The Realm of Realism

by R M Gauthier

  18

  Aaron stands frozen to the spot, staring at Azrael and waiting for an explanation which obviously isn’t going to happen.

  Azrael snaps his fingers and another bright light appears a couple of feet behind him. Out of the light, Mazereth materializes with a foul expression on his face.

  “What is it, Azrael? Still playing with the mere human I see,” he barks as he steps beside Azrael and glares at Aaron. He crosses his arms across his chest, his stance resembling anger. “What do you want?”

  “You need to teach him.” Azrael points his index finger at Aaron.

  Mazereth’s gaze flickers from Aaron to Azrael and back. “No.”

  “Come on, Maz,” Azrael pleads. “Our plan can’t work without him.”

  “You’ve lost your mind.” Mazereth turns and walks away.

  “Mazereth,” Azrael shouts. “You owe me.”

  Mazereth stops but keeps his back to Azrael as he mumbles. “Damn it. I knew this day would come.”

  “What was that?” Azrael questions.

  “What do you want?” Mazereth strolls back and stands beside Azrael, his glare back on Aaron.

  Aaron shrinks under Mazereth’s scrutiny.

  “I need you to instruct him. He has no idea how to use his magic,” Azrael explains.

  That statement grabs Aaron’s attention and he snaps his attention to Azrael.

  “I know magic,” he retorts.

  “You know tricks, little human. Not magic,” Mazereth snaps.

  “Magic is tricks and illusions,” Aaron replies.

  “Human magic, but not real magic,” Mazereth sighs, annoyed.

  “There’s no such thing,” Aaron snarls.

  Mazereth raises an eyebrow, almost impressed with the balls on this little human. He raises his hand and waves it toward Aaron. A spark resonates from Mazereth’s extended hand, hitting Aaron in the chest. He flies backward landing on the ground with a thud, the wind knocked out of him.

  “Mazereth!” Azrael howls, backhanding Mazereth in the chest.

  “Hey,” Mazereth screeches, rubbing his chest.

  Azrael glances down at Aaron.

  Aaron is no longer a human. Replacing him is a small rodent swimming in Aaron’s clothes.

  “For God’s sake, Maz.” Azrael glares at him. “Turn him back. Now!” he shouts.

  Mazereth tries to hold back his smile, but fails miserably.

  “Stop smiling and fix this,” Azrael snaps, then returns his attention to the rodent. “Quickly, before he scampers away.”

  Mazereth bursts out laughing.

  “Scampers? Really?” He laughs again.

  Azrael points to the rodent who is skedaddling across the forest floor. “Come on, Maz.”

  “Fine.” Mazereth relinquishes, waving his hand at Aaron sending a burst of energy out of the ends of his fingertips.

  Once it lands on the rodent, it sends the rat air bound as Aaron the human returns to his regular body. He’s sprawled out, flat on his back on the forest floor. It takes a moment for him to open his eyes, but when he finally does, he’s confronted by Azrael leaning over him, his face close up.

  Aaron groans and closes his eyes once more.

  “You okay?” Azrael questions.

  “No.” Aaron’s eyes remain closed.

  “What hurts?” Azrael reaches out, placing his palm on Aaron’s forehead.

  Aaron’s eyes snap open. “What are you doing?”

  “Isn’t this what you humans do when something is wrong?” Azrael inquires.

  “If we’re sick, but not for being…” Aaron glances around. “What did he do to me?”

  “Nothing,” Azrael answers, quickly—too quickly.

  “Then why does my entire body ache? And why am I on the ground?”

  Azrael stands to his full height, reaching out a hand to help Aaron. Aaron grips the offering and allows Azrael to haul him to his feet. He brushes off his backside, then glares at Azrael.

  “It wasn’t nothing,” he snaps.

  “It was magic, little human.” Mazereth joins the two, crossing his arms over his chest in a hostile position. “Real magic.”

  “And you think I can do that?” Aaron solicits Azrael.

  “I do,” Azrael replies with confidence.

  “And he’ll be training me?” Aaron points at Mazereth.

