They almost ran into his answer. She appeared out of nowhere, his lady in red. Standing directly in front of them, she put out her hand to stop them. Smoke curled off her dress and hair.
“Holy Zena Warrior Princess,” Trent gasped.
“I can’t stay long. You must leave this place—never return here. Get to your apartment quickly. You’ll be safe there. I’m going to make sure I destroyed all of them and then come to you tonight.” Her voice was melodic. The woman’s eyes darted back to the trees. “Go now!” she commanded.
Micah and Trent didn’t need to be told twice and sprinted back. Throwing open the car doors, they jumped in.
“Gianna, my love, why don’t we get out of here?” Trent said as the girls gaped at them with wide eyes. Viola brushed Micah’s cheek and he winced. Something warm dripped off his jaw; he wiped it away. Seeing his red fingers, Viola promptly handed him a tissue from her purse.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, tapping the front seat with his fingers. “Let’s get out of here, Trent.”
Trent gave Gianna a reassuring smile and she threw the car into reverse.
Once back on the main road, both girls asked, “What happened?”
Micah glanced at Trent, who was covered in sweat and dirt. He realized he was a mess too, when Viola reached over and pulled some leaves from his hair.
“Micah was mugged,” Trent said, not missing a beat.
“Caspita! We should call the polizia!” Gianna gasped.
“Are you okay?” Viola asked.
“I’m fine. We should probably head home though, sorry.” Micah was desperate to obey the woman in red’s directions.
“What happened?” Gianna asked again as she brushed twigs out of Trent’s hair.
“Well, after you left, this dude comes out of nowhere and hits Micah with a bat. Micah goes down and the guy starts wailing on him. I jumped in, grabbed him from behind, and threw him to the ground. The guy starts crying about how he needs the money for his kid’s surgery, blah, blah, blah… and I’m like, No one beats the crap out of my cousin but me, idiot!”
Micah bit the inside of his cheek to keep from cracking up. I can’t believe they’re buying it. But I guess it’s more believable than what actually happened.
“Okay, Micah, you better start talking. What kind of crap have you stepped in? I saw things tonight I didn’t know existed except in messed-up movie producers’ heads. And please tell me who that,” Trent paused with a look of longing, “Greek goddess was.”
They were standing in Micah’s bedroom now. The girls had dropped them off and Trent had locked every door behind them.
Micah didn’t hold back and told Trent everything.
Trent’s hands were on his hips when he’d finished. “So she comes to you at night? Why are you so lucky?” he demanded.
“Trent. Focus. I’ve never even talked to her. That night you heard her, she was in my room mouthing words I couldn’t hear and then you barge in telling me what she said. I still don’t know how that worked, but the message was important. She told me to learn from the Gennaros.”
“About the City of Enoch, yes, I know,” Trent said, keeping up. “She was there that night? I was right; you did have a girl in here.”
Micah shook his head. “Trent, it’s not like that, and you know it. This is serious.”
“What? I am being serious. I almost wet myself tonight. You don’t need to tell me this is serious!”
The room brightened and warmed at the same time. She’s here. They stared at her simultaneously.
She checked them both over. “You’re both all right.”
Micah didn’t know how long she would stay. “Who are you?” he blurted.
“Other than the girl of my dreams,” Trent added wistfully.
The woman smiled. Her features were breathtaking. “I’m Sage, your guardian.”
“Like guardian angel?” Micah asked.
“Yes, something like that,” she replied.
“Do I have a guardian like you?” Trent piped in.
“Your guardian was there fighting too, Trent.”
“What was that thing?” Micah asked.
At the same time, Trent asked, “My guardian was there?”
Sage looked first at Trent. “Your guardian fought bravely.” To Micah, she added, “That was a demon, one that shouldn’t have been able to touch you.” Her black eyes narrowed.
“That’s what I thought,” Micah murmured.
“Demon?” Trent croaked.
