Forsaken Angel

by J F Cain

  Two vampires saw that Vincent needed help and rushed to him with their swords raised. Before they could bring them down on Abaddon, in a single motion he passed his blades of energy through their bodies and cut them in half. The creatures let out anguished cries, their anxiety about the fate of their souls written on their terrible faces. Burned by the celestial fire, their bodies turned to dust that scattered all around, propelled by the force of the ethereal swords that had cut them in two.

  Having momentarily drawn Abaddon’s attention, the two vampires’ destruction gave Vincent the opportunity to abandon the fight. Unhappy with the way things had turned out, he moved away from the Dark Angel and disappeared into the darkness of the alley. The vampires noticed their leader depart and began to retreat, carefully dodging the unearthly fire that leapt from the gateways on their opponents’ palms. Some scrambled up the walls of the neighboring buildings and disappeared among the rooftops, and others hid their swords beneath their long coats and dashed toward the main street where the Guardians couldn’t chase them.

  The theurgist warriors turned to Aranes and, still holding their swords, they watched Abaddon, who was already at her side, uneasily. As the Angel bent over her, his wings were absorbed into his back and his armor was replaced by the dark suit he had been wearing before. He immediately picked her up and hurried toward the Guardians’ jeep.

  “To the hospital, quick,” he shouted at Fares anxiously.

  “Are you sure about that?” Fares asked, his shocked gaze pinned on the face of the unconscious Superior. He didn’t think it was a good idea. If she was examined, it might reveal her supernatural nature.

  “There’s no other choice,” Abaddon answered and, holding Aranes in his arms, he slipped into the back seat of the car.

  Fares quickly sat in the driver’s seat and hid his sword beside the black leather seat. Diana sat in the passenger seat and the twins, who no longer fit in the car, hurriedly shut the back doors. Silent and shocked, they stood in the alley and watched as the big jeep reversed into the main street and sped away.

  Fares checked the road behind them in the side-view mirror. The drivers in the crashed cars had stepped out of their vehicles. Some were looking around them numbly, while others who were more on edge were arguing among themselves, blaming each other for the collision. The Guardian’s gaze then switched to the rearview mirror to see what was happening in the back seat. Abaddon had taken his cell phone out and touched a speed dial key.

  “Alex, how are you?” Dr. Wilson’s voice could be heard saying from the other end of the line.

  “John, where are you?” the Dark Angel asked in turn without returning the greeting.

  The doctor heard the anxiousness in his voice.

  “At the hospital. I was just about to leave,” he answered warily. He had a horrible feeling that this phone call didn’t bode good things.

  Abaddon let out a relieved sigh.

  “Stay there. I’m on my way.”

  “What’s it about? Are you alright?” the doctor asked with rising concern.

  “It’s my wife,” Abaddon replied, his tone ominous.

  Dr. Wilson walked to the hook where he had just left his white coat.

  “I’ll be waiting,” he replied as he grabbed his coat and hurried out of the office.

  Abaddon ended the call and put the phone back in his pocket. At the same time, his supernatural vision scanned Aranes’ body and checked her heartbeat.

  Fares was driving as fast as the traffic permitted, swerving among cars and shooting quick glances to the back seat through the rearview mirror.

  “How is she?” he asked, as he turned his gaze back to the road in front of him.

  “Her heartbeat is weak,” Abaddon replied, his voice pulsing with anxiety. He lowered his gaze to Aranes’ belly and checked the baby. It seemed to be in the same dire straits as its mother. What can I do to help them? he wondered, almost in a panic, seeing himself losing his wife and unborn child. There must be something I can do. Angels can heal. He closed his eyes, trying to shut himself off from all the distracting outside noise—the cars braking and honking in protest at Fares’ dangerous driving. He wanted to calm his mind so that he could hear the answer he hoped to get from the Source. Please, speak to me. Tell me, what should I do? he asked and waited anxiously for Its reply.

