by SL Naeole
Momentarily caught off guard by this benign attack, he eased his wings back, licking his lips and savoring the taste of my defiance. That little movement gave me just enough room to raise my hand, my only weapon, my only hope against an immortal angel of death--the hard end of lone feather--was gripped and ready. With all the strength I had, with all the will I had in me to live and the desperation to see Robert again alive, I rammed the quill into Sam's left eye. Surprise and shock filled me as it sunk in.
The screech that erupted from him tore through me, his pain became mine, worse than mine, unbearable as all of the nerve endings in me reacted to his cry. Reflexively, I pulled the quill out, my hand falling to the ground to brace myself for the pain that racked my body.
Sam gripped his eye with both hands while a golden liquid poured from between his fingers and dripped hotly onto my face. His pain and his anger were vibrating throughout his body, and his wings were spread wide, as though reaching for help from some unknown source. I bit through my pain, forcing it it down with a deep gasp, and quickly brought my arm up again, ramming the end of the quill into his other eye, blinding him completely.
His scream, the scream of an angel in pain, caused blood to rush out of my ears and my nose. The scream seemed to grow louder, more frantic. It echoed all around me, bouncing off of me before returning, and I grabbed my head, trying to keep it all out but only succeeding in trapping it inside of me--like a bumblebee in a jar--bumping around harder and harder in its quest to break free, but there was no freedom from this sound.
I rolled on the ground in agony. I tried kicking my feet against the gravel in a feeble attempt to crawl away while he wailed with his hands over his now blinded eyes; the two of us, pitiful creatures wallowing in our own pain. I shook and convulsed with the unbearable way it felt as though my entire body was imploding, tiny explosions beneath my skin like a million stab wounds biting into my flesh. I could see the blood pooling beneath my fingernails through the red mist that covered my eyes. I began vomiting the blood that had collected in my stomach, and struggled to breathe when my blood began to slowly drown me as it filled up my lungs.
I could feel the gravel cutting through my hands and my knees as I fought to get as far away from the sound as possible. I knew that the loss of sight wouldn't be enough to stop him, but I hoped it was enough to slow him down long enough for me to get away and die peacefully. I moved an inch--a small victory--and moved another.
Suddenly, I could feel a sharp pulling at the back of my head. My time was up. I was drawn to a standing position and then my feet were no longer touching the ground, while a tremendous pain radiated from my head.
He had lifted me off the ground by my hair, his fist knotted into my ponytail.
He placed his other hand around my throat, and brought my head to his. I could feel his hot and ragged breath in my ear, and shivered as he began talking in a hoarse voice. "You are going to pay for that, you walking corpse. I'm going to tear you into bite sized pieces and then feed you to your boyfriend. And when he's done eating your flesh--thanking me for an exceptional meal--I'm going to serve him your tongue for dessert." He laughed maniacally at that last line, knowing the unspoken irony was far more hurtful than anything else he could have said.
I felt the hand on my throat start to squeeze, the fingers biting cruelly into my skin, and I wrestled weakly knowing I had no ounce of fight left in me.
I had only my love for Robert left, and he could not take that away from me, no matter what he said or did. I had fought the angel of death, and I had lost. With what strength I had left, I began to recite the only bit of scripture I knew; my mother's favorite, Psalm 91. I sent a silent prayer that she'd help me find my way to Robert again as I teetered on the edge of consciousness.
I felt my limbs start to go numb, saw the flashes and spangles in front of my eyes, recognizing the signs that I was losing consciousness. I could feel the light as it surrounded me. I saw it, and marveled at it. It truly was as glorious as it is described.
My star had appeared after all.
The light, small and far away, seemed to grow brighter as it came closer. It was radiant, beautiful. I was in complete and utter awe, and I welcomed it as much as I feared it. Weakly, I raised my hand to block some of the brightness from my eyes and gasped in shock when I realized that beams of divine light were shooting out of my fingertips. I brought my other hand to my face and saw that it, too, looked as though the stars themselves had been contained in my hands, their brilliant light exploding out of the tips of my fingers like spotlights.