Sage clasped her hands together, her long, white fingers intertwined. “There’s a line, a barrier between my world and yours. Tonight, it was breached. You need to know some places will be off limits to both of you now, unless we want a repeat of tonight. You’ll be protected while here. The Gennaros were selected long ago because they’re good people. Their home’s safe. Your school’s named after the martyred apostle, Stephen, and it’s on holy ground. Rome was chosen because much of the land’s holy, where it’s harder for demons to break through… usually. Do not wander in parks or forests, especially at night. You should plan on being home by sundown.”
Trent’s eyes were wide as saucers. “Home by sundown?”
Micah grunted. That’s the worse news he’s heard all night.
Sage’s voice was soft, “I’m always with you, Micah, even when you can’t see me. Don’t be unduly concerned with the demons—I’ll stop them. You need to focus on your purpose as the Seer.”
“What do I need to do?”
“You’ll need to learn that for yourself. My visits with you are limited. Angels can’t appear whenever they want, we must be told to, but I needed to warn you. You both need to stay safe.”
“What do I have to do with all this?” Trent asked, eyebrows shooting up.
Sage’s gaze moved to Trent. “You’re very important to Micah’s mission. You’ll need to be there for him. You’re his Interpreter.”
“Interpreter? You want me to help him with his Italian? It’s pretty bad, I admit, but I don’t know how that’ll be useful against demons from Hell,” he replied, half-jokingly.
“An Interpreter’s much more than that. Remember the night you heard my voice?” Trent nodded. “That was me calling you. You’d been awakened but had yet to experience anything. You have a gift. You’ll be able to help Micah understand his visions, his dreams, and his thoughts. Without you, he’d go mad.”
“You see, Micah, even this beautiful angel agrees with me. You’re a total nut job without me,” Trent chuckled.
Only you could find humor in all this, Trent. Micah remembered the night at the museum and how Trent had easily deciphered his dreams’ meanings.
“What do you mean, he has a gift?” Micah asked, determined to not waste any time with Sage.
“Everyone has gifts. They’re spiritual gifts from the King. They’re to be used for good. Some gifts, like kindness and patience, come naturally. But some are a little more unique and special. They’re gifts from the Captain and he decides who gets them. These gifts need an Awakener.”
“What’s an Awakener?”
“I can’t tell you more, Micah. You need the journey of learning it on your own.”
I really hate that answer. He decided on another question. “Were you on fire tonight?”
“Say what?” Trent asked.
Sage’s eyes widened.
Micah continued, “I saw you on top of the car, on fire.”
“You do see everything, don’t you?” She separated her fingers, letting her hands fall to her sides. “I’m Seraphim. We light on fire.”
“Oh, well that explains it,” Trent muttered.
Sage stared at Trent and then Micah. “You haven’t read Isaiah, have you.” It was a statement.
They both glanced at each other, Micah feeling slightly guilty. “No.”
“That’s a negatory,” Trent answered.
She sighed. “Isaiah wrote about us. We are fiery beings that surround the King’s court. We usually don’t
leave.” She paused.
“So why did you?” Trent asked.
Sage’s lips twisted to the side. “I wanted to be involved in the Captain’s plan. Be a part of it.” She gazed at Micah. “I wanted to be a guardian.”
It was such a new concept to him, angels choosing to guard mortals. Micah stared back at her in awe. She chose me.
Like she’d perceived his thoughts, she said, “The Captain chose me to guard you, Micah. It’s an honor for me.”
“Who did he chose for me? Is she hot?” Trent asked, grinning.
“Trent,” Micah warned.
“Sorry, is she attractive?” Trent asked again. “Please, tell me she’s a redhead.”
A musical, warm sound flowed from Sage, filling Micah with peace. She was laughing and he didn’t want it to end.
Her face radiated. “Trent, you’ll be happy to know that your guardian does have red hair.”
“When will she come to me at night?” he asked, looking like he might pass out at the thought.
“Most guardians don’t make appearances, but maybe one day, you’ll see yours, Trent.” Her smile widened further.
“I live for the day,” Trent sighed.