  “Yes,” Azrael answers.

  “Maybe,” Mazereth says at the same time.

  The two angels glare at each other for a moment before Mazereth glances back at Aaron.

  “Fine. I’ll do it,” Mazereth responds, his expression softening as he looks over Aaron.

  “So, what are we doing this for?” Aaron probes Azrael.

  “To make the world right again,” he responds.

  “What does that mean? What’s wrong with the world?” Aaron questions.

  “Everything.” Azrael snaps, then turns to Mazereth. “Get to work.”

  Azrael steps aside, allowing the two to become more acquainted. At least that was the plan, but things don’t always go according to plan.

  Mazereth keeps his arms over his chest as he appraises Aaron. He drops his arms to his sides before addressing the little human.

  “First things, first. What I say goes. You must do everything I tell you,” Mazereth dictates.

  Aaron rolls his eyes.

  “I don’t want to see that again. Understood?” Mazereth demands.

  Aaron attempts to hide his anxiety over the angel’s reaction, but he can’t quell the trembles that rock his body.

  “Yes,” Aaron squeaks out.

  “Rule number two—no questions.” Mazereth raises an eyebrow while waiting for Aaron’s reaction.

  “What about—” Aaron’s cut off before he can finish.

  “No. Questions,” Mazereth says through clenched teeth.

  Aaron tries to listen to all of Mazereth’s rules, but somehow, he can’t concentrate after the first two. How is he supposed to train without asking questions? If something isn’t working, what’s he supposed to do? He glances over at Azrael for reassurance, but he’s too busy with—whatever he’s doing.

  Azrael, in the meantime, is working on setting up the rest of Aaron’s training. He’s to busy planning. There are many things that must align in order for Azrael’s plan to come together. He’s been waiting for this moment for too long, and he won’t let anything get in his way this time. Too many times he’s been close, but never this close. Only Aaron has ever passed the test. He’d hate to get too anxious, but how can he not?

  Finally, he has someone strong enough to be successful.

  19

  “Concentrate,” Mazereth demands.

  “I’m trying,” Aaron declares.

  So far, their session isn’t exactly going smoothly. Aaron is struggling to appease Mazereth, meanwhile Mazereth is becoming more frustrated with Aaron.

  Azrael stands off to the side watching the session with a frown. So far, Mazereth isn’t delivering what Azrael considers to be useful traits. He knew this would take while, but he doesn’t have that much time. He needs Aaron to learn faster, but he’s been a reluctant student.

  “Enough,” Azrael shouts.

  Both Aaron and Mazereth’s attention veers to Azrael.

  “This isn’t working,” Azrael says as he strides over to the two, placing a hand on Aaron’s shoulder. “Aaron, you’re trying too hard. Just relax. Take what Maz has said, let it sink in and try again.”

  Aaron closes his eyes, releasing the tension in his shoulders. Azrael removes his hand from Aaron’s shoulder and steps back, motioning for Mazereth to do the same. Both angels watch Aaron closely.

  Aaron opens his eyes, raises his hand and waves it at the log on the ground in front of him. At first the log jolts, then the sound of wood splintering fills the air. Finally, the log cracks down the middle and breaks in two pieces.

  Aaron jumps back, his breathe coming in pants. He stares at his fingertips. He can feel a tingling sens
ation similar to pins and needles, but his hand is not numb. Something wet trickles down his upper lip and he swipes his other hand across it. When he pulls his hand back, he discovers blood smeared across the back of it. His heart rate picks up as panic sets in, and his breathing becomes even more erratic.

  “What’s happening?” Aaron mumbles.

  Dizziness clouds Aaron’s mind as he stares at the smears of red. He’s always had a hard time with blood—his own blood in particular. Usually, it causes him to faint, and this time is no different as the world starts spinning and his knees become weak. His legs give out from under. as the ground rushes up to meet him. Before he hits the solid mass, two arms wrap tightly around his torso, lowering him to the ground slowly.

  Azrael places Aaron carefully on the ground and runs his hand over Aaron’s forehead. Aaron’s eyes roll toward the back of his head and his lids closed.

