Surrender the Dark

by L. A. Banks

  “No,” Celeste said, grabbing Azrael by the arm. She stared up at him. “We need to move, now.”

  “You’re sure about this,” Azrael asked with a yawn, walking in a quasi-zigzag pattern down the quiet street behind her.

  “Yes,” she replied, annoyed by the whole situation. “We had to get out of there—that was a trap, sure as I was looking at one.”

  “How so?” he asked, slightly slurring his words.

  “First of all, you’ve probably got a contact high just from standing in the living room.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “That’s the problem,” she said, walking quickly in the brisk air to help shake the lethargy that was settling on him. “Try to think about anything you picked up while on the Net about the effects of weed and alcohol. Man . . . they don’t want to see you go home. Classic haters.”

  “But—”

  “But, nothing.” She whirled on him. “They have been here a long time; their house leader admitted it himself.”

  “Okay, true,” Azrael said, seeming to find it difficult to keep stride with Celeste as they made their way toward the train. “But what’s that got to do with—”

  “It has everything to do with it,” she snapped. “They are exhibiting classic human behavior, and if it’s one thing I can read, it’s classic human behavior. I also know a setup when I see one. It was four of them and one of you. Four strong Sentinels working on you, man, is what I’d call a spiritual beatdown, and nobody even broke a sweat or frowned. Look at you. You’re trashed.”

  He stopped walking and opened his arms wide. “What?”

  “You are buzzed.”

  “No, I’m not!”

  She strode up to him and pushed him in the center of his chest. “You’re buzzed. You drew from the environment and had your guard down once you realized they weren’t hostiles. When you met me in a bar, this didn’t happen to you because you kept your guard up, but this was different. Once you thought things were cool back at that house, you had total trust and were wide-open, so to speak. Weren’t you the one who told me to stay close because these guys who have been here too long are dangerous, blah, blah, blah?”

  Azrael slowly lowered his arms.

  “Yeah,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “They aren’t just dangerous in the caveman style of obvious. C’mon, son, they’ve had twenty-six thousand years to perfect their game. They’ve got a whole nuther level of smooth going on.”

  “I cannot believe I was so oblivious...”

  “You don’t think they’ve learned how to burn a fellow empath? Like . . . maybe make a guy who’s wide-open feel all their vices and to take enough of them into his energetic field to even impact his actual physical system?” She stopped walking for a moment. “Az, I heard your stomach growl in there and could tell you were five minutes from breaking down for some of whatever they had in the kitchen. And I’m not gonna lie, so was I—so I’m not trying to act like I’m Miss Perfect. But I told you I’d watch your back. That’s all I’m trying to do here.”

  Azrael closed his eyes and shook his head but kept walking. “Stupid. I would have been more prepared if they were demons. In a traditional battle, we know the dark side uses devious methods and therefore we surround ourselves with protective energy, like Light armor, going into battle. Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

  “Not stupid, just naïve—and there’s a difference. But both naïveté and stupidity can get you jacked up. So now that you know, act like you know. Obviously what you’re going to encounter doesn’t fight fair or engage their enemy by traditional methods. Learn this guerrilla warfare, dude. Seriously. It’s a new day . . . or night, as the case may be. Plus, they didn’t even bring their A game because they realized how much of a newbie to the density you were.”

  “He asked me and I outright told him like a trusting child! Damn it!”

  “Yeah,” she said, shaking her head. “But like you told me, stop cussing because right now you’re clearly in no condition to ward off anything slithering up from a sewer or whatever. The last thing we need out here is a low vibration, okay?”

  “I must regain my sobriety. Celeste, this is unacceptable. I could have endangered you.”

