Revelation: Trinity Part 1

by Gemma Humphrey

  “Excuse me,” she heard the voice behind her but ignored it despite its friendly tone, automatically moving just that little bit quicker.

  “Hey, Girl!” the voice called again, urgent this time, before she heard feet hitting the ground in the unmistakeable sound of a jog.

  Rose couldn’t fight it any longer. She broke into a run, her body more than willing to comply as the heavens opened and the rain began to fall around her.

  She dared another quick glance over her shoulder, and saw both men had quickened their pace and were catching her up, running with easy strides that Rose had no hope of beating. She pushed her body into a sprint regardless, determined to keep as much distance as she could between them until she reached the other side of the park where she knew there were shops, pubs, restaurants, anything or anywhere she could find refuge.

  A hand grabbed her arm, pulling her to a sharp stop and spinning her around. Rose shook out of his grip, backing up as the second man – with muddy brown hair and cold eyes that betrayed the nature of his otherwise ordinary face – stepped up on her other side.

  “Who are you?” he asked quietly, his voice much deeper than she’d expected.

  Rose said nothing, glaring defiantly as her chest heaved and her heart threatened to break out of it. She took a step back towards the trees as the sky lit up with a flash of lightning, outlining every drop of rain and giving the illusion that each were suspended – before the dark closed in again.

  They stepped towards her, fluid and lupine, watching her curiously. She stepped back in response, and her back hit a tree, smacking her head on a protruding knot.

  The blond man moved in closer, his face barely inches from hers. Rose held her breath as his eyes flicked over her, before addressing his friend over the rumble of thunder.

  “Feel that?” he asked, his hot breath washing over her face. “Power.” The word skittered across her cheek. He cocked his head, his eyes cold, as his hand reached up to her jaw.

  Rose twisted her head from his touch and he laughed, running his fingers down the folds of her scarf.

  “You have to be the one we’re looking for?” he mused, his expression that of polite confusion, even as his eyes dripped with black glee.

  Feeling the malevolence and acerbity rolling off them, Rose silently begged for Christian to appear, realising that they knew who she was. That they knew what she was.

  The darker haired man laughed beside her. “This little thing?” he scoffed, his tone light. “But she’s so …” he stepped up, his eyes roaming down her body and back again, “Small.”

  “Where's your Guardian, hmm?” the blond murmured, looking around expectantly, his expression condescending. “Has he forgotten you?”

  "Just like we were told,” the darker haired man grinned at his cohort. “You're all alone.”

  The truth of his words hit Rose like a train, her heart stopping in realisation that they were right. Christian wasn’t coming.

  A conspiratorial glance passed between the two men – the only warning Rose had before the blond grabbed her shoulders, pushing them painfully into the tree as he brought his eyes level with hers.

  “Are you She?” he spat, his aura surrounding them like a thick black fog as rain dripped off his chin.

  Through her fear Rose was aware of another set of footsteps fast approaching, but her body surged with a sudden strength. Her blood boiled under her skin, staining the edge of her vision red, and an energy flickered in her finger tips, tingling like an electric current. Her lips curled into a smile, a new instinct guiding her actions and making her giddy. The blond hesitated, his eyes wary at her sudden change.

  “Yes,” she said simply, before reaching up with her hand to cover his face, pushing all of the energy she could feel out and into him. The man screamed as his skin instantly burned. He staggered back holding his blackened and twisted face, spots of rain sizzling as they hit his scorched skin.

  The other man reached out for her, intending to restrain her hands but, imbued with new quickness, Rose was ready for him, grabbing his arm as it came towards her and connecting with the bare flesh of his forearm. She felt his skin harden and char under her fingers as the man tried to pull away, his expression contorting in pain and fear. She placed her other hand onto his chest, pushing him away into his companion and whirling to the direction of the footsteps she’d heard. The black outline of their aura was almost upon her, and she reacted instantly, her hands reaching for the new threat.