I became aware then that the hand around my throat had suddenly let go; my hair was no longer held up above my head in a callous grip, but was flowing all around my head in the warm, swirling air that vibrated around me. My skin was glowing, the light growing brighter and brighter with each heartbeat. I wasn't touching the ground--the light was keeping me afloat, and it was spreading out, an extension of my limbs, my hair, my breath, even my scent. It smelled like sunshine, and it was wrapped around me, warm and comforting, like a mother's embrace.
I looked at Sam--saw the black orbs that were once the golden pools of light that were his eyes, saw the agony on his face--and became instantly aware that the light was causing him an unbearable pain just as his cries had done to me. It was burning him...and he couldn't do anything to get away from it. He had become trapped in it and it was now clinging to him like honey.
He was screaming again, but the light changed the way the scream sounded; instead of causing me to beg for death, it sounded like the bells one hears ringing in a church on Sunday.
His face was twisting, his body curling and contorting as the light changed him, but the movements were slow and graceful; it would be quite easy to mistake his suffering for a strange sort of dance. I watched in fascinated horror as his wings began to disintegrate, turning into ashes that floated away like a light mist of dust into the distant light. His once beautiful dark-blonde hair changed, becoming white, thinner. His skin began to pull up against itself, wrinkling in such a drastic way; it reminded me of the crumpling of aluminum foil. All of the things that had made him beautiful were now gone, but the punishing light wasn't done with him yet.
He began to shake and writhe from the invisible torture, the sound of bells belying the suffering in his voice, but I could make out the word that seemed frozen on his lips; he was screaming "No".
I felt the sharp intake of air as the light that stretched from between us caused his chest to crack like glass, the sound unmistakably hollow like the shattering of a million crystals with no void for it to travel off to. It crept into him through the multiple fissures and drew out tiny blue orbs from deep within. I watched as he writhed in agony while the opaque light smothered the orbs until their inner glow died out, and Sam was left on the ground--devoid of power, devoid of beauty, devoid of immortality.
The mysterious light began to fade, pulling back into me by the same unseen force that had pushed it out in the first place. There was no danger anymore. I knew I was safe.
"Thank you, Mom," I breathed as I saw him--my own guardian angel--shielded from the intense light by his black wings; the dark plumes had been given to him for a reason after all. And then I collapsed to the ground, my battered and dying body simply incapable of supporting me. "Thank you for saving me," I wheezed, the crushing weight of my chest starting to squeeze the air out of my lungs.
As soon as the light had completely receded into my body, he was at my side, his face looking astonished, unbelieving, his arms lifting me and holding onto me so tight, I half feared he'd break whatever bones had yet to be shattered. He wrapped his wings around the two of us, cocooning us in our own private reunion. He buried his face into my hair and inhaled deeply as his body was racked with violent sobs.
I was so tired, I didn't care that the motions were causing me excruciating pain. I just wanted to close my eyes and let everything go. I was with Robert. I knew everything was over.
Through my ex
hausted haze, I could feel his tears tumbling through my hair, falling in my lap and scattering on the ground around me, the soft tinkling of crystal hitting stone sounding like tiny bells. I felt a need to protest, but was cut off for he had his hands on my face then, and was kissing my hair, my forehead, my nose, each touch causing my skin to alight, the flames joining each other until they formed a fire of feeling within me.
He fed that fire by brushing my cheek and my chin with feather soft kisses, torturous and wondrous, until finally, he reached my lips, and the world became one large, blazing sun. With a strength I did not know I possessed, I wrapped my arms around his neck, winding my fingers in his hair, locking them there, trying to keep his mouth pressed against mine.
His intent, I knew, was to heal my wounds but I didn't care. I didn't care about anything except the way he felt holding me, the way my heart now beat loud enough and strong enough to drown out the silence that was left behind by his lack of one, the way I knew that he felt everything I was feeling. I knew that I'd do anything, even break every single bone in my body over and over again just to keep his lips on mine, just to have him stay with me.