  “Nah . . . your boys back at that house would probably jump into a demon brawl, let’s hope—especially only a coupla blocks from their house. But for future reference, here’s how it was gonna go down if we’d stayed. They’d get you buzzed from a contact, and after about a half hour, maybe you’d say yes to a few tokes, then a few more . . . and once dry mouth set in, rum would seem like a natural solution . . . and while laughing and playing cards, who’s thinking about consumption and quantities of get-high? Then, food . . . hey . . . who cares, because your ass has the munchies. So you’ll eat that great-smelling grub they had in there, and if your boy has dominion over nourishment, then you know the women he pulled can burn. Why not, he’s not gonna abstain now. It’s already too late, so he’s gonna enjoy every aspect of being in a body that he can. I ain’t hatin’.”

  She lifted her chin as she set her sights on the train portal a half block ahead. “And, once you eat and smoke a joint, who really cares if you find Bath Kol to stay on mission because, by now, you’re sleepy—or horny . . . and if your angel brother has been around on the planet as long as he said, then he knows a thing or two about getting his swerve on with a woman. He’d probably get laid in that house tonight, and since you’re an empath, you would have picked that up while you crashed on the couch, and then you would have been all messed up and they would have felt like they’d showed you that you were no better than they were. Be clear. That was how it was gonna go. I could feel it. That’s why I said, ‘We’re out.’ Ain’t no friends in this game.”

  Azrael looked away. “He said we should be catching the number two train back toward Manhattan, and then we’re supposed to get off at Franklin Avenue, go up the stairs to the other side, where we get the number three to Kingston Avenue.”

  “Changing the subject will not change the facts, Az. Why do men always do that? Never mind, don’t answer that—rhetorical question anyway.” Celeste stopped as they neared the train entrance and she placed a hand on Azrael’s chest. “It’ll pass . . . this feeling of being buzzed. He probably sent the energy of the herb toward you just like you showed me with the vitamins, because it is a natural plant, after all.”

  Azrael nodded. “He did, as soon as you started explaining . . . your words resonated as truth.”

  “Bet you can taste the rum in your mouth, too.”

  Again Azrael nodded and took a deep breath, but his eyes were angry. “I would have expected no less of demons . . . but my own brothers. Damn!”

  “Yeah, well, sibling rivalry is a bitch. Who wants to see you go home with flying colors, so to speak, when they’ve been trapped down here so long they’re half-crazy?”

  “Did they hurt you, Celeste . . . did they pollute your system, too?”

  “No. I think they were focused on you, because if they got you all jacked up, then working on me, a mere mortal, would have been easy.”

  “Duly noted,” he said, disgusted, then leaned against a storefront window.

  “Hey, everything has a purpose. Remember this lesson so that the next time you encounter a Sentinel brother, you can guard yourself . . . and me, you know?”

  “I have failed you before I’ve even begun.” Azrael released a long sigh and hung his head.

  “No, you haven’t. Weed either makes you silly as all get-out or makes you melodramatic,” she said, laughing gently, fully aware of his raw feelings. “You’re leaning on the side of melodrama where everything is cosmic and deep . . . and I bet you’re hungry?”

  “Starving,” he admitted, now searching his bag. “I wish I had some of those chips . . . or ice cream . . . or—”

  “Peel a mango, eat it out here now, drink some water, and lemme go into one of these stores and buy some hand wipes.”

  Azrael set his bag down by
his feet and stared at the fruit he’d extracted from it. “Did you every notice the colors of a mango . . . how it looks like the Source just painted each one by hand.”

  “Oh, man, I could so kick their asses . . . you are so high.” She took the mango from him and held it away from her to peel it.

  “Celeste,” he said quietly. “You’re beautiful, did you know that?”

  She looked up at him.

  “I need to thank you for teaching me all this stuff and . . . you’re so beautiful. You’re making me feel things that . . . I can’t put words to and right now I just want to—”

  “I know it’s real intense at the moment, but I will not be the reason you can’t go home.” She closed her eyes and tried to steady herself. “Az . . . this feeling will go away once you eat.”

