by Allie Jean
“Why is he so distant?” she asked, glancing away.
“My friend Mathias has a lot to live up to, as does his brother,” Andreu said. “Their father, Nicolae, was a great warrior for the Contrites. He fathered three children of Titus’ generation, two boys and a girl, Katerina.”
“What happened to her?”
“No one knows,” he said. “Last they heard of her, she was being guarded by her father. Not even Titus knows what happened, or he’s not telling.”
“I don’t know anything about the histories of your kind, but it seems a lot of it comes into play now.”
“Yes, it does seem that way,” Andreu said, staring into the fire with a pensive expression. “Do you know the history of the Contrites?”
“Just what Mathias told me, which is very little.”
“Well, I’m sure he’s been extremely busy saving your life to fill you in on all the gossip.” Andreu gave her a warm smile, and the accuracy of what he said made Chantal feel guilty for her behavior toward Mathias.
“Let’s see, where to begin . . .” Andreu leaned back against a broken pew, seemingly looking into the distance for the memories. She thought he resembled an old storyteller, despite the fact he didn’t look a day over twenty-five. All he needed was a long pipe and he’d be channeling that wizard on Lord of the Rings. Chantal stifled a giggle.
“You know that our forbearers were Fallen Angels, correct?”
“Yes, and that my father was a Contrite warrior. He and a handful of Fallen rejected the Evil One.”
Andreu nodded. “The Contrites separated from the Fallen, rejecting their pledge for souls and corruption. To protect the innocence of mankind, they made a pact to defend against the darkness and legion of Shadows. They knew at the time that no matter how hard they fought against the Evil One, their prior transgression could not go unpunished, and they would be forever lost to the Grace of Heaven. However, in reward for their penance, they were spared the disfigurement of the Fallen, retaining more human-like, rather than bestial, features.”
“Bestial? What do you mean?”
“The Fallen once held the beauty of the Angels, but in their greed and lust for power, they became ugly and rancid. They are the devils depicted in folklore and legend, the things nightmares are made of.”
“Have you seen one before?”
“No, none of us warriors has seen one and lived to tell about it. They are very powerful, and one-hundred-percent lethal. Only the Contrites have fought them to any success, and there are only a few left now.”
“I think I’ve seen one in my dreams,” Chantal said, almost to herself. Memories of the creature that had held her captive in the room of the endless hall came to mind, its demented laughter and claim on her life keeping her nerves on edge.
“If that is true, I do not envy your gift.”
“What happened after the Contrites split? What made them go into hiding?”
“After the upheaval, a great war ensued, and the Contrites assumed the Angels would come down from the Golden Gates to help defend humankind because they are far more powerful than any entity on Earth. To usurp their involvement, The Evil One sent an army of Shadows to the gates to keep the Angels preoccupied. The Contrites were left to fight the Fallen on their own.”
“How could the Angels just do nothing to protect their brothers?”
“Ah, but don’t you see? The Contrites were no longer brethren. They made the choice to leave, thereby giving up the Grace of Heaven.”
Chantal didn’t have a response, although a few more questions formed in her mind, and she resolved to ask Mathias about it later.
“The Contrites took a massive hit, leaving only half a dozen alive,” Andreu said. “They sounded the retreat, taking to the Shade to travel, the barren wastelands of the world to hide. They were hunted mercilessly, yet survived for thousands of years.”
“So the hunt began a long time ago?”
“The hunt for the Fallen did, yes. The hunt for the Oracles came much later.” Andreu paused for a moment.
It had to stink, living all those years, watching time pass by while living on the outskirts of civilization. She could only assume it was a lonely existence.
“The first Contrite to fall in love after the division of the Fallen was Chyme—one of the remaining surviving Contrites,” Andreu said with a knowing smile. “He married his beloved, Celadine, and began a family. They had a small girl named Constance. She was the light of their lives, bringing joy to a creature who thought he’d lost the ability to be truly happy after his regretful decision to follow the rebels in their greed and search for power. She was barely able to form words when the dreams began, and it didn’t take long to figure out what they meant. Chyme was afraid for what her dreams meant for their future, so he took his family and fled.”
Chantal sighed, knowing that this is what life would be like for her from now on, hiding from the Shadows, always on the run. It seemed she too would live a long life on the outskirts.
“The Evil One is corrupt and cruel, and he has created strongholds throughout mankind, warping his victims’ minds to do his bidding. He learned of the girl from a handmaid who’d lived next to Celadine. She knew of a secret marriage to a man with gray skin, and that they’d had a daughter named Constance shortly thereafter. She’d given him her confession as she’d writhed below him. He used her body and her mind, corrupting her soul, taking what he wanted like a parasite, and then ended her life.”
“That’s horrible!”
“That’s wickedness and corruption at its finest,” Andreu retorted.
“So, what happened? Did they ever find the girl?”
“Yes, the Shadows found the family when the girl was very young. After killing his wife in cold blood, the Fallen took Constance and gave her over to the Evil One. He kept her as a toy in order to force Chyme into swearing allegiance to him and to inform on his brothers in hiding. Chyme refused, and Constance was killed.”