  A few seconds passed, seconds that apprehension stretched into seeming eternity. The slow beats of Aranes’ and the infant’s hearts echoed loudly in his head, like mournful drumbeats that foretold a gloomy lonely fate, while he struggled to hear the Source’s voice. But It didn’t respond to his plea. However, Abaddon had an idea. It was like a sudden inspiration, or a fleeting memory from his unreachable angelic knowledge, and it felt right.

  He opened his eyes again and approached Aranes’ face. With his fingertips at her jaw, he gently opened her mouth, covered it with his own and blew softly. A glow appeared inside their mouths, lighting them up inside. Encouraged by the display of celestial energy, he carried on blowing into her mouth, thinking that he had found the way to help her. He stopped, moved his face away, and the milky light dimmed and slowly faded. His gaze traveled over her features, searching impatiently for movement, a sign of recovery, but there was none. Aranes remained motionless, trapped in a deep sleep by the Dark Lord’s tainted blood, which was threatening to put an end to her biological functions.

  Disappointed, Abaddon bent his head and rested his forehead against her own.

  “Don’t give up, my love. We’re almost at the hospital,” he whispered near her ear, believing she could hear him.

  His inability to help his partner and child enraged him. He wanted to lash out, to find the vampire and destroy him, and even more to wipe his entire gang from the face of the Earth so that they would stop hunting Aranes. But he was forced to put it off for the time being. Having no place to let off steam, he began to inwardly curse the one responsible for this nightmare and to plan his revenge until they reached the hospital.

  At the ER entrance, Dr. Wilson was waiting together with three other specialists and two nurses who were standing next to a stretcher. Dr. Wilson had mobilized the hospital staff as a small reward to one of the famous medical institution’s biggest benefactors, who also sponsored their research programs.

  The black Land Rover braked abruptly and the nurses quickly approached, pulling the stretched along. Abaddon flung the door open, got out with Aranes in his arms, and deposited her gently on the stretcher. The nurses then pushed it toward the glass sliding doors that opened automatically, while Abaddon and the doctors followed closely behind.

  “What happened?” asked Dr. Wilson as he walked beside the worried Angel whose nature he knew nothing about.

  “I don’t know,” Abaddon answered, trying to control his anger. “We were having dinner and I had to step out for a moment. When I got back, she was unconscious.”

  “What month is she?” the doctor continued with the necessary questions.

  “Her eighth.”

  Dr. Wilson directed his puzzled gaze at Aranes’ belly, which was covered by her dark silk dress, and then turned to Abaddon.

  “I guess it would be stupid to ask you if you’re sure. But, I must admit that I’ve never seen such a small belly on a woman in her eighth month of pregnancy. Is there maybe something wrong?”

  “No, nothing,” Abaddon answered. “Everything is normal.” Except for her and the child.

  It doesn’t look normal to me, but never mind, Dr. Wilson thought. Alex’s medical records had some inexplicable phenomena that he couldn’t ignore, and that made the doctor wary.

  Two of the doctors who had been walking behind them overtook them, opened the double door of the intensive care unit, and the nurses pushed the stretcher inside.

  Before Dr. Wilson could enter, Abaddon grabbed his arm.

  “John, please, save her,” he begged with agonized eyes.

  The doctor wondered why his friend and client thought his wife’s condition wa
s so grave that her life was in danger.

  “Is there something I should know?” he asked suspiciously.

  The Dark Angel shook his head.

  “I don’t know anything that can help you.”

  “Then why do you think her condition is critical?” the doctor insisted.

  “I’m just fearing the worst,” Abaddon asserted. “Please John, this is not the time for a discussion. Go inside and do your best.”

  Dr. Wilson’s expression told him he wasn’t convinced, but agreed that this wasn’t the right time for explanations.

  “I’ll do everything that’s humanly possible,” he assured him and strode into the ICU.

  As soon as the door opened, Abaddon saw the doctors examining Aranes and when the doors had closed behind Dr. Wilson, he continued to watch the activity inside the ICU. Lost in terrible thoughts that made his blood boil, he didn’t notice Fares and Diana approach.