He pulled back from me, frowning at that thought. "Grace, don't. I cannot stay. I will already have to answer for what happened here with Sam. I have to bring him back with me. I just wanted--I need to make sure that you are safe, that you are well."
When he began to expand his wings and loosen his hold on me, the day's revelations, the truths I had learned today all crashed in on me, and I remembered what Sam had said he was
"Robert, I have too many questions for you to leave me now. You have to-"
He pulled my arms from his neck as easily as if he were pulling a stray thread off of his shirt, separating us. "I cannot answer your questions right now, as much as I want to--and yes, Grace, I do want to. What Sam did will anger many of the others who would seek to blame someone other than him for what happened, and I have to try and fix this. I have to fix this for us."
He walked swiftly to where the small, white form lay and lifted him with ease. The contrast between the white, withered shell and the dark, strong angel was startling. With his wings pulled back like a cape, the black clothing blending in with his dark hair and white gold eyes, I knew then that there was no mistaking it--Sam's words had been true.
"You really are Death," I breathed before letting the darkness swallow me whole.
IMMORTAL FAILING
I awoke in my bedroom, the covers pulled over me. My window was sealed shut. I looked at the clock on the dresser; it was nearly two in the morning. I sat up on the bed and pulled the covers down. I saw that I was still wearing the same tattered and blood stained clothes..
"Robert?" I whispered, but I knew that he wasn't there. Would I have wanted him to be? Knowing now what he was, what his calling was? He wasn't just someone's guardian angel, a healer or...or a dark one--an angel of death. He was Death itself, darkness incarnate. And death had touched my life too deeply once before to take my mother from me. How could I let that into my life now? How could I love that?
I stood up and walked over to the window. I lifted it, letting the chilled air come through. The sky that had refused to give up a single star earlier was now filled with what looked like every single star that ever existed. Their bright light was brilliant and beautiful, filling up the sky in a stunning white glow that rivaled the full moon and penetrated the dingy yellow that floated from the street lamps.
Yes. Stars were beautiful, and brilliant, and glorious. But they were also hot, and deadly, and all consuming. Everything that was beautiful had a cost. Even the poor stars couldn't just simply be beautiful in our sky.
I shivered as I felt the chill creep in a bit more, but I was hesitant to close the window. The sky could have been falling and I knew that I would still feel compelled to keep the window open. I folded my hands together and searched the sky for something, anything that would signal to me that someone was up there, listening. The brightest star that I could see became my focal point and I tried to remember the silly little rhyme that my mother would say.
I believe it went 'star light, star bright'.
I whipped around, the source of the voice in my head was sitting on my bed like he normally did, as though nothing had happened and he had been there the whole time.
"How did you get in here?" I mouthed, my voice lost in my surprise. He reached for me, but I pulled away. "Don't touch me," I rasped, and turned away quickly, not wanting to have to look at his face and see his reaction to my rejection.
Grace, you don't have to be afraid of me. I won't hurt you.
I knew that was true. He wouldn't hurt me. But that didn't change the fact that what he was already had. "You're..." The words were lost. I couldn't say it.
I knew he was standing behind me only by the tickle of his breath against my hair. He placed his hands on my shoulders and I jumped at the electricity that flowed between us at the contact, my body betraying what my mind was screaming out loud. I'm Robert, the person who loves you and has endured far too much time away from you to keep me sane. I have not changed who I am, Grace.
"I know," I whispered, because he was right. He had not changed who he was because he had always been what he was. He just hadn't known it. And that was who I fell in love with. I buried my face in my hands, the betrayal of my own heart racking my body with sobs.
Why are you crying, Grace? What has changed between us?
I looked up into his face and saw the hurt there, saw that I was the cause of his pain. I couldn't accept that I, of all people was causing Death pain--I turned away. He reached out his hand and caught my chin, bringing my face back towards his. Grace, please. I love you, and I need you to talk to me. Don't pull away again. Not from me.