A new thought occurred to Micah. “You said you don’t appear unless told to. I get why Trent and I saw you, but why Eden?”
Trent stared at Micah.
“Ah,” Sage said. “Now you’re on the right path.”
“Path? What path?” Trent asked.
So, Eden has a part in this too. “Wait, does she have a guardian like us?” Micah hoped she wasn’t in danger.
Sage nodded, her eyes softening. “She’s in very good hands. Don’t worry, Micah.”
“But she could be attacked too, right? Demons might want her too?” Micah persisted.
Sage shook her head. “It’s difficult for demons to physically manifest themselves. It takes very old, dark magic.”
“But one did tonight,” Micah reminded her.
For a split second, Micah saw the panic in her eyes, and then it was gone. “I know and it wasn’t alone either. I’m going to discuss it with the guardian council.”
“It spoke to me,” Micah murmured.
In one fluid movement, Sage was right before him. “What did it say exactly?”
“Ah,” Micah stuttered, surprised by her sudden closeness. “You are mine, Seer. Semjaza’s praise and glory are mine. At least that’s what I remember.”
Sage’s black eyes stared past them. Her lips turned down. Under her breath, she mumbled, “Old magic indeed.”
“What does it mean? Who’s Semjaza?” Micah asked.
She focused on him again. “I must leave. This must be taken to the council immediately. Study from the Book of Enoch, Micah. Read about the Watchers. You will find your answers there.”
And she was gone.
Eden assumed she’d have good dreams; she had been asked on her first date today, after all, but she was wrong. A dam of nightmares had broken, leaving her tossing and turning. She dreamt of someone in her room, hiding in the dark corner, waiting… watching.
It was so vivid and real, that when the furnace clicked on, she bolted upright in bed, panting and covered in sweat. She took a deep breath and scanned her surroundings. Everything seemed normal. Still, the lingering dream made her uneasy. She reached for her glasses on the nightstand, but knocked them to the floor instead.
“Crap,” she muttered, not wanting to get out of her warm bed to retrieve them. Why is it so cold in here? she wondered. I can hear the heater blowing.
She sat back and pulled her blankets higher, trying to settle her nerves. She heard a few creaks, and the scratching of branches hitting her window.
Those are familiar sounds, she told herself. Nothing to be jumpy about.
Something felt off.
She figured it was just being in that half-asleep, half-awake state, where senses are in overdrive. She strained to see better, still not wanting to uncover herself to retrieve her glasses.
Why’s it reek in here? I’m going to kill Brendon, leaving another rotten sandwich in my room. But it smells like eggs. He hates eggs…
The sulfur-like smell grew stronger. Tugging her blanket over her nose, she felt something bump her bed. She froze.
Straining to hear anything in the profound silence, she was completely paralyzed by fear, seeing only smeary, black shadows. Don’t panic; don’t panic.
Her bed rocked as something pushed on her mattress from below. She screamed hysterically but, to her horror, no one came bursting through her door.
Is Brendon playing some kind of sick practical joke?
Gritting her teeth, she threw the covers aside, forcing her legs off the side of the bed, determined to jump down.
An icy breath hissed on her bare skin from below.
Shrieking, she pulled her legs in, burying herself in the blankets. Someone was in her room, under her bed, and just like her dream, that person was going to hurt her. She bit her quilt as tears splattered down on her arms.
It was silent.
This doesn’t make any sense. Am I still dreaming? This is just a nightmare. I’m just imagining things, she consoled herself. It’s cold in my room; the mattress’s springs are probably popping… She stopped short.
Something dragged across her carpet, at the same time her bed shook. A low, unmistakable growl came from underneath her, a wet, gurgling sound. She screeched so hard her throat felt raw.
A black silhouette rose beside her bed.
Horrified, she launched herself back, smacking the headboard. The shadow grew until it hovered over her, rattling and sucking with each inhale, and spewing white, cold smoke with its exhales.
She wailed, though she knew it was useless. No one’s coming; I’m going to die!