  “We’ve notified Eiael,” the Guardians’ second-in-command told him. “Is there anything we can do?”

  “Pray. Because if something happens to her …” The Dark Angel left his sentence unfinished, at the last minute holding in what he had wanted to say.

  “You’re speaking like a human,” Fares remarked, wanting to remind him of his true nature.

  “Yes, because right now I am human. There’s nothing I can do to help her,” Abaddon replied, his expression heavy but his voice soft, and shifted his gaze to the closed door once again to hide how much this weakness hurt him.

  “This discussion is leading nowhere,” Fares said with understanding and gestured to the chairs near the hospital’s reception desk. “We’ll be waiting there if you need anything.”

  Yes, the discussion is leading nowhere. But if anything happens to Aranes and our child, especially her, I won’t be limiting myself to discussions, Abaddon thought, his eyes not leaving his partner.

  In the castle’s library, the chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling were switched off. Only the two table lamps on two side tables cast a soft light around them. A sense of spiritual upliftment prevailed in the room and the air was pulsating with strange, almost electrical vibrations caused by impersonal spiritual forces.

  Eiael stood in the middle of the magic circle embedded in the wooden floor. Her eyes scanned the space in front of her, searching for signs of an invisible presence. The spiral beneath her feet and the activated symbols around her pulsated, coloring the dimness with their unearthly golden-blue light. Gradually, the vibrations in the air increased, announcing the passage of a transcendental entity from the spiritual to the physical plane. An otherworldly light splintered the earthly fabric of space-time and came to rest in front of the theurgist. Eiael half-closed her eyes to stand the glare and waited eagerly for the entity to show itself.

  The light grew softer, revealing the intangible form of Gabriel. The majestic Archangel hovered above the floor, enveloped in his radiant aura, with luminous energy radiating from his eyes. The high Celestial’s presence emanated a sense of tranquility and the magnificent scent of Elether in the room, easing Eiael’s apprehension about Aranes’ fate. The theurgist bowed her head respectfully.

  “You called me, Eiael?” Gabriel said calmly, a neutral expression on his face.

  The theurgist lifted her head and looked at him.

  “Great Archangel, she is in grave danger,” she pleaded. She didn’t doubt that the Celestial knew what had happened. However, if she couldn’t convince him to help his leader, then maybe she could find out what was hidden behind the events so that she could do something to help Aranes.

  “There is nothing I can do,” the Archangel replied, a note of sorrow in his voice.

  “If things were going to turn out this way, she wouldn’t have carried a child inside her,” Eiael said, searching for answers in his eyes.

  Gabriel nodded imperceptibly.

  “That sounds about right.”

  “Then why can’t you help her?” the theurgist insisted. Her long acquaintance with the Archangel when he had been incarnated on Earth gave her the courage to ask him questions she would never have dared to ask any other high Celestial.

  “I am sorry, but for the time being I have been forbidden to get involved in any way,” Gabriel answered.

  Eiael was sure she detected a note of displeasure in his voice. But how could he possibly disagree with the Highest Authority’s decisions? And why had It given such an order?

  “I don’t understand. What is the meaning of all this?” she asked, confusion written all over her face.

  I don’t understand either, the Archangel thought, having the same questions as the head Guardian. “No one knows what the Eternal Source holds in Its vast intellect,” he remarked blankly.

  Eiael felt deeply disappointed that she hadn’t been able to get help for Aranes.

  “Of course … thank you for answering my call,” she said, bowing once more.

  Gabriel retreated wordlessly from the spatiotemporal dimension and the light of his presence went out. The vibrations in the air lessened, but the sense of peace and the fragrance still hovered in the space. The magical symbols began to decelerate and their light faded until it too went out. Last, the spiral absorbed its bright rays into itself and everything came to a stop.

  When the energy of the invisible had left the library entirely, Eiael lowered her head and heaved a troubled sigh.