“That’s horrible.”
“Chyme mourned for a thousand years, fighting like a man driven to the brink of madness. He became a sniper, taking out the Fallen one by one, hunting them.”
“Smart man,” Chantal said, and Andreu chuckled.
“It was almost eleven-hundred years before he allowed himself the love of another woman. Although he still loved his Celadine, he knew she would want him to love again. Chyme and Maria were married, and it was three years before they had their own child, Abegail. She too was murdered in cold blood. Over and over again, Chyme’s curse continued. Nine little girls in all he buried. Nine times he had to suffer the devastating loss; nine times, he had to put his heart back together again. Some say we all have our cross to bear in life, our own brand of penance. No one, no matter their sins, deserves to suffer like this.”
“How devastating,” Chantal said, lost in a wave of grief for the poor father’s fate. “Part of me wonders why he kept trying, too. Why risk the heartache when he knew how it would most likely end?”
Andreu shrugged. “Many have wondered why he never stopped procreating, avoiding the loss altogether, but life is not ours to grant or reject. Chyme understood that, and lived by that principle. No matter our sufferings, each life has a purpose. It was also believed that perhaps his behavior was part of the curse placed upon him after Constance was killed. Maybe he was compelled to continue having children as part of a desperate need, a lie, just so the Evil One could destroy him over and over. Makes it seem less horrible if one could think that he didn’t have a choice in the matter.”
Chantal was heartbroken at the loss, and part of her didn’t think she could make that same choice. In her time with countless wounded children, she had learned the hard way the hurt and disappointment this life had to offer. The damage and brutality alone had made her rethink reproduction, even when she thought she’d been normal. Now, to subject a child to life on the run, or even worse, be used as a pawn . . .
No, she didn’t think she could bring a
child into this life.
As if he could read her thoughts, Andreau nudged her outstretched foot. “Chyme’s sacrifices and pain were not all for naught.” He smiled conspiratorially. “His daughter, Hannah, born almost one hundred and fifty years ago, did survive.”
“What do you mean?” Chantal became excited over the prospect of another Oracle, someone she could confide in, who could tell her what to expect and help her build on her gift.
“When his tenth wife became pregnant, Chyme left her, thinking that if he did, she and the child would remain safe. But fate, they say, can be fickle. His wife was murdered by a thief, and his child went missing. He still searches for her, some say, hoping beyond the most heart-filled prayer that she lives.”
“This sounds more like an urban legend than a true story,” Chantal said, somewhat deflated.
“Everything is built on myths and legends,” Andreu said. Then he nudged her foot again. “Shall I bring another beast in here for you? Allow you to see that myths and legends are very much real?”
“No.” Chantal laughed, her cheeks turning pink. “It’s just . . . the thought of another one out there like me . . .”
“I understand,” Andreu said. “And for all our sakes, including her father’s, I hope that she is. The Oracles are our greatest hope. Perhaps someday, you will have a vision of her, telling us where she’s been hiding as well.”
“My dreams don’t quite work out that way,” Chantal said, ashamed for some reason.
“You’ve only had them with the block that had been placed there,” Andreu said. “Let’s see how you dream with your mind completely unveiled.”
“I hope you’re right,” Chantal said. “Just don’t get your hopes up.”
“Hope is all we have.”
“No, hope is a demon, and does nothing but bring disappointment, believe me, I know.” Her tone was flat and without remorse. It shocked even herself, but that had been her reality for so long, the statement just seemed cemented into her brain. She’d hoped her mother would come and get her from foster care. She’d hoped that one day, she’d be rid of Regina, or if not her, then one of the girls she cared so much for. Hope had led to nothing but regret and wasted time. She knew it . . . she’d lived it.
“No, that’s Doubt talking,” Andreu said. “If there are such things, Doubt is the demon. It keeps those dreams and aspirations just out of reach, makes them seem unattainable.”
Chantal looked unconvinced.
“I think that’s part of your problem with Mathias. I just don’t think he knows what to make of you . . .”
“What do you mean?”
Andreu thought for a moment, seemed to be weighing his words.
“For those of us who’ve fought for so long, just to have the blood of small children on our hands, hope has dwindled down to nothing. Instead of having a reason or purpose, we just . . . do behind the guise that it is our duty, doubting that our actions will ever bring us to a brighter future. We just continue honoring our brothers who’ve died before us.”
Andreu leaned forward, leveling her with a stern gaze.
“You give him hope, Chantal, and I don’t think he knows what to do with it.”
Mathias knew that he shouldn’t have said anything to her, and yet, he couldn’t help but to tell Chantal everything. That girl’s life had been forever altered, and he felt like a bastard because the idea thrilled him. Not because she’d be perpetually on the run, never able to meet the goals of life she’d set for herself. A family, a career, independence, and solitude—all of that was out of the question now. That part angered Mathias on her behalf. No one should live life unfulfilled.
