by Bonnie Lamer
Abruptly, the giant eye’s lids close. It could be that speaking so many words at one time exhausted the ancient Throne. So, we all wait patiently for her to continue. And wait. Then wait some more. Nothing.
After several long minutes of silence pass, it becomes apparent that the eldest of the Thrones has said all she is planning to say for the moment. So, the other eyes begin to close too. Somewhere behind those lids, a conversation is going on. One that we’re not privy to just yet. But I do feel more hopeful than I did before. With everything the Thrones said so far, it seems Johoel and his followers are more likely than us to regret standing before these ancient beings.
While the giant eyes deliberate in private behind their closed lids, I can’t help but observe Johoel. All the bluster and confidence he once had is gone. He knows he made a huge mistake. He thought that the Thrones never cared about what anyone does because they don’t try to interfere. He was wrong. The Thrones care more than any beings I’ve met thus far. I don’t buy that these ancient beings spend all their time deep in slumber. I suspect that the Thrones know exactly what is going on everywhere, every minute of every day. If their job is to uphold Cosmic Law, they can’t ignore anything.
As the silence stretches on, my mind wanders to Haniel and what she did to the Cherubim. The latter are the Keepers of the Thrones. Without their permission, we never would have been allowed to get this close to the ancient beings. Something that needed to happen as they are the only ones who can put an end to Johoel’s plans. Which I hope they decide to do. But do the ends justify the means? I know I’m personally not comfortable with the means. Raziel and Haniel conspired to hurt the Cherubim so that my family could heal them. How can that possibly be okay? Guilt now colors all the warm, fuzzy feelings I had about helping to save their lives. I know Raziel is omniscient, and there was no question about whether we would be able to save them or not. That doesn’t make it right.
My gaze moves to Ophaniel, and I offer her a silent apology. She acknowledges the gesture with an understanding nod. While my guilt will linger, it seems she isn’t holding a grudge. All is well between us.
So, even when you expect it, the giant eyes popping their lids open all at once is still a bit startling. Several in my group jump back a step or two. A couple put their hands to their chests in an attempt to slow their heartbeats. I’m in the latter group.
The Thrones begin speaking in unison again. I didn’t notice how much they had modulated their voices the longer they spoke before. After a while, we no longer needed to be concerned for our eardrums. Now, they are back to the volume of ten thousand thunderstorms. I grasp the hands I’m holding a little tighter to keep from covering my ears.
“Those among you who have forgotten the most basic laws of the Cosmos come forth,” the Thrones order.
There is power behind their words. The same power that sucked us all up like a vacuum sucking up tiny little spiders. Fighting it is futile. That doesn’t mean the Angels don’t try. Johoel is lashing out with his own power, struggling in vain to stay where he was. It doesn’t help. He’s dragged forward anyway. I give him credit, though. He continues to fight no matter how much it proves to be pointless. Unfortunately for the Seraph, he just winds up looking like a two-year-old having a temper tantrum because of it. Accomplishing nothing but looking even more foolish than he already did.
Okay, I admit it. I take some degree of satisfaction in watching him struggle against beings who could squash him like a bug if they wanted to. I don’t even feel guilty about it. The guy wanted to steal my children and turn them into mindless drones he could use as weapons. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had to know that this was a possibility. That there could be profound consequences for his actions. My conscience also remains unencumbered by guilt as I watch a small group of other Angels get dragged away with the Seraph. These must be the ones the ancient Throne mentioned earlier. Apparently, they will face the same consequences as Johoel.
When all the Angels they want are in place, the Thrones do the job Ophaniel asked them to do. They uphold Cosmic Law. Speaking in unison still, they tell this group of Angels, “Just as time and experience helped you forget, they can now help you remember. You shall now live among the youngest of those you once sought to destroy. You shall be as they are.”
For a stunned moment, not even a whisper goes through the crowd of beings around us. But as the shock wears off, angry voices ring out. Wow. The Angels don’t like these consequences at all.
I assume the youngest of the mortals are the Humans, as they have the least amount of natural power. So, ‘living as they are’ must mean not having any magic. Pure torture for those who are used to being the most powerful beings around. Shouts of protest erupt from the small group, and even from a few of their comrades not selected by the Thrones to suffer this fate. Angels are a loyal group generally, so I’m not surprised. But it’s done. The protests die down quickly because the Angels know they are powerless against the power and wisdom of the Thrones.
Well, most of them know that. When everyone else calms down, Johoel proves that he definitely deserves the sentence doled out to him. “A mortal lifetime is nothing compared to the eons I have lived. A mere inconvenience of time on my part, and it will serve no purpose. It will do nothing but make me hate mortals even more when I am no longer Fallen,” he sneers.
Apparently, Johoel vastly underestimated the Thrones and their ability to dole out appropriate punishments. The giant eyes explain evenly, “You misunderstand, Johoel of the Seraphim. You are to live among the mortals for as many lifetimes as it takes to remember that you were once as they are.”
