel needed to arise from the ashes of the old.”
“So it was you that cut Azrael’s wings off?” I shift them in my seat, glaring at the two of them.
On Black Wings Page 17