The black thing leaned over the bed. Its dank breath only inches from her face.
She scrambled back and, not caring where she was going, fell off the side, landing backwards with a thud.
It crawled onto her bed and was instantly above her, glaring over the side, panting. Trying to crawl back and regain her footing, she scraped her back on the dresser behind her. Sandwiched between the bed and the dresser, she gasped. I’m trapped!
She threw her hands out, hitting cold, damp flesh. She thrashed against its slippery hide, as its red, beady eyes bore down on her. Her attacks were futile. Something wet landed on her cheek; it slid down her skin like slime. Convulsions rocked her body as it drooled on her.
Frantically, she scoured the floor for anything to fight with, coming up with nothing. Hopelessness engulfed her.
The red, menacing eyes drew closer. Then she saw nothing but a blinding, white light. Squinting, she tried to make sense of the dancing, swirling light. Hit by a wave of heat, she realized it was fire blazing across her room like a fire dancer.
The black shadow shrieked and recoiled off the bed. Crippled by terror, she watched the fire chase the creature. There were scuffling sounds, and then a high-pitched screeching.
Overcome with curiosity, she climbed to the side of the bed and peeked over. The black shadow was gone. The fire was no longer moving, and she saw it was held like a weapon. Dancing in the dark, the flames lit up the holder.
Looks like a man. He stooped down, grabbing something, and then moved toward her.
She dropped back against the dresser, pulling her knees in, begging, “Please don’t hurt me!”
The man paused and then held something out to her. She flinched away, until she saw it was her glasses. Tentatively, she snatched them from his outstretched hand. Slipping them on, she gaped up at him, relieved to see he was human, not a monster.
Blond, wavy hair reached just past his ears, with dark blond stubble covering his chin and jaw. Startling blue eyes gazed back at her, his features the perfect mixture of ruggedness and soft angles. A black shirt stretched over his muscular build. He seems normal, except for the fact he carries a sword of fire. And he appeared out of nowhere…
H
e finished scanning the room, and then locked eyes on her. “Are you hurt?”
She was surprised his voice sounded so real, with even a hint of an accent, which she couldn’t place.
“No.” She continued to hug her knees.
His eyes studied her. He appeared to be debating something in his mind; his eyebrows furrowed and then relaxed.
Extending a hand to her, he said, “Come on.”
She slowly placed her hand in his and he pulled her up effortlessly. His hand’s tangible, not a ghost. He released her hand.
“Who are you?” she asked again, when he pointed to her bed.
When he didn’t answer, she didn’t move.
The man sighed heavily and sheathed his fiery weapon. Instantly, smoke curled around his legs. The room remained bright, even without the fire. The light seemed to be coming from the man himself.
“Climb back in bed,” he instructed. “You’re safe now.”
Not taking her eyes off him, she reluctantly obeyed. Coming around her bed, she stopped at the pile of ash on the floor.
Is that all that’s left of that thing? she wondered, as the man bent over, scooped it up into a small container, and tucked it into one of the pouches hanging from his belt. Hoping that meant the creature was finally gone, she clambered back into bed.
She stared at the man—the whiteness of his skin and the perfection in his features reminded her of someone else who suddenly appeared. “Are you like the woman I saw at Micah’s?”
He didn’t respond, his eyes again scouring the room.
“Look, a monster just crawled out from under my bed, and you appeared out of thin air with a fire sword. I know you can talk. Please, I need some answers.” Her last words came out in a whisper.
The man seemed to consider her and then sat at the bottom of the bed.
“I’m not supposed to stay and talk. But that thing was not supposed to be in here either, so I suppose it’s a night for exceptions. I’m your guardian.”
“Like a guardian angel?”
“Yeah, I protect you from demons.”
“That was a demon?” She tried not to hyperventilate.
“You’re safe now. It won’t happen again.” His jaw muscles tightened. “I was called to a council. That won’t happen again either,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.
The Awakener (The Watchers of Men) Page 7