  “Great. That’s just great,” Azrael grumbles. “We don’t have time for this.”

  “I told you he couldn’t do it,” Mazereth pipes up. “Humans are too weak.”

  “You’re not helping, Maz,” Azrael snaps, standing to his full height.

  “If you’d listen to me—”

  Azrael closes the distance between them in a second, getting right in Mazereth’s face. “Don’t you get it? We need to do this now, or it will never work. Get that through your head,” Azrael shouts.

  Mazereth crosses his arms over his chest and stares Azrael down.

  “I told you I’d only help if you do it my way,” Mazereth spews. “This takes time. It’s not something that can be taught in a night. And, I told you, humans can’t handle the energy.” He pokes his index finger into Azrael’s chest. “They’re too weak.”

  Azrael slaps Maz’s hand away and growls a warning.

  “Do not threaten me, Azrael,” Mazereth snarls, narrowing his eyes as his eyebrows knit together.

  The air around the two is thick with anger, so much so they don’t notice the bright light appear across the clearing.

  Caleb shimmers into the space, looking first to Aaron passed out on the ground, then to the two angels about to break out into battle. He rolls his eyes thinking of the numerous times he’s had to play referee for the two of them. It’s as if he has children that he’s always separating. It’s sickening, really. If these two could just get along, they would be a lot more powerful and this quest wouldn’t have taken so long.

  “I see we’re getting along as usual,” Caleb smirks, as he leaves Aaron’s side and wanders over to the two children. “How many times must I separate you two?”

  Azrael and Mazereth turn and glance at the new arrival.

  Azrael’s stance relaxes ten-fold.

  Mazereth, on the other hand, turns his glare on Caleb. “If you were so worried about us, you should have been here earlier,” he barks.

  “I still have a job to do. Would you like to tip them off too soon?” Caleb responds.

  “Yeah, yeah. We know all about your job,” Mazereth scorns.

  “What happened to him?” Caleb enquires, pointing at Aaron.

  “Fainted. Took one look at his own blood, and down he went.” Mazereth smirks. “Humans.”

  “Are you sure he’s all right?” Caleb leans over Aaron’s body taking a closer look.

  “He’ll live,” Azrael informs. “But his training isn’t going well.”

  Azrael paces up and down the length of Aaron’s body, running his fingers through his hair. “It’s taking too long.”

  “You have to have patience, Azrael.” He glances at Azrael, assessing his temper. “He’s a mere human. They can’t handle the impact of this gift as well as we can. You need to slow down.”

  “Time is running out,” Azrael forewarns.

  “Stop being so dramatic. We have all the time in the world,” Caleb responds, waving his hand at Azrael casually.

  Azrael stops pacing and glares at Caleb.

  “No. We don’t,” he hisses.

  “What does that mean?” Caleb’s expression turns serious.

  “If we’re going to receive help from—”

  “Don’t say his name,” Mazereth snaps.

  Azrael glowers at Mazereth, but remains silent.

  “When did you recruit him?” Mazereth probes.

  Azrael’s expression softens. “We need him.”

  “No. We don’t,” Mazereth argues.

  “I can’t believe you went to him,” Caleb pipes in.

  “I had no other choice. He’s the best,” Azrael explains.

  “But—” Caleb peeks down at Aaron, then back to Azrael. “Him?”

  “What’s the matter with you two? We used to be friends. Brothers, actually. So, what’s the problem?” Azrael solicits.

  “He’s not on our side. He chose to go with her. When we needed him most, he bailed on us? Does any of this ring a bell?” Caleb informs.

  “It’s not what you think,” Azrael responds.

  “Then, enlighten us,” Mazereth challenges, crossing his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes, and pinching his eyebrows together.

  “Uriel was forced to make that choice and you know it.” Azrael shakes his index finger at Mazereth.

  They fall silent as they regard each other. After a moment pause, Caleb breaks the silence.

  “Are you sure he’s okay?” Caleb bids, dropping to a knee and leaning over Aaron’s body.

  He places his hand on Aaron’s chest for a moment.