He had seen Chantal’s warrior growing inside her and soon, she wouldn’t be dependent on him. He hated that he’d enjoyed hiding away in the shadows, serving as her guard and guide while watching her grow into the woman she was today. Even more so now that he knew his feelings for her were more than innocent. The fact her inner warrior had begun to reveal herself brought on an entire new aspect to their relationship, however. Part of him was afraid she wouldn’t need him anymore once she was fully trained, and where would that leave him? Was she not his charge to watch over, regardless? He was struggling with what he knew as his duty, and his heart that knew she was so much more.
“Horrible,” he said, chiding himself.
He had a reputation to think about, after all. For ages now, he’d been the brother known to have a lighthearted and carefree attitude—he one who would make jokes and take life by the horns, yet, always ready to die for the cause. Now, he found himself doing something he hadn’t done in a while—contemplating its purpose and all that entailed. All because he had interest in a girl who would forever remain rightfully unattainable.
“Pathetic.”
He’d been roaming around the wilderness for some time now, telling himself it’d be best if he stayed away during Andreu’s visit. He knew the warrior would see the tension between the two of them, and he didn’t want to risk being taken off his assignment. In the long run, things would work out between him and Chantal, he just had to get his head around the reasons why she invaded his mind so much. Infatuation? Intrigue? A ridiculous quest to tame the shrew? He didn’t know, and that frustrated him to no end.
“She’s changed you,” he heard a familiar voice say, and his hackles rose.
“What do you mean?” Mathias couldn’t shelter the rage and worry in his tone.
“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. I like how she’s gotten under your skin.”
Mathias turned to see Andreu standing with a knowing smile on his face, arms folded across his chest like a loving father.
“Don’t try to get in the middle of it,” Mathias said. “I’m handling it.”
“Oh, I think you’ve got that backward, brother. She is most definitely handling you.”
“So, that’s how you see it, brother?” Mathias said, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what I’m doing with her. One minute, I think she’s going to break. I mean, who wouldn’t, the way we pulled her from the life she knew just as she was about to attend university, then telling her that life was a lie as well? Other times, she’s picking up a blasted sword and hacking her way through a herd of Seethers as if it was the most natural thing for her warrior to do. I don’t know what to tell her, and I’m afraid that when things start to get really bad, she’s going to resent me for bringing her into this world.”
“You didn’t father her, Mathias. The blame is not yours. She was already a part of this world. She just didn’t know it. Her warrior was awakened; she is stronger physically and mentally than all of us give her credit for, Oracle or not.”
“I know that. Now, she seems like the kind of girl that would not only shoot the messenger, but play with their innards before she put them out of their misery. Her warrior has made her harder to read and a lot more confident when she allows it.”
“That she does.” Andreu chuckled. “Can I give you some advice?”
“If you think I need it.” Mathias shrugged, a little perturbed.
“Just let things happen. Don’t try to fight it.”
“W-what?” Mathias gaped.
“You know that confused feeling—the one where you can’t tell which way is up, whether or not you want to choke her or kiss her? That’s the beginnings of an epic romance, my friend. Don’t let a chance at love pass you by. The first emotion we knew was Heaven’s love. We can’t forget that is a big part of us, though we don’t always feel we deserve it.”
Mathias glanced at the birthmark on his forearm. The heart of thorns had always represented that love Andreu spoke of. Constantly present and always felt, yet unable to touch the raven’s wings. Perhaps the Fallen and their brethren would always feel that longing of Grace and Forgiveness, the sons forever paying for the sins of their fathers. It was only with Chantal that Mathias had finally felt an array of hope and a small amount of that kind of effortless devotion. Could the Oracles lead the Warriors
back to salvation somehow? Was that the reason he felt so close to her?
“A Warrior cannot be in love with an Oracle,” Mathias said, reciting the mantra he’d been telling himself over and over again the past few nights.
“Says who?” Andreu scoffed, the curve of his eyebrow matching his upturned lips. “We all love the Oracles in an honorable way, for we dedicate our lives to ensure their existence. Not saying you’re being dishonorable, just no one has experienced it in this way.”
“And that type of love would just complicate things.”
“And when has life not been complicated?” Andreu threw him a pointed look. “This is new, not only to the brothers and young Oracles, but you two as well. Be wise as this will inevitably set a precedence whether you like it or not, by how it ends.”
“She makes me want to pull my hair out!”
“Case closed.” As Andreu made his leave, Mathias watched him until he disappeared. With the sunset approaching, he knew he needed to head back to the church, he just didn’t think he had the energy to fight with her anymore.
Resolving to bite the bullet, so to speak, he turned back toward the church as the wind began to pick up, sending dust and dried plant life scurrying across the dusky ground. The evening brought a chill to the air, and he figured they were heading into a frigid night. Temperatures in the desert could drop well into freezing levels, he wanted to get a steady fire going before the Shade opened, and the creatures began hunting again.
The quiet churchyard came into view, shadowed by the sun setting behind it. The silent graveyard behind the forgotten House of Worship included countless simply decorated crosses and headstones, forever marking the past. Nighttime creatures began to stir as the world fell into twilight, the time for the Shadows to embark on their ominous prowl.