"Don't you see? You're...Death. You're the reason why people die. You're the reason my mom is dead. And I'm in love with you, and I hate it. I hate it, and I can't do anything about it because I know that I can't live without you in my life. Don't you see how that's a betrayal to my mom?" I bawled softly, my tears unstoppable rivers, my face hot with revulsion and anger. "Don't you see how much I hate myself?"
Robert pulled me against his chest and took a deep breath, letting it out in a long, desolate sigh. I feel your shame, and your hurt. I feel how even now you're fighting with the mixed emotions within you. But mostly, I feel that my life has no meaning without you in it, Grace.
I laughed in spite of myself. "How can you speak of the meaning of life when you take it?"
I don't take life, Grace. At least, I wouldn't. It isn't up to me who lives or dies. It is only up to me who gets a second chance or not.
I pulled my head away from his chest, and looked up at him. "What do you mean? Sam told me-"
I know what Sam told you, but he also told you that he's a very good liar, and that's the only thing that Sam said that was one hundred percent true. Sam was an angel of death. A dark one--one of many. But there are also good ones, Grace. Both groups carry off the souls who were destined for their eternal afterlives, whether that would be in Heaven or elsewhere.
I'm the middle ground. I'm the one who decides who gets a second chance at Heaven, or who has earned himself a one way ticket to Hell. Sometimes I'm given the ability to grant them a second chance at life itself, as was given to me. The situations are all different, and all warrant their own decisions. The divine nature of my call allows me to do so within the reaches of their minds for a great deal of them. But, there are moments when I have to be there physically. With a great majority of them, though, it is not my decision as to when they die. That is up to God.
And the one thing that you should remember most of all, Grace, is that the whole time, I am fighting the gift within me that demands I heal them. I told you that I thought of my ability as a penance for my birth, and I was right, only now instead of not being able to heal some people, I'm not allowed to heal any of them.
"But you healed me," I murmured.
He nodded and smil
ed sadly. Yes, but you're a part of me now.
I shook my head and tried to pull myself away from him, planting my hands on his chest and pushing against him. I might as well have been pushing against a mountain. "You're still the reason why my mom died. I don't think I can get over something like that."
Robert gripped my shoulders again and forced me to stop squirming. Grace, I did not kill your mother. I was born to be Death, but that isn't who I am. I am fulfilling a duty to your kind as well as mine, but I did not take your mother from you. You have to see with reason here. I have yet to take a single soul. I have been reluctant to do so; it goes against everything that I am. Do you not see how difficult this is for me?
I shook my head because I couldn't--not yet anyway. He let go of me then, his arms dropping to his sides in defeat. I cannot change who I am, Grace. I can only tell you that I do not look forward to the taking of human life, and most importantly, I am not responsible for your mother's death.
"I don't even remember what happened, if she even said goodbye," I whimpered. "I don't remember anything about that night, Robert. Don't you see? Lark said that you learned everything, shared everything, and now you know what happened to my mother because what you are--what Death is--took her from me. And I still don't know."
Robert raised his hands to my face, holding me softly and looking at me with his eyes, two pools of unmoving silver. Grace, I would tell you if I could.
"I know. You would if you could, but you can't, so you won't. I've heard it time and time again, Robert. I've heard it enough times to know that we'll never be on equal footing. You'll always have your secrets, and I'll always be an open book. You might be the middle ground between light and dark, good and evil, but there isn't any middle ground for us." I pulled my face out of his hands; he didn't protest.
I walked away from him to stand near the dresser, seeing his reflection in the mirror and trying not to focus on how beautiful he was, but rather on the slow coldness that was spreading through me like an infection. "And you lied, Robert. The fact that you've seen my mother's final moments, and you won't tell me about them is the very definition of you taking my mother away from me. You're taking her away from me now just as much as she was taken from me all those years ago."