  What was the Source after? Its actions had been unorthodox right from the start in this unbelievable situation where high-ranking Celestials were incarnated. No one knew precisely what Its aim was, maybe not even the Superior, who for some incomprehensible reason was lying in hospital, at death’s door, as if she were a common mortal. Even so, in all this confusion, there were clear signs of Its intention to test Abaddon. Nothing else explains what has been happening, Eiael concluded.

  She hurried out the library and climbed to the castle’s second floor, where her room was. She changed out of her white cloak and into dark casual pants and a sweater, grabbed a jacket, and rushed back down the stairs. She went down the hallway that led to the back of the castle practically at a run, got into one of the black Land Rovers that were parked in a row, and sped off.

  As soon as Fares and Diana saw their leader enter the hospital, they leaped out of their chairs. Eiael gestured that they would talk later and headed to Abaddon. He was pacing outside the ICU and looking through the closed door. The doctors had intubated Aranes and, totally confused, were now doing more specialized tests, trying to figure out the cause of the acute respiratory failure that was threatening to stop both her heart and the infant’s.

  “Any news?” Eiael asked uneasily before she had even reached his side.

  “No,” Abaddon answered and turned to look at her. “You?” The theurgist’s great love for the Superior of the Angels and her delayed arrival at the hospital led him to believe that she had managed to contact Gabriel.

  “I spoke with the Archangel Gabriel,” the theurgist confirmed his thoughts.

  “What did he say?” he asked, although he could tell what the answer was from the look on her face.

  Eiael looked into his eyes, her gaze filled with sorrow.

  “He is not permitted to act.”

  Abaddon’s expression hardened, hiding his disappointment.

  “I thought so,” he said coldly. The lengthy absence of his good friend had tipped him off. “Why are the Cursed trying to kill her?” he asked after a short silence.

  “I don’t know. I don’t understand why they want her dead. It would serve them better if they could capture her alive.”

  “Lucifer is definitely behind this,” Abaddon said irately. “Who knows what his sick mind came up with this time?”

  “Her death doesn’t serve him either. Besides, from what I know, it is Lyla who is in cahoots with the Cursed.” Eiael shook her head and sighed. “I really don’t understand what’s going on.”

  A few feet away, the doors swung open and as soon as Dr. Wilson
stepped out of the ward, Abaddon and Eiael rushed to his side. On the other side of the corridor, Fares and Diana stood up and approached them hurriedly to hear the doctor’s update.

  Dr. Wilson glanced at the Guardians and, assuming they were the patient’s family, he turned to her husband.

  “The problem is in her lungs,” he said, looking troubled. “It seems like she inhaled something toxic or poisonous. We took a sample to see what it is.”

  “How is she now?” Abaddon asked. His medical knowledge wasn’t good enough for him to assess Aranes’ condition and he had a small hope that things might perhaps not be as bad as they seemed.

  “She’s in critical condition,” Dr. Wilson replied, dashing his hopes. “Her lungs are practically nonfunctioning. She’s on life support.”

  Abaddon stood frozen, looking at the doctor but not seeing him. Ominous thoughts began to circle in his mind.

  “And the baby?” Eiael asked, breaking the silence that followed the bad news.

  Dr. Wilson’s momentary hesitation and expression left no room for misinterpretation.

  “We can only hope that it will hold on because, otherwise, only a miracle will save even the mother,” he replied sadly.

  The Guardians’ and the doctor’s gazes all converged on Abaddon. He lowered his head in despair.

  “We’re out of miracles,” he said bitterly.

  “It depends on who you’re asking,” Lucifer replied as he watched his plan unfold from the depths of Eregkal.

  CHAPTER 13

  Lyla paced back and forth agitatedly on the flagstone floor of her private chamber. The faint greenish light hovering between the gray walls and high arched ceiling made her face look pale and her ferociously glinting eyes seem totally demonic.

  “That son of a bitch! I’ll wipe him off the face of the Earth!” she screamed with rage.

  Abriel looked away from the stone urn in the middle of the chamber, on whose watery surface the events in the hospital were being shown.