  “No. No, it won’t. The urge to join with you is like nothing I’ve ever known, Celeste. I felt this before but it was less urgent and I could just will it away. Now it’s a craving, an actual body ache worse than when we were on the train....But I’m not exactly sure how allowed any of what I’m feeling is allowed or not, even though you’re not truly a human, you’re a hybrid one of us...I am therefore praying that it is all right, but I don’t know if there are special circumstances or rules that we should observe—that is assuming . . . hoping you feel the same way . . . for millennia we just blotted the very concept out of our minds, so I never looked into the caveats and it was never a passing thought where I was. I never had a formal body; I was energy, and—am I making sense?”

  “Here,” she said quickly, handing him the opened fruit.

  He bit into it with a moan of satisfaction, and she hoisted her backpack higher on her right shoulder. “I’m gonna go get some hand wipes or at least some napkins or whatever I can score. Be back in a few. Pitch the skin and pit when you’re done—but stay right here. The birds will be happy with the mango remains if there’s no trash can available, and the fruit is biodegradable anyway.”

  She left him leaning against the wall devouring the fruit. If they had Kettle chips in the store or some kind of all-natural cake or candy, she’d bring it back to him as a treat. But she had to get away from him for a minute as a diversion. She had to do what she’d just accused all of mankind of doing—she had to change the subject and hope both her mind and body would get the memo. Never in her life had she been so blown away. The man or being or whatever was politically correct to call him was standing outside the store in the dark practically sparking blue-white light, trembling, babbling from trying to be honorable, and breathing hard with an erection that wouldn’t quit.

  Of all the strikes already against her, the last thing she figured she needed was a black mark on her record for taking advantage of an inebriated angel.

  Chapter 13

  You all right?” Celeste gave Azrael a sidelong glance as they exited the subway to the street.

  “Yes,” he said in a somber tone, not looking at her as they headed toward the corner of Kingston and Bergen.

  “You don’t sound so okay,” she said after they’d walked in strained silence for several yards.

  “I am no longer inebriated. The water and the food helped . . . and I appreciate the chips you found . . . and the vegan brownie.”

  “Well, you sure don’t sound like somebody who has a lot of sugar and carbs in his system,” she said with a half smile, trying to cheer him up. “Anybody with a system as clean as yours is should be bouncing off the walls like a little kid.”

  “I cannot be childlike or joyful at this moment, Celeste . . . not after shaming myself.”

  She hurried to get in front of him and stop him. “Hey, you didn’t shame yourself.”

  “I lost complete control and was ineffective as your protector. I am no guardian. Had you not been there to intervene, who knows what mischief I would have been up to.”

  “Lighten up.” She smiled wider when he rounded her and kept walking. “You aren’t the first person to go to a house party and wind up getting their drink spiked or whatever. At least you weren’t dancing on a table with a lampshade on your head.”

  “But I am Azrael!” he shouted.

  She ignored the outburst and threaded her arm around his waist. “And while you have a body, you’re gonna feel stuff—so get used to it.”

  “I confess that I do not like this condition of vulnerability at all.” He looked at her but didn’t pull away. “It is very disorienting.”

  “Welcome to planet Earth. Pain is why everybody here does crazy-bad shit . . . and pleasure-seeking to escape it is what gets more people in trouble than you can count. My therapists said balance was the key. But unless you’ve got a special hotline to a brother up in the clouds who deals with balance, on that I can’t really help you. All I can do is warn you if your rudder is steering you too far left or too far right.”

  “I appreciate that,” he said quietly, then stopped to stare at the address they’d been given.

  “It’s all good,” she said, joining him in staring at the soft folds of jewel-tone purple and green silk fabric that covered the large storefront window. “I think this is it.”

  Azrael rang the bell and they waited, not sure what to expect. Celeste looked up at the building. The wood frames around the doors and the windows had been painted soft lavender, while the door was a soothing mint green. A large Egyptian ankh was carved into the wood beneath the address, and a large brass one hung inside the picture window with the silk fabric behind it.