  “Rose, it’s me!” Nate cried out as her fingers grazed his shoulder, jerking out of her way.

  Rose stopped herself before her fingers could close around his bicep, pulling back as she recognised him. Nate rushed past her putting himself between Rose and her attackers.

  She turned just in time to see him connect a thundering straight punch into the blonde’s blackened cheekbone, sending him sprawling onto the soaked ground. His accomplice grabbed Nate before he had a chance to turn around, and pinned his arms behind his back in an attempt to restrain him. The blond slowly got to his feet as Nate and his cohort struggled, pacing towards them, his fists clenched and eyes narrowed.

  Nate twisted against the grip of the man behind him, not taking his eyes from the other. He launched a ferocious high kick when the moment was right, his heel catching his assailant under the chin. His head snapped back hard, downing him once more. In almost the same instant Nate leaned forward before smashing the back of his scull into the nose of the second man, the sickening crack audible even from where Rose stood, dumbstruck and confused.

  Free from restraint Nate moved back to Rose, positioning himself carefully as her attackers moved towards her.

  “Nathaniel?” the blond muttered incredulously, picking himself up off the ground. Blood dripped from his blistered nose. “I’ll kill you for that.”

  Both men lurched forward in one sudden movement, hatred and disbelief in their eyes. Nate held out his hand, fingers splayed, and Rose felt a release of pressure ripple from his palm. She watched in awe as both men were thrown back, as if a great force had knocked them off their feet. They landed almost fifty feet away, sprawled out and gasping for breath, winded.

  “Not today,” Nate muttered, tugging Rose quickly by the arm. They took off along the path, the rain obscuring their vision as it fell in thick sheets around them, turning the shingle below their feet slick. They reached the edge of the park and turned to look back, seeing nothing. The figures that had been lying prone on the ground had disappeared.

  Taking shelter from the rain under the eaves of a bus station, they stopped, both panting from the exertion and adrenalin, soaked through from the rain.

  “Are you okay?” Nate reached out for her, but Rose jerked from his grasp.

  “Don’t touch me,” she pleaded, staring at her hands in disbelief. Her stomach rolled as she sunk back against the wall.

  Nate slowly sat down next to her, ignoring as she flinched away from him. “Rose?”

  Rose looked up, careful to keep her hands away from him, her eyes flicking to the singed hole in the arm of his pale grey shirt, made almost translucent from the rain. He gazed back, his black hair dripping into his eyes, and reached for her face, wiping the rain off her cheek. She could feel his unease, his worry that she was hurt, and tears filled her eyes as she reeled from shock.

  She clenched her hands to her chest, not knowing whether they were still the weapons she’d turned them into, afraid she’d hurt him again. Revulsion spread through her as she realised what she’d done, what she was capable of, her palms tingling as she remembered the feel of flesh burning beneath them. Her breath hitched in her throat.

  Nate glanced down, and his eyes softened in understanding. Gently, he reached for her, covering the backs of her hands with his, his thumbs tracing the lines of her fingers as he gingerly pulled them apart. Rose held her breath as he carefully touched her palm, relaxing in relief as he showed no sign of pain.

  His eyes met hers as he took both her hands
in his, confidently this time, and she leaned into him, the tears spilling over. He looped his arms around her, pulling her close as she cried into his uninjured shoulder. Shock made her shake and he held her tightly, waiting until her sobs subsided.

  “He didn’t come,” she whispered finally, sounding broken. “He wasn’t here.”

  Nate glanced down, his expression horrified as he realised who she meant.

  “They knew,” Rose continued, “They told me he wouldn’t…” She shuddered as she remembered, afraid that something had happened to him. “Where is he?” Rose asked, her eyes wide and confused.

  Nate shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said grimly, looking back across the park to where they’d last seen her attackers. “But they shouldn’t have even been here,” he continued, his frown deepening. “Shouldn’t have been privy to any information…” He trailed off, his grip tightening around her.