  “He’s not breathing,” he hisses, glancing up at Azrael.

  “What?” Azrael questions, as he takes a knee for a closer look.

  “I said he’s not breathing. What did you two do?” Caleb questions.

  Both Azrael and Mazereth stare at Caleb, but neither move a muscle.

  20

  Aaron wakes up to a world filled entirely of fluffy white. He’s flat on his back, his body is frozen, but his eyes shift from side to side wildly. He recognizes the place as the one where his whole nightmare began. Slowly, he regains feeling in his numb limbs.

  A flash of white light appears beside him and he closes his eyes against the blinding burst.

  Nevaeh shimmers into existence and immediately kneels beside Aaron. She places her hand on his forehead, peering down at his face.

  Aaron opens his eyes giving her a pleading glance.

  “What happened?” he solicits.

  “I don’t know,” Nevaeh responds, her face full of concern. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  Aaron closes his eyes once again as he concentrates on his last memory.

  Another burst of light appears on the other side of Aaron as Fallen materialises taking a knee to lean over Aaron.

  “What happened?” Fallon inquires, as he glares up at Nevaeh.

  “I’m trying to figure that out,” she says, peeling her eyes away from Aaron to glare at Fallen.

  “You know it was something he did, right?” Fallen inquires.

  “Of course,” she sneers. “Now, we have to figure out what that was.”

  Aaron opens his eyes and sits up.

  “So, is this it?” He glances at Nevaeh, then turns his head to Fallen. “Am I dead?”

  The two angels stand to their full height. Fallen looks at Nevaeh, confusion crossing over his features. She mirrors his expression. It’s apparent neither of them have a clue what Azrael is up to, and they’ve both been working hard to figure out his plan.

  Aaron rises from the fluffy, white ground and stands between the two angels. His head swings back and forth between them not sure who to address, or what to ask. It’s all been so confusing and he’s no longer sure about what is real and what is a dream—nightmare really.

  “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ve had enough. I want to go home. I want my life back,” Aaron asserts as he glares at Fallen, but when he gets no reaction from him, he turns his focus to Nevaeh.

  She wears a compassionate expression but fails to speak.

  Aaron allows the
anger to overwhelm him and he wanders off in a huff. Deja vu rushes through him as he glances around spotting nothing but an endless sea of white clouds. That doesn’t stop him from walking on, not knowing where he’s going, or even if he’ll fall through this substance he’s currently walking on. It feels even, but with everything being the same it’s very disorienting. So much so, he wonders if he’ll eventually fall off, or down, or through wherever he’s stranded. None of this deters him though and his strides become quicker the further away he gets.

  “See what you’ve done—again,” Nevaeh sneers at Fallen.

  “Me?” He gestures to himself. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “You’ve scared him,” Nevaeh scolds.

  “I did no such thing,” Fallen scoffs. “It’s your fault for not answering his questions.”

  “I don’t know the answers. Do you?” Nevaeh shouts at him.

  “No.”

  They stare at each other for a moment.

  “Are we going after him?” Fallen waves his hand in the direction Aaron went. “He seems to get into trouble when left unattended.”

  Nevaeh turns to look for Aaron noticing for the first time he’s disappeared.

  “Crap,” she mutters then walks in the direction he was heading.

  Fallen steps alongside her, and the two strode ahead with great purpose.

  Aaron moves his feet quickly through the white fluffy substance as he continues onward. He has no doubt he’ll find his way home, or at least he hopes he will. If he’s not dead, then he wonders how he keeps ending up here, a place he clearly believes is heaven. Except for the fact that Fallen is here. It’s apparent from the black and red coloring of his eyes, he doesn’t belong here.

  As he presses on, the white around him is turning darker and darker, the further away he gets. All is silent and the air around becomes foggier than a white cloud. His mind is getting incredibly hazy as he attempts to find some sort of path, or anything that will lead the way to earth—to home.

  Frustrated, he closes his eyes.

  “Aaron,” his mother’s voice breaks through his foggy mind. “Come on, Sweetie. Time to get up,” she calls out from within the room.