  Tranquil colors emanated from the structure, and within a few moments they could hear calm movement inside. When the door opened, a petite, brown, delicately boned woman stood in the threshold. Her age was impossible to judge, but her eyes held a level of wisdom that said she’d lived a while. Her smile was warm and her Light was so radiant that it almost seemed to reach out and caress them. Dreadlocks were piled high in a lavender wrap atop her head, her feet were bare, and she wore a soft, orange gauze shift with long, flowing sleeves.

  “Hetep, beloveds. I have been expecting you. Please come in.” She stood aside and indicated with a graceful sweep of her hand where a shoe basket sat just inside the door. It held unused paper sandals, and there was a straw mat for shoes. “You may leave your shoes here and come back into my private rooms to join me in some tea.”

  It wasn’t a request; it was more like a gentle command. Celeste and Azrael took off their shoes, slipped on the paper sandals that had been offered, and followed the queen.

  “You may leave your bags over there,” she said in a gracious tone, again using a sweep of her arm to indicate the shelving outside the treatment rooms they passed.

  They settled their bags on a shelf and continued through the narrow hallway toward the back. Egyptian papyruses with beautiful ceremonial reliefs graced the walls, as did peacock feathers and small figurines and masks from the motherland. Lavender drifted through the air combined with light hints of rosemary and rose oil that Celeste was sure Queen Aziza used in her day-spa treatments.

  The level of peace that exuded from every surface was enough to melt one’s bones. Queen Aziza stopped at a spiral staircase and gave them a smile.

  “Be careful going down. The wood is slippery.”

  Celeste held on to the railing with both hands, trying not to gape at the fine art and one-of-a-kind, handcrafted seating that the stairs opened out into. A full apartment was below the small spa, and Queen Aziza simply motioned with a hand for them to have a seat at her carved teakwood dining room table.

  A huge, black, old-fashioned potbellied stove was in the far corner of what doubled as a kitchen and dining room, and a wooden refrigerator stood beside a stainless-steel sink and counters, near rows of copper-bottom pots, apothecary jars, and mason jars filled with grains.

  “Green tea with raw honey?”

  “Please,” Azrael said, then closed his eyes.

  “Thank you so much,” Celeste murmured in awe.

  “You must be famished after such a long journey here.
r />   Let me restore you with some fresh vegetable couscous, whole-wheat pita bread and hummus with tabouli salad, and perhaps yam soup, or would you prefer miso and seaweed?”

  Azrael dropped his head into his hands. Celeste watched the tension in his body literally unwind in the thick muscles of his broad shoulders.

  “My prayers have been answered tonight. Whatever you offer we are honored to share.”

  “Are you an angel?” Celeste murmured.

  Queen Aziza turned away from the stove and laughed. The sound of her mirth was like tinkling bells that made everyone smile with her.

  “No, beloved. I’m just a sensitive . . . and Isda called me to confess that he’d behaved badly when you came to visit him.”

  “He really did,” Celeste said, beginning to lose her smile.

  “Ah . . . don’t be so hard on him and the others. He still has his Light, but he can be irksome at times because he is so unhappy and trying so hard to deny that he is—that I’ll grant you.”

  “Well, he sure messed up Az.”

  “Jealousy is so destructive.” Queen Aziza released a weary sigh and brought two hand-painted platters with food to the table, then set them down. She went to Azrael, who now stared up at her. “Dear brother of Light, may I look at your energy body?”

  “Yes, of course,” Azrael murmured in an easy baritone.

  Queen Aziza frowned. “Your heart chakra is spinning slowly as though the energy there is stuck or conflicted . . . and your back...there are dark outages around your shoulders. Can you remove your shirt?”

  “I’d . . . prefer not to,” he said quietly, and then stared down at the floor.

  “His wings,” Celeste said softly. “Something happened when he came through from that side to this one, and it still bothers him.”