  Rose hiccupped as her tears slowed. She took in the black glow around Nate, still visible as she’d not turned off her ability to see it. She wondered why it didn’t fill her with fear as the others had, why she found it almost comforting as it reflected faintly onto the brick of the wall behind them.

  “I thought you were one of them,” she said quietly, as she reached up to his arm. She gently touched the singed fabric of his shirt, pulling her hand back quickly as he flinched.

  “I am,” he said simply, relaxing his arms from around her to sweep her hair back from her face.

  Rose searched his eyes, feeling confusion as he watched her, unable to determine if it was his or hers as her heart thudded in her chest. She continued to look, reaching out to him with her mind. She felt none of the rancour that she had from her would-be attackers, no trace of ill will. Only concern, and an underlying current of desperation, the adrenalin making his heart race. She reached up and cupped his cheek.

  “No you’re not,” she said, smiling timidly as her heart fluttered at the look in his eyes. “You just saved my life.”

  Nate’s eye’s turned liquid cobalt for a moment, before hardening into ice as the confusion in his mind intensified. He seemed angry.

  Rose frowned, not understanding but unable to break away from his gaze.

  He stood up sharply, dragging her up with him, ignoring as she staggered. “Come on.” His tone was brusque, as he pushed away from her, setting out into the rain towards campus.

  ***

  The Church was dark. Dull light glowed through the stained glass, casting shadows over the striking Gothic interior as the storm rumbled ominously overhead.

  Christian paced anxiously in the pews as he waited for the Principality to show, taking in the ornate stencilling on the walls and ceilings and reading the script adorning the upper portions, recognising it from the book of Revelation. He was uneasy, The Principality was late, and Christian had lost all connection with Rose as soon as he’d entered. He didn’t like not being able to sense her.

  “Hello, Elijah,” a voice called from the door.

  “Roc,” Christian greeted, turning to watch as a man made his way down the aisle, his charcoal coloured coat swishing around his ankles as he walked. He knew better than to correct him; Nisroc would never address him as anything other than Elijah, and would not understand the reason for the change.

  “You’re looking well,” the dark haired man appraised as he reached him. “Perhaps the Mortal Plane agrees with you?” he gestured for Christian to take a seat, sinking gracefully into a pew.

  “Perhaps,” Christian agreed guardedly, as he joined him.

  Roc glanced around the church in appreciation, the sharp angles of his face softened in the dim lighting.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, his whisky-coloured eyes travelling over the painted walls. He pointed to one of the many stained glass windows. “That was designed by William Morris,” he told Christian, conversationally.

  Christian frowned, having no time for small talk. “What am I doing here, Roc?” he asked the Principality, struggling to contain his irritation as the older man rubbed his hands along the oak of the pew in front, admiring its craftsmanship. “And why can’t I sense my Ward?” he demanded.

  Roc paused in his assessment. “I’ve had to secure the building,” he said as he stood, nonchalantly trailing his fingers along the wood as he moved up the aisle. “A simple trick, but necessary,” he continued, turning back to Christian with a polite smile. “One never knows who may be listening.”

  Christian stood and followed the Principality as he sauntered to the front of the Church. “You have news?” Christian asked.

  Roc turned, his expression that of quiet surprise. “Actually,” he countered, “I thought perhaps you had something to tell me.” He met Christians gaze his eyes challenging. “You arranged this meeting, after all.”

  Christian looked away, dropping his gaze to the floor. “The Prophecy has come to light,” he said resignedly. “Rose – my Ward – has been informed of her heritage.”

  “There now,” Roc smiled, sounding unsurprised. “That wasn’t so hard was it?”

  Christian lifted his head, saying nothing. Roc turned, his coat swirling, and stepped towards the pulpit, brushing his hand over the paintings there.

  “How?” he asked, sounding politely disinterested.

  Christian frowned. “She was informed by … one of the Fallen,” he explained, wondering why the Principality seemed so calm. Had he already known?