No angry words erupt from anyone this time. The Angels are too stunned to say anything at all. Probably too horrified, as well, from their expressions. For Johoel’s sake, I hope the Thrones separate him from the other Angels when they’re sent to their new lives in the Cowan realm. Because the other Angels are most definitely blaming him, not the Thrones, for this punishment. The very same murderous expression Johoel wore when speaking about mortals earlier has taken root on the faces of his comrades as they stare at the Seraph.
Regret is another prominent emotion on display. Actually, regret may be too mild of a word to describe what they’re feeling. I suspect the other Angels would have been smart enough to keep their feelings about mortals to themselves if Johoel hadn’t convinced them to act on them. Now, they’re following the Seraph into their worst nightmare. I can only imagine the learning curve they’re going to have as they try to live without magic and power. They’re going to be miserable, and they’re bound to get themselves into a ton of trouble at first. Angels can be way too cocky for their own good. Which could be dangerous for not only them, but for mortals too. I should probably ask Eliana to keep an eye on them if she can.
Even if the Angels could find their voices, the Thrones will hear no more arguments from them. Their sentence is about to begin. With a blink of the Thrones’ giant eyes, the offending Angels are gone. They don’t even get a chance to say goodbye to their comrades. Though honestly, now that they’re gone it doesn’t seem like many among the remaining Angels are going to miss them. Even the ones who argued about the harshness of the punishment seem relived that they have been sent away.
Next, the giant eyes address the remaining Angels and various gods among us. They thunder out one word to them. “Remember.” That’s all the Thrones say before blinking the most powerful beings in the universe away. I assume they’re all sent back to their homes.
Now, it’s just my family standing before the giant eyes. Instead of speaking in unison, only the eldest among them addresses us. “Forgive the vanity of age. Time and reason are not always fast friends.” Focusing specifically on Dad, she says, “Your courage is proof that Humans shall prevail regardless of what the Universe puts in their path.”
I can’t hold back my grin. Dad has always been there for me. His love and guidance helped shape me into the person I am. I know in my heart that the Thron
es are right. As long as there are Humans as good as my dad, humanity does stand a chance.
Next, the ancient eye focuses on my children. “You must soon return to your own time. Take with you the knowledge that none may force your will without your permission. Heed the knowledge imparted upon you and use it to find your own paths.”
I don’t know exactly what she means here. Does she mean that the kids always had the power to go against Johoel and his Divine Grace? Or are the Thrones sending the kids off with a new power that will keep others from being able to influence them? I figure its best not to ask.
It’s my turn next. The giant eye focuses on me and says, “The undertaking of your creation was not conceived lightly. The depths of your true power remain untapped, and your greatest challenges in the mortal realms await. You will need the strength and support of those around you to face them. Never forget that.”
“I won’t,” I promise.
The ancient eye closes. The others follow her lead. As soon as the lashes on all their lids join together, the sapphire sky disappears. Our feet now stand upon something solid, and walls surround us. Familiar walls that I feared we’d never see again. We’re back in the kitchen of Isla’s house. All together and unharmed.
Chapter 37
Alita is the first to react. Pulling Keelan into her arms, she hugs her son. “I was so afraid they were going to send you back without giving us a chance to say goodbye.”
I glance up at Kallen. He meets my relived smile with one of his own. We thought the same thing. Taking a cue from Alita, we pull our own children into our arms and hug them tightly until they complain we’re cutting off their oxygen supply. I’ll have to remember how prone they both are to exaggeration in the future.
“Welcome back,” a familiar voice says from doorway leading to the hall.
Whirling around, I take in the Angel standing there and sigh in relief. The bruises and scrapes have healed, but her skin still has a slightly ashen pallor. How much of that is grief, and how much of that is morning sickness, I don’t know. But I’m certainly glad she came back to us.
“Adriel,” I gasp. I rush forward and pull my friend into a hug. She returns it with more enthusiasm than I expected. She’s not usually a hugger. Leaning back after a minute, I study her. “Are you okay?” I ask.
“I will be,” she assures me with a wan smile.
“In time,” another voice adds with a sad note to its tone. A deeper, masculine voice. An all too familiar voice.
“Uncle Raz!” the kids cry out before I even have a chance to open my mouth. All three of them rush the Archangel and entangle him in a jumble of gangly teenage arms. Raziel laughs and greets the kids he will come to consider his niece and nephews.
My eyes travel between Adriel and Raziel and back again. I wondered earlier if Adriel knew about any of this before it happened. I have my answer now. The lingering grief and overwhelming feelings of betrayal radiate off her in thick waves. The guilty glances Raziel sends her way are also telling.
Giving my friend another hug, I whisper in her ear, “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine everything you’ve been through.”
Adriel pulls back and discreetly wipes a tear from her eye. Squaring her shoulders, she pastes a false smile on her face. The best she can manage right now. “No more than you, I hear.”