  “Who?” Roc asked, moving to the back of the Pulpit to admire the intricate detail he found in the woodwork.

  “Nathaniel,” Christian said, the name leaving a sour taste in his mouth. “He’s been posing as a student in my lectures…”

  Roc nodded in recognition as he stepped into the podium, resting closed fists in front of him.

  “Ah yes,” he smiled down at Christian from his raised height. “That one has always been … resourceful.”

  Christian glowered at the Fleur-de-lis stencilled in front of him.

  “However,” Roc’s pleasant smile turned cold. “It would seem you have failed in your task.”

  Christian froze as Roc’s eyes bore into his. “I didn’t –”

  “I’m not here to listen to excuses,” Roc cut him off, his quiet voice exuding authority. “The damage has been done,” he continued. “The Archon will rise as predicted.”

  Christian bowed his head.

  “The only question that remains,” Roc stepped down from the Pulpit, coming to stand before Christian, “Is who will win her support.” He waited until Christian met his gaze. “Who she will declare fealty to.”

  “We have no control over –” Christian began, his voice rising in frustration.

  “Oh come now,” Roc interrupted, his tone imperious. “Are you suggesting you’ve gained nothing from your,” he considered for a moment, “ministrations?”

  Christian’s blood went cold. “I… I don’t understand,” he stuttered, fearing retribution; any punishment dealt would take him away from her.

  “Yes you do.” Roc smiled knowingly. “I am well aware of your affection for the girl. How you thought to keep it from me I do not know,” he continued, amused. “But, your efforts were not without merit.”

  Christian frowned but Roc continued, unfazed by Christian’s look of consternation. “I’m sure that your relationship with the girl will prove beneficial to your success.”

  “Success?” Christian asked. “Success in what?”

  “In winning her loyalty, of course,” Roc smiled as though it was obvious.

  Christian shook his head. “I can’t just –”

  “You can,” Roc demanded, quietly. “And you will.” He smiled, his eyes showing no hint of emotion, waiting for Christian to challenge him further.

  “I won’t betray her trust like that Roc,” Christian glared at the older man. “I can’t.”

  “Pity,” Roc commented, lightly. “Because without the girl’s fealty we cannot guarantee her safety.” He smiled emptily. “Or your
s,” he added, as if it were an after-thought.

  Christian blanched, understanding the implications behind his words.

  Roc held his gaze for a moment before taking a step back. “Speaking of which, perhaps you should be getting back to your Ward,” he nodded, moving past Christian with a brush of his shoulder. “Who knows what mischief she may have caused in your absence?”

  He strolled back down the aisle, casually dipping his fingers into the alabaster font at the doorway. Roc raised a hand behind him in a wave, pushing the doors wide, not looking back as he stepped into the rain.

  Christian glared at the retreating figure, no longer trying to hide his frustration, before stepping into the Shroud. His only desire to return to Rose as quickly as possible.

  ***

  Nate left Rose at the door, determined to get as far away from her as he could. Reaching his room, he slammed the door behind him in frustration.

  Pulling off his now ruined shirt, he examined his arm, gingerly poking the blisters there. He shrugged, knowing it would only take a day or so to heal. He’d had much worse.

  Running a towel through his hair, he threw himself into the chair by the window, tipping his head back and letting out a breath.

  He wasn’t confused anymore. His actions today had proved his worst fears, he was in love with the girl.

  Why else would his first instinct be to protect her? To put himself between those that threatened her? To go against everything he’d ever considered true about himself?

  He’d never been the type to play the hero.

  Nate sighed, wondering when he’d turned into such a sap. He’d not felt like this in thousands of years. Not since –

  He stopped himself, unwilling to open up that particular can of worms. Instead, he considered how Rose had reacted to him in the park, how she’d looked. She hadn’t been afraid of him then, hadn’t looked at him and seen a demon. She’d trusted him, sought comfort from him. He frowned at the warm feeling that spread across his chest, before doing his best to push it away.