We don’t get a chance to say more. The kids, oblivious to Adriel’s pain, pull Raziel into the kitchen where he’s greeted by the others. Even Kallen seems happy to see the Archangel. Considering how we left things before, I’m a little surprised.
When things finally begin to settle, Zyla turns to me. Hands on her hips, she cocks her head and says, “Mom, there’s something I don’t understand. Why did you send us back here believing that the Council was after us? Obviously, you know it’s really Johoel in the future.”
Over my daughter’s head, I find Raziel. He’s not looking at me. His gaze is on Adriel. He knows how much he has hurt her, and he will live with that forever. Literally. In this moment, for the very first time, I get it. I get how hard it must be for him. We all think it would be so easy for him to let something slip once in a while. But the repercussions of that could cause irreparable damage to both the past and the future.
“Mom?” Zyla says, bringing my attention back to her.
Grabbing Kallen’s hand for support, I answer her question. “Because if we don’t tell you that it’s the Council, things won’t happen as they did.”
In the future, I will tell that lie to my children again. I won’t tell them anything until they’re the age they are now, nothing to prepare them. Then I’ll send them back in time to blindly face the danger we just survived. I’ll lie to them before they go. Hopefully, it’s the only lie I ever tell them. Glancing around the kitchen at the now solemn faces, I know everyone here will stand behind that decision and do the same.
Xavion nods in understanding. “We get it,” my son assures me.
“Good to know a trip to the past increases your ability to understand things,” a new male voice teases my son.
All our heads whip around to where the words came from. Leaning against the fridge, with his arms crossed over his chest and one ankle crossed in front of the other, is a kid around the same age as Zyla and Xavion. His sandy brown hair and bright, piercing blue eyes are familiar. The broad smile and good humor radiating from him is a little surprising. His parents rarely exhibit such good cheer.
Adriel pushes past me. “Castiel?” she whispers.
“Hi, Mom,” Cas says with a grin. He pushes off the fridge and engulfs his mother in a hug. Adriel clings to him. From the way her shoulders move up and down, it’s obvious that she’s crying.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Cas assures his mother. “I know it was awful, but it had to be this way. It practically killed Dad to keep this from you. Really, it did. You are everything to him. The hardest thing he has ever done was betray your trust. There simply was no other way for the pieces to fall together as they did.” His eyes find his father’s, and he smiles a greeting. Turning his attention back to his mother, Cas adds, “You forgive him, you know.”
Adriel leans back and meets her son’s gaze. “I do not know how I can.”
That easy grin forms on her son’s face again, and he stands to his full height once more. “From what you tell me, it takes a lot of groveling on his part.” With a conspiratorial wink, he says, “You told me to remind you that you need to make him work for it. I believe your exact words were, ‘Your father is far too full of himself, and it does him good to be thrown off kilter from time to time.’”
Adriel laughs and wipes away her tears. “That does sound like something I would say.”
Moving forward, Raziel clears his throat and says, “Yes, well, no need to give away too much from the future.”
“See what I mean?” Cas laughs.
He moves to greet his father, then the rest of us. All the while, that easy smile rests on his lips. His cheerful demeanor helps ease the anxiety that was flowing in the room.
Except my daughter’s. Narrowing her eyes at Cas, Zyla crosses her arms over her chest. “I thought you said you had to stay in the future.”
Are her feelings hurt? Taking a closer look at my daughter, I notice her flushed cheeks and the fact that her breathing has quickened. Oh. My. God. She has a crush on Cas. My eyes fly to Kallen. Fortunately, he hasn’t noticed. Good thing. I’d hate for Cas to die so young.
For the first time, the smile slips from Cas’ face. “Sorry about that. Mom and Dad knew that I’d never be able to let things play out as they did.”
Thinking back to the private battle Adriel fought for both his life and Raziel’s, I get it. Zyla is less forgiving. “Jerk,” she mutters under her breath. Then she turns her back on him. The guilty expression in Cas’ eyes tells me the crush may go both ways.
Something Raziel obviously knows. The Archangel is quick to stand in front of his son to block Kallen’s view. Clearing his throat, he says, “I know i
t will be difficult to say goodbye, but the children must return to their own time now.”
My heart aches at the thought. I know future me would be devastated if they didn’t come back to her time, but it still sucks. I’m going to miss them desperately.
An arm drapes around my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Mom. You’ll see us again in no time.” With a wink, Xavion adds, “Only difference will be all the dirty diapers and crying. Zyla’s, of course. I was a perfect baby.”
His sister snorts. “If by perfect you mean loud and difficult to potty train, then yeah, perfect.”
Laughing, I pull my bickering kids into a hug. Kallen wraps his strong arms around all of us. It’s a long time before we let them go.
“Our turn,” a gruff voice says. Dagda has suspiciously shiny eyes as he and Tana take their turn hugging the kids goodbye.